You're the dimple in my cheeks that I can't spit out,

Fri, 16 Jun 2006 19:06:32 GMT

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toxicbanana
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toxicbanana

Down On My Knees [Sequel to Nasty Boys]

Wed, 24 Aug 2005 06:16:49 GMT

Pairing: Matt/Gerard [Alkaline Trio/My Chemical Romance]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5,294
Summary: This story is a continuation of this [Matt Skiba/David Desrosiers] and this [Matt Skiba/Pierre Bouvier/David Desrosiers] story, but doesn’t need to be read as such. In fact the only thing you need to know is it’s Warped ’04, Matt Skiba is a horny slut and Justin = Justin Sane of Anti-Flag. Oh, and it’s porn with lots of introductory babble.

The sun streams aggressively in through the windows of the bus you’re on, causing you to squint at your surroundings as you slowly wake up, not quite recalling exactly where you are, or how you ended up there, for that matter. You blearily focus on a pile of magazines on the coffee table in front of you, all with titles like ‘Socialist Worker’, ‘Pittsburgh Indie Media’ and disturbingly, a leaflet entitled ‘Having trouble sticking to your edge?’

You look around frantically, wondering how you of all people ended up on a straight-edge bus. A lump of duvet somewhere around your feet shifts and grunts, causing you to fall off your seat in shock.

You stare at warily for a moment, as if daring it to try any funny moves. When it does no such thing, you crawl cautiously over to it, half expecting it to roar at you at any moment. You see a tuft of dark brown hair peeking out of the top, and crawl closer to get a better look at the person’s face.

You’re hit by a sudden flashback of sunglasses, a skinny, little and over-excited man that smelt like oatmeal soap, and one hell of a lot of exhibitionism.

You blink, and look back down the guy sleeping peacefully, inches away from your inquisitive nose. He certainly doesn’t look the type to be an exhibitionist. In fact, he looks positively angelic lying there, the picture of innocence and most definitely not the screamer you were on the receiving end of last night. You’d like to be able to say you corrupted him, but no one who’s just been corrupted can bend like that.

You sneer triumphantly at the straight-edge leaflet, and standing up you tip-toe over to your boxers, which appear to have been thrown completely to the other side of the room during the course of the evening. You retrieve your clothes a piece at a time, trying not to wake Justin as you go. Fully dressed and confident that your sexual appetite has been sated for at least the next two hours, you open the door of the lounge, intent on making a swift escape.

Instead, you’re met with the livid face of a man a good few inches taller and a damn sight more muscular than yourself. You instinctively take a step back and immediately wonder what you’ve done to deserve this first thing in the morning.

“JUSTIN!” the guy roars and you nearly leap about a foot in the air. Justin promptly falls to the floor with a yelp, scrabbling wildly to get out of the blankets. The guy gives you a contemptuous look and sweeps past you up to Justin. This kid’s angry. Angry at the world. And yet, strangely effeminate. You wonder if this is someone’s boyfriend you’ve pissed of here. Not that you don’t enjoy the sex or anything, but it’s so annoying when attached people allow themselves to be seduced by you and you have to deal with this sort of thing in the morning.

Justin looks up at the two of you from the floor, a poorly-disguised smirk at you turning into a guilty pout when he turns to this other guy. Your hopes of a repeat of yesterday morning’s threesome are rapidly dissolving.

"What. About. Your. Edge?" he hisses down at Justin, and whilst admittedly thrilled that it's not quite boyfriend-chasing-you-with-a-stick time, it is in fact your cue to start edging out of the door. Neither of them seem to notice you.

"Oh come on Dos, it was one night. One night!"

"Yeah, but how many people saw Justin? Huh? Did you think about that? Did you think of the fact that we have an image to uphold, a responsibility to the kids?"

The sound of their bickering tails off as you creep down the bus to the door, anxious not to disturb any more psychotic Anti-Flag members who might be lurking the shadows ready to kick your, already slightly sore, ass for even daring to lay a finger on their precious Justin.

Unscathed, you find your own thankfully empty bus, have a shower, throw on some clean clothes, and you're just about to raid the fridge when you see a piece of paper taped to it, stating the starting time of Alkaline Trio's set that day. It apparently started nearly 15 minutes ago.

Shiiiit

You pelt as fast as your legs will carry you to the backstage area, where you're met with a stony-faced Dan and Derek. Unfortunately, almost ten years in a band with you has completely immunised them to your charms, manly or otherwise, so your naughty grin rapidly falters into what you hope looks like an apologetic frown at their expressions.

Dan looks at you for a moment, then says coldly, "Kevin got another band to swap sets with us. We're on in about twenty minutes, after these guys," jerking his head towards the stage. There's a wild bout of applause and squealing from the crowd, and you hear someone from the band shrieking.

"This one's about my grandma!"

There's another roar from the crowd and after a quiet intro that you can't quite hear, the shrieking resumes in song form. Great. Screamo, just what the kids need first thing in the morning. You wrinkle your nose at Dan and Derek.

"What are they called?" you ask, thinking that the least you can do is ask the crowd for a cheer for them to say thanks for taking the stage in your absence. That's assuming the crowd won't be too bowled over and stunned by your performance to even think about other bands, which is of course entirely possible.

"My Chemical something…" says Dan, trying to remember. The look on his face while he's thinking makes you thankful and mindful that not only are you the brains behind this outfit, you're also the looks. It's tough work, but someone's gotta do it.

"Romance," chips in Derek eagerly. "They're supposedly the buzz-band of the tour this year. Everyone's talking about them, supposedly they're destined for much bigger things."

You nod distractedly, and motion towards the stage, signalling to the other two that you’re going to go and watch them.

Settled between two guys from a band you vaguely recognise, you catch the end of the grandma song, and it's not nearly as bad as it sounded from backstage. Nothing like as good as Alkaline Trio though, as if it needed to be said. The song draws to an overdramatic close, and the lead singer walks up to the drum kit for a bottle of water, and you manage to catch your first proper look at his face.

Hello.

He looks like Christina Ricci minus anorexia and boobs. It looks good. Very good. His eyes scan the various people assembled to watch their set, and when they land on you he smirks to himself. You're about to respond with one of your cool-as-a-cube 'Hello? Can I help you?' looks, but he's already turned back to the crowd.

"Has anyone here ever been fucked up the ass?" he bellows into the microphone. There's a shout of laughter from the crowd, and he pauses a moment to bask in it. "Did you enjoy it?" Another pause. "I did!"

And they proceed to launch into a song that you're almost certain has nothing to do with sex at all (all you caught was 'flock of doves' and 'say a prayer') but he keeps stroking his ass and crotch, much to the delight of a girl in the front row with eyeliner streaks down her face like that twat from Good Charlotte. You snort at her, and shift slightly so that your lower half is concealed by a handy amp. Just in case.

Fortunately, once the song's over the singer stops touching himself, but throws you a wicked grin that leaves you pretty startled and extremely pleased with yourself. That show was put on for you.

Ten minutes later, a random roadie pokes you in the back and you're forced to avert your eyes from Gerard's ass. You figured out his name as it seemed unlikely that the girl with the stupid make-up was shouting "Get hard!" at him. Although you never know. Fans can be exceptionally weird these days.

You reluctantly hoist your guitar over your shoulder, striking a few experimental chords to check it's in tune. The roadie gives a sniff, as if he's offended that you feel the need to double-check his handiwork. It's perfectly tuned, but you make a show of twisting one of the tuning pegs anyway, before turning it back to the exact position it was in before the roadie handed it to you. He glowers and hurries off with towels for My Chemical Romance, who are just coming offstage now, dripping with sweat and panting.

Gerard stands in the middle of them, flushed pink and making excited little "whoo!" noises that are doing nothing for the little situation mercifully shielded from the general public by your guitar.

Dan and Derek however, both sufficiently versed in the lore of Matt Skiba's Mating Rituals, notice the slightly hunched position you're standing in as opposed to your usual thrust-out chest and the haughty way you hold your head. They look around to see who could possibly be getting you this worked up before two in the afternoon and their eyes fall promptly on Gerard, who's sneaking surreptitious glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and smirking when he sees the three of you staring goggle-eyed at him.

He swings the towel over his shoulder in a very James Dean sort of way, and turns to his band members to announce that he's going for a shower and he'll be back to "check out the next band."

Pft. Like he doesn't already have every single record out there with your name on it, and posters of your sexy mug all over his room. 'Check you out' indeed.

"Five minutes guys!"

You scan quickly through your setlist, pleased to see there's nothing overly challenging on the bill today. You feel a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, and turn round to see Derek giving you a Look. He's particularly good at them, especially with those glasses. He kinda freaks you out actually. Not that you'd ever say anything to his face about it.

"What?" you say, trying to inject a healthy measure of innocence into your voice. But the Look quite blatantly tells you that you're not fooling anyone tonight.

"Don't bank on it, okay?"

"Bank on what?"

"Screwing that My Chemical Romance guy. Like I said, they're the band on Warped this year, and he's already got all the guys and all the girls queuing up to fuck him…"

"And what? You don't think I've got what it takes to seduce him?" you say, puffing your chest out magnificently.

"I didn't say that. Just… Don't say I didn't warn you."

You're about to argue further when yet another sound tech rushes over to tell you it's time to take the stage. You throw Derek one last filthy look (throwing in a scowl at Dan for good measure), put on your shades, and walk out onto the stage to be met by a wall of screaming. Stupid-eyeliner girl looks like she's ready to explode with excitement.

You don't bother with introductions, and launch straight into your first song. Who needs introductions when you're ~~Matt Skiba~~ Alkaline Trio?

You manage to restrain yourself from turning round and seeing who's turned up to watch your set until about halfway through your fifth song, when you just can't hold on any longer. Let's see, there's Fat Mike, that singer guy from Bad Religion whose name momentarily escapes you, a couple of surly looking guys with crap swishy emo fringes, some fanatical Alkaline Trio fans (if the tattoos and guest passes you can see are anything to go by) and… there. Gerard. Eyes fixed firmly on you.

Hells yeah.

You stick your tongue out at Derek, who obviously has no idea why, but you feel all the better for doing it anyway. Feeling Gerard's eyes on the back of your neck, you saunter back over to your mikestand, with the barest waggle of your hips as you go, and smirking at your own sexiness.

The fact that two seconds later you're almost hit in the face by a thong compounds your (well-deserved) smugness, and you kick it off to the side of the stage, taking the opportunity to give Gerard a 'Gosh it's hard work being this fuckable, wouldn't you agree?' roll of your eyes over the top of your sunglasses. You don't face him long enough to see his reaction and turn back to the crowd, grinning and knowing full-well how fucking cool you look behind your shades.

Another few songs later your set draws to a spectacular close with Old School Reason ('Got all these thoughts in my head, dirty as fuck and never leaving me'. Strangely appropriate, don't you think?) and you leave the stage to raucous applause. And Gerard's there waiting for you, surprise, surprise. He stands there patiently while your crew fuss around you and relieve you of your guitar. Once you've extracted yourself, you mince slightly in his direction, trying your hardest to look as though you're doing exactly the opposite.

Out of the corner of your eyes (still shielded from view by your shades) you see him take a step towards you, and you whirl around, grabbing the nearest person to you by the arm to engage them in conversation, so Gerard will just have to wait until you've finished being sociable and popular until he gets his chance.

You stare at the arm you've grabbed for a few seconds, trying to work out exactly why those tattoos look alarmingly familiar, and why your instinct is telling you to let go of it right.now.

You look straight up into the eyes of the bellowing man off the Anti-Flag bus, who looks like he'd quite enjoy breaking your face with the neck of his guitar right now. Whoops.

"Hey… you," you say cleverly and with a winning smile, gingerly placing his arm back where it belongs and patting his elbow in what you can only hope is a placating manner. The only acknowledgement you receive is a death glare that Dan would be proud of, and he stalks off in the direction of the stage, muttering darkly under his breath.

You hear a muffled snort behind you, and turn around slowly and coolly to be met with Gerard, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing across his lips. Git. Your composure is on auto-pilot, and you automatically stick out a hand for him to shake.

"Hey, I'm Matt," you say, managing to get just the right amount of smoky-scratchiness in your voice. You're so fucking cool you amaze yourself sometimes. Gerard looks thrown off for a moment, and you know he was expecting you to be all flustered. The mini-Matt inside you does a victory dance and gives Gerard the finger.

Gerard quickly recovers though, and returns the shake firmly and briskly.

"Gerard Way, My Chemical Romance. I'm glad I managed to catch your set, you guys were great."

"Yeah, not up to our usual standard, but hey, I had a busy night last night."

Gerard raises an eyebrow at this and you flash him that devastating grin that has all your fan-boys weak at the knees. He doesn't so much as blink, and it seems to bounce right off him. He looks you up and down from a moment, while you stand there in shell-shocked silence. Okay, so your grin may not always be a ticket to an instant screw, but it's never not managed to provoke a reaction before.

Your eyes narrow behind your glasses at his appraising look. You've taken his non-swooning as a personal insult, and he's looking at you now as though trying to decide whether you're good enough for him to fuck. The cheek of it. Of course, you being you, all this just makes you all the more determined to make him beg for you.

You give a slight nod, and go to turn and walk off. "Hey!" Gerard says a little too quickly, and you turn your grin all the way up to eleven. He's still got his cocky little face on, but there's an obvious flush on his cheeks.

"Yeah?" you say nonchalantly.

"I dunno if you've heard but our band's got the party tonight, so I'll see you there." It's not a question, but you're not about to let him come out of this thinking he's got the upper hand, so you ignore it and pretend to think hard.

"Hmm… Maybe, yeah. I'll see if I can make it, but I'm not making any promises," you say with a smirk (like service with a smile, only cooler because you're Matt Skiba) and promptly swagger off before Gerard can argue.

Well, it was tough, but you can't help but think that you came out of it better that he did. But seriously, what an arrogant git.

*~#~*

Over the course of the afternoon, you go through more costume changes than you ever remember doing in your life, trying to find just the right outfit. Although to be honest, you're sure you could turn up in a bin bag and he'd still be tripping over himself to screw you.

Dan and Derek watch you with vaguely amused expressions as you rifle through your suitcase trying to find a top that'll go with your tight black trousers. Your tight black trousers. You finally settle on a plain black shirt and white tie, figuring a tie could be a fun thing for him to strip off you and play with before you get down to business and fuck him so hard he wakes up in the middle of next week.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, feeling a small twinge of pity for all those people out there in the world who'll never get to know any Skiba-loving.

There's an eyeliner pencil lying on the toilet seat and you stare at it for a full two minutes before deciding that your eyes are quite dark and mysterious enough as they are. You fret over the size of your tie knot, eventually settling on a thin one because you figure it makes you look taller. You leave your hair as it is and then spend a good deal of the rest of the afternoon running backwards and forwards to the mirror trying to decide if you should spike it just a little at the front, or leave it all au naturel, or spike the whole thing.

Having finally achieved nothing less than perfection, you sit and watch the hours crawl by on the clock above your bunk.

*~#~*

Unable to resist the pull of a couple of beers before you set off, you arrive at the party pleasantly buzzed and more than ready for any obstacle that may lie between you and your prize. You catch sight of said prize leaning against his bus, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, light from a temporary bonfire flickering over his face. The way he's standing and the way his head's slowly turning from side to side all make it obvious that he's looking out for you.

Using the fat guy from Bowling For Soup as a shield, you manage to get almost two feet away from him before he notices you, with a slight jolt.

"Matt! I erm, hi," he says, stumbling slightly over his words, but drawing himself up. "We were beginning to think you weren't showing up."

You look him up and down, mentally weighing out if you can honestly be bothered to play the seduction game tonight. He looks at you coolly, and you wonder where all this morning's swagger went. You carry on watching him for a few moments, swaying on the side of drawing this out and exercising your deft skills just so he knows who's boss. He brings his fingers up to his cigarette and you watch mesmerised as he takes a long drag then pulls it away from his lips and blows the smoke all over you.

That does it. You can't be fucked playing the game tonight, you want it now.

You pull the cigarette from his hand and throw it off to the side, not keen on damaging your pristine skin with unsightly burns, sexy at they might be, and slam him against the side of the bus, forcing a leg between his thighs and planting your lips solidly on his. He wriggles uselessly for a moment, before sagging against you and bringing his hands to grip at your biceps.

You swirl your tongue over his bottom lip, marvelling at just how quickly this cocky little shit's conceded defeat to you and the bittersweet taste of smoke on his tongue that's now sliding firmly against yours, mingling with the vaguest hint of alcohol you can smell on your own breath.

As his breath picks up his chest flushes against yours, and you weren't even aware the two of you had been standing quite that close in the first place. The feeling sends a warm tickling sensation through your chest which manifests itself as a small moan in your throat. You push his tongue out of your mouth with yours and take his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it a little and sucking.

Gerard lets out his own moan in response, shifting slightly against the thigh you've got planted between his legs and you feel the beginnings of an erection in his pants. You pull away from each other at the same time and you smirk down at him victoriously. You love being two inches taller.

He looks up at you with lips glistening and eyes a little lidded, "Want to take this somewhere a little more private?"

"No."

His eyes widen at that, and he looks at you questioningly. "Wh-but, I thought…"

"Yeah, you were right. But we're not going anywhere."

"Here?"

You nod.

"But what if someone sees? My band's got a reputation!"

You grin at this, taking hold on one of his wrists and pinning it above his head against the bus, ignoring the sharp clang when his watch bangs against the metal. You lean into his body and he arches back willingly, but he's still looking at you warily. You lick around his ear, feeling one of his knees tremble.

"Ah, Gerard. Take it from the expert, you don't want to be worrying about your reputation at this stage in your career," you whisper, making it unnecessarily breathy so that it feels cold on your spit on his ear. "If you were honestly that worried we wouldn't be standing here making out, right?"

"Whatever Matt," he replies, unable to keep his voice steady. "We're not fucking in front of all these people. My brother is here, for crying out loud."

"Fine," you say, looking around for a substitute place, before your eyes land on somewhere that brings an evil grin to your face. "Come on."

You drag him over to a tree that's far enough away from any bonfires to be almost in the pitch black, and stand there looking at him expectantly.

"You've gotta be joking. What the hell's wrong with the damn bus?"

"I'm not fucking anyone on a bus again. Long story. Come on, it'll be fun. And we'll have the added excitement of someone treading on us mid-blowjob."

"Oh yeah?" he whispers suddenly, and you can tell he's given in. He takes a step in towards you, and all you can hear is the sound of him and you breathing. He snakes an arm round your shoulders, and pulls you around so that you're sandwiching him between yourself and the tree.

Anyone else get the feeling this kid likes being dominated?

You slide a hand down his chest as you bend in for another kiss, faster and more frantic than the last, and grasp his crotch firmly, rubbing it as much as his tight pants will allow. He mirrors the action, a couple of breaths hitching in his throat, and he scrabbles at your pants, getting them open and shoving them down to your knees.

You pull away from the kiss to pull his t-shirt off over his head, both of you suddenly dissolving into a blur of naked flesh and rapidly disappearing clothes before you grab him again for another kiss. He slithers down your body, trailing his tongue along your collarbone, down your chest, over your navel until he's on his knees and taking the head of your erection between his lips, licking softly over the head.

You groan a little to yourself, placing both hands firmly onto the tree that's now in front of you and pushing your hips forward so that Gerard's taking more of you into his mouth, letting out a couple of moans himself that vibrate right through you to settle as a writhing hotness in the pit of your stomach.

You're aware of Gerard swallowing, the movement of his throat around you causing you to buck your hips a little and you moan out loud when you feel his hands running up and down the back on your legs, fighting to keep them from buckling out from under you. It's only when you feel a strange tickling on the front of your thighs that you dare look down, and see that Gerard's bent over so that his long black hair is brushing your legs as he bobs his head.

He seems to sense you looking down at him, and he turns his eyes up to meet your gaze, his mouth not faltering. You can see the distant lights of the party and tourbuses reflected in his eyes, making them look huge and unnaturally dark.

A tiny muscle in your stomach flutters, and that's all the warning you need before you're (very reluctantly) pushing him away from yourself by the shoulder. He looks a little offended, and you manage a little snort of laughter between your heavy breaths.

"I'm here for a fuck, not a high school blowjob."

Gerard nods as though he expected as much, and stands up again, making sure that he's right up close against your body, and that the head of your cock drags along his chest leaving a trail of precome. That's hot. He must have learned all this off someone who learnt if off you in the first place.

He pulls you flush to himself, pulling your hips together so that your cocks rub against each other, and you both let out loud moans and lean in for another kiss. Your tongues slide against each other feverishly and you're grinding into each other shamelessly. You back him up to the tree so that he's resting against it, and he wraps a leg around your hips, pushing against your shoulders so that he's slightly higher than you. His hand wraps itself tightly round a branch, and he nods down at you to signal he's ready.

You stare at him a moment, and then sure hope he does yoga. Or he's gonna have some seriously fucked-up muscles in the morning if he's planning on staying in this position.

Figuring his own spit is all the lube he needs, you grasp his hips and slide slowly up into him, biting hard on his shoulder as you both let out deep, slow moans. Once you're in as far as you can comfortably go, you release the skin on his shoulder and lick it, soothing it with your tongue and giving him time to adjust to the feeling of you inside him.

The leg that's wrapped round your hips trembles slightly and you take that as a sign that it's okay for you to start moving. You pull out a little, then push back in. Out, in, out, in, until you've got a steady pace going, and the effort of supporting him and fucking him at the same time is making your arms ache and your breath come in gasps, but it's so worth it.

He feels fucking phenomenal and you're not surprised they're queuing up for a piece of this ass. He's clenching his muscles round your cock perfectly in time with your thrusts and making keening little whimpering sounds between his own shallow breathing. He's arching his back into you and gasping with every few thrusts, and while you're pretty sure you're not hitting his prostate with every go, you're hitting it enough.

His cock is being rubbed between your stomachs and you want nothing more than to reach out and start jerking him off furiously and to reduce him to a wibbling heap on the floor but you can't let go of his hips, so you just watch hungrily as beads of precome leak down the side of his erection.

He eventually lets his hand drop down from your shoulder to his cock and starts pulling on it with slow, languid movements that turn you on even more, if that were possible. Your head starts to swim warningly and you rest your head on his shoulder, darting out your tongue to lick at the salty sweat-slicked skin there. The leg he's got round you is shuddering now, and his breaths have turned into gasps and you can tell he's close.

The sounds he's making, the heat radiating off his body onto yours, the white stars appearing in front of your eyes and the tightening of the muscles in your thighs and stomach, they're all dragging you faster and faster towards the brink of the abyss you're hovering over when Gerard gives a wild shout above you, and you look up in time to see his face contorted into a mask of pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed together, and eyes screwed shut as he comes. You feel wetness on your stomach and a great, shuddering gasp off Gerard and with that everything goes white, and you're falling, falling and yet you can still feel the skin of his hips beneath your fingers, feel the body that you're quivering against and hear your own gasps as you come inside him.

After a few seconds you let go of him and pull out, slumping down to the floor, too exhausted to stay standing any longer. Gerard soon follows, lying down on the grass next to you. You idly watch his chest as his breathing slows back down to a normal rate.

"Don’t you want to get dressed?" you ask, remembering his earlier reluctance to do anything more than kiss in public. And yet here he is lying stark naked a few hundred yards from a raucous party. He tilts his head to the side so that he's looking at you.

"Nah, I'll do it in a minute. Too tired," he says, punctuating it with a yawn as if to prove his point. You shrug and join him on the grass, figuring a post-sex cuddle would make a nice change from your usual leaving before the other person comes round policy.

Gerard throws an arm across your chest and rolls onto his side so he can cuddle into you, and you're so comfortable and warm that you could almost fall asleep right here. Five minutes, that's all you'll give yourself here with Gerard, then you should really head back to your own bus for the night. Just five more minutes.

In fact, it's only when you're woken by the sound of cameras clicking the next morning that you figure something went a little wrong with that plan.

End

Oh, and Gerard's fucked-up-the-ass speech really happened. I laughed a lot.

Summer Lovin'

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 23:31:09 GMT

Pairing: Benji/Joel [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,616
Summary: PWP standalone. It's a boiling hot summer's day and the twins can't seem to find a way to amuse themselves… Contains very-slightly-dominant!Joel and cheeky-bottom-boy!Benji.

I'm gonna dedicate this one to butterballs because I know how much she hates this sort of story. It's as cliché as it could possibly be, just for her. Heh.

Summer holidays were always the worst time of year for me. I mean, there’s only so many hours you can spend hanging round with your friends at a skate park making a fool of yourself trying to do tricks and failing miserably, much to the amusement of the girls who gather round to drool over the cooler skaters (who are in fact so cool they don't actually do any skating, they just sit underneath the nearest tree and get stoned.)

There’s only so many hours you can spend in a record shop browsing, enjoying the air-conditioning and sulking when you can’t afford some Bad Religion album or other because you’re too lazy and not quite bored enough to consider getting a summer job.

I read every single piece of literature in the house, except (God forbid it) a real book. As we all know, daytime TV is scientifically proven to rot your mind and cause your eyeballs to plop out with its mindlessness (just look at what it did to Joel), so that's most definitely a no-no.

To cut it short, I get bored.

Take today. I’ve been reduced to hanging out in my bedroom, lying completely motionless on my bed and doing nothing more taxing than wondering when it'll start getting cooler. It’s one of those ridiculously hot days where you start to feel like you wouldn’t mind dying and going to hell, because hey, it has to be cooler than up here. I’m sprawled face-down across my bed, sweating really attractively and dozing listlessly in the heat. Joel is sat on the floor at the foot of my bed hogging all the air coming from the only fan we have in the house.

Whenever I complain about his greed, he gives me a lecture about how sweating actually cools you down faster so I’d be better off just sweating. Then I look at him blankly and he lectures me on passing notes to and spending all my Biology lessons chatting to Tony rather than paying any attention.

Still, if that was the case, then surely he’d just turn off then fan and sweat himself, right?

I, Benji Madden, have a greedy, selfish, smart arse, fan-hogging son of a bitch of a brother. Who pays far too much attention in Biology.

Thinking of Biology makes me think of sitting next to Tony, which makes me think of giving Tony a call and seeing if he wants to come round and join in with the perspiring, which makes me realise I’d have to actually move to get to the phone and thus stopping that train of thought right there.

I let out a noise that’s half-whine, half death-rattle and Joel turns his face away from his precious fan to look at me. I just stare at him, and he turns back after a moment of staring back.

"Joel, I’m booored." I mutter into the bedsheets, my eyes still fixed lazily on the back of his head. I hope that’s not sweat making his hair look like that. Gross.

He ignores me, and I can’t blame him. I’ve said the same thing to him six times in the last fifteen minutes. The first three times he gave me sensible suggestions for ways to occupy myself, but since they all involved moving from the bed I shot them all down. Damn heat and its lethargy-inducing effects.

I really should get up. What were Joel’s suggestions again? Go outside? Well that one can fuck right off. At least I’m in the shade in my room.

Go get a drink? That one doesn’t sound too bad, admittedly. But walking down to the kitchen would then involve walking back up the stairs, and uh, no thanks.

I’m such a lazy bum, it’s awful. But anyway, I digress. What was the last suggestion again?

Oh yeah, have a shower.

Hmm. Sounds tempting. All that… water. I think I may just have to go along with that.

Huffing and puffing and trying to ignore all the sweat I can feel on my face I roll off the bed and shuffle off towards the bathroom, noting Joel’s eyes following me.

"I'm going for a shower," I offer helpfully, and Joel nods, getting up. I frown slightly but carry on out of the room anyway, my frown deepening as I hear him following me.

Upon arriving at the bathroom, he's still following me and my frown's practically touching the floor. When I stop at the door, my hand resting hesitantly on the handle, he stops too and I'm actually getting a little uneasy now. Maybe he's going to lock me in with him and suffocate me with one of his smelly mouldy towels. Or some other unspeakably horrific method of murder.

I turn to him, just to show him how severely he's making me frown and he gives me the sort of smile that reminds me that nah, he's my darling twin brother. He wouldn't murder me.

So I go into the bathroom, Joel still right behind me. I lean over the sink for a moment so I can root around for some shampoo from the cabinet above it, and all of a sudden Joel comes right up behind me and presses himself up against me.

Oh. Right. That.

"Do," kiss. "You," kiss. "Have," kiss, little nip on the back of my neck. "Any idea how annoying you are when you whine?"

I don't answer, just grin, because I know where this is going.

"It's so annoying," he says, moving his lips up the side of my neck to brush my ear as he speaks. "I know it's hot. I'm hot too. I know you're bored and fed up of the heat. I'm bored and fed up of the heat too. I don't need to be reminded every ten seconds just because you can't think of anything better to do."

As he whispers, he trails a finger down my bare arm and rests it on my hip bone. Despite the heat, I shiver and lean back against him, my head on his shoulder and turned in slightly towards him. He looks down at me and I flutter my eyelashes up at him with a grin. He responds by pinching my ass hard, causing me to yelp and twist away from him. Unfortunately, between him and the sink, there's not many places for me to twist away to and I end up pressed against the sink and facing Joel.

There's a moment of identical smirking, then we both launch at each other for a kiss at the same time and I drop the shampoo to the floor with a loud clatter. Joel's tongue forces its way into my mouth, one of his hands fisting into my hair to push me in closer to him, and it goes straight to my cock. I love it when Joel's like this.

I wrap one of my legs round his waist and he takes it as a sign to grind his hips into mine, pushing me up against the sink until I'm practically sitting on the rim. He slides a hand down between our legs and starts rubbing my cock roughly through my boxers. I sigh through my nose and he pulls away from the kiss, smirking down at me. He might only be two inches taller than me, but he seems two foot taller at times like this. I love it though. It's so… dominating.

"You said you were going to have a shower?" he says, taking his hand away from my half-hard cock and reaching behind the shower curtain to turn it on. I make a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and he brings his arm back round to me, wet from the shower stream and wraps it rounds my neck. A few droplets of cold water trickle under my wifebeater and down my back and I swear I hear them sizzle.

"There's a problem though," says Joel, looking seriously at me.

"What's that?"

"You can't get in the shower with all those clothes on."

"Damn."

"I know."

"Guess we'll just have to do something about it then, won't we?"

Joel grins and reaches for the hem of my wifebeater, and pulls it off over my head, leaning in to my chest and trailing kisses up as he pulls. Once it's safely thrown out of the way, he starts sucking on my neck and my knees nearly give way under me. My weak spot.

I pull off his t-shirt, licking my lips, and Joel attacks my boxers and in no time at all he's practically shoving me into the shower. I've barely had a chance to get my hair wet when Joel pushes me up against the tiled wall, the lukewarm water running between our bodies. He grabs one of my hands and pins it against the wall above my head, and I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh. I groan and arch my back against him, causing our erections to brush together and him to let out an identical groan to mine.

Our foreheads are pressed together and Joel grins evilly at me.

"You've been an annoying little boy, haven't you Benji?"

I nod, giving a sheepish little smile for Joel's benefit.

"You know what happens to annoying little boys, don't you?" he whispers, leaning in to my ear and nipping on the lobe. I have to roll my eyes at him, he makes this seem like a porn film. And come to think of it, why do they always make out that the other person's going to get punished when the worst he'll have to do is give the other person head? Unless it's a BDSM film, which is another matter entir-

My train of thought is suddenly derailed by Joel pushing down on my shoulders until I'm kneeling on the floor of the bathtub, eye-to-eye with his cock. Hello. I look up at Joel as though I'm at a loss as to what I'm supposed to be doing down here, and he gives me a sarcastic smile.

"Suck it, smartass."

With a grin, I place one hand at the base of his erection and guide it into my mouth, all the while looking up at Joel with that wide-eyed innocent look I know he loves. He holds my gaze as I slide my mouth down onto it, breaking away to close his eyes and let out a soft moan as he hits the back of my throat. He fists a hand in my hair and tugs on it, pulling me further down onto his cock and forcing me to swallow round it. He starts thrusting slowly, so I just keep my teeth tucked away and let him get on with it, wrapping a hand round my own erection and jerking myself off in time with Joel, letting out a little moan every now and then which makes Joel grit his teeth in an effort not to moan himself.

He cracks an eye open to look down at me, kneeling in front of him, mouth full of cock and hair plastered to my head from the water, jerking myself off slowly and he moans, pulling my head forcibly off himself and tugs upwards on my hair so that I stand up.

Grabbing one of my shoulders he spins me round then pushes me against the wall, pinning me there by placing one of his elbows on my spine and I watch him grab a bottle of conditioner from nearby. (I think it's mom's. Gross.)

He removes his elbow from my back but I don't dare move as he squirts some of the liquid into his palm and coats two of his fingers, spreading the remnants over his erection. He trails the lubed-up fingertips along my ass crack and I groan, spreading my legs and resting my forehead against the cool tiles.

I close my eyes and a breath catches in my throat as Joel pushes a finger into me. I push back against it and Joel laughs and adds another finger, twisting and corkscrewing them inside me until he nudges my prostate and my knees nearly buckle out from under me. I moan loudly and Joel laughs again, withdrawing his fingers and causing me to let out a pathetic little mewl.

He slides a hand up over my ass cheek, over my hip bone to rest on my stomach which he uses to keep me steady as he slides into me from behind. I groan at the feeling of him filling me and bend my back slightly to get him to go deeper. Once he's fully in me and I'm breathing heavily enough for him, he takes his hand off my stomach and uses it to brace himself against the wall, whilst the other hand wraps around my cock. He begins to move in and out of me slowly, almost lazily, stroking my erection at the same pace and rubbing a single finger firmly over the head, making me shudder.

I push back against Joel as best as I can without sending him flying and he makes a small noise of approval, taking this as a sign to speed up his rhythm. He takes his hand away from my cock and I whimper, and turn to look where he's moved it. He's got it on the thermostat of the shower, and a small thrill runs through me as he turns it up sharply, and the water becomes scalding. A little fetish we both seem to have acquired from somewhere.

