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said_scarlett) wrote2006-08-01 12:58 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2006-08-01 12:58 pm
Entry tags:
A Telepath's Gift - Byron/Zack - PG-13
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claripup! Slashy Babylon 5-ness! Damn, it's been a while since I wrote this series...
Title: A Telepath's Gift
Author:theladyfeylene
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairing: Byron/Zack (allusions to other pairings)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season Four and Five spoilers
Warnings: Mind-fuckery
Word Count: 819
Summary: "You don't hate me because of what I am; you hate me because of what I have."
“You don’t hate me because of what I am,” Byron said, smiling his smug little smile. “You hate me because of what I have.”
“Shut up.” Zack was in no mood. His defenses were up, his square features set into a mask of jealousy and anger. Damn telepaths! They didn't understand basic privacy. They stripped a person's mind, peeling back the layers and poking around inside like a child disecting a frog. And like a child disecting a frog, they always felt perfectly justified. “And stay out of my head!”
“You think I need to read your thoughts to know you love her?” Byron shook his head. “No. You radiate want and desire like a musk. I have only to look at you to know. But she isn’t for you. Her destiny demands otherwise.”
“Destiny?” Zack spat the word, flinging it as though it were a curse. “I don’t wanna hear about destiny. And I don’t want your analysis.”
“No. You want me gone.” Byron folded his hands, so calm and collected and serene. Zack couldn’t stand it. He wanted to smack the knowing little smile off the telepath’s face.
“As soon as possible,” Zack said, smiling in return. But his smile was cruel.
“I’ll take her with me, you realize. She does not belong here.”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up about that?” Zack couldn’t hold his temper. He’d never been able to, but now Byron was wounding him. Lashing out at him with verbal knives that cut to the quick. Because everything Byron said was true. Zack knew it, and it killed him inside.
“Please don’t think I don’t sympathize.” Byron was still talking. Zack felt his fingers itch to ball into fists, that urge to punch the self-righteous teep growing stronger and stronger.
“Spare me your pity,” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you run along back to your little cave, huh? Some of us have work to do.”
“Anger won’t soothe you.” Byron moved, and Zack hoped he was turning to go. But he wasn’t. Instead, Byron was coming closer. He moved the same way he spoke - evenly, deliberately, smoothly. The pretty-faced bastard was so damn elegant! It made Zack sick.
“Get away from me.”
“I have for you a gift.” Byron smiled, holding his hands open in a peaceful gesture.
“I don’t want anything from you…”
Before Zack could finish speaking, Byron’s lips were on his. Of all that Zack may have guessed Byron was offering him, this wasn’t it. The telepath’s lips were soft and smooth and girlish. Zack struggled to jerk away but Byron’s hands were on his shoulders, holding him in place. The kiss deepened and Zack felt something, creeping along the corners of his mind. The body before him seemed to shrink and ripple, and the hands that grasped his shoulders felt feminine suddenly. An image burned itself into Zack’s brain, and suddenly, in his mind’s eye, it was Lyta that was kissing him. It was Lyta who held him tightly, Lyta who melted into his arms and tasted of imitation coffee and something sad. He whimpered, softly, into the kiss. It was crushing, needy, desperate. He clung to Lyta in his mind, feeling her soft body as he so often had in his dreams.
But it wasn’t real, no more real than any dream that came to him at night. Zack’s mind fought against the illusion, the vivid picture in his mind. It was Byron, that stupid arrogant bastard, not Lyta. And Byron was in his head, and Byron was twisting the knife, and Byron was holding him tightly in a lover’s embrace. Zack was pinned, and his earlier analogy flew back to him. He was nothing but a frog, immobilized and primed for Byron's prodding.
“Get the fuck off of me, you freak!” The spell broke and Zack recoiled, and the traces that lingered on his lips had nothing of Lyta in them.
Byron stood as calmly as he had a moment ago, his hands folded once more. He was watching Zack with a mixture of amusement and sorrow, and Zack scrubbed at his lips as though trying to wipe away the kiss. The fake-memory of Lyta in his arms remained, embedded in his mind.
“That is all you will ever have of her,” Byron said, softly. “Treasure it well.”
