monimi101

It All Breaks Down at the Role Reversal

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 01:51:56 GMT

Title: It All Breaks Down at the Role Reversal
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Kirk/Sulu/Chekov
POV: 3rd
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: DP, threesome (obviously)
Summary: I wanted to write a DP involving Sulu. I am not sure why, but I did. I claim this prompt as an excuse.
A/N: beta'd by the wonderful slightly_o

Sometimes, Sulu gets that feeling. A masochistic need to feel another man’s skin on his own, to be dominated completely. It's a rare need. Most of the time, he’d rather be in charge. Seeing Pavel writhe beneath him, feeling that heat, should be enough. To be honest, those little mewls are more than enough. Most of the time.

But there are days when he needs to be dominated. He doesn’t talk about it. He doesn’t act on it. He tries not to think about it, let's it pass, until he can go about life as normal. That doesn’t mean he succeeds. Tonight, for the first time in months, those thoughts are racing through his head. Thoughts of being filled, being pounded into the mattress until he can’t take it any more. It makes him feel filthy, but that doesn't stop his mind wandering. He decides to go to an exercise room and fence. Maybe it'll be easier to fall asleep when he’s exhausted.

He doesn’t count on the Captain being there, watching him. This happens sometimes. The Captain likes knowing what’s going on with his crew, likes being involved in their lives. But feeling that man’s eyes on him as he faces his imagined enemies doesn’t help. He tries to keep the faceless man in his fantasies from becoming the Captain. He can’t let himself think about that. He’s with Pavel now. Pavel, who is sweet and wonderful and everything he wants, almost everything that he wants. Except this.

But he does think it; fantasies of the Captain that he knows could be fulfilled.

He has ears; he knows about the Captain’s exploits. He’s seen various crew members, of both genders, stumble out of the Captain’s quarters when the rest of the ship is sleeping.

The other man’s eyes seem to burn holes in him. He knows that it’s a benevolent presence. But he can't help wishing that it weren't. That just tonight, the predatory gleam in the Captain’s eyes was directed at him. He shakes his head, stopping his exercises for a minute. No, he can’t think about this. It’s wrong, and it’s filthy, and he cannot, will not, cheat on Pavel.

“What’s wrong?” the Captain’s voice rings out. Sulu stops himself from turning around.

“All tonight you’ve been off, even during our shift,” the Captain says, with friendly concern. “And now you just stop all the sudden. Is something bothering you?”

“It’s nothing, Captain,” Sulu says, heading for the changing rooms. He hears the Captain follow him, and tries not to let fantasies spring to his head. He just has to get himself to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be back to normal.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” the Captain says, softer now. “Obviously something is wrong. Tell me about it.”

“It’s nothing you need concern yourself with, Captain,” he replies coldly, removing his helmet. Hoping the Captain can take a hint and leave it at that.

“Are you fighting with Ensign Chekov or something?” the Captain asks, getting closer. Sulu still doesn’t look at him, but he knows how many steps lie between himself and the other man. “Come on, I’m not just the Captain, I’m your friend, too.”

“If that’s true, you’ll leave it alone,” he states, his voice clipped.

Kirk grabs his shoulder and turns him around forcefully. He gasps, just a little, and looks away. “Sulu?” Kirk says. He’s so close, Sulu can feel his body heat. He wants to run away, hide in his and Pavel’s quarters. To be anywhere the Captain’s heavy scent can't follow.

“Sulu, what’s going on?” the Captain’s voice is getting stricter, slipping into his commanding tones. Sulu feels a shiver run up his spine. He shouldn’t want this so badly. The Captain puts a hand on his jaw, makes him look at him.

“Captain, please,” he murmurs, still avoiding his eyes. “Let it go.” His voice is needy and it makes him burn with shame.

“Is there anything I can do?” the Captain asks.

"Yes, there is. Please, Captain, fuck me," he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. It’s not until a slow smirk creeps across the Captain’s face that he realizes he was too late in stopping the words from escaping.

He breaks away and walks to his quarters as quickly as possible, wishing he could drop pretense and sprint, his face still burning. He’s praying to Gods he doesn’t even believe in that the Captain will drop it. Pretend he never said anything, that today didn’t happen. But when he steps into his quarters, there’s another set of footsteps behind him. It can't be Pavel; he's spending the afternoon pouring over enginering diagrams with Scotty.

“Please,” he says, his voice breaking just a bit. “Pretend I didn’t say that. Just leave.”

“After hearing something like that come out of your mouth?” the Captain says, his voice distinctly predatory.

This is going too far. He can feel himself getting hard, can picture this as clearly as his fantasies. He’s feeling more conflicted than he ever has. He wants it so badly, but at the same time he cherishes what he has with Pavel so much, he can’t.

The Captain walks towards him slowly, each step making Sulu’s heart race faster. This is not good. This is not good. A pair of arms wrap around him from behind, smoothly slipping up his shirt. His breath hitches.

“I had no idea,” Kirk says, breath hot and punctuated by a nip at the lobe that almost makes him moan. “That you wanted this.”

He wants to say, "But I don’t, this is wrong."

Again, his voice betrays him. He whispers, almost too quietly to hear, “Please…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pavel knows what he’ll find when he returns to his quarters. He and Hikaru had fallen into a comfortable routine long ago. Hikaru will be in bed reading, nude, trying to stay awake. When he enters, the other man’s head will perk up and he’ll say, smoothly, “Hey, Pavel. Anything interesting happen today?”

The answer is no, as per usual, but they’ll sit in bed and talk about things for a few hours, discussing Scotty’s theories and new discoveries and their preferences on movies or books. And then they’ll snuggle together and fall asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. When he wakes up tomorrow morning, Hikaru’s bright eyes and warm smile will be the first thing he sees. He smiles at the thought of it.

When the door slides open, the smile drops off his face instantly. The PADD he was carrying falls to the floor.

“Ahh, ahh!” his lover moans as the Captain pounds into him. “Please, Captain. Harder.” His hips roll up to meet each thrust; his face is contorted with pleasure.

“Hikaru,” he says, and he’s not sure if it was a whisper or a shout, but Hikaru stills instantly, and looks at him, wild eyed. Kirk takes a hint and looks over to the door.

“Pavel, oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” Sulu starts babbling. Chekov is stunned. How could he? He thought they were in love. Still, he can't stop his cock twitching at the sight.

“Chekov…” the Captain starts, and then stops. Chekov glares at him. He knew they were together, and still he does this?

Then an evil gleam shines him the Captain’s eyes, and he flips them over so Hikaru is on top. The pilot makes a startled noise. Pavel feels a blush spread across his cheeks. He’s loath to admit it, but seeing Hikaru like that…

“Hey, Pavel,” the Captain says, sounding for all the world like they’re just meeting in the corridors and he’s not deep inside the ensign’s lover. “Come over here. I think there’s room for two.”

Hikaru’s eyes widen, and he looks at Pavel like a deer in the headlights. Chekov finds himself wondering if it’s true. The Captain puts two fingers into Hikaru’s mouth and thrusts upwards.

The view, oh fuck. Pavel finds himself walking towards the bed, coherent thought leaving him. Hikaru is still looking at him with wild eyes but he rolls his hips down to meet each thrust, as if his body is functioning separately from his mind.

When Kirk starts trying to slide his fingers in, along side his cock, Pavel bats his hand away.

“I’ll do it,” he says, his voice quiet and rough. Hikaru’s eyes are a question, and he nods as he strips quickly. He sits on the bed and lubes up his fingers. The two men on the bed are still, Kirk watching him, Hikaru’s eyes sliding closed.

Pavel thinks it’s good, this time, that his fingers are so slim and long. While it would be a lie to say easily, he does get one in. Hikaru gasps, and he can see the Captain fighting not to buck his hips. He feels powerful.

When he slides in the second finger, Hikaru lets out a shuddering moan, his face falling to Kirk’s shoulder as he breathes heavily. Pavel is achingly hard now, his breathing shallow. He feels like any noise he makes will break the spell, and he’ll wake up. It’s almost a comforting thought.

He starts moving his fingers hesitantly. It’s hot, and tight, and he’s still not entirely sure this is going to work. He decides that if it doesn’t, he’s kicking the Captain out of the room and fucking Hikaru. But Hikaru is taking it, and his harsh breathing is turning into little gasps and moans.

Kirk’s head has fallen back, his eyes squeezed shut and a bright flush across his cheeks. Pavel remembers the days when he would have given anything to be with the Captain so intimately as he adds a third finger, listening to the long moan that leaves Hikaru’s lips.

“Ahhh, fuck, please,” Hikaru gasps. “Please, Pavel, just…” And Pavel never thought he’d hear the pilot beg like that, thought he would always be the one begging. The reversal is thrilling. He removes his fingers slowly, and Hikaru shudders. He lubes himself up quickly, trembling with excitement.

As he lines himself up, a shot of worry seeps through him. This won’t work. There is not room for two. He pushes in anyways.

He can't hear himself growl, but he can feel it. Every time Hikaru exhales, it’s a quiet moan, and there are tears in his eyes. Kirk is biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. It’s tighter than he could ever have imagined. It’s almost on the wrong side of the pleasure and discomfort, but not quite. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life. When he’s all the way inside, all three of them are still for a minute, adjusting. Their sweat mingles and, without meaning to, their breathing falls in sync.

After a minute Hikaru whispers, almost too quietly, “Please.” Pavel’s hips jerk, their moans mingling together, and then Kirk is moving too, and holy shit, this is just. Too much.

Their thrusting is, to be honest, erratic and shallow, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Hikaru bites into Kirk’s shoulder, hard, which makes Kirk drive into him just a bit faster and deeper, a deep growl escaping his throat. Pavel can hear himself speaking, unsure if it’s in Standard or Russian, or even what he’s saying, but fuck. He’s never been this turned on in his entire life.

Hikaru comes first, with a harsh wail, and his spasms send Pavel and Kirk to the edge quickly. The Captain pulls out as he comes; Pavel doesn’t. When all three of them are spent, it takes the last of his strength to reclaim Hikaru by pulling off the captain's chest.

They fall asleep almost instantly, their limbs tangled together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hikaru wakes up, it is to the familiar sight of Pavel’s soft, still sleeping face. But the weight of a muscular arm over him is not so familiar. For a minute he has no idea who it is, and he’s so tired and spent, he doesn’t feel like turning over to find out. Then he remembers the events of last night. He can’t stop a huge grin from forming on his face. He’s never been so full, but fuck it was good.

“Sulu, you awake?” the Captain’s voice asks blearily from behind him.

“Yeah,” he says softly. Pavel scrunches up his eyes like he always does when he’s about to wake up.

“Are you okay?” he asks, real concern in his voice. “I mean, that was okay, right?” Sulu laughs softly.

“That was more than okay,” he says. “That was excellent.” He can feel the Captain’s sigh of relief on his shoulder.

“Okay, good,” he says, sitting up. “I’ll give you the day off. If you need more time than that, just let me know.” For a split second, Sulu has no idea why that would be necessary. Then he thinks about sitting up, and realizes that probably isn’t going to happen.

“Thanks,” he says, as the Captain crawls off the bed to pull his pants on.

“As if I’d make you work after something like that,” the Captain scoffs, pulling his boots on.

“No, for last night,” Sulu says. He’s still just watching Pavel, who’s pretending to sleep.

“No problem,” Kirk says, and though Sulu isn’t looking at him, he knows that he’s smirking. When the door slides shut after he leaves, Pavel opens his eyes.

“Hey, Pavel,” he says, “Anything interesting happen today?” As if the last few hours hadn’t happened, and Pavel was just getting back from engineering. Pavel grins widely. They both start laughing loudly, until tears of mirth are streaming down their cheeks.

The Fort of Fluff

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 04:28:48 GMT

Title: Fort (the Fluff Version)
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
POV: 3rd
Rating: R
Summary: for the prompt, "When Chekov gets upset he builds a fort out of blankets and pillows in his quarters and sulks for awhile. Most people know to leave him alone. Most people are not Sulu, who decides to turn that frown upside down by despoiling Chekov in his fort." over on</a></a>st_xi_kink
Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: Completely not planned, and towards the end, the fluffiest thing I've written in years. My is it a departure from the angsty dub-con culty drugged up porn I've grown used to writing......... >> Enjoy? I might add, it's unbeta'd.

Chekov sat in a pile of blankets on his floor, a pillow cuddled to his chest, taking up as little space as possible. A sheet stretched over him from the bed to a chair he’d placed by the door. It doesn’t quite touch the top of his curls. He breathes deeply, thickly, fighting down the irrational panic rising in him. This happens sometimes. There’s no real reason for it. He loves being in space, really he does, especially on the Enterprise with people he likes a lot and equations he likes just as much.

It’s just that space is a huge, dangerous place. It’s enormous, and it goes in every direction, and it’s always getting bigger, all the time, and everything is getting farther away from everything else, like his mother and his house are getting farther away with each passing second, even when they’re staying still, relatively, and they’re getting farther away from the people that would help them if they got in trouble on this mission and he doesn’t know the statistics for this one, but he can think of dozens of things off the top of his head that could go wrong, like maybe the Captain could get hurt, or he could offend someone and they’ll attack the Enterprise or they’ll fail and the Federation will be angry at them and they’ll have to run away and become pirates, but they won’t even have allies most criminals do, because everyone will still think they’re with Federation, even if Federation ships attack them, and oh shit, when you’re in space, attack can come from any direction at all because they are floating and exposed on all sides and there are so many people who have a thing against the Enterprise, they really could be attacked from anywhere, at any time, and there’s really nothing he can do about it at all, except just wait for it to happen and pray to any deity that probably doesn’t exist that they’ll somehow make it through this, and there are rules about this kind of things, in statistics, that say they really should be dead already, not to mention Murphy’s law, which seems to have ignored them thus far, but it will have to catch up with them eventually, and when it does, no one will be able to do anything and they’ll probably all die horrible painful deaths, in space, where no one hears and no one cares.

There’s so much that can go wrong. Most of the time he can forget all that, because he has something to concentrate on or a task to accomplish, like the calculations he has to do to make sure they get exactly where they should get. Most days, he does those calculations two or three times, just to make sure he got it right. He enjoys them a lot, too. He plays chess with Sulu and with Spock. He can beat Sulu most days, but Spock still wins every game except one. (And that one was probably due more to a drunken captain nibbling on his fingers.) He learns everything he possibly can, from everyone he possibly can. But sometimes he just has to take a break and relax. Most of the time, he’s fine even then, just content to be on the Enterprise, which is almost its own little world.

But every once in a while there are days like this, when he sees something move in the corner of his eye or looks out a tiny window. And it all comes rushing back to him, and it’s all he can do to make his own little world as small as he can.

And today, even though he’s in his little fort, and it’s even littler than normal, and he’s growing, it’s still not small enough. There’s still just too much space, too much room for something to go wrong, and it’s all he can do hug his pillow and shiver and try to take up as little room as possible. The knock at his door startles him and he almost makes his fort collapse, along with what little control he has left.

“Chekov, are you there?” Sulu’s voice asks at his door. They were supposed to play chess, today, Chekov remembers. But he can’t. Today is one of those days, when everything is terrifying and shit, he doesn’t want Sulu to see him like this. He hopes that if he stays quiet, the other man won’t notice his breathing. He had forgotten that Sulu knows the key to his room as well as he does, and the door opens.

“Hey there,” Sulu says, and Chekov can hear the smile in his voice, like he thinks this is cute and childish. “Mind if I come in?” Again, Chekov says nothing, just tightens his arms around the pillow. Please don’t! his thoughts scream, Please don’t, I don’t want you to see me like this! Please, please!

Sulu obviously does not get the mental transmission, because his head pokes into Chekov’s little world. Chekov just stares at him, wide eyed, vaguely aware that he’s hyperventilating, if only because of the dizzying headache. Sulu’s face goes from a playful smile to a concerned look.

“Whoa, Chekov,” he murmurs, crawling closer. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Chekov can’t say anything, but in his mind, a list of exceptions runs by, listing dozens and dozens of things that might not be okay, things that could go wrong at any minute and there’s nothing at all he can do about it. Sulu sits beside him, hand rubbing gentle circles in his back.

“It’s fine, Chekov,” he says, and the look in his eyes is so open and honest that Chekov is almost inclined to believe him, except that he hasn’t gotten to the bottom of his list yet, and it’s been a while. “I’m serious, everything is going good. It’s okay.”

Chekov just stares at him, and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes and the lump that’s been in his throat for nearly half an hour bobs.

“It’s okay, Chekov,” Sulu repeats. And then Chekov is crying, holding onto Sulu instead of his pillow, huge sobs racking his body. Sulu wraps his arms around the young ensign and continues murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. Chekov doesn’t think he’s cried this hard in years and years and years, but he just can’t stop the torrent of tears pouring out of his eyes and soaking Sulu’s regulation shirt. He can’t quiet the loud sobs or control his breathing. He hears himself speaking, broken rants about all the hundreds, no thousands, maybe even millions of things that could be happening to them right that very moment and he’s not sure if he’s talking in English or Russian or maybe both. It feels like forever before it quiets.

“It’s okay, Pasha,” Sulu says, and the name makes Pavel thinks he’s might be right, in spite of himself. “Nothing will get us, or hurt us. We won’t let them, okay?” He nods and hiccups and Sulu looks him right in the eye, even though they’re still so close that their noses are almost touching. “We all look out for each other, okay.” There’s no question in his voice, just complete honesty. “I promise, you can depend on us.”

Pavel can feel himself trembling again, but having Sulu in here means that there’s no extra space at all, not even a little bit, and it’s nice, so he leans in and lets his lips brush the other man’s, just lightly, barely, not even for a second. He looks at Sulu, his eyes wide, pleading for him to make it all okay, somehow.

