I won't go getting tired of you - Part 5
Disclaimer: I do not own the Strokes, this is just a product of my sick imagination. Apologies to all the parties involved.
Summary:A discovery of feelings and a reality to be changed
Julian Casablancas/Dave Grohl
The private room is full of people, rich with the smell of pot and cloves cigarettes, the music layering the smoke in waves
Albert looks at me, almost concerned. Almost. He doesn’t speak, just stare at me, he knows I’ll make a mess again, but he won’t stop me. He can’t change the past, can’t make things better, he can only be here for me and I know he will be if I need him.
I can hear the high pitch of female laughter; I turn in that direction just to spot Nick leaning over a busty blonde.
Well that was predictable and now to fulfil another cliché I ‘m gonna check the free bar and God bless wealthy rock stars.
I am knocking down my second glass of whiskey, still scanning the room while Albert is talking to some guy about guitar techniques or God knows what.
I am merrily pissed, the coke still buzzing in my bloodstream and the clean purity of Jack Daniel is making me, paradoxically, more focused on my original target.
I will find you Dave.
You have no escape.
He finds me, though.
His hand on my shoulder and I spin a little too fast for the amount of alcohol in my body. I wobble on my feet and he doesn’t let go of me, effectively helping me to stay straight.
A lingering tingle remains to warm the spot when he retreats his hand. He’s smiling at me and I know the game is still on.
Good.
He smells good as well and I find myself really looking forward to take a journey along this wiry, muscular body.
“I’m glad you made it. I really wanted to see you again.”
“Did you really?”
I'm staring at him. I don’t care what people think. What he thinks. I am a slut.
His lips are slightly parted and I unconsciously lick mine.
I really, really want this man.
It must be a matter of pheromones or hormones or I just fucking need to get laid. Whatever it is I am just one step behind ravishing right here on the carpet.
He has changed into a pair of black jeans and black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms an intricate tattoo on the inside of his right wrist.
He keeps smiling.
And it is really a beautiful smile.
I am all over him, even if, technically, there is no point of contact between our bodies.
Not yet.
I order another whiskey for me and one for him, but he declines showing me a half drunk bottle of beer. I don’t know why, but I am pretty sure it’s the only thing he has drank all night and that puts me in a disadvantaged position, cause I am fairly drunk, while he’s lucid and vigil.
I am still pretty sure I’ll end up in his bed, but I am beginning to wonder who’s chasing who.
I cannot lose control.
I won’t.
I will not lose control.
This is my game.
My chase.
My prize.
I put down my glass on the bar, untouched, and give him my undivided attention.
Time to get serious.
At this point I could try to seduce him a little, a little ego massage, like telling him I think he’s beautiful. Cause he is.
He is a beautiful man.
I could. But I am not going to.
It’s not why I am here. I am here to fuck him stupid.
I am here to satisfy my need and he’s willing.
No more waste of time.
We stand in front of each other; his gaze locked on my face, his eyes trailing along my jawbone, to my neck and then lower. But he’s so very polite and stops at my waist.
Like what you see Dave?
Good enough for you?
I think so.
I take the beer from his hand, put it on the bar behind us. The little thud the only sound I hear apart our soft breathing.
The room could collapse on itself at the moment.I wouldn’t give a fuck.
He’s here. He’s what I want. I have to have him.
His long arms outstretched above his head, the heady smell of his sex, his sweat, lingering on my body, washing away this aching between my legs, this empty space at the pit of my stomach, the burnished hunger that crawls beneath my skin.
I want this man.
I want him.
And I always get what I want.
No matter the price.
Nick…
Not now for fuck sake!
Not now.
NOT NOW!!!
“ What’s the number?”
I ask him almost breathless, the effort of keeping my treacherous memory, my present, impossible desires, straining my whole body. Pressing into my heart with his long icy fingers…
He looks a little startled, like I asked him to explain the 3rd law of thermodynamic.
That pisses me off, but he’s way too cute with that look on his face so I reformulate, clarifying the concept.
“ Your room number. As much as I like the company…”
He smiles again, a little feral, but still, almost embarrassed.
God I am going to fuck him senseless!
He better hurry up.
Now.
I lean over him and I whisper into his ear, the closeness of his warm skin enticing…
"I want to… I want to go to your room. I want to lay my hands on your body… I want to hear your voice while I fuck your ass... Am I being clear enough?”
His eyes are the darkest richest chocolate. Hooded in the dim light.
His hand is tanned, large and surprisingly soft,he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, keeping his eyes on mine.
