[one-shot] Facing Your Demons
Title: Facing Your Demons
Author: b_sim
Characters/Pairings: Jon/Jon, hinted Jon/GACKT
Rating: NC-17
Genre: General
Summary: Jon meets his YFC persona.
Notes: I was prompted by rekkazaal and Dana to write a Jon/Jon months ago. I'm sorry for taking so long to write it out, ladies. :<
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone.
Everyone has different facets of themselves - different people to be in different situations with different circumstances shaping them. One of those facets, I had always believed, was dark and starkly different from our ‘normal’ behaviour, though that too is highly controversial.
Still, simply put, everyone has their demons. And everyone has to face them some day.
I just hadn’t thought that facing mine would feel so damn good.
I didn’t know how it had started. In fact, the last thing I could remember was drinking with Gackt at his personal bar. I didn’t know how I got here or even know which hotel this room that I was in belonged to. I didn’t recognise my surroundings but, strangely, could not find it in myself to care either.
Because kneeling before me was a clone of myself, his gloved hands holding my hips tightly in place and his lips wrapped around my cock.
And he was making me feel good.
Very good.
He wasn’t a perfect clone, that much I could tell, even in my state of delirious euphoria. Though he had my facial features, all of them, and his build was an exact replicate of mine, his make-up and his clothes weren’t. I was dressed (or half-dressed, really) in jeans (which my clone had helped relieved me of) and a simple shirt and thick cardigan. He was dressed and made up as my YFC persona.
And, as his eyes locked on to mine, burning with dark want which was highlighted by his heavy eye make-up, I realised that his personality was also that of my YFC character’s: lustful, sinister and impish.
His lips were tight around me. His mouth was unbearably hot. His tongue was moving against me in ways that should have been illegal. And the pressure his hands placed on my hips was irritably and yet deliciously right.
I choked on a moan and grabbed my doppelganger’s hair gently, my parted lips allowing other soft noises to escape me. I saw the delight in his eyes which was personified just a second later as he pulled off of me to grin. I fought down a shudder - I hadn’t realised just how creepy I came off when I grinned like that with YFC make-up on.
“I’ll be your every fantasy...” he sang softly and, this time, I couldn’t deny my body the shudder. He sounded exactly like me as well and, I had never been a vain person but my voice was one thing that I took pride in and, damn... I sounded sexy.
He started making minute movements and shifts to get to his feet, hands moving down from my hips to my thighs for a brief moment before they started sliding up and under my cardigan, under my shirt, trailing over my abdomen, then stomach and chest, pausing there for a moment to tweak my nipple. And, for someone who looked so strong and dominating, his touch was soft and, in a way, alluring.
Every second he touched me, I felt myself giving in to him. Every moment his hand graced my body, I felt myself being drawn towards him more and more.
I idly wondered if I had this effect on others when I was in my YFC persona. But then he pinched my nipple hard and I was dragged out from my thoughts, making a small noise that was a mixture of discomfort and stinging pleasure.
“You’ll never know such ecstasy,” the other me continued before licking my ear, delving his tongue into every dip and curling it around every curve. I heard him snicker and then his hand on my chest left me, going down to his belt buckle. Undoing it with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around my neck, pulling me closer until I felt as if I was getting drunk on our proximity.
A second later, he was kissing me. He wasn’t shy about it either, having pushed his tongue into my mouth almost immediately. I had no complaints. This felt too good and too right that the fact that a clone of me was being so damn forward didn’t bother me quite as much as it should have. Besides, I didn’t want him to stop and whatever the consequences were, I could deal with them better when I wasn’t distracted by my libido.
I didn’t realise I had wrapped my own arms around the other me until he pulled away from our kiss (or, really, mouth-fucking), soft but harsh breaths kissing me where his lips physically weren’t. I didn’t realise he had also already gotten his belt unbuckled and that his pants and underwear were already half-way down his thighs.
Shocks ran down my legs and arms when he pressed our cocks together, hard.
