The Evermore Song Part 3
Title: The Evermore Song Part (3/3?)
Pairing: Ang/Bon
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own so don't sue :D
Warnings: If you don't like two rockstars making out then this is definetly not your story.
Summary: Around 1979 with Angus and Bon's weirdness in it.
A/N: not any, this is drunk writing.
Bon Scott's got a terrible secret, and it makes him so captivating yet terrifying. He tries his best to be friendly, to hide it all. Angus isn't scared of him; he can't look away. Bon is so lonely; he can't let go.
There are places in the heart that do not yet exist, suffering has to enter in for them to come to be
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Purely for the readers enjoyment.
They were in total silence for the next few weeks as June was about ready to melt into the month of July. The lead singer found himself in a routine, one he didn’t even know he’d started. Every night, he’d have a shower, and his skin would become clearer, his hair thicker, and he’d be a pleasant sight. He would go to Angus’s room, with every visit different each time. Sometimes, Angus would reveal a little more about his past - such as how much he hated school, or the struggle of having seven older brothers. Bon would have explained more silly stories like ‘that time I joined the Army’ and why he was kicked out. Angus took interest in him, and Bon found it impossible to be bored.
It was only a few weeks till the album release, now. Bon eyed the date on the calendar. July 2nd. His birthday was in seven days. Hitting the big thirty-three seemed a bit surreal. Cliff had told him that was how old Jesus had been when he died. Not that Bon cared.
He hoped he would not have a birthday party this year. Every other thirty-two years of his life had been celebrated, and Bon saw no reason to celebrate this one. Besides, he wanted to have a quiet day: by quiet, he meant spending it with Angus. During birthdays, they enjoyed playing pranks on each other. The last birthday had been Phil’s and they spent the whole day filling his boots with water, eventually replacing it with custard. Phil had not found it amusing, at all.
However, tonight was quiet. Malcolm, Cliff and Phil were out shopping for Bon’s birthday meal, leaving Angus and the lead singer alone. There was something eerie about it. Alone together. They’d obviously been alone together, but this was properly alone together. No one was even in the house aside from them. Angus was watching the mind-numbing television, and Bon was wandering, indecisive about whether he should go and talk to Angus.
Not before the lead guitarist jumped out of his chair and ran to find him.
“Bon, where are ya?” he called, hearing the lead singer’s voice retaliate from the kitchen. Angus rushed in, trying not to skid along the laminate wood floor - socks were not a good choice. “Bonny, we’re alone in the house, do you--”
“No.”
Angus blushed, shuffling from side to side. “I wasn’t going to ask that, ya sick shit!”
Bon evolved from a little snort-giggle into full-blown hilarity at the sight of a frustrated, embarrassed, and completely mortified Angus in the doorway, his green socks the only interesting item of clothing. The laughter soon bubbled away, much to the guitarist’s dismay.
“I was actually gonna ask ya, do you think they’ll finish arranging that bloody album soon?”
“Angus…they finished it, like, ages ago.”
The guitarist shot a look of disapproval. “Well, they never told--”
“Right, Angus, what the hell do you want? Because I can see in your eyes--” Bon stopped his sentence so he could chuckle a little. “--that you’re screamin’ for somethin’.”
“You’re the nervous fuck who can’t decide whether you want to fuck me or not!”
That shut Bon up. Whenever he had a woman in bed with him, he was controlling, dominating, he was powerful, and whatever he said went. But with Angus, he felt so little, even smaller than the guitarist himself, actually willing to let him take over, to let Angus make all the decisions, without the need to ask permission. The guitarist flashed him a wild grin that clearly declared his dominance: Bon didn’t bother to resist when the younger man took his hand and literally dragged him to his bedroom, the stairs creaking under every step and Bon wished it would shut up. Angus’s room was a typical boyish affair; cream carpet, blue walls, a wide window, and many, many posters.
The stars outside were gorgeous. Normally, no one ever had a clear view of the stars in the city, but tonight was much clearer. It was winter, after all…the stars twinkled in a symphony, following after each other, like an eternal Mexican wave in the heavens. Angus stared out the window, the moonlight colouring his body a thick, bright white, reminiscent of his pale, Scottish days.
Instinctively, Bon lay down on the bed - and wished he’d never done so. Angus pounced, kissing him hungrily, running his hands through his thickening black hair, relishing in it. Eyes gazed upon each other, absorbing beauty, each cell in their bodies screaming for it, the roar of the distant Australian ocean mimicking the rush of love in Angus’s heart. Bon’s velvet lips kept Angus occupied while the lead singer attempted to undo the zip on the younger man’s jeans, but the guitarist pushed his hand away - then shoved his own down the front of Bon’s.
