13 Works by stimage
Listing Works
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Summary
Alex doesn't get what he's looking for.
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Justine might as well have not existed on tour, her name only hurled in the midst of a spat or a far too personal interview. He certainly didn’t want to think of her now, with his limp cock exposed and a sweaty, irritating Damon still pressing him down to the thin mattress, staring at him with those wounded blue-gray eyes. The fucking nerve of him.
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“You’re a proper guitarist, you know,” Noelle had told her, looking her up and down with a nod. “Call me if yer ever interested in playing with a band that isn’t shite,” she said around a smoldering Benson & Hedges, scrawling her number across Graham’s pale arm. She even sealed it with a slanted autograph, only the N and G legible.
Graham pressed her finger against the scrawl once Noelle had gone, remembering the feel of her small hand swiping across it, the text smudged slightly. She wasn’t sure how much of it was a joke. She’d learned to play a few Oasis songs since then, just in case.
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She breaks through his doors, beauty incarnate, entirely her own person and leaving him as anything but his own.
No one looks at him like this, no one at all. The blues of her eyes sinking him deep, crashing unexplored seas. A biblical flood, taking out the sinners and keeping the holiest, even if it eliminates everyone. Everyone but him, the lone survivor to her glassy gaze, easy to shatter but as strong as steel.
Series
- Part 1 of God Made the Distance
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“What d'you expect me to bloody do? Suck on it?”
Graham swallows, looking to Noel's mouth rapturously. “You're joking.”
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He always got this uncomfortable feeling when he was mad. His heart leapt in his throat, his stomach felt jumpy and fluttery and he got hot all over. His anger was made for someone stronger than himself, someone capable of enacting actual violence. The wires between a desire to break things and a desire to fuck must've gotten crossed somewhere along the way. He'd since learned if he couldn’t sink his teeth into something he’d just have to settle for an alternative path of release.
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In which Graham ruins his favorite Sonic Youth t-shirt and Noel is jealous of a nameless cat.
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Damon chewed his lip. It felt sort of wrong, talking about Graham in the middle of a shag with someone else—especially when that someone else was Liam Gallagher—but, well…
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He smiles, shark-like. Roman can see all of his slightly-crooked teeth for how close he is. "Daddy never taught you how to wield that sword?"
The way Mencken leers over him like a predator never makes him feel like prey. His attention makes him feel powerful, like a fellow predator has chosen to pursue him as a worthy mate.
"I learned all my fucking from National Geo."
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"Oh. Is that all?" GLaDOS chirped in her melodic voice. The sound was uncharacteristically harsh-edged, the tinny miniscule speaker a massive downgrade from the overhead system she once occupied.
"If that's all, I suppose we're doomed. You may as well throw me to the birds now and get it over with."
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Marwa's acting weird. Flirting-with-Guillermo level weird.
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“Did one of my dear beloved siblings have another public meltdown?” Roman asks, leaning into his open hand.
“Not unless you count Kendall’s choice of shoes in those pap pictures as a breakdown.”
“Oh, you know I do,” he smiles, wondering to himself if she’s the kind of gal to prefer real flowers or those edible arrangement shits with the strawberries and cheeses and whatnot. His dopey smile somehow signals to her that she should ruin his moment of romantic reverie. Ice bitch.
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“Must’ve been subtext, then,” Todd punctuated with a loud sniffle.
“Ah, subtext,” he snorted and leaned over the pile of Todd to deposit the tray securely between him and the wall. Todd instinctively pulled the blanket over his eyes when he caught a glimpse of his torso. “That explains why I didn’t catch it. I don’t have the gift .”