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kinkfestTitle: What Matters
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
harukami
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for backstory in DDS2
Word count: 657
Summary: O'Brien has a sense of values. Sheffield doesn't.
A/N: For the prompt Digital Devil Saga, O'Brian/Sheffield - manipulative, hateful sex - "Do you think it matters?" Crossposted toharukami
It's about two weeks into things that Sheffield makes his move, catches O'Brien working late, comparing his files on number 18 now to his files from two weeks ago. O'Brien's not liking the results, feels tired and stressed, rubs his hands over his face and stiffens as fingers brush the back of his neck.
"Oh, it's you," O'Brien says, as Sheffield leans down and smiles at him. "What do you want?"
"Why do I have to want anything?" Sheffield asks, voice light.
Sheffield is, O'Brien thinks, the sort of person who seems like he always want something; not that he knows him that well. Slim and attractive and self-confident to the point he's almost creepy. O'Brien shrugs. "Well, if you're just visiting, I'm kinda busy right now--"
Those fingers trail lightly over his neck. "I looked into your background, you know."
Ah. "So what?" O'Brien says. "When the Society hired me, they did too."
"Don't be so touchy," Sheffield says, and laughs. "I just thought it might be difficult for a man like you, being a physician to such a young boy."
O'Brien knocks Sheffield's hand away from the back of his neck. So this is what it's about; he glares. "My sexuality's got nothing to do with it. I'm a doctor."
"Oh, I wasn't going to say you'd do anything," Sheffield says, all wide-eyed shock. "I just wondered if people gave you trouble over things like that."
"I like to think we're all more civilized than that," O'Brien says, though he's always thought that the people who wonder if others think like that do think like that themselves.
Sheffield laughs. "Of course," he says. "Besides, maybe after this boy dies, the next one will be a girl. Wouldn't that be easier on you?"
O'Brien feels his throat tighten. He looks back at the reports, at the rapid deterioration of No. 18, and for a moment he can't speak. "The kid won't die," O'Brien says. "I'll make sure of that."
***
He's attracted to Sheffield, sure, because Sheffield's a very pretty man with a good idea of how to make himself look the best, but he doesn't like him. Sheffield gives the impression of not really feeling anything, just putting on a good act at it.
Still, when No. 18 dies, it's Sheffield who knocks on his apartment door, comes in with booze and says, "Here, Heat. Drink up. This sort of thing bothers you, doesn't it?"
Maybe it should worry him more that that kind of guy knows him that well, but instead he drinks, instead he doesn't protest when Sheffield kisses him because whatever, whatever, a kid is dead and he's lonely and needs something, anything. Doesn't protest when Sheffield takes him rough and hard so that it falls more under pain than pleasure, because that means he can fight his way through the pain and come anyway, lie there sore and relaxed and drained while Sheffield continues to take his own pleasure from him.
After, he expects Sheffield to leave, but Sheffield lingers in bed and draws circles on O'Brien's chest with a fingertip.
"The next one might last longer," Sheffield says, dreamily. "I've heard she's got a lot of skills. And the daughter of the Director, no less."
O'Brien doesn't want to think about the next one, because even if he knows she's the next in a long line of dead children, he's only beenn on the project for one and it feels like the world begins and ends here. "I don't want any more dead kids, Serph."
"Kids?" Sheffield asks, then laughs, nasal and easy-going. "Oh, do you think it matters? It's for a good cause, after all."
O'Brien closes his eyes. This one will be different, he promises, but silently, because Sheffield will make fun of him for it. He'll do something for her, give her presents, make her feel less lonely, and make sure nobody can push her too hard-- "Yeah," he says. "It matters."
"Oh, Heat," Sheffield says, mockingly. "I guess that's what I like about you."
Author:
harukamiRating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for backstory in DDS2
Word count: 657
Summary: O'Brien has a sense of values. Sheffield doesn't.
A/N: For the prompt Digital Devil Saga, O'Brian/Sheffield - manipulative, hateful sex - "Do you think it matters?" Crossposted to
harukamiIt's about two weeks into things that Sheffield makes his move, catches O'Brien working late, comparing his files on number 18 now to his files from two weeks ago. O'Brien's not liking the results, feels tired and stressed, rubs his hands over his face and stiffens as fingers brush the back of his neck.
"Oh, it's you," O'Brien says, as Sheffield leans down and smiles at him. "What do you want?"
"Why do I have to want anything?" Sheffield asks, voice light.
Sheffield is, O'Brien thinks, the sort of person who seems like he always want something; not that he knows him that well. Slim and attractive and self-confident to the point he's almost creepy. O'Brien shrugs. "Well, if you're just visiting, I'm kinda busy right now--"
Those fingers trail lightly over his neck. "I looked into your background, you know."
Ah. "So what?" O'Brien says. "When the Society hired me, they did too."
"Don't be so touchy," Sheffield says, and laughs. "I just thought it might be difficult for a man like you, being a physician to such a young boy."
O'Brien knocks Sheffield's hand away from the back of his neck. So this is what it's about; he glares. "My sexuality's got nothing to do with it. I'm a doctor."
"Oh, I wasn't going to say you'd do anything," Sheffield says, all wide-eyed shock. "I just wondered if people gave you trouble over things like that."
"I like to think we're all more civilized than that," O'Brien says, though he's always thought that the people who wonder if others think like that do think like that themselves.
Sheffield laughs. "Of course," he says. "Besides, maybe after this boy dies, the next one will be a girl. Wouldn't that be easier on you?"
O'Brien feels his throat tighten. He looks back at the reports, at the rapid deterioration of No. 18, and for a moment he can't speak. "The kid won't die," O'Brien says. "I'll make sure of that."
***
He's attracted to Sheffield, sure, because Sheffield's a very pretty man with a good idea of how to make himself look the best, but he doesn't like him. Sheffield gives the impression of not really feeling anything, just putting on a good act at it.
Still, when No. 18 dies, it's Sheffield who knocks on his apartment door, comes in with booze and says, "Here, Heat. Drink up. This sort of thing bothers you, doesn't it?"
Maybe it should worry him more that that kind of guy knows him that well, but instead he drinks, instead he doesn't protest when Sheffield kisses him because whatever, whatever, a kid is dead and he's lonely and needs something, anything. Doesn't protest when Sheffield takes him rough and hard so that it falls more under pain than pleasure, because that means he can fight his way through the pain and come anyway, lie there sore and relaxed and drained while Sheffield continues to take his own pleasure from him.
After, he expects Sheffield to leave, but Sheffield lingers in bed and draws circles on O'Brien's chest with a fingertip.
"The next one might last longer," Sheffield says, dreamily. "I've heard she's got a lot of skills. And the daughter of the Director, no less."
O'Brien doesn't want to think about the next one, because even if he knows she's the next in a long line of dead children, he's only beenn on the project for one and it feels like the world begins and ends here. "I don't want any more dead kids, Serph."
"Kids?" Sheffield asks, then laughs, nasal and easy-going. "Oh, do you think it matters? It's for a good cause, after all."
O'Brien closes his eyes. This one will be different, he promises, but silently, because Sheffield will make fun of him for it. He'll do something for her, give her presents, make her feel less lonely, and make sure nobody can push her too hard-- "Yeah," he says. "It matters."
"Oh, Heat," Sheffield says, mockingly. "I guess that's what I like about you."
