Mingled Masks - ch 5
Title: Mingled Masks
Pairing: Brian/Stefan, Brian/other
Rating: Taste In Man
Genre: angst/comfort
Disclaimer: none of the Placebo boys are mine. I don't make any profit with this story.
Summary: Brian falls in love with a fan, but things don't really turn out the way he had intended them to.
Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4
Mingled Masks - 5
The conversation that followed was one Stefan had trouble forgetting. Though he was not present, he had heard it all from behind closed doors. It was part of the yelling. Brian had had arguments before, that was not the big deal. It was the emotional impact it had. The words were fierce. They made Brian cry. It was too late when Stefan decided he didn’t want to hear them. He had heard them all. He had heard too much already not to bother anymore.
~*~
The kiss tasted the way he had imagined: sweet and warm, but it was also quick, one-sided. It was a disappointment, one he couldn’t quite understand. What was the problem, he wondered. He wasn’t used to this. They were supposed to kiss back, everyone did. They all liked him more than anyone else. He was their god. They adored him. Then why, why not him? Why didn’t he kiss back?
He looked up and saw the confusion in the boy’s eyes. He had not understood, Brian thought relieved. He didn’t understand what I wanted.
“It’s alright,” Brian said, trying to reassure him, then tried to kiss him again. But the boy turned his head and instead Brian kissed the air. It was empty, cold and hollow. He had looked so inviting, lying on his bed only a minute ago. His legs spread, a hand caressing his thighs, he completed the picture. Where had that boy gone to? He’s supposed to love me like all the others. If he doesn’t, then why bother coming to our concerts? He placed one hand on the boy’s leg. It was shoved back. The boy jumped up, wanting to get away from him. And for a second, Brian understood how Stef had felt as he had tried to get away from him for another, not wanting him.
“Why?” Brian asked surprised.
“What about Stef, you were kissing him only five minutes ago,” the boy said.
“Stefan,” he said, shaking his head in thought, “Stef is my friend.” Yes, he is my friend, one of the only ones I’ve got. I can trust him. I thought I could trust you. Why are you mad? I only tried to kiss you. People would pay for my kisses. I offer it to you freely and you shy away. Am I ugly? Am I not wanted anymore?
“A friend you kiss? And afterwards you jump everything that moves, including me. And I…” But the boy couldn’t finish his sentence as Brian did it for him.
“Want you to be my lover.”
There he stood, all his barriers put down, and waiting for a response that could either mend his heart or break it to pieces. He waited anxiously, fearing. He found out that fearing had been simple, that there was so much more.
“I don’t want you as a lover! Who do you think you are? Freak!” the boy shouted. Brian covered his ears, bowing his head so he couldn’t see his piercing eyes. He felt humiliated. Why had he ever thought that opening up to the world, showing that he had true emotions, would solve anything? They’re cruel out there, always luring like the plague, catching you when you’re most vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this vulnerable, when all the masks had been put down. He couldn’t put them back on; not for him. For a second he felt free, but it pained him so hard.
He fell to his knees, clinging to the boy’s leg, sobbing, painting the blue jeans a shade darker with his tears. He clung as if his life depended on it. The boy caressed Brian’s hair, hovering over his cheek with his thumb, tilting his chin with his hand so he could meet his eyes.
“Who are you, Brian Molko?” he asked. His eyes were gentle, caring, and in a way, loving as well, but Brian didn’t trust himself to believe anymore. Or did he? He felt how he lost himself, tumbling down in a descending spiral.
“I can’t remember,” he said, and clung harder, feeling he stood on the edge of a cliff, and it would only need a soft breeze to let him fall down. So frail, so scared. His eyes, so inviting.
Brian didn’t know what he was doing as he raised his hand, putting it on the boy’s belly, feeling it rise through the layers of fabric.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked, but Brian shushed him, said him to enjoy it. There was a tear glistering in the corner of his eye, threatening to fall. He didn’t wipe it away. It added to his charm. He wasn’t aware of it. He moved his hand under the clothes, feeling skin touching his fingertips, he felt the little hairs that went down under the boy’s boxer short. Not yet, too soon. He moved upwards, still one hand wrapped around his leg to steady himself, to keep him from the edge, to feel safe beside him, to believe something he shouldn’t. He stroked further, testing, a back so smooth it made his fingertips tingle in delight.
He swayed, then suddenly gripped the boy’s belt from behind, digging his nails in it, and looked up, meeting those eyes again that questioned but allowed. He removed his hand from his back, moved them up the air and stayed there, trying to touch his face in mid-air, trying to imagine how it would feel. He couldn’t reach that high.
He looked down again, feeling despair and longing. Softly he placed a hand on the boy’s crotch, feeling it soft instead of the wanted hardness. He started rubbing it through the jeans, the other hand still holding the belt. He wanted to see the boy enjoying himself through his touches, but when their eyes met again, he saw fear and disgust and Brian cringed as he envisioned himself, how he must look like, like a beggar. Then a twisted smile played on the boy’s face. But Brian only saw the smile, mistaking it as he felt his member hardening in his hand.
“Suck me off!” the boy ordered as if was Brian his slave.
