je_disparais

Where The Lines Begin To Blur

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 16:10:46 GMT

Author: tia_maria_616 & sweetchild85
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG - NC-17, depending on the chapter

Summary: A troublemaker and a teacher with a past meet outside of lessons for some private tutoring, but it soon becomes apparent that their subject is changing from maths to chemistry. How long can their learning last before the experiment bubbles over and someone gets burnt?

Disclaimer: Persons are a law unto themselves and sadly we cannot claim ownership rights.
Warning: Age-difference, teacher/student - relationship
A/N: This was basically started as an RP and just edited now to post it up as a story to share the fun with you. So hold on to your hats and fasten your seat-belts, this is just the beginning.

Links Page

Prompt 22.

Sat, 03 May 2008 10:18:26 GMT

Author; Tia_Maria_616
Pairing; Vam
Rating; PG
Disclaimer; I don't know them, I don't own them, and I wouldn't expect this happened, though I'm not ruling it out
Summary; Prompt from slasher48I believe.

Note; Sorry I've not written anything in so long, I don't know if half of you even remember what I used to write! I can't promise the end of Babysitting coming soon, so it's better not to promise anything at all and give you a little prompt. At least I think so anyway.

"Love is friendship caught on fire"

For someone who sings about love nearly every night, my own version is in no way similar to my songs.
First of all, he's not Venus, there's nothing feminine about him and that's exactly how I want it.
I call him a younger brother; it's my way of telling the world he means so much to me that he could be in my family. However, I'd never do with my brother what I do with him.
He was one of my best friends, crazy, funny and always seeming in awe of me. He flattered me, he loved my image before he ever even met me and that was fine in my book.

I could write on and on about how he switched from a friend to a friend with benefits, and then finally to... something more.
I won't though, there are some things that I like to keep private in my life, not much I will admit, but this is one of those things.
It did involve a lot of Jägermeister for me and whiskey for him that I can easily say. But still, it happened.
Alcohol awakens a fire, slow burning but gathering momentum until we're pulling at each other's clothes.
A friendship caught on fire.
I could make that a song, but again it's something I don't want to share.

He has me, he knows he does, and despite the fact we're not a couple, I know I have him too.
It's not for dinner dates at expensive restaurants, it's not for teenage kisses, and it's not even for the fact that he's the only person I know I can trust to not tell the world I'm not as straight as my fans would like to believe I was.
He wants to tell people, he wants it to be okay to say those three little words that can mean everything and nothing at all.
I won't let him do that, I won't let myself do that because I know if we labelled this, if we were put in a cage, the first thing he would do would be to escape.
He wouldn't mean to do it, but I've seen how when he gets something he's wanted for so long, the magic fades and he starts looking for something else.
So I won't let him have me in words, but I'm sure he realises he has me deep down inside.

He has to know that I always feel the most alive when we talk on the phone, when he tells me the latest crazy thing he's planning, when he says he's flying over to Finland to see me. I feel more comfortable than I ever have when I can lock the world out and fall on the bed with him, watch stupid documentaries on television with him, drink until we couldn't move even if we wanted to. Most of all, I love it when it's so easy for our lingering touches to develop into something that's gentle but rough, slow but frantic, hidden but full in ways I think it's better to not even explain.
I live for the moments when I can feel those three little words in the air, so close I could stick my tongue out and taste it like the first flurry of snow on a winter's morning.
We know it's there but I'll never say it, because what we have is a friendship caught on fire, there's nothing that needs to be said at all.

---

Leave me a comment if you remember who I am (just don't hurt me!) or even if you don't, but liked my little bit of writing.

Babysitting; Chapter 28

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 17:32:09 GMT

Author: Tia_Maria
Pairing: Vam
Rating: 13+
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to themselves, if they didn't we sure as hell wouldn't be writing all of this, would we?
Summary: Ville works as a part-time babysitter, his latest baby is a six year old boy called Brandon... Or was that sixteen?

Previous Chapters Page
Previous Chapter

Banner made for by Ina for her Mummy (me).

A.N;

Hey, so it's been a while, huh? I am sorry for the gap, but as you should know (because I have told you before!) there's only about three more chapters left of this.
How long those will take to arrive, I'm not sure yet. Me and Babysitting are falling out a little at the moment, but they'll be here eventually.
Maybe if you all leave me a line or two at the end, it'll speed up my writing brain. x

(Oh also, this is without beta, so feel free to shout at me for anything.)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ville walked into the Margera's kitchen a few days later after waking Bam up, and then being kicked out of their bathroom by the boy as he wanted a shower. The thought of sharing had passed though Ville’s mind, but he wasn’t going to voice the thought or act upon it in any way with Mrs. Margera in the house, so he had ended up heading down the stairs in search of some coffee.

With a small greeting to the maid, Ville plopped himself down in his usual seat at the kitchen table, the one that gave him the view out over the back garden. He poured out his cupful of black coffee, decidedly ignoring the look of disapproval he received from the maid at the lack of milk.

Loud voices in the hall dulled his fulfilled sigh as he lowered the cup back down onto the table, ears straining to catch hold of the words outside. As much as he tried he couldn’t understand enough to know what they were talking about, but he could take a fair guess since the voices were Bam’s and Mrs. Margera’s.

The kitchen door swung open on its hinges as the younger boy walked backwards into the room, newly brown hair in slight curls on his head and shaking indignantly as their owner argued. “You can’t make me do anything! It’s my hair and it's my body; I’ll do whatever I want!”
Mrs. Margera replied with something but she was still too far away to be heard properly, though the word ‘work’ he thought he understood.

“Yeah, whatever. If, and when you get home, as always.” Bam seemed almost to mock at his mother. The kitchen door closed as the front door banged shut and the boy rolled his eyes at Ville, looking more amused than pissed off.
“Mom says she thinks the colour suits me too.”

Ville poured out Bam’s usual orange juice into a glass on the table as the boy sat down opposite him. “You may think it's funny Bam, but I’m sure it’ll be me that ultimately gets blamed, not you.”

“Nah, it won’t, she likes shouting at me too much.” He shook his head, and then smiled as he saw Ville push the glass over to him, uttering a small thank you before taking a few large gulps eagerly.

