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kathierif_ficTitle: Imagine
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Sid Hammerback/Danny Messer
Rating: FRM
Warnings: slash, talk of amputation
Word Count: 1,274 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sid Hammerback might be “only” a ME, but he still knew where to cut and where he had to use the bone saw. He knew how to make a clean cut, how to minimize the shock and the blood loss, and he knew how to care for a fresh wound like the one he was thinking about. And right now, he was thinking about doing all that to Danny.
Authors Notes: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo challenge, Prompt: Amputee Fetishism.
~*+*~
“How do you feel?”
Danny grunted an ill-tempered reply to the question and limped toward the bedroom. Sid’s eyes followed him over the dark rim of his glasses, and when the younger man didn’t re-emerge after several minutes, he put down his magazine and went after him.
Of course he’d heard about what had happened. Sheldon, bless his little heart, had told him every detail without much prodding when he’d come to the morgue to collect the results of the last autopsy. Danny had slipped when chasing a suspect and had twisted his ankle.
He hadn’t broken anything, as evident by the fact that he was able to walk, and on a certain level, Sid was relieved about that. Despite all the evidence against it, he felt great affection, maybe even love, toward the younger man who occasionally shared his bed.
Well, more than occasionally.
However, another part, one that usually stayed buried deep beneath his pleasant, if quirky, everyday personality, couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed about the relative harmlessness of the injury. He knew how easily a break – especially if it wasn’t a clean break – could result into a worse injury, even in…
He didn’t even dare thinking it.
This was something he’d never told anyone. He had kept this part of him carefully hidden, all his life. Nobody even suspected a single thing about this.
This fetish of his.
He had only hesitantly dared to investigate those conflicting feelings he’d had since he’d been a young boy and he’d observed soldiers come home from various wars around the world, missing arms, and legs, sometimes both; hoping that they would eventually go away, but these feelings had only grown with the years.
Acrotomophilia.
He stepped into the bedroom, observing Danny, who’d stretched out over the length of the bed, his arms folded under his head. He was breathing evenly, and Sid dared to take a step closer to him.
Danny had taken off his shoes and socks. A blindingly white bandage was wrapped around his right ankle, and Sid couldn’t help himself.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch it. He traced along the fabric, his caress light and not intended to cause pain. He didn’t want to wake up or disturb Danny. Instead, he just wanted to take this moment and enjoy it.
Sid Hammerback might be “only” a ME, but he still knew where to cut and where he had to use the bone saw. He knew how to make a clean cut, how to minimize the shock and the blood loss, and he knew how to care for a fresh wound like the one he was thinking about.
And right now, he was thinking about doing all that to Danny.
It would be so easy, and so pretty.
He had thought about this before, randomly choosing a leg, or an arm.
Maybe both.
Maybe he would cut below the knee. Or at the elbow.
Or at the ankle.
He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat as his fingertips traced the lines his scalpel would leave in Danny’s perfect smooth skin.
The elbow would be bad. Danny would need both hands to do his job. He wouldn’t need both feet. He could get by in the lab in a wheelchair, or by using prosthetics. Sid didn’t want to interfere with Danny’s job in any way. He knew how much working for Mac, in the lab, meant to the younger man.
But a foot – he wouldn’t necessarily need that one. He could still puzzle over crimes and help solve them without his foot.
And at night, Danny would be at home, with Sid, and Sid would caress the smooth skin where a foot should be and then nothing would be, nothing but scar tissue that would be soft and sensitive in the beginning, and only slowly lose that sensitivity. Danny would come apart under his skilled, gentle fingertips, and so would Sid, simply by being allowed to touch.
To worship.
He would worship it with his whole body and mind, even if he was quite capable of seeing the irony in that statement.
If he was honest with himself, it was this irony that amused him.
Fingertips traced over Danny’s perfect body, traced along the skin a skilled surgeon would cut open with his scalpel. The scalpel would glide through muscles and tendons and flesh like a steak knife through warmed butter, and finally, the saw would cut through the bone, the skeleton – the deepest layer of a body, and then...perfection.
Sid swallowed again as his fingertips came to rest on Danny’s swollen ankle. All of a sudden, he became aware of his own throbbing arousal, confined by his pants and almost painful.
