The Spark That Ignites [Leonard]

[Zaxal]

((OOC Warning: Dragonlust thread. Will fade to black, but don't read if it bothers you!))

In the time since coming to Pern, he'd gotten surprisingly used to sleeping in. Sonora curled up beside him until late morning when one of them would get hungry and nudge the other awake to go to breakfast and then to their newly-assigned chores. So when he woke up early -- before the sun or Rukbat or whatever that damn glowy bright thing was called around here rose (which he only knew from a gut feeling anyway) -- it was a surprise.

Even more surprising was that Sonora was already awake, curled up on his chest and watching him intensely, head tilted and waiting to see what he did.

More surprising than that was the fact that he seemed to be suddenly blind. Everything was fuzzy from the bright green firelizard lit in the dim glowlight to even his own hands when he brought them up in front of his face, the familiar contours too fine to be noticed, instead merely blobs of shadow and light. Carlton's stomach twisted, nausea setting in from the sudden, disorienting effect of losing his eyesight.

He reached up to rub his eyes only to find his fingers sliding along smooth glass and thick frames. Carlton went to take the glasses off as soon as he figured out what they were, but Sonora cheeped sternly and sat up, placing her forefoot over the bridge, pushing them back up his nose.

He glared at her as best he could when he felt crosseyed and dizzy before physically pushing her back. She creeled pitifully, as if his tiny shove had actually harmed her, and when he managed to take the glasses off, he could see her wings pulled down, head thrown back dramatically.

"You're fine," he hissed, looking down at the glasses in his hands.

Oh no. Oh no, he knew these. He had seen them extensively, perched on Leonard's face every moment Carlton had seen him. He had taken them off only to clean them and then put them right back on. Of course he didn't sleep with them on, which meant...

"Just because he wasn't wearing them doesn't mean they were free for the taking."

Sonora made another pathetic noise, rolling over on the bed piteously. Why was he displeased? She had brought him nice things. Shiny in the right light. He liked them, right? She did good?

"You stole them," he hissed, putting the glasses down on the bed and searching quickly through the nearby box for clean clothes -- hand-me-downs from kind Weyrfolk -- and pulled them on quickly. Maybe he could sneak them back in there before Leonard woke up. He doubted he could get Sonora to do it. She was still trying to earn his forgiveness through her big eyes and pitiful whines.

Carlton sat back down on the bed, allowing her to clamber up the back of his shirt to perch on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have done that." He scratched her eyeridge gently, rubbed a thumb up her headknob and petting down her neck.

He was upset, of course, but he could wait a few more minutes, calm her down, and then commence Operation Dispose of the Evidence.

What were the chances that Leonard would be awake anytime soon anyway?

And in all the commotion, he'd completely forgotten why he'd woken up in the first place, an uncomfortable and unfamiliar heat that coiled tightly inside of him, silently demanding but getting slowly louder.

[Inouken]

He was underwater. Trapped in an airtight box, burlap sack over his head. He could hear his gasps, fast and desperate, but couldn't force them past his throat. His chest had constricted, his lungs compressing as the pressure below water increased. His already obscured vision blew out in a burst of stars, and all he could think was that suffocation was a shitty way to die. He was going to die down here, dragged down by gravity and the depletion of oxygen and the sharp, stinging pain in his chest that felt suspiciously like four sets of claws.

Oh god, claws. He wasn't alone. There was something in the box with him and it was screeching in his ear loudly, obnoxiously.

Leonard jolted, kicking the furs off his bed as his eyes snapped open. He drew in a ragged breath, but his lungs still felt too tight, like a heavy weight was pressing down, preventing him from even moving. Worst of all, he could still hear that ear-piercing screeching. It was louder now that he was awake, ever-present and more cringe-worthy than ever.

Leonard winced, trying to get his bearings as a brown, Sheldon-shaped blob swam alarmingly near his face and shrieked way too close for him to handle.

"Jesus, what the hell!" he cried. "Sheldon. Oh my god, Sheldon, get off. Why are you so freaking heavy?"

Affronted, Sheldon squawked and sat imperiously in the middle of his chest. He wouldn't budge until Leonard paid him due attention. He'd been trying to wake Leonard since his no good thieving sister stole the thing from the thing. Sheldon flared his wings, glaring. Leonard needed to know.

"What?" Leonard's brow creased. "What are you even on about?" In Sheldon's agitation, the images he was sending were disjointed, whizzing by too quickly to process. "Get off of me." Leonard pushed him away, causing Sheldon to make a rude, snippy noise as he flopped onto the mattress.

Leonard didn't care. He could breathe again, which was all that really mattered up until Leonard reached for his glasses and felt nothing but the cold, hard surface of an empty tabletop.

