Date: Sat, 14 Jan 2006 17:28:33 +0000
From: Matt Buck <matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Musicmaker
The Musicmaker, by mattbuck
All comments are appreciated - email matt_v_jellicle@hotmail.com
Please remember to say which McFly boy you think the narrator is
Other stories I've written can be found on my website, in the fiction
section
http://mattbuck.sixwinter.com
My other stories in the Nifty Boy Bands section are:
Dougie's Private Fantasy
Pattycake
And I Love Him
Changing Rooms
Dreamscape
Kind of Perfect
The Nurse
Usual disclaiming sort of stuff, I don't know McFly, I don't know
their sexualities, this story is not in any way based on real life
events. Oh, and it contains gay sex, so please make sure you're 18.
You know, it's not that I don't like fiction contests - I really do.
Sometimes it inspires me on something, sometimes what I start here gets
continued elsewhere in great detail, it's just... I hate time
limits. Honestly, I'm a pretty slow writer. Not that I can't type fast, you
understand, because I can, it's just I tend to get caught up over details,
or start, leave it, go play Rollercoaster Tycoon, come back, get annoyed
overtype managed to turn itself on or that my text isn't aligned quite
right, go have some food, chat on IRC, read a book... It all adds up and
then I find I have stories I started years ago, as yet unfinished. Well,
not this one. I've locked the door, to stop Danny trying to lay me, to tell
you the story of the time Danny did lay me. Well... the first time Danny
laid me.
It started, like all the worst romances, at a party. Boyband party -
had Son of Dork and Fightstar there, though we had to make sure that the
guys from Busted didn't get too close to each other - it was a wonder their
last meeting at a party didn't make the papers. Of course, it probably
would have done but that was the day Kate Moss's coke addiction was outed,
so what happened between the three members of a failed pop group wasn't
exactly at the forefront of the tabloids' minds. Playing those games you
never find anywhere between ten year old high on sugar; and eighteen year
old drunk off his face. You know, twister, truth or dare, spin the
bottle...
And of course that game I think is called "five minutes of heaven" -
two people get locked in a cupboard for five minutes to, as the Americans
would say, "make out".
Why we were playing that at a boyband party goodness alone knows.
Still, I got chosen, and so did Danny. I'm sure Dave winked at me as he
shut the door behind us. I'm sure anyway, Danny was too drunk off his face
to notice. Too drunk to care he was kissing a guy as well. I personally did
care that I was kissing a guy - girls in general don't kiss the way Danny
does, though the kiss he gave me, my back pressed against a mop, my foot in
a bucket and a gaggle of towels threatening to fall on my head was
certainly not one of his best. It was still incredible though. Five minutes
ended I think without Danny ever removing his lips from mine. I'm told he
stumbled out with a stupid grin on his face. I just fell over because of
that fucking bucket.
It was mid-afternoon the next day he knocked on my bedroom door to
apologise for the kiss. I let him in without thinking, even though I had
been tidying up totally naked. He got about a word into his apology before
he just grinned and kissed me again. That time, it was one of his best.
From that day on, we were a couple. Of some sort. I wouldn't exactly
call us boyfriend and... uhm... well, boyfriend I guess, not at that stage.
Hold on, I can hear him scratching at my door. Pity I can't write
while getting a blowjob. But as soon as I'm done...
You lot are stopping my boyfriend giving me head, goddammit.
The things I do for you all, and none of you really appreciate it...
Anyway, we were just together for a while, kisses and cuddles on the
sofa, that sort of thing. The others looked on at us in turns of "aww" and
"eww". But still, I refused to call him my boyfriend until we'd been on a
date.
Now, I've read your stories of us going to pubs, clubs, theme parks,
the seaside, restaurants, cinemas, gigs, football matches (really - you
think I'd go to a football match with Danny? I'd end up in the centre of a
riot), tennis tournaments (seriously... what the fuck?), there was even one
where our first date was watching the filming of some new children's gunge
show. Admittedly, I'd have rather enjoyed that one (do I still count as a
child?), but still... you seriously have no idea.
He took me,
Wait for it
To an air show.
An air show, seriously.
Well, not a normal air show, I guess. Something by Red Bull - it had
these propeller planes flying between obstacles at stupidly low altitude.
Hell yea.
He even bought me a T-shirt and a model plane which he promptly
"borrowed" (I've barely laid a hand on it since) and started flying it
round my head making "vroom vroom" noises.
Ridiculous. Cute. Mine.
Amazingly no one recognised us throughout the entire day, or if they
did, they didn't come and speak to us. We eventually left long after the
event was over, having just sat on the grass, discretely holding hands,
watching the shadows lengthen. On our way back to London, we stopped at an
inn that advertised hot meals. Two sixteen ounce steaks and several pints
of beer later and neither of us were fit to drive home. Lucky it was a
proper inn and offered rooms.
He walked naked out of the bathroom into our single bedroom, the
firelight dancing across his perfect skin. God, I'd never seen anything so
beautiful. He was still carrying that little toy, still making those
ridiculous "vroom vroom" noises. I walked up to him and kissed him on the
lips, taking the plane from his hand. I thought about doing an impression
of what I thought planes should really sound like, but... no. I grinned at
him,
"Vroom, vroom."
The plane flew lower, and soon the vrooms were distinctly muffled.
Right, there you go. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to let my
boyfriend into the room. It's time to make some music.