Angels Of The Silences Pt. 1: Roses & Cyanide
Pairing: Cookleta
Summary: I told withoutmywingsx I'd write her some angsty Cookleta mutual breakup. Well, she got it, plus some added hate sex.
Word Count: 1778, holy sheesh.
Rating: NC-17. You have been warned.
Beta: My lifesaver, princessleia04.
Author's note: I'm going to call this the story that had a mind of it's own. My longest fic yet, and my first attempt at smut of any kind. Also, just to warn, Archie is a bit OOC, for reasons that will be obvious. Title from the MWK song (duh).
It was 2 AM when David felt the bed dip behind him. He knows this because he had been awake still, looking at the clock every 15 minutes since midnight, when Cook had promised he’d be home by. But he hadn’t come home on time. He hadn’t even called, and now it was 2 AM.
“I can’t do this,” he whispers into the dark room, more to himself than anyone.
Cook moves closer, wrapping an arm absently around his waist. “M’sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, pressing his face into the back of David’s neck and kissing lightly.
David flinches, and in a voice much closer to a sneer than he’s sure he’s ever used, says, “No, you didn’t wake me. I was already awake. Did you even hear what I just said?”
Cook stills. David never talks to anyone like that, and he’s never reacted like that to Cook’s touch, like it was so unwelcome. He rolls David onto his back and replies hesitantly, “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
David’s whole body is tense, Cook can feel it, and though he can’t see his eyes in the dark, he’s sure if he could they’d be shooting flames right at him. “I. can’t. do. this,” David repeats slowly, emphasizing every word. His hand reaches up suddenly, grabbing a fistful of Cook’s shirt.
“What do you mean? What can’t you do?” Cook asks, confused by how aggressive David suddenly is.
“It’s 2 AM,” he replies evenly and just this side of too loud, “You’re home late. Again. Just like last night, and the night before. You’ve been in the studio late every day this week, and I can’t do THIS.” He punctuates the last word by tightening his grip on Cook’s shirt and pulling him in until their foreheads are touching.
Cook can feel David’s breath hot against his face. His hand is still wrapped tightly in Cook’s shirt and he’s so wound up that he’s practically panting. Cook places a careful kiss to David’s lips, thinking it might help calm him down a little, soothe him. That is, until David responds by bringing his other hand up to pull Cook down harder, crushing their lips together in a kiss that’s almost brutal. Cook keeps trying to pull away, to ask David what’s happening, to figure out why he’s acting like this, but it’s impossible when David is sucking his bottom lip into his mouth like he’s desperate for it. Cook finally gives in, bringing his hand up to cup David’s jaw, adjusting the angle of his head and sliding his tongue into David’s willing mouth. David’s tongue curls around his urgently, and they stay locked in a kiss that’s all tongues and teeth and need for what feels like forever.
Cook feels like his lungs are going to explode from lack of oxygen and he finally pulls back, using his grip on David’s jaw for leverage. David scrapes his teeth against Cook’s bottom lip as he pulls away, actually drawing blood, and Cook gasps. He sits up, licking his lip, the taste sharp and metallic, and says in a rough voice, “Damnit Archie, talk to me. What’s gotten into you?”
David sits up abruptly and reaches to remove Cook’s shirt. “No! No. Just - just shut up okay? Just, please,” he says pulling the shirt over Cook’s head, pulling his own off right after. His hands are fumbling at Cook’s belt before he even knows what’s happening.
Cook can feel how desperate David is right now, and he relents, pushing David’s hands out of the way to take it off himself. “Just take care of yours,” he asserts, standing to remove his pants and boxers as well, and grabbing a condom and lube out of the nightstand before moving back to the bed. David is already lying there, naked and somehow more rigid than should be possible, breaths coming short and too fast. Cook settles on top of David, leaning on one arm and tracing David’s lips with his free hand. He wants to take this slow, to appreciate every sensation, but David is already arching up against him, hands clawing at his back, and he can tell that slow is not what David wants.
He leans over to uncap the lube, spreading some on his fingers, and reaches down to push David’s legs farther apart. He trails his hand down David’s length, moving to circle his hole with his fingers and pressing gently against his balls with his palm. He captures David’s mouth with his, kissing sloppy and open-mouthed, and finally pressing one finger in when he feels David relax. David barely gives himself any time to adjust before he pushes back on Cook’s finger, forcing it in deeper than Cook initially meant. David fists his hands in Cook’s hair, pulling him back just enough to stammer out, “M-more. Just do it.”
