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nuagederose · 7 days

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Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Twelve: Kisses Don’t Lie

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Though Valentina had gone back home in a haste, Chuck and Eric lingered back in the apartment for a bit longer than usual just in time for Christine to whip up a round of breakfast for the three of them. Eric had offered to help her, but the only thing he could make up for her was the toast to go amongst all the three of them.

She could scarcely eat up her scrambled eggs, however, given she kept on thinking about Alex and meeting him over at his place for the day. But at the same time, she knew that she had to eat something lest she be hungry all day long. She thought about the dream she had had the night before, and she wondered if she could run it by him when she saw him later on. Chuck meanwhile sipped on his coffee and showed her a little smile from behind his mug.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Christine asked him as she munched on her piece of wheat toast with apricot jam on the top.

“I’ll raise you two pennies for two of your thoughts,” he retorted, to which Eric snickered.

“What’s the catch?” she asked him.

“The catch is you and I do something together sometime this summer,” Chuck said.

“I dunno, man, she’s been chillin’ with ol’ Mr. Skolnick lately,” Eric retorted in a singsong voice.

“Well, yeah, I know that,” Chuck scoffed. “But I kinda want the same thing that you and her have, though.”

“Hang out and be buddies and stuff?” Christine asked him.

“Exactly, yeah!”

“Okay, um… what would you like to do together?”

“I wanna take you to dinner and a show,” Chuck declared.

“Dinner?” Eric demanded, taken aback.

“You and I went to dinner every night we were in Monterey,” she pointed out as she took another bite of toast.

“Yeah, but we were in California, though,” he insisted. “It’s different back here in the Big Apple.”

Chuck and Christine glanced at one another.

“Eric, this is the city that never sleeps,” she pointed out. “People here don’t give a shit about what you and I do together, or what me and him do together.” She sipped on the rest of her coffee and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Anyways, I gotta meet Alex today,” she informed them as she picked up her plate and took it to the sink. Chuck offered to do the same for himself and for Eric as well, the latter of whom had a rather wounded look upon his face. Christine watched him out of the corner of her eye as she rinsed off their plates under the faucet, and she wondered as to what was going through his mind right then. It reminded her of a time when another boy had his eye on her and Chris was standing off to the side with a similar look upon his face. She dared not dwell on such a memory as that time had long gone behind her, and Eric was totally different by comparison, but it still flashed through her mind like a flicker of light at the start of a thunderstorm.

The two of them still gave her a hug as well, and by the time she was alone again in the apartment, Christine ventured back to her bedroom and changed her clothes. She knew that it was going to be a rather warm day that day, and thus, she wore that low-cut white top and matching choker that Alex had given her right before she left for California. Quickly, she ran a hairbrush through her hair and fixed it up into the taut ponytail at the back of her head: the very tips of her hair brushed against the small of her back, and she knew that it was time for a trim lest the split ends make their return.

She gave her neck a quick swipe of the perfume that smelled of cherry blossoms, and then she hoisted her purse over her shoulder. As she made her way out to the hallway and locked the door, she thought about Eric’s behavior back there.

Maybe that trip out to Monterey had done something to him, and something that he hadn’t the courage to talk about, either. She flashed back on the kiss that he had given her, and she wondered if there could be something there should the whole thing with Alex not work out at all.

But she loved Alex. She was in love with him, and she knew that in her heart, she could love him more and love him better than Captain Howdy ever could.

Captain Howdy did not love him at all, as far as she knew. But she wondered if there could be room in her heart for two guys as she strode out to the sunshine and the bus stop. The warm sun washed over her and remained with the warmth over her as she rode on down to his neighborhood, the street lined with all of the trees, which had long bloomed with the fresh green leaves of spring and summer and gave the entire neighborhood a cool blanket against the hot days upon New York City.

Through a gap in the canopy, the sun shone down on the crown of Alex’s head, and Christine could see his plume of gray from right down the street as a result. He peeked over his sunglasses at her: it made her think that he was watching her like a movie star.

“Peek-a-boo,” she told him as she came within earshot. Her eyes wandered down to his long toned legs, accentuated by his black shorts and fitted shirt.

“There’s that girl,” he sang out as if he was up on Broadway. His warm, rounded voice echoed over the sidewalk and she knew that he had been teaching himself how to carry his tune better. “There’s that girl, there’s that girl…” Christine strode up to him and kissed him on the neck and then on his cherry lips, the latter of which she held onto as if her life depended on it.

Alex held back a bit and ran his fingers through his soft black hair: the gray streak shone under the sun as if it really was made of silver.

“Where did that come from?” he asked her with that lopsided smile on his handsome face.

“I just… wanted to feel you for a bit longer,” she confessed with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“You know, it’s the damnedest thing: I was feeling the same way just last night. I really wanted to hang up and go over to your place.”

“You wouldn’t’ve liked it,” she said. “We had loud music going, all kinds of coolers flowing, someone called the cops, it was this whole big scene.” He treated her to that soft chuckle of his.

