Title: All Messed Up
Author: Baked Goldfish
Pairing: Leo/Jed
Summary: "This is the only time I really feel alive."
Rated: R
Setting: Time-wise, it's pre-White House. Place-wise, wherever.
Disclaimer: Be warned, it's SONGFIC. These characters, this universe, is owned by other people. "The Only Time," which is the song that inspired this fic, summary, and the title, is owned by Nine Inch Nails and their pretty people. Please don't sue.


All Messed Up by Baked Goldfish

[-----]

//i'm drunk and right now i'm so in love with you and i don't want to think too much about what we should or shouldn't do//

He'd asked to be picked up from the back alley behind some seedy little bar, a bar that didn't fit him with his well-styled Armani, subdued silk shirt, even more subdued silk neck-tie, and beautiful black imported shoes. And, of course, his ride had bitched at him, had lectured him over the phone, had told him he was being an ass; and, of course, he had replied with a chuckle, called him a dweeb, and repeated his request, drunk and high.

There was little time for talk on that resulting car ride, or maybe they just didn't want to make the time. He, with his shit-eating, high-as-a-kite grin; and he, with his worried eyes and angry scowl. One laughed; the other told him to shut the hell up, there was nothing to laugh about.

They made it to the lonely, large house in a short time that seemed far longer than eternity itself.

//lay my hands on heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars while the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car nothing quite like the feel of something new//

"Screw me," he said with a silly, sad laugh, and the other man didn't know whether it was an expletive or a request.

So he replied with, "Let me get you some coffee, or something."

He latched his hand onto the other man's arm, and repeated himself. "Screw me." There was no longer that inebriated humor in his eyes, or in his face, only a frenetic desperation; and it was definitely a request.

They moved to the bedroom, and, again, time seemed to move slower than normal.

//maybe i'm all messed up maybe i'm all messed up maybe i'm all messed up in you maybe i'm all messed up but this is the only time i really feel alive this is the only time i really feel alive//

It was dark. Moonlight flitted through the half-closed shades, slices of blue moon-beams crashing to the carpet and the bed and the opposing walls. Crushing lips, thrusting tongue, a mouth that tasted like alcohol, like scotch--this was the world. This, and long fingers deftly undoing buttons and belts and ties, and heat. Uncomprehensible, unbearable heat, friction, energy, physics, potential converted to kinetic, laws and theorems and numbers spinning in one uncontrollable spiral towards one thing:

Sex.

//i swear i just found everything i need the sweat in your eyes the blood in your veins are listening to me//

Clothes found themselves on the floor, a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, that pretty Armani, that silk shirt, that silk tie. Bodies found themselves on the bed, hot, entangled, groping, needing. They crashed to the soft cushioning sheets, and moonlight splashed across their flesh, slashing stark through the shadows and it was soon impossible to tell where one man ended and the other began. Lips tasted every possible spot, hands mapped out contours, ridges, rises and depressions. Fingers probed, throats rumbled and vibrated with groans and gasps. And soon, the one who tasted of scotch was trembling and hot on top of the one who had been wearing the jeans and the sweatshirt.

He leaned down, licked the sweat from the naked skin on the small of his lover's back. Pulse, he could feel it thrumming in his neck, living inside him and beating hard. "I'm ready," he uttered, and suddenly their positions were switched; who was once belly down on the bed was now on top, who was once on top was now belly down.

Salty moisture dripped down onto his eyes, mingled with tears as he felt the pleasure-pain of hot hardness filling him up, completing him. Moving inside of him. He moved in time with his lover's motions, moaning and gasping, choking on his breath as warmth shot up into him, making the pressure welling up between his legs explode out of him.

He was dizzy, but not from the drink, and seconds took hours as he breathed in deep, shuddering gasps.

//well i want to drink it up and swim in it until i drown my moral standing is lying down nothing quite like the feel of something new//

A warm weight was crushing him into the mattress. It did not matter; it made him feel real. Made him know that he was awake, and alive. He was not numb. He breathed hard, gasping tiredly and hotly for air. The weight shifted, off him and onto the bed, beside him. He rolled off his stomach and onto his side, curling into the arms that were waiting for him.

He wrapped his arms around the man who was still drunk but now somewhat sobered. His hands came to rest on the small of his back, feeling the heat and sweat on the other man's skin melding them together. He felt his lover and friend's breath against his chest, felt it slow down to normal and then slow down to the rhythm of sleep- breathing.

He wasn't going to think tonight, not with this man in his arms, not at this late hour. He wasn't going to think about the repercussions in the morning, or the fact that tomorrow his love would just go out and get drunk again, and they may or may not screw again.

He closed his eyes, started to drift off; the night with its cold white shafts of moonlight enshrouded them, and time stood still.

//maybe i'm all messed up maybe i'm all messed up maybe i'm all messed up in you maybe i'm all messed up but this is the only time i really feel alive this is the only time i really feel alive//

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