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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 1, 2014 15:25:30 GMT
He didn't remember how he'd gotten there, nor did he care. All he knew was that he was drunk off his ass, angry, and wanting to pick a fight. But with who? Oh, of course, it was Salem of all people. Conveniently he'd appeared on the island after years of touring and doing who knows what and he prances around like he owns the place? That he's too good to even be here? Oh hell no. Lance wasn't going to put up with that.
When he managed to get to the door, he banged on it with a firmly gripped fist, BOOM BOOM BOOM against the heavy door of Salem's penthouse. "Hey, ya little shit... I know you're in there. Open this damn door an' quit being a little pussy," Lance managed to slur out. He had a bone to pick with the superstar and dammit if he wasn't going to pick it! When Salem took too long to get to the door, Lance pounded against it more. BOOM BOOM BOOM. Another set of heavy pounds he knew were loud enough to hear no matter where Salem was in the house.
Belatedly, he found a doorbell and he grinned something evil as he pushed the small, seemingly harmless button over and over and over again. I was like music to his ears to hear that annoying ringing fill the room from the other side, muffled by the heavy door in front of him.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 7:10:39 GMT
Smoke streamed from the cigarette butts in the ashtray, trailing lazily up to the ceiling. The rest of the room was still and silent. Salem's eyes were shut against the blinding potlights overhead, and the curtains were shut on the city's lights below.
It was quiet, and after a few drinks, so was Salem's mind. The only thing that broke through was the pounding on the door. Groggily, he sat up from where he was sprawled on the couch, ready to shout something about fuck off or I'm calling the cops when he recognized the voice.
The apathetic drowsiness slipped off easily, replaced by an anger, pure and simple. "Calm the fuck down you desperate bastard." He snarled over the doorbell's incessant ringing, unlatching the door and swinging it open hard enough to hit the wall with a jarring bang.
"What the fuck're you doing here?" His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, itching to throw the first punch this time, as soon as Lance gave the wrong answer.
Because there was no right answer.
LANCE DAVIDSON
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 2, 2014 7:30:42 GMT
"No... the fuck're YOU doing here," he blurred out as he pushed up against Salem's chest with the palms of his hands, forcing himself into the penthouse. He hardly had time to notice how nice it looked inside, exactly how he'd imagine Salem living all this time.
Not a surprise in the world.
"Thinking you can just up and come back without reason, roaming around town like you own the god damned streets..."
Lance pushed against Salem's chest again, growling through groggy words, his eyes half-lidded and brows knitted together in a frown. "Treating me like garbage--I'm not garbage you worthless sack of shit."
His thoughts were everywhere, plastered all over the room for Salem to see, completely bare and Lance couldn't care any less than he did right then. He wanted him to know exactly how he felt, though in a sober state he might have been more picky with his words. Possibly try to sound intelligent rather than belligerent.
Lance glanced over and noticed a rather nice vase sitting on a table nearby. He stood there, looking at it, then casually reached over and with his finger, barely pulled against the lip so that it fell off the stand and shattered on the floor. The drunkard frontman looked over at Salem again with a blank face, unimpressed with the current state of the penthouse even though he himself was the one who caused the random mess. "Bitch."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 3:52:24 GMT
He had almost been asleep, and it felt like being awoken. Harshly, shoved backwards into his penthouse, Lance screaming at the top of his lungs. He squared himself against the next shove, eyes narrowed as his drunken mind slowly came to grips with what the fuck Lance was talking about.
Salem's lips curled into a grin then, though his eyes narrowed menacingly. "You're fucking jealous." He said smugly. Lance upturned a vase, and Salem let him. Not like he had never done the same himself.
But when Lance stopped and met his eyes, expression flat and muttered that fucking word. Salem lunged at him, grabbing a fistful of shirt.
"And you think you own the fucking street? You think you have any more claim to this place than I do?" He pushed Lance up against a wall, leaned in, still snarling his contempt. "What the fuck are you blaming me for? That you missed your chance? That you're a fucking burnout?" He gave a jarring shake. "You are garbage."
LANCE DAVIDSON
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 3, 2014 5:21:44 GMT
Lance stumbled backwards and hit the wall hard, causing him to wince. He was too drunk to keep himself steady enough to withstand that shove. He reached up and gripped Salem's wrists tightly as he was being yelled at and tried to pull his shirt free, though he wasn't exactly having the best luck with that.
"I'm not fucking jealous," he snarled back in return, mind flooding with all kinds of emotions and feelings at once and it mottled, making it hard for him to think clearly. "I didn't sell out like you did. You're the garbage here. Not me."
How many times did he have to say that to Salem before he got the message? That's not what he was so upset about. That's not what he was always brooding over.
