Title: Blood is thicker 01
Author: Leto's Ghanima
Fandom: Jared Leto
Pairing: Shannon/Jared, Shannon/a stewardess from a renowned French airline company
Warnings: Slash. Incest. Some angst. And (*shudder*) het slash, very minor het slash, don't let it scare you off, it's not the focus of the story.
Disclaimer: This would scare me if it had actually happened. Well, it would, at first, I think. But maybe after that ... /Shut up!/ But it DIDN'T happen. And I'm not doing this to have an extra buck at the end of the month. Sadly enough. I could use it.
Beta: None, so there could be some nasty surprises in there. English is not my mother tongue, Dutch is.
Summary: what happened before, and what should follow ...
Music: 'I'll Be Yours' - Placebo
He came through for me, my beautiful Shannon. I see it in his eyes, as he comes up to me on that long stretch of wild beach bordering the Golden Gate Park to the west of San Francisco. A specter of emotions flowers over his face: uncertainty, pride, fear, triumph. What else?
He agreed to see me here. I don't have control over my flight schedule, I can't always come to LA. Whenever he can he joins me, and I show him places he's never seen. Tell him things he's never heard.
He holds out a big envelope. "No!" I say, "Tell me. Describe it to me. I want to see what happened through your eyes." He hesitates, but I know it will all come out. It will pour out of him. It has been an incredible experience and he can't keep it to himself.
We start walking along the beach line. I should keep on moving or else the jet lag will get to me. It's late in the afternoon, here on the west coast. It's a little past midnight French time.
After I had phoned him to let him know my flight schedule for next month, and we realized we could soon see each other again, he had gathered all his courage and had gone off to his brother's home.
He had crept around like a thief, fearing his timing hadn't been right. But the obstacle he had met was not the one expected. Oh, I would have loved to see those hounds of hell standing guard over the most precious being in their life. Thick grayish white fur against naked skin. I wonder how they would react to me. How close would they let me come before their instinct would tell them to launch themselves at my throat?
"My bro is such an asshole in the morning," he says. And I laugh. He has no idea the pains I have taken to hide my own bad temper those few mornings we have been able to share yet. If Jared was anything like me, popping the question to him like Shannon has done, should have been rewarded with a blunt "No", and that would have been it. But his instinct must have guided Shannon, gently persuading his kid brother. Finding the right words. "I can't help it, Jared. It's important to me..."
I can trust Shannon to get what he wants. I can always trust my Shannon. He's fascinating and I couldn't take my eyes off of him the first time I saw him. I had recognized him immediately (pushing away a little spark of guilt at the thought of the burnt CD that was in my bag, with the unreleased songs from his band I had snatched from the net just days before). And I had wanted to know who he was, not Shannon Leto brother of -, or Shannon Leto member of -.
When I'm away from home I'm in my little secret garden, it's like I hardly remember my "real life" waiting for me back home. But I had never met someone I wanted to share that garden with. So we started meeting each other again and again in a no man's land we created for ourselves, over and over again in different places across the world. And during those timeless moments we poured out ours souls to each other.
And he told me about that special bound he has with his brother.
I stand still to contemplate the far horizon. Red colored, gold edged clouds, above the rippling of the waves. Sunset, the most magical moment of the day, bathing us in a surreal light. I remember an other sunset, in that little park, stretching out on the big rock that separates the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, in the distance the Pão de Açùcar bathing in the orange glow of the descending sun, only a few fishermen and some flirting couples to keep us company. I had wanted to make Rio something special for him, for us. So I had taken two of the bottles of Bordeaux and one of the cheese platters my colleagues had smuggled out of the plane on arriving. We had left them to their usual orgiastic activities and had sneaked off.
A Médoc Château la Clare 2001, Cru Bourgeois. I had seen how wonderfully this God-given nectar can loosen one's tongue and make disappear all inhibitions. Shannon had been a little shy, a little overwhelmed at this unusual confrontation with French refinement. But not for long. Amused I had seen the heated glow rising in his eyes and had felt his excitement flow over to me when he had asked me if I wanted to pose for him. Pose, how? "As nature has put you into this life." It had made me laugh. "I'm a photographer's worst nightmare." "I'll find a way to make the deepest of your emotions spread out over your face." I had grinned, a perverse little grin. "Like you did once with that kid brother of yours?"
(Intense bleu eyes in a hauntingly beautiful face. A passionate look sending shivers down my spine.)
The look in Shannon's brown eyes had cut my breath short. I had felt dizzy. Had I drunk too much of that gorgeous Médoc? Had Shannon drunk enough? I had wanted the whole story. "Tell me how you made him give that to you. Tell me. Shannon ... please."
"He was vulnerable. Struggling with the sudden fame. People wanting things from him, demanding, pulling, tearing his soul apart. And at the same time he was worried about me. That I would be left behind. Or rather that he would have to go ahead alone."
"So he hoped that by posing for me, I would get my break through. A friend had lent us his studio. And all the time we needed, he had said, the whole night, if necessary."
"It was exciting! By then Jared had already been through a lot of photo shoots. He had picked up the necessary skills to give me anything I asked of him. This had nothing to do anymore with the snap shots I took of him when we were both kids. Whatever emotion he wanted to show, slipped over his face effortless."
"But behind every look I sensed a deep melancholy, and a growing sadness. And in the end I could feel the tears well up in his eyes even before they were flowing over his cheeks. My heart broke. I dropped the camera and put my arms around him. "I'm sorry," he cried. I tried to soothe him. I held him and pulled him to me. I gently caressed his back and kissed away his tears. It is how I've always comforted him, since we were kids. The physical closeness makes him melt in my embrace. Maybe even more then the reassurances I will softly whisper in his ear."
