Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Ten last Night	By : Marius Category: Individual Celebrities > Colin Farrell Views: 2088 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Colin Farrell. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ten last Night
- 1
Title: Ten last Night, taken without permission from one of Viggo Mortensen's poems

Disclaimer: I don't own the men involved in this story nor do I meant to harm them in any way. Well, maybe except for the thought about handcuffs and whips in my head, *rofl*
It is a work of fiction, completely Au, the story-line is mine but that's about it. Don't sue me, I am broke. Just my Muse, gorgeous Colin and yummie Karl Urban are left...

A/N: I have no idea how tall Karl is but he's not much over 5"8, so around my height, I'd say. He was pretty small when he stood in front of me compared to the way he looks in the movies. Colin is 5"9 and seems to be very strong, LOL. No problem for him to carry Karl around. My opinion guys. First chapter introduces Karl, in chapter 2 on the other hand will be lots more of Colin. Somehow, the two guys broke into my home, made themselves comfy on my bed and forced me to write a story about them...

Warnings: Male slash, violence, swearing…

Tell me if you like what I wrote and I might go on.
I am not native english so all the mistakes are mine. A beta would be appreciated. Enjoy the story.

Ten last Night

The noise of the bar was shut down when the door closed behind the young man named Karl. He staggered slightly, trying to keep his balance. The alcohol hummed through his veins like the rhythm of the music through his ears just minutes ago. Anger held him in its arms, blazing from his brown eyes like fire out of hell.
How could he? Dancing all night with this other guy although he was supposed to pay him the attention he spent on the dirty little boy. He was only a kid, barely twenty Karl thought him. With his sweet face and his big blue eyes, always looking around like waking from deep slumber. The cute doll, the fulfilment of every perverts dreams. And his lover fell for him, all right.
Thinking back, he saw Viggo’s hands roam all over the lithe, young body under the see-through shirt, playing with the eager little buds that were his nipples. Right in front of his eyes, grinning madly when he saw him watching.
He should have known. Viggo told him once when he was drunk that he was no one-man guy. He didn’t believe him. He was drunk, for Christ sakes, why should he?
Heat rushed through his body, finding a way right into his eyes and forming the hated little drops of pain, he wished he would not shed over such a man.
He wanted to scream, fill the dark night with the agonising sadness that reached for his heart, overtaking the anger.
Instead, he turned around and ran. Through the almost empty street, quickly passing some lonely souls, step by step leaving the place his fate was sealed.

He was not meant to be loved. Never, since the day he was born.
He was never receiving love.
Love was his father’s belt, to show him what pain was. Just like that, just for fun, day after day.
It was love that guided his father’s fist into the face of his sister and that make him rape her.
Love was his mother watching all this, simply disappearing one day and leaving them behind.
It was his father’s love, forcing him to sell his body for money so he could buy bottles of his beloved whiskey.
Love was in the eyes of his sister when she looked one last time at him before jumping of the roof, her body shattering on the dirty street.
It was the same love that held the gun and shot the bullet right between his father’s eyes.
But the worst kind of love was found in Viggo’s eyes that night when the rain had poured down, soaking him completely. He’d offered him a place to stay and food. Later that night, he’d offered him a warm embrace and soft kisses.

Faster, just faster he ran, until the pain was no real pain anymore. Until his heart almost reached his bursting point and no breath was left to fill his starving lungs.
Exhausted and beaten he staggered to a halt, almost stumbling over his own feet. He managed to bend over before the drinks he had earlier spilled like a fountain from his mouth. Weakly he wiped his lips with the back of his hands. He fell to the ground, never caring about the disgusting smell of his own vomit. The shadows of the dumpsters next to him shielded him from view to the street where he came from.
He almost choked on his sobs while he tried to catch his breath. His head fell back against the wall. His eyes closed to shut down the dim, dirty light of the single lantern in the dead end road.
The shrill scream of a cat forced him back into awareness for a moment. Shivering, he reached around his knees to shield him from the chill of the night and those, which were caused by his hopeless situation.
Darkness surrounded him once more when he let his lids fall close over the now empty mirrors to his soul.
He didn’t want to see or hear anything. All he wished for was to fall asleep and never wake up again. Never feel anything again, neither pain nor the all-consuming loneliness.
His wish wasn’t granted. The god he wasn’t believing in had other plans with the young man.

