musings in the dark

[FIC] My Way Home is Through You - MCR - GW/FI | GW/LB - PG

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:10:12 GMT

Title: My Way Home is Through You
Author: shira
Pairing: Implied GW/FI; GW/LB
Rating/Warnings: PG; General relationship angstiness.
Summary: If only Gerard knew, he's Frank's only way home...
Dedication/Beta: *gasp* Unbeta'd, but I'm in the market for one, so... anyone?
A/N: Seriously, I'm looking for a beta who can check my work before I post more stuff. In this case, I've gone over this three times and already spell-checked so it should be good, but I'm sure I've managed to miss something. ALSO: I'm not new to bandfic, but new to MCR fic, so if I've made any glaring mistakes in regard to the band or its history/information, please let me know, because I'm that kind of a stickler for details.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money off this, just getting my jollies thinking about pretty boys because I can.

That last day on the tour in Denver, well it had been the best show of the entire tour, but that was kind-of how things tended to go in respect to touring. They always started off a little awkwardly, everything fresh and new for everyone while they all got used to new set lists and new schedules, and Gerard having to remember the names of which bands were being thanked this time for their support and for making the show a success, while getting the crowd going a little more. There were lots of new people working on the lighting and the stages, and for a production as big as Projekt Revolution, sometimes at first the people in the bands didn't always know whether they were coming or going. Those were generally some of the times, too, when that self-proclaimed, self-enclosed "bubble" that Gerard's always mentioned in interviews really benefit them — because when everything started to get a little crazy by the end of those first couple of days, at least the five of them could head back to the bus and close themselves off for a little while, until they were ready to go back out and deal with it all a little more. There was always was that, that whole notion of being a "band in a bubble," keeping things from getting too overwhelming too fast.

But then after about the first five days, maybe the first week, everything would pretty much fall into place for the most part, and they would all just get into the routine of things. Tour after tour, it had always been easier after the first week and after learning the routine, because then everyone knew what to expect. Sure, generally a day never passed without some kind of "little incident," but that was actually part of the routine, too; the room for those little incidents. Like accidentally driving away from a rest stop without the entire band on board, or breaking a few toes leaping off a speaker. When touring with so many other bands too, the little incidents were definitely bound to happen, but generally everybody got with the program after the first week and the show started to feel "broken in"; the band went out there every night and gave it everything they had to give.

Frank liked it like that, giving it everything he had in him at every show. Putting his all into it. He knew there was no way he could do it any other way, and he knew that Gerard and the others felt the same about it, too. It was just who they were as performers. There was no such thing as doing it only half-assed for this band.

By the end of the tour though, well, it's not that they're enjoying themselves any less, but after six weeks of playing almost every night — in grueling heat in some of those cases, which of course only made that staged inferno that much hotter — and with the amount of press and fans and lines to porta-potties, it did have the habit of starting to feel a little bit tired. Their "all or nothing" openings started slipping just a little bit, to be "just-a-pinch-less-than-all or nothing," and even though it was barely noticeable by anyone not on the stage, the five of them who were on it, well they noticed.

Frank noticed. He knew Gerard noticed, too. That was generally when they all started thinking that it could be time to take a break. Even a little one to recharge the batteries and catch up on some much needed sleep and a few days of really healthy eating, but the need for breaks and the ends of tours didn't always coincide, of course.

In the case of Projekt Revolution however, it did. Just as the summer heat was beginning to take its toll on everyone, bands and fans alike, there it was, the end of the tour. The last day of the most amazing tour of My Chemical Romance's career was fast approaching and suddenly they were staring it in the face in disbelief. The day before, things had begun to get a little anxious, both for the thoughts of relief of taking that much needed break, and the slightly sad ones of the days on the road with this particular group being over. Thoughts of parting ways and missing friends and simply giving up the excitement that life on the road tended to provide, daily incidents included.

Thinking about it, Frank found it all to be amazing. Amazing, how it was that he could fall asleep one night so utterly exhausted that he couldn't even get out of his clothing, only to wake up the next day running on nothing but adrenaline and a those first couple of cups of coffee, those first few cigarettes, and do it all over again. Amazing, how he could pass out one night still totally consumed by living the life, and then wake up sort of melancholy, and before even thinking about it all, somehow just knowing that the last day had arrived. Knowing that by the end of the night it was all going to be over and done with, nothing but a mere memory. "We played Projekt Revolution; they were no longer playing it.

Naturally, after a tour like this too, someone had to do some kind of sendoff to end it all with a real bang, so why not the band with all the pyro on their stage? It turned out to be this grand finale and this whole great happening as My Chemical Romance played their last set of the tour, on the last night of the tour, what with Gerard's champagne toast on stage to the crew and all the bands, to the thousands and thousands of fans that had attended the shows and withstood the heat with them over the previous six weeks. It was awesome up there on that stage before the band broke into their final couple of songs, those last songs of that last set, of that last day of the tour. It was a moment in time when all five of them could be really proud of themselves and what they'd built, and how many lives they'd saved with it.

Frank had to admit, it was an unforgettable close to the tour, one that would remain memorable to him hopefully forever. However, there were more surprises in store, ones that he wasn't prepared for, happening after the show. It really would be a memorable night, maybe more memorable for some in the band than for others, too. No, it wasn't one of those unplanned incidents and nobody got hurt or died, unless one wanted to count that little part of Frank's heart that did, but despite thinking that to himself later on, he also decided that he shouldn't, that it was selfish of him. Whether it was or not though, selfishness didn't stop him from feeling it; sad or broken hearts, they tended to speak so loudly that it was damned near impossible to shut them up.

Usually after the band played, everyone would go back to the bus. They might stop to sign things and take pictures with any fans met along the way, or sometimes there might be a meet-and-greet or some press to do; for the most part though, after an hour or so, they were all usually back there. They'd fight over the last few cans of Coke in the mini-fridge - except for Gerard, who'd be drinking Diet, or Coke Zero - bring out the Playstation and just kind of kick back and relax, lazing all over the place, and all over each other. That was pretty much how they tended to spend the rest of the night until they crawled to their bunks and passed out. Some nights too, they'd head off to a hotel instead of sleeping in the bus, the benefits there being that really wonderful thing called a hot shower. Since this was the last night of the tour, and nobody had to be anywhere else than where they were the next morning, the plan had been made to meet in the bus per the norm, and then head out to the hotel to get one glorious night's sleep before flying out in the morning for home.

They'd all be back in dirty-old New Jersey before another twenty-four hours would pass. It was an idea that, despite how much he loved playing and being on stage, excited Frank the more he thought about it. Home. Not forever, and actually only for a couple weeks before heading off again to Europe, but it would be home all the same, and all the comforts that came with it. Mom's cooking, catching up with friends a little bit, and of course, sleep! And what was nice about being home, too, was that there, Frank could really be himself when it came to his association with Gerard, and they could actually spend some quality friend time together not worrying over... anything. Just a couple of big kids, and whatever they got themselves up to during that time, even if most of the time all they did was talk about tour or discuss lyrics or something else that had equally inspired them.

Needless to say, Frank was really anxious to be going home. They'd played there nearly two weeks ago and most of his family had showed up to see it, see the band. Even to see Gerard puking behind Bob's drum riser when the heat nearly got the best of him. It was definitely time for a small break. Home was calling them, and this time the plan was to answer.

When Frank got to the bus that night, Ray was the only one there. He didn't initially find it odd though, until he realized that Ray was actually on his way back off the bus as Frank was heading in. "Torosaurus! What's the hurry, man?" Frank asked Ray as he made his way back to his bunk. "Where is everyone? I thought we were bypassing the big party and just heading back to the hotel?" They did that a lot - skipped the after parties, at least after a quick appearance made out of politeness - so as not to make staying on his bandwagon any more difficult for Gerard than they all knew it was for him. It was a promise the whole band had made together, to stand by Gerard in his keeping himself clean and sober. It had been three years for him this month, too, so that was a milestone that none of them would want to fault.

"Hurry up. Frank, or you're gonna miss it! We're all over in the bar area," Ray said excitedly, calling back to him.

"Miss what?!"

Ray grabbed his digital camera from his bunk, then walked toward the front of the bus again. "Some girl that's here tonight working for Live Nation is apparently an ordained minister. Gerard and Lyn-z are makin' it official!"

Before Frank could even say anything, standing there with his mouth gaping, he could feel his heart crash down into his stomach. Ray was gone in an instant however, headed back in the direction of the main building at the concert venue, so by the time he got his mouth to work there was nobody there for him to reply to. Frank stood there a few more moments caught in the mixed feelings of disappointment and just plain surprise, then shook his head. How could this happen so fast? And without him knowing about it? Do they even have a license, or do you not need one in the state of Colorado, Frank considered, heart aching as he did. Then he remembered how it had happened for Mikey and Alicia, which reminded him that in some states, apparently, you could get a marriage license online, of all things. Instant wedding. And people wonder why I hate the internet so much?

Contemplating silently, Frank continued over to his bunk where he changed out of his damp, sweaty t-shirt and pulled on a dry, clean one. He couldn't believe it, what Ray had said. Something inside him told him that the other man wasn't kidding though, and that if he wanted to at least be there for the event, at least be the friend that Gerard knew him to be, he should get over there and find them all. Frank felt himself actually deflate a little bit more, the more he thought about this; all of that good feeling he'd had about heading home had escaped him at this point, too, leaving Ray's words sitting on his chest like a leaden weight over his heart.

Well, shit.

No matter, though. Frank knew he couldn't miss it, and even if he could, really, he wouldn't want to. Gerard was his best friend, after all. It was important for him to be there for him and Frank wasn't about to let him down, even if his head was thinking more selfish things part of the time. As he finished cleaning himself up a little bit, Frank kind-of wished he had one of those tuxedo t-shirts with him, but he didn't. So much for that. They'd just have to take him in his plain black, which was pretty much how he always dressed. He didn't plan on sticking around too long anyway.

Arriving back inside the venue, which was mostly empty of fans from the show at this point, Frank eventually found the group he was looking for over by the bar in the VIP lounge area. It was just a few people from the different bands, along with Ray and Bob, and of course Gerard. And beside Gerard, there she was. Lindsey Ann Ballato, better known by her bandmates and friends as the infamous Lyn-z. They were all standing in a group, talking and laughing as Frank approached, sharing toasts and passing beers; he did take note that Gerard specifically mentioned at one point, that his drink was virgin, which was a bit of relief to Frank; for a fleeting moment that pride that he always felt in Gerard every time the other man passed up a drink filled him with warmth. Gerard's virgin drink naturally garnered well-meant jokes about how that drink was about the only part of Gerard that was however, which got everyone laughing and kept the mood light, but somehow Frank wasn't really feeling it. He was a good actor when he needed to be, though.

"Wait a second," Frank said, adding to the conversation as he slipped in next to Gerard. He had a little smirk pasted in place, and at first only glanced around the group quickly before taking the beer that had been offered to him. "Gerard, you mean you lied to me when you said you'd never been with anyone before? I thought I was your first!" He feigned a look of mock horror and disgust just long enough for everyone to get the joke, then laughed with them all, pushing himself to be cordial. Happening to glance her way, Frank's eyes momentarily connected with Lyn-z's; she gave Frank a friendly little smile and he felt his heart constrict a little bit. Then when Gerard reached out and wrapped both his arms around him, Frank did the same, squeezing his friend tightly and breathing in his scent at the same time. Gerard flowed through him, causing another sharp pang to form in his heart as they hugged, and Frank had to force himself to let go. When the hug between best friends was finally released though, they stood there an extra moment or two, eyes connected, Frank smiling softly, though his eyes seemed a little bit empty. "Congrats, man," he said quietly, before blinking off the eye contact with the other man. He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that Gerard had been able to tell that he wasn't necessarily happy with what was going on. Frank corrected himself and brushed it off, but there was still that part of him was hoping that Gerard had, indeed, noticed his discomfort.

Stepping close, Gerard leaned into Frank so that they couldn't be overheard, and grinning, so it seemed like some private joke between them, he spoke into Frank's ear. "Hey... you okay?" Gerard had his head pressed close against Frank's, and an arm around his back, which served only to accentuate the desperation that was building in Frank. A little feeling of satisfaction rushed through him upon realizing that Gerard had, indeed, caught his subtlety, but Frank managed to rein it in and choke it all back. "Yeah," he said into his friend's ear, giving him a little smile so as to support his words. "I'm... everything's fine." Meeting Gerard's eyes once more Frank pushed his smile a little, forcing it to reach his eyes, he gave Gerard a little kiss on the cheek and another tight hug, then whispered to him again. "Love you, man. Want you to be happy." Then Frank released his hug and took a step back, his eyes lingering on Gerard's an extra moment or so before he looked away and fell back into the conversation with some of the others. His heart was still breaking, but it was true. After everything Gerard had been through in the past few years, Frank did think he deserved to be happy.

Thankfully, Gerard was pretty occupied with everything happening, so even though Frank felt that his friend knew something was up, it seemed he didn't dwell on it long. He didn't want to ruin Gerard's night being angsty of course, but this whole thing, it was something that Frank had been dreading for a while. Sure, he was engaged himself, and sure Gerard had been engaged once before, but to him, as real as those commitments were, somehow Frank had allowed himself to fall into the feeling that time would just keep marching on and he and Gerard, they'd always be what they were, and that was that. Nothing would change them. Nothing would take away the way they'd grown together and been so crucial to each other these last few years. Actually going through with getting married, even though they'd already seen Mikey do it, it just seemed to him that it was something so far off in the distance that he'd never really have to deal with it. This wasn't to say that Frank didn't love Jamia, or that Gerard didn't love Lyn-z, but Frank was happy just the way they were. Nothing needed to change, and especially as quickly as this engagement, and now marriage, had come about... but here it all was, about to do just that. He hadn't even known that Gerard had been thinking like this lately although Frank wasn't sure if it was something he'd necessarily wanted to have known about ahead of time. It would have probably just prolonged the miserable feeling that was taking up residence in him right now, so maybe spur of the moment - as romantic as it did seem - was better. Like ripping a band-aid off all at once and avoiding the long, drawn-out ouchiness of trying to coax it off slowly.

Lost a little bit in his own head, Frank continued to make small talk with those around him, all the while glancing over every once in a while to keep tabs on the newlyweds-to-be, and in the back of all the thoughts happening in his head was one small one trying desperately to take root. He kept thinking that Gerard wasn't really going to do this, that somehow it wouldn't happen. The person who would marry them would come forth and say that she couldn't actually marry them, or that they would still need to at least appear before some local justice, making it impossible to do right there and then. Every little hope that popped into his head was squelched by the accompanying opposite thought however, like the fact that they'd already seen it done, a last-minute marriage, and he knew very well that it was possible. When he turned around to find the woman dressed in the Live Nation shirt among them, Frank knew this was happening, and nobody was stopping it. He imagined himself actually saying something if this minister asked whether anyone saw any reason why Gerard and Lyn-z shouldn't be married, but even if he did, what would he say? I've loved you, Gerard, more than you have any idea. I know it wasn't supposed to happen this way, but you have this way of getting under someone's skin. Can't we just stay the way we are now? Of course they couldn't, and of course he couldn't say this out loud, so for all intent and purposes, to the selfish, hopelessly attached part of him, this was the end of the line.

When the question was finally asked, whether there was anyone who felt the couple should not be married, Frank held his peace, since there was no way he could get himself to 'speak now'. Frank looked down, concerning himself with something mundane until the last of the vows had been said; once they had, and standing before him were his best friend, and his best friend's new wife, only and then did Frank just sort of fade off into the background, letting the newly joined couple assume all of the attention they so deserved. From outside of the small group of people Frank watched, noting how happy and at ease Gerard seemed, and this, well this was a good thing, of course. And Lyn-z, she seemed jubilant; he had no doubt that she loved Gerard. She was very genuine, and had been since the moment Gerard had introduced them, so at least there was that. At least Frank could walk away from this union feeling as though Gerard had picked a good person, as far as they could tell right now; that was always one of Frank's concerns, that Gerard find the "right" person. Someone who could take care of him and be strong enough for him to lean on, because Gerard, well he definitely needed that. Until now Frank had been only too happy to be that person, letting it pull them closer than he knew he should have, but it seemed he was probably no longer needed at this point.

Thinking about that, Frank took a few steps away from the group and brought out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He turned away from them and stuck the cigarette between his lips, then cocked his head and squinted a bit as he lit the end. He pulled deeply on the lit cigarette, feeling that rush go through him as nicotene quickly invaded his system. When Gerard came up behind him he wasn't expecting it, but Frank didn't startle, knowing the feel of Gerard's touch on his shoulder all-too-well. It made his gut flutter a bit. Glancing up, Frank's eyes met Gerard's for a moment, until he looked away to blow his lungful of smoke out. "Good luck with it, Gee," he finally offered once he'd released the breath, then sheepishly turned back to look at his friend once more. The look that Gerard gave him in return, this sort of sad, understanding, sympathizing little smile, it pierced his heart like a dagger right now, but Frank's expression didn't change any.

"Thanks, Frank. You're a great friend." Gerard's hand was still on Frank's shoulder, and he squeezed him softly. The glances between them were knowing, now. There were no secrets at this point, and Frank knew that Gerard understood exactly what was going on in his head.

"I just want you to be happy. Whatever that takes." Even if it takes ripping a part of me away.

"I... I really appreciate that. I do."

There was a bit of a pause then, but Gerard's eyes never strayed from Frank's. Frank, on the other hand, eventually looked past the other man, then brought his hand up to hold his cigarette between his lips for another drag. "I know," Frank replied softly, as he held the soothing smoke in his lungs. He flicked the barest hint of a smile, pushing for more, but when he realized it wasn't going to work, he stopped trying. "Just make sure you are, okay?" He gave the other man a quick sideways glance, then nodded, smiling softly, more freely this time. And if she ends up not doing it for you... I'll still be here.

"We will," Gerard answered, also turning away as the heaviness began to creep into him a little as well. "I just wanted to let you know how much I've appreciated everything you've done for me though. Everything we've... I wouldn't have made it to this point without you, Frank, and it bears mentioning."

This time Frank just nodded. He really didn't have anything to say that wouldn't come out seeming trite, selfish or childish, so he chose the mature route and just remained quiet. Thank god he was smoking, for whatever tiny distraction the cigarette afforded him. Before Gerard turned and left though, Frank pulled him into another close, one-armed hug, holding the cigarette away in the other hand, then stepped back and looked at him a few moments before saying anything. "So, will I see you before we head overseas?" He really had no idea what the plan was after this, if it would be life (almost) as usual, or if the couple was off somewhere since there was a few weeks of break in the schedule.

"I'll be home a few days before we leave, yeah. We'll hang out, okay?" Gerard smiled that cherubic smile that he had, which always seemed to be such a stark opposite to the heaviness and depth of his eyes, but that look managed to melt Frank's heart a little bit as it was already icing over. Again Frank nodded. Then he pat Gerard on the back, sending him off, back to his new wife. This time Frank watched as he went, and how the couple embraced when he got there, how they kissed so cutely. Ray's camera was out, as well as someone else's, and at this point Frank knew it was his time for him to go. He didn't want to be part of any photographic reminders of how shitty he was feeling right now, both for his own loss, and for being annoyed at himself for feeling this way. He drew off his cigarette again and the lit end glowed brighter as he did. Then flicking some ash onto the floor, Frank finally turned and started off by himself toward the buses, before anyone could notice he was leaving and try to drag him back.

Frank managed to get back to the bus without being stopped by anyone, which was a feat, and one that he was very thankful for right now. His mind wasn't in the greatest of places for him to have to be cordial with fans, though if he'd come across one Frank would have heaved his personal issues aside to be his usual self for a few minutes. He found himself really tired tonight though, so being friendly and in a good mood seemed like something unattainable right now; he was grateful to see the bus up ahead as he approached it. Suddenly, more than anything, what Frank wanted was to just sleep. To not think about Gerard, the tour, fans, anything, but to just sleep. He knew he'd feel a little better after some rest, feel a little less emo about the whole thing, and the next day would be filled with distracting activity as they all packed up and head off for the airport, bound for New Jersey. When Frank stood outside the bus finishing his cigarette and contemplating another one, he considered again the fact that they were going home, and that he'd have time off to do... whatever he felt like for a little while. Though he wasn't really feeling it at the moment, he reminded himself too of how excited he had been about the prospect of going home just an hour ago. An hour ago, going home was what he wanted most, over anything.

Now though, he wasn't excited, not so much and as Frank dropped the cigarette butt onto the pavement, then put it out with his shoe, he shook his head slowly. He glanced around momentarily and went for his pack, but then stopped himself, not really feeling the urge for another smoke after all. Frank thought about home again and sought out that feeling of anticipation he'd had before, but he wasn't finding it, not even a hint of it. He sighed. It's always been about you, Gerard, for as long as I've known you. I'm really going to miss you. Us. Frank realized, this really was one of those life-altering moments for him. The idea came to him that maybe New Jersey really wasn't that special by itself, but up until this point he'd never noticed that before. Up until now, New Jersey had always been the best place in the world, and where he wanted to be, since Gerard had always been there with him.

Frank punched in the security code to open the door on the bus, then silently climbed aboard, pulling the door shut once more behind him. As he started back toward his bunk, he considered the fact that really, it had been an awful long time since he'd been anywhere on a real vacation, touring not included. There was never enough time to take advantage of the locations they found themselves visiting on tour, which made it as good as not even being there in the first place. Actually, a short vacation was beginning to seem more and more appealing the more Frank thought about it...

[FIC] 10 More Minutes - KH - JR/GH - NC-17

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 20:47:19 GMT

TITLE: 10 More Minutes
AUTHOR: shira
PAIRING: Jon/Garret *gasp!* :D
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: To Jon, there just isn't enough time anymore.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money doing this, leave me alone.

For the kh_slash Fantasy Challenge. I can't believe I got it done in time!

Jon groaned internally as he heard Elias' voice yet again, waking him from his attempts to sleep as he rested against the interior wall of the band van. Luckily he hadn't actually opened his eyes though; for now at least, and as a way to keep himself from having to reiterate to his friend, and their newest part of the band that yes, he was a very good drummer and yes, he played their songs perfectly fine, even though Garret had written them, Jon pretended he hadn't heard Elias, either.

"Yeah, but are you sure? I mean, sometimes it just seems like he was so much better than I am, Jon." Jon heard the sigh, followed by a pause, one that he hoped would be a permanent one until his bandmate sitting next to him could think of something else to talk about. "Jon?" The seat next to him moved slightly and Jon could tell that Elias had looked over to see if he was sleeping or not. Thankfully he'd faked it well enough, and the drummer eventually turned away to start talking merch-table hijinx with Greg from across the van. Jon stifled a yawn, not wanting to seem the least bit awake. He breathed deeply through his nose and welcomed sleep once more if it would come, because with sleep the trip back home to Chicago would be shorter.

With sleep, Jon wouldn't have to obsess about how he thought he was too fat, even though the scale, and the condition of his body, told a different story, one that had people concerned about him while he was on the road, at least. With sleep, he wouldn't have to spend a half hour reassuring Elias that yes, he was every bit as good as Garret was in playing the songs. Jon never said the rest of that statement though, his thought that the real test as to whether Elias was every bit as good as Garret would be when they started writing again, and whether Elias had the ability to stick with it and come up with his own, creative drumming. That would tell all, right there. Then they'd see whether Elias' lack of confidence in himself was simply a mood-related thing, or whether it was actually based on the fact that he wasn't really that skilled of an original musician or not. Jon couldn't seem to get across to the guy sometimes that he had every confidence in him that he was, though, so he'd begun to just weasel his way out of the conversation when it came up, and any way that he could. And now that it seemed he'd once again done that? Sleep.

Garret.

Except for the fact that now something had been implanted into his mind, and Jon now fought to empty his thoughts. Apparently it wasn't to happen though, at least not for some time, as thoughts and memories filled his head space, taking him in his semi-awake consciousness at the least into the next state.

It was the sound of everyone else in the van moving around and getting up that initially woke Jon, and his eyes quickly flit open. It took him a moment to reorient himself as to where he was, but that was all it took before Jon could feel 'that feeling' warming in the depths of his gut. Anticipation. He yawned freely and deeply now as he pushed himself up to a straighter position on the seat, then started looking around for his personal items to gather them up. There was the low din of the rest of the guys muttering to themselves, Greg asking Mat if he was going to come to Darkwave that night, somebody else saying something about taking the van in for service before they all hit the road again after this few weeks off, but Jon paid attention to none of it, not really. He found where his iPod had slipped, down between the seat and the interior wall, pulled it back up and put it away in his backpack. He grabbed his half-full bottle of Arizona Iced Tea, his pack, whatever else that was his and started out the side of the van. Jon looked around where they were, parked in front of Greg's house since that was where they were stashing the van and trailer while it wasn't being used, looking. His gut fluttered yet again when he found what he was looking for, and he had to force himself to hide his anxious smile as he said his good-byes to the rest of the guys until later.

Across the street was parked a nondescript, typical-looking blue minivan, and Jon smiled again as he crossed, headed toward it. Backpack hiked over his shoulder, bouncing as he jogged over, Jon ran in front of it, then got in the passenger side and yanked the door shut after him. He slipped the pack off his shoulder and swung it between the two front seats to land on the back seat next to a child's car seat, then looked back up with a bright, if not somewhat sheepish, smile.

"You guys are late!" Garret said with a teasing smile as he turned the key in the ignition and started the mini-van. "Something wrong with Dan's lead foot?"

Jon snickered. "Nah, man. Traffic getting in. Believe me, we all got to hear the Lead Foot complaining the whole time, until I managed to fall asleep." As if to substantiate his claim, Jon yawned deeply, his eyes squinting shut tightly as he did. "So how's things? Anything new going on I should know about?"

"Things are... things," the blond man replied with a bit of consideration as he started to drive them down the street and to the corner. He turned right there, then began to pilot the van toward the other side of the city, and his home there. "Been pretty busy, considering."

"And you abandoned us because you said you didn't have enough time for the family." Jon teased, sarcastically, a little roll to his eyes. "Speaking of which, umm..."

"They're at my in-laws for the week," came the quick reply, followed by a quite pregnant pause. Garret glanced over, his transparent blue eyes meeting Jon's a moment or two, then looked ahead to watch the road once more. Jon could feel the weight of that glance all the way through him, and 'that feeling' was back now.

"Well... cool. Umm..." Jon smiled shyly, and turned to look through the passenger side window as they drove on. "So we'll have a little bit of time to just... " He couldn't finish the sentence, not really sure what he wanted to say, but the little smile remained, as did the flutter in his gut.

"What about Jess? I guess she's not expecting you right away then?"

"She's working on something-or-other with a couple of her model friends, so I just told her I was gonna go see you a couple days, since we never got to catch up the last time I was home, you know, since I'd barely see her anyway even if I did go straight to her place?"

"Okay, cool." Garret smiled softly. "I stocked up on Absolut and Red Bull so you don't have to go running for it later, too." When he looked over this time, the blond drummer's eyes were filled with feelings of the deep friendship that the two still shared despite no longer being in the band together. Then his cheeks got a little pink and he turned back to the road and drove. Catching the little smile, Jon's face got a little hot as well, though he didn't say a thing.

Finally arriving at Garret's place, his home and studio, Jon unclipped his seat belt, grabbed his backpack from the back seat, then got out of the van. He silently walked around toward the other side where Garret had gotten out, then followed his friend into the house. They were greeted by a huge black lab, first barking in protection of the home, then waggling bodily at the 'intruders', immediately recognizing daddy, and then trotting over to give Jon a refamiliarizing sniff. The dog's presence broke the bit of tension that had developed between the two men on the ride over and soon they were talking dogs and kids and guitars and effects pedals and new production equipment bought on bank loans and leases and how you couldn't do anything today and not wind up owing someone money.

Standing, Garret went over to the fridge and got out a couple of import beers, untwisted the caps, then walked back and cocked his head at Jon, who gave the dog a last pat before straightening up as well. "C'mon. I want to show you my toys downstairs," Garret said to him, and Jon nodded and smiled. He set his backpack on a kitchen chair, then took the offered beer and followed his host, his friend, through the house and toward the doorway that opened to a stairway into the finished basement. As they made their way down the steps, Marley, the dog, trotted on past them in true 'trip you up when you least expect it' fashion, making it to the bottom first and turning to look up at them proudly, tail waving in the air.

"You. Stay." Garret made the dog lie down outside the door to the enclosed studio that he'd turned the basement of his house into. The lab was a shedding machine, and he didn't want black hairs all over his expensive equipment, so the studio was the one place in the house that Marley wasn't permitted.

"Dude, this place gets more and more crowded every time I see you," Jon said with a smirk, immediately noticing just how full Garret's studio was becoming with equipment.

"Been busy," came the reply. "I guess business has been good." Garret shrugged. Truth be told, yeah, he'd been busily working on a lot of projects; drumming for bands on their albums, mixing and producing for people, whatever he could get his hands on that kept his bills paid and kept his creative muses happy.

"Yeah, sure looks like it." Jon drank from his bottle as he walked around and checked out some of the new equipment, then paused to look toward the back of the room. And there it is. Garret's drum set, not the one he took to gigs today when he played out, but the drumset that he'd played on Kill Hannah's albums and tours, and it was still wearing its sniper heart bass drum skin. A little smile reached Jon's lips as he looked at it a few moments reminiscing the day when the band was whole, when it was complete and the best it had ever been, until he brought his beer up to take another swallow. He could feel Garret's eyes on him, watching him look at the drum and the band logo, but Jon was pretty sure they were having the same memories at that moment. Memories of what it had been like to be in the band together, and to get to know each other, then become so close the way they were. Of course, too, there were the memories of when Garret had decided once and for all that he couldn't tour anymore, but that brought about different feelings in Jon that he didn't really want to think about right now. Turning away from the drum kit, Jon glanced up at his friend and smiled as their eyes met.

"Want to record something? Mess around while you're here?" Garret walked over toward the mixing board, set his beer aside, then sat in the chair there. He picked up the acoustic guitar that was sitting in its stand next to him and began plucking away at it, a little melody coming to light as he cocked his head to watch his fingers pressing the frets.

