Sick and horny
Title: Sick and horny
Author: Me-Rebecka
Chapter: Standalone
Pairing: Pierre/David
Summary: David is sick, but he can't go to sleep until his little problem is solved
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: YES! I got my laptop cord-y thing today!
It was one of those weeks when I got sick. It happened often, but not often enough for me to have to cancel a show. Or three, for that matter. This was no ordinary flu. No, this was the death flu here to take it's toll on the short life I had enjoyed living. It started with me being hoarse after a show, which always happened anyway, and then the next day I was bedridden, waiting for Death to come for me.
Okay, so I'm over-dramatic, big deal! I keep hearing that from everyone as they come bring me soup in the hotel room. I even heard Chuck joke about not needing me for the show, which made me feel ten times worse. All I ever did was complain, I know, but I can't help it. That's just me, the Life and Times of David Desroisers. If it wasn't already a book, it should be.
Anyway, so here I am, isolated from everyone else because they don't want to get the Death Flu. They're in the next room partying and drinking and not sharing with me, which makes me want to kick them all. But since that would only hurt me more, I think I'm going to hold off on that.
All I can think about is what Pierre is doing. Is he drinking his favorite drink, getting drunk, stripping? If I know Pierre, the answer to all of those is yes. Why should he care about his lonely, sickly, dying boyfriend in the next room? Those words make me groan and I sighed deeply into my pillow. I should call them, just to ruin their night.
I, however, don't call them and find myself drifting off to sleep. That only lasts for a few minutes, though, because every time I close my eyes I see Pierre stripping for Chuck, Jeff, and Sebastien while Patrick films it, and all I can do is groan louder as I feel my lower half grow hot. I'm to tired to do anything with myself right now, but I'm too sick to let myself go on with a hard-on for much longer.
I do my best to ignore the throbbing feeling in my groin, but it's not going away. And it's not helping that I can hear Chuck yell, “Take it off!” I know he's drunk, but I'm sure that Pierre is stripping. He always does, for me at least. Oh great, I'm just making it worse! I sigh and force my eyes shut and listen to the sounds from the other room.
When this doesn't distract me from the almost painful erection that had formed completely, I lift my hand slowly and push it down my boxers. This, however, takes all my remaining strength and I fall short of my mission.
For the next thirty seconds I sit with nothing but dirty thoughts of Pierre in my head. It's going around in circles, making my stomach hurt because I can't release without Pierre's help and I know I'm going to die now from a never ending hard-on that is all Pierre's fault anyway. When forty-five seconds rolls around, I give in to my body and call Pierre's cell phone. He answers on the third ring and I can actually hear him answer in the other room.
“David? What do you need?”
“You,” I croak.
“Huh?”
“Come over here,” I say, but my voice is to scratchy for even me to decipher what I'm saying.
“I can't understand you...”
“Get your ass over here!” I say, and I know he hears 'ass' and 'here'.
“I'm coming right now, hang on.”
Ten seconds later I see him at the door, so I hang up my phone and fold my arms.
“What's up?” Pierre asks sweetly, sitting down next to me.
“Water?” I said, trying to delay the smirk I knew would be coming. Magically, he understands me, and brings me a cup of water from the faucet in the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I say, but he doesn't hear this.
“Is that all?”
“Um...Can you...stay with me?” I ask, but only 'stay...me' comes out.
Pierre, however, gets the point and nods. He slips into the bed next to me and wraps an arm around my waist.
“Pierre,” I sigh/croak. “I need to get rid...of this,” I say, pointing down, wondering how I'd lasted this long.
His smirk grows bigger as my frown becomes a sly smile. It only takes a few moments of Pierre's magic hands and hot tongue to make my body feel better. I sigh contently when he moves back up to my mouth and kisses me deeply, despite being warned by Dr. Chuck.
“You'll get sick,” I said.
“It's okay. If I get an awesome blow job, I'll get sick any day.”
I smiled and pulled him closer. He allows me to kiss him before my eyes slid shut because I'm to tired to hold them open.
“Were you stripping over there?”
He almost laughs, but restrains himself.
“You know I only strip for you...”
I smile and lean into his body. Before I can help it, I fall asleep.
***
When I awake in the morning Pierre is still in bed. I feel more energized and I think I can get up without any help. I walk to the bathroom and back before dropping back down to the bed and shaking Pierre awake.
“Huh?”
“Wake up,” I say. My voice is back, but it's still sightly hoarse.
“Uhghh,” is all he says.
I laugh and move his hair out of his face, feeling a slight fever from his forehead. I almost laugh.
“What?” he demands.
“I think you're getting sick.”
He glares at me, but I smile sweetly at him.
“Remember last night? You said you'd get sick any day for an awesome blow job.”
“When I wasn't sick,” Pierre says, turning away from me. “But now would be a good time for that awesome blow job.”
I play with his hair until he is awake. He groans again, but finally allows me to repay the favor from last night. I don't know why, but I enjoy revenge. This kind of revenge is good, though. Both Pierre and I benefit from being sick this time, because we're both sick and horny.
A/N: No idea where this came from...I was just writing random things to fill my P/D file back up, because I am completely out without an ounce of inspiration...But at least now I can use my laptop!!!
