Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
I Don't Want to Hurt You
2 reviewsBetrayed by a friend. Alone by choice. PIKEY one-shot. Set before "A Little Less Sixteen Candles". Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
0Unrated
I Don’t Want to Hurt You
I hate this. This… not-living. I’m not dead and I’m not alive, but I’m more alive than dead even though I’d much rather be resting in peace than living the lifestyle that I once associated with eternal youth and beauty. I will be forever young, yes, and it is true that the change has enhanced my looks even further in the field of being a perfect bad-boy. I’ve got more energy too, not to mention the ability to lure in whoever I wish to have. I want to have my dick sucked by a supermodel? I can get it done. I want to make out with a rock star? I don’t even need chat-up lines anymore. I want to go out in the day? Can’t happen.
Not unless I want to turn into a pile of lifeless ash incapable of doing any of the things that I ever could do, even before he turned me.
You see, I, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, am a vampire. A creature of the night. The most infamous night-time monster known for silky seduction and drop-dead sumptuousness.
It started when they took my best friend, a younger teenager by the name of Brendon Urie. At first, I tried to help him; I let him shelter from the sun in my basement bedroom, bought him mice from the pet shop in order for him to get his fix of blood, I even let him vent his extra energy in ways that made it impossible for me to walk for a good few days after. As it turns out, the legends are somewhat true, vampires are extremely lustful creatures.
Trust me; I am one.
It was all good with Bren for the first three months or so, like he was actually fighting against the darkness as it coursed through his blackening veins, but then something happened. I don’t have a clue what it was, but he just flipped out. Right whilst we were in the middle of doing the act that helped him to offload his stress and frustration in such a way that it made me scream more than moan like a normal lover. I think the human bloodlust finally got too much for him to take. So he bit me. Hard, rough, in a way that made my orgasm all the more enjoyable and prolonged.
Until I realised what had happened. Until I woke up four days later, no sign of Brendon, naked and tied to my bed. Nothing but a note left in Bren’s panicked chicken-scratch explaining to me what had happened. What he’d done.
The motherfucker had turned me. Something that I might not have minded had I not seen the madness it had bought down upon my friend.
In response I did exactly what Bren had done; went running to my closest friend. One Michael James Way, a lanky seventeen-year-old with a fascination about vampirism as it so happened. He didn’t even scream when I showed him my fangs for the first time, just hugged me close as I finally let it hit me with it’s full stake-like impact; I’m dead.
The living dead.
Mikey was fantastic, went about searching for some sort of cure before the darkness of vampiracy could claim my soul like it did Brendon’s. He worked hard, too hard for it to be healthy, and it eventually had to take it’s toll; the boy collapsed flat out in front of me. Fainted safely into my arms with a fever burning through his forehead like bloodlust was fast burning through my persistent resistance. The way his neck looked in the moonlight, slick with sweat and looking very much like something aching to be bitten by my virgin teeth.
And that’s when it hit me; I can’t bite Mikey fucking Way. Not because I’m against forcing another human being to live this kind of half-life, which I strongly am, but because I love Mikey. Too much to put him through the searing pain of the bite.
So I just carried him up to his bedroom, tucked him into his Batman covers and sat with him, occasionally leaving to get him a fresh glass of water or a clean cloth to remove the sweat from his brow. Me being with Mikey, squeezing his hand as he whimpered his way through a stressful sleep, made me realise something that I’d known all along; Bren and I was just mindless fucking, me helping out a mate.
Me sitting with Mikes whilst he’s too sick to put up any sort of fight should I wish to bite him, however, is love. Proper, true love.
The kind of love that forced me to crawl into bed with him when he started shivering, mumbling words that probably wouldn’t have made sense to even his big brother, and held him close to my chest. Only for me to realise that I’m cold. That I couldn’t help him warm up and feel my presence because, as I have stated before, my body is dead. Cold. Leaving my only option to be watching him battle through the illness alone, my sole way of providing him with comfort being me singing him all of his favourite songs on an endless loop.
When the fever eventually did back the fuck off, a good five days later, the bloodlust was almost driving me insane. And Mikey knew that, even through his fog of near-sickness. Hell, he even offered himself up to me in an effort to stop the blatant agony that I could no longer keep out of my eyes. I was going to do it, too. I very nearly caved in, my fangs were extended and everything.
Instead, I kissed him.
Square on the lips, my fangs retracting immediately through fear of scratching his perfectly pinked lips. At first he just stood there, hung on my mouth as though unable to separate himself from my face, but after a few seconds of my lips massaging his own, he started kissing me back as though his life depended on it. Hell, little Mr Innocent even threw his hands into the mix; weaving them into my back pockets and squeezing with just the right intensity to make me moan.
It’s when he started nuzzling his face into my neck that the problems began; his own swanlike body-part was in plain view, waiting to be nibbled on or sucked at, like most normal kissing-sessions would involve.
And then I… I…
I hurt him.
I made him bleed. I fucking knocked the love of my life out with my urgency to get away from the temptation of killing him. What did I do? I threw him against the far wall, making the plaster crack and making my baby bleed. Bleed blood. His blood. The blood that would make me whole inside.
Hence the fact that I am where I am now; at the headquarters of some make-do vampire hunting squad, headed by some blonde kid named Patrick. I didn’t even wait to see if Mikes was okay, if he needed to go to hospital for the nasty looking gash splintered into the back of his head. When I left, he was still unconscious. All I did was text his big brother, before running for the small-time vampire eradication company.
Because they’re my last hope at curing this thing.
My last hope of not living my life out by making myself remote from all that I want and desire.
