Title: Who Will Love a Lad Insane

Parts - one

Fandom - Velvet Goldmine (ewan)

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except for the blue haired

boy; the title is taken from the Bowie album/song Aladdin Sane, even

though this really isn't a songfic, the ambience is sort of taken off of

the mood of the song

Summary: Curt deals with Brian's assassination

Notes: there’s a part in this where Curt stops thinking of his partner as

one person and starts seeing him as Brian...this is intentional, just go

with it ;)

Warning: This is rough sex...it’s consensual, I think (runs), but it is

pretty rough...

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

      The stupid fuck...

     That was all Curt could really think of as he hit the Berlin streets,

trying to give himself room to breathe and a chance to escape the demons

that chased him everywhere he went.

     The stupid, stupid fuck...

     He had woken up that morning, and all the furthering coverage of the

Vietnam War, all of the other conflicts of that day and age were pushed

aside in honor of the proclamation that splashed across every paper, as if

the apocalypse had suddenly come.

    Brian Slade Dies in Self-Proclaimed Shooting at Hammersmith Odeon.

     He really didn't know how true the claims were. What Curt did know

was that Brian had been getting more desperate when he had left...and when

he got desperate, he would do most anything he could think of to further

his career. It probably wasn't a huge leap to presume that he really did

have someone take him out onstage if it made his album sales go up.

   Stupid STUPID fuck...

    Or maybe it was staged...he wouldn't put it past Jerry Devine to come

up with that one...he was just as sick and desperate as Brian when it came

to making money.

     And then there was the slim chance that it really happened, after

all. That some sick, twisted person for whatever reason, be it utter

devotion or utter detest, took it upon themselves to cut down glam rock's

archangel. That Brian was completely innocent of any ties, any he had been

caught unawares, his fingers forced from the mic as the bullet pushed

through the mylar and vinyl and into the skin and stomach of the man

underneath the demon. That he shed real blood, cried real tears as life

drained from him while hundreds of manic, terrified fans looked on.

   God, he hoped so...

    And he didn't.

    And he knew better than to believe that Brian was innocent of

anything.

    The STUPID fuck...

    He loathed him and he loved him...it was as simple as that. There had

been something addictive, something deliciously melancholy and freeing

about Brian...the way everywhere they went people would throw themselves

at him like they were palm brances before the feet of the messiah.

   There was also something so mind-bogglingly twisted and sadistic about

Brian. Not just physically, but mentally he knew how to crush anyone, it

seemed...no one withstood his wrath if he got bored with them or decided

they weren't needed anymore. Not even him.

    All of this swept through his brain in a murky whirlpool as he trudged

through the West Berlin streets, ducking past vendors and dealers and God

knew what else. It should have been beautifully anonymous, it should have

been a haven for him to hide in after London.

    But he couldn't escape the damned crying...

     Brian's clutch reached him even here, it seemed...everywhere he went

there was the damned paper with the headline on it, everywhere there were

people discussing the incident from what he could gather of his short

knowledge of German, everyone was listening to it on the radio..everyone

was crying. Or it seemed that way.

    The man was a fucking monster and the whole entire world mourned him.

Even a tiny, fragile part of his own heart was finding it hard to fight

back tears.

     He focused his eyes on the pavement in front of him and lit a

cigarrette to try and calm his nerves. Lately it seemed nicotine was his

main man, and the most dependable thus far. Lately he didn't trust another

human being as far as he could throw them.

     He looked ahead and saw yet another newstand being bombarded by those

loyal fans trying to get a copy of the evening paper to confirm their

worst fears. Well, second worst fears...the first probably realizing that

Brian Slade was a vile, corrupt human being who had no interest in them

except for their money.

    Inhaling on his cigarrette, he averted his eyes as he passed them,

deciding to add purpose to this little excursion and go to a nearby bar to

get roaringly drunk. Yeah...that was what he needed just now...beer and a

lot of it...Smiling grimly, he headed down the street with renewed

purpose.

      "Curt Wild!" a voice slightly behind him gasped. A boy's voice,

laced with a heavy German accent. Taken slightly off-guard, he turned and

raised an eyebrow as his eyes roamed up and down the youth's body. He had

to be about seventeen, eighteen at the most...he was a little shorter than

he was, was spindly thin, but that wasn't what caught his attention. He

had the sharp cheekbones, the carved facial features of another man he

knew...and the hair that had been chopped short and dyed blue screamed

that the boy was a walking tribute to Brian Slade.

     Normally he would have told him to fuck off and walk away....or he

would have humored him for a few minutes just for the hell of it...but

there was something about his eyes...

     So wide....so trusting and naive....so unlike Brian's...They were

red; he had obviously read the papers. And they were looking at him as if

he was some sort of god come down to save him in answer to his prayers.

    He should have walked away. Stopped and walked away right then.

    "What's your name, kid?" he asked, blowing smoke up into the night

sky. The boy blinked, clearly not understanding what he was asking, and

then spoke a few quick lines of German.

