The first rule of Fight Club is...

[maculategiraffe]

Aargh. Yesterday was horrible and today promises to be equally so. Have not had time to reply to comments or catch up on flist or beta, for which I apologize and will try to remedy soon. Have, however, had time (and mood) to write this (very very short scene). A few people have been asking for a scene where Jer and Holden have sex, or suggesting what such a scene might look like. So...







"I'm getting too old for this," Holden remarked, yanking Jer back hard with serious satisfaction in his involuntary hiss.

"Old," said Jer, feinting to the left and wrenching out of Holden's half nelson, then shoving him up against the wall, "my ass. You're fucking soft is what you are. Lazy--"

"Lazy?" Holden shouted as he tackled Jer to the floor. "I have the stamina of a--"

"--fucking slave owner," Jer spat as they rolled over twice, winding up with Holden face down on the floor, Jer's knee planted in the small of his back. He heard a crack as Jer bore down. "Say it."

"I'm not saying shit," Holden panted, then yelped involuntarily as his attempt to break Jer's grip was met with a hard yank to his arm up behind his back. "Fucking hell!"

"Oh yeah, I like it when you struggle," Jer said in his ear, and yanked at his arm again. "Say it!"

"Fuck you!"

Jer smacked the back of his head, slamming his face into the floor. Holden saw stars. "Fuck who?"

"Loki fucking--" Holden's struggles were weakening. "Just fucking fuck me already you fucking asshole!"

"Hey, I love you too," Jer grinned, and spat in one hand without releasing the other's vise grip on Holden's twisted upper arm. "But if you don't want it to bleed you've got to lie still and take it like the bitch you are."

"Fuck you," said Holden again, panting, and Jer shifted till his knee was on Holden's balls. "Shit! Don't--"

"You going to behave?" Jer demanded, his knee pressing down slowly but inexorably, flattening Holden's balls against the floor; the helpless, pleading whine that slid from Holden then enraged and aroused him in equal measure.

"I'm not moving," he gritted out. "This is me not moving."

"Good boy," Jer drawled, and moved enough to rub his cock roughly with the spit in his palm before he found Holden's hole and drove in so savagely Holden's eyes watered.

"Fucking shitting pisshole of hell!" he yelled as Jer's fist tore his head back by the hair. "Is this the best you can fucking do? Bran fucks me harder than this!"

"I'd do it harder," Jer grunted out between thrusts, his balls smacking rhythmically against Holden's sore sack, hard enough to register amid the rest of the pain, "but I'd hate to have to tell the authorities my master was such a fucking bitch for my cock he died of bliss while I was tearing his ass up--"

Holden dragged in a deep enough breath to snarl, "Maybe if you didn't fucking talk so much, you could fuck hard enough for me to feel it--"

"You fuck the floor any harder, master," Jer hissed, slamming in hard enough to crush Holden's cock into the floor against which he had been rubbing it raw, "you're going to get splinters in your cock."

"Oh-- fuck--" Bright colors patterned the darkness behind Holden's eyes. "Jer--"

"Yeah, fucking say my name." Jer yanked at his hair again. "Scream for me, bitch. I'm not coming till you fucking scream--"

Holden kicked the floor convulsively. "Bite me--"

Jer sank his teeth compliantly into the nape of Holden's neck, and Holden gave a guttural scream; true to his word, Jer groaned and came in five pumps of diminishing viciousness to Holden's throbbing ass.

After he'd pulled out, wrenching a groan from Holden, he dropped to the floor beside his master and took Holden's shoulder, tugging at it gently. Holden rolled, wincing, onto his side to show Jer the evidence of his own orgasm, pooled stickily on the floor beneath them.

"Next time," he said, in as firm a voice as he could muster, but unable to suppress a grin at Jer, "I say we draw straws for who tops."

"Whatever my master wishes," said Jer gravely. "If my master wishes to admit he's a little pansy-ass wuss who can't take his slave in a fair fight--"

Holden's cackle turned into a groan as he shifted on the hard floor. "Motion to adjourn to the bed."

"Bed," Jer scoffed, and peeled himself up from the floor with another slight hiss. "If you'd gotten me down, bet you anything you'd have fucked me on the bed in the first place. Soft, like I said."

"I think there was a 'seconded' somewhere in there." Holden took Jer's proffered hand and let the other man help him, whimpering slightly, to his feet. He lowered himself onto the bed and lay back with a sigh of relief. "Now come here."

Smiling faintly, Jer let himself collapse into Holden's arms. Holden pulled him close, nuzzling at his cheek, then felt tentatively for bruises on his own face.

"Didn't wear you out, did I?" Jer's tone was mocking, but Holden could hear the edge in it, the fear that never quite went away, even now. He leaned forward, and their lips met hard enough to jar his teeth; tasting blood, he smiled at Jer.

"You wish," he said.