I Need You
folder
Erotica › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,942
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,942
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
I Need You
Rowan & Wilson I NEED YOU <>
Rowan leaned his forehead on the door, the key in the lock, not moving. God, he was tired. He felt like he was going to drop, right then and there. The guitar on his back seemed to weigh several times more than it actually did. Even his eyes were tired from staring at a computer screen all day.
After a few moments rest, the tall Frenchman finally opened his door and went into his apartment, tossing his keys on the table and his guitar on the couch. Rowan had stripped off his coat, tie, shirt, and shoes before he even reached the bedroom.
He collapsed, exhausted, on the soft bed. He was asleep before he could even register the comfort.
_____________________________________________________________
Wilson stared out the window of his silver Saturn, waiting for the light to turn. His head hurt. Band practice had been a total disaster. Kaei had had the flu but he insisted on working anyway. The poor boy passed out after only fifteen minutes and Kaleo had had to rush him to the hospital.
Since not much practicing could be done with their keyboardist and manager missing, the rest of the band just milled about doing nothing. Rowan was at the computer for the better part of the day, working on the mix down and track editing. Gledhill got cranky after awhile and “accidentally” broke a string on Wilson's beloved Gibson Les Paul Studio guitar, causing the singer to punch the little bassist in the stomach. Kerry, their drummer, had managed to pull them apart, and after that Wilson declared the botched practice session OVER.
Now, he was on his way home to a very large amount of vodka and Red Bull. That shit would keep him up for days, but he didn’t care.
Wilson's phone started ringing suddenly, startling him. The ringtone, La Complainte de la Butte by Rufus Wainwright, signaling that the caller was Rowan.
“Hey, Rowe.” Wilson said when he answered.
“Salut, mon ami. C’est moi.”
“I know that. What’s up? How are you?”
“Ah, tres mal. Come over?” Rowan was speaking French, which he knew Wilson didn’t understand. Something must be bothering him.
“Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Merci bien.” Rowan hung up, then Wilson did.
“Well, I guess I could drink that Red Bull tomorrow.” Wilson said to himself as he turned towards Rowan’s neighborhood.
_____________________________________________________________
Rowan vaulted off the couch as soon as he heard the doorbell. Wilson was waiting there, a plastic convenience store bag in one hand and a case of beer in the other.
“Hey. I brought some stuff.” He said as he walked in. Rowan shut the door behind him and sank onto the couch once more.
“Thank you for coming, Guillaume.” Rowan said softly, using Wilson's French name.
Uh-oh. He must be really depressed if he’s calling me that. Wilson thought as he set the bag full of snacks on the coffee table.
“So what’s been bothering you?” He asked. Rowan looked up, his long black hair concealing most of his face.
“’Ow could you tell somezing was bozering me?”
“You keep talkin’ at me in French. You called me Guillaume. You never do that unless you’re super depressed.” Rowan smiled tiredly and popped open a beer. After several gulps, he set the can down and sighed.
“Well, I wouldn’t say zat I am depressed. More like zat I am exhausted and do not know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah…I don’t even fully know, mon ami. I just feel…oh, merde…I feel lost. Zat is it. I am lost.” Rowan hung his head and ran shaking hands through his hair. Wilson patted him gently on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, Rowe. You’re just worn out.” Rowan reached up and gently held the hand that rested on his shoulder.
“Non. Zat is not it at all. I am lost…emotionally. I do not know ‘ow I feel…about certain things…”
“Like what?”
“Ze band. My music. You.” Wilson blushed slightly.
“Me?”
“Oui. You. Ze shining singer…our brilliant leader…mon cheri…”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“Je t’aime, Guillaume. Je t’aime.” Wilson shook his head and turned the older man’s face to look at him.
“Rowan. Speak English. I. Do. Not. Under. Stand. French.” Rowan laughed softly.
“It means ‘I love you’; mon cheri, ‘my darling’. Je t’aime.” Wilson blushed again and his fingers fell from Rowan’s face, only to be caught by the guitarist’s hand.
“You…love me?” He whispered. Rowan nodded.
“Oui. I do. Are you angry?” This made Wilson pull away from Rowan.
“What? Angry? Why the hell would I be angry? I’ve waited 26 years to hear someone tell me they love me. Why would I be angry if it’s you?”
“Well…I am anozer man…”
“So what?! Since when did gender matter at all when it comes to love?” Rowan raised his maroon eyes to Wilson’s green ones.
“You…really mean zat?” His voice wavered slightly. Wilson nodded.
“Of course. Y’know, I really like you, too.”
“What?!”
“Yes. I’ve had a thing for you for the longest time…” Wilson’s sentence was cut off by Rowan’s lips on his.