I'm letting out a steady stream of moans as his hand returns to pumping my cock more forcefully than before and he leans in to my ear again.

"Hot enough for you?"

"H-holy f-fuck Joel… Mmmm…"

"Well? Is it?"

"Fuck yeah," I gasp out, wishing I had something I could dig my nails into or clutch onto rather than these slippery tiles. Waves of heat pulse through my body making me feel light-headed and like my legs are melting. The skin on them has gone bright red from the water. I don't think I'm gonna hold out much longer.

"Good," says Joel, and I can hear the smirk in the fucker's voice. Just as the word leaves his mouth he gives a violent push that nails my spot dead-on and I almost shout out. My vision swims in front of me and I think I'm about to pass out. One, two, three of these thrusts and I'm coming all over the tiles with my eyes screwed shut and my mouth hanging open in a silent cry.

I sag against the wall breathing heavily and in a few more thrusts Joel comes with a low guttural moan that I can feel vibrating through his chest and my back. He pulls out of me straightaway and I turn to face him, taking his chin in my hand and pull him in gently towards me for a slow kiss. I break away for a second to turn the water back to a cooler temperature, and when I turn back to him he's got a shy little grin on his face. Like butter wouldn't melt.

I grin and pull him under the spray with me for another kiss. I rub his stomach gently and he leans in closer to me so we're both pressed flush against each other, still shaky and tingling slightly from our orgasms. Joel wraps his arms round my neck and deepens the kiss for a few moments, pulling away to look at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Feeling better?"

I grin and nod.

"Hmm. The things I do to keep you entertained."

Nasty Boys [Sequel to Take It Off]

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 10:22:59 GMT

Pairing: Matt/David/Pierre [Alkaline Trio/Simple Plan]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,868
Summary: The morning after the night before indeed. In other words, a sequel to Take It Off. My first threesome. It sucks. Oh, and I'm sorry about the ending, I couldn't resist sneaking them in somewhere.

Dedicated to xinsipid because she apparently enjoyed the last one. ♥

"Morning," David chirps at you, and you look him up and down warily. You still haven’t decided quite how you feel about the way him and Pierre are staring at you. You clear your throat.

"Hi David… Um. Morning. Pierre."

"Heya," Pierre says as though he’s trying for all the world to hold in tidal waves of laughter. Evil laughter. Bwahahaha-style. You look around quickly, making sure you’re still all tucked in under the blanket and he’s not restraining himself from laughing at any stray bits of your body that may have tumbled out during the course of the night. No-one says anything for a moment, and you wish David would stop smirking at you like that.

"Can I grab a shower?"

"Yeah sure, it’s just past the kitchen," David says with a tranquil smile. You raise an eyebrow and look pointedly at Pierre, but neither of them seem to get the message. Is it normal on French-Canadian-inhabited buses to wander around naked? Either way, you’d rather not take the risk.

"Okay. Um. Where are my clothes?"

"By you, they’re just on the floor."

You sit up, careful to make sure the blanket stays firmly wrapped around your waist and bend down to pick up the neatly folded pile. After a moment awkwardly pulling on your boxers underneath the duvet, you try to ignore the two sets of eyes fixed on your every move and stand up, hurrying to the bathroom clutching your clothes to your chest.

A quick jet of scalding water and one of the fastest showers you’ve ever had in your life later, you grab a towel, pat yourself down and pull on your clothes. You suppose you should go and say so-long-and-thanks-for-all-the-sex to David before you leave. Which will have the added bonus of rubbing it in Pierre’s face that you fucked David last night.

Not that you’ve got any reason to suspect he might be jealous.

Apart from the whole sitting-in-the-lap thing.

You frown, suddenly lapsing into deep thought. You had your cock shoved up David’s ass last night. Assuming that Pierre’s not his boyfriend (and with the way he reacted to finding you naked on his bus, you sincerely doubt it) you have the biggest… ‘claim’… on David.

So what does Pierre think he’s doing?

Hmm.

You give a small mental shrug. If they are together, it’s David’s loss, after all. Skiba versus Bouvier? You even have a cooler name. No competition. And you bet he has a really small cock.

You exit the bathroom with a small smirk draped on your face, nabbing a stray piece of cold toast that’s lying on the side and taking a bite. You make your way back along the bus, back towards Pierre and David.

Upon reaching them your eyes nearly pop out of your head. David’s fucking straddling Pierre, and they’re tongue-fucking in a way that you’re convinced should be censored by one of those blurry things they use on tv, lest innocent young men such as yourself should accidentally stumble upon the scene. However, far from averting your delicate and wholly inexperienced eyes, you stand there gawping at the pair of them, unable to quite decide how you should be reacting.

You wait politely for a few moments, watching (Not perving, watching. Yes.) to see if either of them pull away and offer any explanation for their actions. None forthcoming. That word again. Feeling chuffed with yourself, you grin at the sight in front of you. But hey, if it’s this damn hot to watch then you don’t really care too much for whatever explanations they might have.

You choke on your mouthful of toast when David moves his hips so you can see that Pierre’s hand has disappeared down his pants, and said David is languidly rocking his hips into Pierre’s grasp. They either don’t hear you or are simply a little too distracted right now (not that you’d blame them) to tell you to piss off and leave them to it.

You wonder briefly if that would be a good idea just to leave anyway, but then David begins to unzip Pierre’s jeans and it suddenly occurs to you that it would be an exceptionally stupid idea.

David’s soft moans begin to echo right through your chest, getting you right there, and you take a deep measured breath to prevent yourself from moaning out loud at the sight. To no avail apparently, as David’s eyes flutter open and meet yours, and you’re surprised he’s able to focus on you with the lust you can see glazing his eyes.

You feel yourself blush, and you’re frozen to the spot, mesmerised by the stare David’s giving you. Somewhere along the line you also register that Pierre’s looking at you too, keeping his hand movements going at the same speed on David. You wish someone else would break the silence.

Rather than actually saying anything, Pierre pats the seat next to him, and you do your best to swagger coolly over to him and sit down. Deciding to leave any questions apart from ‘What do I do now?’ until this afternoon when you’re safely back on your own bus, cuddled up safely in your bunk and preferably with a nice stiff drink, you simply sit there and stare as David leans back down to Pierre's face and pulls him in for a kiss by his shoulders.

You can tell by the way their tongues are sliding over one another almost outside of their actual mouths that this is a blatant show put on solely for your benefit, and you’re uncomfortably aware of David’s leg nudging against your thigh when his hips move down against Pierre’s. Pierre’s sporting a pretty impressive tent considering how early in the morning it is and you have this urge to reach out and touch it, but you’re still not sure whether they’re intending you to be a spectator or a participator in all this, so you keep your hands to yourself.

You jump slightly as Pierre’s hand finds its way round your neck and, pulling away from David, he pushes you roughly forward and into David’s lips. You groan and take up a kneeling position on the sofa so that you’re at roughly the same height as David and not twisted awkwardly upwards as the two of you kiss feverishly, with small swipes and strokes of tongues, one of your hands grasping his skinny bicep, and the other threaded through his hair.

There’s a moan from beneath you and you crack open an eye to look down at Pierre. He’s staring up at the pair of you, mouth hanging open slightly, his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs, and a hand jerking himself off, the other one resting in the small of David’s back.

David seems to sense you looking down, so he turns to see what you’re looking at. Catching sight of Pierre, he laughs.

"Do we make a good pair then, Pierre?" he whispers, sliding his arms around your neck and pulling your chests together, keeping his gaze fixed on Pierre.

"Fuck, yeah. Keep kissing him."

David smirks and turns back to you, pressing his forehead up against yours so you have to try extremely hard to keep your eyes from crossing. He slides a hand down your chest, fingers just dipping below the waist of your pants.

"You shouldn’t have bothered getting dressed again," he says with a sly wink. His hands drop to your pants and start undoing them, and Pierre wriggles out from under the pair of you to stand up next to you. He whips off his t-shirt and while you’re trying not to gawk (okay so he may have a stupider name than you, but he has a way nicer chest) he takes your face in both his hands and pulls you to him for a kiss.

Once David has pulled your pants completely off, you step out of them and turn in to face Pierre properly, concentrating on proving to him that you're the better kisser, although this proves to be quite a difficult task. Pierre seems to have it down to an art. Whereas David's simply a good kisser, Pierre is just… suave. Weak-at-the-knees style suave.

Well. You'll see about that.

You pull away from Pierre and his wandering hands and try to control your panting.

"Everyone. Naked. Now."

Your suggestion is met with enthusiasm from all parties involved, and you've barely yanked off one of your own socks before Pierre has David up against the wall, David's legs wrapped round his waist, and the sound of lips and tongues smacking together fervently.

You take the opportunity to ~~check out Pierre's ass~~ consider for a moment how you're going to do this. You mentally flick through the Skiba Repertoire Of Sex Positions until you find one that makes you grin. Spit roast.

You cough politely and David peeks over Pierre's shoulder at you as Pierre leans down to suck on his neck, causing his eyes to flicker a little. You pout and David giggles, poking Pierre in the shoulder.

"I think Matty's feeling a little left out, Pierre."

Pierre puts down David and makes his way over to you with a glint in his eye. You sit down on the couch and spread your legs and he immediately kneels down between them. Wow, without any prompting or anything. He's a clever boy this one.

Pierre leers up at you as he slides his tongue slowly over the tip of your cock, trailing a finger silkily down the underside to play with your balls and you gulp, letting your eyes slip shut and the feeling of his lips dancing over your head wash over you. He moves his mouth further onto you, sucking in his cheeks and rubbing his tongue like a pro as he goes. Obviously gets a lot of practice.

You're just getting really into this when Pierre groans around your cock, causing you to grip the cushion just that little bit tighter. You crack open your eyes, swiftly moving your gaze away from the bobbing head in your lap (after all you can't moan and let him know how good is after all this effort you've put into seeming nonplussed) and look around to see where the cause of Pierre's moaning is.

Ah.

David appears to have his head between Pierre's ass cheeks. Lord only knows what he's doing down there, you just can't imagine. Or at least, you could but that really would make you moan out loud and you can't be having with that. Pierre seems to be stuck between pushing his hips back at David and getting you to give in and moan, and lets out a growl which you can only assume is to that effect, and which causes the muscles in your stomach to ripple warningly.

"S-stop," you almost whimper, instead sounding like your voice hasn't broken yet, as you push Pierre's head away from your cock and David looks up from his task between Pierre's thighs. You look down at Pierre who's got an oddly determined expression on his face as he meets your stare.

"I want you to fuck me," he states and you blink at him. "And I'm going to suck him off while you do," he adds, with a nod in David's direction and you wonder why he bothered telling you that. And you're kinda miffed that he's just said what you were planning on doing all along. Taking all the glory from your genius…ness.

David, happily oblivious to the contest of wit and sexual prowess going on between you and Pierre, clambers up on the seat to sit next to you and offers you a small, reassuring smile that was meant only for you. Feeling encouraged, you slide off the seat onto the floor and get behind Pierre.

Nice love-handles.

You look up at the pair of them, waiting for the ok. David sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide open, Pierre on his hands and knees in front of him and his ass practically in your face. Now that's a sight and half to behold. You almost wish you'd brought your camera along.

They both give you a small nod, and David whispers, "Play nicely, children."

You kneel up properly, and grasp Pierre's hip in one hand, and use the other to guide your cock into his ass. You know perfectly well that there's a bottle of lube lying around somewhere from last night, but hey. If Pierre's as well-practised at all this as he's making out, it shouldn't be too much of a problem for him to go without, you think to yourself with an evil little smirk.

Much to your irritation, the only noise he makes is one somewhere between a groan and gasp that could just have easily been from pleasure as it could from pain, so you choose to ignore it, instead concentrating on picking up a fast jabbing rhythm that makes him practically headbut David's thigh.

David gives you a slightly reproachful look, but he's quickly distracted by whatever's happening in his lap and you have to lean slightly to the side to see past Pierre's head and see what's going on. He's got his mouth over David's cock (obviously) and he also appears to have an arm snaked round behind him, and you can only assume he's putting his fingers to good use too.

Damn this kid's ~~good~~ a slut.

Your sharp thrusting is causing Pierre's head to bob on David's cock, and from the noises David's making he appreciates it. He's leaning forward to allow Pierre to get at his ass easier, and his face is screwed up, his hair sticking to his face where he's sweating. You can't see much of Pierre other than his back and his hair, but he's making little noises around David's cock every time you push, and you're suddenly filled with a determination to turn them into full-on moans.

You owe it to David, at least.

You start angling your thrusts differently, and it's not until your fifth drive that Pierre lets out a small squeak and you get the urge to cackle in triumph. Making sure you don’t lose the spot, you reach forward to Pierre's cock and start pumping it as fast as you possibly can, while keeping a steady rhythm going on his ass.

He starts moaning and moaning like nobody's business, setting off David into virtually gasping every breath and you can't help but feel pleased with yourself.

"S-s-shit, guys!" he says breathlessly, and you can see he's trembling. Pierre must have got the idea now because his moans have turned into a constant humming around David's cock and you're pretty sure you can hear him making swallowing noises round it too.

David arches his back and you swear you can see his stomach muscles fluttering. He's lifting his hips off the couch to meet Pierre's bobbing and you're certain that he's just about to come when Pierre suddenly goes rigid and you feel his ass contracting round your cock. He groans loudly, and with that he's coming, body convulsing as he does.

The vibrations from his moaning prove all too much for David, and you struggle to keep your eyes open so you can watch him coming, and fuck he looks hot, eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open in a prolonged gasp. You're so distracted by the sight that you've barely noticed you're trembling yourself and it's only when a wave of heat ripples through your whole body right down to your very fingertips that you notice how close you are.

You pound into Pierre, who's still whimpering, closing your eyes as the heat consumes your whole being and you come with a long, low moan.

You pull out of Pierre and sit back, noticing raw red patches on your knees. Carpet burn. Nice. The three of you sit there for a few moments panting and looking at each other, then David slides onto the floor, climbs into Pierre's lap and starts kissing him like there's no tomorrow.

Watching them, it dawns on what's happened. They're quite obviously an item, and just felt like having a little bit of fun with you. You feel a bit put out, and get up quietly and get dressed, not wanting to disturb them. Well, at least they chose you, you think as you descend the steps of their tourbus and take a huge gulp of the early morning air. That little thought fully restores your self-confidence and there's a spring in your step as you walk across the grass which is more cigarette ends than grass.

You swear it's beer vapour rather than water vapour in the air out here.

You head off in the direction that you hope is your own tourbus, and a tiny guy comes running over to you. Seriously, he's about five foot tall. And so skinny it looks almost painful. You stare at him, and he whips off his sunglasses and he's looking at you with an astonished expression.

"M-Matt Skiba?! Umumumhi,I'mJustin."

You grin. Something tells you you're going to enjoy this tour.

The Strongest Drinks And The Longest Lines

Wed, 08 Jun 2005 06:23:07 GMT

Pairing: Pierre/David [Simple Plan]
Rating: R [Heavy drugs, very brief sex scene]
Words: 2,016
Summary: My contribution to the hott_baguettes drug challenge. Songfic to 'The Brightest Bulb Has Burned Out' by Less Than Jake. I've never written anything like this before and I really don't like it. I know I say that about everything I write, but I mean it =p I mean come on, I even used indirect speech. The stuff terrifies me.

You told me that your 20 years have gone by much too fast
And you've been hoping this year will be better than the last
You said you've been waging a war against the loneliest of nights
With the strongest drinks and the longest lines it's not that big a surprise
That you're feeling more dead than alive
You're feeling more dead than alive

You all knew it was coming, you could all see it. It came as a surprise to none of you, but it hurt you. You never really knew why, nothing ever upset you unless it was to do with him.

When you were in high school and you heard he'd gone out and got smashed off his face, that hurt. The time you walked up on him and a couple of your friends smoking a cigarette, that hurt. The time he excitedly whispered to you that he'd got stoned the night before and it had been awesome, that hurt too.

When he told you he'd given someone head for the first time, you felt sick. When you heard that a couple of days later he'd also lost his virginity to the same guy, you wanted to cry. A few months later when you told him you were planning to lose your virginity to your then-boyfriend that weekend, he leant over and said "Ooh, watch out man, it hurts like a bitch." That made you want to punch him in the face.

So you had sex and it was fine. Didn't hurt nearly as much as everyone made out it would. You split up with the boyfriend a few months later, and that was fine too. School was good, your friends were great, your band was doing quite well for itself. In fact, the only thing in your life that wasn't one hundred percent peachy was him.

You had no idea why the littlest things about him got you in the way they did. You wouldn't have cared less if it had been Chuck or Seb getting stoned every day after school, it was only him. It definitely wasn't jealously, you were doing pretty much all the same things as him, just to a lesser extent. You just couldn't let go of whatever it was.

Sometimes it would actually get so bad that you'd worry you needed professional help, but what would it have achieved? They'd either have told you that you were a complete psycho and needed to be committed, or they would have told you that sorry, you're just the same as every other teenage boy in the world, everyone gets this and you're nothing special. Or they would have told you the one thing you didn't want to hear - You, Pierre Bouvier, are in love with David. You're jealous of his sex life because it's not his sex life with you. You're jealous of his alcohol and soft drug binges because they're not something he shares with you, and it drives you apart.

It took years for you to admit this to yourself, and it didn't get any easier when you did. You never got over him. He just carried on life happily as ever, the band was more successful than any of you could ever have dreamed. You all measured the success in different ways. To Chuck it was the record sales, to you, Seb and Jeff it was how many groupies you could land a night, and to David it was how many grams of coke his ever-increasing monthly paycheck would buy him.

Your lives became a whirlwind of hotels, gigs and tourbuses, and not even the record label paid much attention to what you were doing to yourselves. No one cared about David's coke habits, hell, you all dabbled in it from time to time, and you very nearly got yourself addicted to it.

You loved it. The irony of snorting the fine white powder up your nose through the dollar bills of the country with possibly the heaviest penalties for doing so in the world. The slight tickling feeling you could feel as the particles of powder flew up your nose and settled into your system. The look on the younger groupies' faces as it slowly dawned on them what you were up to, but you'd already been hit with the high and all you could do was sit back and laugh at their naivety.

The high was the most wonderful feeling imaginable. For those precious few minutes, nothing could touch you. Not even David. You soared through your own mind, in complete and total freedom. Freedom doesn't even come close to describing how it felt. Nothing else mattered but this fantastic rush.

But none of you, not even you yourself, used it to the extent David did. There came a time when his mood swings nearly tore the band apart. You weren't under any illusions that you could simply recruit a new bassist, you were a boyband plain and simple. Boybands don't recover from the prettiest member leaving. So you all went into counselling as a band, the bill picked up by your anxious record label.

You all swore to lay off the coke, David too. From now on you were all going to stick to the alcohol and weed like all the other well-behaved major-labellers. With the help of textbook modern psychology (which you all agreed was all bullshit) the rifts between you began to heal.

Between you and David especially. Things with him became better than they had ever been before. He had some trouble laying off the powder at first but you were there to prop him up, and you felt that life had never been better. David was dependent on you, in his own way, and the two of you became closer then you ever had in your lives.

So I'll let you know, if you need somewhere to go
I'll be listening when you call
And I'll be there if you fall off
If you need someone to believe in you
I'll let you know, I will
I'll let you know, I will

It was as though a whole new man had been brought to life, and it brought with it some of the happiest months of your life. Your feelings for him were stronger than ever, and for the first time you allowed a tiny little part of yourself to believe that he might, just might, feel the same way about you.

Overnight you seemed to become the touchiest-feeliest friends in the world, and you were constantly flirting with each other. More often than not, you'd end up sleeping in the same bunk, the two of you holding each other. It would always be the exact same arrangement too. You'd be lying with your head resting up on a pillow and your arm round his shoulders. His head would be lying on your chest, his long hair tickling you when you went to bed shirtless.

Occasionally things would progress a little further than this, with teasing pecks on the cheek and lips, or perhaps a giggling groping of ass, but never anything more than that.

Except for the one night.

You don't remember the exact event, but you'd all been out somewhere that night to celebrate something, and you'd all got a little too drunk. You yourself weren't too bad, and you don't think David was either. You got back to the hotel and into the room you were sharing, and flopped onto the double bed, David lying next to you and both of you giggling.

He wrapped his arms round your waist and tugged you towards him, and you both lay there staring into each other's eyes with small peaceful smiles on your faces. You would probably both have fallen asleep like that, tangled legs and all, if it hadn't been for him. He suddenly looked thoughtful, and you asked what was up.

"Nothing," he replied, the serene smile drifting back to his face. "Just thinking."

You couldn't think of a response to this, so you just returned his smile and stifled a yawn. He ran a hand softly down your face, and asked what you were thinking about. You stayed silent, knowing the only thing you would have been able to say was that you loved him, and you didn't want to say it. Fear of rejection, who knows why.

He noticed the troubled look on your face, and kept bugging you. You rolled over so that you didn't have to look at his face, leaving the two of you in a spooning position. Still he persisted, until you sighed and mumbled the words to him, expecting to instantly regret it. But you didn't. He didn't answer, and you rolled back over to look at him.

Your eyes met for a heartbeat, and before you knew what had happened, your eyes were closed and he was kissing you softly. Your hands travelled the now familiar paths up each other's shirts, but this time you were dragging them off, along with pants and boxers and everything else.

Pretty soon you were lying completely naked, entangled in each other's arms and legs, kissing as though your lives depended on it, as though it was your last night on earth. Neither of you batted an eyelid as you entered him, both of you moaning and whimpering softly. Neither of you said a word after you'd both come, and you fell asleep together in silence, holding each other.

You said the hole in your head has gotten bigger than the hole that's in your chest
And you're stuck between the past and present tense
You said you've been waging a war against so many years of lies
With stronger drinks and longer lines it's not that big a surprise
That you're feeling more dead than alive
You're feeling more dead than alive

That night broke your heart. It had seemed to you that after all those years, you finally had him. The two of you had passed beyond the friendship and the silent, never-spoken-of touching together. As you'd fallen asleep that night, your chest had swelled with this feeling of complete and utter contentment, something you never really remember feeling before then.

Everything was going to be all right. You had David instead of your misery, David had you instead of his drugs.

Except not. Because when you woke up, David wasn’t there. He wasn't in the bathroom. He wasn't anywhere in your room. You waited the longest two hours of you life for him to come back. But he didn't.

It never happened again, and the night was never mentioned by the two of you.

You came so close to going back to the 'white lady' for comfort over the next couple of days. It was all you could think about. You thought about it constantly to force all thoughts of David out of your head. You weren't entirely sure why you didn't go through with it in the end. The same primal urge that keeps edge kids away from drugs when they have no real reason to, you guess.

The thought that coke was the only thing in your entire life that could have saved you from your heartache made you even more determined not to resort to it. It was just sad that it was all you had.

So you didn't.

The one time you even slightly alluded to what had happened between the two of you to David, he just looked at you completely blankly, like he had no idea what you were talking about. He even asked you to explain what you were talking about, and you just sat there staring at him.

About six months after that night, you went round to David's house. All five of you were going, but you got the time wrong and turned up a couple of hours early. After receiving no answer from knocking on the door, you let yourself in with the key he kept in the plant pot next to the door, and walked into the kitchen, sniffing curiously at the air.

There was a strange smell, something you didn't recognise but that smelt vaguely of glue.

On the counter-top next to the cooker, you noticed the ink tube and nib of a biro.

Making your way slowly into the living room, you nearly jumped out of you skin when you saw David lying flat on the floor. It took you a second to fully take in the sight before you.

David, a look of complete and utter bliss on his face, breathing rapidly and staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling. The biro casing held loosely in his hand. Next to him on the floor, tin foil and a tiny burner and tripod. But the streaks on the foil weren't the familiar white streaks of coke. They were brown.

Heroin.

Your eyes flew back to David in horror, and he smiled up at you.

"Hey Pierre."

So I'll let you know, if you need somewhere to go
I'll be listening when you call
And I'll be there if you fall off
If you need someone to believe in you
I'll let you know, I will
I'll let you know, I will

You know that you'll always be there, waiting. And it kills you because you know he'll never need you.

He chose drugs over you.

Christmas Time Is Family Time

Fri, 15 Apr 2005 19:49:38 GMT

Pairing: Tony/Matt [Mest]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4,511
Summary: Tony tells Benji the story of how he and Matt hooked up one Christmas. Probably about as interesting as it sounds. Features church-sex. Sort of. Early birthday pressie for xinsipid because she is awesomeness personified. And this is crap. I'm sorry love, I'll write you something better next time. ♥

Benji awakes to find the side of his bed cold. He frowns into his pillow, grasping around for the warmth he's used to waking up next to, just in case he happens to be lying just out of reach. Finding nothing but more chilly mattress, he gives up his search and snuggles back into the warm blankets, stifling a yawn.

Tony stands in the doorway watching Benji, a small smile on his face.

Benji is just about to fall back into a deep sleep when he feels the bed next to him sink, and a hand start gently stroking his face. He nuzzles against the hand and feels Tony's lips press lightly against his. Tony sits back up and smiles softly down at Benji as he opens his eyes to squint up at Tony.

"Morning Benj."

"Morning," Benji mumbles back, his voice deep and croaky from sleep, as he cracks his eyes open to look at Tony. They stay there for a few moments just looking at each other, then Benji rolls to the side and pulls the covers back for Tony to slide under. Tony pulls off his jeans and climbs into the bed wearing his t-shirt and boxers, snuggling into Benji's bare chest. Benji wraps his arms round Tony and plays with his hair.

Tony lets out a deep sigh and nudges further up against Benji. Benji can feel Tony's breathing against his neck and he lets out a sigh of his own. He's so warm and comfortable that he's about to drift back off to sleep when Tony speaks.

"Do you remember when we first hooked up?"

"Mmm," Benji murmurs. "It was that Christmas when you had to stay at my house cos your flight back to Chicago was cancelled. After that European tour we did together. Few days before Christmas. Why?"

"Just wondering if you remembered, that's all."

Benji makes a non-committal noise and a comfortable silence descends on the pair. Benji wrinkles his nose in thought and turns to face Tony.

"Didn't you hook up with someone on Christmas day once?"

There's a pause that's a moment too long and Benji wonders if he's said the wrong thing.

"Did I tell you that?"

Benji frowns, thinking about it.

"I think so. It's not a big deal is it?"

"Not really..." Tony trails off, and Benji sense there's a story there that's worth wheedling out of him.

"Who was it with?"

Tony pokes him and he can feel Tony trying to bury his face in his neck. He glances down at Tony and he's got an embarrassed grin on his face.

"Don't be nosy."

"No come on Tone, tell me. Please."

Silence.

"Tooone..."

A mumble.

"Who?"

"MATT!"

Benji grins into Tony's hair.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Wow. What happened?"

Tony takes a deep breath and launches into his story.

*#*

"Matt, sweetie, would you be a darling and run into the kitchen and get me some more forks?"

Christmas. That joyful time of year when the entire Lovato clan gathers under one roof to share anecdotes and glare at each other's offspring. And when I say clan, I'm not just talking grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I'm talking fucking third cousins twice-removed, ex-husbands and every kind of 'family member' imaginable. There's even one guy sitting in my dad's armchair that I'm pretty sure no-one has any idea who the hell he is, but so far no-one's had the courage to ask.

Matt rolls his eyes at me as he scurries off into the kitchen for my mom. I go to smile back but he's already off, worming his way through the throng of people. Seriously, I don't know why my mom insisted we host the get-together this year, our house is way too small to accommodate this many lunatics.

"Tony, I've hidden your mum's Christmas present in your bedroom, so after lunch tomorrow could you do your old gran a favour and bring it down for me?"

Nodding to the little old lady I smile in that forced-polite way that always seems obligatory around the elderly, I nervously smooth down my t-shirt. I hate making small talk. Especially with old deaf people.

She gives me a benign smile and takes a breath to say something, but before she can get it out Matt appears in front of us and gives us both a huge grin. I eagerly return it, and Matt winks at me. Matt's the only family member out of all this lot I can remotely stand. He's much more like a brother to me than a cousin anyway. And it's always the two of us at family get-togethers. Tony and Matt. Matt and Tony. Off in their own little world. Granny Lovato gives a little cluck of disapproval at the two of us suddenly ignoring her and moves onto the next family member.

Matt grabs my wrist and starts pulling me in the direction of the kitchen. He's talking to me but I can barely hear a word he's saying over the hubbub of the room. When we reach the kitchen he closes the door behind us and I swear my ears are ringing.

Matt sighs and leans back against the table, his studded belt clanking on it lightly. A shriek of fake laughter erupts from the lounge and I roll my eyes.

“God, how long are all these people gonna be here?”

“Come on cuz. It’s Christmas. A time for caring, a time for sharing. A time for family,” Matt says with a smirk. We both look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah, sharing. Cos you totally wouldn’t complain if I came and shared your room for over a week.”

Matt flashes me a grin.

“Of course I wouldn’t. You could even share my bed,” he laughs.

“I’m sure my darling aunt would have something to say about that.”

“But Tony, she wouldn’t have to know,” he says with a conspiratorial wink and we both laugh again. I love this whole flirting with Matt thing. Call me odd, but I really do.

“Fine. But seriously, there’s fucking aunts coming out of my ears. And they’re all assholes.”

“I know,” Matt says with a commiserating sigh. “But look on the bright side, only two more days and they’ll all be gone.”

I carry on my miniature rant, barely hearing him. “And it’s not like your lot couldn’t have stayed at your house, y’know. I mean, you live like, what, five minutes walk away?”

Matt just raises his eyebrow at me.

“Not you. I mean, you know you can stay whenever the hell you want, I just meant... The rest of them. All the other cousins. The moron redneck ones.”

“Tony?”

“Huh?”

“Shut up.”

We both laugh and I kick him lightly in the shin.

“You wanna go up to my room and put some music on or something? I don’t think anyone will notice if we disappear for y’know... the next week or so,” I suggest.

“Sounds good.”

Matt practically bounds up the stairs and I smirk after him. Woah, I think I just checked out his ass. That’s... odd. Kinda.

It’s not a bad ass though.

Yeah Lovato, you don’t need to be locked up in a mental institute or anything.

Bemused at myself, I steal a stray cocktail sausage off the abandoned plate on the table, shove it in my mouth and hurry out of the room, almost sprinting up the stairs to my room. I hear vague sounds of ska filtering down towards me and I pause mid-step to listen. Sublime, huh?

That’s weird. Matt only ever listens to ska when he’s depressed. It works wonders anyhow.

I enter the room tentatively, finding Matt laying down on my bed, eyes closed and drumming his fingers along to the music on his stomach. He’s got a small smile on his face and I let out a small sigh of relief. He’s not depressed then.

“What’s up Matty boy?” I grin, practically leaping onto the bed from where I was standing and landing hard on Matt’s leg.

Matt lets out an adorable ‘oof’ noise and shifts so there’s enough room for me to lie alongside him. I can’t be assed to move all the way up though, so I end up with my head leaning against his ribs and my legs dangling over the end of the bed.

“How come you’ve got this on?”

“Dunno. Felt like a bit of chill-out music I guess.”

“Meh.”

“Don’t say ‘meh’ Tone, it’s really annoying.”

“Ah hah! So there is something up!”

Matt gives me a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?”

I sit up, and turn to him sitting cross-legged. He remains on his elbow, frowning at me.

“Tell Aunt Tony what’s wrong.”

He sighs and flops back down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and still drumming his fingers, but to a totally different rhythm now.

“Dunno... Guess I’m just lonely. I need a boyfriend,” he says, the end of his sentence turning into a whine.

“Aw, Matty boy feeling horny?”

Matt manages a laugh through his overwhelming despair and nudges my ribs playfully with his knee.

“Don’t worry about it man. My crystal ball predicts that you’ll get laid within the next three weeks.”

“Your crystal ball?”

“Yup. My balls have magical powers,” I say, winking slyly, “But seriously, if it makes you feel better I’m not getting any either. And I’d bet anything I’m hornier than you right now.”

Matt raises an eyebrow.

“Right now?”

I nod and he snorts.

“I doubt it... If you weren’t in the room I’d probably be jacking off right now,” he says. Er, what is this, a fucking competition to see who’s hornier?

“Wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously.”

Matt gives me a weird look.

“You’ve seen me jacking off?”

“Well... more like watched... but to answer your question, yes,” I say and I’m amazed at myself. I don’t know where the hell that came from. Matt gives me an even weirder look, but strangely enough it’s not a freaked-out-someone-find-this-kid-a-strait-jacket kinda look.

“You’re seriously odd, you know that?”

“But you love me for it, “ I retort, pulling a ridiculous face at him.

“You know I do darling,” he laughs. There’s an awkward pause and I start fiddling with a frayed bit of my jeans, suddenly finding myself not wanting to meet Matt’s eyes.

“So, what, do you like... spy on me in the bathroom or something?”

“No! I just accidentally saw you doing it in your room,” I say, mildly outraged. “Once.”

“Hmm.”

I swear to God, you couldn’t cut through the tension in this room with a chainsaw. Matt does that kind of slight shift that should always be accompanied by an embarrassed cough and it gets about ten times worse.

“Why’d you do it?” he says and I shrug, not trusting myself to look at him. “Was it hot?”

At that my head shoots up but leaves my jaw behind to gape at Matt. He’s got a huge grin on his face and something bordering on an evil twinkle in his eye. I blush and stutter.

“I. Um. No. Yes. No... Maybe.”

Somewhere between the end of my babbling and my eyes flickering down to my hands which are itching to start playing with one of the laces on my Vans, I blink, and then nearly fall off the bed in shock as Matt’s face suddenly appears so close to mine I can feel his breathing on my cheeks.

“Uh... Matt?” I whisper.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, that glint still in his eyes. I swallow nervously.

