"Out of Darkness, Into Darkness" Part 1
Zac Efron/Nikki Blonsky/Emile Hirsch Threesome fic
I felt bad about daring Nonna to write a Zanessikki threesome fic, so I thought I'd give her some Hirskyfron to make it up to her. It went angstier than I intended, so I hope she forgives me :P
I wanted to get something posted for the 169th thread festivities on FF, so I'll post this as a Part 1.
WARNING: It is dirty, cruel, and just wrong in so many ways. And this is just the beginning.
RATING: Um... totally R.
“So, I’m the kid, huh?”
“Awww, you know I didn’t mean anything by that. But, you are, though. You’re my kid,” and he reached out and chucked Emile under the chin.
Emile smiled, nodded, and allowed his fingertips to lightly graze Zac’s back as he continued walking past him. Zac looked around, and was relieved to see that no one seemed to catch the private interaction they had just had. He had to be more careful. Sighing with relief, his breath suddenly caught in his throat as he spotted those soulful brown eyes watching him from a corner of the ballroom. Those eyes that haunted his dreams. Those eyes that saw through him with the quickest of glances, and the deepest of stares. These days, all eyes tended to be on him, but those were the only eyes that he wanted on him. And those were the only eyes that looked at him with shame and guilt.
It was of his own doing, he told himself, each time. He had wanted her. He had wanted her again. It had been too long, since they were away, alone, and free. Those cold autumn nights, and those hot summer mornings. And he would do whatever he needed to have her. Even if it meant…. But then he realized that he wanted it, wanted them, as much as he wanted her alone. There was something about it, something about the ragged breathing, seeking hands, the other hardness against his thigh and the round, softness filling his arms that made him feel alive and dead all at the same time. And each time, he went to them. He reached out. His eyes asked. His words set the time and place. And the lies.
He looked away, across the crowded room, and spotted Vanessa flirting with a director. Not bad looking, rich, influential, and 48 years old. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. He seemed to be at every event. Well, he could have her. Zac had done all he could for her, and what was one more lie to keep, one more cover to maintain.
At least it meant that he wouldn’t have to make up an excuse to get away tonight. She’d be making her excuses first.
He had thought Nikki would be his, only his, for as long as he wanted her. And he wasn’t done wanting her. But, he was wrong. In a way. She still belonged to him, with every breath and every toss of her hair and every lick of her lips. With every buck of her hips and every moan and scream that escaped her lips. Even though they were with another man. But the rest of her, her heart, her mind, her tenderness, belonged to Emile. He had taken her heart in New York, while Zac was in Australia. Emile had moved in on his girl, and he had wanted to kill him for it. Zac couldn’t blame him, but he had still wanted him gone.
After that, after seeing him one last time in Hollywood, she wouldn’t take his calls. She wouldn’t fly out to see him. She wouldn’t let him come to her. She said she wasn’t his anymore. She wasn’t his ready-girl, his anytime-girl, his fuck-me-and-go-back-to-her girl. Not seeing Nikki, not holding her and tasting her and filling her, had left him broken. And knowing another man was taking his place, had damn near buried him alive.
Until that night, when he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew she was in town. He had seen her picture on the gossip site, that red blouse, all shiny and captivating. And he crawled to her. Banging on Emile’s door until she let him in. Holding her, in the dark, his hands squeezing her arms and his hips pushing her against the wall, Emile had walked in. Turning on the lights, he saw them break apart, and scatter like spiders. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t shout or swear or throw a punch. He only smiled, and said, “At last. I’ve been waiting.” Wondering how long it would take, before the sweetest honey drew Zac to his nest.
”Go ahead. I don’t mind,” and he gestured towards the bedroom.
Zac, confused, turned back to Nikki. She was scared. He had never seen her scared before. But it wasn’t that she was afraid of him, or Emile, or that either of them would hurt her. She was afraid of herself.
“Go ahead. Really,” and he lightly nudged Nikki in the direction of the bedroom.
Zac looked from Nikki, to Emile, and back to Nikki again. And the realization of what could happen in the next moments hit him. His mind flashed with images, terrifying and exciting, and he felt his heart race and a sweat break out, and he followed her into Emile’s bedroom.
