Marilyn Manson: Temptations
Title: Temptations
Author: doomedloves
Beta:
m_artsa
Fandom: Marilyn Manson
Pairing: Marilyn Manson/Twiggy Ramirez
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash, fluff?
Summary: The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.
A/N: I didn't really think about writing this. At some point I just noticed I had written an entire fic and sent it to Martsa for a quick beta.
Disclaimer: My cats are named Marilyn and Twiggy but I haven't written fics about them. That'd be perverted! This fic's characters own theirselves and I'm not trying to hurt them by this. Thus far I haven't received money of doing this and I'm not waiting for money to come. The quote in the end is by Oscar Wilde.
It was just a kiss and nothing more. Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to think, nothing to talk about. Nothing to think about at night. Nothing to dream of. Just a kiss.
His lips were soft and warm, hard, strong and demanding. His hand was in Twiggy's hair, pulling and twisting the long dreads, the other hand sliding down his back until resting on the small of his back. Twiggy cupped Marilyn's cheek, leaning his head onto the side, licking Marilyn's lower lip.
Yes. It was just a kiss. A friendly kiss that meant nothing more than... friendship. A deep one, that was, but nevertheless a friendship. It didn't mean there was anything other than platonic love between them. They didn't even want to have sex with each other! Or so Twiggy wanted to think.
His hand went down, lower, squeezing Twiggy's ass just a little bit. Not enough to make him shift or push Marilyn away, but enough to feel. Twiggy moaned into the kiss, grasping Marilyn's shirt and pulling him even closer. He didn't know if it really was possible but he tried to. At the moment he thought Marilyn couldn't have been too close.
Ok. So they did want to have sex. Back then. Not anymore. Not now. Not when they had sobered up and the alcohol wasn't pumping through their veins like liquid sex. No, they had just been drunk and Marilyn had been there and Twiggy had been there and one thing had led to another and there really was nothing more in all of that than just drunkenness and exhaustion and the fact that physical intimacy had lacked recently. No groupies, no groping on stage, no friendly hugs after the gig. They had just fought over the past few months and then they were drunk and...
...Marilyn was shouting, he called Twiggy names and hit him in the face. Or tried to, Twiggy grabbed his hand and stopped the motion before the vocalist's hand managed to touch Twiggy's face. Marilyn stared into Twiggy's eyes, the gaze flaming, throwing daggers, and then Twiggy just did it. He threw himself at Marilyn, fiercely capturing his lips to a kiss like no other.
Twiggy touched his upper lip. It ached a little bit, Marilyn had bit it in surprise. Twiggy had let out the smallest whimper and after that he had just let go. Things had just gone on and there was no stopping then.
Marilyn's fingertips were cold as they found their way under Twiggy's shirt and he squealed a little bit. He pushed his own fingers into Marilyn's hair and pulled the taller man closer to him, closer closer closer closer until he couldn't breathe anymore and had to pull back to catch his breath. Marilyn took advantage of that and planted small kisses onto Twiggy's neck before attacking his lips once again.
So it wasn't just one kiss, it was two or three or four or four hundred, depending on how you count it. But it still didn't mean anything. Anything more than something to remember.
At some point Marilyn backed away, sliding his hands onto Twiggy's shoulders. They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, asking billions of questions but giving no answers. That was when Twiggy had torn himself away and ran off.
He was in his own hotel room now, in total peace, there was no one to bother him, no one to make him shiver by touching the right spots in his lower back. There was no one to bite his lip in a way that it hurt just the right amount. There was no one to caress his sore shoulder with fingertips that sent shivers all over his body.
Marilyn had yelled his name, told him to stop, to come back, to GOD DAMN GET HIS ASS BACK TO HIM but Twiggy didn't turn back. He didn't want to face the man, he only wanted to get away or fuck the man senseless at that very spot.
A steady knock on the door tore Twiggy away from his thoughts. For a while he thought about pretending to be still asleep but then he decided it wasn't worth it. And as soon as he had opened the door he had been pushed onto the bed, the same cold fingers everywhere, the familiar lips on his own lips.
