Categories > Original > Fantasy > Rock Angel
Lena awoke a second time, this one for real later in the evening, the beginnings of a cold sweat was just starting to cling to her temples. Her groin ached as she looked over and saw Kurt lying naked and asleep in the bed beside her. She lied still in the darkness for some immeasurable length of time, staring up at the ceiling that her eyes couldn’t quite see before reaching down.
She can't help it.
She tells herself that, at least, and she does so over and over. She keeps her eyes closed tightly, mind carefully blank, but she can't seem to banish Kurt's face, his wonderfully pale and flawless body and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the feelings of his hard cock moving inside her, and her moaning his god-blessed name in rhythm with his movement.
Afterwards she lies shuddering, the cold air coming in through the window that she left open before she fell asleep, chilling her bare skin, reminding her of how very vast and empty the night is. This isn't the first time she's done this, and she knows it never changes anything. But she can't help sleeping, or dreaming, and she can't help that the dream always seems the same, variations on a theme. She wakes up and she craves, and lacks the willpower to keep from wanting or giving in to him.
Hell, she doesn’t want to say no to him.
She and Cole had already lost him once to Courtney, she doesn't want to lose him again to a force she can control.
She laughs to herself, somewhat hysterically. She was always the one calling Kurt the junkie around her and Gracie before she met the Kurt look alike. Accurately, in a purely technical sense; and all the while, her addiction was lurking under the skin, waiting to surface. She was beginning more than ever to understand desperation.
There are cigarettes on the night stand, and a lighter. She lights one, the smoke soothing, calming her somewhat, until the taste of copper on her tongue drowns it out.
She pulled the cigarette away from her lips, swiping a hand across her mouth, and is only dully surprised when it comes away red. She's bitten himself. It was probably while she and Kurt were having sex and when she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming his name, like that actually helped. A flower of blood in the dark . . .
So it still comes down to that, she thought. Even now . . .
“Mommy . . .?” She looks to her right and saw Cole standing by the bed, his stuffed dog clutched in his arms and his cute face scrunched up in slight fear. She smiled as she smoothed back her son’s dirty blonde hair.
“What’s wrong buddy?” He squeezed his dog closer.
“I had a bad dream. I dreamed that daddy went away again and he left us. Can me and Spot sleep with you guys?” She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Kurt.
“Sure you can buddy, hop on in here,” Cole smiled and climbed onto the bed. Kurt smiled and lifted up the blankets and he scooted inside. Lena smiled and she lay back down as Cole snuggled in Kurt’s arms. This was always how she envisioned things. Cole having a bad dream and then coming to ask them if he could sleep with them. Kurt beside her in bed.
If only Kurt knew that Cole wasn't referring to him when he said, 'Daddy'.
She, the well-known Grunge Queen, began counting off on her fingers . . .
Chad Kroger . . .
Bardie Martin . . .
Eddie Vedder . . .
Layne Staley . . .
David Grohl . . .
. . . Chris Cornell . . .
She listed off old Grunge Rockers that were her lovers (or fiancé in David’s position) in her head in order of importance to her. In order of how dearly they treated Cole. Not only as the prodigal, only son of the legendary Kurt Cobain, but as a child, as an innocent child that did not deserve to be judged by how young, rebellious and positively stupid that his parents were.
She sighed and held her hand up in the light. A diamond wedding ring twinkled in the moonlight on her hand and she swallowed. Was it fair? Was it fair to keep it from Kurt. The fact that she was dedicated to someone, that she belonged to another man. The fact that she was married to famous Soundgarden lead singer Chris Cornell? The fact that they had a beautiful five-year-old daughter, Aura Cymbeline together.
The fact that she loved Chris with all her heart?
The fact that Chris seemed to be the only man since Kurt that has ever been able to turn her on the same way as Kurt did, if not more. The almost, weird, twisted fact that they knew each other inside-out. They knew how to push each other’s buttons. They knew when each other was angry, happy, sad, even horny! The fact that Chris knew the blushing secret to make her come and used it frequently. That he knew the words and ministrations to make her moan out his name with pleasure before he even entered her. She sighed and looked down as she moved aside her tank top and put her hands on her slightly swollen middle as her thoughts went back to Chris.
