TITLE: I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC

AUTHOR: bolan

DATE: 24 feb 00

RATING: NC-17 (m/m)

GENRE: velvet goldmine slash

ARCH: PBU, Satellite of Love

SUMM: brian worries about his own sanity, finds relief.

PAIRING: brian, curt, assorted furniture

I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC

by Bolan

I licked his lamp.

I don't know why, really. Just an impulse, I suppose. I did that a lot lately. Not the thing with the lamp - no, that was definitely a new one - but acted on impulses. And some were getting a bit ... well ... unusual.

I looked at the lamp again - it was touch sensitive - one of those buggers that turned on and off with the merest of contact. It was still off. My impromptu experiment in conductivity a complete failure. Even though I knew I shouldn't, I debated testing it once more.

Then the door flew open and he stood silhouetted in the doorway.

I nearly had a stroke.

"Brian? What the hell're you doin' sitting in the dark?"

With that, he strode across the hardwood floor to where I guiltily sat slouched on the couch. He leaned across and reached for the lamp. And as he did, I tilted my head to the side and took a deep breath, drawing in his smell. The lamp was casting a gentle golden glow over us as he looked down and caught me staring at him. He gave me a funny little look, plopping his lanky self onto the couch.

Lighting a cigarette and squinting through the smoke, he studied me. "You okay?"

I pulled his legs onto my lap. "I am now." I closed my eyes.

"I think you're bored and should've come with me today."

I didn't have to open my eyes to know that he'd kicked off his boots and was sitting back, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, the other hanging casually across the arm. He stretched loudly. "That's what I think." he continued.

Curt couldn't stand silence, was driven to fill it, whereas I loved the quiet. For a few moments I simply said nothing, listening to him natter on about his day. It's what we always did after being apart, both of us decompressing, reconnecting.

Eventually, he too became still. And I knew that he was truly home.

I leaned over and took the cigarette from between his lips and brought it to my own. The tip felt cool, moist, and I couldn't resist letting my tongue flirt with the filter as I inhaled slowly, savoring the taste.

Curt growled, "Give it back."

I looked over at him, letting the smoke drift out of my mouth, nudging it a bit with the thickness of my tongue. I licked my lips languidly then turned away again, crushing the cigarette against the base of a wineglass.

That did it. He pounced and within seconds the cigarette was forgotten and I couldn't stop laughing. He straddled me and pinned my arms, grinning his crooked grin, eyes twinkling. He leaned closer. I knew what he was about to do.

"No," I said, trying to sound firm. "No."

He let more of his weight down on me and leaned closer still.

"Curt ... nooooo... please." So much for me controlling the situation - we both knew that I wasn't any good at all with topping from below. The moment he touched his cheek to mine, my heart skipped - an involuntary reaction. Then he did it.

The dreaded razor stubble torture...

"Argh! Ow! Stop it!" God I hated it when he did that - it really hurt like hell - but despite myself I'd begun to laugh again. And I could feel his stomach clenching with each stifled laugh of his own. He gave one last sandpaper scrape, then brought his lips to mine.

No matter how many pleasures our long nights together held I always loved that first kiss.

He must have felt my resistance fade, because he released my arms and cupped my face in his hands, never breaking contact with my lips. The kiss deepened, unhurried, my mouth opening wider to his, tongues pressing and exploring. I curled my arms behind his back and gripped his shoulders, pulling him to me, raising my hips slightly just to make sure I had his attention. I had it.

More than hearing his moan, I felt it through the kiss. Our lips parted and he pulled back just far enough so we could look at one another.

"Hello," I said softly.

"Hi," was his hoarse response. Oh, that whiskey and nicotine whisper.

He kissed me again, still gently. He slid his palms down the length of my arms until his rough hands found mine, then stood up and pulled me to my feet. I was struck by how the soft light airbrushed all his edges, all the hard lines. What stood before me was the Curt who might have been, had the world not been so cruel.

I adored him.

He untwined our fingers and began to slowly undo the buttons of my shirt, being careful not to touch my skin. First button, second - my collarbone exposed. Third, forth - the subtle muscles of my chest. Fifth - and my silk shirt was completely undone, and me along with it. Sliding his left hand behind my neck, he drew me firmly into another kiss. He began stroking my nipples with the back of his right, his tongue matching the strokes that were making me gasp and moan.

My hands were by my side, open in a state of supplication, of surrender.