Sulu smiles and brings a hand up to cup Pavel’s cheek. He leans in and kisses the younger man, gently and slowly and sweetly. Everything about it is relaxed and natural, and Pavel just melts into it, leaving his arms around the other man’s neck. When his tongue flicks out, not demanding at all, more so offering, he tastes like regulation toothpaste and herbal tea. Everything about him is just so safe.

Pavel lets one hand slide down Sulu’s back, resting just above his hip, and they edge just a tiny bit closer together, and Pavel sighs into the other man’s mouth, feeling completely contented. The ceiling lights are just barely diluted by the sheet above him, and everything is cloaked in a soft light that feels like Saturday mornings when your mom is cooking you lunch and you’re too young to know all of the horrible things out there. That light is a little bit like Sulu, Chekov decides, only maybe with Sulu it’s not your mom but your lover. Yeah. That’s it, they should be lovers.

“We should be lovers,” he says, staring straight into Sulu’s eyes as they break momentarily from their kiss.

“Okay,” Sulu replies, because it makes sense.

Chekov smiles brightly and pulls himself even closer to the other man, so he’s almost straddling him, and Sulu sinks down until he’s flat on his back so that Chekov really can straddle him without moving the sheet above him. Their bodies line up just right, and they kiss again. Sulu’s hands fit the small of Chekov’s back as if they were made to be there. Chekov runs his hands through the Lieutenant’s hair gently, smiling into their kiss.

And then Chekov starts kissing down the other man’s neck, slowly and gently, but with a growing enthusiasm. Sulu tilts his head to give his new lover better access, and strokes his back encouragingly. Chekov’s lips are warm and soft and almost feathery, and he can feel the stirrings of arousal uncurl inside him. They’re so close, he knows that Chekov can feel it, too, and he can feel Chekov’s growing interest as well. When the ensign’s tongue starts lapping gently as the base of his neck, he lets himself groan quietly and roll his hips, just a bit. Chekov’s hips roll down to meet his, and they set up a slow, easy rhythm.

Things work perfectly between them, and it’s no surprise to either man. After all, if they can work perfectly on the bridge and conversations flow perfectly between them, then there’s no reason it should be more difficult here, with things like removing clothing. There’s no reason it should be more difficult to figure out exactly what to do to get an arched back or a quiet murmur, so neither of them are surprised to find they can. Maybe in the back of their minds, they’ve always known how to access these content stirrings in the other, and it just hasn’t been the right moment. Sulu isn’t surprised to find out that Chekov has what they need in a drawer by his bedside, either.

“I think I have always wanted this,” Pavel says quietly, working two slicked fingers into the other man. Sulu’s legs are spread, ankles by Pavel’s shoulders. Neither of them have done this before, not like this, and there is a certain awe to it.

“I think I have, too,” Sulu replies, just before Pavel pushes in with a slight moan. For a minute, both of them are still, just looking at each other in amazement. Then Pavel is moving, his face buried in the crook of Sulu’s neck. It starts slowly, like everything else between them. And gradually, it begins to speed up. The spaces between Pavel’s shallow gasps become shorter. Neither man knows how long it lasts, or who comes first. They don’t really care.

When it is over, and the corner of a pillow is used to wipe them clean, Pavel lies on Sulu’s stomach, their fingers interlaces. They kiss one more time before falling into a soft, restful sleep.

ontents here.

The Fort of Angst

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 04:18:37 GMT

Title: Fort (the Angst Version)
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
POV: 3rd
Rating: PG-13
Summary: for the prompt, "When Chekov gets upset he builds a fort out of blankets and pillows in his quarters and sulks for awhile. Most people know to leave him alone. Most people are not Sulu, who decides to turn that frown upside down by despoiling Chekov in his fort." over on st_xi_kink
Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: So I was going to do something different with this, and then my computer died and I thought I'd lost it. So I rewrote it from scratch, and when I went to post the new version, this one decided to revive itself. Being lazy, I just ended it quick and angsty-like. Cosider it a bonus story.

Chekov sits in a pile of pillows on his floor, curled up, back to the bed. A sheet stretches from the chair he positioned by the door over his head to his bed, where it is held by a few heavy books. There is a small entrance to the soft little world he's created for himself, through the closet, but there's really not much room. And besides, people know to leave him alone, when he's in his fort.

It feels remarkable safe, in here. Everything is soft and warm and fuzzy. The light sifting in through the sheet overhead is muted, making it seem even softer. Chekov knows it is childish to do something like this. He knows he will have to remake his bed later, and that this is not solving his problems at all. But he doesn't know what will solve his problems, so here he is. Curled up in his fort.

His problem, today, is the same one he's been having for the past few weeks. Well, longer than that, probably, but he only realized it in the past few weeks. His problem is that he has been noticing too much about Sulu. Sulu, who is his closest coworker and his closest friend, and who definitely should not pop into his head every time he masterbates. Definitely not. Sulu, who gives him fencing lessons thinking it is because he wants to learn and not just because he wants to see him sweaty in the changerooms afterwards. Sulu is one of the only people he feels truly comfortable with, and the only person at all who never teases him about how young he is. Even that one time he saw Chekov's fort, and him being childish and sulky inside it. He's a really good friend, in every way you could want. It's not the kind of thing that you can let sex into. Sex ruins friendships; even Chekov knows that.

It doesn't stop him from letting thoughts of a half-naked Sulu wander into his head. Nor does it stop him from letting a hand slip into his regulation pajama pants. It doesn't even stop him from imagining Sulu on top of him, whispering dirty things in his ear, as he strokes himself roughly. Although he knows it should.

When he hears the door slide open, he freezes. Shit. He hopes, whoever it is, that they have the sense to leave him alone. He can still almost feel Sulu's breath hot against his ear, and he wants to finish before that feeling fades.

"Chekov?" a familiar voice calls. Shit, he thinks. (His cock twitches a bit, and he can almost imagine the way Sulu would call his name in completely different situations.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sulu asks. He's already figured out that Chekov only puts up his fort when he's upset, and Chekov loves him a little for that. Still, he definitely doesn't want Sulu to see him like this.

"Go away," he mumbles, his breath catching just a bit. Please just leave, his thinks.

"Chekov, you sound like you're crying," Sulu says, concerned. "I'm coming in, okay?" Chekov takes his hand out of his pants and crosses his legs.

"I am not crying, and that is not okay," he says, acutely aware of how silly he must sound. Sulu doesn't listen, and moments later, his head pokes into the fort. He crawls in, very careful not to make it fall over. The sight of Sulu crawling towards his does not help his situation. The other crewman sits next to him, more crunched up than Chekov is, though not much. He puts a hand on Chekov's shoulder.

"What's wrong, Chekov?" he asks. Chekov wills himself to think about gross things like space slugs and old people. Sulu's hand rubbing little circles on his back does not help.

"There is nothing wrong here, Sulu. I do not wish to see you, at the moment," he says. And now he kind is almost crying, which isn't good at all, because he really doesn't want Sulu to see him cry.

"Why not?" Sulu asks, a bit alarmed. "Did I do something to offend you? If I did, you know I didn't mean to. Tell me what I did wrong, I'll make it up to you. Promise."

A few ways Sulu could "make it up to him" flash though his mind, and he feels like the most awful person ever. He blushes and looks away. "You did nothing," he says, his voice shaking at bit. Sulu's hand is getting lower on his back, and even though it's obviously supposed to be a soothing gesture, it really doesn't feel that way. "I simply to not wish to see you, right now." Which is kind of a lie, because he does want to see him. All of him, in a variety of ways. None of which would be okay within the boundaries of friendship.

"Chekov, look at me," Sulu says, a commanding edge to his voice. It's kind of hot. Chekov feels like he could melt just from the guilt he's feeling. These feelings and desires, they are so wrong.

"Look at me," Sulu repeats, and his hand grabs Chekov's cheek gently, turning him so he has to look. There's concern in his eyes, and it's not until his thumb is wiping the tears from Chekov's face that he realizes he's been crying.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice the most gentle thing Chekov has ever heard. And he can't think of anything to say, so he just leans in, not even too much, because Sulu is so close, and kisses him, sweet and soft.

It only lasts a few seconds before he stops it, tears flowing freely now, hoping that Sulu got the message, that he'll understand. That he'll be able to let Chekov get over this stupid crush instead of hating him for it. Sulu looks just a bit surprised, and doesn't do anything for a few seconds that feel more like an hour.

"Chekov, I," he pulls back a bit, and Chekov might be young, but he knows that look. It's just pity, and nothing more. Chekov looks away, all guilt and shame. He shouldn't have done that. "I'm sorry," Sulu whispers. He turns around and leaves. The hiss of the door closing just might be the loneliest sound he's ever heard. He lets himself collapse on his side, and falls asleep to the feeling of tears flowing towards the floor.

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 08:06:58 GMT

Star Trek Kink Meme

Kirk, tentacles, Spock

Very mature.

Sulu had brought a little stem aboard from the last mission. this, in and of itself, was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the amount of secrecy he used thereafter. And security. He kept it in a locked experimentation room, providing it just enough light and water to live, but not to grow. He didn't talk to it, like he did his other plants. Nor did he talk about it, which was even stranger. Now, Kirk had thought he would enjoy not hearing about his Lieutenant's plants. And normally he would. But this plant just seemed so interesting. It wasn't fair. It was the only interesting-looking plant Sulu had ever brought aboard, and it was the one he chose not to talk about.

He tried asking about it a few times. Sulu denied its existence entirely, at first. It was only when he threatened to enter its room and examine it himself that Sulu admitted to it at all, and even then he said as little as possible. All he knew was that it was relevant to Sulu's interests but not to the Enterprise. He considered making Sulu chose between getting rid of it and telling him about it, but if he chose the former, he'd have just curiosity and no way to satisfy it.

When he tried asking Chekov, who was with Sulu a lot of the time, the young ensign blushed -very- deeply and ran away. He became even more interested.

He tried to get Spock to be curious, as well, and help him figure out why this mysterious plant would be so relevant to Sulu's interests. Spock told him that it was not considered polite to pry into something the Lieutenant obviously considered private. Jim tried to convince him, quite thoroughly, but Spock did not give in. (The Captain took this as a personal insult to his oral talents.)

So the Captain decided to take matters into his own hands. When he knew Sulu was sleeping (or at least in his quarters and unlikely to emerge, especially considering he had Ensign Jailbait with him), he sneaked into the bio lab where the plant's container was. The plant was in a dark soil in a small pot in the centre of the room. It was a sort of blue-violet colour, and glowed slightly, There was something about the glow that Jim found strangely appealing. He took a deep breath, and looked around, suddenly feeling nervous. He didn't want everyone to be mad at him... But it was just so interesting! He was the Captain, they weren't allowed to keep things from him like this! He opened the door and stepped into the cubicle where the plant was stored.

The room was pretty small, no bigger than the handicap stall in a washroom. It had bright white doors and walls, and the heat lamp was pleasantly warm. The plant seemed to sense him, and stretched its little indigo tendrils towards him. It seemed like a kitten begging to be petted. Everything about it made Jim smile. It was just so cute. Why was it such a secret? He put his hand towards it. The longest tendril was just long enough to reach his middle finger, and touched it hesitantly. The touch, slight though it was, send a shock up Jim's spine.

"Water and light, up 40%," He commanded the computer, his voice hitching unexpectedly. The gentle light increased, and a light spray of water came on.

Almost immediately, the tendrils all got longer, thicked, and nearly half a dozen more shot out. The one that had touched hi finger curled around his wrist and pulled him closer to it. Its touch made his heart race and his breath stutter. Everywhere is touched tingled in the most pleasant way he could imagine. The other tendrils approached him. One curled around his ear, light and feathery. Another slid up his arm beneath the uniform. He vaguely wondered if this was a good idea. Maybe the plant was going to do something to him. Other than make him tingle. And wow, that was really nice. The tendril sliding up his arm reached his chest, poked almost curiously at his nipple. He gasped. Oh. Yeah, that was pretty nice.

"Captain, your heart rate is unusually elevated," a voice on his belt said. "considering that you are in a biology lab." hearing Spock's voice while he was this turned on was really weird. It was almost like having your father as the voice over to a porno. The tendril around his ear curled past his cheek, slid into the corner of his mouth.

"It-It's nothing," He said, hoping that Spock didn't remember that this was the lab with Sulu's secret in it. Which was a long shot, but the tendril around his nipple was doing some pretty weird and enjoyable things, and another was starting to poke into his belly button, and now there was one at the back of his knee, which he didn't know could feel so good. He might have moaned a little.

"I am not inclined to believe you," Spock stated. "I will arrive there in ten minutes." Dammit, now he was going to associate Spock's voice with sexy glowing plants. Not good.

"That will not-- ah! -- not be necessary," He said as a tendril, no, maybe tentacle was the right word now, they were really growing, slid up to his upper thigh and oh, when had his pants disappeared? Maybe this was going too far. He was definitely up for unusual sexual conquests, but he liked to have a little more control in these sorts of situations. As the plant didn't have ears, he assumed it would not take a safe word.

"I have some spare time. I think you could use some company," Spock said, and meant, I don't trust you at all, but I'm not making accusations until I have proof. And Jim would have replied, but the tentacle in his mouth was growing, too, and he was kind of moaning, because there were planty bits stroking the insides of his thighs, just where his legs met his pelvis. And the one about his nipple had a friend now, and hey, he was naked! That was an unexpected development. And he thought he was the best person at the stealthy removal of clothing... Well, he still was, it wasn't a person.

Maybe it objected to that, but not his wrists were being curld about, and he realized he probably couldn't escape, which was alarming. The tentacle in his mouth was making it hard to breath, but he was sucking on it desperately, because damn he was turned on, and there wasn't much else he could do. A tentacle around his waist (when did that get there?) lifted him into the air. Shit. Spock would be here, soon, he had to get out.\

He struggled a bit, and the tentacle around his wrists and waist tightened, and the one in his mouth jerked down his throat, and he would have gagged, if he hadn't learned to suppress that reflex so well. And there was a tendril tight around the base of his cock, keeping him away from an orgasm he hadn't realized he was so close to. A tentacle stroked the back of his knee, and then up his thigh, and he shivered as it went, and he had to get away from this before Spock came and saw him and told Sulu but there didn't seem to be much he could do, what with his mouth and his hands disabled. And then it prodded cautiously at his entrance, which was about when the panic really set in.

"Nnngg," He moaned in objection. He would have said, "Light and water, off," except there was a tentacle down his throat, and he was still kind of sucking on it, and licking it, which he should stop, because it would be seen as encouragement, but he had to do something to keep himself from moaning like a whore, which was was kind of maybe doing anyways.

And then the tentacle shoved itself up into him, just as Spock walked into the room, and Jim kind of shout-moaned around the thing in his mouth, and Spock's eyes went really wide. His inner eyelid blinked a few times. And evidently this plant had magicla prostrate-finding abilities, cause fuck, it was hitting with every thrust, and why was it thrusting and oh, the one in his mouth was, too, and there was one playing with the tip of his cock, and he really hoped it didn't try to get in there, too.

"Captain," Spock said, still shocked. Jim moaned loudly and tried to stop meeting the plants every thrust and maybe show a bit of composure, but that was difficult. The plant grabbed his ankles and spread his legs as wide as they could go and a little bit more, like it was trying to put on a show for Spock.

"Captain, I believe Mr. Sulu told you not to go near that plant," he said, walking towards his Captain slowly until he was standing at the still open door of the chamber. The plant, evidently unwilling to expose itself to the cooler air outside its room, made no move towards Spock. One of the plants tentacles began curling around Jim's cock, with the smooth muscularity of a snake, and fuck that was sexy, but he wished he wasn't suspended in midair, spreadeagled for his second in command to see every thrust the plant put into him. Because that was kind of embarrassing.

It wasn't like he got off on the thought that Spock was seeing every bit of this. It wasn't as if the obvious bulge in the Science Officer's pants made him feel even hotter. The moans now flowing freely from him were definitely not wordless pleas for Spock to let Jim touch him even just a little. A second tentacle probed at his entrance, and he'd thought he was already filled and overstimulated, but then the second tentacle shoved in, alternating with the first at hitting that spot inside him. He'd never been harder in him life. It hurt, and he thought any more would make him just back out, except he couldn't actually think, all that was in him mind was that blue-violet glow and that wonderful tingling and Spock's eyes, staring at him with a studious gaze. The other man might have been talking, but he didn't know. His skin felt like it was on fire.

"Lights and water, 0%," turned out to be the First Officer's words, as the plant receded, as fast as it had grown in the first place, leaving Jim on the floor, hard and incoherent, sobbing on the floor, completely overwhelmed. Spock reached down to pick him up, but ended up with Jim sucking on his fingers, because he just felt so empty and shit, he needed something inside him, anything, just please.

Spock retracted his hand as if it had been burned. Jim whimpered on the floor. Spock just stared at him his expression unreadable. Finally finding the sense to finish himself off, Jim did so, coming violently.

For several minutes, Jim just laid there on the floor, his thought slowly reforming. Spock continued to just stare.

"I suggest you leave the room so I can turn the light and water back on. We do not want Sulu's plant to die," He said.

Jim sat up slowly, wincing, wondering if he'd even be able to stand. In the mean time, he just crawled out of the room. The door shut, and Spock told the room to return to default settings.

"That was highly irresponsible, even for you, Capatin," Spock stated. "Your uniform seems to have been completely destroyed."

"That's all you've got to say?" Jim mumbled from the floor.

"I do not believe I can say much to that," Spock replied. "Aside from that it was entirely illogical for you to enter the room, knowing it was a bad idea, and nothing else about it."

"You are..." Jim trailed off, trying to find the word. "How can you remain so calm after seeing that?"

"I have no emotions to show," Spock replied.

"Bullshit," Jim said. He was too tired to put up with the half-Vulcan, right now. "Could you just carry me to my quarters?"