Sitting there in the Margera’s kitchen felt like home, their morning routine started the day off properly. Bam would stumble down the stairs, drop himself into his chair and drink a whole glassful of orange juice before starting on either pancakes with too much syrup, or scrambled eggs on toast and other horrendous cooked foods.
Ville in contrast, would sit there with his cup of coffee glued to his right hand, occasionally taking a bite of toast if he had the mind to as he watched Bam.
On a nice day, such as the one that morning, the sun would light up the room, brightening the walls of the powder blue room and reflecting off of glasses and hair. The maid pottering around by the sink simply created background sounds as the two ate and slowly woke up.
This simple routine would be something he would soon miss; a life on a tour bus could be nothing similar. Four days he had left, though he wouldn’t remind Bam and ruin the mood, just four days stood between babysitting and touring.
He had to tell Mrs. Margera still, to tell her she’d need to find a new babysitter for Bam, or perhaps convince her that he didn’t actually need one anymore. Four days and then he’d be gone.

“You coming out to watch Novak and me? I’ve got the morning off of lessons to practise for tomorrow.” Bam reminded, causing Ville to look back over at the boy from where he’d been staring out of the window, cup half way to his lips.

“Of course, the competition’s tomorrow, I’d not forgotten. And yes, I’ll come and watch you practise, though you don’t really need so long to practise now.” Bam had been out on his half pipe nearly every evening the past few weeks, trying things out, working up a little routine of different manoeuvres; he didn't need to practise so hard right before a competition though, he needed to relax.

Ville finished his second coffee as Bam threw his fork down in victory; obviously his three pancakes had been a trial that morning, as they were every day.
“I’ll meet you out there in a bit, Bam?” He asked as the other got up from the table, about to spring up the stairs to get his board before heading out.

“Yeah,” Bam nodded, already walking away and out of the room, arms stretching above his head and he moved, shirt exposing those low riding jeans he wore, the dips in the small of his back visible and kissable as he left the door to swing shut by itself.

Ville smiled to himself as he watched the maid drying up the dishes, slowly raising himself from his chair as he collected up his and Bam’s plates and glasses, bringing them over to the sink ready.

“It will be sad when you are gone, Ville.” The maid said softly as she picked up another bowl in her hands to dry.
He didn’t know what to say, the woman had never before said anything like that, let alone commented on his and Bam’s conversations or outings.

“It’ll be sad for me when I have to leave as well.” He surmised, “Already I feel like a part of this family, this house, it’ll be weird to not wake up here anymore.” And even stranger to wake up without needing to go to find Bam every morning.

--

The sun was higher in the sky as Ville stood in the shadows of the nearby trees; he waved to Novak as the other boy noticed him from the top of the pipe, smiling gently as he watched Bam flip his board in the air over Novak’s head.

Still Bam was the better skater, his natural ability probably accounting for some of that fact, but the amount of hour's practise he put in certainly helped.

The sound of the wheels running up and down the wood faded with monotony to Ville’s ears; instead he heard a funny little bird’s song coming from somewhere up in the trees, twittering away. He still didn’t understand how he could be in London and feel as though he was in the country, but he wasn’t complaining.

Ville lit up another cigarette as he walked around the pipe, in and out of the weeping willows dotted about the garden. He liked those most out of all of the larger plants in the garden; they had an assured elegance with their brown branches growing lighter, right to a bright green where they drooped, little buds of flowers starting to form from offshoots. The new growths shone with vitality, as if the very process of transpiration was visible in the air.

If he ever got a garden similar, he would plant many such trees- If he ever got one.
But then who could tell, it might become a possibility with the tour they were going on. Rather than just go to one area, the band were being taken to the main capitals in Europe, before skipping across the Atlantic for a few shows in the States as a support to a better known band over there. He’d be gone for four months, three in Europe and one in America since they weren’t as focussed over there yet.
Perhaps not as long a tour as they could have gone on, but then they’d only half toured before on their meandering way over to England, so weren’t that sure what they were letting themselves in for.

Bam’s shouts to Novak when he got too close brought Ville out of his musing slightly. If only Bam could come with him, everything would be that bit simpler. He could be part of the roadie crew or something, Ville’s personal organiser, anything as long as he was around.
But Mrs. Margera would never agree to that.
Touring was not exactly the safest, most reliable trip to go on, after show parties and drunken binges well known for being a prerequisite of such a life. Of course drugs would also be a suspicion, and while Ville himself didn’t do that anymore, Mrs. Margera couldn’t know that.

Though he didn’t stop walking as he smoked, every time Bam paused in skating they caught each other’s eyes, a private smile of secret moments shared.
It was funny how things turned out sometimes, whether you hate someone or you love them, and how it is possible to skip between the two with time.

With a little wave up at Bam, Ville sat himself down under one of the willows, hiding out of the way of the sun, but still with a good view of the skating as he sat smoking on the grass, nothing more than a quiet observer to the action.

--

“Hey,” Bam tapped Ville on the shoulder as they stood out on the balcony of Bam’s room later in the afternoon. “Are we gonna go to some of those art galleries you were talking about next week?”

Ville grimaced, index finger rubbing along the metal railing distractedly. “Bam, you know I’ve got the, uh... the tour… I won’t be here next week.”
He could see out of the corner of his eye, the boy staring up at him in shock, he’d clearly completely forgotten, which had been Ville’s plan all along, to not let Bam think about it before he had to.

“Oh,” Was all the boy said, head turning from Ville as he looked down at the garden.

“I’m coming to the competition tomorrow though.” He reminded in a silent plea for Bam not to get too upset with him.

“Yeah,” The boy shrugged as Ville looked over at him, not bothering to hide the sad expression on his face. “But you’re still leaving.”

Ville’s throat prickled as he gulped. “I have to go, Bam.”

The boy shrugged again, not voicing his thoughts this time.
Silence was heavy between them, Ville not wanting to say too much and upset the other further.

“You won’t be coming back again, will you?” The quiet voice was painful to the ears.

“To England, yes, the band still have the flat over here, but it won’t be that often,” He trailed off, not entirely sure himself.

“You won’t want to see me anymore.”

“Bam,” Ville’s eyes pleaded, his chest clenching around his lungs fiercely as he tried to keep in check. “I do, of course I do-”

“But you’re not going to.” They boy’s lips were turning white where they pressed together, his knitted eyebrows added to the look of pain similarly on Bam’s face.

“Bam, please understand, I don’t want to leave you… but I’m not a babysitter, and being a musician means travelling.”

The boy nodded miserably, hands gripped to the balcony railings tightly. “…I don’t want you to go.” He whispered, blinking as he bit his bottom lip.

“Oh, Bam,” With a little sob Ville reached out for the other boy, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other across his back. Bam’s head snuck into its place against Ville’s neck as he let his lips brush against the boy’s hair, before turning his face to press into the curls on Bam’s head as they stood leaning on each other.

“You can’t leave me Ville,” Bam’s sad voice pleaded against Ville’s skin as his hands grasped the babysitter’s waist in a tight embrace. “Everything’s different when you’re here; I’m not a fuck-up anymore, someone actually cares for me. Don’t leave me, Ville… Please?”