Jon brought another chair over from against the wall and sat closer and for a few minutes only watched as Garret played a simple something with chords on the instrument. Then tilting his chair back so it balanced on the rear legs, Jon relaxed back and drank some more of his beer. He let himself settle into thoughts of 'the good old days,' even though those days really weren't that old, or that far gone; but changes, they always brought with the new some yearning for the old, even if the old was only last year. Jon just listened and drank and rocked back in the chair until a hush fell over them both, when Garret finished his little melody and draped his arm loosely over the body of the guitar.

"Things still going alright with Elias?" The blond drummer looked up, and Jon noticed how one of his eyebrows quirked up with interest.

"Yeah, yeah... things are real good." Smiling, Jon let the legs of his chair down, then cocked his head up at Garret and nodded. "He's a good guy. Puts up with all the bullshit, you know?" He smirked.

Garret laughed softly. "Yeah, he must be. Been with you guys now, what? A year? A little more? When was it that I..."

"January of '06," Jon answered, rather quickly, before Garret could even finish his statement. "Right after New Heart." His eyes settled on Garret's, but then Jon looked away, a little embarrassed having made it obvious that he still wasn't at all happy with the events of the past. "Yeah, umm... sorry." Jon brought his bottle to his lips, then downed the remainder of his beer in a few quick swallows. He licked his lips, then sighed. "He's good. He's not you, but he fits, and he's good, and... he just works, I guess." But he's not you, Garret. A forced little smile reached Jon's lips, but it didn't go any further.

Unable to miss the hint of a pained look on his friend's face, Garret smiled, trying to make light of the discussion. "Must be insane. To have lasted with you crazies for this long." He watched Jon, feeling the same sentimentalism as the other man was, thinking back to times past like he knew Jon was, then shook his head. "Last time I saw you guys he was complaining about Dan's commandeering of the van, and all the bitching. I told him to get used to it, that nobody talked down to the captain when he was at the helm, unless they wanted to walk the plank and find their own way." Another smile, slightly sad, formed on Garret's face as he regarded Jon, until he looked down at his hands and the guitar on his lap. This was always the hardest part, Garret thought, whenever they got together for a visit; the emotions that would surface in both of them, usually going unsaid, but not unrecognized, time and time again. It was the same thing every time, sort of like going through motions - it wouldn't be a visit if they didn't do this first - but all the same it kind-of hurt.

"Jon, I..."

"No, man, umm..." Jon sighed, then smiled sheepishly up at his friend, a bit of a blush forming on the fair skin on his face. Jon shrugged. "I know. And I'm happy for you, you know that. You've got a great thing here. A family, your own company and... doing work for all these bands. It's just that... it's not the same. You know? For us. Me. Whatever." There was another smile, and then Jon looked down at his hands this time. "I just miss you is all, but yeah, things are good, and we're really doing well, you know, except for Mr. Workaholic there and his never-ending tour schedule." Smirking, Jon looked up at Garret once more, letting the tension begin to slide away as he peered into the other man's blue eyes. "I swear, if there was a way that he could fit two shows in a day, he'd do it. We'd all drop dead, but he'd do it, and then bitch at our dead asses for lying down on the job!" This time they both laughed, because it was the 'in joke' that had been around for years, Mat's obsession with keeping the band on tour so they could get the debts paid off. It was one of those things that all of them, both Garret and Elias included, could commiserate on, the one thing that made them all the same, since they all gave Mat a hard time over it. Even Greg, every once in a while, got fed up with the endless scheduling and complained.

"How's the new van holding up," Garret then asked, moving on to the next question as he stood up and turned to set the guitar back in its stand next to him.

Smirking, Jon crossed his fingers and held his hands up so Garret could see. "So far, so good. A few little incidents, but nothing compared to before." Jon smiled. "It still smells the same though. You know certain things are never going to change."

Garret laughed, a little gleam in his eye as he watched Jon and remembered what it had been like touring with this particular group of guys. It had definitely been challenging for him, but it still seemed that touring with Kill Hannah, it was an experience none of them would ever give up, despite the personality clashes, mechanical failures, bad hotel rooms and that unforgettable aroma that the van always had. "Some things'll never change... nor should they!" He raised his beer bottle up in salute toward Jon, drank the rest down, then regarded his friend silently for a few more moments before speaking again. "What about you? How're you doing these days?"

Jon felt Garret's stare as he asked the question, and though he nodded, it had him tensing up a little bit. "Okay. Better than a couple months ago I guess." He shrugged, cocked his head a bit and looked askew of Garret now, this subject generally getting on his nerves whenever it was brought up. But he didn't expect to visit his friend and not talk about this. It always came up, because Garret was concerned. Like everyone else was concerned. Only Garret, he was one of the few that had permission to be concerned about Jon if he wanted to.

"Well that's cool."

Nodding, Jon offered a little smile. He could feel the other's eyes scanning over him and see the mild disapproval in them, the care that was there, but he didn't say anything. If he said anything it would eventually lead to Jon getting annoyed and Garret feeling the weight of guilt over leaving, since things had gotten decidedly worse for Jon after he'd left the band, so Jon just didn't want to go there. "Umm, yeah... Dan, ah... he's been real cool about things and gets on my shit when he thinks I'm not eating enough so yeah, it's... it's cool." It's still not the same as when it was you doing it, Garret, but yeah, I'm still among the living. He knew that look in Garret though, and knew the other man still thought he looked too thin.

"So... you've got me for a whole thirty-six or so hours now." Jon smiled softly. "I cleaned up the lead on that song and uh... changed a couple lines in the lyrics, but I guess it's ready for a go if you're up for it?"

Eventually, Garret came over to where Jon was still sitting and paused there before reaching a hand forward to touch Jon's cheek lightly. Looking up, Jon answered the little touch with a tiny smile before he leaned into it a little bit and closed his eyes. The dialogue went mostly unsaid as Jon breathed deeply, refamiliarizing himself with the feel of that hand touching him. Then he stood and moved in close to Garret and rested his forehead against the other man's shoulder. For a few more moments neither of them said a thing; Jon could feel the tension in them both, a combination of happiness in seeing each other and sadness in not. Turning his head a little so he breathed against Garret's neck, Jon breathed in his scent and sighed, then barely smiled as an arm slid loosely around his hip and a thumb hooked in a belt loop.

"Am I allowed to say that I really, really miss you?"

There was a bit of a pause before Garret replied. "I miss you, too."

"It's just... not the same. For me." Jon said again, softly into his friend's ear. "I still sometimes think about just leaving and..."

"Jon, don't. Please?" Garret sighed, tucking his head as well and resting against Jon. Neither of them moved much and just stayed like that, loosely supporting each other, trying to get past this inevitable moment that always happened whenever they were together now. Jon couldn't deal with change sometimes. Reality. It didn't make him a bad person in the least, but it had made the decision harder on Garret than it had needed to be. The drummer didn't hold it against his former bandmate, though. "You're doing... everything you've ever wanted to do right now. And every day, you guys have more and more opportunities." Lifting his head, Garret pressed his lips to rest in Jon's hair and breathed deeply, pulling in the scent of familiar hair products and letting more memories come to light.

Jon smiled. He slipped a hand up the back of Garret's shirt and just rubbed him up and down as they stood there. "I know. And you're doing what you've wanted to do, and I wouldn't want to take that from you." And Garret had wanted a family, too. Jon, he wasn't anywhere near ready for that, still out enjoying the childish side of living the rock and roll lifestyle. He couldn't fault the other man for knowing what he wanted in life, and going after it. He just hated that what Garret wanted wasn't the same as what he, himself, wanted. "I just... really miss you sometimes, like you wouldn't believe." The days that Elias started in about whether he was actually filling Garret's shoes well enough were generally some of the worst when it came to feeling that emptiness, that missing part of him these days too. Of course Jon didn't have it in him to actually tell Elias that he didn't want to talk about it however, that every time he brought up Garret, it put Jon in a bad mood for the rest of the day because he yearned for not he, Elias, to be there, but for their former drummer instead. Somehow Jon didn't think Elias would quite understand that it had nothing to do with whether he was a good enough player or not either, so Jon mostly just bore those feelings on his own, and thought about Garret whenever they came out.

Lifting his head now, Jon took half a step back, then looked at Garret, each of them studying the one before him. He softly smiled. "You know me. Whiney and full of complaints, but somehow I survive." He searched Garret's bright blue eyes, then tilting his head a little, Jon leaned into a deep, needy kiss. Once the kiss had broken, Jon sighed with resolve, then offered another dry smile, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied Garret's. Pretty soon it was as if they were communicating telepathically, too, the way friends can sometimes do when they've been really close for a long time as Jon felt Garret take a step away, back in the direction of the entrance to the studio and the stairway that led to the upstairs. Jon glanced ahead, then back at Garret, and the slightest of smirks grew on his face, understanding exactly what the other's intentions were. A little flutter went through him, a feeling that was a cross between the comfort of familiarity and the excitement of newness all the same, and Jon started to walk with Garret.

They left the small studio and waiting for them outside was Marley the dog, but neither paid much attention right then as they made their way up the stairs and back to the main floor of the house. Tail waving behind him, Marley followed along, tracking the two men all the way to the second story. Down the hall they went, Marley a few doggie-lengths behind them, tail still straight as a flagpole, until he made a quick stop to take a few laps of water out of the bathroom toilet. By the time Marley sauntered over to where Garret had led Jon he was too late; the bedroom door was already closed. Marley waited a few moments outside the door, cocking his head to listen, but after a few minutes he decided that the toilet offered more in the way of entertainment. He turned and went back down the hall and toward the bathroom.

Inside, Jon smiled as he drew Garret closer to him and they kissed again, standing before the bed. This was the second bedroom, not the master; neither of them felt right doing anything in the master bedroom all things considered, but this spot worked well enough. Letting his hands again slip under Garret's t-shirt, Jon encouraged the drummer to slip it off; as he did, Jon pulled off his own until they stood there facing each other, topless other than matching necklaces, both silver chains with the same charm, the sniper heart. Though Jon normally wore a lot more jewelry than this, today he hadn't, and for no apparent reason. He smirked, glancing at the pendant sitting against Garret's chest, amused at the coincidence. Once a member of the band, always a member of the band. Even though Garret had technically not been with them when they'd gotten the pendants, Jon made sure that he got one since really, Garret was pretty much still family to all of them even if he wasn't touring and wouldn't be on any new albums anymore.

Garret glanced down at his pendant and smiled softly, then leaned in to steal another sweet kiss. His hands slipped down to grasp Jon's, fingers threading together and Jon closed his hands gently over them as he accepted that kiss. This was all a little awkward for him of course, but so much of him craved this, craved being close to Garret again that it wasn't that hard to just ignore the feeling. Pressing their foreheads together for a few moments, Jon slid his arms around the other man. Garret held him close. "God. Missed you so much." The whisper could have come from either one of them as Jon sent those words quietly into Garret's ear, punctuating them with a gentle kiss. The kiss turned into a nibble, and the nibble soon into Jon sucking on the soft earlobe, doing everything he could to get his friend, his former lover, reacting to him, knowing that it was a sensitive spot of Garret's. Jon wasn't disappointed.

Letting out a shuddery breath, Garret licked his lips as Jon assaulted his earlobe, sending tingling sensations racing through him already. "Fuck." He whispered the obscenity, having truly missed the other man's touch, and his own reaction to it as Jon continued to arouse him. Slipping his arms low around the thinner man's slim waist, Garret pulled Jon to him so they stood against each other, then pressed against him a little bit. Jon smiled.

"I love... how you're so easy to turn on like that," Jon said against his lover's neck as he peppered it with soft kisses. He sucked in a sharp breath then as Garret grabbed him from behind and pulled them closer together, grinding into him yet again.

"I love how you love to turn me on," Garret replied, breathless, Jon's growing arousal turning him on even more as they pressed against each other, both now hard and needy. "Get your jeans off." Nudging him until Jon lifted his head enough, Garret slipped in for another kiss before forcing himself to release Jon so they could both kick off their shoes and finish undressing. Once they had however, and their clothing made a mixed pile on the floor in front of the bed, he reached out for Jon's hand and guided him to it, then climbed on.

Crawling up onto the bed, Jon crept close next to Garret, putting an arm over him and pulling them near. He wanted to be as close as possible, needed to feel the other body next to his again like it used to be all the time. They only had a little more than a day together now, and Jon needed to rediscover what they'd left behind last year when Garret broke the news to them that he had definitely decided he wasn't going back on tour. Since then Jon hadn't found anyone that he felt the same with, but right now, as they lay against each other, it was almost like they were together again. Strange bed, but familiar bedfellows. Just like being on tour. Just like when we used to hold each other at night, after the shows and the drinks and all the chicks who wanted in our pants... but we always came back home to each other, until you left...

Settling in, Jon laid on his side and eagerly started kissing under Garret's jawline and to his neck, quickly moving them along for what he'd been waiting for all week since finding out they'd have the house to themselves. A hand slid down along the blond's trim, but not overly thin, form and as Jon grasped one soft, pliant cheek, squeezing it, Garret tilted his hips so they ground together again. He moaned softly, and again Jon smiled. "Fuck, Gar... I miss this so much. I miss you so much." Bypassing his jawline now, Jon pressed their lips together again, kissing his lover with weeks worth of pent-up passion, twining his tongue around Garret's as they kissed and teasing him with the metal bar that went through his tongue.

Garret didn't reply, not in words at least, because he knew they'd keep at it over and over again if he did, Jon telling him how much he missed him and how tough it was being on the road without him, and Garret apologizing, trying to make Jon realize that he had to get past it. Jon's subtle complaints made him feel guilty, so instead of thinking about it all Garret tried to just help keep them concentrating on what was happening now, in the time they had together now. He responded eagerly, kissing back with fervor, letting his hands roam as Jon's did the same. Eventually they would both be so lost in the feeling of each other that neither of them would want to talk about anything else, at least not until afterward when Jon would start in with the little guilt trips again.

With the heat of the kissing and the desire behind it, things began to speed up and before long Jon was breathing hard. Pausing, he looked hazily into his lover's eyes for a few moments, then began kissing him once more, starting a trail that led lower and lower on his chest. Impatience finally won over him though, and Jon slid himself a little further down on the bed to lie along Garret's leg before taking him, without much warning, into his mouth. There was a soft gasp and a little flinch as he did and inside Jon was smiling, but outside he only concentrated, mouth working, on trying to once again etch that impression of himself that much deeper into Garret's mind. He wanted to make himself irreplaceable.

"Oh... God, Jonny..." Garret whispered, barely audibly, as his hands slipped down to play in Jon's hair a little. It was what Jon wanted, what he was trying for, reactions like that, and hearing it made him work that much harder at the other man's cock. His own was rigid and tense as well and Jon could just about feel the sensations in his lover bleeding over and into him, building his need up that much more. Jon flicked and dragged the bar in his tongue along Garret's underside, secretly reveling at the additional sounds it elicit from the other man, each sweet little noise causing his own cock to pulse in anticipation.

Garret knew Jon's tricks, too, but at this point in the game he didn't have the ability to care about anything other than the hot, wet mouth on him, and the fact that this was Jon, his Jon, doing it, until he knew he had to stop him or lose himself way too soon. Not that they didn't have the "luxury" of a little over a day together of course.

When Garret's hands gripped in his hair, pulling on him slightly as he squirmed, Jon resisted a few moments, but eventually ceased what he was doing, slipping his mouth off the other man one last time. He could feel the tension that had built in the body against him and knew he needed to give Garret a break; he didn't keep himself from lavishing the tip an extra moment though, and with an extra swirl of his pierced tongue, before releasing the other man, making him shudder one last time. Licking his lips now, Jon leaned over Garret's hip and playfully bit him there, then sucked over the spot, his tongue swirling gently over it.

Smiling softly, Garret paused long enough to regain his control, but he was buzzing with need now, need to feel Jon, and need to feel him being pleased. He tugged up on him again, encouraging his lover to move back up the bed so they could trade places. "Do you want me to..."

"No," Jon whispered breathlessly as he crept back upward against Garret, pressing in close to him so they were laid tight against each other once more. "Later. Just... want you..." Nudging a little until their positioning was right, Jon moved in for a deep kiss, keeping the sparks glowing. They gently touched and squeezed and pet some more now until they were both practically panting, grinding together, and then Jon abruptly pulled away. Garret let his hand slip down to stroke Jon; it wasn't long before he had the man whining and whispering again, "Need you, Gar..."

Sitting himself up, Garret leaned down to meet Jon in another kiss, then turned toward the bedside table, which he'd already supplied with their needs, having well known what would be happening today, with Jon's visit. He turned back with a little plastic bottle of Astroglide and a condom, then gave Jon a bit of a sly smirk. Before he could think about anything else, or even crack a joke, Jon pulled Garret back down, kissing him hungrily and taking the bottle from him. As Jon took the lube, Garret carefully tore open the little foil packet that held the condom.

Dripping some of the lube over his fingers and then capping, and discarding, the bottle, Jon laid himself down close against Garret. He slipped his hand between his lover's legs, fingers searching until they found their target, evident by the way the other's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing became slightly erratic for a few seconds. Jon teased and petted with his wet fingers, carefully pushing them inside the other man's body to make him ready. As Garret groaned softly, Jon swallowed the sound in a kiss. Then Jon groaned in return as he felt the hand on him, stroking a few times, then rolling the condom on.

"Where's... give me the..."

Before the words were even out of his mouth, the Astroglide was in Garret's hand, while Jon was still in his other one. For the next few moments it became difficult for both to do what they were supposed to be doing, but eventually Jon shuddered, the hand on his sheathed, slick cock loosening and moving off. And then Garret shuddered too, the fingers inside of him slipping out for the last time. Before the feeling could wane any, Jon rolled over and between Garret's legs, his thin frame barely spreading them enough, but they knew this well, that they worked this way. They knew how they fit. He moved in close and Garret slid down to meet him, blue eyes watching half-lidded now as Jon closed his. Jon pressed in close, pressed part way in, and Garret gasped as Jon pulled back out. He licked his lips, eyes still closed, then advanced again, a little further, repeating the action, listening to his lover's response. Feeling his lover's body as it began to welcome him. Then finally on the third try Jon slipped in slow and deep, then rested a moment in Garret's waiting arms.

"God, I mi..."

"Shh..."

"Gar..."

"Don't..."

There was no attempt at a reply this time as Garret leaned forward enough to beg for a kiss. Jon granted him that wish, pressing their lips together as he leaned tight against the body beneath him, then deepened the kiss and invading his lover's mouth. He could feel Garret hard against his belly as they laid like that; just the thought excited him a little more, and Jon couldn't rest like that anymore. Breaking away from the kiss he sucked in deeply, then tilted his hips, pressing up against Garret, deep inside him, far enough to make him groan yet again. After a few timely thrusts now, Jon's arms hooked beneath Garret's shoulders, they manage to work to a comfortable rhythm, both sinking into the feel and the pleasure of each other's bodies.

This time around, it didn't take them long. Jon was determined and Garret, willing, and before either of them could slow things down Jon straightened a bit, then slipped his hand between them, ready to get serious. No words this time, not spoken at least, as the raw need overrode the emotion, but as it did, Garret let it. He knew it would be better once it did so he threw himself into the way Jon fucked him. He let Jon's hand guide his now-begging body, stroking him in time and taking him closer with each pass. He moaned as he tightened, involuntarily, and it heightened all sensation in him.

"Do it with me?" Garret asked in whispery voice, oh so close, but wanting to experience the togetherness, that is if they could.

"Fuck..." Was the initial response from Jon, still moving inside the other man, still stroking him, still soaking in all the familiarity that had come rushing back as if they hadn't been apart all these months since the last visit, until he nodded. "Y-yeah. God, yeah." He was on the verge and waiting, but hung on if it meant it would happen for them together.

Another thrust, another stroke, and Garret felt himself clamp down, his body trembling under Jon's as he let himself go. Coming into his lover's hand now, he melted into the euphoric feelings overtaking him, then suddenly felt Jon tense up above him. Forcing his eyes open to watch, Garret smiled, just barely, as Jon reached his release too. For a few moments it was impossible to tell who's shuddering was whose, which moans and little whimpers came from which body, but it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered now was that it was happening at all. The only thing that really mattered at this point was that they were here, together, and the past year, it had been washed away, at least for the moment.

By the time it was all over and they lay there silently, sticky with sweat, though Garret had thought ahead enough to also have something to clean them up with at the ready, neither one of them said much. The air was heavy with unsaid words, words that were, for the meantime, remaining as thoughts, but both Jon and Garret knew they were thinking about the same things. This was a nice moment now, though. Lying here like this, restfully, Garret curled close against Jon's side and Jon rested with his arm around his lover. Everything was quiet and right. Everything was calm and comfortable as neither wanted to spoil the moment with talk of absence or carrying on, not right now. They were both here right now and just as he'd guessed before, Garret had gotten Jon back to being here with him now, instead of there, without him, and it was good. The silence between them as they lay together, it was a good, peaceful one.

Eventually they heard the whining outside the bedroom door, Marley looking to come in now that things had quieted and he knew it was safe to, and their eyes met. Jon smiled softly to Garret. "I think somebody's looking to be let in." He laid there, unmoving, as Garret pushed himself groggily to his feet, then leaned over enough to turn the doorknob. As soon as it was unlatched, Marley pushed the door open with his nose and the big, black dog lumbered casually into the bedroom, giving a look around and a sniff or two at the clothing on the floor before turning himself around a few times and lying on it. Neither Jon nor Garret noticed, nor would they have cared had they known, as Garret returned to the bed and curled back against his lover's side. Jon drew him in tight, then closed his tired eyes, feeling sleep coming on. He was more relaxed, more content now, than he had been since arriving there with Garret, much to the relief of the other man.

"So tired..." It had been a difficult day of traveling for Jon, and of fighting his longing thoughts.

"'M not going anywhere," came the soft, sweet reply as Garret shut his eyes, too. "Sleep, baby... there's still time..."

There's still time... It echoed in Jon's mind as sleep finally did take him.

"There's still time," Greg said rather loudly as he pulled his bag out from where it had been wedged under the first seat in the back of the van.

"If you say so, but I'm not rushing like a madman just to get to your DJ set. I'm tired," Mat replied, tone insistent and cranky as they all unloaded out of the van. "I'll come out in a few hours, after I get a nap, and you know, a shower or something. Maybe like, some food?"

Blinking open weary eyes, Jon realized that they were finally home. There was a crick in his neck from the way he'd fallen asleep in the van this time and he grimaced as he straightened himself. Jon started to collect his things in silence.

"Oh forget it then," Greg replied to Mat's complaints, grinning as he started off toward the house as everyone else piled out of the van. "If you fall asleep, I'm not going to see you until like midnight or one in the morning."

"Hey, at least I'll show." Mat climbed noisily out of the van as the rest of the guys were doing the same, everyone grabbing their bags and the things they needed to take home with them now. Once outside the van he stretched, arms raising high above his head, joints popping, the bottom hem of his shirt riding up to show his waist a little bit.

Climbing down out of the van somewhat drunkenly now, Jon stepped out with him, then hiked his backpack onto his one shoulder. As they stood there he looked around blankly, then spotted his ride in front of the house. Suddenly Jon smiled, his spirits immediately lifting.

"You goin' to Garret's while Jess is working on that thing of hers," Mat asked, noting the expression on Jon's face as the man's eyes lit up noticeably.

"Yeah. I'll call you in a couple days or something," came the distracted reply, but before Mat could ask him anything else Jon was already making his way off, running toward the blue minivan. The smile on his face broadened as the driver's door opened and his former band-mate stepped out.

[FIC] Nerve Gas: Part 1 - KH - Jon/Dan - NC-17

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 16:05:27 GMT

TITLE: Nerve Gas
AUTHOR: shira
PAIRING: Eventually, Jon/Dan
WARNINGS: Eventually, NC-17; This part, PG. Language, sexual implications, that's about it.
SUMMARY: Jon likes to get numb when certain people ignore him.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine and not making any money writing about them, either. If these guys were mine, I'd be doing other things right now instead of flattering them in fanfiction. ;)

Nerve Gas

The good part about playing the smaller halls and clubs was always just that; they were smaller, and they were clubs. Which always meant that once all the beer from the van had been finished, when that private stash, or (in the infamous words of David Lee Roth) that 'bottle of anything' had eventually surfaced and made the rounds once, being emptied too fast as well, there was still a twenty in his pocket, and another hour or two before last call, so Jon was happy. No, actually, happy wasn't even the right word for it, come to think of it. He was, more like, placated. Pacified. Appeased. That was closer to the truth, because happy, that was, well... too happy, after all. Jon wasn't happy. Even if he didn't seem particularly unhappy, it still didn't mean he was happy, or vice-versa. Or something. Once the cash in his pocket was gone though, and the two overly made-up girls sitting next to him bought him one after he signed his name to their chests with a permanent, black Sharpie and after the bartender slipped him one because the crowd had been really good and the bar was making money, only then was Jon in any kind of a state that he could actually put a label on. Numb. He was completely numb as he left his last few bucks on the bar for a tip and somehow got himself to his feet to make it to the men's room before going to pass out somewhere before they all hit the road again.

Inside, Jon stood wearily before the urinal, unzipping, then holding himself steady with one hand propped on the wall as he took care of things. His head was miles away and his body worked pretty much on instinct, even as far as not catching himself as he zipped back up single-handedly, then pushed off the wall and walked to the sinks. Putting his hands under the automatic faucet, Jon washed them quickly, then shook them off and wiped them on his jeans. Glancing up at himself in the dirt-streaked and splattered mirror above the sinks, he looked into his bloodshot eyes and noticed that the guy that had been out there on stage living it up, he was nowhere to be found now. He'd been replaced by that other guy he always became after the shows, after the booze. That other guy that managed to tactfully get through the pictures and the signings and the politeness of meeting people, the fans that paid his salary and that he really didn't mind meeting except for the fact that it always left him the same way. Competing. Filled with an unreasonable jealousy that he couldn't really even talk about, because, well... he just never had. It seemed a little too late for that now, too. Sighing finally, Jon looked at himself another moment or two, then head out of the men's room to look for other, safer spaces. It was time to look for a place to stick himself where he didn't have to look at himself anymore, or at anyone else for that matter with the way other people seemed to have no trouble at all in doing what he should've been doing himself all this time. You stupid fucker.

As the men's room door swung wide behind him after he walked through, Jon pushed past people and went to the stairs. He wished he could get another drink, hell, even another beer, because even though he felt numb tonight, the buzz he had going doing its best to save him from his own problems, there was still too much going on between his ears to give him the total freedom he usually sought when he got to drinking after a show. Barring that of course, since he'd already spent his stipend for the day and really didn't feel like kissing up to anyone else at the bar, he decided instead to just go hide in the dressing room and sulk until everyone had had all their fun and it was time to pile into the van and leave again. Jon wearily descended the flight, managing to keep himself from tripping and falling the rest of the way down, then navigated the halls in the basement level until he found the small dressing room that had been provided. The room was small and musty and had bad lighting other than the cheap vanity set and lighted mirror that had been set up in one corner, but there was a couch that was at least semi-comfortable. And it was private, of course, which was what Jon sought as he walked in, then shut the door behind him.

The room was a mess, the band's things thrown all over the place, t-shirts and jeans and cases with make-up and whatnot, but he hardly noticed. Jon walked over and sat on the couch, sinking into the soft, lumpy cushions as he did. He glanced around, bloodshot eyes opening to slits, and noticed the familiar jacket lying on the other end of the couch. He knew, too, that if he picked it up and held it close, it would smell of fresh sweat and body spray, tonight's scents, so he didn't dare. It reminded him of how the most perfect moments in recent times always happened while that jacket was getting that way, too, up on stage, arms around him, scent filling his sinuses and getting him so wound up as he played his heart out, and for what? Well other than the obvious of course, but besides the music, besides the sound of crunching, wailing guitars and catchy beats and those damned sexy as hell lyrics, it was all for nothing so he ignored the jacket. It would get him needing that drink that he couldn't have all that much more.

Sighing, Jon glanced the other way instead, pretending the jacket wasn't even there any longer, and spotted a bottle on the edge of the beat-up coffee table in front of the couch. He leaned forward to grab it, nearly falling forward onto the floor, then laid back against the couch back once more, bottle in hand. Giving the half-full fifth of Jose Cuervo a second glance Jon wondered for about two seconds whose it was before unscrewing the cap and putting the mouth to his lips. As he sucked on the bottle, swallowing the spicy drink, Jon could just about feel his sadness once again fizzling, being once more replaced by that comfortable numb. Eventually his eyes closed, and as they did, he slumped over to lie there on that couch and his hand loosened, sending the bottle to the shag-carpeted floor. As alcohol soaked into Jonny's bloodstream and made him sleep, powerless against its control, alcohol poured out of the fallen bottle too, soaking into the carpet as well.

He had no idea how long he'd laid there passed out, but the first thing Jon awoke to was a hand shaking him on his shoulder, and a voice softly calling his name. It took a bit before he realized that no, this wasn't in his head, it was real, the person attempting to wake him, and then Jon wanted to simply ignore it. He tried to at least, but it didn't work; the hand grew more insistent and the voice grew more concerned. Jon's brow creased in irritation as he floated slowly back to a state of semi-awareness; he pushed the hand off him with a grimace, displaying his current annoyance with being woken up. The thought finally occurred to him that maybe he should see who it was trying to wake him (being that in this state all the voices kinda sounded the same, something like a hum that somehow sounded like words instead of an actual hum); maybe it would be worth opening his eyes this time, though he really doubted the person he wanted to see right now would be there, the one trying to wake him.

"Jonny...." There was a tense sigh, followed by another tense shake to the shoulder. "Shit, Jon... c'mon, man..."

"Would you fucking quit it!," Jon said with a groan as he pushed the hand away again. He the pushed himself to sit up, eyes still closed to ward off the light even though it was too dim to really bother his eyes much. Jon sighed, rubbed his face, then blinked before he looked up to find... Dan. He stared at his bandmate a few moments, completely unbothered to hide the fact that he was hoping for someone else, and that lack of that someone else had him somewhat disappointed now.

"Don't look so happy to see me," Dan said to Jon. He was perched sitting on the coffee table, elbows on his thighs, and facing Jon on the couch. "You alright?"