“What are you doing?”

All I receive in answer to that is a hand snaking onto the back of my neck, pushing me towards him. My eyes flutter shut and my heart’s beating wildly somewhere in the region of my throat as our lips meet cautiously, and I’m barely daring to breathe. Or think, for that matter.

My hand moves to rest on Matt’s upper arm of its own accord and Matt tilts his head ever-so-slightly and presses his mouth more firmly against mine. My mouth opens and his tongue immediately darts out against mine and he lets out a small noise halfway between a moan and a sigh. He slides a hand under my shirt and starts gently rubbing the skin just above my hip-

“Matt! Tony!”

I fall off the bed, startled and landing with a painful thud. My head immediately snaps to the door and the direction of my dad’s voice, terrified.

There’s no-one there. Matt shoots a relieved look at me and I try not to collapse into a nervous wreck on my bedroom floor.

“Yeah dad?” I croak out.

“Time for church boys!” he calls, and this time I realise he must be down the hallway from my room.

“What?” I call out, unable to keep the whine out of my voice.

“Midnight mass, Tone. You’ve got fifteen minutes ‘til we leave.”

“’Kay.”

We stay silent and listen to the footsteps of my dad as he goes back down to the hubbub downstairs.

*#*

“The next reading is a reading from the book of Job...”

The reader’s voice echoes right through me and I stifle a yawn. I want to look at my watch but I know barely two minutes had passed since I last looked and it would only send me into deeper depths of despair should I look again. Matt’s sitting right next to me but I don’t look over at him. We haven’t spoken since whatever the fuck happened in my room. He’s probably sitting there thinking about what a huge mistake it was, and I wouldn’t blame him for it. Like hello, incest anyone?

Me on the other hand... I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t liked it. A lot.

I never (consciously at least) realised quite how hot Matt is. I steal a look at him from the corner of my eye. He looks as bored as I feel. I think I must have stared a little too long because he seems to sense me looking at him and he turns to face me.

I freeze, not sure whether I should look away quickly or stay put and match the blank look he’s giving me. After a moment his face breaks into a huge grin and he gives me the sleaziest wink I’ve ever seen in my life before turning back to focus on whatever’s happening up by the altar. I blink, gawp for a moment and follow suit.

Before long my eyes have unfocused again and I’ve totally lost track of whatever’s going on around me. I don’t know why our family bothers coming to church, seriously. All these messages about love for our fellow human beings and as soon as we get home and turn on the TV, dad’s bitching about all the immigrants destroying his country’s economy. All this Catholic propaganda shoved down our throats and my mum still leaves her birth control pills lying all over the house.

But apparently I’m the only one attuned to the ironies of the situation. Oh well.

My train over thought is disturbed however as Matt leans over, whispers something to my mom, stands up and walks out of the church. I frown after him and give my mom a questioning look. ‘Feels sick’ she mouths and I raise an eyebrow.

Ten minutes later and Matt still hasn’t come back. I ask mom if I should go check on Matt and she nods distractedly, enthralled with the priest’s sermon. Which last time I checked was all about how we’re all going to hell because apparently no-one turned up to confession last week. Hah.

I slink out of the pew and go to leave the building, fairly sure Matt will have gone outside for a cigarette, but I catch sight of him leaning against the wall next to the toilets. He sees me and motions to the door with his head, so I nod and follow him, my heart skipping a beat or two.

Sure enough, as I enter the bathroom, he’s got a cigarette between his lips and he’s fishing around in his pocket for a lighter. His eyes dart up as I enter and he gives me an unreadable look before he looks back down to the lighter now in his hands. Lighting up, he takes a deep drag and leans his head back against the wall, exhaling as he goes, all the while me standing mesmerised by him.

I shift uncomfortably, unable to tell if he’s pissed at me or not and wondering which one of us is going to break the silence. My movement causes him to look at me, but this time he’s smiling again. My insides sag in relief.

“Did you get bored?” he says around his cigarette, more than a hint of sarcasm laced in his voice.

“Y’think?” I snort. “What’s your excuse?”

“I wanted to see if you’d follow me.”

Oh.

“Well... Here I am.”

“Here you are indeed,” he says and I can’t quite read the smirk or the look in the eyes and I’m not all that sure I want to. I don’t say anything and I suddenly become very interested in the floor tiles round my feet. I can see Matt bring the cigarette back up to his lips and his head cocks to the side while he looks at me, seeming to consider me. He blows the smoke over me and I breathe it in, far too used to Matt’s near chain-smoking to cough by now.

Somehow I can tell he did it as a means of getting my attention again, so I look back up at him.

“What you thinking about Tone?”

I want to bring up our kiss so badly, but my nerves won’t allow it so I settle for shrugging, hoping that my cousin’s some kind of mind reader. With a sigh, Matt stands up properly and flicks his half-finished cigarette into the nearest sink, and he walks up to me. He puts his and on my chin and in one swift movement he’s tilted my head up towards him and he’s kissing me again. It lasts barely two seconds but when he pulls away my heart’s beating ridiculously fast.

“Were you thinking about that by any chance?”

“Possibly,” I say with a grin. Check me out, I managed to say something bordering on suave and not stutter. Matt smirks and leans forward so his lips are pressed against my ear.

“I was thinking about how much I want to fuck you right now,” he whispers. He licks the outside of my ear and I promptly go weak at the knees.

Before I even have a chance to protest (not that I actually would, mind, but it’d be nice to have a say in the matter) he’s placed a hand on my hipbone, he’s kissing me again and guiding me backwards into a toilet cubicle. Door locked, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed, we both slide our hands under each other’s shirts, my hands travelling upwards to rub Matt’s chest and his hands going straight down to my crotch, one hand moving aside my pants and boxers and the other grasping my cock firmly and starting to jerk me off as much as he can in the confined space of my jeans.

My moan comes more out of my nose than my mouth, as my mouth’s far too busy with Matt’s as our tongues slide almost distractedly together, both of us lacking the co-ordination to concentrate on doing two different things at the same time.

My hands fall down to my pants, quickly undoing the button and zip, letting them fall to the floor. Free from the restraints of my pants Matt’s hand starts pumping so fast round my erection that my knees begin to buckle underneath me and I’m glad of the wall behind me, as I have a feeling me falling to the floor would kill the moment somewhat.

I lean forwards and start sucking on Matt’s neck and he moans, his hand on my cock faltering for a moment, the other hand that been half-heartedly trying to undo his own pants suddenly getting a lot more desperate. I smirk at him and lend a hand. We both pull away from each other a moment, kicking pants to the side and pulling off t-shirts, then before I have time to blink we’re both stark naked and Matt’s pressed me up against the wall, his body flush against mine.

I moan at the sensation and the feeling of wrongness that accompanies it. Okay so I’ve seen Matt naked before, and heck, I’ve even seen him with an erection before but this is just completely something else. From the way my leg’s slid up round his waist of its own accord and the way I’ve got my arm wrapped round his neck pulling him in as close as humanly possible to me for another rushed kiss, and the fact that he’s not complaining, I’m guessing he’s got no qualms about rushing things.

Fine by me.

“Y-you do realise we’re... Mmm... in a church?” I murmur against his lips. He doesn’t say anything but the look in his eyes speaks volumes. “Weirdo.”

“Says he who’s about to get fucked by his cousin,” Matt shoots back and oh no that did not make me want to cum on the spot. I bite back a groan and with my hand on his chest I gently push him a step back from me. I turn with my back to him and brace my hands on the wall and spread my legs, well knowing from experience how fucking awkward, not to mention painful, it can be fucking a guy when you’re both standing and facing each other.

When I don’t feel Matt move back to me after a moment I turn round to frown at him and he’s just standing there staring at me. He looks about ready to fuck any hole he can fit his dick in and yet he’s just standing there practically drooling at me. I would yell at him to hurry the hell up, but it’s quite the ego-boost, it has to be said. I wink at him and he suddenly looks worried.

“I haven’t got any lube with me.”

“Shit. Uh. Just use spit. Or something. Just hurry up and fuck me please.”

Matt hurriedly spits into his palm and runs it over his erection, moving over to stand behind me and I feel a tingle of excitement as he places one hand on my hip and line himself up with me.

“Ready?” he whispers.

I nod in response and with that he’s pushing into me, both of us holding out breath. It stings a little, but then it always does. He pauses when he’s all the way in and we both let out the breaths we’d been holding. He puts his other hand on my hip as well, and starts moving in and out of me slowly. It feels good, but I’m wishing he’d speed it up a bit. I know he wants to, he’s just being gentle because I’m his baby cousin and I’m younger and less experienced, or so he thinks. Fuck that.

I push back against him forcefully and he lets out a low moan, his grip on me tightening ever-so-slightly. I think he gets the idea, and he starts pulling out almost all of the way before he thrusts back in, still going relatively slowly but nonetheless it’s a lot more powerful than before. Not normally the kinda style I’d go for – I’m more of a short and fast man myself – but fuck it feels good. My eyes are closed tight, my eyebrows drawn together and I’m practically panting.

“Mmm, Tone, you’re so fucking hot,” Matt whispers as he runs a hand down my back, leaning forward to suck at a spot on the back of my neck. He nips lightly on the skin and I arch my back into him.

I moan in response and stand up a little, bending my head at an uncomfortable angle to look at Matt over my shoulder and our mouths meet in a sloppy all-tongues-no-lips kiss. His thrusts are becoming shorter and faster and I take this as a sign he’s going to cum soon. He must not be getting any after all, he’s not lasted very long, I think to myself with a mental smirk.

I take one hand off the wall and start jerking myself off out of synch with Matt’s thrusting, determined not to be left behind. Matt must notice because he lets out a low groan that’s more of a growl and wraps his hand round mine. He sticks his thumb out so that every time our hands move down his thumb grazes over the head of my cock, drawing out a whimper from me each time.

Waves of heat begin to swell outwards from my stomach and groin and I grit my teeth, somehow managing to warn Matt between groans that I’m close. He starts thrusting ever faster into and just as I’m on the verge of cumming from my dual-hand job Matt manages to hit prostate and it’s like an electric shock to my whole body, causing me to practically shout out loud, my body tensing and arching back against Matt and I’m cumming so hard I’m seeing stars and it’s never been this good.

Trembling and spent, I brace both hands against the wall to stop myself collapsing to the floor as Matt delivers three final thrusts and groans quietly as his hands on my hips tighten almost to the point of being painful.

And all of a sudden, it’s over, as suddenly as it began. We get dressed in silence and head back to the pews, both of us grinning widely.

Hey, it is Christmas after all. A time to be merry.

*#*

By the time Tony’s finished his story he’s blushing like crazy and Benji’s mouth’s hanging open a little wider than it should have been.

“Wow. That’s fucking... Hot. Seriously.”

“It’s not!” Tony near-wails. “It’s embarrassing!”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever. So, did you ever hook up again? Was it awkward afterwards?”

“No and no. We never actually spoke about it, but it was always... I dunno. There, if you know what I mean. And not in an awkward way. It’s cool.”

“Wow,” says Benji again. There’s a pause and he smiles widely at Tony. “Who would’ve thought my man was a redneck?”

“Fuck off.”

Sick (But My God, Don't You Know It)

Mon, 13 Dec 2004 07:21:02 GMT

Pairing: Mikey/Gerard [My Chemical Romance]
Overall Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: NC-17 [More incest and boysex]
Words: 3,053
Summary: Forced to spend the night sleeping in a car together, Gerard prompts Mikey into asking himself questions that Mikey’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer to. Final chapter.

I wake up in the middle of the night with an unpleasant jolt. The clock blinking at me on the dashboard tells me it’s 00:21. I sigh and lean back against the window of the car. It’s still pouring down outside, but the all windows have misted over and I can’t see anything.

Gerard’s mumbling nonsense in his sleep and I watch him quietly, all thoughts of sleep abandoned. I wonder what he’s dreaming about. Probably about me, the sick fucker, I think to myself with a small smile. I turn away from him and stare at the volume button on the radio, absentmindedly picking at a hole in my jeans. I can’t get this whole incest thing off my mind. Stupid Gerard.

Sighing into the darkness, I turn to face him again. I can just about make out his features, and he’s frowning to himself. My eyes settle on his lips, and I force myself to think about kissing them just to see how I’ll react, expecting to get that familiar nauseated twist in my stomach again. Instead, nothing comes. Puzzled, I take it a little bit further. Tongues. Nothing. Hands twisted into hair. Nothing.

Okay, how about… Gerard sucking me off. Ah, there we go. A flutter.

…

A fucking flutter?

I stop that train of thought right there, feeling disgusted with myself. Okay, this is fucked up. I just got turned on by the thought of my brother sucking me off. And that’s not actually bothering me nearly as much as it should. I’m more bothered by the fact that it’s not bothering me than the fact that it actually is bothering me.

Shut up brain.

I groan to myself and rub my palms into my eyes, trying to squeeze all this out of my head. It’s disgusting, it’s wrong on every level from ground zero right up to cloud nine, it’s my fucking brother. Oh yeah, and there’s the small matter of it being illegal pretty much everywhere on the planet. So why don’t I feel disgusted by the thought?

Okay Mikey, let’s spell this out for you. I-N-C-E-S-T. Still not nauseated by the thought of your brother going down on you? Okay, let’s try it backwards instead. T-S-E-C-N-I. That almost sounds Japanese. I wonder what the Japanese word for incest is. Fuck, it could be Japanese, Martian, slow-motion or even infra-red but it’s still incest and I still wouldn’t care. But I should.

I can’t deal with this. I lower my hands from my eyes, groaning a little to myself and notice with a slight start that Gerard’s woken up and he’s watching me intently. I stare at him as though I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar and I just know he knows exactly what’s on my mind.

“You okay?”

No, I’m not okay. You just caught me in the middle of having a guilty fantasy about my older brother giving me head when just a few hours earlier I’d never even thought about that kind of thing before and I told the brother in question that the very idea made me sick. And now here I am trying not to get off on it.

I shake my head. He sits up so he’s level with me, turning in his seat. He reaches out his arms and when I don’t move he pulls me into a hug. I bury my face into his neck and he rests his head against mine. I can’t help noticing how good he smells. He’s got both his arms wrapped around me and I feel completely enveloped by everything about him. I tremble slightly and he loosens his grip on me, but neither of us move to pull away.

“Mikey?”

“Mmm?” A pause.
“You still bothered about what I said earlier?” Another pause.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Just forget about it, it’s nothing. Just me being a sick twisted little fucker like normal.”

“I jus- Hmm. I can’t forget about it,” I murmur into his neck. “And I… I’m not sure I want to.”

He doesn’t answer, but I feel him nod.

“And I guess you could say it’s kinda hard to deal with, huh,” I say with a weak laugh.

He looks down at me thoughtfully and he’s silent for a moment, as though he’s trying to chose his words carefully.

“It’s only wrong if you make it wrong, you know.”

He lets go of me completely, and I sit up. I sit back in my chair, looking at him, and he watches me expectantly, waiting to hear what I have to say to that pearl of wisdom. I swallow nervously and looking anywhere but Gerard, I take a steadying breath and nod slowly.

His expression doesn’t change, but I can almost hear his heart skip a beat. He stays still a moment, just looking me up and down, then reaches out a hand to my face and runs his fingertips softly over my cheek. I lean into his touch and close my eyes, and I don’t flinch when I feel his lips pressing tentatively against mine. We both part our lips at the same time, his tongue slipping gently into my mouth and moving against my own so smoothly it feels like it belongs there. He’s so gentle, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish without warning, sucking softly on my bottom lip and moving his head slowly in time with his mouth. And it’s got to be one of the hottest kisses of my life. There’s bells and alarms and sirens going off in my head, all screaming “Brother!” at me, but I somehow ignore them and lose myself in Gerard’s lips. He pulls away and leans back in his seat, beckoning me over to him.

I climb out of my seat and onto his lap, wrapping one of my arms around his neck and placing the other one on his shoulder. We stare into each other’s eyes, neither of us making a move to continue.

“You sure you want this?” he whispers.

I smile down at him and move my hand to his chin, tipping his head back and kissing him again, harder this time. He groans and slides one of his hands up my back to rest on my neck, pushing my head closer to him, the other hand lingering on my side, rubbing the skin under his jacket and my t-shirt.

Without breaking away from his lips, I swivel round so I’m straddling his thighs, and I take hold of his face with both my hands, pulling him in even closer to me. As we pull apart, he reaches out and starts to unzip my jacket and slides it down my arms. Once it falls to the floor behind me, I move down to his pants and start sliding down the zipper, pressing down as I drag. He lets out a long, measured breath and his hips move along with my hand.

He leans forward to kiss me again as I carry on trying to undo the button on his jeans with one hand, without much success. He moves one of his hands from my hip to his pants, and helps with the button, our hands and fingers brushing together. The skin on my hand and arm tingles wherever his skin brushes against me and I moan onto his lips, pinning his hand on the headrest of his seat. He echoes back my moan and arches up against me. I can feel the moan vibrating against my lips, his hands on my back, my neck, my ass, and suddenly I just don’t care that this is my brother. I’m willing to postpone any moral dilemmas I might have until after this is over. Right now it’s just too hot and I was never one for resisting temptation anyway. I lift my head away from the kiss just to look at him, and his eyes follow me questioningly.

He’s lying beneath me, breathing heavily, lips pouted uncontrollably in that way lips do after kissing for too long and hard, his eyes glinting with lust. I lean further back and take my t-shirt off, hearing him draw in a sharp breath. I grin into the fabric and I throw the t-shirt into the back and he’s unbuttoned his shirt, it’s lying open on him and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. How did I never notice this before?

The man is fucking hot.

He sits up straight and his hands fist into my hair as he pulls me towards him roughly for another kiss. Our naked chests are pressed together and I can feel his heart beating fast, his skin cold against mine. He slides one arm round my waist and holds me tight against his body, and I can’t help but start grinding my hips against him. He tips his head back slightly, eyes closed and groaning, and I start kissing his neck.

“Mikey, Mikey…”

“Yeah, bro?” I smirk, accentuating it with a harder grind down against him. He moans again and I get the impression it was more because of the ‘bro’ than any nifty hip-work on my part.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t get off on incest, you sure look as though you’re enjoying this,” he breathes into my ear. I groan and nod. What can I say? I’m a converted man.

His hand runs down my side and slides onto the slight bulge in my pants, pressing and ever-so slightly rubbing it. I moan quietly and push against him harder and he smirks. A few hours ago you were telling this man you thought he was sick, disgusting for even contemplating this stuff. And now you’re practically begging for it.

Smooth Mikey, very smooth.

He sits there smirking to himself in his evil little way for a little too long, so I clamber off him back into my own seat and start unbuckling my jeans. He stares at me and his expression immediately changes to that of a child deprived of its favourite toy. Or his brother to play with. Hmm.

“Where you going?” he says, unable to keep the slight whine out of his voice.

“Easier to take my pants off over here,” I reply simply, trying to sound as casual as if he’d just asked for the time. He grins, and following my lead, sheds his remaining clothes, his jeans joining mine on the back seat, quickly followed by two pairs of boxers. I’m about to move back over to him, but he puts his hand flat on my chest and pushes me back into my seat and climbs on top of me. He bends down to kiss me again and I can feel him lowering the seat, so I lean back with it, pulling Gerard down with me until we’re lying horizontally. I spread my legs apart so he’s between them and he presses his hips into mine, brushing our cocks together and causing us both to moan out loud.

Before I’ve had a chance to close my mouth he forces our lips together in another kiss and he begins to grind against me. My whole body automatically arches up against his and my groans are lost somewhere in the frenzied mess of lips and tongue. He slides down my body til he’s on his knees between the seat and the dashboard and it looks like a pretty uncomfortable position to be in but I’m not about to distract him because he’s looking at my erection and I can take a fairly good guess where this is going.

I close my eyes and tip my head back with a low groan as he takes me into his mouth and slowly slides further down me. Almost of their own accord, my hands grasp his hair and I pull him further onto me. It only makes me moan all the more loudly when there’s next to no resistance from him and I’m so deep in his mouth I’m hitting the back of his throat. I resist the urge to force myself any further, as I’ve never bothered to find out if Gerard’s one of these types who can cope with deep-throating and I don’t want him to choke on my cock.

Imagine what that would look like on a post mortem report.

Imagine what they’d tell our mom.

“Mrs Way, we’re sorry to inform you that your son Gerard was murdered last night. Preliminary reports are suggesting that he choked to death on your son Mikey’s penis, although our investigation is still ongoing.”

I can’t help but laugh. I try so hard to hold it in, but it just explodes out of me before I can stop it. Hey, it’s a defence mechanism too. I’ve never had sex with a guy before and I can’t say I’m feeling too sanguine about the whole ordeal.

Needless to say Gerard stops working his magic on my cock and gives me an extremely weird look. I groan a little at the loss of his mouth and pull him up by the shoulder to my mouth again and we share a long kiss, until we both pull away panting.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He reaches over into the back seat and I hear him fumbling around in his jeans until he arrives back in my lap clutching what I can only guess is the customary Tube of Lube. I wrinkle my nose at him.

“Were you planning on making use of that tonight, huh?” I say, and he laughs.

“Can’t exactly say I was planning on any of this happening.”

“You so were.” He laughs again.

“Never leave home without it,” he says, trailing off to a mutter as he’s distracted by his task. He pops open the lid and pours some onto his hands. He rubs a fair amount onto two fingers and before I’ve had a chance to follow the movement of his hand with my eyes, he’s sliding a finger into me.

It doesn’t exactly hurt, but fuck it feels weird. I can’t stop my hips from jerking away from the offending finger, but he just keeps pushing until it’s in to the knuckle and he stops, looking at me to see how I’m feeling about having his index finger shoved up my ass.

Not too great to tell you the truth. I try to relax, but it doesn’t feel any better. He pulls part of the way out and I let out a sigh of relief but before I’ve even had time to finish the sigh it turns into a groan of discomfort as he slides back in with two fingers. I screw my eyes shut and try to block out the feeling as he fingers me, doing his best to prepare me.

“You okay?”

“Feels fucking… fucking weird.”

He laughs and pulls out both fingers. He moves so he’s positioned above me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He bends his neck so that our lips are busy in another kiss whilst he slides into me, moving quickly until he can’t get in any further and I’m groaning and whimpering into Gerard’s mouth while he tries to distract me with a kiss. And it’s not working.

It’s not painful by any means, just feels… unnatural. And suddenly I’m thinking yeah, there’s a reason for that. Guys aren’t supposed to be fucked by other guys. Guys are supposed to fuck girls. But then Gerard starts moving and I totally throw that one out of the window.

He’s kissing my neck in between his slow thrusts and I suddenly realise that this has become more than just a meaningless and kinky fuck for him. It’s become more than that for both of us, I think. I tip my head back and moan, each one of his thrusts sending small surges of pleasure through my body. With each stroke he pushes a little harder and my hips push back to meet his.

It’s dark in the car, the only light a fluorescent glow coming from the clock on the dashboard which is bathing everything in a eerie green light. It’s reflecting off a sheen of sweat down Gerard’s shoulders and I watch it, hypnotised. The only sounds I can hear are the rain slamming down on the car, and the sound of mine and Gerard’s heavy breathing. It’s hot too, both of us are sweating. I can feel it as his stomach slides across mine, I can see it on his arms braced either side of me.

There’s a sudden flash of lightning and both of us jump, seeing each other’s faces suddenly illuminated in a snapshot of pleasure, and I gasp as Gerard hits something inside me. His thrusts start to pick up speed and I stop my own movements, having totally lost the rhythm. I moan loudly and Gerard’s lips find mine in a messy kiss. I’m just starting to wonder why I didn’t try out this whole gay sex thing earlier when his hand finds my cock and I lose the ability to even think in a straight line.

“Oh fuck Mikey, you feel so fucking good… Fuck,” Gerard mumbles against my lips. I just moan in response, my head twisting against the headrest and my body arched up into his, trembling against his skin. “I’m so close, oh God.”

“Me too, Gee,” I shakily manage to get out between breathy moans. He lets out a loud, final groan and with that both of us are coming, shaking against each other and whimpering each other’s name. He collapses on top of me, and neither of us say anything, both panting to get our breath back. After a few moments, Gerard lifts himself up off me and reaches into the back for his jacket, and wipes off his hand and my stomach on the outside of it.

I shift to the side of the seat and he nestles down next to me, somehow managing to fit both of us on it comfortably. We stare at each other for a moment, before he closes the gap between us and gives me a small kiss on the lips. He throws the jacket over both of us and grins. I frown at him.

“What?”

“Jacket smells like you now.”

Sick (But My God, Don't You Know It)

Sat, 30 Oct 2004 17:28:02 GMT

Pairing: Mikey/Gerard [My Chemical Romance]
Overall Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG-13 [References to incest]
Words: 2,013
Summary: Forced to spend the night sleeping in a car together, Gerard prompts Mikey into asking himself questions that Mikey’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer to.

“Gerard, stop it. I don’t want to talk about it, the very idea is making me feel sick. Ok?” he says disgustedly, raising his voice a little too much considering you’re sitting right next to him. It catches you off guard, but you keep your face completely still apart from a slight raise of the eyebrows.

“Jeez Mikey, calm down. I was just being hypothetical,” you say coolly. You hate being interrupted mid-flow and he knows it, and you’re tempted to try and carry on arguing your point just to piss him off, but he’s already way past pissed off and you’re already kind of unsettled by just how obtuse he’s being about the whole subject. It’s not like him at all.

On the other hand, you can hardly be shocked that he’s taking it this way. You were pretty disgusted with yourself the first time you actually sat down and thought about it. But that was a long, long time ago. Now it’s developed into a full-blown sexual fantasy. It’s not like you’re in love with him or anything remotely like that. You just want to fuck him for the kink factor.

In retrospect, you could hardly have expected him to warm to your argument at all, especially the way you phrased it all. Deformed babies? Nice one, Gee. You chance a glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s got a face like thunder, and he’s watching the road so intensely you half expect him to burn pot-holes in it. Okay so you freaked him out badly, but at least that means he’s thinking about it, right? And the longer you’re faced with something you don’t want to think about, the less threatening it will seem. And you were right when you tried to point out that people are only grossed out by it because they never think about it.

Feeling like you’ve at least achieved something, you go back to chewing your gum contentedly, getting a small amount of satisfaction from that fact you know it irritates him something awful. Small victories make the harder defeats easier to bear, after all.

*~#~*

A seeming-eternity of wild and epic North American forest and sterile tarmac later, he pulls into a gas station, jerking you out of the doze you hadn’t noticed you’d fallen into. He gets out of the car without a word and slams the door loudly and begins to fill up the tank.

After a split second spent trying to remember exactly why he’s in a piss with you, you allow yourself a small evil chuckle before rearranging your features into an expressionless mask and get out of the car yourself. You stretch a moment, and decide you might as well go and enquire as to where you’ve ended up.

Throwing a quick explanation to Mikey over your shoulder, to which you receive no reply, you go into the little store, wincing at the clinical whiteness of the floor and the fluorescent signs proclaiming Buy One Get One Free offers to the world. This is one of those places where the person at the till will constantly have their finger on the security alarm button while they talk to you, you can just tell.

You walk up to the guy in the stupidly bright blue shirt and give him a big, warm smile. He backs off slightly.

“Hey, this is gonna sound stupid, but me and my brother got lost quite a while ago and now we have no idea where we are, so we wondering if you could tell us?”

You leave the garage nearly ten minutes later, clutching some barely legible directions scribbled on the back of your receipt for the gas. The heavens have decided to open in your absence, and by the time you get to the car clutching a bag of emergency supplies (chocolate and various other sweets) you’re soaking wet and freezing cold. Mikey stares at you.

“Gee, you’re steaming.”

“It’s cos I’m so hot,” you say without thinking, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Mikey raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t say anything. He leans over and turns up the heater in the car and you relax as the hot air washes over you. You notice he seems to have calmed down somewhat.

“So, did you find out where we are then?”

“Yup. You want the good news or bad news first?”

“Good.”

“Well, we’re only about two and a half hour’s journey off course,” you say and Mikey lets out a sigh of relief. You can tell that he was worried you’d led the pair of you onto the opposite side of the state or something.

“Right. Bad news?”

“The guy reckons this rain’s just the beginning of a storm which is gonna last all night.”

Mikey sighs heavily and looks out of the window. It’s pouring it down and you can barely make out the lights of the gas station you just came out of, let alone the main road.

“Yeah, I’d worried that might be the case.” He’s silent for a moment. “What did you buy?”

You smile and grab a bag of marshmallows out of the bag and wave them cheerfully in front of his face.

“Emergency sugar top-up rations. It’s bad enough being stuck in a car with you when you’re pissed, I don’t want to be stuck in a car with you when you’re pissed and your blood sugar levels are murderously low.”

He actually laughs, and takes the bag off you, opening it and popping a couple in his mouth. He chews it thoughtfully and then turns to you, smiling.

“Thanks man.”

“No problem.”

“Look, Gee…”

Silence.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I went off on one with you earlier. I was just stressed out with being lost and everything,” he pauses like he’s gonna go on, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I still think it’s… not normal. But you’re entitled to your own opinions and whatever.”

You nod and smirk, enjoying watching him squirm. He’s so in denial. However, being the patient and kindly brother you are, you don’t pursue the subject any further. There’s a comfortable silence for a moment, until you look out the window at the rain that sounds like it’s trying to punch holes in the roof of your brother’s car.

“So, any plans for what we’re gonna do?”

“Hmm… I don’t think we’d get anywhere driving round in this. And it’s not like we’d be able to see any road signs or anything. I guess we’ve got no choice but to sit it out.”

You nod in agreement, unable to think of anything else helpful to add.

“Did you ring the others while you were in there, by the way?”

“Oh, shit…”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go. And I’ll ask the guy if he doesn’t mind us sitting on his forecourt all night.”

You’re about to argue, but he hushes you.

“Think of it as payback for the marshmallows,” he grins, and you laugh.

“Whatever dude. Just don’t drip on me when you get back.”

He disappears off into the rain and darkness and you’re forcefully reminded of all those shitty horror films where the pretty girlfriend of the dumb jock leaves him behind while she runs off to find a telephone to call for help. And then she comes back to the car to find her boyfriend with a knife sticking out of his neck.

You shiver, only partly from the cold, and draw your jacket in closely around you. You and your ~~girlfriend~~ brother used to watch way too many of those films when you were far too little to be watching them.

A sudden fork of lightning on the horizon sets your heart racing a lot faster than it probably should and you take a few deep breaths. A rumble of thunder follows a few moments later, and you can tell the storm’s not too far away. You contemplate doing the counting thing to see how many miles away it is, but rapidly abandon the idea because you can’t remember if it’s the gap between the thunder and then the lightning or the gap between the lightning and then the thunder that you’re supposed to count. And plus, you’re too cool for that.

Mikey doesn’t take long to get back and he throws himself into the car, looking like a drowned… rodent. Not a rat, he’s too hot for that. A drowned super-intelligent mouse. Like Brain.

“Wet is it, Brain?”

“No shit, Pinky,” he gasps, correctly guessing what the hell you’re talking about. He takes off his jacket and chucks it onto the backseat. “I couldn’t get through, but I left a message on Frankie’s number. And the guy said we can’t stay here, but there’s a lay-by about fifty yards down the road.”

Both of you look out at the weather. Even a measly fifty yards sounds like a suicide mission. Mikey grins at you.

“Well Gee, it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

“Mikey, I just want you to know that even though you have a fetish about household detergents, I love you.”

He starts the engine and you swear the rain starts pounding down even harder. As you pull out onto the main road, you both lean so far forward to squint past the rain, your noses are more or less touching the windshield.

“Scream when you se-“

“THERE!” you yell, and Mikey practically swerves into the little lay-by.

After a moment’s silence, you collapse into a fit of giggles and Mikey looks down his nose at you disdainfully.

“You do realise how close we came to death then?”

“I sorry, Mikey,” you say in a baby-voiced pout. “That would have been very sad because then you would never have known how I feel about youuuuu!”

Mikey laughs as he shuts off the engine and plunges both of you into darkness.

“Well, I already know you’re madly and passionately in love with me, what else is there to know?”

“Ew, no! I’m not in love with you, I just want your sexy body. No offence or anything,” you say, punctuating it with a mock-seductive lick of your lips.

“Urgh, dude. So wrong,” he says, but he’s still smiling.

“Oh come on Mikey, don’t tell me you’re not wildly turned on by the idea?” you laugh, winking at him. He looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Weeeell…” he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he get can get a second word in edgeways.

“Aha! Yes! I have you! You think it’s hot! You’re just as perverted and twisted as I am! Admit it Mikey, admit it!” you yelp delightedly, doing a little victory dance in your seat. Mikey just laughs and shakes his head at you.

“If you’ll let me finish, brother dearest, I was about to say that I’m starting to see why you might think it’s hot, but I’m afraid I don’t share the sentiments.”

You fake a crestfallen look.

“So you don’t want me?”

“’Fraid not, bro.”

“Meh, fair enough. I can do better than you anyway.”

“What, like Bert?”

You raise a threatening eyebrow at Mikey. “What, pray tell, is wrong with Bert?”

“Gee, I’d rather do you than Bert.”

You both laugh and sink into contented silence. You notice out of the corner of your eye that Mikey’s shivering slightly. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and he’s soaked to the skin from his little venture out into the rain. You take off your jacket and hand it over to him and he accepts it gratefully. He snuggles up into it, his skinny frame making it more like a blanket than a jacket on him. He sniffs it and smiles to himself.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Jacket smells like you,” he whispers and closes his eyes. You watch him for a moment before you start to feel sleepy yourself. You twist your seat back so that you’re tipped back and close your eyes, waiting patiently for sleep to overtake you.

