Like A Fever, I Wanna Be A Sailor - Fletcher/Jones - Standalone
Title: Like A Fever, I Wanna Be A Sailor
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Alternate Universe
Summary: “Another one?” the bartender asked me, and I only looked at him with a smile as a reply, not entirely hearing what he said amidst all the chattering and the loud music everywhere.
A/N: Here's my contribution to the prompt challenge. My prompt was IAMX - Sailor and the first thing that came to my mind when I listened to this was gay bar. Haha. ^-^ I'm currently arguing with myself if I should make this parts, but right now I don't know. ^^;
Sequel: Like A Lipstick Fight Before The Nose Dive
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
In our cell, you asked me do I wanna be a sailor... In our cell, you asked me do I wanna be a sailor... I think dirt, a suicide jump to run a self check... Oh, my girl, do you only like the younger or the braindead?
“Another one?” the bartender asked me, and I only looked at him with a smile as a reply, not entirely hearing what he said amidst all the chattering and the loud music everywhere. Understanding what it meant anyway, he turned his back to me for a second, then swiveled back the next, sliding a martini glass containing crimson liquid over. I caught it absentmindedly, nodded my thanks, and took a sip, rolling the tangy fluid around my tongue before letting it slide down my throat.
Slowly, I turned around to face the dance floor once again, the incessant flashing of multi-colored laser lights keeping me company more than the people grinding naughtily against each other, oblivious of those watching them, and I found myself tilting my head only so slightly at the way they move around one another, not a care in the world.
I’ve turned down a couple of offers to dance, all from males, because I honestly didn’t feel like it. And I’m not exactly like that, which one might think a bit odd since I’m sitting in a gay bar.
Now, how I got to be in one is quite simple enough: I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend a few hours ago, and I wanted to go somewhere where I can get my mind off things for a bit. This bar was the closest one I could find, and, growing increasingly curious as to what actually goes on in these places, I didn’t hesitate to enter.
My first impression of the place was basically the same as all the other bars I’ve gone to; lightshows in every corner, booze on every table, loads of making out in every booth… all of that stuff. But as I looked closer, I saw one big difference: all of the people inside seemed to be only of the male persuasion.
How can they be so energetic? I asked myself as I leaned my elbow on the counter to grab my cosmopolitan, keeping my eyes on one particular pair. I’ve had my eyes on them for a while now (about an hour, I believe), keeping track of how their hands groped each other everywhere they could lay them upon: their hips, their waists, their bums, their privates…
I downed my drink in one gulp, and I carefully set the empty glass on the counter to avoid shattering it. It’s whisked away at once, and before I even get the chance to process what had happened, it had already been replenished with another glassful of the same red liquid. I wanted to object, not wanting to drive home drunk, but before I could, the bartender was already conversing with another man on the far end of the counter. I sighed, grabbed the glass, and turned back to the couple.
It took me a moment to realize that, for the flashing lights were too infrequent to shed illumination for an agreeable amount of time, a lone dancer in the middle of the dance floor had already replaced them.
He was in my immediate view, as if he had taken the time to inspect my line of vision and assumed his position there, and as I watched him wave his blonde hair (I think it was blonde, for I can’t really trust my eyes in this kind of light) and flail his hands into the air in rhythm with the music, I had no objections. Maybe this one can keep my mind off women for a while…
Was it the fact that everyone seemed to stay out of his way as he moved his waist to and fro, making it appear as though he owned that big patch of the floor, or the way he looked at me the whole time, that kept my eyes transfixed on him?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t mind. I was actually enjoying his dance; the way he ran his hands all over his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hips… And his eye contact made it seem like it was worth my while to watch him.
Suddenly realizing this moments later, I tore my eyes away from him as discreetly as I could, settling it on the drink clasped in my hands instead before emptying it once again.
It was either the booze talking, or the fact that I’m slowly discovering my possible bi-curiosity, that made me lift my gaze back to him and resume watching. He never let up for a second, and it seemed to me that my attention only made him dance harder. As I lose myself to the music, I found my eyes entranced by the spell he appeared to be casting over me in the form of bright, sporadic flashes of color.
He was now violently shaking his hips, waving his head side to side almost to the point of snapping his neck, but he didn’t look strained or anything, and it felt quite peculiar that, dancing like the devil himself, his face was serene all the while, like an angel’s.
The spell ended when he gave one last shake and made his way over to where I was.