The kiss was clumsy, but passionate, and both men were amazed at how their mouths seemed to fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other. Wilson’s fingers wound in Rowan’s super-long hair, and Rowan had his hands under Wilson’s thin shirt, pinching his nipples until they bruised.
Wilson pulled away, gasping, as Rowan’s hand slid lower, threatening to go inside his pants.
“Nnh…Rowan, please…”
“What, mon petit. What?”
“Please…take me…” Rowan looked at Wilson’s flushed face, his emerald eyes clouded with lust.
“Oui, mon cheri…” He started kissing the younger man again, unbuttoning his jeans. Wilson ran his hands over Rowan’s smooth chest, fingers brushing over the older man’s nipples, making him gasp. Rowan yanked Wilson’s jeans off, as well as his shirt, and took one bruised, tortured nipple between his teeth. Wilson let out a loud gasp, his back arching slightly. Rowan slowly licked and nibbled the younger man’s nipple for a few moments before he moved to the next one. Wilson’s shaking fingers fumbled with Rowan’s belt until the Frenchman sat up and unbuckled it himself.
“T-take ‘em off…” Wilson panted. Rowan nodded and scooted off the couch. He pulled the jeans off, and Wilson blushed when he realised Rowan wore nothing underneath them.
“What is wrong, cheri?” Rowan whispered, seeing the scared look on Wilson’s face. The singer blushed even redder.
“Y-you’re…huge.” Rowan laughed softly and rubbed his cock against Wilson's, causing the younger man to moan softly.
“What’s ze matter? Are you afraid?”
“A-a little…”
“Ne pas craidre, mon petit l’un. I will take care of you.” Rowan kissed Wilson again, this time sliding two fingers inside the younger man’s tight entrance. Wilson broke sharply from the kiss, gasping loudly.
“Ah! Th-that hurts…!”
“Shh…it’s alright…relax…” Rowan whispered sweetly in Wilson’s ear, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion. The singer was gasping and moaning softly, the feel of Rowan’s fingers inside him both strange and wonderful.
After a few moments, Rowan added a third finger, and Wilson’s eyes closed tightly.
“Does it still ‘urt?” The Frenchman said softly. Wilson shook his head.
“Uh-uh…nnh…” The younger man’s cock was fully erect; Rowan gently stroked it with his free hand.
“Oh, God! S-stop playing with me!! Fuck me! Fuck me now!” Wilson’s desperate outburst startled Rowan, but he released Wilson’s cock and slid his hands around his smooth hips.
“’Ere we go, cheri…” He whispered, entering Wilson with one quick thrust. Wilson screamed, his back arching off the couch, his fingers gripping the cushions.
“HAAH!! AH! Oh, God, it hurts!! AGGHH!!!” Wilson’s screams were so loud that Rowan immediately pulled out and pulled the other man into his arms.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He whispered over and over. After a moment, Wilson gently bit Rowan’s ear, making the Frenchman gasp.
“Please…k-keep going…I was just startled…I’m okay…”
“Are you sure?” Rowan asked. Wilson nodded.
“Yes…”
“Alright.” Rowan laid Wilson back down and entered him a second time, this time moving slower. Wilson winced in pain, but he nodded.
“Yes…keep going…” Rowan slowly pushed until he was sheathed fully inside Wilson.
This feels so strange, having someone else’s cock inside me…it hurts so much…but feels so incredibly good…I’ve never been filled like this before…Wilson shook the thoughts out of his head as Rowan started to slowly thrust in and out of him.
“Ahhn…uhhnn…ahh…Nnn! Ah!” Wilson cried out with each thrust, begging Rowan to go faster. Rowan held Wilson’s hips and thrust harder and faster, loving the sounds the young singer was making.
“Nnn…Guillaume…oh, mon Dieu…” Rowan felt the familiar pressure building in his abdomen, and started thrusting harder. Wilson let out a loud cry as Rowan’s cock rubbed against his prostate. He angled his hips up, forcing Rowan in deeper.
“R-Rowan…I…I’m gonna…Nnnn!” Wilson moaned loudly when he came all over his and Rowan’s chests. Rowan felt Wilson tighten around him, and he came deep inside the younger man. He collapsed, gasping, on top of Wilson. The singer’s fingers trailed lightly up and down the guitarist’s back, making him shiver.
“Rowan…” Wilson whispered.
“Hmm?” Rowan sighed against Wilson's hair.
“Please…please stay with me…” Rowan sat up and looked into Wilson's blushing face. He leaned down and kissed him, slow and sweet. After a tender moment, the Frenchman pulled away.
“Of course, mon cheri. Je ne ferais jamais…I mean…I would never leave you.” The two men kissed again, and after a few more minutes of rest managed to drag themselves to Rowan’s bedroom.
