I haven't written in the fandom in years. I'm not sure anyone's even reading on this list anymore. But I figured I'd post this here. Be gentle.
Blur (based on the Britney Spears song)
Sean and Norman drink a lot, and do stuff, and remember nothing.
I do not know them, this isn't real, and it's made up and not real.
Norman allowed his eyes to flutter open, fighting against the nasty crust that threatened to keep them closed. “Fuck.” He rubbed at his eyes, wincing at the dry scratch to his voice. He really needed to quit smoking. One solitary evil ray of sunlight came through the cracked blinds, driving nails into his brain. “FUCK,” he said louder, slamming his eyes shut. The scrape of a dry heel against his calf made him freeze. He was almost afraid to roll over. He THOUGHT he was alone, that the night before had been some sort of crazy nightmaredreamfantasy. He was wrong, apparently. The drinks had flown like a river, everyone was happy, everyone was buying. That pretty blonde had continued to press herself against him until Norman thought she was part of his wardrobe. The hot redheaded man at the bar had done shots from Norman’s tender throat. He was almost afraid to turn around, afraid to see how the night had ended. He had a funny feeling he was not going to like it.
Sean yawned and stretched, the tight pull of muscles slamming pain throughout his body. Holy fuck. Just what was in that stuff at the bar? Sean could drink bigger and better men under any table, but he felt like a semi had done donuts and K-turns over his entire body, ending on his brain. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled into the pillowcase. The bar had been crazy, all smoky lights and writhing bodies, and the free-for-all spirit of a hot summer night had brought the place to a fever pitch. Sean remembered a hand on the small of his back, rubbing circles in the sweat there, the bite of teeth on his earlobe, asking to see him home, to see him anywhere that involved him naked. He stretched again, his heel coming in contact with a body part of some sort. Sean froze, suddenly wide awake and fighting against the dull throb of leftover drunkenness. Shit.
Norman really hadn’t wanted to go out. He had been living in a “poor me I’m a hermit that no one loves , so I’ll paint” place for about six months, ever since his last relationship had ended. Mingus was overseas with Helena for the summer, so Norman lived in his studio apartment, painting, occasionally eating or going to a movie, but pretty much just feeling sorry for himself. What did he have to show for his 42 years except some bits of fluff on film. He was glad he had a steady paying job, but it wasn’t like it was WORTH anything. Who cared about him? Mingus. That was about it.
Two of his so-called best friends had begged him to come out, banging on his door and yelling until he threw it open, sure that his nasty bitch of a neighbor had already dialed the NYPD. “Two hours,” he warned them, throwing on a clean pair of jeans and a tight grey tee. “Two hours, and I’m done.” They nodded and promised to synchronize their watches. He didn’t want to go out.
Sean wasn’t looking forward to this. “It’s my birthday,” his best female friend told him. “You told me you’d come out.”
“That was to dinner,” Sean said helplessly as she shoved him into the back of a cab. “I have things to do.”
“At ten o’clock on a Saturday night?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Sure,” he hedged.
“Do I look good?”
“You look fantastic!” Sean said immediately. “Why?”
“I’m not wasting this on YOU, Sean. And you look pretty fuckable yourself,” she said, eying up his white buttondown shirt and tight black pants. She undid a few buttons of the shirt until half his chest was showing. “Better.”
“C’mon!” Sean shoved her hands away. “I’m a forty-five year old actor, not a gigolo.”
“You need laid. You’re hot as hell. This bar is jumping AND has a very open-minded clientele.” She patted his cheek. “For my birthday.”
“Two hours,” he muttered. “In two hours it won’t BE your birthday anymore, and I’m going the hell home.” Back home to his empty apartment, his full bottle of booze, and his lonely life.
Immediately upon entering the steamy dark bar, Norman’s friends saw a group of people they knew. Norman was introduced around, his cigarette was lit, and a drink was shoved in his hand. He grinned. This was two hours of his life he could DEFINITELY get on board with. He had to yell to be heard over the thumping music, but that was okay. The music made it better. The more he drank, the more Norman was positive he could SEE the music moving through the smoke-filled air. This was okay. He should do this more often. A friend of a friend of his friends decided to talk to him. A lot. Up in his personal space. “I haven’t seen you here,” she said, taking his cigarette and drawing on it. Norman frowned. He didn’t like sharing his space OR his smokes without permission.
