Addiction.
by Snoodles on October 01, 2006
Mwahaha random slashy fic I started to write. Read and review, pweese!!
Oh yeah, I don't own Green Day, this didn't happen, it's made up, no offence intended, don't sue me, the penguins made me do it.
Okay, that's enough disclaimer, here you go!
Chapter One
I shift my body weight so that I’m closer to him. At first, he seems to be nervous and looks away but I bring my hand up and turn his head to face me. I’m all too aware of how terribly familiar this situation is but frankly, I’m not in the position to care right now. My inhibitions have gone out the window and all I want is him. Now.
I lean into him, placing one hand on his rapidly rising and falling chest. Tilting my head a little to the right, I move yet closer to his face. My body’s been longing for his lips on my own for months now, ever since the last time. I crave his taste.
And then before I know what’s happening… before I can work out who’s touching who… what’s going on… who’s hands are where… he’s kissing me. I know, I know. This shouldn’t be happening, this is wrong. But when you’re in that moment and it all feels so right… what else can you do? He looks too damned good to refuse. And I want this, I know I do. Somewhere deep down inside of me, I’ve secretly been longing for this for a long time. So we kiss; and it feels good.
But he’s pulling away.
“Wh- what are we doing?” His eyes are filled with confusion.
“Um… I-” I pause, trying to review the situation. “I don’t know.” What I do know is that it I want it to carry on.
“You do,” he replies shortly. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” He trails off and slides himself away from me, looking as if he’s going to get up and leave. “I can’t do this again. I can’t take it.”
“Take what?”
“Stop taunting me, Tré! Stop trying to remind me of what I can’t have.” He studies my face for a moment. “Why? Why are you doing this? You know how I feel but you carry on anyway. I thought you were better than this.” He gives me a look of disgust and turns his body away.
“Hey, c’mon. That’s not what I’m doing, it’s not.” He shakes his head defiantly and I hear a sob escape his lips. “Please, please don’t… I…” What am I supposed to say to him when I have no explanation for any of this myself? How can I tell him what I’m feeling when I can’t even work that out?
He sharply turns to face me. “What is it this time? Are you lonely again, huh? Tré not getting any action and wants me to satisfy his needs? F*** that.” He stands up and starts to walk in the direction of the door but stops before he reaches it and turns to face me. I can see his eyes shining in the soft light. “I can’t be used anymore. I’m better than that, I’m better than this.” His hand moves toward the handle but his eyes are still fixed on my face.
“Oh sh!t… please don’t think that. I would never do that to you.” I try desperately to plead him with my eyes, but for what, I don’t exactly know. To stay? Maybe. Not to hate me? I guess so. To believe me? Of course. But now he’s looking at the floor. “Please,” I murmur. “Please…”
“Why do keep saying that? I don’t understand what you want from me! What the hell do you expect?” He’s walks back to where I’m sitting and takes a seat next to me. I guess that’s a start. “Help me out here.”
“I don’t know what I want! I just… I don’t know.” I’m not making much sense, I know, but I honestly can’t work it out. My head hurts and I’m frustrated and I’m just as confused as he is. My mind is clouded by how good he tasted a moment ago; I can’t think straight. The only thought that’s making any sense at all just now is the one telling me that I’d very much like to kiss him again.
So that’s what I do. And once again my mouth is devouring his lips and it feels like I’ve given in to some sort of addiction. It feels like everything’s going to be alright again. But I know that this feeling won’t last because that’s what happens with addictions: the feeling always ends and you always want more.
“No…” he gasps, breaking the kiss, but I simply pull him back with a quiet murmur of “It’s alright.”
And it works. He stops protesting. Gives in. He lets me kiss him. He lets me lace my fingers in his hair and push him further into the couch. Allows my tongue to embrace his own, moving slowly, terrified that he’s going to break this yet all the while knowing that this is wrong and that this should not be happening. But f*** it. I deserve this. It’s about time he pays some attention to me instead of a random girl he finds in a bar. So I have a deep, passionate kiss with him, using my tongue to tell him that everything’s okay and that this is right.
But I know it’s not. And I think he does too.
The pressure on my lips begins to ease and my heart skips a beat as I think he’s going to break this kiss and leave me. Again.
But he doesn’t! The need for air overtakes the need for anything else. He extracts his mouth from mine, still leaving his face millimetres from my own and whispers something barely audible.
“I want you.”
- Posts: 168
- Joined: May 28, 2006