UPDATE!!! Gimme Danger Cos I've Slept So Long (Part Four B)
Title: Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long
Author: Curt Kenobi
Pairing: Curt Wild/Lestat de Lioncourt
Rating: 'tis M
Summary: In the early/mid ‘90s, Curt Wild is living a rather desolate existence. Until he spots the mysterious lead singer of a suddenly nonexistent band outside an infamous club. Little does he know that he intrigues that lead singer as well….
Disclaimer: Not mine (but damn, aren't they hot?)
Warnings: Vampyrism, Angst, Bloodplay (I guess?), PWP, Slash and Sex. ...And probably a bit over-dramatic or melodramatic? I never can really tell...
A/N: Alrighty.... Curt and Lestat are still total girls Um...it's been eons, but it will now be finished! Whee! ...Liberties were taken; creativity will be blamed. ...This is just really...just sex (hence the liberties/creativity thing) -- maybe it coulda stayed altogether, but hey... Oh! Another cliffie! Next is the last part and two alternate endings....
*hides away again*
--------------------
Gimme Danger 'Cos I've Slept So Long, Part One
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Two
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Three
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Four A
--------------------
---i-'v-e---k-i-l-l-e-d---a---m-i-l-l-i-o-n---p-a-n-s-y---s-o-u-l-s---b-u-t---i---c-o-u-l-d-n-'t---k-i-l-l---y-o-u---
Curt didn’t mind when Lestat pressed him back into the bed, plush and cool satin embracing him. An abstract part of his mind toyed with how this really must be considered some sort of honour - after all, what would all the little brainwashed Gothlings out there do to have this, to get fucked by the Vampire Lestat? …And as Lestat undid his leather pants with the most maddeningly light of touches and lethargy of movement, all he could think was: I want this. I need this. He reached out for something to ground him, one hand splaying across an unnervingly still chest, the other fisting in thick dark blonde hair, drawing the vampire down into a kiss and that unnaturally cool hand wrapped about his achingly hard cock. Curt could swear his heart stopped in that moment. As it was, he faltered in the kiss, his moan so intense, and his eyes rolled back and he almost came right then.
Lestat’s own cock was truly like living marble, all romantic euphemisms aside. It was hard, cool - though, unlike the rest of the vampire prince’s body, Curt’s heat seemed to affect it; as he almost unconsciously stroked his mind as - had to be - more engaged in remembering how to breathe properly), the cool skin got eerily warm.
Lestat’s mind was awash in glittering blankness. He felt. …As he gently start to move with Curt’s almost-steady - somewhat awestruck - rhythm, Lestat finally moved his own hand, accompanying it with a bite to the soft juncture where Curt’s shoulder and neck met. A blissful hiss encouraged him.
“Do - I - Pl -” Curt was incoherent. He slowly made his eyes open, both his hands now burying themselves in Lestat’s thick hair. They were impossibly bright, the former glam rocker’s eyes. Lie looking into the silver-streaked blue skies of Heaven.
“Hush, little love.” Lestat kissed the open mouth softly, silencing any of the words that couldn’t find their way anyways. Curt shook his head, though Lestat knew it was not in displeasure of the affection, of anything physically in this moment. No, it was emotional. Too much. Too teasing. Too…heady. Overwhelming.
Curt bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed. He didn’t want to utter the word at the tip of his tongue, the word he desperately needed to say. But it took him back to the core of this.
He had to say it.
So, to quell his anxiety, he surged up and bloodily kissed Lestat hard, and then he said it, the barest feather-caress of lips against lips:
“Please.”
One word. And yet, it was as powerful as a supernova. “Please” was letting go. “Please” was letting in. “Please” was begging, at its purest. “Please” allowed one to take what they would, or to give what was needed, finally. For Curt, he found those examples to be one in the same for him.
An elegant finger fell coolly across his lips, hushing him. “I’ve got you.”
With seemingly practised ease, Lestat slid Curt’s old leather pants off of him, marking random spots with nipping, just-hard-enough-to-barely-break-skin kisses down Curt’s chest…stomach…his right hip…and the inside of his left thigh as he slid them down to be tossed off to the floor.
He wasn’t going to make it. He really wanted to be fucked, but he felt that if the vampire so much as blew on his cock, he’d come like a teenager. He had to distract his mind.
“So…ah…you - you’ve done…this before?”
Lestat smiled as he leaned over Curt to feel beneath the pillows. As he pulled back with the small bottle of lubricant, he settled back on his heels and replied, “A very, very long time ago.” Curt’s apprehension was delectable. “When I was a mortal.” With that utterance, he was surprised at the strength of the sorrow that hit him. Nicki. Darling Nicki, with his beautiful chestnut hair and compassionate eyes; his long, graceful fingers and love of the violin. The violin, which Lestat kept, along with another, to remind him of the loneliness and cruelty the life of a vampire means.
”You still have the violin, don’t you? No; I understand. After all, it’s only human.”
