‘cause without you, things go hazy - (McFly) Fletcher/Jones - Standalone
Title: ‘cause without you, things go hazy
Author: Me, coloured_dream
Part: 1/1 (standalone, 2,163)
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones (mentions of Tom/Giovanna)
Genre: Romance, angst
Rating: NC.17
Summery: Sometimes he wonders why he can't just walk away?
Disclaimer: All untrue, just a work of fiction.
A/N: My entry to The Tour Challenge at mcflyslash. I had planned to write something else completely different but I got the block and this turned out to be more an exercise to try and get over it, probably why I don’t think it’s my best work. Comments are appreciated <3
Tom's not really sure when it started. It was while on tour he knows that much, while away from home and familiarity. He's not really sure when it turned into a routine, something with meaning he just remembers feeling the change, the pulse between and it wasn't something that he was totally uncomfortable with.
It happens like it’s done so many times before. They're barely inside the dressing room (Harry and Dougie had gone on ahead and back to the bus, perhaps with a detour to a storage cupboard along the way) when he’s grabbed hold of and spun around, skin sweaty and bodies thrumming with post show adrenaline, lips meeting. It's quick and when Tom feels his back connect with the wall he lets out a surprised gasp, muffled by lips and chaste kisses.
It's always the same, a familiar routine. They're always careful; always make sure no one can see, always hidden behind closed doors. Tom sometimes wishes he could define what they are, what Danny is. A friend who’s there, a convenience (?), a way to get rid of the pent up energy and adrenalin while away from home, from Giovanna, from the real world. It seems to sum it up pretty well but Tom knows it's much more, doesn’t know if there’s a label adequate enough.
He hates the sneaking around but he knows he doesn't have a choice, gets some kind of comfort out of it, out of knowing no one really knows what’s going on. Tom presumes they think they’re writing songs but on some levels he thinks Giovanna knows there's more. Of course she doesn't voice it but her eyes say so much, more than words ever could.
He feels the guilt when he looks at her and knows, deep down, he's destroying what they have. Sometimes he wonders why he can't just walk away from him (Danny), from them both and gain breathing space and a clear perspective of things but the thrill he gets, the way his pulse races when Danny touches him is like a drug and it’s not something he's willing to give up, despite the consequences.
"Danny, wait." Tom's voice is a little hoarse when he pulls away, caught up in his own world, breathing heavy and harsh as he tilts his head towards the door. He can almost see the glitter of recognition on Danny’s freckled face, watches the way cherry red lips form a small 'o' shape and fingers twist the lock making sure they can't be disturbed.
Tom can't help the sigh of relieve (safety). Can’t stop the way his eyes roam the contours of Danny’s body, watching the ripple of muscles, the way the sweat drenched top he'd worn on stage sticks to freckled skin. He parts his lips, eyes drooping a little as Danny moves back to him, skin radiating heat.
"Like what you see?" Danny’s accented words are soft, a little breathy on the air, his gaze seductive as he stops in front of Tom his tongue wetting lips and hands gliding over clothed skin. His lips curl when he sees Tom shiver at the close contact, at the touch when one of his hands move and brush away a strand of honey blonde hair.
Tom’s brown eyes follow him, glazed and full of want, of need and it's quick and he knows he’s throwing himself at the him but he can’t bring himself to stop, burnt by lust and the insatiable flow of need. His arms hook around Danny’s neck, fingers locking.
Danny’s taken by surprise at the force of Tom’s body slamming into him, almost knocking him off his feet, breath coming in a hard pant. He's chuckling softly when he rights himself just as fast and wraps his fingers around Tom’s wrist, locking gazes and watching the way chocolate eyes smoulder, crumbling away what was left of integrity and letting lust rule.
Tom feels the all too familiar spark of excitement uncoiling itself inside him, feels blood pounding inside his veins, hot and making his head spin. He hears Danny’s rough breaths in his ear and before he can react is trapped against the wall once more, helpless. Their lips meet and it's quick and fast and not at all soft (Tom wouldn’t want it any other way), pulling breaths from lungs and straining vocal chords with wanton groans.