   Curt shook his head. "Sorry, I don't speak the language," he said

lamely. It was true enough..he understood enough, but most of the time he

didn't care enough to pay attention anymore. The boy smiled in that same,

trusting way...God, he was so unlike Brian, and yet he was practically a

splitting image!

    The kid's smile faded slightly and he lifted up his edition of the

evening paper, looking down at it with a crushed expression. Curt watched

his expression change from glee at seeing him to complete sorrow at what

he had supposedly lost...

   Something in him snapped...Brian would never realize what he had truly

done to him...and what he had truly done to his most loyal fans if this

was all a game...He didn't deserve this kind of hero worship...Somewhere

in the back of his mind Curt longed to see him again, so he could finally

let him have it, and make sure he walked away with the last word this

time. His eyes raised up from the paper to that delicate face...

    He surprised even himself when he tore the paper from the German

youth's hands, cursing violently as he ripped it in half and flung it out

into the streets. The boy was in complete shock and turned to run, even as

his eyes looked back. Curt's arm shot out and gripped the boy's upper

arm hard. He gasped, and the air was knocked out of him as the rock star's

mouth crushed against his. His soft, full, lips even felt like Brian's,

though they were nowhere near as experienced. He'd fix that.

   The trip from the paper stand to his flat above an old autoparts shop

and costume jewelry store was a blur. Somehow he made it up the steps and

into the modest apartment. Who would have thought that he'd be living in a

dillapidated place like this after London...

Clearly the boy didn't because he looked like he had been hit by a truck.

Curt laughed at his wide eyes, right before he shoved him up against the

nearest wall. The blond man's eyes glittered as he slowly looked over the

youth's face again. He slowly traced the pouting lower lip with his thumb,

grinning madly as he took in the blue hair, and those damn eyes...that's

what got him, the eyes. So full of unadultered love and trust...

     "You're so fuckin' hot," he purred, his mouth moving next to the

boy's ear, tongue reaching out just enough to flick over the shell. "So

fuckin' beautiful...and you can't understand a single word I say," he

growled before biting down on his earlobe. The boy gasped in mixed alarm

and pleasure, his arms clasping Curt round the neck as he pressed his lips

gently and repeatedly over Curt's face. The singer chuckled and pulled

back, raising an eyebrow. "No, no, my friend...we do this my way this

time...tonight is about me," he snarled, his lips once again smashing

against the younger man's. The boy moaned raggedly into his mouth and was

immediately hushed by Curt's thrusting tongue. He had no patience, no

intention of teaching...he was going to have his way and have it now. The

boy tried to keep up with the other man's tongue, twining his with Curt's

desperately, but it was obvious he was inexperienced in the ways of rough

sex.

     Part of him was silently horrified at all of the liberties he was

going to take...the saner part of him was screaming to slow down, or show

the kid out while he could still get out...

     But then he remembered all of the lovely times Brian had dominated

him during sex, despite his distaste of it, and all of the things that

that man had done to him, full knowing that the only person who could

truly profit from it was Brian.

    A slow ember of anger and desire began to burn in Curt's stomach as he

pulled back and glared at the boy. His eyes widened and he shrank back

against the wall, but his erection was obvious, pressed up against Curt's

thigh. "You can't fool me...I know you like it rough," he laughed,

grabbing the boy up and dragging him towards the mattress in the tiny

adjoining room. The Brian look alike was dumped unceremoniously onto the

mattress and Curt was immediately on top of him, preventing any way of

escape. His mouth landed on the boy's neck, sucking and biting fiercely,

causing the boy to gasp and moan and writhe deliciously underneath him.

His hands were running the length of his form, grabbing and pressing and

pinching in a heated fury. Curt felt like he was looking down on himself,

out of his body, when he heard the rip of fabric and looked down at his

hands to see the remainder of the kid's shirt in them. And there, in front

of him in offering was a smooth, white creamy chest with delicate little

pink nipples...Brian's was equally as beautiful, but it had been so deadly

to fall into beauty's snare...And somewhere in everything, the lines

started to blur and when he looked down at the eager to please young lad,

all he saw was the man he loved and loathed more than anyone on the face

of the earth.

     "Brian you are such a fucking bastard," Curt whispered, reaching down

and suddenly squeezing Brian's nipples between his fingers, grinning

cruelly at the strangled groan.. "Yes, I know how you like it," he

muttered, his hands diving to the waistband and ripping open the zipper of

his jeans. The clothing went flying across the room, and Curt felt a

sudden rush of warmth through him like he had never known when he looked

down into Brian's eyes and saw true, genuine fear. Fear mixed with

desire...and submission. "I know just how you like it," he hissed, his

hands grasping at his thighs and squeezing the flesh brutally until the

smaller man was writhing underneath him. Curt's mouth closed over one

delicate little nipple, sucking at full force before biting down on it,

purring as Brian's whole body seemed to jump up against him. Immediately

Curt's hands were flat on his chest, pushing him down into the mattress,

hard. "If I had better accomodations I'd be sure to tie you up and punish

you right...but this will have to do," he breathed, his eyes nearly

flickering closed as he felt himself get harder and harder the more Brian

struggled under him. He flinched, though, when his long sculpted fingers

touched his hidded cock, and glared down at the man under him.

