(no subject)
Pairing: Chad Kroeger/Nik Vikedal, Nik Vikedal/Ryan Peake, Chad Kroeger/Nik Vikedal/Ryan Peake/Mike Kroeger [Nickelback]
Date Written: April 16, 2003
Notes: Heavy drug-use.
I watched the flames dance before me, arching up to make shadows on the sky. The shadows had human form too. One was a boy with bright, blond hair like my own and pretty pink lips. He looked too young to be there, still had baby fat in his cheeks, but no one else seemed to mind that. Another shadow danced, not so much with him but around him, circling around and around, his brown eyes almost black with lust. I knew this boy and thought of him as mine.
Someone came up behind me, a hand on my stomach and a joint offered to my lips. I accepted both, but only really felt the burn of the former. I inhaled and exhaled in concert with the removal and replacement of the joint to my lips. The owner of the hand on my stomach kept moving it in slow absent circles, their sweet, green breath tickling my neck. The hand moved farther south and I didn't care, all my focus directed on the shadows dancing in front of me. Especially the one that belonged to me: Ryan.
Ryan touched the blond boy's cheek and the breath at my neck turned into a voice asking me to give in to its demands. I shrugged it off and moved closer to the flames. They danced across my hand like ice, so I couldn't feel their heat. The blond boy stared wide-eyed at me in horror. I let the fire soak into my skin and burn through my eyes into him, wanting it to burn him up for daring to tempt my Ryan. The boy's skin turned bright red, but he was otherwise unscathed.
Disappointed, I moved away from the fire again. Someone was wearing a shirt with a pattern that confused my eyes, but intrigued my fingers. They made odd, disconnected shapes together, the shirt and my hands. The owner of the shirt made deep-throated, interesting noises that soothed the ache in my throat.
My throat felt like a burning desert and my face like a drowning ocean. The blond boy caught my eye again, held it with his, so narrow with concern while his face was so open with love. He intrigued me more than my hands and the shirt. I no longer cared that he was the object of Ryan's desire. He was mine too. They would both be mine.
Soft, pink lips met soft, pink lips. Pale skin against pale skin. Blond on blond, blue eyes meeting bluer ones while angry words hit my ears. I brushed them away and kissed the boy again. He tasted sweet and sticky and wholesome, like cookies and milk on the front porch in the summertime. His skin felt like brushing my fingers against flowers in a garden. So smooth and delicate. I wanted to crush it against my fingertips.
Any words he might have said were swallowed by my tongue as my fingers danced under his shirt. His skin seemed to rush up to meet the hard press of my fingers, trying to reach down and break through to touch him deep inside. I wanted to wrap my fingers around his heart and squeeze it so it would only beat for me. To leave a piece of myself inside him for all time, an imprint that proved he was mine.
The angry words were back in my ear again, this time with angry fingers clawing at my shirt. That was okay, I pressed back against them in welcome. My softness into their hardness as the blond boy arched into my hands and twisted his mouth in pleasure against mine. I wanted to swallow his pleasure whole, but the angry words said something that stopped me.
"Jesus, Chad. He's only 14."
My hands held the boy in place, but my mouth moved away from him; laughed at the angry words. "So am I."
The boy grabbed my face with both hands and greedily took my mouth. His teeth were sharp against my lower lip, making little sparks of fire shower down my spine. Someone was whimpering and the sound echoed in my throat until it escaped into his mouth, crying out for him, the nameless blond boy in my arms.
I wanted to sink to my knees and worship him like he deserved, but the angry hands tugged at me, pushed me away. The angry mouth formed into a thin and unforgiving line before harsher words spilled forth from it. Hands shook my body, but not my mind.
Ryan's eyes bore into mine, saying worse things than his mouth ever could. That I was crushing his heart, uncaring.
His eyes turned so dark with anger instead of lust. So dark that I couldn't tell where the pupil and iris separated. I wondered if they were what a night sky with no stars would look like and so I moved in closer to get a better look. He didn't like that, his mouth snarled something at me that didn't reach my ears. The sound waves stopping somewhere between us, dying on the prairie wind.
