(no subject)
This is my first official post on this community... So hi :D
I'm the only guy (apparently) who has a thing for NIN/APC/MM mansex... so uh... hello ladies?
This is also my first posting of fanfiction... ever... Though I've written a good lot of it. So if you read, tell me what you think and give me a little constructive criticizm? I tend to try to keep my story lines consistant with real life events, like this one is based off of Jeordie and Manson's repetitive mentioning of "that one time they went drinking. Ofcourse they're still buddies! :D."
Anyway, enjoy!... I guess...
Title: Something Sharp (Pt. 1/1? I'll continue if people like it...)
Genre: angst
Time: 2002 - After Jeordie left Marilyn Manson
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Manson/Jeordie
Characters: Jeordie White, Marilyn Manson
Warnings/Spoilers: Angsty angst-angst and man-groping in a bathroom
Disclaimer: As far as I am conciously aware, this is not true... Its only what I think happened... >>;
Summary: Jeordie has moved on from his older days with Marilyn Manson, but something is stunting his growth...
I felt something sharp in my gut…
The realization and the result… but this wasn’t anything new…
I’ve been sleeping a lot… And drinking. But I really can’t do coke anymore… And no more fucking whiskey either. It reminds me of the worst things, and it makes everything that much more difficult to handle.
It became easy.
You know… Wake up with a headache and memories too… drink it all away…
I look at myself in the mirror sometimes… I see a reflection of someone new and different... I haven’t changed… not yet… But there is something in the face… A human flesh tone… deep dark circles around my semi-sunken, tired eyes…
I don’t know this fucker.
I tried to get a new gig… I’d be called in, try out and never get a call back. To celebrate my failure, I’d drink more and see how long I can go before I pass out. At least the booze made the memories feel decent…
I didn’t know how long it had really been since that day, but I woke up to the shrill beep of my answering machine and his fucking voice.
“Twiggy… Hey, its been a while, man… Why don’t we go out and drink sometime, and-“
Dick. Must have convieniently forgotten all about the last time we spoke… It wasn’t exactly pleasant after all…
I interrupted quickly, my voice dry and broken… I think I ended up puking everywhere last night.. I don’t really remember all that well to be honest.
“Yeah." I coughed, "Lets go tonight.”
“God damn, Twiggy. You sound like shit.” He said.
“Thanks, asshole.”
There I sat… Alone in a booth in the corner of an unfamiliar bar.
For all I knew, he would stand me up.
My fingers were curled around my glass. Lemon Drop. for good time’s sake.
My tongue ran over my teeth… I didn’t like the sick taste in my mouth… It wasn’t from the drink… It was from the atmosphere.
I was slowly getting more and more wasted, forgetting my issues and trying to understand the swirls in the wooden table under my arms, when he appeared like the rock star he was. His hair was cropped… He was wearing eyeliner and lipstick. I was in a black long-sleeve and jeans…
“You cut your hair…” he said, sliding into the booth and ordering a drink. He smiled halfly at me.
“Yeah…” I sighed, avoiding eye contact and took a sip of my drink.
“I used to like to pull it…” he grinned sharply, his eyes going flirty, like when he chooses his slut. I suppose the look on my face made him stop, as he instantly scratched his head and looked off a bit.
“How have you been, Twiggy? It’s been a long time since we really spoke last.”
“I’ve been drunk.” I grumbled, letting my head hang for a moment before pushing my hair up with a free hand. “How about you?”
“I’ve been okay…” He hesitated a little… I knew he was trying to think of something besides Dita. “Tim is catching up pretty well…” he sighed.
There was a long pause…
He graciously took his drink and swallowed it down like a true alcoholic, and as if it was instant liquid courage, he abruptly spoke… But almost in a whisper, staring me straight in the eye… It’s almost humorous now that I think about it.
“Why couldn’t you just… keep going, Twiggy? Everything was perfect…”
Perfect? Fuck perfect. I knew what he really meant… It wasn’t about the band… It wasn’t about the fucking image either… It was about us… We’d grown from two kids who swore it was only experimentation to us and a joke to our friends, to two men who could barely speak like adults about what it had become…
“Perfect? Fuck you.” I hissed, getting up abruptly and sliding from the booth as quickly as I could. The booze made my stomach warm… Standing up against him felt so damn good.
“Don’t leave… I didn’t mean anything by it…” he said trying desperately not to sound… well… desperate, but he failed miserably.
“I’m not fucking leaving. I have to take a god damn piss…” I snarled and stormed into the bathroom.