Cook winces a little at that. He doesn’t want to hurt David, but he can’t deny him something that he wants so badly. He pulls his finger out most of the way and adds a second, pushing in as slow as David will allow him. David gasps a little and Cook starts to pull his fingers out, but then David starts rocking back and forth onto them. David’s nails are dragging along his back and he’s pulling himself up to scrape his teeth along Cook’s collarbone. Any sense of self-control Cook had left is blown, and he moves his fingers faster, crooking them to find the right angle. When he does, David lets out a long, high-pitched moan, nails digging into Cook’s back so hard that he’s sure there’ll be bruises in the morning. “Now. Please, now,” David chokes out, the sensations so much that he’s practically whimpering.
Cook pulls his fingers out and grabs the condom, rolling it on and coating himself in more lube than he normally would because he knows that David’s not quite ready yet. He lifts one of David’s legs up against his chest and positions himself at his entrance. Taking a shaky breath, he pushes in slowly, groaning at how impossibly tight David is. David arches his back and nearly bends himself in half, lifting both legs high to deepen the contact. Cook pulls out almost all the way, painfully slow, and it feels like the sweetest torture he’s ever experienced. David’s hands are scrabbling up his back to wind themselves in his hair again, and he pulls Cook down to crash their lips together into a kiss that can only be described as unadulterated lust. Cook finds that all the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he jerks forward involuntarily, sinking all the way back in one sharp thrust. David throws his head back in a soundless cry, lips parted and deliciously red, chest heaving, and Cook’s body just takes over. David’s legs are thrown over his shoulders, hands everywhere all at once, the friction of the push and pull so overwhelming and intense that everything is reaching a dangerous crescendo much too fast. David already has his fist wrapped tightly around himself, pumping frantically up and down, and Cook reaches down to curl his over the top, increasing the pressure to bring David over the edge before he’s completely lost to himself. David comes first with a breathless, “Oh!” spilling warm over their fingers and his stomach, clenching so tight around Cook that he can’t contain his own release. Cook drives himself deep inside David one more time before his climax hits and he yells out, almost dizzy from the force of it.
David’s legs slip down Cook’s sides to wrap around him and Cook slumps down, trying desperately to hold himself up on shaky arms. David is combing his fingers through Cook’s hair, all sense of urgency and need gone. He tilts his head up and plants his lips soft against Cook’s, and when Cook looks down into his eyes he finally sees his David again. He presses a warm, gentle kiss to David’s forehead before slipping out of him and getting up to take care of the condom. He comes back with a wet towel and cleans David and himself off, and then lies back down on the bed.
David settles in against him, head resting on his shoulder, fingers tracing small circles up and down his chest and stomach. “This isn’t working anymore,” he says so softly that Cook barely hears him.
Cook tightens his arm around him and he thinks he’s starting to understand what David was trying to tell him earlier. He feels something in his chest clench, and he just stays silent, too afraid of the inevitable to speak.
“You - you’re always busy,” David continues, “and I miss you. We’re together, but I still miss you. And I’m… angry. I feel so angry and I don’t know why, but I can’t talk to you about it. This isn’t me. This isn’t us. I don’t want us to be this.” He finds Cook’s hand in the dark, entwining their fingers, squeezing tightly in an obvious attempt to hold himself together.
Cook knows he’s right. He has been absent lately. He wants to be there for David more, but he can’t right now. With the writing and recording, and preparing for another tour, he just can’t be there. He knows that, and it’s selfish of him to make David wait until he can. David deserves more. He deserves everything.
“I love you,” is the only reply he can give, and he raises David’s hand to his mouth, brushing his knuckles and fingertips against his lips one by one.
“I know,” David says, voice resigned, “but I can’t keep doing this knowing I only have half of your heart.” Tears slip silently from his eyes, and he doesn’t even bother to try to stop them.
Cook just nods, too tired to even feel the full weight of the situation. He knows his own tears will come later, but for now he just puts a kiss to the top of David’s head, inhaling deeply to imprint the scent in his brain. “In the morning. I’ll pack in the morning,” he says, wiping the moisture from David’s face with his thumb.
“I’ll help,” David states simply, pulling the covers up over top of the both of them and pushing his body flush against Cook’s.
They lay there wrapped in each other’s arms, the stillness of the night enveloping them, but neither sleeps. As the dawn comes and light seeps in through the blinds, they both feel the silent agreement that the start of this day is really more of an end.
