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fandomweekly2025-09-08 08:54 pm
a_little_apocalypse) wrote in fandomweekly2025-09-08 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
[#272] Unspoken (Control)
Theme Prompt: #272 - Choose Your Battles
Title: Unspoken
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: M, Trench/Darling
Bonus: No
Word Count: 821
Summary: There are things, still, that Trench can't say to Darling.
It had long been evident to Trench that Darling was, and had always been, more comfortable with being physically affectionate, but it was only in certain moments that that difference between them felt like a distance he didn't know how to describe, let alone address.
He knew of the cliche, men always fall asleep straight after sex-- and the amount of times he'd been there afterwards, dearly wishing that that was the case for him, or for Darling. Fall asleep and forget about it. Wake up like it never happened. Don't think about what we did together.
Just don't think about it.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. As such, if he'd made the mistake of entering into these situations without the prerequisite level of alcohol to buoy him alongside the easy seduction of Darling's words (and the way he'd make eye contact, fearless, knowing what he wanted-- and the confidence of his touch--) Trench would find himself lying there afterwards, Darling's head pressed to his shoulder and feeling far more exposed than whatever previous moment it had been they'd both divested themselves - or each other - of their clothes. In that moment there was no escaping it, and no remaining reason to be used as justification; only the fact of them, together in that bed, and that Casper Darling had long since been irresistible in ways that Trench couldn't articulate, subsuming himself into Trench's every weakness, forever taking advantage of their--... whatever this was.
This is ridiculous, Trench would think to himself, in those moments.
We're too old for this. Why do you still persist with this behaviour?
If Darling could fall asleep afterwards, then that would be one thing - but he'd lift his head just enough to meet Trench's gaze once again, something searching and desperate in his eyes, trying to find something Trench didn't know if he'd ever possessed. And he knew this was Darling's own struggle - times past where he'd openly spoken his mind (and Trench knew there few other situations where Darling had any issue with that) and Trench hadn't been able to respond, couldn't meet the sentiment given with the obvious reply.
Trench couldn't say it. He just couldn't, and every time Darling looked at him like he was about to say it-- that note of panic would rise within him once more. It was too large a concept to broach and too impossible a thing to imagine, like there had been a time in his life where things like love and relationships had made sense, but that was a long time ago, now, and so many things had happened since then. It made no sense to talk in those terms anymore, to try to fit his life into that framework. All of that died when--
(And yet still Darling persisted, acting still as if Trench were someone he could be attracted to, and the two of them were the sort of people who could do this sort of thing-- and each and every time, Trench felt that he understood it less and less. Looking at himself in the mirror, catching his own gaze reflected back at him, and unable to see, there, whatever it was that Darling seemed to see. He trusted Darling in any professional circumstance, but when it came to that, he could only feel that Darling had to be mistaken. Like he would come to his senses, pulling the rug out from underneath them and aligning with Trench's own insecurities - and there are so many other people you could choose to be with, and yet, you always find yourself here--)
He hated whatever part of his own reticence had encouraged Darling's own reluctance, those eyes that questioned something he had no answer to. And it wasn't like Darling to be silent, but Trench knew him to be a strategist when it came to choosing his battles, and he'd long since learnt this one not worth fighting. They both knew what he wanted to say. It didn't need to be said. (They didn't need to risk that argument.)
Trench would kiss him, then. He didn't know if it felt like enough, the effort of physical contact where words felt impossible - but he could draw Darling to him and kiss him slowly, feeling the guilt still spike within him as Darling relaxed against him, leant into his touch. His breath hitched and his fingers trembled to touch Trench's own cheek, clearly taken by some post-coital rush of emotion--
"Zach--..."
Don't say it. Don't say it.
Darling gave a shaking breath before silencing himself against Trench's lips, perhaps hoping that his own actions would, in turn, express the implicit statement. (It didn't feel like a lie. Trench couldn't help but think that, whatever thoughts and feelings were spiralling within his mind in that moment, Darling believed them completely. It was almost amazing to Trench, in a way, that Darling could still believe in such things.)