And with that, the telepath was gone, leaving Zack with nothing but bruised lips and an empty memory.
claripup! Slashy Babylon 5-ness! Damn, it's been a while since I wrote this series...Title: A Telepath's Gift
Author:
theladyfeyleneFandom: Babylon 5
Pairing: Byron/Zack (allusions to other pairings)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season Four and Five spoilers
Warnings: Mind-fuckery
Word Count: 819
Summary: "You don't hate me because of what I am; you hate me because of what I have."
“You don’t hate me because of what I am,” Byron said, smiling his smug little smile. “You hate me because of what I have.”
“Shut up.” Zack was in no mood. His defenses were up, his square features set into a mask of jealousy and anger. Damn telepaths! They didn't understand basic privacy. They stripped a person's mind, peeling back the layers and poking around inside like a child disecting a frog. And like a child disecting a frog, they always felt perfectly justified. “And stay out of my head!”
“You think I need to read your thoughts to know you love her?” Byron shook his head. “No. You radiate want and desire like a musk. I have only to look at you to know. But she isn’t for you. Her destiny demands otherwise.”
“Destiny?” Zack spat the word, flinging it as though it were a curse. “I don’t wanna hear about destiny. And I don’t want your analysis.”
“No. You want me gone.” Byron folded his hands, so calm and collected and serene. Zack couldn’t stand it. He wanted to smack the knowing little smile off the telepath’s face.
“As soon as possible,” Zack said, smiling in return. But his smile was cruel.
“I’ll take her with me, you realize. She does not belong here.”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up about that?” Zack couldn’t hold his temper. He’d never been able to, but now Byron was wounding him. Lashing out at him with verbal knives that cut to the quick. Because everything Byron said was true. Zack knew it, and it killed him inside.
“Please don’t think I don’t sympathize.” Byron was still talking. Zack felt his fingers itch to ball into fists, that urge to punch the self-righteous teep growing stronger and stronger.
“Spare me your pity,” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you run along back to your little cave, huh? Some of us have work to do.”
“Anger won’t soothe you.” Byron moved, and Zack hoped he was turning to go. But he wasn’t. Instead, Byron was coming closer. He moved the same way he spoke - evenly, deliberately, smoothly. The pretty-faced bastard was so damn elegant! It made Zack sick.
“Get away from me.”
“I have for you a gift.” Byron smiled, holding his hands open in a peaceful gesture.
“I don’t want anything from you…”
Before Zack could finish speaking, Byron’s lips were on his. Of all that Zack may have guessed Byron was offering him, this wasn’t it. The telepath’s lips were soft and smooth and girlish. Zack struggled to jerk away but Byron’s hands were on his shoulders, holding him in place. The kiss deepened and Zack felt something, creeping along the corners of his mind. The body before him seemed to shrink and ripple, and the hands that grasped his shoulders felt feminine suddenly. An image burned itself into Zack’s brain, and suddenly, in his mind’s eye, it was Lyta that was kissing him. It was Lyta who held him tightly, Lyta who melted into his arms and tasted of imitation coffee and something sad. He whimpered, softly, into the kiss. It was crushing, needy, desperate. He clung to Lyta in his mind, feeling her soft body as he so often had in his dreams.
But it wasn’t real, no more real than any dream that came to him at night. Zack’s mind fought against the illusion, the vivid picture in his mind. It was Byron, that stupid arrogant bastard, not Lyta. And Byron was in his head, and Byron was twisting the knife, and Byron was holding him tightly in a lover’s embrace. Zack was pinned, and his earlier analogy flew back to him. He was nothing but a frog, immobilized and primed for Byron's prodding.
“Get the fuck off of me, you freak!” The spell broke and Zack recoiled, and the traces that lingered on his lips had nothing of Lyta in them.
Byron stood as calmly as he had a moment ago, his hands folded once more. He was watching Zack with a mixture of amusement and sorrow, and Zack scrubbed at his lips as though trying to wipe away the kiss. The fake-memory of Lyta in his arms remained, embedded in his mind.
“That is all you will ever have of her,” Byron said, softly. “Treasure it well.”
And with that, the telepath was gone, leaving Zack with nothing but bruised lips and an empty memory.
no subject
Needless to say I loved it... I so evil and twisted but sad at the same time.
Thank you for writing it. :)
no subject
Thanks for prompting me with it!