The onset of dread at this point was inevitable.

"Sheldon," he started slowly. "Where are they? Where are my glasses?"

Sheldon huffed. Leonard hadn't wanted his help before. Maybe he could find them on his own.

"Not gonna be able to feed you, buddy, if I don't have my glasses," Leonard hissed, blindly feeling around the table once more. Still nothing. "If you hid them in the baths again because the water was also shiny, I am going to be very unhappy."

Sheldon made another indignant noise. He had wanted to see if he could make either thing shinier by adding more shine. It was science, good science. Why couldn't Leonard understand? He scrambled on top of Leonard's knees, chattering in rapid-fire succession. His sister took the shiny thing, not him. His sister. His stupid green sister with her stupid tall man.

"What?" Leonard felt his mouth go dry.

Her fault. Sheldon skittered up Leonard's shoulder and craned his head towards the door. All her fault, so go blame her.

"Goddamnit," Leonard said through his teeth. Of course it was the detective's firelizard. Or him. It might as well have been him. Like it made a difference. It wasn't enough that the man stalked Leonard during the day. Now he was sending his little crony to steal from him, too, to effectually show that he could do what he wanted, that Leonard couldn't get rid of him, that he was here to stay.

A sudden rush of anger rose up from Leonard's gut to his chest, feeling as if it might choke him in its wake. The heat was raw, demanding and made him stumble for the door. He didn't care that he was still in his sleepwear. So what if he showed up in his boxers and undershirt? What did it matter? Stealing his glasses had been enough to basically cripple him. He'd be fumbling around, tripping over things regardless of how he was dressed. He had no more shame to lose at this point, no more fucks left to be given.

He groped around for the door handle, muttering curses under his breath until he was able to find it. "Gonna have to guide me to his apartment, buddy," Leonard admitted, tone sour. He wouldn't find it on his own. Everything was blurred together, fuzzing into an unfamiliar void. He staggered into the middle of it before Sheldon scrambled from his shoulder, finally willing to take the lead once he sensed the imminent danger of letting Leonard ferry him anywhere in this condition.

Sheldon skittered in front of Leonard, chirping when Leonard squinted to find him. He'd help get the shiny thing back so Leonard could see again. Sheldon wanted to eat sooner rather than later, so he'd do good. He'd show Leonard where the thieves lived in no time flat.

"Gee, you're too kind," Leonard said darkly, though if he was honest with himself, he was thankful Sheldon wanted to help out at all. He followed him cautiously, tripping only once before reaching the detective's door.

He shoved his shoulder against it, pushing in as he tried the handle. It wasn't locked, and anyway, to hell with knocking for this douchebag. He didn't deserve the courtesy, hadn't earned it from the start. Leonard sneered, another twist of anger surging up and giving him the final push he needed to drive him through the door. He slammed it open and stumbled inside, breathing hard as he squinted around the room.

"Couldn't stop with stalking, could you?" he said, turning to whichever blob he spotted. "Couldn't get me to see things your way so why not just blind me altogether?" He felt the seething tremble in his throat, in his voice. His fists shook numbly at his sides. "Give them back." he snarled. "I know you have them, so give them back to me. Now."

[Zaxal]

He hadn't been sitting there for long before he heard the handle on his door turn. Carlton's instincts told him to reach for his gun, be prepared for a burglar or an assassin, but the closest thing he had was a knife he didn't actually know how to use properly in an actual conflict.

He needn't have worried. He opened his mouth to apologize, already reaching for Leonard's glasses on the nearby bed to return them to him, but the accusations began flying before he could manage even a syllable.

"Sonora, down."

Hesitantly, she hopped off. She'd done enough damage already. Carlton apologized almost immediately for the thought, but it was true. "I didn't take anything," he growled, pushing himself up off the bed, Leonard's glasses in his hands. "I have them, yes, but Sonora took them. She doesn't know any better."

Whatever. He didn't need to explain himself. What was the point when the guy was delusional anyway? A flash of rage told him to break the glasses, but Carlton wasn't a bully. Protect and serve. Even when the recipients of those actions were thankless little punks.

He crossed the room in several long strides, pushing the glasses at Leonard, but his hand followed the action, his hand pushing hard at Leonard's chest as he glared, an action he was sure was mostly lost on the near-blind guy.

"I was going to return them after I calmed Sonora down," he said, though he didn't really feel the need to explain himself. "And as for following you? I haven't been. Told you I'd keep an eye out, but that's it."

Sneering, he pulled his hand away once he was sure Leonard had his glasses back in his hands. "So thanks for barging in here and making a whole host of false accusations. Now get out."

