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• Marilyn Manson Paradise

  (#) punk73lover 2009-06-22

  Skipping through the house, radio on full blast Steven sang along with the music. "Step inside, walk this way, you and me babe. Hey hey!" The blonde skidded to a halt in the front room, swinging his hips in a somewhat seductive fashion. He ran his hands down over his sides, tilted his head back, thrust his hips forward.
  
  "Love is like a bomb, baby come on, get it on. Livin' like a lover with a radar phone! Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp, demolition woman, can I be your man?" Steven ran a hand under his shirt, caressed his chest, and lifted the material over his head. He tossed the black shirt on the couch, and stretched.
  
  "Television lover, baby, go all night, Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet. Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah!" Steven now fiddled with his belt buckle, and looked up at the imaginary crowd. He'd always wanted to be a stripper...But the role as a drummer in one of the greatest rock bands in history was good too, right?
  
  "Hey! C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up! Break the bubble, break it up." After getting the belt out from the loops on his pants, he tossed it aside. Prancing over to the stripper pole he'd had installed in his front room, the blonde Gunner swung around it, bending his knees as he did, head tilting back once more.
  
  "Pour some sugar on me. Ooh, in the name of love! Pour some sugar on me. C'mon fire me up. Pour your sugar on me. Ooohh, I can't get enough!" Quickly standing, Steven wrapped his arms around the pole, and thrust his crotch up against it.
  
  "I'm hot, sticky sweet." He grinned, running a hand through his hair, then pointing down at his feet. "From my head to my feet. Yeah!" The drummer then held up a hand, stood stiff as a board. "Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!" At that moment, he pressed a button on the wall, which made the lights on the ceiling flash different colors. "Crazy little woman in a one man show. Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love...Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up!" Letting go of the pole, Steven took a few steps away.
  
  "You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little, tease a little more." At that, he groped himself through his tight black leathers, and winked at the cute blonde who looked just like Duff in his imaginary audience. "Easy operator come a knockin' on my door." At that line, he could have -sworn- he'd heard someone knock on his door...But ignored it. "Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet. Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah!"
  
  Steven darted into the kitchen, nearly falling on the slick linoleum that Duff had mopped just hours prior. He yanked the refrigerator door open, got out a bottle of water, took off the cap, and darted back toward the pole. "Take a bottle, shake it up. Break the bubble, break it up!" He held the bottled water high over his head, and poured it over himself. Pour some sugar on me. Ooh, in the name of love! Pour some sugar on me. C'mon fire me up! Pour your sugar on me. Oh, I can't get enough..."
  
  After he'd poured all of the water on himself, Steven shook his head, sending water droplets in every which direction, as the lights still flashed every color of the rainbow and then some. Dropping to his knees, the blonde leaned back against the cool metal of the pole. Eyes half lidded, a crimson blush appearing on his cheeks. This was the part he could -never- do in front of another person. Not even Duff! He groped himself through the leather, and groaned. "I'm hot, sticky sweet...From my head to my feet, yeah."
  
  During the guitar solo, he jumped back up, unlaced the pants slowly, and quickly turned. Letting the 'crowd' see his bare behind as the leather was inched down. In his mind, they screamed for him. Men and women both. Shouting his name, encouraging him to do away with the leather, and expose his front to them. "You got the peaches, I got the cream. Sweet to taste, saccharine! 'Cos I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet. From my head, my head, to my feet!" At that, he turned, and the audience cried for him, each wanting a taste. Someone even shouted, 'I wanna see if you taste like sugar! Come here and let me get a taste!' And oddly enough, it sounded like Duff...
  
  Eyes closed, Steven fell to his knees, head thrown back as his right hand slid down his body, and over his arousal. This was the part when the audience went completely -wild- and security guards had to hold them back. But one audience member would slip through, climb up on stage for a better look. Steven stroked his cock, rocking his hips a bit, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal on his back as he enjoyed his fantasy. Teeth grit, and he could practically hear the audience member who looked strikingly like Duff speaking to him. 'That's it, Steven. Come for me. You can do it baby...'
  
  He was panting now, gasping, groaning, so close...So very close. 'That's it baby. Come! Pour your sugar for me, Steven.' In his fantasy, the other man ran his fingers through his hair, down his chest, and over his cock, which he was furiously stroking...It felt so real, the hands that weren't his own ghosting over him, ever so slightly.
  
  That was all it took. Steven came, groaning Duff's name and hissing as the song came to a close. Panting, eyes still shut, leaning against the metal pole, Steven removed his hand, and sapphire eyes lazily opened. The smile that had been plastered across his lips as he basked in the after glow faded. Heat burned at his cheeks as he saw someone standing in front of him.
  
  That someone was Duff. The taller blonde laughed, and turned off the stereo. "Some how I knew you'd bought that stripper pole for yourself, and not me." The drummer said nothing, his embarrassment forcing him to keep his eyes on the ground. How much had Duff seen?!
  
