I was trying to find my Candy-Muses again (they sadly disappeared after yesterday) and remembered that drabble I once read. MP3-player on Shuffle. 10 Songs. One Pairing. 10 Little Drabbles. When the song ends, the drabble is over.
I apologize for the choice of songs. But I'm not ashamed they're on my MP3-player. Not at all :-P
Disclaimer: I own neither the music nor the guys. And obviously no muses either.
"Human" - Killers
The close proximity they were dancing in was nothing unusual anymore. Their feet finding the same rhythm quickly, their hips moving in synch, fingers linked in front of Cody, Randy's chest flat against his back.
It was never awkward. Never strange. Always easy. Natural.
The song was always the same. Though neither one was a fan of it. Memories. So many memories. Realization. Kiss. Dance. Sex. That song had been the beginning. And they celebrated it each day with one simple dance. In the closed confines of their bedroom.
"Made of Steel" - Our Lady Peace
Randy was made for this. Being the strong one. Listening. Always being there. Pumping him up. Having his back. Keeping a secret. THAT secret.
The only one who knew was him. The only one he could talk to about it. Day in, day out. Without judging him. Without being weird out. Without trying to talk him out of it.
Randy wasn't just his hero. His idol. His friend. He was the one person he couldn't live without. The one he'd die for. He'd fight for.
"Can't hold us" - Macklemore
It was a rare occasion. To see his lover so carefree. So loose. Absolutely at ease. Celebrating. Enjoying himself. Dancing.
It brought a smile onto his lips that could barely be any brighter. He wasn't one to dance. Not in public. Not with Cody. Never.
He rather watched. And it was such an addicting view.
Cody's hands thrown up in the air, hips moving perfectly timed to the loud, fast rhythm blaring from the speakers. Eyes closed, full, soft lips drawn into a careless grin. Lost in his own world.
And suddenly he found his feet moving towards the dance floor. Towards his lover. Hands on his hips. Eyes closed. Chin resting on Cody's shoulder. Hips moving on their own accord.
"How to save a life" - Boyce Avenue
"I can't do this anymore."
"Fine. Then go."
"You don't mean that."
"You said it yourself. It has no future. We have no future."
Cody was rendered speechless. Wide-eyed, staring back at the icy grays of his lover. Hopeless. Defeated.
"I won't change. You know that. And you won't change either. It's just not working."
Randy's voice had dropped from a frustrated scream down to a wavering rumble. Almost insecure. Sorry. Scared.
"Good Feeling" - Flo Rida
Summer. Sun. Hot temperatures. Cool drinks. Beach. Palms. Volleyball. Surfers. Water. And Randy right next to him to enjoy the mini-vacation. Two days off and he wouldn't want to spend them any other way. Besides in bed. Naked. Playing. Teasing. Touching. Licking. Biting. Kissing. Pumping. Thrusting. Groaning. Moaning. Gasping. Screaming to the heavens how much he loved the man right next to him.
"Whatcha thinking off?"
"How good that brunette over there would look without that bikini on."
An agreeing rumble from the man to his side, Randy's sunglasses being pulled down a little to get a better view at the chick Cody was referring to.
Yes, life was good. With or without the man he wanted. Because at least he had him there with him. Right by his side. In the summer. In the sun. At the beach. As close as could be.
"Blurred Lines" - Robert Thicke feat TJ Pharrell
The summer wasn't quite over yet. The air still warm. Too warm to sleep. Too warm to relax. But Cody had the perfect cure for that. Just watching. Imagining. Girls dancing. Half naked. In front of him. Right in his lap. On the stage. Music blaring. Beer in front of him. Jacket open. Legs spread wide to relieve some tension.
Licking his lips. Letting his eyes trail up and down the half-naked beauty in front of him. Hands bound to his side. No touching allowed. Only dreaming. Imagining. The tattoos, the strong thighs, the taut abs, that lopsided grin, those deep grays, those firm hands, that juicy ass. Wishing.
"Someone Like You" - Adele
He'd done it for him. For Cody. Not for himself. Not for Sam. Not for Alana or anyone else. Not for his career. His health. His money. His luck. Only for Cody. He'd gotten divorced. The way the younger had wanted it. Without the media. Without any hype. Silently. Without any trouble. Without ever mentioning Cody's name. He'd given up the life he'd been so used to. Only for him. To be with him. Fully. Completely. The way they'd both craved it. So desperately wanted it.
And now he was watching him, intensely, closely, with a wetness on his cheeks he hadn't experienced in years. His Cody. His everything. Kissing his wife. Touching her. Laughing with her. Tenderness. Love. Caring. With that look in his eyes. So full of warmth and affection. A look that was once meant to be his. And only his.
"Red Morning Light" - Kings of Leon
The engine roared to life as the traffic light proceeded to green, the brakes screeching, the music loud in his ears. The long, empty road ahead. The sun not up yet.
The only way he felt free. Felt alive. Breathing deep. Heart thundering painfully against his tight ribcage. Adrenaline pumping. Smiling. Laughing. Screaming. Singing. Tears in his eyes as he saw Randy's shadow disappear once again.
"Here without you" - 3 Doors Down
5 years and it still felt like yesterday. The memories were still fresh. The way he smelled. Of apples and cinnamon. His smile. Full of warmth. Of affection. Those big blue eyes. Full of love. Of hope. The way he talked. 20 years ahead of his age. Despite the lisp. That adorable, cute little lips. The way he kissed. Like only he could kiss him. Making him forget everything around him. Breathtaking. Warm. Greedy. Possessive. His touch. So soft. Tender. Scared almost. Scared to lose him. Lose them. And in the end it had been him who'd gone. Too soon. Too young. Just gone.
"God Pound his nails" - Fozzy
He never felt save on a bike. Ever. There wasn't enough steel surrounding him. No air backs. No nothing. It just wasn't his thing. He'd rather drive in a Mini anyday.
Until the day he'd seen Randy. In that leather-Jacket. Leather-Pants. Leather gloves. Boots. Helmet. Right there on his Harley. Smiling lasciviously. Like only he could.
Ever since then, he just loved it. Loved wrapping his arms around Randy. Loved burying his face in Randy's neck. Loved circling Randy's legs with his own. The speed. The fresh air. The adrenaline. The feeling of freedom. The safety. The intimacy only a bike-ride could give them.
I'm surprised I managed to write anything at all with my lovely neighbor playing loud, obnoxious music all fucking day long. Fucktard.
I hope the drabbles were enjoyable anyways :)