“I don’t come here,” he replied, slowly inching away from her. The attention was nice, but it gave him a strange twisting feeling in his stomach. She was not his speed. Not even his style. He wasn’t one for flashy blondes with poorly applied makeup and boobs up to their ears.
“We could leave,” she cajoled, running a hand over the faint scars on his face.
“No thanks,” he said. “I’m here with friends. Can’t leave them.” He downed his drink and moved away from her. “Nice to meet you.”
Norman moved about four feet down the crowded bar, staying within eyesight of his friends. They looked at him in disbelief. He shook his head and they rolled their eyes. They’d always thought he was too damn picky. He ordered another drink, downing half of it in one gulp. “Mind if I get in here?” A voice said behind him. He turned to see a handsome redhead smiling at him. “I didn’t want to get too up close and personal, but I need a drink.”
“It’s on me,” Norman said suddenly, taking the money from the man’s hand and sliding it back into his pocket. “What’s your poison?” Years of education in reading sexual signals gave Norman the assurance that the man would not mind. There was only one person whose signals Norman could never read, but he had spent years pushing THAT out of his brain.
The man raised an eyebrow, and slid himself up to the bar, pressing tightly against Norman. “You pick. Something…salty.”
“Coming up,” Norman said, finishing his drink and ordering one for himself, and one for his new friend. The slide of the man’s tongue up his neck was not unwelcome, but even through the slowly thickening fog of alcohol, Norman knew it wasn’t what he was looking for. He gazed through the crowd absently as the man’s hands rested on his waist, his eyes widening as he focused on the dance floor.
Thankfully she chose the bar closest to the door, because Sean did NOT want to be the one bulldozing a path for them through the crowded dance floor. She ordered them each two drinks, refusing to tell Sean what he was getting. “Gasoline?” Sean sputtered, choking on the hot fire as it tumbled down his throat.
“Ice breaker,” she said simply, winking at the man on her other side.
“You need to relax.” She turned her back to him and focused on the stranger next to her.
“Whatever,” Sean muttered, throwing the shot back and following it with the second drink. He hissed in satisfaction. How long had it been since he’d gotten good and fucked up? Nothing wrong with it. He was an adult, and adults drank.
About five drinks later, Sean was a very horny adult, leaning against a bar, watching one of his best friends investigate the tonsils of the man she had just met. “Hey. HEY.” He tugged at her sleeve. “M’gonna dance or something. Get a room.”
“Fuck off, Sean.” She barely came up for air to respond.
He chuckled and rolled his eyes, not at all insulted. He slowly pushed his way onto the dance floor, or at least as far into it as he could get. That was fine. He really didn’t even want to dance, per se, just feel the music, feel the bodies pressed against him. It was like he was part of it, part of the heat and the sweat and the moment. It felt wonderful to be part of SOMETHING, to be swept along in emotion, even if that emotion was temporary insanity. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, hoping for some sort of cool breeze in the hot sticky mass of people. He moved his hands above his head, letting himself sway a bit. He smirked a bit to himself, just sober enough to know that if he had been any MORE sober, he’d be embarrassed. But tonight, in the heat of the bar, he didn’t care. He just hoped he wouldn’t remember much. He let his head fall back, feeling the sweat drip down his chest as he closed his eyes. As his head dropped back down, he opened his eyes, looked across the dance floor, and gaped.
Norman would recognize that gorgeous body, those sinful eyes, that SMIRK, anywhere. But like that, on a dance floor, dripping with sweat? Sean? From the way those eyes widened and those perfect lips dropped open, he knew that Sean had seen him as well. How long had it been? A year? Too long. Not long enough. After years of cat and mouse, what seemed like decades of prowling and flirting and pushing away, they hadn’t spoken. It was too hard. Sean was so obviously straight, and Norman wasn’t ready to play that game. The flirting was fun, but not when it was so obviously not going to end where Norman wanted it. He wondered if Sean had seen him, had seen the man lick the sweat and salt and alcohol from Norman’s throat. He wondered if Sean had ever wanted to do that…in his deepest fantasies. Sean stared at him, hands slowly falling from where they had been twined above his own head. One hand absently slid down his sweaty chest to rest at his side. Norman gulped. He turned around, grabbed the drink in front of him, and finished it quickly. He was going to end this. Alcohol was one hell of a courage igniter.
