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Bleeding Hearts -- Act 1 Scene 2 I actually have the first 6 parts of this written, but I'm trying to space out my posts so I don't leave you all hanging at the end. this bit contains more angst, some sex, and naughty words. if that bothers you, why are you on the list? =P xxoo vanessa BLEEDING HEARTS Act 1 Scene 2 Brian lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling; it was spinning in a most curious manner. He was still wearing what he had been at the club; he had fallen onto the bed upon arriving in his room and hadn't really moved since then. He was trying to make the room stop spinning, or his head, whichever was causing it. He heard a soft groan, and thought it was his own. He /had/ been trying to move. But then it came again, and he knew it wasn't him. So what was it? He lay very still, wondering where this noise came from, that it dare intrude upon his private misery. He lay pondering a moment, then he figured it out: It came from Steve's room. 'Steve... what the...?' He could hear Steve's soft laughter. 'He's just drunk, and laughing... just hanging out...' A laugh, not the just-hanging-out kind, carried loudly through the wall. A moan followed it. A masculine moan, and not Steve's. Brian groaned, rolled off the bed and crawled to the table where he left his cigarettes. He lit one with a shaky hand and stuck it in his mouth as he leaned back against the wall joining his room to his bandmate's. He could suddenly hear things very clearly... "Stef...oh, Christ..." "Its okay, Steve, it'll all be fine. Trust me." "I do, but--" He cut himself off abruptly, and a soft, whimpering moan replaced his words. "Oh my god, that feels good." He put his hand to Stef's head, holding him tightly to his chest where he was currently at work licking Steve's nipple and nearby flesh. Stef glanced up at Steve and smiled, then returned to his ministrations, his own hand lightly running over Steve's hip and thigh. When his hand brushed against the bulge in Steve's pants, Steve fell backwards against the wall with a *thud*. He moaned, pulling Stef's body against his own. His alcohol-addled brain was rushing as fast as it could to figure things out, but his body was being most insistant. 'I must be really drunk,' he said to himself, 'for this to be happening.' He interrupted himself as Stef began to slowly unzip his pants. 'But somehow, I just don't care.' He shut his eyes as he felt his pants falling from his hips, felt large hands slowly creeping across his skin. As the fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, he felt a rush of cool air against his hot skin and realized he was now naked. Moments later, the feel of flesh against his own confirmed this. He leaned back on the wall, his legs suddenly without strength. "You okay up there?" Stef's voice was laced with gentle concern. Steve lifted his hand and gestured slightly as he nodded. He couldnt trust himself to speak. The lips that had voiced the worry returned to previous matters, and as they closed around his swollen cock, Steve knew that he had to stop lying to himself. Brian sat intently, trying to figure out what the soft voices were saying. He heard a soft -- male -- voice say a name that might have been "Steve", but then again it might not have. He had no idea who was in the other room with his bandmate. The loud *thud* against the wall at his back startled Brian out of his reverie. 'What in the fuck was that?' He went to press his ear to the wall but his burned- down cigarette fell from his limp fingers. 'Ah, shit,' he picked it up and reached to stub it out on the side of the small night table near the bed. He took another cigarette from the package on the floor by his feet, lit it up and stuck it in his mouth, returning his attention to the wall. He didn't feel quite as drunk as he did earlier; perhaps the sitting still had helped his mind clear itself up a little. He pressed his small ear to the wall, listening. At first all he could hear were low moans and grunts, but he was eventually rewarded with a few intelligible words: "Ummmm, Stef. My god..." Brian couldn't quite be sure what he heard. It was Steve's room, but the voice said Stef? Was the alcohol playing tricks on him again? "Shh, Steve, you're slipping... just sit down..." Now the voice said Steve. Brian's poor addled mind couldn't make sense of what was going on, but some little part of it was trying to tell him something...It showed itself and he seized upon it: The second voice was different! That's how he could have heard both 'Steve' and 'Stef'... But that would mean... No, it couldn't be, that didn't make sense! But if he couldn't believe his own ears, then... Brian slumped over, tears brimming in his eyes, which were still rimmed with smudged make-up. As they fell, they left dark streaks across his pale cheeks. He didn't notice, wouldn't have cared. As his tears fell to the floor, his world fell with them, piece by piece. A loud, insistant knocking slowly brought Brian up from sleep. "What the FUCK do you want?" he yelled, feeling thoroughly shitty. He had a horrible hang-over, and he was pretty sure he was still wearing his clothes and makeup from the night before. He cracked one eye open to look. Yup, he was. Shit, the light hurt. "Open the door, Bri," yelled Stefan, punctuating his phrase with rhythmic bangs against the door. 'Stef...why don't I want to hear his voice?' Brian's brain rolled over and made the connection. "Fuck off, Stef," he yelled angrily before he could stop himself. "Shit, calm down Brian," came the reply. Brian heard heavy footsteps moving away from his door, only to come back a moment later. "Bri? Wanna open the door?" It was Steve this time. "I'm coming in whether you like it or not, I have the key to your room." "Wha...?" Brian vaguely remembered Steve opening his door for him the night before, as he had been too drunk to do so himself. The door opened and Steve poked his head in, flipping on the lights and opening the curtains. Brian screamed (much like a girl, in fact). "Jesus Christ that hurts my eyes, you evil bitch!" "Its good to see you're bright and cheery this morning," said Stef sourly. Steve looked from Brian - still slumped against the wall - to the bed and back to Brian, noting it hadn't been slept in. "Come on, Bri, it's time to get up." Steve was answered with a low grunt that may or may not have been an obscenity. "I'm serious, we have to get going sooner than later." Brian shot him a very evil look and rolled forward, dislodging the cigarette that had fallen from his lips as he slept... and burnt a hole through his shirt. "Fuck!" "That's the spirit, Bri, just get off your lazy hungover ass and back on the bus for another round of hell..." Stef trailed off as he noticed nobody was even smiling at his attempts at humour. He shrugged. Steve was worried about Brian. He wasn't sure why he had been sleeping on the floor, sitting against the wall. He looked like hell, maybe he had just been too drunk to make it to the bed. But he could have *sworn* Brian had fallen onto the bed when they brought him home the night before. 'Then again, its not like I can depend on remembering something as trivial as this after a night like that...' He smiled to himself. Brian had made it to his feet and was staggering over to where his bandmates were standing. "Bri? Are you okay?" Steve saw the black streaks down Brian's face; he worried about his friend. "Of course I'm not, you idiot. I have a raging headache, feel like my mouth is a desert and my body aches everywhere." "No, I mean it looks like you've been crying. Are you okay?" "What? Crying? No..." Brian sounded defensive. "Okay." Steve didn't believe him, but didn't want to press it. "There's coffee and orange juice on the bus, that might help you some... Maybe you want to have a quick shower?" "I don't think I can stay standing long enough for that to be a good idea, I just want to go back to sleep." "Right, to the bus it is." Prev | Next Home |