Author: Me-Rebecka
Chapter: Standalone
Pairing: Pierre/David
Summary: David is sick, but he can't go to sleep until his little problem is solved
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: YES! I got my laptop cord-y thing today!
It was one of those weeks when I got sick. It happened often, but not often enough for me to have to cancel a show. Or three, for that matter. This was no ordinary flu. No, this was the death flu here to take it's toll on the short life I had enjoyed living. It started with me being hoarse after a show, which always happened anyway, and then the next day I was bedridden, waiting for Death to come for me.
Okay, so I'm over-dramatic, big deal! I keep hearing that from everyone as they come bring me soup in the hotel room. I even heard Chuck joke about not needing me for the show, which made me feel ten times worse. All I ever did was complain, I know, but I can't help it. That's just me, the Life and Times of David Desroisers. If it wasn't already a book, it should be.
Anyway, so here I am, isolated from everyone else because they don't want to get the Death Flu. They're in the next room partying and drinking and not sharing with me, which makes me want to kick them all. But since that would only hurt me more, I think I'm going to hold off on that.
All I can think about is what Pierre is doing. Is he drinking his favorite drink, getting drunk, stripping? If I know Pierre, the answer to all of those is yes. Why should he care about his lonely, sickly, dying boyfriend in the next room? Those words make me groan and I sighed deeply into my pillow. I should call them, just to ruin their night.
I, however, don't call them and find myself drifting off to sleep. That only lasts for a few minutes, though, because every time I close my eyes I see Pierre stripping for Chuck, Jeff, and Sebastien while Patrick films it, and all I can do is groan louder as I feel my lower half grow hot. I'm to tired to do anything with myself right now, but I'm too sick to let myself go on with a hard-on for much longer.
I do my best to ignore the throbbing feeling in my groin, but it's not going away. And it's not helping that I can hear Chuck yell, “Take it off!” I know he's drunk, but I'm sure that Pierre is stripping. He always does, for me at least. Oh great, I'm just making it worse! I sigh and force my eyes shut and listen to the sounds from the other room.
When this doesn't distract me from the almost painful erection that had formed completely, I lift my hand slowly and push it down my boxers. This, however, takes all my remaining strength and I fall short of my mission.
For the next thirty seconds I sit with nothing but dirty thoughts of Pierre in my head. It's going around in circles, making my stomach hurt because I can't release without Pierre's help and I know I'm going to die now from a never ending hard-on that is all Pierre's fault anyway. When forty-five seconds rolls around, I give in to my body and call Pierre's cell phone. He answers on the third ring and I can actually hear him answer in the other room.
“David? What do you need?”
“You,” I croak.
“Huh?”
“Come over here,” I say, but my voice is to scratchy for even me to decipher what I'm saying.
“I can't understand you...”
“Get your ass over here!” I say, and I know he hears 'ass' and 'here'.
“I'm coming right now, hang on.”
Ten seconds later I see him at the door, so I hang up my phone and fold my arms.
“What's up?” Pierre asks sweetly, sitting down next to me.
“Water?” I said, trying to delay the smirk I knew would be coming. Magically, he understands me, and brings me a cup of water from the faucet in the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I say, but he doesn't hear this.
“Is that all?”
“Um...Can you...stay with me?” I ask, but only 'stay...me' comes out.
Pierre, however, gets the point and nods. He slips into the bed next to me and wraps an arm around my waist.
“Pierre,” I sigh/croak. “I need to get rid...of this,” I say, pointing down, wondering how I'd lasted this long.
His smirk grows bigger as my frown becomes a sly smile. It only takes a few moments of Pierre's magic hands and hot tongue to make my body feel better. I sigh contently when he moves back up to my mouth and kisses me deeply, despite being warned by Dr. Chuck.
“You'll get sick,” I said.
“It's okay. If I get an awesome blow job, I'll get sick any day.”
I smiled and pulled him closer. He allows me to kiss him before my eyes slid shut because I'm to tired to hold them open.
“Were you stripping over there?”
He almost laughs, but restrains himself.
“You know I only strip for you...”
I smile and lean into his body. Before I can help it, I fall asleep.
***
When I awake in the morning Pierre is still in bed. I feel more energized and I think I can get up without any help. I walk to the bathroom and back before dropping back down to the bed and shaking Pierre awake.
“Huh?”
“Wake up,” I say. My voice is back, but it's still sightly hoarse.
“Uhghh,” is all he says.
I laugh and move his hair out of his face, feeling a slight fever from his forehead. I almost laugh.
“What?” he demands.
“I think you're getting sick.”
He glares at me, but I smile sweetly at him.
“Remember last night? You said you'd get sick any day for an awesome blow job.”
“When I wasn't sick,” Pierre says, turning away from me. “But now would be a good time for that awesome blow job.”
I play with his hair until he is awake. He groans again, but finally allows me to repay the favor from last night. I don't know why, but I enjoy revenge. This kind of revenge is good, though. Both Pierre and I benefit from being sick this time, because we're both sick and horny.
A/N: No idea where this came from...I was just writing random things to fill my P/D file back up, because I am completely out without an ounce of inspiration...But at least now I can use my laptop!!!