He sat down on the seat beside me, panting heavily, and told the bartender “A blue cosmo, if you don’t mind,” who complied at once. Sipping his drink delicately as to not spill the contents, he turned to me with, as I could see from a closer view, intense brown eyes. He wiped a congregation of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and set the glass down with the other.
“What’s your name?” he asked me loudly so I could hear, and I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to ask him what he said.
“Danny! What’s yours?” I replied with the same volume, extending a hand. He gleefully grabbed it with one of his own, a smile creeping on his face, and released it after some time.
“Tom! Why aren’t you dancing? The music’s wicked!” I laughed and shook my head.
“I’m not really in the mood for dancing! Y’see, I’ve just broken up with my girl!” The reply seemed to diminish his enthusiasm slightly, but he recovered almost instantly, sporting a wide grin.
“Well, nothing’s better to get your mind off things than dancing! Come on!” With that, he snatched my hand and led me in the middle of the dance floor, the area he had just been dancing in. It was a bit crowded now, but Tom didn’t seem to mind one bit, already letting the music take him.
As he danced around me, paying mind not to make any contact, I stood my ground, not even bothering to at least try to mimic what he was doing, feeling that if I did, I’d just make a fool of myself. He noticed this after some time, and at once, he grabbed my waist and pushed it side to side along with the beat, the smile on his face apparently supposed to make me feel more comfortable, which, to be quite honest, didn’t.
It felt awkward standing there, a stranger grasping my waist, trying to urge me to dance with him. I seemed to be the only one not dancing, and at that moment, I wanted to turn around and watch him dance in the comfort of my seat instead. But Tom was persistent, and he released my waist to grab hold of my wrists in its stead, waving them in the air.
“Come on, Danny, let loose! Just let everything go and have some fun!” he howled with a laugh, and soon I found myself twirling him on the spot, landing in my arms when he came to a stop. He took this moment to catch my hands and place them upon his waist, his fingers curling around mine.
Not a second later, I realized I was gyrating my hips in accordance to his movements, his bum resting comfortably against my groin.
“Now, you’re getting it!” he bellowed excitedly, raising his arms up and closing his hands around my neck. I kept my hold on his waist, and, as I felt my pants tighten uncomfortably, I discovered I was actually pushing him onto me. It’s that damn cosmo!
“Getting a little too excited, are we?” he teased with a smirk, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure when he grinded harshly against my hardening soldier. When I made a move to take my hands away, he quickly unclasped his hold around my neck and gripped them tightly, slowly pulling them forward, taking the rest of my body along with them. He eventually wrapped my arms around him, and we continued this dirty little dance.
We stayed in this position for God knows how long, and I found myself quite tired when he whirled around to face me, keeping my hold on him as well as I could.
“She off your mind yet?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my neck, initiating a slow dance in defiance to the heavy mist of fast-paced, techno music. I didn’t reply, but to be perfectly honest, she was. I haven’t thought of her, or other women for that matter, the whole time we were dancing. All my attention had been solely focused on him. Pouting a bit, he leaned his face closer to mine, and in the closeness I felt his hot breath against my lips, the intoxicating aroma of the damn cosmo filling my lungs with each exhale. “No? Maybe this will.”
With that, he closed the gap between us, the feeling of his lips pressed against mine sending jolts of electricity down my spine and all throughout my body, and I shivered in response to the tingling sensation. When he began pulling back, right before his lips could end the contact, I brought my hands behind his head and shoved my own back to his, this time my tongue demanding entrance.
He didn’t object to this action, and he opened his mouth only slightly in order to tease me. But I took this opportunity to lash my tongue inside, twirling around his, tasting (and enjoying) the tangy flavor of the drink. She’s definitely off my mind I thought as I felt his hands moving over to grab my bum, and I let out a slight giggle in his mouth at the touch.
The music made the experience more pleasurable, the sound of the synthesizers and sequencers intensifying the psychedelic images blasting in my mind, incarcerating me in its almost tangible kaleidoscopic magnificence.
I broke the kiss off after what seemed like forever, and in his eyes, I saw a twinkle of lust and longing. We kept our respective holds on each other and moved to the beat, waving our heads side to side.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asked me with a smile. I contemplated the question for a moment. Should I go with him? What if this escalates into something and I find myself in my bed tomorrow with him in my arms, no recollection of the night before whatsoever? Ah, fuck it. I want to have fun tonight, and damn it, I’m going to have some!
“Fuck yeah!” I answered loudly, and that twinkle in his eyes grew tenfold.
“Then, what are we waiting for, sailor?” He grabbed my hand, flipping his hair out of his eyes as we zigzagged our way through the dancers, and hastily led me out of the bar and into the cold night.
