Title: Another wasted night
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: Die Ärzte (RPS)
Pairing: Bela/Farin
Rating: NC-17
Category: PWP, Humour
Summary: "You shouldn't even be able to get it up!"
A/N: Birthday fic for Sammy, who casually mentioned she would've like something involving sex and drugs.
The following story is a mere work of F I C T I O N, meaning it is 100% made up. None of the situations described here ever happened, and even if they did, I have no way of knowing. This is not about spreading rumours or, worse, libel. The people portrayed in this story are real, but I am NOT claiming they did what I wrote. I use their "public personas" and build stories around them as if they were fictional characters.
Farin didn't know how long he had been lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Bela had cornered him after the concert, given him a kiss that had almost made his knees buckle, and said he was looking forward to getting him out of his new tartan bondage trousers later. But Bela was nowhere to be seen, and Farin was losing his patience. He couldn't even read, he kept getting distracted by images of how the drummer was going to take care of said trousers – he seemed to be a bit obsessed with them – and ended up reading the same sentence over and over again.
The guitarist sighed. He stood up and, not bothering to put on his shoes, got out of his hotel room. The corridor was empty and silent, all the other guests were no doubt sleeping at that time of the night. He stopped in front of Bela's room and knocked, but no one replied. He frowned and knocked again, but he still got no answer. He turned around, annoyance growing, and noticed the door to Rod's room was ajar, orange light spilling onto the carpeted floor. That was definitely not normal. He pushed the door open and looked inside.
Bela was sitting on the bed, both hands flat on the quilt, facing away from the entrance. The only source of light was a small lamp sitting on the bedside table, but there was no way Farin wouldn't recognise him.
"Bela?" Farin closed the door and walked towards the bed. "Is everything all right?"
Bela slowly turned around. There was a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Oh." The drummer took the cigarette between thumb and index finger, removed it from his mouth and exhaled, a little cloud of smoke slowly forming in front of him. "Shit. I totally forgot."
And then Farin noticed someone kneeling in front of Bela, a black-haired head moving constantly up and down.
"What the fuck?"
Bela put a hand on Rod's head and stopped him. The bassist opened his eyes, blinked at Farin, and pulled back.
"Hi."
"Hi?" The guitarist sounded incredulous. "What the hell, Bela?"
Bela placed the cigarette between Rod's lips, stood up and walked over to Farin. Only then did the guitarist notice the smell. There was definitely not tobacco in that cigarette.
"Sorry," Bela said, and put a hand on Farin's waist. Farin took a step back.
"Sorry? Is that all you have to say?"
"I told you, I totally forgot..."
"You forgot! I wait for you for half an hour and when I come looking for you, I find you smoking weed while Rod is blowing you!"
"Oh, come on, it couldn't have been so long."
"You shouldn't even be able to get it up!"
"Huh?"
"Doesn't weed interfere with basic brain functions and make it impossible to have an erection? I've read it somewhere."
Bela rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. You read it. What is this, then?" He asked, pressing his very noticeable hard-on against Farin's hip.
Farin tried to move away, but Bela put his other hand on the blonde's hip, blocking him.
"Why are you so pissed off? Is it because of the weed? You know Rod and I share a couple of joints every now and then. Or maybe," Bela looked up at Farin with a cheeky little smile. "Are you jealous?"
"Don't be ridiculous! I just... I don't like to be kept waiting."
"I guess I'll have to make it up to you then. You're even still wearing your new trousers like I asked you to." His hands wandered over Farin's tartan-clad arse. "I love them, you look so punky and sexy in them. But I think I'll love even more peeling them off your body."
He stood on his tiptoes and went for a kiss. Farin grimaced as the smell of weed assaulted him even before Bela's lips had touched his, and tried to turn away, but Bela reached up and grabbed the back of his head, forcing him to be still as he ravished his mouth. His erection was rubbing against the rough material of Farin's trousers and he moaned, biting down on his friend's lips, his tongue, knowing he was probably leaving bruises and not caring at all. He moved a hand to the front of Farin's trousers, unbuttoned them and pulled the zipper down. The guitarist gasped into the kiss as Bela stuck two fingers into his open fly and teasingly rubbed his hardening cock.
"Stop it."
"You don't really want me to stop, do you? You're the one who came looking for me because you couldn't wait anymore."
"I didn't. You... You were late."
Bela smirked and grabbed his hand. "As if that was anything new." He pulled him to the bed and sat him down. Rod was still sitting on the floor, busy rolling another joint. Farin had almost forgotten about him.