“Wanna go down to Coney Island?” he offered her with another run of his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, baby, you know it.” She lovingly patted the side of his face and kissed him again, that time with a slight raise onto her toes to reach him. She then held onto his hand, and the two of them walked together to his car parked right near the corner. When he let go of her hand, he took his keys out of his front pocket and let his sunglasses slide down the bride of his nose.

“You look really sexy, by the way,” she told him as her eyes wandered from his chest all the way down to his feet. “Showing off your skin and your curves like this.”

“If I have curves, what do you have?” he joked as he unlocked the car.

“More of curves?” she replied with a bit of reluctance, and he burst out laughing at that.

They both climbed into the car in unison and, once he fired it up, she was met with the soft crooning of Karen Carpenter on his radio.

“Man, you never hear the Carpenters anymore,” he remarked as he switched up the volume dial. Christine rolled down the window and let the warm summer air sweep over her.

She thought about the last summer Chris was alive, and one day while on the way to his house, she had the window down and her hand out the window to feel the breeze through her fingers. She did just that, much to Alex’s pleasure. In one small corner of her mind, she refused to believe that Chris was gone, that it was all some terrible joke and he had faked his death and was currently living under the boardwalk down at Coney Island, or out in the woods in the middle of Central Park. But she had left him behind in the past along with the memory of Ann and the memory of the time before Alex, and now she looked on at the big Ferris wheel once he turned the corner.

It was a warm summer day and yet there weren’t many people there; luckily for them, Alex took the spot due across the street from the parking lot.

Once he had locked the door and tucked his keys into his front pocket once again, she snuck up behind him and reached into his back pocket. She flexed her fingers inside of his pocket, which in turn made him flinch a bit.

“Hey, watch it,” he teased her. She did it again, and that time, he flinched forward and clutched at himself.

“God, you’re frisky today,” he joked.

“It’s what happens when you call me late at night and I wake up thinking about you,” she replied in a single breath. “I’m wanting to touch you.”

He peeked over his sunglasses at her again, that time with a playful little smirk on his face.

“I was also wanting to hear your voice, too,” she added, and he raised his eyebrows at that.

“You know, truth be known, I feel that way sometimes, too,” he confessed as they were met with the unmistakable smell of French fries, followed by popcorn.

“We need to have some fun,” she whispered right into his ear.

“We’re about to go into Coney Island!” he insisted. “Of course we’re going to have some fun.”

“No, no, I mean…” She lightly kissed the side of his neck, which in turn made him gasp and shiver. She held back to find him raising his eyebrows at her. “Let’s have some fun.”

“Oh, I see,” he breathed, and he showed her a playful little smile at that. “Well, first things first, let us play with the little island we have here.”

It reminded her of the time that he took her there before the rainstorm fell down over them, except this time, the sun shone down on them in the form of another shower. She held his hand, even when he had his free hand upon one of those old brown cream soda bottles with a straw out the spout. His black hair seemed to flow against the warm sea breeze, and she had her chest out in the open. There was a little stuffed sock monkey, bright green, the same color as the bushels of cotton candy off to the side, over by the balloon wall that caught her eye.

She grinned to herself when she convinced him of it. She knew that he was more than willing to spend money on her, money on her rather than Captain Howdy: he was spending enough on her, what with the wedding and everything.

Alex held the dart next to his head and chucked it to the first balloon right smack in the middle of the board. It popped so loud that it caught her off guard.

“That’s how we do it!” he declared with a chuckle. The second dart hit the one slightly to his left, and the third took the one slightly on his right.

“We’ll take the green monkey,” Christine declared to the kid behind the counter; he handed it over to Alex, who scritched the crown of its head as if it was real.

“For you, my love,” he told her as he handed her the monkey, to which she took and cradled in her arms as if it was made of gold.

“Shall we go down to the beach?” he suggested as he took a sip from his soda bottle.

“Please,” she quipped, and she held the monkey in one arm so she could hold hands with him again.

They walked side by side down towards the boardwalk and the panoramic view of the beach and the ocean. The aged wood of the walkway felt warm underneath their feet, and it radiated against their interlocked hands.

Like the sun was blessing the forbidden love between the two of them.

They passed by the bathrooms, and he held back a bit from her.

“Okay, but… um… before you and I get busy down here, I have to use the little boys’ room,” he told her, and he swiped her lips with a hearty kiss, the hardest one yet complete with a wave of sea spray cast over their heads.

“I’ll be right here,” she promised him with a wink, and she held onto his soda bottle with one hand. Christine watched Alex go in through the blue door on the left side, and she lingered back with the monkey in her arms. She pressed it up against her chest like she would a textbook, and she leaned against the brick wall due across from the doors.

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and she turned her head and looked up the boards to the spot on the wall, way out of earshot from her. She recognized that feathery blonde hair, now made golden by the summer sun, and she recognized her father anywhere.

