FIC: Come Clean
Title: Come Clean
Author: Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan (falconkenobi@aol.com)
Author Web Page: http://www.aemslash.co.uk Obsess, Much?
Fandom: RPS - Good Charlotte
Categories: Benji Madden/Joel Madden. Angst, POV
Rating: R
Archive: Yes to list archives. All others please let me know where so I can come and preen, okay?
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Paul, for being patient and understanding when I disappear into the computer room for days on end to write. Taco & Megs for the quick once-over (of the fic, not me!).
Disclaimer: Benji & Joel Madden are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Notes: I'm not Catholic and therefore have never been to Confession, nor know anything about it other than what I've seen on TV.
Summary: Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…
Fanfics, it seems, work on a similar schedule to buses; you go for ages without writing any, then write two in as many days. Oh, well...
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been… Shit! I don't know how fucking long it is since I last came to confession. Probably not since I was a teenager, so a good ten years at least.
"And I probably shouldn't be cursing in here really, should I? Sorry. Oh well, might as well make my trip to Hell a good one!
"Yeah, I'm definitely heading for hell. What I've done… What I'm doing is wrong. It's more than wrong, it's immoral. Not to mention illegal. So it might come as a surprise to you that I'm not here to repent, I don't want forgiveness. All I want… Need is to talk to someone who isn't intimately involved. Someone who will just listen without judging me. And I figured a priest would be the best person for that. So here I am.
"You'll have to bear with me, though. I'm a little nervous. I've never talked to anyone about this before. I don't really know where to start.
"The beginning would be a good place, I guess. Ok. My brother and I have always been close. We didn't have the best childhood in the world. It wasn't as bad as a lot of people seem to think it was, but it still could have been a lot better. We were both bullied in school because we were the 'poor kids ' but we got through it because we had each other. Likewise, when our father left us and everyone else fell apart, we got each other through it. I was his pillar of strength when he needed it and I was his. We would turn to each other for whatever we needed, especially affection. Hugs. I was always very tactile as a child, still am really, and a hug meant more to me than anything. He knew this and would hug me as often as possible. I loved it and he loved making me happy, so everything was good. Things changed, as we grew older. The hugs were still there but he'd also ruffle my hair and press laughing kisses to my head. And I liked it. It felt good. Made me feel… all warm inside, I guess, made me feel loved.
"No, I know that's nothing extreme but that's not the all of it. Uh... last week, I was feeling down. Homesick I guess. He came and sat next to me on my bed, didn't speak, but just put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me next to him, his other arm wrapping around my chest. He pressed a kiss to my temple then cupped my chin in his hands, turning me to face him. He wiped away my tears and then... Then the next thing I knew we were kissing. Not chaste brotherly kisses but full on making out kisses. Kisses with tongue. He pulled back and I could see in his eyes the confusion I was feeling. Not just confusion but it looked like he liked it. I know I liked it. We just sorta sat there grinning at each other until I leaned forward and kissed him again. He pulled me on his lap and the next thing I know we're both naked on the bed, his cock buried deep inside me; both of us covered in come. The first time was hard and fast, but later that night it was soft and gentle - we were making love.
"And I do love him. As my brother, as my best friend and as the other half of my soul. And maybe as something more. I shouldn't, but I do. Is that really so wrong? To want to have someone who understands me the way he understands me, the way we understand each other. To want to have someone who feels like same way I do. We don't talk to each other about this, don't need to; we both want this. Need this. We both know we shouldn't, know its wrong. It shouldn't be wrong. How can something that feels so fucking good be so wrong?
"When I'm with him, when I'm holding him, I feel complete. I feel like I've found something that I didn't even know I was missing. I don't care that he's a man and I don't care that he's my brother. I care about him. I care that he makes me happy. And God should be able to see that I'm happy. If He doesn't, and He wants to send me to Hell, then he will. And I don't care. Like I said, I'm not here to be judged and I'm not here for forgiveness or redemption or any of that shit. I came here to talk to someone and that's what I've done. I've told you, and Him, and I'm done. Thank you for your time, Father. "
Author: Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan (falconkenobi@aol.com)
Author Web Page: http://www.aemslash.co.uk Obsess, Much?