The scary part about their marriage was when they knew what the each other was in the mood for and knew how to compromise. Chris, Italian, soft music and missionary one night, and Lena, Indian, Frank Sinatra and cowgirl the same night. Compromise: One big feast of Italian and Indian, a slew of great soft music and great Frank Sinatra and a mind-blowing time in bed.
She sat up and put her face in her hands where she rubbed her face, eventually doing a Chris and running her fingers through her hair. She was so stupid! She should had been more adamant about Kurt not staying with her! What if Chris came home, his Gretsch guitar in one hand and the hand of their little girl in the other; and saw Kurt Cobain in the bed beside her? She may love Kurt but . . .
She sighed and fell back onto the bed amid pillows, blankets, Kurt, and Cole. She turned onto her left side and hugged Chris’s pillow to her where she breathed in his scent. Chris’s musky male scent that she loved so much. Curve cologne with a slight twinge of pot. She grinned and laughed quietly to herself as she pulled the pillow closer to herself.
She had noticed that her pillow was missing, leaving Chris’s the only one on the bed. She shouldn’t be surprised though. It was another one of her and Chris’s many quirks together as a couple. Whenever one of them had to go out on business (Lena) or touring (Chris), they would take the other’s pillow. It helped them get to sleep at night in a strange environment amid tons of stress. Chris said it was soothing, Lena said it was love, and then Chris would laugh and gaze at her warmly and would say softly, lovingly,
Of course its love Lena baby . . . all the love in the world I feel is for you, Aura and Cole . . .
If it was truly love, then why couldn’t Lena say it? She said those three words to Chris many times in and out of bed, why shouldn’t tonight be any difference. Was it because Kurt was in the bed next to her and if she said those words, she would feel like a major hypocrite?
I love you Chris . . . She sighed in contentment inside and whispered those words out loud as she buried her face in his pillow. She could almost feel the ghost of his strong arms wrap around her and hold her close. The ghost of his full lips pressing gentle, soft, loving kisses to her neck, throat and forehead, They seemed more real, more concrete than thinking them.
But if her fantasy about her, Cole and Kurt was what she really wanted, then why couldn’t she say out loud that was what she really wanted, unlike her love for Chris? She closed her eyes and tried, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not banish her love for Chris from her heart.
She can't help it.
She tells herself that, at least, and she does so over and over. She keeps her eyes closed tightly, mind carefully blank, but she can't seem to banish Kurt's face, his wonderfully pale and flawless body and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the feelings of his hard cock moving inside her, and her moaning his god-blessed name in rhythm with his movement.
Afterwards she lies shuddering, the cold air coming in through the window that she left open before she fell asleep, chilling her bare skin, reminding her of how very vast and empty the night is. This isn't the first time she's done this, and she knows it never changes anything. But she can't help sleeping, or dreaming, and she can't help that the dream always seems the same, variations on a theme. She wakes up and she craves, and lacks the willpower to keep from wanting or giving in to him.
Hell, she doesn’t want to say no to him.
She and Cole had already lost him once to Courtney, she doesn't want to lose him again to a force she can control.
She laughs to herself, somewhat hysterically. She was always the one calling Kurt the junkie around her and Gracie before she met the Kurt look alike. Accurately, in a purely technical sense; and all the while, her addiction was lurking under the skin, waiting to surface. She was beginning more than ever to understand desperation.
There are cigarettes on the night stand, and a lighter. She lights one, the smoke soothing, calming her somewhat, until the taste of copper on her tongue drowns it out.
She pulled the cigarette away from her lips, swiping a hand across her mouth, and is only dully surprised when it comes away red. She's bitten himself. It was probably while she and Kurt were having sex and when she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming his name, like that actually helped. A flower of blood in the dark . . .
So it still comes down to that, she thought. Even now . . .
“Mommy . . .?” She looks to her right and saw Cole standing by the bed, his stuffed dog clutched in his arms and his cute face scrunched up in slight fear. She smiled as she smoothed back her son’s dirty blonde hair.
“What’s wrong buddy?” He squeezed his dog closer.
“I had a bad dream. I dreamed that daddy went away again and he left us. Can me and Spot sleep with you guys?” She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Kurt.