(PT. 2)
Summary: I told withoutmywingsx I'd write her some angsty Cookleta mutual breakup. Well, she got it, plus some added hate sex.
Word Count: 1778, holy sheesh.
Rating: NC-17. You have been warned.
Beta: My lifesaver, princessleia04.
Author's note: I'm going to call this the story that had a mind of it's own. My longest fic yet, and my first attempt at smut of any kind. Also, just to warn, Archie is a bit OOC, for reasons that will be obvious. Title from the MWK song (duh).
It was 2 AM when David felt the bed dip behind him. He knows this because he had been awake still, looking at the clock every 15 minutes since midnight, when Cook had promised he’d be home by. But he hadn’t come home on time. He hadn’t even called, and now it was 2 AM.
“I can’t do this,” he whispers into the dark room, more to himself than anyone.
Cook moves closer, wrapping an arm absently around his waist. “M’sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, pressing his face into the back of David’s neck and kissing lightly.
David flinches, and in a voice much closer to a sneer than he’s sure he’s ever used, says, “No, you didn’t wake me. I was already awake. Did you even hear what I just said?”
Cook stills. David never talks to anyone like that, and he’s never reacted like that to Cook’s touch, like it was so unwelcome. He rolls David onto his back and replies hesitantly, “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
David’s whole body is tense, Cook can feel it, and though he can’t see his eyes in the dark, he’s sure if he could they’d be shooting flames right at him. “I. can’t. do. this,” David repeats slowly, emphasizing every word. His hand reaches up suddenly, grabbing a fistful of Cook’s shirt.
“What do you mean? What can’t you do?” Cook asks, confused by how aggressive David suddenly is.
“It’s 2 AM,” he replies evenly and just this side of too loud, “You’re home late. Again. Just like last night, and the night before. You’ve been in the studio late every day this week, and I can’t do THIS.” He punctuates the last word by tightening his grip on Cook’s shirt and pulling him in until their foreheads are touching.
Cook can feel David’s breath hot against his face. His hand is still wrapped tightly in Cook’s shirt and he’s so wound up that he’s practically panting. Cook places a careful kiss to David’s lips, thinking it might help calm him down a little, soothe him. That is, until David responds by bringing his other hand up to pull Cook down harder, crushing their lips together in a kiss that’s almost brutal. Cook keeps trying to pull away, to ask David what’s happening, to figure out why he’s acting like this, but it’s impossible when David is sucking his bottom lip into his mouth like he’s desperate for it. Cook finally gives in, bringing his hand up to cup David’s jaw, adjusting the angle of his head and sliding his tongue into David’s willing mouth. David’s tongue curls around his urgently, and they stay locked in a kiss that’s all tongues and teeth and need for what feels like forever.
Cook feels like his lungs are going to explode from lack of oxygen and he finally pulls back, using his grip on David’s jaw for leverage. David scrapes his teeth against Cook’s bottom lip as he pulls away, actually drawing blood, and Cook gasps. He sits up, licking his lip, the taste sharp and metallic, and says in a rough voice, “Damnit Archie, talk to me. What’s gotten into you?”
David sits up abruptly and reaches to remove Cook’s shirt. “No! No. Just - just shut up okay? Just, please,” he says pulling the shirt over Cook’s head, pulling his own off right after. His hands are fumbling at Cook’s belt before he even knows what’s happening.
Cook can feel how desperate David is right now, and he relents, pushing David’s hands out of the way to take it off himself. “Just take care of yours,” he asserts, standing to remove his pants and boxers as well, and grabbing a condom and lube out of the nightstand before moving back to the bed. David is already lying there, naked and somehow more rigid than should be possible, breaths coming short and too fast. Cook settles on top of David, leaning on one arm and tracing David’s lips with his free hand. He wants to take this slow, to appreciate every sensation, but David is already arching up against him, hands clawing at his back, and he can tell that slow is not what David wants.
He leans over to uncap the lube, spreading some on his fingers, and reaches down to push David’s legs farther apart. He trails his hand down David’s length, moving to circle his hole with his fingers and pressing gently against his balls with his palm. He captures David’s mouth with his, kissing sloppy and open-mouthed, and finally pressing one finger in when he feels David relax. David barely gives himself any time to adjust before he pushes back on Cook’s finger, forcing it in deeper than Cook initially meant. David fists his hands in Cook’s hair, pulling him back just enough to stammer out, “M-more. Just do it.”