Tom’s can’t stop the way his eyes roll into the back of his skull when he feels Danny’s hand slip below his shirt, fingertips seductive as they roam skin and send shivers along his spine. Tom’s lips part but words don’t come, stuck in the back of his throat as he arches upward and into clammy contours.
He feels Danny’s finger curl around the hem of his Star Wars tee and wants to hurry him along, wants to feel lips and skin, wants relief from the pressure that builds, tearing through his insides like fire. It's not romantic but Tom doesn't expect it to be, never has been and it never would be. That's just them, raw and ready - the way it's meant to be.
Tom feels the shudder through his bones, pulse racing when his t-shirt is removed and tossed to the floor. He feels Danny’s hands on warm skin, lips against his neck moving down and Tom knows he isn't stupid enough to leave marks where they can be seen. He feels breaths on his skin, feels freckled fingers moving and seducing with padded sweeps and feather-light touches. His own dainty hands move with awkward synchronicity, pushing buttons through holes and dancing across Danny’s torso, skin warm as he connects freckles, watching the way Danny’s chest lifts with each breath.
He feels Danny’s hands slip to his waist and walk him backwards towards the leather sofa that stretches against the all brick wall at the far end of the room, the red of the brick stark against the dark leather. He sinks into the cushions and curls his fingers around Danny's neck, pulling him down with him. He arches upwards and tries to find lips but Danny’s too far out of reach, his freckled fingers busy working Tom's belt undone, lips brushing his stomach.
Tom groans loud and wantonly and places his hands on the back of Danny's head, fingers combing through the shorter hair on the base of his neck, short auburn strands, like woven silk, falling through his fingertips. His mouth is agape when he stretches upwards, vocal shards strained, words stuck in the back of his throat. His hands slip then and thin fingers moving along his freckled spine, muscles hard and tight.
And when Danny’s hand brushes his hip and his fingers wrap around his erection, Tom’s mind goes hazy his body thrums with excitement and adrenaline, captivated by the way Danny’s fingertips weave strokes of magic across his skin, touches like fire, but also gentle and seductive at the same time. He feels lips on his skin, warmth around him and can only lift his hips, buck upwards and press his fingers to the base of Danny’s skull.
His mouth forms a ‘o’ shape, every nerve ending in his body humming and when Danny’s hands move against him he can’t help but call out his name, reeling upward, skin hot and prickly.
“Fuck!” He hears Danny’s chuckle against his skin, breath hot and sticky as he mouths words against him.
“Such a dirty mouth, Tom!”
“You never normally complain!” Tom’s retort is quick, fingers scraping through Danny’s hair, words bubbling inside and tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. “Danny, please!”
And his stomach is squirming, his heart beating quicker as Danny kisses across his stomach, moving down and enveloping him in warmth as he swallows him down with a cocky grin, leaving Tom unable to form eloquent words. His mouth falls agape and his breath hitches when Danny’s tongue rolls across the head of his heated erection.
He forces himself to stay still, doesn’t want to startle Danny by thrusting his hips upwards, despite every nerve in his body telling him to. Instead he tangles his fingers through auburn locks and tugs gently, hears Danny’s hum of approval around him and it makes Tom loose his train of thoughts, groaning a little, head pushed back and into the sofa.
“Holy...” his voice trails away words lost in among heaving breaths when he feels Danny’s tongue wrap around the head of his cock, sucking like a lolly pop and pulling him ever closer to the edge, senses tingling and burning under the exertion.
He doesn’t really have chance to warn, Danny’s head is bobbing and Tom’s coming and all he can think - when Danny doesn’t lift his head and swallows all he can - is “holy shit! Holy shit!”
It happens so quick, Tom's eyes closing, body thrumming. There’s a silence afterwards only broken by heavy breaths and the faintest touch of skin, chaste yet somewhat smooth, made by dexterous fingers.
Tom stays where he is, stuck to the mattress, his whole body buzzing with pleasure, a pleasant and gratifying haze that colours his mind with warmth and leaves a blissful sort of feeling behind. He watches Danny move through half lidded eyes, watches as he stands and is somewhat surprised by the hollowness that fills him, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the touch soft but the grasp strong.