It was kind of a redundancy with Jon, that question, because he got this way every night, although some nights, like tonight for instance, he let himself get worse than some of the others, and every night someone checked up on him to make sure he was alright. Every night he said he was, too, even though really he wasn't. Sure, physically he was alright; not in any danger of drowning himself just yet, but emotionally, no, he wasn't. He just didn't like letting people see that side of him, which was the reason for wanting to be numb in the first place. If the day even came that he really wasn't alright, would they even notice? Having asked the usual, "Jon, you alright?" and then gone on their merry way, wherever that took them, would they? Or would they simply leave him behind, alcohol poisoning his blood or drowning in his own vomit? Would it happen then that he'd get the desired reaction from the right person? After it was too late? Not to say that Jon did what he did for anyone other than himself, because he didn't, but it still left him thinking every once in a while why it never mattered the way he made himself numb every night. Maybe all the rest of them were off getting numb too, and this was really some crazy, ironic thing where none of them realized they were all suffering from the same internal wounds until one day one of them figured it out in an unexpected moment of clearheadedness...

Glancing up at Dan now, his eyes bleary and bloodshot, Jon nodded shallowly, then looked down. Sure, he was fine. He sighed and his brow creased again as he thought a few moments. "Everyone r-ready to leave or something?" Remembering that he'd had a bottle with him at some point when he'd sat down, Jon started to look around on the couch, then on the floor. The bottle of Jose was on its side and nearly empty now, with a dark, wet spot beneath it on the carpet. "Shit." Jon bent over to grab the bottle to save what little of the tequila was left and proceeded to nearly fall off the couch as he did.

Dan put out a hand to support Jon's shoulder and keep him from falling over. "Not yet," he said, watching what the other guitarist was reaching for. When Jon had it in his hand and straightened back up to sit, Dan gently took the bottle from him, leaving Jon looking up at him, mouthing like a fish out of water.

"Hey..."

"Hey, nothing. You don't need anymore," Dan told him as he found the cap on the coffee table, screwed it on, then set the bottle down on the floor and on the other side where Jon wouldn't see it and would hopefully forget about it. They normally didn't police each other like that, the guys in the band, but it was sort of an unspoken, common sense sort of thing that once someone got to a certain level of drunkenness, it was probably a good idea not to encourage them to consume more. The van already smelled bad enough as it was. And tonight especially, Dan was too tired to have to think about carrying anyone into their room.

Of course Jonny, in his drunk-numb condition, pouted. He was a good pouter, especially when he was drunk, and he certainly had a lot of things to pout about tonight, now including the fact that Dan had just taken his tequila. "Daaaaaaaannnn!" Jon whined, looking up at his friend and bandmate. "Give it here. I need it." He needed it. Dan didn't know this of course, but yes, he needed it.

Shaking his head, Dan sighed at him. "You don't need it, not now, anyway." Hunched over a little bit and leaning toward Jon on the couch, the older guitarist watched Jon as he blinked more and brought himself closer toward reality.

"But I do," Jon said once more in a sweet, almost irresistible whine, one that went perfectly with that little pout of his. He followed with a silly little smile as he attempted to coerce his bandmate into giving him the bottle back. "I need it, please?" Dan only stalled him more, asking him "Why?" Why? Why did he need it? Jon wanted to laugh. Because someone likes to flirt like hell with me all throughout our set, but when it comes right down to it I can't get within ten feet of him afterward, that's why. "I need it because... because..." He couldn't actually verbalize why to the other man and Jon's face became a bit confused. "Because it helps me not care." Sure enough that was a good enough reason to him, and Jon nodded.

"Well, good for you, but I'm not letting you drink yourself to death over some... stupid thing you don't want to care about," Dan said back to him, frowning a bit.

It didn't make that much of an impression on Jon, though. What did Dan know anyway, right? Right. "It's not stupid," he replied, frustrated, as he looked up at his friend. "You don't care about me, man. 'Cus if you did... you'd know how this feels. You'd gimme that bottle back, because you'd know..." Jon rambled on.

"Yeah, but see... I do care, Jonny," came the reply, and Dan sighed and shook his head. He really did, even if all Jon saw him as was someone who had a habit of spoiling the 'fun'. He watched Jon some more, hating when he got like this, because he knew what the kid was going on about, and as much as it might upset Jon, there was nothing Dan could do about it even if he had wanted to. He certainly wasn't going to let Jon drink himself to death though, over something as dumb as this jealousy or whatever it was. Not only would that totally screw up the great balance they had in the band now, it would screw them out of one hell of a guitarist. Oh, and a good friend of course, too, because despite his occasional nightly binges and whininess, Jon was definitely that; a great friend to all of them. A guy that sort of tied them all together and made the band a family. He was the baby of the band, and in that position he associated with all of the rest of them, sometimes making it easier for them to get along with each other and that definitely was a help when you considered there were times past when they practically hated each other, the other three of them. Thankfully those times didn't happen too frequently though, but regardless of Jon's position in holding together order amongst the four of them, Dan had found himself growing more fond of the kid as time had gone on. Maybe even a little bit protective, despite the fact that Jon was plenty old enough to not need anyone to take care of him.

When Dan said he cared, Jon opened his eyes again and looked up at the other man, then smiled. "You do?" he asked, seeming surprised and impressed. "That's really sweet, Danny. It totally is." Okay, so his buzz was lifting a little bit and his words were slurring a little less, much to Jon's dismay. He had a decent tolerance, so getting trashed, really trashed, it was harder than it seemed it should be for him sometimes. Still smiling at his friend, Jon awkwardly dragged himself over some on the couch, then reached forward to grab Dan's wrist. He pulled on him, not letting go until the other had sat down next to him rather than on the coffee table. Then turning to sit facing Dan a little bit, Jon rested his chin on Dan's shoulder. "If you really care, sit with me a little?"

Now, while Dan certainly had no problem sitting with Jonny, and he had no problem watching out for him a while until he was sober enough to function, he'd been through scenarios like this with him before, and he already knew where it was headed. "I'll sit with you till you wake up a little more," the older man said, "but that's it, okay?" Looking down into Jon's sleepy eyes, Dan's gaze was serious. "Jon... okay?"

"Okay," Jonny replied as he looked up at his bandmate a moment, then closed his eyes and just rested there against him, leaning his head on Dan's shoulder. For a while Jon didn't say anything else, maybe even giving off the impression that he was asleep, but he wasn't. "I know you think I'm like... really wasted right now... but I'm not." Jon sighed. "I only wish I was."

"And your point is?" Resting his head back on the couch, Dan let himself spread out a little and relax since it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere for a while. His hand was flat on his thigh and Jon's chin was on his shoulder, Jon breathing faintly into his ear. After a few more minutes like that however, Jon grasped Dan's hand with both of his own, then turned it over. With the palm-side facing up, Jon began to trace Dan's life and love lines, and the other lines impressed into the guitarist's palm, like lines on a road map. Then he circled the small, round callouses that Dan had on a few of his fingers, the same as Jon had on his.

"Point is, you think I'm drunk off my ass, but I'm not. I just... hurt." Jon shrugged, his eyes not straying from what his fingers were doing. "Lonely, you know? Frustrated."

"Jon..."

Before he said anything else, Jon pushed himself up and got to his knees on the couch. He quickly straddled Dan's lap and looked down slightly at the other man. He took his hand again and, still tracing lines and small wrinkles and even the nail beds on Dan's fingernails, watched as he did, so he didn't need to look up at his friend. "Why can't we just..."

Clasping Jon's fingers between his own, Dan shook his head. "Jonny, no. You've had way too much to drink tonight. And besides... you don't... I'm not the one you want. I know that, Jon." He said it all so matter-of-factly; well-rehearsed is what it was, because again, they'd been through this before. Jon was aching for someone else, and Dan, well, he'd never really let on whether he had feelings for... anyone. He found it to be the easiest way to deal with life in the band that way. The easiest way to guard himself from the hurt that inevitably happened when you felt something for someone that didn't feel it back for you, so he held Jon's hands captive, preventing them from doing anything they'd both end up regretting now.

"And I'm not the one you really want, either... riiiiiight?" Jon smirked, looking down at the other man. Jon wasn't really sure who Dan was after, if anyone, but he well knew they weren't in love with each other, which seemed all the more reason to him why they should just give in and make each other happy, and let that be the end of it. It made sense! It was a perfectly logical situation, regardless of Jon's level of alcohol consumption that night because it was no secret that he'd do the guy, drunk or not; in that case then, why the hell not? He loosened his fingers in Dan's hand, then started pulling that hand open once more to resume his tracing.

Dan however, couldn't stand it when Jon started making sense like this in all his drunkenness, because it really made him feel like a shit. It made him feel like he was rejecting the guy, same as he knew Jon already felt for other reasons and from other sources, and it bothered him. As Jon gently pried his fingers open, Dan let him at first, then firmly closed his hand again and looked up at his friend. "Jonny, no. C'mon, let me up." Dan pushed himself upward a little bit as he tried to dislodge the other on his lap in hopes he'd get up himself, but that didn't quite work as planned when Jonny sat harder on him instead. With Jon's weight pressing down on him right there, Dan glanced up quickly, eyes smeared with half-sweated off eyeliner, and his cheeks reddened a bit.

Raising his eyebrows in response to what he'd done and the reaction he'd gotten from it, Jon smirked. "Stay. Please?" He tilted his head a bit and put that pouting to work for him. Before Dan could say anything else, Jon looped his arm loosely around the other guitarist's neck and leaned in, pulling them together. Pressing his lips to Dan's, Jon didn't plan on stopping until he'd been able to worm his way into the other man's mouth for a nice tongue kiss. Jon kissed him long and hard, and he knew already that he'd won this round, that he'd finally won a round, when for once Dan didn't fight back or push him off so he landed on his ass on the couch or the coffee table. He knew he'd won the battle when that kiss went on, getting hotter by the second when Dan actually started kissing back; by the time it ended Jon's fingers were fanned in Dan's hair and his pants were getting tighter across the front. When he looked at Dan again, Jon's smirk told of victory; then just to make sure his friend knew that he knew this, Jon ground himself against Dan's crotch some more, eliciting a little sigh of pleasure from the other guitarist.

His attempts to not react to Jon now were failing him tonight and Dan protested, but not nearly as much as he usually did, and he didn't really know why. Well, actually, he did know why and later, after he thought about this, Dan would hate himself for weakening the way he had. "Jonny... c'mon." He said the words, but he didn't really try to push the other off him like he had done a number of times before. Maybe he was the drunk one, and not Jon, who outwardly seemed drunk as a skunk and couldn't even hold himself up straight at first but still managed to get him into this position, and with considerably less argument than it had taken in the past. Or perhaps it was nothing more than a little bit of lust, a need coming from the fact that they were on the road and sometimes a guy just got... needy, combined with the fact that Jon's words, well the did kind-of make sense. Dan opened his mouth to say something that sort of resembled another complaint that no, they couldn't do this, but instead he let his eyes flutter closed, succumbing to the feel of Jon grinding against him more and more.

The little tease knew exactly what he was doing, too, as he rubbed himself in just the right place, getting just the right reactions, until they both sat there breathing heavy and hard in their jeans. Dan wanted to convince himself that there probably was no real reason to feel like he'd be taking advantage of the guy in an intoxicated state, but he still felt weird about it. However, he considered that if Jon was sober enough to actually get hard this time, which he most definitely was, as opposed to a number of times in the past that they'd been through something similar and even had Dan not pushed Jon away the younger man wouldn't have been able to get it up anyway, then he was sober enough to actually know what he was doing. As Jon pressed into him yet again, his head rested back, hips tilting and rotating a little bit to offer that much more sensation, and his pale neck exposed as he sat over Dan, Dan inhaled sharply, unable to keep himself from pressing back up against Jon. He hated that this was happening and even more that he was considering letting it, but there was no denying that Jonny was incredibly hot like this. He couldn't deny that he hadn't thought before what it must be like with Jon, and he couldn't deny that for him at least, it had been a while.

Smiling a sly little smile now, Jon brought his head forward to look at Dan once more, then kissed him hot and heavy again. Pulling away just enough so he could look into the other guitarist's eyes without his vision crossing, he licked his lips. Then he ground his hips in again, watching for the way Dan's eyes went a little hazy as he did it, the way his mouth opened just a hint and how he licked his own lips as desire built in him. Jon could feel him getting hard in his jeans, and he continued to work him over, making sure not to let up long enough to give the other man a chance to come to his senses and put an end to this. Sure, it was selfish of him, but Jon wasn't really thinking about that right now. The only thing he was thinking about was finding some mutual attention to take care of his need, which would then wash away the hurt and want, at least for a little while.

Jon's hands went down to the buckle on Dan's belt, and as they did he leaned forward to whisper into his friend's ear. "Danny... fuck... me..." he said in the most sensual of tones, trying to really get Dan's heart racing. And if his words didn't do it, his hands surely would as Jon opened up the belt, unbuttoned the button and unzipped the zipper. Grabbing one of Dan's hands now, Jon brought it between them and pressed it onto the tightness in his own jeans. He squeezed the hand there, giving himself a little shudder, then started for Dan's unzipped jeans.

Dan's eyes quickly widened and he breathed in sharply, suddenly hit with the reality of what was happening and how he was sitting there with Jon on top of him, his hand on the guy's crotch and Jon's hand doing its own exploration. He grabbed Jon's hand and pushed it away at the last moment, then started hastily zipping himself back up. Heart beating a little bit fast, Dan ignored his own lust and pushed himself to his feet, practically pushing Jon off him and to the floor as he did. He reached out and grabbed his friend by the forearm to keep him from doing just that, then slipped himself out from between Jon and the couch.

"Wha... wait, Dan!"

"No, Jon, just... no."

"Where are you going?" The drunken whimpering, it was back, and as Dan finished fixing his pants and buttoning the button, Jon tried to get in front of him again. He wobbled a little bit as he did, grabbing onto Dan momentarily to steady himself, and pleaded with him a little more. "You can't just leave! You're just..."

Already hating the fact that he'd let things go as far as he did, Dan shook his head as he guided Jon back to the couch, helping him to sit before he fell "I'm not doing that, Jon. I'm not." Frowning a little bit, Dan could see the confused frustration in Jon's eyes, but this was for the best, he knew it. The other man would realize it in the morning, too, once he was sober again. "I'm goin' back to the hotel, Jon. If you want a ride now, let's go, okay?" Maybe some time out in the cold and checking in at the hotel would be enough for Jon to snap out of it a little bit, but either way, Dan wasn't going to let himself break like that.

"You're no fucking better than he is, you know that!?" Jon blurted the words out, of course not realizing the weight that they carried, then yanked his arm away from Dan, who was preparing to leave.

Jon's words, well sure, they stung. It didn't cause Dan to feel any different about this, though. "Hey, thanks, man. Good to know how you really feel," Dan found himself saying back to his drunken bandmate even though he knew that Jon probably didn't have a clue of half the stuff coming out of his mouth right now. It had been an involuntary reaction though, to say something smart and sarcastic in response to something hurtful, to pretend that it really didn't hurt, but yeah, it kind of did. Dan reminded himself that Jon would have no way of knowing that, though, and sighed.

"Look, just... I'm going to check us in. You comin'?"

His arms folded across his chest now as he sat, annoyed and pouting like a spoiled child, Jon looked up and glared. "I'll get a ride with someone later," he replied, eyes still challenging Dan, eyes still portraying the hurt that he was feeling tonight, but of course none of the hurt was really Dan's fault. Jon couldn't acknowledge that at the moment, but it wasn't.

"Suit yourself." Before Jon could do anything else, say anything else, Dan turned and went for the door, trying to remember now where it was that he'd left his coat. He was annoyed and frustrated as well, but more than anything, Dan hated how Jon could just assume to compare him to someone that he complained didn't care about him. In reality, Dan cared a lot about him, probably more than Jon would ever believe, so to be told that, well, it was sort of like a slap in the face. Then again, Jon had know way of knowing this either, Dan reasoned to himself as he walked through the door and pulled it shut behind him, leaving the other man alone again, the way that he'd found him a little while ago.

Inside, Jon didn't watch Dan go, opting instead to let his head rest back on the couch and just pretend the other man wasn't there. "Fucking... no different," he mumbled to himself as the door closed and he found himself once more alone, and though he knew he was really too sloshed to think too straight, in his mind, and in his heart, now Dan had gone and put himself in that spot where Jon had been lamenting over someone different not too long ago. He stayed there a few more minutes, his buzz coming down slowly as he did, but when he was able to start thinking clearly again, Jon knew it was time to either go back out and see where the hell Mat had gotten to and who he was flirting with now... or get himself another drink, if he could convince Greg to lend him the cash. Pushing himself to his feet Jon felt for his balance, which was thankfully somewhat more present than it had been before, then started for the door.

[FIC] Believer - KH - Mat/Jon - PG

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 20:54:12 GMT

Woo! It's been a while, but the muses are stirring. I bring something a little different this time as I induct myself into the Kill Hannah ficdom community with a first offering. (Don't worry GC peeps - I know Matchmaker hasn't been finished and I still plan to finish it when I can wake up the twincest muse; I'm thinking it'll happen once the new CD comes out and I have some new musical inspiration to listen to! :P )

TITLE: Believer
AUTHOR: shira
PAIRING: Mat/Jon
WARNINGS: PG; Language maybe, that's about it.
SUMMARY: Mat realizes that self-discovery and acknowledgement comes at any age
NOTES: Thanks to imjustdifrent and nyqil_love, who helped me out with plot bunnies, giving me the prompts of first-time realizations of boy-love, and French kissing at the top of the Sears Tower. Hope these went together alright and you guys like it!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine and not making any money writing about them, either. If these guys were mine, I'd be doing other things right now instead of flattering them in fanfiction. ;)

Things were getting a little crazy inside Mat Devine's head. Not that life, itself, hadn't tended to be a little on the crazy side all along; but there was this other thing, this idea, this little seed in the back of his mind that liked to play games with him. It tended to sometimes make him feel like he would lose what little of a sane mind he did have, because it wouldn't leave him alone. Oh, it would go away for a while and he'd forget all about it, but it always came back to haunt him eventually. It came back to haunt him, and usually at the worst times, the times when he really needed to be as confident as he could, and instead wound up showing bits and pieces of the shy little boy inside him. He hadn't really noticed this before, not in high school, not in college either. There had always been the odd moment here and there when he'd questioned himself, but no, this change in him, it had been more recent than that. He'd been trying to pay more attention to it to notice when, exactly, he found himself feeling this way, and it hadn't been there forever, this idea. Maybe it had only been the last few years that he'd felt this way and had tried to ignore it. Maybe it had only been since Jonny had joined the band.

"You gonna finish those?"

Mat blinked, coming back to himself at the sound of that voice. His deep thoughts scattered like a bunch of mice when the cat showed up; suddenly he was once more sitting slouched back against the inside of the van with one foot up on the seat, knee bent, and staring at the little torn hole in the thigh of his jeans. He had been unconsciously picking at it, plucking at the soft, white threads hanging off the edge of the tear, submersed in his thoughts when he'd been interrupted.

"Hmm?" Mat seemed a little confused. He was a little confused, a mixture of alcohol, cold medicine, bad food and exhaustion, and a mind that wouldn't shut up, causing him to actually have to think for a moment of where he was even though it was usually pretty difficult to forget that he was crammed into a van with six other guys, driving cross-state to the next gig which was in, oh... not nearly enough hours from now.

"I said, are you gonna finish those?" Hanging over the back of the bench seat and staring down at him, Mat looked up to meet Jonny's soft, sensual eyes as he held himself there, peeking at the remainder of the box of Wheat Thins Mat had picked up the day before when they'd stopped to stock up on some snacks. Jon was smiling softly at him, but then Jon always smiled softly when he was begging for food. Mat stared into his friend's eyes an extra moment though, and it was hard for him to see that smile as just Jonny's puppy-dog face. Somewhere along the line it had turned into something more, only he didn't know if it was just him seeing that more, or if it really was more.

Mat peered into the open box, then silently shook his head 'no' as he handed it up to Jon, watching the box go, then watching some more as the young guitarist disappeared over the seat back to flump back into the rear van seat. He heard the loud crinkling of the plastic bag inside the box as Jonny shoved his hand in, and it was followed a few moments later by the sound of Jonny crunching. "Thanks, Mat," he heard Jon say, mouth full; it came out muffled and sounding more like "Hanks, Maa." Mat didn't move, only closed his eyes now, letting himself slip back into those thoughts of his, that question that had been popping up more and more lately during quiet moments like this.

He should try to sleep. They would be in the next town in no time, and if Mat didn't get at least some sleep, he'd be in trouble. Staying awake to think about the "big questions in life" when you weren't getting near enough sleep, it tended to make a guy really cranky the next day. He always wondered whether the day would come that Dan would purposely leave him behind, just to not have to deal with his whininess. It would serve him right if he did, so Mat closed his eyes now to try to sleep. The crinkling and crunching went on. Mat could see Jonny looking at him over the back of the seat again, behind his closed eyelids. Thank god the box of crackers had been almost empty when Mat had handed it over.

It had been going like that for months now. Maybe even for years, Mat didn't know exactly. It had been at least through most of the touring they'd done since hitting the road for For Never and Ever so... that was a while. It had taken Mat until now however, to realize that all this time they'd been playing these little games, but it hadn't dawned on either of them. Or maybe they had realized it, but had simply chosen not to acknowledge it, being that non-admittance was usually the best way to keep something from actually being true. Of course it was.

There had been the lingering stares, both Mat's and Jon's, as well as the hidden glances when either of them had thought the other wasn't looking. Then there was the way Mat would find himself hanging on every one of Jon's words as his friend spoke to someone else, simply enjoying hearing the younger man speak. Then of course there were the less obvious things too, like how Mat would watch out for Jonny all the time, and especially when he'd been drinking since Jon seemed to have the ability to make drinking an Olympic sport, and he was obviously training to be team captain. Mat kept him in line, kept him out of drunken fights, kept him from freezing his ass off because he went outside in ten degrees without his coat because he didn't know the difference. Those were the easier things to make seem just... casual. Because any friend would do that, right? At least the couple of times Mat had held Jon's hair while he prayed to that porcelain god no one had been around, because that one, it might push a couple of boundaries. Especially considering most people were perfectly satisfied to just laugh at their friends in all their alcohol-induced misery, but Mat, no, he'd been there for Jon. And Jon had been there for him, too.

They were best friends, after all, but even so, there was still that little idea in the back of Mat's mind that had been bugging him since... forever. Since there was a Jonny. Bugging him to the point where today, in everything he did, and in everything he saw, he questioned himself and that friendship. Questioned whether it was simply friendship, or if he was actually feeling... more. Mat had never felt anything for another guy before. Sure, he'd been cuddly with Dan on occasion, or even with Greg at times, but those times had been few and much further between since he'd started getting that way with Jon. It was just the way they were in the band though, wasn't it? Touchy and cuddly? He had a girlfriend, after all. They both did. They all did. It was a good way to try to get himself to reason that what he and Jon had, it was nothing more than friendship, but Mat wasn't that dumb as to think simply having someone meant he couldn't feel something for someone else. Especially when he only saw his girlfriend a few weeks a year, but he saw Jon every day...

They were good friends. Best friends. The kind of friends that would do anything for each other and get each other's back in a pinch because that's how close they'd gotten over the years. The kind of friends you asked to be your best man at your wedding, then made the godfather of your first kid. The kind of friends who kept you out on weekends doing "friend" things together like going to a game or a show, so you'd always have time for each other. The kind of friends you couldn't ever forget, because forgetting would mean you'd forgotten a part of your past, and a part of who you were. That's what kind of friends Mat and Jon were, right? Sure they were.

That's what kind of friends you were when you couldn't stop thinking about that other person at all, weren't you? Because Mat, he couldn't stop thinking about Jon these days, and that little idea in his head, that little voice that continued to pick at him, it was starting to tell him that he might need to do something about that. It was only fear of what would happen if he did that kept Mat from thinking any louder than this voice only he could hear, because he knew it; if he didn't have this, if he didn't have Jon... he wouldn't have anything. If only his girlfriend had a clue. Mat wondered if Jon did, but quickly pushed that thought aside, not sure if he could handle the answer to that.

Heading home for a week after another bunch of shows, Mat was deadly silent in the van, riding shotgun next to Dan as he drove. They'd had the usual fun, hung out, signed stuff, stood for photos and drunk like fish, and finally it was back on the road, with Chi-town calling them back. Everyone was tired, everyone was a certain degree of drunk or recovering from drunk, and they were, for the moment, all lost in their own little worlds as they drove on. Mat's little world tonight was one that consisted of getting home and being able to see his girlfriend for a few days, which naturally got him thinking about Jon.

When Dan pulled over at a rest stop for them to stretch, pee, and switch drivers, Mat stepped sleepily out of the van, then just leaned back against the door, resting his head. He yawned hard, and when he shut his mouth, Jon was right there in front of him, his own tired, red eyes staring at him. Mat blinked himself more awake and looked at Jon with question. Jon was standing close, so close, and it made Mat so aware of him standing there in his personal space like that, and he liked how it felt.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked him as the others went off to use the facilities and get coffee.

For a moment Mat just stared, kicking his head in gear so he answered the question the correct way. "Nothing's wrong," he replied, looking into Jon's pretty eyes, then diverting his gaze a little bit to stare at his septum peircing.

"You sure?"

Mat nodded. "Perfectly sure."

There was a pause before Jon sighed softly, then spoke again. "OK, well, I guess if you're sure." He smiled a bit shyly, and that little smile tugged at Mat's heart. "You just seem... I dunno... like something's been bothering you. You're just real quiet tonight, so I was just making sure everything was okay." How astute, Jon. Then Jon's eyes met Mat's again, and they stared like that for a few long moments, and Mat wondered if Jon was reading all the unsaid things he was thinking. He wondered if Jon could sense his heart swelling just a little bit, in the fact that Jon had actually noticed his pensiveness tonight.

"I- I umm... I need to go in," Mat eventually said, breaking his eye contact with Jon. He flickered an apologetic little smile, then walked off, not giving Jon a chance to say anything else. He left the other man standing there, wondering, himself and trying to come up with his own conclusions to things.

The rest of the ride back was uneventful and quiet, with everyone in the van asleep other than Greg at the wheel, and Mat passing in and out of consciousness, caught between heavy thoughts and heavy sleep.

Jon had called him earlier in the day. Mat had been lounging around, relishing the fact that it was after one and he was still in bed when the call came, and it had left him wondering. Jon, who hadn't left his girl's place since they'd arrived home unless it had been to take care of band business, had made him promise to meet him downtown, of all places. He'd asked why, and all Jon would tell him was that he had to show him something, and that it was a surprise, so of course Mat agreed. Mat would agree to walk over broken glass and hot coals barefoot if Jonny asked him to. What Mat hadn't known though was that Jonny had begun to realize this.

So he'd gone and met Jon at the agreed-upon time, at the agreed-upon place. Eleven pm at the corner of West Adam's Street and Wacker Drive; anyone who knew the city the way they did would know that this was the block the Sears Tower was on, and this definitely had Mat wondering a little bit. As he arrived there, having parked on a side street and walked about six blocks, Mat saw Jon already there and waiting for him. He reached his friend, and for a moment just stood there looking at Jon before asking "why here?"

"Something to show you," Jon replied as he led Mat toward the huge building, and into the lobby. Mat looked around, noting that everything was pretty well closed up at this point, and even the observation deck had been closed for an hour according to the signs, but he quietly followed Jon anyway. They walked on to the security office on the lobby floor and he waited as Jon went and whispered with the night guard. Then he signed some log book and turned back to Mat, grinning.

"Jon... what the hell are you up to?" Mat eyed his friend a bit warily, though there was definite amusement in his eyes.

"You'll see!" He walked to the elevators and pushed the button to call one, and the car was right there. "Come on! We only have a half hour!"

Still not knowing what was going on, Mat jogged over to get into the elevator car with Jon. He stepped to the back of the car and leaned on the wall, watching as Jon pushed the button for the observation level. He wanted to ask yet again why they were here and what they were doing, but he didn't. For the moment at least, Mat was willing to chalk it up to something that had to do with what the band had been talking about the day before, that being filming another video for the new CD, and the ideas they all had. Someone had mentioned the Sears Tower; Mat couldn't remember who it was, but he knew it hadn't been Jonny. So maybe they were going to take in the skyline and talk about this video idea. It was the best conclusion he could come to right now at least.

Jon turned to him in the car as they rode to the top of the tall building and smiled at Mat; it was that shy, innocent smile that Jon always gave Mat whenever Mat had caught the other guy watching him, or when Jon had spied Mat looking for some kind of excuse for the two of them to be sitting somewhere without the benefit of other company, as rare as those moments were. Mat tried to smile back, but he found that in this confined space, all he could do was look into his friend's eyes, then look away to attempt to keep hidden the feelings he'd been hiding all this time. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jon smirk, but Mat ignored it. Thankfully they were nearing the top of the tower, and soon they'd be out of the little box that promised to suffocate Mat with his own wishful thinking.

When the car reached the observation level and the doors opened, Jon exited the elevator and took off across the deck and to the railing, leaping onto it and hanging over, holding on tightly with his arms. Mat on the other hand, took his time walking toward the railing, still wary as to what they were actually doing up here. "If you fall... I'm not going to pick up the splat you leave behind down there." Mat smirked and draped his arms over the railing as well, then scanned the night skyline, looking for landmarks and places that he knew. Jon crept back down so he was standing next to Mat, arms draped over the same way.

"Ewww!" Jon snickered, then glanced over.

Mat laughed.

"You would leave me there, too, wouldn't you? A pile of bloody guts for the pigeons to pick at."

"Uh huh." Mat glanced over too, and Jon slid closer. Arms still hooked over the railing, they stood like that, elbows touching as they discussed being a splat on the sidewalk after falling off the top of the Sears Tower.

"I don't think you really would though," Jonny said, this time looking at Mat, eyes deep and soft and searching Mat's face as Mat looked back at him. "I don't think you'd ever let me fall, not on your life." The blond nodded, a sly little smile spreading across his lips now.

"Oh no? What makes you so sure?" Mat challenged his friend, giving him a bit of a mock glare and a smirk, but he knew he'd been had. Jonny knew him too well. Or he'd been that obvious as of late. Either way, a half hour wasn't going to be near enough time to stand next to the other man up here before they'd have to go back down. With just the two of them here, one of those rare private moments, Mat would've given a lot to be able to let it last all night.