"I renewed the promises I've been making him since ..., since forever. I'll always be there for him. I'll take the weight from his shoulders and carry it for him. I'll be everything for him. I love him."
"Jared seemed to glow and become alive again in my arms. Softly he pulled himself off of me and whispered: "Take your camera." The look in his eyes made me hesitate. I shouldn't. No one else should ever see this ... "Go on," he urged me. And I complied. He was still sitting on the floor, on his knees. He started unbuttoning his shirt. I lowered the camera but he threw me an intense look and I daren't disobey. Once his shirt completely open he simply dropped his hands on his thighs. He let the look in his eyes shift to a pure childlike innocence. He looked more naked then if he had taken it all off."
"I got closer to him to have some close-ups of his eyes. But as I approached him he laid back. He sighed deeply and then his hands began to wander. Over his chest, brushing feathery lightly his nipples, continuing slowly further down, over his stomach, which seemed to clench under his own touch."
"My hands started to shake, but he sent me a warning glance and I continued shooting, in a slow rhythm, savoring the moment every time I pushed on the trigger. Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion, as slow as Jared's hands that were now caressing the insides of his jeans covered thighs. He closed his eyes and moved his head backwards, arching his back."
"Loosing contact with those mesmerizing eyes should have woken me up. Instead I slipped further in, in a state of excitement as I had never felt in my life. A groan escaped my lips as his hands moved up again and unzipping his fly he slipped his hands inside his jeans."
"His eyes flew open in surprise, because I had dropped the camera. There is just so much I can take. I hovered over him and suddenly his arms were around me and he kissed me, deeply, devouringly, clinging to me as if his life depended on it. Which it did, perhaps."
"It was not our first kiss. But it was the first time he was giving it to me unconditionally, surrendering completely. I took all that was given. And more. I had lowered him to the ground again, and he had wrapped both his legs around my waist, torturing my hardening cock. I growled and pulled myself free, pushing him down and holding him still long enough to be able to roughly tear off his jeans."
"He lifted himself up again and savagely attacked my mouth. But I flung him down and undressed as quickly as I could. He looked at me as a trapped wild animal. I took both of his wrists and pushed his body down under mine. The tension was becoming unbearable for me, but I wanted to calm him down or we were going to hurt each other. I took over his mouth and let my tongue slip in and out in a soothing rhythm. As I felt him relax I let go of his wrists. He slipped his arms behind my neck as I pulled his legs back around me. When I entered him he groaned in my mouth. I broke the kiss and we both panted, trying to regain our breath."
"I know he was hurting and I wanted him to get past that and start finding pleasure from our joining. So I began to move slowly inside of him, but he just didn't let me. He thrust up to me, hungrily, desperately, and all too soon we screamed out, together, as all raison left us, and infinity exploded around us."
I would have done anything for him at that moment. Whatever he asked. My heart had been beating like a Japanese taiko drum in a huge empty temple. But Shannon had been lost in his memories, not realizing, and the moment had slipped away. I had gotten a grip on myself again and had looked triumphantly at the 2 now empty bottles of Médoc. My imagination had been racing at the speed of light.
So I had challenged him. Teasing him sweetly, whispering promises, kissing him, smiling in his mouth.
And it had been easy. Because it was what he had wanted as well, more then anything else.
The fatigue is sweeping over me. We climb up into the dunes and I lay down in the sand spreading my hair out. It feels wonderful when I can let it just hang lose. So often it's tied up in a tight bun or tress. "So he came with you to your house. He knows you, like the flip side of your soul. He must have known."
Shannon shrugs. He looks disturbed, guilty. "How did you break through that wall he has built between the two of you?" I can bite off my tongue, the moment I say it. Shannon's look goes dark.
It had been just as it was all those years ago. Jared's hurt and melancholy making him vulnerable. Ah, la petite blondasse. The unreliable element I had feared, had become an unexpected ally.
Jared had put up a fight, a last attempt to hold up an already crumbling wall. But they could have seriously hurt each other. I shiver as Shannon tells me the violence he had had to inflict on Jared to get him to listen. But he had managed and had once again embalmed his brother in the safety net of their childhood promises.
Feeling reassured again by Shannon's never faltering devotion Jared had regained enough lucidity to ask his brother the real raisons behind his strange demand. And Shannon had confessed. So now Jared knows about me.
But does he know me? Does he realize?
I flinch as Shannon tells me how much he has revealed to Jared about that night in Rio. I fear he may have told him too much.
He had asked his brother if I loved him. Would I allow me to ask myself that question? Does it matter? Who does Shannon love? Our moments together are magical. But they are just stolen moments in a secret garden. My real life waits back home for me. And where is Shannon's real life?
But I know that the fatal attraction will bring us back together. Drawn by the desire for each other. And the desire to continue this game we have started. He will give me what I want. And what I want is to be able to have a glimpse at that passionate complicity they share.
He'll have to think it over, my clever Shannon. He'll have to find a way to let me be present, without actually being there with them. I shouldn't be there. I should stay away from Jared. I could hurt him. He would hurt me back. Even if I know deep inside of me he is complicit in this game.
So maybe Shannon will have to find someone to help us out. Can he find someone they - we - can trust? I don't know what I want: more pictures, a video? Let them figure it out.
I stretch my body, becoming stiff with fatigue, and look up to my lover and accomplice. "I don't need to see those pictures," I tell him, "I know exactly what he looks like." "Take them anyway," he says, "Jared wants you to." So I accept them.
We leave the now deserted beach and take the last cable car back to our hotel. I know Shannon has brought his camera with him. Maybe I'll let him take some pictures of me. In uniform, perhaps. Or without ...