2 Gay 4 Me

Lars had it bad for Zion, and not just in the way he'd had it bad for him before. Now, it was much, much worse. Exclusively fucking had turned into ordering takeout and chatting afterwards, then into eating beforehand, then cuddling, and things has just sort progressed from there. It had been going on for some months now, and while it was nice the way things were, Lars couldn't help but think about how absolutely great things could be if they were more. He had tried very hard to let these thoughts be just that; pointless daydreams of a lonely, washed up metalhead. But it physically pained him now, to think about the concept of letting Zion slip through his fingers.

There was no easy way to say it. There was no way to say it at all. So even as he invited Zion over to his house for one of their little dates, he tried not to think about it.

"I ordered Thai tonight, I hope that's okay. I tried to remember what you liked last time we had it, I hope I'm right?" Lars motioned to one of the heaping plates of food on his ridiculously oversized table that was clearly meant for guests, but rarely got used beyond these times when Zion came over and they sat beside one another and ate amazing take out together.

Lars had found he was okay with that being the only use this table ever got so long as it meant that they got to continue doing it.

"Ayyy! Thai's tight, I can fuckin' dig it!" Zion tossed his backpack in the corner and kicked off his Air Yeezy IIs by the door, as he had a hundred times by now. "Good thing too, I'm fuckin' starvin'--a nigga can't eat when he's too busy spittin', right? Studio's some tiring shit."

He scooted into his usual seat, leaning back precariously. "What's new with the best manager in the world? Not scoutin' any new talent, right?" He grinned slyly. "The way I see it, I got all the talents you could want covered already..."

Lars took his usual seat next to Zion and interlaced his fingers, his many rings clinking together as he did so.

"Well, I mean, there was this metal band they wanted me to start managing recently, but since I have my hands full with you, I had to turn them down," he replied with an broad grin. "Besides, their sound was so...unauthantic?" Lars clicked his teeth with his tongue ring, as he did quite often when trying to decide on the exact word he wanted to use. Despite speaking it for some years now, he had still not fully grasped the English language as a whole. "Weak? What I mean is, they were awful, Zion, you should have heard their sound. Or, maybe you wouldn't know the difference like I do, who knows."

Lars shrugged it off, and instead focused the whole of his attention on Zion, despite his best interests lying in not doing that. He knew, he could tell even as he did it, that the way he was looking at Zion was not the same way he had been looking at him just a month ago. It was new, different. Behind the raw attraction lay raw emotion. He turned to his own plate when he thought that Zion might see right through him.

"Nah, nah, man, I think I'd get it. I mean, not everyone's like you and me, right? Raw, serious--dedicated to the art, yaknow? I never used to give a shit about metal--no offense or nothing--but I can hear it in the shit you play." He made eye contact with Lars for a moment before looking away, smiling like a sheepish schoolchild.

He played with his food, barely touching it despite his hunger. He just wanted to talk to Lars.

"So what else's going on with you? Have you been...buying takeout for a lot of other guys, or anything?" He was teasing, but there was also some genuine curiosity in his voice.

Lars rarely felt his music deserved the amount of praise it got, but when Zion spoke highly of it, it really meant something to him. Maybe it was because he valued Zion's opinion so highly, or maybe it was the idea that a non-metalhead, in fact someone who really didn't give a fuck about metal at all, was praising it just made it all the sweeter. Zion was right, though; not everyone had that serious, fervid dedication to their work that Lars and Zion had, and to be expected to accept anything less from anyone else was a serious insult to Lars, and to Zion by virtue of being managed by him. Lars basked in the compliment for perhaps too long because he almost missed the sweet, sweet bit of eye contact he made with Zion and he thought that he might cherish the fleeting moment forever.

It wasn't until Zion mentioned other men in his life did he realize how quickly his heart had been pounding until the comment had made it stop. Lars had scarcely looked at another man in, what was it now, a month? Maybe more? The two of them had ended up being so compatible that he had just sort of forgotten about the prospect of anyone else. He glanced at his phone and thought for a moment that he must have a hundred messages on his grindr.

"Jealous?" Lars replied with a smirk. "I have to admit, there are quite a few men who would kill to get fucked by Lars Ragnar, lead singer and guitarist of Carpathian Winter...but less so who are willing to eat takeout and make small talk with the washed up producer, Lars Ragnar."

He chuckled, finally taking a large bite of his Pad Thai.

"Well I'll tell you what--I don't think I'd shoot no niggas for you yet, but I'd eat takeout with you any night. I'm always down to chill with you. Niggas like us, niggas who get it, we gotta stick together, right?

"'Sides, I don't think I could get away with smokin' this much at my moms, yaknow?" He laughed, though he knew he was avoiding talking about the obvious.

"Well, I'm certainly flattered that a big time star like yourself still has time for your manager on the weekends, as if you don't see enough of me at work," he smiled a bit too fondly before he decided to take a few bites of his own food.

"You're certainly welcome here anytime. Maybe I should make you a spare key, I mean, you do come over often enough." It was supposed to be a joke but somehow his tone didn't inflect it properly. He tried to brush it off.

"Well shit, man. I know what I do in exchange for all this take-out...what're you asking for for a key?" He flashed him a toothy smile.

Lars laughed even though it made his heart flutter to see Zion smile. He ran a hand through his hair and then awkwardly untangled it from his rings like he did ever so often. He would have to take them off soon anyway, so as he spoke he began the process of wiggling the rings from his fingers.

"Well, I wasn't going to ask for anything more but if you're going to offer..." he trailed off with a broad grin.

