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feverinfeveroutfic · 23 days

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love is not enough | chapter twenty-two

It was nearly two o’clock by the time he had checked in for rehearsals with his band in the cozy venue on the edge of town. The warm sun washed over him in a rich wave of comfort in part of a contrast from the cool marine layer from earlier that morning: his helmet of black hair had grown warm already from the rays cast down upon his head, and a part of him thought about opening his shirt to feel more upon his skin.

He kept his guitar case slung over his shoulder, and his sunglasses perched upon the full tip of his nose, and the dress tucked underneath his arm as if he was lugging in a suitcase for himself. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going through with it all as he made his way to the dressing room behind the stage.

It felt so strange to go to rehearsal alone, given the girls had gone off to do some sort of assignment together. When in Ireland, after all.

He was the only one back there, which thus, bought him some time to get down and get undressed. He lay the dress on the seat of the chair, and then he stripped off his shirt and draped it over the back of the chair: he looked on at himself in the mirror for a moment, at the fine hair on his chest as well as on his slender little belly.

Unassuming but the naughty boy that had come out to play.

He leaned against the edge of the chair with one hand on his bare chest: he couldn’t explain it but something told him to seduce himself, to feel what those two girls had felt this whole entire time.

He ran his long guitar player’s fingers down the middle of his chest to his stomach, where he couldn’t believe the utter softness of his skin. Something about the way that he cocked out his hip, which in turn gave his body quite the nice little shape. His eyes locked onto those in the reflection, and he could in fact see where the fire came from, especially when he thought about everything that the girls had done for him.

With his other hand, and with his hips still cocked out a bit, he slowly ran his fingers through his black curls, and he could feel that infernal lust from within him, the feeling that whirred away like torrential water but raged at him like a growing fire.

He ran his hand down his stomach, all the way to his waist, and he knew that the dress would accentuate everything.

He thought about the hotel room where he hung out with Q and Jay the first time, and all the things that he had felt then. They were so easy to let slip away, and he never wanted them to slip away, either.

If only he could feel this way forever, being worthy of that touch, of those kisses, of the sheer amount of euphoria that he couldn’t find anywhere else, not even with his old girlfriend.

His hands met up at his waist, to which he ran them down his hips, so shapely even for a boy, and then down his sinewy thighs.

He thought about opening up his pants to touch himself there, but not when his band mates were on their way, however: he needn’t be caught with his hands down the front of his jeans, although this time around, he had not a shred of weed or his parents within range of him.

Instead, he turned his attention to the dress, and he picked it up and put it on over his head: there was a zipper that traversed down his back and a hook at the base of his neck. It took him a bit of finagling, but he managed to fasten himself into the dress. He tugged on the collar over his head, and he fixed his hair all the while. The bodice was surprisingly loose on his otherwise broad chest, and the sleeves dangled off his finely tailored shoulders; the waist hugged his own while the skirt flowed off the top of his hips. Though it was specifically made for a woman, he wore it as if it had actually been crafted all for him.

He then turned to his guitar case, and he crouched down before the locks: it was a bit tricky given the skirt bunched up a bit around his knees and the snug denim of his jeans, but he managed to kneel down on the floor and reveal his guitar to the open air.

He let his long black curls dangle down over his shoulder as he picked out his amp and the accompanying cable; he then took out the pick from the strings and stood there, wrapped in the dress with his jeans on underneath and those ankle-high white shoes. He stood there with the guitar pressed against his little body and his foot down before him: he took a glimpse down to find that his pedal board had already been taken out there. And yet, he yearned for some effect of distortion.

Things were quiet as he warmed up a bit, but he knew that if he was to be seen out there, before the entirety of Ireland, he had to make a move.

He had an idea, albeit a crazy one, and one that didn’t involve going out and finding some booze to help him. He needed to focus on the matters at bay here.

He picked up his amp by the handle, and all the while, he never unplugged the cable from the box. He stepped out of the dressing room with his hands full, and yet, there was no one else around to help him out. Needless to say, he strode on towards the stage, tucked behind the otherwise intimate look of the long tomato-colored curtain: it took him a moment to realize that the tapestry itself glittered under the afternoon sunlight. He posted the amp up on the heavy, dark, polished hardwood floor of the stage itself, off to the far right side where he usually stood for the North American shows. Indeed, there was his pedal board, as well as a stand for his guitar to remain on display for the time being.