He bit his tongue to stifle his moan. The thought alone was enough to send him to full hardness, he realized. The sight of Danny like that, the Danny of his deepest and most secret fantasies, would probably be enough to make him come in his pants like a teenager.
It scared him a bit. He hadn’t expected these feelings to grow into that much of an obsession.
Quickly, he ran his fingertips up Danny’s calves, but without conscious decision, they soon returned to the injured ankle, tracing it again and again, in never-ending circles.
It was just a twisted ankle. Danny would limp around for a few days, complain about pain and the inconvenience of a swollen ankle, giving Sid just a glimpse of what could be, and he soon would be as good as new. Sid didn’t need to fall back on his ME training to know that. Nobody would need to amputate Danny’s foot. His deepest, darkest fantasies would not come true, not this time and probably never.
It put a dampener on his excitement, but he was still aroused. For a moment, he contemplated getting up and hiding in the bathroom with his head filled with images and thoughts of a crippled Danny and his hand wrapped tightly around his own flesh, but before he could come to a decision, Danny moved and slowly lifted his head from his folded arms. He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the older man and asked, “Problem?”
Sid managed a smile and ran his fingers over Danny’s ankle once more. “No,” he said.
It was almost believable enough to fool himself.
Danny rolled around, pulling his leg from Sid’s grasp. “You sure?”
He squinted at Sid, adorably blind without his glasses, and Sid nodded and made an affirmative sound before crawling up the bed and stretching out alongside his young lover. His blood was still cursing too hot through his veins, through his brain, feeding his mental images, before collecting at his groin, and he shifted a little before finding a comfortable position.
Danny chuckled and wrapped an arm around his neck, to pull him into a loose embrace and a teasing kiss. He pulled away after just a few moments and grimaced.
“My ankle hurts,” he declared. “You wanna distract me from it?”
Sid gave him a smile and a predatory look. “Want me to cut it off?” he suggested, trying to ignore the sharp stab of arousal running through his whole body.
Danny frowned at him for a second before rolling over, pinning Sid under him with a shake of his head.
“In your dreams, doc,” he replied before kissing him again, his groin rubbing against Sid’s in a sweet, slow, torturous move.
Sid groaned and let himself fall into the sensations of the caress.
Danny would never learn how accurate his words really were…
~End.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Sid Hammerback/Danny Messer
Rating: FRM
Warnings: slash, talk of amputation
Word Count: 1,274 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sid Hammerback might be “only” a ME, but he still knew where to cut and where he had to use the bone saw. He knew how to make a clean cut, how to minimize the shock and the blood loss, and he knew how to care for a fresh wound like the one he was thinking about. And right now, he was thinking about doing all that to Danny.
Authors Notes: Written for the
kink_bingo challenge, Prompt: Amputee Fetishism.~*+*~
“How do you feel?”
Danny grunted an ill-tempered reply to the question and limped toward the bedroom. Sid’s eyes followed him over the dark rim of his glasses, and when the younger man didn’t re-emerge after several minutes, he put down his magazine and went after him.
Of course he’d heard about what had happened. Sheldon, bless his little heart, had told him every detail without much prodding when he’d come to the morgue to collect the results of the last autopsy. Danny had slipped when chasing a suspect and had twisted his ankle.
He hadn’t broken anything, as evident by the fact that he was able to walk, and on a certain level, Sid was relieved about that. Despite all the evidence against it, he felt great affection, maybe even love, toward the younger man who occasionally shared his bed.
Well, more than occasionally.
However, another part, one that usually stayed buried deep beneath his pleasant, if quirky, everyday personality, couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed about the relative harmlessness of the injury. He knew how easily a break – especially if it wasn’t a clean break – could result into a worse injury, even in…
He didn’t even dare thinking it.
This was something he’d never told anyone. He had kept this part of him carefully hidden, all his life. Nobody even suspected a single thing about this.
This fetish of his.
He had only hesitantly dared to investigate those conflicting feelings he’d had since he’d been a young boy and he’d observed soldiers come home from various wars around the world, missing arms, and legs, sometimes both; hoping that they would eventually go away, but these feelings had only grown with the years.
Acrotomophilia.
He stepped into the bedroom, observing Danny, who’d stretched out over the length of the bed, his arms folded under his head. He was breathing evenly, and Sid dared to take a step closer to him.