*
The relief was sweet…
I pressed my forehead against the cool white tile on the wall as I pissed into the urinal. It felt like I’d been saving it up for a week or something, and I’m not sure if it was the booze talking, but it felt symbolic in a way…
It was cool and quiet in the bathroom… Nobody was using it yet, and it still smelled nice from the last time someone cleaned it. I felt a little guilty for ruining a fresh urinal cake, but it was worth it. Best god damn pee in my life.
I was washing my hands at the sink when I saw the reflection in the mirror of someone approaching me from behind. It startled me because I hadn’t heard anyone come in, but I almost instantly knew who it was…
“What the f-“ I began, but Marilyn slid his hands under my arms and down my front, making me stop. I closed my eyes… He knew I used to love it when he did that…
“What?” I grunted, breaking myself away from the trap he was placing, glaring at him through the mirror, squirming at his touch to make him stop… My reaction must have surprised him, but he didn't stop.
“I’m sorry, Jeordie… I really am…” he purred, his lips brushing against my ear and I felt the muscles in my stomach tense… He never called me Jeordie unless he was really fucking serious, and he never said sorry… ever.
His fingers were sliding up the inside of my thigh and I turned and pushed him back, shaking my head.
“Come on, Marilyn…” I said, turning and pressing my ass against the sink. He pulled forward once more, his height intimidating me a bit… And he leaned in and kissed my neck.
I was going to say something, but his fingers began to slide up my shirt and I whimpered as they glided over my ribs…
“Oh god…” I sighed as he began to suck at my throat, his fingers sliding down to my ass to pull me closer to him. He released my throat with a light nip… There was doubtlessly a mark left behind…
I drew in a deep sigh and he began to pull me back into a stall… He leaned in and kissed me... My heart fluttered... I couldn’t help but surrender… He pushed me up against one of the stall’s walls and locked the door, pulling my shirt up quickly and running his fingers over my chest as we shared tongues… My eyes closed as he began to undo my jeans, playing with the button as he tried his best to cram his tongue down my throat.
As the button came unfascened, memories jarred… It had all been a blur, but most of it I chose to be incoherent.
I remembered the first time we kissed when I was only 19… I remembered the first time we got shitfaced drunk alone together and ended up fucking each other’s fists… I remember his tongue on my chest and his fucking fingers… Oh god, those fingers… and before I knew it, I was groaning his god damn name… Right there in the stall. He was jerking me off and making me tint pink…
“Damn, Twiggy… I forgot how big you were when you aren’t on coke…” he purred, and I felt my precum dribble down onto his knuckles… It had been a few weeks since I could stand to touch myself, which is shocking, especially to me…
I shut my eyes again, rolled my head back against the wall and panted… I remembered the time he had been… fucking me… from behind, you know?… and before he came he leaned into my ear and I could hear him moan that he loved me…
He fucking said he loved me…
He’d been so drunk… but I fucking believed him… And that’s when I realized that he had been planning this...
I suppose he noticed something was up when I stopped kissing back…
“What’s wrong?” He panted… I glanced down at his jizzy knuckles, then up to him.
What came next had to be the most self control I have ever practiced in my entire life…
“Get the fuck off my dick.” I hissed, forcing him back with both hands… I’m not strong, but he was startled, and he hit the apposing wall with a thud.
I tucked my throbbing dick into my jeans and zipped up.
“What the fuck is with you?” he snapped, raising his arms in defense.
“Fuck you, Manson.” I barked, unlocking the door and storming out.
Fuck. This.
“Twiggy!” He cried, hanging half way out of the stall, eyes wide in shock.
“My name is fucking Jeordie, asshole!” I snapped, kicking the swinging doors open to the bar, startling a few people, but who the fuck cares anyway?
I went home, threw a temper tantrum at my fucking cats, jerked off violently and fucking cried myself to sleep like the pussy I'd wanted to be for months…
At about 3:44 am, I woke up sober and without a headache for the first time in months… I thought for a long time as I stared blankly at the foot of my bed…
He’d fucked me into this mattress so many fucking times… Why was I holding on to it? Did I honestly believe that it would all end up alright? I’d never really lived without him… What was I going to do?
It was then, as the numbers flashed from 3:46 to 3:47 am, that I decided I’d stop pining.
Fuck it. I'm getting rid of this god damn bed...
Denial? Fine. Whatever. Just make it fucking stop… No more binge drinking and screening calls… No more hiding from other people. No more avoiding doing things I like and enjoying shit just because every moment reminded me of him…
I needed to fucking stop and move on… I needed to feel accepted… And I’d find acceptance, god damn it…
I have to escape this...
