Badass
Title: Badass
Rating: Heavy R
Pairing: Bela/Farin
Summary: some parts of the body are almost always more appreciated than others.
Feedback: is the nourishment for every artist and I dearly hope I won’t starve. Just tell me what you think about the crap my sick little mind has come up with, I won’t eat you^^
A/N: actually, i'm working on another story, but when I watched DBdsPn tonight (it’s about 2:45 by now), I noticed for the first time that those pants Bela wears really accentuate his butt. And then, I remembered a comment from Farin about it and everything just… Kind of rolled.^^
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He was still, almost predatory.
Sometimes he had these moments of complete quiet in his head, quiet that was always quickly replaced by something entirely different: by lava-like passion, by flaming want, by red-hot lust, all of them cursing through his veins, paling everything besides one thing.
These moments could come upon him in the middle of a concert, making him stare helplessly and clutch his guitar as if he wanted to strangle it. They could hit him in a studio session, making him forget the text he was supposed to sing, prolonging the process of recording for hours.
They made him forget everything but one thing: this ass. This ass just outside his reach.
For more than twenty years now, he had admired it, cursed it, loved it, hated it, he had dreamed of and craved for it, he had placed it in his personal heaven, had wished it to the deepest circle of heaven. But no matter what he did, it was just out of his reach.
Apart from the occasional, light slap he had never even touched it, just looked at it like one would regard an angel but would never approach it, fearing it might be scared away. He’d looked at it day after day, year after year, until the desire was boiling just beneath the calm surface of Farin Urlaub. Until he could no longer bear the sight of Bela dancing around in front of him, the pert ass always moving, or just standing somewhere, entirely clad in black, making him seem even more far away. Just out of his reach.
But someday, he would have it. Some day, he would make it, claim it as his own. Some day, he would somehow manage to seduce his long-time best friend, and he would worship his entire body. Would trace the tattoos with first his hands and then his tongue, every single one, skulls and stars alike, until there would be no resistance left. Then, at last, after prolonging the pleasure as long as possible, he would turn his attention to the part of the body he had so long yearned for. He would feel it, taste it, caress it like in all those fantasies he had had over the years. No tattoos here to mouth, so instead, he would explore every ridge and dent that there might be, over and over again, at first only the buttocks, then slowly moving lower to more sensitive areas. Licking and lapping, like a hungry kitten, seeking the small entrance to his body. When it would be discovered, he would continue with the small caresses, then slowly broadening the swipes of his muscle, and then finally stabbing the muscle inside, to bring pleasure unknown of. Pleasure for him and his victim alike, not only in touching, but also in savouring the dark, musky scent, the rich and temptingly forbidden taste like molten chocolate poured all over the damp bodies, sticky and strangely sweet, yet with a tang of bitterness in it that lasts on the tongue.
“Farin? Jan? You listening to me?” A hand waving before his eyes, to draw his attention back to the present. Farin shook himself out of his trance to look into the face of an apparently startled drummer. “Thought you’d fallen asleep or something. But, nevermind, what do you say to my new chaps?”
All Farin could do was stare. Because underneath the heavy black leather riding chaps, Bela wore nothing but a thong. And when Mr Sex Himself spun to also present his backside, there were words painted on the pale accentuated flesh.
JUST FUCKING DO IT, IDIOT
And he did.