Insane Grace - Chapter 1
TITLE: Insane Grace
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Muse or Idlewild. This story is a product of my sick imagination, not written for profit. Apologies to all the parties involved.
DISCLAIMER:A story about obsession and sick love. About utter abandon and confusion. About beauty and darkness. Matt/Roddy
Author's note: This is a very, very old piece of mine. Please forgive the crappiness.
Roddy POV
"Fuck me."
His voice is liquid fire. His eyes insanely blue.
"Fuck me."
He looks at me, his lips red with wine and blood.
He is beautifully insane.
I think I’ll never get used to this love for him.
It’s just too much.
Too much of everything. Too much beauty. Too much pain.
Too much.
Just holding him, makes me feel like crying. Like shouting. Like ripping his chest open to kiss his very on heart. Pass beyond the fragile skin, the white, strong sharpness of his bones.
"Fuck me. Fuck me please…"
He lies on top of me. He is so perfect. It hurts.
His face, all sharp lines and dark shadows over the milky skin.
His eyes blue as his hair. Spiky, tangled, blue strands that fall over his eyes when he sleeps.
He is insane.
He came to me six months ago.
I was a straight, good Scottish lad. Heartbroken. Bea gone after 5 years.
He came to me six months ago with all the glory of his beauty.
I was drinking a beer at the Top of the Pops studios, waiting to go and record our song.
Drinking had become quite an easy option since Bea had left.
He came to me.
Snobbish nose pointed.
His lips parted in a suicidal smile.
He came to me.
Looked at me with impossibly blue irides and I was his.
He leaned closer and whispered "I could kiss you till the day I die if you let me."
Looked at me once more then left.
I stood there, my forgotten beer in one hand.
I was a straight, good Scottish lad. I should have been horrified. Disgusted to say the least. Instead I felt my cheeks going as red as my shirt, thinking how those lips would feel on my mine.
"Roddy? Roddy please…"
He is whispering in my ear, his lips tracing a wet pat along my neck. His tongue flicking over my jugular vein. His long fingers tangled through my hair.
Pulling me down.
Pulling me under.
I am under his spell.
He moulds me like clay and I let him do it.
I cannot help it.
I want him.
Always.
And it’s not only a matter of lust or repressed sexual desires.
I need him like air.
When he touches me I feel like I can be everything.
When he touches me I am God. That’s how good it is.
God… He is so beautiful. So very beautiful. Painfully so.
"Matt… Matt… stop it…"
I can barely breath, his soft, delicate mouth is sucking at my nipple and I can feel electricity cracking, white and hot, from the tip of his tongue to the very core of my body. He has set my brain on fire.
I could eat him. Making him totally, utterly mine, forever…
But I want him here, breathing, sweating, sliding along my body with his mad grace…
He looks at me, his hand rests on my hipbone, brushing softly, moving up and down my side, slowly. So slowly…
"Do you really want me to stop Baby?"
He calls me Baby and I should be angry with him. I should hate this ludicrous pet name. Pet names should be left for Mills and Boons or class D gay porn movies.
I know I should hate it.
But you haven’t seen his eyes when he says it to me.
His lips so delicately sinful.
"Baby…"
I try to speak and my voice is ragged and syrupy at the same time.
"Matt… I can’t think when you do that…"
He smiles. Breaking my heart. He smiles a childish, devilish smile. Licks his lips and then says: "You DON’T have to think. I told you. Fuck me. Baby I want you to fuck me blind."
My body jolts upward as he bites my nipple. Hard. I think he draws blood, but I don’t care.
I am beyond pain here.
He moans softly licking my chest clean.
"Baby… Baby please doesn’t let me beg."
He moves slowly along my body, his wiry frame brushing against my swollen cock and it’s painful and beautiful and I want him so badly I think I could cry.
He locks his eyes on mine once again. His hot breath hovering for a moment over my mouth and then we are kissing. Hard.
I want him with all my soul. With every fiber of my body. I want him completely.
Forever.
His soft tongue passes the barrier of my teeth, graces my palate, dances with mine and God its’ so hot and wet and him and I just want this to last forever.
He pulls away for air, but I cannot breath without him and his swollen lips are my drug and I want him, want him, want him…
We kiss with a sick, desperate urgency and I know he’s insane, but so am I. I must be. Otherwise I wouldn’t feel like this. Like there is nothing but his body. Nothing but the fragility of his spidery hands embracing me. Making me whole and destroying me at the same time.
I lift his lithe body and he looks at me, lips parted, bruised, glistening with my spit. I lick them softly and he chuckles.
"Baby…"
I push him on the bed. Pinning him down. His eyes grow impossibly wide, a shadow running behind his blue irides. My impossibly insane Angel.
I caress his delicate, sharp chin, my body pressed closely over his.
I am so hard it hurts and he moans as I rub my erection against his.
Do I love him? I think I do. But he scares me. He is too much.
He feels too much.
He sees too much.
"Baby… Baby please…"
His voice again. Pleading. A crystal shattering in slow motion.