“What about...?” he starts to question but he doesn’t get chance to finish it, had wanted to ask what about you? Wants to return the favour in some way but Danny’s shaking his head and Tom’s watching the way he stands, the way he smiles, the way his movements are smooth and slick and somewhat cocky.
“Later!” and Tom feels the fizz of excitement again, can’t help the lazy smile that curls his lips despite feeling uncovered and self conscious. He sees the smile on Danny’s lips fade, a frown knotting his brows as he chucks him his boxers.
Tom feels the guilt building underneath his skin, swirls of self-loathing and uncomfortable heat as he pulls them on. He wants to say something, voice words and calm the inner waves of disgust that wash across him. Pulling on his jeans he eyes Danny wearily as he moves across the room, looking like he’s not really sure what he should do, hair mess and lips swollen a thoroughly debauched and beautiful site.
He swallows and when his phone buzzes he tears his eyes away from Danny’s freckle scribed features, looks down and sees her name and desperately wants to cancel the call, every cell in his body screaming for him to do so. Instead he’s lifting it to his ear before he can talk himself out of it, before he can multiply the guilt and is listening to her cheerful babble of words as she asks him how his night was, how the show went.
He tries to sound upbeat when he answers, tries to sound somewhat normal his voice level and soft but he’s watching Danny as he speaks, unnerved by how easy he finds all this, standing semi naked with the guy that had just sucked you off!
When Danny smiles at him and moves towards him, Tom feels his stomach knot, feels his heart thud when he places a kiss below his ear. He feels the shivers through his bones and it’s only when Giovanna asks him if he’s okay that Tom comes back to reality, lies too caught up in watching Danny to realise his distance.
“See you back at the hotel!” Danny’s words are a soft whisper as he turns with a smile and a suave wiggle of his eyebrows. Watching him walk away Tom hates that feeling that fires through him, hates the distance. And he knows, knows he could never watch Danny walk away, walk out of his life, not really.
He knows he can’t go on like this forever, he knows one day he’ll have to confront one of them, talk to one of them about all of this and he already knows that’ll be the toughest day of his life. He hates himself for what he’s done, what he’s still doing but he can’t stop it, can’t walk away, can’t give up on either of them, not yet anyway.
One day... maybe.
Author: Me, coloured_dream
Part: 1/1 (standalone, 2,163)
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones (mentions of Tom/Giovanna)
Genre: Romance, angst
Rating: NC.17
Summery: Sometimes he wonders why he can't just walk away?
Disclaimer: All untrue, just a work of fiction.
A/N: My entry to The Tour Challenge at mcflyslash. I had planned to write something else completely different but I got the block and this turned out to be more an exercise to try and get over it, probably why I don’t think it’s my best work. Comments are appreciated <3
Tom's not really sure when it started. It was while on tour he knows that much, while away from home and familiarity. He's not really sure when it turned into a routine, something with meaning he just remembers feeling the change, the pulse between and it wasn't something that he was totally uncomfortable with.
It happens like it’s done so many times before. They're barely inside the dressing room (Harry and Dougie had gone on ahead and back to the bus, perhaps with a detour to a storage cupboard along the way) when he’s grabbed hold of and spun around, skin sweaty and bodies thrumming with post show adrenaline, lips meeting. It's quick and when Tom feels his back connect with the wall he lets out a surprised gasp, muffled by lips and chaste kisses.
It's always the same, a familiar routine. They're always careful; always make sure no one can see, always hidden behind closed doors. Tom sometimes wishes he could define what they are, what Danny is. A friend who’s there, a convenience (?), a way to get rid of the pent up energy and adrenalin while away from home, from Giovanna, from the real world. It seems to sum it up pretty well but Tom knows it's much more, doesn’t know if there’s a label adequate enough.
He hates the sneaking around but he knows he doesn't have a choice, gets some kind of comfort out of it, out of knowing no one really knows what’s going on. Tom presumes they think they’re writing songs but on some levels he thinks Giovanna knows there's more. Of course she doesn't voice it but her eyes say so much, more than words ever could.
He feels the guilt when he looks at her and knows, deep down, he's destroying what they have. Sometimes he wonders why he can't just walk away from him (Danny), from them both and gain breathing space and a clear perspective of things but the thrill he gets, the way his pulse races when Danny touches him is like a drug and it’s not something he's willing to give up, despite the consequences.
