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Shameless	By : FalconBertille Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Placebo Views: 1534 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Shameless

Chapter Three

Stefan marveled at the opulence of the hotel lobby. An immense chandelier hung overhead, with silver light cascading down its glass and crystal surfaces like a fountain spilling liquid mercury. The floor was made of black marble tiles, inlaid with white gems and seemingly random gold lines. Then Stefan recognized the familiar shape of the Big Dipper, and realized the patterns weren’t without design - the gems represented stars, and the gold lines connected them into constellations. Like the three of them were walking across a night sky.

Simon walked first, calm and assured, never looking back to make sure they were still following. Then Richard, a few steps behind, subservient, but also confident. And in the rear, Stefan stumbled after them, feeling more and more like he’d slipped into some bizarre dream.

An elevator carried them up countless floors, before they got out and walked down a long hallway, making no noise as their feet moved across the plush carpeting. Stefan began to wonder if he could speak, even if he wanted to. Or if, like a magic spell, the smallest sound would break the illusion and leave him stranded on some street corner, suddenly alone.

Finally, Simon stopped and turned a key in the lock of one door. The three of them went inside. However, instead of flipping on the lights, Simon nodded to Richard, who took a pack of matches from his pocket, struck one, and began to move around the room, lighting various candles. As the flickering flames grew strong enough to illuminate their surroundings, Stefan saw that he was in a hotel room easily as luxurious as the lobby they’d left behind. A four-post bed dominated the room’s center, and next to it… Stefan squinted, unable to trust his eyes. But his first guess had been correct. Next to the bed was a small table, with a bowl on it. And the bowl was full of sugar cubes.

Richard finished with the candles, and Simon pulled the hotel door shut, cutting off all light from the hallway. And Stefan could feel his senses swell in anticipation of what was to come. He became acutely aware of the sound of his own breathing, the taste of old champagne in his mouth, and the slight warmth of candlelight on his face.

Still not speaking, Simon shrugged off his leather jacket, and draped it over the back of a chair. Then he pulled off the black T-shirt beneath it, revealing muscles like sculpted stone. Stefan turned toward Richard and saw that he, too, had shed his shirt, his body thinner and paler than Simon’s, his hair like a waterfall of gold and honey as it broke against his sharp shoulders. For a moment, Stefan forgot to breathe. He wanted to grab Richard. To devour him. But before he could, Simon took a sugar cube from the bowl, and Richard crossed over to him, slipping past Stefan like light bleeding through his fingers.

Stefan watched in awe while Simon extended the sugar cube, and Richard bent his head, graceful as a swan as he took it in his mouth, his sharp tongue tracing the line of Simon’s palm as he did so. Then he swallowed, and Simon gripped a handful of that gorgeous hair, pulling Richard into a ferocious kiss. Stefan’s senses swam, drowning in desire and envy. Had he been summoned here only to watch? But just as the jealousy became unbearable, Simon and Richard broke apart, and Simon tossed Stefan a sugar cube.

Startled, Stefan nearly dropped the white cube. And when he did manage to secure his grip on it, for an instant, he didn’t know what to do. Then he saw Richard looking at him, his eyes soft and expectant. Fighting not to shake, Stefan held the sugar out to Richard. And Richard walked over to him, tamely bowed his head, and took the cube in his mouth, making Stefan shudder as strands of golden hair brushed against his bare arm. Gently, Stefan placed two fingers under Richard’s chin and tilted his face upward, studying it. He was torn. Desire burned hot as the surrounding candles, and part of him wanted to take Richard like this, as part of this deliciously strange pantomime. But part of him wanted something deeper. Something real behind the mask. “What are you?” he whispered, caressing Richard’s face.

Richard’s eyes flashed, and Stefan imagined he saw a hundred responses -- I’m a lover, a martyr, a savior. I’m sixteen. Sixteen. But the coy smile never flickered, and all Richard actually said was “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

And Stefan knew. The masks weren’t going to come off. Not in this room, not with Simon standing there. So Stefan decided to take whatever he could get. Pulling Richard’s lips to his, he tasted the sweetness of lingering sugar.

The world dissolved into a dream. A beautiful, liquid dream. Stefan remembered moments, without remembering the connections that lead from one to the other - like the constellations on the lobby floor, with all the gold lines erased, and only the bright stars remaining. He remembered standing with Richard’s naked body pressed against his. Richard’s face nuzzling his neck, his eyelashes teasing Stefan’s skin as they fluttered, while Simon stood behind Richard, kissing and biting his way across Richard’s bare shoulder blades. He remembered being in the immense bed, with Richard lying beside him. Remembered the way Richard’s neck had arched, the way his lips had strained, the way his hair had danced and swirled across the pillows when Stefan held a sugar cube just out of reach. He remembered Richard’s mouth on his erection, tracing sweet patterns, while Simon slid into Richard from behind. He remembered coming like a star going super nova.