  "To answer the question I know you must have, Stevie. I saw nearly everything." The drummer looked up, eyes wide. "And I'd like to have a repeat performance. So, what do you say, Steven?" His blush fading, the other blonde nodded, getting back to his feet as the song was replayed...
  end

• Marilyn Manson Paradise

  (#) punk73lover 2009-06-22

  Skipping through the house, radio on full blast Steven sang along with the music. "Step inside, walk this way, you and me babe. Hey hey!" The blonde skidded to a halt in the front room, swinging his hips in a somewhat seductive fashion. He ran his hands down over his sides, tilted his head back, thrust his hips forward.
  
  "Love is like a bomb, baby come on, get it on. Livin' like a lover with a radar phone! Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp, demolition woman, can I be your man?" Steven ran a hand under his shirt, caressed his chest, and lifted the material over his head. He tossed the black shirt on the couch, and stretched.
  
  "Television lover, baby, go all night, Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet. Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah!" Steven now fiddled with his belt buckle, and looked up at the imaginary crowd. He'd always wanted to be a stripper...But the role as a drummer in one of the greatest rock bands in history was good too, right?
  
  "Hey! C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up! Break the bubble, break it up." After getting the belt out from the loops on his pants, he tossed it aside. Prancing over to the stripper pole he'd had installed in his front room, the blonde Gunner swung around it, bending his knees as he did, head tilting back once more.
  
  "Pour some sugar on me. Ooh, in the name of love! Pour some sugar on me. C'mon fire me up. Pour your sugar on me. Ooohh, I can't get enough!" Quickly standing, Steven wrapped his arms around the pole, and thrust his crotch up against it.
  
  "I'm hot, sticky sweet." He grinned, running a hand through his hair, then pointing down at his feet. "From my head to my feet. Yeah!" The drummer then held up a hand, stood stiff as a board. "Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!" At that moment, he pressed a button on the wall, which made the lights on the ceiling flash different colors. "Crazy little woman in a one man show. Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love...Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up!" Letting go of the pole, Steven took a few steps away.
  
  "You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little, tease a little more." At that, he groped himself through his tight black leathers, and winked at the cute blonde who looked just like Duff in his imaginary audience. "Easy operator come a knockin' on my door." At that line, he could have -sworn- he'd heard someone knock on his door...But ignored it. "Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet. Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah!"
  
  Steven darted into the kitchen, nearly falling on the slick linoleum that Duff had mopped just hours prior. He yanked the refrigerator door open, got out a bottle of water, took off the cap, and darted back toward the pole. "Take a bottle, shake it up. Break the bubble, break it up!" He held the bottled water high over his head, and poured it over himself. Pour some sugar on me. Ooh, in the name of love! Pour some sugar on me. C'mon fire me up! Pour your sugar on me. Oh, I can't get enough..."
  
  After he'd poured all of the water on himself, Steven shook his head, sending water droplets in every which direction, as the lights still flashed every color of the rainbow and then some. Dropping to his knees, the blonde leaned back against the cool metal of the pole. Eyes half lidded, a crimson blush appearing on his cheeks. This was the part he could -never- do in front of another person. Not even Duff! He groped himself through the leather, and groaned. "I'm hot, sticky sweet...From my head to my feet, yeah."
  
  During the guitar solo, he jumped back up, unlaced the pants slowly, and quickly turned. Letting the 'crowd' see his bare behind as the leather was inched down. In his mind, they screamed for him. Men and women both. Shouting his name, encouraging him to do away with the leather, and expose his front to them. "You got the peaches, I got the cream. Sweet to taste, saccharine! 'Cos I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet. From my head, my head, to my feet!" At that, he turned, and the audience cried for him, each wanting a taste. Someone even shouted, 'I wanna see if you taste like sugar! Come here and let me get a taste!' And oddly enough, it sounded like Duff...
  
  Eyes closed, Steven fell to his knees, head thrown back as his right hand slid down his body, and over his arousal. This was the part when the audience went completely -wild- and security guards had to hold them back. But one audience member would slip through, climb up on stage for a better look. Steven stroked his cock, rocking his hips a bit, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal on his back as he enjoyed his fantasy. Teeth grit, and he could practically hear the audience member who looked strikingly like Duff speaking to him. 'That's it, Steven. Come for me. You can do it baby...'
  
  He was panting now, gasping, groaning, so close...So very close. 'That's it baby. Come! Pour your sugar for me, Steven.' In his fantasy, the other man ran his fingers through his hair, down his chest, and over his cock, which he was furiously stroking...It felt so real, the hands that weren't his own ghosting over him, ever so slightly.
  
  That was all it took. Steven came, groaning Duff's name and hissing as the song came to a close. Panting, eyes still shut, leaning against the metal pole, Steven removed his hand, and sapphire eyes lazily opened. The smile that had been plastered across his lips as he basked in the after glow faded. Heat burned at his cheeks as he saw someone standing in front of him.
  
  That someone was Duff. The taller blonde laughed, and turned off the stereo. "Some how I knew you'd bought that stripper pole for yourself, and not me." The drummer said nothing, his embarrassment forcing him to keep his eyes on the ground. How much had Duff seen?!
  
  "To answer the question I know you must have, Stevie. I saw nearly everything." The drummer looked up, eyes wide. "And I'd like to have a repeat performance. So, what do you say, Steven?" His blush fading, the other blonde nodded, getting back to his feet as the song was replayed...
  

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