"Danny, wait." Tom's voice is a little hoarse when he pulls away, caught up in his own world, breathing heavy and harsh as he tilts his head towards the door. He can almost see the glitter of recognition on Danny’s freckled face, watches the way cherry red lips form a small 'o' shape and fingers twist the lock making sure they can't be disturbed.
Tom can't help the sigh of relieve (safety). Can’t stop the way his eyes roam the contours of Danny’s body, watching the ripple of muscles, the way the sweat drenched top he'd worn on stage sticks to freckled skin. He parts his lips, eyes drooping a little as Danny moves back to him, skin radiating heat.
"Like what you see?" Danny’s accented words are soft, a little breathy on the air, his gaze seductive as he stops in front of Tom his tongue wetting lips and hands gliding over clothed skin. His lips curl when he sees Tom shiver at the close contact, at the touch when one of his hands move and brush away a strand of honey blonde hair.
Tom’s brown eyes follow him, glazed and full of want, of need and it's quick and he knows he’s throwing himself at the him but he can’t bring himself to stop, burnt by lust and the insatiable flow of need. His arms hook around Danny’s neck, fingers locking.
Danny’s taken by surprise at the force of Tom’s body slamming into him, almost knocking him off his feet, breath coming in a hard pant. He's chuckling softly when he rights himself just as fast and wraps his fingers around Tom’s wrist, locking gazes and watching the way chocolate eyes smoulder, crumbling away what was left of integrity and letting lust rule.
Tom feels the all too familiar spark of excitement uncoiling itself inside him, feels blood pounding inside his veins, hot and making his head spin. He hears Danny’s rough breaths in his ear and before he can react is trapped against the wall once more, helpless. Their lips meet and it's quick and fast and not at all soft (Tom wouldn’t want it any other way), pulling breaths from lungs and straining vocal chords with wanton groans.
Tom’s can’t stop the way his eyes roll into the back of his skull when he feels Danny’s hand slip below his shirt, fingertips seductive as they roam skin and send shivers along his spine. Tom’s lips part but words don’t come, stuck in the back of his throat as he arches upward and into clammy contours.
He feels Danny’s finger curl around the hem of his Star Wars tee and wants to hurry him along, wants to feel lips and skin, wants relief from the pressure that builds, tearing through his insides like fire. It's not romantic but Tom doesn't expect it to be, never has been and it never would be. That's just them, raw and ready - the way it's meant to be.
Tom feels the shudder through his bones, pulse racing when his t-shirt is removed and tossed to the floor. He feels Danny’s hands on warm skin, lips against his neck moving down and Tom knows he isn't stupid enough to leave marks where they can be seen. He feels breaths on his skin, feels freckled fingers moving and seducing with padded sweeps and feather-light touches. His own dainty hands move with awkward synchronicity, pushing buttons through holes and dancing across Danny’s torso, skin warm as he connects freckles, watching the way Danny’s chest lifts with each breath.
He feels Danny’s hands slip to his waist and walk him backwards towards the leather sofa that stretches against the all brick wall at the far end of the room, the red of the brick stark against the dark leather. He sinks into the cushions and curls his fingers around Danny's neck, pulling him down with him. He arches upwards and tries to find lips but Danny’s too far out of reach, his freckled fingers busy working Tom's belt undone, lips brushing his stomach.
Tom groans loud and wantonly and places his hands on the back of Danny's head, fingers combing through the shorter hair on the base of his neck, short auburn strands, like woven silk, falling through his fingertips. His mouth is agape when he stretches upwards, vocal shards strained, words stuck in the back of his throat. His hands slip then and thin fingers moving along his freckled spine, muscles hard and tight.
And when Danny’s hand brushes his hip and his fingers wrap around his erection, Tom’s mind goes hazy his body thrums with excitement and adrenaline, captivated by the way Danny’s fingertips weave strokes of magic across his skin, touches like fire, but also gentle and seductive at the same time. He feels lips on his skin, warmth around him and can only lift his hips, buck upwards and press his fingers to the base of Danny’s skull.
His mouth forms a ‘o’ shape, every nerve ending in his body humming and when Danny’s hands move against him he can’t help but call out his name, reeling upward, skin hot and prickly.
“Fuck!” He hears Danny’s chuckle against his skin, breath hot and sticky as he mouths words against him.
“Such a dirty mouth, Tom!”
“You never normally complain!” Tom’s retort is quick, fingers scraping through Danny’s hair, words bubbling inside and tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. “Danny, please!”
And his stomach is squirming, his heart beating quicker as Danny kisses across his stomach, moving down and enveloping him in warmth as he swallows him down with a cocky grin, leaving Tom unable to form eloquent words. His mouth falls agape and his breath hitches when Danny’s tongue rolls across the head of his heated erection.
He forces himself to stay still, doesn’t want to startle Danny by thrusting his hips upwards, despite every nerve in his body telling him to. Instead he tangles his fingers through auburn locks and tugs gently, hears Danny’s hum of approval around him and it makes Tom loose his train of thoughts, groaning a little, head pushed back and into the sofa.
“Holy...” his voice trails away words lost in among heaving breaths when he feels Danny’s tongue wrap around the head of his cock, sucking like a lolly pop and pulling him ever closer to the edge, senses tingling and burning under the exertion.
He doesn’t really have chance to warn, Danny’s head is bobbing and Tom’s coming and all he can think - when Danny doesn’t lift his head and swallows all he can - is “holy shit! Holy shit!”
It happens so quick, Tom's eyes closing, body thrumming. There’s a silence afterwards only broken by heavy breaths and the faintest touch of skin, chaste yet somewhat smooth, made by dexterous fingers.
Tom stays where he is, stuck to the mattress, his whole body buzzing with pleasure, a pleasant and gratifying haze that colours his mind with warmth and leaves a blissful sort of feeling behind. He watches Danny move through half lidded eyes, watches as he stands and is somewhat surprised by the hollowness that fills him, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the touch soft but the grasp strong.
“What about...?” he starts to question but he doesn’t get chance to finish it, had wanted to ask what about you? Wants to return the favour in some way but Danny’s shaking his head and Tom’s watching the way he stands, the way he smiles, the way his movements are smooth and slick and somewhat cocky.
“Later!” and Tom feels the fizz of excitement again, can’t help the lazy smile that curls his lips despite feeling uncovered and self conscious. He sees the smile on Danny’s lips fade, a frown knotting his brows as he chucks him his boxers.
Tom feels the guilt building underneath his skin, swirls of self-loathing and uncomfortable heat as he pulls them on. He wants to say something, voice words and calm the inner waves of disgust that wash across him. Pulling on his jeans he eyes Danny wearily as he moves across the room, looking like he’s not really sure what he should do, hair mess and lips swollen a thoroughly debauched and beautiful site.
He swallows and when his phone buzzes he tears his eyes away from Danny’s freckle scribed features, looks down and sees her name and desperately wants to cancel the call, every cell in his body screaming for him to do so. Instead he’s lifting it to his ear before he can talk himself out of it, before he can multiply the guilt and is listening to her cheerful babble of words as she asks him how his night was, how the show went.
He tries to sound upbeat when he answers, tries to sound somewhat normal his voice level and soft but he’s watching Danny as he speaks, unnerved by how easy he finds all this, standing semi naked with the guy that had just sucked you off!
When Danny smiles at him and moves towards him, Tom feels his stomach knot, feels his heart thud when he places a kiss below his ear. He feels the shivers through his bones and it’s only when Giovanna asks him if he’s okay that Tom comes back to reality, lies too caught up in watching Danny to realise his distance.
“See you back at the hotel!” Danny’s words are a soft whisper as he turns with a smile and a suave wiggle of his eyebrows. Watching him walk away Tom hates that feeling that fires through him, hates the distance. And he knows, knows he could never watch Danny walk away, walk out of his life, not really.
He knows he can’t go on like this forever, he knows one day he’ll have to confront one of them, talk to one of them about all of this and he already knows that’ll be the toughest day of his life. He hates himself for what he’s done, what he’s still doing but he can’t stop it, can’t walk away, can’t give up on either of them, not yet anyway.
One day... maybe.