Her eyes wandered to the water fountain right across from them, and she knew that short straight black hair anywhere as well.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of them, and she blindly ducked into the men’s room so she was close to Alex. The men’s room was small and bright, and smelled of fresh lemons as if they had just cleaned in there. Indeed, the smooth powder blue tiles under her feet shone under the fluorescent lights as if they were brand new. She caught the sound of something hitting the porcelain in one of the stalls, followed by a low thud.

“Whoa, ow!”

Christine rounded the corner and stood before the one door that had been closed.

“You okay in there?” she asked him through the door.

“I fell off the toilet.” He grunted out a bit as he picked himself up off the floor. “Not the first time that’s happened, though. And at least it’s clean in here, too.”

“Yeah, it actually smells really clean in here,” she remarked as she kept her folded arms up to her chest.

“Besides, this is the men’s room—you know you’re not supposed to be in here,” he told her; she could see his feet under the bottom of the door.

“I don’t care,” she confessed to him.

“I should’ve known,” he teased her with a chuckle. Christine held back against the wall with the monkey pressed right up against her chest. Even though she was in the men’s room, she didn’t mind standing there waiting for him, and she knew she was comfortable with him. The sound of his voice and his presence in the stall before her made her momentarily forget why she came in there in the first place.

“I saw Nelly and my dad down the boardwalk,” she told him right as he shifted his feet on the clean tile floor.

“And that’s why you’re in here?” he asked her, dumbfounded.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“That’s kind of an odd pairing to think about,” he confessed with a slight strain to his voice. “You sure it was them?”

“I know my dad from anywhere and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that was Nelly he was talking to.”

“Not sure why you’d run in here with that in mind, though,” he confessed.

“I also saw your fiancée out there, too.”

There was a brief pause behind the stall door. “Shit. Ah, shit.” He fetched up a sigh. “What was going on?”

“I don’t know. My dad and Nelly were talking to each other, and she had her back turned to them so she probably had nothing to do with it. It’s still disconcerting to see, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. So much for Nelly being a friend to us, too. At least I lie for you, Christine.” He then stood up and she heard him pull up his shorts. He then flushed and opened the door at the same time, and he greeted her with a nervous look on his face and his sunglasses perched upon his head.

“Looks like we’re going to have our work cut out for us, my dear,” he confessed to her.

“No doubt about that.”

“Let me wash my hands and then I’ll take a look out there…”

Christine held off to the side of the faucets as he scrubbed his hands with the soft soap right next to him.

“I love how you aren’t offended by my odor, either,” he confessed to her with a glimpse up to the mirror.

“I actually don’t even notice it,” she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s just a part of life, anyway.”

“Exactly!” he replied as he switched off the water. He took a few paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and dried off his long and lanky hands.

“Oh, good, you still held onto my soda!” he declared as she handed it to him and his free, dry hand. He took another sip from the straw and then shook his head about.

“Okay, now, let’s see what’s going on out there,” he said as he opened the door with the paper towel. They were greeted by the ocean breeze and the warmth of the sun, but Christine thought of lingering back away from there lest one of them look in their direction. Alex peered off to the right, and then to the left. He held still and she knew they were still there.

“Oh, god, that is my fiancée,” he muttered as he put his sunglasses back on. “And it looks like that is Nelly, too.”

“What do you think we should do?” Christine asked him. Alex didn’t say anything as he tossed the paper towels into the trash can by the door, and then he took her by the hand and led her away from there. She daren’t glance back, and she knew that they would be safe in the furthest stretch of beach from there.

#dark roots of earth #dark roots of earth fanfic #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 12 #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #chuck billy #eric peterson #oc tag #traditional art #drawings #fanfic with art #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

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feverinfeveroutfic · 10 days

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blood & chocolate

chapter twenty-nine: i feel the dark

The next thing I knew, I woke up to the feeling of something soft in my hands. Something soft in my hands, and something warm and tender pressed up against my body, complete with the smell of something soapy and fresh right up against the tip of my nose. I pulsed my fingers against his flesh, and I smiled at the feeling inside of my palms, and I thought of kissing him on the side of the neck just to fully relish in the feeling before me. He was so soft and tender, like I had made a batch of good biscuits, all straight out of the oven.

All I felt like doing was spooning his little body. To hold him and feel him all night long.

But then again, I started to think about his pleasure, the way that he was feeling laying there before me and in my arms. I needed to know how he would feel if I gave him what he hungered for with me.

Alex shifted his weight a bit, and I subsequently loosened my grip on him. He rolled over onto his back, and I moved my hand down to the waist of his underwear. Loose locks of his black hair spread over the side of his face and neck: with his eyes still closed, he really looked like a young boy again.

At some point during our time there in the safety of my bedroom, he had taken off his pants and showed me his snug little shorts in all of their pearlescent white glory. His legs were long and lanky, and his sinewy thighs had not a single hair to be found on them. Perfect for kisses once we got things going again.

So long and thin, so delicate, and so toned as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about his thighs even as I closed my eyes again and kept my arms around his waist. I kept my body pressed against his as well: no way I was going to let this gorgeous boy go away from me. I gently rubbed the side of my face against the inside of his hair to take in the soft, soapy musk at the roots of his coarse jet-black hair.