There were other eyes now too. The blond boy's eyes stared between us, dark too. His hands pushed at Ryan's chest, making a muted sound of soft flesh hitting hard muscle. It reminded me that 14 and 16 were worlds away from each other, one still a boy and the other halfway to becoming a man. I felt strangely disconnected from the moment, like Ryan and the boy were on a movie screen. Just a screen kiss as the soft, pink lips crushed against a hard, red line.
Boots crunched hard on glass, distracting me from the screen. I turned and stared down at them. I knew those boots. They weren't my friends. I crouched down to pet them, hoping they wouldn't bite. Fingers gripped at my shirt, yanking me back upright before I could feel their cold smoothness against my fingertips. I knew the owner of the boots and fingers immediately. No one else had eyes like that, like ice chips floating in a warm blue sea. They didn't belong there, they should have melted, yet they stayed.
The mouth that matched those eyes spoke. Such a hard, cold line fitted over the soft shade of pink roses. I wondered why the color hadn't drained away yet to match the sculpted snow of his face. The snow moved, tightened over bone, and I realized that I missed the words the mouth had formed. Turning my head, I hurried to catch them.
"Are you high? Who the fuck is that kid with Ryan?"
I batted the first question away. "He's 14."
Sound left me then. It went off to play with someone else. I turned to watch the movie screen again. The frame had changed. Now Ryan and the boy were on the ground. The boy was on top and his shirt had decided to rest on the ground beside them. Mike's hand entered the frame and rested on the boy's shoulder.
Things shifted suddenly. The boy was suddenly pressed into me, his arms thrown around my neck. Ryan and Mike were a blurry ball of red and green on the ground. Their colors weren't as interesting as the boy's tongue wet against my neck. I arched my head back to look at the shadows on the sky again as that tongue caressed my skin. Wet, wet, hard again and again.
Fingers curled into my hair and pulled hard so our lips met up again. My tongue figured out on its own how to swallow his cries as my fingers moved like ghosts over his chest. He kept his grip on my curls as I slid to my knees, my fingers following slowly behind me.
His jeans were an offense to me. I knew they hid his beauty from the world. My mouth pressed in an open kiss against the zipper, demanding entrance. I didn't so much hear the boy's moan as felt it at the base of my spine. It taunted me in its wantonness. I wanted to feel it again and again.
But I was denied. Mike's hand appeared in the frame again, only now it was covered in perfect battle scars. The boy's hips moved away. Mike took them away with his battle-scarred hands. I stayed on my knees and watched them walk away together. Mike's hand spanning across the boy's shoulders, reminding me that almost 18 was farther away from 14 than 16 could ever hope to be.
Boots on glass again. They came to a stop beside me. I looked up to see Ryan, beer bottle to his lips, head tilted back. The firelight hit the bottle, making it glow like amber. Shadows played against his face, revealing and hiding cuts and bruises over and over again. I was more interested in the movement of his throat as he swallowed.
Suddenly the movement stopped and the bottle dropped to his feet. I looked up again to see him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned and stared down at me. I could only see half his face and felt grateful. One angry eye glaring down at me was more than enough.
I turned away from it, looking through the crowd to find Mike, wondering what happened to the boy. Between a dancing couple and a fight, I caught a glimpse of them. The boy had Mike pressed up against the hood of a truck, his pretty mouth against Mike's neck. Then the vision was obscured by a large man with something shiny on his chest.
"Fuck, it's the cops!"
I didn't know who said it, but everything became chaos. Black and fire, fire and black. Hand on my arm, powerful and bruising, yanking me somewhere. Pulling, dragging as I tripped and landed hard on my knees. Headlights turned the whole world into blinding white light for the longest moment. My shirt came up to choke me, the hand still digging into my arm. Then cold metal against my stomach, hitting my knees. My face pressed down into it, making me shiver.
Bouncing, bouncing so much. I turned my head and met up with the boy's blue eyes. He smiled at me. I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position and looked around, realizing that I was in the back of Mike's truck, speeding down the highway, undoubtedly away from the cops. Ryan was sitting on the other side of me, watching the boy watch me. I turned and caught Mike's eyes in the rearview mirror, then quickly turned away.