Water pooled in Ville’s eyes, the wetness falling down his cheeks to Bam’s hair where it soaked in as he sniffed, trying not to let himself break down.

“Bam, Bam I don’t want to, I don’t,” He paused as a sob escaped from his throat, “But I’ve got to, I’ve got to tour, else I’ll never get anywhere.” Bam’s shoulders shook against Ville’s hand on his back. “I don’t want to lose you either Bam, I really, really don’t.”

Bam’s lips pressed down in what might have been a kiss over Ville’s neck, arms wound tighter around his babysitter’s frame as his shoulders shook and tears stuck to his eyelashes in the tips of Ville’s hair. “…Then don’t leave me.”

--

“He would be safe there, I promise you he would. He could study and do homework on the bus, please Mrs. Margera, won’t you consider it?” Ville twisted his fingers together nervously, silently beseeching the woman in front of him to let her son go.

The blonde bobbed woman put her organiser down on the desk of her office as he shook her head. “No Ville, I’m not letting my son go gallivanting around with strangers, absolutely not. I don’t care if you say you’re going to look after him, you’re going to be too busy to properly do that. I can’t agree to it, no. I thought you were a sensible young man.” Her tone was all too final as she kept her eyes firmly upon the babysitter’s.

Ville mentally pulled his hair out, he had known there wasn’t much of a chance that she would agree, but it was still a blow.
“Well, I leave on Friday then,” He got out finally, taking a shaky breath to try to compose him in front of this level-headed, hard gazing woman.
“And I trust that you will look after Bam during the day before you leave that evening?” She swivelled her chair slightly to face the computer screen she sat at in the big mahogany office.

“I will, until Bam is finished for the day and my taxi arrives.”

“Good. I am rather disappointed that you want to leave, I will admit- despite your letting Bam dye his hair. I don’t know how far you think you are going to get with this silly music dream, but that is your mistake, not mine.”

Ville could feel himself almost shrinking under her words. He didn’t like people like this at all, so focused in on one thing, so judgemental of other people’s dreams. It was strange to think that she was Bam’s mother. How had he grown up to be the person he was today with those sort of pressures? Maybe his father had been easier going. Ville didn’t know, in the end he hadn’t spoken to Bam about his father that much.

“…I’d better go and check on Bam.” He mumbled, noticing that Mrs. Margera was already absorbed back into her work, all thoughts of Ville’s proposal out of her mind.
Life wasn’t fair.

--

Rain pattered against the window panes of the babysitter’s room, shaky breaths audible through the air as a thin body lay curled up on the sheets. Shoulders tremble as a hand wipes at weeping eyes, dark hair fallen over the face to better hide from the world.

He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to be so close to Bam and yet have to be far away. The boy of his thoughts slept on the other side of the wall, so far away already.
It wouldn’t take much to walk in there, to wrap his pale arms around the smaller body, to wriggle under the covers and bask in the cosy warmth, to lose all fears under the protection of stronger arms.
But it would be wrong, who was he to make Bam’s pain worse? Why should he torture the boy again with the fact that he was leaving, to cuddle close to him, only to make their separation harder?
He couldn’t do it.

Midnight slowly crept closer as the body grew colder on top of the duvet, surrounded by the open air of the room. Tears fell unbridled, seeping into the pure white pillows as the shape drowned in slumber, slowly calming to a melancholy stillness.

---

*whispers* Was it okay?

Prompt 006. Rubber Duck

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 14:32:16 GMT

Author; Tia_Maria_616 (je_disparais)
Pairing; Vam
Rating; 13+
Disclaimer; I don't know them, I don't own them, and I wouldn't expect this happened, though I'm not ruling it out.
Summary; Rubber Duck- Prompt for violet_rose616

006. Rubber Duck

A gentle Sunday afternoon was the perfect contrast to a wild Friday and hung-over Saturday.
A windy Sunday in cold Helsinki was the perfect day for hiding in a warm bathroom, especially a bathroom that belonged to millionaire Ville Valo.

Luckily for Bam, he had access to that miracle bathroom, and access to that same Ville Valo, when he was a good boy anyway.

“Baaam? Are you ready for our bath yet?” Ville crooned from the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

Bam quickly threw his jeans and shirt on the bed, almost skipping into the bathroom with excitement.
“Ville!” He pouted upon seeing his boyfriend already in the tub without him, a light scattering of bubbles hid the parts he really wanted to see, but the shining of his creamy flesh was begging for Bam’s hands.

“I’m sorry Bam, couldn’t wait around naked forever, it gets cold!” Ville grinned, slipping down further into the bath until his shoulders were covered and warming up again, tips of his hair getting wet where it curled at the surface of the water.

As he slipped off his boxers, Bam reached into the cabinet next to the sink and pulled out his new toy he bought specially for these Sundays.

He watched Ville’s eyes roaming over his body languidly as he stepped into the bath, noticing how long it took for Ville to look at what was in his hands.
“What are you doing with that Bam?”

“Isn’t it cool? Look, it’s all dotty!” He exclaimed, waving it around in front of his boyfriend’s face.

“I can see that, but I’m wondering why you think we need it?”

“…Because it’s fun?”

“I’m sure. Now, come here.” He beckoned, ignoring the object in Bam’s hands and pulling him closer until he leaned back and rested his head against Ville’s shoulder, body laid over his gently in the water as their feet rubbed against each other.

“You’re all warm.” Bam moaned, wiggling in Ville’s arms that were wrapped safely around his waist.

“And you’re all cold, which is why you have to have a bath and lay here with me.” He knew Ville didn’t like him going out skating too much on days where a permanent ice coated the ground; the American temperatures his body was used to dealing with meant he couldn’t handle it, and Ville didn’t want to see Bam getting a cold; mainly because he became a demanding brat when he was ill.

With his head rested back against his comfy boyfriend, Bam let the new toy float out of his hands and along the surface of the water, dipping and bobbing as Ville’s hand gently smoothed circles over Bam’s hip.

“Ville, your bubbles are getting in the way, look.” He nodded his head down the bath; the poor little multicolour-dotted duck was stuck amidst a mound of bubbles.
Bam turned his head just slightly as the singer rested his jaw in the dip of Bam’s shoulder, the curls on the top of the rockstar’s head brushing against Bam’s lips teasingly as he inspected the problem.

“I think he’s having a Titanic moment.” Ville observed, letting go of Bam’s hip to wiggle his hand in the water, creating larger ripples to move the duck and bubbles around.

“Ah yeah, look; he’s free now.” The little multi-coloured duck swam through the parting of bubbles, bobbing further down the bath towards the taps.

