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I'm not, I'm not a Whore	By : Darcie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Korn Views: 2067 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Korn. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I’m not, I’m not a Whore Chapter 1 (Darren/Daniel of Savage Garden) The San Francisco sun shone radiantly upon the two lovers entangled in the midnight blue sheets of the four post bed in the lovely mansion near the hill that kisses the bay. One man with semi long straight blonde hair that frames his face, his his perfect fingernails into the other person’s toned muscular back. Gasping and moaning consistently to the rhythm of his English born, Australia raised ex-partner’s penis enter and exit his body over and over again. His ankles locked together against his pretend rapist’s small ass that hypnotized every time the positions were reversed
Incoherent words spilled from the shaggy dirty blonde hair man’s mouth before his lips and teeth were nipping away at the sensitive flesh of his ex-singer’s neck, collarbone, and chest. The fluid motion of his hips resurrected every past moment spent in this man’s body and every place they laid down together in a mass of two adult men being teenagers again. That angelic voice hitting his ear drums, putting a melody to the beat of his heart as it raged with passion, envy, hatred and enlightened love.
Neither one of the men heard the tapping on the front door or the intruder’s entrance into the sex scented mansion where just hours earlier the lovers had made the leather couch in the grand living room fall prey to their animalistic behaviors. The black haired intruder raised his pierced eyebrow as he inspected the downstairs nonchalantly, completely overseeing the dinner table set for two. His boot covered feet were almost silent as he ascended the staircase. Too dazed or too drunk to hear thedom dom outbursts from the master bedroom, the famous kilted frontman stepped into the doorway to view what he never believed would be there.
“What the fuck is this?” Jonathon exclaimed, swinging his left arm that sent an expensive Italian lamp to it’s death. He observantly watched Daniel pull out of Darren, his Darren, who now was scrambling for articles of clothing scattered about on the vanilla carpet.
“Jon, what are you doing here?” Darren lightly brushed his hand over Daniel’s heated skin, zipped the zipper on his Levi jeans and carefully walked towards the shaken hard rocker, leaning against the door frame.
Jon retracted when Darren’s sweat coated hand reached for him, to soothe him. “All this time I’ve been waiting” and the end of the phrase faded to nothing as he turned and proceeded to exit the popstar’s home for the last time.
Leaning over the banister, Darren panted. “Jon, don’t leave like this!” Yet, Jonathon slammed the door closed simultaneously with Darren’s cry that was heard by no one else except Daniel, who was now embracing his old and new lover from behind.
The San Francisco sun was now setting over the Pacific creating a rainbow caught in a blender and the colors hurt Jonathon. He felt as if he was the color black, the only color that he needed. He didn’t need those azure eyes, blonde hair, and cherub face to distract him, even if he believed he loved them. His tears stained his grey t-shirt, his tears caught in his small mustache and his tears created snail like tracks on his steering wheel. The drive was spontaneous. His subconscious was driving the sports utility vehicle, his emotions pressing on the accelerator and his multi personality was steering the wheel. He was just a body encompassing deeper meanings.
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I'm not, I'm not a Whore