He looks like a whore.
He looks like a fucking whore and it’s funny, all of a sudden his tights seem
I look at the purple leopard tights and they do seem funny.
I feel wrong and I feel weird, my body now a normal weight.
I read too much and I tend to forget lately and I’m asking plots I do not recall.
I keep listening to the music and seems different.
Yeah, I kept
I think I keep looking at you way too much and the gun seems to be stuck to my teeth and I keep having a timer in my head. I wonder if the backstage pass I bought would be real and the girl never faked it.
He doesn’t seem funny any ore, he seems faceable and my mind is blocked.
My body is shaking too badly it’s not about the thought if I may or may not be a groupie it’s about the fear of image and how silent does the music feel and how the audience feels like air.
I love you.
And that should be the pass I’d show in what? Three songs.
Fuck. Just be there let me show it to your face, you, you, you.
It’s like a dream, you have sex with your relative to forgive.
I forgive you for forgiving me.
I am a bit too chubby from eating fast food for a while and the insomnia as I’d stare into the ticket to just go backstage with facial hair and see James laugh.
They all giggle as I hold Nicky’s hand and my mustache feels big and heavy as if it were my body with weight.
It’s all too nervous and my voice seems to be like my thoughts.
So I am left with Nicky and I have never touched him before and we both feel old all of a sudden and maybe he believes in my death at twenty seven, so I just sit there with all the facial hair and then I start undressing myself. What if I am ugly indeed?
But Nicky just stares at me.
Suddenly I feel skinny again and I can see us again lying on his bed, gently touching the subject of sex and homosexuality in music.
Nicky remains silent and I don’t say anything.
I pull the mustache slightly, exposing my mouth.
I take out a razor from my pocket and I shave myself with trembling fingers and I think if I should touch my hair as well, if I should show myself how I were when he had seen me, but he just keeps looking at me.
Nicky lifts up his dress.
Maybe I am still a groupie.
I go on my knees and take his cock delightfully in my mouth, moaning, putting a hand to stroke myself as I lick him and I feel blood where my lips are. I can’t seem to stop even after he comes and he tells me to stop, I want him all.
I take off the sweater and he sees the tattoos.
He strokes my hair and thrusts reaching the back of my throat. I keep stroking the tip of my cock.
Let’s be silent.
It was requested by an anon.
Hope you'll enjoy this short Richey/Nicky story.