Category Linkin Park

...Like An Animal by prettylikemurder

...Like An Animal

A/N: I have MAJOR writer's block and my internet is down. I'm posting this in a net cafe. I'm so depressed. Lol. Ok. Here goes nothing.

D/C: Nothing is mine. Lyrics are 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails.


It's so ridiculous that he's torturing me and flirting with me without even realising it.

I'm just sitting here on the couch 'reading a magazine' (ok, I'm not, I'm peeking over the top of it at him) and he's over in the kitchen making a snack. Completely innocent.

Ha! Sure! With him, nothing is. The radio's on, and (thankyou Lord) the song playing is 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails. Now, he normally would never dance. But today, the one day I can't seem to get control of my hormones, he's changed his mind. Great.

My eyes are glued on him, watching his movements. And on one particular spot.

In the back of his unusually tight (well, for him), worn, faded old jeans there is a rip. No more than three inches long and half an inch wide. It's sitting, damn it, right under his butt at the top of his right thigh. His hips move with a fluid grace I didn't know he possessed to the heavy, sexual beat of the song. And every time they slide backwards just a little too far, that damn rip is stretched... and pulled up a little. A tiny spot of creamy skin is exposed and I have to stifle a gasp.

He's humming along softly, occasionally singing a line or two--

"Mmmm hmmm hmmm... You let me penetrate you... Mmmm hmmm hmmm..."

-- just the right lines to increase my heartrate a little more. My eyes tear away from that damn rip and move to look at his lips. Absolutely sinful. Full, cherry red and pouting. Just screaming to be kissed. His petal pink tongue slips out between them and moistens them, making them glisten for a few moments. I swallow thickly, then have to bite down a moan as those lips form another line from the song.

"Help me, tear down me reason, help me, it's your sex I can smell..."

Holy shit. If I can't watch him sing, how will I be able to watch him eat strawberries?! I grip the edges of the 'Rolling Stone' in my hands, listening to the glossy paper crinkle underneath my fingertips. He looks away from the plate of fruit in front of him, and our eyes meet over the top of the magazine. I blush furiously, but he flashes me a smile. "Watcha lookin' at?" he says casually. I shake my head and mumble, "Nothing." and force my eyes back to the article about Colin Farrell- that I'm not really reading anyway. When I'm sure he's got his attention back on the fruit, I peek up again.

He's cutting up an apple, giggling when the juice runs down his wrist. He lifts his arm to his face and licks tentatively at the cold liquid trickling down his arm. That long tongue snakes out and laps at the porcelain skin. I bite my bottom lip viciously, screaming at myself inwardly not to make a sound. My pants tighten almost unbearably and I whimper softly.

He lowers his hand back down to the counter and picks up the knife in his right hand. His hands... oh, Lord, those beautiful hands. Elegant, strong, artistic, and a little bony- but who cares? They're beautiful. He arranges the slices on the platter, those nimble fingers working so quickly. I shudder, images of those fingers tracing my skin filling my hyperactive mind.

Suddenly, he speaks up, startling me out of my fantasy. "Would you like cream? I've got some."

Without thinking, I stutter, "S-sure."

He smiles, big chocolate eyes lighting up. Then he turns around to the fridge and I drop the magazine with a 'swish' to the floor. His jeans are pulled tightly over his perfect ass, hugging the perky cheeks tightly. I can almost feel that ample flesh underneath my hands. I want to squeeze the absolute life out of-

"Canned cream or the real stuff?"

I jump and raise my eyes to his face, feeling mine burn with embarrassment. I stammer, "C-Canned cream, p-please."

"No p-p-p-problem." he mocks, grinning. I smile back feebly and reach down to pick up my magazine. He calls,

"No don't. It's ready anyway." and picks up the platter in one hand and the cream in the other. I cross my legs Indian style, hoping to hide my raging erection. He comes over kneels on the floor in front of me- and months of fantasies come rushing through my mind. Him on his knees sucking my cock, those amazing lips sliding over and over my-

"Well? Are you going to sit there staring or dig in?" he grins. I shake myself a little and nod sheepishly, leaning over to grab a piece of watermelon. I eat it quickly, not wanting to miss anything. He, oh Mother Mary save me, picks up a strawberry and the cream. He beams as he squirts the fluffly white stuff all over it. I giggle nervously and say, "Like a little strawberry with your cream?"

He grins, showing perfect white teeth and nods vigorously. I nearly faint. He's so goddamn fucking sexy. I keep my eyes locked on the strawberry. He lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite out of the end. I swallow the moans threatening to escape while I watch little rivers of pink juice slide over his chin and a few blobs of cream dot the corners of his mouth. He lets out a low moan of pleasure, eyes sinking closed.

I have to hold on to the couch cushions.

He swallows, opens his eyes and smiles lazily. Seeing the tense expression on my face he holds the strawberry forward.

"Wanna bite?"

My knuckles turn white.

"Sure." I blurt out.

He grins that sexy grin and leans forward a little more. I reach my hand out to take it and he says,

"Nuh uh!" and holds the fruit up to my lips.

I can almost feel the couch cushions ripping I'm gripping so tightly.

I lean forward and shakily take the other end of the cream-covered strawberry out of his fingers with my teeth, trying not to let my skin touch his. He watches me chew, smiling slightly.

"Good?" he asks, cocking his head to one side. I swallow hard and nod. He beams and giggles, "More?"

I nod aggressively. His smile never fades. He reaches over and grabs the can of cream, shaking it.

"You know what I'd really like with my cream?" he drawls, shuffling toward me. I shake my head dumbly, unable to rip my eyes away from his.

"I'd like a little Rob with my cream."

"E-excuse me?"

Maybe he does realise what sort of effect he has on me.

He knocks my legs open and kneels between them. He gestures for me to lean closer. I obey blindly. He reaches up and cups my chin with his left hand and brings the cream to my lips with the other. I open them quickly and a rush of cold sweetness covers my tongue.

Yes, he definitely knows.

Followed by hot sweetness when his tongue slides between my open lips, licking at the cream. When he's had his fill he moves away from my mouth, leaving me panting and swallowing the remaining cream. His lips meet my ear and he sings one line from that fucking song. That one fucking line that tipped me over the edge of self-control.

"I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside..."

I really wish I could have controlled myself better.


But I couldn't.

I came. Right there. In my pants. Untouched.

"Oh, Brad..."

You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

Help me, I broke apart my insides

Help me, I’ve got no soul to sell

Help me, the only thing that works for me

Help me, get away from myself

I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to god

You can have my isolation

You can have the hate that it brings

You can have my absence of faith

You can have my everything

Help me, tear down my reason

Help me, it's your sex I can smell

Help me, you make me perfect

Help me, become somebody else

I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to god

I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed

You get me closer to god

~Nine Inch Nails 'Closer'


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