Want

Several years ago I wrote a trilogy about Depeche Mode. This part, 'Want', is the second, from 2012. When I finished the first, 'SPAL (Sex. Pain. Angel. Love)', I thought that Alan's character was left uncovered, looking a typical anti-hero. But stereotypes are something I do not like, so I decided to show the situation described in SPAL from Alan's viewpoint: what and who he saw as right or wrong, with the benchmark switched.

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3. Chapter 3

 

I want to be there where you learn the cost of desire.

 “Have you seen my glasses?” squinting, Andy entered the room.
  Silence was the answer. Alan only looked at him over his shoulder. A working evening in the studio had started as usually. Alan arrived first, at noon, having had enough sleep after the hard-working night. In fact, he couldn`t sleep normally after Martin had left. He fell unconscious for a few hours and then just lay in his bed, shifting and rolling from one side to the other. The bed linen smelled like Martin. That’s why it inevitably turned the track of his thoughts back to what they had been doing here. It hindered him from sleeping, filling his raw nerves with shame and dismay. No, it hadn`t been that bad yesterday or rather say earlier in the morning. Quite the opposite: it seemed so natural and easy; not that they didn`t have a choice, but none of them wanted to make any. However, Martin wasn`t near now – he went to work, apparently even in time; he didn`t wake Alan up and just shut the door behind himself. If he`d waken him, all this everyday domestic activity, like making tea for him or something, would wash away the useless knot of cowardly emotions, because he`d have to look a more experienced male in Martin`s eyes. But since Martin wasn`t around, Alan didn`t have to pretend. He didn`t want any tea either.
  So he was rolling from side to side, white-hot thoughts stinging his brain. The thoughts about what he`d done and said, burning in love fever, and mostly about what he hadn`t said or done. It now seemed to Alan he`d said too much but hadn`t done what he should have had. He`d got lost. He`d been drawn into that flow of warm caresses and ardent kisses. He`d had enough balls to stay cool at first, trying to be polite and show Martin his favourite vinyl collection, but Martin looked at his watch in some businesslike manner and said in the most inhumanly metallic tone:
 “We`ve got two hours and a half for everything.”
  For everything.
  Ok, deal. Alan knew what Martin meant.
  So he just threw him down on the bed and fell atop, kissing Martin`s lips, nose, forehead and cheek; he placed his lips on Martin`s ear, then right under, then traced his jawline and back to the lad`s lips again. Martin groaned like he could come right now, exhaling with a hidden thirst of unsatisfied desire in his moan. He couldn`t hide the rapture about unexpected level of Alan`s sudden tenderness. As for Alan, though, he didn`t expect such approval for his small steps. Did not expect, but it hit him like a truck up to his cerebellum. So he decided to repeat his circle of kissing over Martin`s face and then slid down, feverishly licking the lad`s neck; he almost stopped breathing not to miss any sound that Martin would make.
 “Hell, you`re such a turn-on!” Alan whispered.
 “Ah-h-h…” another hot wave hit Alan`s balls.
  Martin`s breath started to rush, indicating the rightness of Alan`s actions. It made Alan relaxingly dumb. Dumb - because he was melting with every minute like a knob of butter on a hot pancake. He felt so warm and safe inside - Martin was in his arms, and he wanted to be; there couldn`t be any other opinion. 
  Alan kissed his way down to Martin`s neck, then lower, tracing his collar bones. Martin let him bring his arms up and over his head - yes, it was much better this way. Taking his pleasure of Martin`s shuddering under him, Alan kissed the inner sides of his elbows and several inches lower where the skin was most sensible and defenceless. He didn`t think much before passing his tongue across Martin`s nipples and chest.
 Martin was acting as if reading the unwritten law of desire by heart. He arched his body and pressed his hips against Alan`s, reminding him about the state of his own excitement. Alan moaned through the gritted teeth, trying to suppress his emotions, and he was a success until the moment he heard:
 “Touch me.”
