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monaboyd Mar. 21st, 2004 08:49 pm)
writteninsable.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Mar. 21st, 2004 08:49 pm)Title: Wake Up
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
red_moon_rising (or Cai)
Rating: R-ish
Feedback: Yes, please.
Notes: Thanks ever so much toarabella_o for the beta. This isn't the fic I promised before, that's still in the works, but this hit me over the head today while I was in the middle of my Macbeth Paper-From-Hell and I decided I'd rather write it instead. *smiles* I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Prehaps a bit of violence, but nothing too terribly bad.
Also: I promptedladyjackyl to write me a drabble using the same lyrics that inspired this fic. Her drabble can be found here in the comments section. It should be the second comment down, my prompt should be the first.
"Wake up - I'm pounding on the door,
I'm not the man I was before
Where the hell are you - when I need you?
Wake up - I'm pounding on the door
I won't hurt you anymore
Where the hell are you - when I need you?"
"Wake Up" by Three Days Grace
Every little move you made only let me hurt you more because I knew you loved it. I knew you craved it, that you’d whimper and trace the bruises with delicate fingers and dazed eyes. Because I know you. I understand what drives you.
I never thought that you’d leave me. I gave you everything (you needed).
I gave you everything (I had).
I gave you everything.
But you did.
You just left. You walked away without a backward glance and now I'm the one left craving. I miss your touch, your taste, the smell of you on my pillow. I turn over in the middle of the night and you're not there to hold. I open my eyes in the morning and you're not there to smile at me, to reassure me (without words) that everything will be alright.
It didn't come as a surprise when I got in the car and started driving around, only to end up outside your house. How I got from the driveway to your front step is a mystery I don't feel like solving right now. So here I am, banging on your front door for all I'm worth, yelling at the top of my lungs “Billy! Wake the fuck up, Bills. Goddamn, Billy, wake up and open the fucking door, you bastard!”
The overhead light flicks on and then you’re there. You're standing in front of me and suddenly everything that was crystal clear is murky and things I once understood are confused. Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Maybe I don't understand you, how you work, or what makes you tick…what made you leave the way you did.
“Why?” The words are desperate and torn, scratched from a throat shredded by too much alcohol and shouting. “Why did you leave me?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Not nearly drunk enough. Tell me why.”
“You should know why.”
“But I don't and I can’t figure you out anymore. Tell me, damn it.”
You lean in close, the hair near your forehead brushing my cheek and your breath hot against my ear as you whisper, “You weren’t what I needed anymore.”
The words sting and I can feel the fury building. There's far too much alcohol in my system and I can’t control myself anymore. I was never very good at it to begin with, but even were I stone cold sober, those words coming from your lips would still provoke me.
Your back is pressed against the doorframe and my hands are pining your arms to your sides before I even make a conscious decision to move. Your breath catches in your throat and I lean in, pausing to nip at the cords in your neck before whispering, "You don't need me?"
Heavy breathing is my only answer and that’s perfectly fine by me.
I lick along your jaw and revel in the taste of your skin, salty tang and just the barest hint of aftershave. I take your earlobe between my teeth and bite down ever so softly, listening to your harsh inhalation and wondering how long it will be before you’re begging for more.
This I can understand.
This desperation I can work with.
You’ve pushed me too far.
I don’t have long to wait.
“Please, Dom. Please—” Your words are rushed, sticking to your tongue in their hurry to leave your mouth, and I smile against you skin.
“Please what, Bill?”
“Inside. Neighbors. Please?”
Still holding your arms at your sides I back away and maneuver you into your house, swinging the door shut behind me with a well-placed kick. Then your back is against the wall and everything is so very familiar.
Your legs wrapped tightly around my hips, my hands in your hair, our lips locked, teeth and tongues clashing. I love the way you move against me, the friction is bloody brilliant.
Your moans fill the air and your violent gasps echo through the silent room. I pull away just long enough to ask, “Still sure you don’t need me?”
Your eyes glare at me, daggers and needles and pure green fire all wrapped up together, tearing me to pieces in a wonderful crescendo I’m not quite sure I can stand. Arch in, I think, and everything will be alright.
I grind against you roughly and your head falls back against the wall, your hands tightening in my hair just to the point of pain, and I wonder if you’re able to differentiate between your body and mine. Can you tell where you end and I begin? Because the boundary faded for me a long time ago. Can you still see the lines? Are they clearly drawn for you?
But then it hits me. That look in your eyes. The way the desperation had become rage and the fact that your eyes were still open.
Pause.
Take stock.
Observe.
Stop.
And everything falls into place. Somehow all the little pieces that I could never make sense of before finally fit. It’s not that you don’t want me anymore, it’s that you don’t want this.
So I edge away a little, look into your eyes. And I see that maybe I’ve done something right, after all. Maybe this can work. Maybe it doesn’t always have to be that way. I press my nose to the spot just below your ear and inhale, taking in your scent, the fact that your legs are still wrapped around my hips, and the sensation your fingers are creating as they slowly untangle from my hair. Soft, gentle. Your hands smooth down the back of my skull and close around the base of my neck.
“Billy,” I say softly, not moving. “I think I get it now.” I can feel your throat shifting as you swallow. I look up, then, moving my nose from your neck and raising my head. I feel like there’s something left to say, so I say it. “I think I get it, and I’m sorry.”
I brace my palms against the wall on either side of you and take my weight from your chest. Your legs release me carefully and you stand. I hang my head a bit and wonder where things will go from here. I take a shaky breath and wait for you to do something, anything.
Your hand on my jaw makes me look up and there’s a silent thank you in your eyes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you lean forward just a bit, pressing them softly against my cheek before you pull back and say, “This is what I needed.”