Sick (But My God, Don't You Know It)

Fri, 29 Oct 2004 18:07:41 GMT

Pairing: Mikey/Gerard [My Chemical Romance]
Overall Rating: NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG-13 [References to incest]
Words: 1,756
Summary: Forced to spend the night sleeping in a car together, Gerard prompts Mikey into asking himself questions that Mikey’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer to.

“Umm… Mikey?”

“What?”

“I er… I think we were supposed to take that left back there.”

I take my eyes off the road to shoot a look at my brother, who meets my gaze with a sheepish look.

“You’re joking, right?” I almost whine, even though I know he’s not kidding. As if to prove that he knows that I know that he’s not, (God, I’m spending too much time with him) he doesn’t answer and goes back to pondering over the map nestled in his lap. Upside down, I notice with a world-weary sigh.

“Gee?”

He doesn’t look up.

“Gee.”

“Huh?”

“Do you actually know where we are?”

“Of course,” he mutters without looking up. I leave an appropriate pause before I continue.

“Oh yeah? Where are we then?”

“There,” he says, pointing at a long stretch of blue on the map.

“You mean that river?”

He gapes down at the map for a moment, before looking up at me. I can tell he’s trying to decide whether to risk laughing it off, or just to keep quiet and look extremely apologetic.

There’s not many things that stretch my patience. I like to think of myself as a pretty tolerant guy, but fucking hell, I think spending much longer in this boiling hot car, lost in the middle of nowhere USA, with this… moronic… excuse for a sibling may just be pushing it. Gerard’s still looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I sigh, trying to count to ten in my head, but losing count after three.

“Look, let’s just… Let’s stop at the next gas station or something. They’ll be able to tell us where we are and which way we should be going,” I mutter fiercely. I feel around my pocket for my phone so I can ring the others and let them know we’re going to be late, then remember I left it at home. “You got your phone with you?”

He nods silently and hands it over to me without meeting my eyes. Yeah, that’s it. Squirm. I flip it open and groan as it lets out a feeble chiming noise and shuts itself off. There’s a moment’s awkward silence.

“Battery?” he says quietly.

“Yuh-huh.”

“Shit…” he mutters, looking nervous. I can’t really blame him, being on the receiving end of one of my irate rants, rare occurrence as they are, is not pleasant. And being my brother, he’s had more than most.

We drive on in a fairly comfortable silence for what feels like hours, passing signs to towns and villages we’ve never heard of, nothing that gives us any clue as to where we might be. In reality we can’t have been driving for more than an hour, but all the trees lining the road we’re on are identical, giving no clue as to how far I’ve gone, there’s an old lady in front of us who’s driving just slow enough to drive me nuts (yet she speeds up just fine whenever I move to overtake) and Gerard’s chewing gum. He’s not even chewing it loudly, but I can’t help but noticing the rhythmic movement of his jaw and the little smacking noise it makes every now and then. It’s the little things I always notice with him. He notices me staring at his jaw and gives me a weird look.

“Mikey? Erm… Shouldn’t you be watching the road?”

Resisting the urge to start a bitch fight about me watching the road if he’ll watch the map, I nod and turn back to face the car in front. It’s a fucking stupid car. It’s got a huge boot, probably like it’s owner. The thought that the old bat driving it probably has an ass the size of her car cheers me up immensely.

“Do you think you can tell a lot about people by their cars?” Gerard says thoughtfully, staring at the license plate of the big-bottomed-old-bat in front. I wonder for a moment if he was thinking exactly the same thing as me.

“I guess so,” I reply, thinking about it a bit harder now that he’s actually mentioned it. “I mean, I guess if someone’s got a really messy car, it follows they’re gonna be an untidy sort of person, right?”

He gives me a look that’s almost pitying and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Poor Mikey, not an ounce of poetry or romance in that’s boy’s soul.

“I don’t mean like that…” he pauses for a moment to think and I wait patiently for him to continue. “Like, I could tell just from your car that you’re a complete geek, slightly introverted, a great laugh when you’re drunk and you have a tidiness fetish.”

“Tidiness fetish?”

“Yeah, remember that time you went psycho because I accidentally filed your Meatloaf albums in alphabetical order instead of reverse chronological order? I thought you were gonna castrate me.”

“Yeah, but that’s…” I trail off into silence, fuming to myself. Seriously, what idiot would put them in alphabetical order? That’s like… wrong. It’s like imagining having sex with Lars Fredrickson.

“Mikey, dude, it’s abnormal. And fetishish.”

“Okay, granted it’s not ‘normal’, but I don’t exactly get off on having a clean house. So therefore it’s not a fetish.”

“You so do. I bet you get really aroused at the sight of a tidy pile of magazines in date order, don’t you?”

“No! I get a small amount of satisfaction from knowing that next time I wanted to look at a particular one of the magazines I wouldn’t have to sort through the whole damn pile before I found it. Nothing sexual about it at all, you weirdo.”

“Whatever Mikey, whatever.”

“At least I don’t get hard over… Over, fucking…” I fall silent, trying desperately to think of something gross that Gerard gets off on. He smiles at me innocently and cocking an eyebrow. “Bert McCraken!”

“Dude, Bert is fucking hot and you know it,” he says, shaking his head at me and grinning. “Now, if I were to get off on you… That would be a hell of a fetish.”

I stare at him, horrified. “Dude, that is fucking sick. Shut up, right now.” I turn back to the road, unable to believe he even mentioned it.

He says nothing, but smirks at me and I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Urgh, no. Nonononono.”

He grins at me again and shrugs, turning his attention back outside the window.

I grimace to myself and go back to trying to concentrate on the road, trying to shake the mental images forming in my head. After a couple of minutes he turns back to me.

“Watcha thinking about, Mikey?” he smiles vampirishly, in a way that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.

“The road,” I mutter, not turning to look at him.

“Right.”

A pause.

“But seriously dude, think about it-“

“Gee, no. I don’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it.”

“Just listen to me for a sec. Why do people get so grossed out by incest?”

“Because it’s fucking disgusting, that’s why!” I nearly explode and I can tell he wasn’t expecting that vehement a reaction. Still, he persists in the name of all things fucked-up and Gerardish.

“Yeah, but why? Who decided it was ‘wrong’ in the first place?”

“I don’t know, fucking… God or something.”

“Do you believe in God, Mikey?” he asks pointedly.

I can’t think of a good answer to this, and ignore the question. Gerard leans back into his chair, relaxing slightly now that he knows he’s got one over me.

“It’s just another taboo really, if you think about it, nothing else. It came about because of how the babies used to be deformed when demented old kings and emperors raped their sisters, but in this day and age it’s hardly a problem, cos they could just use condoms or whatever. There’s no danger of having deformed babies, which was the only real problem in the first place. Now it’s just a question of people’s attitudes.”

“You sound like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” I say icily, shaking my head in disbelief. He shrugs.

“Let’s take an example. Do you have a problem with me being gay?”

“You know I don’t, but I hardly think it’s the same sort of thing as wanting to fuck your bro-“

“That’s exactly my point! A hundred years ago people would have been just as grossed out by the thought of two guys fucking as you are now by the thought of us fucking! It’s just because people completely block it out and refuse to even think about it that they get this fucked-up idea of it being ‘wrong’”

“Gerard, stop.”

“Oh come on, don’t try and tell me that you don’t think I have a point-”

“Gerard, stop it. I don’t want to talk about it, the very idea is making me feel sick. Ok?” I almost shout, surprising myself.

“Jeez Mikey, calm down. I was just being hypothetical.”

I ignore him and we continue driving in silence until we finally come to a gas station nearly quarter of an hour later. I get out the car without a word to him and start filling up the gas tank, and he gets out a moment later and stretches with his back to me. I glare at the back of his head for a moment, and then notice the sky. It’s starting to get dark, and the sun’s nearly disappeared behind the tops of the trees that are blocking our view for miles.

“I’ll go and ask about directions or something,” Gerard says blankly and saunters off into the building. I watch him go and feel my stomach twist again at just the thought of him and me like that. There’s no way he could think there’s not anything wrong with that, right?

Well, this is Gee we’re talking about. He probably doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all. In fact, he I know he doesn’t. We just had an argument about it, after all. I stand there day-dreaming to myself and suddenly realise with a jolt that I wasn’t listening to a single word he said all through that. Too busy wrapped up in thinking about how sick and wrong it all is. Which it is.

There’s just no way you can justify it, even if you’re Gerard.

Is there?

Take It Off

Fri, 29 Oct 2004 17:44:54 GMT

Pairing: Matt/David [Alkaline Trio/Simple Plan]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3,486
Summary: Matt wants to get laid on a simple one night stand. David’s more than willing to oblige, but does he have ulterior motives? Complete PWP. Set on Warped tour or something.

I’m on my second drink,
But I’ve had a few before.
I’m trying hard to think,
And I think that I want you on the floor.
Uh-huh yeah, on the floor.

You can’t help but grin at the blush you see creeping slowly from his neck to his cheeks when you come over to top up his beer. He almost refuses to look at you, staring at his feet and mumbling and blushing even more when he sloshes half the beer you just gave him all over the floor in an attempt to gesture a thank you without actually opening his mouth. Probably fearful that he’ll spout some nonsense whilst trying tell you how ridiculously hot you are.

Maybe something to do with the alcohol you’ve already drunk but you find it rib-crackingly hilarious that The Pretty One from a band about 9 times bigger than yours (not that you’d ever actually sat down and compared record sales, of course not) is nervous to meet you. (Though you have sold more t-shirts, now you come to think of it. Yes, that must be the reason for his tenseness)

You choose that particular moment to notice he’s wearing a ‘Skiba’ t-shirt and you snort loudly into your raised cup, getting a fair amount of head on your lip. Head. Rolling your eyes at your own horniness, which serves only to make you pleasantly dizzy, you decide to avert your attention back to the object that surely deserves it the most at this moment in time.

Him.

Okay, so you’re kinda tipsy. But seriously, even when you were still one hundred percent sober, sometime before two in the afternoon, and you saw him walking around various merch stalls he still made your mouth go dry with lust. You wanted him so badly you could almost hear his moans, feel his skin, smell him from the other side of the field.

Well, you’re fairly sure you hadn’t started drinking at that point.

Frowning slightly, you look him up and down accusingly, as though he could somehow be to blame for your current semi-inebriated state when one of his bandmates, whose name momentarily escapes you (the one who looks like he’s being permanently electrocuted via his asshole. Oh wait… Pierre) walks up behind David and looks at you fuzzily for a moment, as though trying to work out exactly where he’s seen you before. Your chest is about to puff out in indignation (Come on, you’re Matt Skiba. Who doesn’t know you?) when a slow recognition creeps over his face and he giggles, pokes David in the shoulder, mutters something about “in your dreams” and walks off back to the epicentre of the party. Which from your vantage point looks like it’s become centred around a fight. Or someone from Mest trying to shove something up his own ass. But you don’t care. You’re far too occupied in trying to shove something up this delightful young man’s ass.

You smirk at David’s blushing, still lingering from the “in your dreams” comment. You sure hope that comment was aimed at David and not you. Aimed at him, you’re about to make all his dreams come true (and boy, does that make you feel… powerful). Aimed at you, well you’re wasting your time and may as well go chasing after someone pretty from the littler bands on the tour. As least it’ll be yet another person eating out of the palm of your (powerful) hand.

You’re getting quite good at this alliteration lark. Now, back to the task in hand. You motion to his t-shirt casually, impressing yourself with how composed and unslurred your voice is.

“Fan of Alkaline Trio, huh?”

“Yes!” he says, a little too loudly and excitedly. “From Here To Infirmary is one of my favourite records of all time, I love you… Your band.”

You flash him a devastating smile.

“Yeah, I love my band too,” you grin, and you swear he actually swoons. You move in closer to him, overstepping the bounds of polite, star-struck conversation , into blatant ‘I-want-your-body-and-your-babies-right-now’ body language territory. He eyes you up and down anxiously before distracting himself with taking another swig of his beer.

“You seem a little… nervous,” you say quietly and in your best sexy purr.

At this, he snorts into his cup and then raises his eyes to meet yours, and for one fleeting moment there was nothing short of a mischievous grin on his face, but it disappears before your brain can really register it, to be replaced by yet another shy blush. But you’re certain it was there. He gives you a coy look from under his eyelashes and you immediately discard all your suspicions.

“Well, can you blame me? You’re like… Matt Skiba.” He places an awed emphasis on your name that makes you sound like some sort of Greek god. You like it. A lot. A lover of godlike proportions, that’s you.

You try to think of something almightily witty, amusing or seductive to say in return to that, but the only thing that’s going off in your head is getting to your knees and singing the chorus to I’d Do Anything in front of him, but what’s left of your sanity gives you a clip round the ear and tells you to stop being a moron and turn on the gentlemanly charm instead. The realist in you tells you that your ‘gentlemanly charm’ would only be useful if you ever needed to curdle a bottle of milk, so you do the only other thing that occurs to you and kiss him.

His mouth opens to let your tongue in almost instantly and he wraps his arms around your neck, one hand working its way into your hair and pushing your face in closer to his. Your tongues slide over each other easily and he seems to have lost all semblance of shyness as he kisses you fairly roughly, nipping feverishly at your lips, sucking your bottom lip in between his own and running his tongue over it teasingly. His hands are running all over your back and your ass, lightly squeezing your shoulders one minute and cupping your ass playfully the next. You half-groan into the kiss, and his hands pull your hips into his, giving you half a moment to feel just how turned on he is before he grinds forcefully against you, causing you to nearly choke.

He pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours, grinning, both of you breathing slightly harder than necessary.

“Take this somewhere else?” he half questions, half tells you.

You don’t even bother to answer, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you, in the direction of your tour bus, but he stops you.

“No, my bus,” he says, tugging at your sleeve and taking you off in a different direction. You’re about to argue, but then you figure it doesn’t really make much difference in the big scheme of things, so you keep your mouth shut and follow him eagerly.

He pokes his head tentatively round the door of the bus, checking that no-one else is in, before climbing in and beckoning you to follow him. You step in, expecting to see a bus full of posh luxurious gadgets and with more than enough space to swing three cats, but you don’t get a chance to take in any of your surroundings as he slams you against the nearest wall and grabs your face in both hands and starts kissing you again.

You had no idea he’d be this forward. But you’re not complaining at all.

He slides one of his legs between yours and grinds himself against your hip and moans into the kiss. You feel so turned on that the rest of your body apart from your mouth and your cock could have gone for a walk and you’re fairly sure you wouldn’t notice. He pulls away from your lips and starts peppering your neck with small, wet kisses.

Deciding to take the lead for what must be the first time this evening, you slip your hands underneath his t-shirt and begin to lift it off his body. He pulls away from you long enough to tear it off himself in his impatience before he reattaches himself to your mouth and reaches both hands down to your belt, unbuckling it in record time. You crack an eye open to look at him and he’s still got both eyes closed. You have trouble taking off your own belt with both eyes open. This kid’s good.

Your pants fall to the floor and you step out of them, kicking them to one side and David takes your shirt off, tossing it aside and dropping to his knees in front of you. You’re suddenly very glad you’re leaning against a firm, solid wall. He looks up at you as he runs his tongue along the skin just above your boxers and winks at you. You gape down at him and he looks back towards to your crotch, grinning to himself.

Your boxers get thrown in the direction of the rest of your clothes and he takes hold of your erection and while he lowers his mouth onto it. He sucks in his cheeks and you roll your head back against the wall, trying to keep from groaning out loud and unable to keep your eyes open long enough to watch him as he works miracles with his tongue and his hands.

You hear an odd metallic clanking sound and you look down to see he’s in the process of stripping himself off whilst still licking at you, having just dropped his belt to the floor. As he slips his boxers off you panic for a moment, suspecting that with all this multi-tasking, he might actually be a woman, but you see his own erection and watch him start touching himself with his one free hand, the sight brings you so close to coming that you throw your head back violently against the wall with a loud moan, a nasty cracking noise and a rush of light-headed pain to your head reaching your ears before you realise they both belong to you.

David pulls off you and stands up immediately, looking at you worriedly, but at the same time trying so hard not to laugh you reckon he’ll draw blood if he keeps biting his lip like that.

“You okay?”

You blink a few times, making sure your eyesight’s still in full working order.

“I think so… Shit, that kinda killed the moment didn’t it?”

He shrugs and grins at you again.

“Well, I don’t want you coming before you’ve fucked me, so I guess you could call it good timing.”

Holy crap. Since when did he become this… forthcoming? That’s a good word right there. You should make a note of that one.

“I, um… yeah. Good plan.”

He laughs and presses himself against you, kissing you softly.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re flustered,” he whispers into your ear, licking a trail around the outside of your ear and making you shiver. More than you are already, anyway.

He takes your hand and leads you into the back room of the bus, and pushes you roughly down onto the couch, immediately climbing on top of you, straddling you and leaning down to kiss you. You notice his lip ring for the first time as you pull his bottom lip in between your teeth and you play with it with your tongue for a few moments. How did you miss that before? He seems to like it a lot, and he growls, grinding his hips down onto you. You release his lip as you open your mouth in a loud moan, the feeling of him moving against your aching cock driving you wild.

You push your hips up against him, desperate for something, anything, to provide that friction against you. He seems to get the message, and pulls away from you lips, his eyes glinting with something like triumph. He leans to the side and reaches down under the couch, and you can hear his hand scrabbling around frantically.

You decide it’s high time he got some attention, and reach out to his cock, fisting it as fast as your wrist will go. It’s probably a little dry and rough, more so than you’d normally do for yourself anyway, but you get the impression he doesn’t mind in the slightest. He’s stopped his scrabbling and is supporting himself on the one arm that’s reaching the floor from on top of you, and he’s moaning like nobody’s business. It looks to you like a fairly uncomfortable position to be jerked off in, but he’s hardly complaining so you carry on until he bats your hand away, panting.

“N-not… Not yet.”

He waves his spare hand around and you grab hold of it, pulling him back up. He’s somehow managed to shift his hips so that the movement brushes both your erections together and you both moan loudly, both of you feeding off each other’s noises. Your hips automatically flex up against him, and he pushes back down against you again. His eyes are closed in bliss and his movements are assured and controlled, whereas yours are frantic, simply going along with the flow and doing whatever you can to get off on.

You slow down your humping motions against him, feeling somewhat stupid, and he cracks open his eyes and looks down at you worriedly. He reads the look on your face instantly, and leans back down towards you and captures your lips in a slow kiss, halting his own movements.

“Don’t stop, it’s perfect,” he whispers, punctuating every word with a kiss to your jaw.

He pulls back and looks down at you, cocking his head to the side. His look is unreadable, and you gaze into each other’s eyes for slightly too long, before he breaks away from the stare and presses a small bottle of lube into your hands. You look at it for a moment, trying to decide what he wants you to do with it. Finger yourself, lube your cock, lube his cock, finger him? So much choice, such a little bottle.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers, something in his voice making your eyes shoot up to his face. He’s got such a hungry, wanton look all over him that he looks like he’ll explode if you don’t do something quickly. You grin to yourself, and begin to unscrew the lid painstakingly slowly.

“Fucking hurry up!”

You resist the urge to smirk and ignore him. Pouring a small amount of the oily substance into your palm, you begin to smear it over your cock at a snail’s pace. You throw in a fake moan here and there, of course you’re going far too slowly for it to feel good, but it’s worth it all for the look on his face. His eyes are fixed intently on your hand and his mouth is open slightly, as though he’s almost in pain from watching you take it this unhurriedly.

Thoroughly enjoying this, you lean your head back and close your eyes, the picture of lazy bliss and your hand moving so slowly you can barely feel it brushing against the over-sensitive skin of you erection, and you hear David groan above you. Cracking one eye part of the way open, careful to make sure he doesn’t see you looking, you see him practically salivating over you, his hand resting on his thigh twitching as though he wants to knock your hand away and start doing it himself, torn between the show you’re putting on for him, and sheer desire to get off.

You let out a long, flowing moan (totally fake) and he can’t take it any more. He grabs your wrist and pauses long enough for your eyes to fly open and in a split second he’s moved your hand onto his hip and he’s lowering himself onto you. You both groan loudly, him gritting his teeth and screwing up his eyes as he pushes down until he can’t get any further, you throwing your head back and gasping, your back arching uncontrollably. He’s tight, not virgin tight, but God does he feel good.

You both pause, staring at each other, both waiting for permission from the other to continue, both of you breathing heavily.

“Y-you… Fuck… You okay?” you gasp.

“Yeah… you okay to carry on?” he half says, half moans.

You don’t answer, instead prompting him to raise himself up with your hands on his hips. He pulls up, coming halfway off you and waits for a moment before he slams himself back down onto you, causing both of you to let out a sizeable shout.

“Fuck Matt… fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmurs, bringing himself up again. You can’t form any words when you open your mouth, and settle instead for following his movements and pushing up deeper into him just as he shoves down on you, bringing both of you into a smooth rhythm.

As you continue, you writhing underneath him, a complete mess of moans and sweat he gets faster and faster, until he’s as good as bouncing in your lap, your hands slipping on his hips as his body breaks out into a thin sweat of his own, matching you moan for moan. You grit your teeth and force yourself to try and breathe normally.

“A-a-am… Am I anywhere ne-“

“Holy fucking shit!”

His body spasms in your hands and he throws his head back gasping, so you take that as a yes. Pushing up into him as hard and fast as you can given your somewhat awkward position, trying desperately not to lose your place, you succeed in hitting the same spot inside him over and over again. Curses in equal measures of French and English tumble from his lips like a waterfall and you join him (although yours are predominantly in English with a fair amount of nonsense thrown in for good measure), both of you racing towards climax.

Somewhere along the way, you start jerking him off weakly, but it’s enough. With one final yell, he comes over your hand and chest, his whole body tensing up and shuddering. The sight alone would have been enough to make you come, but the feeling of his muscles squeezing against you, the wet cum on your stomach, the noises he’s making – the whole thing – sets you off climaxing harder than you remember having done in years.

He sits back panting, resting against your legs which you can feel trembling, the tingling sensations flushing through your whole body. He grins down at you.

“Well, that was…”

“Average?” you suggest, sticking your tongue out as far as you can be bothered. He laughs and bitch slaps you gently across the cheek.

“Shut up, Skiba.”

He rearranges himself so he’s lying between your legs and you think he’s about to go down on you again (not that you’d mind dreadfully, but you doubt your penis can keep up with all this) but he starts licking his cum off your stomach and chest, slowly and carefully, and you whimper underneath him. He slides up your body and dips his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly and you can taste him. You moan into the kiss, pulling his head down closer to yours so that you can taste every inch of his mouth.

Eventually, you pull away yawning loudly.

“Jeez, that boring am I?” says David, an expression somewhere between a smirk and a pout on his lips. You give him a look.

“No, you just completely wore me out. I don’t think I can even stand up.”

“Well, feel free to sleep the night here.”

“… What if the rest of your band come back?”

“Trust me, it doesn’t matter.”

There’s a mischievous tone in his voice and a borderline-evil glint in his eye that you don’t quite like the sound or look of, and you’re about to protest when he presses a finger to your lips.

“Shush. I’ll go get us a blanket or something.”

By the time he’s come back with a duvet and a pillow off his bunk, you’re already fast asleep.

*~#~*

“…don’t believe you managed… how did you… was he good?”

“… he totally fell for the innocent… said he would… it was fucking hot.”

“…damn… wish I could have been… so how much do I owe you?”

“…nothing. Just this threesome.”

Snippets of a hushed conversation on the other side of the room float into your sleep-fuzzed brain and you groan quietly, rolling over the face the voices, which immediately fall silent. You blink a few times until they come into focus.

Pierre and David are both sitting there, fully clothed and looking wide-awake, David perched in Pierre’s lap. Pierre’s staring at you as though he can’t quite believe you’re there and David’s grinning at you. Both of them are wearing the same, hungry look in their eyes.

You swallow nervously.

Log Cabin

Sun, 26 Sep 2004 12:37:19 GMT

Pairing: Benji/Joel [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,655
Summary: Twins, in a secluded log cabin in the middle of nowhere. Fluff and PWP.

A lone log cabin lay in the middle of the clearing, deep in the forest. The air around the hut was completely still, as though there was an invisible fence shielding it from the busy, buzzing world around it. A solitary bird regarded the cabin from its perch at the top of a mountainous tree before sweeping off into the orange sunrise. A spotlight of sunlight sparkled down onto the calm river running past the clearing, the tinkling of its waters the only noise disturbing the silence for miles.

Two people lay peacefully asleep in the cabin, both oblivious to the scene of natural beauty unfurling itself around them. One figure lay with his arm draped clumsily out of the bed, an explosion of brightly coloured hair poking out from the sheets surrounding the pillows. The other figure was slowly beginning to stir. A black-tattooed pair of arms stretched up to the ceiling and a long, satisfied groan emerged from his croaky throat. He sat up slightly and peered sleepily at the figure lying next to him in the bed. With a smile, he flopped back down to the bed and, tucking his hands underneath his head, closed his eyes again.

A whole week of nothing to do. A whole week of complete and utter blissful nothingness with his twin brother. No interviews, no business meetings, no song-writing (unless they felt like it, of course), no irritating fans and best of all, no other band members. Much as they both loved the other three, their presence on the road meant that the twins had precious little time to… Well, do what they did. Something the rest of the band would definitely never understand. Even the most amazing sex in the world just wasn’t the same when it had to be secretive, silent and quick.

And here in this secluded cabin, the only things they had to worry about disturbing was the local wildlife. Well, as far as Joel was concerned, the racoons could go fuck themselves.

He rolled over quietly in the bed and bought his face up to his brother’s. With the briefest of pauses, he left a quick kiss on Benji’s lips before hauling himself out of bed and into the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal and plonking himself down at the table. He munched on his breakfast thoughtfully, whilst thinking about nothing whatsoever.

The owner of the kaleidoscopic hair stumbled into the kitchen and slumped into a chair, sulkily glaring at everything in the room wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and several piercings.

“Morning, Benj,” chirped Joel.

“Fuck off,” grunted Benji.

“Good sleep?”

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Nope.”

“The first week off in about a year and you get me up at fucking nine thirty in the morning?”

“I didn’t get you up,” grinned Joel.

“Uh-huh. You know perfectly fucking well I can’t stay asleep without you there.”

Joel tutted mockingly and walked over to the sink to dispose of his bowl. He walked back over to his brother and sat down on his lap, ruffling his hair with a huge grin on his face.

“And don’t fucking ruffle my hair,” muttered Benji, a slight pout appearing on his lips as he wrapped his arms around Joel’s waist.

“Fuck off,” Benji whined, trying to disguise the smile creeping onto his lips. Joel tapped him sharply on the back of the head.

“Stop swearing,” he mumbled, bending down for a kiss. The indignant look on Benji’s face was soon lost as he moved his lips and head in unison with his brother’s, the state of his hair soon forgotten at Joel’s hand ran through it softly, pulling his head in closer to his own. Joel pulled away, smiling softly at his brother.

“Besides, it was you who insisted we come to this place. Surely you wanna get out there and do some bird-watching or whatever it is people do in these forests?”

Benji laughed softly and poked his brother in the ribs.

“You know perfectly well why we’re here.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but I want to expand my pressed flower collection,”

Benji rolled his eyes and gently shoved his brother off his lap as he got up and stretched again, yawning deeply.

“You’re such a freak, Joel.”

Joel laughed and poked the tattoos either side of Benji’s neck.

“And that’s coming from someone who has more tattoos than the entire Warped Tour and yet still listens to Norah Jones?”

“Your point being?”

“You’re the freak, not me.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna take a shower. You’re welcome to join me,” said Benji, winking.

“What the hell makes you think I wanna look at your fat ass?”

“I dunno, but your cock seems to like it,” Benji shot back at his twin.

“Ah. You got me there,” Joel grinned back, his voice trailing off to a whisper as he once again brought his face up to Benji’s for a kiss. Pulling Joel’s hips into his own, Benji let his hands rest on the slightly protruding bones as Joel sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it gently before letting it go and allowing Benji’s tongue into his mouth.

Hand snaking up into Benji’s hair, Joel ran his fingers through it and pushing Benji’s face further into his own. The other hand fell silkily down to Benji’s ass, trailing his fingertips down Benji’s bare back and making him shiver.

Benji pulled away from Joel, his eyes slightly lidded, breath ghosting across Joel’s cheek and a slight smirk spreading over his face. Before he could open his mouth to speak, he was cut off in surprise by Joel lifting one of his armpits and sniffing. He jerked away from his brother, bewildered.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Joel grinned and trailed his fingertips down Benji’s chest, pausing to trace circles around his nipples, eliciting a small and slightly hesitant groan from Benji.

“You know, I don’t think you really need that shower Benji,” murmured Joel.

“Mmm… That so?” Benji let his head fall onto Joel’s shoulder, letting out soft groan as Joel’s hands moved steadily downwards.

“I do think you need me though,” said Joel with what could only be described as a cheeky grin, as his hand pushed past the elastic of Benji’s boxers to suddenly grasp Benji’s cock, the unexpected movement causing Benji to moan out loud. In more or less the same instant Joel pushed him backwards until he hit the counter, the impact forcing their mouths together. Both groaned simultaneously as Benji sucked Joel's lip into his mouth, Joel grabbing Benji by the wrists and pinning his hands firmly behind him on the counter.

He ground his hips into Benji's, causing the older twin to break away from the kiss, moaning softly as Joel instead moved his mouth to Benji's neck and shoulder, nipping, licking and sucking at whatever skin he could reach.

Benji closed his eyes and leant his head back, biting down on his lip as his heart pounded furiously within his chest. He could feel a sheen of sweat beginning to form all over his body and his breathing sped up as he tried to control the surge of desire starting from where Joel had dropped to his knees, dragging Benji's boxers down with him, spreading upwards and outwards until he could feel the familiar claustrophobic, tickling sensations of pure lust in his very fingertips.

However, Benji completely lost his train of thought when Joel took him into his mouth. All he could manage was a long groan as Joel slowly slid Benji's cock into his mouth, keeping his cheeks sucked in so that all Benji could feel was Joel’s warm mouth surrounding him. Joel snaked a hand round behind Benji and pulled him in closer to himself, tracing the fingertips of his other hand along the stretch of skin just behind Benji's balls. Benji let out a small yelp as he unintentionally bucked into Joel's mouth, barely able to keep himself standing up.

Had he not had a mouth full of Benji at the time, Joel would have grinned.

He ran his tongue along the entire length of Benji’s erection, then sucked roughly on the head, not bothering to be careful about his teeth and earning himself a rumbling moan from somewhere above him. He slid his mouth down Benji’s dick and took in as much of his brother as he could and began to bob his head up and down just barely, humming. Benji let out a stream of swearing with a few “Christ, Joel”s here and there. Joel slowed down and slid most of the way off Benji, letting his tongue play idly with the head. Benji whimpered and turned his eyes down to Joel’s which met his with the kind of look that forced Benji to look away, fearful that he’d just lose it. Just from that look.

Joel stood up slowly, making sure to keep himself pressed against Benji as he did so, keeping the friction rubbing against Benji’s cock until both their erections were pressed together and they let out identical moans. Joel grabbed Benji’s face with both hands, pulling him in for another kiss.

Tongues tentatively slipped in and out of each other’s mouths, occasionally meeting and rubbing against one another for a moment before one pulled away. Lips closed over lips, a brief moment spent sucking, and the twins pulled away for breath. Hips ground against hips, so unhurriedly and calmly that the pair’s short and gasped breaths would have seemed completely unnecessary. After what seemed like a lifetime to both of them, Benji slid himself out gently from between his brother and the kitchen counter, panting.

“Here?”

“Why not?”

Both sank to the floor in an instant. Benji spread his legs and lay with his back against the floor with a slight hiss at the sudden shock of the cold tiles against his heated skin. Joel lay down between Benji’s legs and ground himself lazily him, catching Benji’s lips mid-moan and kissing him languidly. Leaning his weight on one arm as they kissed, he ran his free hand down Benji’s ribs, past his ass and along his thigh. Benji groaned around Joel’s tongue and tightened his grip on Joel’s shoulders, pushing him gently away.

"Fucking fuck me already," Benji said breathily. Joel grinned and pulled himself away from Benji, and leaning over him, scrabbled around on the kitchen counter for the cooking oil he knew was there. Lying on the floor beneath Joel, Benji couldn't resist sitting himself up halfway and sucking on the head of Joel's cock that was hovering less than a foot above his head. Joel groaned loudly and jerked his hips into Benji's mouth, the oil momentarily forgotten. As soon as Benji slid himself off Joel, Joel grabbed the oil and knelt back down between Benji's legs. Benji caught sight of the yellow bottle in Joel's hands as he fumbled with the lid and gave Joel a questioning look.

"Please don't tell me you're planning to use that stuff as lube?"

Joel looked down impatiently at Benji, breathing heavily.

"Well, yeah... Why shouldn't we?"

"Cooking oil? That's just... Wrong. And weird."

"Well did you remember to pack the lube?" he paused knowingly. "Exactly. Any better ideas?"

"'Spose not," muttered Benji, wrinkling his nose slightly and eyeing the bottle warily.

Joel popped open the lid, pouring a little of the liquid into the palm of his hand before putting the bottle to one side and beginning to rub his hand along his erection, spreading the oil along his length and letting a long and shaky breath out.

“That looks disgusting.”

“Benji, shut… mmm… shut the fuck up.”

Benji stuck his tongue out at Joel and spread his legs open, Joel resisting the urge to moan out loud at the sight. He laid his body flush against Benji’s, the two of them groaning just from the feeling of their bare skin laid against one another’s. There was nothing that could ever replace that feeling. Both could have happily laid in the same position forever, feeling the heat and clamminess of the sweaty skin and each feeling the other’s heart racing with adrenaline and lust. Staring into each other’s eyes and feeling their chests pushing against each other as they gasped for air. But the moment never lasted. Neither of them had the restraint to stay still when they were both that painfully hard for each other.