“You’re like a little kid, you know that?” His boyfriend smiled, leaning his head back against the bathtub, one hand sliding over Bam’s skin to rub slow patterns over his chest.

Bam sighed a little at the warm hands caressing his skin, one tracing over his collarbones and back down again along the light muscles of his stomach. He never tired of bath times.

“I’m not a kid, I’m a big boy.” He smirked, wiggling his behind against Ville behind him.

“Really, now?” Bam felt his boyfriend’s chuckle down his spine, the hand smoothing higher and higher up his thigh, “Care to show me how me how grown up you’ve become, or shall I have to confiscate your little ducky?” Ville’s toe poked out from under the water to push the dotty rubber duck around a little.

A very un-manly squeal was heard as Bam flipped over on top of his boyfriend, hand sneaking lower under the water as he leaned down to capture his Ville’s lips.
Bath time was certainly never boring.

---

I want a bath now...

I - You

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 14:46:08 GMT

Author; Me, tia_maria_616/ je_disparais
Title; I - You
Rating; PG
Disclaimer; Don't steal my words.

Summary; A little musing, hard to explain- just give it a read?

I - You

I don’t want to let go,
I have to let go.

I want to pull you close,
I push you far away.

I want to forget you exist,
I speak to you every day.

I despise you,
I can’t stop caring for you.

You should never be a stranger,
I don’t know who you are.

I hide myself away,
I bear my heart yet again.

I shut you out,
You’re always on my wall.

I fear to hurt you,
I take pleasure in your grief.

I want to make you laugh,
I make myself howl.

I wallow in self-pity,
I take the pain for you.

I hate to look at you,
I can never turn away.

I need to find someone else,
You should never have another.

You should have everyone,
I should have nobody.

My life is my own,
I can’t stop fighting for you.

I want to be alone,
I don’t think I can let go.

---

A thought?

Vam Prompt Table

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 14:58:42 GMT

**050. Prompt Table**
001. Hooker-Ville	011. iPod	021. Bloodlust	031. Hooker Bam	041.The Zoo
002. Shower	012. Licorice	022. "Love is friendship caught on fire"	032. Hairbrush	042. Time Bomb
003. Hiccups	013. Bubbles	023. Milkshakes	033. Cowboy Boots	043. Nightingale
004. Coffee	014. Hot Fudge	024. Alarm Clock	034. Rice Pudding	044. Ocean
005. Pokemon	015. Rocky Horror	025. Violin	035. Public Bathroom	045. Jealousy
006. Rubber Duck	016. Gypsy	026. Snow	036. Enduring Bam	046. Ecstasy
007. Marshmallow	017. Waterbed	027. Time-Travel	037. Ville Rape	047. Still
008. Princess	018. Sprained Ankle	028. Fantasies	038. Roses	048. Subtlety
009. Sex Toy Play	019. Mpreg	029. Damsel	039. Masturbation	049. Hiding
010. Eyeshadow	020. Cuddle OCD	030. Depressed Bam	040. Zombie	050. My choice

Will be updated as written

Prompt 036. Endurance

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 18:58:04 GMT

Author; Tia_Maria_616 (je_disparais)
Pairing; Vam
Rating; pretty PG
Disclaimer; I don't know them, I don't own them, and I wouldn't expect this happened, though I'm not ruling it out.

Prompt of; Endurance from nerimari, I possibly changed what you specifically said a bit, but it's the same guideline.

Ah yes, this is the beginning and so far more sensible prompt I have been writing. This isn't going in order at all, just as I get inspiration, so keep watching for yours!

Prompt 036.

All I ever wanted was you, regardless of the consequences, the reasons and the meanings.

People always tell me I could do so much better, and perhaps to them that is true, but you’re the only one I could ever want now.

There comes a time when close friendship isn’t enough, drunken kisses and dares cannot justify the need.
I wasn’t blind; it was obvious what you needed, plastered all over your walls, from the floor to the ceiling.
You needed me.

For my part, I didn’t need you; I wanted you.
Your excitement, your energy and sense of life that I couldn’t find anywhere else; though believe me I had searched.

Even now it is so obvious what we both desire, and yet we are not together, we are not a couple, nobody knows besides me, and you in the depths of your heart.
The only reason it is like this, is for you.

Day after day, you rebuke me, you humiliate me and make me feel as though I should hate you, but I don’t because I know that’s not you.

Fame does funny things to a person, I can see that in you, and I’m sure I’ve changed myself, but I can still live in reality. I wish you would.

For every time you call me a girl, a pussy or a fag, my heart binds to you that bit more.
I suppose you would think that was a bit perverse, if you knew what the word meant.

Nevertheless it’s true- every time you hurt me I love you more.
Every time you deny me without the alcohol, I know that you mean the opposite.

You won’t admit who you really are, or whom you really need, and I know it is all for MTV, for your fame, and what you think you should want.

Yet I still love you, I want you because I want to fulfil the need that you don’t even realise you have.
I do it because I’m the one that’s there when the inebriated truth spills out into the darkness.

When we’re alone and drunk in that expensive hotel, when we’re falling deeper into your sofa, I see who you really are, and you show me who you really need.

For every time I board that plane, I know I will return again.
I could find others, someone supposedly better than you; someone who would devote himself to me, but anyone else is not you.

Nobody else needs me like you do, and no one else would ever hurt me the way that you do.

If I didn’t love you, that flame wouldn’t exist, you wouldn’t sparkle anymore.
You’d never admit the real you until it was too late for the match to be struck.

So instead I’ll stay, I’ll be there for you, and I’ll love you to know that when everything else fades away, you love me too.

Even though you sit here in the midday sun, calling me every name under that same star, I’ll love you because you need me.

---

Was it okay? I need you to comment if you read this because I have the next prompt waiting in line and....I think you'll like it ;) But if you don't comment, then I guess I'll just have to leave it for a long while until I post anything, I know you guys are out there, just say "Commented!"

Also, thank you to Crimson for being my beta for this xox

See My Dreams; They're Not Like Anyone's.

Wed, 23 Jan 2008 20:52:43 GMT

Author: Tia_Maria (je_disparais)
Pairing: Vam
Rating: 13, implied intimacy
Disclaimer: I don't know them, I don't own them and I don't think this has ever exactly happened
Summary: Why does he cling to the dream?

A/N: This is a little musing of a one-shot that was inspired by conversations between myself and rebbolia, hence this is for her. ♥

See My Dream

How often I have sat right here in his arms, a silence between us that he thinks is comfortable.
For me, it is painful.
An auditory reminder that I am not what he thinks I am, I don't want to love him and I'll never let him in.

I am physically attracted to him, of course I am, it's very hard not to be, but that's about the extent of it.
I'm looking for something more, always something more.