Danny had taken off his shoes and socks. A blindingly white bandage was wrapped around his right ankle, and Sid couldn’t help himself.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch it. He traced along the fabric, his caress light and not intended to cause pain. He didn’t want to wake up or disturb Danny. Instead, he just wanted to take this moment and enjoy it.
Sid Hammerback might be “only” a ME, but he still knew where to cut and where he had to use the bone saw. He knew how to make a clean cut, how to minimize the shock and the blood loss, and he knew how to care for a fresh wound like the one he was thinking about.
And right now, he was thinking about doing all that to Danny.
It would be so easy, and so pretty.
He had thought about this before, randomly choosing a leg, or an arm.
Maybe both.
Maybe he would cut below the knee. Or at the elbow.
Or at the ankle.
He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat as his fingertips traced the lines his scalpel would leave in Danny’s perfect smooth skin.
The elbow would be bad. Danny would need both hands to do his job. He wouldn’t need both feet. He could get by in the lab in a wheelchair, or by using prosthetics. Sid didn’t want to interfere with Danny’s job in any way. He knew how much working for Mac, in the lab, meant to the younger man.
But a foot – he wouldn’t necessarily need that one. He could still puzzle over crimes and help solve them without his foot.
And at night, Danny would be at home, with Sid, and Sid would caress the smooth skin where a foot should be and then nothing would be, nothing but scar tissue that would be soft and sensitive in the beginning, and only slowly lose that sensitivity. Danny would come apart under his skilled, gentle fingertips, and so would Sid, simply by being allowed to touch.
To worship.
He would worship it with his whole body and mind, even if he was quite capable of seeing the irony in that statement.
If he was honest with himself, it was this irony that amused him.
Fingertips traced over Danny’s perfect body, traced along the skin a skilled surgeon would cut open with his scalpel. The scalpel would glide through muscles and tendons and flesh like a steak knife through warmed butter, and finally, the saw would cut through the bone, the skeleton – the deepest layer of a body, and then...perfection.
Sid swallowed again as his fingertips came to rest on Danny’s swollen ankle. All of a sudden, he became aware of his own throbbing arousal, confined by his pants and almost painful.
He bit his tongue to stifle his moan. The thought alone was enough to send him to full hardness, he realized. The sight of Danny like that, the Danny of his deepest and most secret fantasies, would probably be enough to make him come in his pants like a teenager.
It scared him a bit. He hadn’t expected these feelings to grow into that much of an obsession.
Quickly, he ran his fingertips up Danny’s calves, but without conscious decision, they soon returned to the injured ankle, tracing it again and again, in never-ending circles.
It was just a twisted ankle. Danny would limp around for a few days, complain about pain and the inconvenience of a swollen ankle, giving Sid just a glimpse of what could be, and he soon would be as good as new. Sid didn’t need to fall back on his ME training to know that. Nobody would need to amputate Danny’s foot. His deepest, darkest fantasies would not come true, not this time and probably never.
It put a dampener on his excitement, but he was still aroused. For a moment, he contemplated getting up and hiding in the bathroom with his head filled with images and thoughts of a crippled Danny and his hand wrapped tightly around his own flesh, but before he could come to a decision, Danny moved and slowly lifted his head from his folded arms. He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the older man and asked, “Problem?”
Sid managed a smile and ran his fingers over Danny’s ankle once more. “No,” he said.
It was almost believable enough to fool himself.
Danny rolled around, pulling his leg from Sid’s grasp. “You sure?”
He squinted at Sid, adorably blind without his glasses, and Sid nodded and made an affirmative sound before crawling up the bed and stretching out alongside his young lover. His blood was still cursing too hot through his veins, through his brain, feeding his mental images, before collecting at his groin, and he shifted a little before finding a comfortable position.
Danny chuckled and wrapped an arm around his neck, to pull him into a loose embrace and a teasing kiss. He pulled away after just a few moments and grimaced.
“My ankle hurts,” he declared. “You wanna distract me from it?”
Sid gave him a smile and a predatory look. “Want me to cut it off?” he suggested, trying to ignore the sharp stab of arousal running through his whole body.
Danny frowned at him for a second before rolling over, pinning Sid under him with a shake of his head.
“In your dreams, doc,” he replied before kissing him again, his groin rubbing against Sid’s in a sweet, slow, torturous move.
Sid groaned and let himself fall into the sensations of the caress.
Danny would never learn how accurate his words really were…
~End.