“Jon...” he groaned and the sound of my name being called in that way, and in my own voice, turned me on even more, if that was possible.
I gasped softly as he rolled his hips against mine again. The feel of him - all of him - against me was tangibly sinful in such a tasteful way that it had reduced me to this trembling and needy mess. The way he started pressing our cocks together, mine still sticky with his saliva, made heat coil in my gut and it took me from simply being drawn to him to actually wanting him.
And dammit, he was moving too slow.
From the very beginning, he had been the one in charge. He had been the one controlling our pace and the intensity of what I felt. Because that was him and that was in his nature. Or, should I say, our nature.
In my YFC persona, I was domineering and I needed to dominate. I was bold and I took charge. I decided how much the fans should touch. I decided just how much I should give as a teaser before I pulled away and dashed their hopes of having more. I controlled everything. And now here I was, being controlled by the same person I became when I was on stage as a YFC member.
It was unbearable. He was giving me just enough to keep sane and just short of what I really wanted.
He continued thrusting against me. The pressure and friction grew more delectable with every single thrust.
I could tell it was the same for him. He was mewling softly and his mewls sometimes turned into hearty moans that went straight to my cock - this was my voice at its sexiest. I could hardly believe that I was actually capable of making such provocative sounds, but there my clone was, mewling and moaning away, sounding almost as if I was the one who was teasing him.
I couldn’t stand it. Or that stupid, smug smirk on his face either. I had never wanted to punch myself so hard before.
“Faster...” I whispered, the strain in my voice making me sound pathetic. I felt even more so when he grinned at me impishly and shook his head, making a small whimper tear itself from my throat.
He kept me pressed against the wall and every time I trailed my hands down to his buttocks in an attempt to control things, he’d stop me. He was unrelenting in his power and merciful, and yet not quite, in his giving. I couldn’t help but think, how could I be so cruel to myself?
“Jon,” he moaned hotly into my ear, continuing his slow pace. I could feel pre-cum but I wasn’t sure whose it was. All I knew was that it was making things much messier and that it was pushing me closer to the edge. His pace, however, would not allow me to go beyond that.
It pissed me off.
“Jon...” He pressed wet, sloppy kisses to my neck, hips still rolling against mine. “Jon...”
He kept calling my name.
It was pissing me off even more.
I tilted my head back against the wall, groaning and wondering how long this torture would go on. He refused to give me any more than what he was already giving and if he didn’t give me anymore, I was going to go insane. A man could only tolerate so much.
“Jon,” he whimpered.
And that was the last straw.
I smashed my lips against his and pushed him back hard. A soft sound of surprise passed through our kiss but he didn’t make any move to stop me from what I was doing.
I ravished his mouth, stroking his tongue with my own. Now that I was on top, I felt that I had regained control. That alone filled me with relief. I dipped my hips down and pressed our cocks together harder. I rocked against him faster and that, along with him moaning into my mouth, almost had me coming already.
Yes, this was what I wanted. No, this was what I needed. I needed to be in control. I needed to control the pace, his feelings, my feelings, everything.
When my chest started feeling tight, I broke our kiss and I pulled back a little more to look at his face, wanting to soak up the expressions he was making.
HIs eyes were still closed and he brow was creased. His lips were parted and he was panting and crying out softly as I rocked against him harder and harder.
That’s when I noticed something odd.
Where had his heavy eye make-up went? And why was my hand, the one I had I placed next to his head, clad in a white YFC glove?
“Fuck, Jon,” he gasped, wrapping both of his arms, which I realised now were clad in the sleeves of the cardigan I had been wearing just minutes ago, around my neck and snapping me out of my own thoughts. “Jon, please...”
Now, he sounded pathetic. And his soft whimpers and look of anguish filled me with a sense of power that was so familiar to me. I felt my lips curling up into a grin and I slowed down my pace, wanting to draw his torture out.
“Jon, faster,” he pleaded, trying to rock his hips up. But then my gloved hands were holding him down and he could no longer move as he wished. He groaned and the sound of it, full of submission, delighted me.