When I first met him he was a mystery, he was fun and caught me in his whirlwind, he could have been anything I wanted him to be.
I fell so fast, so fast that I should have known it would never last.

You can't love someone after a month, a year maybe but that's still pushing it.
To him, being around me means getting to know me, why can't he tell that I only show him what I want to let him see?
My life isn't just one sheet of paper, it's enough for a few volumes and even then I would have to omit parts.

People aren't simple, I could never think that I knew everything about anybody, there aren't enough hours in a day to recount a whole life, thought processes and emotions.
For him it's not like that, he thinks I'm trying to be elusive, slightly secretive perhaps, not that I'm keeping anything important from him.

Yet I am, I'm hiding my heart.
I've been broken too often to just give it away now.
He thinks we're in love, he wants me to move in, to leave Helsinki and devote myself to us.
But I won't, I can't.

The drunken nights away from home, the after-show hookups, a line or a pill here and there. He doesn't need to know what I have done, what I'm unable to stop myself from doing. Shouldn't my inability to quit smoking to any degree give him an idea of that by now?

Everytime I see something new, I fall for it. For the dream, the fascination and the hope of love that we cling to rather than admit we're alone.
I've never found it, not even now, sitting here in his embrace.
I feel cold, devoid of whatever it is that I'm supposed to feel, he's bubbling and I'm barely beating.
He doesn't realise because he doesn't know, he doesn't know me.
I will never let him know me.

I don't know as I'll find what I'm looking for, so many lovers I've fallen in and out of a dream with.
I want that spark, that brilliance, the love others talk of. Does it even exist?

Am I just jaded or have I been granted the gift of lifting the covers, to see that the dream is nothing more than a fairytale.
A fairytale he, like so many others, still believes is true.
If you wish for Father Christmas long enough you will be able to hear the reindeer's bells.

That doesn't make it real though; it just means that you've deceived even yourself.

I had thought he listened, thought he knew how I felt, but all he was doing was agreeing with me, he didn't understand what I meant and thought I was being moody.
It's not cynicism, it's the truth.

A fleeting moment of passion, the time when a warm cover wraps around us and sends me spilling over the edge, those are the times that make it worthwhile.
When I can pretend I see something more, or something less, a time that I can feel the sparks and believe in them.
Until it is over and he opens his mouth, that is.
Those three words he whispers shatter it all, tear apart the chords joining us together even further.

He is not the one. I tell myself this over and over again as I silently pack, hardly look at him sleeping as I walk away and into the taxi.

He is not the one, he will never be my true love.
True love doesn't exist, not for me.
I have seen through its lies.
Yet still I fall, time and time again.
Sometimes his dream is a better escape than my reality.

----

The Toy; Domination

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 01:07:48 GMT

Title: The Toy
Author: Je_Disparais
Pairing: Ville Valo/ Bam Margera
Chapter: 2 2
Disclaimer: This could have happened, however I do not think it did, hence why this is called fiction.
Rating: NC 17
Summary: All Ville ever wanted was an Action Man.

A.N: Different story, different name.
I can use Spell-check and to my knowledge I know what the word grammar means.

Umm, I just want to say that I didn't plan for this to happen, it just happened! *runs away*

Final Part

“Pull them down.” I heard him gulp again; honestly, anyone would think I made him nervous.
“Come on Bam, you’ve been doing so…” He had the hang of it now, pulled my trousers straight down and off, ignoring the way the material clung to my skin, ignoring how I stood proud and erect waiting for our next game, he just concentrated on the task in hand; literally.

I stared down at him as he turned back to me, the next challenge hung in the air between us, the door on one side, and the knife blade on the other. “I think you know what it’s time for now Bam.”

He looked across the bed at me as I rested back on my elbows, leaned against the soft pillows.

In-between us my body was on display, waiting for him to carry out my next command.
But what string did I pull next, so many different sequences, past games, future trials, all presented themselves at my disposal, how did I decide?

“What do you think I’m going to tell you to do?” It was lucky that the line between crazy and kinky was so finely drawn, because I was sure my voice could have been considered either depending upon how the person looked at it.

Yet again my doll had reminded me, eyes flicking from me to the knife, it didn’t matter how outrageous the request, he was staying there regardless.
Of course, he possibly could have tried to escape; he didn’t know me well enough to know how fast I could move though, so it was probably a good thing for him that he was wise enough to do as he was told.

I stared at him, eyebrow raised as I waited for him to come up with my game. His eyes didn’t stay fixed on mine for long, instead travelling languidly down my torso, past those pointed hipbones where they stopped resolutely at my erection. I felt on fire and yet so blissfully soothed, my body longing and desperate for some proper attention, nipples smarting still from his ministrations.

When he licked his lips, not in thought, just as if his mouth had gone dry, an idea came to me that I just couldn’t deny.
“Too slow, I’ll have to tell you; suck your thumb.” He looked somewhat relieved when I told him he was too slow, but then instantly on edge again with the next command.
Reluctantly however, he did as he was told and raised his thumb to his mouth, sliding it past his parted lips. He didn’t look erotic doing that, he looked rather childlike actually; thumb sucking being one of those natural infant habits.
“Index finger and middle now, you need all three wet.” I persisted, anxious to get the game moving again.

Oh, that was much better. Watching him instinctively run his tongue up and down over his fingers in his mouth, trying to coat as much of his fingers as he could manage, and when his tongue visibly slipped between the two, poking out slightly from his mouth, well, I was leaking just that bit more.

The thing about a Ken doll, a plastic one, was that they were too small, everything I wanted them to do to each other I had to move them all of the time, this way I didn’t have to, and I could control him simply with my voice.

I leaned forward and pulled his fingers from his mouth, the removal created the sound of a lolly being popped from person’s lips which was rather delicious in itself.

“Now Bam, I’d say you could touch me, but that’s really not what I’m in the mood for,” I had set to work undoing those loose jeans, they hardly needed unbuttoning but I did, pulled them down his thighs as far as I could. “I want you to stroke yourself, jack yourself off for me Bam.” My fingers lingered at the waistband of his light blue boxers, glancing back into his eyes as I pulled them down with one quick tug.

I let my eyes travel down as I leaned back again on my elbows into the bed, just surveying my latest acquisition, it would have been a shame if I ended up making him run away, a great shame.

My, did he look debauched, eyes dropped to his own thick arousal, glistening fingers came slowly to the head, stomach muscles taught while grubby sidelights highlighted the suppleness of his tanned skin. He was like one of the males in the magazines I had hidden in my wardrobe at home; colours faded slightly from over handling- my doll.