I placed a hand on Ryan's chest while my other one curled around the back of the boy's neck. No more fighting, I said they'd both be mine and I meant it. Their eyes crossed paths above me as I slid down, resting on my back, pulling them with me. Whatever their eyes said to each other upon meeting on that path, they must've come to an agreement because they rested on either side of me, Ryan's lips at my neck and the boy's lips at my ear.
"Hi." Just a whisper of breath, but it made me shiver more than Ryan's tongue against my pulse. "I'm Ryan, but your Ryan calls me Vik."
My Ryan. I liked this Vik already. "I'm Chad."
He flashed me an amused smile and then nipped my earlobe. "I know, your brother told me."
Before I could reply, Ryan's mouth was covering mine and Vik was sliding down near my stomach. Vik's touch was soft, but steady and sure; Ryan's was hard, dangerous and full of promise. The contrast literally drove me out of my mind, so I was watching the whole thing from far away and backwards.
No, no. I was watching it through Mike's eyes and wasn't that more of a trip than any drug I'd ever taken? I saw myself in the rearview mirror, writhing naked on the bed of the truck under the steady touch of an angel and a devil.
The devil had pretty pink lips that twisted into a satisfied smirk as he slid his hand down to cup my groin. The angel's face was slashed through with a red frown as he met my-- Mike's eyes in the mirror.
Then sound and vision and thought became loud in my ears and clouded my eyes. I saw flowers bloom and wither in blackness and they were so beautiful that I wanted to chase after them. I wanted to follow them down in their spiral descent to nowhere, but bees stung my cheeks and I had to open my eyes.
My eyes dawned upon a God straddling my chest. Pale ice in the moonlight and full of dark shadows lurking beneath the surface. His rose lips were forming words, but they weren't reaching my ears, instead choosing to flutter off into the darkness beyond.
The angel moved into the circle of light and touched my cheek. His lips too formed words that never reached my ears. Then the devil spoke without entering the light and his words found wings to fly. "He's fine."
I watched God and the devil wrestle with words, then lips and teeth and tongue while the angel's cool hands soothed my heated skin. I turned my face to him as an offering and he bestowed me with the blessing of his lips upon mine. So red and hungry, I wanted to drain and bruise them, make them work for me and me alone. But God had other ideas.
He shoved the angel away from me, held his palm flat against the angel's chest and pierced his soul with his eyes. "No, Ryan. They're just kids, for fuck's sake."
The vision receded then, leaving only outlines around their bodies, and they were just mortals again. Vik was licking his lips, his eyes focused and narrowed on Mike's jaw, like a hawk sizing up his prey. His intensity scared me, but I still wanted him. I wanted him to want me like that.
So I reached my hand out to him like an offering and he took it. His lips pressed to my neck so softly at first, it made me shiver until his teeth dug into my skin. My whole body shook and arched up like I had been struck by lightning. Mike's hands clamped down on my shoulders as he tried to keep balance. His mouth formed the word "no," but a groan escaped his lips instead. Ryan quickly captured it with a kiss pressed harshly against Mike's lips.
It became a feverish blur after that. Hands and mouths, touching and tasting. On me, on them. My back arched off the bed of the truck as constant cat-like noises escaped my throat. They didn't seem to mind. Not at all.
Too much, too much, and I couldn't see anything anymore except those ice-blue eyes burning down into mine. They burned in pleasure and judgment until they blinded me. A lightning bolt behind my eyes, then darkness became my friend again and I embraced it.
When I opened my eyes again, only Mike was there. He was still staring down at me, only now his eyes were clouded with sadness. I frowned in confusion as his fingers touched my forehead in a feather-light touch before brushing my hair back. "Never again," he whispered with tears in his throat.
I pressed my lips to his throat to hide a wicked smile, not believing his words. I repeated them back to him anyway, let him have his comfort for a little while, knowing full well he'd be saying those words again before too long. Maybe someday, they'd actually mean something besides a whispered promise always given at dawn that meant nothing in the dark.
