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I was in a weird mood, so forgive me for this. Dugera/Vam. Rated R. Uh..yes, please comment. Thanks :)
I was drunk. Wasted in the middle of Ireland, alone. So intoxicated from the mixture of spirits that I couldn't walk anymore, nor could I see further than three foot in front of me. A tear formed on my tired eye, but I was too numb from the alcohol to feel it fall down my face. Rough hands cradled my face, fingers brushed delicately over my chin in a way that they weren't meant to. It didn't feel the same, it felt lifeless and betraying. I closed my eyes, swallowing tears that were desperate to escape empty sockets filled with grief. I didn't want to see Ryan's eyes looking into me, like that, like he was searching for something. I have nothing I can give you, everything I had is lost. Nobody had died, no, Ville was perfectly healthy, but part of me had been suffocated, when he acted like I didn't exist anymore. It was almost like I was living a half-life, all the reality but without the varied emotions. It was all just pain, pain and more pain. I was a toy to him, a toy that had become old and boring. Broken. I needed fixing and he had something better to play with now.
Strong arms gripped me tightly around the waist, these arms I knew but the situation was unfamiliar. I was so shattered from the day's events that I lazily let myself fall against my best friend's shoulder, trying to remember how to breathe. That was it. In, out. Don't let him bother you so much Bam, you were just a fuck, that's all, he's found someone better now and so should you. But there wasn't anything better to me, he was everything I'd ever looked for and I was blind enough to think he felt the same way. The last few months, we'd spent so much time together my friend's referred to him as Shadow. And when I came to visit him, on tour in Dublin, mainly to film a scene for the new series of Viva La Bam, I expected things to be the same. I thought he'd embrace me with those strong, pale arms and I'd take in everything about him, falling in love all over again with the warmth of his skin, the way he held me, those full lips I longed to kiss so much, that devastating gaze that shot me to a million pieces. We fit, perfectly like a puzzle. Now I felt like half of the pieces were missing. Scattered and burned.
"I can make you forget..." I heard a timid offer in my ear, a familiar voice but it was more pleading and desperate than usual. The air on my neck felt cold, it made me uncomfortable. But I'd asked for this. I knew I could always get what I wanted with him, I knew how he felt and how he'd always longed for the day I'd give in and let him love me. Never did I think I would feel this guilty and sick about the whole twisted situation. I never thought I'd be this callous to use him, but then again, I never imagined Ville could break my heart. I never knew pain like this existed. His death grip around my waist felt like he was squeezing every drop of humanity I had left. I was nothing now, just a body count, just a nameless wanderer, unwanted and not important.
I let what was left of my defence down. Ryan kissed my neck, his tongue swirled in small, circular motions, moving to my earlobe which he tugged on softly. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on fragments of memories that tossed around in my head, I didn't want to let myself enjoy this. Fingers grazed across my collarbone, fingering the buttons on my shirt with trepidation. I let him remove my shirt, and the pace of my breath increased as he rubbed my stiff nipples with index finger and thumb, then letting his fingernails drag slowly down my sides. Soft, chaste kisses were placed lovingly over my neck and cheek, but I wouldn't let him kiss my lips, despite his obvious desire to. I had no willpower left, I knew I'd give in to him eventually. But to me, these lips had always belonged to Ville. Just like these fingers, my laughter, fun, happiness, everything I could offer had been sucked away from me. And Ville didn't even care. So why should I?
Ryan breathed heavily into my chest, his steamy gasps and shudders vibrated against my bare skin. No, I really didn't want to feel pleasure, but I did. I was betraying every thread of emotion I had left, and ignoring every warning siren going off in my head, that was already pulsating around my temples and behind my tired eyes. Damn alcohol. I shouldn't have drunk so much, it was really taking effect now. I was beginning to hit that stage where you don't feel like you're alive anymore, you're floating in nothingness and everything around you moves in dizzy slow motion. I needed life. Ryan could breathe life back into me.