“Come on, get a move on now.” I prompted, raised my knee under him to give him a little boot on the backside, his legs wobbled slightly on either side of my hips but I wasn’t concentrated on that, I was watching the look on his face as he fingered the length of his erection, the way his eyelashes fell slightly as he tried not to shut his eyes.

He blushed, the little innocent, as he caught me staring at him, well, he didn’t catch me- of course I was watching him.
“Don’t be embarrassed, the time for that can come later.” I smirked, watching how his fingers clasped tighter around the base, obviously to try to stop whatever reaction my words caused him.
I had decided somewhere along the lines that I wouldn’t do anything too drastic, at least I didn’t think I would, it depended on how he behaved.

“Properly Bam, make it all wet, no part can be left dry.” I desperately tried to catch my breath, his slow, awkward strokes to his cock were just agonising, my own arousal practically strained from my body, desperate for some kind of release. That was all part of the game though, to tease myself until I got what I wanted.
I would get what I sought, that was never an issue.

My new doll was behaving well, very well, his rhythm set as he caressed himself, sweat droplets at his brow and chest, and how I wanted to lick them off so.

“Stop!” I practically cried as my hand grabbed at the knife, bringing it to lay across my chest, just in case. He bit back a moan that turned into some strange growl as his hands dropped to his sides, before he saw me looking down at him and covered himself with his hands. Why he felt the need for modesty then I couldn’t guess.
“Don’t make that face; I let you have some fun, now it’s my turn.” He blanched as the carving knife glinted on my chest, unable then to meet my eyes as he stared.

Fear was a funny thing, I hadn’t experienced it properly myself before, it wasn’t something I possessed, but to see it so clearly in his eyes, it almost made me wish I could be so weak as to feel it too.

“Come down here Bam,” I purred, trying to act sweet so as to relax him, the reason behind it being purely selfish; if he was too scared, he wouldn’t be so willing and I’d have to use force, something I didn’t like to have to do.

My head fell down to the pillow as he came down on his hands and knees above me, jeans half down his thighs, still highly aroused and breaths laboured. His boyish little face with its cute little mark near his nose, it excited me no end to see him so pliable and yet so lost, so unsure.
He made for the perfect doll, the ideal person to play a game with.

He hovered over me, still obviously affected by the knife in my hands, yet I had the feeling I wouldn’t need to use it that evening.
“Give me what you did to yourself.” I didn’t quite whisper, but it was hushed enough for the silent room. The silent room of the silent hotel, how many other people played such games in their still rooms? On the same floor as me, two floors up, two floors down? None would have planned it as well as me; none would have had such a fine opportunity arisen as me.

“Come on Bam, don’t make me…” I tried not to say what I was thinking, instead reached for his hand myself, his fingers slick not only from his saliva, but from his previous excitement too. I guided his hand down as he adjusted his single hand to balance himself above me, shivered as I let his index finger trace the length of my erection.

“Do it yourself, without me.” My hand reached up for the knife in my other hand, twisted it to see the different ways the light fell on the metal as he ran his finger back down me again, using the second finger when he repeated.
Again I knew he wasn’t experienced, maybe he had known what felt good, but he wasn’t used to doing it to someone else. It was a good thing that I enjoyed this novelty.

“Hold me tighter, harder.” I encouraged when his palm wrapped around me, fingers slightly rougher than I had expected. He used the same rhythm as before, I could see that and I felt it. He pleasured me in the only way he knew how.

He was good, I couldn’t deny the enjoyment I got from such a touch, and though the knife in my hand was cold I was able to forget it for a while, to give in to the buzzing around my groin, the twisting of my feet in their ecstasy.

A plastic model, figurine, all I had ever wanted was to possess someone, something. To have somebody fulfil my every demand, to do whatever I said, I wanted; anything. That was my thirst, he was my oasis. Willing, or not, didn’t come into it.

“Enough, that’s enough,” I pushed up into his hand with my lower body, noted the strange look in his face that said he didn’t know why he had to stop.
“Turn around,” I said, indicated the movement required by gesticulating with the carving knife. He got up onto his knees as he moved to the other side of the bed where there was room to turn, he let himself sit, still as a rock as he waited, jeans and boxers still half hung around his knees, back to me as he stared out at the white wall opposite the bed. He waited for me, for my instruction.

I crawled over to him, knife in one hand as I brushed up against his back, my swollen erection leaving a little trail over his lower back as I moved. I wound my arm around his shoulder, knife sat in the gap between his collarbone and his neck.
“Would you lean over, love? Pull those clothes a bit lower and part your legs… nice and wide.” I started to lose sense of what I said, nose buried into his damp hair, he smelt of smoke and masculine cologne, while my lips slid over the smooth skin behind his ear as I talked.

As his hands pushed his clothes further down his legs until I had to remove the knife from its snug place around his neck, I pushed him, not gently but then not forcefully, just pushed him over until he was leaned on his elbows. Now I was allowed to gaze from the back of his brown head, down his back as I traced the notches of his spine with the tip of the blade, the lovely crease of his backside, the plump cheeks parted enough to see that dark spot, the tight bud, my ultimate goal and aim.

I pressed forward until I pushed against his inner thigh, nowhere near the area I most wanted to be then. My hand meandered round his body until I grasped his hard arousal, allowing my fingers to catch all of the slick liquids, ignoring any pleasure I could have given him as I returned my hand to lubricate myself, preparing my body for its fulfilment.

I didn’t waste time stretching him- that was not what I wanted, his pleasure would mean nothing more to me, he was my doll to be played with and it was my game, not his.

He mumbled something to himself when his head dropped, the reaction to my needy cock pressed against his entrance. I clutched at the skin of his hips to help push myself in easier, head rolling back on my shoulders as his whole body clenched down at my intrusion.
His body shook, sweat formed under my fingertips as I held him to me, though he did not try to pull away, he never made an indication he enjoyed it.

My mind was full of memories, snapshots of previous dolls, puppets, whores and sluts, anything, and anybody, whatever I could find to control, I had tried so many things, so many people, but I knew it was always a Ken I strove for, the reason I could never be fully satisfied.

When in to the hilt, I didn’t stay still for long, I didn’t want to lose any of the tension his body created around me. It was not perfect, I was still the one doing the work, but I held the carving knife in my hand, I could have whatever I wanted.
“You, pull yourself away and push in again, fuck yourself on me.” I demanded, and poked him not so gently with the tip of the knife into his side. He gasped a sorrowful little moan, head rose jerkily as he pulled his body forwards, hands gripped into the bedding for leverage.