"This is what makes me so sure," Jon said, his eyes closing to half lidded as he reached out and pulled Mat into one hell of a kiss, crushing lips, tongue and everything.

Mat hadn't been expecting it, not at all, but it was as if he'd known all along the feel of Jon's lips on his. He had unknowlingly memorized it in his daydreams, though this, this was much, much nicer. He didn't try to move away in surprise or disgust. Mat only took half a step closer and tilted his head a little more, making the kiss that much easier. He slipped his tongue out to meet Jon's in agreement and approval, going with the kiss as long as Jon kept at it, too. When it finally broke after a many long moments, Mat's cheeks were red as he licked his lips. His eyes flit upward to tentatively glance at Jon, and Mat smiled shyly. A cool wind blew their hair, and Mat could just barely make out the feel of the sway of the tower beneath them. He could have asked a hundred other questions first, but instead he simply asked "Why here?"

"Because... I wanted it to be something you'd never forget," Jon said to him with all sincerity in his eyes and his pouty lips pursed together. "You know, in case we umm... never get to do it again?" Jon's eyes looked happy, yet sad at the same time as he said this.

For a moment, Mat only stared at Jon, trying to make sure he'd heard him right. He started to speak, then stopped himself the first time before deciding to ask something else, his curiosity up. "But... why?" Had Jon been experiencing the same thoughts? It was either that, or yeah, Mat had been that obvious.

Jon smiled warmly, his eyes calm and soft in the dim lighting up there on the observation deck as he looked out from where they stood. The sky was crisp and clear, and they could see for miles the lights atop other buildings and the moving red and white trails of traffic weaving in and out of the city limits. It was one of their favorite things about being home, seeing the skyline like this, the view from up here, just this city in general. Then he turned to Mat and said "Because I knew you weren't going to."

A few moments passed and Mat could only stand there, a bit dumbfounded. Now he really wanted to ask all the hows and whys that sprang forward in his mind, but in the end he didn't bother. Jon's simple statement had told him all he needed to know right now. The rest, they could talk about the rest some other time. Eventually though, he remembered to smile back so Jon didn't think he'd done something wrong. He smiled, then turned to once more look over the skyline, a whole new set of thoughts swimming in his head now.

Peering at Mat, Jon chewed on his lip a little bit before asking him, "So... what now?"

Mat smirked. Life was going to be really different from this day forward, he realized. Maybe it had taken Jon figuring him out before he'd believe himself, but this was something new, and something big, and something Mat realized was very right. Something he'd been craving all this time, had he only listened to himself. Had he only believed what his gut instinct had been telling him all this time.

Turning to face his friend now, Mat hooked his hand around the back of Jon's neck to gently pull him closer again. Then he kissed him with the want and passion that had built up in him from that first day they'd met, those years ago.

~fin.

[ORIG FIC] Three in the morning...

Sat, 13 May 2006 10:11:31 GMT

TITLE: Three in the morning
AUTHOR: shira
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It's three in the morning and the air is getting thin...

It's three in the morning and I'm the only soul on the road, mesmerized to the humming noise of the tires and the rumbling noise of the engine. Been driving for hours, but sleep is the last thing on my mind right now. It's as if the energy from my car is fueling meas well, and what I want most right now is to just drive. Drive. To just follow the flourescent lines on the dark lanes that make it all look like a runway, my car an aircraft, taxiing for takeoff into the vast horizon before me to disappear into the clouds. I fast-forward the CD to just the right song, one that completes the atmosphere as I eat away the miles, watching the odo go up and the gas gauge go down, but none of that matters right now, because I'm transfixed, feeling and listening, to where it's all taking me. No, not home. I don't want to go home, because it's really not much of a home these days. Only a place where the air is thin and I keep my stuff. The closest thing that I have to a home right now is the very vehicle I'm driving, so this is where I want to stay. My safe place. My decompression chamber if you will, because as I drove out before, I could feel the panic leave me. The further out I got, the more relaxed I became, because it brought me to where I realized I needed to be. And only then could I breathe again.

It's four in the morning, and the miles are still adding up, but I don't care. All I know this time is that they're leading me away now, and the further I get, that sickly familiar sensation comes back. My safe place is working against me this time, letting the tightness start to grip me again, letting the hollowness come back. By the time I return, I'll be the same as I was before, an empty shell, empty lungs, only this time with the hope of something to fill them if I can only get back. With the hope that I can breathe again, though I know the likelihood is that I won't. The likelihood is that my skin will once more turn pale and blue, and that grip around my lungs will be there again, making it oh so obvious to me what the problem really is, should I let myself to admit it. But I knew this. I knew this. I just didn't want to think about it. I just didn't want to acknowledge those tendrils around me and how they got there, because then they'd really be there.

The problem? It's that I follow what I feel is right for me, and it's always the path of most resistance. Lately though, my strength to do this has waned. I really didn't think I could do it again, thought I was through with these squelching internal battles, having given up once and for all and decided that I would make sure to take the easier road. The road that rises up to meet me, not the one I am forced to follow by map and compass, by flashlight and trails of string. My last trips down that road have left me too scarred and needy and empty to do it again. Yet here I am, staring down the face of another endless broken road strewn with bits of string needing to be stitched together, with that rusty compass and that torn map and that flashlight with dull, waning light, all to somehow be turned into a viable path again. It's the only way there, so if I want to go, I have no choice. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here because in the end I never win. The prize, after all that hard work, is always simply an illusion, something that was never meant to be real to me and never the one I fought for, and so for that I feel like stopping. For that I feel like getting out and simply lying down in this decrepit road for the vultures to pick at me until what little there is left of me is gone for good.

But you see, I am cursed with stubbornness, and no matter how much I would like that, it won't happen. I am the donkey that follows that carrot, just out of reach, my stomach grumbling with need. My feet are sore, my hooves split from the endless journey I have been on, but it's there, so close, and despite every pained step, I can't give up because the need, it's too real. I am a masochist, and no matter how much I hate the pain, no matter how much it renderd me useless at times, I will continue to withstand it, seeded with the tiniest of chances that I have come full circle, and I will finally get my payback. That this time I will reach the end of that desolate, winding road, and the right prize will be there. That for once, the pressure will fade, and I will breathe free and easy again, and be there where the air is clear and pure and good for me. For once, I will wake and not choke from the toxic fumes of rotting emotions and putrid dreams, but breathe in the sweet, sweet air that heals me from within and brings me back to life.

It's five in the morning, and a hint of sunlight peeks over the horizon. The road still fades away to nowhere before me as still I follow the lines. The tires still hum their mesmerising song. The engine still rumbles its soothing tone. The CD still plays on, something deep and invading, that gets into my psyche and speaks to me on many levels. My exit is near, but the drone and the road and the desperate, renewed need for clean air prevent me from taking it, so onward I drive. I am one with the road, and the sky, and the clouds. One with the fading stars as I add up the miles. The air is thin on this side of my world, and I can feel it in my chest as the road gets windy and bad again. I put my foot to the floor and hold onto the little bit of breath I still have, picking up speed and praying, because I'm not going to stop. I may die trying now, I may suffocate from the pressure and the lack of nourishment, but I don't plan on stopping. I'm praying instead that I can somehow come full circle and make it back to where I know I can breathe again. I only hope that when I get there I can undo all the damage and breathe easy once more. I only hope that when I get there, the air is still as sweet and welcoming as I remember it was before. I only hope that when I finally, finally get there, I can stay for good. Somebody tell me... am I ever going to get there?

[LYRICS] R-Evolve - 30 Seconds to Mars

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 11:55:12 GMT

A revolution has begun today for me inside
The ultimate defence is to pretend
Revolve around yourself just like an ordinary man
The only other option is to forget

Does it feel like we've never been alive?
Does it seem like we've only just begun?

Defy yourself just to look inside the wreckage of your past
To lose all you have to do is lie
The policy is set and we are never turning back
It's time for execution; time to execute
Time for execution; time to execute!

Does it feel like we've never been alive?
Does it seem like it's only just begun?
Does it feel like we've never been alive inside?
Does it seem it's only just begun?
It's only just begun

The evolution is coming!
A revolution has begun!
The evolution is coming!
A revolution has, yeah!

The evolution is coming!
A revolution has begun!
(Yeah, yeah!)
The evolution is coming!
A revolution has, yeah!
Revolution...

[LYRICS] Goldie - End of Radio

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 03:54:29 GMT

If you gave me the time
I might be all right
But that's not like life

Sometimes...

I might feel fine
Like I'm strong enough
Am I strong enough
Am I strong enough

If I look down
If I look scared
If you see me
running out of here

If I look broken
That's 'caase I am
I am

And If I look better off dead
And if I look better off dead
Yeah
I guess you're better off instead

We both belong
Nowhere, lost
Everything that's us
Everything that's us

So lets try to forget
Till we meet again
Somewhere in the night
Somewhere in the night

If I look down
If I look scared
If you see me running out of here

If I look broken
That's 'cause I am
I am

If I look better off dead
And if I look better off dead
Yeah
I guess you're better off instead

If I look broken
That's 'cause I am
I am

If I look broken
That's 'cause I am
I am

And if I look better off dead
And if I look better off dead
I guess you're better off instead
Yeah

[FIC] Friends, Brothers, Family - GC/End of Radio - Benji/Wes - NC-17

Thu, 23 Mar 2006 23:27:50 GMT

TITLE: Friends, Brothers, Family
AUTHOR shira
PAIRING: Benji/Wes - OMG, the first (?) ever Wenji fic?
WARNINGS: NC-17; Wow, and something you don’t usually see from me - fluff and sap!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money at this, just delusional fantasies. Go away.
SUMMARY: Sometimes feelings never really go away. It’s what we do about it in the end that makes all the difference, though.
NOTES: This is another one of those "had to be written" fics for me, once again inspired by a picture. You guys know how I get inspirations like that, lol! Special thanks to my superb beta _safi, and to April, for help with some of the little details. *snogs* (Hah, and if this fic happens to deem itself particularly prophetic this weekend, at least from what I can tell, I’ll be sure to let y’all know what happens at that show Saturday! *wink*)

Friends, Brothers, Family

Picking up the photograph and flipping it over to the back, then frontward once more, Benji looks at it a long few moments before setting it back into the sleeve on the inside of his suitcase for safe keeping. He smiles a little to himself, remembering the picture, the day it was taken and what was going on then. Wes and the guys from End of Radio were visiting for a week out in Los Angeles, getting to know area, with hopes to relocate once they were ready to record their CD. Wes had his boy Jaeden with him. Steve hadn’t been able to make the trip. They stayed at Joel’s place, all of them, and spent the days hitting the town and the nights hitting the clubs (after finding a reputable babysitter, of course). The week seemingly flew by. All too soon it was time for the guys to head back to Philadelphia, but before they left for the airport, Mike snapped the picture with Wes’s digital camera, hence why he wasn’t in it.

Benji loved the picture, from the first moment he saw it. He loved even more that he’d gotten to see his good friend Wes again, and Jaeden, too, Little AMC himself. It was a truly great picture, both he and Wes agreed, though neither of them really had words for why. So when Wes emailed Benji the image after returning home, Benji sent it right off to be printed out so he had a hard copy of it. The day he received it in the mail, a nice five-by-seven glossy, Benji propped it against his mirror on his dresser, stood back and admired the image, the same smile on his lips then as was on his lips now. He still didn’t know what it was about the picture, maybe how cute Jaeden looked in his arms, or how cute Wes looked there with them, or even the fact that they managed to hold the dog still long enough for this “AMC Family” type shot, but something about it just spoke to him, and still did, every time he looked at it.

Shutting his case, Benji turns and heads out of his spare bedroom in the old Philadelphia row house, the place Wes has been sharing with a couple other guys to keep living costs to a minimum. It’s a sizeable place, plenty of bedrooms, maybe not on the best street in town, but not too far off from the night life, and ah yeah, South Street. Who could resist it, especially with the TLA right there? He’d heard a rumor that Zipperhead was closed after all these years, and maybe before he leaves for home again he’ll get a chance to check it out and see for himself, but there’s a lot going on this weekend, so he isn’t holding his breath.

Checking his watch, Benji makes his way down the creaking stairway and to the main floor of the house, where he finds Wes, in the kitchen, casually packing a garment bag that’s hung off one of the cabinets with all his gear and clothing for tonight’s show at the Khyber. Stepping into the room, Benji leans on the door frame and crosses his arms loosely over his chest. Wes looks up at him, offering a little smile, though knowing his friend as well as he does, Benji can tell he’s a little nervous about tonight. He’s allowed, though. It’s End of Radio’s first show, ever, in front of a real audience; a club crowd, and not just a bunch of people gathered to give them crit and feedback. Besides that, they’re opening for Her Daily Obsession, Sarah Madden’s, yes, Benji’s sister’s, band.

“Need anything?” Benji asks quietly, easily understanding first night jitters and all that. He smiles back sympathetically, not moving from his spot but giving his friend a chance to decide what he needs.

“Nah, I’m good,” Wes answers, as he stuffs the corner of his black shirt for tonight into the bag. A shiny, new pyramid belt follows, tucked into the bottom of the bag, and Wes looks up again. Pausing, he takes a deep breath, then thinks to see if he’s forgetting anything. “Van’s packed, bag’s packed, Jesse’s taking care of making sure we have enough time to set up and warm up before everything gets going so uh… I think that’s it.” Hands on his hips, he thinks again.

Smirking, remembering the days, Benji lets his arms drop to his sides and he slips his hands into his pockets. “Extra extension cords?” He gives Wes a questioning look.

“Two of them.”

“Hmm… should get a few more, but I guess two’s okay for tonight.” Benji thinks along with him.

“Duct tape?”

“Got it.”

“Couple of clean towels?”

“Yeah.”

“Set list.”

“DeJuan is bringing copies.”

“Black socks.” Nothing worse than being clad in all black, and forgetting the socks and being stuck with white sweat socks. It always ruins the whole look.

Wes rolls his eyes and smirks.

There’s another silence as they both think.

“Guess you’re ready,” Benji says with a little laugh, shaking his head. “I give you my blessing to tear it up tonight.” Really, it is that, too, as he’s known Wes and his band since all they had were dreams of making it for themselves. It was finally becoming a reality, and Benji’s only too glad to be a part of this first night for them.

With a curt nod, Wes turns and zips his garment bag up, then picks the hanger off the cabinet handle, bringing the bag around to hang over his shoulder. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen table, he pauses to double-check himself once more, then glances up at his friend. “You’re set then? You have the directions to my mom’s place still, right?”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Benji reassures, stepping out of the kitchen as Wes passes through the doorway, then patting him on the back. “I’ll call you if I need anything, but it’ll be fine, the limo’s going to be here in an hour, I have the directions for the driver, and soon as I drop Jade off for you, I’ll head over and catch up with you guys.”

Reaching the door, Wes nods. “Okay. Hey look, thanks, man. You don’t know how I appreciate it, what with my mom not being able to come get Jade in time and all that.” Reaching a hand out, Wes grabs Benji’s in a brotherly, if not somewhat gang-styled handshake, then pats his arm. Just as he does, Jaeden comes running down the stairs and rushing across the floor toward them in stocking feet.

“Daddy!”

Wes glances at Benji, then smirks, leaning down to give his son a hug. “Be a good boy for Uncle Benji, okay Jades?” He gives Jaeden a kiss on the top of his dirty-blonde head, then stands straight again. “And don’t drive your grandmother crazy. She keeps telling me you’re going to be worse than I was when I was a kid, and I don’t think she can take another one like me.”

“I will, Daddy,” Jaeden says with a silly laugh, thinking his father’s comment about Grandma is funny.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Benji adds in a mocking tone. “Uncle Benji and Jaeden will throw a party while you’re gone.” He raises his eyebrows at Wes, grinning, then reaches down to grab Jaeden’s hand. “Go do what you have to do. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, do whatcha hafta do,” Jaeden repeats, then looks up at Benji with the most confused look. “We’re having a party? Is it your birthday?”

Both of them laughing now, Wes turns the knob and opens the door. “Hey, man, you’re the one that said it. He’s gonna hold you to it, too. I guess partying’s in the blood or something!” Giving Benji and Jaeden a final wave, Wes leaves them, pulling the door shut behind him, and walks up the street toward the van that’s parked, packed with half of the band’s equipment.

Inside, Benji is left with Jaeden, and once his father leaves, the boy asks again. “Uncle Benji… are we having a party?”

Inquisitive, hopeful eyes staring up at him, Benji laughs. “Sorry Jades, no party. I was just making a joke. But if you hurry up and get your shoes back on and bring down your bag, I’m gonna take you for a ride in a limo to go see your Grandma.”

Seeing the boy’s eyes light up, Benji laughs as Jaeden grins ear to ear, then yells “Okay!” Then dashing off, he starts back upstairs to the bedroom that’s his on the weekends that he gets to stay with Wes. Shaking his head in amusement, Benji watches Jaeden go, then follows behind, needing to get dressed himself before heading off for the night’s activities as well.

After dropping Jaeden off, Benji has the limo drive him to the Khyber, one of Philly’s better bars and clubs that has a great local music scene. He goes around to the side entrance and like everywhere he goes, people recognize him, so all he has to do is mention that he’s there for both Wes and his sister, and he gets in. It’s about an hour before End of Radio is to go on, so there’s lots of activity happening right now, with drum kits being built and set up, and people moving all over the place. The atmosphere is electric, even for a small show like this that might only attract a couple hundred people at the most, but he understands it well. It’s that static feeling that gets you hyped and makes you want to go out there and perform, so it’s always there, whether the crowd is ten or ten thousand.

“Hey you,” Benji hears from behind him, and before he even turns around he’s grinning, recognizing his little sister’s voice. “Hey yourself,” he replies, reaching out to give Sarah a big hug. Then he steps back and checks her over. “You look good.”

“Of course I do,” Sarah replies with a sarcastic roll to her eyes. “So, fancy you making it after all. I was beginning to think you were going to blow me off.” Sarah likes to tease Benji about his “busy schedule,” and his Hollywood lifestyle, even though he’s made it to most of her shows.

Benji smirks. “Yeah, I was able to rearrange some less important things so I could find my way out to this hick town and come see you play.” He laughs.

“No Joel, huh?”

“Nah,” Benji replies, shrugging. “He and Hil have some thing to go to. You know how he is with her and her things.” Now he rolls his eyes.

“Aww, I loooove you, Benji, for caring enough to come to my show again!” Sarah gives her brother an exaggerated hug, and a sloppy, lipsticky kiss on the cheek. “But I have things to do here, so either make yourself useful or get out of the way!” She laughs.

“Very funny.” Benji wipes at the lipstick he can feel on his skin, glancing around. “Seen Wes yet?”

“Oh, I get it. Never mind me, where’s Wes?” Sarah smirks, then starts walking off when one of her band members waver her over. “Last I saw they were taping down the mic stands on that tiny-ass excuse for a stage!”

“Hey, he needs the help more than you do!” Benji calls out as Sarah goes off, giving her a little wave as she does.

“Oh I do, do I? And all this time I thought I had your blessing, dude.” Wes gives Benji a sly grin, having come up behind him as the siblings were talking.

“Course you do, man. Who’s gonna get you into trouble all night?” His one eyebrow raising, Benji smirks at his friend. “Everything good? Can I do anything?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Wes replies. There’s still that hint of apprehension in him, but for the most part he’s pretty cool and collected. He checks his watch, glances around, then looks back at his friend with a little smile. “How’s Sarah?”

“She’s good. Ragging on me as usual,” Benji says with a laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s what brothers and sisters are for.”

“Dude, you don’t need to tell me that.”

They both get a little laugh out of that. Wes checks his watch again. Then Mike comes over and says something about needing a little help with some wires and how there’s a little problem with the levels coming out of the synth, so all three of them go off to deal with the issue so the band is ready to play their hearts out come show time.

The problem turns out to be a bad cable, and it’s a perfect example as to why a band always needs to bring extras. Once the problem is averted, it’s getting really close to stage time, so Benji and Wes make a quick trip back to the tiny, shared dressing room so Wes can go over his look one last time. Naturally, and not unlike like the kitchen at a house party, practically everyone else performing that night has gathered there as well, and it's tight quarters. Mike is in here primping, as is Jesse, fixing his makeup and his hair. DeJuan’s on the way out as they’re walking in, so that’s at least one less body in the cramped closet of a room.

Wes walks over and squeezes in next to someone at the lit-up mirror, then grabs someone else’s black eyeliner and starts to touch his up. Watching his hand in the reflective surface, his eyes divert for a few seconds, and behind the people walking in and out and blocking his view he sees Benji, leaned back against the wall, watching him. For a moment their gazes connect in the mirror, Wes’s dark-rimmed, dark eyes finding Benji’s soft, hazel-colored ones. Benji gives him a hint of a smile, then looks off to the side almost shyly, which makes Wes smile as well. Looking back into the mirror now and finishing his touching up, the little smile is still on his lips until he sets the kohl pencil down, stepping back to inspect himself. Fingering his hair a little bit for good measure, Wes nods, then turns and walks over where Benji’s standing out of the way. He checks his watch yet again.

“Ten minutes.”

“We should get out there, then,” Benji replies, looking up at his friend. Their eyes meet once more, and Benji can see so many things there this time, it makes him feel a little weird inside. He sees some of their past together, the time they spent becoming such close friends and the time Wes has spent molding his band and always having him to bounce ideas off. He sees some of the more intimate times they’ve shared in the past, too, when they first knew each other and Good Charlotte was new and fresh on the Philly scene, and they realized that they liked a lot of the same things. He sees all that in Wes’ little glance, layered thick and deep, where it’s been for a while, since Benji and his brother relocated to Los Angeles and pretty much stopped spending so much time on the East coast, though he realizes maybe Wes doesn’t want him to see all that.

Mostly though, what Benji sees is excitement and well-hidden, first-night jitters, and he smiles. Maybe all that other stuff is in his head, guilt or something, for not having had the motivation to keep as close contact as he could have, or should have, too. Or maybe wishful thinking, his or Wes’ since Benji thinks he sees all that every time he gets together with his friend. It’s always there, but they never talk about it, and this certainly isn’t the time to, either. Giving an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder, Benji pushes Wes toward the door. “Get out there, man. Not letting you be late for your first gig.”

Benji’s comment comes at the perfect time, breaking the sudden awkward gaze between them, and Wes laughs. He goes through the open doorway, nearly walking into the bass player for one of the other bands, then weaves around him and starts toward the stage. Slowing just enough that Benji can catch up to him, they walk together, the rest of the band following shortly behind them, to side stage where everyone gets ready, the anxious minutes ticking by. Wes paces a couple times, then goes over to help DeJuan with her guitar strap before returning to Benji’s side. He glances over a bit tensely, then checks his watch yet again, and fidgets with his hands until it’s time.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Benji says, loud enough for the entire band to hear. Then he steps closer to Wes to say something in his ear, gripping his forearm loosely to pull him near. “You look great.” He tilts his head a little and their eyes meet for a second before he once more turns to speak softly into Wes’ ear. “Make me proud, brother.”

Releasing his hold on Wes’ arm, Benji steps back once and nods to him. The house lights have been dimmed and the small crowd is beginning to quiet, indicating that the time has finally come for End of Radio to make themselves known to the world. Wes breathes in deeply, psyching himself, then without another word struts confidently out on stage and toward his mic stand, flanked by the rest of the band as they take their places.

As the band strikes their first chords, Benji remains side stage, watching. His arms crossed over his chest, legs planted wide, he smiles softly as Wes and the rest of his friends start getting into their first song, and though the audience is still a little quiet yet, he has no doubt they’ll be into the set by the time it’s over. And if not, well, every band has to build it’s following through hard knocks, and he’ll be there to encourage them. By the end of that first song however, it’s not looking like Benji’s going to have to soothe any bruised egos, because the crowd is digging the music, and the band is definitely digging the crowd.

Feeling a touch on the shoulder, Benji turns to find Sarah and AC standing there next to him. She gives him a little smile, bobbing her head to the music, then looks ahead of them to watch. Benji gives a quick two-finger salute to AC, who nods in return, and they all watch together as End of Radio go through their set.

After six songs, and managing to successfully get the small crowd worked and screaming back at them, Wes and the band finally take their bows and give their thanks, then head off the stage. As they head off, guys from the next band to play rush in behind them and start tearing equipment down. After having made his exit, Jesse goes back with them to tear down his own drum set. Side stage, there are people milling around and congratulating the band, but Wes heads straight for Benji and Sarah, a giddy, proud grin on his face.

“Did we do okay? Shit, was I off key in that one part of Graceland?” He laughs as they walk off and out of everyone’s way, clothes damp with sweat, and starts unbuttoning the top of his shirt a little.

“You guys were awesome!” Benji says loudly, above the din of noise surrounding them now as the changeover for the next band is happening. “Shit, so you went off key a little, so fucking what! Everything sounded great, dude!”

“Yeah, really, really great,” Sarah adds, grinning, catching Benji’s eye as he congratulates his friend.

“Oh man, what a rush,” Wes says, draping his arm over Benji as they walk, then glancing back at Sarah. “This is what I’ve wanted! I am so fucking happy right now, you guys have no clue!”

Naturally, both Benji and Sarah laugh.

“Nah, no clue,” comes Benji’s sarcastic reply.

“And it’s contagious, too,” Sarah adds, patting Wes on the back. “Now that you’ve been in front of an audience, all you’re going to do is jones for the next show!”

“Like fucking cocaine,” Wes adds, “Only better. Much better, oh my God.” He’s indescribably proud of himself and his band, and it’s plain as day on his face. His eyeliner’s smudged and smeared, his hair’s sticking up in some places and sticking to him in others, but no matter, he knows they’d finally succeeded and broken through, and that’s what’s most important right now.

They mingle a little longer backstage as Wes comes down from his high, but after a few minutes he and Benji go off to help the band pack their gear up, getting it out of the way, since there’s only so much room backstage at this small venue. The second band is already playing by the time they get everything squared away, so they first go to the bar and get a drink, stopping to talk to the occasional club-goer along the way, then head back to watch the other bands.

Benji’s all for mingling, and he usually does when he’s out in public, since mostly everyone’s just into having a good time, but tonight he’s feeling a little antisocial, so he just sticks close with Wes. They go to stand side stage once more, since it’s a little quieter there and there’s less access for people, and standing side-by-side, arms crossed over their chests, the two watch the set that’s playing on stage right now. Her Daily Obsession goes on next anyway, so Benji wants to stick close to give them a hand when it comes time for them to set up and tear down, too.

The next hour seemingly flies by, and Her Daily Obsession puts on a stellar show, making Benji even happier that he already is tonight, if he could possibly be any happier. By this time the crowd is really worked up, and pretty drunk, so they’re loud and getting a little obnoxious, all that much more to the benefit of the bands who are all thriving off the electricity of the club’s environment. After the set, he and Wes help HDO tear down and pack up, and then they head over to the bar once more, this time with Sarah and her band mates.

Benji’s always watchful of what he drinks when he’s around his sister though, since she tends to go all maternal on him. All he gets is a Captain and Coke for now, knowing her watchful eye is on him. He could start in with her, tell her that she’s not his mother, and that he can, indeed, handle himself these days, but Benji simply avoids the confrontation altogether by toning it down a little when he’s around her. He has no idea if she realizes that, but he suspects she does; the important thing tonight is that he doesn't do anything to ruin hers, or Wes', good time.

A few pictures and a few autographs later, both Benji andWes find themselves sitting off in the corner of the bar, a spot that still provides them a good vantage point to see the last band playing, yet gets them out of the main bar traffic. They sip their drinks, remaining mostly quiet and seemingly lost in watching the band play, just enjoy each other’s company as they slowly get a good buzz going. Benji orders them another drink each, and as he turns back some girl comes over to talk to them and ask for a picture. “This is my friend Wes,” he tells her, a little giddy from his drink but not necessarily drunk, as he drapes his arm over Wes’ shoulder. “He’s the lead singer for End of Radio. He’s gonna be really famous pretty soon! Isn’t he hot?” The noise is pretty loud, and Benji has no clue whether the girl heard anything that he said as he and Wes pose with her for a picture snapped by her friend, but he knows Wes heard him, and that’s all that’s important right now.

After the picture is snapped, and the girl and her friend leave, Wes glances over at Benji with a sly smirk on his lips. He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his glass to his lips and downs the rest of his drink, and the wheels start moving in his head. He’s been trying to decide if Benji’s actually been flirting with him all night or not. He thinks he has the answer now.

Leaning close enough that his nose is pressed against Benji’s ear, Wes brings his hand up to shield them a little from the loud music playing across the room. “So… party? Or what?”

Benji pauses a moment and thinks before switching positions to speak into Wes’ ear. “Know of one?” There’s always a party after a gig like this, and since Wes is the one with the connections in this town still, Benji’s pretty much up for whatever his friend wants. He turns his head and lets Wes speak loudly into his ear again, they each taking turns like this, trying to be heard by the other without having to leave their spots at the bar to go talk somewhere quieter.

“Yeah, a couple. Wanna go?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to do. The night is young!” Benji grins. It’s only just after midnight, after all.

Wes pauses, contemplating, before turning to speak into Benji’s ear again. “Or my place?”

“Party at your place?” Benji asks loudly, not understanding.

“No, but… everyone else will be out.”

Eyes flashing up to meet Wes’, Benji does some silent calculation before he catches on. Oh. Jaeden’s at his grandmom’s for the rest of the weekend. Roommates out and about. House empty. Check. A little flutter starts in Benji’s gut, and his face gets a little warm. So do other parts of him, all of a sudden. “Sounds like a plan,” he finally replies, then sits back again to sip on his drink, unable to hide the little smirk on his lips as he does.

They watch the end of the current set, the last of the evening, hanging around a little while after to bullshit with everyone and keep up with the merry merry, and it’s not until close to two that Wes gets up from his bar stool and stretches. He hasn’t had a drink since that last one while they were deciding what to do after the show, and taking his hint, neither has Benji. Standing as well, Benji pays their small bar tab, leaves a nice tip, then pats Wes on the back as he walks past. “Be right back.”

Waiting, Wes leans against the bar and watches as Benji files through the small group of people congregated there and finds his sister in the crowd. Benji pulls her away from the others for a minute and talks into her ear. Sarah’s eyes turn upward and from the other side of the bar area, she looks at Wes, making him wonder what’s being said. Sarah quickly turns her attention back on her brother however, and they hug briefly, before Benji starts back. Pushing away from the bar and starting for the side exit once Benji's rejoined him, Wes turns and glances at his friend.