A soft touch to the side of his face brought him back to the present. He opened his eyes and all that needed to be said passed between them. The cold, dark wasteland of a ruined soul…of a shadowed heart.
They kissed as Lestat prepared them both, this time this kiss hard but tender somewhere beneath the desperation. It turned into another blood kiss.
Curt’s world stopped as they joined. Lestat’s world intensified - everything was crystalline. He moved - back, in - until he was seated to the hilt - and stopped. Curt felt everything, intensely - but this was beyond that, a moment of sensation, emotion frozen in amber, eternal. Lestat could sense every minute detail, clearly defined. Curt’s head dropped back onto the silk-encased pillows. Lestat’s fell forward, dark blond waving coils hiding it.
Curt grabbed and pulled Lestat back down to him. He still had blood in his mouth. He kissed the vampire fiercely, and with one hand, Lestat tugged Curt’s brown-and-blond hair. Lestat pulled away from the heady kiss, the tip of his tongue swiping over his red lips, as he pushed himself back up a little, bracing himself on one forearm as his other hand kept a tight grip in Curt’s hair. The former rockstar was frustrated as all hell. It was too still - too…
“My way,” Lestat whispered with a smirk, his fangs giving the seriousness his teasing tone had belied. He wriggled his hips, just a bit. Curt thrashed, the spark of pain as he caused his hair to be tugged inconsequential.
“Fuck! Just…” Green-grey eyes searched Lestat’s somehow blue-brown ones. “Please. I -” I need it. I want it. You. Please.
He got it. With Lestat’s tattered, eternally damned soul and wretched heart wrapped up with it.
Lestat was amazed, as always, by the intensity of sensation. The tightness, the heat - velvet, clenching - of Curt around him. Of his skin and the strength of his wiry frame beneath and against him. Blunted - some jagged-edged - nails digging into his right bicep, his left shoulder. Thoughts, emotions - loud, swirling, incoherent. Hush, he wanted to say, though he knew that it would be impossible and didn’t think he’d survive the silence.
Somewhere before the world about them unravelled and gave way to oblivion - or maybe exploded and blinded? - somewhere, right before, quite possibly - Curt fisted both hands in Lestat’s hair and kissed him at length. Words caressed the vampire’s lips breathlessly, almost unintelligibly, though two came through clearly enough.
And as it shattered into crystalline shards of perfection, this implausible, lengthy moment, Curt falling apart in Lestat’s close embrace…
…Lestat bit him.
And drank.
(The lyric in the page break is from:
"Slept So Long" by Jay Gordon of Orgy.)
--> To: Part Five
Author: Curt Kenobi
Pairing: Curt Wild/Lestat de Lioncourt
Rating: 'tis M
Summary: In the early/mid ‘90s, Curt Wild is living a rather desolate existence. Until he spots the mysterious lead singer of a suddenly nonexistent band outside an infamous club. Little does he know that he intrigues that lead singer as well….
Disclaimer: Not mine (but damn, aren't they hot?)
Warnings: Vampyrism, Angst, Bloodplay (I guess?), PWP, Slash and Sex. ...And probably a bit over-dramatic or melodramatic? I never can really tell...
A/N: Alrighty.... Curt and Lestat are still total girls Um...it's been eons, but it will now be finished! Whee! ...Liberties were taken; creativity will be blamed. ...This is just really...just sex (hence the liberties/creativity thing) -- maybe it coulda stayed altogether, but hey... Oh! Another cliffie! Next is the last part and two alternate endings....
*hides away again*
--------------------
Gimme Danger 'Cos I've Slept So Long, Part One
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Two
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Three
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Four A
--------------------
---i-'v-e---k-i-l-l-e-d---a---m-i-l-l-i-o-n---p-a-n-s-y---s-o-u-l-s---b-u-t---i---c-o-u-l-d-n-'t---k-i-l-l---y-o-u---
Curt didn’t mind when Lestat pressed him back into the bed, plush and cool satin embracing him. An abstract part of his mind toyed with how this really must be considered some sort of honour - after all, what would all the little brainwashed Gothlings out there do to have this, to get fucked by the Vampire Lestat? …And as Lestat undid his leather pants with the most maddeningly light of touches and lethargy of movement, all he could think was: I want this. I need this. He reached out for something to ground him, one hand splaying across an unnervingly still chest, the other fisting in thick dark blonde hair, drawing the vampire down into a kiss and that unnaturally cool hand wrapped about his achingly hard cock. Curt could swear his heart stopped in that moment. As it was, he faltered in the kiss, his moan so intense, and his eyes rolled back and he almost came right then.
Lestat’s own cock was truly like living marble, all romantic euphemisms aside. It was hard, cool - though, unlike the rest of the vampire prince’s body, Curt’s heat seemed to affect it; as he almost unconsciously stroked his mind as - had to be - more engaged in remembering how to breathe properly), the cool skin got eerily warm.