Steps, fast and heavy drew nearer. Two men at least, one running after the other, quickly closing in at his hiding place. A shot bellowed through the dark of the night but the steps never faltered. The bullet had missed and probably hit the wall of a house.
He leaned his face on the top of his knees because he didn’t care. Should they come and kill him, rid him of the pain that was life.
They reached the corner to the small road he was hiding and turned into it. Panting intakes of breath tried to catch up with the speed of the chase.
He could feel the slight stirring of air when one of the guys passed very close to where he sat.
Startled now beside his misery, he looked up.
The dirty lantern caused barely enough light to display the tall man with his broad shoulders and his shaved head, spinning around with powerful grace to get the wall behind his back.
His skin was dark or so it seemed and in daylight he couldn’t have looked more frightening than he did now in the shadows of the night. He wore black leather from head to feet, fitting tight and showing the strong built of his body. His cold eyes reflected the few drops of brightness without any signs of humanity in them. An evil grin spread over his face when he looked passed the frozen body sitting on the ground.
Karl forced his eyes away from the man to see who he was looking at. The first thing he saw was the polished gun, held by strong steady hands, pointing towards the man running from it.
Dark determined eyes drew his attention to them, capturing him completely. The handsome face wore the dark stubble of a few days not being shaved and matched with the dark brown, spiky hair.
The man was younger and smaller than the black killer but the white T-Shirt displayed well toned muscled and he carried a calming confidence in his own strength like an aura.
“Don’t.”
A light shake of his head came with his request, more amused than angry.
Karl saw the big knife for a second in the hands of the black guy before the large man catapulted himself forward with lightning speed. He pushed the knife forward with all of his strength but simply missed. The place where the man stood just moments ago was empty and as fast if not even faster, he appeared behind the back of his attacker and brought the hand with the gun down in a smashing blow.
The man with the deadly eyes fell but while he did so, he turned and threw a round strike to the stomach of his opponent.
The heart of the innocent watcher missed a beat when a thin red line appeared under the torn shirt. Only the brilliant reflexes of the dark haired man had saved him from receiving the fatal blow to his guts. An angry, hissing sound escaped his lips causing Karl to sigh with relief. Two pairs of eyes turned in his direction, realising with surprise that they had a spectator. Cursing himself, Karl tried to back up deeper into the shadows without any success. He saw the evil grin returning on the black guy’s face and the finger, pointing towards him.
“You are next!”
Scared, he turned his attention on the man with the handsome face and the beautiful eyes. He saw something in these eyes what he’d lost a long time ago.
Faith.
Their eyes held each other a moment longer and a small smile reached out for the young man sitting in the shadows before the man reacted and reached for the hand with the knife, landing hard on the one on the ground.
A fight of life and death started, the men tumbled and rolled over each other, beating with strong fists in faces, chests and stomachs.
The arm holding the gun was hit strongly to the ground, causing the weapon to clatter away and land somewhere in between the dumpsters.
Karl turned his head slowly away from the fight. He saw the gun and reached for it without really knowing what he was doing. Looking back, he saw the white T-Shirt painted with red. He saw the blood on the black man’s face, dripping down in small drops into the younger man’s eyes, causing him to blink to clear his view.
Using the second he was blinded, the taller guy turned the hand holding the knife around while his other hand grabbed the chin of the man lying under him, exposing the throat.
Although hands held the arm with the knife in the same strong grip they’d been holding the gun before, the tip of the red shining blade inched closer and closer to the now openly displayed neck. It cut into the skin, drawing the first bit of blood.
Scared, large eyes watched the thin red line of fluid run down the throat before sinking into the fabric around the heavy heaving chest. They looked into the face of the killer without any signs of mercy and next to the gun in his own hands.
Karl’s mind told him to run but his arm moved nonetheless, pointing the gun with shaking hands to the men right in front of him. They moved up and down, rolling around each other in order to gain control over the knife, to defend life or to wipe it out. Karl tried to target the head of the bald man but his shivering fingers and the desperate fight prevented him from a clear shot. What, if he shot the wrong guy?
The two bodies seemed to freeze for a moment, equal in strength and the power of will.
It was now or never if he wanted to do something. Panting fearfully, he closed his eyes slowly, moving the gun just for a little to the side. His finger bent slow, reaching the point where the gun jumped in his hands and pushed him backwards. The shot echoed like thunder in his ears, deafening him for a moment. His head connected forcefully with the wall of the house behind his back. A searing pain rushed through him, bringing along with it the shadows and blackness, which pulled him down and away from the fight. The gun fell out of his hands but he didn’t notice anymore.

TBC
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Ten last Night