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Lest we forget our friends
By : CherubChild
Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson
Views: 2262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Marilyn Manson. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
I placed both of my hands up against the wall, steadying myself as I stood, waiting for him to enter me. Sweat was forming on my brow, and I dropped my head foreword as he placed himself at my hole. I groaned when he drove into me hard, hitting my prostate with the first thrust.
“Oh God… You’re soooooo fucking tight, Jeordie…”
John clawed at my small hips, nails digging into me, making me bleed. I cried out, the pain and pleasure mixed together made my body convulse. I was so close to coming right then, but I wanted to wait for him. So I shut my eyes, trying to put myself someplace else. This was especially hard to do with his lips kissing all over my shoulder blades and his hard thrusts sending tingles up my spine.
“Mmm, you have prettier curves than a woman…”
His voice was hushed by his heavy breathing, yet I was able to hear every word he said, “You… wore your dresses so well.”
This time I drove my own body into him, “But you never ever told me that… y—you liked it better when they were on the floor and my stockings were around my ankles.”
I could feel his lips form into a smile against my back, and he pulled out of me, turning me around to face him.
The dark charcoal make-up around his eyes had streamed down his cheeks from his lust-filled sweat, and I was tempted to lick the black tears away, but didn’t. He entered my body for a second time, jerking me off with one hand, the other wrapping tight around me to help him slam even harder into me. Thrust after thrust. Until I finally felt his body shudder, coming hard inside of me. I followed right after, spilling my seed between us. I moaned loudly but his lips caught it.
After a moment of calmness, he slid out of me warm and limp, eyes quickly searching for his clothes, and hopefully something to clean us up with. My knees were shaky from standing and slowly I collapsed to the floor.
“I guess we don’t know so much about each other after all.” I whispered, voice cracking.
“What’d you mean?” He looked down at me as he gathered his clothes in one arm.
“I never knew you thought that way about me… or well, felt.”
John fell silent. He took a moment to wipe away my slick mess off of his stomach with his shirt then spoke again, “What was the real reason why you left Marilyn Manson?”
“Please don’t change the subject.”
He shook his head, and threw his shirt at me. I used it to clean my self also, but I didn’t like the way his expression changed as he looked at me. I couldn’t figure out if he was asking me about my intimate relationship with Brian Warner or just simply my reason for leaving the band.
“I guess you’re right, we don’t know so much about each other after all.”
I pounded my head back against the wall, regretting that I ever started a conversation with him after the sex. What the hell was his problem anyway? Maybe I should’ve had the drink, and we wouldn’t be having this problem.
Why am I feeling so guilty? Is it just the guilt of post-coming or something?
I really wish that I had chugged just at least a half a bottle of whiskey, that way; frankly, I wouldn’t have given a damn.
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