He turned the volume dial on the amp, and to where he strummed the guitar and the sound echoed over the pit area before him as well as the first two rows, vacant for rehearsal. He had faith that the sound guys would help him fill up the whole room with his symphonies.

But he took a step forward and strummed on the strings there on the body of the guitar. He raised his head for a view out to the nosebleeds: he pictured his parents and his brother up there with their arms held up high over their heads so he could see them. He knew that they could come to a show whenever they so pleased, and yet he itched to have them there.

It was then he knew that love was not enough in that sense.

He put his head down right as a gust of wind welled up before him, and the skirt billowed up behind him like that of a sail on a sailboat, but he didn’t mind: if anything, the updraft of wind up the skirt made its way up the inside of the bodice and onto his back. He knew that that would come in handy come that evening when the five of them had been performing for so long and each of them were hot and sweaty messes.

His black curls swept off behind his head as if he stood at the edge of the earth, and he launched into a solo, complete with both of his hands up on the fretboard. His long, thin, spidery fingers fluttered over the strings as if he beckoned fire upon them.

He gave his hair a toss, but a few coarse stray tendrils remained over the side of his face: the little plume of gray over the left side of his head fluttered as if it was a feather. He parted his lips as he thought about the feeling those two girls had bestowed upon him. All the euphoria he could ever imagine for himself as he parted his lips and closed his eyes.

Feeling as light as a feather, just like how his fingers glided as light as a feather.

“My goodness!”

He stopped and opened his eyes. Q stood off to the side there with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey!” he declared as he ran his fingers through his hair. “What’re you doing here?”

“Client and I finished early,” she replied as she ascended the short stairwell off to the side there. “I thought I’d swing by and—see how it goes in the wide, wide world of Tevye.” She gave her fine hair a bit of a shake as if she was about to go in for a modeling shoot.

He showed her a little grin as he crouched down and nudged the dials on the board.

“What’s all this?” she asked him.

“This is how I make magic happen beyond the strings,” he told her as he turned one dial. He then stood up and gently strummed to show her a wall of echo and reverb. “I can make it sound dirty like this. Or—” He stopped and turned the dial the other way, and then he tried again. “—it can be squeaky clean like my ass.”

Q giggled at that.

“I also got some overdrive and a wah pedal here, too,” he continued, “should the five of us dare to get funky tonight.”

“You should get funky,” she insisted. “Funky for me and Jay both.” She then licked her lips. “You got anything to drink?”

“Not here, no,” he confessed. “There’s plenty of stuff backstage, though. Here, come with me—”

He unslung his guitar off his shoulder and propped it upon the stand there on the side, and then he guided her to the backstage area for some water.

“You looked really edgy up here,” Q remarked. “Being in that dress and in those jeans.”

“Maybe I should do this for the next shows over in Edinburgh and Leeds,” he suggested, and he held the door of the dressing room for her.

“You’re just so… fearless and sexy,” she confessed to him, and she ran her finger down his chest as she strode on past him. He held still as she inched in closer to him. She never kissed him, but he showed her the tip of his tongue: his lips seemed redder as a result.

He shut the door, and she found the miniature fridge tucked over in the far corner. She took out a water bottle and shut the door with her leg. He watched her unscrew the cap and take a slow sip.

Q then sashayed her way back to him.

“Take off that dress and let’s get down with it, big boy,” she whispered into his ear.

“Where’s Jay?” he asked her with a smirk and a holding to his eyes in an attempt for that come-hither look.

“She wanted us to have our time together,” she assured her. “She’s talking to your lead singer right now. ‘Talking’.” She flashed him a wink, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, my,” he breathed. “We do have time, after all.”

Q kissed him on the side of the neck, and he shivered at the feeling. She put her hands around his upper back to feel the zipper and the hook. He could feel her undoing the hook first, followed by the zipper: she ran the zipper pull down the crest of his spine towards the top of his jeans, and suddenly it made sense to him. He could feel the sleeves dropping down his shoulders and the tops of his arms. The bodice slid down his body towards his hips and it made so much sense to him.

“Oh, my god,” he whimpered, and he could feel Q putting her hand down his jeans. There was something cold and round in her hand, something that found its way onto the tip. It was a snug fit but he could feel it fitting him like a glove.