Then it was over. The world came back together, and time resumed its normal flow. Stefan lay on his back, gasping for air.

When he could finally breathe again, he rolled over, intending to take Richard in his arms. But Richard had already cuddled up against Simon. Disappointment. Then resolve. There was life behind Richard’s mask. He’d glimpsed it, briefly. And he would see it again.

All he had to do was wait.

*****

A slight shaking attempted to tug Richard from his dreams. Weary and warm, Richard pressed his face deeper into the pillows, trying to resist. He loved sleep. Loved the deep, endless oblivion, where he could just float, and drift, and glide without fear or guilt. No responsibilities. No pressures. Just riding on the flow of dreams that were already decided for him.

But the shaking persisted. Reluctantly, Richard opened one eye, and tried to make out shapes in the hotel room’s pre-dawn shadows. Simon still lay beside him, close without touching. So who was…? Richard became aware of a hand on his shoulder. Rolling over, he stared through the veil of his hair to see Stefan standing beside the bed, staring down at him. The vision startled him so much that he almost spoke. Almost.

Seeing that he was awake, Stefan nodded toward the hotel bathroom. Richard blinked. What did the man want? More sex? Instinctively, he reached for Simon, prepared to wake him and receive instructions. But Stefan caught his hand, shaking his head. Then he tugged, gently, still indicating to the bathroom.

Richard hung suspended in the moment, a drop of rain that wasn’t sure if it could let go and fall. How long since he’d made a choice? A real choice? The first time he’d been alone with Simon, he hadn’t exactly decided to become Simon’s lover - Simon had simply proceeded as if the choice had already been made. And Richard went along with it. Because it was easy, and because it was safe. It was shelter. As the stress of his induction into Suede built up, he relinquished more and more control to Simon, hiding behind the older man’s strength. Content to become a shadow. An echo. A sleepwalker.

A sleepwalker following the path of dreams already decided for him.

Richard started to shake his head, to offer silent refusal. Then he changed his mind. Simon always liked him to be polite to their “guests”. Stefan probably just wanted another taste of his skills - no harm in that. In truth, Richard felt flattered. And he liked the tall Swede. Found him oddly sexy. So he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Simon, and followed Stefan into the bathroom.

Once they were inside, Stefan shut the door behind them, then flicked on the lights. And Richard saw that he’d been wrong. This wasn’t about sex. Desperation flared in Stefan’s eyes, but not lust. Madness, almost, like a man who’d heard sirens sing, but been unable to follow their call. The intensity of Stefan’s stare made Richard self-conscious, suddenly aware of his nakedness under the harsh fluorescent lights. Adverting his eyes, he fumbled for a towel, intending to wrap it around his waist, but again Stefan caught his hand with a touch as light as feathers. “No,” Stefan pleaded. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re - you’re beautiful.”

Richard blushed, disturbed and pleased by Stefan’s words. Of course, Simon often complimented him, but it had a different tone to it, like a man praising a possession or a pet. Not really flattering the thing, but instead congratulating himself on owning it. Stefan’s voice, in contrast, was laced with awe.

“I just-“ Stefan continued. “I don’t know what I want. No. That’s not true. I do know what I want. I want you to talk to me. Please.”

Richard raised his eyes, afraid to open his mouth. Afraid that nothing would come but dust and a flutter of old moths. It had been so longs since he spoke. Really spoke. Certainly, he talked during interviews, but that was more like ventriloquism, speaking the words he knew Brett wanted him to say. He knew how to say he was a great guitarist. He knew how to say he would save Suede. But he didn’t know how to believe it - that was the problem.

“Don’t,” Stefan begged. “Don’t just stand there and look at me without speaking. You don’t know how it is. It’s like I’m trying to see you through layers of ice.”

I want to speak. I want to melt. But still, the words wouldn’t come. The fear that had started with his joining Suede had spread to every nerve, every muscle, holding him frozen.

“I want you to come with me,” Stefan continued, apparently encouraged by the longing in Richard’s eyes. “I want us to leave here - naked, if we have to. I want us to walk through the deserted streets, beneath the drowsy glow of sleeping neon signs, our footsteps soft as fog. I want to see you when dawn comes. I want to watch the light hit you, away from here, away from his shadow. I want to see it set you free. You understand?”

Richard nodded. He understood. And he wanted it, too. Using every bit of his strength, he forced his mouth open - and what came wasn’t dust or moths. Just a word, soft and urgent, as he offered his hand to Stefan. “Yes.”
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