His voice is a bare whisper.
“245”
Summary:A discovery of feelings and a reality to be changed
Julian Casablancas/Dave Grohl
The private room is full of people, rich with the smell of pot and cloves cigarettes, the music layering the smoke in waves
Albert looks at me, almost concerned. Almost. He doesn’t speak, just stare at me, he knows I’ll make a mess again, but he won’t stop me. He can’t change the past, can’t make things better, he can only be here for me and I know he will be if I need him.
I can hear the high pitch of female laughter; I turn in that direction just to spot Nick leaning over a busty blonde.
Well that was predictable and now to fulfil another cliché I ‘m gonna check the free bar and God bless wealthy rock stars.
I am knocking down my second glass of whiskey, still scanning the room while Albert is talking to some guy about guitar techniques or God knows what.
I am merrily pissed, the coke still buzzing in my bloodstream and the clean purity of Jack Daniel is making me, paradoxically, more focused on my original target.
I will find you Dave.
You have no escape.
He finds me, though.
His hand on my shoulder and I spin a little too fast for the amount of alcohol in my body. I wobble on my feet and he doesn’t let go of me, effectively helping me to stay straight.
A lingering tingle remains to warm the spot when he retreats his hand. He’s smiling at me and I know the game is still on.
Good.
He smells good as well and I find myself really looking forward to take a journey along this wiry, muscular body.
“I’m glad you made it. I really wanted to see you again.”
“Did you really?”
I'm staring at him. I don’t care what people think. What he thinks. I am a slut.
His lips are slightly parted and I unconsciously lick mine.
I really, really want this man.
It must be a matter of pheromones or hormones or I just fucking need to get laid. Whatever it is I am just one step behind ravishing right here on the carpet.
He has changed into a pair of black jeans and black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms an intricate tattoo on the inside of his right wrist.
He keeps smiling.
And it is really a beautiful smile.
I am all over him, even if, technically, there is no point of contact between our bodies.
Not yet.
I order another whiskey for me and one for him, but he declines showing me a half drunk bottle of beer. I don’t know why, but I am pretty sure it’s the only thing he has drank all night and that puts me in a disadvantaged position, cause I am fairly drunk, while he’s lucid and vigil.
I am still pretty sure I’ll end up in his bed, but I am beginning to wonder who’s chasing who.
I cannot lose control.
I won’t.
I will not lose control.
This is my game.
My chase.
My prize.
I put down my glass on the bar, untouched, and give him my undivided attention.
Time to get serious.
At this point I could try to seduce him a little, a little ego massage, like telling him I think he’s beautiful. Cause he is.
He is a beautiful man.
I could. But I am not going to.
It’s not why I am here. I am here to fuck him stupid.
I am here to satisfy my need and he’s willing.
No more waste of time.
We stand in front of each other; his gaze locked on my face, his eyes trailing along my jawbone, to my neck and then lower. But he’s so very polite and stops at my waist.
Like what you see Dave?
Good enough for you?
I think so.
I take the beer from his hand, put it on the bar behind us. The little thud the only sound I hear apart our soft breathing.
The room could collapse on itself at the moment.I wouldn’t give a fuck.
He’s here. He’s what I want. I have to have him.
His long arms outstretched above his head, the heady smell of his sex, his sweat, lingering on my body, washing away this aching between my legs, this empty space at the pit of my stomach, the burnished hunger that crawls beneath my skin.
I want this man.
I want him.
And I always get what I want.
No matter the price.
Nick…
Not now for fuck sake!
Not now.
NOT NOW!!!
“ What’s the number?”
I ask him almost breathless, the effort of keeping my treacherous memory, my present, impossible desires, straining my whole body. Pressing into my heart with his long icy fingers…
He looks a little startled, like I asked him to explain the 3rd law of thermodynamic.
That pisses me off, but he’s way too cute with that look on his face so I reformulate, clarifying the concept.
“ Your room number. As much as I like the company…”
He smiles again, a little feral, but still, almost embarrassed.
God I am going to fuck him senseless!
He better hurry up.
Now.
I lean over him and I whisper into his ear, the closeness of his warm skin enticing…
"I want to… I want to go to your room. I want to lay my hands on your body… I want to hear your voice while I fuck your ass... Am I being clear enough?”
His eyes are the darkest richest chocolate. Hooded in the dim light.
His hand is tanned, large and surprisingly soft,he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, keeping his eyes on mine.
His voice is a bare whisper.
“245”