He moaned and closed his eyes. The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.
Author: doomedloves
Beta:
m_artsa
Fandom: Marilyn Manson
Pairing: Marilyn Manson/Twiggy Ramirez
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash, fluff?
Summary: The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.
A/N: I didn't really think about writing this. At some point I just noticed I had written an entire fic and sent it to Martsa for a quick beta.
Disclaimer: My cats are named Marilyn and Twiggy but I haven't written fics about them. That'd be perverted! This fic's characters own theirselves and I'm not trying to hurt them by this. Thus far I haven't received money of doing this and I'm not waiting for money to come. The quote in the end is by Oscar Wilde.
It was just a kiss and nothing more. Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to think, nothing to talk about. Nothing to think about at night. Nothing to dream of. Just a kiss.
His lips were soft and warm, hard, strong and demanding. His hand was in Twiggy's hair, pulling and twisting the long dreads, the other hand sliding down his back until resting on the small of his back. Twiggy cupped Marilyn's cheek, leaning his head onto the side, licking Marilyn's lower lip.
Yes. It was just a kiss. A friendly kiss that meant nothing more than... friendship. A deep one, that was, but nevertheless a friendship. It didn't mean there was anything other than platonic love between them. They didn't even want to have sex with each other! Or so Twiggy wanted to think.
His hand went down, lower, squeezing Twiggy's ass just a little bit. Not enough to make him shift or push Marilyn away, but enough to feel. Twiggy moaned into the kiss, grasping Marilyn's shirt and pulling him even closer. He didn't know if it really was possible but he tried to. At the moment he thought Marilyn couldn't have been too close.
Ok. So they did want to have sex. Back then. Not anymore. Not now. Not when they had sobered up and the alcohol wasn't pumping through their veins like liquid sex. No, they had just been drunk and Marilyn had been there and Twiggy had been there and one thing had led to another and there really was nothing more in all of that than just drunkenness and exhaustion and the fact that physical intimacy had lacked recently. No groupies, no groping on stage, no friendly hugs after the gig. They had just fought over the past few months and then they were drunk and...
...Marilyn was shouting, he called Twiggy names and hit him in the face. Or tried to, Twiggy grabbed his hand and stopped the motion before the vocalist's hand managed to touch Twiggy's face. Marilyn stared into Twiggy's eyes, the gaze flaming, throwing daggers, and then Twiggy just did it. He threw himself at Marilyn, fiercely capturing his lips to a kiss like no other.
Twiggy touched his upper lip. It ached a little bit, Marilyn had bit it in surprise. Twiggy had let out the smallest whimper and after that he had just let go. Things had just gone on and there was no stopping then.
Marilyn's fingertips were cold as they found their way under Twiggy's shirt and he squealed a little bit. He pushed his own fingers into Marilyn's hair and pulled the taller man closer to him, closer closer closer closer until he couldn't breathe anymore and had to pull back to catch his breath. Marilyn took advantage of that and planted small kisses onto Twiggy's neck before attacking his lips once again.
So it wasn't just one kiss, it was two or three or four or four hundred, depending on how you count it. But it still didn't mean anything. Anything more than something to remember.
At some point Marilyn backed away, sliding his hands onto Twiggy's shoulders. They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, asking billions of questions but giving no answers. That was when Twiggy had torn himself away and ran off.
He was in his own hotel room now, in total peace, there was no one to bother him, no one to make him shiver by touching the right spots in his lower back. There was no one to bite his lip in a way that it hurt just the right amount. There was no one to caress his sore shoulder with fingertips that sent shivers all over his body.
Marilyn had yelled his name, told him to stop, to come back, to GOD DAMN GET HIS ASS BACK TO HIM but Twiggy didn't turn back. He didn't want to face the man, he only wanted to get away or fuck the man senseless at that very spot.
A steady knock on the door tore Twiggy away from his thoughts. For a while he thought about pretending to be still asleep but then he decided it wasn't worth it. And as soon as he had opened the door he had been pushed onto the bed, the same cold fingers everywhere, the familiar lips on his own lips.
He moaned and closed his eyes. The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.