God, that shirt makes him look so fucking hot, Sean thought to himself, absently sliding a hand down his own bare chest. Norman Reedus, sex on two legs, at least to Sean. Filming both movies had been a study in sexual frustration for him, because he knew it was completely unattainable. No matter how much Norman flirted, how he worked himself into Sean’s personal space on a continued basis. Norman was evil, Sean knew it. He HAD to know how hard he made Sean, how he drew on every reserve of strength that Sean had. Norman was the straightest, manliest man Sean had ever met. No way he was ever getting a piece of THAT.
But suddenly THAT was walking across the dance floor, gently shoving people out of his way to get to Sean. Norman didn’t say anything, just let his steel eyes run over Sean’s body. Sean stood perfectly still, Norman’s eyes as heavy as an actual caress over his skin. “You look amazing,” Norman said finally.
Sean swallowed hard. “So do you. You look…good.”
“I’m not. I’ve been treating myself like hell for months,” Norman admitted. “Floundering…not knowing what I was looking for.”
“Oh.” Sean nodded, his booze-addled brain coherent enough to realize how odd they must’ve looked, standing still in a dance floor full of wriggling people. “I hope you figure it out.” He nodded as he spoke. “I’m here…with a friend. Her birthday. She’s off having sex with a new friend.”
“Ah,” Norman said, nodding sagely. “Of course.” He grabbed Sean by the wrist. “I’m thirsty. You thirsty?” He drug him to yet another bar on the opposite side of the door.
Sean honestly would have followed Norman to the China Sea to get a drink, but he allowed himself to be led along. Norman ordered two shots of whiskey for himself and bourbon for Sean. “Thanks,” Sean said breathlessly, wondering how his brain and mouth were still connected.
“Bourbon’s your thing, right?”
“Sure,” Sean said, trying to nonchalantly shrug, like they were drinking buddies or something. He knocked down both shots in quick succession and leaned back on his elbows, pretending to survey the dance floor.
Norman looked down at where Sean’s shirt fell open, exposing the bronze flat chest and stomach he had always admired. “I think I figured it out.”
“Figured out what?” Sean shouted over the music. He wasn’t sure Norman had heard him, so he turned around, leaning forward on his forearms this time.
“What I want.” Norman leaned close, sliding his hand under the flaps of Sean’s shirt, letting his hand swirl in the sweat at the small of Sean’s back. He leaned in closer, his teeth nipping at Sean’s earlobe. “I want to be with you, somewhere, where we’re naked and alone. Your house, a fucking motel, don’t care. Alone, with you, naked. That’s what I’ve been looking for.”
“Christyesfinally,” Sean exhaled. Norman drew back, unsure if he’d heard what he THOUGHT he’d heard. “Wherever you want.”
“Wherever” ended up being the closest seedy hotel that didn’t look like it came with a free case of STD. They barely made it up to the room, stumbling up the stairs because of COURSE the place didn’t have an elevator. What it DID have was a condom machine in the hallway, something which struck them both as hysterical. Sean was the only one with change in his tight pants, which Norman ever so carefully and slowly retrieved. Sean managed to get the door open, and they fell in the room, slamming the door and falling against it.
“Need to…” Sean waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom. He kicked off his shoes along the way. Norman nodded, and went over to the ancient air conditioner. The room was stifling, and he soon coaxed a quasi-cool breeze out of the dinosaur in the window. When Sean reappeared, Norman was leaning against the wall by the bathroom. For a moment, Sean didn’t see him. “Uh, Norman?”
Norman grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall, his palm shooting out to cup the back of Sean’s head just in time. “Right here, Sean.” Norman’s knee nudged Sean’s legs apart a bit as his body pressed against him, his mouth eagerly seeking his.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Sean moaned, his hands fisting in Norman’s hair. Norman’s knee pressed up against Sean’s cock, and Sean squirmed to ride against that pressure.
“Fucking slut,” Norman breathed in admiration. He gently let Sean’s head fall back against the wall, shoving at Sean’s shirt.
“So hot,” Sean said, both as a complaint and a compliment. “Hot in here.”