Cook winces a little at that. He doesn’t want to hurt David, but he can’t deny him something that he wants so badly. He pulls his finger out most of the way and adds a second, pushing in as slow as David will allow him. David gasps a little and Cook starts to pull his fingers out, but then David starts rocking back and forth onto them. David’s nails are dragging along his back and he’s pulling himself up to scrape his teeth along Cook’s collarbone. Any sense of self-control Cook had left is blown, and he moves his fingers faster, crooking them to find the right angle. When he does, David lets out a long, high-pitched moan, nails digging into Cook’s back so hard that he’s sure there’ll be bruises in the morning. “Now. Please, now,” David chokes out, the sensations so much that he’s practically whimpering.
Cook pulls his fingers out and grabs the condom, rolling it on and coating himself in more lube than he normally would because he knows that David’s not quite ready yet. He lifts one of David’s legs up against his chest and positions himself at his entrance. Taking a shaky breath, he pushes in slowly, groaning at how impossibly tight David is. David arches his back and nearly bends himself in half, lifting both legs high to deepen the contact. Cook pulls out almost all the way, painfully slow, and it feels like the sweetest torture he’s ever experienced. David’s hands are scrabbling up his back to wind themselves in his hair again, and he pulls Cook down to crash their lips together into a kiss that can only be described as unadulterated lust. Cook finds that all the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he jerks forward involuntarily, sinking all the way back in one sharp thrust. David throws his head back in a soundless cry, lips parted and deliciously red, chest heaving, and Cook’s body just takes over. David’s legs are thrown over his shoulders, hands everywhere all at once, the friction of the push and pull so overwhelming and intense that everything is reaching a dangerous crescendo much too fast. David already has his fist wrapped tightly around himself, pumping frantically up and down, and Cook reaches down to curl his over the top, increasing the pressure to bring David over the edge before he’s completely lost to himself. David comes first with a breathless, “Oh!” spilling warm over their fingers and his stomach, clenching so tight around Cook that he can’t contain his own release. Cook drives himself deep inside David one more time before his climax hits and he yells out, almost dizzy from the force of it.
David’s legs slip down Cook’s sides to wrap around him and Cook slumps down, trying desperately to hold himself up on shaky arms. David is combing his fingers through Cook’s hair, all sense of urgency and need gone. He tilts his head up and plants his lips soft against Cook’s, and when Cook looks down into his eyes he finally sees his David again. He presses a warm, gentle kiss to David’s forehead before slipping out of him and getting up to take care of the condom. He comes back with a wet towel and cleans David and himself off, and then lies back down on the bed.
David settles in against him, head resting on his shoulder, fingers tracing small circles up and down his chest and stomach. “This isn’t working anymore,” he says so softly that Cook barely hears him.
Cook tightens his arm around him and he thinks he’s starting to understand what David was trying to tell him earlier. He feels something in his chest clench, and he just stays silent, too afraid of the inevitable to speak.
“You - you’re always busy,” David continues, “and I miss you. We’re together, but I still miss you. And I’m… angry. I feel so angry and I don’t know why, but I can’t talk to you about it. This isn’t me. This isn’t us. I don’t want us to be this.” He finds Cook’s hand in the dark, entwining their fingers, squeezing tightly in an obvious attempt to hold himself together.
Cook knows he’s right. He has been absent lately. He wants to be there for David more, but he can’t right now. With the writing and recording, and preparing for another tour, he just can’t be there. He knows that, and it’s selfish of him to make David wait until he can. David deserves more. He deserves everything.
“I love you,” is the only reply he can give, and he raises David’s hand to his mouth, brushing his knuckles and fingertips against his lips one by one.
“I know,” David says, voice resigned, “but I can’t keep doing this knowing I only have half of your heart.” Tears slip silently from his eyes, and he doesn’t even bother to try to stop them.
Cook just nods, too tired to even feel the full weight of the situation. He knows his own tears will come later, but for now he just puts a kiss to the top of David’s head, inhaling deeply to imprint the scent in his brain. “In the morning. I’ll pack in the morning,” he says, wiping the moisture from David’s face with his thumb.
“I’ll help,” David states simply, pulling the covers up over top of the both of them and pushing his body flush against Cook’s.
They lay there wrapped in each other’s arms, the stillness of the night enveloping them, but neither sleeps. As the dawn comes and light seeps in through the blinds, they both feel the silent agreement that the start of this day is really more of an end.
(PT. 2)