“What’d you tell her?” He digs around in his pocket looking for the key to the van as they walk.

“That we were heading back to your place.”

“What’d she say?”

Benji snickers. “First she wanted to know what was wrong with me that I wasn’t staying out to party. And then she said to make sure we use condoms.” Grinning awkwardly, Benji gets to the door first, and holds it for Wes to walk through. “After you, Mr. End of Radio.” He giggles a little, following Wes out. “Damn. I get to bed the lead singer on their first night of the tour. Is that some shit or what?”

Rolling his eyes now, Wes gives Benji a shove. “Better make it worth it, man. There’ll be plenty more after you if you don’t.” He laughs out loud as they walk to the van, unlocks his door, gets in, then just sits there making faces at Benji from the driver’s seat. It’s an older van, so no auto locks, and Benji can’t get in before Wes unlocks it for him on the inside. Wes keys the ignition and lets the vehicle start warming up. When he hears a muffled “Fuck you, asshole, it’s cold out here! My nuts are freezing!”, Wes leans over and unlocks the door, letting Benji climb in beside him.

“Wouldn’t want to do that now, would I? Let your nuts freeze?” Wes snickers, then puts the van in reverse to back out of its parking space where it’s wedged in with other beat-up, early-model "band vans" like it behind the club.

“Probably not,” Benji says back, amusedly. “Not if you want to use them later, at least.” He’s glad there’s some direction to what’s going to ensue tonight, and that they’re both being really relaxed about it. He’s also glad they’re going to get some alone time this weekend, despite the fact that it’s been a really long time since they’ve been together. Not since the VMAs a couple years back, when they conveniently shared a hotel room. Hell, he’s glad about a lot of things right now, and apparently the week they palled around while Wes was in LA recently has been enough to get them both antsy. Before he gets ahead of himself though, Benji stops and just clips his seat belt. Feeling Wes’ gaze on him, Benji glances up and smiles, then rests back and closes his eyes as the van turns out of the parking area and onto the little alley behind the club.

Heading upstairs at the house, Benji follows Wes, who passes his bedroom and opens the door and turns on a lamp for them. “Be right back,” Wes say before continuing on to the small bathroom on that floor, so Benji goes in without him. He sits on the edge of the bed waiting until Wes returns and shuts the door, then smirks at him, noting that Wes has taken his makeup off. “All prim and proper now?” Benji laughs softly, then starts kicking his shoes off. Laughing is good. Laughing helps to distract him from the hint of nervousness he’s feeling right now, despite that this is nothing new to him. Nothing new, but something all the same, and something that’s been only a distant memory for quite a while. It’s only Wes,” Benji thinks to himself, then looks up at his friend and smiles.

Catching Benji’s funny look, Wes smiles back. “What?” He starts unbuttoning his shirt, then takes it off and rests it over the back of his computer chair over by his small desk.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

Benji pauses, then nods and starts removing his own shirt over his back, revealing colors and swirls and decorated skin. “Sure.”

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” Wes tells him, pausing, a hint of concern taking over.

“No, no. It’s cool,” Benji replies, then thinks that sounds really… ridiculous. “Just that… I was thinking. About the last time we…”

“Ah.” Now Wes pauses. “Yeah, umm…” He understands the sentiment now. They’d fooled around, and then sort of lost touch, and then Benji was with Tony for a while, and yeah, Wes understands how heavy this probably is for him. He slips his belt off, kicks off his shoes, then walks over to where Benji’s doing the same. “If it’s any consolation… I think about it, too. A lot.” Touching Benji now, Wes brushes the backs of his knuckles against Benji’s chest, looking into his eyes a moment before leaning in for a deep, consuming, it’s-been-way-too-long kiss.

Wes’ kiss is just what Benji needed to get his mind back where it should be, where he wants it to be, and he kisses back, just as deeply, remembering. The kiss is warm and familiar, with just a hint of that roughness that he always liked about Wes, just enough to make him exciting, and get Benji going. Enough to make Benji remember the good times and question himself why he let them end, but before he can get too far down that path he’s working the button on Wes’ pants, and pulling the fly open.

Missed you, Wes wants to tell Benji, feeling himself melt just slightly at Benji’s advances, but he doesn’t. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to say right now, but it’s all right; he knows they both know it, anyway. As Benji opens his pants and starts pushing them down, Wes steps out of them, pushing his socks down too, until he stands stark naked and ready to go before his friend. Then helping to relieve Benji of his clothing problem as well, Wes kicks their clothes to the side and waits for Benji to command the situation, which he knows he will.

When they’re both naked, Benji moves in to kiss Wes again, their lips crushing hard together, then starts backing him toward the bed. Giving the other man a moment to sit without falling, he nods, motioning for Wes to move further up the bed. When he does, Benji follows. Kneeling, Benji quickly moves up until he’s even with Wes, then situates himself resting half on top of him and half on the mattress. Head propped with one hand, he looks into Wes’ interested and mischievous gaze, then descends on him with another heated kiss.

For a few minutes there’s kissing and touching and groping, bodies refamiliarizing with each other, and very quickly they’re both damp with a light sweat. His lips red and swollen from the aggressive kissing, Wes barely gives them a moment to rest before rolling over onto his front and beginning to move himself down Benji’s body. At this point there isn’t much more in the way of foreplay - they’re both more than ready - so he slinks down far enough, then takes Benji whole into his mouth. No warning, no teasing, Wes just sets to work in ways he remembers Benji appreciates, and his efforts are fast rewarded with the reactions he gets.

Groaning loudly, Benji’s hands shoot downward to grip into Wes’ hair, his fingers threading in and closing in it. “Oh God.” He knows Wes is going to push him until he can’t take anymore, but Benji is delighting in his friend’s mouth too much to worry about dragging anything out. As he’s sucked, warm wet heat sending shockwaves through his lower half, Benji’s fingers grip tighter into Wes’ hair and into his scalp, until he’s pulling on his hair, pulling him down on him to take him as deep as he can. Then Wes does something to him, closes the top of his throat just right causing just the right type of sensation, different than anyone else has ever done it to him, and Benji’s flooded both with feeling and memories. “Oh God, you still remember that,” he says in a breathy laugh.

“MmmmHmmm,” Wes hums, purposely, trying hard to keep a smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth, thus affecting what he’s doing. Fingers wrapped around the base of Benji’s cock as he continues to suck him off, Wes teases him to the brink of his limit, then backs off, lifting his head and stroking now only with his hand. He shakes his head, dislodging Benji’s hands from in his hair, then glances up to meet hazy, lust-filled eyes. Benji’s breathing heavy, as is Wes, making Wes smirk. “Ease your sister’s worry and get the shit in the top drawer,” he says, giving Benji a little room to stretch over and reach the night stand. His hand continues to stroke Benji in time, keeping his mind, and his body, focused.

“Please, no mention of siblings,” Benji chides as he stretches over to open the drawer, digging around until he finds those familiar foil packets and tears one off. Benji shivers as Wes keeps up with his hand, pausing a moment, then reaches again to find some sort of lube.

“Oh, what? You mean you don’t fuck your brother?” Wes chuckles, then makes up for the lewdness of his comment by sliding a little closer to Benji and dipping his head, closing his lips around the tip of his cock to swirl around it with his tongue.

Shivering, Benji scoffs, but forming words is a little difficult right now. “Fucking… bastard…” He moans quietly, hand still moving around blindly until he finally finds what he’s looking for and moves back onto the bed. Quickly holding the back of Wes’ head, Benji thrusts deep into his hot mouth once, gasping, then releasing him, letting him back off so as not to go as far as to make his friend choke. “Since when did you get such a dirty… mind?”

“I got it hanging around with you,” Wes tells him, laughing a little as he moves beside Benji, giving him room to do what he knows is coming next.

“That so,” Benji huffs, still shuddering a little from the way Wes has gotten him going. “Going to have to do something about that. Like make it dirtier,” he says, then rolls onto his hands and knees beside Wes. Pushing him down, Benji leans forward to kiss him aggressively, hand moving quickly to Wes’ waiting cock, and he begins stroking it. Wes hisses softly from the contact, but otherwise just lies back and enjoys the feeling of being touched. With his opposite hand, Benji flips the cap on the small bottle of warming oil that he pulled out of the drawer, inverts it, wets up a couple fingers, then caps it again. He gives Wes an accomplished little smile, then tosses the bottle down on the comforter. “I can multi-task, see?” As if to further illustrate his point, he tightens his one hand and strokes Wes a little harder, a little tighter, pausing to tease around the head a moment or two while his second hand goes searching.

Wes laughs, then sucks in a deep breath from Benji’s hand. “I’m impressed,” he says, then gasps when he feels that first thick finger working its way into him, slicking him up and stretching him out for what’s yet to come.

“You should be.” Benji snickers again, though the little laugh quickly dissipates as he concentrates on what he’s doing, lust and need taking him over. “Put that thing on me,” Benji whispers, both his hands still occupied with Wes, stroking him and fingering him, and it’s making him really desire him right now. He presses another slick finger into Wes’ receiving body and starts slipping them slowly in and out, and the more he does it the more it makes him want to just stop and fuck him into the mattress right this instant.

Hands shaking a little from the sexual tension built in him, Wes grabs the condom packet from off the bed and tears it open. He moans softly as Benji slips his second finger in, and automatically bears down. “God, yes,” Wes whispers as he fools around with the condom until he’s managed to get it out of the packet. Then reaching forward he quickly rolls it down over Benji’s ram-hard cock. Grabbing the bottle of warming oil, Wes pours a little in his hands before tossing the bottle away again, and he strokes Benji a few times, lubing him up even more.

“You good?” Benji asks breathlessly, really needing to stop playing around and get down to business before he loses himself before they’ve had any fun.

Nodding, Wes wipes his oily hand on the top of the comforter, then moves around on the bed, giving them more room. When he does, Benji climbs over him, spreads his legs and situates himself between Wes’ thighs. Wes isntantly misses the contact when Benji lets go of his cock and slips his fingers out, but the anticipation makes it all the better when Benji finally lines up behind him and starts carefully slipping his cock in, instead.

Rested back on his heels, Benji remains on his knees, and grasps Wes’ thighs, encouraging him back some so he can slide the rest of the way into his hot, tight body. Seated deeply, Wes’ thighs over his hips, Benji pauses a moment, his cock twitching occasionally, and loses himself in what they’re doing. Creeping a hand forward, Benji takes hold of Wes’ cock to once more start stroking gently; a little smile forms on his lips now, as he feels Wes tightening around him in response to all the stimulation.

“God, Benj… move. Do something,” Wes groans, pushing on the bed a little to press himself further back against Benji. He flinches in Benji’s hand, and it sends a chain reaction causing him to constrict around Benji’s cock as well.

Not really intending on teasing, Benji heeds Wes’ plea and slips back and out slightly before leaning forward to slip right back in. It sends tingles through him, making him do it again, until he doesn’t want to stop doing it, slipping back and forth, in and out. One hand on Wes’ cock, still stroking in slow rhythm and the other gripped tightly enough to leave marks on his hip, Benji bites his lip, hissing softly as he slowly begins to fuck Wes.

Wes groans, body quaking with every slide in and out making him more sensitive to each next thrust. He moves his hand on top, wrapping it around Benji’s as it's wrapped around his cock, and for a few minutes they both stroke him in time to Benji’s thrusting. Eventually though, Benji moves his hand away,leaving Wes stroking himself for now. When Benji slips out of him as well, leaving Wes noticeably missing his presence, he lifts his head up to make sure everything’s all right. Eyes questioning, Wes watches as Benji moves over a little on his knees, changing position.

“Turn over,” Benji whispers, hand sliding tenderly up and down Wes’ thigh as he waits for him to do it. As Wes does, Benji continues running his hand over his friend’s smooth, taught body and up and down his back before lining up once more, this time behind him. Before Wes bends before him, Benji leans close, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. Then he guides him into the position he wants him in now. Lining himself up behind Wes this time, Benji presses gently until the head of his cock is in, his breathing deepening once more as he does. Then he rams himself in hard and deep the rest of the way, already slick and ready, making the other man cry out.

With the angle just right and the thrusting deep and hard, Wes feels himself building toward release, and quickly at that. Braced on all fours, he starts rocking back against Benji now, increasing the power behind his thrusts, until they both have his body begging to be filled again every time Benji pulls back out. “Oh yeah,” Wes whispers, and he slams himself hard against Benji again, this time the one eliciting the cry from him. Wes grins. It gets him another slam back though, and Wes can now feel his body tensing up and getting close. Another couple of brushes across his sweet spot and he’s doing anything he can to increase the feeling in his body. When Benji’s hand slips around to take hold of him and stroke him in time again, it’s all the sensation he needs to start falling over that edge.

Feeling the way Wes reacts, both pushing himself onto his cock and thrusting into his hand, Benji thrusts harder now, strokes harder, pushing Wes until his body is quaking with needed release. The way Wes tightens around him, Benji can feel Wes' climax coming on, can feel it as his body begins to constrict before he even utters a sound. He feels Wes’ cock start pulsing as he strokes it, and then there he is, gasping and moaning, sending little quivers through Benji with his release as he comes areound him and into Benji’s hand.

Continuing to thrust into the ever-tightening body before him, Benji shivers, the feel and sound of his friend reaching his orgasm setting him on fire. As Wes’ release hits its full force, Benji feels himself reaching that point of no return as well. His free hand slides up and down Wes’ back anxiously, fingernails digging and leaving marks. Benji pushes himself toward release now, his other hand continuing to stroke, Wes still shuddering under him. Then after a few more good thrusts, a few more moans and grunts, Benji slams in fast and deep and stays there, holding Wes tight against him as he finally hits his climax. Breathing in heavy bursts, Benji leans a bit over Wes’ back, rocking his hips slightly as his cock pulses deep within Wes’ body, neither of them moving until they’ve both ridden out their orgasms.

After a few moments to catch his breath, Benji pushes himself up and off Wes, then very carefully slips out of him, his cock sensitive and even a little sore from all the hard thrusting. He sits back on his heels again, body covered in a light sheen, and starts picking at the condom to remove it. The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat and them, and Benji recognizes it, remembers that scent from before he let the friendship lapse. It's heady and soothing to him, but he reminds himself not to get used to it.

Turning over and flopping himself down on his back on the bed, Wes lies flat out a few minutes, letting his breathing return to normal. He watches Benji through half-lidded, hazy eyes, then lets his eyes fall closed. “You all right” he asks, noting the sudden silence between them once more, but Benji doesn’t answer right away, instead getting up to walk naked into the bathroom to get rid of the condom and wash his hands. Wes hears the familiar squeak of the faucet, first on, then off, and then Benji’s footsteps once more as he returns. Glancing over as Benji shuts the bedroom door, Wes smiles wearily, then closes his eyes again. There’s a hint of concern in him brought on by Benji’s silence, but Wes’ worry is soothed when Benji settles next to him on the bed, sprawling out same as he is.

“In answer to your question,” Benji says, a bit sleepily at this point, that post-orgasmic coma coming on fast, “I’m fine. Just… thinking.” He rolls his head to the side to look over at Wes, but Wes still hasn’t opened his eyes. Benji rolls his head back and closes his eyes as well.

“About?”

“Just… stuff.”

There’s a long pause now, broken only by the sound of someone scratching something somewhere.

Eventually it’s Wes that breaks the silence between them. “So… you really think we sounded good tonight, huh?”

Benji snickers softly. “Yeah, Wes, I’m just saying that all along because I wanted to fuck you again.”

“I’d believe that,” Wes says with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know, me too.” Benji pauses again. “But seriously, you sounded great and I can’t wait for you guys to come to LA.”

Again, a pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. What do you mean?” Benji opens his eyes and glances at Wes a moment before closing them again. “You’re gonna love it there, man. Living there, I mean. So much better than this cold weather shit.”

“Yeah, but this is Philly. You just… deal with it around here, you know, because… this is Philly.” Wes smirks.

“I know, but still. You’re gonna love it, trust me.” Benji stops himself before his next thought comes out, but decides after a moment to say it anyway. “So am I.”

Wes is quiet a few moments before he smiles softly. “Been a while, I know. Everything’s so different.” He has no idea what Benji’s getting at, but he’s willing to guess. The thought makes Wes a little warm inside, too. “You know, Jade really likes you,” he says, completely out of the blue, to see where the conversation goes.

“He does? That’s cool. He’s a good kid. Turning out just like his dad.” Glancing over quickly again, Benji smiles. “I mean that in a good way,” he adds.

“Ah, well that’s good,” Wes laughs. “Seriously, though. It’s going to be a blast.”

“That it is. Really gonna be nice being able to hang out again.” Yawning, Benji closes his eyes tight, then settles into the pillow a little more before scrunching his face up. “It’s fucking freezing in here, man. See what I mean? Los Angeles. I’m tellin’ ya.”

Wes laughs. “So get under the blankets if you’re cold.”

Benji opens an eye and trains it on Wes. “You don’t care if I stay?”

“Was kinda hoping you would.”

Well okay then. Looking back over with a hint of a smile, Benji nods shallowly. “All right.” He sits up and digs the end of the blankets out, getting underneath before glancing back at Wes. “You comin’ under, too?”

“Sure.” Wes pulls down his side as well and gets under, switching off the lamp before settling in next to Benji. This time he moves a little closer, going as far as to roll onto his side to face him.

When Wes slips in against him, Benji rolls to his side facing the center of the bed as well, all kinds of resurged feelings happening in him now. There’s a lot on his mind about what’s happening between the two of them right now, and what’s going to happen come tomorrow, but he doesn’t have the desire to get into it all just yet. Moving closer still, Benji curls in until their bodies are rested against each other, then slips his arm hesitantly around his friend. “This… all right?” He’s walking on eggshells here, hoping it is, but not wanting to be overzealous as to how being this close to Wes is making him feel.

“It is for me. Is it for you?” Wes shifts, letting Benji hold him close, remembering how it felt before and enjoying how it feels now all over again.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“Wes?”

“Yeah?”

Benji reaches up and scratches his head, then slips his arm back down under the covers to exactly where it was, wrapped around Wes’ upper body. “You know, when you guys move to LA, you can… I mean, if you don’t find a place right away…”

His heart swelling just a little, Wes smiles into the crook of Benji’s neck, where he’s wedged. “Okay.”

“I could, you know… help you out with Jaeden too, since you won’t have your mom…” He’s thinking about that photograph again, the one in his bag, where they almost look like they could be a family, the three of them. Truth be told, Benji’s always loved the kid as if he were his own. Being around Wes and Jade has always brought out the need for close family in him, made Benji feel like he had the ability to be the father that he never had when he was a kid. Best of all, Wes has let him be that, too, a second daddy of sorts, except for that whole ‘living on the other side of the continent’ thing.

“I’d like that. I think Jade would, too.”

There’s silence between them again, broken only by the sound of a police siren as it gets louder and louder, passes the building, then fades off into the distance.

“Night, Benj,” Wes finally says, curling in close to Benji. There was a time he’d thought he’d lost Benji for good, other people and other things stepping between them, but this weekend has him filled with hope. Of course he doesn’t want to get too ahead of the game here, so Wes keeps that thought to himself for now.

Similar thoughts going through his head simultaneously, unbeknownst to Wes, Benji, too, remains quiet as he succumbs to calm and comfort, and the feel of a familiar, warm body beside his. “Night."

[LYRICS] The Leaving Song - AFI

Wed, 15 Mar 2006 21:39:43 GMT

Walked away, heard them say
"Poison hearts will never change, walk away again"
Turned away in disgrace
Felt the chill upon my face cooling from within

It's hard to notice gleaming from the sky
When you're staring at the cracks
It's hard to notice what is passing by with eyes lowered

You... walked away, heard them say
"Poisoned hearts will never change, walk away again"

All the cracks, they lead right to me
And all the cracks will crawl right through me
All the cracks, they lead right to me
And all the cracks will crawl right through me, and I fell apart

As I... walked away, heard them say
"Poisoned hearts will never change"
Walked away again
Turned away in disgrace
Felt the chill upon my face cooling from within

*****

I feel like one of Davey Havok's MySpace blogs. Don't ask. I couldn't explain it.

[FIC] Matchmaker: Part 8 - GC - Twincest - NC-17

Mon, 13 Mar 2006 15:03:44 GMT

TITLE: Matchmaker
AUTHOR shira
PAIRING: Benji/Joel
WARNINGS: NC-17; A bit of situational angst, twincest, language, implied violence and threats;
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money at this, just delusional fantasies. Go away.
SUMMARY: Sometimes, in order to help your friends, you just have to take things into your own hands when the writing on the wall keeps getting ignored.
NOTES: This is a PWP masquerading as a fic with some plot. Hehehe... and I said I didn't do these kinds of fics. Oh well. Enjoy! Special thanks to my superb beta _safi!

Someone bugged me this morning for an update, and it was at the right time. The muse came back, and I am working on Part 9, so here is Part 8. I do believe this is what you've all been waiting for. *grins*

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Eight.

His eyes opening suddenly, Benji blinks a few times, then glances around the room. At first he doesn’t recognize where he is, but after a few wakeful moments it all starts coming back to him. It’s still dark in the room, other than the warm light filtering down the hallway from the living room lights being on, but just by the feel of things he can tell it’s really early. Probably before dawn. He should be asleep, but it’s been an uncomfortable rest for Benji, so for now he just lies there in the strange bed, thinking. Joel is beside him, his even breathing indicating his restful state, and after a little bit Benji rolls onto his side to face his brother and just watch him.

Apparently Joel’s only sleeping lightly as well however, because even in his care to not move the bed too much, Benji’s motions get Joel stirring. One of Joel’s hands moves up and he rubs his face a little. Then Joel yawns deeply, and after a few moments he rolls his head toward Benji, opening his eyes to look at him, sleepily.

“Sorry,” Benji says in an apologetic whisper.

Joel’s brow creases a little bit at finding Benji awake, awake enough to sound awake and look awake, and not simply like he’d just rolled over and regained consciousness for a few moments.

“You all right?” Joel asks, voice dry and scratchy with sleep.

“MmmHmm. Just… woke up and can’t get back to sleep, I guess,” Benji replies. Too much to think about. Too uncomfortable here, although you being here with me does help. Benji looks into his brother’s eyes in the dimness of the room, then smiles tiredly.

Watching Benji now, Joel comes a little more awake, and he searches his brother’s face for expression, trying to figure out what it is that Benji’s thinking. It actually isn’t that hard for him to do. They do know each other exceptionally well, after all. He studies Benji’s eyes a few more moments, then smiles wearily himself before leaning forward and quite automatically pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Benji’s lips before resting on the center of his pillow again.

Benji’s eyes close when Joel comes closer to kiss him, and when he backs away again, he just watches him a few moments before giving his brother a crooked, little half-smile. Joel’s touch is gentle and unassuming and without any kind of pressures behind it at all. In his state of early morning restfulness, and before his mind has been polluted by all the ideas of how what they’re doing is so wrong and morally unacceptable, Benji lets himself feel the moment for what it is. He lets himself like the feel, too. Best of all, he lets himself do what comes naturally, that being to slip himself a little closer and return the soft kiss.

Encouraged by Benji’s forwardness, Joel kisses back, but without actually taking control of the kiss. Benji’s hesitation is still palpable, though less so right now, so he figures it’s going to be best to just let him figure this all out himself and decide how he wants to handle it. Just the fact that Benji took the initiative on his own gets Joel a little hopeful though, as he relinquishes himself to whatever it is that Benji wants to give to him. The kiss is soft and sweet, and when it breaks and Benji moves away to stare into Joel’s eyes once more, there’s a hint of discomfort in his expression, but it’s overridden by the feeling of want and familiar closeness emanating from him now. Once more Joel smiles, making sure to let Benji know that everything is good, and with the faintest of touches he rubs his thumb against Benji’s forearm in the slightest little caress.

He knows Joel’s purposely being restrained with him after their previous confessions to each other, and Benji appreciates it. In this situation, he needs to be able to do things on his own and at his own pace, like he did before in the bathroom. Benji studies Joel’s eyes now, reads the love and the trust there, the way his brother looks at him wanting more but giving him the freedom to do only what he feels he can do, and it starts filling him with warmth. Benji smirks, closes his eyes and huffs a tense little breath, trying to decide if he can honestly do this, but way down inside, he knows the desire is there. So are the preliminary stirrings of morning wood. His desire to please Joel is definitely present as well, and Benji considers that yeah, he did enjoy doing what they did before, once he let himself forget about everything else and just do it. And it’s just us here now… it’s just us here now… nobody has to know but us…

Without opening his eyes to face reality, Benji props on his elbow, then leans over Joel, pressing their lips together to kiss him again. Only this time it’s more than a simple peck on the lips. This time he doesn’t retreat, not until he’s gently pushed his tongue between Joel’s lips and Joel’s responded by opening some and letting him in. Head tilted slightly to make the angle better, Benji kisses down harder, feeling how he’s kissed back and how their tongues touch and tease and slip together, and how Joel’s hand comes up to hold him at the back of his neck, wanting him to stay. He kisses back harder, the intimate touch between them flooding him with feelings and slowly starting to wake desires that have long since been silenced and ignored, to the point where Benji knows he’s actually getting aroused from this. And then before he can think about it too long and kill that feeling, that growing arousal in him, Benji kisses back even more, letting his senses become overwhelmed so that he’ll eventually reach that point where he wants to be deviant and go against what his common sense tells him is wrong.

When the kiss finally breaks and Benji leans back some, Joel looks up at him with awe, then smirks. I knew it. His heart is racing already, and the electrifying kiss has him hard and wanting more, and hoping this is all the predecessor to something more. Hand still holding Benji behind his neck, Joel’s eyes go sultry as he pulls his brother back down for another hot kiss, and this time he’s sure to show him what it’s all doing to him. When Benji leans over him, Joel slips his hand down along Benji’s neck, following his form along and over his shoulder and arm to grab his hand. Then coaxing the hand lower as the kiss continues, Joel guides Benji until both their hands are pressed up against his erection as he caresses with his thumb again in encouragement.

Benji can feel his face heat up when Joel guides him to his crotch, but he doesn’t give himself much of a chance to debilitate over this. Simply acknowledging that this is what Joel wants, Benji does it, responding to his brother’s plea. Extending the kiss, sucking on lips and tongues and playing with rings and piercings and tongues yet again, Benji squeezes softly, then smiles at the little breath Joel draws in when he does. Sucking in a breath himself, Benji leans further over his brother to kiss deeper and harder, and his hand suddenly has a mind of its own, deftly setting to work at massaging and caressing Joel through his boxers. The activity sends a little wave of desire through him as well, causing his own hardening cock to twitch, and Benji doubles his efforts now on Joel.

Gasping into the kiss now, Joel rolls to his side to face his brother and press into his hand, loving every second of this. He slinks his resting hand up the inside of Benji’s thigh in response, ghosting fingertips over hot skin, and then the cotton of his shorts, traveling upward until he’s glancing over Benji’s attentive cock as well, pleased at what he finds there. Joel smiles a little into the kiss, happy to see that for right now, Benji’s finally getting with the program. Or this program, at least. Moaning softly from Benji’s touches, he opens his hand and runs his flat palm up Benji’s groin, rubbing his balls, and then along the length of his shaft, teasing him. When he gets to the edge of the elastic waist of Benji’s shorts, Joel pauses to pick at it, indicating what he wants but giving his brother the chance to decide on his own… not that it seemed it was going to be a difficult decision now.

Benji moans into the kiss as he feels Joel’s hand on him. He breaks their contact, leaning back somewhat to look at his brother a moment before licking his lips, then lets his eyes flutter closed from the way Joel is touching him. Joel pulls at the waist of his shorts once or twice and Benji smirks, then quickly takes them off. He slips a hand down Joel’s back and into the band on his shorts, pushing them down a bit, wanting the same thing. When finally they’re both completely nude, and despite the little nagging feeling of weirdness in him, Benji starts listening more to his voice of desire and pulls them both closer together. Skin to skin now, arms and legs entwined, he presses his body hard against Joel’s, shivering a little bit from the excitement, and the bizarreness of all of this.

Opening his mouth to speak, Joel is about to ask Benji if he’s all right with all of this, if he feels okay, but he quickly decides he needn’t bother and instead leans close for another kiss. If something were wrong, Benji would say. If something were wrong, Benji would not be pulling their bodies together, or grinding into him, or slipping a hand between them and grasping both their cocks together and stroking them against each other, so Joel decides yeah, Benji’s fine. Oh God is Benji fine. Shuddering from the sensation of his cock against his brother’s now, Benji stroking them in a slow, steady rhythm, Joel slips his arm around Benji to cling to him, then curls his head in to rest on his brother’s chest.

Feeling Joel shake against him, Benji barely smiles, but he definitely feels the smile in his heart if it’s not on his face. Again, the fascination in getting Joel worked up, in seeing his brother meld to his touches, that little power trip, it’s there again, and between his stroking and the way Joel’s reacting to him, Benji feels all of this deep inside himself. It’s turning incredibly erotic now, and he likes it. I like it! And he likes how even though there’s no real reason why he should, Benji seems to know his brother’s body intimately enough to know what will get him going. Hand still moving on both of them as they lie facing and pressed up against each other, Benji descends upon Joel in another lip crushing kiss. His hand sliding down on them both, he tilts his hips, thrusting not only into his fingers, but into Joel as well, and Benji can’t help but to smile wickedly when Joel quickly thrusts into his hand and against him too in reaction.

“What… do you want…” Benji asks, whispering against Joel’s lips before slipping his tongue in to deepen the kiss. His hand keeps moving, a little slick from the pre-come leaking out of both of them now, but it only serves to make the slide up and down that much easier.

“Want you,” Joel replies breathlessly, still clinging to keep their bodies close, their hot skin touching and his cock crammed into Benji’s hand with his. Joel shivers again, sensation coursing through him, and he can already feel the stirrings of orgasm building. He doesn’t really want to come like this right now, wanting to do it with Benji inside of him, but he’s helpless to the feel of what his brother is doing to him, so Joel doesn’t stop him from doing more. He can’t stop him, it feels so good. So sensual. “Gonna… come… soon…” he breathes out, then thrusts again into Benji’s hand, feeling the friction of fingers and cock against him, sending jolts through his hypersensitive body.

