Category Linkin Park

Attention by Rivver

A Smear Of Blue

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. This is pure fiction.

Warning: Explicit smut in later chapters.

Proof read by a friend, but if we missed any mistakes, I apologize.

This story is set in the early, early days.

All that said, hope you guys enjoy!:D


They’ve been there for ten minutes. Ten minutes, not a minute more, and Brad’s already left their table to talk to the guy who’s been checking him out since he sat down. Mike has never seen him before, so it must be Brad’s first time with him. He knows this, because try as he might, ignoring Brad’s extra-group activities has proven impossible. In fact, he’s extremely aware of each one of Brad’s moves and can probably identify every guy that Brad has sex with out of a crowd.

Every. Single. One.

He also hates each one with a burning passion.

“He’s already hooked up with someone?” Chester laughs with amusement. He’s new to the band and group and he’s unfamiliar with Brad’s ways. “I literally just sat my ass on this chair and he’s already rubbing against someone. He’s faster than the speed of light.”

“Yeah, that’s our Brad,” Dave says with a fond smile and lifts his beer mug, “sarcastic and slutty.”

Mike nods. “He’s living proof that the ‘nice Jewish boy’ stereotype is only that, a stereotype.” He attempts to laugh at his own joke when the rest of the guys laugh, but he barely manages to produce a tight-lipped smile.

Unsuccessfully, Mike tries to avoid seeing that ‘rubbing’ Chester mentioned, but his eyes move over the crowd as if on their own accord to try and spot Brad and his new fuck buddy. When he finds them his stomach twists. There Brad is swaying in rhythm with the music against a dark haired man who’s practically eating the guitarist’s face off. Also, not the same guy Mike saw him sharing an ice cream with and being all flirty with that very afternoon. This man is definitely on the musclier side and his broad hands are touching and groping Brad’s lithe body like a starved man, though Brad is not too far behind. He seems to be enjoying the guy’s muscles a little too much.

Mike forces himself to look away, but his eyes keep coming back to the touchy couple every so often. At some point, he loses sight of them which can only mean one thing. He sets his focus on the beer in front of him and tries to block the images of what the two are probably doing in the club’s bathroom. Thankfully, Dave engages him in small talk and he’s soon laughing and chatting animatedly with the rest of the guys.

Between their fourth or fifth round of beers, Brad rejoins them. Mike’s stomach twists once more at the sight. Their guitarist is all flushed and he’s sporting a rather ‘pleased with himself’ smirk. He also seems to be walking funny, something Chester notices right away.

“You slut!” Chester laughs, which gets louder as Brad sits down with some difficulty. “Damn! And I thought I was a free spirit.”

“Problem?” Brad asks with a wide grin then picks up one of the mugs to have a drink.

“Naw, man! I still love you.” Chester claps Brad on the back, making him spill some beer out of the corner of his mouth down to his chin; a trail Mike’s eyes follow fixatedly. His mouth begins to water at the sight so he looks away quickly.

“You say that because you’ve known him for only two weeks,” Dave tells Chester in a teasing tone. “Trust me on this one. I have to live with him.”

Brad’s unfazed by the taunt. It’s Dave anyway. That’s practically what their relationship is based on, picking on each other. They have an older/younger brother bond and though they give each other a hard time, they love each other dearly. Dave is also very protective of Brad.

“So how does it work?” Chester asks, thrilled by Brad’s modus operandi. “You just walk in, catch some guy’s eye and then…jump him?”

Mike groans and looks away from their table. Maybe he should hook up with someone. That way he wouldn’t have to sit here and listen to this.

“It’s easy, actually. See, Brad’s got a reputation here,” Rob explains, leaning over the table so Chester can hear him over the music around them. “They’re all competing for his attention the minute he walks in.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Rob,” Brad counters then gives Chester one of his seductive smiles. “But basically…”

Chester snickers. “Who would’ve thought someone as scrawny as Brad would get all the…uh…men.”

“They like it,” Brad sort of snaps; his weight a soft spot for him. “Makes them feel like they’re in control,” he finishes with a shrug.

“And they aren’t?” Mike inquires against his better judgment.

Brad smirks at him and raises one dark eyebrow. “I’m always in control.”

At that, Mike has to steady himself on his seat. Brad’s seductive gaze and melodious voice makes all his blood rush south. It’s so quick he almost gets dizzy, so he drinks a few gulps of beer to clear his head and hopes for the millionth time that Brad doesn’t notice the effect he has on him.

