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Rush	By : Kiniaq Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Depeche Mode Views: 1669 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Depeche Mode. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Rush
Author: Traumatic BunnyRabbit (based on the plot by Hansah)
Era: SOFAD, during the devotional tour
Pairing: Dave/Martin; Martin/others
Rating:NC-17

Disclaimer: This story is a pure fiction. It happened only in my dirty mind and it has nothing to do with reality.

1.

Ok, I'm ready, he thought as he looked in the bathroom mirror for the last time. He fought the urge to fix his hair or eyes once more, knowing he could easily overdo it and he didn't want that. He wanted everything to be just perfect. Not only his hair and clothes, but the whole night.

He smiled nervously to the man in the mirror. “It's your only chance, Mart,” he said with low voice. “Don't you dare blow it!”

He had been waiting for an opportunity like this for far too long. He had spent too many sleepless nights alone in his bed, with head full of those naughty fantasies or seeking forgetfulness in the arms of some nameless lover or at the bottom of another bottle. Too many lonely years he had spent being only a friend, always there for him but never able to ask for anything in return. All those bloody years of admiring Dave from afar, of forcing himself to watch him having fun with the endless stream of girls, witnessing all the highs and lows of his relationships, and recently watching helplessly as he was going headlong, down the road called 'heroin'. He was destroying not only his own life but the whole band as well.

No sad thoughts, he scolded himself mentally and headed towards the door. This wasn’t right time to meditate about the situation in the band. Which was crappy by the way he admitted to himself. After months of struggling in the studio, then came the tour; and Martin suddenly found himself completely alone, with depressed and gloomy Andy, and Alan, more bitter and spiteful than ever. As for Dave... Sometimes Martin felt literally like sitting on a swing pushed by Dave's moods – up and down, in and out of his grace.

So he could hardly believe what had happened today. Dave was practically all over him the entire day. The sound check, the dinner, the interview for the local TV station. Even on the stage, during the show, Dave acted as if he couldn't keep himself from touching Mart. There were those casual touches, the ones he was always giving away so freely, being a touchy person in general, but there were other touches, not so innocent and not so accidental as one would think. There were the dirty little jokes, the significant stares and sensual smiles. Martin felt as if in a weird dream, half expecting to wake up any moment, alone and in his own bed.

But it wasn't a dream. Those words that came right before the gig, when they both were waiting backstage, standing so close in the darkness, what happened was real.

“Do you fancy a drink with me after the show?” Dave whispered into his ear, pressing himself a little into Martin's back. “You know, just you and me, in my room, without all those annoying morons. What do you say?”

What could he say to something like that? He just tried to sound casual as he muttered 'sure, that'd be great', his heart almost exploding with emotions. Of course by the time the show was over and the chores of 'meeting and greeting' were done, he started to feel nervous. It all was too good to be true. Why all of a sudden would Dave The Womanizer want to have him alone in his room? Did he suddenly start to swing the other way? No way, that's not possible. So maybe this was the drug talking. Maybe the heroin told Dave's brain – and other parts of his body – that he found Martin attractive enough to shag him. Maybe...

Martin tried to shrug off all of the doubts as he left his room. It was the night of his dreams and he wasn't going to spoil it by some annoying inner voices leading a battle with his desires. Even if it was going to be a one time thing he was going to enjoy every single minute of it. And there was always a chance that Dave would like it so much that he'd want to do it again, and again. Yes, that was kind of a plan, thought the blond as he walked through silent corridor, smiling slyly. After this one night Dave will have to rethink his attitude towards sex with another man. Because he’ll never be the same once Martin gives him all of his experience and his devotion.

And all of his love.

***

They were late.

Dave was pacing back and forth, from the door to the window and back to the door again, listening to the sounds from the corridor. They should have been here twenty minutes ago. Fucking bastards, who in the hell did they think he is? Some mere junkie they can screw with?! He ran his hands through his tangled hair, still wet from the shower. He was getting nervous. Not good, not good at all. Martin would be here any minute now. And he shouldn't see...

Yeah, Martin. Dave stopped in the middle of the room, smiling to himself broadly. Martin, his little sexy angel-slut, always ready for good fun. This whole meeting, this old cliché 'drink in my room' thing was just a tease, just another dirty joke, and Dave was sure his band mate would laugh it off or at the very least play along, answering with some of his own teasing. But instead of that he got embarrassed and even shier than usual. And he actually said 'yes' with the most happy eyes Dave had ever seen. That was when he thought – what the hell, why not? Why not give it a try? After all, he spent the whole day chasing after him, didn't he?

It was strange day, really. He woke up feeling wonderful, and that little shot he took later only increased his good mood. It was first class dope, and it made him see things in a way he'd never experienced. He knew this evening his voice would reach amazing levels. He could just feel his greatness coming over him, even during the sound check, when he sang just a couple of simple notes. This time even the almighty god in heaven would be able to hear him, if he was real that is.

And when he was basking in the glow of his own greatness and power, he saw him. His good ole' mate Martin, sitting at the far side of the stage with his guitar, looking at him with such a devoted look in those big green eyes. The sight was so overwhelming that for a second Dave became literally speechless. He managed to get a hold on himself though, but the strange feeling remained.

So he started to look at Martin closely, trying to grasp that feeling, trying to figure out what he had changed in his appearance that caught Dave's attention. And he just couldn't find anything. Martin looked exactly the same as he did the previous day, and all the days before that. Yet, he looked somehow different. It took Dave good couple of minutes to finally put a finger on it.

Suddenly he realized how beautiful Martin was.