I just have to hold on is all....
I'm the only guy (apparently) who has a thing for NIN/APC/MM mansex... so uh... hello ladies?
This is also my first posting of fanfiction... ever... Though I've written a good lot of it. So if you read, tell me what you think and give me a little constructive criticizm? I tend to try to keep my story lines consistant with real life events, like this one is based off of Jeordie and Manson's repetitive mentioning of "that one time they went drinking. Ofcourse they're still buddies! :D."
Anyway, enjoy!... I guess...
Title: Something Sharp (Pt. 1/1? I'll continue if people like it...)
Genre: angst
Time: 2002 - After Jeordie left Marilyn Manson
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Manson/Jeordie
Characters: Jeordie White, Marilyn Manson
Warnings/Spoilers: Angsty angst-angst and man-groping in a bathroom
Disclaimer: As far as I am conciously aware, this is not true... Its only what I think happened... >>;
Summary: Jeordie has moved on from his older days with Marilyn Manson, but something is stunting his growth...
I felt something sharp in my gut…
The realization and the result… but this wasn’t anything new…
I’ve been sleeping a lot… And drinking. But I really can’t do coke anymore… And no more fucking whiskey either. It reminds me of the worst things, and it makes everything that much more difficult to handle.
It became easy.
You know… Wake up with a headache and memories too… drink it all away…
I look at myself in the mirror sometimes… I see a reflection of someone new and different... I haven’t changed… not yet… But there is something in the face… A human flesh tone… deep dark circles around my semi-sunken, tired eyes…
I don’t know this fucker.
I tried to get a new gig… I’d be called in, try out and never get a call back. To celebrate my failure, I’d drink more and see how long I can go before I pass out. At least the booze made the memories feel decent…
I didn’t know how long it had really been since that day, but I woke up to the shrill beep of my answering machine and his fucking voice.
“Twiggy… Hey, its been a while, man… Why don’t we go out and drink sometime, and-“
Dick. Must have convieniently forgotten all about the last time we spoke… It wasn’t exactly pleasant after all…
I interrupted quickly, my voice dry and broken… I think I ended up puking everywhere last night.. I don’t really remember all that well to be honest.
“Yeah." I coughed, "Lets go tonight.”
“God damn, Twiggy. You sound like shit.” He said.
“Thanks, asshole.”
There I sat… Alone in a booth in the corner of an unfamiliar bar.
For all I knew, he would stand me up.
My fingers were curled around my glass. Lemon Drop. for good time’s sake.
My tongue ran over my teeth… I didn’t like the sick taste in my mouth… It wasn’t from the drink… It was from the atmosphere.
I was slowly getting more and more wasted, forgetting my issues and trying to understand the swirls in the wooden table under my arms, when he appeared like the rock star he was. His hair was cropped… He was wearing eyeliner and lipstick. I was in a black long-sleeve and jeans…
“You cut your hair…” he said, sliding into the booth and ordering a drink. He smiled halfly at me.
“Yeah…” I sighed, avoiding eye contact and took a sip of my drink.
“I used to like to pull it…” he grinned sharply, his eyes going flirty, like when he chooses his slut. I suppose the look on my face made him stop, as he instantly scratched his head and looked off a bit.
“How have you been, Twiggy? It’s been a long time since we really spoke last.”
“I’ve been drunk.” I grumbled, letting my head hang for a moment before pushing my hair up with a free hand. “How about you?”
“I’ve been okay…” He hesitated a little… I knew he was trying to think of something besides Dita. “Tim is catching up pretty well…” he sighed.
There was a long pause…
He graciously took his drink and swallowed it down like a true alcoholic, and as if it was instant liquid courage, he abruptly spoke… But almost in a whisper, staring me straight in the eye… It’s almost humorous now that I think about it.
“Why couldn’t you just… keep going, Twiggy? Everything was perfect…”
Perfect? Fuck perfect. I knew what he really meant… It wasn’t about the band… It wasn’t about the fucking image either… It was about us… We’d grown from two kids who swore it was only experimentation to us and a joke to our friends, to two men who could barely speak like adults about what it had become…
“Perfect? Fuck you.” I hissed, getting up abruptly and sliding from the booth as quickly as I could. The booze made my stomach warm… Standing up against him felt so damn good.
“Don’t leave… I didn’t mean anything by it…” he said trying desperately not to sound… well… desperate, but he failed miserably.
“I’m not fucking leaving. I have to take a god damn piss…” I snarled and stormed into the bathroom.