**
Date Written: April 16, 2003
Notes: Heavy drug-use.
I watched the flames dance before me, arching up to make shadows on the sky. The shadows had human form too. One was a boy with bright, blond hair like my own and pretty pink lips. He looked too young to be there, still had baby fat in his cheeks, but no one else seemed to mind that. Another shadow danced, not so much with him but around him, circling around and around, his brown eyes almost black with lust. I knew this boy and thought of him as mine.
Someone came up behind me, a hand on my stomach and a joint offered to my lips. I accepted both, but only really felt the burn of the former. I inhaled and exhaled in concert with the removal and replacement of the joint to my lips. The owner of the hand on my stomach kept moving it in slow absent circles, their sweet, green breath tickling my neck. The hand moved farther south and I didn't care, all my focus directed on the shadows dancing in front of me. Especially the one that belonged to me: Ryan.
Ryan touched the blond boy's cheek and the breath at my neck turned into a voice asking me to give in to its demands. I shrugged it off and moved closer to the flames. They danced across my hand like ice, so I couldn't feel their heat. The blond boy stared wide-eyed at me in horror. I let the fire soak into my skin and burn through my eyes into him, wanting it to burn him up for daring to tempt my Ryan. The boy's skin turned bright red, but he was otherwise unscathed.
Disappointed, I moved away from the fire again. Someone was wearing a shirt with a pattern that confused my eyes, but intrigued my fingers. They made odd, disconnected shapes together, the shirt and my hands. The owner of the shirt made deep-throated, interesting noises that soothed the ache in my throat.
My throat felt like a burning desert and my face like a drowning ocean. The blond boy caught my eye again, held it with his, so narrow with concern while his face was so open with love. He intrigued me more than my hands and the shirt. I no longer cared that he was the object of Ryan's desire. He was mine too. They would both be mine.
Soft, pink lips met soft, pink lips. Pale skin against pale skin. Blond on blond, blue eyes meeting bluer ones while angry words hit my ears. I brushed them away and kissed the boy again. He tasted sweet and sticky and wholesome, like cookies and milk on the front porch in the summertime. His skin felt like brushing my fingers against flowers in a garden. So smooth and delicate. I wanted to crush it against my fingertips.
Any words he might have said were swallowed by my tongue as my fingers danced under his shirt. His skin seemed to rush up to meet the hard press of my fingers, trying to reach down and break through to touch him deep inside. I wanted to wrap my fingers around his heart and squeeze it so it would only beat for me. To leave a piece of myself inside him for all time, an imprint that proved he was mine.
The angry words were back in my ear again, this time with angry fingers clawing at my shirt. That was okay, I pressed back against them in welcome. My softness into their hardness as the blond boy arched into my hands and twisted his mouth in pleasure against mine. I wanted to swallow his pleasure whole, but the angry words said something that stopped me.
"Jesus, Chad. He's only 14."
My hands held the boy in place, but my mouth moved away from him; laughed at the angry words. "So am I."
The boy grabbed my face with both hands and greedily took my mouth. His teeth were sharp against my lower lip, making little sparks of fire shower down my spine. Someone was whimpering and the sound echoed in my throat until it escaped into his mouth, crying out for him, the nameless blond boy in my arms.
I wanted to sink to my knees and worship him like he deserved, but the angry hands tugged at me, pushed me away. The angry mouth formed into a thin and unforgiving line before harsher words spilled forth from it. Hands shook my body, but not my mind.
Ryan's eyes bore into mine, saying worse things than his mouth ever could. That I was crushing his heart, uncaring.
His eyes turned so dark with anger instead of lust. So dark that I couldn't tell where the pupil and iris separated. I wondered if they were what a night sky with no stars would look like and so I moved in closer to get a better look. He didn't like that, his mouth snarled something at me that didn't reach my ears. The sound waves stopping somewhere between us, dying on the prairie wind.