“Beg for it,” I told him, deciding to put him through the same hell he had put me. I leaned down and licked a trail from his neck to ear. “Beg for it, Jon.”
“Give it to me.” His voice sounded hoarse now, like it was about to break. “Fuck, give it to me, Jon... Please...”
I considered denying him relief. After all, I wasn’t so keen on relinquishing my control so quickly after I had gained it. Now, I was the YFC persona and he because the teasee and I, the teaser.
But I also couldn’t deny myself relief. I was already so close. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of my cock and my entire body was trembling with the anticipation of release. As much as I wanted to tease, my body couldn’t take it.
So, I removed my hands from his hips and wrapped my arms around him before I started to pick up the pace again. From there on, soft moans and groans escalated into cries. I was quite vocal when it came to sex and, since my partner was me, it only made sense that he was too. I had always been worried that it’d be annoying but dammit, I could safely say now that it was simply arousing.
“Jon!” he cried and I tightened my arms around him. He buried his face into my neck and clinged on to me. I felt him biting his lips and I guessed he must have been worried about the same thing about being vocal. I wanted to tell him it was fine but the next thing I knew, my shredded nerves were sending strong impulses through my body. Violent shudders ran through me and, with a loud cry of my own name, I was coming.
Then I blinked and I was no longer staring at a copy of myself. Instead, I was staring at the ceiling of Gackt’s bedroom. Gackt himself was laying in bed next to me, sleeping.
The scene was so normal that it intensified the strangeness of whatever I had just been through. But, though strange it may have been, the tent my erection made in the blankets made it quite obvious that I had enjoyed it.
I slowly got out of the large bed, careful not to wake its other occupant. I then quickly made my way to get a cold shower before Gackt caught me like this.
If he did, he’d question me on what I had been dreaming about.
And I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him that a clone of myself, in a dream no less, had been a better fuck than him.
Notes: So. Yeah. I think Jon was kinda OOC but still, I hope you enjoyed reading. Comments are welcomed, loved and appreciated! ♥
Author: b_sim
Characters/Pairings: Jon/Jon, hinted Jon/GACKT
Rating: NC-17
Genre: General
Summary: Jon meets his YFC persona.
Notes: I was prompted by rekkazaal and Dana to write a Jon/Jon months ago. I'm sorry for taking so long to write it out, ladies. :<
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone.
Everyone has different facets of themselves - different people to be in different situations with different circumstances shaping them. One of those facets, I had always believed, was dark and starkly different from our ‘normal’ behaviour, though that too is highly controversial.
Still, simply put, everyone has their demons. And everyone has to face them some day.
I just hadn’t thought that facing mine would feel so damn good.
I didn’t know how it had started. In fact, the last thing I could remember was drinking with Gackt at his personal bar. I didn’t know how I got here or even know which hotel this room that I was in belonged to. I didn’t recognise my surroundings but, strangely, could not find it in myself to care either.
Because kneeling before me was a clone of myself, his gloved hands holding my hips tightly in place and his lips wrapped around my cock.
And he was making me feel good.
Very good.
He wasn’t a perfect clone, that much I could tell, even in my state of delirious euphoria. Though he had my facial features, all of them, and his build was an exact replicate of mine, his make-up and his clothes weren’t. I was dressed (or half-dressed, really) in jeans (which my clone had helped relieved me of) and a simple shirt and thick cardigan. He was dressed and made up as my YFC persona.
And, as his eyes locked on to mine, burning with dark want which was highlighted by his heavy eye make-up, I realised that his personality was also that of my YFC character’s: lustful, sinister and impish.
His lips were tight around me. His mouth was unbearably hot. His tongue was moving against me in ways that should have been illegal. And the pressure his hands placed on my hips was irritably and yet deliciously right.
I choked on a moan and grabbed my doppelganger’s hair gently, my parted lips allowing other soft noises to escape me. I saw the delight in his eyes which was personified just a second later as he pulled off of me to grin. I fought down a shudder - I hadn’t realised just how creepy I came off when I grinned like that with YFC make-up on.