I wanted nothing more than to drink him down. Give him some more weight just to hold onto his body a while longer and then I could drink him in like I was parched and dry, so thirsty from traversing across the desert. I was thirsty. I was thirsty and hungry. I nuzzled his hair some more, and I slithered my fingers over his waist. I ran my fingertip around the rim of his belly button. Oh, to make him all the food he could ever possibly wish for and watch him gain more weight. For him to gain weight and grow even softer with the feeling.

Still keeping his eyes closed, Alex rolled his head over the top of the pillow, and for a second, I swore that he would wake up and see me looking over him. I began thinking ahead in all of this, and more so when I wondered if Dave was still out there in the front porch.

What would happen if Alex and I found each other some ten years before in particular.

I lightly ran my fingers down the crest of his hipbone and onto the top of his thigh: where his belly was soft and plush as a pillow, his thighs were toned and sinewy. He cracked a smile and snickered from the feeling: I tickled the top of his skin, and he kicked his legs a bit. I licked my lips as I held both hands over the tops of his thighs.

“Mmm… cut it out, you guys,” he giggled, and I tickled him with both hands over his little belly, and at that point, he jolted himself awake and threw himself against my body. His eyes were big and his cherry lips had parted enough to where I could readily kiss him if I wanted to.

“I couldn’t resist tickling you,” I confessed.

“I can see that,” he whispered to me, and he swallowed hard. That beautiful Adam’s apple on his throat.

Alex slithered off of me and back onto the side of the bed right next to me. He then sat up and ran his long, spidery fingers through his black hair. He shook his head and gazed on back at me with a pensive look upon his face.

“So… do we wanna get the weed?” I asked him as I propped my head up in my palm.

“Yeah. But I kind of want to stay here, though. I don’t really feel like going out and nabbing some bud for us at the moment.”

He then lay back down next to me with his hands folded over his chest and his stomach, the latter of which rose up a bit from underneath his shirt.

“You are getting so soft,” I told him.

“And I’m about to get even softer.” He put his hands underneath his head, and the bottom hem of his shirt lifted up to show me some of his skin and the fine line of hair that ran down from his belly button to the top of the hem of his shorts. I licked my lips and moved my head in closer to his face as if to entice him with some kisses. But I never did. Instead, I teased him with the suggestion that I was about to do that for him.

He hooded his eyes at me, and in turn, he showed me a sweet little smile. He moved one hand down from his head and rested it on the upper part of his stomach. Our eyes locked, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched him run his hand down to the waist of his shorts and ultimately, that bare exposed skin. Our eyes were locked, and yet, I knew what he was doing right then in teasing me.

He showed me his tongue, and his eyes darkened at the feeling. If only I could see in what he was seeing with me right then: I would probably do the same thing that he was doing.

“I don’t want to leave this bed, if I’m honest,” he confessed; his voice drifted down into that low and husky tone once again, and that time it sounded as though he was in fact seducing me. “I really don’t want to leave this room, either. Let’s stay here forever.”

“But if we stay here, we can’t get more food,” I pointed out. “We can’t get more food and you would lose your belly.”

“True, true,” he replied as he slowly caressed the very tips of his fingers over the roundest part of his belly: his waist was thick and full, and my fingers tingled at the thought of his soft skin there. I pursed my lips as I strove not to look down there. I needn’t look at that beautiful skin and let him win the tease. I was more drawn to those bright blue eyes of his, anyway, the way they burned themselves right into my mind like the cherries of cigarettes, much like how I wanted to swipe those cherry lips of his with the touch of my own.

But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his stroking his own skin at such a slow, deliberate pace and with nothing more than the tips of his fingers. I thought about putting my head down there just to kiss him on that soft skin. Kiss him there and undo his pants to bring on a good old-fashioned little blowie. I knew he had a great appetite residing within him: it was just coaxing it out into the open.

“I have a question,” he started again, that time with a clearing of his throat.

“Go ahead,” I coaxed him.

“Why can’t I rub your belly?” he asked me with a playful little smirk.

“Mine?” I sputtered out, slightly taken aback. He finally let go of my gaze and let those eyes of his sweep down to the rest of my body. He showed me the tip of his tongue once again, that time at the edges of his teeth.

“Yeah, you’ve got this… soft pillow here, almost like that of a big round teddy bear of sorts.” His gaze never left my body. “I kind of want to give you some touches and some lovin’, too.” Those luminous, deep eyes swept up to my face as if he was enticing me. A shiver ran up my spine, and my fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him some more.

“I kind of… want to kiss you on the belly,” he continued. “You know, give you the same sweet caresses that you give unto me.”

“You are just so irresistible,” I remarked. He hooded his eyes as he examined the crest of my collar bones and the sides of my neck. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I especially wished I knew what he was thinking when he moved his fingers down to the waist of his shorts. No way he could do that in front of me.

“The shorts are coming off,” he breathed out to me.

“The shorts are staying on until I say so,” I commanded to him, also in a low tone of voice. He inched closer to me, and not once did he take his hand off his body, either. I finally put my arm around his body and held him even closer to me: as soft as ever.

