Faggot Princess Moon Cricket (liljadeyurine) wrote in boysex,
Faggot Princess Moon Cricket

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Because because because becaaaaauuuuuuse...

...I can? I've posted this story everywhere, but only because I still rather like it. Aww. Daron/Jimmy slashiness... because that's just too sexy.

Daron brushed his hair out of his eyes and reached for the phone. His hand froze, inches above it, and pulled back.

(C'mon, pussy.)

Fighting with his mind again. Shit. They've been on the tour how long, and he's still never brought himself to talk to him. Maybe cast a few sidelong glances (a few? heh, that's a joke), walk past him (only to brush against him, just to touch him), coincidentally be in the same room as him (same three foot radius, right Daron?).

"Go away," he murmered.

(You're talking to yourself again.)

Daron rolled his eyes, grabbing the phone. What was the room number again? Shit... wait. Yes. He dialed the numbers, his fist squeezing the hard plastic, trying his hardest not to breathe loudly.



"Uh.. hello?"

For some reason, Daron couldn't bring himself to speak.

(Didn't exactly expect him to pick up the phone, did you?)

"Hello...? Steve?"

Brief silence, then...


The line went dead. Daron sighed, dropping the phone back into the reciever. He leaned back against the pillow, then rolled over to his left, drawing his knees to his chest. Staring at the phone in the fetal position. This was such a teenage thing. Teenage angst.

A half an hour later, the phone was against his ear and ringing again. The click, the inquiring "Hello?", and silence. Daron heard voices in the background, giggling and talking. He spoke.

"Yeah.. uh. This is Daron..."

"Oh, hey man. What's up?" his voice sounded less annoyed now. Considerably happy and perky. (Aww, he's happy to hear from you.) Daron clenched his teeth.


"Hmm? I'm here. I was just wondering what you were up to."

"Me? Nothing. Just chillin' with Kitty and Lyn-Z. Steve went somewhere. I think I need to go somewhere. Get away from these crazy bitches." Protesting yells of "Fuck you!" rang in the background. Jimmy laughed.

"You want to come over here? I'm just sitting in my room... doing nothing."

"Eh, sure. Give me a minute." He hung up the phone as he was yelling something unintelligible to the drummer and bassist.

Daron frantically began inspecting himself. He pulled a brush through his hair, pulled on a shirt (the black one that read "Barbie is a Slut" in girly red letters) and a pair of nondescript black pants. Should he put on makeup? Not enough time; there was the knock at the door. Taking one last glance in the mirror, he rushed to the door, pulling it open with a shy smile. Jimmy stood outside and waved, grinning impishly. The vocalist was wearing a white wifebeater and a pair of black cutoffs; red half-spiked dreads fell in his hazel eyes. Slung across his shoulder was a black duffel bag. Noticing Daron's inquisitive look at the bag, Jimmy decided to explain. "I'm filthy... mind if I took a bath real quick?"

"No.. of course not." Daron stepped back to allow Jimmy to enter.

"Thanks, man." Jimmy brushed past Daron and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Daron exhaled and dropped onto the bed, listening to the water run, stop. He slid off the bed and crept towards the bathroom door, pressing against it, listening. The inevitable sounds of splashing, humming, scrubbing. Daron's hand grasped the doorknob, turning slowly. Unlocked.

(Do it. Go in there. FUCK him, Daron.)

"Shut UP," Daron hissed between his teeth, releasing the doorknob. Suddenly, his hand shot out, turned the knob, and he shouldered the door open.

Jimmy looked up, wide-eyed in confusion. "What the FUCK?" Daron was beside the tub, one hand in the warm water, the other wrenching Jimmy's face up to his. "Get the hell off me!" The protests were broken off with a harsh gasp as Daron's hand grasped around his cock, long fingers circling around it and sliding up and down, the warm water making for a nice lubricant. The water churned as Jimmy kicked out, arching his back against the slick surface of the tub, clenching his jaw as hard as he possibly could to keep from crying out. Daron's dark eyes were staring into his, drawing closer until their lips met, tongue pushing them apart. Jimmy moaned into Daron's mouth as electric sensations shot through his body, head pressed back against the tile wall.

"I come over to take a freaking bath and I end up in the tub with Daron jacking me off," Jimmy thought, somewhat bemused, breaking the kiss with a gasp as Daron's hand quickened with its job, fingers squeezing and loosening at each stroke.

Quite a situation Daron had gotten himself into. Jimmy's cock was hard and throbbing in his wet hand, water was spattering out the tub, onto his shirt, against the wall. Jimmy's back arched, his muscles tensed, and he came gasping against Daron's hand. Smiling coyly, Daron swirled his hand in the water, shook it off, and walked out the bathroom. With a sigh, Jimmy collapsed down into the tub. After a few minutes, he stood and towelled off, pulled on a faded black shirt and some jeans. Stuffing his dirty clothes into his bag, he made his way to the door, yanking it open and heading towards the door.

As he was walking out, he heard Daron's voice. "Bye."

Jimmy spun, faltering for words as Daron smiled softly at him. "Bye... uh.. thanks. I'll be back later..."

Daron's smile grew wider. He knew he would be back.

And if I ever got the time and inspiration... I'll maybe write a follow-up. Maybe.
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