Bon was sure nothing could feel that good.
The tantalizing, skilled fingers tickling the hem of his boxers, wishing the bastard would just give him a hand job already - wait, what? Bon couldn’t think that. Had he really just thought that? Angus Fucking Young, giving him that kind of…
He gulped.
Angus stopped.
“Scared?” he questioned, keeping his hand still, his palm flat on Bon’s lower stomach. The singer shook his head, trying to look fearless, like this was totally natural to him. Inside, he was in knots, his organs tied together, pulsating in total terror, having never done this before. Even though he’d shaken his head, Angus could still sense the panic in Bon’s eyes. He’d never been with a man before. He was a total virgin when it came to this.
And Angus giggled at that. Bon, a virgin? Really? It didn’t seem possible.
“Just do what ye were gonna,” Bon whined petulantly. “Anguuuuuus. Don’t ye dare tease me, or I’ll fuckin’--”
“Ye’ll what?” Angus grinned, leaning forward to press his forehead right against Bon’s, eyes drooped a little in casual behaviour, a mischievous little smile placed on his face. While staring into the lead guitarists’ face, Bon let out a loud gasp, feeling something take bloom in the pit of his stomach.
“I’ll…I-I…”
Shit.
He’s touching me. He’s fucking rubbing his hand all over my…my fucking…
Ohhhhh shit. Oh shit. Oh dear.
“Ya stupid arse--” Kiss. “--they’ll come back soon--” Another. “--can’t believe this--” One more. “--hate you--” Last kiss. Angus just kept hold on Bon’s length, thankful it was dark, and the singer probably wouldn’t see that Angus had his eyes closed, in some kind of comfort. He’d never done this before either. He knew - or at least, tried to know - what emotions were running through Bon’s veins; love for Angus? Fear? Regret? Hatred? Angus couldn’t distinguish it, couldn’t feel it through the coerced moans Bon was letting out.
“Relax…” Angus breathed. “Come on, babe, just relax…please…”
Bon, honestly, wanted to cry at the sudden rush of total adoration he felt for the guitarist. This younger man, on top of him, his eyes pleading with love, not lust. He felt gentle movements in Angus’s hands, wondering if he was taking special care of him, or if he was always like this. It didn’t matter - the cool air hit his hips now, Angus pulled his jeans down to his knees, then did the same with his own. Bon let out the breath of air he’d been holding, and let Angus do whatever he wanted, needed to do.
“F-Fuckin’…”
Angus was kissing him now, and not just on the lips. The singer’s abdomen was informally introduced to the guitarist’s sweet mouth, gently swirling his tongue around, gradually moving lower, and lower; Bon knew what he was going to do, but still couldn’t get it into his brain, the fact Angus was down there, the place where only women would ever see…and this was Angus.
Malcolm was going to kill him if he ever found out.
Stiffened, and Angus ceased movement. Bon wished he’d never even let Malcolm intrude his thoughts. He closed his eyes, groaning, trying to let it sound pleasurable yet desperate. The guitarist shrugged, himself wanting to get on with it, so he continued to work his hand up and down Bon’s length, slowly, and hesitantly. You can do this, Angus, it’s nothing to worry about…it’s just a dick… His mental words weren’t comforting, but he closed his eyes, pulled Bon’s boxers down, nuzzled his cheek against the hardness, forcing himself to take his time, tease the singer a little bit more.
Bon wouldn’t take it.
“For Christ’s sake, Ang, will ya just blow me already?!”
The guitarist obliged, taking the entire length in his mouth, shocking Bon to his very core, sending lightning bolts up his skin, the same shiver he felt with each crunchy, bluesy chord Angus worked his fingers into. The sweet A caressed him gently, the hard E sent him into his familiar testosterone-fuelled world, those sounds were like people. Bon was sure the A meant Angus, a melodious mantra that rooted within the lead guitarist.
“F-Fuck! Oh m-m…” Bon was trying to restrain himself, desperate to keep his moans stifled so it appeared he hadn’t done this before, or that Angus wasn’t doing a very good job. But the younger man was a natural, as if he did this every day; Bon wanted to burst out laughing at that idea but was sure he would have screamed in total ecstasy instead.
