part 30 - rated nc-17
Nov. 28th, 2003 07:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzieLaurie wished he could tell his subconscious to quit it with the weird dreams, although dreaming about Gunther Glassman sitting on the edge of his tub was probably better than dreaming about fucking his half brother. But still. He obviously had Gunther's death on his mind, and he didn't think he'd be able to get it out so quickly, but he wished it wouldn't invade his sleep like that. He'd never know what Gunther was thinking when he picked Laurie to play at his funeral, and he might never know for sure why "Hallelujah," although that at least he could guess at. Not knowing didn't stop him from wondering, it just meant he'd always be a little frustrated at not being able to find the answer.
He carefully rolled out of bed, trying not to wake Parrish up, and tiptoed into the kitchen for something to drink, but all he had was flat Coke and some orange juice and half a bottle of water, and none of those were exciting. He didn't want a beer. Maybe he should go back to bed, but he was awake now and didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep so soon.
How weird was this - Laurie sitting naked on his couch, flipping channels on the TV with the sound off, and in his bed, a cute and sexy boy, fast asleep after a good hard pounding. And stuck repeating in his head like a tape loop, the image of dead Gunther Glassman in his bathroom, perched on the edge of his tub, telling him he had everything under control. Bits of the dream were already fading, but Laurie remembered that much. That and Joan Jett, screaming up through the floorboards.
"Laurie?" came a sleepy, confused voice from the door into the bedroom, and Laurie dropped the TV remote, startled, and turned around. Parrish was standing in the doorway, blinking sleepily and pushing hair out of his face. In the flickering light from the TV screen Laurie could tell he wasn't wearing his glasses, which might explain the squinting. "I hope that's you, I'm not wearing my glasses. Otherwise you have a very polite burglar. Is something wrong?"
"Just a dream," Laurie said. He got up and turned the TV off, and for a minute the entire apartment was pitch dark. Then his eyes adjusted enough for him to make his way to Parrish and his bedroom without walking into anything. He considerately took Parrish's hand and led him to the bed.
"A bad one?"
"I dreamed about Gunther. My friend who killed himself."
"Oh." Parrish scooted close to him and touched his face. "Are you ok?"
"I don't know." Laurie shrugged. Was he? If he was fine they wouldn't be having this conversation. "I will be, eventually. I can't sleep now. He said he had everything under control. I think I asked him why he killed himself, and he said because the record was going to be shit. I asked him why he wanted me to play at his funeral and he didn't tell me. He said you told him I'd do a good job."
"Me?"
"Yeah." Laurie shrugged again. Parrish's hand moved around to the back of his neck and pulled his face close so they could kiss.
"Why you."
"Yeah. He knew a lot of musicians. People with better voices. I mean, even his boyfriend.... We didn't really go out, we were just fuckbuddies for a while, and that was a couple of years ago." He couldn't explain why this bothered him so much. Maybe because he couldn't understand how he could mean so much to someone he hadn't seen in months, and hadn't spoken to much before that. How could he mean so much to someone he'd almost forgotten?
"Sometimes it's like that," Parrish said softly. "You can't always know what people are thinking. You have to be able to accept it. He remembered you fondly, that's all. You were someone special, or he just thought you would do the best job with the least drama and posturing. You could play for him, you could give him a voice." Parrish's hand stroked the back of Laurie's neck and his lips brushed across Laurie's mouth. "Maybe yours was the voice he wanted to carry him to heaven. Maybe he just loved you, Laurie."
"But - "
"Shh. No buts."
"How many people have you buried that you liked?"
"None. Well, one, my grandmother, my mother's mother, but she was a mean, bitter woman and I can't say I was sorry to see her go. My mother wasn't either. So, one funeral, but no one who was close to me."
"So you don't know what it's like."
"No I don't. But I can imagine. I was thinking about you this morning, around eleven, and wondering how you were doing, if you had people around you who you love, and who love you." The fingers of his other hand brushed over Laurie's chest.
