Bittersweet Symphony
folder
G through L › General Hospital
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,768
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
G through L › General Hospital
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,768
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own General Hospital, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Bittersweet Symphony
***I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I profit in any way from their use.
A/N Set when Emily went back to Zander, despite her feelings for Nikolas.
Snatches of memories tumbled through his brain, the searing pain in his soul searching for something familiar, vestiges of a past he thought he had finally put to rest. Stavros on another search and destroy mission, out to identify the thing that mattered most to his son so it could be eliminated. Just another sacrifice at the Cassadine altar. At least his father had the decency to fuck him over from the front. He had never seen this one coming. What was it she said? She never wanted to hurt him. Thank God she hadn’t really been trying.
“Again,” the glass tapping down hard against the dark wood grain of the bar. Smooth liquid, burning his throat, numbing the anguish with physical pain. Wondering at his own stupidity for ever daring to imagine that he could be happy. No, the Cassadine gift to the world was survival, the one thing he was truly good at. The one area in which he desperately wanted to fail. Would that he were Stefan, experiencing peace at long last. But the flesh was weak, even if the spirit were willing.
No words this time, just the glass tapping on the bar. Funny how it worked. The closer he got to his goal, the harder it was to achieve. Numbness was like infinity; no matter how close you got to it, you still weren’t there. The distance between two points was a straight line: pleasure and pain, flip sides of the same coin. How far along the axis was he? Incremental steps toward nothingness, not getting there nearly fast enough. Her name on his lips was proof enough of that.
No more tapping, just the hard slapping sound of his palm voicing his need. He felt himself stagger, surprised when a hard arm held him upright. “Easy, boy.” The voice was cool and detached, everything that Nikolas always wanted to be. Passion was a curse, not to be trusted, a sharp-edged sword waiting for you to trip and fall.
“I want to be you,” he whispered to the voice.
“No one is immune from the pain. Some of us are just better at covering it up.”
Strong hands touching him, lifting him onto a broad shoulder, holding him firmly in place as the stairs creaked from the weight. A door opening and closing, followed by the feel of cool sheets covering a soft mattress. The rustling sound of clothes being removed reminded him of the first time with her, the seduction a long slow prelude to their lovemaking.
Calloused fingers penetrated him, opening his flesh insistently as he pushed back, embracing the pain. Crying out in frustration when the fingers abandoned him, only to be replaced by something much larger. Hard strokes pounded his ass, driving every thought out of his mind, leaving only gut-wrenching need and overwhelming desire. Synapses on overload, bright flashes of light, come spurting in ropes across the bed. Hot fluids scorched his insides, the pain freeing him temporarily.
“Rest, Nik,” his savior said softly.
Muscular arms embraced him, soothing him with the promise of comfort and protection. “Thanks, Jason.”
A/N Set when Emily went back to Zander, despite her feelings for Nikolas.
Snatches of memories tumbled through his brain, the searing pain in his soul searching for something familiar, vestiges of a past he thought he had finally put to rest. Stavros on another search and destroy mission, out to identify the thing that mattered most to his son so it could be eliminated. Just another sacrifice at the Cassadine altar. At least his father had the decency to fuck him over from the front. He had never seen this one coming. What was it she said? She never wanted to hurt him. Thank God she hadn’t really been trying.
“Again,” the glass tapping down hard against the dark wood grain of the bar. Smooth liquid, burning his throat, numbing the anguish with physical pain. Wondering at his own stupidity for ever daring to imagine that he could be happy. No, the Cassadine gift to the world was survival, the one thing he was truly good at. The one area in which he desperately wanted to fail. Would that he were Stefan, experiencing peace at long last. But the flesh was weak, even if the spirit were willing.
No words this time, just the glass tapping on the bar. Funny how it worked. The closer he got to his goal, the harder it was to achieve. Numbness was like infinity; no matter how close you got to it, you still weren’t there. The distance between two points was a straight line: pleasure and pain, flip sides of the same coin. How far along the axis was he? Incremental steps toward nothingness, not getting there nearly fast enough. Her name on his lips was proof enough of that.
No more tapping, just the hard slapping sound of his palm voicing his need. He felt himself stagger, surprised when a hard arm held him upright. “Easy, boy.” The voice was cool and detached, everything that Nikolas always wanted to be. Passion was a curse, not to be trusted, a sharp-edged sword waiting for you to trip and fall.
“I want to be you,” he whispered to the voice.
“No one is immune from the pain. Some of us are just better at covering it up.”
Strong hands touching him, lifting him onto a broad shoulder, holding him firmly in place as the stairs creaked from the weight. A door opening and closing, followed by the feel of cool sheets covering a soft mattress. The rustling sound of clothes being removed reminded him of the first time with her, the seduction a long slow prelude to their lovemaking.
Calloused fingers penetrated him, opening his flesh insistently as he pushed back, embracing the pain. Crying out in frustration when the fingers abandoned him, only to be replaced by something much larger. Hard strokes pounded his ass, driving every thought out of his mind, leaving only gut-wrenching need and overwhelming desire. Synapses on overload, bright flashes of light, come spurting in ropes across the bed. Hot fluids scorched his insides, the pain freeing him temporarily.
“Rest, Nik,” his savior said softly.
Muscular arms embraced him, soothing him with the promise of comfort and protection. “Thanks, Jason.”