There were other eyes now too. The blond boy's eyes stared between us, dark too. His hands pushed at Ryan's chest, making a muted sound of soft flesh hitting hard muscle. It reminded me that 14 and 16 were worlds away from each other, one still a boy and the other halfway to becoming a man. I felt strangely disconnected from the moment, like Ryan and the boy were on a movie screen. Just a screen kiss as the soft, pink lips crushed against a hard, red line.
Boots crunched hard on glass, distracting me from the screen. I turned and stared down at them. I knew those boots. They weren't my friends. I crouched down to pet them, hoping they wouldn't bite. Fingers gripped at my shirt, yanking me back upright before I could feel their cold smoothness against my fingertips. I knew the owner of the boots and fingers immediately. No one else had eyes like that, like ice chips floating in a warm blue sea. They didn't belong there, they should have melted, yet they stayed.
The mouth that matched those eyes spoke. Such a hard, cold line fitted over the soft shade of pink roses. I wondered why the color hadn't drained away yet to match the sculpted snow of his face. The snow moved, tightened over bone, and I realized that I missed the words the mouth had formed. Turning my head, I hurried to catch them.
"Are you high? Who the fuck is that kid with Ryan?"
I batted the first question away. "He's 14."
Sound left me then. It went off to play with someone else. I turned to watch the movie screen again. The frame had changed. Now Ryan and the boy were on the ground. The boy was on top and his shirt had decided to rest on the ground beside them. Mike's hand entered the frame and rested on the boy's shoulder.
Things shifted suddenly. The boy was suddenly pressed into me, his arms thrown around my neck. Ryan and Mike were a blurry ball of red and green on the ground. Their colors weren't as interesting as the boy's tongue wet against my neck. I arched my head back to look at the shadows on the sky again as that tongue caressed my skin. Wet, wet, hard again and again.
Fingers curled into my hair and pulled hard so our lips met up again. My tongue figured out on its own how to swallow his cries as my fingers moved like ghosts over his chest. He kept his grip on my curls as I slid to my knees, my fingers following slowly behind me.
His jeans were an offense to me. I knew they hid his beauty from the world. My mouth pressed in an open kiss against the zipper, demanding entrance. I didn't so much hear the boy's moan as felt it at the base of my spine. It taunted me in its wantonness. I wanted to feel it again and again.
But I was denied. Mike's hand appeared in the frame again, only now it was covered in perfect battle scars. The boy's hips moved away. Mike took them away with his battle-scarred hands. I stayed on my knees and watched them walk away together. Mike's hand spanning across the boy's shoulders, reminding me that almost 18 was farther away from 14 than 16 could ever hope to be.
Boots on glass again. They came to a stop beside me. I looked up to see Ryan, beer bottle to his lips, head tilted back. The firelight hit the bottle, making it glow like amber. Shadows played against his face, revealing and hiding cuts and bruises over and over again. I was more interested in the movement of his throat as he swallowed.
Suddenly the movement stopped and the bottle dropped to his feet. I looked up again to see him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned and stared down at me. I could only see half his face and felt grateful. One angry eye glaring down at me was more than enough.
I turned away from it, looking through the crowd to find Mike, wondering what happened to the boy. Between a dancing couple and a fight, I caught a glimpse of them. The boy had Mike pressed up against the hood of a truck, his pretty mouth against Mike's neck. Then the vision was obscured by a large man with something shiny on his chest.
"Fuck, it's the cops!"
I didn't know who said it, but everything became chaos. Black and fire, fire and black. Hand on my arm, powerful and bruising, yanking me somewhere. Pulling, dragging as I tripped and landed hard on my knees. Headlights turned the whole world into blinding white light for the longest moment. My shirt came up to choke me, the hand still digging into my arm. Then cold metal against my stomach, hitting my knees. My face pressed down into it, making me shiver.
Bouncing, bouncing so much. I turned my head and met up with the boy's blue eyes. He smiled at me. I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position and looked around, realizing that I was in the back of Mike's truck, speeding down the highway, undoubtedly away from the cops. Ryan was sitting on the other side of me, watching the boy watch me. I turned and caught Mike's eyes in the rearview mirror, then quickly turned away.