"My friend Lea, yeah. I think she worries about me, that I'll end up like that, dead and positive. She made me go down to the clinic for a blood test."
"She doesn't want to have to bury you."
"Nope. I keep telling her she won't, I'm not going to end up like that, but I don't know if she believes me."
"That could be part of it too." Parrish's hand drifted lower, to Laurie's stomach and his hip and his thigh. Laurie's skin shivered in its wake, and his prick twitched. "She looks at your friend and sees you. Maybe you've been identifying with Gunther after all." Parrish leaned close and kissed Laurie, his mouth warm and his tongue pushing against Laurie's lips. "He's dead - "
"But I'm not." Laurie's mouth opened to Parrish and his own hand stroked down to Parrish's hip, to his cock, and for the next several minutes they moved against each other, stroking and kissing and murmuring, letting their hands and their mouths and their bodies take over the conversation.
Soon enough Parrish was on his back and Laurie was straddling him, looking down at him, at this boy who liked him, who cared about him, who wanted him and wanted him to have peace. Laurie thought if he could fall in love with anyone, it would be Parrish. He wondered if he was half in love already. He wondered if Parrish was half in love with him, if Parrish had thought about how it would be to have to bury a lover.
He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to. He leaned down instead, took Parrish's mouth in a hard kiss, tasting him, trying to taste the back of his throat, swallow him whole. Laurie's fingers played with Parrish's nipples, teasing and pinching and Parrish arched underneath him, moaned into his mouth, whispered something, begging maybe, words of desire and hunger.
And as if this was a dream as well and time moved in that weird kind of non-pattern it did in dreams, a whole sequence of events passed in a blink and then Laurie had draped Parrish's legs over his shoulders and he was leaning down again, his hips changing the angle of his thrusts so they both moaned together, the top of Laurie's head pressed to Parrish's collarbone for a second before he sat up again, and this was more what he had in mind - slow, langorous fucking, taking their time, playing around with touch and position and what Parrish's words could conjure, the sheets sliding down off Laurie's back which was fine because he was too hot and too sweaty, and under him, around him, Parrish arched his back and sighed and reached for Laurie's face, his palm warm on Laurie's skin, his voice dark and heavy in Laurie's ears.
And this felt like a dream too, but not as desperate, not as weird, not as fraught with meaning and things twitching just below the surface - just two boys falling in love in the dark.
Years and years later, it seemed, their climaxes washed over them like the rolling tide, like thunder in their ears as they shook and cried out and Parrish's come sprayed between his fingers to land on his chest. Laurie bent down and licked at it, tasting salt and heat and that peculiar spice that would always be "Parrish," and Parrish moaned softly at the sensation and stroked Laurie's long dark hair, skin goose-pimpling where it tickled him.
When Laurie was finished, and when he was soft and empty, he pulled out, went into the bathroom to flush the condom and splash water on his face, and when he went back into the bedroom Parrish had pulled the blankets back up and seemed to be waiting for him.
"That's what I had in mind," Laurie said, sliding into bed.
"Me too." Parrish stroked his face again. He loved to do that, Laurie thought, loved to touch his lover's face. "I could get used to this. I could get used to you."
For once that didn't give Laurie the creeps, because he could get used to it too. Parrish was really cute, no question, and thinking about how he looked and how he sounded and how he felt when you fucked him was enough to make Laurie hard in his jeans, but he was calm and he was funny and he was interesting and he was smart, and he came from a place Laurie couldn't understand, but he was worth getting to know. Laurie wasn't quite ready to be anyone's boyfriend, but he thought he could learn how, he thought he might be ready to try.
"Would you run screaming if I said I thought I was in love with you?" Parrish went on, his voice a little nervous, a little scared. Laurie shook his head and reached for Parrish himself this time, and the music he'd played for Gunther, and the music he'd played for all the other beautiful boys, and the music he had yet to play for this boy carried them on through until morning.
