Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Dehydration
3 reviewsNot all of Fun Ghoul's ideas are good ones. Short Dangerverse FRIKEY one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
2Ambiance
Dehydration
“Hey, Kobra, are you alright?”
My fifteen-year-old, older than none of the others aside from me, companion keeps stumbling clumsily forwards, eyes glazed and mouth hung open ever so slightly.
He’s been like this for the past two hours on our endless trip back to the diner from where his bike cut-out on us about four hours back. The first two hours he refused to even look at me, panicking about the fact that his big brother and our ‘leader’ had told him, in no uncertain terms, not to use the bike until Party Poison has finished teaching him to ride it properly. But no; I woke up this morning feeling particularly adventurous and, because I know Kobra Kid will do anything for one of my kisses, decided that we were going to go on a little adventure all by ourselves.
The idea was originally intended to be somewhat romantic. Me and my boyfriend of two months, ever since this whole fighting-the-man shit started, just riding off into the desert, maybe finding an oasis, and just spending the day with no one other than us. Then it kind of mutated into my idea of giving a middle-finger to the older guys, especially Doctor Death after he confiscated my ray gun for ‘improper use’, and so I accidently-on-purpose left our communicators back at base.
Meaning that we could die out here and the guys would never know. Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to phone for help if my little Kiddie gets hurt.
Or clean passes-out, like he looks like he could do any minute.
When it registers that I can no longer hear two sets of lagging footsteps but one, I turn around like a lightning bolt, concern etched into my heart for the one thing that I’ve found that is truly worth fighting for. To see that he’s stopped; swaying precariously on the spot and blinking profusely as though he can blink away the burning sunlight of the desert.
Without even thinking about it, I’ve rushed to his side and wrapped an arm under his shoulders. Just in time too because, with a desperate gasp of boiled air, he collapses into my side, eyes lolling shut as I take on the minute weight of his limp body.
“Kobra!” I yell, panic frantic in my voice, laying him down on the ground as I kneel next to his lifeless form. “Shit. Kiddie, can ya hear me?”
No response. Nothing, not even a groan. Only a laboured inhale followed, after a too-long stretch of time, exhale.
My eyes scan his body, searching desperately for any sign of a wound or injury; anything that I can fix-up and heal with my loving hands, but no, there’s nothing. Just panting, dark hollows under his eyes and dry, cracked lips waiting to be kissed. Sweat is pouring from his forehead, sliding down his perfectly defined face and dripping down his neck onto where my fingers are intently checking his pulse for any abnormalities.
Dehydration. Exhaustion too, probably.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen the poor kid get a proper night’s sleep since this whole Killjoy malarkey started up; Mi-, Kobra Kid, gets these horrendous nightmares, you see. All about the fires that claimed his home, his parents, everything he once knew and loved and trusted, burning up around him. I think Party gets them too, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone other than maybe Jet Star, but he’s not the one who wakes up screaming most nights. Kobra only doesn’t when I’ve got him curled up in my bed with me, head on my chest and my hand through his sandy hair.
Because I'm his Fun and he’s my Kiddie; together forever, even when it’s the end of the world.
I fumble my hands into the rucksack I bought along for our little daytrip and pull out my last bottle of water. There’s not a lot left after our hours of relentless hiking in the heat of the unforgiving midday sun, but my baby needs it right now.
All because I was a stupid, cocky bastard and decided that I could handle going into the wilderness without any form of communication. He even begged me not to, said that he was tired and wanted to chill with his big brother for the day, but no; when I get an idea into my head that sounds like it could be at least a little bit fun, I can be ridiculously stubborn.
And now look what it’s cost me. My boyfriend’s wellbeing. Something that is far more important to me than my own, because I love him. More than absolutely everything; more than the sun, more than the stars, more than the guitar Jet and I managed to make out of debris. Hell, even more than I love having my precious freedom. And that’s saying something.
I look from the bottle to my Kiddie’s parched, open lips. I can’t just force the liquid down his throat; odds are that he’ll choke and wake up in a frightened daze. No, I’ve got to do this right. It’s the least I owe him after dragging him all the way out here for my own selfish, stupid reasons.
A sudden wave of inspiration hits me like the tidal wave that I really wouldn’t mind seeing right now and I unscrew the lid, tilting it slightly at my own lips until they are soaked with moisture. It takes painful amounts of self-control not to gulp the entire supply down in one, but Kobra needs this now. And I love Kobra. Therefore, the water is his. Simple.
My hands gently pull his pretty little head into my lap, taking a second to thumb some of his silken hair out of his perfect face, and I can’t stop myself from staring at the sleeping beauty in my embrace; even unconscious, he truly is the most captivatingly enchanting thing I’ve ever seen. Because I truly do love him.
He groans slightly, a sound of raw ache and agony, making me focus back on my task and not what I would be doing to him if we were back at the diner instead of stranded in this godforsaken wasteland.
