This is the Time
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Backstreet Boys
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,026
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Backstreet Boys
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,026
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of the Backstreet Boys. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
This is the Time
Title: This is the Time
Author: Minikitkatgirl
Rating: R, for language and some sexuality
Pairing: Nick/AJ
Disclaimer: Never happened, at least not to my knowledge. Just a product of my very active imagination. :) Also, this is Slash, people. For those who do not know, that is a story featuring a pairing of two or more people of the same sex. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I suggest you exit this page now. Everyone else, enjoy the story, and please feel free to leave feedback.
A/N: Inspiration for this story is largely due to the following picture: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v34/Minikitkatgirl/Miscellaneous%20Pics/Oprah30.jpg
Come on now, everybody say it with me: Awwwww. ;)
~*~
I fought my way back from hell for you.
Even as I sit, watching you sleep, chest rising and falling with every breath, I tremble.
It was four years ago. We were touring in yet another distant country; but it wasn't far enough for me to escape the demons. I listened to them, night after night, huddled in my bed after every show. The dark was the only place left for me. Shades always drawn, eyes always shut tightly, running from the light. I hid myself away, even from you. Your light. The warmth that once enveloped me, that I lost myself in; the only time I was ever calm was when you were near.
He broke down the door, of course. The towering, chiseled inferno of masculinity that he always was, pounding at my door, yelling. You were there. When he dragged me out, the light was blinding. Flashes. I remember you sitting on the floor, shaking. I thought it must have been cold and rainy outside, because your face was wet. But that wasn't it; no, not at all.
You were crying. Because of me.
I know that now. You've forgiven me a hundred times and still I keep on asking. As badly as I fucked myself up, I hurt you even more. Every day I remember that...and every day I wonder how you could forgive me.
Withdrawal was the worst part. Countless nights, I woke up screaming, sobbing. My dreams were full of you. They'd always start out good. Happy, even. Like a window into the old days, when we, the two youngest ones, would always be together. But very soon, in the darkness would creep. I'd fall, fall, fall into an endless abyss; cold and black, feeling nothing, nothing at all.
Not even love.
That was hell.
So I fought. Clawed, gnashed, pulled, tore my way out of that place, all while thinking of you. I needed you. I still need you, every day of my life. I was terrified of seeing you that first time, after I got back. And then...there you were. I didn't even know what to say; my words had failed me, for the first time in a very long time. I saw the tears welling in your pale blue eyes. My heart moaned within my chest and my legs threatened to give out at the sight. It was at that moment that I truly knew all of the pain I had caused you...and I wanted to die for it.
"Alex."
It was a hug. Only a hug? No, it was far more than that. It was your silent signal. It was all of the apologies and explanations and fights and nights of passionate sex rushing through our memories, flooding back, things said without words ever being spoken.
You were holding your heart out to me, in front of millions who would never know.
Two years have passed. You've let me back into your bed, into your life, into your heart. Every time we make love, I treat it with the same reverence as the first time, because that is truly how it feels. I will never get tired of rediscovering you, night after night.
I climb beneath the sheets now, as the cool air of the room has finally sunk into my body. One arm I drape around your waist, pulling your strong, masculine figure to my smaller, bonier one, while my other reaches up to your head, fingers tangling in your dirty blond hair. As I plant little kisses on your shoulders and back, I marvel at how different our skin looks: yours, pale, smooth, virtually unmarked, save for a tattoo here or there; mine, dark, tanned, with a light dusting of hair (which I have everywhere but the top of my head, go figure), and covered in endless tattoos.
This is why we fit, you and I. We're a contradiction. Up and down, day and night...dark and light. As I hold you in my arms, I fight back tears, angry at how much time I wasted. I won't anymore. I have my second chance, my hope, my love restored. No, I won't screw up again. You are the one who stills the storm inside. You've given me everything.
And this is the time for me to start giving back.
FIN
Author: Minikitkatgirl
Rating: R, for language and some sexuality
Pairing: Nick/AJ
Disclaimer: Never happened, at least not to my knowledge. Just a product of my very active imagination. :) Also, this is Slash, people. For those who do not know, that is a story featuring a pairing of two or more people of the same sex. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I suggest you exit this page now. Everyone else, enjoy the story, and please feel free to leave feedback.
A/N: Inspiration for this story is largely due to the following picture: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v34/Minikitkatgirl/Miscellaneous%20Pics/Oprah30.jpg
Come on now, everybody say it with me: Awwwww. ;)
~*~
I fought my way back from hell for you.
Even as I sit, watching you sleep, chest rising and falling with every breath, I tremble.
It was four years ago. We were touring in yet another distant country; but it wasn't far enough for me to escape the demons. I listened to them, night after night, huddled in my bed after every show. The dark was the only place left for me. Shades always drawn, eyes always shut tightly, running from the light. I hid myself away, even from you. Your light. The warmth that once enveloped me, that I lost myself in; the only time I was ever calm was when you were near.
He broke down the door, of course. The towering, chiseled inferno of masculinity that he always was, pounding at my door, yelling. You were there. When he dragged me out, the light was blinding. Flashes. I remember you sitting on the floor, shaking. I thought it must have been cold and rainy outside, because your face was wet. But that wasn't it; no, not at all.
You were crying. Because of me.
I know that now. You've forgiven me a hundred times and still I keep on asking. As badly as I fucked myself up, I hurt you even more. Every day I remember that...and every day I wonder how you could forgive me.
Withdrawal was the worst part. Countless nights, I woke up screaming, sobbing. My dreams were full of you. They'd always start out good. Happy, even. Like a window into the old days, when we, the two youngest ones, would always be together. But very soon, in the darkness would creep. I'd fall, fall, fall into an endless abyss; cold and black, feeling nothing, nothing at all.
Not even love.
That was hell.
So I fought. Clawed, gnashed, pulled, tore my way out of that place, all while thinking of you. I needed you. I still need you, every day of my life. I was terrified of seeing you that first time, after I got back. And then...there you were. I didn't even know what to say; my words had failed me, for the first time in a very long time. I saw the tears welling in your pale blue eyes. My heart moaned within my chest and my legs threatened to give out at the sight. It was at that moment that I truly knew all of the pain I had caused you...and I wanted to die for it.
"Alex."
It was a hug. Only a hug? No, it was far more than that. It was your silent signal. It was all of the apologies and explanations and fights and nights of passionate sex rushing through our memories, flooding back, things said without words ever being spoken.
You were holding your heart out to me, in front of millions who would never know.
Two years have passed. You've let me back into your bed, into your life, into your heart. Every time we make love, I treat it with the same reverence as the first time, because that is truly how it feels. I will never get tired of rediscovering you, night after night.
I climb beneath the sheets now, as the cool air of the room has finally sunk into my body. One arm I drape around your waist, pulling your strong, masculine figure to my smaller, bonier one, while my other reaches up to your head, fingers tangling in your dirty blond hair. As I plant little kisses on your shoulders and back, I marvel at how different our skin looks: yours, pale, smooth, virtually unmarked, save for a tattoo here or there; mine, dark, tanned, with a light dusting of hair (which I have everywhere but the top of my head, go figure), and covered in endless tattoos.
This is why we fit, you and I. We're a contradiction. Up and down, day and night...dark and light. As I hold you in my arms, I fight back tears, angry at how much time I wasted. I won't anymore. I have my second chance, my hope, my love restored. No, I won't screw up again. You are the one who stills the storm inside. You've given me everything.
And this is the time for me to start giving back.
FIN