  Alan gulped nervously and did what he was asked. Well, of course he knew where exactly Martin needed to be touched. And yes, he did touch him there. Martin`s screams felt like TNT for his brain. Alan got out of breath at the hardness he felt under his palm.
 “Let me…” Martin whined, “let my hands go!”
 “Why the heck? I am all happy!”
  Martin decided not to go into details much. He just escaped from Alan`s grip and started kissing him hard, almost hurting their jaws and removing Alan`s clothes.
 “I see your point!” Alan said when he was able to.
  He obviously got too lost in researching Martin`s reactions and forgot how much he was aroused now. Actually, he forgot that Martin was the guy, just like himself, so he would hardly wait for his initiative. It added a lot of pepper to this erotic dish. He wanted him. Martin really wanted him. Oh, fuck!
  Recalling all that in the morning was the most perverted torture on earth. It was tearing Alan apart with the mix of erotic ecstasy and black paranoid fear and uncertainty. Martin had left him silently, and it was understandable from one point of view: it looked like some sort of care for Alan`s repose; but it was fucking hell. Alan wished he could see Martin`s eyes - it would ease his mind. 
  Alan jumped off his bed and went to the shower. Warm water relaxed him a bit and helped him find some kind of peace inside. Well, no more did he wish it had never happened. Not now, when his hands were gliding over his own body with a sort of ironical research interest, finding how sensitive his skin still was after that kind of night.  His skin responded like it was someone else’s touch.
  A warm stream of water caressed his mouth and made him lick his lips. He felt like an idiot; he was ashamed of what they`d done, and he still didn`t have a clue what the hell he would say to Martin when he`d see him again – yes, it was all quite the same as before, but with one difference. He stopped fucking care. At the moment he cared much more about the fact that he wanted Martin here and now. In that shower.
 “Fool in love!” Alan smiled at his mood changes.
  He grabbed his balls from behind, slowly remembering how it felt when the other man`s hand did the same. The other man`s hand, then mouth.
  Martin didn`t hesitate - he pulled Alan`s zipper open, let his aroused flesh free, and took it into his mouth. Alan realized that now it was definitely the point of no-return and nothing-to-lose. He groaned, arching his back towards Martin`s caress. He felt every touch, a little bit soft and ticklish from the start, but soon Martin`s moves became firmer and faster. Alan decided it was time to open up his eyes. The feeling was great, but that wasn`t the only thing he wanted to experience now. He wanted to see Martin giving him his head. The sensation of his caress alone couldn`t help - he NEEDED to see MARTIN blowing him. Alan bit his lower lip, mesmerized by the intricate beauty of the whole process coming into view. 
“You,” he exhaled, “are sucking my dick.”
“I am,” Martin nodded half-jokingly, although he realized why Alan needed this statement.
  He needed it too, but for some other reason than Alan, of course.
  It took time for Alan, now staying under the stinging streams of water, to realize that he was caressing himself quite seriously, and he just wouldn`t stop until it came to its natural finish. His dick stiffened in his own hand that was moving back and forth faster, which made steamy pictures in his mind increase their temperature more and more. Martin`s blowjob, slightly abashed and thereby so precious, became not enough in his state of arousal now. He recalled his later insanity, when he had been lying naked on Martin`s back, biting his skin right between his shoulder blades in order to contain himself; he recalled the taste of Martin`s sweat – the taste that had made him even more insane because it was the result of what he` been doing to Martin at the time.
“I want you…I want to have you…I want to feel your body accepting me willingly, because you want me…I want to feel you wanting me,” Alan was feverishly whispering the words he probably shouldn`t have to, but he felt so good.   
  If he had ever felt any love before in that kind of ungodly act, it grew dim beside the strangling sensation that paralyzed his mind and loins with pure rapture now. He was mumbling bullshit, but if he`d not, he would probably moan to Martin that he fucking loved him - to strangle himself in the morning after that. He did love him, but he wasn`t sure he meant it. He loved Martin in that exact moment; he loved how he was answering his erotic movements; he loved how he reacted to his pain and tenderness; he was hypnotized by the line of Martin`s shoulders; he adored his arms and his arched back; he worshipped the beads of Martin`s sweat crawling down his spine between those fucking shoulder blades – the beads of sweat he kept licking off like a maniac.