Joel placed his hands gently on either side of Benji’s hips and gave them a quick squeeze before he slowly began to ease himself into Benji. Benji’s breath caught in his throat and he held it there with his eyes squeezed as tightly shut as he could, feeling his own muscles tense up as Joel slowly filled his entire being. He opened his eyes to be met with Joel’s face only inches away from his own, and in that moment it seemed like nothing existed but the two of them. Benji couldn’t see anything but Joel’s face, couldn’t hear anything except their own laboured breathing and couldn’t feel anything except Joel’s cock buried in his ass and Joel’s stomach rubbing against his erection as he pulled part of the way out, Joel’s hands holding almost painfully hard onto his hips.

Joel leaned down to Benji’s face and pressed his lips chastely against Benji’s. Benji opened his mouth and Joel slid his tongue out, caressing Benji’s tongue which was doing exactly the same thing. Both moaned as Joel shifted his weight slightly, the hard tiles beginning to hurt his knees.

“Benj,” he said delivering a kiss to his jaw between every word. “Can… can we shift?”

Benji nodded and Joel slid his hands under Benji’s back and began to pull him into a sitting position, Benji clinging onto his shoulder’s and moaning at the sensation as Joel proceeded to lie back, forcing himself slightly deeper into Benji and managing to brush against his prostate.

“You, urgh, you bitch” Benji panted, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Mmm… why?”

“Making me do all the… all the work.”

Joel laughed as Benji placed his hands on Joel’s sweating chest and began to move himself up and down on Joel’s cock, leaning forward to give himself something extra to push back on. Joel lay his head back and began to moan as though in pain, twisting his head round from one side to the other, his moans more than matched by Benji.

“Fuck J-Joel, why do you, oh God, why do you always feel so fucking good?”

“I… yeah Benj, just like that… I must get it from my brother.”

Benji’s grin was lost as his mouth opened to let out another gasp of pleasure as Joel planted his feet more firmly on the floor, allowing himself to begin to meet Benji’s thrusts and push up further into him. Joel took hold of Benji’s erection and began to jerk him off roughly.

“Oh fuck Joel, fuck fuck fuck, I’m ne-nearly there,” Benji said, feeling his stomach muscles beginning the familiar clenching and unclenching that could only mean one thing. Still, he kept rocking back and forth in Joel’s lap bringing both of teetering on the edge together.

With one identical final moan erupting loudly from two different mouths, Benji came across Joel’s chest and hand in thick white streaks and Joel released himself into Benji, driven over the brink by Benji’s muscles contracting around him.

Breathless and totally exhausted, they both remained in the same position and staring into each other’s eyes, tired grins on both their faces, until Benji pulled himself off Joel and stood up, supporting himself on the counter.

Joel looked up from his position on the floor and wrinkled his nose at Benji, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“What?”

“Now you really do need a shower.”

Give Up The Grudge

Fri, 19 Mar 2004 21:26:22 GMT

Pairing: Billy/Benji [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 11,618
Summary: Highschool fic. Benji and Joel are the new kids, Billy is put in charge of them (cos we've totally never heard that one before...) Originally split into 5 chapters.

Chapter 1
I sit picking at the remnants of the weekend's black nail polish at the base of my fingernails, frowning slightly when bits refuse to come off. The bell rings loudly, startling me, but I don't show it outwardly, my eyes possibly the only sign that it scared the shit out of me. But they're hidden behind stringy bits of fringe.

Every start of a new year's the same. All the people in my class will be in a big circle bragging about how many parties they went to or how many girls they fucked during the summer, while the loners will just sit at their desks by themselves, reading or doing something else vaguely uncool. Or picking at their nail varnish. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather never have a friend in my life than be part of their group. I can't imagine anything more boring than hanging round with them. And I doubt they'd want a bisexual "freak" like me hanging round with them anyway.

Sure enough, the teacher comes into the room looking flustered and unorganised as ever. Two guys follow him, the one nearly running to keep up with him and the other slouching with his hands shoved in his pockets. Everyone stares at the two new kids for a moment before the teacher pointedly clears his throat. The circle reluctantly disbands and the class find their way to their own desks and sit silently waiting for the teacher to get himself sorted out. Eventually, he coughs embarrassedly and moves to the front of the class to address us.

"So... Welcome back class. I hope you all had a good summer."

There are a few scattered exclamations of "hell yeah!" from behind me and the teacher carries on pretending not to have heard them. He waves one of his hands towards the two boys waiting patiently behind him. Seeing them standing next to each other, it's immediately obvious they're twins, although you wouldn't know it from their clothes and hair. The one who was running is wearing a pair of plain black jeans and a tight white t-shirt and has a plain sensible haircut. The sloucher has a pink stripe through his black hair and a lip ring, and he's wearing a pair of baggy cut-offs and a Sex Pistols t-shirt. Poser, I think, taking an instant dislike to him.

"As you've probably guessed, these two are new kids so I want you all to treat them all nicely. Now, what are your names?"

Runner boy clears his throat nervously and mumbles "Joel."

The sloucher leers at the class and says loudly "Benji." The teacher frowns at Benji, barely bothering to disguise the wrinkling of his nose.

"Benjamin and Joel what?"

"Madden." they say in perfect unison, causing a few titters from the girls and snorts from the guys. Benji shifts his weight while looking at the class appraisingly, his gaze lingering on me longer than anyone else. I stare back at him, not doing anything to hide the obvious dislike written on my face. Joel blushes, obviously uncomfortable being watched by a whole room of people at the same time and shifts his weight nervously just as his brother had done, but with none of the arrogance. He doesn't seem so bad...

"Right, thank you. Now..." He looks around the class trying to find someone to lump the pair onto, to show them round, make them feel right at home, get to know the ropes and all that shit. Please God don't pick me. I look down quickly at the hands folded in my lap pretending I hadn't even been paying attention. Bad move. "Mr Martin? I wonder if you'd be so kind as to look after these two today and make them feel right at home. Thank you."

The teacher motions to the two empty desks beside me and the twins sit down, Joel next to me and Benji next to him. I offer the best smile I can muster and hold out my hand to Joel, whispering my name to him as the teacher continues about making a fresh start in the new year. He smiles warmly and shakes it back. I look at Benji, wondering if I should do the same for him or just not bother, but he's already waiting with his hand outstretched. I take it and give it a brief shake before letting go and muttering my name to him.

"Yeah, I heard," he smirks back. Fine then.

I slouch back into my chair and Joel leans over to me and whispers.

"By the way, I think we're okay about being shown around and stuff if you don't want to. We can manage by ourselves," I can tell he doesn't mean it from the vaguely-pleading look in his eyes, but I can't help smiling at the fact he offered, as it's probably all too obvious I'd rather not.

"Nah, it's no real problem. Be nice to have some company for once anyway," I smile back hoping I didn't sound like too much of an asshole.

"You a loner then?" Joel asks. I study his face for a moment, but I can't see any hint of disregard or hostility on it. I nod hesitantly. "That's cool, we normally are too, y'know? Once the novelty of having twins around has worn off, we're just another pair of freaks."

"Well, you seem perfectly normal to me," I grin back and he returns the grin. I glance over his shoulder at Benji who's picking at the black nail varnish on his own fingernails boredly. "What's up with your brother?" I whisper back to Joel.

Joel sighs and leans in to me again.

"He's just pissed that we've had to come to a new school and shit. We had some... Family problems and we've had to move here because of it and stuff. Don't worry, he's normally not as... Well, you know what I mean."

Pissy? Arrogant? Up himself? Suggestions run through my mind, but they don't really seem a good idea to suggest to the guy's twin. I settle for just nodding. As the teacher drops the timetables onto our desks, I pick mine up and sigh in relief. First thing on a Monday morning for me is a Study Period in the library. I peer over at Joel's timetable and see he's got the same. I wonder briefly if the twins are both taking the same subjects or if I'll be spared Benji's company for an hour.

Joel's head looks from my timetable to Benji's and he smiles. "Looks like Billy's in the library with us Benj." Benji gives a small smile and gets up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. I notice for the first time he's wearing eyeliner and I nearly have to stop myself from laughing at him. Okay, so I wear make-up, but wearing it to school's just a bit too desperate. I get up swinging my own bag over my shoulder and waiting for Joel to get up.

The three of us walk out of the classroom together, Joel between Benji and me once again. The hallways are packed solid with people and I have to shove my way to the staircase, trusting Joel and Benji are still following me okay. They're still right behind me when I reach the stairs and we make our way to the library in relative silence as I point out various important rooms to them.

"That's the canteen... The geography room... Detention room..."

Joel laughs and nudges his brother as we walk past the detention room. "You'd better learn your way to that room pretty fast, Benj." Benji laughs genuinely for the first time that day and the change that comes over his face is startling, he looks like a totally different person.

"Ooh, are you a bit of a rebel then?" I smirk, my voice laden with sarcasm, before I can stop myself. I glance back at them quickly to see how they'd react. Joel's grinning at Benji, looking like he probably agrees with me and often teases Benji about it. Benji's grinning at me.

"I try my best, y'know?"

I snort at him, not nearly as bitterly as before, surprised to find myself somewhat relieved they didn't get offended at my stupid comment. Don't fuck this up now... These guys don't look like the popular kid type and Joel as good as said they were loners. You might have landed yourself some friends Martin.

Don't be a prat. They'll just leave you like all your other "friends". Still... I peer at the two of them out of the corner of my eye. They're walking side by side and their side profiles are perfect matches. I stand there gaping at the sight until I realise Benji's looking back at me and I blush, dropping my gaze. Blush?! I can't remember the last time I blushed for anybody... Benji doesn't say anything and carries on walking forwards.

When we reach the library I get a table as far away from the teacher's desk as possible and sit down. Benji and Joel sit next to each other and I can't stop my eyes flitting from face to face, marvelling at the similarity. I've never met twins before, so it's something of an experience. I dump my bag on the floor, and the twins follow suit. I look at Benji's bag and find it covered in tipex doodles and various band patches, all punk bands. The word "poser" comes to mind yet again, but I dismiss it. He's started looking a bit more cheerful and it's done wonders for my opinion of him. Joel's bag is exactly what you'd expect, identical to Benji's save it's completely devoid of any vandalism or patches.

There's a moment's awkward silence as we all stare at each other, at a loss for anything to say, until Joel and me start at the same time.

"So, wha-,"

"Do you guys-,"

I feel myself blushing again, much to my horror. Why the fuck is this happening? I don't think I've ever blushed this much in my life. Benji grins widely at my obvious embarrassment and continues where his brother left off.

"What sort of music you into then, Billy?" Something in the way he says it tells me his whole judgement of me is going to be based on whether we share musical tastes. Maybe he's not such a poser-punk then? And what am I supposed to say to his question? I don't like punk, but if I say no then he might get pissed thinking I'm insulting him or something, and surely the more we have in common the more likely I am to stay friends with these two... Wait, what the hell am I doing? Since when did I give a damn what people think of me?

"Metal mostly. And just general rock. I dunno, I'll listen to anything really." There goes my determination to say what I really think. And I hope that's not another blush brewing up.

"Cool."

"I take it you like punk?" I smile, raising my eyebrows in a mock-questioning way.

"Damn, is it that obvious?" he laughs, running his hand through his patch of pink. I laugh back and look at Joel who's been flitting his eyes between Benji and me, grinning his head off. Benji looks to him too and I think I see a slight red tinge appear on his cheeks. Glad I'm not the only one.

"What the fuck are you looking so happy about?"

"Excuse me!" An angry voice yells over from the teacher's desk. "I hope I didn't just hear a profanity from your table?"

"Sorry sir," Benji grins, not sounding in the least bit regretful. I don't think he could sound more cheeky if he tried. I grin and Joel rolls his eyes at me, kicking Benji under the table.

"Come here please. What's your name?" Benji gives a dramatic huff and makes a show of getting up, causing Joel to crack up silently as Benji saunters over to the desk.

"Benji Madden," he says curtly, causing me to snort invoulantarily.

"Well, Benjamin, you've just earned yourself a detention this lunchtime. Now go and sit down and if I hear another word from your table all three of you will be in there." Joel immediately stops laughing and looks at his brother, and I can tell he's silently willing him not to say anything stupid.

"My name's Benji," Joel's eyes fly shut.

"What?!"

"I said, my name isn't Benjamin, it's Benji."

"Well Benji, be sure to tell that to the teacher on detention duty after school tonight. And your friends can accompany you this lunchtime."

Benji walks back over to our table and flops down into the seat.

"Well done, dickwad," Joel hisses quietly, punctuating it with another kick. Benji flutters his eyelashes at him and moves his gaze to me, giving me an apologetic look while mouthing the word "sorry" to me. I shake my head to let him know I don't mind. And I get an idea.

I bend down to my sketchbook in my bag and tear out a scrap of paper, before scribbling - When Benji's in detention do you wanna come wait at my house for him? I live about 10 mins away - on it and passing it to Joel. He reads it and his face lights up and he nods vigorously. Benji gets a walkman out of his bag and slips a tape labelled "Social D" into it before pressing play. Thankfully, he's got it turned quietly enough for it to slip unnoticed by anyone but us.

We sit in silence for the remainder of the hour, Joel fiddling with the note and me doodling on the table in pencil. I've never had anyone round to my house before. I nearly wince at how pathetic that sounds, but it's true. I'm 16 years old, nearly 17 and I've never had anyone round to my own house before. And now a guy that I've known for about three quarters of an hour is coming round. Tonight. Albeit, only for about an hour or so, but still. Sarah'll probably die of shock if she thinks I might have a friend.

When the bell rings, we walk down to where the lockers for our year are. The twins have been assigned the lockers next to mine, and Benji frowns at them for a moment, before realisation dawns. "Ooh, I get it, Madden, Martin, right?"

Joel and I look at each other and burst out laughing and Benji puts on a ridiculous pout. "Hey, don't make fun, it's my first day!" He whines and Joel nudges him sharply.

"Wake up, blondie. This is Billy, Billy Martin. Okay?" he says, mock-rolling his eyes and Benji shoves him gently. I smile and look down at my schedule. I've got double Art until lunch. Somehow neither of them look the "arty" types. Benji peers at his own and looks up.

"We've both got Spannish now."

"Right, follow me and I'll show you where the Spannish class is." I say, starting to lead the way.

"You don't have it?" says Joel, looking a little worried.

"No, I got Art now. Don't worry, just sit as near to the back as you can and most people will probably ignore you," I curse myself, realising what I just said, blushing yet again. "That is, if you want to, I'm sure you'll get along fine with the other people and stuff..."

"Nah, I don't think we'll be doing that, everyone else here looks like a bunch of prats. 'Cept you of course." Joel grins and I grin back, stopping outside the door to their class.

"Well, here it is. Would you like me to come and pick you up afterwards?" I smile patronisingly.

"I think we'll manage thanks. Meet you in the cafeteria?"

I nod and walk off to my own class.

Chapter 2
My art class is over in a flash. I sat down at the table and carried on with my project from over the summer and before I knew it, the bell was rudely interrupting my concentration and demanding that I go to lunch and then to detention.

As I enter the bustling cafeteria, I scan the tables quickly to see if Benji and Joel had arrived yet. A moment later, a couple of hands shoot up and start waving wildly at me. I quickly pick out the owners of the arms and nod to show I'd seen them. I wait patiently in the queue to see what delights the school was offering for vegetarians today. "CHEESY PASTA BITES!" proclaims a menu on the wall behind me... Maybe I'll just have a salad or something. I slip quietly into the queue nearer to the salad and pick a plate and help myself to a bit of everything before paying for it and hurrying over to Benji and Joel's table.

I notice with a jolt that one of the popular guys is sitting opposite them and talking animatedly to them... What was his name again? Jason? Even his name was a fucking stereotype. The twins both have their backs to me so I can't see what they're saying. I continue walking to the table, unsure of whether I should just leave them to it, or go sit with them and risk being humiliated if they've realised how much more fun they could have hanging out with the baseball team. Trust wins over brains and I go to sit down.

Jason (or is it Jake?) glances up and sees me coming, and hurriedly says something to the pair before getting up to leave. He offers me a snide smile as he walks past but I just look right through him as though he's not really there. I put my tray down gently on the table and slide into the seat, not meeting Benji and Joel's identical gazes

"How'd Art class go?" offers Joel conversationally.

"Fine... It's the only class I really like, so yeah it was good..." I trail off pathetically. I glance up at them and Joel's got a huge grin plastered on his face. I wonder briefly if he has any other facial expressions other than varying degrees of smile. I look to Benji to see his head's looking down to his plate, a pile of virtually untouched cheesy pasta bites lying in front of him. I can't really tell but it looks like his face is bright red.

Joel sees my puzzled frown and his grin hitches up several notches. I desperately want to reach over to him and try pulling it into a frown to see if he looks any different, but manage to restrain myself.

"Don't mind him, he's just excited cos James told us to stay away from you," As the words leave Joel's mouth, Benji chokes on a piece of his pasta bite and looks at Joel in horror, giving him a sharp kick under the table. I frown up at Joel, confusion written all over my face.

"And that's... A good thing?"

Joel glances at Benji, who's giving the best if-looks-could-kill-look I've seen in a very long time and shrugs.

"No, we just thought it was funny, that's all."

"Benji doesn't look as though he found it funny," I say pointedly, but tiring of the subject. Still, I can't help but wonder... "And why have you got to stay away from me anyway?"

Joel laughs and shakes his head, silently asking me just to drop it, so I shrug and wolf down my salad, noticing Benji and Joel have basically finished their lunches, as it doesn't look like Benji'll be forcing himself to eat anymore of that crap any time soon. He pokes a piece of pasta around with his fork, and looks up when I've finished.

"Detention then? On my first day as well," he grins ruefully, rolling his eyes at Joel and me. We all get up to follow him and tramp up off to the detention room. When we arrive, the teacher on detention duty gives us the customary reproachful look before turning back to her book. We all move to sit next to each other in the middle of the room, before she looks up and raises her eyebrows.

"Excuse me? What do you three think you're doing?"

We glance between each other, bewildered as to what we could have possibly be doing wrong now.

"You haven't been sent here to pass notes or pull faces at each other. Please sit separately. You," she says, pointing at me, "sit at the back. And you sit in front of him, and you in front of him."

We all roll our eyes and sit down at the desks, preparing for a long lunchtime. I get out my sketchbook and start working on my art. Sure enough, I soon get bored and instead stare at the back of Benji's head. He's got it spiked up and although the spikes are only really small, it looks really good on him. I smile at the back of his head as he flicks screwed up paper at Joel. Maybe he's not so bad after all? I nearly snort to myself, who am I kidding? I can feel the beginnings of a crush for this guy.

Just don't do anything. The last thing I need now is for them to find out I'm bisexual (or gay? I guess I haven't really decided yet... Damn hormones) and leave me alone like everyone else. I stare at the two twins in front of me, briefly wondering if they would get freaked and leave me.

*#*

The end of school bell rings, shaking me out of a stupor and signalling the end of my History class. I nearly run out of the classroom to meet Joel on the street outside school, very nearly tripping over my bag on the way. When I get there, Joel's already waiting for me, chewing on one of his nails and I tut jokingly.

"What?"

"You shouldn't bite your nails, just think of where they've been!" I laugh.

"What, you want me to let 'em grow long like a fucking girl?"

Dismissing various mental images of Joel painting his own nails a fetching shade of red, I grin and set off towards my house. As we walk along, Joel kicks along a can silently and I follow the can's journey with my own eyes. The silence between us isn't exactly awkward, and after a few minutes, Joel looks up at me.

"Y'know... I'm sorry about Benji. He's really normally not such an asshole. You and him sound like you've got loads in common... And I just kinda hope you didn't get off on the wrong foot if you know what I mean?"

"No, it's cool. I can kinda understand why he'd be pissed at having to move to this shithole school anyway," Joel laughs and before the conversation tails off I hurriedly continue, "Can I ask... What did James say to you that Benji didn't want me to hear?"

Joel's head jerks briefly, probably not the question he was expecting to hear.

"He, uh, told us to watch out for you."

"What? Why?" Joel's face breaks into yet another grin, so I'm assuming it can't be too bad. Or it's just too funny to put into words and as soon as I hear I'm gonna drop dead from the humiliation. One or the other.

"He told us you're gay and that you'd be trying it on us if we didn't watch out, and that we were welcome to hang out with him if we wanted."

Maybe it was the humiliation one after all. My cheeks turn the colour of a fire hydrant and I stare down at my feet, not saying a word.

"Of course," continues Joel, sounding like he's trying to swallow a laughing fit, "That was before my brother pointed out that he too is gay. After that James left pretty sharpish."

My head jerks up to Joel's and he's looking at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to say something. So, do I tell Joel I'm starting to think his brother's hot? Do I run away quickly in the opposite direction? Tell Joel I'm not gay? Start talking about the weather? Pretend I didn't hear him? Or just carrying on standing here with my mouth hanging open like a fish's, and probably just as attractively.

"Benji's gay?!" Right, that was at least a proper sentence. Subject, verb, direct object. All in working order. Still, could have sounded slightly more intelligent if I'd added another part of speech or two. Maybe made my voice slightly less high-pitched. Oh well.

"Yuh-huh," laughs Joel, "And, yeah... I think he was kinda pleased to hear he's not the only one."

Well, he's definitely not the only one pleased to hear it.

Chapter 3
I quietly shut the front door and smile encouragingly at Joel who looks slightly intimidated to be in someone's house. Actually, thinking about it, it's probably kinda weird. After all, I've known the guy for what, 8 hours or so? He peers around the hallway as I pull off my jacket and hang it on the hook under the staircase. It's not an especially amazing house, but it seems to be fascinating to Joel.

"Mom?" I yell down the hall towards the kitchen, but no-one answers. "Guess she's still at work. You want a drink or anything?" I offer awkwardly. Okay, a person in your house. What exactly are you supposed to do now? Apart from offer them refreshments...

"Nah, I'm fine. Hey, is your room all gothic and stuff?" says Joel, his face lighting up at the prospect.

"Uhh... Not exactly. Just kinda dirty really. More grunge than goth anyway," Lame, lame, lame attempt at a joke there, Martin. Thankfully I didn't manage to make it sound like I was doing stand-up comedy so it flies straight over Joel's head. He shrugs and motions his hand to lead him there.

I tramp up the stairs, feeling slightly weirded out. I can feel Joel watching me all the way up the stairs and it's kinda strange, like he's checking me out. But he's not, obviously. Maybe checking to see if I'm good enough for his brother? The thought brings a huge grin to my face and it's still firmly in place when I reach my door. I push it open tentatively and step in lightly, Joel still following close behind.

"Cool... How'd you get it so dark in here?"

I know what he means, I'm one of those sort of people who manages to make a room seem dark despite the fact the walls are covered in posters and there's a biggish window at one end. Suppose the black bedsheets and dark navy walls help a bit. I shrug and smile.

"Well, this is it. Pretty exciting, huh?"

"No, seriously I like it. It's very you," he says, smiling softly, "you wouldn't believe how annoying it can be to share a room with Benji. He talks like a steam train for hours and will not shut up." I laugh slightly, I really want to ask about what it's like to have a twin and stuff, but I don't want to make he feel like I think he's a freak or anything. Maybe he's sensitive about it? I swallow.

"Can you two like, read each other's thoughts and stuff?"

He scratches the back of his head, considering this for a moment. "Nah, not really. It's sorta like we're so close and we've spent so much time with each other that we know what the other's probably thinking, y'know? Like you'd be if you'd been really close friends with someone since you were both little kids, if you know what I mean?"

Well, I don't, but I can understand what he means. I nod silently, wracking my brains for anything interesting to say in reply, but once again, Joel comes to the rescue.

"You have any brothers or sisters?"

And so we carry on talking randomly about family life, holidays and most-embarrassing-moments until I glance at the clock to find two hours have flashed past. My mom and dad still aren't home, so I offer to walk back to school with Joel to pick up Benji. He tells me it's fine and he can manage so I see him out and collapse onto my bed, a lot more exhausted by school than I ever remember being before.

*#*

I wake up with a jolt and my eyes immediately fly shut again, it's way too bright outside. Wait... Bright... Daytime... School! I leap out of bed and into the bathroom, and nearly end up using a razor to brush my teeth and a toothbrush to scrub my face in my rush. I dart back into my bedroom and glance at the clock, noting I've got 10 minutes to finish getting dressed and get to school before I'm late. Shitshitshit... I hurriedly pull on a random t-shirt from the floor, slam my legs into the first pair of pants I can find and race out of the house as fast as my still half-asleep legs will carry me, politely ignoring my mother's offers of toast.

Roughly 10 minutes later I stumble into the classroom, out of breath and with flushed cheeks, much to the surprise of all assembled. I don't think that any of them had ever seen me looking flushed about anything. Well, with the exception of Benji and Joel yesterday of course. As I'm reminded of the chief reason I rushed to school this morning, my eyes hurriedly scan the classroom looking for them and soon enough fall on them, sitting in the exact same place as yesterday, waiting for me. I grin stupidly at them before realising I've been standing in the doorway for way too long.

I stumble gracefully over to the desk and flop down into it.

"Morning guys," I whisper as I start to fiddle with the straps on my bag.

"Heya," they say back, in perfect unison. Ack, they're just doing it to freak you out, pretend you didn't hear it. Look at Benji's shoes, they're interesting. Why not make a comment on his hair or something? Look away Martin, you're staring again.

I tear my gaze away from him and go back to rummaging into my bag and I see Joel give Benji a sly nudge out of the corner of my eye. Benji clears his throat and looks over to me, so I meet his gaze questioningly. Jesus, he looks good this morning.

"Joel and me got invited to this party on Friday night, and we wanna go, but only if you come too, but it's cool if you don't cos I know you don't really like anyone here and being some kind of carer for the two of us must be being pretty annoying and-" I grin at his flustered face and cut him of mid-babble.

"Sure, I'd love to."

As I turn back to the front of the class, I hear a small sigh of relief from beside me. At least, I'm hoping it's relief. And not an Oh-God-I-Didn't-Think-He-Was-Gonna-Say-Yes kinda sigh. I steal a quick glance at Benji and his face is totally unreadable, so I look to Joel, trademark grin still in place. So I guess it's a good thing? I look back to Benji and start slightly as I see his eyes boring deep into my own. I blush and look away at the same time as he does.

Damn fucking hormones. My pituitary gland's gonna pay for this...

Chapter 4
The sickly-sweet smell of beer and cigarettes washes over me in a nauseating wave and I can feel the thumping bass vibrations on the doorstep. The limited view I have into the hallway makes it look even darker inside the house than it is outside. I can make out the vague shapes of bodies sprawled across the stairs, people stumbling along the once-immaculate carpet and a cloud of smoke floating vaguely around the ceiling, observing the foolish behaviour below it with a cool nonchalance. Nonchalance… That sounds like an appropriate mask for me tonight. I’m so nervous about being here; I can barely conceal my shaking hands.

I follow the twins ahead of me, chewing on my lip. I put my lip ring in tonight, especially for Benji. Corny, corny, corny. Shut up Martin. Although he did stare at it when they came over to pick me up. I’m assuming that was a good thing. It feels really warm against my tongue, which probably means I’ve been playing with it too much. I let my lip fall free and turn my attention back to the twins, noting they’ve stopped to say something to me.

“You two want something to drink?” offers Joel, straining to be heard above the loud music. Benji nods silently and I do the same, wondering why Benji hasn’t spoken more than two words to me all night. Joel wanders off towards the kitchen and I stand there awkwardly with Benji. He gives me a shy smile before darting his eyes to the floor, and I take the opportunity to study him carefully.

Tonight he’s wearing a pair of plain black trousers, adorned with a band patch on each back pocket. Swiftly averting my eyes from his ass before they get too attached, I slide my gaze up to his chest. He’s got a band t-shirt on… a band I’ve never heard of before. It’s quite tight and I wonder briefly if it’s actually a girl’s fitted t-shirt. But no, I doubt he’d be that gay. It looks really good anyway, showing off a nice chest and stop staring damn you. Move up to the hair. Still retaining its pink patch, he has it up in spikes again. But this time, they’re much smaller and it looks even better than the first time I saw him. He looks up at me suddenly without warning and I jump slightly, quickly looking away, hoping he didn’t see me drooling.

I’ve got it way too bad.

I wonder if he knows?

Quick, think of something interesting/witty/intelligent to say.

Anytime soon.

My eyes stumble on his t-shirt. Perfect!

“Who are Hope Dies Last?”

“Huh?”

“Your t-shirt,” I say, pointing helpfully.

“Oh… They’re this band…” he trails off, looking flustered.

“Cool,” I say lamely. Great way to expand the conversation. “Punk band?”

“Yeah, kinda. You ever heard of Minor Threat?”

It rings a bell. Albeit an extremely vague one with a muffled clapper.

“Yeah.”

“They’re a bit like them, but more melodic and shit. Not normally my kind of thing, but they were a local band from where we used to live and I used to go to all their shows because a friend of mine is their drummer.”

I blink. I don’t think he’s said that many words in one go to me since his first day at our school, nearly a week ago now. It seems like so long. I claw at all the vague recesses of my mind, trying to think of ways to respond to him.

“Cool. I don’t really go to many gigs or anything. No big bands ever play round here and all the local bands tend to be seriously shit, so it’s not really worth the bother, you know?”

“Yeah. They were a bit like that where we came from, but I find they’re normally okay when you’ve got someone to go with,” he says, motioning towards the kitchen where Joel disappeared to. “But I’m guessing you don’t really know many people into metal round here?”

I smile and shake my head, wondering where the hell Joel had got to. My conversation vocabulary is running out rapidly. I think I pretty much exhausted the possibilities of the t-shirt. Benji looks at my own t-shirt, a plain black one with a single spider in the middle surrounded by a blood-red web.

“Your t-shirt’s really cool,” I look down at it, shrugging and smiling shyly. “You look really nice tonight. I-I mean… Yeah, you look… Really good,” I stare at him, my mouth possibly hitting the floor. There is no way in hell he just said that. Or if he did, he didn’t mean it. I’m sure the smoke from varying degrees of illegal drugs from the surrounding rooms would be more than capable of making him talk shit. He blushes the shade of my mom’s favourite lipstick and looks towards the kitchen.

“Shall we go see where Joel got to go?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks off into the kitchen. I follow him completely blankly, waiting for him to turn round and laugh at me for being such a gullible twat. No such thing happens, and the butterflies in my stomach make themselves slightly more pronounced. As we survey the kitchen, it becomes immediately obvious that Joel’s not here. Benji huffs and mumbles-

“Wait here, I’ll go find him,” and he disappears into the jungle of the party. I walk up to the beer keg and help myself. I stand back, trying to blend into the background and not attract any unwanted attention. Suddenly, a strange hand grabs my arm and I spin round, sloshing beer onto the carpet. Whoops.

My heart rate falls back to normal when I see it’s just Joel. He looks really excited about something, and when he doesn’t say anything I just raise my eyebrows in question.

“How did it go?!” he nearly squeals.

“What?” I ask, completely nonplussed.

“With Benji? What did he say? What did you say?”

My blank look obviously speaks volumes, and Joel shakes his head in exasperation.

“I left the two of you alone for a reason y’know. Don’t tell me you didn’t even talk to each other?”

“W-Are you trying to hook us up?!”

“Hell yeah, you don’t mind do you?” he winks, nudging me sharply in the ribs. I stare at him, completely unbelieving.

“Does he like me?” Joel shrugs and laughs at the look on my face.

“I’m just kidding. Yeah, he hasn’t actually said so, but I honestly think he likes you,” he says solemnly, “Really likes you.”

Butterflies are back.

Joel grabs my arm and yanks me into the lounge where Benji disappeared to. We soon find him standing in the middle of the room, looking through the sea of faces for Joel. His eyes light up when he sees us, all of his previous annoyance gone. He comes over to us and I see he’s cradling a half-drunk beer. Aha. He walks over to us and mumbles something into Joel’s ear, who promptly nods. Benji pulls away from Joel and gives me the sort of smile that makes my butterflies start attacking each other in their hurry to escape from my stomach.

The three of us stand there in a contented silence until we’re disturbed by a blond girl with one of the lowest cut tops gracing her chest I’ve ever seen. A couple more centimetres and you’d be able to see her nipples. Benji and I subtly lean away from the offending article of clothing, grinning at the whole oh-wow-we-did-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time thing. Joel however, leans in close enough to make up for both us and starts chatting animatedly to the girl who looks delighted to have found some company. Predictably enough, Benji and I are soon forgotten.

I notice Benji’s beer level decreasing rapidly, so I beckon him to the kitchen and he follows me. I find I’m having trouble walking in a straight line and I can feel his eyes on my back. I haven’t had that much to drink, so I’m pinning all the blame on Benji. Yup, it’s all him.

I hand Benji his plastic cup and get one of my own, and by the time I’ve turned around, he’s downed the whole thing. I gape at him and he shrugs sheepishly.

“Dutch courage.”

“I-I see,” I stutter, not entirely sure my brain would be able to cope with the concept of asking exactly why he’d need the Dutch courage. Anyway, you know it’s not for you anyway Martin, it’s so he can get himself a little breasty blond like Joel’s. He’s not really gay; Joel just told you that so he could have a laugh at his brother’s expense. In fact, neither of them even like you at all. One thing we need to sort out here – You have no chance in hell with this guy.

I sigh and take tentative gulps at the beer. It’s gross, I’m only drinking it to get drunk and as Benji’s already on his third of fourth it looks like I’d better get drinking.

*#*

“Bil-eee,” he sings happily, poking my thigh, “I looove you!” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye and falls onto the floor laughing so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t throw up.

I’m clutching the arm of the sofa so hard my knuckles are white, I think I’ll fall off if I don’t. The room around me is too loud, the colours are too bright and I can’t make sense of anything except for the pleasant warmth sloshing around my head. Benji’s still on the floor crying from laughter and I don’t think I can remember what he said. I pull my face into a weird shape as I strain to remember what it was. It might have been important.