"I think I should, instead, take you to the Sick Bay, to see if the specimen has had any adverse effects on you. Your heart rate is still unusually high, for a human."

"Fuck no," Jim responded. "Just take me to my room."

"You're naked," Spock stated. "The crew will jump to illogical conclusions."

"I don't care," Jim replied.

"...Is that an order?

Yes, it is."

"I suppose I have no choice in the matter, then." Spock picked up his Captain, careful to make sure his hands could not be grabbed by the other man again, and carried him out of the biology lab..

The Time Has Come for Your Devotion

Sun, 01 Mar 2009 06:17:57 GMT

Title: The Time Has Come for Your Devotion
Author: </a></a>monimi101
Rating: R
Warnings: tentacle sex
Summary: The day the Cobra returns is a pretty weird day.
Author's Notes: I do have an explanation for this. There was a Sex Pollen Meme. Now, around here, sex pollen refers to "anything that happens to the character that makes them up able to control their sexuality." But when I think sex pollen, I think things like spores that grow into things with tentacles and lead to tentacle porn. (Like some of the spores I'm told live in Youko Kurama's hair, in the doujinshiverse.) So I guess I'm saying, I saw that meme and instantly, thoughts of band boys getting sexed up by tentacles jumped into my head. And the first plotline I could imagine was the Cobra. I think it makes sense if you think about it. I mean, they can already speak and time travel. Why not? A few internal debates later, I had this. Be warned, it's kinda creepy shit.

The day the Cobra comes back is a pretty weird day, Gabe thinks. The Cobra is not the way he remembers it. No, it is entirely different, this time. Maybe if he didn’t know the being so well, if its venom didn’t already flow in his veins, he wouldn’t know what the creature in front of him was. But Gabe knows the Cobra. And this is, without a question, the Cobra.

He has just finished packing up after a late, dirty show. The crowds are gone, the venue is closed. The van is waiting for him, a block away. He has a lit smoke between his fingers; it withers away as he stares at this thing, his master, he’s pretty sure. This must be the day his loyalty will be repaid.

The Cobra looks at him. It is no longer a mere imitation of an Earth snake. It floats about a foot above the ground, it has many tails, each flowing away from it sinuously. The hard skin that used to be its hood has become a circular fan around its head, pulsing softly, covered in markings that Gabe cannot read. Its head is much as Gabe remembers, though maybe its eyes are a bit bigger. It glows faintly, in a shade between cyan and ultraviolet.

“Welcome back.” He says, when he gets his mind to wrap around the idea that the Cobra has returned for him. He is sure that he learned what he was supposed to learn. He knows the human race is at least somewhat more fun and stylish for his efforts. This must be his reward.

The Cobra wraps a glowing tail around Gabe’s wrist. It is warm, almost uncomfortably so. Gabe can feel the heat traveling up his arm. He is a little bit frightened, just for a moment, and instantly feels guilt for even thinking to fear his master. The Cobra knows all. If it hurts him, it is because that is what needs to happen for the Plan to work.

Th heat reaches his heart just as the cigarette singes his fingers. A shock runs through him, he drops the cig and gasps loudly. His vision blurs, his legs get weak, his entire body tingles. The Cobra is contented. Its tail—! No, perhaps tentacle would be a better term for such a wonderful extension to the body; tail implies an ending, an unnecessary extension to the spine. It is clear to Gabe, now, why the Cobras will survive long after his own species is gone. He feels the first stirrings of desire as the heat reaches his groin.

Another tentacle wraps softly around his neck. He moans softly; the warm glow sinks into his brain, enveloping him, turning his mind into a formable mush. The tip of the Cobra’s long limb pushes into his open mouth, another wraps around his left leg, making sure he doesn’t fall over as it backs him onto the wall. The bricks feel colder than ice to Gabe’s burning skin, he hisses and arches away from them. The tentacle around his wrist pushes roughly towards the wall and tightens, a warning. The Cobra floats closer to him, and Gabe can feel heat radiating off of it. He is almost melting, he thinks, and he loves it, holy fuck he loves it.

He sucks desperately on the intrusion to his mouth. It tastes kind of sweet and metallic and unlike anything else Gabe has ever tasted, anything anyone has tasted. He can feel pleasure building in him, he can feel his feet leaving the ground and the Cobra pulls him further into the air, another tentacle squirming up his right leg. His jeans are too tight, they’re ripping as the sinuous extension slithers up his leg, quickly wrapping around his thigh, right at the very top of his leg. He can feel his skin burning, probably turning red, everywhere the Cobra touches him.

His hips curve upwards, he wants to be closer to his master, this perfect being from the future, the Cobra. As if sensing his desire, the Cobra’s tentacle pushes further into his mouth, sliding hotly down his throat, and Gabe can barely breathe, but he doesn’t really need air now, doesn’t need anything, he has the Cobra, and isn’t that all anyone needs?

He realizes his wrists are above his head, held tightly to the wall. His fingers are scrambling to cling to something, anything. He wants to touch, feel, hear, taste, anything. The tentacle down his throat is almost gagging him, still wrapped around his neck, a bit tighter with each passing moment, and Gabe’s hips are rotating constantly, trying to get contact with the Cobra. Oh, he wants contact so much; he wants every inch of his skin to be touching his master, maybe even his insides to.

And maybe the Cobra can feel his thoughts somehow, because that’s about when a tentacle slides down the back of his pants and between his cheeks, tapping his hole once, like a warning, before pushing violently in, and if Gabe didn’t have his mouth so full, he would have screamed. Screamed louder than he ever has before, because he’s never felt such conflict in his life. It hurts more than anything he can imagine, it’s burning hot, and if he was melting before, then this time he’s vaporizing. But at the same time, he’s never been so turned on. He’s riding the Cobra eagerly, and it spreads his legs wide, wider than he was even aware they could go.

His shirt is ripped off quickly; it falls behind him onto the trash that always frequents alleyways, and as the Cobra thrusts up even deeper inside him, his pants have finally taken more than they really can, and they break, leaving him with only one leg of denim and a sweater. He is vaguely aware that he is still screaming and gasping and moaning around the intrusion to his mouth, and more so that the Cobra enjoys it. A tentacle strokes his chest, and Gabe gets the feeling he’s special, that he is a novelty item to the wonderful creature above him, in front of him, inside of him.

He feels another hot intrusion probing his ass, and before he can even think about how much it will hurt, there is a second tentacle in him. He can feel his blood running down the Cobra’s limbs and hear it dripping to the ground. The Cobra is even closer, and fuck. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt, and shit. How will he ever feel again, after feeling something this intense and wonderful and perfect! This is everything he has never imagined, nothing he ever could. His hips are still pulsing hotly, his lungs have finally lost their last gateway to air and they heave desperately, trying to get the air they still want.

But Gabe knows a want is all it is. Air isn’t something you need, when you have the Cobra. It thrusts hotly in and out of him, each one alternating with the other, hitting that spot inside him every single time, and he wants it to last forever, he really does. The probe touching his chest goes distinctly lower, and almost slips into his navel before going a bit lower, wrapping itself around his cock tightly, keeping his just on the edge, burning, writhing, flying, melting.

And then the Cobra’s hood closes around his side, and he feels a multitude of sharp, sharp teeth bite into him. The tentacle on his cock loosens, just a fraction, and all the ones in him push just a bit farther in, all at the same time. He comes harder than he ever has before, just narrowly missing his master as it bites down on him, exchanging blood for poison. He sees white, sparking and pulsing in front of him. He had never been more satisfied.

As the Cobra retracts itself, he falls unconscious before he even hits the ground.

A Cold Welcome (2/2)

Sun, 01 Mar 2009 06:13:07 GMT

Title: A Cold Welcome
Author: </a></a>monimi101
Pairing: Pete/Mikey/Beckett, implications of Ville/Mikey
POV: 3rd, Mikey-centric
Rating: R
Warnings: PWP, mansex, semi-noncon, in a cultverse kind of way, bondage, ice play, general creepishness. (Gets more hardcore in this chapter.)
Summary: Getting drunk at Pete's parties is never really a good idea. To be honest, they're kind of suspicious. None the less, everyone he knows is there, and what else would he do on a fine Saturday night off like this?Waitaf*ckingminutesthat'swaytoocold!
Disclaimer: So totally and completely not real. At all. In any way. It's not even all that realistic or in character, to be honest.
Author's Note's: Not beta'd, regrettably. If you notice any horrible mistakes, please let me know. Dedicated to </a></a></a></a>disintrist for suggesting this all those months ago on that kinky porn meme...

He felt warm breath on his ear, and heard some sort of words. He felt the cool steel of handcuffs on his wrists, and the discomfort of his shoulders. He felt the leather cuffs around his ankles and the wet trail of Bill’s mouth on his leg. But all of that became secondary when Bill’s hot, warm mouth closed around the head of his cock. He did not think he’d ever felt so good. Every nerve in his body was on end, with a strange mixture of fear and arousal. Every sensation was heightened, exaggerated. At the same time, his mind was screaming two messages at him: one was to run away, to use any means possible to escape this situation, this mess of whispers and bindings and sex he’d found himself in. The other was telling him to give in, to let himself be lost in the wonderful sensation of Beckett’s mouth.

Between those two, he failed to notice the third message entering his mind, stealthily moving from Pete’s breath in his ear to the core of his being.

He felt a long set of fingers cup his ass, and heard himself moan, a long, low sound, a sound made of nothing but lust. Bill laughed a bit around his cock, and the sensation was wonderful, and he could hear himself saying something, and he wasn’t sure if he was begging for something or just repeating what Pete told him.

He felt a long finger slide into his ass, and moved his hips sharply upwards, trying to get away, but in the process, thrusting hard into Bill’s mouth. The brunette didn’t’ seem to mind at all, and just swallowed around him, began humming quietly, and Mikey could hear himself making a horribly embarrassing sound, too high and too rough. The rhythm of Bill’s song matched Pete’s words perfectly, and it was as if it was a song, a song he’d heard a million times, but he knew this was different. Yes, these words were entirely unlike any words he’d heard before, and he wanted to know what they were, so badly, but he just couldn’t get his mind to stick to them, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of Bill’s mouth around his cock or if they were just not in English at all.

Beckett’s finger was still in his ass, and shit, it actually felt really good. It reminded him of another time, a time with dark hair on his shoulder and a steady motion, a certain… The words in his ear gained a dimension of anger, and Bill somehow hollowed his cheeks and hummed louder, and Mikey couldn’t help but to cry out and buck his hips, and then, just as he was on the brink, the wonderful feeling of Bill’s mouth was gone, as were his fingers, and he was left with only Pete’s words for a few painful moments. Even though he should have been able to decipher them now, they were still completely bypassing his consciousness, going straight to his core, infiltrating his morals and maybe even his soul…

He felt something cold at his entrance. Something oh-my-god unbearably cold, and everything in him retracted away from it, but he was still bound, tied down completely, so the thing entered him, slowly, steadily, and holy fuck. He cried out a bit, a kind of strangled noise, and maybe a tear soaked into the bandana, and the icy thing slid into him, thick and hard and cold cold cold. Inch after inch, and just when oh my god, he was about to burst, Beckett licked his cock, from base to tip, and the ice thing hit something and he screamed.

Pete’s words were faster and faster in his ear, he was arched and writhing on the bed. He wasn’t thinking any more, he couldn’t thing any more, all he could do was feel. At once, he wanted to get away, for away, from this freezing cold penetration in him; and he wanted to move back onto it, to let it hit that secret, inside place on him, again and again. Beckett moved it smoothly out, until it was almost out entirely, and then thrust it back in, quickly this time, mercilessly/ Mikey cried out, he could feel tears leaking from his eyes, he could feel himself, about to explode, a burning pressure in his chest, his head, his abdomen.

Bill’s mouth kept moving on him, up and down, and the icy penetration kept moving, harshly, quickly, hitting that spot every time, and Mikey was sure he’d never felt anything so extreme, so… He couldn’t even find the word but— Oh-my-fuck!

He felt a white heat rise up in him, and when he was sure he was about to come, Bill withdrew his mouth and used the hand not occupied with the icy thing to clamp around his base, holding him off. He heard himself, screaming, moaning, begging, a stream of incoherent mess flowing from his mouth, anything to get this to keep going, to let him come, to let him finally understand Pete’s words.

The ice kept moving inside of him, getting even faster, if possible, and maybe if he’d been able to think, he would have noticed it too, went to rhythm to Pete’s flow of words, of meaning. Bill bit his inner thighs a few times, a different place each time, and oh my god, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—!

Bill’s hand released him, and the ice slammed into him once more. His back arched even farther, if possible, and his came, harder than he ever had, tasted it falling in his mouth.

Pete kissed him hungrily, and Mikey returned it enthusiastically. The ice was withdrawn from him, and he could feel the cold water from where it had melted a bit running out of him, wetting the sheets. After his pulse started to slow, Pete broke from the kiss and untied the blindfold. His arms and legs were freed. His glasses, having fallen to the floor on the way in, were found and placed gently on the night table as Bill left the room quietly.

Pete looked at him meaningfully, and said, simply, calmly, “Welcome.”

A Cold Welcome (1/2)

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 05:38:36 GMT

Title: A Cold Welcome
Author: monimi101
Pairing: Beckett/Mikey, with hints of Ville/Mikey (Future Pete/Mikey/Beckett)
Rating: R
Warnings: PWP, mansex, semi-noncon, in a cultverse kind of way, bondage, ice play, general creepishness. (Gets more hardcore in the second chapter.)
Summary: Getting drunk at Pete's parties is never really a good idea. To be honest, they're kind of suspicious. None the less, everyone he knows is there, and what else would he do on a fine Saturday night off like this?
Disclaimer: So totally and completely not real. At all. In any way. It's not even all that realistic or in character, to be honest.
Author's Note's: Not beta'd, regrettably. If you notice any horrible mistakes, please let me know.

“Hey there beautiful…” Mikey slurred. “How you doing?” It had to be admitted that getting this drunk at one of Pete’s parties wasn’t quite a good idea. The last time he’d been this drunk in the same room as Pete and all his schemes, he’d ended up tied to a bed, completely immobilized by some Finnish guy he might have seen on Warped a year or two ago. Or some other tour. Which, despite how beautiful the guy was, was kind of a problem. Since you know, Mikey was straight. But that wasn’t the point right now. The point was this wonderfully skinny brunette in front of him.

“I’m doing quite well thank you.” The lanky girl turned around, and draped herself over his shoulder. “What about you, cutie?” Mikey squinted at her. He had kind of expected her tits to be bigger. But she was still pretty hot.

“I’m doing pretty guh-okay…” Saying good and okay at the same time wasn’t very effective, he thought to himself.

“Yeah?” She drawled in his ear. Now that he thought about it, didn’t girls normally have higher voices than this? “Cause I think I can make you feel better than okay.”

“You think?” Mikey replied. In the back of his mind, something was telling him that he’d done something like this before. That something was overruled by the part of him that was drunk enough and horny enough not to pay any attention.

“Mm-hmm…” The brunettes warm breath in his ear was enough to make him follow when she weaved through the crowd towards the stairs. On his way through the room, he saw Pete wink at him. He grinned and started following her up the stairs. He wondered vaguely if she’d had as much to drink as he had.

On his way up the stairs, he tripped over something warm and soft. He fell on his chin, hard, and heard loud swearing under him.

“I fuckin hate you!” The lumpy stair exclaimed at him. He giggled a bit. Where was he going?

“Hey gorgeous.” A sultry voice came from above him. “You still coming?” Oh yeah. He clambered to his feet, stepping on the odd stair, no person, probably… on his way up.

When he got to the top of the stairs, the brunette grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him into a room. “Have you ever been in this room before?” The person affixed to his collar asked. He nodded yes on instinct. It did look vaguely familiar.

“Good.” She shut the door behind him and kissed him, hard. For a minute, he thought, wait, I shouldn’t be the one pinned to the door… And then she did this weird thing with her tongue in his mouth and he forgot a lot of things. He almost slid down the door, but she caught him, wrapping one of his legs around her. Which is about the point where he noticed the feeling of something odd against his thigh.

“I dun like your cell phone, lady.” He mumbled at her. She smirked in a very un-feminine way and rolled her hips.

“That’s not a cell phone, honey.” She said, and licked his neck. Waitaminute… He tried to think for a minute, but she was still doing that thing with her tongue on his neck, and he was still kind of grinding against her, so his already mushy-brain didn’t quite grasp it. An unbidden memory of ropes around his wrists flashed into his mind, and left just as quickly as it had come.

“I think you need a wakeup call.” The brunette told him, and carried him to the bed, where he was thrown down harshly. She straddled him, and kissed him hard, and wait a minute, when girls straddle you, that’s not how it’s supposed to feel, and as she grinds against him, he realizes why.

“You’re not a woman at all!” She shouts at her. “You—“

“Of course not.” The not-woman above him says. That makes sense.

Mikey hears a firm sounding click above his head. His hands feel kind of cold, and he moves to hold her… him? But it fails. His hands stop before they can get past his ears, and make a weird metallic sound. He cranes his neck to look upwards, and catches a glimpse of something shiny.

“What kind of witch are you?” He accuses.

“I’m not a witch at all.” The lanky person above him says. “I’m William Beckett.”

“Will…” That name is familiar. He stops moving and thinks for a few minutes. Beckett is that guy from the Academy Is… The one who Gabe is always licking and kissing and biting and stuff. And he’s a guy. Like, the kind with a penis.

“You’re that guy!” He exclaims.

“That guy who’s about to fuck you.” Bill whispers into his ear. “Yeah.”

“No, not that guy!” Mikey argues. “Guys don’t fuck me.”

“I beg to differ.” Bill replies, smirking.

“Well, there was that one time…” he admits. “But that was different! I’m not like. That.” Bill palms his cock twice, exactly how Mikey likes it, and he moans loudly.

“Yes you are.” Bill tells him. “You are like this. Whether you like it or not.”