At first, it was just them, alone, as it always was. His mouth was hot on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. Then, his chest bare, muscles pressing against her breasts. His hands were on her ass, lifting her up to him. He was crouching down, his erection seeking entry. He had her pressed against the dresser, her hands gripping the edge for support. She was up on her toes, and he was in her. Thrusting. Hard. Fast. No mercy, no gentleness. He knew that wasn’t what she wanted. In their early days, it was all slow and sweetness. Gentle caresses and loving looks and tender words. But it had become furious and frenzied and pushing and grabbing and squeezing and biting. Sweating. Swearing. SCREAMING.
Emile was watching this from the armchair across the room. Nikki’s, “Fuck! Yes! More! God!” Zac’s ass, his back, her hand in his hair. This was what he wanted. Seeing them together at a party in LA last summer, he knew immediately what was between them, however hard they tried to conceal it. This was what he had been wanting since the day they spent together in New York. And he knew he would get it. Now, he was getting it.
They came like two trains crashing at a crossroads. Two trains, rushing in the night, the darkness, no signs or lights to lead their way. They collapsed to the floor, half-clothed, panting, scratched, and only just getting started.
It was Emile’s outstretched hand that Nikki took, as he helped her to her feet. She stole a quick moment in his arms, a quick kiss, and then returned her gaze to Zac. He was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, pants around his ankles and unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders. His flaccid dick glazed with her. Still in Emile’s arms, she reached down to him. He took her hand, but did not attempt to stand. He met her eyes, and sought… reassurance? Confirmation? All he saw in those deep, dark mirrors to his soul was fear and pain. Yet, he rose and wrapped an arm around her waist. Emile grinned, licked his bottom lip, and reached out one hand, from Nikki’s waist, to Zac’s.
A month later, after secret nights and hours stolen in hiding, they were all together in Palm Springs. The gold-foiled invitations, the lure of Cartier, the hotel reservations made on their behalves. It was too perfect. Too easy. It felt so right, but it was so wrong.
Turning back to the corner where Nikki had been standing, alone, she was gone. His eyes scanned the ballroom, and caught a flash of her red and black darting out the door. He knew he had to make his rounds, take fake photos and pretend that he loved Vanessa for the press and the cameras. But all that he really wanted was now crying in an elevator on her way upstairs.
To be continued...
I felt bad about daring Nonna to write a Zanessikki threesome fic, so I thought I'd give her some Hirskyfron to make it up to her. It went angstier than I intended, so I hope she forgives me :P
I wanted to get something posted for the 169th thread festivities on FF, so I'll post this as a Part 1.
WARNING: It is dirty, cruel, and just wrong in so many ways. And this is just the beginning.
RATING: Um... totally R.
“So, I’m the kid, huh?”
“Awww, you know I didn’t mean anything by that. But, you are, though. You’re my kid,” and he reached out and chucked Emile under the chin.
Emile smiled, nodded, and allowed his fingertips to lightly graze Zac’s back as he continued walking past him. Zac looked around, and was relieved to see that no one seemed to catch the private interaction they had just had. He had to be more careful. Sighing with relief, his breath suddenly caught in his throat as he spotted those soulful brown eyes watching him from a corner of the ballroom. Those eyes that haunted his dreams. Those eyes that saw through him with the quickest of glances, and the deepest of stares. These days, all eyes tended to be on him, but those were the only eyes that he wanted on him. And those were the only eyes that looked at him with shame and guilt.
It was of his own doing, he told himself, each time. He had wanted her. He had wanted her again. It had been too long, since they were away, alone, and free. Those cold autumn nights, and those hot summer mornings. And he would do whatever he needed to have her. Even if it meant…. But then he realized that he wanted it, wanted them, as much as he wanted her alone. There was something about it, something about the ragged breathing, seeking hands, the other hardness against his thigh and the round, softness filling his arms that made him feel alive and dead all at the same time. And each time, he went to them. He reached out. His eyes asked. His words set the time and place. And the lies.
He looked away, across the crowded room, and spotted Vanessa flirting with a director. Not bad looking, rich, influential, and 48 years old. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. He seemed to be at every event. Well, he could have her. Zac had done all he could for her, and what was one more lie to keep, one more cover to maintain.
At least it meant that he wouldn’t have to make up an excuse to get away tonight. She’d be making her excuses first.