I stumbled back, pulling off his t-shirt and kissing his rough chest, that felt and tasted so different from Ville's. Like masculine musk and cut gress. Lying back against the bed, knocking an empty vodka bottle to the floor with a crash, he hungrily let his body weight collaspe on mine, fumbling with the buttons and zippers on my jeans. "I need you." he whispered desperately in my ear. I needed him also. I needed to know that I wasn't a complete fuck up and that somebody, anybody cared. I knew I'd regret this in the morning. But I was too far in to escape now, that's what scared little boys do and you're a grown up, you can handle this. Sure you can Bam, you can handle the complete torture of two weeks solid living with this man on HIM's tourbus (it's ironic how memories chase you forever, shadowing your present life with scraps of old feelings and emotions.) Scrapping the whole Europe idea was looking ridiculously inviting, I wanted to go back to Westchester, to my haven and be on my own. Not here, especially not here.
I let him do all the work. I let him flip me over and let himself enter me. Not because I was lazy but as I was too ashamed to look at him, to look into those eyes and for him to expect to see some sparkle there. Starless eyes remained, they just were looking for distractions, this empty deceit was all I could get right now. Almost silent moans floated through the tense air, and I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming at the pain. He was so vunerally mentally, but much more boisterous than Ville ever was. But Ville was feminine and delicate with everything he did, he was a perfectionist. He acted like he cared, it was like he knew instintively just how gentle he had to be. He knew my body better than I did myself, but he always found small, sweet ways to send me off balance with desire and lust.
Sharp nails dug into my sides, drawing small drops of blood that dripped down my thighs mixed with fury and sweat. I sucked in my ragged breath, willing for time to move quicker. But it seemed to be at a standstill. A tough grip remained on my erection, as Ryan thrashed his hips against mine viciously. It wasn't loving, at least it didn't feel like it to me. But you asked for this Bam, you wanted this, you said this would make the emptyness disappear. Even though with every stinging thrust, my eyes shed bitterness, my mouth tastes insane and the sounds of twisted sadness deafens me like a constant, piercing scream.
As his release came to the sounds of my name, so did the last thread of hope I had that I would ever feel different about this. All I felt was sadness and guilt, there was nothing beautiful about it. I let physicality take control, it was the only part of me that seemed to function, and I let my friend taste everything I had. He knew himself, that it would never be for him. My messy curls tumbled in front of my face, and he pulled them back, resting his wrist on my shoulder haphazardly, smiling shyly whilst kissing my cheek.
"I love you." He said quietly, to which I had nothing to say or do in return. I simply stared straight ahead, trying to pretend I didn't hear that. "You don't need to say it back, I know it's not....well, I've just wanted to tell you for a long time." He said, getting up now to get dressed. The silence was like a repeated stab to the stomach, I wanted to say something, anything to take the awkwardness away but I didn't know where to begin. I'd got what I wanted, what I thought I wanted, and I wasn't sure where to go from there. Thankfully, the sound of buzzing and a familiar tune (surprise surprise, it was a HIM song) wafted into the room. I knew it was my phone, somewhere in a mess of clothes and bed linen. It suddenly stopped. By the time I found it, I saw a repetitive white flash on the top of the screen. Dialling my voicemail, I was glad that it gave me something to do whilst Ryan looked uncomfortable, fishing his clothes out of the pile of misplaced belongings.
I knew instantly who it was. That low, deep familiar voice that sent me wild from the first syllable, but this time it was tinged with sadness and concern. "Bammie, I don't know if you're really not there or you don't want to talk to me. I don't blame you if you never did want to talk to me again actually. I just want to apoligize for my behaviour earlier, you didn't deserve any of that. Truth is, I was just scared, scared of what we had and how strong it was. I've never....never let myself feel like this before. And it was only after I've lost you that I realised I can't live without you. I won't call again. I'll know your responce if you don't return this call. I hope you do Bammie, I really do. I...think..oh well it doesn't matter what I think. Take care of yourself kid."
I called off the Europe trip first thing Monday morning. And I never did call. I wasn't one to forget the past easily, nor was I a strong enough person to drag up lost memories that were calved so deep into my skin that it ached just to think about them, let alone speak. I wasn't the same person now, I was half a person, the bitter, dark side that nobody would ever love. I didn't deserve to be happy. Because sometimes, shadows were just meant to be alone.