I press my lips, still with tiny diamonds of water sprinkling from them, onto his. I start to work my mouth over his own tunnel of pleasure, my lips massaging the moisture onto his and then my tongue snaking into it through force of habit. I keep going, butterflies and bats alike flittering in my tummy like they always do no matter how many times I’ve kissed Kobra, the calmness of the original kiss giving way to my insatiable hunger so that it becomes more forceful, more urgent; more begging him to kiss back so I know that he’s alright.
When he does, it isn’t strong and lustful like normally is, it’s a soft whimper of pleasure shortly followed by his lips pursing onto mine. It might be small, but it’s perfect. Just like everything else he ever does.
Just like him.
I pull back and immediately replace the key of my lips with the open water bottle, making him take a good long drink before he can realise that he’s using up the last of my supply and insist that I have it. He blinks up at me when I remove the drained bottle, brown eyes bold against his miraculously pale skin.
So fucking pretty. And all mine.
“Hey there, sleepy-head.” I coo down to him, planting a soft peck on his burning forehead. “How you feeling?”
“Better now.” He sighs, leaning up to catch my lips with his but missing and getting my nose instead; poor kid’s all drowsy, but still cute as fuck. “Whoops. Uh, sorry, Fun Ghoul.”
“Don’t be, Kiddie.” My tone’s drenched in adulated adoration, my thumbs rubbing circles into his temples. “You’re hella cute when you’re out of it.”
His face breaks into a sleepy smile, making small giggles creep out of my mouth.
“Found them!”
I snap my head around at the call, my heart skipping more than several beats, and see the good old Trans Am motoring towards us, Party Poison sticking his head of the window and with binoculars glued firmly to his face; which I can see from here is stained with rampant worry.
Worry that’ll soon turn to anger at us for being so stupid. At me because I’m going to take the blame for this, for an excursion that will most likely earn Kobra a trip to the medical room back at Headquarters.
But I don’t care about Party being mad at me. Not at all.
Not when I’ve got my Kiddie’s smiling face gazing up at me.
A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope that this was alright! I know it isn’t all that great, but my real motive for posting this was so I could put out an A/N without spamming FicWad. I’m flying out to New York early on Monday morning (I live in England, UK) and things are getting pretty hectic over here so I won’t be uploading anything until probably around two Mondays time. Anyway, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :D
Also, if you know any cool places in New York (especially if you know any vegetarian restaurants) I’d love to hear about ‘em! :)
“Hey, Kobra, are you alright?”
My fifteen-year-old, older than none of the others aside from me, companion keeps stumbling clumsily forwards, eyes glazed and mouth hung open ever so slightly.
He’s been like this for the past two hours on our endless trip back to the diner from where his bike cut-out on us about four hours back. The first two hours he refused to even look at me, panicking about the fact that his big brother and our ‘leader’ had told him, in no uncertain terms, not to use the bike until Party Poison has finished teaching him to ride it properly. But no; I woke up this morning feeling particularly adventurous and, because I know Kobra Kid will do anything for one of my kisses, decided that we were going to go on a little adventure all by ourselves.
The idea was originally intended to be somewhat romantic. Me and my boyfriend of two months, ever since this whole fighting-the-man shit started, just riding off into the desert, maybe finding an oasis, and just spending the day with no one other than us. Then it kind of mutated into my idea of giving a middle-finger to the older guys, especially Doctor Death after he confiscated my ray gun for ‘improper use’, and so I accidently-on-purpose left our communicators back at base.
Meaning that we could die out here and the guys would never know. Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to phone for help if my little Kiddie gets hurt.
Or clean passes-out, like he looks like he could do any minute.
When it registers that I can no longer hear two sets of lagging footsteps but one, I turn around like a lightning bolt, concern etched into my heart for the one thing that I’ve found that is truly worth fighting for. To see that he’s stopped; swaying precariously on the spot and blinking profusely as though he can blink away the burning sunlight of the desert.
Without even thinking about it, I’ve rushed to his side and wrapped an arm under his shoulders. Just in time too because, with a desperate gasp of boiled air, he collapses into my side, eyes lolling shut as I take on the minute weight of his limp body.
“Kobra!” I yell, panic frantic in my voice, laying him down on the ground as I kneel next to his lifeless form. “Shit. Kiddie, can ya hear me?”
No response. Nothing, not even a groan. Only a laboured inhale followed, after a too-long stretch of time, exhale.
My eyes scan his body, searching desperately for any sign of a wound or injury; anything that I can fix-up and heal with my loving hands, but no, there’s nothing. Just panting, dark hollows under his eyes and dry, cracked lips waiting to be kissed. Sweat is pouring from his forehead, sliding down his perfectly defined face and dripping down his neck onto where my fingers are intently checking his pulse for any abnormalities.