“What’s that?” he stammered out.

“Keep that on the next time you’re up on stage,” she whispered into his ear. “You leave what goes on with it all up to me.”

“I suppose you want me to wear tight leather, too.” His voice broke and he could feel his throat closing up from the feeling.

“If you want.” She lightly blew on the rim of his ear, which sent a deep chill down his spine, and that alone was enough to make the ring feel tight on his skin.

“Does Jay have something in store for me, too?” he stammered out.

“I’ll leave that for me to know and for you to find out.” She clasped her hands on the sides of his face for a soft kiss on the lips, followed by a bit of tongue. He could feel something metallic on his bare skin.

“What’s that?” he asked her between caresses.

“My secret weapon,” she replied. “And again, something for me to know and for you to find out.” She put her arms around him and pressed his back to the wall. He knew that they were going to be there a while.

#love is not enough #love is not enough fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament fanfic #testament band #alex skolnick #oc tag #smut warning #smut writing #smut fic #also on ao3 #writing #text

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josiebelladonna · 8 months

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kinktober 2023

my second time and i’m about… 10000000x more insecure in my sexuality 😪. this event and its interactions are for 18+ readers only. please please please please pay attention to the content and trigger warnings; these fics will be based on my current flagship fics, as the seasons grey, like blood from a stone, eerie inhabitants, and love is not enough:

seasons grey is a university au with a teacher-student dynamic at its core that’s as plump and ripe as an apple off the branch;

blood from a stone is a royalty/soulmate au that’s just based out of my own female gaze;

eerie inhabitants is a REALLY VIOLENT vampire au that i’m bringing back from the dead just for spooky season;

and love is not enough is a prostitute/street walker au that carries a bottle of hooch and lays on the ground with no bra on.

all four stories are sweet and emotional but also erotic because they pertain to my own personal sexuality (hence why i’m very nervous and even awkward saying this). nevertheless, please be advised!

A/N: *sigh* okay. i’m going to be honest with all of you, sexuality is a very delicate subject for me and it’s a daily battle for me, grappling with it in the goal to see it as this natural thing. just thinking about it makes me so… dirty and anxious and uncomfortable and deeply ashamed and misty-eyed and frustrated and kind of angry. i participated in kinktober last year and had some fun, and yet i struggled with feeling comfortable: now i feel like i’m sitting on gravel that’s been out in the sun. i’m not this confident, voluptuous vixen who is eager to share her fantasies with all of you: i’m a raw stinky-ass, dirty-ass troll under the bridge who feels the words “confident”, “voluptuous”, and “vixen” should come nowhere near me. i’m going to tell you this now, i am quite wordy, because that’s just how i roll with erotic writing, and i always feel that i have no right to feel sexy.

really, please be patient with me and try to enjoy. i won’t blame you if you cringe at my stories and laugh at it rather than with it.

these prompts are from @flightlessangelwings and @the-purity-pen, the latter of whom i remember from last year (i’ll try to remember the #fawktober tag 😅🔥)

i’m just going to give away the titles and the ships: i’ll leave the prompts themselves as a surprise for you.

“Conundrum” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Ashes to Ashes” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“A Cup of Tea” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks” — Eric/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Rain” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Rocky Mountains” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Shadows of the Night” — Joey/Chuck + Alex/Chuck + Chuck/Cliff (lol) (Like Blood from a Stone)

“3rd Floor” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Master of the House” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“Vampires Will Never Hurt You” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Different Colors Made of Tears” — Joey/Chuck + Eric/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Death by Chocolate” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Devil’s Haircut” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“I Could Have Lied” — Eric/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Dirty Window” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Coriander” — Alex/Chuck/Joey (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Lip Gloss” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Golden Ratio” — Alex/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Neon Moon” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Django Tango” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Salt the Wound” — Chuck/Cliff (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Doce Com Doce” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Icicle” — Mark/Abby + Rob/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“One of These Nights” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Spirits in the Mist” — Eric/Louie (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Trial By Fire” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“7” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Delta of Venus” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Only These Words” — Eric/Abby + Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Call Me By Your Name” — Alex/Chuck/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Fairies Wear Boots” — Alex/Christine + Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober prompts #smut #as the seasons grey #like blood from a stone #love is not enough #eerie inhabitants #kink tumblr #kink tw #fic writing #fic woes #text #fanfic

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