"You've gotten it all wrong you stupid fuck," he shouted in Salem's face, gritting his teeth when he wasn't yelling. "You fucking left me here. You never even tried to contact me. You left and said jack shit to me and flew the goddamn world over."
Oh god. Oh no, stop. Lance stop. He kept telling himself to stop but he wouldn't listen. He couldn't keep his god damn mouth shut and suddenly it felt like all those years ago. Old feelings were coming back and he couldn't make them halt.
"You don't know one bit how it felt to see your stupid, cocky face all over the television." He glared at Salem and breathed hard through his nose, teeth bared in a snarl. "I bought a CD."
His eyebrows rose when he said that, his mouth hanging open ajar as he watched the blonde's face for a reaction, eyes darting back and forth from one eye to the other. And then he whispered, leaning close to Salem's face as if he were worried that he wouldn't hear what he had to say.
"And I broke it."
It should probably be known that Lance listened to it first, and quite often, before he finally worked up the courage to break the thing.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 9, 2014 1:58:50 GMT
Lance staggered back easily, the two of them backed up against the wall. Salem felt Lance's hands locked around his wrists, smelled the alcohol on his breath. They were both drunk, angry, uninhibited.
Sell out. Salem bristled at the word - no matter how many times the insult had been hurled his way, it still stung, maybe because of who was saying it. No doubt Lance had been looking at him with revulsion all these years, but it had been from a distance, it had been easy to forget. Easy to lose sight of where he'd started in the shine of fame.
Before he could retort, Salem found himself caught off-guard when Lance went on. He sounded hurt, bitter. Maybe not jealous. The tone of voice seemed familiar, though he didn't immediately remember when he'd heard it before. At least, he pretended he didn't.
His grip went slack and he stepped back from Lance, turned sharply and walked over to the coffee table, emptied of everything but ring marks, a shot glass and a bottle of gin. He had turned his back on Lance, pretended that he wasn't listening, though he was - all too closely. He poured the glass to the brim, tipped it back in one go and shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it, swallow down memories and wash down his feelings.
Guilt? Not when Lance added he'd broken the CD.
"Still money in my pocket." He retorted, putting the shot glass back down harder than he should have. If he didn't get it out of his hand he'd end up throwing it - trying to lob it at Lance to shut him up. His coordination wasn't quite on point, but he didn't risk it.
"Ever think there was a reason I didn't contact you, Lance? I'm fucking back for less than a week, and you, you fucking throw punches, show up at my fucking door uninvited?"
He remembered, now, where he'd heard that tone before.
"Are you still having wet dreams about me Lance? Do you jerk off to my cocky face all over the television? Did you fucking miss me?" It was a low blow, it was reliving the moment the first cracks emerged in their friendship, it was Salem hurting Lance again, this time deliberately, this time harshly, snarling and biting like a cornered wild animal.
He stepped closer, spread his arms in an invitating gesture, offset by his smirk. "Well I'm back, you fucking bastard. Happy?"
LANCE DAVIDSON
//aaaah so late late late sorry
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 9, 2014 2:36:30 GMT
This time it was Lance's fingers tightened into Salem's shirt, pulling him close and jerking him back, attempting to shake him out of mere frustration from the tone Salem spoke to him with. He couldn't stand it, how curt he was being with his feelings, acting like he didn't care, like Lance didn't matter, like their friendship never mattered. Lance couldn't take it. That was the truth of the whole matter.
"I fucking hate you, Salem! I hate you! It was your fault I punched you when I saw you in that convenience store. Yours! Talking to me like I was dirt on the bottom of your thousand dollar shoes. Like I tainted the air you breathed," Lance shouted, though towards the end his teeth clenched together and he hissed his words instead. He shook Salem some more, squeezing his eyes shut as he did, growling through it all.
When he opened up his eyes he met with Salem's, eyebrows knitted together as he studied his face. "Fuck you. Acting like my feelings are shit. Did I scare you!? Are you scared? Were you scared? Couldn't handle the fact that your best friend had feelings for you besides just friendship!?"
There it was, all out in the open for everyone to see. There wasn't any confusing anymore and there was no room for second guesses, either. It was proven to be true right then and there. It didn't matter if he was drunk, it wasn't a lie. If anything, he had the alcohol to help him spit it out in the first place.
OOC: It's okay, bby <3 Definitely worth the wait.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2014 5:34:16 GMT
Salem let himself be jerked forward, a little breathless - the air around them felt heavy and so didn't Lance's words. Salem narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched and expression insistently haughty, unbothered.
He had perfected the act of ignorance. Of pretending he'd never fucked his best friend. Of pretending he'd never left behind his best friend. Of pretending he didn't regret these things.