Lungs tightened. Tongues pressed upwards. One mind fogged up, two hearts beat in rhythm, in a waltz, mimicking the perpetual thump-thump-thump of the drum kit they could both hear in their heads. Love is a song, Angus thought, keeping his eyes closed. Doing this to Bon wasn’t as bad as he thought it would have been. The idea of putting that in his mouth repulsed him at first, but he’d warmed towards it. He smiled, and Bon felt every move of his lips, gasping loudly, not bothering to stifle any more sounds.
“Angus, y-you…you f-fuckin’…”
The guitarist knew he was going to have to finish his sentence, so Angus cleared his mouth, wiped his lips, and looked innocently upwards, preventing Bon’s pleasure from dropping to square one by rubbing his hand in substitute of his mouth.
“Yes, Bonny?” he sweetly smiled.
“AngusMcKinnonYoungifyoudontputmydickbackinyourmouthIwillkillyou!”
“Shh.”
“Angus--”
“Let’s strike a deal, babe. I’ll blow ya, and then you tell me one of yer biggest secrets. Now shut up.”
The older man did as he was told, in utter shock that Angus spoke to him in that sexy way of his, and in return, Angus did what Bon was silently begging him to do. He answered his call by rubbing his hands up and down as he tickled the purple end with his tongue, teasing and tormenting, sending the lead singer wild; crying out in a feral groan, and he felt it rush back to him, a blinding white flash behind his eyes, fluorescent and dazzling. His fists clenched into the sheets, his knuckles flushed white, his entire body seemed to turn white with the heavenly pleasure he was soaring towards. In his head, there was nothing but noise, white noise, and he was suffocating in it, it consumed him entirely. Why is everything so white? Even the thick fluid that rushed into Angus’s mouth and onto his lips had to be the familiar colour. Neon sparks burnt themselves onto the insides of Bon’s red-hot eyelids, and Bon couldn’t believe the astounding pleasure he’d been subjected to.
He lay there on the bed, simmering in a pool of post-orgasm bliss. Angus licked his lips, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and placed his hands on his knees. Bon turned his eyes to the younger man with almost all the strength he had remaining. Breaths escaped into his mouth, flooding his lungs.
“Now you tell me something…”
“I…I…”
Bon just lay there, gasping with each breath, wondering why he'd let Angus reduce him to a breathless wreck while that bastard sat there with a triumphant smirk. With each breath he took, he was sure his heartbeat spoke Angus's name, hoping that this wouldn't be the first and last time Angus would do it.
Pairing: Ang/Bon
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own so don't sue :D
Warnings: If you don't like two rockstars making out then this is definetly not your story.
Summary: Around 1979 with Angus and Bon's weirdness in it.
A/N: not any, this is drunk writing.
Bon Scott's got a terrible secret, and it makes him so captivating yet terrifying. He tries his best to be friendly, to hide it all. Angus isn't scared of him; he can't look away. Bon is so lonely; he can't let go.
There are places in the heart that do not yet exist, suffering has to enter in for them to come to be
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Purely for the readers enjoyment.
They were in total silence for the next few weeks as June was about ready to melt into the month of July. The lead singer found himself in a routine, one he didn’t even know he’d started. Every night, he’d have a shower, and his skin would become clearer, his hair thicker, and he’d be a pleasant sight. He would go to Angus’s room, with every visit different each time. Sometimes, Angus would reveal a little more about his past - such as how much he hated school, or the struggle of having seven older brothers. Bon would have explained more silly stories like ‘that time I joined the Army’ and why he was kicked out. Angus took interest in him, and Bon found it impossible to be bored.
It was only a few weeks till the album release, now. Bon eyed the date on the calendar. July 2nd. His birthday was in seven days. Hitting the big thirty-three seemed a bit surreal. Cliff had told him that was how old Jesus had been when he died. Not that Bon cared.
He hoped he would not have a birthday party this year. Every other thirty-two years of his life had been celebrated, and Bon saw no reason to celebrate this one. Besides, he wanted to have a quiet day: by quiet, he meant spending it with Angus. During birthdays, they enjoyed playing pranks on each other. The last birthday had been Phil’s and they spent the whole day filling his boots with water, eventually replacing it with custard. Phil had not found it amusing, at all.
However, tonight was quiet. Malcolm, Cliff and Phil were out shopping for Bon’s birthday meal, leaving Angus and the lead singer alone. There was something eerie about it. Alone together. They’d obviously been alone together, but this was properly alone together. No one was even in the house aside from them. Angus was watching the mind-numbing television, and Bon was wandering, indecisive about whether he should go and talk to Angus.
Not before the lead guitarist jumped out of his chair and ran to find him.