[Inouken]

It should have been harder to spout demands, to step further inside, to accuse the man of everything he'd done. He was the antagonist of this nightmare, constantly finding new and aggravating ways of getting under Leonard's skin, of asserting his alpha male bullshit just to prove that Leonard was helpless.

Except here Leonard was. Staring the detective's blurry, approaching figure down, his hands balled tightly because as far as he was concerned this ended today. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his godforsaken time here being harassed by a subconscious projection that he should be able to banish if he'd just get a grip.

Leonard stood firmly in place, inwardly seething that the detective had the gall to insist he had nothing to do with this. He admitted to having Leonard's glasses, but of course it wasn't his fault. He was the perfect picture of innocence, just as charming and well-mannered as ever as he loomed overhead, shoving the glasses against Leonard's chest with a harsh and motivated push.

Leonard grabbed for them, but his balance faltered. His feet fell back, body following in an awkward stagger. He kept doing this; kept showing weakness, kept giving the man reasons to believe he was a target, a pushover. Clenching his teeth, Leonard straightened, quickly cleaning his glasses before placing them back on his face.

He could see again, though he wasn't sure he wanted to. The detective was still standing tall, demeaning him, saying he was the liar.

Rage boiled inside of Leonard, coiling around something darker and bitter, like unmitigated hatred. "No," he growled. He took a step forward, glaring at the man over the rim of his glasses. "I don't believe you. You're a thieving bully, and I've had enough of your shit. You're the one who's going to go, you stupid, creepy bastard."

[Zaxal]

"Oh, am I?"

Carlton could understand the agitation with having his glasses stolen. Really, it was only a catalyst added to an already explosive situation. That's what Leonard was. A bomb, waiting for the right trigger to explode.

His eyes dipped down, and he sneered at the boxers and shirt combo that Leonard had apparently not seen fit to change out of. At least Carlton was fairly certain that he wasn't concealing a knife.

"Whatcha gonna do?" He snarled, pushing Leonard back when he dared to step further into his space. He kept him at arm's length, his hand gripping tightly as he tilted his head forward, asking with sarcasm dripping from his words, "Unimagine me?"

The thought -- remembering that Leonard thought he wasn't real, all of his life compressed into whatever he deemed worthy of note, some subconscious hallucination whose entire being just added to his own unimportant self-synopsis -- drove him forward.

A quick step, two, building force and he slammed Leonard into the door that had swung shut behind him. He had enough coherency left to think that this wasn't making a good case for his not being the bad guy in whatever fantasy Leonard thought he was living, but the rest of him was fueled by rage, burning through him, hot as a wildfire. "I don't think so."

Carlton thought he should hit him, hard, until his nose bled or lip split, and that pale skin was marred and that goddamn arrogant self-righteous anger was replaced with something properly fearful.

His hands moved, one forming a fist in the front of Leonard's shirt while he held him against the door. The other flew up, not to strike, but to grip his hair, pulling his head back as Carlton bent and crushed his lips against Leonard's.

[Inouken]

Before Leonard could get a word in edgewise, the detective was shoving him again. One push and Leonard felt the man's fingers in his shirt, tight-fisted as he drove Leonard back against the door. His teeth cracked together on impact. Whiplash coiled hard and fast up his spine. He gasped out a breath, panic momentarily sweeping through him at the realization that he had just given away his plan like an idiot.

Shit, Leonard thought.

His hands scrabbled around the detective's grip on his shirt.

Shit. Oh, shit.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He shouldn't have opened his mouth. Should've just put his fingers to his temples and tried exploding the guy's head via telekinesis. It would've been batcrap crazy, but what in Pern wasn't? It could've worked. The guy could've been history by now, rebooted to the dark subconscious corner from which he came.

Leonard's fingers twitched around the man's wrist as he instead contemplated the very real possibility that he was about to get pummeled. Anxiety warred with the blinding rage from before. He needed to get control somehow. Needed to believe that he was physically capable of besting the detective and maybe he could stop this.

Fingers dug into his hair, and Leonard wrenched his eyes shut.

Come on, he thought.

A sharp tug made his head snap back.

Leonard thought, Dammit, come on.

He could do this.

He reached down deep, shoving all his focus on locating his inner strength, on finding that one key element that would break the detective's hold on him. He just had to concentrate. If he imagined a resolution it would happen. It had to happen.

He clenched his eyes tighter, throwing himself headlong into that conviction just as the detective's lips crashed over his own.

Leonard's eyes snapped open.

He made a muffled sound of protest, sneering against the unwelcome kiss. This could not be the resolution he had in mind. This could not be what he wanted. His hands moved to push the man away as his anger coiled deeper, pulling itself so taut that he physically shook with the effort he needed not to break apart on the spot.

Shudders inside of him. Blazing heat that seared through whatever remained of his self-respect. He couldn't trust himself, didn't know what the hell was up or down anymore, but apparently latent homosexuality was a thing his subconscious wanted him to work through anyway. This was the dirty little secret that had been following him around for days, that had even gone so far as to steal his glasses to make him see the bigger picture.

Like he didn't have more important things to worry about, like his sanity, or whether or not he would ever wake up from this. Whether or not he would ever again see Penny.

Growling, Leonard bit the detective's bottom lip out of resentment. His hands fisted into the front of the man's shirt.

"Get off of me!" He shoved back, trying to unpin himself from the door.

And then he froze.

His eyes widened, and it took a moment for him to process why his heart had stopped along with his breath and why he couldn't move.

Because normally that wasn't a strange thing, really, realizing that he was hard.

[Zaxal]

It took Leonard biting his lip and shoving him back before the haze in Carlton's head cleared and he realized exactly what he was doing, physically holding another man to the wall as he kissed him. The realization should have had him backing away, trying to figure out where the hell it had come from, but things that made sense were last on his mind.

Nevertheless, Leonard had told him to back off, and in spite of the fact that it felt like torture to do so, he took a step away. His body craved the warmth of another, throbbed with primal urges. He was hard, but the weirder part was his utter lack of shame.

He didn't care if Leonard saw it. Didn't care that Leonard was apparently the target of his desires. Didn't care about anything except picking up what he'd started, though he held himself still, leering at him, eyes almost black.

Drugs. It had to be drugs. The only way to explain the reason he was acting this way.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn't be bothered to care about that either.

What he did care about, the single detail he could take in besides the overwhelming urge to pin Leonard again, was that when his eyes dipped down, he wasn't the only party interested in where this had been going.

No. Was going. As soon as Leonard got with the program.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Carlton asked, his voice low, rough, demanding. He sauntered close, one hand resting on the door while the other fell to the handle, fingers running deftly over the shape of it, silently promising, shameless. "Because, from where I'm standing, it looks a lot more like you want it."

"You can leave." He stepped closer until he could feel the heat off of Leonard's body. "I won't stop you." Brought his head down, within distance, but Leonard would have to close it, seal the deal. "Go ahead. Tell me no."

His voice dipped even lower, rumbling in his chest as he met Leonard's eyes. "Or shut the hell up and let's do this."

[Inouken]

If Leonard had been in his right mind, he might have taken cocky consolation in the fact that the detective had actually obeyed him. For the very first time, the detective had done what Leonard had demanded. He had backed off. Stepped away. Listened to Leonard as he should have when he manifested in the first place. Now that the detective had complied, however, Leonard felt the loss of contact like a ripple across a pond, spreading in every limb of his body until he ached with the need to feel the detective's hands on him once more.

His mind reeled.

This wasn't right. It was nightmarish, baseless, preposterous. He pressed himself against the door, needing to put as much distance between himself and this new depth of madness as possible, except his palms were still sweating. His cock was still hard, and he couldn't stop glaring up at the detective through his glasses. Couldn't stop staring at the man's stupid face, his eyes, his lips.

Leonard's eyes dipped down.

He swallowed.

This was definitely not the resolution he had in mind.

But then again, a person's subconscious was unpredictable, unknowable until they faced it. It was basic pop psychology, freshman year 101. Only after a person had confronted whatever plagued their subconscious could they move forward in their personal growth. Through problem solving exercises and acceptance they could become better adjusted individuals.

They could free themselves, theoretically.

Leonard clenched his teeth, and with a shaky breath, forced himself to meet the detective's gaze again. He shivered at what he saw. Dilated pupils, fully blown with arousal, but there was more to it than that, something placably darker, hungrier.

Lustful, Leonard realized. His mouth had gone completely dry.

He could only watch in shameful anticipation as the man stepped closer, encroaching on his personal space once more.

So this was what Leonard wanted. On some deeply buried, innermost level, he wanted to experience big gay love firsthand. He had the perfect girlfriend back home whom he loved with all his heart, but the detective was making his cock throb in interest with every challenge he issued, every word that was taunting and sick and wrong.

A spark of anger reignited, sweeping quickly through Leonard and burning up everything in its path. Reason didn't matter here. Had never mattered here, not in a headspace that was so clearly sadomasochistic.

The detective's ultimatum was the final straw, the last push he needed to let his frustration and loathing take over.

He snarled, fingers clawing into the man's shirt as he surged up and crushed their mouths together. Open this time, a collision of teeth and tongue and angry breathing. He shoved himself against him, desperate for the contact of another body and to prove that he was all in.

He'd play this stupid game. If it was his ticket out of here, hell, he'd indulge in it and accept the fantasy to goddamn hell and back.

[Zaxal]

The NSFW / NC-17 part of this thread is being continued here.