"Is that why you're here?" He snarled. To pick at scabs that Salem had plastered out of sight and out of mind? Salem's hands were at Lance's, long fingers wrapped around the hand bunching in his shirt but making no real effort to free himself.
Maybe a part of him wanted Lance to just hit him. To just beat him bloody and leave him alone. To have his revenge or whatever the hell it was he was here for, so they could both be at peace. Salem gritted his teeth and braced himself for something more. For something angrier.
"And are you here to tell me you still want to be more than friends?" He spat the last word, because it was a fucking joke. His hands were still at Lance's and they felt cold. They were close to each other, enough that Salem could shift a leg between Lance's with a punctuating nudge. "Or that you fucking hate me?"
LANCE DAVIDSON
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 11, 2014 6:23:12 GMT
That tone, that growl, the way he spat his words out at Lance as if he were spitting directly into his face. It all tore him up inside, but what messed him up the most was that bit towards he end.
Salem's leg pushed up in between Lance's legs and he went incredibly still, almost freezing in place as he looked Salem's face over. His own eyes shot open a bit, his breath hitching. No, he was too drunk to handle all of this. Suddenly he couldn't take this and he wanted to stop. He wanted to run away, back through that door he'd just rudely burst through.
Though he couldn't. Not yet. There was no way he would be okay with himself if he did that. But, was he okay with himself now? Even as he stood there in the middle of Salem's house, was he okay?
Not really. He was frozen and he didn't know what to do. "We... can't." That's what he said in response and it was the only thing he had in mind. There wasn't any way they could be lovers. Lance knew that, but he wanted it. Nothing could change that. Did he hate Salem? Yeah, he did. He hated him because he's the only reason why they can't.
It's his fault. It's all his fault! Every BIT of it is all Salem's fault!
"I hate you," Lance whispered before leaning forward to kiss Salem hard. He kissed him harshly, deep, and bit his mouth. It was anything but perfect, completely sloppy and out of sync with anything, but he kissed Salem anyway.
His fingers tightened even more in the lapels of Salem's shirt as he pulled him forward into the kiss, closing any type of distance there ever could be between them. Lance wished that he could close the emotional distance, too. He wanted that so badly that he couldn't stand it and he bit Salem's bottom lip hard out of anger when he'd realized.
It'd been so long since they'd done anything like this, but they were drunk again. Always drunk, it seemed. He wouldn't ever get the chance to do something like kiss or fuck sober. Not with Salem and that's who he wanted it with the most out of anyone else.
Just Salem. Only him. Why couldn't it be him?
"Why can't it be you?" Lance murmured against Salem's lips.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 13, 2014 1:43:28 GMT
It had been a jab at Lance's prize, it was baiting the bull but none of that could justify why Salem had done it. He was drunk. He had no idea what he wanted, not enough that anything he did could be considered direct action towards a specific goal. He had expected a violent reaction, but Lance went still and his voice went soft and Salem's hold on Lance loosened. Before he could back off, realize his mistake, Lance had him in a kiss, caught his bottom lip between his teeth.
He was still for a minute, letting himself be jerked back and feeling the sting of teeth and lips and spit.
Then, Salem was kissing back. Salem who cussed out producers and paparazzi and bandmates and insisted things go his way all the time, couldn't say no to this. Maybe this was things going his way - that despite it all, Lance still wanted him.
They weren't even friends any more, Salem had forgotten Lance long ago and there was nothing familiar in the kiss but there was something ferocious and primal that made Salem go along with it, shove his tongue past Lance's teeth, step forward, dominate. "Shut up."
LANCE DAVIDSON
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 13, 2014 9:38:34 GMT
His mind was gone, lost in a sea of alcohol and hormones that couldn't seem to calm down, especially around Salem. Especially right then in his grip, his tongue and taste in his mouth. He recognized it, remembering it all those years ago, though a different alcohol hinted it back then. But that didn't matter. He knew the difference.
Upon hearing Salem's order, Lance growled, gripping tighter to his shirt, but something deep down told him to stop and listen to what he said. Finally Lance was right where he wanted to be and he wanted to take advantage of that, but at the same time he wanted Salem to respond. The command was harsher than he'd ever want, but it was a response. It was something out of his own free will.
"Make me," Lance ended up growling out when he got the chance, looking at Salem and fixing him a look that said he could take his petty attempts at dominating him. This was Lance Davidson. He'd put up with Salem's shit all his life. He was sure he could put up with this, too.
Even if it turned out that he couldn't, mentally because he definitely could physically, Lance made a point to tell himself to take it with stride.
Though really, he was curious what Salem was going to do, if honestly anything at all. Could even he handle what was happening? He looked like he was, but when it came down to it? Lance wasn't sure and he was expecting the worst out of the whole thing, even though he didn't want that. Of course he didn't want that. Who would willingly want the worst out of a situation?