END
words: 1686
total words: 54,853
He carefully rolled out of bed, trying not to wake Parrish up, and tiptoed into the kitchen for something to drink, but all he had was flat Coke and some orange juice and half a bottle of water, and none of those were exciting. He didn't want a beer. Maybe he should go back to bed, but he was awake now and didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep so soon.
How weird was this - Laurie sitting naked on his couch, flipping channels on the TV with the sound off, and in his bed, a cute and sexy boy, fast asleep after a good hard pounding. And stuck repeating in his head like a tape loop, the image of dead Gunther Glassman in his bathroom, perched on the edge of his tub, telling him he had everything under control. Bits of the dream were already fading, but Laurie remembered that much. That and Joan Jett, screaming up through the floorboards.
"Laurie?" came a sleepy, confused voice from the door into the bedroom, and Laurie dropped the TV remote, startled, and turned around. Parrish was standing in the doorway, blinking sleepily and pushing hair out of his face. In the flickering light from the TV screen Laurie could tell he wasn't wearing his glasses, which might explain the squinting. "I hope that's you, I'm not wearing my glasses. Otherwise you have a very polite burglar. Is something wrong?"
"Just a dream," Laurie said. He got up and turned the TV off, and for a minute the entire apartment was pitch dark. Then his eyes adjusted enough for him to make his way to Parrish and his bedroom without walking into anything. He considerately took Parrish's hand and led him to the bed.
"A bad one?"
"I dreamed about Gunther. My friend who killed himself."
"Oh." Parrish scooted close to him and touched his face. "Are you ok?"
"I don't know." Laurie shrugged. Was he? If he was fine they wouldn't be having this conversation. "I will be, eventually. I can't sleep now. He said he had everything under control. I think I asked him why he killed himself, and he said because the record was going to be shit. I asked him why he wanted me to play at his funeral and he didn't tell me. He said you told him I'd do a good job."
"Me?"
"Yeah." Laurie shrugged again. Parrish's hand moved around to the back of his neck and pulled his face close so they could kiss.
"Why you."
"Yeah. He knew a lot of musicians. People with better voices. I mean, even his boyfriend.... We didn't really go out, we were just fuckbuddies for a while, and that was a couple of years ago." He couldn't explain why this bothered him so much. Maybe because he couldn't understand how he could mean so much to someone he hadn't seen in months, and hadn't spoken to much before that. How could he mean so much to someone he'd almost forgotten?
"Sometimes it's like that," Parrish said softly. "You can't always know what people are thinking. You have to be able to accept it. He remembered you fondly, that's all. You were someone special, or he just thought you would do the best job with the least drama and posturing. You could play for him, you could give him a voice." Parrish's hand stroked the back of Laurie's neck and his lips brushed across Laurie's mouth. "Maybe yours was the voice he wanted to carry him to heaven. Maybe he just loved you, Laurie."
"But - "
"Shh. No buts."
"How many people have you buried that you liked?"
"None. Well, one, my grandmother, my mother's mother, but she was a mean, bitter woman and I can't say I was sorry to see her go. My mother wasn't either. So, one funeral, but no one who was close to me."
"So you don't know what it's like."
"No I don't. But I can imagine. I was thinking about you this morning, around eleven, and wondering how you were doing, if you had people around you who you love, and who love you." The fingers of his other hand brushed over Laurie's chest.
"My friend Lea, yeah. I think she worries about me, that I'll end up like that, dead and positive. She made me go down to the clinic for a blood test."
"She doesn't want to have to bury you."
"Nope. I keep telling her she won't, I'm not going to end up like that, but I don't know if she believes me."
"That could be part of it too." Parrish's hand drifted lower, to Laurie's stomach and his hip and his thigh. Laurie's skin shivered in its wake, and his prick twitched. "She looks at your friend and sees you. Maybe you've been identifying with Gunther after all." Parrish leaned close and kissed Laurie, his mouth warm and his tongue pushing against Laurie's lips. "He's dead - "
"But I'm not." Laurie's mouth opened to Parrish and his own hand stroked down to Parrish's hip, to his cock, and for the next several minutes they moved against each other, stroking and kissing and murmuring, letting their hands and their mouths and their bodies take over the conversation.