“God, I love to cuddle,” I whispered into his ear.

“I love to cuddle and I love to feel,” he retorted back to me.

“You like to play, too,” I said.

“We’re gonna have to face Elle and Dave at some point, though,” he pointed out with a sigh.

“I know, and that kills me to think about, too,” I confessed as I ran my finger along the line of hair under his belly button. He shifted his hips at the feeling, and he held still when I kept my fingertip right at the waist of his underwear. “Kills me to think that this beautiful skin could be subject to all of that, when you deserve to be genuinely kissed and loved on.”

“Do you think Dave is still out there?”

“That means I would have to let you go and get up,” I pointed out, and I lightly moved my finger down his happy trail again, and that time around brought a light little gasp from his lips. “Does that tickle?”

“I ain’t telling you,” he chided.

“If I go and look to see if Dave is out there, would you tell me?”

“Depends,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “You feel like making us something to nosh on?”

“I’m actually not hungry,” I told him. “But I’ll make you a little something something, though.”

He licked his lips again, that time with as much slowness and deliberation as his fingers on his belly.

“I’ll be right here waiting,” he promised me in a near whisper.

I climbed over him and padded out of the bedroom to the front of my apartment, which had been enshrouded with darkness with the coming of nightfall. I was wary to not switch on the light lest Dave be out there and see me through the blinds on the front window there. Lou’s place next door was completely silent on the other side of the kitchen wall; but I took a peek through the blinds in the kitchen to my narrow square porch right outside the door. No one out there.

Dave either never showed up, or he did but he left after a bit.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and I reached back and switched on the kitchen light to make Alex a pastrami sandwich on a hoagie roll. I served it on a plate and everything.

When I left the kitchen, and I turned off the light, I held still so my eyes would adjust to the darkness again. When I returned to the room, he had sat upright in bed and turned on the light on the desk: he kept the hem of his shirt up to show off his belly to me.

“Yup, he’s definitely out there,” I said to him, and I sank back down on the bed next to him.

“He’s going to be out there all night,” he chuckled as he took the sandwich from me and took a bite. “Oh, my god. It’s so good.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from, big boy,” I assured him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament fanfic #testament band #alex skolnick #eric peterson #slash fic #slash fanfiction #belly kink #kink tag #kink content #writing #also on ao3 #text #mild smut #blood & chocolate #blood and chocolate #blood & chocolate fanfic

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josiebelladonna · 2 months

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last night in charleston, bay bee!!

#luciano!!#testament #testament band #chuck billy #eric peterson #alex skolnick #louie clemente

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stoneoferech · 8 days

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Testament "The Ritual"

#chuck billy #eric peterson #alex skolnick #louie clemente #gregg christian #thrash metal #testament

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themetalmassacrevault · 1 year

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#Eric Peterson #Alex scholnick #Testament Band

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art-of-mtg · 27 days

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Shanodin Dryads (Seventh Edition) - Eric Peterson

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #eric peterson #shanodin dryads #seventh edition

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zonetrente-trois · 6 months

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#SurrealEstate #Adam Korson #Alexis Koetting #Ashley Dingwell #Azalea Stone #Courtney Lancaster #Eric Peterson #Patrick Garrow #Patrick Kwok-Choon #Ruth Lawrence #Sarah Levy #Savannah Basley #Spencer Creaghan #Tim Rozon #SyFy

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mymindlostmefan · 1 year

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Eric Peterson - Testament

born 14.05.1966

#eric peterson #testament

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mtg-cards-hourly · 10 months

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Braids, Cabal Minion

"Home is where you can find a decent graveyard and strangers can disappear without awkward questions."

Artist: Eric Peterson TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$1.59 #eric peterson #braids cabal minion #odyssey #legendary #creature #human #minion

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metalsongoftheday · 7 months

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Friday, October 13: Testament, "The Haunting"

A sizable portion of Testament’s fanbase still considers The Legacy among the best things they’ve ever recorded, if not actually the best. No doubt a lot of that is based on nostalgia, but perhaps another reason is that relative to the other thrash records released during that 1985-1988 golden stretch, their debut had a darkness to it that went well beyond the snarky nihilism of Death Angel and Overkill towards something more malevolent and extreme. “The Haunting” had the same level of frenzy and aggression that was common to mid ‘80s thrash, but Alex Skolnick and Eric Peterson wrote nastier riffs and arrangements, and while Steve Souza’s words were typical thrash fare, Chuck Billy helped invent death metal with growling that, although not without coherence and traces of melody, was much more bellicose than the nasally snarling of a Blitz, Zetro or Mark Osegueda. This was meaner and just plain evil, though to be sure Testament hadn’t fully locked in as a band- it wouldn’t take them long to mature as writers, arrangers and players, but they weren’t there yet.