Zion scooted closer, toying with his dreads. There was no one here, he figured, so why even beat around the bush anymore?

"Tell me what you want. Anything."

Lars felt himself shudder briefly, too thrilled at the prospect of Zion offering himself on a silver platter to articulate in words. Unfortunately for Zion, the thing Lars wanted most wasn't even sexual in nature. What he wanted most, out of everything Zion could ever give him, was just to continue doing this forever. It made his heart ache to think they might not get to keep doing this.

Lars leaned close to him and entangled his hands into Zion's dreads. "I want to pin you down and fuck you until you can'take walk tomorrow. That's what I want."

He didn't even bother to come up with a response; he just leaned close and kissed Lars, practically crawling into his lap.  His hands already probed his body through his clothes, searching for sensitive areas.  He gently scraped Lars's lips with his teeth, only avoiding his piercing through practice.

Lars happily opened his mouth, running his tongue over Zion's. He tasted faintly, but not unpleasantly, of pad thai. Lars couldn't stifle his slight laugh as he kissed him. His hands had found their way to Zion's abdomen, gently nudging up under his shirt.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling away to breathe. "You wanna go to your bed or something? So you can, you know..." He kissed him again, sliding his tongue deep into his mouth.

Lars broke the kiss and stood up, practically dragging Zion towards the stairway up to his bedroom. They knocked over, not for the first time, a small table with a decorative but sturdy vase on it. Lars pushed it aside with his foot and continued dragging Zion upstairs with him. He paused to kiss him only when he decided he could go no longer without doing so.

Lars's bedroom was both gigantic and almost barren of furniture. His bed was enourmous, with expensive faux fur pelts and blankets piled on top of it along with mounds of pillows lined up against the headboard. His walk in closet housed all of his clothes and other personal affects and the only other furniture in the room was a nightstand. The walls were a painted mural of numerous Norse myths, all intricately done and lovingly rendered.

Lars burst through the doors and shoved Zion onto the bed. He practically attacked him as he kissed his neck and ran his hands up his thighs.

Zion fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, practically ripping the massive thing off and tossing it to the floor. His heavy chain practically pinned him to the bed as he struggled, trying to ignore Lars's advances just long enough to get naked.

Growing frustrated with his own clothes, he tugged expectantly at Lars's shirt.

Lars ripped his own shirt off in one practiced motion and tossed it aside. He opted simply to lift up Zion's shirt as he kissed and nipped at his abdomen and gradually made his way to Zion's hip bones before he paused to help Zion to yank his pants off.

"This is why you never get laid by anyone else, who has time to help you pull these ridiculous clothes off of you but me?" Lars teased warmly.

He pouted.

"You're the one in the skin-tight leather pants," he whined. "I like my clothes--they're comfortable. How'm I even s'posed to get your dick out of yours?" He fiddled with Lars's belt.

Lars undid his belt and the button on his pants practically in one motion. He grinned widely at Zion.

"If I don't make you work for it, do you really want it?" He teased as he leaned over to kiss Zion once more.

He bit his lip and glared at Lars. "I don't have time to work for it--if we don't hurry, we won't be doing much at all..."

Lars leaned over and grabbed Zion's face and kissed him deeply. He pulled away and stared at him and froze. Oh God how was he still doing this? Zion was so beautiful and he was his, at least in this way if none other. But God knows he wanted him in every way. Every single way he could have. This one, just this one, was not enough.

"Wait, I...." Lars breathed and then he swallowed words threatening to spill from his mouth. "I...."

Why did it hurt so bad being this close to Zion? His heart ached.

"I can't do this." Lars said suddenly and he was standing and facing away from Zion.

Zion sat up, finally pulling off his shirt and his ridiculous chain.

"What's wrong--you forgot lube or somethin? It ain't like you to get cold feet when it comes to anything below the belt." He fished through his pants pocket, producing a bag of weed before tossing them back on the floor.

"If you wanna go look, I'll wait."

It wasn't like him.

That was what worried him the most. It was completely atypical in every way. Lars felt foolish, stupid and anxious but above all, he felt sick.

Lars turned and walked into his bathroom without another word. He pulled open his medicine cabinet and shoved the plethora of painkillers and toiletries out of his way. His fingers found their way under the backing of the medicine cabinet and he pulled it away. He stared at his stash. He reached into the cabinet and pulled it into the sink, staring at the paraphernalia.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about this. He couldn't do this to Zion.

Lars ran his hand over the veins in his left arm. It felt familiar to be thinking this way, even though he told himself he wasn't going to do it. He had to stop, for good this time. This stash was for real emergencies. Not this. Not...this...

With shaky hands, Lars returned everything to its rightful place and closed the medicine cabinet. He ran the sink for what felt like forever and refused eye contact with his own reflection in the mirror. He shut off the sink and listened to the steady dripping noise.

It took him a moment to realize the noise he was hearing wasn't the water dripping in the sink but the sound of blood splashing against the porcelein sink. His hand shot to his nose and he pulled it away, wet with blood. Of course.

He ran the sink again and washed his face. His entire mouth tasted of blood. It was far more familiar than he wanted to admit. More familiar the feel of his veins beneath his fingers.

Lars gripped the sides of the sink and steeled himself. He ran a hand through his hair and then exited the bathroom.

Zion lazed naked on the bed, smoking a blunt; he puffed smoke into all the corners of the large room.

"You feeling okay?" he asked softly. "You're kinda quiet. Food not sit right?"

"We...should talk." Lars said and he clasped his arm with his other hand to hide his shakiness.