//.L.E.A.H.\\ (x_wolverine_x) wrote,
//.L.E.A.H.\\
x_wolverine_x

Title: Your Favourite Game
Author: x_wolverine_x
Fandom/Pairing: Lostprophets: Ian Watkins/Lee Gaze
Rating/Warning: NC-17. Alternate universe. Very perverted.
Random Notes: This story is based on the life of Jeffrey Dahmer. You may find this story disturbing, but this is pretty much what happened. Obviously not with Ian and Lee though. Two part story.




Click.

“…-utiful night tonight ladies and gentlemen. Not a cloud in the sky. You can see the stars, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. To celebrate I’m going to play an old favourite of mine, so here it is. In Your Room, Depeche Mode, only on 99XFM.”

Your groan becomes lost in the music and you’re disturbed from your sleep. The clock glows in the dark room; 22:00. It is time. Your frustration turns into satisfaction when the anticipation of what’s to come floods your mind. You can almost feel the smooth skin beneath your fingertips, you can almost feel his heart beating as he struggles beneath you.
You shift slightly, the cold body beside you bringing you back to your twisted reality, and you lean your head down, pressing your soft lips to the blue flesh of his neck, a reminder of the power you felt the previous night. Soon you would feel it again. The adrenaline rush, the electric surge, the almost overwhelming shock of pleasure. You can’t wait.

The night air chills you as you make your way on foot to your destination. The lonely black door enters your vision, and the neon lights above it send a shiver down your spine in anticipation. You pull your black sweater tighter around you as you near the entrance to the place that fulfills your sick fantasies each night, your arm reaching out to pull open the door. You’re hit with a blast of heat and the vibrations of the loud music, but this doesn’t stop you while you enter the building. Your favourite building.

Your reflection stares back at you, examining your appearance in detail. Flawless, as usual. Green eyes, enclosed by a false black outline. Long eyelashes, complemented by smooth, fleshy lips. Well-groomed, with a small patch of hair below your chin. Smooth black hair, carefully assaulting your eyes. Tall, thin frame, jeans and hooded sweatshirt too-tight. Everything was carefully crafted before you left. Every detail planned out before your departure. A smirk plays up on your lips and you fully enter the club, becoming surrounded by dozens of attractive men. You make your way to the bar, nodding to the bartender and he gets you the usual. Your eyes begin to dance around the room, searching. Deciding who will satisfy you tonight.

And time freezes as your eyes land upon the epitome of your fantasies. As they land upon that slim form, the enticingly low-slung jeans, the fitted button down shirt, the bright pink belt. Your eyes are unbelieving as they trace over his jaw, the flesh clean-shaven, save for the vertical line of light hair running down his chin. Your eyes travel up to his perfect hair; neatly washed, parted to the side, the long blonde strands shaping his already flawless face. The man looks like an angel, and this excites you beyond comprehension to know that you’re going to corrupt this descendant of heaven. His piercing blue eyes shine with excitement, curiousity, and lust. It is then that you realize he’s looking back at you.

You tear your eyes from his striking appearance and look down to the drink that has been placed on the bar. A smirk re-appears on your face as you take it and rise from the stool you’ve been sitting on, and you head in the direction of the gent’s room. You can sense his eyes on you as you leave the main room.

The drink is balancing between your knees as you pull the small tube out of your hoodie pocket. The pre-crushed sleeping pills travel south into the liquid, dissolving instantly. In a few hours, the innocent little blonde boy will be slumped against the mattress as you take complete control of him. Your eyes drift shut and you take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. You try to calm the rapidly increasing excitement that flows through your body. Once you’re properly relaxed, you leave the bathroom stall and enter the main room once again, the tainted drink in your grasp. You spot the blonde on the dance floor, his frame swaying seductively to the beat of the music, and you approach him from behind, extending a slender finger and tracing it along his lower back. He immediately turns around and he’s face to face with you, an amused smirk on his lush lips.

No words are exchanged as you hand him the drink, the blonde oblivious to the drug inside it. He accepts it graciously and gulps it down, handing you the empty glass. He’s yours now. You shudder gently when he steps closer, turning around and pressing his backside against your front. He bends his knees and slowly drops down to the floor before swaying his hips again, and rising back up while gently grinding against you. The act has you flustered, which is something new. You’re always so calm and collected, so assertive and dominant. And though you can tell that he’s submissive, you can’t help but wonder if you’re really going to be in control tonight.

The next thing you know, his hand has found it’s way to yours and he’s facing you again, bright sapphire eyes looking at you expectantly. You gather he’s waiting for you to lead him back to your apartment, because subs don’t take control. You are the one to decide where, when, and how the event will take place. You grant his silent request and slowly lead him out of the dark club. The two of you are hit with the cool midnight breeze as you exit the building, walking the short distance to your apartment. Within moments you’re standing at your door, key in hand, when you’re startled by two delicate hands, slowly encircling your waist. A shiver runs down your spine as he presses against your backside and begins to dance his fingers south on your body. You’re extremely turned on by his maneuvers, but you will yourself to keep control. You can’t surrender to the pleasure he’s bringing you, or he will discover your true intentions. He’ll spill your secret. You can’t give in. Give in and it’s game over.

You fit the key into the lock and turn it, leading the blonde inside before shutting the door and relocking it, denying the world the privilege of watching you tonight. You stand back to examine your prize; after all, this is a game. And you know that you will win again tonight. The beautiful blonde boy will replace the brown-haired one that’s currently occupying your bed, and for the next few nights, the blonde will be all you see, feel, smell, and taste.

----

To be continued...
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