Cathryn (formerly catslash) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
remindmeofthe) wrote2008-10-22 12:05 am
remindmeofthe) wrote2008-10-22 12:05 am
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I have been generally unproductive today, to a generally depressing degree, so I decided that, if nothing else, I would at least get the Les Mis ficbit I keep mentioning typed up. (I'm also working slowly but steadily on the kiss challenge meme! If you haven't gotten an answer from me, don't worry, I'm getting there.) So here it is. It has officially been upgraded from "terrible" to "mediocre." At least, in my opinion, but then I'm sick of freaking looking at it.
This is Valjean/Javert, a strong PG-13 or so, and strictly musicalverse because - say it with me now - book!Javert remembered to bring backup. See, I told you that wasn't as random for me to fixate on as it seemed.
I am warning you, Javert
There is nothing I won't dare
If I have to kill you here -
Valjean will never quite be certain of why he does what he does next. The sneer on Javert's face, perhaps, the man's unshakeable belief that a bit of insignia, a title, will supersede the reality of Valjean's superior strength. The need to put his money where his mouth is and make Javert understand that he controls the situation only as long as Valjean allows him to control it.
Whatever it is, he lunges, knocking Javert's cudgel to the floor before he can bring it around, and grabs Javert by the front of his coat. He shoves Javert back against the wall and uses his own body to pin him there and hold him still.
He realizes in the next instant that he hasn't done himself much good, either. What can he do, this close to Javert, except try to keep him subdued? He can't step back easily without giving Javert a clear shot, and just because Valjean is stronger doesn't mean Javert can't get the advantage and land a solid blow. He stares at Javert's frozen expression, eyes downcast so Valjean can't even look into them and try to guess at what he's thinking and think one step ahead. Now is no time to be standing on principle, not when Valjean's welfare isn't all that's at stake, any second now, any half-second, Javert will have a plan and act on it and Valjean has got to think faster, just clear the panic out of his mind and think -
- then Javert's gaze snaps up to meet his. He's reacting late, Valjean realizes; it's unlike Javert to have taken his eyes off Valjean at all, and now he sees why. It's the first time Valjean has ever seen Javert look at him with anything other than cold suspicion. Now they hold fear colored with desperation, and now Valjean feels the tension in Javert's body shift into something entirely different, and now he suddenly has a whole new range of choices.
He responds before he even thinks. His body moves deliberately, leaning rather than pushing, thigh sliding between Javert's. Javert's eyes widen and he tenses further, grabbing at Valjean's wrists with both hands. Valjean has kept his tight grip on Javert's coat, though, and Javert has no chance of breaking it. Valjean can feel him trying, futilely, to pull away, to bury himself in the wall somehow, but he knows he hasn't misread the inspector's reaction. He has the evidence of that pressing against his thigh. He arches a little, flexing his muscles against Javert, and feels more than hears the hitch in Javert's breathing.
What he's accomplishing he doesn't know, bribery or blackmail; the former won't work, not with Javert, but the latter might. It's buying him time to think, at least, and more importantly time to keep Javert from thinking. He's got Javert off-balance and he must keep him that way. Their gazes are still locked, and already he can see Javert's eyes beginning to clear, so he brings his mouth down on Javert's and rubs hard against him.
Javert shudders. His hands tighten briefly on Valjean's wrists, then go slack, then let go altogether and move to Valjean's shoulders. He tugs down on the fabric of Valjean's coat, as if he can't decide whether to pull him closer or try to push him away. Valjean isn't fooled; he braces himself, becoming solid and immovable, and waits for the shove. It doesn't come. Instead, Javert's hands relax, resting lightly against Valjean's shoulders, and his lips part under Valjean's.
Surprise at Javert's acquiescence disrupts caution and instinct takes over. He uses his hold on Javert's coat to jerk him closer, pushing his tongue into Javert's mouth. Javert shudders again, this time with the faintest of moans, the first sound either of them has made in the impossibly long minute since Valjean first took hold of him. It gives Valjean a spark of confidence. Perhaps he really can make something of this. Perhaps violence won't be needed after all.
Then Javert's teeth come down hard on his tongue.
The sudden shock of pain makes Valjean's entire body flinch, and in that split second of physical inattention Javert shoves hard against his shoulders, sending him stumbling back.
Javert spits on the floor, tinged with red, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You've spent too much time in the company of whores, 24601, if you think you can buy your freedom in that way." His voice doesn't quite hold its usual sting, but the cool disdain is back in his eyes, clashing oddly with his triumphant smirk.