“Nu-uuuhnnn~” His objection becomes another moan as the taller man continues to fondle him.

“You know this is what you’re like.” Bill says, right into his ear. “You want me to have my way with you. You want me to lick you, and bite you. You want me to control you, to fuck you, fuck you until you’re screaming.” He bites Mikey’s ear-lobe.

“But I’m not…”

“You want me to shove my cock into you, over and over, until you can’t take it any more.”

Now Mikey knew that wasn’t correct. At all. But somehow, he heard himself say, “Yeah, you got me,” and then he hears Bill say, “Oh, I haven’t even started to get you yet.”

“Better get started then.” A voice from the door says. Mikey turns groggily and sees Pete standing in the doorway. While he’s looking over there, trying to remember exactly where he is, Bill opens his shirt and strips him of his pants and boxers.

“Oh, hi Pete.” Mikey says cheerfully. And then something ridiculously cold is touching the bottom of his feet, and he startles.

“Holy fuck that’s cold!” He shouts. Pete saunters over and attaches leather cuffs to his ankles, attaching them to chains which are attached to the bed.

“Hey, no!” He says. Suddenly, he’s feeling a lot more sober. “You can’t just tie me to the bed like this! Not you!” The something cold is still on his foot, and ohmygod is it ever cold, it’s almost burning. He cranes his neck to look up. Again, memories of a similar past night flash into his mind. A memory of tattooed flesh and unbearable pleasure. His cock twitches at the thought, and he blushes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He exclaims, starting to get panicked. Somehow, the coldness massaging his foot is way more sensual than it should be, and even though he knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this, whatever this is, he is enjoying it. Possibly even more so because of Pete’s sinister eyes watching him, his detached smirk.

“I believe William already explained the basics.” Pete says. Mikey remembers what his just agreed to, and pales. The cold, probably ice, is suddenly replaced by a hot mouth, and he just barely suppresses a groan at the sudden heat and softness. He’s still enjoying this too much. He’s half hard still, and it’s ridiculous, because Pete is still watching him, and it’s fucking creepy, but something about the idea of this beautiful person taking him, fucking him, while Pete watches, eyes cold and unfeeling, except for the one spark of who-knows-what, something like lust or pride, but so much more sinister…

Bill is sucking on his toes now, and fuck if it wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. But still. They’re guys. And Mikey is still pretty sure he prefers the pussy.

“Pete, no.” He says, and it’s supposed to be forceful somehow, but instead, it’s a whimper, and suddenly, Mikey is feeling pathetic and weak, and more than anything else, scared.

Pete grins. “I’m only watching, Mikey.” His voice is too soft, and it’s majorly creepy. “If you want anything, you’ll have to ask Bill.” Bill is kissing and licking his way up Mikey’s calf now. And he’s scared shitless. He does not want this. He does not want to get fucked by William Beckett. He does not want Pete watching him with his cold, creepy eyes. But no matter how much his mind does not, does not, want it, his body is something entirely different. His body, he has to control very carefully so it doesn’t start writhing and twisting in weird lustful ways that Mikey has never even considered before. Every time Beckett’s mouth moves, he has to suppress a moan or some other, even more embarrassing sound.

He’s not feeling the thick fog of alcohol so much any more. But he knows it’s still there. Because if it wasn’t, there’s no way he’d have to restrain himself this much. There’s no way he wouldn’t just tell them, firmly, no thanks, I’m not so into gay sex. Find someone else. As if to prove to himself the who-knows-how-much alcohol he’d drank hadn’t had such a huge effect, he opened his mouth to say just that.

But by the time he’d thought all of it through and found his words and figured out how to get them in order, Bill was as his inner thigh, just above his knee. So when he opened his mouth to tell them to let him go and find someone else, Bill suddenly bit his thigh. And what came out of his mouth was not a firm but reasonable request at all. It was more of a yelp, followed by an incoherent string of pleas.

As if on a cue, Pete stepped forwards, and drew from a nightstand drawer a bandana, possibly the very one Bill had been wearing when he’d first met the skinny guy. He folded it into a strip of cloth and stepped towards Mikey, putting it over his eyes, and tying it tightly. It was around then that Mikey figured out that he was trapped. No polite request would save him.

He was about to get fucked my William Beckett. And there was not a thing he could do about it.

Tell Me That You Wanna Take Me

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 03:46:22 GMT

Title: Tell Me That You Wanna Take Me
Author: </a></a>monimi101
Rating: NC-17, for sure.
Pairing: Gabe Saporta / Danny Stevens (The Audition)
POV: 3rd, Danny-centric
Summary: Because Danny has always been a bit more curious than he should be.
Disclaimer: totally and completely untrue, unlikely, and impossible. I don't think I even got their personalities right... Title is from The Audition's Heaven for the Weather.
Author's Note: This was sort of awkward, since normally, I know more about the people I'm writing about than I do about Danny... But the Audition really needs more love, so I did it anyways. Beta'd by the person I stole this account from, my bff. ^.^

It had been about an hour since the show, but Danny could still feel the adrenaline pulsing in his veins. Then again, it might have been the beer, large quantities of which had been brought in by some friend of William’s. Maybe more than a friend really, judging by the way the longhaired singer was draped over him. There was something about him than Danny just didn’t like. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually as tall and skinny as Bill, maybe even more so. Maybe it was the obscene way his purple sweater clung to him. Maybe it was that snake-like aura he had, the slithery way he moved. Whatever it was, Danny didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

He did trust the beer he’d brought pretty well, though. Three cans had convinced him thoroughly that it was good beer, and not to be wasted. So he most certainly was not wasting the beer.

“Man, you’re really downing that stuff, aren’t you?” A light voice asked beside him. “Do you always drink that much?” He turned to see a frizzy, strawberry afro, sitting atop a reasonably normal-looking person.

“Not really, I just didn’t want to waste it,” the older guy replied lightly. “Who’s that?” He gestured vaguely at the snake-like man Bill was sitting on.

“Dude, that’s William Beckett! You’ve been hanging out with him for the last month!” The strawberry-haired man gasped and laughed. “You must be really out of it.”

“No, no…” He gestured again. “The one under him.”

“Ohhh, that’s Gabe.” He giggled. “Maybe I’m the one that’s had a bit too much.”

“Gabe?” The name sounded a bit familiar.

“Yeah, Gabriel Saporta.” He said. “Him and Bill are something like together, I’m not really sure how it works. Bill won’t admit to anything, though.”

Danny remembered, suddenly, where he’d heard the name before.

“Hey, Bill!” He’d called into the bunks. “You can’t just hang out back there while we’re trying to have a party, man!”

“Don’t bother, he’s talking to his boyfriend.” The Butcher aid mockingly. “He won’t be leaving there until the damn snake hangs up.”

“The hell are you talking about?” He walked into the bunks area, wondering which one was Bill’s. And then, he heard something. Something like a moan, maybe. Coming from his left.

“Well?” A very breathless voice murmured. “What would you do next, if you’re so great?” A pause, rough breathing. A half-gasp. “Yeah… I can feel it, Gabe.” Another moan, and that was all Danny needed to hear. He left the bunks alone, after that.

“Why’re you blushing so hard, Dan?” the strawberry— Sisky! That was his name!— asked, his voice teasing. “Did you think Bill was actually as straight as he lets us think?”

“Uh, no…” He willed the blush to go away, which didn’t work too well, as he could see Gabe whispering something in Bill’s ear. As he was wondering, despite himself, what sort of words this guy must be full of, to get noises like that out of Bill. As he could still sort of hear those noises ringing in his ears. He took another swig of beer.

“What, you aren’t either, then?” Sisky taunted. “I wouldn’t have thought that, for all your talk of girls.”

“No, I’m definitely straight.” Danny shot back, somewhat less steadily than planned. “I have a girlfriend waiting for me back home.”

“That’s good.” Sisky said, almost hesitantly.

“Hey!” The Butcher shouted. “Any of you pussies want to have a drinking contest?”

Having nothing better to do, aside from watch Bill and Gabe, which wasn’t better at all, Danny volunteered. “I’ll take you on, bitch! I’ll beat you so bad, you’ll look like you’re strait-edge!”

“Oh, it’s on!” Within minutes, they were sitting at the table, surrounded by their bands, with the somewhat surprising inclusion of Bill and Gabe. Across the table, Danny accidentally made eye contact with the freakishly tall guy. Somehow, the look in the older man’s eye gave him shivers. The scariest part was, that wasn’t such a bad feeling.

“Ready…” Bill called energetically. There was a massive number of beer cans in front of them. “Set…” They each picked one up. “GO!!!” Pop and drink, pop and drink, pop and drink. Even going as fast as he could, Danny could see the pile in front of his opponent growing faster. Pop and drink, pop and drink, pop and drink.

Within the space of fifteen, twenty minutes, the pile of drink in front of them was gone. Danny was feeling a bit sick. And more than a bit energetic. Bill went to count the cans, but lost count before he reached five, and fell over giggling. Everyone was laughing, too.

“Man, you’re really stupid sometimes.” Gabe said humourously.

“Am not!”

“Says the guy who can’t even count to five!” Danny teased, sitting on the ground beside him, tapping his fingers idly on the floor.

“I can too!” Bill protested loudly.

“Do it,” Sisky said, his eyes alight.

“I will!” Bill said, sitting up and looking down his nose at his bassist, which was rather impressive, as he was sitting on the ground, and Sisky was not.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” There was a bit of silence as everyone waited for Bill’s attempt at counting. He looked around, sort of confused. “…Oh, right!”

“One… Two… Three…” And then Gabe sat in his lap, straddling him. “Hey!” Bill objected loudly. “I’m trying to do something!”

“What are you trying to do?” Gabe asked, his voice low and soft. Danny got the feeling that having someone like that sit on you would be reasonably distracting.

“Umm…” Bill pondered. “I don’t know! You got me all distracted!” He pouted and looked up at the snake-like guy through his eyelashes.

“Now, that’s not very fair.” Gabe whispered, so Danny could just barely hear it. “I was only getting myself comfortable.”

“But…” Gabe’s hand slipped up the other singers shirt, and then Bill made this weird little noise and blushed. And all Danny could think about was wondering what Gabe had done, what sort of things he could do with those long fingers that got him such a reaction.

He realized, maybe a bit late, that the other guys were already back on the couches, talking about something. And that he was just about fine where he was. His fingers were still drumming a rhythm on the kitchen area’s floor. Heaven For the Weather, he thinks.

And then there was this sickening Whump! From in front of him, and he looked up to see Bill’s head hit the bench, probably a hot harder than it should. Gabe looked startled and amused.

“Well, pretty little thing never could hold his liquor.” He said. He stood up and picked up the unconscious William, carrying him back to the bunks.

“What’re you doing over there, Danny?” The Butcher asked raucously. “Too ashamed of losing to come sit with us?” The guys laughed, and Danny got up quickly, stumbling a bit before gaining his balance. Everyone looked a bit more colourful, now. A bit faster and more vivid.

“Dance for us, Danny!” Sisky shouted, looking excited, “Dance!” The other guys agreed quickly.

“Dance!” The Butcher commanded. “As the winner of our game, I command you to dance!”

“But I can’t dance!” Danny protested weakly. “I’m not a dancer!”

“Dance for us!” Sisky insisted.

“But…”

“Come on, dance.” Gabe said from the door to the bunk area, and there’s this weird light in his eyes, like he knows that Danny is sort of maybe watching him, and really, Danny’s not too sure he likes that idea. Not at all. Someone hits the play button on the boom box, and Gabe’s voice comes on, loud and clear.

Uh-huh, holy shit

It's about time you get off my dick

Despite his previous protests, Danny was still full of energy, and started dancing anyways. The beat was pretty good, he could do this. Or rather, that’s what he thought, until he tripped over a beer and fell, landing on top of a completely unsuspecting Butcher.

“Get offa me, bitch!” The Butcher shouted jokingly.

That's right girl, you can't deny this

Your knees is all scratched up

“Shut up!” He replied, and continued dancing, despite being on top of the Butcher, who tolerated it for a little while, before pushing him towards Gabe.

“Don’t dance on me!” He shouted. Everyone laughed. “Go get someone who’s actually interested in that sort of thing!”

“Hey, what makes you think..” Gabe objected weakly, smiling.

“Don’t act innocent, we saw what Bill was doing to you before the show!” Danny jokingly danced on the snake-like guy, laughing all the while. And was reasonably surprised when the taller guy’s hand lands on his hip and he starts dancing along.

(Ooh oo) This is my shit, this is my shit

Within moments, the song was over, and Danny fell dramatically to the floor. Everyone laughed loudly, making jeers.

“Oooh, Bill’s gonna be jealous!”

“And you’re always singing about the chicks.”

“Gabe, you play-ah!”

“Aww, shut up!” Danny shot back, trying to glare, but collapsing into a fir of giggles.

“You know you liked it!” Gabe teased loudly. “Don’t deny it!”

“No I didn’t!” Danny shouted up at him.

“Reaaally?” the older guy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Really!”

“Really?”

“Really!” Danny shouted, smiling widely.

And then Gabe sat on his lap, much like he’d done with Bill, and nudged his hips forwards, just a little.

“Nng.” It was just a tiny little noise, almost inaudible, even to Gabe. Regrettably, Gabe did hear it.

“I knew it!” He shouted, throwing an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “He did like it!”

The guys all laughed. Gabe got up, somewhat reluctantly. Danny stayed on the floor, blushing a little bit. “Did not…” He muttered, way too late.

“Right.” Sisky rolled his eyes.

It was five in the morning, and the sun was just about to rise. The sky was tinted with a light bluish gray in the east, an altogether unattractive colour. Danny was outside, leaning against his bus, smoking. He’d been trying for the past two hours to get some sleep, but he just couldn’t. Weird things kept popping into his mind. What am I going to eat for breakfast tomorrow? He knew it was a silly question. He wouldn’t be up for breakfast, after a late night like this. What’s the name of the next town we’re playing? He knew someone would tell him, he didn’t have to worry about that. Gabe…? That, he didn’t know. It wasn’t a question, really, or even a statement. He wasn’t really anything, which did nothing to explain the distant tingle he felt in his toes and thighs whenever he thought of him. There was no reason for this. It just sort of… Was.

“Hey there, stranger.” A not-quite-familiar voice said from the shadows. A light tingle ran from his toes to his thighs, and then Gabe stepped out of the shadows. “Sorry about yesterday, I suppose.”

“It was only a few hours ago.” Danny replied, not acknowledging the halfhearted apology.

“Yeah, but a few hours ago, it was another day, was it not?” Gabe said, a snake-like smile on his face.

“No, I think it was still one thirty in the morning.” Danny replied, grinning. “Want a smoke?”

“Yeah, sure.” Gabe replied, taking the offered cig all too elegantly for someone who had been awake for what was probably more than twenty-four hours, after his flight here.

He took a drag, and offered it back, but the younger man already had another one lit up.

“So, what are you doing, up at this hour?” He asked, conversationally.

“Just walking around.” Gabe replied ambiguously. “I like the times like this, when no one’s up and about.”

“Yeah, it’s not too often you get a quiet like this on tour.” Danny agreed. The streetlamps started flickering out, one by one, in the pre-dawn light. The sun began peeking up over the buildings, almost white.

“I don’t really feel like all that light.” He said, stamping his half-finished cigarette out. “I’m going to see if I can get some sleep.”

“Mind if I come in with you?” Gabe inquired softly. The sun reflected off his eyes, making them seem to shine from within.

“Yeah, sure.” It wouldn’t kill him to stay up for a little while longer, he decided.

“Thanks.” Gabe said, dropping the cigarette butt and ignoring it. The shorter man unlocked his bus, holding the door open for the giant.

He sat lazily on the couch, and Gabe plopped down beside him.

“So are you and Bill really a thing?” Danny asked, curious.

“Not really.” Gabe replied. “I’d be cool with it, if that’s what he wanted, but he doesn’t really want a commitment.”

“That’s sort of…”

“No, I like it this way.” Gabe stated, cutting off the shorter guy. “Let’s me keep my opportunities open.” And then that weird light in his eyes got a little brighter, and he got a little closer, and before Danny could stop and think about it, he placed his lips over those of the taller man, kissing him softly, questioningly.

Gabe smiled into the kiss, and placed a hand on the back of the younger man’s neck, bringing him just a bit closer, licking his lip.

Danny kissed back, not having realized how much he missed the intimacy. But this was so much different from kissing his girlfriend. It was a dance with two leaders. Gabe’s hand was stronger, there was stubble on his chin. Somehow, the roughness made it seem all that much more real.

He let his hands drift to the snake-like man’s hips. They were as skinny as his girl’s, but firmer. Gabe’s other hand circled his back, bringing him closer still, until they were almost chest to chest. His tongue was in the younger man’s mouth, and god, it was sort of wonderful. And Danny definitely didn’t think his girlfriend would approve of this; he didn’t even think he would, in a few hours.

But right now, there was nothing he wanted more. He brought one leg over the other’s, bringing their hips together. And yeah, this was a whole lot different from being with a chick, he didn’t think it was even fair to compare them, at this point. Because really, there was nothing feminine about Gabe. Nothing girly about the way his tongue caressed his lips, or the strange patterns his fingers traced on his back, his hand slowly getting further up his shirt.

And then those fingers got to a more sensitive spot on him, and he bit Gabe’s lip to keep from making some sort of girly noise, and yeah, this must have been what he’d done to Bill, earlier. And Danny couldn’t help but think Bill was one lucky bitch, to have someone like this pay him attention so often. His short fingernails dug into Gabe’s hips, and the taller man sort of arched, and it brought their hardnesses together, and this time, Danny did moan. And Gabe pulled away from the kiss and grinned at him. There was something in his look, not quite dangerous, but definitely not safe, and hell if it wasn’t the hottest thing Danny had seen.

