Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/158272.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Skins
  Relationship:
      Maxxie_Oliver/Tony_Stonem
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-02-01 Words: 456
****** the layers of him ******
by orphan_account
He had your cock in his mouth, just a second, and he thinks because of that, he
owns you too, but he's wrong.
He can't tell what's right and what's wrong, because he's sick, fucked up in
the head, but you're not, and you know fucking him on his terms is not the way
it's going to be. You're gay, you're not fucking stupid. You're not a push-
over. You're not going to offer your heart up on a plate, just because he looks
at you with that begging/beautiful/cruel gaze nobody can understand.
They don't see what they're looking at, because they don't see him; they see an
image of him, an illusion, because he's got skins, multiple skins, and he shows
everyone what they want to see. That's what they love him for. Not his good
looks, nor his charms, nor his fucking brilliance. They love him for being who
they want him to be, and they hate him for hurting them, but they will always
take him back, because. He is. The one person they can count on being what they
need.
You're different from them. You can tell him he's shite at something. You can
push him away and play on your own terms, because there is nothing you want
from him.
What you want is Anwar not to be such a fucking prick, what you want is
Michelle to wake the fuck up and dump him, what you want is Cassie to be able
to stand on her own and fucking win. You want Sid to hurt Tony like Tony hurts
Sid, just the once. But you don't want anything from Tony, and that makes you
different.
Jal is like that, but Tony won't go near Jal, because she's dangerous. She
might see through him, and she might blow his cover and she might tell everyone
what he hides inside, that hole he carries in his heart that makes him do these
things. She's smart. Too smart, and he knows it. He's always been a good judge
of character.
He knows you won't say anything. He knows you'll let him be whatever he is, a
sick man, a fucking sociopath, because you know the dance, and the dance goes
on, and you don't meddle in it, because everyone has their part to play, and
who are you to tell them which step to take and which not? You're one of the
dancers, not the choreographer.
You will fuck him, one day. You will have his mouth on your dick again, his
tongue on your lips, you will have him move inside you, gently, fucking you
senseless.
But you will make sure you own him then, and not the other way around.
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