Categories > Celebrities > Motley Crue > Shameful Metaphors

Conflicting Emotions

by LauraiSlaxl 7 reviews

Nikki and Tommy return to the apartment, and Randall calls to check on them.

Category: Motley Crue - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Romance - Published: 2011-12-09 - Updated: 2011-12-09 - 883 words - Complete

By the time we get back to Wilshire, I’m exhausted. Nikki lets me lean on him, supporting my weight with his arm as he pushes the apartment door open. A guy with long, greasy hair—presumably another dealer—approaches us, a gapped-tooth grin on his face, a baggie full of white powder in his hand.

“Sixx,” he says, and inclines his head briefly at me, “I got some Persian; y’wanna share?”

His upper lip curls and a flash of disgust crosses his face. “Persian is the cheapest shit heroin,” he says. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m sharing that with you.”

The guy gives him an injured look. “Fine.” His gaze swivels to meet mine. “What about you?”

I am tired; too tired to reply. I look up at Nikki, and his grip on me tightens.

“Lee doesn’t use heroin,” he snaps. “He just went through a hell of a lot more than he deserves; leave him th’ fuck alone.” He turns me away and leads me to the stairs. When we are halfway there, he pauses and leans me back against the wall, cupping my jaw with one hand, trailing his other fingers slowly down my injured cheek, making me shiver.

“Lee,” he says quietly. “I… uh…” His green eyes lock onto mine, a rarity, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. “Are you gonna be okay?” His skin on mine is warm, soothing. Repeated strokes are causing my brain to go fuzzy; I’m forgetting what happened, forgetting everything. I tremble beneath his touch, but it’s for an entirely different reason than earlier.

“I’m fine, Nikki,” I murmur, reaching out and putting my hand on his side. For once, he doesn’t tense, just takes it, his face inches from mine. There are tears shining in his eyes, and I reach up with my free hand to wipe them away.

“Really,” I whisper, “I’m all right, Sixx.” And then I lean in, and he leans forward, and our lips connect at the seams. There is nothing between us now, nothing but feelings and heat and unspoken apologies. His hips rock against mine, and suddenly, I feel a rush of lust, strong and lightning-hot, between my legs. I reach between us and grab his crotch, and feel his hardness swollen beneath his jeans. He gasps into my mouth, and pulls away from me, eyes glazed over.

“Let’s go,” he says hoarsely, taking my hand in his again and almost dragging me up the stairs. We reach his room and he fumbles with the key for a moment before fitting it into the lock and opening the door. Once it’s locked again, he shoves me against the wall, attacking my mouth with his. I have never felt him be this passionate, this aggressively sexual. He shoves his leg between mine, and I groan.

His fingers slip under the hemline of the top of my costume, and he starts slipping it over my head. Once it’s off, I work on his cape and jeans while he tugs off the pants. When we’re standing there with nothing on but our boxer shorts, he slides his hands slowly down my sides, until he is cupping my ass, and fuses our mouths together again, working my lips slowly, gently. He backs up, taking me with him, running his tongue against mine as he pushes me back onto the familiar, soft mattress. I hook my legs around his waist, and he stares down into my eyes, his expression soft.

“Christ, Lee… how did I ever get you?” he whispers, and then he slips his hand below the waistband of my boxers and wraps his fingers around me, stroking until I’m alive and hot in his palm, eyes halfway shut as my love for him blossoms.


Afterwards, as I lie curled up in his arms, his chest rising and falling gently against my back, the phone rings. He makes a sleepy sound at the back of his throat, and I reach over and lift the receiver.


“Hey, Tommy, it’s Randall! How have you been?”

I am surprised to hear his voice; I haven’t spoken to Randall since I moved in with Nikki and am unsure as to how he got the number.

“Randall, hey,” I reply. “I’m fine, thanks. You?”

“Missing you,” he says. “How’s Nikki treating you?”

I hesitate, thinking of the dark bruise on my cheek, of the way he slammed me against the bathroom wall. I remember the way his eyes flashed, grew dark—but there’s also his arms around my waist, his lips brushing lightly against the nape of my neck. I can feel his heart beating in rhythm with mine, and confusion twists in my brain.

“He’s amazing,” I say finally. “I fucking love him.”

“That’s great, Tommy,” says Randall. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Nikki stirs against me, running his fingers through my hair. I swallow, shut my eyes.

“I gotta go,” I say, before softly hanging up the phone. Nikki Sixx rolls me over in his arms and kisses the tip of my nose, and I struggle to hold back a host of tears I don’t understand.
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