The taller man licked his neck, just beside his Adam’s apple, lapped at it. It was a weird feeling, and it really shouldn’t have been quite as sexy as it was. And then he bit, and his hands were still tracing patterns on his back. Danny rolled his hips, just a bit, and Gabe rolled his back, and bit just a bit harder.

“Ahh…” Gabe looked up at him, his eyes wide and taunting. Hell, he wasn’t some fucking chick! What the hell was with those noises? The other vocalist moved his mouth a bit to the left, started nipping and sucking just under his ear, and rolled his hips again, and Danny moaned.

“Hush now, Danny,” Gabe whispered, his breath hot on his ear. “You don’t want to wake the band up.”

“It’s your fault, you know.” Danny shot back angrily. “If it wasn’t for you…” And then he realized he was making himself sound like a chick and stopped talking. Gabe bit him again. He almost gasped, and hell, what was with this guy, most people can’t just instantly find the little soft spots on a person.

“Do you want to come back to my bus?” Gabe asked, his eyes taunting. “My guys won’t mind the noise.”

“Fuck no.” Danny replied. “I’m not a fucking chick, I’m not going to wake the guys up.” Gabe grinned, and the younger man realized, maybe a bit too late, that had sounded more like a challenge than it should have. And he didn’t really get the feeling that Gabe was one to back out of a challenge.

“Well I certainly hope you don’t” Gabe whispered. “I’d hate for our fun to be interrupted.” And before Danny could answer, he continued nipping and sucking on that little spot on his neck. And Danny hadn’t even known he was so sensitive there, so how the hell did Gabe figure it out?

He felt Gabe lean into him, push him over lightly, and then he was lying down, with the taller man kneeling between his legs, and his shirt was being unbuttoned by long, nimble fingers. Anticipation was pooling below his belly button, hot and electric. He wasn’t quite sure how this worked, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to find out. But he knew he would.

Gabe’s mouth started licking and biting its way lower, hot and moist, and Danny could feel he back arching; he’d never felt like so much of a girl before, and hell, he wasn’t too fond of the feeling, but the way Gabe’s mouth felt? He liked that. Maybe more than he should.

His shirt was pushed off his shoulders, he twisted around a bit to get it all the way off. Gabe’s mouth found his right nipple, lapped at it, sucked a bit. Danny moaned again, tried really hard to stifle it, and it came out like a sort of choked gasp, and hell if that wasn’t the girliest noise he’d ever heard, but god, he had no idea something like that could feel so fucking good. He arched his back, brought his hands to Gabe’s back. The older man let go for a moment.

“You like that?” He whispered huskily, he breath hot on Danny’s skin. He rolled his hips sharply downwards, and the younger man moaned, almost loudly, and fuck, he was starting to think he’d had too much to drink, because that felt way too good. “I think you like this a bit more than you’d admit, don’t you?” He bit the other singer, just at the top of his stomach. “You’ve wanted this since you first set eyes on me. I’ve seen you watching.” And fuck, the way he was talking was obscenely sexual, there was so much lust in his voice, his eyes, it was almost frightening.

He grinded downwards again, hard and fast, and Danny almost cried out, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard, and they were still wearing their fucking pants, for godssake! And that really seemed like a problem, actually. He brought his hands downwards, undoing the other man’s belt and pants quickly, trying to pull them down. Gabe grinned evilly.

“Rushing a bit there, don’t you think?” He asked, and Danny blushed, but he helped anyways, pushing he pants off, taking his socks with them before leaning up to pull his shirt off. “Even Bill can wait longer than that.” He whispered huskily, and started undoing the younger man’s pants, all the same.

“It’s still your fault.” Danny accused him, his voice a lot rougher than he’d thought it would be, and it ended up sounding more like a plea than an objection.

As soon as his pants were off, Gabe shimmied down a bit and bit his inner thigh, and Danny groaned, which, he thought, was at least more manly than moaning, but still let the snake-like man know how completely in his control he was, and Danny didn’t exactly like that idea, the idea of being in the control of this guy, but at the same time, he was tingling with excitement, anticipation.

Gabe sucked and licked at the spot on his thigh, and the younger man grabbed his hair, tried to bring him a bit closer to where he wanted him. The dark-eyed vocalist grinned, bit him, and pulled, just a bit, and fuck, it felt better than it should have, like everything else Gabe had done, and really, that wasn’t fair at all.

“I want…” He murmured, and his voice still sounded way more desperate that it should have. He didn’t really know what he wanted, actually. He just… wanted.

“What do you want?” Gabe asked, his eyes still glowing in that weird dangerous way.

“I…” Tell me that you wanna take me… The lyrics popped into his head unbidden, and he blushed, because he knew that now, every time he sang that line, he’d be thinking about this night, about Gabe, and hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about that sort of this while he was on stage, or at all, really.

“Oh, but I do.” Gabe said, still grinning like he was about to do something absolutely evil. And that was when Danny realized he’d said that out loud, which was definitely not a good thing. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to take you, right now.” Gabe whispered, his breath hot and deliciously close to Danny’s cock.

He took a deep breath, tried to steady his voice. “Then do it.” He said.

“I’d love to.” Gabe replied, and sounded more polite than he probably should as he slipped their boxers off. He slid back up until his eyes were level with Danny’s, and kissed him. And this time, the kiss was somehow softer, which, Danny thought, was maybe because he’d given up on being masculine or dominant. Something about the way Gabe touched him just made than impossible. He heard Gabe rummage one-handedly through his pants pockets, heard a weird pop! noise.

And then two long, wet fingers slipped into him, before he could have second thoughts. He gasped harshly into the kiss, arched his hips away from the odd intrusion, and felt his cock brush against Gabe’s, and shit, that was a really good feeling, so he thrust again, and somehow, those fingers got deeper inside him, and he was sort of squirming, writhing, not sure whether he wanted to get away as fast as possible or just keep going, so he thrust again, and Gabe got the message, and moved against him. And soon they had a sort of rhythm going, rough and uneven, and every time he moved, Gabe’s fingers got further inside him, and it was almost disgusting, but at the same time, it felt pretty good, which was completely wrong, but…

“Ahhngg..!” The fingers hit something inside him, and fuck! It felt so good, and he thrust backwards onto them, and they withdrew! And no, that was definitely not what he wanted, but then they were back, and there was a third one, and it was sort of uncomfortable, but Gabe’s fingers quickly found that weird little spot again, and Danny was vaguely aware that they weren’t kissing any more, and maybe he was being a bit louder than he should be, but fuck, he loved that feeling.

“Ahh… please…” He whispered. And, contrary to what he wanted, Gabe’s fingers left him. He vaguely heard something crinkle, and then Gabe shifted a bit, and lined himself up, and pushed in, slowly, slowly, a weird sort of stop and start resistance. And hell, it really hurt. Danny could hear himself swearing, cussing violently. And then Gabe’s hand covered him mouth, and he said, “Hush, now, Danny. We don’t want to wake anyone up, now.” He bit Gabe’s middle finger, probably pretty hard, but Gabe didn’t really seem to mind, and he jerked his hips, and hell, this was completely weird, and totally different from what Danny had thought, which wasn’t too much, really.

And then Gabe angled himself a bit differently, and thrust a few times, and then he hit. That spot. And Danny almost screamed, because hell, it was… Words didn’t even begin to describe. So he rolled his hips up towards Gabe, who thrust again, and they sort of started a rhythm, though not an even one, and Gabe kept hitting that place, that little nub that just made him see stars. And then Gabe reached down and grabbed his cock, and pumped a few times, and he came hard, feeling Gabe come a few seconds later.

A few moments later, Gabe pulled out, tossed the condom in the trash. “So did I satisfy your curiosity?” He asked, knowing he had, and then some.

“Fuck off.” Danny sort of whispered at him, smiling despite himself.

“Okay, I’ll go back to my own bus.” Gabe said, smiling. And for once, it wasn’t a weird, menacing grin, but a real smile.

“You don’t have to.” Danny said, wrapping his arm around the other man.

“You say that now, but when your band mates wake up, you’re not going to want me to be here.” Gabe teased. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” He got up and pulled his boxers and pants on. “What’s your phone number?”

“Fuck you, Gabe.” Danny replied. “If I want to talk to you, I can get your number from Bill.”

“Sounding a bit angry there, lover.” Gabe teased, pulling his shirt on and smoothing his hair.

“Whatever.” Danny grinned widely. “I’ll see you around.”

“You know it.” Gabe replied, slipping out of the bus and closing the door softly behind him.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Danny heard a tired voice above him. He opened his eyes blearily to see Seth, looking confused. He sat up and stretched, feeling a sheet fall down to his waist. He had no idea when he’d got that.

“I donno…” He muttered. “Why did you g—“

“Holy shit!” Seth exclaimed. “You’ve got a hickey on your chest! What about your girlfriend, man?”

“It’s not a fucking hickey!” Danny shouted, feeling a blush sprout across his cheeks.

“Yeah right.”

“You fucking bitch!!” They heard an angry voice outside the trailer. “I can’t believe you would do that!”

“Dude, is that Bill?” Seth asked incredulously. Danny tossed the sheet off and went to the bunks to find something to wear.

“Shit, you’ve got another one on your thigh, man!” Seth exclaimed.

“They’re not hickeys, man.” Danny told him, managing not to blush as he pulled on his boxers and got dressed.

“What do you mean, we’re not really in a relationship!?” Bill’s voice rang out angrily.

Danny stepped out of the bus and wandered towards the sound of the voice.

“—never say it back. We both know it’s something casual.” That sounded like Gabe’s voice. “You have no right to be that angry, William.” The way he said the other man’s name made it feel like there was so much more to it than that.

“But…” Bill’s voice was quieter, now. “But I thought… maybe you meant it.”

“I did mean it.” Gabe almost yelled, his voice stern. “I mean it every time I say it. But I’m not going to wait forever for you to get up the balls to tell me how you feel. It was just a one night thing.”

“Who was it?” Bill asked, his voice low and dangerous, completely unlike him.

“That’s none of your concern.” Gabe replied. That was about when Danny realized he hadn’t only fucked up himself; he’d messed with this, too. He should have known better than to mess with someone who was obviously Bill’s. Bill is never quite honest with himself.

He stepped out from behind the bus. “It was me.” He said, making his voice sound a lot more confident than he felt.

“You fucking—“ Bill lunged for him, landing a solid punch on his right cheek.

“You vain little asshole!” Danny shouted. “He doesn’t fucking belong to you! You think you can just lead him along like that and expect him to let you! It’s a wonder this didn’t happen sooner!”

“Danny, this is between me and Bill.” Gabe said. And although he almost sounded resigned, there was a certain danger in his voice.

“If you want him so bad, why don’t you actually let him love you!” Danny shouted. “You can’t keep him all to yourself if you’re not at least going to go that!”

Bill took a deep, shuddering breath, his head hung low. Gabe shot a glare at the Audition’s vocalist, and walked over to the shuddering brunette, wrapping his arms around him. Danny left silently, but not before hearing Bill finally say it:

“I do love you, Gabe… I think I always have.”

“Dude.” Seth said, when Danny returned to the bus. “Did I mishear that, or did you actually sleep with Gabe?”

“Fuck off,” Danny said, smiling. “Your imagination is fucking weird.”

“So I only imagined you making all those weird noises, last night?” Seth grinned.

“Shut up.”

Man, this was really hard to write.. I don't know nearly enough about Danny. There's very little fanfiction, and there are a few interviews, but it's really not enough. They don't even have a primer... Anyways, go give them some love! The Audition, check it out!

All Wrong

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 22:05:38 GMT

Title: All Wrong
Author: monimi101
POV: 3rd, Ryan-centric
Pairing: implications of Ryan / everyone
Rating: PG-13
Summary: I don’t wear make-up to become someone I’m not. I wear make-up so who I am on the outside, matches who I am on the inside.
Author's Note: Originally posted to slashatthedisco

Ryan Ross is starting to realize there’s something wrong with him. Looking around at the chocolate wrappers and clothes scattered on the floor (with used condoms and bandages hidden underneath), he knows that he could clean this room. Sometimes, he wants to. To clean and clean and clean, until there’s not so much as a bloodstain on the ground. He doesn’t.

He needs these layers of filth. They mirror him perfectly. On the outside, old makeup and clothing, messy and ruffled, but at least they hide the gashes on his thighs, his constant semi-hard state. At least it hides the bruises on his thighs, the bite marks on his chest, his neck, his stomach… everywhere. He doesn’t mean to hide. There’s nothing wrong with moshing, or with cutting, or even with constant one-night-stands. He just… does. Maybe because he doesn’t want people to know how much he loves— no craves, needs— the pain. How no matter what, the day his skin is clear or cuts and bruises and scars, that day will be his last.

Because no matter how much he hurts on the outside, it has to balance the pain on his inside. He was told by his mother, when he was young. “I don’t wear make-up to become someone I’m not. I wear make-up so who I am on the outside, matches who I am on the inside.” His mother was very kind and loving and wonderful, and she was a beautician. She always looked great, because she was always happy and loving and good.

Therefore, Ryan, who is not caring or loving or good, can’t look great. On the inside, he is scarred and bruised and hateful, so he makes his body match, with scars and bruises and cuts. So if he wants his outside to match, why does he cover the bruises that show with makeup, and force himself not to walk with a limp? Why does he wear garters so intricate and well-made they hide the cuts and scars on his left thigh? He thinks it’s because he lies on the inside, too. He refuses to look at the reason of his unhappiness, because if he did, he thinks it would break him completely. And no one would be able to put him back together, because they don’t know he’s that close to breaking. So he looks away however he can.

Sex, he finds, is a good way not to be profound. Sex is a way to be anti-found, to stay lost forever, so that he’ll never have to step out of the forest and look at the past with clarity. So Ryan has sex often, and a lot of different ways, with a lot of different people. William, and Pete, and Patrick, and Spencer, and Jon, and Gerard, and Mikey, and Gabe, and Travis, and so many other people, people he doesn’t even know, other than knowing exactly what they need, exactly what to give them so that they give him what he needs. Sometimes it’s soft and gentle, and there’s only him and the other. Sometimes it’s kinky and slow and torturous, whether with one person or two. But mostly, it’s harsh and horrible and rough and fast. Mostly, it’s at least two other people. Mostly, it’s people who smell like booze and marijuana, and who knows what else. Mostly, it isn’t Brendan.

It isn’t full of love and happiness. It certainly doesn’t mean waking up next to someone he actually likes. It isn’t just right. Because Ryan isn’t just right. He’s all wrong.

Chance Encounter

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 21:56:21 GMT

Title: Chance Encounter
Author: monimi101
POV: 3rd, Davey-centric
Pairing: Davey / Beckett
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, mild language, very mild bondage
Summary: He really hadn’t planned on coming here. That’s not to say he was homophobic, or even straight, but a gay bar? Davey Havoc does not go to gay bars. At least, not before now…
Author's Notes: unbeta'd posted to rareslashpairs originally.

I took a step back as the room was filling up

And I was packed against these people who were tossing up a strong vibe

Now the door's locked

And the shower's on.

And I realize I don't recognize anyone,

But I don't mind

—Neighbors, The academy Is…

He really hadn’t planned on coming here. That’s not to say he was homophobic, or even straight, but a gay bar? Davey Havoc does not go to gay bars. At least, not before now…

On the other hand, the cage-dancing brunette was pretty hot… His long, wavy hair flew around, flipping this way and that as his elegant body moved, his mile-long legs entwined in the steel bars.

Sitting at the bar with a strong drink, and the music playing so loud that the belts and chains attached to his leather pants seemed to sway to the beat, Davey tried to remember how he got here. It had started with Jade, slightly surprisingly. He’d stumbled in the door with a long-haired singer with a heavy accent just hanging off of him, whether because he was drunk or horny Davey didn’t care to know.

After that, well…

The long-haired Finn arched into Jade’s hands, moaning into the kiss. “You like that, Babe?” Jade’s words were uncharacteristic of him, and slurred from drinking. Davey wrinkled his nose. If they didn’t stink of alcohol, and they weren’t in his house, he might watch, but as it was, he just wanted to get to sleep, or at least back into his book…

“The fuck, Jade?” Davey demanded, irked. “Go to your own house.”

“But Daaav-ahh!” Jade’s whine became a yelp as the Finn bit him harshly. “You told me it would be bad to drunk while I’m drive, err… drink while I driven?”

“Good god, how much did you have?” Davey asked, pissed. Couldn’t he call a cab?

“I donno…” Jade replied. The Finn glared at Davey, and Davey felt an unpleasant chill run up his spine. He’d leave. Jade had mentioned that there was a club nearby that was more than half-decent. Maybe he’d go.

Finishing his drink, and starting to feel a pleasant buzz, Davey wandered onto the floor. Within minutes, a platinum blond in tight pants and very little else was grinding on him. Davey, having nothing better to do, let himself get involved, placing his hands on the smaller boy’s hips. Just as he was about to buy the young dancer a drink, someone’s finger’s ghosted up his side. He shiver, turning to see the hottie who’d been cage dancing earlier.

“Hey, want a drink? It’s on me.” The long-legged dancer offered. His voice was light and feminine, and Davey liked it.

“My pleasure.” Davey replied slowly, following him back to the bar. As the other man paid for a drink, Davey allowed his eyes to run up his body; his black boots, his tight jeans, the inch-wide gap of skin between that and a violet-maroon v-neck, the long neck…

“Like what you see?” The cage-dancing hottie asked, his eyes shining almost red in the strange light.

“Very much so.” Davey murmured appreciatively, allowing his eyes to continue, taking in luscious red lips and dark, energetic eyes. “May I ask your name?” He acted politely on impulse, not sure whether he was being logical or just trying to be as different as possible from the other people this guy had slept with.

“Oooh, so polite.” The long-limbed dancer praised. “I’m William Beckett. Bill is fine.”

“I’m Davey Havoc.” When Will offered a handshake, Davey picked up his hand and kissed it on impulse, lingering perhaps longer than he could’ve. The brunette laughed happily.

“I like you.” He told Davey. “Even though you know you could just take me home now, you’re still polite.”

“I’m flattered.” Davey whispered, as softly as could to still be heard over the music. Normally, Davey did not do these things. But normally, Davey was not in a gay bar, about to get into the extremely tight jeans of one extremely hot William Beckett.

Bill took a sip of his drink. It looked like a cooler, but Davey knew on instinct it was a lot stronger. He seemed to be leaving a lot to instinct, tonight.

“So, William, what do you do?” Davey asked, still playing the gentleman.

Bill smiled, enjoying hearing his name said by the other. “I sing, but let’s skip the small talk.” He gulped down the rest of his drink, and Davey could help but wonder what that neck would taste like. “Let’s dance.” Davey nodded, and they wove through the writhing crowd to the front. He could feel the bass line so strongly that his heart synched up with it.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Bill turned his back to Davey, wrapping his arms around the tattooed man’s neck, grinding back against him. Davey, feeling like the luckiest guy in the club (which he obviously was) placed one hand on the flat of the lanky singer‘s stomach, and the other on his hip. It was near the sensual thing he had ever felt.

William moved with the fluidity of water, but was still the least controllable thing Davey knew of. Just as Davey got used to him enough to let his hand wander up the long-legged singer’s shirt, the beat changed, and Bill turned around, his hips swaying, rotating but millimetres from Davey’s own, his long fingers on the tattooed singer’s shoulders.

Again, Davey went with the flow, with one hand at the small of the other man’s back, and the other tangled in his long, shiny hair. Between the sensuous atmosphere of the club, the androgynous scent of Bill’s perfume, the dark German techno blasting out of speakers taller than he was— and probably the two or three glasses of liquor— Davey felt adventurous. He grabbed Bill’s hands, holding them tightly, possessively, and bringing the other singer’s face very close to him own.

“Let’s go.” Bill whispered huskily, his hot breath in Davey’s ear. When the long-limbed singer nibbled his ear lobe, Davey decided he definitely didn’t have to be told twice.

The two singers threaded their way through the crowd, away from the front speakers, away from the bar, and through the door. Once outside, Bill shoved the other vocalist against the rough brick wall, kissing him lustily. Taken by surprise, it took Davey but a second to kiss back, dominating the kiss quickly. He buried his hand in William’s hair, clenching the back of his neck, and the tightly-clothed dancer moaned throatily. Even though they can still feel the beat through the brick walls, it’s still the most alluring sound Davey has ever heard. As if he wasn’t hard enough already.

He pulled back suddenly, impulsively, and bit the other man’s neck. Bill yelped and gasped. “We’re going to my house.” He informed the dark-eyes dancer, not leaving room for disagreement. He had entirely forgotten about the horny Finn and equally horny guitarist residing there for the night.

They walked quietly and quickly through cold February night, ignoring the shriveled snow banks glowing in the lamplight. William’s arm was flung casually around his shoulders, and Davey let his hand rest lightly at the small of the skinny singer’s back.

When they entered the apartment block, Davey picked the lanky brunette up, enjoying the startled yelp. He carried the singer up a flight of stairs to his apartment, #274.

“My key’s in my left back pocket.” He whispered, smirking. “My hands are full of you.” Bill giggled lustily.

“I guess I’ll get it.” He breathed, feeling down Davey’s mesh-clad back, and Davey shivered. God he loved those fingers. Then the long hand dove into his pocket, groping his ass firmly before grabbing the key. He turned the key quickly and easily, and pushed the door open…

…Davey remembered why he left the house. The Finnish singer rode his bandmate sensually, biting down on the guitarist’s neck hard enough to draw blood. Jade, unused to such harshness, was flushed deeply and groaning deeper than Davey wouldn’t have thought he could.

“I bet I could ride you even better than that.” Bill whispered, his hot breath on Davey’s ear. Davey wondered how much better it could get, but carried the light dancer to his room more than a little eagerly. Although, it was a little bit hard to walk, especially with the other singer’s teeth grazing his neck, purr-like vibrations going straight to his crotch.

When they got to his door, Bill opened it, and flipped his hair out of his eyes. It lashed Davey’s face, but the pale, soft neck, now exposed, made up for it. He bit at the base of the other man’s neck, and Bill moaned throatily. Good god, Davey loved those sounds. He deposited the dark-eyed dancer roughly onto the bed, straddling his quickly. Bill grabbed onto the back of his neck and kissed him, and a fiery dance began, echoing their time on the dance floor. The lanky brunette tasted vaguely of vanilla, but somehow manlier. Davey pondered for a while as he enjoyed the kiss. When he pulled away, he realized that Bill tasted like he smelled: sexy, in the most androgynous way possible.

Davey was addicted, and licked the singer’s neck. It only tasted stronger, and a little bit salty from sweat. He nipped the other man’s neck, just below the mark already forming from earlier, and Bill moaned deliciously. Pressing his lips to the creamy skin, his swirled his tongue over the writhing man’s pulse, loving the erratic beat of his heart.

“You taste wonderful.” He whispered huskily, smirking. His hands rubbed the thinner vocalist’s stomach slowly. The way the dancer squirmed to get close to him, the way his fingers traced vaguely erotic patterns on his back through the mesh shirt, the androgynous, vanilla-like taste of his neck, the sounds of sex from the other room, the dark atmosphere, with nothing but the faraway light of a street lamp to illuminate Bill’s pale skin… Davey loved all of it.

He let his mouth travel further down, past the other singer’s collarbones, the strange flying heart necklace, and then he tasted the sweat-soaked cotton of the other man’s shirt. Growling in annoyance, he pulled the shirt over the skinny singer’s head, and threw it halfway across the room. Bill grabbed the neckline of his mesh shirt, pulling him into another passionate kiss, and started undoing his pants. It was almost too sexy, Davey decided. He wanted this to last as long as it could.

The dark-haired singer undid one of many buckles and belts on his pants, and grabbed Bill’s hands. His large hand fit around both of the brunette’s wrists maybe a little bit too well, and he tried the horny singer’s hands to the headboard. Bill’s eyes glinted in the light as he rolled his hips into the wiry other man’s, moaning loudly.

“Take me…” he murmured, his eyes clouded and half closed. Davey’s own hips twitched involuntarily at the show the other singer was putting on. His vanilla skin was blooming with red marks, maybe bruises to be, and at that moment, the moonlight poured into the bedroom, the angry clouds of February storms finding another place to bother. It was breathtaking, and Davey reminded himself to breath again, although not before he got a little bit lightheaded.

“Please…” William murmured, and Davey licked down his abdomen, biting his hipbones as he reached them. He undid the button of the skinnier man’s jeans with his tongue, a skill he didn’t know he had, and pulled the zipper down with his teeth. He heard Bill’s shallow, harsh breathing, and a sharp gasp as his fringe brushed the other singer’s stomach. He pulled the tight jeans down, wanting to get them off, but only managing to get them down to the middle of his thighs before giving up and nipping the place where the slender man’s leg met his hip, just below his hipbone.

Bill moaned and rolled his hips, his hands squirmed in their confines. “Davey..” He whispered throatily, full of want. For all that he looked as innocent as a caged bird, it seemed he was quite a sinful creature. Davey tried again to remove his pants, this time succeeding, wondering how the heck those tight things had got on his slender legs in the first place. He licked at the other man’s inner thighs, sinfully close to the silk thong that was the last thing the slender man was wearing.

Suddenly, Bill thrust his hips towards Davey. “Please…” He murmured. “Stop teasing me…” Davey ran a hand down the other vocalist’s side, just barely touching him, watching the way the younger man shivered, the way his back arched perfectly in the filtered lamp light. He pushed the thing to the side, licking the other man’s cock, listening to the beautiful groan.

“This what you want?” He asked, his mouth against the other man’s dick, letting the vibrations of his voice tease him.

“No, more…” Bill’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed beautifully, his lips wet and glistening. Davey didn’t think he’d ever get over how beautiful the other man was, not in a million years. He licked wetly at Bill’s balls, which, he noticed, were completely hairless, clean. He let his rough stubble brush against the other man’s inner thighs, then moved his head just a bit lower, letting his tongue run over the other man’s entrance, then slip in, slowly, calmly, knowing Bill wanted so much more, but delighting in his control over the other man. He stunk his tongue in as far as he could, licking around, trying to find that spot… Bill writhed and twisted on his tongue, trying to get it in deeper, harder, faster.

Davey slipped a finger in beside his tongue, still keeping his eyes trained on the face of the beautiful being above him. He added another finger, then three, quickly, viciously. Bill almost screamed, bit his lip hard. Davey took his tongue out, fucked the other man with his fingers, trying to get them as deep as he could, as fast. Bill continued to twist, his hips pulsing with the fringed vocalist’s fingers. Suddenly, Davey’s fingers hit something, something that makes Bill scream, blush, arch. He does his best to hit it again, again.

“Davey, please…” the bound singer moans, and Davey knows what he wants, and takes his fingers out reluctantly, instead searching the bedside for some lube and a condom. He hurriedly shrugs out of his pants, leaving them discarded on the floor, glad he decided not to wear any boxers today. He hurriedly rolls the condom onto himself, lubing quickly before aligning himself with Bill entrance.

He leans over the other man, biting his collar bone as he pushes in, grabbing the slender man’s sides, digging in with his nails. Bill gasps and moans at the same time, and it’s a ridiculously sexy sound. And before Davey has the presence of mind to start moving, Bill is rolling his hips, sliding on and off of the older vocalist.

Catching up quickly, he thrusts, starting up a quick, uneven rhythm, growling in the back of his throat Bill moans and whines sharply, his fingers, still bound, twisting into the pillow case, and Davey kisses him roughly as they move together, fast and urgent, and carefulness and patience discarded long ago. And then Davey hits that spot in Bill, and jerks him roughly a few times, and then they come, almost together.

Davey pulls out and lets himself fall beside the smaller singer, untying him quickly. Bill rubs his wrists and sighs happily, asleep within minutes.

If You're Bound and You're Gagged, Draped and Displayed...

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 20:41:54 GMT

Title: If You're Bound and You're Gagged, Draped and Displayed...
Author: monimi101
POV: 1st, Aaron
Paring: Pete Wentz / Aaron Gillespie / Sonny Moore
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, connotations of drugs and alcohol, minor bondage, implied cultverse
Summary: When he first saw the kid, bruised but determined, he never imagined that is would end up like this.
Author's Note: written a little bit ago, x-posted to moresonnyslash

I see him across the room. Throwing his small frame into the moshpits, an angrily determined expression on his face. As if trying hopelessly to prove to them, to all of us, that he’s as tough as the people he’s amongst. But you can tell he isn’t. He’s shorter, skinner, and probably more sober than the others. While they wear Metallica shirts and ripped jeans, he wears a tight black hoodies and skinny jeans. I can’t see much of his skin, but I can tell it’s bruised. I can tell he wants it to be.

In that instant, I know I want to help him. I want to make him stop needing the bruises. Stop feeling like he has to be tough. Stop coming to places like this; dirty and dark and thick with smoke. He’s an angel; what’s he doing here? Wait, no. No, because God keeps his angels nearby. Not an angel, then. But he will be. Certainly someone like him couldn’t be condemned. Someone so beautifully fragile.

“Hey, who are you looking at?” Pete elbows my ribs and I winced. “You’ve been dazed all night.”

“I thought you were up there…” I gestured vaguely at the moshpits. He normally was.

“Well, I was, like fifteen minutes ago.” He’s a bit annoyed. “But I’ve been standing here, waiting for you to figure it out, for the past ten minutes. Geeze. If I was a worse person, I’d have your wallet, by now.” That’s worrisome. I reach into my back pocket, making sure it’s still there.

“Hey, I said if!” He yells at me over the music. “I’m not like that anymore.”

“That’s what you say.” I glare at him. If it’s happened before, it can happen again. “You stole thirty bucks from me, last time. I couldn’t go to a show for weeks!”

“Dude, that was ages ago. Stop holding grudges.”

“Four months is not ages.”

“Shut up.” He murmurs. “Anyway, who were you looking at?” I wince slightly. I don’t want to tell him that I’m staring at a guy like that. Not that I’m going to do something wrong. I was just looking… A guy shouldn’t be wearing jeans that hug his ass that tightly anyway.

“Wait, let me guess.” He’s excited. This will not be good. “The bassist, right?” I almost laugh. I hadn’t even been looking t the band. I shake my head.

“Okay… Oh! That one!” He points towards the moshpits as the little angelic boy comes into view. “The emo kid.” I blush. I shouldn’t blush, because I wasn’t looking at him like that, but I blush.

“I knew it!” Pete shouts. “You always say you’re not one of us, but I can tell! You have to admit it, now!” By “one of us,” he means gay. And just so you know, I’m not.

“I wasn’t looking at anyone.” I tell him angrily. “I was just thinking.”

“Right.” he says doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. We both watch the show. I try to look at the band, I really do. But my eyes are drawn to him. It’s all I can do not to drag him out of there and hug him, buy him some food. He’s way too skinny.

“So…” Pete starts. Somehow, I don’t like where this is going. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?” I startle, looking at him sharply.

“No.” I tell him. Of course he can’t.

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in him.” he teases.

“It’s not that.” I say. Of course I’m not interested in him. I’m straight.

“What is it then?” He asks. He’s already starting to slip into his other personality. The sharp tongue and confident walk and hipbones jutted out just so. Turning from the regular hardcore kid I know to a flirtatious, dangerous sort of person.

“He’s not like you.” I tell him. It’s a stupid thing to say. No one is like Pete. He’s completely different from anything.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. “You don’t even know him.” The edge is in his voice, now. I want to slap him, make him back into the person I know.

“He isn’t like you.” I repeat. He doesn’t give kids drugs just to see them fall the next morning. He doesn’t tear people apart for no reason.

“You mean not gay?” Pete asks spitefully. “Not like me, as in, not a fucked up bitch? As in, not someone bound straight for Hell? Not someone who does drugs and fucks strangers?”

“I didn’t say that.” I tell him, failing to sound as convincing as I want to, need to.

“You did.” Pete says. That awful hate is creeping into his voice. “Well, I’ve got some news. We’re all going to Hell. Every last one of us. That means you, too.” He dives into the moshpits, his compact body knocking a few unsuspecting people over.

“I know.” I speak to no one. “But he’s different.”

I left the show, after that. I sat at a pizza parlor down the street, sipping a Pepsi. I prefer Coke, but it’s all they have, here. They taste just about the same, anyway. I stare into space, trying to clear my head. Trying to get rid of thoughts of angels and demons. Thoughts of moshpits and bassists and dirty couches. Thoughts of small emo kids, lost among the taller, stronger people up front. The bruises that are going to cover his arms and legs and stomach and ribs.

Trying not to think about what Pete is probably doing. Buying him a beer, first. Even if he doesn’t drink, Pete will get a beer into him. Talk him in circles until he doesn’t know why he wasn’t drinking. He could get a vegan to eat veal, if he was determined enough.

He’ll keep talking, keep buying the kid beers. He’ll make the kid think he’s the coolest guy on the scene. It’s not true, of course. But I’m starting to be afraid it will be. He’ll convince the kid that everything is okay: underage drinking and drugs and bathroom sex and cutting and even sleeping with him. It’s not, though. Maybe the drinking age is a bit high, but the rest of it… It’s a personal choice, I guess. But still. Convincing people to do them can’t be right. Especially if you know, from experience, that is isn’t.

Then he’ll ask the kid how he’s getting home. He’ll say his mom is coming, or that his friends will drive, or he’s getting the bus. And Pete will change his plans. Just like that, he’ll say, no, come with me. He’ll get the kid to ditch his ride, even if it’s his mom, without saying a word to them. He’ll take the kid further downtown. Down to an even dirtier, smokier, wrong place, and get him something he knows the kid can’t handle. He likes pills. He’ll get some anti-depressant long-banned for being to strong, or something that isn’t anything remotely legal that I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me what he uses. I don’t ask.

And then he’ll take the kid somewhere a little more private. Only a little, mind. A bathroom stall or a silky loft or just a corner of the room. And make sure they have something to remember the next morning. Scars and bruises. A limp and a hangover. Sometimes even a broken heart.

Suddenly, I’m really pissed. I am not going to let that happen to him. I can’t. Pete can find someone else, and he knows it. He knows that kid isn’t like him.

I throw my can of Pepsi in the trash as I leave. It wasn’t quite empty, and it sloshes and fizzes in the garbage can. The old door slams as I race down the street. I know where he’s gone, today.

I shoulder through the line outside, slipping in through the back door. The bouncer sees me, but doesn’t care. He knows I’m one of Pete’s friends. And he knows what happened the last time someone fucked with Pete.

I look around the room slowly, scanning corners and booths. At first, I don’t see them. And then I hear the sweetest, purest laugh I’ve ever heard, over at the bar. On a stool beside Pete is the kid, the angel. He’s flushed with drink. Pete’s eyes give me the chills. I push thoughts of what might have happened had I not shown up out of my mind, pushing through the crowd towards them.

“Hey, Aaron.” Pete’s eyes are cold and dangerous. The person I know is still in there, I remind myself. The timid and eccentric kid, full of ideas. “Have I introduced you to Sonny?”

I smile, despite myself. His name suits him. “Hello, there.”

“Heyy…” He trails, and giggles. “Wanna drink with us?” He’s smiling weirdly. I hate this. He shouldn’t be here, like this.

“Yeah, sure.” I sit down beside him. I haven’t drank in a while, but I need to keep an eye on him.

“Hey, my friend here needs a drink!” Pete shouts. The bartender pours me something. I don’t know what it is, or how legal, but I’ll live. I take a sip, cautiously. It’s extremely bitter, and the alcohol in it is tangible. I grin. It’s good.

“So, Pete.” Sonny starts. “Why’ja pick me?” His eyes are fishing for complements. He wants, needs, to hear something good.

“My friend here had his eye on you, actually.” Pete smiles at him, and it almost looks real. I shoot him a glare. “I must admit, he has good taste.”

“Reeeeeally?” Sonny leans his head backwards, looking at me upside down. It’s amazingly cute. I think I blush a little, and nod.

“Yeah.” I gulp down half my drink. Definitely good, strong liquor. I notice a few empty glasses beside the cute emo kid. He’s drunk out of his mind. He probably won’ even remember this, tomorrow. Somehow, that relaxes me.

“Wow, a pretty guy like you?” Sonny asks. He swivels his stool to face me, and fixes his hair. “It must be these new jeans.” He grins.

“They do look nice.” I tell him, regretting it instantly. He’s going to think I’m like Pete, now. “But it’s you that fits so well in them.” I totally sound like I’m coming onto him. Pete is grinning at me. I can see an ‘I told you so’ in his eyes. I’m really starting to think I should get out of here, get Sonny out of here. I drink the other half of my drink, only to find it refilled the moment I set it down.

Sonny grabs his drink, and takes a swig of it, as if proving he can drink, too. I want to take it from him and make him stop. I want to get him out of here.

“How’re you getting home, after this?” I ask him.

“Iiiunno.” His speech is crazily slurred, and it really should not be that cute. I notice his lip piercing for the first time. I notice how moist his lips are. “I don really wanna go home.” He’s leaning forwards and his darkly lined eyes look up at mine. They’re beautiful, I think absently. I mean, I’d almost think he was a girl. Which really, I shouldn’t be thinking about. Because now I’m starting to wish he was a girl, because them I could kiss those moist lips and put my hands on his slender waist and…

“Just kiss already.” A girl a few seats over tells us scornfully. I blush a little bit, and Sonny’s blush gets deeper.

And then I hear a musical laugh, and his lips are on mine. His hands are on my cheeks, and he just feels to small and needy and wonderful that I find myself kissing back, and my hand finds its way to the small of his back and maybe it’s okay after all, to like guys. And if it isn’t he’s not too manly anyway, maybe God thinks he’s a girl, but got messed up, somehow. And he won’t remember any of this tomorrow, anyways.

And then my tongue is in his mouth, and he tastes like the liquor Pete got me, only sweeter and a little bit like vanilla coke and cigarettes, too. And it’s a really good flavor. And his hair is really smooth, I notice when my hand knots in it, bringing him even closer. His skin is soft, as I let my hand wander up the back of his shirt. And the sound he makes as my hand brushes his side, that little half-moan in the back of his throat…

I pull away from him abruptly, taking him in with my eyes. His face is flushed beautifully, the contrast obvious on his pale skin. His lips are plump and pink, accented by silver. His eyes are bright and cloudy, his lashes long and black. The turquoise and black eye makeup glimmers in the yellowy light, starting to run down his face. His silky black hair is starting to get messed up. His thin frame shudders as he breaths, his legs are slender and long, every curve visible in his jeans. A certain curve draws my attention, and I smirk.

“You said you don’t want to go home.” I say. My hand is still in his hair, and I love the feeling of control. I’m starting to doubt alcohol was the only think in the drinks, but I’m beyond caring. “Would you like to try my home?”

“Yeah…” Sonny breaths. And his voice still sounds pure and wonderful, even when breathless. Pete is smirking at me, and I figure he’s crashing at my house, too. My family is staying at my grandparents’ house, this weekend. I would be, too, if not for Pete. Sometimes his cursed tongue does lead to good things, I suppose.

I let go of his hair and get up, though not before downing my drink. It is in my glass, after all. It would be rude not to. I walk towards the exit, knowing that both boys are following me. If briefly occurs to me that I didn’t want this to happen, and that’s why I was here, but screw that. Screw Sonny. That’s what I’m going to do. I laugh a bit.

We have to walk a ways to get to my car. I start off quickly down the street. Pete walks beside me, but Sonny is stumbling. I turn a around and pick him up. He gasps as I do.

“Hey… Wassurname.. I cin walk, yknow.” He slurs.

“My name is Aaron.” I tell him. “And no, you can’t.” He pouts, and I really want to kiss him again, but I wan to get home, too.

“So, Aaron.” Pete says, grinning slyly. “You still think he’s not like that, do you?”

“Shut up!” I shout at him. “He isn’t!”

Pete raises an eyebrow. If my hands weren’t full of cute emo kid, I would punch him out. “No what?” Sonny asks blearily. He brings a hand around to my side, and starts tracing words there, his fingertips dancing lightly across my skin. I bit my lip and shake my head. I need to get home… Home.

We get to the street where my car is, and I’m reluctant to put Sonny down. I do, to grab my keys, and I open the passenger seat door for him. Pete jumps in before he can. I glare at him, and open the back door for Sonny. He climbs in, grinning happily. I walk around to the other side and start to car up. It’s late, probably three in the morning. The traffic is still heavy, but not nearly as much so as it would be during the sunlit hours.

“I can see the lust in your eyes.” Pete whispers in my ear. “I can see the way you blush every time you look at him. You’re no better than I am. Worse even, pretending not to be.” His hand is on my leg, and it’s really weird; he’s my best friend. “I know what you want. You want to control him. You want to see him on his knees, his lips around your cock.” I almost moan at the image, and Pete’s breath on my neck is really hot, like he’s burning up inside. “You want to tie him up, don’t you? You want to bite his neck and his thighs.” His hand moves further up my thigh. “You want to see his eyes filled with lust and tears. You want to drive into him, hear him scream. You want to leave him broken and bleeding, crying for more…” His hand closes over my crotch, and my hips jerk up into his hand and this is so wrong, it’s Pete, for Godsake, he’s my best friend…

I almost hit a telephone poll, just barely swerving around it. I look around frantically, praying there are no police nearby. Praying that tonight, just tonight, God is watching someone else. I catch a glimpse of Sonny behind me. His hoody is open, now, and his shirt is riding up his torso, exposing smooth, pale skin. I want that, so badly. Want all of him, want him writhing under me, begging for more. Once again, Pete is right. He always is, I suppose.

I pull up in the driveway. My car is the only one here, and the windows are dark. Exactly as it should be. I get out of the car. Pete does too, still smirking evilly. I get the feeling that this time, his plan isn’t going to be such a bad one. Sonny stays in the car, and I go around to open his door.

His face lights up. I hold out my hand. I can be a gentleman, if that’s what he wants. He takes my hand and pulls himself up. He leans up on his toes to kiss me, and my hand stays in his. It feels sort of right. It takes me by surprise, and I pull him towards to door. It’s already open, as Pete’s just let himself in. I wonder when he got a copy of my house key, but I don’t really care. I close the good behind me, and walk towards my bedroom.

As we get there, a familiar song starts playing within. I open the door.

If I cut off your arms and cut off your legs

Would you still love me anyway?

Pete is sitting on my bed. He has a pair of handcuffs. I have no idea where they came from, but I suppose I don’t need to. Sonny smiles and starts singing along absentmindedly.

If you're bound and you're gagged, draped and displayed

Would you still love me anyway?

I bite his neck, and a raspy moan escapes him. It’s really a lot hotter than it should be. I love it. “I think you’re going to be the one draped and displayed, Sonny.” I whisper in his ears. I pull on his hoody, sliding it off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I kick the door shut behind me.

Cutting with the knife, blood is spilling everywhere.

I bite on his neck again; the same place, licking at the skin. His breathing is shallow. He sits on the bed, and I kneel over him, one knee on either side of him. He gasps, and I break away for a moment, to let Pete pull his shirt over his head. I push him so he’s lying down, lick at his chest. The blush spread across his cheeks is beautiful, still. And I know it’s all for me. Pete grabs his wrists and cuffs him to the headboard.

“Ah…” Sonny breathes. “Why’re ya tyin’ me…? I’mna goinnewhere.” He looks a bit confused, and there’s a little bit of fright in his eyes.

My hands are trembling

I can't spare to slip up with this knife

Pete slaps him harshly, and Sonny winces. The fear in his eyes grows. “Don’t question us.” Pete growls. I want to tell him that it was completely unnecessary to hit him. I want to, but this isn’t about necessity. We can do whatever we want to him. Anything.

Pete slides Sonny’s pants off, taking his boxers with them. I sit beside him, just watching. Sonny is needy and lustful, and best of all, he’s completely at our command.

Pete licks his shaft, just once, keeping eye contact with the dark angel. He moans and shudders, his hips jerking upwards. I trail a fingernail down his chest, digging in deeply, leaving a red mark. Pete pulls my hand back, as well as his own. We watch him, smiling. His eyes are full of need. He squirms slightly towards us.

“What do you want?” I ask him. I don’t really care, but I love his voice. I want to hear him.

“I…” his voice wavers. Pete tugs on the hem of my shirt, and I remove it quickly. I notice that Sonny’s socks are gone. “Please…” he whispers. “Please, anything…” I smirk. Anything? “Aaron…” The way his says my name is insanely, unbelievably sexy. I want to hear it again.

“Remember that name.” I tell him. “You’re going to be screaming it, soon enough.” Pete grins. He’s naked, too, now. I undo my belt, remove my jeans. Sonny watches. I love the anticipation I feel from him. I love the way his eyes take me in hungrily.

“You want this?” I ask him. “Is that what you want?”

He nods, licks his lips. I crawl towards him, hold my cock in front of his face, smirking powerfully. He leans up slightly, licks me timidly. “Come on.” I tell him. “You know what to do.” His mouth closes around the head, is tongue swirls around me eagerly. The chain on Pete’s handcuffs rattles as he tries to touch me. I grab a handful of his hair, jerking him down. He almost chokes, but manages not to. His tongue swirls around me, he hollows his cheeks. I hear a light groan, and realize it was me.

And then he gives a deep noise around me, and I can hear Pete behind me. Seems like his mouth is good for more than just talking, after all. I thrust down Sonny’s throat, forcing him to swallow around me. His makeup is smudged almost beyond recognition, and I can feel his hot breath on my pubes. He moans again, and I jerk my hips. He just takes it, takes everything I give him. I’m fucking into his mouth, not even trying to hold back, and one of his wrists is bleeding for rubbing against the handcuffs, but he’s not complaining, not even trying to.

I pull back just as I’m about to cum, and his mouth looks wet and slick and oh so kissable, so I kiss him, and he kisses me back hungrily, with need, making little noises in the back of his throat. I break away, and look down his body towards Pete. His head is just behind Sonny’s cock, and I can almost see his tongue vanishing into the tight hole just behind, and I groan. It’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen.

I place my hand by Pete’s head, pushing two fingers in, beside Pete’s tongue. “Ahh!” Sonny exclaims, and somehow, his voice is still sweet and innocent, even though he’s tried to by bed and getting fucked by Pete’s tongue, his hips rocking back to meet each thrust, his back arched off the bed. I shove in my other two fingers, and I can feel him stretch to accommodate it, and he’s moaning, and I think maybe I am, too, and then Pete puts an elastic around the base of the kid’s dick, and says something into him, and he just screams my name, and it is, by far, the sexiest thing I have ever heard, and I almost go over the edge right there, so I withdraw my fingers, and Pete takes out his tongue, and Sonny is writhing under us, trying to get some contact, anything. And Pete has a condom, somehow, and he’s sliding it onto me, which I guess should be weird, but really, who cares? He lubes me up a bit, and I crawl between Sonny’s legs, lining myself up.

He whimpers and pushes himself onto me, and I really can’t control it, I thrust deep into him, hard and fast. I can feel something tear, and he screams, really loud. And I smile; it’s my name. Pete is lying beside him, whispering in his ear, tracing patterns on his chest.

I am still for a moment, letting him adjust to having my dick inside of him. I don’t particularly want to. And I know I could just tear into him, go as hard and fast and deep as I want to. I know I could, and the thought almost makes me do it. But somewhere deep inside myself, I can’t. I want to prove, to Pete, to myself, that I’m better than that. That I’m still, in some way, a good person.

And then Sonny moans my name, and moves his hips against mine, and I move. I thrust into him, striking something that makes him scream, again and again, and he’s deliciously tight and hot, and I know my bed is going to be covered with blood and sweat later, but I don’t care.

Pete is still whispering into his ear, furious and quick, his words to quiet for me to hear. And then something Pete says makes Sonny try to nod, just barely, and Pete’s hand reaches for his cock, tugs off the rubber band. And it wraps around his balls, and I can feel his knuckles in my lower stomach with each thrust, and then Sonny gets even tighter, and screams really loudly, and he comes, and then so do I, hard.

I withdraw my dick, and collapse between Sonny and Pete, and Pete pulls off the condom, dropping it behind the bed. There’s a viciously satisfied look on Sonny’s face, and a smirk on Pete’s as he undoes the handcuffs.

“Hey, Aaron.” He whispers aloud. “You could help me out a bit.” It’s then I notice he’s still hard, and I reach a hand towards him, but then Sonny gets up and closes his lips around my friend’s cock, and he just looks so eager and willing to please. And somehow, I just want to brake him, tie him up and hurt him, but I’m too tired and happy right now, so I help, swirling my tongue around the base. Pete growls, deep within his throat, and Sonny pulls back a bit, so I take over, trying to get as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can, and he growls again. I wrap a hand around his balls, massaging them, and he comes into my mouth. A bit off-guard, I swallow most of it, and some of it dribbles down my chin, and then Sonny licks it up, kissing me eagerly. I sit back and enjoy the kiss, let him do what he likes. And them the three of us lie down, and I wrap an arm around each of them. Sonny curls up against my side, asleep almost instantly. Pete puts one arm protectively over me, gently stoking Sonny’s shoulder. I smile haphazardly, and then I, too, am sleeping.

Light Kisses Gracing Me

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 20:28:23 GMT

Title: Light Kisses Gracing Me
Author: monimi101
POV: 1st, Jade's
Pairing: Javey
Rating:NC-17ish
Summary: So he asks me what I want for Christmas. Which is unfair, I think. He knows what I want for Christmas.
Author's Note: Written a while ago, x-posted to </a></a>pure_javey_love

“Jaaaade?” I look up to see Davey two inches away from my face. I will not blush. I will not blush. I will n—

“What do you want for Christmas?”

I blush. “You know what I want for Christmas, idiot.” I tell him. Davey and I have been going out for the past three months, but he still won’t let me do more than kiss him. And he’s a fucking good kisser! Damn…

He won’t even tell me why. I don’t think he’s sworn to celibacy or that he’s in a freak religion. If he’d tell me why, I could live with it.

I could live with having to jerk off every other night, having to sneak into his room at three in the morning just to watch him sleep. Sure.

“I know.” He says, smiling. “But I still want to hear you say it.” He smiles almost angelically. God. Why is he so hot?

I look him in the eye, blushing fiercely. “I want to…” I trail off. He raises an eyebrow.

I want to see you writhing under me. I want to hear you scream for me. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. I want you.

“Iwanttofuckyousenseless.”

He flushes a bit and laughs. I glare at him, embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d actually say it.” I smiles at me, and I glare harder.

“It’s true…” I’m blushing really hard, now. He poses for me, sticking out his ass.

“You want this?” He asks. I get up. That’s just too far. “You know y—mmph!” I kiss him passionately. He pays submissive, lets me explore every, little, already-memorized corner of his mouth. I grip the back of his neck, trying to go deeper, farther, trying to get inside him, flip him inside out. He steps forwards, and I back, once, twice, and we fall onto the chair. He starts actively kissing me back. He sucks on my tongue, and hums at me. Ahhhh, god. I can imagine what he could do in other places…

He deep throats me, humming. His tongue swirls teasingly. Ah…

He sits up, smirking. “Getting a bit excited there, aren’t we?” He rolls his hips suggestively.

I gasp harshly. “Davey…” I plead weakly. “If you’re not going to let me, stop…”

“Stop what?” He smiles playfully.

“Teasing me…” I’m well aware that I’m begging, but I don’t really care right now. I’ll care later, but for now, I don’t care. “If you keep on like this, I’m going to snap, Davey. I can’t take this. I’ll end up doing something we both regret…”

He’s surprised. He must have been expecting something else. Then, to my surprise, tears well up in his eyes.

“Hey!” I’m freaked, now. “Hey! Davey, man. Don’t cry. Davey, Davey… No…” I rub circles on his shoulders. “Calm down. I don’t mind. I’ll do what ever you want, Davey. Anything. But please tell me why.”

“I’m afraid…” He whispers, once he’s calmed down a bit. “I’m so scared, Jade…” He starts crying again. I rub circles in his back, whisper nothings in his ear. I say nothing relevant. He’ll tell me when he wants to.

“Jade…” He starts again. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I—“

“No, Davey.” I say forcefully. “I’m not mad at you. Don’t apologize. It’s fine. Please just tell me why you’re scared. I’d do anything for you, Davey. I’d never hurt you. But please, tell me what to do.”

“I…” A deep breath. “I know that this is really selfish, but… Whenever I think about it, I feel really scared. Because…” He blushes deeply. “I… I watched you once. I watched you… touch yourself, after I had been kissing you… and I thought ‘This can’t work…’ because…” He blushed deeper, as do I.

“Yeah…” I think about it. Suddenly, I know.

“Davey…” He looks up at me with big, wide eyes. He’s so cute. “I’ll take it. You can be tops, and I’ll take the pain.”

He blushes bright red. “Jade, I couldn’t do that! That would be…” A red pause. “That would be all wrong!”

“Then what do you want to do?” I ask him, a bit frustrated.

He takes a deep breath. “I want to try.” He says. My eyes widen. But…

Wide, brown eyes stare up at me. “Please…” He murmurs, his voice clear and beautiful as always, and desperate, oh so desperate, all for me. “Jade…”

“You’re sure?” I ask him, blushing. It’s suddenly a bit more obvious that he is straddling me.