I was drunk. Wasted in the middle of Ireland, alone. So intoxicated from the mixture of spirits that I couldn't walk anymore, nor could I see further than three foot in front of me. A tear formed on my tired eye, but I was too numb from the alcohol to feel it fall down my face. Rough hands cradled my face, fingers brushed delicately over my chin in a way that they weren't meant to. It didn't feel the same, it felt lifeless and betraying. I closed my eyes, swallowing tears that were desperate to escape empty sockets filled with grief. I didn't want to see Ryan's eyes looking into me, like that, like he was searching for something. I have nothing I can give you, everything I had is lost. Nobody had died, no, Ville was perfectly healthy, but part of me had been suffocated, when he acted like I didn't exist anymore. It was almost like I was living a half-life, all the reality but without the varied emotions. It was all just pain, pain and more pain. I was a toy to him, a toy that had become old and boring. Broken. I needed fixing and he had something better to play with now.
Strong arms gripped me tightly around the waist, these arms I knew but the situation was unfamiliar. I was so shattered from the day's events that I lazily let myself fall against my best friend's shoulder, trying to remember how to breathe. That was it. In, out. Don't let him bother you so much Bam, you were just a fuck, that's all, he's found someone better now and so should you. But there wasn't anything better to me, he was everything I'd ever looked for and I was blind enough to think he felt the same way. The last few months, we'd spent so much time together my friend's referred to him as Shadow. And when I came to visit him, on tour in Dublin, mainly to film a scene for the new series of Viva La Bam, I expected things to be the same. I thought he'd embrace me with those strong, pale arms and I'd take in everything about him, falling in love all over again with the warmth of his skin, the way he held me, those full lips I longed to kiss so much, that devastating gaze that shot me to a million pieces. We fit, perfectly like a puzzle. Now I felt like half of the pieces were missing. Scattered and burned.
"I can make you forget..." I heard a timid offer in my ear, a familiar voice but it was more pleading and desperate than usual. The air on my neck felt cold, it made me uncomfortable. But I'd asked for this. I knew I could always get what I wanted with him, I knew how he felt and how he'd always longed for the day I'd give in and let him love me. Never did I think I would feel this guilty and sick about the whole twisted situation. I never thought I'd be this callous to use him, but then again, I never imagined Ville could break my heart. I never knew pain like this existed. His death grip around my waist felt like he was squeezing every drop of humanity I had left. I was nothing now, just a body count, just a nameless wanderer, unwanted and not important.
I let what was left of my defence down. Ryan kissed my neck, his tongue swirled in small, circular motions, moving to my earlobe which he tugged on softly. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on fragments of memories that tossed around in my head, I didn't want to let myself enjoy this. Fingers grazed across my collarbone, fingering the buttons on my shirt with trepidation. I let him remove my shirt, and the pace of my breath increased as he rubbed my stiff nipples with index finger and thumb, then letting his fingernails drag slowly down my sides. Soft, chaste kisses were placed lovingly over my neck and cheek, but I wouldn't let him kiss my lips, despite his obvious desire to. I had no willpower left, I knew I'd give in to him eventually. But to me, these lips had always belonged to Ville. Just like these fingers, my laughter, fun, happiness, everything I could offer had been sucked away from me. And Ville didn't even care. So why should I?
Ryan breathed heavily into my chest, his steamy gasps and shudders vibrated against my bare skin. No, I really didn't want to feel pleasure, but I did. I was betraying every thread of emotion I had left, and ignoring every warning siren going off in my head, that was already pulsating around my temples and behind my tired eyes. Damn alcohol. I shouldn't have drunk so much, it was really taking effect now. I was beginning to hit that stage where you don't feel like you're alive anymore, you're floating in nothingness and everything around you moves in dizzy slow motion. I needed life. Ryan could breathe life back into me.