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nuagederose · 3 months

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✨ gray ghost: the alexander nathan story ✨

a young mild-mannered, baby-faced, jewish protégé guitarist who gets shot in the head on his way to band practice, and instead of killing him, it makes him superhuman. hoping to finish by valentine’s day as it’s my gift to all of you.

outside of my comfort zone as i tend to write stories now that are more elaborate than this (so, forgive me if it seems a bit rushed or cringe), but also not because i made comics when i was in eighth grade so making these first few pages brought back all kinds of memories. done with nothing but a pencil and a couple of old pens!

ig: badmotorartist

#gray ghost #comics #comic art #comic books #original comic #alex skolnick #testament #testament band #comic strip #my comic #mini comic #pen and ink #handmade comic #handmade art #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #eric peterson #heavy metal #thrash metal

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feverinfeveroutfic · 2 months

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"he's gotta have it"

I had been such a bad boy up to the point of the day before Hanukkah, and I knew Alex had been a naughty boy as well. He had come along like a spider on a drain pipe begging for something to eat, and he got it good and he knew it. At some point, he began to lounge there on my couch with his hands tucked behind his head and let his belly hang out without an iota of shame to be found. He knew he was a prince. He knew he had it well from that point onward.

He let his eyes wander unto me from there like a crowned prince awaiting his bunch of grapes and then some. There was a part of me that wanted to make it more than grapes, so much more than grapes. The thought of a vine instead, the way one would curl itself around a lanky little metal pole, a lanky little guy like him. He may have put on a few but he was still a slender boy in my eyes.

I was a bad boy. The whole thing with me and him left me feeling like such a bad boy. I was giving him everything he could ever ask for in terms of all the food he could ever ask for. Giving him everything to eat and I had not a single care in the world about it all.

I was a bad boy and there had to be a way to bump it up a notch or two. He was starting to go over his borders with the passing of Thanksgiving, and I knew he was only going to go further overboard with Christmas and Hanukkah upon us. I still had yet to make him the sufganiyot as well.

There was that one evening prior to Thanksgiving when he and I had gotten down to the floor together and I was twisting his dick like I was trying to twist off the cap of a pickle jar. I was never going to forget the way that he parted his lips and arched his neck and back when I did it. I had no clue as to where the idea came from with me, but I had opened something up with him with that.

He liked being under me, and it was just one of those things that I saw right before my eyes: the panting, the gentle little moans that emerged from him, the way that he guided my hand down to the space between his legs, everything. He liked being encapsulated and trapped under the grasp of my hand, as chunky as it was, and I kept on seeing him all swaddled up with something long and elegant and lanky, like a grapevine.

I had invited him over for dinner about a week before Hanukkah and he seemed utterly ravenous the very second he strode into my apartment. He had that look to his eyes, as if he hadn’t had anything to eat in quite some time up to that point. The way that his long hair seemed to spread down over his shoulders like that of a mane. He looked like a little lion man standing there in my kitchen with one arm behind his back and his other hand pressed to his hip.

I had always loved the way how his hips looked, in particular the way that they began curving out more with his weight and the way that I would get lost in the way that he looked below the belt, too. If anything, I found myself more and more drawn to his legs the more that time went on.

But then again, there was his little belly and the way that his shirt had grown a bit more snug on him, especially now following Thanksgiving. I had this inclination to wrap something snug around him there, something that of a grapevine and then I could go from there with something flat like plastic wrap. Just wrap him up tight like a little piece of kreplach and have fun with him from there.

I had began to try my hand at kreplach all for him, simply because he had mentioned it over Thanksgiving and I looked into making it for him at some point, at least before Hanukkah. There was so much Jewish food that I wanted to make for him, more so after he had talked about how it was so warming for him and how it always filled every inch of his belly, too: the sufganiyot especially was on my list for him. But I had to give him what I knew about kreplach.

Alex followed me into the kitchen like a hungry house cat, and he hung there by the counter so as to watch me. He propped up his chin up on his palm like a schoolgirl waiting to hear gossip about the latest thing, but his eyes were fixed on me and the pan on the stove.

“Forgot to tell you, Chuck's in the hospital,” he told me in a single breath. “Something going on with his heart.”

“Oh my god!” I gasped, and I brought my hands up to my mouth. “Is he okay?”

“We can hope that he is,” he confessed to me with a shrug of his shoulders. “I talked to his girlfriend and she said that he wasn't feeling well, that it had something to do with some weird feeling in his chest so she drove him to the hospital.”

“When was this?”

“Just this morning. Last I heard from her was he's okay. He just needed to be taken to a room and they were running some tests.”

“It's probably just stress,” I said as I poured in the ground beef into the skillet, to which it made a low sizzling noise on the oil. I gave it some salt and pepper, followed by a good clockwise stir. He never moved from his spot on the counter as I opened the fridge and took out the pastry wrappers made the day before.

Just a few minutes with the meat, at least until it was slightly browned, and then it was going into the wrappers, followed by the skillet for a few minutes. It was always so meditative with me.

Indeed, once the meat was ready, and I began spooning it into the wrappers, he leaned into me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the edge of the counter pressing against his soft belly. There had to be some kind of rope or something lying around my place, or I could possibly go next door and see if Lou had any himself.