Feeling how tense Joel’s getting before he even says anything, Benji loosens his fingers from around them both and sighs softly when Joel does warn him. His heart’s beating fast in his chest, and he could continue doing that forever, just the closeness and erotica of it keeping him going, but he, too, decides that he wants a little more out of this session. When Benji removes his hand he can even feel Joel react, hear the disappointment in the next breath Joel takes, so he leans up and kisses him lightly on the lips as a little consolation. It doesn’t compare, Benji knows, but he needs to stop before they both go off like shots.

Rolling onto his back again, Benji reaches behind himself, toward the night table beside the bed, to the little tray set with the things that have been sitting there silently taunting him all night, and fumbles around. He doesn’t need to look, knowing by feel which packets are which by their lumpiness, and when he rolls back over, Benji’s got two of them. Eying Joel a bit warily now he sets the lube pack on Joel’s hip, it balancing perfectly, then opens the condom with his teeth and extracts it. Tossing the foil packet off his side of the bed, Benji slips his hands under the covers now and starts applying the thing to himself. His eyes flutter closed as he touches himself in order to roll the condom on, and he gives a soft, shuddery breath. He opens his eyes to look back at Joel filled with desire and need, and somewhere deep beneath that, concern.

Joel watches, a bit mesmerized, as Benji puts the condom on, a little tingle floating through him when he sees Benji react to his own touches. Oh, man, Benj. He gets a stray thought about what it would be like to just watch Benji touching himself, but the deep brown eyes staring back at him quickly derail that thought and Joel blushes. Grabbing the little packet that’s still rested on his hip, Joel kicks back the blankets, then tears the packet open. Eyes still pinned on Benji’s, he drips half the contents into his hand, then reaches forward to grasp his brother’s sheathed cock and stroke it, smearing it with the slick lubricant.

Benji takes the packet from Joel, dribbling the rest of its contents onto his first two fingers, slipping them around a little before he tosses that packet with the other. His breath hitches in his chest as Joel strokes him, spreading the lube over him. Moving closer now, Benji slides his hand down and indicates for Joel to give him access, which he does by bringing up his uppermost leg, bending it at the knee. Then slinking his hand into the triangular opening Joel’s legs create, Benji slips his fingers behind and between, until he finds what he’s looking for.

Whimpering softly as Benji touches him, Joel scoots even a little closer, giving his brother better reach. His respiration increases to long, deep breaths when he feels Benji tease him, coating his entrance with the warm lube and then push the end of one thick finger inside him. Joel’s eyes flash open a moment to look at his brother, but then flutter closed from the touches he’s experiencing, causing him to moan quietly once more. Keeping his hand moving steadily on Benji’s cock is an effort for him now, distracted by the feel of being entered and then fucked on Benji’s finger, and Joel’s hand shakes a little, involuntarily. When the second finger is added, long and slick, Joel can’t help but to bear down on it, seeking the feeling of being penetrated.

“Benj,” Joel whispers almost pleadingly this time, his eyes opening to heavily-lidded slits to look at his brother. “God, Benj…”

Hearing Joel whisper his name like this sends shivers through Benji now, he up to his second knuckles inside him. His cock twitches in Joel’s hand and his breath comes loud and hard now as they torment each other into needing sexual release and intimate contact. Watching Joel as well, drunk on touch and feel and the electric sensations swirling in him too, Benji loves the sound of Joel pleading with him, so he teases him some more, just to hear it again. “Tell me what you want, Joel.”

If he could smile right now Joel would, excited and fascinated by the fact that Benji’s seemingly getting off on his pleas, but Joel’s too transfixed by all the touching and teasing. Benji’s fingers work him to the point of he needing more, so bringing his free hand up, Joel strokes himself a few times now, pushing himself to the brink again. “Want you,” he replies, his voice a ghost of a whisper now, hitching as Benji’s fingers hit something inside him, or his hand strokes just the right way. “Want you inside me.”

Knowing that he’s not going to be able stand much more teasing like this, Joel discontinues stroking both himself and Benji, and reaches out to grab Benji’s arm, tugging on it. Now, God, now. I’m so ready for this, Benj. His eyes soft and warm, and filled with desire, Joel leans up to kiss Benji, but he doesn’t actually kiss him, instead just pressing their lips together and whispering to him. “Make me yours. Now.” Then lying back again, seduction in his gaze, Joel smirks at Benji as he positions himself for his brother.

Shuddering and twitching in Joel’s hand, Benji’s tuned only to his brother at this point, and his beautiful, lust-filled pleas. In the back of his mind he thinks to prolong the teasing, really make Joel beg for him, but as Joel attempts to pull him around, Benji doesn’t have the will to argue. Eyes remaining pinned on Joel’s, Benji rolls closer, moving onto his knees and his palms, creeping in to straddle his brother and the entire time Joel’s eyes are pleading with him, wanting him. Benji exhales in a shudder as the tip of his cock brushes against Joel’s body and it sends a jolt through him, and he knows at this point that there’s no more teasing, no going back, nothing. They’re both teetering on edge, and even though he’s been in this position before, with other people, Benji cannot deny that this is different. It’s more heated, more sexual if it ever could be, more deeply affective, and as he positions himself between his brother’s legs, hand shaking as he holds the tip of his cock ready to do this, Benji flashes a little, shy, disbelieving smile. He’s going to fuck his brother. He’s getting ready to line up and slide in and make love to his brother!

This time when he thinks about it though, it practically makes Benji come in his own hand, so before that can happen, he presses in hard, crying out softly, his moan matched by Joel’s.

Arching up into Benji as he slips in that first time, Joel’s body is suddenly on fire, his every sexual nerve ending awakening and becoming aroused and attentive with the feel of being filled. Eyes deep and sultry, Joel feels for every move Benji makes, watches the expressions on his face, becoming even more turned on by the fact that finally, Benji looks like he’s really into this. “Oh God, Benj, oh God, yes,” Joel rambles off, grasping Benji by his forearms, then tilting his hips against him, encouraging him to start thrusting into him.

Blinking up to stare into Joel’s eyes when he whispers to him, Benji balances on his upper arms, seated deeply inside his brother’s warmth, and he can’t look away. When he feels Joel rock against him, Benji responds by withdrawing himself slightly, then thrusting back in, even a little deeper this time. Joel gasps. Benji’s cock twitches deep inside him and Joel whimpers softly, not missing it. Benji twitches again, and as his eyes flutter closed from the deep sensation, he repeats the process again and again, until he’s thrusting in time, every stroke into Joel’s willing body driving him closer to madness as he clings around his brother, Joel in return clinging to him.

So sexually charged as they are, this first encounter naturally doesn’t last long, or perhaps not quite as long as either of them might like it to, but as Joel lies on his back, Benji on him and thrusting into him, all he wants is to feel completion, given to him by the one person he has always desired and never thought he’d ever have for himself. Blinking up to see Benji’s blissful expression once more, Joel lifts his head, craning it far enough to brush his lips against Benji’s and just as he does Benji thrusts into him, hard and deep. Joel cries out against Benji’s mouth, and slips his arms as far around his brother’s torso as he can get them, holding Benji tight to him.

When Joel whimpers into his mouth, Benji’s eyes open to slits before he quiet’s his brother with another crushing kiss. The kissing is feverish this time, and Benji thrusts harder, not letting up, not giving Joel a moment to breath, simply hooking into his tightening body, feeling his impending release. As Joel’s breathing becomes more erratic, Benji pays attention to his angle and his depth, doing everything he has to do to create more of those great sounds, wanting to leave Joel speechless after this, the same as he has him speechless now. He can feel it coming on, can feel Joel reacting in his own way in preparation, and Benji strives for that, to give his brother the best damn orgasm if his life, but it’s already starting to become a race now. Shuddering with his next thrust, Benji can feel himself swelling to capacity as his own release draws near.

“Joel… God… go… do it for me,” Benji whispers out, groaning from his next thrust.

Benji’s words make Joel tingle with excitement as they move on toward a double release. He’s breathing fast and hard, not too unlike the way Benji is thrusting into him, and he can feel everything tightening as his climax looms. There’s just enough friction as his cock is trapped between their bodies, being rubbed with every movement, and he can’t help but twitch against the form on top of him. A few more thrusts, a brush against the right spot and another brush against the head of his cock and Joel’s body is constricting more around his brother’s, which is all it takes to send him over. Gasping, eyes pinning on Benji’s before closing to slits, Joel quakes underneath him, feeling his body constrict and release as Benji continues to thrust in.

Holding himself back those last few thrusts, Benji crushes his lips against Joel’s once more as his own release takes him, spurred on and milked out of him by Joel’s responsive body. Flinching violently as his cock spasms hard, spilling deep inside his brother, Benji doesn’t let up on Joel, not until the flinching begins to subside and his motions begin to smooth out once more. Only now does he break their kiss, still holding himself tight and fast into Joel, but letting his head slump down to rest. His forehead, covered in sweat, is propped on Joel’s upper chest and they lay there, breathing hard, catching their wind. For a few moments neither of them saying a thing, for risk of ruining this odd but incredibly satisfying moment.

Lying there in silence other than the sound of their own labored breathing, eventually Joel’s begins to slow, and he runs his hands softly up and down Benji’s back. This was so incredibly intense, and so much of what he thought it might be, but as much as he wants to say all of that he remains quiet, instead now tending his brother, who seems a bit in shock over the whole thing. Turning his head in to regard Benji, Joel smiles softly, kissing his brother’s sweaty cheek and holding him close.

“You all right?” Joel finally whispers, barely audibly, needing to check, but not wanting to make a big deal out of asking.

Benji gives him a little nod, but nothing else. A moment or two later, he repositions himself, slipping out of Joel’s body, but still resting on him, still resting with him. He smiles wearily, offsetting the hint of tears in the corners of his eyes, not really sure yet what they’re from.

Curling his head in a little closer, Joel can see Benji’s eyes turn glassy and at first he starts to get concerned, but after a moment he thinks he understands. He’s feeling some pretty deep emotion himself, so for now he just lets Benji settle against him and they lie there, holding each other, coming down from the most unique sexual experience of their lives.

“Love you, Benj.” Joel whispers, punctuating it with a little kiss at the side of Benji’s head. There’s a tiny seed of concern trying to take root in his mind, concern that maybe after all this, it wasn’t the right thing for them to have done, and Benji will regard them differently now, but Joel tries not to jump to conclusions. They’ve done what they’ve done, so at this point he’ll just have to worry about it later.

A minute or so goes by, the two of them unmoving and just lying, curled into each other and thinking, when Benji finally whispers back to him.

“Love you, too, Joely.”

**********

*sets out panty basket again*

[GIFT FIC] Don't Believe in Modern Love - GC/MCR - Gerard/Billy - NC-17

Wed, 15 Feb 2006 23:31:47 GMT

This Valentines, I was gifted with fic from my dear friend _safi. She is a fan of MCR, I, obviously, a fan of GC, so we combined that (pairing of my choosing, a little odd maybe, but all that eyeliner, wow!), and this is how it came out.

I personally think it's fantastic. There is just this different kind of feel to this... Please read, and comment here to tell her that you think it is, too. If you guys like it, I may be able to convince her to post it elsewhere, lol! And yes, we know that Billy was not actually in Miami for the MVAs.

title: Don't Believe in Modern Love
author: _safi
pairing: Gerard Way (MCR)/Billy Martin (GC)
rating: NC-17; slight AU, m/m sex
disclaimer: The author makes no claims as to the accuracy of this FICTION; anything that actually happened is coincidence (and good research).
summary: When Gerard sings, Billy sparkles.
author's notes: Billy is literally sparkling. I used the concept in storytelling of 'magical realism': tell a real story with a magical element within it. Gerard makes Billy feel like he's sparkling, so he actually does.

Gerard had forgotten about his cigarette, and when it burned to his fingers, he let out a quiet curse, sticking his fingers in his mouth to cool the sting. He walked back into the auditorium, and clambered up on the stage. He took his microphone listlessly, humming into it, smiling suddenly. Tonight was going to be as alive as a funeral home and the moshers in front were planted for the cameras. He would sing his black little heart out--see if that didn't leave them shaking. He stretched his hand to the empty theatre, pointing to nobody in particular.

***

Billy pulled on his clothes, a small frown on his face. He stood in front of the mirror, his fingers tracing the tattoos on his arm idly. He pulled his fingers away, sighing as he turned away from the mirror to dig his shoes out of his bag and pull them on.

He didn't want to be in Miami. He didn't want to be on that red carpet, and he certainly didn't want to be in the audience, pretending to care. He closed his eyes and fell back against the bed, sighing. His fingers drifted back to his tattoos.

The door to the adjoining room opened, and Joel peeked his head into Billy's room, slipping in and closing the door. He leaned against it, and smiled. "Billy," he murmured. "You're too good for us."

"I know," Billy murmured in reply, opening his eyes and smiling at Joel. "But I can put myself on your level. I don't mind."

Joel sat on the edge of Billy's bed, pushing at him gently. "Come on, we have to get up. Do our thing."

Billy sat up. "Yeah, our thing..."

***

Gerard hated this waiting-backstage-for-the-call feeling. It was a sickening, shitty feeling, one Gerard would be happy never having again.

And finally the call came, and the announcer sounded bored, and the audience sounded even more bored. Gerard went up to the microphone, grabbing it. "THIS IS FOR YOU GRANDMA!" It reverberated and rolled around the theatre, and Gerard closed his eyes. "FUCK!" He could see the letters in bright glowing red, settling into the crowd of faces before he sang.

His eyes scanned the crowd; all a blur, blur, blur.

And
it
happened...

***

Billy felt Gerard's eyes on him before Gerard actually caught his gaze. He felt like he was glowing red (and he probably was): it was fucking incredible. He leaned over to Paul, touching his arm. "Am I sparkling?"

"What the fuck are you talking about," Paul murmured back.

Billy had already gotten up, not hearing Paul's answer. He was sparkling, but only he could see it. He walked backstage, nobody even looking at him, and walked straight to Gerard.

"You're making me sparkle," he said, breathless.

Gerard looked at Billy, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Well... Well..." Was he supposed to apologise? "Yeah, I guess you are."

***

It was awkward as Gerard and Billy sat next to each other, their feet dangling. Gerard paid more attention to his cigarette, and Billy looked out over the water. Billy was still sparkling, he thought. And Gerard could see it, kind of, if he squinted.

"You sure you didn't slap on some body glitter or something," Gerard said by way of conversation.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Billy smoothed the legs of his trousers for the millionth time. "It's kind of weird, making somebody sparkle, you know."

"I can't say I've ever done it before," Gerard said. "It's kind of cool though. I wonder what would happen if we kissed."

And there it was, the thing Billy was afraid of saying the entire night. "Well... you wanna try?"

Gerard put out his cigarette, leaned over and cupped Billy's face with his hand and kissed him. Billy didn't press back at first, more like melted; and then there it was again. Billy clung to Gerard's waist and pulled his legs up, tucking them under himself. Gerard tugged them away from the edge of the balcony, his hands moving to Billy's shoulders, his arms, his hips.

They pulled away, Billy's lips migrating to Gerard's jaw as he sucked in some breaths, and Gerard's scent, and the slimy sea-salt of the air. "You sparkling yet?"

Gerard shook his head. "Think we need to try harder," he whispered, standing up and pulling Billy with him, kissing him harder, pressing him against the railing of the balcony while his fingers tugged at Billy's tie, at his jeans, at his fingers, whatever.

Billy felt as though he was floating, like he was going to fall over the railing. His fingers trembled as they touched Gerard. He tugged at him, tugging him into his room and he shut the door.

"I'm... I'm not usually..." Billy bit his bottom lip and blinked at Gerard.

"Yeah, me neither. Am I sparkling?"

Billy looked at Gerard and smiled. "A little, yeah." He tugged at Gerard's clothes, his hair, anything, mimicking Gerard's little gestures.

"Hey Billy..." Gerard had his sweet little grin, his eyes shining (sparkling) beneath his lashes. Billy's fingers still trembled against his buttons.

Billy kissed him.

***

It was a fumble to the bed, a trip and a fall and Billy gasped when he heard a little rip, but it wasn't anything serious so Billy concentrated on other things. His fingers trembled only a little now as they
wrapped around Gerard's cock and stroked, and Gerard gave off little sparks. Billy loved the little scratches, and smiled at Gerard, pressing his lips wetly against Gerard's jaw.

One of Gerard's hands found its way to Billy's cock, and Billy blushed, bright red and ohmygod Gerard's fingers. He'd never be able to masturbate again without remembering those illegal fingers. He groaned against Gerard's jaw, arching against him.

Billy backed away before he got too crazy, too far gone. He pushed Gerard's hands away, kissed them as he reached for his bag, and his two condoms he kept stashed away (not that he ever used them; Joel usually got to them first). His fingers started trembling badly again, and Gerard took it from him.

***

Wordless little moans escaped Billy's mouth. He didn't think about the fact that he was supposed to be on top, not at all, because Gerard clung to him like they were both going to disintegrate into tiny bits of glitter. Gerard dug his nails in wherever he could find skin, and Billy thrashed against Gerard's fingers, against his cock, against Gerard's trembling, small and fragile body above him. "Fuckfuckfuck," was all Gerard repeated, his voice cracking and the word sometimes not audible.

And there were those illegal fingers again, and Billy felt himself breaking into little pieces, his body trembling harder. "Gerard," he groaned, not really hearing himself, but Gerard did, and his hand moved
faster and his hips trembled and they both could hear themselves cracking, their hearts breaking. Gerard saw Billy through blurred vision, a shimmering blot of gold and red on the pillow. Billy could tell Gerard was sparkling, and then his body cracked and exploded into all the beautiful pieces that were underneath his skin.

***

When Billy woke the next day, Gerard was gone. Billy rested against the pillows. His skin felt raw, and he wasn't really sparkling anymore. He sighed, went to get up, except that the door to his bathroom opened and there was Gerard, wrapped in a towel.

"Thought you were gone," Billy whispered.

"I thought about leaving."

Billy nodded, and turned his head. His skin felt cool now, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Gerard sparkling.

[FIC] The Dumbest Holiday Ever - GC - Benji/Billy - G - Ficlet

Tue, 14 Feb 2006 21:08:16 GMT

TITLE: The Dumbest Holiday Ever
AUTHOR: shira
PAIRING: Benji/Billy (because there is not near enough Benji/Billy out there, and I was craving)
RATING: F, for Fluff
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money at this, and no, I don’t know them. Just having some wishful thoughts here, that’s all.
NOTES: Short; ficlet length. I love it when the muses bite hard. And I love this pairing too, as much as I love the twincest and Tonji as well. Thank you to anyone who reads and comments, but this one was definitely written for me. :)

I hate this holiday.

He’d always thought it was the dumbest holiday, Valentine’s Day. Nothing good ever came of it, only money spent on too-expensive candy and stupid stuffed things and flowers that died in a day and nothing about any of it would last, anyway. Same as most of the people all those things had been bought for, and so Valentine’s Day, it had been outlawed. It was a non-holiday in his book; had been for years. He’d long since adopted the attitude that it was a meaningless, commercialized, materialistic excuse (as if he were really one to go calling something materialistic) for the retail world to cash in on something between Christmas and Easter and nothing more.

All the meaning behind the holiday had long since been lost, that is if there were ever any real significance to it anyway. At one time he’d thought there was, but no more. No matter what he ever did it was never enough; never the right thing, right color, right size. The right words were never spoken, or at least as far as he was concerned, they were never heard. In the end, all Valentine’s Day had become to him was a popularity contest, a competition for whether he’d be able to outdo the one before, you know, since he had money now and people expected things from him. Even if they never said it, he could tell that whatever it was that he’d come up with, it was never enough, and for all of that, Benji was perfectly fine to spend his Valentine’s Day cooped up in a hotel room waiting to perform later and letting the day pass him by. To hell with never being enough, and the feelings that came with that. Valentine’s Day was a stupid holiday; no sense letting it get to him anymore.

A soft rain sprayed at the windows, making the lights seem a little gloomy, but it was fitting for how the day tended to make his heart feel. Gloomy weather for a gloomy, somewhat bitter heart. Well at least he didn’t have to go rushing out anywhere to drive himself crazy looking for that perfect item swathed in red and pink wrapping, bows and confetti, heart-adorned gift bags and cutsie little gift tags and all that crap. No hundred-dollar bouquets of roses that smelled like plastic, either. He’d stay here today, watch some TV, get something to eat, then tonight go on stage and perform. He’d go up there and look at the crowd, thinking to himself as he watched the girls with their guys (knowing they’ve all exchanged stupid gifts and mementos already), you poor bastards, don’t you know it’ll never be enough?

When a knock sounds at his room door, Benji rises from where he’s been reclined on the bed, watching anything on TV that doesn’t mention the day, and goes to get it, his stomach growling a little at the anticipation of food. In perfect revolt against the day and its expected wining and dining and expensive fare he looks forward to his simplistic meal, pizza and a milkshake from the hotel kitchen, as he pulls the door open. There is no waiter here however, no tray with his dinner on it, but rather one person, smiling ever-so-faintly behind a lip ring, behind dark hair flopped in his face and partially covering perfect blue, blue, black-lined eyes, behind a single, perfect, half-bloomed, dark red rose, its few thorns a perfect contradiction to its perfect, velvet-soft petals.

Benji sucks in a breath and holds it.

He gazes first at the rose, and then into Billy’s eyes, and suddenly everything about this stupid holiday is filling Benji up once more. He stares at him, unmoving, not quite sure what to make of this, but that rose, and those eyes, they’re white heat, burning him to the core and melting his icy crust in seconds, and it feels good. In seconds, it feels warm and cozy, but Benji’s eyes don’t move, nor does he say a word. Pulling his lip in a bit, he fumbles with a lip ring, lost in deep thought as the next few moments tick slowly by. Eventually, Billy’s shy, unassuming smile is received. Understood. Returned.

I love this holiday.

[FIC] Matchmaker: Part 7 - GC - Twincest - NC-17

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 15:04:45 GMT

[FIC] Matchmaker: Part 6 - GC - Twincest - NC-17

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 16:05:47 GMT

TITLE: Matchmaker
AUTHOR shira
PAIRING: Benji/Joel
WARNINGS: NC-17; A bit of situational angst, twincest, language, implied violence and threats;
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money at this, just delusional fantasies. Go away.
SUMMARY: Sometimes, in order to help your friends, you just have to take things into your own hands when the writing on the wall keeps getting ignored.
NOTES: This is a PWP masquerading as a fic with some plot. Hehehe... and I said I didn't do these kinds of fics. Oh well. Enjoy! Special thanks to my superb beta _safi!

Don't ever say I don't love you all. I'm sitting here, at work, updating this fic amidst having to hide my screen with some other crap every time someone walks past, lmao!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Six.

The room is deadly silent now, and for a few moments Benji and Joel simply look at each other, reading each other, wondering where to take this now. Finally, Benji breaks the awkward silence with a shy little laugh. Joel is still on his knees, sort of sitting back on his heels by this point, but he hasn’t moved that far. Benji pets him once, affectionately smoothing Joel’s hair back, then cocks his head to the side, his thoughts filled with wonder.

“Get up, Joel.” Benji curls his fingers toward him, motioning for his brother to get off the floor. He starts tucking himself back into his pants. Benji’s face is hot and pink, and now that they’re past that little moment of shock, he’s having a difficult time looking at Joel again.

“I can’t… I can’t believe…”

Joel’s gut tightens as he gets to his feet and his eyes drop closed. Ah, fuck. Here we go. “We don’t have to do anything else,” he states dryly, a little disappointed and still sporting a raging hard on from everything he’s just done to his brother, but no matter. In a few moments of thinking about the fact that apparently Benji didn’t like this as much as he did, that he’d just performed a sex act on his brother… that little problem would take care of itself rather quickly.

“No, Joel… look at me,” Benji tells him, realizing that Joel’s got the wrong impression. Eyes level again, Joel glances up warily. When he does, Benji steps close again and crushes their lips together in an aggressive kiss.

Leaning into the kiss, his worries somewhat relieved, Joel brings a hand up and threads it loosely around Benji’s waist to hold him. When they part, he gazes at him, still cautious, but with a gentle smile.

“I thought you were upset.”

Benji’s flush deepens a little. “Umm… shocked maybe, uh, I dunno… I feel really weird but… oh my God!” He looks down, smirking, feeling completely inexperienced all over again despite the fact that he was anything but. Yeah, but not with my own flesh and blood. He pulls Joel into a hug, sighing deeply and closing his eyes, and Benji can’t help notice now… Oh fuck. Not like an erection was the end of the world by any means, but after what Joel had just done for him? Slipping out of the hug, Benji doesn’t manage to catch himself before glancing down once more, and he gets a little bit standoffish again, a little embarrassed.

“Umm… I guess you uh…”

Blushing hotly when he realizes what Benji’s going on about now, Joel takes a step back, then turns and walks toward the bed, to hide himself. He knows Benji’s been uncomfortable this whole evening. He’s certainly not going to force him to do anything, unless he wants to do it on his own, and at this point Joel’s unsure as to how likely that is. Have no idea what that’s gonna mean as far as getting out of here though.

“No, uh… it’s… it’s all right. I’ll just… think of something less interesting and it’ll… I’ll go in the bathroom or something,” Joel fumbles his words, trying to talk his way out of this tactfully and without embarrassing either himself or his brother any more than necessary. Not that he doesn’t want Benji’s help of course, but again, it’s the principle of the idea. “Yeah, umm… you know, I think I’ll just like… go deal with it and…” And what? We can do this again? Five more times? Because so far that’s been the only non-self-produced orgasm. That’s if anyone’s really counting.

Joel continues walking on toward the bathroom, consciously aware with every step he takes that he’s extremely aroused, and trying to think about other things isn’t helping it because he can’t make himself think of anything else other than the idea of Benji performing on him now. Fucking Hell, Joel. Get a grip. You got to do what you wanted, at least. Well not really, not totally, but that isn’t the point right now. He walks into the expansive, white-on-white bathroom and is about to turn and shut the door when it’s pushed the rest of the way open by Benji, following him in.

“What’re you doing?” Joel asks with some surprise as he’s followed in.

Benji gives his brother a crooked, almost mischievous little smile. He glances around the room thinking it’s pretty damn nice with the hot tub and all that but doesn’t react in any way yet, until he moves close to give Joel a peck on the lips. Laying a hand flat on Joel’s chest, Benji pushes his brother backward across the room until they’re standing at the Jacuzzi, which is warm and ready, just as he figured it would be. Bending toward the controls he turns the jets on low, and the tub comes alive with swishing, swirling water and bubbles.

Glancing back at Joel, the smirk still firmly in place on his lips, Benji shakes his head. “So do I have to completely undress us both, or are you going to help me?” Then he makes the first move, only it’s to grab the hem of Joel’s t-shirt and start lifting it up and over his head.

Blinking in amazement, Joel has to make sure he heard Benji correctly but once he’s sure of himself he smirks as well, then lifts his arms above his head, letting Benji pull his t-shirt off. Taking the shirt from his brother and tossing it aside, Joel grasps Benji’s arm and pulls him close to kiss him once. He looks into Benji’s eyes, those mirrors of his own, and smiles softly, almost shyly. “I didn’t think… are you sure? You’re okay with this?”

Shrugging as he tries to roll the question off, Benji pulls his own t-shirt over his head, exposing an art palette of bright colors on his skin that stand out loudly in the starkness of the pristine, spa-like bathroom. “Let’s make use of this thing. It’s pretty nice,” is all he says, tilting his head toward the Jacuzzi, unable to really verbalize how he feels about all of this but knowing his actions probably say enough. That and the fact that he’s smiling. Kind-of. Benji tosses his t-shirt on top of Joel’s on the floor, then reaches out to start unbuckling his brother’s belt. “Jesus, Joel. Do I have to do everything for you?” He laughs, a hint of nervousness detectable in his gesture.

Letting Benji undo his belt first, Joel then undoes Benji’s, for the second time tonight, before helping his brother out of his jeans and shorts – completely this time. Joel gives up his pants and shorts as well, his shoes and socks, and before long there’s a pile of clothing and shoes beside the Jacuzzi. Standing a bit awkwardly now, with a partial hard-on, Joel slides behind his brother to hug him, chin rested at the back of Benji’s shoulder, making sure to rub against him in the right places lest he forget that some things still need tending. Unable to hold it in, Joel breathes in sharply when their bodies rub together, and this time it’s he that’s blushing, though Benji can’t see it.

Pulling away, Benji climbs slowly into the Jacuzzi far enough to stand on the seat, testing the temperature of the water. He lets himself get accustomed to its heat a few moments, his mind busy with the many thoughts flooding it. Twisting his upper body around, Benji reaches out to grasp Joel’s hand, pulling him toward the tub, but when Joel begins to step in, Benji stops him before he sits. “Wait,” he whispers, glancing up hesitantly. Benji guides Joel to sit on the tile deck of the tub, his feet in the water and resting on the seat, the water swirling around his calves.

Silently obliging, Joel has a feeling he knows what his brother has in mind, and his eyes go soft and sultry as he sits on the cool tile, then automatically spreads his legs slightly. He looks up at Benji, noting a bit of unease still, but for the most part Benji seems a lot more natural about this and what’s happening, so it calms Joel some as well.

Slipping into the space that’s been provided for him, Benji kneels on the seat, then leans up and across Joel, pulling him close for a kiss. Tilting his head up he presses in deep, still relaxed and sated from his release a little while ago and wanting to make Joel feel good as well. They’ve broken through a barrier between them, he figures. Does it really matter which way that barrier fell? Probably not. In the end it was all the same – a different kind of closeness, possibly more loving, definitely more dangerous. Maybe more fun, if he can get past all the little hurdles, too, the way Joel seems to want to. As he’s kissing Joel now, Benji rallies his courage and slides a hand over his brother’s knee, then up his thigh, until he finds what he’s looking for.

Breathing in deeply through his nose as Benji’s fingers close on his semi-erection, Joel lowers his eyes to watch as he’s softly stroked. The sensation, combined with the visualization, is more than enough to have him quickly hardening in his brother’s hand, and Joel moans quietly. Leaning back on his palms, his hips are open and exposed for Benji’s touch. Then he gazes up, catching Benji’s eyes once more, still noting Benji’s hesitation, so Joel nods shallowly, encouraging him to keep going.