“Yes, you are,” Norman said with a grin. He stepped back and allowed Sean to remove his tee. Their chests slid against each other as Norman tugged at Sean’s hips, walking them towards the bed. He sat down, keeping Sean on his feet. Sean grinned down at him drunkenly, running a hand from Norman’s hair to his chin. Norman smiled sweetly up at Sean, as his hand slid up to press the length of Sean’s cock through his pants. Sean hissed, one hand digging into Norman’s bare shoulder as the other fisted in his hair again.
“Do it,” Sean grunted, pushing Norman’s head against his cock. “Don’t be such a tease.”
“Bossy bitch,” Norman growled, actually biting at the fabric. Sean jumped back, almost losing his balance. Norman grabbed for him just in time, peeling the pants from Sean’s sweaty legs. “Oh fuck yeah,” Norman sighed happily. “Better than I thought it would be.” His hands slid up Sean’s thighs as he took Sean in his mouth, expertly working him base to tip.
Sean bit his own lip to keep from screaming. Both hands were in Norman’s hair now, fucking his mouth, occasionally gagging Norman and not even caring. “Norman…so good…hot…wet…oh fuckfuckfuck.” He finally shoved Norman’s head away, dropping to his knees. His fingers fumbled with Norman’s pants, and he couldn’t stop the intoxicated giggles as Norman tried to help and only made things worse. “Get your hands out of there, dumbass.” Sean finally got the button and zipper undone, yanking at the pants until he fell over.
“Who’s the dumbass? My shoes.” Norman kicked and toed until they went flying across the room. Sean grunted in satisfaction, pulling the evil fabric out of the way.
“Mine.” Sean licked from a kneecap to Norman’s thigh before stroking him gently.
“Yours if you stop playing around,” Norman growled, thrusting up into Sean’s hand.
“Horny,” Norman corrected. “Been waiting how many years for this? Not waiting any more.”
“Really?” Sean’s topsy-turvy drunken world seemed to finally settle on an axis. “You have?”
“Yes.” Norman’s hand shook as he settled it against Sean’s jaw. Sean smiled and turned his head, planting a kiss on Norman’s palm. He met Norman’s eyes as he sunk his teeth into the tender skin below Norman’s thumb. “You fucking whore.” Norman’s eyes gleamed as he yanked Sean up by his hair. “You’re asking for it.” He tumbled Sean onto his back, crawling up his body. Their cocks rubbed together and Sean moaned. “I don’t have any lube.” He reached for one of the condoms he had purchased in the hall.
“I don’t care,” Sean said, writhing like a mobile work of art. “Just do it. Spit, shampoo from the bathroom, whatever.”
Norman slid his fingers into Sean’s mouth, silencing him. Sean moaned, licking and sucking and sliding the saliva across Norman’s skin. “You ARE a slut,” Norman said admirably. “I love that in a man.”
“For you,” Sean whispered, giving one last good lick. Norman leaned up to kiss Sean as his fingers slowly sought entrance. Sean whimpered, his hips bucking up as his mouth devoured Norman’s. He spread his legs as wide as he could, his body meeting those hotnastyhard fingers as soon as he was used to the feeling of being stretched. He turned his head from Norman’s kisses, gasping for breath. “Norman, PLEASE.”
Norman gave one more bitesuckkiss to the side of Sean’s throat before getting on his knees. “Please what?” He wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of feeling Sean envelop him, but he had waited far too long to hear the words.
“Fuck me,” Sean pleaded, his hands sliding over his own cock. “I can’t wait. I need you inside me.”
“Your wish…” Norman lined up and slowly worked his way in. When he was balls deep, “…my command.”
“Oh yeah,” Sean grunted, back arched as he adjusted to the feeling of being completely filled. “Go…fuck me…please…dreamed of it…”
It was Norman’s turn to feel off-kilter. “Dreamed of it?”
“Yes.” Sean smiled up at him drunkenly, plucking at Norman’s nipples. “Hard and fast and sweaty and used to fucking wake up wet from it…do it…”
“God, that’s so hot.” Norman grabbed Sean by the knees, hammering into him hard and fast. “Like this? Was this the dream?”
“Better than…the dream…” Sean panted, hands grasping at Norman’s sweaty biceps. “You feel…good…”
“So do you.” Norman’s voice headed for a growl as he felt the orgasm start somewhere in his ankles. “Get yourself off, Sean. I wanna see it.”