  Alan loved how Martin`s muscles reacted when he changed his tempo. Martin was squeezing him more than necessary because Alan was squashing his thighs together; it was too intensive for the first time, but Alan wanted it that way. Martin didn`t object either. He did everything Alan asked.
  It was strangely erotic. It was purer and held more chastity than the same act of love with a girl. It was an act of intimacy and trust between the two men; however, it was the refined sexuality itself. It was sex purified from any biological instincts; it was the other man satisfying his intimate needs voluntarily. Alan felt it was the absolute love, but he was not ready to discuss it with Martin at the moment. He thought he had already revealed too much of his possessiveness and care - Martin could put it against him any time if he`d like to.
  Alan trusted Martin because he was a guy too, but he was the man he started to fear. He was too scared to say «I love you», even though his heart was asking for it, and his lips were begging. He was afraid that Martin would see it as weakness and reject him. Alan felt that the man underneath was in need of his strength, but he wasn`t ready to give such a weapon right into THOSE hands.
“You belong to me now.”
  It was especially immoral to get so aroused by the feeling of control he had over the body beneath. Still, the body didn`t show any resentment.
  Well, it did stiffen at first from his invasion, but Alan tried to be as careful as a goldsmith, and soon Martin started to groan pretty vitally, urging him not to stop. And not even try to give him any kind of freedom.
  Alan started to moan just with Martin`s excited moans. He was stimulating him to feel that good, and if he`d tried to suppress his groans, his abdomen would explode from the happiness that Martin`s «ah-h-h» brought him. Those trivial air flows inside his lungs that caused his husky moans really helped him to ease the pain from each forward movement of his over-aroused cock.
  It filled his brain, and it was too much in his tired and half-drunken state, but he wanted more; so, clenching his teeth, he was trying to make this distinctive pleasure last longer. He was wet; Martin was wet; sheets were tangled up between them and totally got everywhere in the way of their movements. They both were too exhausted to continue but too excited to stop.
  Martin was begging for more; Alan`s arms were trembling, and he was alive only due to his will to fuck the hell out of Martin, whatever it would cost him. It was dawning outside, but he was still too fucking busy because of that. Finally Alan realized that he could change the position, so he would probably not die before coming. He was not lying on top of Martin`s back anymore, gripping his thighs with his own and hammering Martin into the bed with his bolt. Although the sensation Alan got was different from THAT, he could take the new one. 
  He made Martin stand on his elbows and knees. It was a sort of insight! He could move now! And so, he did. The change of the position emboldened them both, so Alan had to do little to send them over the edge of ecstasy, and he didn`t give a fuck if he was screaming or yelling now - his balls were fucking smashed with pleasure.
  Unconscious, he fell down on Martin and…well, and then he awoke. Alone.

  When Martin entered the studio after his working day, he was, in Miller`s apt expression, «as quite as an ant pissing on cotton». He silently entered the room and barely nodded to everyone. While Daniel was in the same room with all of them, Martin was convincingly playing moderately enthusiastic, desperately propping his chin up on his fists. He actually swayed from time to time, but Fletch kept on trying to return his friend into vertical position. Dave humorously moved Martin`s elbow from left to right and vice versa, not sure either trying to help the buddy drop his face on the table or to stir him up. Martin just gazed at him from under the heavy eyelids with the tranquility of the Thai Golden Buddha statue, passing into nirvana at a noisy and irrepressible child.
“All lay loads on a willing horse, huh, Martin?” Miller asked, jokingly petting Martin`s hair.
“M-m-m-m,” Martin said.
“Listen, haven`t you had enough of it yet? You are working in your bank like a zombie and sitting here, you know, like a…erm…zombie, too.”
  Martin shrugged:
 “I…I don`t know, really. I believe…I hope they will fire me somehow. I`ve dreamt about that all day, I`ve begged them internally to throw me out, but somehow they did not.”