I stumbled back, pulling off his t-shirt and kissing his rough chest, that felt and tasted so different from Ville's. Like masculine musk and cut gress. Lying back against the bed, knocking an empty vodka bottle to the floor with a crash, he hungrily let his body weight collaspe on mine, fumbling with the buttons and zippers on my jeans. "I need you." he whispered desperately in my ear. I needed him also. I needed to know that I wasn't a complete fuck up and that somebody, anybody cared. I knew I'd regret this in the morning. But I was too far in to escape now, that's what scared little boys do and you're a grown up, you can handle this. Sure you can Bam, you can handle the complete torture of two weeks solid living with this man on HIM's tourbus (it's ironic how memories chase you forever, shadowing your present life with scraps of old feelings and emotions.) Scrapping the whole Europe idea was looking ridiculously inviting, I wanted to go back to Westchester, to my haven and be on my own. Not here, especially not here.
I let him do all the work. I let him flip me over and let himself enter me. Not because I was lazy but as I was too ashamed to look at him, to look into those eyes and for him to expect to see some sparkle there. Starless eyes remained, they just were looking for distractions, this empty deceit was all I could get right now. Almost silent moans floated through the tense air, and I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming at the pain. He was so vunerally mentally, but much more boisterous than Ville ever was. But Ville was feminine and delicate with everything he did, he was a perfectionist. He acted like he cared, it was like he knew instintively just how gentle he had to be. He knew my body better than I did myself, but he always found small, sweet ways to send me off balance with desire and lust.
Sharp nails dug into my sides, drawing small drops of blood that dripped down my thighs mixed with fury and sweat. I sucked in my ragged breath, willing for time to move quicker. But it seemed to be at a standstill. A tough grip remained on my erection, as Ryan thrashed his hips against mine viciously. It wasn't loving, at least it didn't feel like it to me. But you asked for this Bam, you wanted this, you said this would make the emptyness disappear. Even though with every stinging thrust, my eyes shed bitterness, my mouth tastes insane and the sounds of twisted sadness deafens me like a constant, piercing scream.
As his release came to the sounds of my name, so did the last thread of hope I had that I would ever feel different about this. All I felt was sadness and guilt, there was nothing beautiful about it. I let physicality take control, it was the only part of me that seemed to function, and I let my friend taste everything I had. He knew himself, that it would never be for him. My messy curls tumbled in front of my face, and he pulled them back, resting his wrist on my shoulder haphazardly, smiling shyly whilst kissing my cheek.
"I love you." He said quietly, to which I had nothing to say or do in return. I simply stared straight ahead, trying to pretend I didn't hear that. "You don't need to say it back, I know it's not....well, I've just wanted to tell you for a long time." He said, getting up now to get dressed. The silence was like a repeated stab to the stomach, I wanted to say something, anything to take the awkwardness away but I didn't know where to begin. I'd got what I wanted, what I thought I wanted, and I wasn't sure where to go from there. Thankfully, the sound of buzzing and a familiar tune (surprise surprise, it was a HIM song) wafted into the room. I knew it was my phone, somewhere in a mess of clothes and bed linen. It suddenly stopped. By the time I found it, I saw a repetitive white flash on the top of the screen. Dialling my voicemail, I was glad that it gave me something to do whilst Ryan looked uncomfortable, fishing his clothes out of the pile of misplaced belongings.
I knew instantly who it was. That low, deep familiar voice that sent me wild from the first syllable, but this time it was tinged with sadness and concern. "Bammie, I don't know if you're really not there or you don't want to talk to me. I don't blame you if you never did want to talk to me again actually. I just want to apoligize for my behaviour earlier, you didn't deserve any of that. Truth is, I was just scared, scared of what we had and how strong it was. I've never....never let myself feel like this before. And it was only after I've lost you that I realised I can't live without you. I won't call again. I'll know your responce if you don't return this call. I hope you do Bammie, I really do. I...think..oh well it doesn't matter what I think. Take care of yourself kid."
I called off the Europe trip first thing Monday morning. And I never did call. I wasn't one to forget the past easily, nor was I a strong enough person to drag up lost memories that were calved so deep into my skin that it ached just to think about them, let alone speak. I wasn't the same person now, I was half a person, the bitter, dark side that nobody would ever love. I didn't deserve to be happy. Because sometimes, shadows were just meant to be alone.