Here it is, my first attempt at slash. And who better to test it on than young, unsuspecting Darren and Steve?
Warnings: Slash (boy/boy) and mild language. If you're homophobic, leave now and don't bother flaming.
Disclaimer: Cirque de Freak and its characters are property of Darren Shan and do not belong to me in any form.
- - - - -
He's watching me. Again.
I didn't even have to look up this time. By now, I had gotten used to the feel of a pair of eyes----his eyes----watching my every move.
Every time I stood close to someone, no matter whom, I could feel those orbs piercing my flesh, reminding me of the unspoken claim he had over me. And this time was no exception.
We were at a school dance. A harmless, very adult supervised school dance. But that made no difference to him. After all, this is Steve Leopard we're talking about; possessiveness courses through his veins as naturally as blood flows through mine.
This time it would appear that Steve was jealous of the girl I was dancing with. And sure, I'll admit, she is cute. Red hair cut down to her chin, blue eyes, a splattering of freckles…but honestly, she has nothing on him.
Which brings up another good point: why is he jealous of her? I can't even remember her name! Megan? Natalia? Lauren? Carly? Who cares! It makes no difference to me at all! The only reason I agreed to dance with this no-name girl was to make him green with envy!
You see, I've been running a series of experiments to test this possess nature of his. What can I do that will really hit home? How close can I come to making the cat pounce? And it's worked, too! I still have the hickey to prove it!
He brushes by me now, so close that I can feel his body heat, but just far enough that we don't touch. Asshole. He's leading his own girl to dance now as well. Jackie? Sara? Rebecca? Samantha? It doesn't matter; we both know that he's only doing this to uphold one of his mottos: Two can play it that game.
I rest my head atop my partners so she won't notice how I'm watching Steve. He catches my eye and smirks in that peevish way of his.
"You're losing," he mouths to me as his hand rides ever lower towards the nameless chick's butt.
"You wish," I reply.
The girl in my arms starts chattering away about school. Have I done my homework yet? Do I remember that she sits behind me in class? I'm not paying attention so I just nod my head continuously. Hasn't she realized that when one is playing with the king of the jungle, one must also focus all of their attention on the task at hand so as not to get bitten?
Apparently she hasn't because it's two songs later and her mouth is still moving.
I hide my exasperation. It's time to finish----or start, depending on how you look at it----this game with Steve. I check one last time to make sure that my best friend is still transfixed on me before I take the incessantly chattering girl's face in my hands and bring my lips on to hers.
It's not a rough kiss (wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea), but it's enough that I know Steve's probably seething. I wait all of five seconds before pulling away. Grinning at her, I say, "Thanks for the dance," and saunter out of the gymnasium, knowing that Steve's eyes aren't the only part of his body following me.
I turn down a deserted hallway. 3…2…
I'm shoved against a wall with his hands running along my hips and back. The eyes that had been tracking me all night are now pinning me to the wall, rendering me immobile.
"You know just what to do, don't you?" Steve breathes on my neck.
I can't answer. My voice is trapped somewhere in the back of my throat and it refuses to budge. And, oh! His teeth are nipping at my collarbone and I can't see straight anymore.
"Hmm? Isn't that right, Darren? You do this just to see how far you can get before I get you again, hmm?"
As Steve's hands glide through my hair, I force my knees to stop trying to buckle, force my voice to come out smooth and suave and calm.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
My mouth runs dry as his hands stop caressing me. What did I get myself in to? I don't bother answering myself. I already know.
I decide to move on to the bigger and better problems to try and occupy my mind with. Things like global warming and soccer teams and whether I'm nervous or excited at the thought of being pressed up against this wall…
Steve is still staring at me and his gaze fuels my bravery. I pick up what's left of my courage and repeat myself.
"What are you going to do about it, kitty?" I hear myself ask.
And I can't bother to be brave anymore. I can't breath, and I can't see, and I can't think about environmental issues or sports or anything, because the only thing I can concentrate on is the feel of his lips against mine. Those lips that are moving against mine at such a pace, where they are neither soft or harsh nor slow or fast. They move in such a way that they could only belong to Steve Leonard.
I can hear myself give some sort of low, suppressed moan of submission in the back of my throat. His lips wouldn't have to be touching mine for me to already know that he was smiling. He was finally in control----just the way he liked it.
And just as his hand was sliding up the back of my shirt, just as my fingers had twined themselves throughout the hair at the back of his neck, I hear a high voice screech from somewhere to my left. My eyes fly open to stare at one of the parent chaperones.
"I…you…what are you two doing?" she cries in this near hysteric, over-dramatic voice.
Steve and I shrug at the same time, refusing to dignify her question with a verbal retort. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she turns stiffly and walks away, muttering to herself and shaking her head the whole time.
But I don't really care what that lady's name is or if she is going to tell on us, because this whole time, Steve Leopard's lips have not left mine, and his hand is still creeping ever so slowly up the back of my shirt.
- - - - -
There you have it, my pointless attempt at Steve/Darren.