OWARI
Rowan leaned his forehead on the door, the key in the lock, not moving. God, he was tired. He felt like he was going to drop, right then and there. The guitar on his back seemed to weigh several times more than it actually did. Even his eyes were tired from staring at a computer screen all day.
After a few moments rest, the tall Frenchman finally opened his door and went into his apartment, tossing his keys on the table and his guitar on the couch. Rowan had stripped off his coat, tie, shirt, and shoes before he even reached the bedroom.
He collapsed, exhausted, on the soft bed. He was asleep before he could even register the comfort.
_____________________________________________________________
Wilson stared out the window of his silver Saturn, waiting for the light to turn. His head hurt. Band practice had been a total disaster. Kaei had had the flu but he insisted on working anyway. The poor boy passed out after only fifteen minutes and Kaleo had had to rush him to the hospital.
Since not much practicing could be done with their keyboardist and manager missing, the rest of the band just milled about doing nothing. Rowan was at the computer for the better part of the day, working on the mix down and track editing. Gledhill got cranky after awhile and “accidentally” broke a string on Wilson's beloved Gibson Les Paul Studio guitar, causing the singer to punch the little bassist in the stomach. Kerry, their drummer, had managed to pull them apart, and after that Wilson declared the botched practice session OVER.
Now, he was on his way home to a very large amount of vodka and Red Bull. That shit would keep him up for days, but he didn’t care.
Wilson's phone started ringing suddenly, startling him. The ringtone, La Complainte de la Butte by Rufus Wainwright, signaling that the caller was Rowan.
“Hey, Rowe.” Wilson said when he answered.
“Salut, mon ami. C’est moi.”
“I know that. What’s up? How are you?”
“Ah, tres mal. Come over?” Rowan was speaking French, which he knew Wilson didn’t understand. Something must be bothering him.
“Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Merci bien.” Rowan hung up, then Wilson did.
“Well, I guess I could drink that Red Bull tomorrow.” Wilson said to himself as he turned towards Rowan’s neighborhood.
_____________________________________________________________
Rowan vaulted off the couch as soon as he heard the doorbell. Wilson was waiting there, a plastic convenience store bag in one hand and a case of beer in the other.
“Hey. I brought some stuff.” He said as he walked in. Rowan shut the door behind him and sank onto the couch once more.
“Thank you for coming, Guillaume.” Rowan said softly, using Wilson's French name.
Uh-oh. He must be really depressed if he’s calling me that. Wilson thought as he set the bag full of snacks on the coffee table.
“So what’s been bothering you?” He asked. Rowan looked up, his long black hair concealing most of his face.
“’Ow could you tell somezing was bozering me?”
“You keep talkin’ at me in French. You called me Guillaume. You never do that unless you’re super depressed.” Rowan smiled tiredly and popped open a beer. After several gulps, he set the can down and sighed.
“Well, I wouldn’t say zat I am depressed. More like zat I am exhausted and do not know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah…I don’t even fully know, mon ami. I just feel…oh, merde…I feel lost. Zat is it. I am lost.” Rowan hung his head and ran shaking hands through his hair. Wilson patted him gently on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, Rowe. You’re just worn out.” Rowan reached up and gently held the hand that rested on his shoulder.
“Non. Zat is not it at all. I am lost…emotionally. I do not know ‘ow I feel…about certain things…”
“Like what?”
“Ze band. My music. You.” Wilson blushed slightly.
“Me?”
“Oui. You. Ze shining singer…our brilliant leader…mon cheri…”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“Je t’aime, Guillaume. Je t’aime.” Wilson shook his head and turned the older man’s face to look at him.
“Rowan. Speak English. I. Do. Not. Under. Stand. French.” Rowan laughed softly.
“It means ‘I love you’; mon cheri, ‘my darling’. Je t’aime.” Wilson blushed again and his fingers fell from Rowan’s face, only to be caught by the guitarist’s hand.
“You…love me?” He whispered. Rowan nodded.
“Oui. I do. Are you angry?” This made Wilson pull away from Rowan.
“What? Angry? Why the hell would I be angry? I’ve waited 26 years to hear someone tell me they love me. Why would I be angry if it’s you?”
“Well…I am anozer man…”
“So what?! Since when did gender matter at all when it comes to love?” Rowan raised his maroon eyes to Wilson’s green ones.
“You…really mean zat?” His voice wavered slightly. Wilson nodded.
“Of course. Y’know, I really like you, too.”
“What?!”
“Yes. I’ve had a thing for you for the longest time…” Wilson’s sentence was cut off by Rowan’s lips on his.