“Really?” Joe asks from his right, “even if they’re pounding your skinny ass like I had the misfortune of seeing?”

Brad scowls at Joe while Mike sputters, choking on the beer. He really didn’t need to hear all that. Good thing he’s never had to see it with his own eyes. The mental images are bad enough.

“Can we talk about something else, please?” He pleads, avoiding looking at Brad.

“Oh, so you’re like a power bottom!” Chester exclaims with mirth, ignoring Mike’s request. He’s so damn amused that Mike wants to slap him over the head. There’s nothing amusing about any of this!

“Seriously, guys, I’m gonna leave.”

“Relax, Mike. There’s nothing wrong with our Braddles exploring his sexuality with multiple partners,” Dave pinches in then looks at Brad with intent, “as long as it doesn’t get out of hand, of course. Right, Brad?”

“I think it’s already out of hand.” Joe comments. “Brad’s a cock addict.”

They all laugh, including Brad. Well, all except Mike.

“Okay. I’m done,” he announces and fishes out his wallet. He leaves his part of the money on the table and stands up. “See you guys…whenever.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mike. Seriously?” Chester says as Mike turns to leave.

“Let him. He always gets like that,” he hears Brad say in a somewhat dejected tone as he walks away.

Whenever he’s feeling stressed out, Mike turns to art. He can forget about his problems and clear his head. It’s his element. Every line, curve and every trace of color is intended and has a purpose. He’s fully in control of every drop of paint at the end of his brush.

Once immersed in one of his projects, there’s always a clear, almost stubborn image at the forefront of his mind of what he wants to imprint on the big canvas on the floor of his garage, one that won’t leave him be until he’s able to see its mirror image on it—that is until images of Brad start plaguing his thoughts making it impossible to focus, and the once clear vision blurs into an indiscernible smudge at the back of his mind.

It’s obviously worse when the guy is present.


Mike turns around to see Brad standing there by the garage door, left open for when he has to use the spray paints.

“Hey,” he greets back, trying to sound as aloof as possible as he turns his attention back to…whatever it was he was trying to paint.

Brad’s wearing his usual, baggy clothes. The kind he seems to swim in. He’s got a cap on with the visor turned sideways. The clothes aren’t special or showy. They never are. They don’t show his slender shape and the only visible skin to Mike is on the guy’s recently shaved face, neck and hands. Yet he still manages to catch Mike’s interest. His mind can’t help but imagine, or not so much imagine since he’s seen Brad practically naked a bunch of times, what the younger man looks like underneath all that fabric and he has the sudden urge to imprint those images on his canvas instead.

It’s mad distracting.

“Can I help you with anything, Brad?” he offers when it becomes apparent that Brad’s expecting a more substantial acknowledgment to his presence.

Such an attention whore.

Brad nods and steps closer. He takes a look at Mike’s project, and by the look on his face, it’s clear he’s trying to understand what the blotches of paint are supposed to mean. Mike moves so he’s standing between his work and Brad so he can’t see it anymore. There’s nothing much to see anyway.

“That was pretty rude of you last night,” Brad says finally, “leaving the way you did. Chester didn’t know what to think.”

Mike scoffs. “I was rude? What about you flaunting your sexual activities on the fucking table?”

“Chester wanted to know,” Brad says matter of fact. “I wasn’t the one who brought it up.”

“Whatever,” he sighs.

Brad looks away. “Anyway—we have about thirty people confirmed to the after party tomorrow. So, just letting you know.”

“Are you going to…ah—what did Dave call it? — explore your sexuality with some of our fans like you did last time?” Mike asks, feigning disinterest as he wipes the excess of paint off his hands with a cloth before tossing it over his shoulder.

“If anyone catches my eye…” Brad replies with a shrug.

At that, Mike’s nonchalant demeanor changes to a stern stance and he turns to face Brad fully. “Well, I’d rather you not,” he says, resting his hands on his hips. “It doesn’t reflect well on our band. Sleep with whomever you want in your free time, but not with our fans. It might be a party, but it’s still part of our job. We’re promoting our band and music…not ourselves.”

Brad frowns and folds his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you truly think of me.”

“Don’t try to make this something it isn’t,” Mike says, holding his palms up to Brad. “I’m just looking out for the band, that’s all.”