Benji leans close to crush their mouths together again, slipping his tongue over the edges of Joel’s lips and pressing through the split between them, continuing to stroke Joel’s awakened cock as he does. He rolls the pad of his thumb teasingly over the head, smiling when Joel gasps lightly, feeling Joel suck the breath right out of his mouth. His kisses eventually becoming lighter but more frequent, Benji strays from Joel’s lips and begins a slow decent, moving down first to his chin, then his neck, then further still to his chest, his hand moving the entire time.

Slow, deliberate, downward moves pleasantly torture Joel until Benji is finally bent over his lap. When he takes him into his mouth, Joel’s anticipation gets the better of him and he tilts his hips, rising up to meet Benji a little quicker. Joel hisses from the sudden temperature change as he’s engulfed in moist heat, and his cock pulses once, good and hard, in his brother’s mouth. “Ohgod,” Joel whispers, his eyes fluttering closed and his head lolling back between his shoulders as Benji starts on him, slipping up and down, over and over again, on his steel-hard cock.

Joel’s reactions are actually amusing Benji. Or, not really amusing him but… intriguing him. Not that Joel’s reactions are any different than any other persons would be, but for him, for them, it’s different. Because you’re not supposed to react like this to your brother. He can’t help it though, and when Joel whimpers a little more, Benji concentrates harder. One of Joel’s hands moves up, his fingers slipping into Benji’s hair, and for a moment Benji glances up to look at his brother, practically melting at the sight, feeling it in his gut. Leaning back on his one arm, Joel is staring down at Benji, eyes half-lidded, with a look of pure bliss on his face that Benji has never seen before… but likes. The sexual energy happening here, it even has Benji getting a little aroused again.

Squirming a little bit from Benji’s efforts, Joel’s breath has become heavy and deep. Between the way he feels, and the warmth of the water in the tub warming his feet and legs he’s covered in a slight sweat, same as Benji. His fingers fan repeatedly through Benji’s short hair, nervous energy building up as his climax does, too. Joel’s eyes meet Benji’s as Benji looks up again, rolling his eyes upward to meet his, then closes them as he tends his cock. Shuddering deeply, Joel sighs from the hand still loosely closed around him, then gasps with pleasure as Benji begins using his fingers in addition, to touch and tease and massage him.

“Cl-close, B-benj,” Joel stutters in a whisper, warning his brother of his impending release that’s quickly beginning to make its presence known. He holds back a little, loving the self-torment, knowing it’ll make his release that much more intense, but Joel doesn’t want to catch Benji off guard, just in case. He’s still a little amazed that Benji’s doing what he’s doing now, and so willingly. He’s not sure what he’ll think about swallowing his brother’s load, so yeah, fair warning.

“Okay,” comes the breathless reply, and as fast as he can Benji’s latched back on, intent on making his brother come, and come hard. The way Joel’s leaning, and with the angle of his body, Benji’s able to slip his hand a little further beneath him. Searching with a finger, he prods and massages around until he finds what he’s looking for, then presses in even a little more. Joel’s sudden moan, combined with the way his body has tensed up, lets him know that he’s found the spot. Go, Joel. Do this. Let me see you come. I want to see you helpless to my touch.

His gut quivering as he attacks Joel with sensation, Benji feels Joel’s body go taught under his touches, and he knows that this is it. Pressing in a little more with his finger so the tip is firmly embedded in Joel’s ass, he prods him lightly, hooking in to try to massage sensitive places and with his free hand begins stroking his cock opposite what he’s doing with his mouth. When he feels that first pulse happening, Benji lifts his head and strokes furiously now, coaxing Joel to his climax. Hearing a gasp, followed by a louder whimper, Benji glances up to look and the expression on Joel’s face gets Benji’s heart beating a little faster again.

Joel comes hard after Benji’s hand takes over where his mouth was, flinching bodily and crying out a little. His eyes opening to slits, he meets his brother’s gaze a moment before Benji looks down again, but now Benji’s watching him, watching him reach his climax, watching his body spasm and watching as he comes. Shivering a little from all the sensation, Joel pulses in Benji’s hand, his fluid running over it and hitting his stomach some, too. Joel stares down hard at Benji now, how Benji’s eyes don’t move from where hand is and how Benji continues to stroke and massage him, prolonging his release. It’s his brother’s intent, mesmerized stare that really does it for Joel though, making him shudder with a slight voyeuristic ecstasy as he watches Benji watching him come.

His hand coming to rest finally, Benji looks up a little sheepishly at Joel, but soon flicks a hint of a shy smile at him. He can tell by Joel’s condition that he liked it. A lot. Leaning forward over Joel’s body, Benji tugs at Joel’s bottom lip with his teeth, smiling a little more when Joel anticipates him by opening his mouth some. Then he tilts his head and moves in closer for a heated kiss, Joel’s scent still heavy in his sinuses and the whole vision before him enticing him. Joel’s arm comes up and envelopes Benji’s upper body, and when he ends the kiss, tries to hold him there to prevent him from leaving.

Eyes pinned on Benji’s, Joel can feel his face getting redder by the second, but he likes this. He likes what he’s just experienced, and he likes it that much more because Benji did it of his own free will. “Thank you,” Joel whispers, eyes still trained on his brothers, until he looks down to where Benji’s still gently caressing him.

“In,” Benji tells Joel as he stands up on his knees on the Jacuzzi seat again, then moves off to the side. He takes Joel’s hand and tugs it, indicating for him to get into to the tub with him, and naturally, Joel obliges. Right about now, Joel’s willing to do just about anything Benji wants him to. They slip in and sit, submerged up to their necks, and Benji rests his head on the surround and closes his eyes. Benji has this little smirk of accomplishment on his face that he can’t seem to lose, but other than that he remains quiet and motionless.

Resting back as well, Joel can’t help notice the little smirk, and he smiles, turning sideways on the seat a little and moving a little closer so that he’s facing Benji better. He puts his arm around his brother’s stomach, then leans in to breath hotly against his neck. Benji turns his head toward him just a little in acknowledgement, his eyes opening for just a moment before he relaxes once more and when he does, Joel creeps in closer still, to lick and kiss just under Benji’s ear. He gets a little smile out of him, so Joel starts rubbing Benji’s stomach, letting his hand slip lower, until he’s brushing lightly against the tip of Benji’s cock.

Bringing a hand up to meet Joel’s, Benji stills his. “Later,” he whispers, then turns to face his brother again. Their eyes meeting, Benji looks deeply into Joel’s, then smiles warmly at him before he leans over and kisses Joel’s lips again. He releases his hold on Joel’s hand now, and just remains, unmoving, rested up against the surround of the tub, and partially against his brother, then closes his eyes to just enjoy the whirling, swirling, relaxing hot water.

Getting the idea, Joel moves his hand away from Benji’s crotch, but leaves it over his thigh, just enough to be touching part of him, and he relaxes as well. They do have time, so if later is what Benji wants… later is what Benji is going to get. Still lost in post-orgasmic bliss, Joel releases a deep, satisfied sigh, then closes his eyes as well, letting the sound of the water jets in the Jacuzzi lull him into a quiet calm.

(Please note the basket of clean undies at the end of the chapter.)

[FANART] Distracted

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 23:25:39 GMT

I have been graced with manga-style fanart to accompany one of my fics! And it's... awesome, if you ask me! Thanks so much to thatemokiddx for sending this great graphic. Everybody look and comment here and let her know how great this is! *giggles*

Read the fic, in case you haven't already, and then

[FIC] Faded Photographs of You and Me: Part 2 - GC/Mest - Tonji - NC-17

Fri, 30 Dec 2005 00:37:15 GMT

Title: Faded Photographs of You and Me
Author: shira
Pairing: Tonji
Rating/Warnings: ANGST!!! (I’m thinking eventually 9 out of a possible 10 on the angst-o-meter); NC-17; Language, alcoholism, drug use, etc…
Summary: Tony cries out for help. Benji finally hears him.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money at this, it’s all FAKE, and total and complete flattery of the people mentioned in this work of fiction. No disrespect is meant to anyone.
NOTES: I started this a little while ago, despite the other fics I’m working on, because sometimes a muse cannot be denied. And I was going to wait until it was complete to post any of it, so that I did not get people upset with having to wait for parts buuuut… I’ve reconsidered that, due to a couple of things, and a couple of people, lol. I can tell you this, however: I don’t know how long this fic is going to be, exactly, but I’m guessing “very”. Therefore, I will post as I write, under the condition that none of you guilt trip me when I can’t get a new part to you soon enough, LOL!!! Trust me, I’m writing as fast as I can/work permist/the muse wants to be written. You’ll be the first to know when I’ve written more. ;) Oh, and… this is my first attempt at writing Tony. Hopefully I do all right with him, but I’m a little concerned about whether I’ve got a good feel for him. I guess you’ll all have to tell me. And of course thank you to my superb beta, _safi.

Part 1

Two.

It’s the sound of his phone ringing in his pants pocket that eventually wakes Tony with a start. Lurching awake and blinking wearily, he doesn’t realize where he is – only that his phone is making an obnoxious noise and that his head hurts. Badly. So does the rest of his body, from having spent the night slumped over in the TV chair, but for now all he knows is that he has to make the noise stop before his head explodes.

Wedging his fingers into the pocket of his tight-fitting black pants that he’d performed in the night before, Tony eventually produces his phone. Without even looking at it, head rested back against the chair, eyes closed, Tony flips the device open, thus ending the ringing. He sits there for a few moments experiencing the relief of silence before something clicks in his mind and he remembers, oh yeah. Phone.

Holding the phone up to his head with a shaky hand, Tony speaks into it secretly hoping that whoever was at the other end mistook the silence as a dead call and has already hung up.

“Yeah?” Tony sounds like death warmed over. Which would actually be a considerable improvement compared to how he feels.

“Tone?”

The other voice answers in question right back at him, and for a moment Tony freezes. Oh Hell no. No fucking way. He thinks about ending the call before saying anything else, before the caller would really know whether it’s him or not, but no. No, he knows. And he’ll know I hung up on him. Pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate some of the pressure on the front of his head, Tony smiles sickly.

“Benj.”

On the other end, Benji can easily hear the apprehension in Tony’s voice. It matches his own.

“Hey, umm… how’s it going, man?” Well at least I’m not the only one walking on eggshells here.

“It’s… it’s going well,” Tony says, his heart starting to race a little bit, which only serves to increase the pounding in his head. “How’s it going with you?” And why the fuck are you calling me, Benji? Why, after all this time? And why today, of all days?

“Same old. You know how it is,” comes the reply as Benji tries to sound normal. There’s a few seconds of really uncomfortable silence before he clears his throat and speaks again. “So… big party for your CD last night?”

Yeah, and speaking of which, why the hell are you calling me this early after it? You know how I am. God, I need a fucking cigarette. Tony checks his watch and realization sets in. What? Almost one? Tony glances around the room, wondering why he’s spent the night in his chair, and where Maggie is. Then closing his eyes, Tony sighs.

“Umm, yeah, yeah… huge party. Was great.” Only not really. “You should’a been there, man,” he says with a weary smile, the whole time thinking that if Benji were there, he probably would have drunk enough to kill himself. After all this time, do you have any idea what you still do to me?

Benji, however, is not that easily fooled. He can hear the pain in Tony’s voice, as well as the fact that he sounds drunk off his ass. Or hung over. Pretty much the same thing. The fact that Tony’s hurting is bittersweet for him. On the one hand, Benji’s sympathetic to the emotional turmoil his friend seems to be going through, but on the other hand… I think I know why, and if I’m right, well, maybe all is not lost yet. Maybe I still have a chance to atone for my fuck ups.

“Yeah, sounds like it was a great time.” There’s disinterest in Benji’s tone, like he really means to say something else, and he doesn’t try to hide it.

In the state he’s in this afternoon however, Tony’s not quite sure what all the unspoken language is saying right now. He only knows it’s there. Thinking to himself, it’s a few long moments before Tony realizes that it’s his turn in the polite little game of “beat around the bush” they’re both playing here.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Tony says, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes, his tone sounding more and more pathetic as the moments pass. “Yeah, it was, it was…”

Jesus, Tone. What the hell’s happening with you? Benji knew Tony. Benji knew drunk Tony. This, however, was not either of those. This was more like screaming-in-silence-I’m-going-to-run-myself-off-a-cliff Tony and hearing this, it made Benji’s heart ache.

“So, umm… actually the reason I called was…”

Yeah, Benj. Tell me why you called. To take that fucking knife you stuck in my heart and twist it around a little more? To fucking push it in deeper? Tony goes deadly silent, waiting to hear the other man’s next words. He knows what he wants to hear, too, though in all honesty he’s not sure he can handle hearing it right now.

“I was wondering if we could get together some time? Talk or something. Hang out… like old times?” Now the tension and apprehension is in Benji’s voice as he tries to think of the right things to say. “I’m gonna be in New York next week and I guess I thought…”

Yeah, tell me what you thought.

“… that maybe I could stop over in Chi-town and we could get together or something.”

The call stays uncomfortably silent for too long, and Benji thinks for a moment that it’s disconnected, or that he’s lost his signal without him realizing it. He thinks he’s talking to himself. “Tone?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, man,” Tony says eventually, forcibly keeping himself in check. The pain he’s feeling right now is trying to strangle him, and despite being hung over as Hell, Tony knows he does not want Benji knowing he’s become this weak these days.

“Oh, umm… is it Maggie?” Benji’s a little discouraged, but not overly so that he doesn’t try again. He knows Tony’s hurt wont let him just cave in at the drop of a hat. These Lovatos, they’re Italian. They’re proud and stubborn. Tony is the proudest and stubbornest of them all it seemed sometimes. “Well, uh… maybe we could meet somewhere? I’ll buy,” Benji chuckles, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

Sitting in silence, trying to decide what to do, Tony shakes his head, then sighs. “I’d love to,” he begins, already thinking of the best excuse to use. “Just been so busy, you know? With the new CD out and everything?” Good cover, Tone. Never mind that pushing him away hurts almost as much talking to him does.

“Maybe… maybe next time? When do you come out this way again?” Benji pretty much has the ability to drop everything and go where he wants at a moment’s notice, so it’s a stupid question, but it gets the pressure off Tony for the time being.

This time, Benji’s a little disheartened. Maybe I did really fuck up beyond the point of going back? “Well, I was really hoping to be able to connect with you to talk this time out, but… I guess you can let me know when is a better time? Or maybe we can connect when you guys start touring for the CD again. You’re going to be touring soon… right?”

“Oh yeah, we’re touring dude, you know it,” Tony replies. “We’re waiting for a few weeks, though. Nick, he’s got his wrist thing going on and see Jere had surgery and…”

“Yeah, you’ve got to take care of your own, first,” Benji replies, nodding on his end as his gut tightens. It’s becoming obvious to him that no, Tony does not want to see him, and is going to use every excuse that he can not to. That isn’t what your CD and your lyrics and your voice right now are telling me though.

Benji sighs somewhat dejectedly into the phone, loud enough for Tony to hear him. “Okay, well… call me? All right? When you want to get together? ‘Cus I umm… I really wanted to talk to you about something.” I need you to give me a chance to try to make things right. Please give me that chance?

Now Tony sighs in frustration. His head is pounding even more now, from fighting with himself. “Yeah, I’ll do that, man. We’ll… we’ll get together soon. Been too long.” The indifference in his voice is laced with a hint of longing, and even though Tony recognizes it, he doesn’t care this time. Deep down, even though he’s pushing the other man away, he wants nothing more than to see him. I’m just so afraid, Benj. Because seeing you is going to remind me of so many things that I’ve lost.

Sensing the turmoil in Tony as they speak, Benji knows there isn’t any way to reassure the other man that he should give him a chance and hear him out. He knows that Tony isn’t about to do anything until he’s good and ready, because as spontaneous as the other man tended to be, he could also be quite timid and reserved when he wanted to be, especially in situations like this. Time. This is going to take time, Benji acknowledges, understanding now that he isn’t going to just waltz back into Tony’s life suddenly and everything’s going to be hunky-dorey. Okay, Tony. Time.

“Definitely,” Benji finally replies, trying to sound upbeat. “Okay, well… great. So… I should go but… make sure you call me, okay?” Benji is positive Tony can hear the hint of desperation in his voice this time, but he wants him to. He wants to express, however subtly, that this is important to him.

“Will do. Man.” A wave of relief washes over Tony as he realizes he’s made it through this call without too much of an interrogation, without too much of a guilt trip, or without totally caving in to the other man, either.

“Umm… thanks. For calling, I mean.”

“Yeah, no problem. Catch you later, man.”

From the other end the call goes dead, and when it does Tony slumps bonelessly in his chair. Holding the phone open in his lap, he just stares at it a few minutes before flipping it closed and sighing deeply. Why? Why did he have to call here? Why now? The pain he’s feeling these days is more than enough for Tony, without having to deal with this on top of it all, too. Thanks, Benj.

Looking around himself now, Tony figures he should probably get up, maybe wash up and change his clothes or something. He moves his foot and nearly steps on an empty beer bottle from the previous night, then curses under his breath.

“Maggie!?”

Tony calls out to his fiancé out of habit before it dawns on him that she’s not there anymore.

“Fuck.”

He needs to remember to find the ring, wherever she threw it, so he can go groveling back to her with roses and promises of sobriety and loyalty and anything else that’ll keep her in his life so he’s not alone, because right now she’s the only stable thing he’s got going for him. You can’t leave me, Maggie. You just can’t. He’s preaching to the choir however, and Tony knows this, because Maggie very well could, and did leave him. This time she threw the ring at him too, and for the first time in all their break-ups and make-ups, Tony actually believes she’s serious. Tony’s actually scared.

He’s scared of being without her, scared of being alone. But for the life of him, Tony can’t help recognize somewhere deep down that he’s a little glad, too, and right now he doesn’t quite understand this. All he understands is that Maggie’s gone, and he’s scared, but he should really be a lot more upset than he is about it.

Kicking the beer bottles out of his way so he can stand without tripping himself up, Tony wearily pushes himself out of the chair. Getting to his feet, a wave of nausea and a hot flash rush though him, but he thinks he can contain it thankfully. No need to go rushing to the toilet to pay homage to the Porcelain God. Not yet, at least. God willing. This was always, and remains to be, the worst part after the binging, too. The period of time between intoxication and sobriety, when Tony cursed himself for ever letting the buzz wear off in the first place. A cigarette would do wonders right about now, make him feel a little better, but he seems to have lost them for the meantime, so that’ll have to wait, too.

Staggering to the kitchen now, Tony rubs his eyes, the bright, natural light filtering in through the windows seemingly burning them. “Nick?” Tony calls out weakly for his friend to no reply before assuming that Nick must have stayed with his girlfriend after the party last night, or whoever that chick is that he’s sleeping with right now. Either that, or he’s actually upstairs and passed out in his bed, or on the floor next to the toilet, but either way he’s not here, and here is where Tony needs him to be.

Groaning in misery from the thumping in his head, Tony slowly continues on in search of something to ease his headache, some Advil or something. What he really needs to make the pain go away though – all of it – is another drink, but that’s not going to happen right now. Finally locating some Tylenol in a kitchen drawer Tony struggles with the child-safe cap, his fingers refusing to do what he’s trying to tell them to do, but eventually he does get the cap off and the bottle open. He pops four, dry, leaving the open vial on the counter then goes to the refrigerator to swig from a carton of orange juice, the first thing within reach that’s not milk. No milk. I’ll puke for days if I drink milk now.

Grimacing as he swallows the tablets down, Tony puts the juice back, then slowly makes his way back to his den, and his chair, where he can sleep some more of this off free from interruption by either sunlight or concerned friends. It isn’t like he has that many of those left these days anyway, so the dim aloneness of the room suits him just fine right now. It’s all very fitting for the way Tony feels inside. Dim, dark and all alone with nothing but his past and his troubled thoughts to haunt him.

[FIC] Check, Checkmate - 1/1 - GC/Mest - Tonji - NC-17

Sat, 17 Dec 2005 01:15:14 GMT

TITLE: Check, Checkmate
AUTHOR: shira
PAIRING: Tonji
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Not making any money doing this and definitely no disrespect meant to the persons portrayed here, nor do I profess to know them. Seriously… if I knew them do you think I’d be writing fic about them? I think not! (I’d be doing OTHER things with them, though, I can assure you of that, lol!) Therefore, this is, as far as I know, FAKE! :)
NOTES: This fic was a request by a friend, who wanted something specific in a Tonji fic. I hope it’s acceptable and you like it. I liked writing it. But then again, I am biased, and had waaay too many slashy thoughts happening in my head while I was writing this! Secondly, this is, I think, one of my first attempts at this stream-of-consciousness, Second Person Present-tense point-of-view, so you’ll all have to let me know how it came out. I don’t know what prompted this, since I usually like to write Third Person Present-tense, but this is what the voice said, and so I know not to fuck with my muses and try to get it to do anything other than what it’s feeling at the time. So anyway… hope it came out all right.

Dedicated to someone special.

Stepping into the noisy, crowded room you feel him long before you ever see him. You know that feeling. You’ve felt it so many times before, though it has been a while. He’s here. You don’t know why he’s here, you know he hasn’t looked at you, hasn’t called, hasn’t even acknowledged your existence in so long, but he’s here all the same, and deep inside your very core you know he’s here for you. You expected it would happen sooner or later, but these days you’d definitely been thinking later, and so you’re surprised enough to see him, that’s certain.

Turning to follow that feeling, that gut reaction, your breath comes light and shallow as your heartbeat speeds up a little, simply from the anticipation you’re feeling. As you scan the area you spot each other from across the crowded party room, eyes connecting briefly with his and just long enough for him to know that you know he’s here. His piercing, sucking blue glare cuts through a seeming ocean of people, none of them even the slightest bit aware of this silent interaction taking place, and grabs and holds you. His eyes find you like a heat-seeking missile, yours the only heat that it’s programmed for despite the rising temperature in the room. Your eyes remain transfixed on his, everyone else in the room disappearing and blending into the background, that is until someone bumps into you, nearly spilling their drink on you, and you’re forced to look away.

When you look back again, he’s gone.

Glancing around the room now, you try desperately to find him, desperately without seeming too desperate that is, but he’s nowhere to be found now. Someone is speaking to you but all you hear is the dull, incomprehensible drone of their voice, your mind on other things. You didn’t even know he had come tonight, hadn’t expected to see him at an event like this, but yet those few moments you’ve had have you already mourning his loss. That familiar emptiness, that soul-sucking hollowness, it’s back, so soon, and without even acknowledging the person beside you, you begin to move off to where you last saw him, needing to find him and see him again. You make a pact with yourself tonight, that no matter what, you’ll find him here if only to feel his eyes on you one more time, because you know he’s only here because you are.

Filing through the room, slipping past everyone else and leaving them to their oblivious, drunken revelry, you go where he was, but of course see nothing. Searching the room once more from its edge now you look for those eyes, eyes that could practically light up that whole room, eyes that shine like blue beacons in a dense fog, guiding you through and calling you home, but they’re not there. You see nothing other than the dull, washed out colors of life as it happens around you, life as you’ve known it since those eyes closed and turned away from you long ago, that flame for you, and only you, extinguished in muddy tears and a blackened heart.

Unwilling to give up so easily though, you search on, fueled by the knowledge that he’s still here, somewhere. You don’t know how you know this – he very well could have gone by now, scared off by the thought of actually seeing you here, confronting you – but you do. It’s the charged feel to the air and the way your gut draws you out of the crowd and through the double French doors of the ballroom that you know it, feel it. He’s still here. He just wants you to find him and play his little game, one you’ve played before, before he lets his presence be known again.

Apparently game is on again, after all this time.

You search the halls, search the empty areas of this part of the building, finding nothing but still feeling him there. Somewhere. You turn down another deserted hallway, the noise from the party far off in the distance and far off in your mind, and a seed of disappointment starts to take root in your soul, making you doubt yourself. Maybe I’m too late. There are a lot of connotations with that thought you realize, and those thoughts begin to nourish that seed, helping it along, until you’ve reached the end of the hallway and there are only two things facing you now. The doors to another darkened ballroom and this increasing despair in you as it sucks in all of that hope you had a few minutes ago, branching out and spreading its roots deep within you.

But still, despite the sense of loss and emptiness that once more threatens to overcome you, you have the inexplicable need to go on, and so you do. Pushing open one door you step inside. The room is cold and barren and black, just like your heart right now, but something is telling you that you need to be here. The room is seemingly devoid of any life, but as you stand there, your eyes trying to adjust to the lack of any light you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You feel a little twinge in your gut which travels downward to become a little twinge in your groin, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’re not alone in this room. He’s here.

You stand there for a moment feeling the slight increase in your heartbeat and the way your breath begins to deepen, then slowly start to make your way along the perimeter of the room. The air is charged with an electricity that you recognize as only his, only yours, together, and you anticipate his appearance once more… but it never happens.

Confused, discouraged, you wait a little longer, listening, then turn and start back, wondering if this is all in your head, a lucid dream, or your yearning, craving imagination gone wild but then you feel it again and you stop in your tracks. The hairs on the back of your neck tingle once more, but you try to cast the sensation off this time as nerves or the sweat on your back drying or your fucked-up head.

Which is exactly why he’s able to catch you so off guard.

Moving in silently out of the blackness he pushes you, no throws you back against the wall so hard the wind is knocked out of your lungs. It’s so dark you can barely see anything, but you feel him against you, his heart pounding in his chest as he presses himself across you, his familiar scent invading your senses and that’s all you really need. Your mind, your memory, it provides the rest, how he looks, how he sounds, and it’s more than enough to get you churning inside. You need to see those eyes though, so you look up at him, into his face, and even in this dark you swear his eyes look like they’re shining, boring deep into your soul.

Then his eyes flutter closed and he presses his body hard against yours, presses your back against the wall. You open your mouth to say something but before you can utter a sound his mouth is on yours in a crushing kiss, his tongue rudely pushing its way between your parted lips. Your hands come up to grab his arms, your fingers digging deeply into his muscle as you first lean into the kiss, then push into it just as hard as he’s pushing against you, and in a way that will leave both your lips red and swollen afterward. You kiss him voraciously, play over his lip ring as he plays over yours, pulling him in closer as he keeps you pinned tightly to the wall. You can feel him against you now, hard and wanting, and it turns you on like nothing else, that he wants you, too.

Breaking the kiss you tilt your head and maneuver his earlobe between your teeth, then bite down on it, delivering a jolt of pain that makes him hiss into your ear. The sound delivers a jolt to your groin, and your cock pulses once, nice and hard, taking your breath away for a moment. You feel his hands as they move over you and in response you bite the skin on his neck, then soothe with kisses and your tongue, lavishing the spot because you know he likes it. He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath as you do this, and it reconfirms to you that yes, he still likes that. It pleases you now that he knows you’ve remembered these things, but the reminiscing is cut short when his hand is suddenly over your crotch and palming you through your pants. It’s at this moment, as he goes for the buckle on your belt and then the button on your pants that you realize your wildest fantasies as of late are about to come true, and no, this is no dream.

Before you know it his hand is in your pants and it’s an effort to keep your knees from buckling, it all feels so good. Not just the feel of a hand on you, stroking and teasing and pumping you, but the fact that it’s his hand. A little breath escapes you as your gut quivers from his touch. Then without having to think at all, your hands set to work, all of this engrained and well practiced, like riding a bike.

You have his pants open in record time and are quite pleased with what greets you as you gain access. Closing your fingers around him, you start pumping as well, and the next few minutes are nothing short of bliss as you stand there with him in the pitch black, jerking each other off, his head bowed down and rested against your shoulder so you can feel his breath against your neck. As the first hint of your impending climax starts to make itself known now, you think of how surreal this all feels. Surreal because for too long all you’ve done is dream about something like this, and it feels so, so right.

He pumps you just the right way, sending little shivers though you now, and you know he feels it, the way you react. And you feel it when he grins against your neck, and you know he’s got ideas. You want to tell him to take you and fuck you right here up against this wall but you know him well enough to know that you haven’t got to say anything. He knows you just as well, and after another bruising kiss, his hand still on you and pumping you more, bringing you oh-so-close, you find yourself abruptly flipped around and facing the wall, smashed up against it.

When he turns you, you make a bit of a protest, even trying to turn back once or twice, but it’s all part of the game. He forces you around, inspired by the little fight you give him, turning him on that much more. When his chest is pinned against your back and your chest is pinned against the wall, he growls low and hungry into your ear, sending another shiver through you and straight to your cock. And you grin. You can feel him hard against your ass, settling right in there and he grinds against you, giving you a little taste of what he wants, what he's feeling. What he knows you want as well. Moaning softly, you press against him and it sets everything in motion. The next thing you feel is your pants being pushed down and your heart trying to leap out of your chest.

His hands busy with something, but his body leans harder, as if he's afraid you're going to try to get away from him, a lion with his prey and carefully guarding it. Again you fight him to make him work a little bit for this, and his response is to slam his body into you again, making it clear that for this moment at least, you're his. You groan again, partially in pleasure and partially in pain, then suck in a deep breath when you feel cool, slick fingers invade you.

Leaning against you, his chin tucked over your shoulder, he breathes hot against your neck as he jams his digits in, only to tease and ready, something to get you wanting this, wanting him so badly, as if you didn't already. You can't help but push against him, wanting this, wanting him, then flinch as he prods you a little too roughly against something sensitive.

Pinned between yourself and the wall by his full weight, you breathe a little easier when he backs off a bit, until you can feel him pumping himself, preparing himself to take you. It gets your heart pounding, the rhythmic movement of his arm – which you know is moving up against you purposely – and you're just about ready to scream at him to just do it already and fuck you here, against this wall, when his fingers are suddenly gone. The emptiness is immediately noticeable, but only serves to build your anticipation, because you know what's coming next, and hopefully it's you.

Clinging to you now, he aligns himself, then in one hard thrust and a groan to match it he's buried deeply inside you and your body is on fire. You can't help but cry out a little as well, your voice echoing lightly in the empty hall, and you can hear all that built-up tension in your voice. This is no dream, you tell yourself again, eyes a little teared up from the sting of being taken so forcefully but you like it like that, and he knows it.

You both pause for a moment, feeling each other shake, listening to each other's fast, shallow breaths, until he's had enough of waiting. He pulls out almost completely and you miss him already, but brace for what you know is coming as he slams himself back into you, and you cry out once more. He likes that, the sound of your voice when he fucks you like this so he does it again, to hear you again. And again. And again, until you're both making these little noises that spur you both on and echo in your mind.