“Sure you can buddy, hop on in here,” Cole smiled and climbed onto the bed. Kurt smiled and lifted up the blankets and he scooted inside. Lena smiled and she lay back down as Cole snuggled in Kurt’s arms. This was always how she envisioned things. Cole having a bad dream and then coming to ask them if he could sleep with them. Kurt beside her in bed.
If only Kurt knew that Cole wasn't referring to him when he said, 'Daddy'.
She, the well-known Grunge Queen, began counting off on her fingers . . .
Chad Kroger . . .
Bardie Martin . . .
Eddie Vedder . . .
Layne Staley . . .
David Grohl . . .
. . . Chris Cornell . . .
She listed off old Grunge Rockers that were her lovers (or fiancé in David’s position) in her head in order of importance to her. In order of how dearly they treated Cole. Not only as the prodigal, only son of the legendary Kurt Cobain, but as a child, as an innocent child that did not deserve to be judged by how young, rebellious and positively stupid that his parents were.
She sighed and held her hand up in the light. A diamond wedding ring twinkled in the moonlight on her hand and she swallowed. Was it fair? Was it fair to keep it from Kurt. The fact that she was dedicated to someone, that she belonged to another man. The fact that she was married to famous Soundgarden lead singer Chris Cornell? The fact that they had a beautiful five-year-old daughter, Aura Cymbeline together.
The fact that she loved Chris with all her heart?
The fact that Chris seemed to be the only man since Kurt that has ever been able to turn her on the same way as Kurt did, if not more. The almost, weird, twisted fact that they knew each other inside-out. They knew how to push each other’s buttons. They knew when each other was angry, happy, sad, even horny! The fact that Chris knew the blushing secret to make her come and used it frequently. That he knew the words and ministrations to make her moan out his name with pleasure before he even entered her. She sighed and looked down as she moved aside her tank top and put her hands on her slightly swollen middle as her thoughts went back to Chris.
The scary part about their marriage was when they knew what the each other was in the mood for and knew how to compromise. Chris, Italian, soft music and missionary one night, and Lena, Indian, Frank Sinatra and cowgirl the same night. Compromise: One big feast of Italian and Indian, a slew of great soft music and great Frank Sinatra and a mind-blowing time in bed.
She sat up and put her face in her hands where she rubbed her face, eventually doing a Chris and running her fingers through her hair. She was so stupid! She should had been more adamant about Kurt not staying with her! What if Chris came home, his Gretsch guitar in one hand and the hand of their little girl in the other; and saw Kurt Cobain in the bed beside her? She may love Kurt but . . .
She sighed and fell back onto the bed amid pillows, blankets, Kurt, and Cole. She turned onto her left side and hugged Chris’s pillow to her where she breathed in his scent. Chris’s musky male scent that she loved so much. Curve cologne with a slight twinge of pot. She grinned and laughed quietly to herself as she pulled the pillow closer to herself.
She had noticed that her pillow was missing, leaving Chris’s the only one on the bed. She shouldn’t be surprised though. It was another one of her and Chris’s many quirks together as a couple. Whenever one of them had to go out on business (Lena) or touring (Chris), they would take the other’s pillow. It helped them get to sleep at night in a strange environment amid tons of stress. Chris said it was soothing, Lena said it was love, and then Chris would laugh and gaze at her warmly and would say softly, lovingly,
Of course its love Lena baby . . . all the love in the world I feel is for you, Aura and Cole . . .
If it was truly love, then why couldn’t Lena say it? She said those three words to Chris many times in and out of bed, why shouldn’t tonight be any difference. Was it because Kurt was in the bed next to her and if she said those words, she would feel like a major hypocrite?
I love you Chris . . . She sighed in contentment inside and whispered those words out loud as she buried her face in his pillow. She could almost feel the ghost of his strong arms wrap around her and hold her close. The ghost of his full lips pressing gentle, soft, loving kisses to her neck, throat and forehead, They seemed more real, more concrete than thinking them.
But if her fantasy about her, Cole and Kurt was what she really wanted, then why couldn’t she say out loud that was what she really wanted, unlike her love for Chris? She closed her eyes and tried, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not banish her love for Chris from her heart.
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