Lestat’s mind was awash in glittering blankness. He felt. …As he gently start to move with Curt’s almost-steady - somewhat awestruck - rhythm, Lestat finally moved his own hand, accompanying it with a bite to the soft juncture where Curt’s shoulder and neck met. A blissful hiss encouraged him.
“Do - I - Pl -” Curt was incoherent. He slowly made his eyes open, both his hands now burying themselves in Lestat’s thick hair. They were impossibly bright, the former glam rocker’s eyes. Lie looking into the silver-streaked blue skies of Heaven.
“Hush, little love.” Lestat kissed the open mouth softly, silencing any of the words that couldn’t find their way anyways. Curt shook his head, though Lestat knew it was not in displeasure of the affection, of anything physically in this moment. No, it was emotional. Too much. Too teasing. Too…heady. Overwhelming.
Curt bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed. He didn’t want to utter the word at the tip of his tongue, the word he desperately needed to say. But it took him back to the core of this.
He had to say it.
So, to quell his anxiety, he surged up and bloodily kissed Lestat hard, and then he said it, the barest feather-caress of lips against lips:
“Please.”
One word. And yet, it was as powerful as a supernova. “Please” was letting go. “Please” was letting in. “Please” was begging, at its purest. “Please” allowed one to take what they would, or to give what was needed, finally. For Curt, he found those examples to be one in the same for him.
An elegant finger fell coolly across his lips, hushing him. “I’ve got you.”
With seemingly practised ease, Lestat slid Curt’s old leather pants off of him, marking random spots with nipping, just-hard-enough-to-barely-break-skin kisses down Curt’s chest…stomach…his right hip…and the inside of his left thigh as he slid them down to be tossed off to the floor.
He wasn’t going to make it. He really wanted to be fucked, but he felt that if the vampire so much as blew on his cock, he’d come like a teenager. He had to distract his mind.
“So…ah…you - you’ve done…this before?”
Lestat smiled as he leaned over Curt to feel beneath the pillows. As he pulled back with the small bottle of lubricant, he settled back on his heels and replied, “A very, very long time ago.” Curt’s apprehension was delectable. “When I was a mortal.” With that utterance, he was surprised at the strength of the sorrow that hit him. Nicki. Darling Nicki, with his beautiful chestnut hair and compassionate eyes; his long, graceful fingers and love of the violin. The violin, which Lestat kept, along with another, to remind him of the loneliness and cruelty the life of a vampire means.
”You still have the violin, don’t you? No; I understand. After all, it’s only human.”
A soft touch to the side of his face brought him back to the present. He opened his eyes and all that needed to be said passed between them. The cold, dark wasteland of a ruined soul…of a shadowed heart.
They kissed as Lestat prepared them both, this time this kiss hard but tender somewhere beneath the desperation. It turned into another blood kiss.
Curt’s world stopped as they joined. Lestat’s world intensified - everything was crystalline. He moved - back, in - until he was seated to the hilt - and stopped. Curt felt everything, intensely - but this was beyond that, a moment of sensation, emotion frozen in amber, eternal. Lestat could sense every minute detail, clearly defined. Curt’s head dropped back onto the silk-encased pillows. Lestat’s fell forward, dark blond waving coils hiding it.
Curt grabbed and pulled Lestat back down to him. He still had blood in his mouth. He kissed the vampire fiercely, and with one hand, Lestat tugged Curt’s brown-and-blond hair. Lestat pulled away from the heady kiss, the tip of his tongue swiping over his red lips, as he pushed himself back up a little, bracing himself on one forearm as his other hand kept a tight grip in Curt’s hair. The former rockstar was frustrated as all hell. It was too still - too…
“My way,” Lestat whispered with a smirk, his fangs giving the seriousness his teasing tone had belied. He wriggled his hips, just a bit. Curt thrashed, the spark of pain as he caused his hair to be tugged inconsequential.
“Fuck! Just…” Green-grey eyes searched Lestat’s somehow blue-brown ones. “Please. I -” I need it. I want it. You. Please.
He got it. With Lestat’s tattered, eternally damned soul and wretched heart wrapped up with it.
Lestat was amazed, as always, by the intensity of sensation. The tightness, the heat - velvet, clenching - of Curt around him. Of his skin and the strength of his wiry frame beneath and against him. Blunted - some jagged-edged - nails digging into his right bicep, his left shoulder. Thoughts, emotions - loud, swirling, incoherent. Hush, he wanted to say, though he knew that it would be impossible and didn’t think he’d survive the silence.
Somewhere before the world about them unravelled and gave way to oblivion - or maybe exploded and blinded? - somewhere, right before, quite possibly - Curt fisted both hands in Lestat’s hair and kissed him at length. Words caressed the vampire’s lips breathlessly, almost unintelligibly, though two came through clearly enough.
And as it shattered into crystalline shards of perfection, this implausible, lengthy moment, Curt falling apart in Lestat’s close embrace…
…Lestat bit him.
And drank.
(The lyric in the page break is from:
"Slept So Long" by Jay Gordon of Orgy.)
--> To: Part Five