(no subject)

[extemporally]

Hi, everyone! I've been rather busy without much to show for it, and have been writing many original things lately (this part is really great, please don't let it stop) so I've been sort of neglecting bandom. Let's not even talk about my bandombigbang, uh.

That said. Please give me some prompts? PLEASE.

Comments

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

It really happens the first time they tour together. It's pretty strange, actually - TAI's music, as William is so fond of declaring, is nothing like Panic's - and Ryan Ross and his gang of pretty boys are so, so, different from what The Academy's used to.

It gets pretty tense, too, when they start outselling the Academy, and even though none of them would blame Panic for them, William's mouth goes hard sometimes the way it does when he's been thinking about things too much. Like it does the day they play a smaller show and Pete suggests they open for Panic instead.

So, yeah, that's pretty much why Sisky didn't say anything when he noticed Spencer Smith, Pretty Not-Girl Drummer, looking at Butcher.

How could he, anyway. Back then Butcher wasn't exactly his, or anything. Even if he wanted him to be.

So it's the second time they're touring together - so many things have changed that it's like both of them are completely different bands from the last time - that Sisky sees Spencer Smith, Muscly Man Drummer, looking at Butcher's tattoos again, and, twining his arms around Butcher's waist, looks at Spencer appraisingly and thinks, maybe.

Summer tour is always grimy and sticky, the normal smells of tour - coffee, dandruff, adrenaline - exaggerated by the smell of three bands roasting and sweating under the sun together. At night, though, at night it's cool, even though it's probably because of the air-conditioning. One night when Sisky told everyone else to put on their earphones, he nudges Butcher in the ribs, gently, and rides him until Butcher's gasping and falling apart.

"I've seen him looking," Sisky whispers, when Butcher's near coming - Sisky can always tell, something about the way his pecs tighten, and now Sisky splays a hand on them gently and just moves, and Butcher lets out a keening sound that sounds like, "Sisky..."

"I've always known he was interested," Sisky continues, determined, pushing back against Butcher, giving as good as he gets. Butcher doesn't even pretend like he doesn't know what Sisky's talking about, just gasps harder. He sounds utterly strung out, the ink under his collarbones vivid even in the dark.

Sisky bends down, presses a soothing kiss to the corner of Butcher's mouth. Butcher's eyes are squeezed shut so tight, like he's suffering from an ecstasy of pain.

"Spencer Smith," Sisky whispers, hoping he gets it right, hoping he doesn't screw things up - "I like Spencer too, you know. He's got strong legs and arms and I've seen him drum shirtless, oh!" He can't tell if that last sound was because of the way Butcher is moving now, stronger and more insistent, finally, finally reciprocating.

"You'd look nice together," Sisky gasps, practically sobs, "So good." And then Butcher's yelling hoarsely, quietly, and Sisky comes too, before collapsing on Butcher's chest - the bird tattoos on his chest, god - sweaty and feeling a little prickly where the hairs on the back of his neck are nothing but little prickles.

They like in the bunk a little while, quietly replete, before Butcher says, sounding scratchy and a little raw, "Did you really mean it?"

Sisky releases a little breath, and watches the space above his face as though he's expecting to see it spiral into the darkness. It's strange, the way he feels shyer about it when they're not fucking, even though he knows Butcher wants.

"Yeah," he says. "I think it would be hot."

There's still an edge of a pause, like Butcher's afraid to claim it, properly. Sisky trails his hand across the half an inch of space between them, savouring the feel of the worn sheets, and reaches for Butcher's hand. He squeezes it, and that seems to make Butcher relax, a little.

"Yeah," Butcher replies, finally, a little choked. "So hot."

From the way Butcher reaches over with his other hand, awkwardly, to stroke Sisky's jaw and the beginning of stubble there, Sisky can tell he's not just talking about fucking Spencer Smith.

[redsnake05.livejournal.com]

*fans self* just what I needed to wake up to in the morning! Hot, and just a little complicated - and complicated is good. I liked how Sisky finds it easier to say things when they are fucking. Gorgeous.