Well... Salem. Probably.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 15, 2014 21:28:33 GMT
He should have shoved Lance off, away. He should have left Lance outside in the hall. But now they had both gone too far to care, too far to back off. Lance was still lovestruck and obsessed, and Salem felt bold and drunk and powerful.
Lance still wanted him. Lance was like a slave to his desire, and a slave to Salem who controlled it, jumpstarted this with nothing but a slight nudge. At this point Salem was controlled by his passions too, and he couldn't deny this entire thing was hot. He had done worse than Lance in moments of particular inebriation.
They broke apart slightly breathless. Salem licked his lips; he could still feel the sting of Lance's teeth digging into them like a phantom pain.
He tangled his fingers in Lance's hair, yanked his head back, surveying him with steely eyes. "No." Salem said, suddenly decisive. "I'll make you. But I'll make you say my fucking name, like you worship me." He hissed, pulling Lance in for another, rougher kiss.
LANCE DAVIDSON
//nb4 2homo fade to black??
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 24, 2014 5:21:09 GMT
His head was swimming, both from desire and from the alcohol in his veins, a mixture of hormones and spirits blended perfectly into the most potent love potion that could ever be concocted.
Lance didn't resist it; hell no, why would he? He was getting what he wanted, exactly what he wanted. The tug at his hair stung, but the look in Salem's eyes sent a thrill through his body and he couldn't care less what hurt or what didn't. Those eyes were focused on him and nobody else, nothing else. He only wished it could be like that even past what was happening there that night.
Everything was a blur when he woke up. Lance didn't remember falling asleep, but sometime within the night he had and upon waking up he rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed as he rubbed the headache that threatened to get worse the more awake he got.
His surroundings were unfamiliar and though his first reaction was to figure out where he was, once his eyes had properly adjusted he remembered exactly where he was at. He was in Salem's bedroom, in his bed, surrounded by his sheets and belongings. He remembered what had happened and the more he recalled, the more exposed he felt, though he didn't regret it. Not really. Though now, more than ever, his emotions were on full blast, completely out of control and reckless within him. His feelings were stabbing him all over after he'd finally managed to scar the wounds. Why did he have to go and reopen them?
OOC: I'm sorry for the late response omg. I hope this was worth the wait though!
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2014 0:53:50 GMT
The penthouse was modern and minimalist, and it looked messy and lived in, yet somehow impersonal. The bedroom didn't have any personal trinkets, no framed photographs or indications of interest, only a pack of cigarettes and a lighter by the night table.
Against the neat emptiness of the rest of the room, the bed was a mess, sheets bunched up beneath Salem, blankets kicked and twisted. Salem wasn't in any better a state when he sat up, head pounding. It wasn't a forgetful hangover, it was the sort that drove the thoughts of the night before into his head like nails into his skull. He'd slipped out of bed - he wanted to run, but this was his place, there was nowhere to leave to. He showered and dressed and refused to look a mess when Lance saw him.
He had cleaned up, more than he did most days, tied his hair back and dressed when he went back into the bedroom. Salem eyed the figure curled in the center of his bed, he toyed with the cigarette in his hand before he lit it up and took a drag, still watching Lance from the doorway. "You plannin to stay for the weekend, princess?"
LANCE DAVIDSON
//no worries i'm late too haha
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Jan 31, 2014 1:13:56 GMT
His attention was brought to the doorway where he saw Salem standing, lighting up a cigarette. Lance still sat there in his bed, surrounded by sheets where it mattered, naked underneath. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh, just sort-of watching the other as he watched him. He didn't know what to do or say. He was blank, he felt kind of numb, and all he could do was sit there staring.
"You won't let me even if I told you yes," he managed to say, forcing a soft smile as he looked down at the blankets, playing with the wrinkles they made around his legs. One by one, he trailed each wrinkle until the ends were too far out of reach, only to start over at a different location. He looked up again, narrowing his eyes as he swallowed thickly, noticing how nice Salem happened to look with his hair pulled back. It really showed off his face, those sharp features standing out even more than they usually did.
The frontman let the silence fill the room along with the cigarette smoke for a little while before he finally worked up the courage to speak again, eyes lingering at Salem's. "We really need to talk."
It sounded weird coming out of his mouth so calmly, but he was sure it wouldn't stay that way for long. Lance prepared himself to be verbally backhanded again and if that were to happen, they'd only shout at each other some more. He didn't want that, though. It wasn't his goal to anger Salem as much as he could. No, that's not what he wanted at all. What he wished for was for them to talk like civil people, like the adults they were supposed to be.
@salem
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