“God, yes,” Sean grunted, one shaking hand moving down to his cock. “Want to…wanna cum with you inside of me.” His hand moved like a blur, thumb swirling over the head.
“Sean…fucking hell…” Norman’s hands dug into Sean’s legs and he started to cum.
“Norman…” Sean arched into his hand as he came, body jerking.
Norman fell onto Sean’s chest, ignoring the sticky mess between them. He felt Sean’s hands weave up into his hard. “That was…holy fuck.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed weakly. Norman slowly moved away, disposing of the condom as quickly as possible. He fell onto the bed next to Sean, trying to regulate his breathing.
“Fuck.” Norman threw an arm over his face, feeling the best and worst he could remember. That was the dictionary definition of mind-blowing sex, but the ‘OHMYGODNOWWHAT’ hung over it like a cloud.
“Mmm…” Sean moaned sleepily, trying to organize his thoughts and come up with something intelligent to say. “I’ll…turn off the light…” he forced himself up on wobbling arms to reach for the lamp. That was the last thing either of them said for the next four and a half hours, the silence of the room punctuated by their snores and the whine of the air conditioner.
Sean forced himself to roll over. Yep, that was Norman. Sean cleared his throat. “Um, Norman. Are you awake?” He reached over and touched Norman’s shoulder before snatching his hand back.
Norman groaned and opened his eyes. So THAT’S what had happened. He was right. Not liking it one bit. He rolled over and slowly met Sean’s blue gaze. “Hi there. Um, yeah, just woke up.” His eyes widened at the deep purple mark on Sean’s neck. He didn’t remember putting it there.
Sean winced as he stretched out. He wished he could remember what had earned him the dull ache he felt every time he moved. “God…it’s bright. What time is it?”
“NO clue.” Norman rubbed at his eyes. “I…wow…I could use an aspirin or twelve.”
“I could use a new head,” Sean replied, rubbing at his forehead. He very slowly sat up, forcing his stomach to stay out of his mouth. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and did an inventory of the clothing tossed around the room. He found his pants, his shoes, his shirt. Good. At least he hadn’t ARRIVED there naked. “Damn.”
“Yeah, damn,” Norman agreed.
“So, yeah.” Sean went to his pants and pulled out his cell. “Five-thirty.”
“Early.” Norman allowed his eyes to flutter closed, then opened them as he heard Sean start to get dressed.
“I should go,” Sean said. “Get a shower, get some sleep. You too. You don’t look so good.”
“If could possibly never leave this bed again, I would do it,” Norman said honestly, for more than one reason.
“Right,” Sean said. “Be careful when you stand, it’s dangerous.” He got himself dressed and yanked his shoes on. “I…yeah. Bye.” Sean wanted nothing more than his shower, some Tylenol, and his bed, in that order. And he was never EVER coming out again.
For about six seconds, Norman debated whether he should just let Sean go or say something. “Fuck.” Norman sat up quickly and regretted it. “Sonuvabitch.” He grabbed his head. “Sean, no, wait. Don’t go.”
Sean stopped at the door, one hand on the knob. “What?”
“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened last night. Fuck me, I don’t remember anything after seeing you on the dance floor. You looked…you were…always have been…so damn sexy and fine and amazing.” Norman blinked up at him. “Don’t go. Not until we’ve talked.”
“I don’t remember either.” Sean caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror and reached up to touch the bite mark on his neck. “I wish I did. I…I’ve thought of this, many times. “
Norman carefully got up and walked over to Sean. Taking every bit of courage he had and directing it into his hands, he slowly reached up, cradled Sean’s head in his hands, and kissed him gently. “I wanted something to remember.”
“Wow,” Sean sighed, hands gently resting on Norman’s sides. “I’ll never forget that.”
Norman grinned. “Go home and clean up. You know where my place is. Come over and I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“Ugh, food,” Sean groaned.
“You’re right.” Norman leaned his forehead against Sean’s. “Coffee and toast, and a nap. And then, when we wake up and are less hungover, we talk about all this shit between us. Apparently it’s been there for years and we were both too stupid to do anything about it.”
Sean smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” He kissed Norman again, his heart doing jumping jacks in his ears. “See you in about an hour?” Norman nodded, finally letting Sean go.