The two of you fit together like you were made to be this way, two pieces of a puzzle, he slightly taller than you and hooking his chin, and his body, around and into yours. It feels perfect, like he's never been away, like you've never been apart, since you both remember all the little things that used to feel so good before. They still feel good today, and maybe even more so, since it's been so long.

You start to feel your body tighten around his now as he changes the angle on you, going for that spot that he knows will have you crying his name out, and he feels it, too. Thrusting harder now he wraps an arm around your torso, pushing it between you and the wall and slipping his hand down. Closing his fingers around your steel-hard cock, he starts to pump it in time with his thrusts. The combined sensation quickly overwhelms you, half of your arousal mental at this point as you continually remind yourself that this is him here with you, and you realize that you're not going to last much longer now, but that's okay. You know he's waiting for you, and the only way you're going to get to experience his climax is by reaching your own, so you have no problem with this.

And it's a good thing, too, because he's so good at this, so good at you, that nothing is going to hold this back. His voice in your ear is the final element, his whispers of "Come for me, baby," so erotic and filled with lust that you couldn't even stop if you tried to, and with a deep groan… you do. Your body convulses, spasming into his hand and around his cock and as you gasp and call out his name and shake beneath him you can feel your tremors passing through to him now, too. As your body rhythmically constricts around his, you can feel him getting close as well. As the heavy breathing in your ear quickens and deepens now, you know he's almost there, until suddenly his breathing pauses completely, hitching in his chest.

This is his moment now, and as his hand still erratically works your sensitive cock you bear down against him hard, taking him as deep as you can as he rams up hard against you. Clinging to you tightly, he stays that way now, pinned to you and you against the wall and he's moaning in your ear, pulsing inside you hard enough that you can feel it deep within you. It's almost enough to make you come again.

Then for a few moments you both just stand there shaking. Your forehead is against the wall and he's still buried deep inside you, hand still on your cock, though he's loosened his fingers some. You stand there like this, memorizing what it feels like to have him again and you know he's doing the same, so you don't fuck with the moment. The only sound in the huge room now is that of both of you breathing heavily, and it occurs to you now that through this entire encounter neither of you said a word, well, other than him telling you to come, and then you crying out his name when you did but really, you didn't need to say anything. This was just right without the words, because you know how sometimes the words get in the way of what you're really feeling or thinking and mess things up. This really was perfect and as you feel his breath tickling your ear again as he rests against you, you start wondering what's going to happen next.

What does happen next, in all honesty, doesn't surprise you, but it's par for the course since you know the little game that's going on here now. He pulls away from you and the emptiness is once more noticeable, only this time it bothers you because you know it's for good. Or at least for a little while. He walks off, fixing his pants as he does, and goes looking for something to presumably clean himself off with. You pull up your pants as well, then turn around and lean heavily back on the wall, heart aching a little bit because you already know he's going to do it. You know he's going to walk out of here without you. You also know that he has a breaking point that he's quickly reaching and soon… he isn't going to be leaving you at all. You just have to survive this game of cat and mouse. So long as we keep meeting this way, I'll keep playing until the day I die.

He finishes adjusting his pants, then walks back up to you, handing you a bar towel that he's found and pressing it hard into your hand. Even in this darkness you can tell by the way he's standing that his eyes are once more trained on you, because that heavy feeling, it's back. He watches you in this blackness and still neither of you say anything, and then his mouth is once more on yours, crushing your lips in another heated kiss. Don't forget about me, this one says, though you know there's no way you ever could. Then he breaks the kiss and shoves a slip of paper into your hand and of course you don't bother trying to read it now because it's pitch black in here. You can tell when he's finally moved away from you though, that presence, that feel invading your personal space disappearing and suddenly you're feeling sated, but hollow. His disappearance is confirmed when you hear one of the ballroom doors open again, and a stream of dull light filters in on the floor. Then as the door closes the light is gone, and so is he.

Resting your head back against the wall and closing your eyes you sigh deeply. Then after a couple of moments you clean yourself up and finish fixing your clothes before starting for the doors, bringing the bar towel with you to dump it in the first trash bin you come across. In your other hand is the little slip of paper he gave you, but as you pass through the double doors and into the still-deserted hallway, you know you don't even have to read it. You already know what it says. You know what it says and thinking about it, you smirk to yourself.

Heading up the hallway and back toward the party, you stop in the men's room and go throw the bar towel in the trash bin in the corner. Pausing to think for a moment you wonder if he'll hang around tonight but you know that he wont. Because it's your move now. Your turn to negotiate him and get him one step closer toward raising his white flag in sweet surrender to you, but sure, if he needs time, then you've got all the time in the world. As long as we keep meeting this way.

You look down at your hand and the slip of paper in it, then laugh. You do know what it says already, but just to make sure you don't accidentally miss out on anything you look anyway.

Tag. You're it.

A sly grin spreads across your face now. And so the game goes on. But it's okay because chance meetings like this, well they just make the game that much more worth playing as you build your strategy to hold onto him. You've played this game before. You know you're getting close. You wonder if once you have him he'll still surprise you in dark rooms when you least expect it though, but knowing him, you have nothing to worry about there.

Crumpling the paper, you toss it into the trash as well, then go to the sinks and wash your hands. You consider going back to the party, knowing that there are other people there who probably want to see you, but to what's going to have to be their tough luck tonight, you decide against it. Exiting the men's room you fish out your valet stub from your pocket, then head for the lobby, deciding instead on calling it a night. After all, you have work to do and a plan of attack to formulate, one that captures his flag, and his heart, for good this time.

[LYRICS] She Said - Collective Soul

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 06:21:17 GMT

She said that time is unfair
To a woman her age
Now that wisdom has come
Everything else fades

She said she realizes
She’s seen her better days

She said she can’t look back
To her days of youth
What she thought were lies
She later found was truth

She said her daddy had dreams
But he drank them away
And her mother’s to blame
For the way she is today

’life’s river shall rise’, she said
’that only the strong shall survive’, she said
’but I’m feeling quite weak’, she said
’will you comfort and forgive me’, she said

She says she’s still searching
For salvation’s light
Yeah, she wishes all day
And then, she prays all night

She said she won’t speak of love
’cause love, she’s never known
And it’s moments like these
She hates to be alone

’life’s river shall rise’, she said
’that only the strong shall survive’, she said
’but I’m feeling quite weak’, she said
’will you comfort and forgive me’, she said

’life’s river shall rise’, she said
’that only the strong shall survive’, she said
’but I’m feeling quite weak’, she said
’will you comfort and forgive me’, she said

’life’s river shall rise’, she said
’that only the strong shall survive’, she said
’but I’m feeling quite weak’, she said
’will you comfort and forgive me’, she said

Forgive me
She said
Forgive me
She said

[FIC] Matchmaker: Part 5 - GC - Twincest - NC-17

Tue, 06 Dec 2005 13:01:15 GMT

TITLE: Matchmaker
AUTHOR shira
PAIRING: Benji/Joel
WARNINGS: NC-17; A bit of situational angst, twincest, language, implied violence and threats;
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not making any money at this, just delusional fantasies. Go away.
SUMMARY: Sometimes, in order to help your friends, you just have to take things into your own hands when the writing on the wall keeps getting ignored.
NOTES: This is a PWP masquerading as a fic with some plot. Hehehe... and I said I didn't do these kinds of fics. Oh well. Enjoy! Special thanks to my superb beta _safi!

Real Life has been kicking my ass lately. I'm trying to write but not having much success, but here is the next installment of this fic, specifically dedicated to wakethefallen, who has patiently requested time and time again. I'm in the middle of a move and a couple of other things, so I cannot guarantee when the next part will be posted, but rest assured I am still working on this fic.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Five.

Grudgingly walking into the lavish Master Bedroom, Benji shoves the door all the way open for them, then looks around. There’s a huge California King size bed and an extravagant bedroom set, all pieces matching, as well as a settee over to one side and another, smaller, entertainment unit, but he just ignores it. Peeking through the doorway to the adjoining Master Bath, he can just make out the Jacuzzi and Benji swallows once, pushing down his apprehension. Glancing up at Joel, who follows him into the room, Benji’s expression is one of utter annoyance. Joel comes in and sits at the edge of the big bed, looking around as well, wondering, his gut tense with anticipation, but for now he says nothing.

“Right, so… we’re in the bedroom.” Benji calls out, accentuating the second part of his sentence as he peers out the doorway, and then back to his brother.

“So you are,” the voice says. “And on to the next part of the game.”

“Which would be…,” Joel says, exchanging concerned glances with Benji now. Joel manages to keep his tension controlled now, but again his feelings are mixed. He knows what’s coming next. The situation is a crazy one, sure, but he knows what’s coming next, and that part of him still isn’t that turned off by it all.

“I know you’re smarter than that, Joel,” the voice says with a little laugh. “Bedroom? Jacuzzi? Gorgeous, large bed? Please.”

“I’m not doing this,” Benji blurts out. “You can’t make me. Us.” He glances back at Joel again, only this time with a look of worry.

“You make it sound like I’m asking you to hurt each other,” the voice argues. “So foolish. Don’t know a good thing when it’s handed to you.”

“You can call this whatever you like,” Benji starts. “But this is bullshit!” Defensively, he crosses his arms over his chest then walks over toward the wall. Jaw set, eyes narrowed with distrust, Benji leans there, stubborn and unwilling.

“And you always were the more stubborn twin… weren’t you?”

Benji doesn’t respond this time, only looks down at the carpet, thought running through his head about how in the hell they were going to get out of this apartment and away from this freak. Josh’ll notice we’re gone. Or even Billy. Or Paul. Someone will notice we’re not around and start looking for us.

“You’re going to turn this into a bad situation, Benjamin, and it really doesn’t need to be one.”

Looking over at Benji now, Joel practically whines at him. “Benji… please.” His pleading eyes meet those of his brother as Joel wordlessly begs him not to make the situation worse.

Benji scoffs and shakes his head. “What? And this doesn’t bother you? Joel?” So they’d kissed. On the couch. That didn’t mean it was right for them to do anything else, and especially at the whim of some nut case holding them captive, regardless as to how either of them really felt about it. There are laws about that kind of thing for God’s sake!

At a loss now, Joel gets up and walks over to where Benji’s holding up the wall, then leans his arm there, aside of Benji’s head. He leans in close, so they’re close enough to kiss, and at first Benji thinks Joel’s going to do that again, but all he does is look Benji in the eye. Close enough for only the two of them to hear now, he speaks very quietly to his brother.

“Benj, listen, please?” Joel’s eyes are soft and pleading and pinned on Benji’s. “Don’t… don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Benji glares back at his brother. “Joel… are you for real? You… you do realize…”

“I realize, yeah,” Joel continues, whispering softly. “Would it really be so bad?” Honestly, he’s not expecting those words to come out of his mouth but there, they have, and all Joel can do now is blush hotly. His gaze diverts aware from Benji’s eyes a moment while he recovers from that slip up, though there’s a part of him that’s glad he did.

Benji, in the meantime, can only look at Joel with his eyes wide for a moment or two. “You… Joel…” He can’t finish, and so all Benji manages is a little huff, and a silly, disbelieving grin. “But were brothers, Joel!” He forces his voice low, but still manages to get his tone across.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it and I’ll take your side… and we try to somehow bust out of here,” Joel replies, his eyes pinned hard on Benji’s now, and suddenly Joel makes a realization. Standing here in this close proximity, talking to Benji about this, and this whole situation as weird as it is… it’s turning him on. “Be completely honest with me and tell me you’ve never thought about it, Benj, ‘cus I know you have. I have. And if you can be completely honest with me and say that… then we break out, however we have to. But if not…” He pauses, watching for Benji’s reactions. “If not… who’s gonna know but us?”

His heart is beating fast and hard in his chest right now as Benji stares into Joel’s eyes, listening to what he’s saying. Listening to what he’s asking. Oh God, Joel. Joel wants him to be completely honest. But the thing is… he can’t. Because if he is, then they wont be going anywhere. Benji swallows again, hard, pushing past the tightness that’s formed in his throat, pushing that lump down into his stomach, where it starts to swirl and twist and flutter inside him.

“You’re serious,” he finally manages to squeak out, giving Joel this incredulous look like he thinks Joel’s crazy, and in a way he does. But in a way… in a way… “Joel, umm…” I want to. I do want to. But here? Like this? Or maybe you’re right. Nobody will know what happens here. Just the three of us. That in itself is a concern as well, whomever this person is, and what they’ll do with this information, but anyone could spread rumor, regardless of whether something had actually happened or not.

“Benj… I want to get out of here, too. But I think…” Whispering close to his brother’s ear now, Joel gets a little daring and kisses Benji lightly, then pulls his lobe in with his tongue to suckle on it just a moment or two before releasing it. “God it’s crazy, but I know you feel it, too. You do, don’t you? Benj?”

Closing his eyes as Joel suckles on his earlobe now, Benji’s resolve is beginning to slip. It feels good. Too good. And when he lets himself forget for a second that they’re in a very awkward position, yeah, he does want it. Slowly Benji unfolds his arms and lets them fall at his side, and his one hand slides up to lie flat on top of Joel’s chest. His next word a mere whisper off his tongue, Benji grasps a handful of Joel’s shirt and rests his forehead on his brother’s shoulder. “Y-yeah.”

Lifting his head and glancing around them once more, Joel nods silently, then lets his arm down. His eyes pin on Benji’s again, and he can see the concern and the question in them, but this time he can see the lust as well. You feel it too. I know you do. Joel offers a faint smile to his brother now, then moves a step away from him, waiting for the voice that he knows will interrupt them soon enough.

“Finished discussing things?” The tone is calm and cool now, almost with a hint of amusement in it, as if it, or the person behind it, really did know all along how things would happen here tonight. Joel nods. Benji only looks down again, letting his brother handle this since it seems he’s the one that’s’ so confident about it. Roles reversed this time, and Benji was definitely feeling out of place.

“Very good then. Shall we start with the fun and games?”

Glancing back to Benji one last time, his face reddening some, Joel waits until Benji looks up at him, the two of them communicating wordlessly. Benji meets his eyes, looks out the bedroom door, then back to Joel once more and barely smiles. It’s plainly obvious he’s nervous about this, but if Joel really wants to go along with this, Benji decides that he’s got to let himself want to go along with it, too.

“Do you… have to watch?” Benji asks, his eyes not leaving Joel’s now as he speaks to the voice.

There’s a chuckle now, and it echoes lightly through the vast apartment. “Watch? I wasn’t really planning on watching, but I can if you’d like me to? Feeling voyeuristic tonight, Benji?”

“No, I don’t want you to watch!” His face is so red right now, Benji feels like he’s on fire. Nervously watching Joel, he sighs with resolve. “But then how will you know…”

“Oh, I’ll know. So don’t try to fake me out. But trust me. I’ll know. So where were we. Oh, right. We were about to start, and I think that since Joel has been so much more willing, I’ll let him convince you a little more, Benji.” The voice pauses and there’s nerve-wracking silence for a few tense seconds, until it starts again. “Joel, I want you to go down on Benji, and make him come. Make him enjoy it, Joel."

And now the moment of truth, as Joel’s gut flutters, and Benji’s eyes widen. Joel tries, but can’t manage to completely hide the little smirk that tries to form on his lips, and so he looks down and away for a moment, to give his poor brother a break.

“I thought you weren’t watching!” Benji calls out somewhat nervously, eyeing Joel and seeing both the discomfort and the desire in him.

“I’m not,” the voice says. “Just getting you started, but remember… I’ll know, so you might as well just enjoy yourselves. It’ll be our little secret, I promise. Good night, boys. See you in the morning. Oh, and ah… if you should feel adventurous, feel free to move on to other more exciting things.”

And from that moment on, there was no more voice. No other sound in the apartment other than the anxious, deep breathing of two brothers on the verge of something really… mind-boggling.

Benji glances warily around the room and out the bedroom door before looking back at Joel. “How do we know they’re gone?”

Shrugging, Joel takes a step closer to his brother. “No clue. But at least we don’t have to listen to that all night.” He sighs, then looks up sheepishly. “So umm…” You’re not going to back out on me now, are you?

Leaning heavily against the wall, Benji lets his head roll to the side and he closes his eyes to not have to look at Joel. He wants to run. He wants to bolt out of this room and get something and smash one of the windows and try to call for help or something… but he can’t make himself move a muscle to do it. Breathing in long, tense breaths now, he just stays there instead, waiting to see if Joel’s actually going to do this and move in on him, anticipating the touch with very mixed feelings. He doesn’t have to wait very long though, before he feels soft lips on his, and surprisingly the touch helps calm him some, ridding him of some of the anticipation.

Sensing that Benji is feeling him out and waiting for him to make the moves here to get them started, Joel steps up close and presses their lips together, pleased that the response, once more, is favorable. Then as Benji warms into the soft kiss, Joel lets himself get a little more aggressive with it. He swipes his tongue over Benji’s bottom lip, plays with one of his lip rings a bit, then plunges in for a deep, arousing kiss, hoping it’s doing for Benji what it’s doing for him. When they break, Joel doesn’t move much, only far enough that they can look into each other’s eyes and read what the other is thinking… and it’s the same thing.

“We’re really doing this.” Benji says, tilting his head forward for a hesitant little peck, then pulling back a bit and worrying at a lip ring himself. They were convenient for that. For helping to occupy his mind, and his nervousness, with something to do.

“I want to,” Joel whispers in response. “If you want to. I think you want to.” His eyes follow Benji’s, then he glances down to watch as his brother fusses with his lip ring. Joel stops him with another soft kiss. “I want to. I know I shouldn’t… but I do.”

It’s all too much for Benji. The whole situation is, and the way Joel is kissing him. How sensual he sounds whispering like that, and the fact that they’re up against the wall, Joel now pressed up against him, and Benji can feel him hardening in against his hip. It’s all too much to ignore now, and he leans his head forward, kissing Joel back, and hard. Then I guess we’re doing this, because you’re making me want to. Good enough response, Benji figures. Joel’ll get the idea.

Taking Benji’s hard kiss as permission now, Joel kisses back, and as he does, his hands begin to wander. He positions them at Benji’s hips, then slides them slowly and sensually up his sides, deepening the kiss the whole time, keeping his brothers’ mind off anything other than that for now. He keeps his body pressed up close to Benji’s, and by this point Joel’s fully aroused, and there’s no mistaking it. The kiss breaks, and he sucks in a breath, eyes heavy-lidded, then tilts his head to kiss and suck at Benji’s neck, anything to get him feeling this, too. Anything to get him more relaxed and into what they’re about to do.

Feeling Joel pressing against him, Benji still feels a little off about the whole thing, but his kiss, it’s so intoxicating, he’s quickly being sucked into his brother’s sensuality. Dude, I had no idea! Breathing in deeply, Benji blinks lazily, then finds himself unable to resist seeking those soft lips again when Joel pauses, and before long it’s Benji initiating kisses and slipping his hands up Joel’s body in kind. Then when he opens his eyes again to see the slightly devious smirk on his brother’s face, Benji just shakes his head lightly with a slight smirk and a faint blush, then leans in for another distracting kiss.

As they kiss, Joel’s hands find their way down and to the front of Benji’s pants, and with the flat of one hand, he palms him, a little surge of excitement going through him when he causes Benji to gasp. He’s hard, there’s no denying it, and Joel takes his time getting Benji as aroused as he possibly can, to the point where Benji’s body follows Joel’s hand. I know you like this. Let yourself enjoy it. Glancing up at his brother, Joel’s eyes are sultry and sly, but only for a moment before he leans in for another sweet kiss. When he does, his hands meet at the button on Benji’s pants, and begin to undo it.

Benji’s heart is racing now, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, so he just keeps sliding them cautiously over Joel’s form as they kiss. The tension in his pants is obvious, and when Joel releases it, opening his zipper and palming him again, and this time only through his shorts, Benji’s heart leaps into his throat. His breath comes short and shallow, and as he leans against the wall, Benji keeps his eyes closed now to just feel what’s happening, but not have to completely acknowledge it, not yet. He’s not ready to acknowledge yet. A nervous little laugh escapes him, and Benji realizes now that he’s actually trembling, either in anticipation or discomfort, or possibly both, but he doesn’t stop Joel. He doesn’t want him to stop, Benji realizes.

Their foreheads pressed together now, Joel breathes hotly across Benji’s cheek. With one hand flat against the wall to the side of his brother’s head, he slips his fingers gingerly under and past the elastic band on Benji’s shorts, ghosting them across the head of his arousal in warning before slipping in the rest of the way to close his long fingers around it. Benji groans quietly, and Joel’s eyes flick upward to look at him, and he smiles seeing the skittish yet almost blissful look on his brother's face. He smiles crookedly, then pushes Benji’s shorts down enough to expose him in all his glory, and takes a few moments to begin pumping him with his hand.

A breath hitches in Benji’s chest when Joel begins stroking him, and it’s all he can do right now to keep his knees locked and keep from falling on the spot, between the sensation between his legs and the intensity of what’s happening. He wants to open his eyes and look, but he doesn’t dare, knowing that Joel’s right there, still leaning against him, their foreheads still touched together, and so for now, all Benji does is press himself back against the wall and concentrate on what his brother’s doing to him. Bringing one hand up to grasp onto Joel at his hip, Benji responds only with his heavy breathing, and an occasional flinch when Joel stimulates him just so.

He can feel Benji’s cock weeping in his hand now, so aroused, and before they lose everything, Joel releases it, and Benji relaxes just slightly against him. Glancing at his brother again, Benji still with his eyes closed, Joel delivers a soft kiss to his lips, then sinks to his knees in front of him. He doesn’t waste any time now, and the next thing Benji feels is the tip of his tongue swirling along the head of his cock… and then nothing but hot and wet.

“Ungh,” Benji groans softly when he feels Joel’s mouth around him, and he can’t help but crack his eyelids enough to look this time. Looking down, it’s surreal what he sees, his brother attached to his cock like a Hoover, but all the same it’s so incredibly stimulating he feels a surge in his groin and flinches again. “Oh God.” Breathlessly, Benji watches a few moments as his shaft disappears into Joel’s mouth, and then rolling his eyes back into his head, Benji shivers. Raising his hands up, he starts actively fanning through Joel’s dark hair, anything to keep his hands busy while Joel starts to bring him toward a climax.

His hands resting on Benji’s hips, Joel takes him deep, responding to Benji’s little moans and grunts, and the sound of his breathing. His own cock twitches, caught up in the fabric of his boxers and his pants, when Benji’s hands find their way into his hair and Joel works that much harder now. He swirls his tongue and sucks his cheeks in, increasing the pressure and the sensations, loving the reactions he’s getting from Benji and hopefully taking him to the edge. And that’ll be one down, five more to go in this stupid little game… but I’m sure as hell not complaining now. For a moment Joel has to consider something they were told earlier… that when this was all said and done neither of them would be upset about it enough to report it to the authorities, and now he’s actually wondering if this is going to be true.

“J-Joel…” Benji eventually whines out, his body taught and tense and rushing toward release. He grips his fingers in Joel’s hair a little harder, trying to get his attention, but the more he tries, the more intent to stay on him Joel is. “Oh God Joel gonna…”

Joel knows what he’s “gonna” do, and it’s exactly what he wants, so he keeps right on, Benji’s sounds and touches and scent driving him equally crazy with lust. Sliding a hand around in front of him, Joel slips it into the folds of fabric of Benji’s jeans and between his legs, and to get the final result from him, begins caressing and massaging his perineum until he’s gone.

With the addition of Joel’s finger massaging where he can feel it in his prostate a little, Benji can’t hold himself back anymore, nor does he want to. One hand drops to his side as the other clenches tighter in Joel’s hair, and with a sharp intake of breath and a lurch, he’s spasming hard, emptying into Joel’s mouth. Benji’s eyes open to slits once more and he watches as his brother rides him through the orgasm, not turning away or spitting him out but rather taking him in – all of him – and it just adds that much more to this whole equation. His knees feeling weak now, Benji notices he’s a little bent over Joel now, and leans back against the wall with a thud, trying to keep himself standing upright as he’s flooded with good feeling.

As Benji’s climax subsides, Joel lavishes and tends his cock carefully, paying attention to the fact that it’s probably more sensitive now, until he can feel Benji’s erection going down. Then letting it slip out of his mouth, he doesn’t look up at first, a bit hesitant to what the reaction to all of this is going to be. He thinks Benji enjoyed it, at least from his body language and the sounds he made, but now, after all of this, Joel is having a bit of a hard time trying to not expect the worst. It’s only when Benji’s hand touches his face and caresses his cheek, trying to get his attention that Joel realizes everything is all right. He looks up sheepishly into Benji’s confused eyes, then gives him a little smile.

[FIC] Faded Photographs of You and Me: Part 1 - GC/Mest - Tonji - NC-17

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 03:55:13 GMT

[FIC] Matchmaker: Part 4 - GC - Twincest - NC-17

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 05:27:34 GMT

Lyrics - Guilty - The Rasmus

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 13:47:30 GMT

(OK, OK, fic this weekend, I promise! But this was too appropriate for me not to post these lyrics for myself)

I feel guilty
My words are empty
No signs to give you
Don't have the time for you

You say I'm heartless
And you say I don't care
I used to be there for you
You've said I seem so dead,
That I have changed
But so have you

Guilty (woah), guilty I feel so
Empty (yeah), empty you know how to make me feel

I put a shield upon you
I didn't mean to hurt you
Would've only poisoned your mind
Never meant to make you cry

You've been so thoughtless
I can see right through you
You used to be there for me
Don't you leave and say goodbye
Cus you have changed, but so have I

Guilty (woah), guilty I feel so
Empty(yeah), empty you know how to make me feel

I never thought that the time and the distance
Between us made you so much colder
I'll carry the world on my shoulders

Guilty (whoa)
Guilty (yeah)
Guilty (whoa)
Empty (yeah)

Guilty (woah), guilty I feel so
Empty (yeah), empty you know how to make me feel

Guilty (woah)
Empty (yeah)

you know how to make me feel

Guilty (Woah), so guilty
Empty (woah), so empty, you know how to make me feel

Lyrics - Damaged People - Depeche Mode

Fri, 04 Nov 2005 17:15:40 GMT

We're damaged people
Drawn together
By subtleties that we are not aware of
Disturbed souls
Playing out forever
These games that we once thought we would be scared of

When you're in my arms
The world makes sense
There is no pretense
And you're crying
When you're by my side
There is no defense
I forget to sense
I'm dying

We're damaged people
Praying for something
That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us
Depraved souls
Trusting in the one thing
The one thing that this life has not denied us

When I feel the warmth
Of your very soul
I forget I'm cold
And crying
When your lips touch mine
And I lose control
I forget I'm old
And dying

I'm sorry.

Lyrics - Lonely in Your Nightmare & The Chauffer - Duran Duran

Mon, 31 Oct 2005 02:08:15 GMT

(For someone, you know who you are ;) )

Lonely in Your Nightmare

Even on the darkest night when empty promise means empty hand
And soldiers coming home like shadows turning red
When the lights of hope are fading quickly then look to me
I'll be your homing angel,I'll be in your head.

Because you're lonely in your nightmare let me in...
And there's heat beneath your winter let me in...

I see the delta traces living lonely out on the limb.
And a passing glimmer warm beneath your skin
Please tread gently on the ground when all around you earth
turns to fire
Only get a second chance when danger's on the wind.

Because you're lonely in your nightmare let me in...
Because there's heat beneath your winter let me in...

Must be lucky weather when you find the kind of wind that you need
C'mon show me all the light and shade that made your name
I know you've got it in your head, I've seen that look before
You've built your refuge turns you captive all the same

Because you're lonely in your nightmare let me in...
And it's barren in your garden let me in...
Because there's heat beneath your winter let me in..

Because you're so lonely in your nightmare let me in..
And it's cold out on your stone range let me in...
Because there's heat beneath your winter let me in...

The Chauffer

Out on the tar plains, the glides are moving
All looking for a new place to drive
You sit beside me, so newly charming
Sweating dew drops glisten, freshing your side

The sun slips down bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress all shadowy lined
And the droning engine throbs in time
With your beating heart

Way down the lane away, living for another day
The aphids swarm up in the drifting haze
Swim seagull in the sky
Towards that hollow western isle
My envied lady holds you fast in her gaze

The sun drips down bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress all shadowy lined
And the droning engine throbs in time
With your beating heart
Sing Blue Silver

And watching lovers part, I feel you smiling
What glass splinters lie so deep in your mind
To tear out from your eyes
With a word to stiffen brooding lies
But I'll only watch you leave me further behind

The sun drips down bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress all shadowy lined
And the droning engine throbs in time
With your beating heart
Sing Blue Silver
Sing, sing Blue Silver

Lyrics - Down and Out - The Academy Is

Wed, 26 Oct 2005 15:33:02 GMT

Out of the box, out of the kitchen.
Out of the world she's grown so fearful of, so fearful of.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again, my friend.
This is the end.

Out of the house, she grabs the keys, runs for the hills and doesn't leave a letter.
That way the impact will be much better.
Away from the man that she's grown so fearful of, so fearful of.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again.
I don't ever want to see you again.

Why, oh why, do you wear sunglasses in the home when the sun went out about an hour ago?
Why, oh why, do you wear sunglasses in the home when the sun went out about an hour ago?
Life should not be that way.

Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Speak now or forever hold your peace in pieces.

Now that I'm grown I've seen marriages fall to pieces.
Now that I'm grown I've seen friendships fall to pieces.
Weekend warriors, and our best friends.
The writers weren't kidding about how all good things must end.
Then again some things, then again some things are far too good,
Some things are far too good to go ahead and let go.

Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Speak now or forever hold your peace.

We won't forget Tony or Johnny, oh, oh.
No matter how they miss us they still wish us the best on the road.
Garrett took a plane to Paris, France.
Now he's cooking up entrees for the pretty, pretty French girls.
Bookends, Blue and Clarity, to The Wall and Grace.
Darkside, Wish and a toast to the late Figure 8.

Weekend warriors and our best friends.
The writers weren't kidding, but the good things will live in our hearts.

Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Always up or down, never down and out.
You dream of demons while you sleep that make you stutter when you speak.
Speak now or forever hold your peace in pieces.