“I’ll be your every fantasy...” he sang softly and, this time, I couldn’t deny my body the shudder. He sounded exactly like me as well and, I had never been a vain person but my voice was one thing that I took pride in and, damn... I sounded sexy.
He started making minute movements and shifts to get to his feet, hands moving down from my hips to my thighs for a brief moment before they started sliding up and under my cardigan, under my shirt, trailing over my abdomen, then stomach and chest, pausing there for a moment to tweak my nipple. And, for someone who looked so strong and dominating, his touch was soft and, in a way, alluring.
Every second he touched me, I felt myself giving in to him. Every moment his hand graced my body, I felt myself being drawn towards him more and more.
I idly wondered if I had this effect on others when I was in my YFC persona. But then he pinched my nipple hard and I was dragged out from my thoughts, making a small noise that was a mixture of discomfort and stinging pleasure.
“You’ll never know such ecstasy,” the other me continued before licking my ear, delving his tongue into every dip and curling it around every curve. I heard him snicker and then his hand on my chest left me, going down to his belt buckle. Undoing it with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around my neck, pulling me closer until I felt as if I was getting drunk on our proximity.
A second later, he was kissing me. He wasn’t shy about it either, having pushed his tongue into my mouth almost immediately. I had no complaints. This felt too good and too right that the fact that a clone of me was being so damn forward didn’t bother me quite as much as it should have. Besides, I didn’t want him to stop and whatever the consequences were, I could deal with them better when I wasn’t distracted by my libido.
I didn’t realise I had wrapped my own arms around the other me until he pulled away from our kiss (or, really, mouth-fucking), soft but harsh breaths kissing me where his lips physically weren’t. I didn’t realise he had also already gotten his belt unbuckled and that his pants and underwear were already half-way down his thighs.
Shocks ran down my legs and arms when he pressed our cocks together, hard.
“Jon...” he groaned and the sound of my name being called in that way, and in my own voice, turned me on even more, if that was possible.
I gasped softly as he rolled his hips against mine again. The feel of him - all of him - against me was tangibly sinful in such a tasteful way that it had reduced me to this trembling and needy mess. The way he started pressing our cocks together, mine still sticky with his saliva, made heat coil in my gut and it took me from simply being drawn to him to actually wanting him.
And dammit, he was moving too slow.
From the very beginning, he had been the one in charge. He had been the one controlling our pace and the intensity of what I felt. Because that was him and that was in his nature. Or, should I say, our nature.
In my YFC persona, I was domineering and I needed to dominate. I was bold and I took charge. I decided how much the fans should touch. I decided just how much I should give as a teaser before I pulled away and dashed their hopes of having more. I controlled everything. And now here I was, being controlled by the same person I became when I was on stage as a YFC member.
It was unbearable. He was giving me just enough to keep sane and just short of what I really wanted.
He continued thrusting against me. The pressure and friction grew more delectable with every single thrust.
I could tell it was the same for him. He was mewling softly and his mewls sometimes turned into hearty moans that went straight to my cock - this was my voice at its sexiest. I could hardly believe that I was actually capable of making such provocative sounds, but there my clone was, mewling and moaning away, sounding almost as if I was the one who was teasing him.
I couldn’t stand it. Or that stupid, smug smirk on his face either. I had never wanted to punch myself so hard before.
“Faster...” I whispered, the strain in my voice making me sound pathetic. I felt even more so when he grinned at me impishly and shook his head, making a small whimper tear itself from my throat.
He kept me pressed against the wall and every time I trailed my hands down to his buttocks in an attempt to control things, he’d stop me. He was unrelenting in his power and merciful, and yet not quite, in his giving. I couldn’t help but think, how could I be so cruel to myself?
“Jon,” he moaned hotly into my ear, continuing his slow pace. I could feel pre-cum but I wasn’t sure whose it was. All I knew was that it was making things much messier and that it was pushing me closer to the edge. His pace, however, would not allow me to go beyond that.