He slid his arm around my waist and as he did so, my hands found his slender hips. His hand was cool against the small of my back and I shivered. My fingers stroked, thumbs massaged that gorgeous, tender concavity that separated his hips from his groin. With my right hand, I popped the buttons of his trousers. Allowed my fingers to brush the hardness that was begging for release. From deep in his throat came a half-laugh, half-moan.

He was still kissing me.

My hands slid along the inside of his pants, working their way towards the back. He'd wrapped both arms around me and was passionately kissing my neck, ears, mouth. He'd held his hunger at bay long enough. I grasped at the back of his shirt and pulled it up and over his shoulders. He was reluctant to break the embrace, but relented, sliding my shirt off in the process. Then I was back in Curt's arms, he in mine.

His hands squeezed my rear and he pulled me impossibly close, grinding his hips all the while. Feeling his cock against mine, I didn't even attempt to stifle my groan. Nothing felt this good, so full of promise. Sliding my hands around his neck, I let my head roll back, extending my arms and arching, matching his hip movements with my own. He devoured my neck and chest, murmuring softly.

I straightened up and gave him a smile, then slid slowly to my knees, depositing deep kisses down his chest and stomach along the way. I tugged at his pants, getting them past his ankles carefully, not wanting to throw him off balance. I kissed the inside of his calves, let my tongue taste the musk of his thigh. He ran his hands through his own long hair, trying to maintain control as I stroked his hips, his ass. When I took him into my mouth, I felt a tremor from deep within him. I slowly drew my lips back along his girth, and his breath caught. When my tongue traced circles around the engorged tip, he cried out softly and his hands found my head, gripping it with an urgency that he could no longer resist.

I needed this as much as he did, and I took him deeply into my mouth, loving his taste, his heat. Pulling back, one arm snaked around his leg, I gripped him firmly with my right hand and worked his dripping tip across my lips, back and forth, no sooner within the soft fullness, then drawn out again. Carnal kisses that I no longer cared to share with anyone else. My free hand slid up his chest and he bent to kiss it. I slid my middle finger into his mouth. He suckled it, reluctant to let it go, but distracted that I'd once more taken him fully - past my lips, into my throat. I began to hum softly.

With my left hand still slick with Curt's kisses, I reached behind him and burrowed my way between his sweating cheeks. I loved the sound he made from above when I slid inside him. He thrust harder into my mouth, but now he also pressed insistently against my hand. If I could have smiled around the flesh that so beautifully filled me, I would have. He laughed. I sucked harder, manipulated his ass more firmly, one finger joined by another.

By the time my hand found its way back to the front, back to my own hardness, Curt was lost in the sensation of my arduous sucking. He'd once described to me the white flashes he saw just before climaxing. As I relaxed my throat and felt him drive into me once more, I knew he was seeing fireworks. Throwing my right arm around his thigh, I matched his rhythm as best I could and felt him start to come. I slid my head back and let the taste wash over my tongue, my lips slick.

Curt's legs were unsteady as he lowered himself and knelt in front of me, covering my face with kisses, licking the inside of my mouth, seeking out the familiar taste of his own body. He took my cock in both fists and we were both surprised when I came immediately, thick fluid covering his hands as he continued stroking and coaxing until I pushed them away and rested my forehead against the side of his neck. We knelt that way for a long time, thigh to thigh, my arms wrapped around his waist, his around my shoulders. He held me tightly and kissed my hair. I listened to his heart.

Later that night, as we lay curled in each others arms, still on the floor, still bathed in golden light, Curt sat up, propping himself on one elbow.

"Brian?" he whispered.

"Hmmmm?" I was too content to even open my eyes. I snuggled into the pillow that Curt had dragged off of the couch. My leg curled around his.

"What were you doing when I walked in before?"

Oh-oh. I felt my stomach churn. "When, Curt?" When in doubt, play daft.

He sighed. "Before. When I came in and turned on the light." I buried my face in the crook of his arm, hoping that he'd let it drop. No such luck.

"You were doing something. What?"

I was cornered. So I told him. Coward that I was, I kept my blushing face hidden. But I told him.

He pushed away from me. I went cold when I heard him say, "That's ridiculous." Then he got up. My heart was pounding in my chest. I wanted to cry.

"Brian?" He was standing by the couch now; one knee propped on the wide cushion. I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn't want to face him.

"Brian, look at me." I sat up, and slowly met his gaze. Then he did the most curious thing. He leaned over and touched the stem of the lamp with his tongue.

The room was thrown into silent darkness.

Then, I heard him say, "Of course it works . . ."

And people wonder why I love this man.

END