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Pairing: Fletcher/Jones
Genre: Alternate Universe
Summary: “Another one?” the bartender asked me, and I only looked at him with a smile as a reply, not entirely hearing what he said amidst all the chattering and the loud music everywhere.
A/N: Here's my contribution to the prompt challenge. My prompt was IAMX - Sailor and the first thing that came to my mind when I listened to this was gay bar. Haha. ^-^ I'm currently arguing with myself if I should make this parts, but right now I don't know. ^^;
Sequel: Like A Lipstick Fight Before The Nose Dive
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
In our cell, you asked me do I wanna be a sailor... In our cell, you asked me do I wanna be a sailor... I think dirt, a suicide jump to run a self check... Oh, my girl, do you only like the younger or the braindead?
“Another one?” the bartender asked me, and I only looked at him with a smile as a reply, not entirely hearing what he said amidst all the chattering and the loud music everywhere. Understanding what it meant anyway, he turned his back to me for a second, then swiveled back the next, sliding a martini glass containing crimson liquid over. I caught it absentmindedly, nodded my thanks, and took a sip, rolling the tangy fluid around my tongue before letting it slide down my throat.
Slowly, I turned around to face the dance floor once again, the incessant flashing of multi-colored laser lights keeping me company more than the people grinding naughtily against each other, oblivious of those watching them, and I found myself tilting my head only so slightly at the way they move around one another, not a care in the world.
I’ve turned down a couple of offers to dance, all from males, because I honestly didn’t feel like it. And I’m not exactly like that, which one might think a bit odd since I’m sitting in a gay bar.
Now, how I got to be in one is quite simple enough: I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend a few hours ago, and I wanted to go somewhere where I can get my mind off things for a bit. This bar was the closest one I could find, and, growing increasingly curious as to what actually goes on in these places, I didn’t hesitate to enter.
My first impression of the place was basically the same as all the other bars I’ve gone to; lightshows in every corner, booze on every table, loads of making out in every booth… all of that stuff. But as I looked closer, I saw one big difference: all of the people inside seemed to be only of the male persuasion.
How can they be so energetic? I asked myself as I leaned my elbow on the counter to grab my cosmopolitan, keeping my eyes on one particular pair. I’ve had my eyes on them for a while now (about an hour, I believe), keeping track of how their hands groped each other everywhere they could lay them upon: their hips, their waists, their bums, their privates…
I downed my drink in one gulp, and I carefully set the empty glass on the counter to avoid shattering it. It’s whisked away at once, and before I even get the chance to process what had happened, it had already been replenished with another glassful of the same red liquid. I wanted to object, not wanting to drive home drunk, but before I could, the bartender was already conversing with another man on the far end of the counter. I sighed, grabbed the glass, and turned back to the couple.
It took me a moment to realize that, for the flashing lights were too infrequent to shed illumination for an agreeable amount of time, a lone dancer in the middle of the dance floor had already replaced them.
He was in my immediate view, as if he had taken the time to inspect my line of vision and assumed his position there, and as I watched him wave his blonde hair (I think it was blonde, for I can’t really trust my eyes in this kind of light) and flail his hands into the air in rhythm with the music, I had no objections. Maybe this one can keep my mind off women for a while…
Was it the fact that everyone seemed to stay out of his way as he moved his waist to and fro, making it appear as though he owned that big patch of the floor, or the way he looked at me the whole time, that kept my eyes transfixed on him?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t mind. I was actually enjoying his dance; the way he ran his hands all over his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hips… And his eye contact made it seem like it was worth my while to watch him.
Suddenly realizing this moments later, I tore my eyes away from him as discreetly as I could, settling it on the drink clasped in my hands instead before emptying it once again.
It was either the booze talking, or the fact that I’m slowly discovering my possible bi-curiosity, that made me lift my gaze back to him and resume watching. He never let up for a second, and it seemed to me that my attention only made him dance harder. As I lose myself to the music, I found my eyes entranced by the spell he appeared to be casting over me in the form of bright, sporadic flashes of color.
He was now violently shaking his hips, waving his head side to side almost to the point of snapping his neck, but he didn’t look strained or anything, and it felt quite peculiar that, dancing like the devil himself, his face was serene all the while, like an angel’s.
The spell ended when he gave one last shake and made his way over to where I was.
He sat down on the seat beside me, panting heavily, and told the bartender “A blue cosmo, if you don’t mind,” who complied at once. Sipping his drink delicately as to not spill the contents, he turned to me with, as I could see from a closer view, intense brown eyes. He wiped a congregation of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and set the glass down with the other.
