Ignition Written: May 27, 2003 From a single image in my mind, apropos of nothing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cigarette dangling between Elijah’s fingers. Between his lips. Twitching over a wrist still red and half-raw. Flaring hot as he draws in a long breath. Eyes heavy and hooded. "Do you always take, Billy?" Their backs heavy against the headboard. The sheets pooled around their waists. Smoke drifting across Billy’s eyes. One hand behind his head. "I take everything you give me, Elijah." Bedsprings creaking as Elijah leans, stretching, reaching across Billy’s unyielding body to stub out the cig in the ashtray. The last plume of smoke rolling from his lips. "And what if I want it back?" Casually, coolly. Question asked. A low, throaty chuckle. "Could you take it back, Elijah?" Probing, daring. Question answered. A sharp twist of movement, and Billy’s head strikes the wall hard. Pale fingers twisting and twitching around his throat. Tightening. Challenge given. Green eyes grow warm and feral above a curving mouth. Voice strained but low. Challenge met. "I’m not afraid of you, little boy." Blue hellfire ignites and blazes, and something turns and shifts as audibly as Billy’s choked-off breath. Three words tip the balance. "You should be." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ home