Keep the Mood - Scenario Four Entry
Title: Keep the Mood
Author: insanityxspeaks
Rating: Um, R, maybe? Mentions of sex, but it's not too graphic. Plus an f-bomb.
Pairing: Cookstro. [David Cook/Jason Castro]
POV: Third
Summary: Fire-kissed fingertips and that quirk of a smile, that little twitch of lip that let Jason know - this was something you can’t prepare for. David Cook falls from stars. My entry for scenario four.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, or the song "Keep the Mood" by Empires.
Author Notes: I wrote this in all of twenty minutes after listening to the song "Keep the Mood" by Empires. [AMAZING BAND. SERIOUSLY. Go here: weareempires.com and you can download their free CD, "Howl". Sorry for the pimpage, but seriously, it will blow your mind. I mean c'mon, it's Tom Conrad.] That's where the title and last line comes from. First thing I've written after like, four weeks, so hopefully it's not too rusty.
The only time Jason knew was right now. Just now - a little bridge between past and future that Jason created and stuck to and never crossed either side. That would be pointless. That would shatter what he knew, which was everything and nothing and anything in between. He liked the in between.
David Cook made it tricky. David Cook was something ephemeral - something he couldn’t hold on to…something that wasn’t past or present or future or maybe even living or dying or breathing or feeling he was just a spirit that Jason inhaled like the pot that he breathed like the smoke from the fumes of that bridge that had been burned by David Cook. Fire-kissed fingertips and that quirk of a smile, that little twitch of lip that let Jason know - this was something you can’t prepare for. David Cook falls from stars.
But neither boy-man-spirit knew what he-them-it wanted. The goal was each other - David wanted Jason and his eyelashes and those eyes likes sapphires that had faded in the sun and those lips that were always always wet no matter what and that hair - tendrils of silk and caramel and chocolate and sun spun together and slapped on the boy’s head like a crown, a fucking crown that Jason didn’t even want, he says he liked the jester better. Jason wanted David and his puppy face and his grey eyes that smiled even when his mouth couldn’t and every little stubborn hair that freckled his jaw and chin and crawled down his throat, which was thick like his biceps and pale, all of him was pale, so the bite marks looked brilliant in the morning. Fountain love spouted from rusty bed posts in the rusty hotel room above the rusty bar in the rusty little town that no one loved, just made love in, until sunrise when they left and crumbled. But that was the future. Jason didn’t talk about that.
So his eyelashes hid his insecurities as David’s blood sidled into rhythm inside of him. Silken thighs clenched on David’s hips. David’s moans, not the fake kind, but the sweet kind that just escape, are carried by the air, just as Jason breathes, and echoes each note. They don’t kiss lips but fingertips and collarbones, and David presses his lips to that little dip in Jason’s ribs where his heart beats, somewhere. They don’t breathe with their lungs.
Sunlight crawls through the rips in the blinds and David’s still inside and Jason is still crying. A light fell about him and his hair shone in the sunrise, and illuminated every tear that sprinkled that sea of blue. His throat aches and some of those little tears slip to his cheeks, where David can kiss them away. He doesn’t ask questions.
Jason doesn’t like to think about the future. In the future there is no David to hold him and kiss his tears and beat inside of him like something finally belongs. There’s a reason it’s called a one night stand. David knows. David has a boyfriend or a girlfriend or wife or bastard child or something to attend to back home. Jason is for now, and that is all.
Hold your breath now. Most of what is good dies fast.
Author: insanityxspeaks
Rating: Um, R, maybe? Mentions of sex, but it's not too graphic. Plus an f-bomb.
Pairing: Cookstro. [David Cook/Jason Castro]
POV: Third
Summary: Fire-kissed fingertips and that quirk of a smile, that little twitch of lip that let Jason know - this was something you can’t prepare for. David Cook falls from stars. My entry for scenario four.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, or the song "Keep the Mood" by Empires.
Author Notes: I wrote this in all of twenty minutes after listening to the song "Keep the Mood" by Empires. [AMAZING BAND. SERIOUSLY. Go here: weareempires.com and you can download their free CD, "Howl". Sorry for the pimpage, but seriously, it will blow your mind. I mean c'mon, it's Tom Conrad.] That's where the title and last line comes from. First thing I've written after like, four weeks, so hopefully it's not too rusty.
The only time Jason knew was right now. Just now - a little bridge between past and future that Jason created and stuck to and never crossed either side. That would be pointless. That would shatter what he knew, which was everything and nothing and anything in between. He liked the in between.
David Cook made it tricky. David Cook was something ephemeral - something he couldn’t hold on to…something that wasn’t past or present or future or maybe even living or dying or breathing or feeling he was just a spirit that Jason inhaled like the pot that he breathed like the smoke from the fumes of that bridge that had been burned by David Cook. Fire-kissed fingertips and that quirk of a smile, that little twitch of lip that let Jason know - this was something you can’t prepare for. David Cook falls from stars.
But neither boy-man-spirit knew what he-them-it wanted. The goal was each other - David wanted Jason and his eyelashes and those eyes likes sapphires that had faded in the sun and those lips that were always always wet no matter what and that hair - tendrils of silk and caramel and chocolate and sun spun together and slapped on the boy’s head like a crown, a fucking crown that Jason didn’t even want, he says he liked the jester better. Jason wanted David and his puppy face and his grey eyes that smiled even when his mouth couldn’t and every little stubborn hair that freckled his jaw and chin and crawled down his throat, which was thick like his biceps and pale, all of him was pale, so the bite marks looked brilliant in the morning. Fountain love spouted from rusty bed posts in the rusty hotel room above the rusty bar in the rusty little town that no one loved, just made love in, until sunrise when they left and crumbled. But that was the future. Jason didn’t talk about that.
So his eyelashes hid his insecurities as David’s blood sidled into rhythm inside of him. Silken thighs clenched on David’s hips. David’s moans, not the fake kind, but the sweet kind that just escape, are carried by the air, just as Jason breathes, and echoes each note. They don’t kiss lips but fingertips and collarbones, and David presses his lips to that little dip in Jason’s ribs where his heart beats, somewhere. They don’t breathe with their lungs.
Sunlight crawls through the rips in the blinds and David’s still inside and Jason is still crying. A light fell about him and his hair shone in the sunrise, and illuminated every tear that sprinkled that sea of blue. His throat aches and some of those little tears slip to his cheeks, where David can kiss them away. He doesn’t ask questions.
Jason doesn’t like to think about the future. In the future there is no David to hold him and kiss his tears and beat inside of him like something finally belongs. There’s a reason it’s called a one night stand. David knows. David has a boyfriend or a girlfriend or wife or bastard child or something to attend to back home. Jason is for now, and that is all.
Hold your breath now. Most of what is good dies fast.