Hope you enjoy!
~Cai
Author:
red_moon_rising (or Cai)Rating: R-ish
Feedback: Yes, please.
Notes: Thanks ever so much to
arabella_o for the beta. This isn't the fic I promised before, that's still in the works, but this hit me over the head today while I was in the middle of my Macbeth Paper-From-Hell and I decided I'd rather write it instead. *smiles* I hope you enjoy. Warnings: Prehaps a bit of violence, but nothing too terribly bad.
Also: I prompted
ladyjackyl to write me a drabble using the same lyrics that inspired this fic. Her drabble can be found here in the comments section. It should be the second comment down, my prompt should be the first.I'm not the man I was before
Where the hell are you - when I need you?
Wake up - I'm pounding on the door
I won't hurt you anymore
Where the hell are you - when I need you?"
"Wake Up" by Three Days Grace
Every little move you made only let me hurt you more because I knew you loved it. I knew you craved it, that you’d whimper and trace the bruises with delicate fingers and dazed eyes. Because I know you. I understand what drives you.
I never thought that you’d leave me. I gave you everything (you needed).
I gave you everything (I had).
I gave you everything.
But you did.
You just left. You walked away without a backward glance and now I'm the one left craving. I miss your touch, your taste, the smell of you on my pillow. I turn over in the middle of the night and you're not there to hold. I open my eyes in the morning and you're not there to smile at me, to reassure me (without words) that everything will be alright.
It didn't come as a surprise when I got in the car and started driving around, only to end up outside your house. How I got from the driveway to your front step is a mystery I don't feel like solving right now. So here I am, banging on your front door for all I'm worth, yelling at the top of my lungs “Billy! Wake the fuck up, Bills. Goddamn, Billy, wake up and open the fucking door, you bastard!”
The overhead light flicks on and then you’re there. You're standing in front of me and suddenly everything that was crystal clear is murky and things I once understood are confused. Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Maybe I don't understand you, how you work, or what makes you tick…what made you leave the way you did.
“Why?” The words are desperate and torn, scratched from a throat shredded by too much alcohol and shouting. “Why did you leave me?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Not nearly drunk enough. Tell me why.”
“You should know why.”
“But I don't and I can’t figure you out anymore. Tell me, damn it.”
You lean in close, the hair near your forehead brushing my cheek and your breath hot against my ear as you whisper, “You weren’t what I needed anymore.”
The words sting and I can feel the fury building. There's far too much alcohol in my system and I can’t control myself anymore. I was never very good at it to begin with, but even were I stone cold sober, those words coming from your lips would still provoke me.
Your back is pressed against the doorframe and my hands are pining your arms to your sides before I even make a conscious decision to move. Your breath catches in your throat and I lean in, pausing to nip at the cords in your neck before whispering, "You don't need me?"
Heavy breathing is my only answer and that’s perfectly fine by me.
I lick along your jaw and revel in the taste of your skin, salty tang and just the barest hint of aftershave. I take your earlobe between my teeth and bite down ever so softly, listening to your harsh inhalation and wondering how long it will be before you’re begging for more.
This I can understand.
This desperation I can work with.
You’ve pushed me too far.
I don’t have long to wait.
“Please, Dom. Please—” Your words are rushed, sticking to your tongue in their hurry to leave your mouth, and I smile against you skin.
“Please what, Bill?”
“Inside. Neighbors. Please?”
Still holding your arms at your sides I back away and maneuver you into your house, swinging the door shut behind me with a well-placed kick. Then your back is against the wall and everything is so very familiar.
Your legs wrapped tightly around my hips, my hands in your hair, our lips locked, teeth and tongues clashing. I love the way you move against me, the friction is bloody brilliant.
Your moans fill the air and your violent gasps echo through the silent room. I pull away just long enough to ask, “Still sure you don’t need me?”
Your eyes glare at me, daggers and needles and pure green fire all wrapped up together, tearing me to pieces in a wonderful crescendo I’m not quite sure I can stand. Arch in, I think, and everything will be alright.
I grind against you roughly and your head falls back against the wall, your hands tightening in my hair just to the point of pain, and I wonder if you’re able to differentiate between your body and mine. Can you tell where you end and I begin? Because the boundary faded for me a long time ago. Can you still see the lines? Are they clearly drawn for you?
But then it hits me. That look in your eyes. The way the desperation had become rage and the fact that your eyes were still open.
Pause.
Take stock.
Observe.
Stop.
And everything falls into place. Somehow all the little pieces that I could never make sense of before finally fit. It’s not that you don’t want me anymore, it’s that you don’t want this.
So I edge away a little, look into your eyes. And I see that maybe I’ve done something right, after all. Maybe this can work. Maybe it doesn’t always have to be that way. I press my nose to the spot just below your ear and inhale, taking in your scent, the fact that your legs are still wrapped around my hips, and the sensation your fingers are creating as they slowly untangle from my hair. Soft, gentle. Your hands smooth down the back of my skull and close around the base of my neck.
“Billy,” I say softly, not moving. “I think I get it now.” I can feel your throat shifting as you swallow. I look up, then, moving my nose from your neck and raising my head. I feel like there’s something left to say, so I say it. “I think I get it, and I’m sorry.”
I brace my palms against the wall on either side of you and take my weight from your chest. Your legs release me carefully and you stand. I hang my head a bit and wonder where things will go from here. I take a shaky breath and wait for you to do something, anything.
Your hand on my jaw makes me look up and there’s a silent thank you in your eyes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you lean forward just a bit, pressing them softly against my cheek before you pull back and say, “This is what I needed.”
Hope you enjoy!
~Cai
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