Oh god it felt good. I moaned loud and uncontrolled as he pushed back onto me, his weak gasps barely noticed by me as I was completely focused on our joining, my surroundings and the creak of the bedsprings all fading away as I drowned in my delight, the dominion I had longed for finally delivered.
I forgot that it was not for me to strain as I gave up and pushed into him, over and over again, hard and deep but getting shallower as my need for a release grew within me.

I shuddered into his worn body, knife slipping from my fingers to the floor as I slid erratically until completely finished, drained of everything I had to give.
The room slowly came back into focus for me; I saw the rivulet of perspiration down his back, the way his hips were a battered red from my unyielding clasp, the small trickle of glistening liquid running down the curve of his backside as his legs trembled.

If only I had been given that Action Man, none of this would have had to happen.

----

Well now, I never said Ville was perfect.... And also I THINK this is the end, but I may float back here one day, I'm not sure yet.
Depends what you all thought really :)

Oh and uh... don't kill me!

The Toy- Part One

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 23:24:29 GMT

Title: The Toy
Author: Je_Disparais
Pairing: Ville Valo/ Bam Margera
Chapter: 1/ 2
Disclaimer: This could have happened, however I do not think it did, hence why this is called fiction.

Summary: All Ville ever wanted was an Action Man.

A.N: Different story, different name.
I can use Spell-check and to my knowledge I know what the word grammar means.

The Toy

On my eighth birthday, the only present I really cared for was an Action Man. Not the big, over the top, muscled, soldier Action Man, just a nice, simple, all-American Ken. Why did my parents never grasp that fact? So what if Ken was supposed to be for little girls to have a boyfriend for Barbie to play with? The point of dolls was to make up your own stories.
Needless to say, the morning of my birthday I came down the stairs, fluffy slippers padding down the hallway to the living room where a small cluster of presents waited. I don’t remember the rest of my gifts, what I got from my grandparents, my aunty, any of my friends, all I remember was what my parents got me.
A Terminator figure- where was my Ken? Nobody got it for me, nobody at all.

I’ve got one now though, I went out and found him all by myself. Well okay, okay, he came up to me first, but I was the one that organised all of it.
I met him in Germany, Hamburg to be exact, and our fourth show of the European tour. I knew he was Ken pretty much the moment I saw him, he was trying to pretend he wasn’t by wearing baggy clothes, disgusting black plastic bangles and a cheap imitation of my eye make-up. He couldn’t fool me.

I shook his hand, I gave him the smile- you know the one- I acted like the perfect gentleman I was pretending to be. I fooled him, after fifteen years it was a matter of utmost importance that I held my façade. I was perfect; if I may be so bold as to say so myself. It didn’t really matter if I wasn’t faultless; he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box that much was obvious by the way his eyes boggled as he stared at my hand massaging his shoulder. So slow, so unperceiving; just how I liked it.

All I had to do was get a few hours worth of alcohol in him and he was ready to cooperate. The bill for my playtime I didn’t mind one bit. It’s possible I should have spent the money on psychiatrist sessions, but I was finding my own cure.
His name was Bam I think, it wasn’t that significant to me, what mattered was his body, dolls had whatever personality I gave them.

When we started to play he was being a silly doll, he wouldn’t stop giggling at why I was moving his hands to more intimate places, “Come on dude, don’t be actin’ all faggy.” He slurred at me though not pulling his hands away. That was fine except I wasn’t, nobody here would be acting, not at all.
I knew what I wanted, he didn’t but he’d soon find out.

He hadn’t objected moving to my room, maybe a hotel wasn’t the classiest of places to play in, but it would do for starters.
“Seriously, what the fuck’re you doin’?” He asked a second time, daring to frown for a moment as I pulled his hips to mine where we stood, just in front of the white linen bed.

“We’re going to play a game.” I told him, pulling him over and onto the bed, whispering for him to relax and just do whatever I say.

He grunted and frowned again through his visible beer haze as I pulled him down upon me again.
“What sorta game’s this?”

For him to speak like that to me hadn't been part of the plan. “This is the sort of game where you shut up and do as you’re told. If not, I do have ways of persuading you…” I let my eyes drift pointedly to the carving knife I’d had to buy specially sitting on the side table next to me.
His gulp confirmed his understanding.

“You’re- You’re Ville, Ville Valo, you’re not…” I had to grin as he stumbled, the stupid little thing still didn’t understand that I was always playing, everything was a game.

I reached up with both of my hands to cup his head forcefully, pulling him down until our noses nearly touched and I could clearly see the midnight blue irises by the dimmed lighting. “You are only here to amuse me, listen to what I say carefully, obey with no questions, do you understand?” I tried to make my voice sweet, I did, but I don’t think it worked- it wasn’t like it mattered anymore anyway.

He didn’t try to pull his head away, which surprised me but then excited me; he was catching on fast to how this was to work.
“Do you understand?” I repeated pointedly, he wasn’t going to fail his first command.

He swallowed loudly, blinking as though to check he was actually awake, “…Yes.” Was all he said, but that was enough, more than enough.

“Good.” I let go of his head with one hand, reached down to his disgusting baggy shirt, trailed my fingers up his shivering flesh. My hands were probably slightly too cold, though I didn’t see as that mattered, he was nice and warm for me.

“Keep your eyes open.” I reprimanded, nobody had told him to shut his eyes had they?
He opened them slowly; eyes flicking from me; to what I’m sure was the knife, very quickly. Poor little pet, he was scared; I could see it by the way he struggled to hold my gaze, my greedy gaze that was enjoying the game far too much already.

“Be good and we won’t need to use that sweetheart.” He wobbled slightly as his arms started to get tired of holding himself above me, his movement caused his lower body to brush against mine, jeans colliding with my trousers so that I was sure he felt my true intentions.

He was gulping an awful lot, not that I minded, it just made me think of what else he could swallow, something a lot more substantial and pleasurable.

I let both of my hands slide under his shirt, never breaking the eye-contact I’d demanded, though his eyes focused and unfocused depending upon how close to his nipples, or other sensitive spots, my hands were.

He really was a good Ken; he was doing a much better job at playing along than the few other uglier Ken’s I’d tried before. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be one of my bigger fans; no fan could like my music so much without being a little bit fruity. We’d just have to test that a little bit, wouldn’t we?

“Take your shirt off.” I had said to him, a demand sent between our eyes. He almost didn’t seem fazed, almost played along perfectly; except his eyes squinted slightly too much that said his brain still hadn’t switched off. That or I hadn’t got him drunk enough. Well, I had something else that kept him in line anyway, the threat of pain…and mutilation, but I hadn't really wanted to ruin my new toy- that would have been a waste.