“What’s your name?” he asked me loudly so I could hear, and I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to ask him what he said.
“Danny! What’s yours?” I replied with the same volume, extending a hand. He gleefully grabbed it with one of his own, a smile creeping on his face, and released it after some time.
“Tom! Why aren’t you dancing? The music’s wicked!” I laughed and shook my head.
“I’m not really in the mood for dancing! Y’see, I’ve just broken up with my girl!” The reply seemed to diminish his enthusiasm slightly, but he recovered almost instantly, sporting a wide grin.
“Well, nothing’s better to get your mind off things than dancing! Come on!” With that, he snatched my hand and led me in the middle of the dance floor, the area he had just been dancing in. It was a bit crowded now, but Tom didn’t seem to mind one bit, already letting the music take him.
As he danced around me, paying mind not to make any contact, I stood my ground, not even bothering to at least try to mimic what he was doing, feeling that if I did, I’d just make a fool of myself. He noticed this after some time, and at once, he grabbed my waist and pushed it side to side along with the beat, the smile on his face apparently supposed to make me feel more comfortable, which, to be quite honest, didn’t.
It felt awkward standing there, a stranger grasping my waist, trying to urge me to dance with him. I seemed to be the only one not dancing, and at that moment, I wanted to turn around and watch him dance in the comfort of my seat instead. But Tom was persistent, and he released my waist to grab hold of my wrists in its stead, waving them in the air.
“Come on, Danny, let loose! Just let everything go and have some fun!” he howled with a laugh, and soon I found myself twirling him on the spot, landing in my arms when he came to a stop. He took this moment to catch my hands and place them upon his waist, his fingers curling around mine.
Not a second later, I realized I was gyrating my hips in accordance to his movements, his bum resting comfortably against my groin.
“Now, you’re getting it!” he bellowed excitedly, raising his arms up and closing his hands around my neck. I kept my hold on his waist, and, as I felt my pants tighten uncomfortably, I discovered I was actually pushing him onto me. It’s that damn cosmo!
“Getting a little too excited, are we?” he teased with a smirk, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure when he grinded harshly against my hardening soldier. When I made a move to take my hands away, he quickly unclasped his hold around my neck and gripped them tightly, slowly pulling them forward, taking the rest of my body along with them. He eventually wrapped my arms around him, and we continued this dirty little dance.
We stayed in this position for God knows how long, and I found myself quite tired when he whirled around to face me, keeping my hold on him as well as I could.
“She off your mind yet?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my neck, initiating a slow dance in defiance to the heavy mist of fast-paced, techno music. I didn’t reply, but to be perfectly honest, she was. I haven’t thought of her, or other women for that matter, the whole time we were dancing. All my attention had been solely focused on him. Pouting a bit, he leaned his face closer to mine, and in the closeness I felt his hot breath against my lips, the intoxicating aroma of the damn cosmo filling my lungs with each exhale. “No? Maybe this will.”
With that, he closed the gap between us, the feeling of his lips pressed against mine sending jolts of electricity down my spine and all throughout my body, and I shivered in response to the tingling sensation. When he began pulling back, right before his lips could end the contact, I brought my hands behind his head and shoved my own back to his, this time my tongue demanding entrance.
He didn’t object to this action, and he opened his mouth only slightly in order to tease me. But I took this opportunity to lash my tongue inside, twirling around his, tasting (and enjoying) the tangy flavor of the drink. She’s definitely off my mind I thought as I felt his hands moving over to grab my bum, and I let out a slight giggle in his mouth at the touch.
The music made the experience more pleasurable, the sound of the synthesizers and sequencers intensifying the psychedelic images blasting in my mind, incarcerating me in its almost tangible kaleidoscopic magnificence.
I broke the kiss off after what seemed like forever, and in his eyes, I saw a twinkle of lust and longing. We kept our respective holds on each other and moved to the beat, waving our heads side to side.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asked me with a smile. I contemplated the question for a moment. Should I go with him? What if this escalates into something and I find myself in my bed tomorrow with him in my arms, no recollection of the night before whatsoever? Ah, fuck it. I want to have fun tonight, and damn it, I’m going to have some!
“Fuck yeah!” I answered loudly, and that twinkle in his eyes grew tenfold.
“Then, what are we waiting for, sailor?” He grabbed my hand, flipping his hair out of his eyes as we zigzagged our way through the dancers, and hastily led me out of the bar and into the cold night.