[Fic] Boys of Summer

Title: Boys of Summer
Fandom: The Covenant
Characters: Pogue, Reid
Word Count: 1,995 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Smut. Almost pure smut. With a little bit of plot behind it.



The first time Reid and Pogue got together was also the last, although they didn't know it at the time. It wasn't supposed to be getting together in a relationship kind of a way, anyway. They were restless, they were sixteen, and they were boys. Sex had to happen at some point, and they weren't getting any from the girls around them.

It had started two years ago at summer camp, the strange hour close to evening when everything seemed too much effort to expend and they'd pried loose from Gorman's bony fingers. Caleb was off somewhere, they didn't know where, and Pogue had thought Reid was off getting Tyler into trouble. He'd thought he had the small cabin all to himself, and was stretched out on the bunk indulging in the warm and sweaty air.

Reid banged the door open and caught him just as things were getting interesting. Caught between embarrassed fury and the sudden thought that those surprise-parted lips would look really good somewhere else, Pogue just stared.

( 'Dude.' )

(no subject)

You scored as II - The High Priestess. The High Priestess is a card of intuition, instinct and hidden knowledge. She knows all your secrets, you can hide nothing from her. Yet you will never know the secrets she herself protects.If well aspected in a Tarot spread, this card can indicate the use of intuition to solve problems; trust to your instincts. If badly aspected, it can mean suppression and ignoring of such instincts - following your head at the expense of your heart. </td> II - The High Priestess 88% III - The Empress 81% VIII - Strength 75% XVI: The Tower 75% XIII: Death 75% I - Magician 56% XI: Justice 56% IV - The Emperor 56% XIX: The Sun 50% 0 - The Fool 44% X - Wheel of Fortune 44% VI: The Lovers 31% XV: The Devil 25% Which Major Arcana Tarot Card Are You? created with QuizFarm.com

Like we didn't see that coming.

[Fic] Blister

Title: Blister
Fandom: The Covenant
Characters: Chase
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The last hours of Chase Collins
A/N: Contains potentially disturbing material.

"Every mother is a whore
Every father is a war
Hallelujah
Any port in a storm
Take any road that gets you home
Hallelujah"
-- Memento

It was two weeks before college graduation when the first outward signs of use started to creep over Chase's body. One after another, he was collecting commentary about how tired he looked, had he been hitting the drugs too hard, the booze, people wondering what secret parties he'd been to because he'd always seemed like a sensible guy. Not that they knew where he wandered off to the few weeks he skipped school and just disappeared for a few days. He could be wholesome and sensible only most of the time.

He was over the edge. Teetered on it for years, had finally fallen off. He could barely move his hands without pain. His knees didn't work. He'd made it to college on money alone, no swim scholarship for him. Hadn't been near the pool in three years.

His mind burned with hate and revenge and senility that was turning his thoughts into sponge. Age-related dementia in a twenty two year old was ridiculous, they diagnosed him with late-onset ADD and pumped him full of drugs that didn't work. He took them anyway, desperate for some sort of relief and they did change his condition, a lateral slide from bad to bad. He was throwing up from some kind of stomach ailment he didn't want to look up on WebMD and if he heard "you're too young for this" from another doctor he was going to scream.

Caleb was no help. Ever since the spring he'd refused to talk to Chase, attacking him on sight, and while his mind was clear on why that might be the rest of him couldn't understand why Caleb hated him so damn much. They were just the same. They were the same. And he was in trouble, and shouldn't Caleb at least feel some kind of sympathy for the devil? It never worked. The second time Caleb and Pogue had broken three of his ribs and left him spitting up blood in the woods. There hadn't been a third time.

Chase went back to the Marblehead cliffs and stared down. Serve them right to find him here, he thought with a brain too tired to be vicious about it. It would serve them right to see him broken even if he didn't think they'd know what it was like, or be able to understand what he wanted to throttle them into understanding.

He spread his arms open wide and called wind just to feel it against his back. He'd pulled his shirt off a few minutes earlier and it blew off the cliff in a dead flutter. The wind was cold. The air was wet, droplets sliding down his skin behind his waistband. It felt good. Like tears. Like mourning. They were hot down his cheeks as he ignored them and took a step forward. Another.

Chase toppled into the wind and felt the power singing through his brittle veins. He soared all the way down. Cried with relief. He just wanted to go home.