I have got to be the most horrible person on the face of the planet, writing R-rated fic for this movie. Please, kill me. Kill me now. I'm going to hell anyway, just do it.



Title: The Truth in Lighters and Liars
Fandom: The Locusts
Pairing: Clay Hewitt/Joseph "Flyboy" Potts
Word Count: 864
Disclaimer: I don't even wish I owned this movie, it's awful. I love it, but Jesus man. I also don't own Jeremy Davies or Vince Vaughn, but you'd know if I did. Promise. The ending would've been better, dammit! -weeps-
Rating: R
Warnings: Hard core fluff, a bit of agnst, and me being romantic-which deserves it's own warning in and of itself.
Author's Notes: So this is what I do when I'm in Creative Writing class. :D Yesterday I finished my work for the quarter, so I just have to show up in class and basically sit on my hands right now. In lieu of doing something, I dunno, PRODUCTIVE for another class, I decided to write Locusts slash! I'm...an awful, awful person. Anyway, it literally doesn't exist anywhere else, not even a fic, the closest I came to it was a drabble done by morlockiness</lj>  (it's awesome even if it isn't slash, you should totally read it). This is unbetaed, but I believe I'm good. Either way, enjoy the show.

 

Clay lit a cigarette and looked down at Flyboy, who watched his every move with sleepy, sated eyes. Taking a few drags, he offered the stick up, half-smiling when Flyboy brushed his fingers as he took it. Leaving for the bathroom, Clay thought of what he was doing. This small, fragile boy who should’ve grown up long ago was starting to attach himself to Clay. This rose conflicting emotions in his chest; Clay knew that he couldn’t take any of these people with him when he left because of what happened in KC. On the other hand, the way Flyboy looked at him, eyes all lit up like Christmas, was something he didn’t want to end up missing. Washing his hands to stall for time, Clay looked in the mirror. He couldn’t do this. He had to leave, before Flyboy got too invested. Thinking of what to say, he turned and looked at the kid in his bed.

Flyboy sat up, the blanket pooling around his slim hips, cigarette dangling between his fingers. In his free hand was the lighter, the hand with the cigarette cupped awkwardly around the flame. Flyboy looked fascinated with trying to get the technique perfect, taking periodical drags from the lit cigarette between his fingers. Clay just stood there watching, entranced by the way Flyboy’s lips moved with silent encouragements. He walked over and climbed on the bed, startling Flyboy. Plucking the lighter and the cigarette from him, Clay kissed Flyboy soundly. When he pulled away and snubbed out what was left of the stick, the kid was blushing hotly. Neither said a word, just kissed again.

Pulling the blanket away, Clay started to climb up on top of his lover. No, he couldn’t leave this. There had to be a way he could take Flyboy with him when he left. The way his breath hitched when Clay put a hand over his heart was endearing, the way Flyboy stuttered his name when his kisses went lower was charming. There was so much so savor about Flyboy, body and soul, that it made Clay cautious. Sex was one thing, but romance had never ended well for him, which was why Clay tended to avoid it at all costs.

Switching his brain off, Clay pulled Flyboy into his lap, knowing he was ready and still stretched from their last round. Mouthing at his neck, Clay pulled the smaller body down on his, slipping in with little resistance. Flyboy whimpered and tangled his fingers in Clay’s hair, tears rolling down the sides of his face. He had cried the first time, too, but forced Clay to keep going. He’d sworn it didn’t hurt, that it was something else, but soon it hadn’t mattered. Neither of them could think straight, much less wonder if they were doing the right thing. As Flyboy rose and fell in a slow rhythm, Clay searched his face. He was beautiful and unsure and willing and eager, and Clay couldn’t understand how he’d been the first to see it. To want him and take him.

Clay started moving them down, putting Flyboy on his back and holding his hips up to get a good angle. In a way, they were both more venerable now, looking directly into one another’s eyes as the slow thrusts continued, the moonlight through the broken window spilling into the room. Romance. It was erotic and passionate as Clay worshiped Flyboy’s body the way he felt it deserved to be. They kissed and clung to one another, both terrified of what was happening between them. The higher they climbed the deeper they fell, pressing against one another and abandoning all previous trepidation to surrender the thing surrounding them. Flyboy gasped and his hips hitched against Clay’s as he came.

Carrying Flyboy through his orgasm, Clay began to pull out, but was stopped when thin legs clenched against his hips. He’d pulled out the first time and finished himself off just watching Flyboy revel in their post, but this time as the kid looked up at him through lowered, thick eyelashes, Clay knew there would be none of it. Thrusting in all the way, he moved his hips in short thrusts. Leaning forward, Clay took Flyboy’s lips in a kiss, starting chaste and then growing deeper. When he came, Flyboy swallowed Clay’s moan and surged against him, finding comfort in the way Clay’s large body didn’t move. They stayed like that for a few long moments, just kissing and coming down, neither willing to break the spell.

Finally, they pulled away from one another and Flyboy blushed a color Clay had never even seen a girl turn. He scooped up the forgotten blankets and covered himself, belated shyness kicking in. Clay laughed and reached for his cigarettes. He picked the lighter up from where it’d been dropped, and put a cigarette between Flyboy’s lips. Reaching up with his hand cupped around the flame, Clay lit it up. His grin grew when Flyboy’s hand came up to wrap around his.

If Clay couldn’t take Flyboy with him, then he’d at least make a man out of him. Tomorrow, they would find him a girl. Tonight, Clay could keep Flyboy all to himself.