He liked looking at him. Not even so much talking to him, or just being around him, as he did looking at him. Like he’d look at a TV or, more accurately, a fish tank, or a birdcage. He liked watching that little blob of colour flit to and fro stuck in its eternal habits; smoking, sitting folded in a chair with his legs bent underneath him, one thin arm over his head. Gazing silently into space as his uneven pupils widened with his high.

Lou grinned his slow, sneering grin. There was not much that escaped his keen eyes, dark and still like the sunglasses that covered them. Especially when he was as attentive to his subject as he was to David. The heroin seemed to sharpen his mind with its spikey ecstasy, making it accurate and quick like the smooth edge of a knife. Even through the clouded glass of his glasses and in a space as dark as this, his eyes, hyper-sensitised by the drug, did not lose a single detail. He could see him on the other side of the room, talking to someone, thin arms jutting out in time to his sentences, long hands fluttering. Lou swallowed, feeling suddenly and painfully deeply how heartbreakingly beautiful David was, and that he had to be with him. Now. So he rose from his seat, in a smooth and unreal way, as in a dream, and drifted over to him. He loomed like a ghost next to David, merely standing and staring, knowing David would be able to feel his gaze upon him through the darkness of his sunglasses. And yes, it was only a matter of seconds before he looked up.  His mismatched eyes were searching Lou’s face in wonder, his pale lips parted just a little, enough to make him look breathless. Lou smirked, and leant in to kiss him. Of course David accepted him without question- he had never dared to cross Lou- and opened his mouth to his rough tongue. David was so cold- something Lou always noticed with pleasure- and so oddly soft for someone so angular. Lou brought up a hand to stroke the cool flesh of David’s neck, the fluffy magenta hair at the base of his skull, but instead found the cotton of a shirt collar, and, his fingers probing deeper, the silk of a tie. He hated this usurper from the moment he touched the smooth fabric, but as he tugged at it in fury, and felt David twitch in response, he gasped against his parted lips. Suddenly, he saw.

In a matter of seconds, he could see himself, pressed closely against David’s lithe body, as he tugged at his tie harder and harder, until it was cutting into his sinewy white neck. He could feel David’s bony limbs flounder against his own strong body in futile struggle, the pain of feeling him trying to fight him off, as he just pulled harder, dug his hips deeper into David’s thigh, his cock aching unbearably from the pressure. He’d feel the cool skin of his face become hot and the harsh rattling breaths from his slack mouth against his own face. He’d watch his eyes become wider, glistening as they began to brim with tears, then bloodshot and finally dazed, the flecks of foam around his lips dry, and his body still and cold as Lou ruthlessly kept the tension on the tie at breaking point, his body pressed hard against the soft form.

With a growl he woke up from this flash of a daydream, feeling so hard and excited as if a single touch could set him off. He opened his eyes and pressed softly into David, who was staring at him with wide eyes. With a start, Lou realised how David’s body was as cool and limp as he had imagined it. He broke away immediately, as the full realisation of what he had thought hit him, and he felt for a wild moment that he had done it. But David merely blinked and shuffled his feet uncomfortably, as Lou hovered near him, staring at him with his reptilian eyes.  He licked his lips, and slinked off into the shadows he had come from.

current mood: accomplished

David stomped along the road towards the office, feeling depressed. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Simon hadn’t helped him make the big time yet, he was making him paint the office. Like he was his employee rather an artist under his patronage. And then Simon would probably make a pass at him again, too. Damn him! David frowned heavily as he rang the doorbell, and was still frowning when he was let in and clattered up to the office, the leather soles of his shoes making odd thumping noises on the floor that echoed all along the high corridors. He went into the office, which was covered in sheets. In the far right corner there was a small amount of pots of paint and brushes. Somewhere, someone was painting a wall brown, but he couldn’t see who it was because just at that moment Simon blocked his view.

“David!” he said loudly. “So good to see you. How are you?”

“Eh.” David said, trying to peer past Simon to see who else was here. Maybe it was someone famous.

“Well, excellent.” Simon said. “I have to go now, and attend to some business, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Everything you’ll need is over there in the corner. If you need coffee or food, just ask Phyllis in the other room, alright?” David nodded obediently. “Oh, and ask her for a smock, too. We wouldn’t want those lovely clothes to get all paint-splattered, would we?” Simon grinned and made a strange waving movement towards David, like he was going to clap him on the back, which David dodged. Simon then slipped past him and out the door as quietly as anything. David stomped over to where Phyllis was sorting through things, grabbed a smock, and went back to the other room. Just as he was sorting through the brushes, he got the feeling he was being looked at, and turned round.

 "Oh.” David said. “What do you do?”

“Oh yeah, so am I.” David said, tilting his head back. “Are you a mod?”

“Yeah, I’m the King Mod.” Marc said with an infuriating assurance. He looked David up and down in a way that made his blood boil. “Your shoes are crap.” He finally stated.

“Well,” David said, as divine inspiration took hold, “you’re short.” He crossed his arms, sure of the formidable force of this blow. To his surprise, Marc burst into giggles. It was such an odd and infectious sound, David couldn’t help but laugh himself.

 "Ere, you’ve got some paint on your face.” he said, and leant over to wipe it off. Marc fell still, looking at him with those big but piercing eyes in a way that made David feel embarrassed for some reason. He cleared his throat and, realizing how close he was standing, did a step back.

“Thanks.” Marc said softly. David turned and practically ran back towards the paint. They spent most of the afternoon in silence, working hard, apart from a small break which they spent with Phyllis in the other room. When they were finally done, they cleared up in silence, too tired to speak, and went out at the same time. As they reached the front door, Marc turned to David and said: “Have you ever been dustbin shopping?”

“No.” David said, trying to look as if he knew what it was.

current mood: weird

A humurous attempt at making Severus Snape and Morrissey get it on. Naturally, Severus Snape belongs to JKR, and Morrissey belongs to Attack Records. Morrissey's dog belongs to Morrissey. I don't know its name, for which I apologise. A dog shouldn't have to appear in fanfiction, anyway, so I apologise for that as well.

current mood: cheerful