“Billy?” A timid little giggle comes from around my feet.

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?” He bats his eyelashes obscenely and if I weren’t so scared I’d laugh. What do I say?! I settle for shrugging and not meeting his gaze. My eyes land on Joel, who’s tucked in the corner of the room with Blondie.

Benji sighs deeply and struggles to his feet, giving them confused looks as he clutches the couch for support. Once he’s made it into a standing position, he looks at me quizzically.

“Billy, I can’t use my feet properly. They’re all weird.”

“That’s because you’re very drunk, Benji.”

“Am I?” he asks, looking genuinely shocked, “Are you?”

“I think so. But not as drunk as you.”

We both laugh, and Benji grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. As he makes his way into the back garden I try to ignore the way he’s laced his fingers into mine and the way that’s he’s pulling me up against his side as we walk. Or stumble, as the case may be. When we reach the garden, he droops to the ground and sits up, pulling me down next to him.

It’s freezing out here, and we both shiver. My head suddenly feels a lot better and I blink at my surroundings, everything suddenly making a lot more sense. I look over to Benji and he’s staring silently into the distance. I shift my position nervously, giving thanks that the grass is still dry. When he still doesn’t speak, I clear my throat quietly. Surely he didn’t bring me out here just to look at the back fence?

He looks at me, as if startled to find that he actually brought someone out here with him. I offer him an encouraging smile and attempt to swallow in order to try and get those damn butterflies to calm the fuck down. He smiles back and leans his head down on my shoulder, nearly giving me a heart attack. I feel my whole body tense up underneath him, and he must feel it too because he looks up at my face, bewildered.

“I… Sorry. It’s fine, put your head back down.”

He doesn’t answer or move, and I can’t help thinking I’ve just completely blown it. Nice one. I sigh and look away, my heart thumping dejectedly in my chest.

Before I know what’s happening, I feel a breath ghosting across my cheek and I turn sharply, coming face to face with Benji. We pause for a moment and his eyes dart down to my lips, before we both lean in further and kiss. His lips feel so soft and warm against my own but I’m too shocked to do anything except sit there. My heart’s pounding in my chest and my arms and legs are frozen in shock. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s too drunk, he thinks I’m someone else, he just wants to kiss something and I happened to be the nearest available thing; they all sound like plausible explanations. As his hand snakes up my back to rub at my neck and push my face in closer to his, an overpowering urge to push him away works its way to my hands. I shove him as hard as I possibly can, and he throws out his hand to stop himself falling over.

The look on his face nearly breaks my heart; he looks so crushed and confused.

“I thought… I thought you liked me,” he whispers quietly.

“Benji, you’re drunk. I think we should go home.” I get up and start to walk away, trying to hide the single tear running down my face. He didn’t mean it, and you know it. I wonder if he knows I didn’t mean what I just said?

“Billy,” I stop. Why did I stop? “Do you like me?”

“Yes,” I sigh.

“Then… why?”

“You’re drunk Benji. You won’t remember this is the morning. Even if you do, you’ll regret it. Think about it.”

He shakes his head sadly, wordlessly denying everything I just threw at him and the tears are now falling freely down my face. Without warning he stands up and grabs my hand, pulling me into another forceful kiss. It’s the first time I’ve ever properly kissed someone but I kiss back as though our lives depend on it, my lips parting to allow his tongue into my mouth. He moves it against my own, and I feel a groan rumble through his chest. My hands start moving around his back of their own accord, and one moves to his head as I run my fingers through his hair, messing up his spikes. A cold hand moves down my back and underneath my t-shirt, causing me to flinch away from it into him. He groans again as my hips press into his and I jump slightly as one of his hands finds its way down to my ass, pushing me even closer.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” a voice shouts from behind us and we break apart, gasping sharply. However, rather than stepping away from me, Benji moves in towards me and grabs my hand protectively as we both turn to face the voice.

It’s Jack, flanked by some girl I assume is his girlfriend. Neither Benji or I say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. I can feel the heat rushing to my face and I blush obviously, and Jack sees it.

“Yeah, you should be ashamed. Fucking hell, you should be fucking locked up, both of you.”

“Come on Billy,” Benji mutters, pulling me into the house as Jack laughs after the two of us. He drags me into a relatively empty room and slides down the wall to the floor. I sit down next to him and pick his hand up in mine, and he looks up at me.

“I’m sorry Benji, I do like you. I just don’t want us to pretend this never happened in the morning or whatever,” I say quietly, resting my head down on his shoulder without waiting for his response. I hope that wasn’t a bad move. He doesn’t reply and I’m about to move away from him when he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in closer to him. I breathe a sigh of relief into his neck and try to get my fingers to stop trembling in their excitement.

“It’s okay, I guess it was stupid to just kinda thrust myself onto you like that,” he laughs nervously. I look up at him grinning, with my eyebrows raised questioningly and he blushes at my suggestion of innuendo.

“I-I didn’t mean…” I poke his leg playfully.

“I know you didn’t but hey, I can dream can’t I?” I wink at him, a mock-seductive pout gracing my face. He flashes me a dazzling grin before leaning in for another kiss. He catches my bottom lip in between his teeth and pulls at my lip ring, letting it chink softly against his own as he lets it go. I slip my tongue out from my mouth and run it gently along his lips, which promptly part, allowing my tongue into his mouth. He’s sucking it deeper into him, stroking it with his own tongue causing us both to moan simultaneously into the kiss.

He pulls away breathing deeply after what seems like an age.

“What time have you gotta be home?” he breathes into my ear, making me snap back to reality. I’m sitting on the floor of some random person’s house, in the arms of Benji Madden having just shared the most amazing kiss with him and my parents aren’t expecting me back home for another two hours. If at all.

“Not for ages… I don’t think they care, they’re so glad to finally see me ‘socialising’” I gulp, senses still tingling with nerves and pleasure. It sounds stupid but I never realised just kissing could be such a big turn-on. “What about you?”

“I told mum we’d crash at someone’s house,” he replies, leaning down onto my shoulder. I nod, processing the information I’d just been given slowly. Hang on…

“Erm… Were you planning on crashing at my house?” He looks up at me, blinking worriedly.

“I thought Joel asked you?”

“No,” he looks ready to kill someone, most likely Joel, so I hurriedly continue, “But don’t worry, it’ll be fine. My parents will be cool with it.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod, smiling. Wow, not bad for one week – two new friends, one new boyfriend (I think), first kiss and first people to stop over at my house. Nice going, Martin. Very proud of ya.

Chapter 5
Hello stars! Hello moon! Hello Benji, beautiful, wonderful, amazing Benji. Ben-ji. Ben-ji. Ben-ji. Even my footsteps appear to be singing his praises in their steady pace along the pavement. Well, in all honesty it’s more like a stumble, I’m too giddy to be walking properly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was still drunk. I guess I still am, but now I’m not drunk on alcohol, I’m drunk on Benji. Is that a tacky thing to be saying? I don’t care, it’s how I feel and the magic lightness in my chest and the warm glow radiating into the cool air from my cheeks is stopping me from feeling anything but totally contented.

Everything out here tonight seems absolutely beautiful. The road, sidewalk and trees are all bathed in exactly the right shade of blue. The moon and the stars are hanging in the sky in a silver glow, without been at all threatening and there’s no breezes to disturb the calm air around us. Benji and I are walking side by side in this night-time paradise in silence, our arms just touching each time one of us steps slightly ahead of the other one. Joel is walking ahead of us and he really is stumbling. And swaying from side to side. And stopping every now and then to peer at the odd mailbox or garden fence, trying to decide whether it really is pink and green or it’s just him.

Benji lets out a soft snort as Joel trips over his own feet trying to walk swiftly past a suspicious-looking fire hydrant.

“Probably a good job we’re not going home tonight. Poor lil Joely can’t handle his pot. Let alone mixed with however much beer he drunk.” My mouth automatically laughs for me, my attention too focused on Benji’s lips moving to be actually concentrating on the words coming out of them. They’re so pink. And pouty, but that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s just the pink.

“Benji?”

“Mmm?”

“Are my lips pink?”

“What?”

“Are they?”

“Of course they are… Why?”

I shrug, smiling softly to myself and nuzzling my head into his shoulder. So maybe I am a little bit drunk. But I’m walking in a straight line and I’m still capable of un-slurred speech so I can’t be too bad. At least I haven’t started laughing at every car that drives past us like Joel.

As we turn down into my street possibly the first sensible thought of the night begins nagging at the side of my brain and I quickly do a bit of math in my head. Three of us. Two spare beds in my house, unless I get a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor. Much as I don’t mind the idea of sharing a bed with my future husband (…and we will have three children, two boys and one girl. The boys will be called Tyler and Alex, the girl will be called Jade. Or Mel, haven’t quite decided that one yet. We will live in a blue-bricked house in the Middle Of Nowhere suburbia and me and Benji will grow old listening to Elton John records and whiling away our free time playing chess. Will we take our two dogs for walks to the park every day and we will feed the ducks with our home-made bread…) I’m sure he’d be a bit freaked out by my eagerness to get him between the sheets. And plus we’ve only just kinda… Hooked up. And you are not a slut. Restrain yourself, Martin. You have morals to uphold.

“So, where are we all sleeping?” a sly hand slips round my waist, dangerously close to touching my ass. Not that I mind too much. No, wait.

Thinkofyourmoralsthinkofyourmoralsthinkofyourmorals.

“Um, wherever you want?” Benji laughs at pokes me in the side.

“Well do you have any spare beds or are we all sharing a single bed or are we all sleeping on the kitchen floor? I dunno how your house works, remember?”

“Well,” I swallow, “there’s my bed which is kinda a single and a half bed, it’s weird. And then there’s a spare room with a single bed but the rest of the room’s full of junk, so it’s up to you I guess.”

Benji grins shyly. Managing to look even more sexy than normal, might I add. Which is odd because I can only really see his teeth, the rest of his face is all kinda covered in shadow. I blink at him and he appears to blush. At least I’m thinking he does, because it’s too dark for me to tell properly.

“Well, Joel won’t stop talking in his sleep all night now he’s high, and I don’t mind sharing a bed with you,” (And that was most definitely a blush…) “Unless you, like, don’t want to which is cool cos you know…”

Thinkofyourmorals. Ignore the burning and tickling sensations that came from the words “sharing” and “bed”. Ignore the way you want to kiss him again right now, and most certainly ignore the mental undressing that’s began of its own free will inside your own head. Thinkofyourmorals.

“I don’t mind at all,” I whisper in what sounds like it was supposed to be a sultry purr but sort of went wrong when I realised that was exactly what I’d told myself not to say. Oh well, it’s said and done now. And I’m definitely not complaining. Fuck my stupid morals, they’re only there because I was brought up with a sense of decency by my parents. But they’re out until tomorrow. Trying to suppress a giggle, I make my way up our garden path, a blushing Benji and a hiccuping Joel in tow.

Letting us in, Benji and I each grab one of Joel’s arms and yank him up the stairs, dumping him on the bed in the spare room. Benji stands back and gives his half-passed out brother a disapproving glance and smiling up at me.

“Let’s just leave him,” he whispers and moves to leave the room.

He stops out in the hallway and turns to smile at me. I nearly faint at the smile, it’s just so… Gah. So Benji. Now would be a good time to stop staring at him. His eyes dart down to my lips and it suddenly hits me how close we’re standing. A couple more inches and we could touch noses. Or possibly even lips.

My eyes flutter shut as he moves his head slowly towards mine and a hand snakes around my waist, pulling me in closer as the other hand rests gently on my shoulder. I slip my tongue gently out past my own lips and rub it up against Benji’s lip ring. He opens his lips and sucks my tongue gently into his own mouth, running his own tongue smoothly along mine. Before I’m aware he even moved, Benji’s got me pushed up against the wall and he’s pulled away from me slightly. Breathing deeply, we both stare into each other’s eyes. His dark eyes, nearly black in the darkness of my house, are clouded with lust and boring into my own with such an intensity I feel compelled to break away from the stare, but I don’t. Instead, my body decides this would be a good time for me to blush.

“God, Billy…” he near-moans, and leans in for another kiss, placing his hands on my hips and sliding just the fingertips underneath my t-shirt to brush my skin, all the while pressing his hips into mine. He obviously knows perfectly well what he’s doing. Glad he does, cos I sure as hell don’t. I’m having trouble standing up and it’s a real effort to keep myself from moaning. You’re not supposed to be reduced to moaning from just kissing are you?

As the fingers underneath my shirt begin to travel steadily higher and the hips begin to press more forcefully, the urge to moan overcomes my self-restraint and a loud half-moan, half-gasp escapes from my mouth into Benji’s. He pulls away and looks at me, breathing deeply.

“S-sorry,” I whisper.

“What for?” he whispers looking back, looking slightly puzzled.

“Spoiling the moment?” I offer shyly. Benji grins at me and leans in to my ear, licking around the edge before nibbling my ear lobe. He nuzzles his nose into my hair, breathing onto my ear, the cool air on his spit making me shiver.

“Don’t worry about it. Look… I don’t wanna… I mean… Do you want to… You know…”

Oh my God… I know perfectly well what he’s asking and there’s not a single bit of my body that’s saying “no” at the moment. Except for my stomach, but I’m pretty sure that’s only because it’s concentrating too hard on not throwing up from nervousness. I take a deep breath and nod at Benji, somehow making my voice come out perfectly normally and not high-pitched or shaky or sounding like I’ve been planning this moment for the last 7 days. Which I have.

“Yeah, I do want to,” I try to smile encouragingly, but I’m not sure how well it worked.

“Okay… Cool,” Benji sighs in relief and smiles nervously, “So… Where…”

I take his hand in mine, desperately trying to stop my hand from shaking, and lead him into my dark bedroom, closing the door after us. I’m about to reach for the light switch when I feel his hand close over mine and pull it down to him, wrapping his lips around two of my fingers, and sucking gently. I groan and pull them away and throw myself into his arms, meeting him in a hard and forceful kiss. He backs me up to the bed and we both fall down onto it, tangled in a mess of legs and clothes. I think the same thing occurs to us at the same time – clothes. I sit up, pushing Benji away from me slightly and rip my t-shirt off as fast as I can, thankful the room’s still dark and I see the vague outline of Benji doing the same. I fall back down onto the bed, breathing heavily. Benji crawls back over me, throwing a leg over my hips so he’s straddling me. I moan softly as he accidentally brushes against the beginnings of an erection in my pants and he leans back down for another kiss, his arms either side of my chest supporting himself, as my arms wrap round his neck and back, trying to pull him closer.

I have no idea what’s going on, everything’s just rushing past in a blur and all my mind can focus on is Benji, Benji hovering above me, Benji’s soft lips pressing against my own hungrily, Benji’s legs either side of my hips and faintly grinding down, so slightly I’m not even sure if he’s actually doing it. After what seems like hours of near-paradise, Benji leans upwards and looks down at me. I must look a complete mess. I can feel my hair mussed up all round my face and I’m panting like I’ve just run a half-marathon without having eaten anything for the last two days. But then again, Benji’s looking pretty flustered too, so I’m assuming it’s okay.

He leans over, so that all his weight’s resting on the one arm and he’s more or less lying on his side. With his other arm, he draws his fingertips slowly down my chest, over my stomach, coming to a halt just above my pants. My eyelids slip closed in pressure and I swallow a groan of pleasure. He pulls down the zipper of my pants slowly, pulls open the button and then clambers down to pull them off completely, my boxers soon following.

My eyes fly open worriedly, I wonder if it’s wise to be lying here completely naked, dark or not. Benji might get really freaked out by my terrifying skinniness and run away, scarred for the rest of his life. Poor guy. Before he can do anything else, I sit up and start to fumble with his belt buckle in the dark, my hands shaking so much I can barely hold onto it, let alone undo the damn thing. Benji lends a helping hand and the rest of his clothes soon join the pile on the floor.

He rolls back on top of me, so his legs are both resting between mine and our chests are pressed together. He begins sucking on my neck, gently biting down onto the skin and licking it. He lifts his head and begins a trail of kisses down my chest, each one earning him a sharp intake of breath from me. Before he gets too low down, he brings his face back up to mine and whispers into my ear softly

“Do you have anything handy we can use as lube?”

“No,” I whisper back, worriedly.

“That’s okay. Wait there.”

He climbs off the bed and I hear him rummaging around in his pants at the foot of the bed, and I’m briefly wondering with a grin if he’s been counting on this happening all night.

“I’m sure there’s a very good reason why you were carrying lube round in your pocket tonight?” I ask, grinning into the dark.

“No, just a coincidence,” he replies, and I can hear the sheepish grin on his face.

I hear him moan quietly, and the sound of something being spread over skin. I grab hold of his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed and take hold of his erection in my own hands, spreading the lube myself over his heated skin. He hisses and rests his head against my shoulder, moaning with every small movement of my hand. I form my fingers into a loose fist and run it very slowly up and down, very careful not to press too hard and loose some of the lube. Soon, Benji, pushes my hand away and instructs me to lie back and put my legs round his shoulders, and I do so, feeling incredibly stupid and inexperienced. I mean, seriously, what the hell am I doing?

Any thoughts on anything other than what’s happening right now are soon forgotten as I feel Benji’s index finger rubbing gently round my hole and I tense up as he slides the finger slowly into me. I’m nearly gasping from the discomfort, how can anyone possibly think this is good? It just feels completely weird and a tiny bit painful. He begins to move the finger around inside of my and I can’t stop my body from moving with him. Maybe this isn’t so bad…

However, the gradual addition of a second finger nearly has me gasping out loud in pain, this definitely does not feel good and every time he moves either of the fingers inside me it fucking hurts. I let out a small whimper and Benji starts muttering softly to me.

“Don’t worry, it’s nearly over, just try and relax for a minute. Then it’ll feel so much better…”

I can hear him speaking sure, but it’s not really registering in my brain. Relax?! I got that bit sure enough and if I wasn’t so much fucking pain I’d be laughing at him. It feels like I have a pair of scissors shoved up my ass, how would you feel Benji?

But sure enough, I begin to get used to the feeling, and each little movement of his fingers starts to feel better and better, until he pulls them out of me and lines himself up with me. And suddenly I’m not sure if I want to be doing this anymore. I think he sees the panicked look on my face, because he leans down and kisses me softly.

“This is gonna hurt… If it gets too much, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Instead of telling him to stop before he’s even started, like my body’s yelling at me to do, I nod and close my eyes, as I feel him pushing the head of his erection into me. I clench my teeth and breathe hard through my nose, determined not to cry out or whimper, but I can’t stop the tears I can feel rolling down my face.

“Oh Jesus, fuck, Billy… You’re so… fucking tight…” gasps Benji above me. I can barely hear him above the screaming pain inside my head and I can feel a sweat breaking out over my chest and face.

“I’m… I’m in all the way,” Benji gasps moments later, looking down at me, his dark eyes full of concern as he sees the tears streaking my cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm…” I mumble, clenching my teeth too hard to open my mouth properly, until I take in a big gasp of air. “Oh fuck, Benji it hurts, it hurts so much…” Oh great, now I’m whining. I bet that sounds really attractive.

“I know, I know, it’s okay. I promise it’ll get better soon,” he whispers soothingly, wrapping his arms around me tightly and rubbing my sides encouragingly, keeping the rest of his body dead still. I bury my head in his shoulder, groaning as the waves of pain coursing through me begin to subside. Benji props himself back up on the one arm and reaches his other arm to my own erection and begins to stroke it firmly, making me tip my head back and moan softly. He begins to start moving himself in and out of me, very slowly and with tiny movements, perfectly in time with his touches, the idea being that I won’t feel the pain as much.

I accidentally let my hips buck upwards slightly into his hand, and his erection brushes something inside me and I yelp loudly, following it with a long moan. Senselessly mumbling something to Benji about doing that thing again, I try to move my hips in time with Benji’s, and I’m rewarded with a gorgeous moan and a stream of profanities falling from Benji’s lips.

The room around the two of us begins to swirl dizzyingly as I feel the muscles in my stomach and chest begin to clench and unclench with a tickling sensation, and my hips begin to tremble against Benji.

“I think… I think I’m… Nearly there,” I managed to gasp out to Benji, and he nods, unable to speak, and I notice he too is trembling against me, his arms supporting himself look as if they’re about to give way and his thrusts have become longer and faster. With a final stroke from Benji, I let out a loud moan and come onto Benji’s hand and my own stomach, as my muscles clench up, and a surge of white fire runs throughout my entire body.

Benji lets out a similar moan before releasing his own orgasm, and he pulls out me and flops down on the bed next to me, totally exhausted and still quivering as the ripples run through him. After a moment, he props himself on one elbow and leans over and kisses me quickly on the lips.

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you really badly… You okay?”

“Y-yeah…” I say, trying and failing to stifle a huge yawn, “Don’t worry, it was… Amazing. Thanks,” I tail off to a whisper, and Benji lets out a little snort of laughter.

“My pleasure Billy, my pleasure.”

I smile and rest my head against his chest, wrapping my arms round his body and I’m asleep before I even realise I’m tired.

Manners

Sun, 22 Feb 2004 20:03:03 GMT

Pairing: David/Pierre [Simple Plan]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1,658
Summary: Early-morning showers are fun. Even more fun when you bring along your boyfriend. Written for screamerdreamer because she's awesome.

Pierre studied the sleeping form of his bassist lying in the bed next to him. Every little thing about David made Pierre want to reach out and touch him and feel his soft skin under his fingertips; everything from his crumpled black hair to the remnants of last night’s eyeliner smudged underneath his eyes, from the delicate flutterings of his eyelashes to the steady rise-pause-fall motion of his chest.

The covers had been pushed away so that they were tangled around his waist and between his legs, leaving Pierre with a generous view of his bare chest. The early morning sun shone through the blinds, casting black and orange stripes across his boyfriend’s body. Pierre gave in to his temptations and began to softly trace his finger across David’s chest. David sighed in his sleep and curled in towards Pierre, moving to wrap his legs up in Pierre’s. Pierre moved away before David could do so, he didn’t fancy being trapped in bed this early in the morning beneath the sleeping log that was his boyfriend.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom where he proceeded to sleepily scrub at his teeth, ridding himself of his less-than-delightful morning breath. He regarded the shower blearily, weighing up its pros and cons. He decided to take a piss first, before making his decision and did so, watching the shower warily from the corner of his eye. Pro- He hadn’t had a shower for a couple of days. He probably needed it. Con- Movement. Too early for movement. Pro- It’d wake him up. Con- …

Sighing, he dropped his boxers to the floor and turned on the shower, waiting patiently for it to climb above its normal sub-zero temperatures. When he could finally stick his toe into the water without nearly yelping, he climbed in and began the long and boring process of washing himself.

As the warm water ran down refreshingly over his body, he sighed and leant back against the wall, feeling his drowsiness run down the plug hole along with the rest of the water. A sudden rush of cold air to his thighs alerted him to the fact that someone had just opened the door to the tiny stand-alone shower. He grinned, moving further away from the door to allow David room to squeeze in with him.

“Morning sunshine,” David whispered, bending down to nip playfully at Pierre’s shoulder.

Pierre turned around so that he was facing David, their bodies pressed against each other in the cramped space around them, and leant in for a kiss. David wrapped his arms silkily around Pierre’s neck and pulled him in as his tongue gently explored Pierre’s mouth, both of them savouring the first kiss of the morning. As Pierre shifted his weight, his thigh rubbed subtly against David, causing him to moan softly into the kiss. Pierre broke away from the kiss and grinned cheekily at David as he felt the beginnings of an erection pressing into his leg.

“Easily excitable this morning, aren’t we?”

“What can I say? My boyfriend makes me horny,” winked David, pulling Pierre down into another long, hard kiss. Soon enough, both of them were panting and aching to be touched. Breathing deeply, Pierre ran his fingertips down David’s chest, following the flow of the running water down past his nipples, into his belly button, finally halting just above his cock.

“Please Pierre, just… Please,” breathed David sharply, leaning his head down onto Pierre’s shoulder, not wanting to say the words he knew Pierre wanted to hear.

“Just what?” That shit-eating voice. David rolled his eyes and bit down on Pierre’s shoulder. Not quite hard enough to hurt him, but more than hard enough to make him yelp. Punishing him for making him say those words… The words that always made David blush like an adolescent school girl and the words that always made Pierre about ten times harder. Sigh.

“Just… touch me,” he whispered shyly, making Pierre shiver.

Pierre gladly complied, forming his hand into a loose fist as he ran his hand up and down David, making the smaller man tremble against him. His hand began to pick up speed and he stuck out his thumb so that it caught the sensitive head each time he moved past it. With each little nudge of his thumb, David’s hips jerked into Pierre’s hand, and he gasped softly, burying his head in Pierre’s neck.

Sensing that David was getting a little too close for his liking, Pierre pulled his hand away and stepped back from David, as far as the shower space would allow. David whined, but to no avail. He dropped to his knees in front of Pierre, taking Pierre’s own erection into his hands, using them to guide the head into his mouth. As he ran his tongue painstakingly slowly over the tip, Pierre gasped and leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and scrabbling his hands round blindly to find something to hold onto. David carried on sucking regardless, running his free hand up and down the back of Pierre’s thigh, coaxing him into release.

The water dripped down from David’s head onto the inside of Pierre’s legs, sending tormenting sensations flying around his body. His head was beginning to spin and he was aware of nothing but the head latched onto him, sucking him roughly into the tight and hot space of his mouth. With a loud gasp from Pierre, David let go and stood up, smirking at Pierre’s utter disbelief.

“Not nice is it?” he winked at Pierre. Pierre grinned, catching on to David’s point.

“Bastard,” he muttered, pulling David in towards him for another kiss. Their tongues slid sloppily around each other’s mouths as Pierre pushed David up against the tiles, grinding and rolling his hips up against David’s.

“Mmm… Pierre, I want you in me…” David mumbled into the kiss.

“Manners?”

“Fuck you, you owe me.”

Pierre grinned at David and bought two of his fingers up to David’s mouth and gently prised his lips apart, pushing his fingers into his mouth. David wrapped his lips round the fingers and ran his tongue round them and sucked on them, watching Pierre carefully, knowing full well what he was doing to him. Pierre groaned and withdrew his fingers, not trusting himself to get any more turned on.

With his other hand he hitched one of David’s legs up to wrap round his hip, effectively spreading his legs. He slowly slid one finger into David up to the knuckle and David grunted in discomfort, grasping Pierre’s shoulders tightly as his back arched against the wall. Without waiting for the okay, Pierre pulled out a fraction and then swiftly added a second finger, slamming them in as far as they could go.

David cried out and bit down on his lip, digging his nails sharply into Pierre’s back, twisting himself onto Pierre’s fingers in his discomfort, trying to make it less painful. Pierre twisted his fingers around, opening and closing them quickly. As David managed to adjust his whimpers slowly turned to grunts of pleasure with each twist of his body, Pierre began to draw his fingers out and looked up at David’s face, contorted in a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

“Ready?”

David swallowed and nodded, eyes still closed. Pierre strained his neck upwards to capture David’s lips in a kiss and hitched David’s body further up onto his own. He slid slowly into him, David gasping into Pierre’s mouth and Pierre cursing and groaning like he’d never felt anything so tight before in his life.

The sweat forming on their bodies was immediately removed by the water rushing past them, and Pierre began to thrust into David. He could feel David’s leg trembling against his as he fought to stay standing and barely registered the various pitches of moan tumbling deliciously from his mouth.

“Jesus Pierre… Please just, oh God… Just… A bit higher…”

Pierre gave a strong thrust and David cried out loudly as his leg finally gave way and Pierre correctly assumed he’d found that spot. He pulled David’s other leg round his waist, and David hurriedly hooked his ankles together, allowing Pierre to let go of him and brace himself against the wall as he repeatedly thrust into him at the same angle, hitting the same spot over and over again.

“Oh Jesus, fuck, Pierre. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” gasped David, rolling his head back against the wall and arching his back beautifully, grinding himself down onto Pierre.

Just listening to his boyfriend’s vocalisations was enough to have Pierre teetering precariously close to the edge of his impending orgasm. He drew in several sharp breaths, wanting David to come first. He eased one of his hands away from the wall and reached into the space between his and David’s chest, grasping David’s erection and pumping it as vigorously as he could.

David’s whole body tensed up as his leg muscles continued to tremble violently, and his mouth contorted into a silent scream as he reached his climax. He released his cum in thick white streaks across Pierre’s stomach, as his clenching muscles clamped down on Pierre’s cock, causing Pierre to come more or less at the same time, shooting his load deep inside David. He buried his head on David’s chest, trembling with the tingling aftershocks of his orgasm and barely able to stand up.

“W-wow,” he panted, grinning onto David’s skin.

“Mhmm,” breathed David, too exhausted to reply with proper words.

They both stumbled out of the shower, dripping wet and collapsed onto the bed in each other’s arms. David fell asleep first, his hand comfortably holding onto Pierre’s hip bone, while Pierre watched him fall asleep, before joining him with the smallest of peaceful smiles draped across his kiss-swollen lips.

Back in the bathroom, the still-running shower went unnoticed, spurting its water dejectedly to no one in particular.

After Show

Wed, 14 Jan 2004 21:59:08 GMT

Paring: Benji/Billy [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1,758
Summary: Uh, there's no plot to summarise. Sex. That's about it.

I look over at you from my position near the back of the stage. It's only a fleeting glance, enough to satisfy me for about five seconds until I have to look at you again. I know you're thinking the same thing, but you can't look at me, because so many more eyes are fixed on you than they are on me. Sucker I grin to myself. You're spouting some rubbish to the crowd about how they're the best crowd of the tour so far, and you can't wait to come back. Can't wait to come more like. I grin again to myself. I know what we'll be doing as soon as this show's over, the adrenalin still present in our bodies needs to be dealt with somehow, after all.

The notes and chords fly from our hands so easily, we've been playing the same songs for over a year now. If I didn't have you to think about during shows I swear I'd go crazy playing Little Things for the millionth time. I don't know how you and Joel do it, having to pretend you're seriously enjoying singing those words again. But hey, the crowd seem to like it.

I steal another secret glance at you from behind my hair and see you're sweating. Lots. I wanna jump you so badly. I wonder how the crowd would react if I were just to walk up to you and start grinding against your leg whilst sucking on your neck? Okay Billy, time to stop thinking about that. Just in case I do get the urge to do just that. You finish the song we're on and strut over to the drum kit to pick up a bottle of water, blowing me a subtle kiss as you go. I put the tip of my finger into my mouth and suck on it lightly, running my eyes over your whole body, the way I know always makes you shudder and you close your eyes as you drink from the bottle, pretending you didn't see, but I know you did. You're grinning around the bottle.

Half an hour later, you're saying your final goodbyes to the crowd, and we're all making our way offstage to gratuitous screaming, whooping and applause. I know I can hardly ever wait for shows to end so that I can be with you, but that's one part of the show I'll never get bored of. I grin at you as you slide off your guitar, the strap sticking slightly to your t-shirt with the sweat, and you smile adorably back at me. Disarmingly, because before I know what's going on, you've got me pressed against the wall, kissing me forcefully. Your labret chinks playfully against my lip ring and I smile into the kiss. We stand there kissing for ages, slowly and deeply, savouring the contact we were deprived of for all of 3 hours, until I break off from the kiss to look at Joel who has been standing there grinning at the two of us ever since we got off stage.

"What?" I nearly moan it as you move down to suck on my neck, having been deprived of my lips.

"Remind me how long it's been since you two were separated," he smiles, shaking his head.

"Fuck off Joel," I grin back at him. You remove your head from my neck and wink at me.

"Don't worry, he's just jealous cos his boyfriend's in a totally different country."

Joel flips the two of us off before leaving us in peace. You resume your delicate sucking and I lean my head back against the cool wall, closing my eyes under the ecstacy of your touch. Well-practised hands slide from my hips up my shirt, their cold touch against my hot skin making me shiver and moan softly. You raise your head up to face me and smile at my flushed cheeks and slightly faster than normal breathing, before you lean in for another kiss, moving your hands back down to rest on my hipbones, pulling me closer to you.

Your tongue slips into my mouth so softly, as if it belongs there rather than in in your mouth. Considering the amount of time it spends there, it's probably easier for it to stay there. I suck it deeper into my mouth, carressing it with my own, and a moan erupts from your throat into my mouth. A warm rush to my groin tells me I'm getting hard, and from where you're grinding into my hip I can feel your own hardness rubbing against me needily. We break off from the kiss at the same time and stare at each other.

"Benj... We can't... Not here..." I pant breathily, hoping like hell you don't suddenly get one of your reckless urges and insist we do it right here, where anyone could walk past at any moment. Including fans. I look into your lust-glazed eyes pleadingly, as best as I can with your hands kneading my ass teasingly.

"The bus? Joel, Paul and Chris are out meeting and greeting, they'll be there for a good half an hour..." you offer, just as breathily. Without bothering to reply I pull you into the bus and run upstairs, shutting and locking the door after us. I look back to see you nearly falling up the stairs in your excitement. I laugh, causing you to laugh at yourself, and you leap up the last couple of steps, bowling me over onto the floor and I land with a quiet thud, with you nestled in between my legs, face mere inches from mine.

Neither of us are laughing now, and we lie there gazing into each other's eyes. Your brown eyes have lost their needy lustre, now they just show pure and unadulterated love. I swear I don't deserve someone as good as you. I can't think of anything especially amazing I did before meeting you that would maybe justify it. I sigh contentedly and catch your lips in another slow and passionate kiss.