I placed a hand on Ryan's chest while my other one curled around the back of the boy's neck. No more fighting, I said they'd both be mine and I meant it. Their eyes crossed paths above me as I slid down, resting on my back, pulling them with me. Whatever their eyes said to each other upon meeting on that path, they must've come to an agreement because they rested on either side of me, Ryan's lips at my neck and the boy's lips at my ear.
"Hi." Just a whisper of breath, but it made me shiver more than Ryan's tongue against my pulse. "I'm Ryan, but your Ryan calls me Vik."
My Ryan. I liked this Vik already. "I'm Chad."
He flashed me an amused smile and then nipped my earlobe. "I know, your brother told me."
Before I could reply, Ryan's mouth was covering mine and Vik was sliding down near my stomach. Vik's touch was soft, but steady and sure; Ryan's was hard, dangerous and full of promise. The contrast literally drove me out of my mind, so I was watching the whole thing from far away and backwards.
No, no. I was watching it through Mike's eyes and wasn't that more of a trip than any drug I'd ever taken? I saw myself in the rearview mirror, writhing naked on the bed of the truck under the steady touch of an angel and a devil.
The devil had pretty pink lips that twisted into a satisfied smirk as he slid his hand down to cup my groin. The angel's face was slashed through with a red frown as he met my-- Mike's eyes in the mirror.
Then sound and vision and thought became loud in my ears and clouded my eyes. I saw flowers bloom and wither in blackness and they were so beautiful that I wanted to chase after them. I wanted to follow them down in their spiral descent to nowhere, but bees stung my cheeks and I had to open my eyes.
My eyes dawned upon a God straddling my chest. Pale ice in the moonlight and full of dark shadows lurking beneath the surface. His rose lips were forming words, but they weren't reaching my ears, instead choosing to flutter off into the darkness beyond.
The angel moved into the circle of light and touched my cheek. His lips too formed words that never reached my ears. Then the devil spoke without entering the light and his words found wings to fly. "He's fine."
I watched God and the devil wrestle with words, then lips and teeth and tongue while the angel's cool hands soothed my heated skin. I turned my face to him as an offering and he bestowed me with the blessing of his lips upon mine. So red and hungry, I wanted to drain and bruise them, make them work for me and me alone. But God had other ideas.
He shoved the angel away from me, held his palm flat against the angel's chest and pierced his soul with his eyes. "No, Ryan. They're just kids, for fuck's sake."
The vision receded then, leaving only outlines around their bodies, and they were just mortals again. Vik was licking his lips, his eyes focused and narrowed on Mike's jaw, like a hawk sizing up his prey. His intensity scared me, but I still wanted him. I wanted him to want me like that.
So I reached my hand out to him like an offering and he took it. His lips pressed to my neck so softly at first, it made me shiver until his teeth dug into my skin. My whole body shook and arched up like I had been struck by lightning. Mike's hands clamped down on my shoulders as he tried to keep balance. His mouth formed the word "no," but a groan escaped his lips instead. Ryan quickly captured it with a kiss pressed harshly against Mike's lips.
It became a feverish blur after that. Hands and mouths, touching and tasting. On me, on them. My back arched off the bed of the truck as constant cat-like noises escaped my throat. They didn't seem to mind. Not at all.
Too much, too much, and I couldn't see anything anymore except those ice-blue eyes burning down into mine. They burned in pleasure and judgment until they blinded me. A lightning bolt behind my eyes, then darkness became my friend again and I embraced it.
When I opened my eyes again, only Mike was there. He was still staring down at me, only now his eyes were clouded with sadness. I frowned in confusion as his fingers touched my forehead in a feather-light touch before brushing my hair back. "Never again," he whispered with tears in his throat.
I pressed my lips to his throat to hide a wicked smile, not believing his words. I repeated them back to him anyway, let him have his comfort for a little while, knowing full well he'd be saying those words again before too long. Maybe someday, they'd actually mean something besides a whispered promise always given at dawn that meant nothing in the dark.
**