      "You're never touching me again....d'you hear me? Never," he

growled, smacking his hand down flat against his thigh, shivering at the

hoarse cry from below. "You think you're so wonderful," he went on, his

hand striking the soft thighs repeatedly. "Brian fucking Slade...well

you're nothing but a fucking space queen with a fucking ego problem!!!!"

he gasped, one hand reaching down to free his straining erection as the

other continued to assault Brian's thighs. Those cat eyes looked up at him

in complete awe, the way they should have all along, at the size of Curt's

arousal. He had never felt this ready to explode before. It was like every

part of him was breaking at the seams, straining to burst through his

skin. He wouldn't last long enough for any preliminaries.

     Curt eyed the cock that was offered up to him, one of his hands

pressing at the flat stomach, keeping him down while the other went lower

and fondled the hard cock roughly. The breathing from under him came in

hitched bursts as he gripped the shaft and pumped it hard. "You ready for

me? You think you can handle me now Brian? Well this time, you're here for

me...for ME!!" he found himself shouting, even sobbing. Curt raked one

hand through his hair, aware that he was out of his head but yet he truly

didn't care. He needed this...Brian needed this, even though he'd never

admit it. With a grunt he rolled the prone body over onto his stomach and

straddled the thighs, his legs locking down Brian's. Curt's face

immediately went down to that lovely ass, his hands gripping and

manhandling the cheeks just as Brian had done to him all those times he

had let himself be manhandled. His thumbs jerked apart the white globes of

flesh that were quickly glowing pink, and his tongue rammed itself into

the puckered openeing. Brian screamed, his whole body bucking back against

Curt, but Curt always had been the stronger of the two. He purred as he

swept his tongue along the divide between the two perfectly shaped cheeks

before once again sinking it deeply between them.

        "You taste so nice when you've been misbehaving, Brian...I wonder

what it will feel like to finally be inside you for a change," he growled.

He could count on one hand the number of times he had that privelege. But

now it was time for Brian's comeuppance. Pressing a hand flat against the

small of the delicate man's back, Curt positioned his cock and swiftly

drove it in, causing Brian to nearly come up off the floor. "Not yet," he

growled, pushing him down. He nearly came immediately, just from entering.

God he was so fucking tight...probably because he was of the mind that he

was too good for being a bottom. "You think you're too good for me Brian?

You think I need you for everything?" he growled as he grabbed the body

under him and pressed his mouth by the china white ear. "You're

mine...mine alone tonight...you do as I say," he rasped as he began to

thrust, his tongue wetly sinking into his ear as he began to increase in

speed and force. The blond rocker reached a hand under his lover to

roughly grab his cock, and began to pump it again, in time to his thrusts.

His breath began to shorten as Brian's ass constricted around him, and he

nearly felt like it would it him alive if he let it. Gasping, he pulled

nearly all the way out before slamming back in, his thumb working

rigorously over the other man's head. Suddenly, he arched his hips and

struck home, and Brian shrieked as he came, his essence spilling over

Curt's hand as Curt's own orgasm shook him completely, tearing his mind

away from his body. The last thing he heard was the sweetest thing of

all...Brian screaming his name at the top of his lungs before passing out

underneath him.

     Curt purred to himself, ran a hand over his face and blinked,

startled when he realized Brian didn't have a German accent.. He looked

down to where the Brian look alike was unconscious beneath him, his chest

still heaving.

      "Shit," he groaned, quickly pulling away and putting himself back

into his pants. He had gone completely out of control...it was a wonder he

hadn't killed the poor kid in the heat of things...but God, he had never

come so hard in his life. With gentle fingers now, he slowly rolled the

boy over and winced. He had some choice bruises and bite marks, that was

for sure, but nothing looked exceedingly bad.

       He leaned back on his knees and studied that body again, his eyes

finally raising to look at the sleeping boy's face. His eyes widened

slowly at the fan's expression...it was very much the cat that ate the

canary expression Brian always had on his face when he passed out after

sex...very much sated and very much aware that he had won.

    He couldn't stay there...neither one of them would survive the night

if he stayed in the same room with that kid. Rushing about, he quickly

packed a bag and set out some food for the boy in the morning. There was

nothing of real importance that he could steal, and it would be better off

for both of them if he spent the night at Jack's. He shivered as he

studied that beautiful face again. It was too soon...too soon for him to

be doing this with anyone, let alone a fan that looked so much like...

    Without another word, Curt rushed out the door and down the street. On

the mattress next to the sleeping body of the fan lay Curt's copy of the

paper, his signature next to the headline.