I cup his face in my hands. Looking at him. Always looking at him. Forever.
I can hardly speak; my body is one throbbing, raw nerve.
"Matt… shush… Let me make love to you. Let me make love to you."
I would give him my heart to eat. To chew slowly. I would give him my heart to hold in his hands. I would give him my heart to prove him what I feel. What he is to me. I would give him my heart, but all I have is this imperfect body. But it’s his to love or destroy. It’s his.
I follow the curve of lips with my finger and he sucks my index into his mouth, slowly releasing it and sucking at it again. His eyes sparkle with malice and lust and I know I’ll give in. I will take his fragile body and break it against mine, a shattering of bones and flesh.
"Baby suck me off…"
I obey.
My mouth moving southward. My hands caressing his breastbone, lazily drawing circles around his nipples and he weaves his hands in my hair, pulling and twisting.
I kiss his stomach, nipping gently around his navel, my tongue twirling into that delicate indentation and he chokes a moan that resembles my name.
He smells so good.
He is so beautiful.
I stroke him, with my fingertips, caressing the soft, hot flesh.
He has his eyes closed, his head against the pillows a shock of electric blue.
I take him in my mouth and his entire body shoots upward. I caress his tights and he relaxes a little. He moans my name, a frustrate little sob and I start sucking at his cock, slowly, almost imperceptibly. My hand reaches out to his and we lock our fingers together, holding on tightly, almost painfully.
My insane Angel…
I build a rhythm with my mouth and he tastes so heavenly you cannot imagine.
I am sucking him off, but it's so much more than this, so much more than a bloody blow job. I wish I could describe the poetry of his flesh, but it would be trivial, it would be tainted by a language that has no words for this. For this…
He is so beautiful.
I am here. Between his legs. His taste, delicate and tangy filling me completely and I feel like I have been cursed and saved at the same time as he sobs my name between clenched teeth and comes with a hot, white flash and it scorches my mouth and I swallow.
I try to remember how my life was before all this. Before him. But I honestly can’t.
I know he’s looking at me with half closed eyes but I can’t move. I kiss his spent, now soft cock. Almost reverently.
I am overwhelmed.
I always am when we are together. He takes me. So completely.
No matter that it’s me fucking him, he’s the one who takes me. He’s the one who has total power.
I am so desperately bound to him.
It’s like a death sentence. I cannot escape. It’s like counting the days till the execution.
And I know it’ll come.
One day. One day he’ll kill me.
"Baby?…"
God I love him.
Yes I do.
I do.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Muse or Idlewild. This story is a product of my sick imagination, not written for profit. Apologies to all the parties involved.
DISCLAIMER:A story about obsession and sick love. About utter abandon and confusion. About beauty and darkness. Matt/Roddy
Author's note: This is a very, very old piece of mine. Please forgive the crappiness.
Roddy POV
"Fuck me."
His voice is liquid fire. His eyes insanely blue.
"Fuck me."
He looks at me, his lips red with wine and blood.
He is beautifully insane.
I think I’ll never get used to this love for him.
It’s just too much.
Too much of everything. Too much beauty. Too much pain.
Too much.
Just holding him, makes me feel like crying. Like shouting. Like ripping his chest open to kiss his very on heart. Pass beyond the fragile skin, the white, strong sharpness of his bones.
"Fuck me. Fuck me please…"
He lies on top of me. He is so perfect. It hurts.
His face, all sharp lines and dark shadows over the milky skin.
His eyes blue as his hair. Spiky, tangled, blue strands that fall over his eyes when he sleeps.
He is insane.
He came to me six months ago.
I was a straight, good Scottish lad. Heartbroken. Bea gone after 5 years.
He came to me six months ago with all the glory of his beauty.
I was drinking a beer at the Top of the Pops studios, waiting to go and record our song.
Drinking had become quite an easy option since Bea had left.
He came to me.
Snobbish nose pointed.
His lips parted in a suicidal smile.
He came to me.
Looked at me with impossibly blue irides and I was his.
He leaned closer and whispered "I could kiss you till the day I die if you let me."
Looked at me once more then left.
I stood there, my forgotten beer in one hand.
I was a straight, good Scottish lad. I should have been horrified. Disgusted to say the least. Instead I felt my cheeks going as red as my shirt, thinking how those lips would feel on my mine.
"Roddy? Roddy please…"
He is whispering in my ear, his lips tracing a wet pat along my neck. His tongue flicking over my jugular vein. His long fingers tangled through my hair.
Pulling me down.
Pulling me under.
I am under his spell.
He moulds me like clay and I let him do it.
I cannot help it.
I want him.
Always.
And it’s not only a matter of lust or repressed sexual desires.
I need him like air.
When he touches me I feel like I can be everything.
When he touches me I am God. That’s how good it is.
God… He is so beautiful. So very beautiful. Painfully so.
"Matt… Matt… stop it…"
I can barely breath, his soft, delicate mouth is sucking at my nipple and I can feel electricity cracking, white and hot, from the tip of his tongue to the very core of my body. He has set my brain on fire.