*
The relief was sweet…
I pressed my forehead against the cool white tile on the wall as I pissed into the urinal. It felt like I’d been saving it up for a week or something, and I’m not sure if it was the booze talking, but it felt symbolic in a way…
It was cool and quiet in the bathroom… Nobody was using it yet, and it still smelled nice from the last time someone cleaned it. I felt a little guilty for ruining a fresh urinal cake, but it was worth it. Best god damn pee in my life.
I was washing my hands at the sink when I saw the reflection in the mirror of someone approaching me from behind. It startled me because I hadn’t heard anyone come in, but I almost instantly knew who it was…
“What the f-“ I began, but Marilyn slid his hands under my arms and down my front, making me stop. I closed my eyes… He knew I used to love it when he did that…
“What?” I grunted, breaking myself away from the trap he was placing, glaring at him through the mirror, squirming at his touch to make him stop… My reaction must have surprised him, but he didn't stop.
“I’m sorry, Jeordie… I really am…” he purred, his lips brushing against my ear and I felt the muscles in my stomach tense… He never called me Jeordie unless he was really fucking serious, and he never said sorry… ever.
His fingers were sliding up the inside of my thigh and I turned and pushed him back, shaking my head.
“Come on, Marilyn…” I said, turning and pressing my ass against the sink. He pulled forward once more, his height intimidating me a bit… And he leaned in and kissed my neck.
I was going to say something, but his fingers began to slide up my shirt and I whimpered as they glided over my ribs…
“Oh god…” I sighed as he began to suck at my throat, his fingers sliding down to my ass to pull me closer to him. He released my throat with a light nip… There was doubtlessly a mark left behind…
I drew in a deep sigh and he began to pull me back into a stall… He leaned in and kissed me... My heart fluttered... I couldn’t help but surrender… He pushed me up against one of the stall’s walls and locked the door, pulling my shirt up quickly and running his fingers over my chest as we shared tongues… My eyes closed as he began to undo my jeans, playing with the button as he tried his best to cram his tongue down my throat.
As the button came unfascened, memories jarred… It had all been a blur, but most of it I chose to be incoherent.
I remembered the first time we kissed when I was only 19… I remembered the first time we got shitfaced drunk alone together and ended up fucking each other’s fists… I remember his tongue on my chest and his fucking fingers… Oh god, those fingers… and before I knew it, I was groaning his god damn name… Right there in the stall. He was jerking me off and making me tint pink…
“Damn, Twiggy… I forgot how big you were when you aren’t on coke…” he purred, and I felt my precum dribble down onto his knuckles… It had been a few weeks since I could stand to touch myself, which is shocking, especially to me…
I shut my eyes again, rolled my head back against the wall and panted… I remembered the time he had been… fucking me… from behind, you know?… and before he came he leaned into my ear and I could hear him moan that he loved me…
He fucking said he loved me…
He’d been so drunk… but I fucking believed him… And that’s when I realized that he had been planning this...
I suppose he noticed something was up when I stopped kissing back…
“What’s wrong?” He panted… I glanced down at his jizzy knuckles, then up to him.
What came next had to be the most self control I have ever practiced in my entire life…
“Get the fuck off my dick.” I hissed, forcing him back with both hands… I’m not strong, but he was startled, and he hit the apposing wall with a thud.
I tucked my throbbing dick into my jeans and zipped up.
“What the fuck is with you?” he snapped, raising his arms in defense.
“Fuck you, Manson.” I barked, unlocking the door and storming out.
Fuck. This.
“Twiggy!” He cried, hanging half way out of the stall, eyes wide in shock.
“My name is fucking Jeordie, asshole!” I snapped, kicking the swinging doors open to the bar, startling a few people, but who the fuck cares anyway?
I went home, threw a temper tantrum at my fucking cats, jerked off violently and fucking cried myself to sleep like the pussy I'd wanted to be for months…
At about 3:44 am, I woke up sober and without a headache for the first time in months… I thought for a long time as I stared blankly at the foot of my bed…
He’d fucked me into this mattress so many fucking times… Why was I holding on to it? Did I honestly believe that it would all end up alright? I’d never really lived without him… What was I going to do?
It was then, as the numbers flashed from 3:46 to 3:47 am, that I decided I’d stop pining.
Fuck it. I'm getting rid of this god damn bed...
Denial? Fine. Whatever. Just make it fucking stop… No more binge drinking and screening calls… No more hiding from other people. No more avoiding doing things I like and enjoying shit just because every moment reminded me of him…
I needed to fucking stop and move on… I needed to feel accepted… And I’d find acceptance, god damn it…
I have to escape this...
I just have to hold on is all....