My last hope at holding Mikey Way in my arms once more.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope this is alright! This is set before the video for “A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me””. Sorry this kinda failed, but I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)
I hate this. This… not-living. I’m not dead and I’m not alive, but I’m more alive than dead even though I’d much rather be resting in peace than living the lifestyle that I once associated with eternal youth and beauty. I will be forever young, yes, and it is true that the change has enhanced my looks even further in the field of being a perfect bad-boy. I’ve got more energy too, not to mention the ability to lure in whoever I wish to have. I want to have my dick sucked by a supermodel? I can get it done. I want to make out with a rock star? I don’t even need chat-up lines anymore. I want to go out in the day? Can’t happen.
Not unless I want to turn into a pile of lifeless ash incapable of doing any of the things that I ever could do, even before he turned me.
You see, I, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, am a vampire. A creature of the night. The most infamous night-time monster known for silky seduction and drop-dead sumptuousness.
It started when they took my best friend, a younger teenager by the name of Brendon Urie. At first, I tried to help him; I let him shelter from the sun in my basement bedroom, bought him mice from the pet shop in order for him to get his fix of blood, I even let him vent his extra energy in ways that made it impossible for me to walk for a good few days after. As it turns out, the legends are somewhat true, vampires are extremely lustful creatures.
Trust me; I am one.
It was all good with Bren for the first three months or so, like he was actually fighting against the darkness as it coursed through his blackening veins, but then something happened. I don’t have a clue what it was, but he just flipped out. Right whilst we were in the middle of doing the act that helped him to offload his stress and frustration in such a way that it made me scream more than moan like a normal lover. I think the human bloodlust finally got too much for him to take. So he bit me. Hard, rough, in a way that made my orgasm all the more enjoyable and prolonged.
Until I realised what had happened. Until I woke up four days later, no sign of Brendon, naked and tied to my bed. Nothing but a note left in Bren’s panicked chicken-scratch explaining to me what had happened. What he’d done.
The motherfucker had turned me. Something that I might not have minded had I not seen the madness it had bought down upon my friend.
In response I did exactly what Bren had done; went running to my closest friend. One Michael James Way, a lanky seventeen-year-old with a fascination about vampirism as it so happened. He didn’t even scream when I showed him my fangs for the first time, just hugged me close as I finally let it hit me with it’s full stake-like impact; I’m dead.
The living dead.
Mikey was fantastic, went about searching for some sort of cure before the darkness of vampiracy could claim my soul like it did Brendon’s. He worked hard, too hard for it to be healthy, and it eventually had to take it’s toll; the boy collapsed flat out in front of me. Fainted safely into my arms with a fever burning through his forehead like bloodlust was fast burning through my persistent resistance. The way his neck looked in the moonlight, slick with sweat and looking very much like something aching to be bitten by my virgin teeth.
And that’s when it hit me; I can’t bite Mikey fucking Way. Not because I’m against forcing another human being to live this kind of half-life, which I strongly am, but because I love Mikey. Too much to put him through the searing pain of the bite.
So I just carried him up to his bedroom, tucked him into his Batman covers and sat with him, occasionally leaving to get him a fresh glass of water or a clean cloth to remove the sweat from his brow. Me being with Mikey, squeezing his hand as he whimpered his way through a stressful sleep, made me realise something that I’d known all along; Bren and I was just mindless fucking, me helping out a mate.
Me sitting with Mikes whilst he’s too sick to put up any sort of fight should I wish to bite him, however, is love. Proper, true love.
The kind of love that forced me to crawl into bed with him when he started shivering, mumbling words that probably wouldn’t have made sense to even his big brother, and held him close to my chest. Only for me to realise that I’m cold. That I couldn’t help him warm up and feel my presence because, as I have stated before, my body is dead. Cold. Leaving my only option to be watching him battle through the illness alone, my sole way of providing him with comfort being me singing him all of his favourite songs on an endless loop.
When the fever eventually did back the fuck off, a good five days later, the bloodlust was almost driving me insane. And Mikey knew that, even through his fog of near-sickness. Hell, he even offered himself up to me in an effort to stop the blatant agony that I could no longer keep out of my eyes. I was going to do it, too. I very nearly caved in, my fangs were extended and everything.
Instead, I kissed him.
Square on the lips, my fangs retracting immediately through fear of scratching his perfectly pinked lips. At first he just stood there, hung on my mouth as though unable to separate himself from my face, but after a few seconds of my lips massaging his own, he started kissing me back as though his life depended on it. Hell, little Mr Innocent even threw his hands into the mix; weaving them into my back pockets and squeezing with just the right intensity to make me moan.
It’s when he started nuzzling his face into my neck that the problems began; his own swanlike body-part was in plain view, waiting to be nibbled on or sucked at, like most normal kissing-sessions would involve.
And then I… I…
I hurt him.
I made him bleed. I fucking knocked the love of my life out with my urgency to get away from the temptation of killing him. What did I do? I threw him against the far wall, making the plaster crack and making my baby bleed. Bleed blood. His blood. The blood that would make me whole inside.
Hence the fact that I am where I am now; at the headquarters of some make-do vampire hunting squad, headed by some blonde kid named Patrick. I didn’t even wait to see if Mikes was okay, if he needed to go to hospital for the nasty looking gash splintered into the back of his head. When I left, he was still unconscious. All I did was text his big brother, before running for the small-time vampire eradication company.
Because they’re my last hope at curing this thing.
My last hope of not living my life out by making myself remote from all that I want and desire.
My last hope at holding Mikey Way in my arms once more.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope this is alright! This is set before the video for “A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me””. Sorry this kinda failed, but I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)
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