I had whipped up about fourteen of those bad boys before I heated up the oil again and placed them into the skillet for a good frying.

“You really sure you wanna fry those?” he asked me in a low voice.

“Yeah. It's almost Hanukkah, so I figured why not.” And he showed me a little lopsided smile at that.

“When I was a kid, my grandmother would always make them like spring rolls for Purim. She would make them with apples, too.”

“With apples, really?” I couldn't resist the smile at that.

“Oh, yeah. I always loved the sweet dumplings in particular, especially when they came out of the oven. The potato ones at Rosh Hashanah, too. I remember those always came with a side of soup.”

“Maybe after I tickle your appetite a little bit, I'll bust out a pot and make us some chowder,” I suggested to him with a wink.

The dumplings cooked in the skillet for a few minutes on one side, and then when I turned them over, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight again as if he wanted to tell me something else.

“You know what I've been wanting us to do?” he asked right then.

“What's that?”

“I want you to tie me up and feed me,” he said with a straight face, to which I raised my eyebrows at that.

“Tie you up and feed you?” I asked him, slightly taken aback. He then pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I know, that was... that was stupid,” he quipped.

“No, that was... where did that come from?” I asked him as I turned the last kreplach over and put a lid on top of that.

“I'm not sure. But it's something that I thought about a while back and I've been so reluctant to bring it up to you, too. I kept on thinking, 'god, this is so stupid, there's no way Eric is going to want to do that even if I asked him nicely and I was practically on my knees and begging for it. If it was already kind of an event to get us both in the mood for feeding each other, I just wonder how long this would possibly take.' Add to this, I've just been finding the right courageous moment to say it.”

“And courageous you are,” I assured him as I wiped my hands on a dish towel. “You know, it's funny, I've actually been thinking about adding rope to our whole thing here. Thing is I don't know if I have any.”

“Doesn't hurt to look, does it not?” he suggested in a near whisper and with a slight bow to his head. Maybe it really was something heavy for him.

I then rubbed my hands together and turned down the heat.

“Keep an eye on these, I'll be right back,” I told him.

“How long do they take?”

“About two more minutes. I'll just be real quick—” Before he could get another word in, I bowed out of the kitchen and to the hallway linen closet. Something told me that Lou had a spool of rope that I could play with for a bit, but then I took a look down to the bottom shelf, right below the soaps and boxes and things there, and I recognized those smooth fine white strands that made up some good rope. Really good rope and the kind that I only dreamed about as well.

I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder, and I returned to the kitchen and right as the kreplach was ready.

Alex stood up and held before the edge of the counter with his hands pressed onto the tiles as if he was expecting something. I looked on at the soft way that his belly curved out from over his belt, and it was right then I had an idea.

With the rope over my shoulder, I plated us seven kreplach each, and I knew he was going to want a bowl of soup. But for the time being, I had to work with those meaty little dumplings the size of apricots.

It was as if he read my mind, and he held before the kitchen counter with his hands planted on the edge of the tiles.

“I want you to do it while we're standing up,” he quipped as I handed him a fork.

“You want me to tie up while we're standing? Can we at least do it in the living room?”

“Of course! I know how much of a hearth the oven is and how tricky it is to be around hot oil, too.” He flashed me a wink as he picked up his plate and led me back into the living room. I hoped that we could help ourselves to the kreplach all the while because there was no way I was going to let it grow cold with whatever it was we were about to carry out right then.

“I'm thinking...” he began as he set the plate down on the coffee table and reached down for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off. He stood before me with his bare chest out in the open and his little belly hanging out like the belly of a puppy: he had those little sprigs of dark hair all over his chest and I thought about running my fingers through it once we were done with all of this. He picked up the fork again and scooped up one of those little dumplings.

I watched him eat it before I indulged in my own. I never realized just how filling these were once I had a couple myself, and I knew it was because of the oil. But he ate all seven of those, one right after the other and at a slow, deliberate pace to boot as well, and once he was done with them, he set down his plate and rested a hand on his belly.

“Those were perfect,” he confessed to me.

“You're going to want soup, aren't you?” I suggested to him as I picked up my sixth dumpling.

“Oh, you know it,” he said in a low voice. I then ate up my seventh dumpling and set the plate down on the table next to his so I could handle the rope. He put his hands behind his back and let his little belly hang out in the open: I definitely wanted him to be full of soup as well.

“So what were you thinking?” I started as I stood behind him with the rope in hand.

“Thinking I'll just hold still right here and you can feel your way with me with this thing,” he quipped. It was a smooth rope, and thus, I knew that he was going to like this. I decided to begin with his hands first, and then I was going to let the rope do its thing all around the rest of his body.

“So… you just hold still like this?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Just—like this. At least at first, anyway.”

“This is going to be somewhat of an art of sorts,” I said as I thought about the Japanese way of going about with bondage. Once his hands were linked up, I moved the ends of the rope around his body. I held the ends up close to his bare chest, and with a quick peek over his shoulder, I could see myself make something of an elongated knot.