Title: Unspoken
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: M, Trench/Darling
Bonus: No
Word Count: 821
Summary: There are things, still, that Trench can't say to Darling.
It had long been evident to Trench that Darling was, and had always been, more comfortable with being physically affectionate, but it was only in certain moments that that difference between them felt like a distance he didn't know how to describe, let alone address.
He knew of the cliche, men always fall asleep straight after sex-- and the amount of times he'd been there afterwards, dearly wishing that that was the case for him, or for Darling. Fall asleep and forget about it. Wake up like it never happened. Don't think about what we did together.
Just don't think about it.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. As such, if he'd made the mistake of entering into these situations without the prerequisite level of alcohol to buoy him alongside the easy seduction of Darling's words (and the way he'd make eye contact, fearless, knowing what he wanted-- and the confidence of his touch--) Trench would find himself lying there afterwards, Darling's head pressed to his shoulder and feeling far more exposed than whatever previous moment it had been they'd both divested themselves - or each other - of their clothes. In that moment there was no escaping it, and no remaining reason to be used as justification; only the fact of them, together in that bed, and that Casper Darling had long since been irresistible in ways that Trench couldn't articulate, subsuming himself into Trench's every weakness, forever taking advantage of their--... whatever this was.
This is ridiculous, Trench would think to himself, in those moments.
We're too old for this. Why do you still persist with this behaviour?
If Darling could fall asleep afterwards, then that would be one thing - but he'd lift his head just enough to meet Trench's gaze once again, something searching and desperate in his eyes, trying to find something Trench didn't know if he'd ever possessed. And he knew this was Darling's own struggle - times past where he'd openly spoken his mind (and Trench knew there few other situations where Darling had any issue with that) and Trench hadn't been able to respond, couldn't meet the sentiment given with the obvious reply.
Trench couldn't say it. He just couldn't, and every time Darling looked at him like he was about to say it-- that note of panic would rise within him once more. It was too large a concept to broach and too impossible a thing to imagine, like there had been a time in his life where things like love and relationships had made sense, but that was a long time ago, now, and so many things had happened since then. It made no sense to talk in those terms anymore, to try to fit his life into that framework. All of that died when--
(And yet still Darling persisted, acting still as if Trench were someone he could be attracted to, and the two of them were the sort of people who could do this sort of thing-- and each and every time, Trench felt that he understood it less and less. Looking at himself in the mirror, catching his own gaze reflected back at him, and unable to see, there, whatever it was that Darling seemed to see. He trusted Darling in any professional circumstance, but when it came to that, he could only feel that Darling had to be mistaken. Like he would come to his senses, pulling the rug out from underneath them and aligning with Trench's own insecurities - and there are so many other people you could choose to be with, and yet, you always find yourself here--)
He hated whatever part of his own reticence had encouraged Darling's own reluctance, those eyes that questioned something he had no answer to. And it wasn't like Darling to be silent, but Trench knew him to be a strategist when it came to choosing his battles, and he'd long since learnt this one not worth fighting. They both knew what he wanted to say. It didn't need to be said. (They didn't need to risk that argument.)
Trench would kiss him, then. He didn't know if it felt like enough, the effort of physical contact where words felt impossible - but he could draw Darling to him and kiss him slowly, feeling the guilt still spike within him as Darling relaxed against him, leant into his touch. His breath hitched and his fingers trembled to touch Trench's own cheek, clearly taken by some post-coital rush of emotion--
"Zach--..."
Don't say it. Don't say it.
Darling gave a shaking breath before silencing himself against Trench's lips, perhaps hoping that his own actions would, in turn, express the implicit statement. (It didn't feel like a lie. Trench couldn't help but think that, whatever thoughts and feelings were spiralling within his mind in that moment, Darling believed them completely. It was almost amazing to Trench, in a way, that Darling could still believe in such things.)
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