Fandom: RPS - Good Charlotte
Categories: Benji Madden/Joel Madden. Angst, POV
Rating: R
Archive: Yes to list archives. All others please let me know where so I can come and preen, okay?
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Paul, for being patient and understanding when I disappear into the computer room for days on end to write. Taco & Megs for the quick once-over (of the fic, not me!).
Disclaimer: Benji & Joel Madden are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Notes: I'm not Catholic and therefore have never been to Confession, nor know anything about it other than what I've seen on TV.
Summary: Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…
Fanfics, it seems, work on a similar schedule to buses; you go for ages without writing any, then write two in as many days. Oh, well...
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been… Shit! I don't know how fucking long it is since I last came to confession. Probably not since I was a teenager, so a good ten years at least.
"And I probably shouldn't be cursing in here really, should I? Sorry. Oh well, might as well make my trip to Hell a good one!
"Yeah, I'm definitely heading for hell. What I've done… What I'm doing is wrong. It's more than wrong, it's immoral. Not to mention illegal. So it might come as a surprise to you that I'm not here to repent, I don't want forgiveness. All I want… Need is to talk to someone who isn't intimately involved. Someone who will just listen without judging me. And I figured a priest would be the best person for that. So here I am.
"You'll have to bear with me, though. I'm a little nervous. I've never talked to anyone about this before. I don't really know where to start.
"The beginning would be a good place, I guess. Ok. My brother and I have always been close. We didn't have the best childhood in the world. It wasn't as bad as a lot of people seem to think it was, but it still could have been a lot better. We were both bullied in school because we were the 'poor kids ' but we got through it because we had each other. Likewise, when our father left us and everyone else fell apart, we got each other through it. I was his pillar of strength when he needed it and I was his. We would turn to each other for whatever we needed, especially affection. Hugs. I was always very tactile as a child, still am really, and a hug meant more to me than anything. He knew this and would hug me as often as possible. I loved it and he loved making me happy, so everything was good. Things changed, as we grew older. The hugs were still there but he'd also ruffle my hair and press laughing kisses to my head. And I liked it. It felt good. Made me feel… all warm inside, I guess, made me feel loved.
"No, I know that's nothing extreme but that's not the all of it. Uh... last week, I was feeling down. Homesick I guess. He came and sat next to me on my bed, didn't speak, but just put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me next to him, his other arm wrapping around my chest. He pressed a kiss to my temple then cupped my chin in his hands, turning me to face him. He wiped away my tears and then... Then the next thing I knew we were kissing. Not chaste brotherly kisses but full on making out kisses. Kisses with tongue. He pulled back and I could see in his eyes the confusion I was feeling. Not just confusion but it looked like he liked it. I know I liked it. We just sorta sat there grinning at each other until I leaned forward and kissed him again. He pulled me on his lap and the next thing I know we're both naked on the bed, his cock buried deep inside me; both of us covered in come. The first time was hard and fast, but later that night it was soft and gentle - we were making love.
"And I do love him. As my brother, as my best friend and as the other half of my soul. And maybe as something more. I shouldn't, but I do. Is that really so wrong? To want to have someone who understands me the way he understands me, the way we understand each other. To want to have someone who feels like same way I do. We don't talk to each other about this, don't need to; we both want this. Need this. We both know we shouldn't, know its wrong. It shouldn't be wrong. How can something that feels so fucking good be so wrong?
"When I'm with him, when I'm holding him, I feel complete. I feel like I've found something that I didn't even know I was missing. I don't care that he's a man and I don't care that he's my brother. I care about him. I care that he makes me happy. And God should be able to see that I'm happy. If He doesn't, and He wants to send me to Hell, then he will. And I don't care. Like I said, I'm not here to be judged and I'm not here for forgiveness or redemption or any of that shit. I came here to talk to someone and that's what I've done. I've told you, and Him, and I'm done. Thank you for your time, Father. "