“Ow,” he blurted out.

“Sorry—here, let me get your hair.” I nudged his hair out of the way of his chest to make it easier on both of us. I then rounded his body so could make the knot better: it was this long braid of a knot that reached the top of his belly, to which I moved the ends of the rope behind his ass again. There was a part of me that wanted to give him a good squeeze there as I wound the rope around his hips and thighs. I reached the ends of the rope, and I left a knot right in between his knees. Once I had finished, he sank down to his knees as if he was about to blow me without a second thought.

“Wait right here,” I told him, and I ducked back into the kitchen to quickly whip up a pot of soup. I was eager to see him all full of this chicken soup, even if I had no eggs or matzo meal so as to make the matzo balls, but I knew that he was going to like it one way or the other. And I knew I was going to have to get eggs and matzo meal for Hanukkah dinner as well.

I served him a big bowl of it, and right as I had given it a quick shake of some salt and pepper, I noticed that he had somehow climbed back up onto the couch, still bound and tied down with that fine silk rope.

“Want me to suck in my belly?” he offered as I showed him the soup.

“Please do,” I commended. Alex slouched down a bit so the long knot was brushed against the top of his belly: I squatted before him and spoon fed him some soup. I fed him slowly as well, just so his belly would expand at a slow pace. At one point, I set down the spoon just to nudge the rope down a bit more to better accentuate his belly as he finished the bowl. I fed him the entire bowl of chicken soup, right on top of those hearty kreplach, and at that point, I could tell he was quite full.

He sat upright with a delirious look on his face and a slight look of strain: he was pushing up against that smooth rope, and I knew he was ready. I set down the bowl on the table next to me, and I guided him down to the floor.

“Down on your knees… just like that.”

He was bound and hog-tied with no way out, which meant he was ready for his dessert. I undid my pants right before his face and I showed myself to him. He licked his lips as he gazed up at me, those eyes dark and serious. He had to have it first, however.

Never taking his gaze off of mine, he opened his mouth and put his lips around the head. I held still as he moved in closer to my body. The boy knew how to deep throat as if it was a bodily function.

He slithered his tongue around my shaft, especially as he moved back and suckled on me as if it was going out of style. It tickled me so much. It got me moving so much that I could hardly hold still. There was a part of me that wanted to have chicken soup as well, just so he could see what I was seeing from there, but I was loving this too much.

He knew how to do it. He liked it as much as me.

I could feel myself already beginning to come inside of his mouth, and I hoped that I would as well.

“Good boy,” I whispered right into his ear. I then reached down for a gentle stroke of his hair, but then he went in deep again, that time towards my nuts and the base of my shaft.

“Good boy!” I grunted out as I could feel myself rising. I was going to come right in his mouth, and I did. He coughed with his lips still around me, but then he let go of me so he could breathe. I let the little white pearls dribble out onto the carpet, but it was nothing I couldn't mop up afterwards. He coughed and breathed harder, and more so as he landed down onto his knees. He then gazed back up at me with his hair still mostly tousled over his left shoulder.

“A little bit of sugar before it goes on the donuts,” he sputtered out, and then he showed me that lopsided playful little grin

“You wanna do me next?” I offered him.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he teased me. I was about to untie him when I realized that he had come in his pants. It was going to be tricky to get him to come next, but I knew in my heart of hearts it was going to be worth it.

Once he was undone, he shook his hands about and showed me his tongue. I watched him go into the kitchen to fetch me some soup as well, and all the while, I stripped off my pants all the way.

My heart skipped a few beats once he returned with it in hand and the look of determination in his eyes.

He did similar to what I did, except he bound my hands before my crotch and wrapped the rope all around my body: I could feel him binding me in the back and down over the seat of my bare ass and in between my legs.

“You ready for this?” he offered me as he spooned me some of the soup.

“I was born ready,” I confessed to him as I opened my mouth for him. We locked eyes, and we kept our eyes locked all the way down to the bottom of the bowl. The rope pressed against my own belly as he coaxed me down to my knees on the floor.

He unzipped and I could see he was already hard as a rock.

But I put my lips around him regardless, however. I moved in gradually on his shaft: I wasn't an expert on going in deep but I could at the very least try it.

I moved in close to his body right as the tip hit the pad of my tongue. It was tricky to keep it together, but when we locked eyes again, I did it. His lips then fell open and he treated me to a low moan.

I could feel him on the pad of my tongue. I swallowed and let go.

He ran his fingers through his black curls and let out a low whistle. He then showed me his tongue and chuckled.

“That was good, wasn't it?” I asked him.

“Phew, you have no idea,” he confessed to me. “When he gets released, we should bring up some things to Chuck.”

“He's got a girlfriend, though,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but... have you seen him, though?” he asked me.

“Seen him how?”

He never said anything, but he did show me that smirk again. And then it hit me.

“Oh, really?” I couldn't resist smiling, either, to which he nodded his head.

“Yeah. For real.”

“Wow. Well, can I get out of this rope before we do anything else first?”

“Of course!”

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