LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Chivelry by Duchess

Going under

A/N Ok, this is a re write, just added some things




Sweat was dripping into his eyes, down his neck and made the black wife beater stick to his lean body uncomfortably. A sharp wind from god-knows-were blew across the stage every so often chilling his already damp skin; he was blind, having left his glasses back in the hotel room, tour bus thankfully forgotten for the night in favour of a real hotel room. His body ached, his heart pounded. Chester Bennington had never felt so alive in his life.



He looked over at Mike briefly as the emcee rapped, feeling more then hearing the strong voice through the powerful speakers directly behind his body that pumped the bass out so hard he could feel it in his blood.



He moved forward nearer the front of the stage, the first few people beyond the metal barred barrier and security coming into focus at last. The mic bit into his palm as he gripped it and lifted it to his mouth. He listened as his best friends smooth voice worked the crowd, leaving Chester to do his part when his rap was over.



He worked himself up silently, bringing every emotion that he could muster up to the very surface, ready to let loose and trusting his voice to hold it. Mikes voice faded out, and Chester leapt forward, crashing into the panels at the front of the stage, not quite trusting them to hold his full weight plus some as he put all his force into the jump. He let loose.



"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" There was something therapeutic about screaming that phrase to a venue full of people, especially if the crowd got into it like they had that night. He'd had a hard on since the first song, swept away by the power of the combined voices of the audience as they sang the lyrics with him.



The mass of people surged to the front, trying to get as near to the stage as possible and managing to nearly crush the row at the front against the barriers. He lent further towards the crowd, could hear the individual voices under his own as he sung them into a frenzy. He could feel the vibrations of the bass and numerous feet jumping up and down on the stage behind him, but he kept focused intently on the crowd in front of him.



One head looked up. The person in front of him had escaped his notice before now, dark head bent to show only the top of spiky black hair. They looked up straight at him as if they sensed his stares and Chester almost missed the next line. He thanked every deity he believed in that he had sung the songs a million times before, and that he was professional enough to carry on singing whilst drowning in the most amazing doe-like eyes he had ever seen.



The man in front of him stopped moving with the crowd, just as lost, staring at the singer. He was ignoring the man next to him, a lanky blond whose shirt had apparently been discarded a while ago as the small silver ring through his nipple glinted with sweat under the harsh stage lights.



Maybe it was because he ignored his friend, or because he stopped moving with the flexing bodies around him, but just as Chester thought he'd fall off the stage trying to reach the beautiful, and oh so familiar man in front of him, eye contact was broken. The dark haired god was flung violently against the barrier.



Chester was helpless to do anything except watch and sing as the delicate but angular face contorted in a grimace of pain, and even as his blond companion tried to help, was kicked in the head by a girl behind him wearing thick leather boots. The god lay on the floor of the venue, unconscious and getting trampled, while his friend was getting forced further and further away by the heaving crowd.



The song ended then, and Chester quickly and discreetly caught the attention of one of the security guards at the front of the stage. He could still see the body on the floor through the barriers: no one had tried to help the fallen young man, their only concern getting as near to the stage and the music as they possibly could.



The blond singer kept an eye on the front of the crowd as the large black man serving as one of their security crew pushed the crowd back single handedly before heaving the fallen figure over the barriers. Chaz saw the recognition flash over the guards face, and the huge man hurried back stage, taking his injured cargo with him, moving smoothly so as not to jar him even more.



Another guard pushed people back from the area that had been vacated to let the man out. Apparently he had been recognised by some of the fans as well, and an upheaval had started.



He grinned once more, strains of Papercut flowing through the speaker, and the roar of approval from the audience flowing through him like blood. The gorgeous singer stepped back fluidly, almost tugging the mass of people with him as if they were attached to him with invisible strings.



Finally, pretty actor saved and crowd sufficiently whipped into a sweating, violent frenzy, Chester relaxed and started to sing once more, totally focused and mind totally clear. He studiously ignored Mikes questioning looks in favour of singing at full volume. He gripped the mic he held tighter, listened to the crowd singing with him and smiled.



He had never felt so alive.



***************



Orlando swam reluctantly back to consciousness, well aware that moving would be a very bad idea. He could hear snatches of whispered conversation under the music that indicated that the concert was still going on and he was missing it. He wasn't sure where he was, how long he'd been there or who exactly was gently cleaning his forehead, but he did know he ached.



He moved his foot experimentally and groaned when a sharp ache shot through his leg. Didn't hurt quite as much as breaking his back, but he still hurt.



"Mr. Bloom?" A female voice asked, and Orli hh-hmmed an answer, not quite ready to open his eyes yet. He knew the fact that he hurt all over was his own fault. Why the hell did he always fall for the prettiest eyes as the most inconvenient moments? That had been the way that Elijah had snagged him during the filming of Lord of the Rings, those huge clear blue eyes had stared into his soul and saw everything.