It pissed me off.
“Jon...” He pressed wet, sloppy kisses to my neck, hips still rolling against mine. “Jon...”
He kept calling my name.
It was pissing me off even more.
I tilted my head back against the wall, groaning and wondering how long this torture would go on. He refused to give me any more than what he was already giving and if he didn’t give me anymore, I was going to go insane. A man could only tolerate so much.
“Jon,” he whimpered.
And that was the last straw.
I smashed my lips against his and pushed him back hard. A soft sound of surprise passed through our kiss but he didn’t make any move to stop me from what I was doing.
I ravished his mouth, stroking his tongue with my own. Now that I was on top, I felt that I had regained control. That alone filled me with relief. I dipped my hips down and pressed our cocks together harder. I rocked against him faster and that, along with him moaning into my mouth, almost had me coming already.
Yes, this was what I wanted. No, this was what I needed. I needed to be in control. I needed to control the pace, his feelings, my feelings, everything.
When my chest started feeling tight, I broke our kiss and I pulled back a little more to look at his face, wanting to soak up the expressions he was making.
HIs eyes were still closed and he brow was creased. His lips were parted and he was panting and crying out softly as I rocked against him harder and harder.
That’s when I noticed something odd.
Where had his heavy eye make-up went? And why was my hand, the one I had I placed next to his head, clad in a white YFC glove?
“Fuck, Jon,” he gasped, wrapping both of his arms, which I realised now were clad in the sleeves of the cardigan I had been wearing just minutes ago, around my neck and snapping me out of my own thoughts. “Jon, please...”
Now, he sounded pathetic. And his soft whimpers and look of anguish filled me with a sense of power that was so familiar to me. I felt my lips curling up into a grin and I slowed down my pace, wanting to draw his torture out.
“Jon, faster,” he pleaded, trying to rock his hips up. But then my gloved hands were holding him down and he could no longer move as he wished. He groaned and the sound of it, full of submission, delighted me.
“Beg for it,” I told him, deciding to put him through the same hell he had put me. I leaned down and licked a trail from his neck to ear. “Beg for it, Jon.”
“Give it to me.” His voice sounded hoarse now, like it was about to break. “Fuck, give it to me, Jon... Please...”
I considered denying him relief. After all, I wasn’t so keen on relinquishing my control so quickly after I had gained it. Now, I was the YFC persona and he because the teasee and I, the teaser.
But I also couldn’t deny myself relief. I was already so close. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of my cock and my entire body was trembling with the anticipation of release. As much as I wanted to tease, my body couldn’t take it.
So, I removed my hands from his hips and wrapped my arms around him before I started to pick up the pace again. From there on, soft moans and groans escalated into cries. I was quite vocal when it came to sex and, since my partner was me, it only made sense that he was too. I had always been worried that it’d be annoying but dammit, I could safely say now that it was simply arousing.
“Jon!” he cried and I tightened my arms around him. He buried his face into my neck and clinged on to me. I felt him biting his lips and I guessed he must have been worried about the same thing about being vocal. I wanted to tell him it was fine but the next thing I knew, my shredded nerves were sending strong impulses through my body. Violent shudders ran through me and, with a loud cry of my own name, I was coming.
Then I blinked and I was no longer staring at a copy of myself. Instead, I was staring at the ceiling of Gackt’s bedroom. Gackt himself was laying in bed next to me, sleeping.
The scene was so normal that it intensified the strangeness of whatever I had just been through. But, though strange it may have been, the tent my erection made in the blankets made it quite obvious that I had enjoyed it.
I slowly got out of the large bed, careful not to wake its other occupant. I then quickly made my way to get a cold shower before Gackt caught me like this.
If he did, he’d question me on what I had been dreaming about.
And I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him that a clone of myself, in a dream no less, had been a better fuck than him.
Notes: So. Yeah. I think Jon was kinda OOC but still, I hope you enjoyed reading. Comments are welcomed, loved and appreciated! ♥