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Somebody	By : RainWhitehart Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Depeche Mode Views: 1261 -:- 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
- 1-Somebody
- 1
Pairing: One sided, Martin ♥ Alan
Warning: PG16 and a half
Other warning: tear jerker
Work Count: 976
Disclaimer: Martin is more then likely NOT at home pining over Alan... if he has access to that one vid on youtube he is most likely thinking of new and interesting ways to kill the bastard.
Beta: Fuck i didn't even proof the thing I'm barely able to stay in the bloody chair. I edited it once sober.

His face burned, the near scalding water and the roughness of the wash cloth making his skin turn red. It would be covered in a minute so it didn’t really matter. He would love it when he saw it, so it didn’t matter.

Clean slate, he thought to him self and unzipped the black bag on the counter. He chose a compact from the container of paints and powders and took a large brush as well. He dusted his face with the powder until it was a shade or two lighter, taking a bit of the edge of the tan granted by a warm California sun. He paused to check him self in the mirror, pleased at how a few of the little lines on his face had faded.

Next was a slim black stick of eyeliner. He pulled at his bottom lid with a finger and carefully lined his bright green eyes in a dark circle of black. He blinked a few times and then did the other eye. It didn’t turn out even, but it never did. A sweep of mascara over his eyelashes and a bit of dark powder over his eyelids made his eyes pop, they looked sharp and large reflected back at him in the mirror.

He looked hard in to the green and almost immediately thought of a brilliant icy blue. His lover never actually told him that he loved his eyes, they never said things like that to each other, but he had guessed at it from the way he would catch him staring at him over coffee or after a few hours in bed. He always looked at his eyes. Sometimes he would imagine that when he fucked those other people that he would never look into their eye’s the way he did with him. He would stare in that hypnotized adoring way at breasts, thighs or arse, but never in to their eyes. He prayed that he was special, he wished he didn’t care.

He shook the thoughts from his head as he drew a bit of tinted gloss from the bag. As he uncapped it the artificial smell of cherry-scented chemicals rushed his senses and for a moment took him back to the first time he had the lip gloss hungrily sucked off his lips. His lips tingled and he could hear the teasing heady laughter as if it was still hanging in the air. Something burned inside him and he had to choke back a hard sob. He took a deep breath, collecting himself, and ran the red gloss over his lips. He rubbed his lips together and gave them a few smacks until he was happy with what the mirror reflected back.

He took a deep breath, more or less satisfied with his face now, and he tousled the blond curls atop his head, fusing with them for nearly ten minutes before, while there was no real visible change to anyone but him, he was pleased –or at least decided to give up. He worked a bit of gel in his hair and then misted it with a light spray of hairspray to set them that way.

He steeped back a little from the counter, giving himself a few last looks and the walked out in to his a joining bedroom. A salty breeze was coming in from the open window that sent a chill through him and made him suddenly very aware of the fact that he was naked. Goosebumps pricked his skin as he walked over in to the closet. In side it was a bit warmer and he was able to search with out distraction through the hangers for what he wanted. Finally he pulled out a little black dress; a simple but flattering cut and, most importantly, a light soft fabric. That had always mattered the most; the feel had to be just right. He loved him in soft things, in silks and lace. ‘To compliment how soft and beautiful my pet is.’ He could almost hear him explaining in that slightly condescending way of his.

He pulled the little black silk dress off the hanger and slipped it over his head feeling the cool fabric slide over his bare skin. Once he had straightened the dress he pulled out a pair of black thigh high stocking with a little lace embellishments at the tops and sat on a chair to pull them carefully up over his legs. When he stood again he looked in to the full length mirror on the wall and turned this way and that till he decided that every detail had been accounted for, he all ways told him to mind the details. Once he was satisfied that Alan would be satisfied, he went back to an old trunk pushed in to a back corner and pulled a worn black leather collar from it. He smiled as he felt the familiar weight of it in his hands and sighed heavily before fixing it around his neck.

He looked at him self again in the mirror. Perfect. He could almost hear him say it.

It was then that he broke down. Subtle shaking at first, then he sobbed and coughed until he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He fell to his knees in the middle of his closet, the soft silk of his dress making a dark pool around him as black streaks slid quietly down his cheeks.

He would never see it. A million miles a way, his love slept in the arms of someone else and no mater how perfectly he lined his eyes or how elegantly the silk of his dress draped over his thighs, it would not make him come. So he cried beautifully there on the floor, wishing some how, maybe, he had thought of him just now, just for a moment.
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