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Title: Rules of the Game
Author: Claire
Fandom: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Pairing: Kinda Mutt/Indy
Rating: PG
Summary: You might have said something...
Note: Spoilers for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Warning under cut, because it's also a spoiler.
Warning: This revolves around thoughts of the incestual variety. (Dudes! You put Harrison Ford and Shia LaBeouf into a movie together and I'm not meant to write the badwrong about them? Yeah, right...)
"He's your father."
You stare at her in disbelief when she tells you.
Stare at her and feel kind of ill because that night you'd lain there and touched yourself and thought about how good he'd felt pressed behind you on the bike. You'd told yourself that you were hard because of the rush of the guys chasing you, of the bike flying through the streets. Told yourself that it had nothing to do with the body behind you, arms wrapped around you and hot breath across your skin as he'd told you where to go.
If it hadn't been for the situation, hadn't been for Mom and Ox and for the guys trying their hardest to kill you both, then you might have pressed back, might have said something about the hardness pushing against your ass. After all, you know the rules to the game, have played it enough times before to know them by heart.
Might have, but you didn't, and now you never will. Even if you are finding it surprisingly easy to think of him as 'Daddy'.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Pairing: Kinda Mutt/Indy
Rating: PG
Summary: You might have said something...
Note: Spoilers for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Warning under cut, because it's also a spoiler.
Warning: This revolves around thoughts of the incestual variety. (Dudes! You put Harrison Ford and Shia LaBeouf into a movie together and I'm not meant to write the badwrong about them? Yeah, right...)
"He's your father."
You stare at her in disbelief when she tells you.
Stare at her and feel kind of ill because that night you'd lain there and touched yourself and thought about how good he'd felt pressed behind you on the bike. You'd told yourself that you were hard because of the rush of the guys chasing you, of the bike flying through the streets. Told yourself that it had nothing to do with the body behind you, arms wrapped around you and hot breath across your skin as he'd told you where to go.
If it hadn't been for the situation, hadn't been for Mom and Ox and for the guys trying their hardest to kill you both, then you might have pressed back, might have said something about the hardness pushing against your ass. After all, you know the rules to the game, have played it enough times before to know them by heart.
Might have, but you didn't, and now you never will. Even if you are finding it surprisingly easy to think of him as 'Daddy'.