Chester Bennington was apparently another man who would have he power to make Orli do absolutely anything just by looking at him. Hell, he'd made him stand perfectly still in a crowd of crazy Linkin Park fans where the only way to stay on your feet was to keep moving. He'd proven that, he thought to himself and allowed a small chuckle to escape, probably confusing whoever had spoken to him all to hell.



He'd had tickets to the concert for months, and had finally convinced his friend Andre Schneider to go with him by means of large bribes and a promise that he would visit Atti in Berlin in the near future. He didn't regret coming in the slightest, not even now that his head was pounding, the cleaning of his forehead probably having something to do with cuts, and his entire body ached from the kicking he had probably received in the crowd.



He mentally groaned. In all his unconsciousness he had forgotten about Atti; the German comic was probably sick with worry. Deciding that it was about time he tried the eye opening thing, Orli started slowly, letting himself adjust to the bright lights of what was apparently back stage before looking around.



A woman sat next to him, bright pink hair pulled into a messy ponytail and a small smile on her face.



"Thought we'd lost you there for a minute." She said. Ah, Orli thought, that’s who was talking to me. "Lucky Chester spotted you or we probably would have."



"Where'm I?" He asked, feeling more than a little slow and stupid.



"Security took you back stage." The woman, who was probably about ten years older than he was, pushed the hair out of his face and tutted sternly at him. "A few of the girls recognized you, so it was probably a good thing you came back here." She patted him on the shoulder and stood. "Just lay there for a while, you might feel better. Shows almost over now anyway." She walked away, already talking to another guy standing just outside the door, who looked suspiciously like an accountant gone wrong.



'Here' was apparently on a beat up sofa in what looked like a dressing room. Orli let himself drift again, glad that he was now alone so he could gather his thoughts. He knew he was dreaming if he thought he had any chance with the blond singer, even if the guy probably saved his life.



He was well aware from interviews what the man thought of people getting trampled at their concerts, so of course when he saw a chance to help, he would have. He probably didn't even recognize him.



The ringing of his cell phone startled him, he didn't even realise he had it on him, let alone it still being there after his incident. He slowly reached for it, muscles still protesting, but not nearly as sore as they had been in the beginning.



"Hello?" He could hear screaming in the background and Attis voice faintly sounded above the noise.



"OB, where the hell are you?" The German accent was almost frantic, just as he knew it would be. "I've been calling for fucking ages!"



"I'm backstage." He answered, cutting off what sounded to be a good Atti-rant. "I'm fine, just a bit sore. I think some guy kicked me in the head."



"Girl actually." He couldn't hear any music in the background, so he assumed the concert was over. "Want me to try and get to you, or meet you somewhere?"



"Nah, go back to the hotel, I'll get a cab or something." Atti rang off, and Orli relaxed, finally relieved that his friend was ok and he knew that Orli was fine.



The actor sat up and stretched, aching head reduced to only a dull throbbing as he took an inventory. Clothes, check. Cell, check. Wallet…nope. Damn. He sighed and lay back, trying not to think about how many hours on the phone he would have to spend cancelling every card and trying to sort out new ones. Thank god he didn't carry cash.



"Smart thing. Easy to get ripped off at concerts." Orli's eyes whipped round to find the source of the voice. Apparently he had been talking out loud, but forgot to be embarrassed when he located the source of the comment.



The man in the doorway reached about six feet tall; his lean body was covered in tartan pants, a black wife beater and a thin sheen of sweat. His earpiece had been taken out already and hung down one shoulder, swaying as he walked over to the table by the couch and picked up a pair of glasses that Orlando hadn't noticed before.



"Wow, I can see!" Chester exclaimed excitedly as he slid on the thick frames and rounded on Orlando, still looking slightly shell-shocked on the battered couch.



"Hey," he said, extending his hand towards the Englishman. "I'm Chester."



"Orli, or OB, whatever's easier." The singer had a strong grip, and as soon as their hands made contact, Orli couldn't help but think how good the mic roughened hands would feel gripping something else…Woah, he told himself sternly. Down boy.



'Did you want a drink or anything?' Chester asked, moving to a cooler that had been haphazardly shoved in a spare corner and took out a blue bottle of water.



'I'll just have what you're having.' The Englishman said, still slightly subdued from the headache pounding behind his eyes. Chester looked at the younger man worriedly. The actor was still pale, but his colour was returning.



'I take it you've seen Leah.' Chester questioned. He knew their medic would have been all over the injured young man like a rash as soon as he'd been set down if she was there, but she may well have been elsewhere attending to an injured roadie or security member.



'Medical kit, pink hair, quite bossy?' At Chester's nod, Orli smiled slightly. 'Yeah, she told me to stay here for a while.' He made to get up from the couch, but sat back down quickly as a head rush hit him hard, making him sway on his feet until he collapsed on the sofa again.



The singer handed him a second bottle of water, and smiled at him. The smile was infectious and Orlando found himself smiling back. He was sure he looked like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to help it.