Dehydration. Exhaustion too, probably.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen the poor kid get a proper night’s sleep since this whole Killjoy malarkey started up; Mi-, Kobra Kid, gets these horrendous nightmares, you see. All about the fires that claimed his home, his parents, everything he once knew and loved and trusted, burning up around him. I think Party gets them too, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone other than maybe Jet Star, but he’s not the one who wakes up screaming most nights. Kobra only doesn’t when I’ve got him curled up in my bed with me, head on my chest and my hand through his sandy hair.
Because I'm his Fun and he’s my Kiddie; together forever, even when it’s the end of the world.
I fumble my hands into the rucksack I bought along for our little daytrip and pull out my last bottle of water. There’s not a lot left after our hours of relentless hiking in the heat of the unforgiving midday sun, but my baby needs it right now.
All because I was a stupid, cocky bastard and decided that I could handle going into the wilderness without any form of communication. He even begged me not to, said that he was tired and wanted to chill with his big brother for the day, but no; when I get an idea into my head that sounds like it could be at least a little bit fun, I can be ridiculously stubborn.
And now look what it’s cost me. My boyfriend’s wellbeing. Something that is far more important to me than my own, because I love him. More than absolutely everything; more than the sun, more than the stars, more than the guitar Jet and I managed to make out of debris. Hell, even more than I love having my precious freedom. And that’s saying something.
I look from the bottle to my Kiddie’s parched, open lips. I can’t just force the liquid down his throat; odds are that he’ll choke and wake up in a frightened daze. No, I’ve got to do this right. It’s the least I owe him after dragging him all the way out here for my own selfish, stupid reasons.
A sudden wave of inspiration hits me like the tidal wave that I really wouldn’t mind seeing right now and I unscrew the lid, tilting it slightly at my own lips until they are soaked with moisture. It takes painful amounts of self-control not to gulp the entire supply down in one, but Kobra needs this now. And I love Kobra. Therefore, the water is his. Simple.
My hands gently pull his pretty little head into my lap, taking a second to thumb some of his silken hair out of his perfect face, and I can’t stop myself from staring at the sleeping beauty in my embrace; even unconscious, he truly is the most captivatingly enchanting thing I’ve ever seen. Because I truly do love him.
He groans slightly, a sound of raw ache and agony, making me focus back on my task and not what I would be doing to him if we were back at the diner instead of stranded in this godforsaken wasteland.
I press my lips, still with tiny diamonds of water sprinkling from them, onto his. I start to work my mouth over his own tunnel of pleasure, my lips massaging the moisture onto his and then my tongue snaking into it through force of habit. I keep going, butterflies and bats alike flittering in my tummy like they always do no matter how many times I’ve kissed Kobra, the calmness of the original kiss giving way to my insatiable hunger so that it becomes more forceful, more urgent; more begging him to kiss back so I know that he’s alright.
When he does, it isn’t strong and lustful like normally is, it’s a soft whimper of pleasure shortly followed by his lips pursing onto mine. It might be small, but it’s perfect. Just like everything else he ever does.
Just like him.
I pull back and immediately replace the key of my lips with the open water bottle, making him take a good long drink before he can realise that he’s using up the last of my supply and insist that I have it. He blinks up at me when I remove the drained bottle, brown eyes bold against his miraculously pale skin.
So fucking pretty. And all mine.
“Hey there, sleepy-head.” I coo down to him, planting a soft peck on his burning forehead. “How you feeling?”
“Better now.” He sighs, leaning up to catch my lips with his but missing and getting my nose instead; poor kid’s all drowsy, but still cute as fuck. “Whoops. Uh, sorry, Fun Ghoul.”
“Don’t be, Kiddie.” My tone’s drenched in adulated adoration, my thumbs rubbing circles into his temples. “You’re hella cute when you’re out of it.”
His face breaks into a sleepy smile, making small giggles creep out of my mouth.
“Found them!”
I snap my head around at the call, my heart skipping more than several beats, and see the good old Trans Am motoring towards us, Party Poison sticking his head of the window and with binoculars glued firmly to his face; which I can see from here is stained with rampant worry.
Worry that’ll soon turn to anger at us for being so stupid. At me because I’m going to take the blame for this, for an excursion that will most likely earn Kobra a trip to the medical room back at Headquarters.
But I don’t care about Party being mad at me. Not at all.
Not when I’ve got my Kiddie’s smiling face gazing up at me.
A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope that this was alright! I know it isn’t all that great, but my real motive for posting this was so I could put out an A/N without spamming FicWad. I’m flying out to New York early on Monday morning (I live in England, UK) and things are getting pretty hectic over here so I won’t be uploading anything until probably around two Mondays time. Anyway, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :D
Also, if you know any cool places in New York (especially if you know any vegetarian restaurants) I’d love to hear about ‘em! :)
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