somethingsomething, Daniel feeding Johnny
a little bit NSFW, a little meta, a little complex trauma on both of their parts... I think we know the drill by now:
Johnny is hungry all the time. He eats like he’s not sure when the next meal is coming. He eats like he’s not savouring. If Daniel didn’t know he was rich once, he’d never have guessed. Maybe it’s that older DNA, from before his mom married into money.
You can’t erase the hunger you felt as a kid.
Still, Daniel grew up poor, and he knows the basics of chopping up an onion and some garlic and frying them in oil, for god’s sake.
(But then, he was always cooking for himself, he doesn’t think anybody taught Johnny that skill).
Johnny is easy to please. That’s a good start. He’s only a picky eater because he doesn’t trust stuff, get it into his mouth and he’ll go for almost anything.
It’s like how he fights.
How he kisses too.
Every time, ever since the first time, Johnny kisses like he won’t get another chance, like there’s desert all around them and Daniel’s the first meal he’s had in days.
Daniel does love it, being so wanted, but it’s also too much. Johnny’s the opposite of him - a kid who felt like he had to fight to be wanted. Daniel has always been getting attention, and often not the good kind, so this, even though his brain knows it’s love, his body is afraid of it. Afraid of the hunger.
He needs to control it.
Johnny is easy to control. It’s like the food. Like the fighting. He’ll do anything to earn it, anything to be worthy. He’d take the worst kind of love if it meant he was being fed, but luckily Daniel isn’t out to destroy him.
“Focus, Johnny, this is how you make a base. It’s easy.”
Johnny grumbles, but does as he’s told. Okay, so he won’t do anything without some complaint, but he will do it.
Sometimes Daniel thinks Johnny would devour him if he could. He’s known predators before, people whose eyes would eat him up, people who smiled with their teeth, people who liked his blood.
It’s not like that. Johnny doesn’t want to own him. He’s just afraid of being alone. He’s afraid of fucking up. He’s afraid of abandonment. Daniel can understand that. He knows that Johnny would settle for scraps if that was all he gave him. So he gives as much as he can, willingly, gladly, because Johnny would take anything, but Daniel wants him to have the best.
It’s like that with fucking too. Is there some kind of correlation, between fighting, eating, and fucking? It feels like it. It’s the reason Daniel felt instinctually that Johnny would love having him inside of him.
He does. They’re both too old to be this insatiable, but maybe the reason for it is that they haven’t allowed themselves this for so long. The hunger grows with the years. Daniel doesn’t think he could sate Johnny at this point if he fucked him until they died.
If it were possible, he might even have let Johnny eat him. But he can give him the next best thing. Bury himself inside as far as he can go. Make him hurt a bit, because Johnny likes things to hurt a bit. Probably something to do with sense memory or something. Being claimed. Daniel was here, and here, and here, and here - that bruise is Daniel’s bruise. This ache is Daniel’s ache.
They’re gifts. Like the food, Daniel gives them to him, over and over again.
(In return, Daniel swallows his helpless open-mouthed gasps and the spit that gathers behind his lips).
Johnny slows down when he eats. Not because he’s not still so, so hungry.
Because he’s learned how to savour what Daniel gives him.
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For the prompt BAKER’S DOZEN @allvalley100 (#2)
Mr. Silver trained him for twelve weeks. Twelve weeks of being pushed to the limit. Twelve weeks of bloody knuckles and bruised legs. Twelve weeks of desire, devotion, discipline.
Twelve weeks of ignoring the heady twist in his stomach when Mr. Silver looked at him.
On week thirteen, something in the air between them is different. Thick. Cloying. Intoxicating.
Daniel can’t ignore it anymore.
Mr. Silver leans in, breath hot against his neck. Devilish blue eyes bore into brown. Daniel doesn’t flinch.
He welcomes the searing brush of their lips.
After, Mr. Silver grins dangerously.
“Took you long enough, Danny-boy.”
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For the prompt ‘Baker’s Dozen’ - @allvalley100
"Check out the babe who just walked in", says Dutch.
Johnny squints across the crowded club. Petite, olive skin, dark hair, big brown eyes; exactly his type. He takes a swig of beer. "I'm gonna go talk to her."
"Hey, I saw her first!"
Dutch takes two dice out of a pocket. "Let's roll for it, make it fair."
Johnny rolls a twelve. The dice skitter off the bar when Dutch rolls; he bends to retrieve them, claiming they came up thirteen.
Later, when Dutch and the woman are making out, Johnny realises a dice only has six sides.
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