He'd never thought about him much in those terms. Yes, he knew Mart preferred boys, yes, he noticed how sometimes the blond looked at him, but it never bothered him much. Martin never tried to hit on him openly; he was just full of admiration, supporting Dave with his talent, his time and his energy. Sometimes it even made Dave feel really flattered – Martin could have so easily become his greatest rival in the band, but instead he was his most devoted fan.

Until that moment it had never occurred to him that his friend was hot, just like a girl would be. And that he could – just like a girl – cause all that naughty thoughts in the singer's head. It was all new, and so exciting, and without second thought Dave decided to give it a try. So he became all the more friendly and cuddly, and to his surprise he observed, that after his first few attempts of getting close, Martin stopped tensing and actually started to lean into his touch.

It was so nice to touch this smooth, well toned body, so different from a woman's curves. It was so exciting to feel him shudder, to hear him gasp slightly every time Dave's hand ventured close to more intimate places. It was strange and new, and so arousing that by the dinner time his trousers became way too tight to feel comfortable. In fact he had to leave the table and go into the bathroom to fix the problem. He even tried a little fantasy that included his blond friend, on his knees, right in front of him, using that pouty mouth to please his front man; and he had to bite his own arm to muffle the moan as he came so hard it almost blinded him.

Dave inhaled deeply to calm himself a little. He couldn't wait to have this blond angel here, the possibilities of the encounter making him half hard already. But he knew, that his shallow breath, racing heart and shaking hands weren't the symptoms of before date nervousness. He just needed another shot so he would be able to enjoy this night fully.

The knock on the door made him jump in surprise. He chuckled briefly at his own nervousness and rushed to the door and opened it, hoping to see a stranger offering him a piece of pure happiness. But it was Martin.

Dave fought back the anger and disappointment and tried to smile at his friend. “I thought you'd never come,” he crooned, letting his eyes roam openly over Martin's thin frame. Oh my, he really looked beautiful, dressed all in black, with those wild curls framing his slightly flushed face and half hiding those big, bright eyes, smudged a little with black kohl. And once again Dave completely forgot about all the world and even about those 'others', who were supposed to come as well. Having someone so beautiful worshiping him seemed as good as any drug in this world. He tightly embraced that strange feeling of ultimate power as he moved aside, opening the door wider. “Come on in,” he said, this time smiling for real.

***

Something wasn't right, Martin could see that the moment Dave opened the door. Of course he seemed to be glad, he was happy and smiling, but the smile actually never reached singer's dark eyes. And he was acting a little strange too. As soon as Martin entered the room, Dave started to fuss around, looking for something 'really special' to drink. His hands were shaking visibly; he almost broke the glass, he dropped some ice cubes onto the floor and he couldn't find the bottle of 'that bloody scotch' anywhere. But when Martin asked him if he was all right, he only laughed and told him not to be daft. That made him sound almost like a young Dave, the Dave Martin fell for so long ago.

But that was the new Dave, The Rock God. The junkie. And as he moved around, his actions more and more frenzied, Martin tried really hard to shut off that annoying inner voice that kept telling him the only thing Dave wanted now was a fix and not some stupid queer. Maybe it'd be better for you to leave, the voice insisted; and Martin almost convinced himself that indeed, it'd be the best idea, when he heard a triumphant 'aha, found it!' coming from the bedroom. So, instead of heading to the door, Martin's feet lead him directly to the other room, and to the owner of that wonderful voice.

Dave was standing by the table, carefully pouring amber liquid into the glasses. Martin stopped at the threshold, transfixed with the sight of the large tattoo spread over his upper back. He always liked Dave's tattoos, even now, when some people thought he had mutilated his body too much. For Martin, every line of the ink was like a tribute to all of the pain that one could suffer in life. Wearing his pain all over his skin was just like baring the soul before everyone's eyes. Martin himself would never have had enough courage to do something like that. Hell, even after all those years in music industry he still felt physically sick when he had to show his new lyrics for the first time. So Dave was kind of a hero for him, never afraid to show his true self to the whole world.

“Don't just stand there, come in,” Dave looked at him over a shoulder, that cheeky half smile wandering upon his lips. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Suddenly the room became too small, suddenly all that confidence Martin had a moment ago was gone. What am I going to do, he thought as he sat at the edge of the bed, fighting the urge to run away slamming the door behind him. Should I wait for his move or... Maybe he's too nervous and he won't try anything unless I encourage him somehow. Oh god, what should I do...

“Here,” Dave handed him the glass and jumped onto the bed. He sat right in the middle of it, crossing his legs and took a large sip from his glass. “Hey, Mart, I thought I said 'comfortable',” he frowned a little, patting the bedspread next to him. “Come on, shoes off, legs up. It's not a bloody job interview!”

Martin obediently took off his shoes and socks and moved further onto the bed. “That's more like it,” Dave grabbed him by the arm and pulled him a little further up until they both were rested against the pile of pillows. “Now, we can relax properly and chat a little.”

Yeah, chat, that's a good one, thought Martin as he felt the hot rush of blood. He was sure he would choke if he tried to speak right now. Speaking was an impossible task with Dave's hand resting firmly on his upper thigh.

Dave was saying something, but Martin couldn't recognize the words. He could only hear the low, vibrating timbre of his voice, and feel that touch burning his flesh through the thin layer of clothes. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Dave's eyes, for the first time letting his desire become visible. And he hoped that Dave would see it, understand it, and accept it. And do something about it.

As their eyes met, the singer got quiet for a moment, a smug, lazy grin slowly creeping over his lips. “Did I ever tell you that you're beautiful, Mart?” he asked, leaning closer, so close now, his face was only inches away. “I was so fucking blind all of my life,” he breathed right into Martin's awaiting lips, and the only thing Martin could do now, was to close his eyes and wait for the first kiss to happen.

Then someone knocked at the door.
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Rush