"Can we just go back to my room? Or yours?"
"Why? Rod's a good boy, he won't bother us, will you?"
Rod replied with a "Mh-hm" as he licked the edge of the smoking paper and finished rolling. He twisted one end of the joint, tapped the other one against his watch a couple of times, and placed it between his lips. He swore as the lighter didn't work at the first two tries and gave a little satisfied moan as the joint finally lit up. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Bela took Farin's black T-shirt off and pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips. "Come on, it's gonna be fun." He reached out and Rod handed him the joint. Bela took a long drag, tilted his head back and exhaled slowly. As much as Farin loathed smoking and drugs, he couldn't deny there was something extremely sexy in the way Bela sucked the little cylinder of paper and breathed out the smoke, head thrown back and eyes closed.
"Mmh, this is good stuff," he said as he handed the joint back to Rod. His eyes fluttered opened and he focused his attention back on Farin. "Why are you still wearing your trousers?"
"Uhm..." Farin didn't know if he was supposed to answer. "Because you wanted to peel them off my body?"
"Right. Pretty trousers." Bela leaned down and kissed Farin's neck, leaving a wet trail on the guitarist's torso as he slid downwards. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and Farin lifted his hips, helping him getting them finally out of the way. They looked cool, but damn, they were torture if you wore them for more than a few hours in a row.
"Pretty legs," Bela murmured against Farin's inner thigh, licking along the rim of his boxers and then biting down. Farin took a sharp breath. He couldn't stop thinking that Bela was high and Rod was sitting not even two metres away, but Bela's mouth felt so good, and then he was pulling down his boxers and, God, he was licking him, licking and sucking, just like he had sucked that damn joint.
He reached down and grabbed his hair; it was shorter than it had been in the ‘80s, but still dyed black and sticking out in every direction. He didn't force his movements, he just needed something to hold on to as the sucking grew more intense. Bela had always been so good...
Just when he thought he was about to come, Bela moved away.
"Fuck, Bela..." he whined, trying to push him back down, but Bela only grinned.
"Oh no, I don't think so," he said and leaned over the edge of the bed. When he sat back up, he was holding a condom and a tube of lube. He nudged Farin's thigh and the guitarist obediently opened his legs, bending them at the knees. He tensed up as he felt Bela's slick finger slowly enter him.
"Relax, baby, you know you can take more than a finger," Bela murmured, rotating his wrist and adding a second one.
Farin closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, the cool cotton of the pillow case feeling wonderful against his skin. It had been so long since he had let Bela be on top, his fingers felt huge as they slid in and out of him. They really shouldn't be doing this, not when the drummer was probably stoned out of his mind, but Farin wanted it so bad, he was sure if they stopped he would die. He whined as Bela removed his fingers and gasped as they were replaced by his cock.
"Fuck... You're still so tight... So fucking tight..."
Farin looked up. Bela was biting his bottom lip, eyes half-closed and glittering in the orange light as he moved slowly, pushing all the way in and pulling back, over and over and over. As he watched, the drummer turned his head slightly to the side, reached out and pulled Rod to him, leaning forward and crushing their mouths together. He saw a wisp of smoke leave the bassist's lips, the rest was sucked into Bela's mouth as the two kissed hungrily. Farin thought everything about that situation was wrong: Bela and Rod shouldn't be doing drugs, he shouldn't be there witnessing it, Rod shouldn't be there sharing their intimacy. But then Bela pulled back, panting heavily, and started pounding into him as if he wanted to fuck him through the mattress and his hand... no, fuck, that was Rod's hand closing around his cock and stroking him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, and he knew he would hate himself in the morning, but he couldn't hold back anymore: the air was too hot and the light too bright and Rod's hand was so perfect and he was coming, dripping all over his stomach and Rod's fingers. He was only barely aware of Bela grunting above him as his legs tensed and his back arched, hands clutching the sheets so hard he thought he was ripping them off the bed.
He groaned as Bela collapsed on top of him before rolling off to lie at his side.
"Fuck, that was... amazing," he mumbled, and promptly fell asleep. Farin shook his head but didn't complain: he was feeling rather drowsy himself. He sat up, grimacing at the soreness in his arse, and grabbed the quilt.
"You don't mind if we sleep here, do you?" He asked Rod, who was sitting at the edge of the bed.
The bassist shrugged and dropped what was left of the joint into the ashtray. "The bed's big enough for all three of us," he replied and crawled over Bela, lying down behind him.
Farin pulled up the quilt and turned off the lamp. He hoped stoned people didn't snore.
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October 2008