“Admit it,” Brad says. “You’re disgusted by me.”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? I’m not—that’s so not—why would you even—?” He stammers, shocked by Brad’s assumption.

“I think it’s more than a little obvious, Michael,” Brad interrupts. He doesn’t seem mad, though, which worries Mike. It almost sounds like he’s come to terms with it. Truth is, he’s never been thrilled by Brad’s choices in terms of bed partners or their number, but the reason behind it is that he finds Brad the exact opposite of disgusting.

“You couldn’t be far more off if you tried,” Mike says with a sigh. Brad frowns, confused, so Mike takes a deep breath and looks at Brad with intent. “But now we’re at it, I’m gonna be upfront with you. I don’t agree with it, and yes, it bothers me, but I am not disgusted by you, Brad.”

Brad gives him an unconvinced look. “Well…you do a pretty good job acting like you are.”

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Brad looks at him with a curious glint, studying him. Mike holds the stare until Brad looks away.

“Fine…” he sighs. “I won’t do anything with our fans. In fact, I’ll keep by your side at all times. Happy?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike says with a light shake of his head.

“I know,” Brad says, softening his voice and stepping closer. He cocks his head to the side a bit and gives him a flirty look. “But what if I wanted to?”

Mike stands straight and keeps his semblance serious. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Brad smiles innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about his bearing or the hand that he’s so casually placed on Mike’s shoulder and is now slowly sliding down his bicep.

Pushing Brad’s hand away, Mike stands his ground. “Don’t you have enough on your plate already, Brad?”

It’s not the first time Brad has tried flirting with him, so he knows how to handle it. He knows how to reject him. And that’s exactly what Mike is doing to him, even though every cell in his being is screaming at him to give in.

“Not disgusted by me, huh?” Brad says then; his tone a lot less gleeful. The younger man doesn’t react well to rejection. He’ll probably become withdrawn and avoid Mike like the plague for the next few days like he has in the past.

“I’m not. Trust me. But we’re not doing this,” he says firmly. “I’m not one of your conquests.”

“You’re such a killjoy, Mike,” Brad scoffs and turns to leave. To both men’s surprise, Mike doesn’t let him. He grabs Brad by the arm and pulls him against him. A startled little sound leaves Brad’s lips at the sudden action, but it’s soon muffled by Mike’s lips against them.

Mike wraps his arms around Brad’s small waist, pulling him impossibly close, almost lifting him off the floor; his free hand cups Brad’s cheek in a gentle grip. He even caresses one high cheekbone with his thumb. After the initial shock, Brad returns the kiss with fervor. He wraps his arms around Mike’s neck and parts his lips invitingly and a tentative tongue slips out to meet Mike’s. And that’s when Mike chooses to pull back. The disappointed whimper Brad emits is worth going back on his word.

“Like I said,” he says, putting some distance between them. “I’m not one of your conquests. When you get your fill, maybe we’ll talk. Until then, you can keep having fun with your buddies at the Roxy.”

Brad looks stunned, but he nods eventually. It’s a jerky movement, unsure. He looks at Mike guardedly. He’s suddenly not as confident as he likes to appear. He’s blushing hard and to Mike’s delight, there’s a smear of blue on the younger man’s pale right cheek.

Guess he didn’t wipe all the excess of paint from his hands.

“So, I’ll see you tonight,” Mike says, giving Brad a way out. He doesn’t tell him about the paint. He wants him to bear his mark for a bit until he checks himself in the mirror or someone points it out to him. Mike can already imagine the fierce blush it’ll bring to those cute cheeks when Brad finds out.

“Tonight?” Brad frowns. He’s so confused Mike almost snorts in his face.

“Rehearsal? You remember about our rehearsal, don’t you, Brad?” he teases.

“Right. Rehearsal. Yes,” Brad replies, looking down. He looks up then, almost pleadingly. “See you then?”

Mike nods with an amused smile.

“Okay...okay, bye,” Brad says and turns to leave. Then stops and looks back at Mike a couple of times.

“Anything else?” Mike asks with raised eyebrows. He’s trying hard not to laugh.

“Um…no, I’m just gonna…uh…go,” Brad stutters out. “So bye.”

“Bye,” Mike says, smirking at how baffled Brad seems. And he’s usually so confident when it comes to flirting.

When Brad finally manages to leave, Mike shakes his head and returns to his work with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.

He should’ve kissed him a long time ago.

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