Valjean tastes blood; the ache in his tongue beats in time with his pulse.
"Of course I don't, Javert," he says with tired resignation. His hand curls into a fist at his side.
He'll do what must be done.
I would love some concrit on this. I have lost any and all perspective I might once have had on its actual quality and could really use some outside advice.
This is Valjean/Javert, a strong PG-13 or so, and strictly musicalverse because - say it with me now - book!Javert remembered to bring backup. See, I told you that wasn't as random for me to fixate on as it seemed.
I am warning you, Javert
There is nothing I won't dare
If I have to kill you here -
Valjean will never quite be certain of why he does what he does next. The sneer on Javert's face, perhaps, the man's unshakeable belief that a bit of insignia, a title, will supersede the reality of Valjean's superior strength. The need to put his money where his mouth is and make Javert understand that he controls the situation only as long as Valjean allows him to control it.
Whatever it is, he lunges, knocking Javert's cudgel to the floor before he can bring it around, and grabs Javert by the front of his coat. He shoves Javert back against the wall and uses his own body to pin him there and hold him still.
He realizes in the next instant that he hasn't done himself much good, either. What can he do, this close to Javert, except try to keep him subdued? He can't step back easily without giving Javert a clear shot, and just because Valjean is stronger doesn't mean Javert can't get the advantage and land a solid blow. He stares at Javert's frozen expression, eyes downcast so Valjean can't even look into them and try to guess at what he's thinking and think one step ahead. Now is no time to be standing on principle, not when Valjean's welfare isn't all that's at stake, any second now, any half-second, Javert will have a plan and act on it and Valjean has got to think faster, just clear the panic out of his mind and think -
- then Javert's gaze snaps up to meet his. He's reacting late, Valjean realizes; it's unlike Javert to have taken his eyes off Valjean at all, and now he sees why. It's the first time Valjean has ever seen Javert look at him with anything other than cold suspicion. Now they hold fear colored with desperation, and now Valjean feels the tension in Javert's body shift into something entirely different, and now he suddenly has a whole new range of choices.
He responds before he even thinks. His body moves deliberately, leaning rather than pushing, thigh sliding between Javert's. Javert's eyes widen and he tenses further, grabbing at Valjean's wrists with both hands. Valjean has kept his tight grip on Javert's coat, though, and Javert has no chance of breaking it. Valjean can feel him trying, futilely, to pull away, to bury himself in the wall somehow, but he knows he hasn't misread the inspector's reaction. He has the evidence of that pressing against his thigh. He arches a little, flexing his muscles against Javert, and feels more than hears the hitch in Javert's breathing.
What he's accomplishing he doesn't know, bribery or blackmail; the former won't work, not with Javert, but the latter might. It's buying him time to think, at least, and more importantly time to keep Javert from thinking. He's got Javert off-balance and he must keep him that way. Their gazes are still locked, and already he can see Javert's eyes beginning to clear, so he brings his mouth down on Javert's and rubs hard against him.
Javert shudders. His hands tighten briefly on Valjean's wrists, then go slack, then let go altogether and move to Valjean's shoulders. He tugs down on the fabric of Valjean's coat, as if he can't decide whether to pull him closer or try to push him away. Valjean isn't fooled; he braces himself, becoming solid and immovable, and waits for the shove. It doesn't come. Instead, Javert's hands relax, resting lightly against Valjean's shoulders, and his lips part under Valjean's.
Surprise at Javert's acquiescence disrupts caution and instinct takes over. He uses his hold on Javert's coat to jerk him closer, pushing his tongue into Javert's mouth. Javert shudders again, this time with the faintest of moans, the first sound either of them has made in the impossibly long minute since Valjean first took hold of him. It gives Valjean a spark of confidence. Perhaps he really can make something of this. Perhaps violence won't be needed after all.
Then Javert's teeth come down hard on his tongue.
The sudden shock of pain makes Valjean's entire body flinch, and in that split second of physical inattention Javert shoves hard against his shoulders, sending him stumbling back.
Javert spits on the floor, tinged with red, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You've spent too much time in the company of whores, 24601, if you think you can buy your freedom in that way." His voice doesn't quite hold its usual sting, but the cool disdain is back in his eyes, clashing oddly with his triumphant smirk.
Valjean tastes blood; the ache in his tongue beats in time with his pulse.
"Of course I don't, Javert," he says with tired resignation. His hand curls into a fist at his side.
He'll do what must be done.
I would love some concrit on this. I have lost any and all perspective I might once have had on its actual quality and could really use some outside advice.