Brian couldn’t. There was something stopping him; a fear held him from doing it. He opened his hand and released the belt and felt himself falling, heard the air sizzling as it blew past his ears. He was flowing. He didn’t want to feel the coming down, the smack in his face. It stung, colouring his cheek red. He touched it, not believing what had just happened. Not him.
“Suck it,” the boy shouted. Brian looked up, meeting the disgust filled eyes. Slowly he opened the belt, the one he had clung to to feel safe, now he wanted to get away from it. The metal burnt his fingers. He sobbed and his vision blurred. He was glad, he didn’t need to see this. But the second blow was harder for he had been too slow. He was so afraid, but he had invited him. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. He wanted Stef, his friend, and he cried harder in hysterics. He was shoved off, forced to watch how the boy opened his zipper and released his hard cock, not something like he had longed for, but a threat that would hunt him down.
“Come closer, Bri sweet,” the boy smiled. And Brian crept closer, like a doubting cat, not really sure if it was meant well. But the boy caressed his cheek, brushing away the tears that were still falling, brushing a string of hair behind his ear. Then the other hand was put on his head and was shoved downwards so he was now facing his crotch, the threat.
With a shaking hand he touched it, the other hand on the floor supporting him. Both his hands fell cold. He couldn’t remember feeling warm. He couldn’t question himself any longer, lost to thought, to himself. He couldn’t remember anything, couldn’t think of Stef. He moved his hand up and down, but it wasn’t what he wanted.
“Suck it! Are you deaf? It’s what you have wanted the whole time. Now take it.”
Brian cringed at the words and shrunk, wanting to flee. He darted out his tongue, but when he tried to taste the hard flesh, to touch it, he couldn’t. Instead he leaned forward, resting his forehead in his crotch, his cheek resting against the boy’s cock. Images of a lost dream floated in front of his eyes. A dream that should’ve been, but that wasn’t. It had turned out into a nightmare and he couldn’t wake up. He felt the tears adding and drowned.
“You’re a freak,” the boy grinned as if he talked to a dog who was too stupid to understand the sarcasm, who mistook it for a compliment.
“I am no freak,” Brian bit back with the last grasp of himself he could manage. “How dare you insinuating such a thing?”
“Look at you, you’re all over yourself,” the boy shouted in anger.
A final smack and a closing door and the bad dream was over.
He felt weak, exhausted, scared and lots of other things he didn’t care to examine. He tried to raise himself, put on a mask and hide his bruises behind it. He tried to pull himself together. But when he saw Stef staring at him from the door opening, he lost it all and collapsed.
TBC
Pairing: Brian/Stefan, Brian/other
Rating: Taste In Man
Genre: angst/comfort
Disclaimer: none of the Placebo boys are mine. I don't make any profit with this story.
Summary: Brian falls in love with a fan, but things don't really turn out the way he had intended them to.
Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4
Mingled Masks - 5
The conversation that followed was one Stefan had trouble forgetting. Though he was not present, he had heard it all from behind closed doors. It was part of the yelling. Brian had had arguments before, that was not the big deal. It was the emotional impact it had. The words were fierce. They made Brian cry. It was too late when Stefan decided he didn’t want to hear them. He had heard them all. He had heard too much already not to bother anymore.
~*~
The kiss tasted the way he had imagined: sweet and warm, but it was also quick, one-sided. It was a disappointment, one he couldn’t quite understand. What was the problem, he wondered. He wasn’t used to this. They were supposed to kiss back, everyone did. They all liked him more than anyone else. He was their god. They adored him. Then why, why not him? Why didn’t he kiss back?
He looked up and saw the confusion in the boy’s eyes. He had not understood, Brian thought relieved. He didn’t understand what I wanted.
“It’s alright,” Brian said, trying to reassure him, then tried to kiss him again. But the boy turned his head and instead Brian kissed the air. It was empty, cold and hollow. He had looked so inviting, lying on his bed only a minute ago. His legs spread, a hand caressing his thighs, he completed the picture. Where had that boy gone to? He’s supposed to love me like all the others. If he doesn’t, then why bother coming to our concerts? He placed one hand on the boy’s leg. It was shoved back. The boy jumped up, wanting to get away from him. And for a second, Brian understood how Stef had felt as he had tried to get away from him for another, not wanting him.
“Why?” Brian asked surprised.
“What about Stef, you were kissing him only five minutes ago,” the boy said.
“Stefan,” he said, shaking his head in thought, “Stef is my friend.” Yes, he is my friend, one of the only ones I’ve got. I can trust him. I thought I could trust you. Why are you mad? I only tried to kiss you. People would pay for my kisses. I offer it to you freely and you shy away. Am I ugly? Am I not wanted anymore?
“A friend you kiss? And afterwards you jump everything that moves, including me. And I…” But the boy couldn’t finish his sentence as Brian did it for him.
“Want you to be my lover.”
There he stood, all his barriers put down, and waiting for a response that could either mend his heart or break it to pieces. He waited anxiously, fearing. He found out that fearing had been simple, that there was so much more.
