Categories > Celebrities > Motley Crue
here there be monsters
0 reviewsMaybe we’d already exploded and this was just the radioactive fallout.
0Unrated
A/N: Also posted to my rockfic account, lovelettersinthesand. Inspired by the 'Ten Seconds to Love' performance from the 1987 Tacoma show. I tried to capture the absolute unhinged feeling of the video and how as soon as Vince has the JD brought out shit feels a lot more dangerous underneath everyone's smiles and laughter.
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Tacoma, 1987
Ten minutes before the show Nikki walked up to me and said, you’re a piece of shit, Lee. Then he laughed his ass off. I just breathed through it and tried to remember how yesterday his mom and sister tried talking to him at the hotel and he screamed at them through the door. I could see chain links of thoughts looping through his head through his glassy halfway there eyes. I reached out to put a hand on him, on his arm or something, and he reacted like I’d slapped him, jerking back, casting his eyes to the side.
“Fuck, man,” he said, “what the fuck?” He looked coked out and dangerous and I didn’t try again.
On stage shit was as normal. Vince was a tool masquerading as one of the guys. Mick was just trying to play the fucking concert. Nikki fucked out a slinking dirty little bass solo and kept count with me through it, his eyes on mine, as I matched his rhythm. It felt good, like we were fucking for real. He was filthy and looked like a god in his outfit and I wanted everything, violence, so much it was making my head hurt.
At some point Vince got it in his head to get a bunch of Jack and have Nikki throw it into the crowd. Then he told Nikki to down a bottle. Then he told Nikki to give the rest to me. It felt like I was watching myself from the rafters as Nikki walked up to me with the quarter inch of JD and handed me the bottle. He had his wiseass smirk. Like this was some joke between us.
Then the bottle was at my mouth and I could taste Nikki on it, his spit and his cigarettes. I swallowed it in one go. Everything was so much, the hot white stage lights and the crowd seething in the darkness beyond. We were too much, maybe, overloaded, ready to explode. Or maybe we’d already exploded and this was just the radioactive fallout.
I licked the taste of Nikki off my mouth. He was hunched over his bass squeezing the notes out, strangling it to death like he did everything. He glanced at me again as the lights left him. It was just for a second, and I couldn’t read his expression.
Later when we’d gone backstage he crowded me into my dressing room, kicking the door shut with his three-inch boot before slamming me against the wall and latching his teeth to my neck like a fucking vampire. It would make sense, I’d always thought. Of all the fucking people in the world to turn out to be immortal. After all we were already living in this post-apocalyptic haze, coke residue on the mirrors, Vince’s stupid Jack stunt on stage. We weren’t going to survive unless we couldn’t die.
My pulse jumped under his mouth, and I grinded up, dragging my crotch against his. He grabbed my wrists; pinned them to the wall. He was growling in my ear like a fucking animal, and I fell into the tide of excess, happy to drown as long as it was in his arms.
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Tacoma, 1987
Ten minutes before the show Nikki walked up to me and said, you’re a piece of shit, Lee. Then he laughed his ass off. I just breathed through it and tried to remember how yesterday his mom and sister tried talking to him at the hotel and he screamed at them through the door. I could see chain links of thoughts looping through his head through his glassy halfway there eyes. I reached out to put a hand on him, on his arm or something, and he reacted like I’d slapped him, jerking back, casting his eyes to the side.
“Fuck, man,” he said, “what the fuck?” He looked coked out and dangerous and I didn’t try again.
On stage shit was as normal. Vince was a tool masquerading as one of the guys. Mick was just trying to play the fucking concert. Nikki fucked out a slinking dirty little bass solo and kept count with me through it, his eyes on mine, as I matched his rhythm. It felt good, like we were fucking for real. He was filthy and looked like a god in his outfit and I wanted everything, violence, so much it was making my head hurt.
At some point Vince got it in his head to get a bunch of Jack and have Nikki throw it into the crowd. Then he told Nikki to down a bottle. Then he told Nikki to give the rest to me. It felt like I was watching myself from the rafters as Nikki walked up to me with the quarter inch of JD and handed me the bottle. He had his wiseass smirk. Like this was some joke between us.
Then the bottle was at my mouth and I could taste Nikki on it, his spit and his cigarettes. I swallowed it in one go. Everything was so much, the hot white stage lights and the crowd seething in the darkness beyond. We were too much, maybe, overloaded, ready to explode. Or maybe we’d already exploded and this was just the radioactive fallout.
I licked the taste of Nikki off my mouth. He was hunched over his bass squeezing the notes out, strangling it to death like he did everything. He glanced at me again as the lights left him. It was just for a second, and I couldn’t read his expression.
Later when we’d gone backstage he crowded me into my dressing room, kicking the door shut with his three-inch boot before slamming me against the wall and latching his teeth to my neck like a fucking vampire. It would make sense, I’d always thought. Of all the fucking people in the world to turn out to be immortal. After all we were already living in this post-apocalyptic haze, coke residue on the mirrors, Vince’s stupid Jack stunt on stage. We weren’t going to survive unless we couldn’t die.
My pulse jumped under his mouth, and I grinded up, dragging my crotch against his. He grabbed my wrists; pinned them to the wall. He was growling in my ear like a fucking animal, and I fell into the tide of excess, happy to drown as long as it was in his arms.
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