Soon enough Parrish was on his back and Laurie was straddling him, looking down at him, at this boy who liked him, who cared about him, who wanted him and wanted him to have peace. Laurie thought if he could fall in love with anyone, it would be Parrish. He wondered if he was half in love already. He wondered if Parrish was half in love with him, if Parrish had thought about how it would be to have to bury a lover.
He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to. He leaned down instead, took Parrish's mouth in a hard kiss, tasting him, trying to taste the back of his throat, swallow him whole. Laurie's fingers played with Parrish's nipples, teasing and pinching and Parrish arched underneath him, moaned into his mouth, whispered something, begging maybe, words of desire and hunger.
And as if this was a dream as well and time moved in that weird kind of non-pattern it did in dreams, a whole sequence of events passed in a blink and then Laurie had draped Parrish's legs over his shoulders and he was leaning down again, his hips changing the angle of his thrusts so they both moaned together, the top of Laurie's head pressed to Parrish's collarbone for a second before he sat up again, and this was more what he had in mind - slow, langorous fucking, taking their time, playing around with touch and position and what Parrish's words could conjure, the sheets sliding down off Laurie's back which was fine because he was too hot and too sweaty, and under him, around him, Parrish arched his back and sighed and reached for Laurie's face, his palm warm on Laurie's skin, his voice dark and heavy in Laurie's ears.
And this felt like a dream too, but not as desperate, not as weird, not as fraught with meaning and things twitching just below the surface - just two boys falling in love in the dark.
Years and years later, it seemed, their climaxes washed over them like the rolling tide, like thunder in their ears as they shook and cried out and Parrish's come sprayed between his fingers to land on his chest. Laurie bent down and licked at it, tasting salt and heat and that peculiar spice that would always be "Parrish," and Parrish moaned softly at the sensation and stroked Laurie's long dark hair, skin goose-pimpling where it tickled him.
When Laurie was finished, and when he was soft and empty, he pulled out, went into the bathroom to flush the condom and splash water on his face, and when he went back into the bedroom Parrish had pulled the blankets back up and seemed to be waiting for him.
"That's what I had in mind," Laurie said, sliding into bed.
"Me too." Parrish stroked his face again. He loved to do that, Laurie thought, loved to touch his lover's face. "I could get used to this. I could get used to you."
For once that didn't give Laurie the creeps, because he could get used to it too. Parrish was really cute, no question, and thinking about how he looked and how he sounded and how he felt when you fucked him was enough to make Laurie hard in his jeans, but he was calm and he was funny and he was interesting and he was smart, and he came from a place Laurie couldn't understand, but he was worth getting to know. Laurie wasn't quite ready to be anyone's boyfriend, but he thought he could learn how, he thought he might be ready to try.
"Would you run screaming if I said I thought I was in love with you?" Parrish went on, his voice a little nervous, a little scared. Laurie shook his head and reached for Parrish himself this time, and the music he'd played for Gunther, and the music he'd played for all the other beautiful boys, and the music he had yet to play for this boy carried them on through until morning.
END
words: 1686
total words: 54,853
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 04:44 pm (UTC)Very well done, Cindy. Love the last line.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 05:14 pm (UTC)(and I actually didn't think it seemed truncated or sudden at all -- maybe you feel like that, because you know what was supposed to happen, but i think it worked really well. congrats.)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-28 05:35 pm (UTC)*smooch*
Love them, darling. So sweet. Thank you for giving them to us.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 07:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-29 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:09 pm (UTC)*danny takes a bow*
*lea kind of stands there and grins*
thank you. :>
no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:16 pm (UTC)danny sez: cool. :D
cindy sez: thanks. :>
no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 07:23 pm (UTC)The ending is beautiful. This whole thing is wonderful. Thank you for writing it. I mean, I know it wasn't for me or anything, but still. It's a beautiful thing.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-30 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-06 10:35 am (UTC)