“Bon, where are ya?” he called, hearing the lead singer’s voice retaliate from the kitchen. Angus rushed in, trying not to skid along the laminate wood floor - socks were not a good choice. “Bonny, we’re alone in the house, do you--”
“No.”
Angus blushed, shuffling from side to side. “I wasn’t going to ask that, ya sick shit!”
Bon evolved from a little snort-giggle into full-blown hilarity at the sight of a frustrated, embarrassed, and completely mortified Angus in the doorway, his green socks the only interesting item of clothing. The laughter soon bubbled away, much to the guitarist’s dismay.
“I was actually gonna ask ya, do you think they’ll finish arranging that bloody album soon?”
“Angus…they finished it, like, ages ago.”
The guitarist shot a look of disapproval. “Well, they never told--”
“Right, Angus, what the hell do you want? Because I can see in your eyes--” Bon stopped his sentence so he could chuckle a little. “--that you’re screamin’ for somethin’.”
“You’re the nervous fuck who can’t decide whether you want to fuck me or not!”
That shut Bon up. Whenever he had a woman in bed with him, he was controlling, dominating, he was powerful, and whatever he said went. But with Angus, he felt so little, even smaller than the guitarist himself, actually willing to let him take over, to let Angus make all the decisions, without the need to ask permission. The guitarist flashed him a wild grin that clearly declared his dominance: Bon didn’t bother to resist when the younger man took his hand and literally dragged him to his bedroom, the stairs creaking under every step and Bon wished it would shut up. Angus’s room was a typical boyish affair; cream carpet, blue walls, a wide window, and many, many posters.
The stars outside were gorgeous. Normally, no one ever had a clear view of the stars in the city, but tonight was much clearer. It was winter, after all…the stars twinkled in a symphony, following after each other, like an eternal Mexican wave in the heavens. Angus stared out the window, the moonlight colouring his body a thick, bright white, reminiscent of his pale, Scottish days.
Instinctively, Bon lay down on the bed - and wished he’d never done so. Angus pounced, kissing him hungrily, running his hands through his thickening black hair, relishing in it. Eyes gazed upon each other, absorbing beauty, each cell in their bodies screaming for it, the roar of the distant Australian ocean mimicking the rush of love in Angus’s heart. Bon’s velvet lips kept Angus occupied while the lead singer attempted to undo the zip on the younger man’s jeans, but the guitarist pushed his hand away - then shoved his own down the front of Bon’s.
Bon was sure nothing could feel that good.
The tantalizing, skilled fingers tickling the hem of his boxers, wishing the bastard would just give him a hand job already - wait, what? Bon couldn’t think that. Had he really just thought that? Angus Fucking Young, giving him that kind of…
He gulped.
Angus stopped.
“Scared?” he questioned, keeping his hand still, his palm flat on Bon’s lower stomach. The singer shook his head, trying to look fearless, like this was totally natural to him. Inside, he was in knots, his organs tied together, pulsating in total terror, having never done this before. Even though he’d shaken his head, Angus could still sense the panic in Bon’s eyes. He’d never been with a man before. He was a total virgin when it came to this.
And Angus giggled at that. Bon, a virgin? Really? It didn’t seem possible.
“Just do what ye were gonna,” Bon whined petulantly. “Anguuuuuus. Don’t ye dare tease me, or I’ll fuckin’--”
“Ye’ll what?” Angus grinned, leaning forward to press his forehead right against Bon’s, eyes drooped a little in casual behaviour, a mischievous little smile placed on his face. While staring into the lead guitarists’ face, Bon let out a loud gasp, feeling something take bloom in the pit of his stomach.
“I’ll…I-I…”
Shit.
He’s touching me. He’s fucking rubbing his hand all over my…my fucking…
Ohhhhh shit. Oh shit. Oh dear.
“Ya stupid arse--” Kiss. “--they’ll come back soon--” Another. “--can’t believe this--” One more. “--hate you--” Last kiss. Angus just kept hold on Bon’s length, thankful it was dark, and the singer probably wouldn’t see that Angus had his eyes closed, in some kind of comfort. He’d never done this before either. He knew - or at least, tried to know - what emotions were running through Bon’s veins; love for Angus? Fear? Regret? Hatred? Angus couldn’t distinguish it, couldn’t feel it through the coerced moans Bon was letting out.
