birdsofshore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
birdsofshore) wrote2013-10-17 09:23 pm
birdsofshore) wrote2013-10-17 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
Haikus: At Dawn (NC-17 - warnings)
Title: At Dawn
Pairing: Reader's interpretation (m/m)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, possible underage, possible dub-con? I don't even know what happened here.
Summary: Erm. I wrote 11 haikus about incest. Like you do.
A/N: I fail at reading instructions. I started this for a recipient at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_owlpost and then realised the pairing for all the owlpost gifts was meant to be H/D. Unbetaed. Posting so I didn't totally waste my time. Running away before I regret it.
He's barely awake
when I steal into his bed,
a six a.m. thief.
His breath, slightly sour;
hair, damp and soft. I drink deep:
warm, sleepy, boy-smell.
“Nngh. What's up?” I am,
rubbing against his hip bone
deliciously. “Oh.”
We never speak of
this in the daytime, no. It's
forbidden. Perfect.
I yank his shorts down,
press my nose to his throat and
thrust: quick, desperate.
It doesn't take long;
it can't. They might wake, hear his
breathy, stifled cry.
I clutch his fingers,
inky from schoolwork, with a
ragged nail he's chewed.
Faster now, he moves
under me. He always does...
eventually.
His skin is so... uhhh...
He bites his lip as I come,
coating his stomach.
I love each shiver,
the sweet throb of hot dirty
fuck yes wrong wrong wrong.
Always look after
your brother, said Mum. Man, I'm
going straight to hell.
Pairing: Reader's interpretation (m/m)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, possible underage, possible dub-con? I don't even know what happened here.
Summary: Erm. I wrote 11 haikus about incest. Like you do.
A/N: I fail at reading instructions. I started this for a recipient at
hd_owlpost and then realised the pairing for all the owlpost gifts was meant to be H/D. Unbetaed. Posting so I didn't totally waste my time. Running away before I regret it.He's barely awake
when I steal into his bed,
a six a.m. thief.
His breath, slightly sour;
hair, damp and soft. I drink deep:
warm, sleepy, boy-smell.
“Nngh. What's up?” I am,
rubbing against his hip bone
deliciously. “Oh.”
We never speak of
this in the daytime, no. It's
forbidden. Perfect.
I yank his shorts down,
press my nose to his throat and
thrust: quick, desperate.
It doesn't take long;
it can't. They might wake, hear his
breathy, stifled cry.
I clutch his fingers,
inky from schoolwork, with a
ragged nail he's chewed.
Faster now, he moves
under me. He always does...
eventually.
His skin is so... uhhh...
He bites his lip as I come,
coating his stomach.
I love each shiver,
the sweet throb of hot dirty
fuck yes wrong wrong wrong.
Always look after
your brother, said Mum. Man, I'm
going straight to hell.
no subject
And I totally agree with you. That's Pottercest!
no subject