The kiss was clumsy, but passionate, and both men were amazed at how their mouths seemed to fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other. Wilson’s fingers wound in Rowan’s super-long hair, and Rowan had his hands under Wilson’s thin shirt, pinching his nipples until they bruised.
Wilson pulled away, gasping, as Rowan’s hand slid lower, threatening to go inside his pants.
“Nnh…Rowan, please…”
“What, mon petit. What?”
“Please…take me…” Rowan looked at Wilson’s flushed face, his emerald eyes clouded with lust.
“Oui, mon cheri…” He started kissing the younger man again, unbuttoning his jeans. Wilson ran his hands over Rowan’s smooth chest, fingers brushing over the older man’s nipples, making him gasp. Rowan yanked Wilson’s jeans off, as well as his shirt, and took one bruised, tortured nipple between his teeth. Wilson let out a loud gasp, his back arching slightly. Rowan slowly licked and nibbled the younger man’s nipple for a few moments before he moved to the next one. Wilson’s shaking fingers fumbled with Rowan’s belt until the Frenchman sat up and unbuckled it himself.
“T-take ‘em off…” Wilson panted. Rowan nodded and scooted off the couch. He pulled the jeans off, and Wilson blushed when he realised Rowan wore nothing underneath them.
“What is wrong, cheri?” Rowan whispered, seeing the scared look on Wilson’s face. The singer blushed even redder.
“Y-you’re…huge.” Rowan laughed softly and rubbed his cock against Wilson's, causing the younger man to moan softly.
“What’s ze matter? Are you afraid?”
“A-a little…”
“Ne pas craidre, mon petit l’un. I will take care of you.” Rowan kissed Wilson again, this time sliding two fingers inside the younger man’s tight entrance. Wilson broke sharply from the kiss, gasping loudly.
“Ah! Th-that hurts…!”
“Shh…it’s alright…relax…” Rowan whispered sweetly in Wilson’s ear, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion. The singer was gasping and moaning softly, the feel of Rowan’s fingers inside him both strange and wonderful.
After a few moments, Rowan added a third finger, and Wilson’s eyes closed tightly.
“Does it still ‘urt?” The Frenchman said softly. Wilson shook his head.
“Uh-uh…nnh…” The younger man’s cock was fully erect; Rowan gently stroked it with his free hand.
“Oh, God! S-stop playing with me!! Fuck me! Fuck me now!” Wilson’s desperate outburst startled Rowan, but he released Wilson’s cock and slid his hands around his smooth hips.
“’Ere we go, cheri…” He whispered, entering Wilson with one quick thrust. Wilson screamed, his back arching off the couch, his fingers gripping the cushions.
“HAAH!! AH! Oh, God, it hurts!! AGGHH!!!” Wilson’s screams were so loud that Rowan immediately pulled out and pulled the other man into his arms.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He whispered over and over. After a moment, Wilson gently bit Rowan’s ear, making the Frenchman gasp.
“Please…k-keep going…I was just startled…I’m okay…”
“Are you sure?” Rowan asked. Wilson nodded.
“Yes…”
“Alright.” Rowan laid Wilson back down and entered him a second time, this time moving slower. Wilson winced in pain, but he nodded.
“Yes…keep going…” Rowan slowly pushed until he was sheathed fully inside Wilson.
This feels so strange, having someone else’s cock inside me…it hurts so much…but feels so incredibly good…I’ve never been filled like this before…Wilson shook the thoughts out of his head as Rowan started to slowly thrust in and out of him.
“Ahhn…uhhnn…ahh…Nnn! Ah!” Wilson cried out with each thrust, begging Rowan to go faster. Rowan held Wilson’s hips and thrust harder and faster, loving the sounds the young singer was making.
“Nnn…Guillaume…oh, mon Dieu…” Rowan felt the familiar pressure building in his abdomen, and started thrusting harder. Wilson let out a loud cry as Rowan’s cock rubbed against his prostate. He angled his hips up, forcing Rowan in deeper.
“R-Rowan…I…I’m gonna…Nnnn!” Wilson moaned loudly when he came all over his and Rowan’s chests. Rowan felt Wilson tighten around him, and he came deep inside the younger man. He collapsed, gasping, on top of Wilson. The singer’s fingers trailed lightly up and down the guitarist’s back, making him shiver.
“Rowan…” Wilson whispered.
“Hmm?” Rowan sighed against Wilson's hair.
“Please…please stay with me…” Rowan sat up and looked into Wilson's blushing face. He leaned down and kissed him, slow and sweet. After a tender moment, the Frenchman pulled away.
“Of course, mon cheri. Je ne ferais jamais…I mean…I would never leave you.” The two men kissed again, and after a few more minutes of rest managed to drag themselves to Rowan’s bedroom.
OWARI