Your hands start to wander up my t-shirt again, carrying on past my ribs to stroke in circles around my nipples, a small moan escaping my lips, and you pull your head away to slide the t-shirt up over my head, and before you get back down, I hurry to pull yours off too. You roll off me and start to frantically pull at my belt, until I lend a helping hand and you rip it off, flinging it away. My pants and boxers soon suffer a similar fate, and I sit up, performing the same actions, only on your clothes. I don't fall back down to the floor, instead taking your cock in my hands and rubbing it firmly and slowly, causing you to bite your lip and tip your head back, moaning constantly. As the tip begins to ooze precum, I remove my hand and stand up. I nearly have to laugh out loud at the pathetic whining noises you make, and I pull you to your feet, and then push you down onto a chair. I kneel down between your legs, take your erection in my hands again, placing the head in my mouth.

Your next breath catches sharply in your throat and you shift your position, unable to sit still as I swirl my tounge around, getting gradually lower and sucking on it harder as I go. Random curses fall from your lips and you lace your fingers into my hair, tugging on it slightly, but you're trying so hard to be gentle I barely notice.

Your moans turn steadily into gasps and your legs are trembling so much I'm surprised they don't drop off, before a final cry and you come deep my mouth and you collapse into the chair panting heavily. I manage to fight the urge to swallow and I sit up on your lap, and kiss you again. You lick most of your own cum from inside my mouth, leaving me to swallow the rest. I sit there warm in your arms, content to wait until you've recovered.

When your breathing has subsided I lean over to your head, licking your earlobe and playing with the hoop with my teeth, our special little way of nagging each other. You smile and put your hand in my lap, running the palm of your hand flat down my own erection, making me shudder into you. I feel your smile rather than see it as you wrap your fingers around it and begin to pump it sharply. My hips buck upwards and I start to moan with every breath I take, my eyes squeezed shut as my chest tightens and you continue to work me.

"Be-Benji, s-stop," I pant, knowing I'm about to come. You look up at me expectantly and I lean back down to your ear. "I wanna fuck you." I smirk as your smile turns into a grin at my words and we get down onto the floor and I fumble around in my pants' pockets for our lube. Finding it, I push it into your hands with a triumphant grin and you roll your eyes, briefly continuing your hand job as your rub the cool substance over my cock. My eyes roll back in my head and I moan loudly and rock my hips into your hand, but you let go too soon.

I bend your legs so that they're hooked over my shoulders and I kiss you as I push quickly into you. You moan, partly in pain and discomfort, you never enjoy the first few moments. I kiss you again and start to thrust into you faster, trying to distract you. You're so tight around me that I nearly choke on my moans and you yelp loudly as I finally hit your prostate. I lean all my weight onto my left arm and with my right, I reach down to you hard cock and begin to pump it in time with my thrusts.

I feel the familiar hot tickling feeling playing around my stomach as you throw your head back and come all over my hand with a huge moan, The muscles in your ass clench around my erection and your moan is drowned by my gasps of your name. I pull out and collapse next to you, breathing heavily and we fall asleep lying in each other's arms, the air around us hot and heavy with cum and sweat and the scent of sex.

Change In The Weather

Wed, 14 Jan 2004 21:49:20 GMT

Paring: Benji/Joel [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,958
Summary: Benji confronts Joel about his recent strange behaviour. Yup, it's one of those.

Five friends in one of the world's biggest rock bands, on tour together, they should be having the time of their lives. Of course, there was the groupies, the pot-and-booze-fuelled parties with their support bands into the early hours, waking up to find themselves on the wrong bus with lipstick slogans written all over their naked bodies, accompanied with a hangover more painful than being smashed on the head with a mallet. There was the indescribable feeling of excitement and nervousness before taking to the stage every other night, then the slow, crawling realisation that every single kid out knew and was screaming the words that he had written, the words that he had spent hours forming into music and the words that he had felt shy showing to others for fear of being laughed at.

Benji stared out of the window, too preoccupied with his thoughts to join in with the others.

They were at the front of the bus, watching Star Wars for about the fiftieth time. Not that Star Wars or repeat viewings of said film bothered him, he just couldn't stand being around his twin.

Benji allowed a small frown to slip onto his face for a fleeting moment as he thought about Joel. There was something wrong, he'd known that for weeks now, since before the tour even began...

They'd been in the studio together, writing some new songs that Benji had begun to work on by himself, before Joel announced that he'd got some lyrics of his own. That in itself had come as a slight surprise, Joel rarely wrote any of the lyrics, preferring to make improvements and changes to the stuff Benji had written. So, naturally, he'd asked if he could read them. Of course, Joel let him, but Benji sensed that he was reluctant to do so. As he'd read over them, he could see Joel shifting around uncomfortably in the corner of his eye, seemingly impatient for him to finish.

As words about unreturned love, broken hearts and suicidal musings leapt from the page into Benji's reeling brain, he laughed nervously, unsure of how he was supposed to react. They sounded more like some hardcore emo band than Good Charlotte. As he raised his eyes from the page to meet Joel's, they met with Joel looking embarrassed and refusing to return his gaze.

"Where... Where did all this come from?" asked Benji, looking confused and vaguely worried.

The only response he'd gotten was a shrug and a sudden interest in some non-existent dirt under Joel's fingernail.

Benji watched trickles of water squirming down the window as the tour bus sped down the freeway, joining up with more specks of water, moving faster and faster until they disappeared out of view. A sharp crack of thunder followed by a distant fork of white lightning barely even elicited a response, he was so lost in the jumbled confusion of his mind.

He'd tried talking to Joel, but he'd just recieved the same shrug, the same sad expression in the eyes (possibly even fear?) and the same sudden change of subject. Benji always let it drop, never wanting to push Joel too hard.

Benji lay back in his chair, letting out a small huff. He was fucking sick of it. Sick of not knowing what was bothering his baby brother. Sick of the way Joel refused to let him know what was going on. Sick of the way Joel had become closed off from him and sick of the way Joel was hiding behind a facade of tiredness whenever anyone else asked what was wrong. He wanted people to make a fuss, to bully Joel into letting out his feelings because he sure as hell wasn't going to be telling Benji any time soon.

Another crash of thunder coinciding with a yelp of surprise from the front of the bus caused him to peer out from the back room and down into the front, where he was more than a little surprised to see Billy lying on the floor and Joel nearly crying from the laughter that was making him roll around on the couch. Paul and Chris were simply sniggering at Billy's prone form, which promptly responded with a middle finger aimed at no-one in particular. Benji walked down into the tv area, hoping like hell that he'd been imagining the last weeks and things really were how they were supposed to be.

"What happened?"

"Billy... Billy got scared by the lightning and when the thunder clapped, he jumped so much he... He fell out of his seat" howled Joel, nonetheless completely failing to make eye contact with his brother.

"......"

"Don't give us that look, if you weren't so busy being moody all by yourself you might have found it funny too." smiled Chris.

"I guess you just had to be there." Benji forced himself to smile, and plopped down on the space next to Joel.

He frowned as he felt Joel tense up and then lean slightly away from him. He leapt up in front of Joel, a disgusted look all over his face.

"What's the matter, can't you even fucking sit next to me anymore?" he hissed loudly, his voice dripping with venom and hurt.

The whole room fell abruptly into complete silence. Benji felt redness of anger, pain and embarrassment rush up into his cheeks, as the blood raced around his body on fire. He breathed in deeply, and walked calmly out of the room and lay down on his bunk, without making another sound.

Joel hadn't even looked up.

Benji glared at the ceiling, seeing nothing there except Joel's face. Once upon a time, that face had been a near-perfect mirror of his own, so perfect they'd had to dye their hair so people could tell the difference. So perfect that they'd become sick of each other. So perfect they each felt the need to be different from the other. So perfect that they'd both gone for different piercings, trying to mutilate their faces into being different from one another.

And then the mirrors had become a novelty money-making machine. "Good Twin" and "Bad Twin" labels had been slapped onto their foreheads, managers and record company bosses further staining and cracking the mirror for their own profit. These days it came as a shock to most people to find out they were even related, let alone identical twins.

But that was fine. One thing all the money, all the fame and all the critics in the world could not take away was the fact that they had been together since before they were even born, they grew up together and would most likely die together. One brother could read the other like an open book, they both knew exactly how the other was going to react to other people, and they knew every last detail about each other.

Until now of course.

Tentative footsteps moving down the bus reached Benji's ears. He snapped his eyes shut, hoping that whoever it was was either going to carry on walking, or turn back when they saw he was asleep. As the footsteps neared his bunk, he prayed they'd change their mind soon. Obviously not. He didn't move a muscle as he felt the bed sink where Joel sat down. He could sense it was Joel without having to open his eyes or having to hear his voice. Neither of them said a word.

Benji stayed still and unmoving. The fact that he wasn't really breathing was probably a dead giveaway that he was still completely awake, but Joel didn't say anything, so he decided he'd leave it for him to break the ice.

As uncomfortable moments lengthened into awkward minutes, the silence weighed heavier on the two brothers, until Benji could no longer keep his eyes shut. They fluttered open and were immediately greeted by the sight of Joel crying silently, tears flowing down his cheeks. Benji did the only thing that came naturally to him, he sat up, reached over and pulled his brother into a warm embrace. Joel's head lolled onto Benji's chest, soaking his t-shirt with the coldness of his tears, his body shaking with silent sobs.

Benji couldn't bear to see his twin suffering like this, partly because he could feel Joel's pain echoing throughout himself but mainly because it was killing him to see someone he loved in so much pain. He rubbed Joel's back in comforting circles, trying to spread warmth into his brother's cold back. As the sobs subsided into sniffles, Joel sat up and wiped his eyes, offering Benji a small smile. A whispered "Thanks" and another smile, and he made to get up and leave. He froze without turning around as he felt Benji's strong grip around his wrist, holding him back.

"Joel, please... Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" It hurt Benji that he wouldn't tell him, and he could see in Joel's eyes that he knew.

"I'm scared, Benj. There's something wrong with me. I keep having these thoughts that are just... Wrong... And I try to ignore them but they keep coming back and I'm scared of what they mean," he trailed off into silence.

"What... What sort of thoughts?" Benji whispered tentatively, not wanting to lose the sudden, or at least, unexpected, openess Joel was displaying.

Joel didn't answer, just sighed. He stared at the floor for a moment, before darting his eyes to meet with Benji's and back again, so quickly that had Benji chosen that moment to blink, he'd never have seen it. But he did see it, and he couldn't fail to miss the meaning behind the anxious glance.

"Guess I don't have to say it out loud," said Joel, giving an awkward smile, worry plastered all over his face. Benji was in total shock. He couldn't truthfully say he'd never thought about Joel in that way, but coming from his sensible, laid-back and rational other half, it seemed so different. So wrong. But... He couldn't deny it. There was something there, other than regular brotherly love. He swallowed slowly and met Joel's identical gaze.

"I-I'm scared too."

Joel nodded and looked away from Benji, with a small smile playing on his lips. "Nice to know I'm not the only one," he muttered. Benji felt a smile break onto his face, as an identical one rose on Joel's. The whole bunk seemed to light up with Joel's smile, and Benji couldn't help but reach out and stroke the shining face lovingly.

They sat frozen in the same position for what could have been hours, neither aware of anything but the other, lost in each other's contented smiles. Time crawled past, willing to lengthen itself out for the two brothers who both felt, for the first time in their lives, that they had found it. Whatever that was.

The beauty of it all, Benji had later mused, was that they hadn't had to say the words out loud, those clumsy words that would have tripped them up and made them unable to say what was necessary. Instead, they read each other's silences as if they were crystal clear. Just like old times.

As if to let the brothers know theirs was up, time sped back to its regular speed, and the bus braked sharply, sending Benji flying headfirst into Joel.

Benji opened his mouth to let out the laughter about to explode from his throat, and started, eyes wide open, as his laugh was silenced by a warm, soft pair of lips pressing against his own. Without a moment's hesitation, Benji was kissing back, kissing back and slidng his tongue along Joel's lip. He pulled the lip into his mouth, biting down softly as their heads moved in unison, deepening the kiss.

Benji never wanted the kiss to end, he could happily have grown an old man attached to his brother's lips, but they were soon disturbed. Billy's voice floated down into the bunk area, soft as ever, but the most irritating thing Benji had heard for a long time, calling them out, if they were down there.

Joel broke the kiss, and rolled his eyes at Benji. "We gotta go..." he muttered into Benji's mouth as he leant back down.

Benji pulled away swiftly and stuck his head out of his bunk, looking for Billy. "Why, where we going?" he yelled to the puzzled guitarist.

"We've stopped for tonight... The rest of us are going out for something to eat, you wanna come with?" Billy said softly, shrugging. Benji looked to Joel for an answer, and found it in the the swift shake of his head. Benji grinned back down the aisle to Billy and shook his head. Billy nodded, and mouthed the words "You two made up?" silently to Benji. Benji grinned back gormlessly, giving Billy all the answer he needed. "Siblings..." he muttered, shaking his head and winking at Benji before turning round to leave.

Benji pulled his head back into the bunk and smiled at Joel. "So, er... What did you have planned then?" he whispered, cupping Joel's face in his hands and pulling his lips to meet his own in another sweet kiss. Joel broke the kiss after a moment, and sat back, blushing slightly. Benji raised an eyebrow knowingly and leant in to Joel's face, pecking him on the lips before moving to nibble on his earlobe.

"Are you sure, I mean, it's kinda sudden and... And..." Benji trailed off into silence, trying to think of some reason why Joel wouldn't want sex, it was just too good to be true. It just couldn't be real.

It was Joel's turn to look at Benji with his eyebrow raised, with a shy grin. "I've thought about nothing else for the last two months, of course I'm fucking sure." Benji laughed and got out of his bunk, offering his hand out to Joel, pulling him out to the front room. On his way, he stopped to lock the door, and peered out of the windows. With a small smile, he noticed the rainclouds had disappeared and the clear sky was dotted with stars.

Joel's arms slipped round Benji's waist and came to rest on his belt and Benji groaned, leaning his head back onto Joel's shoulder, twisting his neck so he could kiss Joel's chin. Joel's fingers worked swiftly on Benji's belt, and he pulled it out of the loops in Benji's pants, letting the pants fall to the floor. Benji pulled his own t-shirt off as Joel pulled off his own pants, both desperately wanting to feel the other's bare skin against their own. Eventually, stipped down to their boxers, they met in another kiss and Joel dragged Benji backwards to the couch. As Joel's legs hit it, they fell into each other's arms and Joel shifted himself so he was lying between Benji's legs, his head resting on Benji's chest.

He started to pepper Benji's neck and collar bones with kisses, making Benji moan softly. As Joel felt his brother's erection pressing into his leg, he began to move his attentions down Benji's chest and to his stomach, and he slipped his tongue into Benji's belly button as his hands slid off Benji's boxers. With the boxers safely disposed of, Joel took Benji into his mouth. Benji's breath hitched and sped up considerably and he bit his lip in an effort to keep from moaning, as Joel swirled his tongue around the head, playing with Benji's balls in the other hand.

All Benji could see was a vague picture of black and red hair, pale white skin and blue tattoos bobbing in his lap, and he couldn't remember being so turned on in his entire life. Rushes of heat down to his groin were making his stomach break out into a sweat and the rushes became more and more intense until, with a final strangled yelp, he clenched himself and came long and hard into Joel's mouth.

Joel moved back up and lay down on Benji's panting chest, wiping cum from his chin and licking it off his fingers. He peered up at Benji and grinned.

"That good, huh?"

"You have no fucking idea..."

Joel laughed and buried his face in Benji's shoulder, wrapping his arms round his brother and nuzzling his nose into the Jesus tattoo on Benji's neck. Before Benji knew what was happening, Joel was fast asleep. Soon enough, Benji began to get that uncomfortable feeling of weight that only a person sleeping on you can bring. Sliding out from under Joel as softly as he could, he walked round the room picking up their various bits of clothing and throwing them into his bunk.

He padded softly over to where Joel was lying and prodded him gently. Joel groaned slightly and rolled over, blinking to take in his surroundings. "Sorry to wake you," Benji said apologetically, "but you can't stay there in just your boxers, the guys'll be back soon." Joel groaned again, but he was smiling nonetheless as he heaved himself off the couch.

Benji flopped into his bunk, still enjoying the tingly come-down feeling in his legs, and was soon joined by Joel who pressed up against him. Benji rolled over so his head was resting on Joel's shoulder and his arm was draped over Joel's stomach. Soon enough, Joel dropped off back to sleep, murmuring nonsense. Benji smiled and started to run his fingers lightly over Joel's stomach and down the trail of hair underneath his belly button. He fell asleep with his hand resting on Joel's hip, matching his twin's breathing perfectly, both of them totally oblivious to the irate knocking on the door to the bus.

I've Got A Confession

Wed, 14 Jan 2004 21:41:53 GMT

Paring: David/Billy, Billy/OMC [Simple Plan/Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 9,926
Summary: This was originally written as 5 separate chapters, so it's rather long. David has a not-so-subtle crush on Billy, but he doesn't realise Billy's already spoken for. Warning: Contains non-con and violence. And is crap.

I was given this diary today at a concert. Some girl gave it to me and told me she’d got it for her birthday but she didn’t need it. We have some really odd fans out there. Who gives someone a diary?! Cool, but odd nonetheless. So anyway. Here I am lying in bed. Well not really a bed. A crappy little bunk on the world’s most cramped tour bus, writing by the smallest and dimmest little light possible. But it’s fine, it gets us from one place to another I suppose. We played our last show until next year! It feels so good to say that... All the guys are asleep, I can tell by their snores. Sad isn‘t it? I lie awake at night and instead of taking sleeping pills like normal insomniacs, I learn my best friends’ snoring patterns. But now this diary gives me something to do instead. Hopefully it’ll help increase my vocabulary or something important and educated like that. Pouring water on sleeping people and flashing out of hotel room windows gets old quick. I bet I’ll peek out from behind my curtains in five minutes to find that it’s actually midday. That kinda thing happens a lot. None of the guys know that I don’t sleep, so they just leave me to it and it’s suddenly when I realise I don’t hear them snoring anymore that I get up.

I’ve just read over the last paragraph. Jesus I write some crap in the middle of the night.

*#*

I smile as I watch Pierre stumble into the kitchen and grab a box of cereal before throwing himself onto the couch in front of the tv. I got up early today so I could watch the guys get up. I’d forgotten how funny it was. Pierre eats the cereals with his hands, spraying crumbs all over the floor and down the seats. Good job Chuck isn’t up yet, I grin to myself, he’d be hitting Pierre and shrieking about the dreadful mess.

“What the fuck are you looking so happy about?” glares Pierre, still bleary-eyed and croaky from sleep.

“I’d forgotten how adorable your pudgy bits are when you’re wearing boxers,” I wink back at him.

“Fuck you, you girl,” he retorts.

I simply grin and flutter my eyelashes at him mock-seductively. It wasn’t a secret that I was gay and the guys loved to take the piss every opportunity they got. Not that it bothered any of them in the least. I told them I was gay way back in high school. We grew up with it so I guess there’s never been any reason for them to think it’s odd.

Until now of course. Up until now I’ve never liked one of my best friends. No-one in the band, thankfully. I don’t think I could cope with keeping that a secret 24/7.

Okay I’m not gonna write down the person I love in case this falls into the wrong hands. I have no idea why I’m so scared of them knowing. I want more than anything just to be able to sit down at tell him. It’s not like I don’t get enough chances, our bands hang out all the time. Okay shit, I guess that just kind gave away a little clue to who it might be. Oh well, I suppose that could be a good thing. So Pierre, Seb, Jeff and Chuck, if you’re reading this, IT’S NOT YOU! Now put this book down before I wake up and kill you.

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, we hang out all the time and I guess we’re quite good friends. We’ve got a lot in common anyway. Although he’s really quiet and arty, and I’m just loud-mouthed and childish. He got his piercings to be different, I just got mine cos I thought they’d make me look “cool”. He wears make-up to be different, I wear it to run with the crowd.

Okay fuck it, I guess we have next to nothing in common. But we do get on really well. If our bands are hanging out, he’ll always come up to me first and ask how I’ve been, as if he really cares about me, hah. And then we’ll both sit together and watch our band mates drink themselves stupid. We just sit there and laugh. I don’t dare drink when we’re with ~~Good Charlotte~~ his band, I’m not the sort of person who can keep their mouth shut when pissed out of my skull. He doesn’t drink either, but I’ve never asked him why.

So yeah… I don’t even know if he’s gay or not. You can usually tell a mile off, but with him it’s kinda hard. He’s definitely very feminine and pretty, and he crosses his legs absentmindedly, he plays with his nails, he even wears pink eye-shadow for Chrissakes. Normally that would be too camp even for me, but hell, he does it so well I’m not even sure he’s gay or not. And I can’t exactly ask the rest of his band cos they’d see right through me and he’d definitely find out.

Wow, I actually feel really tired today for a change. I just looked at my watch and it’s 2am. That’s some kind of record. I think I might actually go to sleep for a change. Anyway, we’ll be back home in Canada tomorrow, for Christmas, so I need my energy for the inevitable end-of-tour party. Good Charlotte are joining us this year, should be fun.

*#*

I smack my lips at myself in the mirror, smirking at just how gay that is. I bought some lip gloss today, so I thought I might as well try it out. It tastes disgusting and feels even worse, but Pierre said it made me look adorable. I hope he meant that in the good adorable way, not as in a 10-year old messing in mother's make-up box adorable. I lean back to look over my face, checking my eyeliner and rearranging my piercings for the millionth time in the last half an hour. I'll be seeing him in less than two hours. I should have started getting ready ages ago.

Ridiculous scenarios involving Billy throwing himself into my arms as soon as he sees me keep playing themselves out in my mind. I allow myself a little grin at the thought because depressing as it is that we'll probably never be together, the idea of Billy doing something as ungraceful and hair-mucking-up as throwing himself into someone else's arms is quite amusing.

The butterflies tickling my throat and the snakes making me want to retch are nearly forced out of my body in shock when a sharp knock on the door disturbs my train of thoughts.

"David! Nous devons partir maintenant! Nous attendons pour toi!"

"Baise-toi Pierre!"

"David, je ne vais pas refaire demander..."

Ooh, let me quiver in fear. I stroppily do my hair one final time before running out and flinging myself into the car. The trouble with being in a band with 4 other full-grown men is that cars can get quite cramped easily, so I spend the journey with one of my legs draped over Jeff's lap. For which I receive much teasing and poking.
Finally I can't take it any more.

"Seb, get the FUCK off me!"

"What the hell's wrong with you David? You were all happy and excited before you went into the bathroom."

"I know," said Pierre in that shit-eating voice that makes me want to smack him. Hard. "I pulled him out of the bathroom before he'd had time to finish his eyeliner properly."

Everyone sniggers and Jeff blows me a kiss. I just ignore it and pretend the darkness outside my window is really interesting. Soon enough, we reach the club and we fall out of the car in the most ungraceful way possible. We all turn around when we hear Pierre give a little whoop of delight, the reason for which soon becomes evident. Looks like Mest have decided to join the party. That's us stocked up on free pot for the rest of the week then. Grinning, they all head into the packed club to look for our friends. The snakes in my stomach writhe just a little before settling down into a warm confidence. I smile to myself as I take a deep breath and hurry in after the guys.

Oh God... I don't know how I'm managing to write this. I've thrown up three times tonight, twice since we got back and I think I might be about to again at any moment. My whole body is shaking and I can't stop crying. Billy had his boyfriend with him. His fucking boyfriend. As we walked over to their table, Paul walked over to greet us. He motioned over to where Billy and this other guy were sitting and told us to join the "happy couple". Mortified, I scanned everyone's faces, but no-one was joking. Billy smiled gently at me and his boyfriend grinned at me and invited me to sit next to him. I just stood there staring as the warmth that had been in my stomach slowly dissolved into ice, freezing my whole body to the spot. I felt like crying. Hoping like hell they wouldn't miss me, I stumbled into the bathroom and locked myself in a cubicle. I remember sitting there on the freezing cold tiles with burning tears running down my cheeks and my face buried in my arm.

I remember sitting there for about two hours until someone came in looking for me. It was Seb, his voice slurred and happy. I didn't hear a single word he said, I just remember the scent of his spliff
wafting into my nostrils and making me hurl into the toilet. I must have thrown up every single bit of fluid in my body into that toilet, but I didn't feel any emptier than before I'd thrown up.

I stumbled out of the bathroom about 2 hours later to find everyone already gone. Without me. I made my own way back and spent another hour trembling on the floor in the bathroom, trying to force this disgusting nauseous feeling out of my mouth and into the toilet. I retched into it for a whole hour, but nothing would come out. Feeling faint, I crept up the stairs to my room and pulled out this book as soon as I fell onto the bed.

So I guess he is gay then. And who the fuck was that guy? The three seconds I saw of him he looked absolutely beautiful. More beautiful than I could ever hope to be, even with all the make-up in the world. I'm going to try and sleep now, I don't think I can write anymore.

*#*

I wake up in my own bed, still fully clothed and stinking of cigarette smoke and booze. I close my eyes and furrow my brows trying to remember where it came from, and try to remember exactly why I have a sickly exciting feeling in my throat. Cigarettes... The club. Oh God. Recollection washes over me along with a fresh wave of the sick feeling. Although now I know it's not excitement, it's...

Heartbreak? Disappointment? Hah, understatement of the year. All I know is I feel like shit. I can't move my legs. I certainly can't think about him. It hurts so bad, like someone's just ripped a chunk
of my chest out and my body's carrying on as though everything's still in full working order. There's just a dull throb where my insides should be.

I hear footsteps creaking outside my room, and the door is tentatively pushed open. I don't even look to see who it is, instead I stay staring at the ceiling, as though I haven't heard the person entering, or their polite little cough announcing their arrival.

"David?" It's Benji.

"What?" Woah, I didn't mean for that to sound so dead and emotionless. I can see Benji frown a little out of the corner of my eye.

"It's nice to see you too. Where the hell did you go last night? We all got really worried about you."

"No you fucking didn't!" I spit suddenly. "You all pissed off without me, too stoned to even remember I was supposed to be there! I was sitting in that fucking bathroom for hours, and no-one even came looking for me." I know that's not true but right now I'm too angry to care. I don't even care that Benji's nothing to do with this, he's there. He's there and he's someone I can get angry at.

He looks long and hard at me and then says slowly, "Why were you sitting in the bathroom for hours?"

Shit, I didn't see that one coming... "I... I don't know. Just do me a favour and fuck off. I'm not in the mood right now, okay?"

"No. Not until you tell me what's wrong."

I hear a high-pitched snigger from the corridor outside my room and I close my eyes and clench my jaw as I hear Pierre start to offer his expert opinion.

"He's got PMT!"

"Either that or he didn't get laid again!"
chimes in Seb.

I give Benji my best please-leave-me-alone look, throw a dirty look at the wall nearest Pierre and Seb and then roll over, displaying my back to all of them. It's probably showing more emotion than me at the moment.

I soon hear Benji walk out quietly. I swear I can hear the hurt echoing in his footsteps. The dull throb in my chest seems somehow comforting if I don't think too hard about why it's there. It kinda makes me feel warm, and the sick feeling in my stomach slowly becomes little more than a nagging tickling feeling, as I soon fall back into the comforting blackness of sleep.

I wake hours later to a knock on my bedroom door. I roll over to see it's Benji again. I force my muscles into what I hope looks like a smile and wait for him to speak. He stares at me for a moment, and then says

"We're all going out to the movies. I know you don't wanna talk about whatever's wrong, but I seriously think you need to come out, you've been in bed for nearly 18 hours. And you don't look too good. It might cheer you up."

I can't help but give a genuine smile at his motherly concern as I say "Sounds okay. Who's going?"

"Me, Joel, Scott, Billy, Tony and you, hopefully." A sharp and sudden sensation rips through my chest. So that's his name then. Scott. That even sounds better than David. I don't answer for a moment, hesitating. The last thing I want is to see Scott and Billy making out in the dark, thinking no-one's watching. Benji mistakes my hesitation.

"Oh yeah... You haven't met Scott yet. He's a cool guy. Don't worry, you'll get along fine. He's just like you."

Thanks Benj. That really means a lot to me. I decide to go, I don't think I could fall asleep again and I don't fancy hanging round the house all on my own. And a small part of me wants to meet Scott. To see what he has that I don't.

*#*

Well, that was unexpected.

In the car on the way there, Scott didn't say a single word to Billy, nor vice versa. Instead, I was blessed with Scott's attention for the whole journey. The whole fucking journey. Okay, so it was half an hour long and he was probably just trying to be polite, but it's not easy listening to someone comparing notes on t-shirts (He told me he loved my Atticus t-shirt. Then asked me if I'd got their latest album.) when you want to punch him in his jaw and scream at him that you liked Billy first so why don't you just fuck off and leave you alone with your silent crush.

And there was something really odd about him... He was hitting on me I swear, and his hand kept on "accidentally" brushing against my thigh and arm. All in front of Billy, and it must have been pretty obvious. But Billy didn't once bat an eyelid. He didn't even looked like he cared. And Scott was always smirking at me, smirking or laughing at his own jokes. I must have said about three words in the entire conversation, but he was like a steam train, he just did not shut up.

Anyway, apart from my molesting by Mr.Perfect, it was just a normal trip to the cinema really. Billy and Scott held hands, but nothing more exciting than that happened. I was having trouble keeping my popcorn down as it was. It hurt like hell, and thank God the movie screen was dark, or someone might have seen the tears sliding down my cheeks.

I really need to get over this. I had my chance, but I didn't take it. Billy was probably never interested in me anyway. Billy has Scott now, and they're a "happy couple". It's none of my business and I should just shut up and forget about it. Anyway, I have to go cos we're about to eat.

I walk downstairs to an extremely busy kitchen. There's 14 people staying in our house at the moment. Good job we picked a house with so many spare rooms when we bought one. The first person I run into is Nick, perched on the counter cuddling his bong and looking very contented. Even though I still feel like chucking up, the sight brings a grin to my face, until Guess Who bursts into the kitchen loudly shouting about how many hot guys there are here. It seems everyone except for me finds this moron really funny and I have to force out a laugh that sounds more like a sob than anything else.

I can tell from the other side of the room that he's drunk, it seems to radiate off him. Normally, I find drunk people hilarious, like I said, but nothing about Scott being pissed makes me want to laugh, it just makes me hate him all the more. What sort of boyfriend gets drunk while his other half never drinks and leaves him there, sober and probably bored? As my thoughts drift back to Billy, his absence from the party soon makes itself noticable. To me anyway, everyone else is too stoned or pissed or already passed out to either care or notice he's not there. Benji and Tony are have a drunken grope in the corner of the lounge; Jere, Matt and Nick are half-heartedly arguing about who's turn on the bong it is; the rest of my band are playing Twister with Paul, except for Chuck who's having an argument with Chris and Joel about whether Travis Barker or Josh Freese is a better drummer. Scott of course is just generally milling round and stinking of over-inflated ego and fake charisma. I walk quietly over to him.

"Where's Billy?" He swings around and looks to see who spoke before managing to focus on a point somewhere on my forehead.

"Hiya Mike, great party, huh?" He slurs, breathing beer onto me. I wrinkle my nose up and step away. I wonder whether or not to point out that my name is in fact David, but decide against it.

"Not especially. Where's Billy?"

"Why, do you want to fuck him or something?" He grins suddenly. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to smash him on the head with one of the empty beer bottles about a foot away from my hand. Yes, actually I do. Hah, I can just imagine the sort of reaction I'd get from that. I simply shrug and walk off upstairs. Suddenly I don't feel much like hanging round with the guys and having a laugh, I want to go to bed and wallow in my own misery some more. After a shower though, I haven't had one for about a week. I hear Scott stumble to the foot of the stairs just as I reach the top and hurry into the bathroom to avoid having to talk to him again.

I push open the bathroom door to find Billy staring at himself in the mirror. He's applying what looks like cover up on a nasty-looking and semi-healed gash across his arm with a shaky hand, and tears are running freely down his face. I stare in horror at the sight of Billy crying, until he catches sight of me in the mirror. His face drains of all colour and he stuffs the cover-up into his pocket so fast if I hadn't seen it earlier I wouldn't have noticed the swift movement. "David..." he breathes quietly.

I shut the door behind me and walk over to his arm, holding his wrist and inspecting the gash. I notice other cuts lining his arms, less obvious and clearly older than the one he was attempting to hide. "Did... Did you do this?" I whisper back just as quietly. He looks panicked for a moment and swallows nervously before nodding slowly.

"But why? What's wrong? Talk to me please..." I trail off staring into his eyes. They look more like pools than ever, crystal blue and overflowing with tears still running down his cheeks and following the curve of his lips. He opens them as if to say something but stops. I wait patiently, but he can't seem to say what he wants. He eventually gives up and offers me a small smile, shaking his head.

"It's nothing. Please don't worry. And please don't tell anyone what you've seen" He looks so scared as he whispers the last few words that all I can do is nod my head in agreement. He offers up another smile before moving past me to head out the door.

"Billy... You can always talk to me you know, right?"

A near-genuine smile flits across his features as he nods again before leaving.

Somehow now I don't feel much like a shower. I just want to go to bed and never wake up. I want to die in my sleep tonight so I'll never have to see Billy close enough for me to reach out for him but too far away for me to hold. I want to die in my sleep tonight so I'll never have to look at Scott's smiling fucking face again. I want to die so that I'll lose all the feeling I have so that nothing will hurt anymore.

I walk into my room staring at the floor and jump out of my skin when I see Scott perched on the edge of my bed. He looks up as I enter and smiles charmingly. I see with a jolt of horror that travels through my whole body that he's holding my diary open at the last page I was on. I look at him with what I can only assume is panic and embarrassment written all over my face. He smiles again.

"So David... I hear you do want to fuck my boyfriend after all. I was only joking you know," he laughs and I don't move a muscle, although I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. He doesn't sound so drunk anymore. Not drunk at all. I stare at him as he walks up to me and I draw back slightly, preparing myself for the punch that's sure to come. But it doesn't.