“I don’t want you as a lover! Who do you think you are? Freak!” the boy shouted. Brian covered his ears, bowing his head so he couldn’t see his piercing eyes. He felt humiliated. Why had he ever thought that opening up to the world, showing that he had true emotions, would solve anything? They’re cruel out there, always luring like the plague, catching you when you’re most vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this vulnerable, when all the masks had been put down. He couldn’t put them back on; not for him. For a second he felt free, but it pained him so hard.
He fell to his knees, clinging to the boy’s leg, sobbing, painting the blue jeans a shade darker with his tears. He clung as if his life depended on it. The boy caressed Brian’s hair, hovering over his cheek with his thumb, tilting his chin with his hand so he could meet his eyes.
“Who are you, Brian Molko?” he asked. His eyes were gentle, caring, and in a way, loving as well, but Brian didn’t trust himself to believe anymore. Or did he? He felt how he lost himself, tumbling down in a descending spiral.
“I can’t remember,” he said, and clung harder, feeling he stood on the edge of a cliff, and it would only need a soft breeze to let him fall down. So frail, so scared. His eyes, so inviting.
Brian didn’t know what he was doing as he raised his hand, putting it on the boy’s belly, feeling it rise through the layers of fabric.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked, but Brian shushed him, said him to enjoy it. There was a tear glistering in the corner of his eye, threatening to fall. He didn’t wipe it away. It added to his charm. He wasn’t aware of it. He moved his hand under the clothes, feeling skin touching his fingertips, he felt the little hairs that went down under the boy’s boxer short. Not yet, too soon. He moved upwards, still one hand wrapped around his leg to steady himself, to keep him from the edge, to feel safe beside him, to believe something he shouldn’t. He stroked further, testing, a back so smooth it made his fingertips tingle in delight.
He swayed, then suddenly gripped the boy’s belt from behind, digging his nails in it, and looked up, meeting those eyes again that questioned but allowed. He removed his hand from his back, moved them up the air and stayed there, trying to touch his face in mid-air, trying to imagine how it would feel. He couldn’t reach that high.
He looked down again, feeling despair and longing. Softly he placed a hand on the boy’s crotch, feeling it soft instead of the wanted hardness. He started rubbing it through the jeans, the other hand still holding the belt. He wanted to see the boy enjoying himself through his touches, but when their eyes met again, he saw fear and disgust and Brian cringed as he envisioned himself, how he must look like, like a beggar. Then a twisted smile played on the boy’s face. But Brian only saw the smile, mistaking it as he felt his member hardening in his hand.
“Suck me off!” the boy ordered as if was Brian his slave.
Brian couldn’t. There was something stopping him; a fear held him from doing it. He opened his hand and released the belt and felt himself falling, heard the air sizzling as it blew past his ears. He was flowing. He didn’t want to feel the coming down, the smack in his face. It stung, colouring his cheek red. He touched it, not believing what had just happened. Not him.
“Suck it,” the boy shouted. Brian looked up, meeting the disgust filled eyes. Slowly he opened the belt, the one he had clung to to feel safe, now he wanted to get away from it. The metal burnt his fingers. He sobbed and his vision blurred. He was glad, he didn’t need to see this. But the second blow was harder for he had been too slow. He was so afraid, but he had invited him. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. He wanted Stef, his friend, and he cried harder in hysterics. He was shoved off, forced to watch how the boy opened his zipper and released his hard cock, not something like he had longed for, but a threat that would hunt him down.
“Come closer, Bri sweet,” the boy smiled. And Brian crept closer, like a doubting cat, not really sure if it was meant well. But the boy caressed his cheek, brushing away the tears that were still falling, brushing a string of hair behind his ear. Then the other hand was put on his head and was shoved downwards so he was now facing his crotch, the threat.
With a shaking hand he touched it, the other hand on the floor supporting him. Both his hands fell cold. He couldn’t remember feeling warm. He couldn’t question himself any longer, lost to thought, to himself. He couldn’t remember anything, couldn’t think of Stef. He moved his hand up and down, but it wasn’t what he wanted.
“Suck it! Are you deaf? It’s what you have wanted the whole time. Now take it.”
Brian cringed at the words and shrunk, wanting to flee. He darted out his tongue, but when he tried to taste the hard flesh, to touch it, he couldn’t. Instead he leaned forward, resting his forehead in his crotch, his cheek resting against the boy’s cock. Images of a lost dream floated in front of his eyes. A dream that should’ve been, but that wasn’t. It had turned out into a nightmare and he couldn’t wake up. He felt the tears adding and drowned.
“You’re a freak,” the boy grinned as if he talked to a dog who was too stupid to understand the sarcasm, who mistook it for a compliment.
“I am no freak,” Brian bit back with the last grasp of himself he could manage. “How dare you insinuating such a thing?”
“Look at you, you’re all over yourself,” the boy shouted in anger.
A final smack and a closing door and the bad dream was over.
He felt weak, exhausted, scared and lots of other things he didn’t care to examine. He tried to raise himself, put on a mask and hide his bruises behind it. He tried to pull himself together. But when he saw Stef staring at him from the door opening, he lost it all and collapsed.
TBC