Divergence of Character

TITLE: Divergence of Character
AUTHOR: ClarySage (Clarysage2001@aol.com)
FANDOM: Harry Potter
PAIRING: a surprise ^^;
DISCLAIMER: Of course I don't own them, silly
RATING: R – Nc17
SUMMARY: Stuff, and lots of it, no really. Ok, I don't know. It's
about something, and you can read it, how about that?
WARNINGS: hmm, sex and references to it? Use of the word co*k?
FEEDBACK: Oh darling! Of course I'd like some of that!
AUTHOR NOTES: For the imperfect sex challenge, bout 45 minutes or so spent on it…dunno if that's too much or not enough, heheh


Expectations that are never met, that's what sex is all about. People
are told nearly from the point of puberty what to expect. They read
romance novels or watch movies, and they think they know what it's
all going to be about. No one ever tells you the bad stuff. On the
other hand, maybe they do, but in such a joking way, that you never
quite believe them until it happens to you.

Then it happens, in one of those innumerable ways. It's too big or
too small, or maybe the kisses are too wet or sloppy. He's soft or
fat, and you're lazy or tired. It hurts, or it doesn't even seem to
register with your nervous system at all. He comes too quick and you
too little, and then in the space between one of you falls asleep
with the condom half on and half off, later to be found sticking to
your ass as a deflated wet baggy. Gross.

Eventually you start to find more faults with it then without it. You
begin to tell your friends that it's pointless and useless, and only
animals should do it. You strike up conversations about it merely to
put down the people who vote "yea," and then tell them all about your
choices and paths. No one seems attractive to you any more, and in
the predawn light of day, you think maybe it's you and not them.

Then, you start to fantasize, because after all, it can't all be that
incredibly bad, can it? Surely, people do eventually find the right
person, the right way to have sex. All those books and movies
couldn't be lying, could they? You begin thinking of what you'd find
perfect, how it would happen, where it would lead. Then the ultimate
decision of what would make you the happiest.

You figure out that sex, really, truly good sex would probably
lighten up your whole existence. The only problem is that you've
found that really, incredibly good sex is a myth. A story told to
propagate the species.

Later, when he's kissing the side of your neck and whispering into
your ear, you almost believe that this time it might be different.
It's the fantasy, it's all right, and it's fantastic. Nevertheless,
his kisses begin to taste like something nasty, and when his hands
try to remove your clothes you find out it just isn't going in the
right direction at all. You thought maybe with someone older, wiser..

However, no, it's the same as it's always been, too much, too little,
never enough that's for damned sure. In the end, you tell him it was
great, thank him, and run half-dressed out of his room, hoping he
didn't notice the haste in which you retreated.

In the long run, you give up completely and decide to forever
withhold your dubious charms. No one can conquer your body or heart
anymore. It's for the best you tell your friends, it really is, you
tell those who are interested.

Then you notice me, not for the first time, but somehow in a
different way, a light suddenly shines through the clouds of your
sexuality. I'm like the lighthouse, the beacon in the night; I'll
guide you away from the hidden rocks. I tell you that what you've
been feeding yourself are lies and you slowly begin to change your
mind about sex.

Then one night, when you've decided that maybe I really am different
from all the others, you come to me, and tell me it's time, you're
ready. That's when I realize what the problem is, when I see why
you've made your mind the way you have.

Come on, I tell you, we'll lie down, and sleep together. Just sleep,
just lie, and we won't speak. In the morning, when the light shimmers
through the windows, and sounds of the school around us begin to
wake, I'll whisper in your ear. I can tell you the truth, what no one
has ever said before, and maybe it will make the difference.

All those others, the many, the few, the ones you've slept with and
wondered about. They were just a way to fill in the blank. And yeah,
sex isn't what it's made out to be, it's not good everytime, and it
won't satisfy that emptiness inside no matter how many cocks go in
you. I'm not saying I can change that, or make it better or make it
go away entirely. Perhaps it'll always be bad, maybe it will always
seem off somehow.

I'm just saying, maybe abstinence isn't the way to go.

Watching your eyes, mirrors of my own, as they widen and then close
in pain – it's like seeing it in a picture, somehow far away. My hand
as it slides down your cheek, is the same as your own, and those
slender fingers, pale, freckled skin and knobby knees, those are mine
too. And it's funny, I tell you, and your eyes open up. It's funny,
that we're not the same all the way through, isn't it?

-end-