"I don't blame you, he's beautiful isn't he?" He sighs and I'm not sure if it's sarcasm or he really means it. "But you know, he gets boring in bed. Doesn't like it rough y'see... And plus, I can think of someone I'd much rather fuck than him" He reaches up and strokes my cheek gently and I'm too shocked to do anything but carry on staring at him. And it's then that he decides to hit me. He punches me right in the stomach, winding me and I fall to the floor clutching at my stomach unable to make a sound. He steps lightly over me and locks the door. I roll onto my back and look at him wildly. He's still smiling the same smile. He's fucking out of his mind.

I try to stand up but it hurts too much, so I lie there on the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest with the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I know I must look pathetic, but I know that what he wants now. He knows that I want Billy, and he's going to make me pay for it. I manage a sob in my tears and it hurts so much I'm on the floor wincing again, as he kneels down next to me. He plants a soft kiss on the top of my head and whispers softly into my ear.

"There, there. Don't cry little David. I'll look after you." I shake with my silenced sobs. I'm so scared. I know that if I cry out or make too much noise he'll hurt me again. My eyes are squeezed shut in an effort to hold back the tears of pain and humiliation, but I have to open them again to see where he's gone. He's standing above me with his hands on his hips, as though he's waiting for me to stand up again. I crawl up onto my feet and cling onto the bed for support. He's not smiling now, and his expression is totally unreadable. We stare at each other in stalemate for a few moments before a fist comes slamming in my face out of nowhere. I fall backwards onto the bed clutching at my face and I feel him climb on top of me. Oh God.

I start to panic and wriggle with all my might, but another swift fist to the other side of my face soon silences me. A piece of cloth is forced into my mouth in a ball and he moves further up my body, planting his knee in the middle of my chest and leaning all his weight on it. I can't move, let alone speak, as he roughly grabs my wrists in his hands and ties them together with some torn material from somewhere, and then ties them to the bedposts. I'm so scared now, so fucking scared that it doesn't even occur to me to try and break free or even to fight back. All I can do is shake with fear as Scott climbs off my chest and steps back to survey me. A small part of my mind that can still think logically registers that I'm still fully-clothed. Maybe he isn't going to do what I think he is.

I've barely had a chance to process this thought before a penknife is drawn out of his pocket, and makes its way to my neck. He hooks it underneath the neck of my t-shirt and pulls it down, ripping the t-shirt in two. I shiver as the cold air and fear hit me afresh. He looks over my chest and murmurs something appreciatively, all the while smirking to himself. The tears are still flowing freely down my face and my eyes fly shut as I attempt to hold in the tears. I can't sob, the gag's shoved in so far it's making me choke if I try to breathe in through my mouth and I can't make any noise louder than a cough.

He climbs back up onto the bed, pulling my legs apart as he does so. I offer him no resistance, and he reaches up to my crotch and strokes it gently. I flinch away from his touch, not feeling even the slightest bit aroused. He grins at me and then reaches a hand up to my face, to wipe away the make-up that must now be smeared all over my face from my tears. "You're so beautiful David... You're too good for a pussy like Billy," he laughs quietly, "Now do me a favour and tell me something. Are you a virgin?"

Vague recollections of past experiences with guys flit through my memory, as if from another life. But I'd never gone the whole way before. Never before, and I didn't want to now. I nod my head slowly and as I do an uncontrollable shudder rips through my whole body. He ignores this and pull down my pants, removing my boxers with them. I'm now shaking so much that the bed is gently hitting the wall with each jerk of my body. Removing the gag and pressing a finger to my lips, Scott leans down to my face and kisses me. I do nothing, keeping my lips firmly shut as he tries to force his tongue inside. He breaks off and looks at me, reaching again for his penknife, which he proceeds to place against my side, blade lying flat across my ribs. He raises his eyebrows, eyeing me dangerously, as if to show me what he'll do if I don't comply with his wishes. He leans down again and once again I do nothing, keeping my lips sealed.

My eyes open wide in silenced shock as the blade is slid slowly down my side, opening a long red gash that begins to trickle blood gently onto the bed. I can tell he's only cut the skin very lightly, but it hurts like a fucking paper cut and Scott smirks, bending down for another kiss. This time I don't dare fight back and let him enter my mouth without a struggle. "That's much better," he smiles at me, gently pushing the gag back into my mouth, "Now be a good boy and stay quiet. This'll all be over soon and I might not have to hurt you again if you don't whinge about it."

I nearly pass out from the fear as he nicks my chest with his knife, a smaller but deeper cut than before, and I abandon all hope I had of rescue or Scott getting his sanity back. I know there's no way he's gonna stop now. I barely notice that he's pulled his pants and boxers off and that he's lining himself up between my legs.

The next thing I do notice is pain. Pain that shoots from where Scott's slamming himself into me as hard as he possibly can, up the backs of my thighs which are bent forcefully over his shoulders and along my spine and up into my head, the pain stabbing at me with each thrust. Outside the screaming pain inside my body I can hear Scott grunting to himself about how tight my ass is and how he's never felt anything this good before. I whimper into my gag and meet his eyes, giving him my most pleading look I can muster, anything just to make him stop. He must know how much this is hurting me, I can feel the blood trickling down my ass and drying onto the sheets, and he must be able to feel it as well. My whole body goes numb from the pain, and as a black veil begins to cloud my eyes, I see Scott's head near my chest and he's licking at my blood as he thrusts. That's just too much for me and with one last muffled whimper, I pass out.

*#*

I'm lying on the floor of the bathroom again. My head is resting on the edge of the bath tub, its cool and smooth surface soothing me. I feel sick and no matter how hard I try, nothing will come out. Again. I vaguely wonder if it's my lot in life to spend the rest of it in this same position, alone, feeling sick and broken in bathrooms. Right now I can't imagine feeling any other way.

I shift my weight to push my face harder against the tub and nearly cry out from the pain that's shooting from my lower half. I haven't even dared looked at myself yet, I'm sitting here in the dark. I'm terrified of what I'll see because I don't know what he did to me after... After I passed out.

That's when I do start to throw up. The nausea washes through my head, making my whole body sway as I try to focus on the faint outline of the toilet, the stomach acids burning and tearing at my throat and mouth as they force themselves out of my body. When I've finished, I stay in the same place, crying desperately for someone to hear me, someone who will care, someone who can save me.

As if in answer to my silent prayer, there's a timid knocking at the door. The sharp sound nearly makes me jump straight up onto my feet, but the sudden movement sends a fresh stab of pain along with another wave of the nausea and I yelp out loud.

"David? Are you okay?"

It's Pierre. What am I supposed to do now? I'm sitting in a dark bathroom, totally naked with dried blood all over my body. From the way my arms feel I think I received more than two cuts from the penknife. When I came to, the first thing I did was stagger into here, barely able to walk. I don't think I could seriously look him in the face and tell him that I've been raped. How exactly do you tell someone that anyway?

"Yeah I... I'm fine. I just feel ill," I croak nervously, hoping like hell he'll go away now.

"I think you're a bit more than just 'ill' David, you've been puking in there for nearly two and half hours. Do you want me to call a doctor or something?"

"No, but thanks. I'll be alright in a bit, don't worry. Go back to bed"

"David, it's half eight in the morning. Almost everyone's downstairs nursing hangovers, but I know you didn't do anything last night so I don't know why you're here, and we're all waiting for you downstairs" What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can't read anything in his tone of voice.

"I told you, I feel ill..." I say uneasily and quietly. There's silence for a few moments and then Pierre whispered quietly

"Are you sure you're not... Avoiding anyone?" My heart skips a beat, how could he possibly know? Surely Scott wouldn't have been stupid enough to actually tell them? I don't answer and he continues. "Scott told us about what you did to him last night and everyone's kinda shocked... Billy was so upset when Scott told him. Why did you do it man?"

"What the... I didn't do... I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, what do you mean, what's he saying I did?" I babble, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

"He said that you got him drunk and then slept with him," says Pierre sounding about as confused as I feel. "Are you saying he's lying?"

"YES!" I shout, unable to control myself, "Pierre, he... He..." Just say it. How hard can it be? Say it. Tell Pierre, then everything will be okay. Billy will throw out Scott and everyone will make a fuss of me and look after me. I'll tell Billy why Scott did that to me and he'll see that I love him and we'll both live happily ever after. All I have to do is tell Pierre now. Just fucking spit it out.

"He what David?"

"He... He's lying" What the hell? That's not what I want to say. I close my eyes as a tear slips out and slides down my burning cheek. Pierre hesitates and I can almost see the disbelief on his face, despite the fact there's a door between us.

"Okay... Well if that's the case I think you should go and speak to Billy cos he looked pretty upset..." Pierre trails off into silence.

"You don't believe me do you?" My voice trembles in an effort to keep from sobbing it out loud. "You've known him for fucking five minutes and you believe him over me?"

There's no reply, and I hear footsteps walking away. Why do they believe him? Am I really the only person here who can see through him? Does Billy even know what he's like? The thought of Billy immediately conjures the pictures of his slashed arms in my mind... Could Scott have done that to him? But he told me that he'd done it to himself. But then again, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to anyone the real story, I can't imagine Scott would like other people knowing.

I stand up wincing and move over to the mirror. I can see my black silhouette against the dark blue of the surroundings. My hair's stuck up in spikes, the lack of light making them appear as black thorns framing my head. I don't want to turn the light on and look at myself, this dark I'm standing in is all too comforting. I swallow nervously as I reach out for the light switch and close my eyes fearfully. The light floods into my eyes painfully even though they're closed. I open them a crack and gasp at myself in the mirror.

There's a bruise on my cheek which is mostly yellow and hurts with the movement of my mouth. My eyeliner is streaked in spikes past my eyes where I was crying. I look down at my torso to see a small gash across my chest, with blood smeared around it and a dried brown trickle of blood underneath it. The cut along my side is covered in dried blood, making it look much worse than I know it is. Then I look at my arms. They're covered in small gashes, mostly at the top near my shoulders, but with a couple of deeper ones on my lower arm. I stand there staring at them feeling repulsed and disgusted. There's blood smeared all around them and dried all over my arms. They don't hurt too much, but they all sting whenever I move my arms. I sink to the floor, too drained to do anything but sit there cradling my head in my hands.

After a while, something inside me just clicks and I automatically get up a turn on the shower. I climb in and methodically begin to wash the blood off my body, being gentler around my cuts. I'm barely paying attention to what I'm doing, washing myself as if I'm a robot. I feel dead. When I'm done I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back to my room, thankfully not bumping into anyone. Inspecting my cuts in the privacy of my own room, they all look relatively small and un-serious. I pull on a t-shirt and some pants without looking at what I picked and then flop down onto my bed. I don't want to go downstairs and have to look at Scott, Billy, Pierre or anyone else for that matter.

As I lie there contemplating ways of escaping this mess, a tentative knock at my door pulls me out of my day-dreaming. I swallow and tell whoever it is to come in. Please God don't be Scott. I don't think I could look at him right now. The door swings open silently to reveal Billy standing there looking terrified. The sight of him nearly makes me sick where I'm lying. He thinks I seduced his boyfriend last night and he's probably heartbroken. A small part of me is glad, glad that he's feeling the same way I felt when I saw the two of them together. I immediately dismiss the thought as I swallow nervously again and sit up on the bed. I can't look at him, so I stare at my bare feet and wait for him to speak.

He shuts the door as if he's trying to be as quiet as possible, then sits down right next to me and clears his throat.

"Scott... He raped you, didn't he?" he whispers.

I look up at him with disbelief written all over my face. I nod slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time. He looks like he's about to cry and he still looks terrified. He closes his eyes and whispers again.

"Did he... Cut you?"

"Yes," I whisper back.

"Oh God... I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

"What? No, it was my fault... I... I said something I shouldn't have and he got angry. It's no-one's fault." Billy looks up at me questioningly, raising his eyebrows. I flush as I desperately try to think of something to say to stop him from asking what exactly had made Scott angry. "Did... Does he ever... Do it to you?" I suddenly feel about 15 years old, talking to someone infinitely older than me.

Billy looks back towards the floor and nods. "When I first met him, about six months ago, we were just having casual sex when we felt like it, then he started to tell me he loved me. I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I said I felt the same way even though I didn't... After about 3 months my guilt eventually got the better of me, and I got the courage to tell him. And then that night he raped me," His eyes flutter shut again and his breath hitches in his throat, "I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. He just kept hitting my and telling me that he loved me. I couldn't understand it, he was there telling me he loved me, but he wouldn't stop the pain he was causing. And when he was done, he laughed and left me lying there crying. I never told anyone about it, thinking that after that he'd never come back. But he did. He threatened me and told me that if I didn't stay with him then he'd kill me. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. And when he told us about you having sex with him, I knew it wasn't true because I know you, and you wouldn't do that."

I can tell by the expression on his face that it's killing him to say this. I want nothing more than to reach over to hug him and comfort him. I want to tell him that it's okay and that he doesn't have to be scared anymore, but I can't. I'm scared of exactly the same thing as he is and I don't know what to do any more than he does. I want to kiss him more than anything else. But I can't, I can't kiss the mouth that Scott's violated, at least, not right now. I wonder fleetingly if there's a chance Billy may be thinking the same thing, but I know he's not. At least, not right now.

*#*

So we just sit there for what feels like hours, until Billy sighs and stands up to leave. As I start to get up, the door creaks open and in walks Scott, like something from a slow motion nightmare. He stops dead in his tracks and the smile that was smeared on his face falls. His eyes flit from Billy to me and back again, before coming to rest glaring angrily at Billy.

"What the fuck did you tell him?" he spits violently.

Billy visibly flinches at his voice, but nonetheless looks up bravely to meet his gaze, his face an emotionless wall. "I told him the truth about you. I don't care about myself, you've already seen to that, but how can you fucking rape him and not expect anyone to even notice? You've gone too fucking far this time Scott. I'm going to call the cops now," he says evenly.

Billy waits for a moment, breathing deeply, to see if Scott will say anything. Scott's face is just as unreadable as Billy's and he makes no sound or movement, other than his eyes to flick from Billy to me, but then back to rest on Billy's face. I feel like a child again, caught in between a fight between two adults that I don't fully understand but I don't want to witness or be a part of either.

Billy grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door, making to go straight past Scott and down the hallway. I feel Billy's hand grip my arm more tightly as we walk swiftly past Scott, who remains there not moving. I glance up at his face as we move past, and his eyes are fixed on the spot where Billy and I were sitting moments ago. However, he doesn't move and Billy ignores him as we slip past. Billy lets go of my arm as we walk down the hallway and I walk quietly behind him, lost in his step and fascinated with the back of his head. I'm so absorbed in him that I don't notice the near-silent footsteps creeping up behind us.

An explosion of pain hits the back of my head as I feel something cold, metal and hard connect with the back of my skull; I cry out in pain as I fall to the floor clutching at the wound and I feel warm blood dripping from it. Billy spins round at my cry. All I hear is a gasp and a thud as he falls to the floor inches away from me. Scott's footsteps hurry away from us and out of the house. I crawl over to Billy and shake him gently.

"Billy, he's gone."

He smiles softly up at me and I wonder why he hasn't moved yet. As he smiles, his face contorts into a pained expression and I look down to see blood spreading slowly from a wound on his stomach underneath his t-shirt. I look at him in horror before stumbling to my feet and running to the phone to call for an ambulance, without a second glance back.

I reach the phone and call for the ambulance. The lady on the other end doesn't seem remotely bothered by the fact that the man I love is lying in a pool of his own blood, dying. She probably gets hundreds of calls like this every single day. That must give her a pretty bleak outlook on life I think to myself as I hurry back up the stairs to Billy. The back of my head is screaming at me in pain and I can feel the blood trickling down my own neck, wetting my t-shirt. As I reach the top stair, I miss the step itself and fall onto the floor with a loud thump. Dizziness sweeps through my body, making me sway on my knees and threatening to pass out if I move again. But I have to get to Billy and tell him to hold on for just a little longer, help will be here soon. A few feet away from him, my body wins over my mind and I collapse on the floor, a tiring and warm blackness washing over me.

Just before I lose all my senses, I feel Billy's hand reach out to mine and squeeze it. I'm about to squeeze back when I finally black out.

*#*

When I was a child, I used to lie in my bed pretending to be asleep even when I was wide awake and my mom came in to wake me up in the mornings. In the car I'd spend whole journeys pretending to be asleep just so I could listen to what my parents were talking about. They rarely talked about anything interesting, but I used to love feeling I could spy on them and hear what they were talking about. Just in case they ever said anything about me that they didn't want me to hear. Of course, they didn't, but there was always the chance that they might.

I'm doing the same thing now. I don't even know where I'm lying at the moment, I haven't opened my eyes at all yet. I can hear whispered voices around me, and lots of bustling in the distance. My head throbs painfully and I feel groggy. I'm trying to listen to the voices, but I can't make out whose they are, or what they're talking about. They sound hushed and worried from what I can make out. I crack my eye open slowly and frown at the bright white light flooding it. The voices surrounding me fall silent and I open both my eyes fully, letting them adjust to the light. I wonder how long they've been closed and in the dark for them to hurt this much.

"Guys, I think David's awake..." whispers a familiar voice... Benji? That sounds about right.

As the figures surrounding me come into focus, I begin to take in my surroundings. I'm lying in a small hospital ward, it's snowing and dark outside and I'm lying under a stiff white sheet on a bed that feels like it's made of bricks. There's a flourescent light right above me bathing everything in a clinical white glow. Seb, Jeff, Pierre, Tony and Jere are standing round me. By the bed next to mine stand Paul and Benji, but right now they're both looking over at me worriedly. I look at everyone individually and they're all the wearing the same anxious face. Pierre looks like he's been crying. No-one says anything.

"Where's Billy?" I whisper quietly to the assembled crowd, terrified of what the answer will be. They all look at each other and Benji clears his throat. Please don't tell me he's dead... It'll be all my fault...

"He's... He's doing good. He got knifed in the stomach but the doctors said the damage wasn't too bad. He's still out of it. He stayed awake until the ambulance arrived, watching over you and he made sure you were okay. But yeah, he's doing good now." He offers me a small smile and moves slightly to the side and I see for the first time that Billy's lying in the bed next to mine. He looks so peaceful, as if he's just simply asleep as normal. I notice his face is even whiter than normal and his arms have been dressed in bandages.

"What happened to... To Scott?" I see everyone tense at the mention of his name and Pierre looks away from me.

"We thought you might be able to tell us... What exactly happened?"

I look away from all their gazes and start fiddling with a bit of the sheet. Would they believe me now? I doubted it, but at least I'd have Billy to back me up once he wakes up. If he wakes up. "Scott raped me that night that he told you I got him drunk. Billy didn't believe his story and came to see me. Scott found us talking and Billy told him his was gonna call the police. That's as much as I remember," I say without any emotion in my voice, although having to tell them about the rape makes me feel sick. The same awkward silence falls over us, no-one knows what to say.

"We knew about the rape," offers Tony quietly, "The doctors told us. They checked you all over as soon as you came in. They called the police and that was the last we heard. You've been out of it for nearly a day and half. Most of us have been taking turns to stay here and wait for you to wake up. The doctor said you can leave as soon as you wake up. We're gonna stay here until Billy wakes up, but Pierre's going home now so he can take you back if you want."

But I'm not really listening to what Tony's telling me. I don't want to know, I just want to forget everything that's happened. And the last thing I'm gonna do is go home now. I look at a clock on the wall that tells me it's half seven in the evening. "I'm not going home." I say, looking at Pierre.

"The guys got rid of your bed sheets and cleaned up, if that's what's wrong..."

"No, it's not that. I just want to stay here with Billy."

"Oh... okay then."

"Well, if you're going to stay here then there's not much point in us being here too," says Benji with a meaningful look at all the guys, who turn around to gape at his suggestion. He smiles at me and begins to usher the others out ignoring their feeble protests. After making sure they're safely out in the corridor, he walks over to my bed and grins at me encouragingly. "Why don't you go and sit with Billy? I'm sure he'd love for you to be the first person he sees when he wakes up." He pats me on the back and hurries off after the others.

So here I am, lying alone in the ward with Billy. The other beds are all empty and it feels so creepy. The lights in the room are making me squint because they're so bright. I look over at Billy. I want to go and sit with him like Benji suggested, but somehow I can't. He'll probably never want to look at me again, I nearly got him killed. I nearly got the man I love killed. The thought makes me shudder and I'm nearly sick. I decide to go up to him anyway, against my better judgement. I sit up cautiously, expecting to feel dizzy, but nothing happens so I get up as quietly as I can and pull the chair that Pierre was sitting in up to Billy's bed and sit there looking him over.

He looks more fragile than I've ever seen him before. He's got no hospital robe on, and I can see loads of cuts across his chest which have been dressed by the nurses. He's so pale it almost hurts to look at him in this light, and I squint at him instead for a while, until I'm mesmerised by the regular rise and fall of his chest. His arms lie either side of him, and I absentmindedly pick up one of his hands in my own and hold it there, stroking it with my thumb. I give it a small squeeze, a squeeze that I realise I owed him.

I sit there like this for hours, lost in thoughts about him, until he stirs in his sleep. As his eyes flutter open, frowning at the obtrusive light I drop his hand as if it's just burnt me. For some reason I suddenly feel embarrassed and I don't want him to catch me staring or holding his hand or anything. I wait for him to realise where he is before saying anything.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

He doesn't say anything, just nods before bringing arm up to face to shield his eyes. I assume that means he's feeling okay and I smile at him, obvious relief written all over my face despite the fact I know he can't see me. He doesn't move his arm so I take it to mean he's quite happy to sit here in silence. I wonder if he can feel the love radiating off me? I nealy snort out loud at the idea.

"David..." My head snaps up quickly. He still hasn't moved his arm away from his eyes, and his voice sounds croaky and a little shaky. "Why did you let go of my hand when I woke up?"

"I didn't want to freak you out if you were only just coming round," I say, telling the truth, "The other guys went home cos they waited until I woke up which took ages, so they were really tired. I said I'd wait for you." I glance up at the clock on the wall. It now says two thirty am. I sat there with him for seven hours without realising it.

"Okay." He doesn't sound like he minds much. I wonder if he's properly awake yet.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" I offer, trying to find any excuse to break the silence and hear his voice. I don't want him to fall back to sleep and leave me alone. For no good reason I suddenly feel scared and him being here with me is something I need right now.

"It's okay, I'm fine. How are you feeling?" As he says the last sentence, he moves his arm away from his face and looks me up and down anxiously. "I tried to stay awake and make sure you were okay, but I couldn't, sorry. What did he do to you?"

"Shh. It's fine, I just got whacked on the head." He smiles and closes his eyes, relaxing into the pillow, as we lapse back into silence. "I was so scared," I blurt out suddenly, and probably a little too loudly. His eyes open and he watches me, waiting for me to carry on. "I thought you were gonna die and it would have been my fault." I know that's not really any different from the first thing I said but I just can't force the words I want to say out of my mouth.

He swallows and looks down at his hands. "That would have been awful... You'd never have known how I feel about you." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, more of a breath. So quiet I'm not even sure I really heard it. It's probably this damn head injury messing with my brain. He didn't just say that. He wouldn't say that. Breathe David, breathe.

I exhale slowly and say nothing, staring at my knees. A hand reaches down a pick up mine. The warmth makes my skin tingle all the way up my arm and down my back. I look up and meet Billy's gaze. "Say something David..."

"I- What do you mean?"

He bites down on his lip and looks away from me, his face flushing. "I really like you David, in... In that way. I have done for so long. I didn't tell you because... Because I was afraid of what Scott would do to me, or you, if he knew. And I was right. I saw how it upset you when you saw me and him together so I told myself that I was gonna finish it with him once and for all. I told him and he gave me that cut you saw me trying to cover up. After that I was too scared to say anything, which is why I virtually ignored you all the time on the trip to the cinema. I'm sorry."

Even though his words contain so much suffering and pain, so many things that should never have happened, and so many things that need to be forgotten, they're the most beautiful words I've ever heard from a single person's mouth. I can feel an overpowering swell in my chest, of happiness and relief, and it all bursts out of me in happy tears.

I look over to Billy to see he's doing exactly the same thing.

Don't Go

Sat, 10 Jan 2004 22:39:31 GMT

Paring: Billy/Joel [Good Charlotte]
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,266
Summary: Short standalone. First thing I ever wrote and it's cringeworthy. Joel's keeping a secret from Billy.

"Joel?"

My quiet voice forcefully shoved its way into Joel's train of thoughts. He looked up in silence, a quizzical raise of the eyebrows his only indication that he'd just heard me. He'd been so quiet the past few weeks, the whole band were beginning to get worried. Not that he was quiet in a depressed way. Hell, I thought, he's always so quiet. We weren't entirely sure how he was being different...

"We've... noticed that something's not... quite right with you lately... and we, well, I was wondering if you felt like talking about it or anything..."

At this, Joel leaned back in his restaurant chair and smiled in a painful way that was more of a grimace.

"Nothing's wrong, Bill. Just tired I guess" He replied, half-smiling.

"Don't give me that bull. Please, just tell me." I said pleadingly.

Joel grinned again, took a long breath, let it out again slowly and said "You really want to know?"

"Yes"

"I think I love you"

Whatever I had been expecting, it sure as hell wasn't anything like that. I could tell from the look in Joel's eyes as he said it that he was being serious. Deadly serious in fact. I felt the air around me thicken, pressing in on my head and my blood being pumped more fiercely around my body. I was totally speechless, with confused thoughts running through my head. The bustling restaurant around us froze, but inside my mind was whirling at lightning speed.

"P-pardon?" I managed to croak.

Joel's eyes looked deep into my own, searching for some sort of mirror, some kind of indication that even a little part of me felt the way that he did, but I simply sat there, still frozen in shock, searching Joel's entire face, expecting that at any moment Joel might grin again and announce that he was only joking, wasn't that funny, let's get another round of drinks, ha ha ha.

But the announcement never came. I noticed the world starting to move around me again, slowly but surely returning to its normal speed. Joel just sat there still as ever, apart from the worried nibbling of his lip. We both started to speak at the same time.

"Look, just forge-"

"I have to go."

Without a backward glance, I got up and left the restaurant, almost falling over on the way out. I stepped outside into the cool night-time air, took a few deep breaths and hurried back to the house we shared as a band.

*#*

What the fuck?! I thought to myself for possibly the 11th time in the last hour. I tossed and turned in my bed to look at my alarm clock and gave an annoyed huff when I saw that it read 2:00am. I reached up to my mouth and began to twist my lip ring around worriedly.

What was I so afraid of? Okay, one of my best friends announces that he loves me... It wouldn't have been so awful if it wasn't for the fact that I wanted to tell him exactly the same thing. I just felt so angry. I'd been dreaming about him and crying myself to sleep over him for so long, too afraid to tell him how I felt... And now he can just happily sit there and tell me he loves me?! Making a mockery of my feelings. Showing me just how easy it was when I'd been to much of a scared fucking asshole to do the same thing. I got up and wandered to the kitchen to see if a drink could wash away the twisting sick feeling fluttering in my stomach.

Sighing, I flopped onto the couch and just stared into the pitch blackness, willing Joel to come in, as if being able to look at him might somehow help me to organise the thoughts in my head. The sound of footsteps slapping on the floor nearly gave me a heart attack. Sure enough, it was him. He looked around sleepily, but then froze and went pale as soon as his eyes landed on me. Neither of us said anything, we just stared at each other for an age, framed by ghostly moonlight trickling in through the windows. After a while, Joel broke away from the stare, bit his lip and turned away to leave.

"Don't go." The words escaped from my mouth, a little too loudly.

Joel turned back to me with a nervous look in his eyes. He closed his eyes and began to speak.

"Look, I'm so... I'm sorry about what I said," I could see tears running down his cheeks, catching the light and making my heart ache, "I-I guess I should probably say that I didn't mean it. But I can't. I needed to say it, it's been there for so long... I'm so sorry."

His last setence came out as choked sobs and I stood up, hurried over to him and hugged him. He buried his face into my shoulder and silently sobbed.

"Joel," I began, with my arms wrapped around him, rubbing his back comfortingly through his t-shirt, "Please stop crying. It's okay, really. I-I'm sorry I acted the way I did back in the restaurant... This sounds really crazy and I can't explain it, but I did it... I did it because I feel exactly the same way about you." I swallowed nervously, waiting for something, anything from Joel. With his face buried in my shoulder, all I could tell for the moment was that he'd stopped crying.

He pulled away from me slightly, so that he could look me in the eyes. Our faces were inches apart and I could feel his breath fluttering on my cheek. I stared into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Y-you do?" this time it was his turn to swallow nervously.

There was of course, only one thing I could do for an answer. I slid one of my hands up to his neck and bought his face close enough to mine for me to kiss him. The moment our lips touched, I think we both felt the room around us crackle with electricity and fire. The heat rushed up into my body and head and in the same moment Joel wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in closer. I ran my tongue along his lip and he gasped softly, opening his mouth to let me in. Unfortunately, the lack of air became a pressing issue, and we let go of each other.

Joel took a step back and looked at me seriously. Without breaking his gaze from my eyes, he reached down a picked my hand up into his own. He ran his thumb along my knuckles, smiling softly, almost to himself. He was so beautiful and pale, it pained me to think that I could ever have hurt something so wonderful... As he moved his head his eyes glinted in the moonlight and it was only then that I realised his eyes still looked sad.

"You're not doing this just because you feel guilty or anything, are you? Because if you are then it doesn't matter and you shouldn't anyway because..." he trailed off into silence and I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Joel, I wouldn't do that, it's not fair. I wish I'd never just stormed out, but I was so scared because I've been in... in love... with you for so long now, and I was just never planning to tell you because I thought that you'd be disgusted and then things would never be the same between us and it would be so awkward and uncomfortable, and th-"

Joel grinned silently as he pressed a finger to my lips to stop me, and I blushed slightly as I realised I'd been babbling like an idiot. We both stood and stared at each other, until the sound of a new pair of feet slapping into the room made us jump about a foot in the air.

We both froze, realising we were standing with our faces inches away from each other, but both of us too shocked to move as Benji came in and squinted at the two dark shapes. I swallowed nervously as I saw recognition dawn on his face.

"About fucking time," he muttered before winking at me and then slouching back off to bed.

I just stood watching his back disappear into the darkness, gobsmacked, until I felt Joel's hand touch me lightly on the arm.

"Do you want to go somewhere... a bit, y'know... more private?"

My stomach flipped over about 3 times and I nodded silently, afraid that I might throw up if I opened my mouth. He took my hand and pulled me down the corridor to his room.

*#*

I walked into my room, and stopped, surveying the unattractive piles of clothing all over the floor. Before I had time to start panicking about looking like a slob, I jumped slightly as Joel came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and nuzzled his face into my neck.

"You know what the problem is here don't you?" I grinned.

"Mmmpph?"

"You're too short," I giggled, earning myself a poke and a pout.

I just laughed again as he pulled my t-shirt off over my head and kissed the exposed white flesh of my back. He ran his hands down my chest and over my stomach, and slipped a hand down into my boxers and began to stroke me. I shivered, leaning back onto him and reaching up my hand so I could stroke his face.

I whined a little as he withdrew his hand and walked over to the bed. I followed him, feeling my own pout coming on. Joel saw the look on my face and laughed quietly. I sat down on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissed him again, moving my tongue softly round his mouth, running one hand through his hair and keeping the other on the back of his neck.

Without breaking off from the kiss, he reached down to my crotch and stroked my growing erection roughly. I gasped loudly into the kiss and bit my lip as he pulled away. My hair fell into my face and I looked at him nervously from underneath it as he pushed me gently off his lap so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed, him standing in front of me.

Seeing the worried look in my eyes, he smiled softly pushing my hair out of my face.

"First time with a guy?"

I nodded, blushing, feeling a little embarrassed to be admitting it.

"It's fine. I'll be really gentle, and if you want me to stop anything, just tell me right away."

I smiled, feeling touched and slightly more courageous.

"You've been with guys before then?"

"Yeah, I've been gay since high school."

I smiled and climbed into the middle of the bed, as Joel straddled my hips and ground down into my lap, making us both moan. He leant down and kissed my collarbone, running his tongue along it, then up my neck and nibbled on my ear. I closed my eyes and purred, loving the warmth of his body so close to mine, and his breath tickling the back of my neck. It seemed so surreal, just being loved by someone so perfect as Joel, someone so gentle and considerate, and...

The removal of his head and warmth woke me up from my dreaming, and I opened my eyes to see where they'd gone. My eyes opened wider than I thought possible as I saw his head moving down towards my lap, his hands on my hips about to pull my boxers off.

"Joel, what are you-"

He smiled at me with something bordering on mischief glinting in his eyes, and he held a finger to his lips, and I was so busy staring back into his eyes, I didn't notice the removal of my boxers until Joel started blowing softly on my erection.

I gripped onto the loose sheets around me and moaned as quietly as I could, feeling my eyes rolling back into my head. He wasn't even touching me, yet managing to drive me wild. My ragged breath came out in a sharp hiss as he took me into his mouth and began to suck tantalisingly slowly.

"Fuck, Joel... Please..."

I bucked my hips upwards in a vain attempt to force more of myself into his mouth, but Joel was having none of it. He grabbed my hips and held them down onto the bed, making it impossible for me to even move them an inch.

I gave up trying to struggle, happy to simply lie there being subjected to the best blow job I'd ever had. As Joel's tongue movements became regular, I became aware of how loud I was being. The silence around me pressed in on my ears, shattered periodically by a loud groan or a sharp gasp escaping from my lips and I could tell I was getting close. I opened my mouth to let Joel know, but my brain and mouth seemed to be on totally different frequencies.

I gritted my teeth as my stomach muscles clenched together harder than I'd ever felt them before, and I came hard into Joel's mouth. He lay down next to me and kissed me deeply, sharing my own cum with me. Still shuddering, and barely able to believe what had just happened, all I could do was kiss him back.