Genesis
by Silvia
He didn't know why, but it had to be dark. Only the smallest light was allowed to pass beneath his door, sneaking in from the blinding hallway. The stark white of his blank notepad was barely visible, but it didn't matter. He could work with this. He could make something out of the void - will a part of it to life.
Listen to yourself, you know? I mean poetry is a chance to give the world a peek of the innermost private part of yourself that you'd, in other cases, just stifle.
Dawson's words rang throughout his head, expanding and contracting, absorbing into his synapses. Obvious, almost rhetorical, yet some damn good advice. Jack lay back against the soft cushions of his small bed, letting every muscle go loose... willing his inhibitions and mind blocks to drain out of every pore... melting away into the night.
And the dark conjured up a body.
It was clouded, features blurred, but the strength in it was visible - it shown out of every inch, glowing from within. And he had to touch it. Jack sent imaginary hands wandering over its skin, feeling hard muscle combined with soft warmth. Biceps clenched under his questing fingertips and Jack gasped, mind nearly freezing as the sex of the body became suddenly clear.
The image wavered, flickering, but he couldn't let it go. He just couldn't. He had fallen in love with this body - this ghost of a person - in that first moment. He was already lost. He had to make it real.
Smoothing the pads of his fingers over the smooth paper nestled in his lap, Jack searched for words. They came spilling out through his veins into his hands, birthing rapid scribblings until a sudden stop. Until the man came into being.
As the body solidified it reached out, stroking a wave of heat down his arm and to his thigh. Jack's stomach clenched and he hissed, low and harsh. As he watched, wide eyed and heart pounding, the immaterial hand tightened its grip and kneeded the inside of his thigh. Pure crackling heat spread through him at lightening pace, coiling in his fists as they clutched the bedspread in desperation.
Oh god.
The form moved forward and down as Jack stared, hypnotized. Lower... lower... and then soft lips were brushing against his jean covered cock. Slow agonizing movements that could barely be felt. Every muscle in Jack's body tensed and suddenly he was flooded with crazed need. He *needed* to know, needed to recognize what could possibly make him feel this alive. Jack grasped for the blurry shadow of a head, yanking it upward, willing it with every fiber of his being to have a face.
And then his entire world came crumbling down.
A lazy grin and sparkling eyes set Jack's system into shock and he shut it all down. Everything. No.
noit'snotpaceyit'snotpaceyit'snotpaceyit'snotpacey
Push it in. Drown it out. Gone.
He quickly darted over to his backpack and shoved the notepad in, crumpling it slightly in his haste. Gone. Over. The clock said 9 pm but it was enough. It had to be now. He crawled into bed and pulled heavy blankets, sheets, and oblivion over his head.
And forgot.