I could eat him. Making him totally, utterly mine, forever…
But I want him here, breathing, sweating, sliding along my body with his mad grace…
He looks at me, his hand rests on my hipbone, brushing softly, moving up and down my side, slowly. So slowly…
"Do you really want me to stop Baby?"
He calls me Baby and I should be angry with him. I should hate this ludicrous pet name. Pet names should be left for Mills and Boons or class D gay porn movies.
I know I should hate it.
But you haven’t seen his eyes when he says it to me.
His lips so delicately sinful.
"Baby…"
I try to speak and my voice is ragged and syrupy at the same time.
"Matt… I can’t think when you do that…"
He smiles. Breaking my heart. He smiles a childish, devilish smile. Licks his lips and then says: "You DON’T have to think. I told you. Fuck me. Baby I want you to fuck me blind."
My body jolts upward as he bites my nipple. Hard. I think he draws blood, but I don’t care.
I am beyond pain here.
He moans softly licking my chest clean.
"Baby… Baby please doesn’t let me beg."
He moves slowly along my body, his wiry frame brushing against my swollen cock and it’s painful and beautiful and I want him so badly I think I could cry.
He locks his eyes on mine once again. His hot breath hovering for a moment over my mouth and then we are kissing. Hard.
I want him with all my soul. With every fiber of my body. I want him completely.
Forever.
His soft tongue passes the barrier of my teeth, graces my palate, dances with mine and God its’ so hot and wet and him and I just want this to last forever.
He pulls away for air, but I cannot breath without him and his swollen lips are my drug and I want him, want him, want him…
We kiss with a sick, desperate urgency and I know he’s insane, but so am I. I must be. Otherwise I wouldn’t feel like this. Like there is nothing but his body. Nothing but the fragility of his spidery hands embracing me. Making me whole and destroying me at the same time.
I lift his lithe body and he looks at me, lips parted, bruised, glistening with my spit. I lick them softly and he chuckles.
"Baby…"
I push him on the bed. Pinning him down. His eyes grow impossibly wide, a shadow running behind his blue irides. My impossibly insane Angel.
I caress his delicate, sharp chin, my body pressed closely over his.
I am so hard it hurts and he moans as I rub my erection against his.
Do I love him? I think I do. But he scares me. He is too much.
He feels too much.
He sees too much.
"Baby… Baby please…"
His voice again. Pleading. A crystal shattering in slow motion.
I cup his face in my hands. Looking at him. Always looking at him. Forever.
I can hardly speak; my body is one throbbing, raw nerve.
"Matt… shush… Let me make love to you. Let me make love to you."
I would give him my heart to eat. To chew slowly. I would give him my heart to hold in his hands. I would give him my heart to prove him what I feel. What he is to me. I would give him my heart, but all I have is this imperfect body. But it’s his to love or destroy. It’s his.
I follow the curve of lips with my finger and he sucks my index into his mouth, slowly releasing it and sucking at it again. His eyes sparkle with malice and lust and I know I’ll give in. I will take his fragile body and break it against mine, a shattering of bones and flesh.
"Baby suck me off…"
I obey.
My mouth moving southward. My hands caressing his breastbone, lazily drawing circles around his nipples and he weaves his hands in my hair, pulling and twisting.
I kiss his stomach, nipping gently around his navel, my tongue twirling into that delicate indentation and he chokes a moan that resembles my name.
He smells so good.
He is so beautiful.
I stroke him, with my fingertips, caressing the soft, hot flesh.
He has his eyes closed, his head against the pillows a shock of electric blue.
I take him in my mouth and his entire body shoots upward. I caress his tights and he relaxes a little. He moans my name, a frustrate little sob and I start sucking at his cock, slowly, almost imperceptibly. My hand reaches out to his and we lock our fingers together, holding on tightly, almost painfully.
My insane Angel…
I build a rhythm with my mouth and he tastes so heavenly you cannot imagine.
I am sucking him off, but it's so much more than this, so much more than a bloody blow job. I wish I could describe the poetry of his flesh, but it would be trivial, it would be tainted by a language that has no words for this. For this…
He is so beautiful.
I am here. Between his legs. His taste, delicate and tangy filling me completely and I feel like I have been cursed and saved at the same time as he sobs my name between clenched teeth and comes with a hot, white flash and it scorches my mouth and I swallow.
I try to remember how my life was before all this. Before him. But I honestly can’t.
I know he’s looking at me with half closed eyes but I can’t move. I kiss his spent, now soft cock. Almost reverently.
I am overwhelmed.
I always am when we are together. He takes me. So completely.
No matter that it’s me fucking him, he’s the one who takes me. He’s the one who has total power.
I am so desperately bound to him.
It’s like a death sentence. I cannot escape. It’s like counting the days till the execution.
And I know it’ll come.
One day. One day he’ll kill me.
"Baby?…"
God I love him.
Yes I do.
I do.