'So,' Chester broke the almost awkward silence. Both men realised they had just been standing, or in Orli's case sitting, and staring at each other. Snapped out of their own private worlds, Chester's attempt to make conversation was warmly welcomed. 'Did you enjoy the concert?'



Orlando chuckled quietly, receiving a confused look from the other man.



'What I saw of it was amazing.' He clarified, and Chester started to laugh with him. They compared notes on different concerts in different locations that Linkin Park had done, who they had worked with, where Chester's favourite place was. Orlando, having not only been a fan of the band, but of Chester himself for quite some time, had been to quite a few of their concerts. Chester, in turn quizzed the young actor about his experiences in New Zealand filming Lord of the Rings and other roles that he had worked on.



While Chester changed clothes, they compared notes on the different locations that band had played in. Orlando was endlessly fascinated about Chester's experiences on stage, the different crowds and fans the band had met and added his own anecdotes on various mosh pit encounters and hobbit escapades.



They fell into silence while Chester finished changing, Orli peeking only a few times from where he had averted his gaze to give the other man some semblance of privacy.



"How you feeling now?" The American asked when he was once again fully dressed in black jeans and a black band T-shirt. "Still dizzy?"



Orli attempted once again to stand up, fully expecting the incapacitating headrush, but thankfully receiving only a mild tingle as he slowly rose to his feet. The actor praised his own, sometimes dubious fashion choices as his loose T-shirt covered his substantial erection. Chester was watching his new friend closely, having grown quite attached, as well as attracted to the man, and quite prepared to catch him if he fell once again.



"I'm good. Aching, but good. Headaches nearly gone, thank god." Chester looked up from fiddling with his wallet chain and the actor almost passed out again. The glasses emphasised the other mans light brown eyes, made the lashes surrounding them look thicker, and the aroused pupil look even more dilated. God he loved those eyes.



Feeling bold and hoping that the rumours about the singer were true, Orli took a step forward, keeping eye contact as he leant towards the other man slowly, giving him time to pull away if he didn't want to be kissed. The blond caught onto his intentions quickly, and instead of pulling away like Orli thought he would, he pressed forward, quickly taking Orlando's lips in a kiss designed to suck out his soul.



The kiss was hard, and almost desperate, full lips sliding over each other, tongues twisting and stroking, trying to taste the other and imprint the sense onto their minds. The sexual tension that had been barely noticeable in the small room, beaten down into the guise of politeness, became so much clearer and Orli drank it up like Chester seemed to be doing to him. Orli had seen the passion on stage, now he was experiencing it in the best way he could think of.



One large hand came to rest on his back, pulling the dark haired man flush with his body. Orli noticed that the singer had to adjust the angle of the kiss to still explore his mouth, and he moaned slightly around the questing tongue. He hadn't realised that Chester was taller than him, if only by a few inches.



The actor groaned once more as Chaz's hand rested lightly on his ass, pressing their hips together so there was no doubt as to what he felt. The singer was rock hard, and by the feel of the urgency in the lean body, had been for a while. Orli remembered reading somewhere about Linkin Parks singer getting somewhat excited about crowds singing at their concert, but he hadn't believed it at the time. He quickly re evaluated what he thought he knew, and ground their erections together, earning a low sound from the back of Chester's throat for his trouble.



The blond pulled back from the kiss, and stilled Orli's movements with hands that were a lot stronger than they looked.



"If we don't stop I'm gonna come in my pants." He gasped the words out, trying to catch his breath after Orlando had taken it from him. All that stage kissing had probably done something for the young man, because the technique was far too good. The damned boy could probably kiss to orgasm.



"There's badness in that?" Orli questioned, and swiped his slick tongue up the singer neck, making his entire body shiver.



"Yeah, I gotta walk out of here in 10 minutes to get to my hotel." Orli pulled back, feeling slightly hurt that the man had led him on, but otherwise just cursing his tendency to get too involved too quickly.



"Oh, ok." He tried not to let this disappointment show in his eyes, or in his voice. Looks like it was just him and his right hand tonight. "I'd better get back to Atti anyway."



"Did I say anything about going alone?" A soft palm covered his cheek, turning his head around so he could meet the singers beautiful gaze. The thing that had caught his attention in the first place. "You have got me far too worked up just to leave now." The smooth voice stroked his body like it was millions of hands, and made him shake with want. Firm, full lips covered his briefly in chastest of kisses so far, and were gone in an instant.



"Where are you staying?" Orli questioned. He had to ring Atti, let him know where he was going, just in case the German had any more panic attacks when Orli didn't come back to the room.



"Pavilion. What about you?" Orli could feel the grin stretching across his face, and Chester echoed it, even though he didn't have a clue what the hell they were grinning about.



"Same." Guess he wouldn't be ringing Atti to let him know. He'd probably hear them and guess.



A/N Yes, I am aware this sucks ass, but this is something I have to get out of my system, more to come! Review please!

Go to chapter:

Reviews Add review