“I am.” He says seriously. “I love you, Jade, and I would trust you with my life…” He pauses for but a moment. “Take me.”

I flush bright red. “This…” I whisper hoarsely. “This isn’t the place…” True that. The other two will be up soon, and we are in the living room. It is not a good place to have sex. Davey turned a shade or two redder.

He gets up, and I follow. I lead him into my bedroom, and he sits on the bed nervously. I smirk and sit next to him. I kiss him as passionately as I know how, and as tenderly; I cannot hurt him today. There’s no way I could hurt him today.

He responds eagerly, leaning into it, wrapping his arms around my neck. I lean backwards, taking him with me. I place a hand on the back of his neck, bringing him closer, and roll over onto him. For the first time, when I move away from his mouth, licking down his neck, he does not object.

There is a certain spot on his neck, slightly softer, if possible, than the rest of his skin. He mewls as I lick it, his neck arching a bit. I smirk a bit, looking up as him. A vibrant blush spreads across his face. I suck on the spot a bit, loving the moan that drifts out of him. I can feel his pulse on my tongue, speeding up as I nip him softly. I can feel him trembling under me.

He is exquisite. He is beautiful, and feminine, yet at the same time, no girl could ever begin to compare to him. The edge of his cheeks stands out more sharply now, with the almost florescent pink blush across them, against the gray and yellow shades of early morning. His heartbeat flurries and his neck glistens slightly, a red mark blooming over his pulse. I smile, oddly and possessively happy about the mark. Even though I know it will be a problem at tonight’s performance.

I lower my mouth again, getting to the base of his neck before encountering the baby tee he’s wearing. Has he been shopping in the women’s section again…?

I move my mouth away obediently, and we sit up. I am still straddling him as I remove his shirt. He shivers as my cold knuckles graze his skin. He reaches for my shirt as well, and I shiver as my top falls away, feeling the coldness of the room in early morning. For a moment, we just look at each other. It’s not like I’ve never seen him shirtless before, but he’s so beautiful… He blushes when he realizes I’m staring, and leans in to kiss me. I am surprised at the force of his kiss. I lean forwards, pressing him down.

With his back to the bed, I run my fingers over his sides, enjoying the shiver, the moan, the arch of his back, the way he kisses me so desperately.

I want more.

I kiss his neck again, licking the hickey I left there, running past where the shirt was, noting the lack of a tan line. He must be so careful to stay out of the sun. He’s so pale, so delicate. Coming to a dusky nipple, I nip it on a whim, wanting a reaction. I am not disappointed. He shouts out in surprise, his back arching to an extent that must be painful. I feel more heat pooling in me with every sound, every reaction. He doesn’t seem to be even thinking any more. He tosses and turns, writhing under me, flushing, mewling, moaning. I suck on his chest absently, watching him, trying to memorize every detail. He grounds his hips up into mine, and we both gasp. I respond without thinking, rolling my hips into his again and again, starting a sort of rhythm.

He groans almost gutturally, but no, Davey doesn’t do these things. It still sounds musical, even so. It still sounds beautiful. I love it. I let my mouth continue downwards, let my hands glide over him under him, tracing patterns that would perhaps mean something were they visible, or perhaps not. He arches, he moans. I think I moan, too. The noises he makes are so… sensual. Of course, he always sounds beautiful, but here and now, it’s so much better. My senses are heightened.

“Jade…” He whispers huskily. I feel a stream of heat go down me, a blush deepen across my face. “Jade, please…” I realize my mouth is just above his navel. I dip my tongue in briefly, and continue, unbuttoning his jeans subconsciously. He has a light line of sweat across his forehead. As I slip his pants off, he gasps slightly at the cold. He’s already so… Am I really that good?

I smirk up at him, and he flushes a bit deeper. “Jade, I want you…” He whispers. I think it is the most sensual, beautiful, exquisite sound I have ever heard.

I lick him, from base to tip, relishing in the long moan that comes out of him. I wonder how much of him will fit in my mouth… and try, deep throating him to the best of my ability. He makes a long, keening sound, a needy, desperate sound. I swirl my tongue about him as best I can, and hum a bit, trying whatever will bring a sound out of him. My hands kneed his thighs, and my eyes close slowly, concentrating on the sounds only. Just as he’s about to come, I slip a finger inside him.

He comes with a scream, and I swallow everything.

“Keep it down in there!” One of our roommates shouts. Davey and I both blush so darkly, it shouldn’t be possible. “Some of us are only just waking up, and would like to eat breakfast in peace.”

The mood is gone. I get off him and find my shirt, after tucking him in; he’s asleep already.

I walk into the joined bathroom to finish myself off and go into the main room. “I hate you all.” I tell them, glaring. “I hate you all.”

A Vanity Affair

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 19:49:09 GMT

Title: A Vanity Affair
Author: monimi101
Rating: R
Summary: At Van's Warped Tour, 2005, Sonny feels a bit out of place. Pete shows him what it's really about. Inspired by this picture, which might not actually be them, but sure looks like it.
Warnings: boysex, very light bondage, connotations of cultverse and drugs/alcohol, language
Author's Note: Written just before sunrise, unbeta'd. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.

Sonny has always been a bit shy. He covers it up, of course. He pretends to be the self-confidant, maybe vain person that everyone else in the area seems to be. But honestly, he’s not. Because, well. Everyone else is so pretty. I mean, when you’re as beautiful as William Beckett or Aaron Gillespie or Pete Wentz, you’re allowed to be sort of vain. But Sonny… Well, Sonny just isn’t like that. Oh, how he wishes he was.

Somehow, he finds himself at a party, containing all three of these wonderful people. Which is a fairly frightening concept. And flattering, too. That people think he’s cool enough to be hanging out with these guys. He looks around the room, subconsciously trying to spot friends. Matt and Derek don’t seem to be here. Then, they could be. There are a lot of people here, and Sonny certainly can’t see all of them. William, he notes, is talking quietly in a corner with the guy from Gym Class Heroes, one hand on the other man’s hip, the other holding a formidable looking drink, his posture seeming way too girly for something that may well be strait vodka.

Aaron dancing, almost mockingly, with a slender guy with a ridiculous afro, which looks like a doll’s blond ringlets gone horribly wrong. Sonny feels sort of awkward here. He knows he’s being more judgmental than the others here. He feels sort of out of place, like a nerdy groupie who got let in by accident. He decides some liquor would cure a feeling like this. He goes up to the bar and orders the first thing he sees on the menu, having no idea what’s in it or how strong it is. He hopes it’s pretty strong, he needs it. As he’s reaching into his wallet to get the money, a tan hand slips in coolly and offers the bartender a twenty. Sonny turns to see Pete Wentz, who is just as amazing off stage as he is on it, it seems.

“Hello there.” His voice is like honey and sugar poured over razorblades. It’s scary, but at the same time, it makes Sonny want to lick him. Which he supposes is a fairly strong feeling to feel before having had his drink. He lets it slide; the smoke in here isn’t coming form a smoke machine, after all.

“Ah, hi.” He replies. And he feels awkward and silly, here. He shouldn’t feel so out of place here. He’s got a few albums under his belt, a few years of touring. Pete is only just starting. But Pete is a different kind of person, he muses.

“Your set was pretty good, today.” Pete says. And Sonny is all too aware of the other man’s hand on his hip, his breath in his ear.

“Thanks.” Sonny replies, and takes a healthy swig of his drink. “You did pretty well, too.” The way he says it is too noncommittal. It doesn’t really portray the way he was absolutely glued to the set. The way his eyes didn’t leave them the whole time. Sonny supposes it’s a good thing.

“I love your voice.” Pete whispers, and its’ still honey and razorblades. It sends shivers down sonny’s spine, right down to Pete’s hand, just over his tailbone, fingers drumming. “The way you screamed… Was magnificent.” Sonny blushes. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that. He’s starting to think the rumours are right, that maybe there’s a bit more to Pete than pretty eyes and bass playing. Maybe something a little more sinister.

Sonny drinks some more of his drink, which is neon green, and definitely strong. He’s glad about that; he’ll probably do something he shouldn’t, later. He might be already. Some of the things people whisper about this guy… Tales of unwilling fans in the backs of tour busses, who come out shining, changed. Tales of people who aren’t quite the right. Of darker meanings hidden in light pop punk anthems.

“Would you like to dance?” Pete whispers in his ear, his breath on Sonny’s neck, hot and maybe almost wet. And Sonny decided that rumours are just rumours; they always get exaggerated. So he downs the rest of his drink and follows Pete to the dance floor. Pete’s hand never leaves his hip.

A few minutes later, he’s grinding the shorter bassist, and he can feel Derek looking at him, from the corner where he’s exchanging close words with Aaron. Aaron has never liked Pete too much, he remembers. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it has to do with religion. Pete is the sort of person that gives off distinctly un-holy vibes, especially in a place like this. His fingernails are starting to dig into Sonny’s side, and hell if it isn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever felt. And then he feels that honey and razor voice in his ear again, Want to go get some fresh air?

Sonny is reasonably innocent, comparatively, but he isn’t stupid. He nods and lets Pete lead him outside, feels Derek’s eyes on him. He thinks that the drink, and the smoke, were considerably stronger than he’d originally assumed, because outside, Pete is glowing like an angel. The way his skin lights up under the yellow street lamps…Sonny stops walking, just for a moment. Pete stops, too, a few steps ahead of him.

“Sonny.” He says. His tone of voice is hard to place, somewhere between a lusty whisper and a stern command, but still completely neutral. Sonny thinks that is anyone else heard it, they wouldn’t know. Know what, he wasn’t sure. He walks forward, stumbling a bit in the darkness. Within seconds of him name leaving Pete’s mouth, his hands are on the bassist’s shoulders, just about the only thing holding him up. And, more importantly, his lips have crashed into those of the shorter man, needy, wanting. Pete doesn’t do much, but his lips move ever so slightly, and that’s all the permission Sonny needs to flick his tongue out, taste the other man. Pete licks his lip ring, and Sonny licks his tongue, which tastes like nothing he’s ever tasted before, but he thinks that if a good stage show, a perfect crowd… If that was a flavour, that’s what Pete would taste like. And it’s just as addicting.

Pete’s hands return to his hips, his fingernails tracing words into his flesh, leaving little red marks that fade too quickly to read. He brings their hips together, and Sonny moans into him mouth, and then Pete’s tongue is in his mouth, exploring him, conquering him. Sonny doesn’t mind. He thinks he should get himself conquered more often.

“Would you like to come to my bus?” Pete whispers, breaking his lips away from Sonny’s. Sonny nods dumbly, almost licking his lips before he remembers that would be silly, he’ll get to taste Pete more when they get there. Pete smiles, not quite menacingly, and pulls Sonny’s belt loops towards his bus. This is a good thing; Sonny has no idea where his bus is.

They get to the bus without falling over, which, Sonny thinks, is a miracle, as his eyes didn’t leave the pretty curve of Pete’s back the whole time. Pete’s key works on the first try, and the vocalist can’t help but think how unfair that is, because he never gets it the first try. And their buses are almost the same, too.

Inside, there are two people playing Halo, and Pete picks up the other man, so he won’t trip over the chords leading from the controllers to the TV. Sonny licks his neck, and it tastes a lot like his mouth, but a bit saltier. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t, in front of the two guys there but Pete isn’t worried about them, and Sonny doesn’t want to seem like the sort of person who worries about things that don’t need to be worried about, even though he definitely is.

Pete drops him on the top left bunk, then climbs in after him. The sheets are bunched up, and pretty uncomfortable under Sonny’s back, but when Pete straddles him and grinds down, hard, he arches his back, and it stops being a problem.

“Ahh, Pete…” He whispers, almost a moan, and Pete smirks and bites his collar bone. The raven-haired vocalist cries out a bit, remembering he doesn’t want to seem too needy just a moment too late, and by then, he’s already panting, thrusting up against Pete, so it’s sort of too late.

Pete licks and sucks on his neck, and Sonny can literally feel the veins bursting as a bruise forms just below his collar bone. Somehow, the knowledge that he’ll have to hide this for a while seems amazingly hot, and knowing that he belongs to this person, even just for tonight…

His fingers dig into Pete’s sides, nails just barely there struggling to sink in. Pete says something into his neck, without moving his teeth, and it feels so amazing, so wonderful…

Pete’s hands find his belt, unbuckling it, and not bothering to pull it out as he starts working on Sonny’s pants. Sonny rolls his hips upwards, trying to get those skilled hands to touch him. Pete resists, avoids, and arches his body high over the once-shy vocalist, denying his the friction, the pressure he needs. He slides Sonny’s pants down his legs, dragging his fingernails along his inner thighs as he goes, removing his socks, too. The discarded garments fall out of the bunk, and is occurs to Sonny that the curtain isn’t closed all the way, really, just over half, as he struggles out of his shirt, letting it, too, fall to the floor. He hears the two guys on the couch shout at the game; an explosion goes off.

Pete is licking the inside of his thigh now, his tongue hot and wet. Sonny moans, bucks towards the bassist’s mouth. Realizing he isn’t going to get what he wants, which isn’t that much, just a touch where he needs it, Sonny lets his hand stray down his stomach. Just before it gets to the waistline of his boxers, he feels Pete’s hand wrap around both of his wrists, his mouth still licking at his inner thigh, painfully close to his need. Then Pete’s belt is around the vocalists wrists, instead, and Sonny finds his hands ties above his head on an awkward angle.

“Heyy…” Sonny whispers, but it’s really more of a moan, because Pete is far more skilled with his mouth than anyone should be. He feels like he should object to this. That’s not to say he does, but he thinks he should, he doesn’t want to seem that pliant. Pete discards his clothing quickly and efficiently. Sonny is sure he saw the other man drinking, but he’s showing no signs.

“You know you like it, Sonny.” The bassist whispers, and his voice is raw and husky as he pulls his briefs off, letting them fall to a corner of the bunk. He’s kneeling over Sonny, his hands on either side of the vocalist’s face, his back almost touching the ceiling. “You’re the sort of person that loves being tied up.”

This is something Sonny didn’t know, previously, but it’s true. Ohhh, so true.

“Please…” he whispers throatily. “Pete..” He can feel himself blushing, and there’s nothing he wants more than more Pete to take off his boxers and just have his way with him, whatever that might be. He’d do anything, but this… This waiting, this not touching… Sonny couldn’t stand it.

“Please what?” Pete whispers in his ear. “Do you want me to fuck you, Sonny? Shove my dick deep inside you, so you can’t walk straight tomorrow?” Sonny blushes and moans loudly, bucking his hips.

“Or would you rather I rode you? Do you want you cock in me, Sonny?” Pete is whispering in his ear, low and dirty. “What do you want, Sonny?” He bites the tied vocalist, this time on the other side, almost his shoulder. Sonny almost screams, because he’s so ready, for anything, anything at all, and Pete’s teeth puncture his skin, he feels the blood trickle slowly towards is back.

“Anything!” He pleads. “Anything you want, just, please… Please.”

Pete takes his teeth out of Sonny’s shoulder and kisses him, letting the taller man taste his own blood, coppery and sweet. “I need an answer, Sonny.” He whispers cruelly, the honey seeping back into his voice. “What do you want?”

“Just…” And Sonny knows, he normally doesn’t beg. Because begging is for people who need, people you can’t just take what they want. But Sonny does need. He needs Pete more than he can remember needing anything, not that his memory is too clear. “Just fuck me.. God, Pete, Please!”

Pete smiles and slips the boxers down to Sonny’s ankles, and he kicks them off, not knowing or caring where they land. And then Pete’s fingers are in his mouth, and he’s sucking on the, licking them. All his pent up passion, lust, need, finds its way onto Pete’s fingers, who smirks and kisses down Sonny’s stomach. Just as Sonny thinks he’s finally going to got contact, Pete just drags his cheek along Sonny’s cock, instead licking the tight hole just below. Sonny had thought he couldn’t get any more turned on. He was sort of wrong.

Pete laps at his entrance some more, and Sonny is furiously sucking on his fingers, his own hands knotting together, twisting and writhing with need. And then Pete’s tongue is in him, and this time, Sonny does scream. It’s so beyond what he thought it would be, what he’d ever felt before. Pete’s tongue is twisting, curling, thrusting, and Sonny can hear his own breath, each pant a little moan. Pete takes his fingers away from Sonny now, but the black-haired man doesn’t notice, can’t notice anything but Pete’s tongue, hot and wet and— fuck!

Pete slides his fingers into the other man, one at a time, slowly, teasing. And Sonny wants to scream at him, hurry up, please! Just do it already! But he can’t say anything other than moaning Pete’s name, over and over, and finally, Pete has all four fingers in him, his tongue moving to lap at the base of his balls.

Sonny hears a wrapper crinkle, and looks down to see Pete rolling a condom on, and see his fingers moving in and out of him, twisting… And it would be too much, except that Pete’s other hand is around his balls now, somehow keeping him from going over the edge. And then Sonny can hear Pete whispering something in his ear, and he has no idea what, but his fingers slip out, and his cock lines up with Sonny’s entrance, and suddenly, he’s being fucked.

Each thrust moves him forward, Pete doesn’t even pretend to ease into it, and his whispering these little things into Sonny’s hear, that he can’t quite pay attention to, but they’re blowing his mind, and then Pete hits that spot inside him, and Sonny’s hands grab at each other, his back arches, he moans loudly, and he comes, all over Pete’s stomach, and he can feel Pete follow him other the edge before, slowly, collapsing on top of him, pulling out.

“Your screams are still magnificent, Sonny.” Pete whispers, and Sonny closes his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

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The End. <3 Please leave a comment, let me know what you thought. Maybe suggest a pairing for next time? In case you were wondering, the person Aaron is dancing with in the beginning is Sisky Business. Although, you probably weren't.