“Relax…” Angus breathed. “Come on, babe, just relax…please…”
Bon, honestly, wanted to cry at the sudden rush of total adoration he felt for the guitarist. This younger man, on top of him, his eyes pleading with love, not lust. He felt gentle movements in Angus’s hands, wondering if he was taking special care of him, or if he was always like this. It didn’t matter - the cool air hit his hips now, Angus pulled his jeans down to his knees, then did the same with his own. Bon let out the breath of air he’d been holding, and let Angus do whatever he wanted, needed to do.
“F-Fuckin’…”
Angus was kissing him now, and not just on the lips. The singer’s abdomen was informally introduced to the guitarist’s sweet mouth, gently swirling his tongue around, gradually moving lower, and lower; Bon knew what he was going to do, but still couldn’t get it into his brain, the fact Angus was down there, the place where only women would ever see…and this was Angus.
Malcolm was going to kill him if he ever found out.
Stiffened, and Angus ceased movement. Bon wished he’d never even let Malcolm intrude his thoughts. He closed his eyes, groaning, trying to let it sound pleasurable yet desperate. The guitarist shrugged, himself wanting to get on with it, so he continued to work his hand up and down Bon’s length, slowly, and hesitantly. You can do this, Angus, it’s nothing to worry about…it’s just a dick… His mental words weren’t comforting, but he closed his eyes, pulled Bon’s boxers down, nuzzled his cheek against the hardness, forcing himself to take his time, tease the singer a little bit more.
Bon wouldn’t take it.
“For Christ’s sake, Ang, will ya just blow me already?!”
The guitarist obliged, taking the entire length in his mouth, shocking Bon to his very core, sending lightning bolts up his skin, the same shiver he felt with each crunchy, bluesy chord Angus worked his fingers into. The sweet A caressed him gently, the hard E sent him into his familiar testosterone-fuelled world, those sounds were like people. Bon was sure the A meant Angus, a melodious mantra that rooted within the lead guitarist.
“F-Fuck! Oh m-m…” Bon was trying to restrain himself, desperate to keep his moans stifled so it appeared he hadn’t done this before, or that Angus wasn’t doing a very good job. But the younger man was a natural, as if he did this every day; Bon wanted to burst out laughing at that idea but was sure he would have screamed in total ecstasy instead.
Lungs tightened. Tongues pressed upwards. One mind fogged up, two hearts beat in rhythm, in a waltz, mimicking the perpetual thump-thump-thump of the drum kit they could both hear in their heads. Love is a song, Angus thought, keeping his eyes closed. Doing this to Bon wasn’t as bad as he thought it would have been. The idea of putting that in his mouth repulsed him at first, but he’d warmed towards it. He smiled, and Bon felt every move of his lips, gasping loudly, not bothering to stifle any more sounds.
“Angus, y-you…you f-fuckin’…”
The guitarist knew he was going to have to finish his sentence, so Angus cleared his mouth, wiped his lips, and looked innocently upwards, preventing Bon’s pleasure from dropping to square one by rubbing his hand in substitute of his mouth.
“Yes, Bonny?” he sweetly smiled.
“AngusMcKinnonYoungifyoudontputmydickbackinyourmouthIwillkillyou!”
“Shh.”
“Angus--”
“Let’s strike a deal, babe. I’ll blow ya, and then you tell me one of yer biggest secrets. Now shut up.”
The older man did as he was told, in utter shock that Angus spoke to him in that sexy way of his, and in return, Angus did what Bon was silently begging him to do. He answered his call by rubbing his hands up and down as he tickled the purple end with his tongue, teasing and tormenting, sending the lead singer wild; crying out in a feral groan, and he felt it rush back to him, a blinding white flash behind his eyes, fluorescent and dazzling. His fists clenched into the sheets, his knuckles flushed white, his entire body seemed to turn white with the heavenly pleasure he was soaring towards. In his head, there was nothing but noise, white noise, and he was suffocating in it, it consumed him entirely. Why is everything so white? Even the thick fluid that rushed into Angus’s mouth and onto his lips had to be the familiar colour. Neon sparks burnt themselves onto the insides of Bon’s red-hot eyelids, and Bon couldn’t believe the astounding pleasure he’d been subjected to.
He lay there on the bed, simmering in a pool of post-orgasm bliss. Angus licked his lips, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and placed his hands on his knees. Bon turned his eyes to the younger man with almost all the strength he had remaining. Breaths escaped into his mouth, flooding his lungs.
“Now you tell me something…”
“I…I…”
Bon just lay there, gasping with each breath, wondering why he'd let Angus reduce him to a breathless wreck while that bastard sat there with a triumphant smirk. With each breath he took, he was sure his heartbeat spoke Angus's name, hoping that this wouldn't be the first and last time Angus would do it.