He leant back, begrudgingly having to put a leg on either side of my hips to lean back on, giving me a beautiful view from where my head lay on the pillow.
My doll quickly pulled his shirt off, as if he wanted to get it over with and not play around because I would enjoy the wait more. It hadn't really mattered to me truth be told, I knew I was going to have much more fun than that.

“What is that?” I almost spat with shock. He had- he had my symbol, my design on his body, he wasn’t allowed that, I hadn’t told him he could do that.

I sat up, resting my weight on my elbows as he looked down at his side where my eyes were glued, a furious blush rising up his neck to his ears.
“Well, why do you have that?” I demanded again of him.

His head was bowed as he lifted his eyes to mine, he made me then twitch jerkily in my trousers- he looked so… good. A wholesome and clean, untouched doll all for me, except for the tattoo that is.
“I liked it; I wanted to show how cool I thought your band was.”

Hmm, “So what you’re saying is that you wanted to show who you belonged to.” I liked the sound of that much more.
Maybe the tattoo was acceptable then, adding my stamp to my playmate as it were.

He wasn’t doing anything except from looking at the knife on the side, giving me a nice opportunity to see his flesh properly. I’d definitely chosen a good one this time. Just right, it was almost impossible to find a fault in him right then, I really had got lucky. To think, he’d actually asked to meet me, so in a way this was all his devising.

An evil little smirk pulled at my lips as I raised my hips up, cock rubbing against his crotch, still encased in our clothes. He squeaked at me as his eyes flew open, I don’t know why, he must have known what our game was by now.
“What’re y-“

“Shh, no questions remember?” I rubbed against him again, unbuttoning my red shirt as it was getting increasingly hot in here. He watched me doing it, perched above me, so close and yet so far away, but his eyes, those innocent eyes were watching my hands, watching the pale skin I revealed. Yes he looked fearful, but I could tell he certainly was hiding a bit of fruitiness; he was one of my biggest fans after all.

“Now…Bam,” Mustn’t forget his name, “It’s time for you to play.” I lifted my torso to slide my shirt from under me and onto the floor, noticing how my ribcage became visible as I strained, finding pleasure in the fact that he saw it too and flushed a little again.

“Touch me Bam.” I asked but really he had no choice. I took his hand and guided it to my torso; he was pulled to lean further over me and reach as I let his index and middle finger trail up my side, around the circle of my bellybutton before over each rise and dip of my ribs. I let his hand go but made sure his fingers were still on me as I looked back up at him, needing more and knowing I could have it.

“My nipples- touch them.” I whispered, just loud enough that he could hear, after all, mine was the only voice in the room and there were no other sounds except his laboured breaths.
His fingers moved slightly, hesitantly up the centre of my chest but stopped way before their target. “Bam,” I reprimanded, eyes deliberately flicking over to indicate where the knife was, “Play the game properly.”

He lifted his hand from my torso before ever so slowly moving it to my right nipple, taking a deep breath before he shakily stroked the tightened flesh. “Nails,” I half-breathed in wonderment, eyes avidly watching not just his hands, but the way he looked so, curious. Yes he was nervous, still denying that he wanted to be doing this, but I could see he was interested to learn how to make me feel good, how to please me, I could see it in his boyish little face.
“Nails Bam, use your nails.” I tried not to sound worked up, but he was teasing me, refusing what I wanted.
Ooh no, his middle fingernail scraped lightly around the circle of my nipple and I couldn’t help but shiver a little. He tried to pull away but I stopped him with a hand around his wrist before he could gain control. I watched through heavy lids as he played with the tightened bud, eyes concentrated with its new game.
He was learning everything is a game; you just have to play it right.

“Mouth now, use your tongue.” My directions had become less eloquent, but the less talk the better.
I didn’t care anymore that he kept on glancing at the knife, the one thing that in theory chained him to the bed, it wasn’t important anymore to me.

All the same, his dark brown topped head bent down over me, eyes trained over the right nipple instead, without my saying, but that was forgivable. The tip of his pink tongue lapped almost at my skin, a warm wetness that I just had to shut my eyes to properly feel. He didn’t do things like that very often, I could tell he didn’t, but it didn’t matter because he was my doll and I would show him what to do, what I liked and what I wanted.

He started kissing lightly, all around the edge of the nipple, other hand playing slowly with the left nipple. “Suck, bite, don’t be gentle.” I prompted; too much tickling was driving me up the wall.
Teeth, his teeth grazed my hardened flesh leaving me arching, pressing the area that wanted the most attention against his thigh. He shook lightly with obvious fright, maybe he really hadn’t admitted his sexual tendencies before. In this game that was of no consequence anyway.

I let my hands grasp his hair, loving the way the back of his neck had a light coating of sweat droplets soaking into the tendrils of hair, I would have never got that with an ordinary, plastic Ken.

“Bam, Bam that’s enough of that, undo my trousers now.” I lifted his head forcibly from my chest, not letting him know that I was rapidly getting too excited and needed to take control, not only of myself, but of him again.

As I lifted his head, his midnight blues blinked up at me and I couldn’t help but smile, he was after all being a very good boy so far, hardly a word had he uttered.
“Come on now, I haven’t got all night.” I let go of his head with a little push, he took the hint and went further down, allowing him to sit between my parted legs.

His cute small fingers reached out nervously for the buttons of my trousers. Oh yes, I wasn’t making it easy, three buttons stood in place of a zip on my tight boot cut trousers, nothing like getting up close and personal.
He grasped the top button between the fingers of both of his hands; I tilted my hips forward so the trousers pull away from my skin a little, giving him more to work with.
The first button comes undone easily, though I could tell he was trying to fight between concentrating on undoing my trousers and staring at my heartagram tattoo with the wings suddenly on display for him, people always liked that one for some reason, I guess it was because only some people got to see the bottom of it.

I only really then thought about the fact that he could probably escape if he wanted, I mean, by the time I’d reached over for the knife, he could already be at the door. He let this happen, why did he want to play my game?

Oh God, that third button, undoing it pressed down in all the right places that’s for sure. I must have moaned aloud because he looked back up at me, a little flush creeping into patches on his cheeks. He was a good doll really.

“Pull them down.” I heard him gulp again; honestly, anyone would think I made him nervous.
“Come on Bam, you’ve been doing so…” He had the hang of it now, pulled my trousers straight down and off, ignoring the way the material clung to my skin, ignoring how I stood proud and erect waiting for our next game, he just concentrated on the task in hand; literally.

I stared down at him as he turned back to me, the next challenge hung in the air between us, the door on one side, and the knife blade on the other. “I think you know what it’s time for now Bam.”

***

Any comments, please? (Constructive criticism welcomed)

Bonjour

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 21:20:37 GMT

I am in the process of writing, I shall post soon, but not right now, call back later. ♥