He had thought Nikki would be his, only his, for as long as he wanted her. And he wasn’t done wanting her. But, he was wrong. In a way. She still belonged to him, with every breath and every toss of her hair and every lick of her lips. With every buck of her hips and every moan and scream that escaped her lips. Even though they were with another man. But the rest of her, her heart, her mind, her tenderness, belonged to Emile. He had taken her heart in New York, while Zac was in Australia. Emile had moved in on his girl, and he had wanted to kill him for it. Zac couldn’t blame him, but he had still wanted him gone.
After that, after seeing him one last time in Hollywood, she wouldn’t take his calls. She wouldn’t fly out to see him. She wouldn’t let him come to her. She said she wasn’t his anymore. She wasn’t his ready-girl, his anytime-girl, his fuck-me-and-go-back-to-her girl. Not seeing Nikki, not holding her and tasting her and filling her, had left him broken. And knowing another man was taking his place, had damn near buried him alive.
Until that night, when he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew she was in town. He had seen her picture on the gossip site, that red blouse, all shiny and captivating. And he crawled to her. Banging on Emile’s door until she let him in. Holding her, in the dark, his hands squeezing her arms and his hips pushing her against the wall, Emile had walked in. Turning on the lights, he saw them break apart, and scatter like spiders. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t shout or swear or throw a punch. He only smiled, and said, “At last. I’ve been waiting.” Wondering how long it would take, before the sweetest honey drew Zac to his nest.
”Go ahead. I don’t mind,” and he gestured towards the bedroom.
Zac, confused, turned back to Nikki. She was scared. He had never seen her scared before. But it wasn’t that she was afraid of him, or Emile, or that either of them would hurt her. She was afraid of herself.
“Go ahead. Really,” and he lightly nudged Nikki in the direction of the bedroom.
Zac looked from Nikki, to Emile, and back to Nikki again. And the realization of what could happen in the next moments hit him. His mind flashed with images, terrifying and exciting, and he felt his heart race and a sweat break out, and he followed her into Emile’s bedroom.
At first, it was just them, alone, as it always was. His mouth was hot on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. Then, his chest bare, muscles pressing against her breasts. His hands were on her ass, lifting her up to him. He was crouching down, his erection seeking entry. He had her pressed against the dresser, her hands gripping the edge for support. She was up on her toes, and he was in her. Thrusting. Hard. Fast. No mercy, no gentleness. He knew that wasn’t what she wanted. In their early days, it was all slow and sweetness. Gentle caresses and loving looks and tender words. But it had become furious and frenzied and pushing and grabbing and squeezing and biting. Sweating. Swearing. SCREAMING.
Emile was watching this from the armchair across the room. Nikki’s, “Fuck! Yes! More! God!” Zac’s ass, his back, her hand in his hair. This was what he wanted. Seeing them together at a party in LA last summer, he knew immediately what was between them, however hard they tried to conceal it. This was what he had been wanting since the day they spent together in New York. And he knew he would get it. Now, he was getting it.
They came like two trains crashing at a crossroads. Two trains, rushing in the night, the darkness, no signs or lights to lead their way. They collapsed to the floor, half-clothed, panting, scratched, and only just getting started.
It was Emile’s outstretched hand that Nikki took, as he helped her to her feet. She stole a quick moment in his arms, a quick kiss, and then returned her gaze to Zac. He was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, pants around his ankles and unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders. His flaccid dick glazed with her. Still in Emile’s arms, she reached down to him. He took her hand, but did not attempt to stand. He met her eyes, and sought… reassurance? Confirmation? All he saw in those deep, dark mirrors to his soul was fear and pain. Yet, he rose and wrapped an arm around her waist. Emile grinned, licked his bottom lip, and reached out one hand, from Nikki’s waist, to Zac’s.
A month later, after secret nights and hours stolen in hiding, they were all together in Palm Springs. The gold-foiled invitations, the lure of Cartier, the hotel reservations made on their behalves. It was too perfect. Too easy. It felt so right, but it was so wrong.
Turning back to the corner where Nikki had been standing, alone, she was gone. His eyes scanned the ballroom, and caught a flash of her red and black darting out the door. He knew he had to make his rounds, take fake photos and pretend that he loved Vanessa for the press and the cameras. But all that he really wanted was now crying in an elevator on her way upstairs.
To be continued...