“You can, like, retire, dude. By yourself, though,” Dave said.
“How come?!” Martin was deeply surprised, or so his face said.
  Dave frowned. He was the only person in the studio to take Martin`s question seriously, so he started to choose the words to explain. Alan even dropped the spoon into his cup of tea, watching the interaction with an inexplicable - at least for Andrew Fletcher and Daniel Miller - enthusiasm. He found the mise en scene extremely entertaining. However, at the moment when Dave began explaining how to write a notice of resignation and where to put the date in the paper, Alan decided to tell Martin that mocking children and animals was immoral. He even opened his mouth. But Martin answered Dave first:
“How can I leave when they took me?”
  Alan forgot to close his mouth. He never thought that it could be a dialogue of two equals.
“Ain`t they be upset if they won`t be able to see your sleepy mug every day, chuck?”
“Errrr…” Martin was staring bluntly at the ceiling for good two minutes, “no. I think they won`t.”
  Martin`s mood enlightened instantly.
“So, where shall I write the date? Left corner?” he asked Dave.
  Alan was terrified by the thought that Martin wasn`t mocking Dave, so he looked at him once again with greater interest. At night he thought he was shagging a much more evolutionary developed human being than that; he had definitely drunk too much.
  Martin consciously avoided looking him in the eyes.
“Did you leave Basildon by the seven-twenty`s train?” suddenly asked Andy. “I totally lost you in the morning!”
“No, I did not.”
“Couldn`t you just wait for me?”
“I didn`t go to work by the morning train,” Martin answered again patiently, “I walked.”
“You walked right on the railway line?” Dave laughed.
  Fletch worriedly touched Martin`s forehead, suspecting he had some kind of delirium. 
“No, I am not crazy,” Martin said a little bit touchily, throwing Andy`s hand off his forehead, “I wasn`t at home yesterday. I stayed the night in London.”
“OOOHH, YEAH, BABY!!! THERE IT IS!!! HERE WE GO!!!” Dave was laughing out loud now. “And the night was rather hot, wasn’t it?”
  Alan didn`t realize at first that he stopped breathing.
  In a very matter-of-factly manner Martin announced to the world:
“Nothing out of the common.”
  Alan choked on his tea.
“Watch yourself, Alan!” Miller said grandmotherly, patting Alan`s back, “we have a lot of work to do yet!”
“Tha-thank…you, Dan,” Alan felt he was blushing like hell.
  Earlier, when he came to the studio, he told Dan that Martin had stayed the night at his place. Like he didn`t think much. Dan just told him that Andy had lost Martin, so had Martin`s family; probably he knew something? Alan decided there was nothing extraordinary about it - what the problem? They could`ve had stayed in pub for too long in the night, and there weren`t any night trains!
  Alan hoped Miller would be so kind not to eat him alive by telling this fact to everybody, and he would do his best to save face. Dan opened his mouth, and was ready to kill everybody with the details, but Alan hit first:
“Aren`t we going to do something today already?!” he said, pretending that the teaspoon in his hands wasn’t shaking.
“Oh, yes, we are,” Martin jumped up off his seat.
  There was a couch in their working room. Martin had his certain plans for that couch.
  So they all forgot about the topic soon. It wasn’t that important after all.
  Martin entered the room enthusiastically and lay down on the couch, which he was craving most as he was almost going insane from the lack of sleep. He hugged himself, crossed his legs, and passed the fuck out in a second. Dave ran into the room, hissing and pressing finger against his mouth. In his hands he held Fletch`s glasses that he had obviously stolen, and he was happy as a baby. He looked around in search of the most funny object to place them…and saw Martin, who was sleeping like an angel. The opportunity was too tempting for Dave to miss it. He giggled and quietly applauded himself for the idea; even gloomy Alan started smiling. Dave placed Fletch`s glasses on the bridge of Martin`s nose. Martin felt nothing and didn`t move at all. So, and here came the Fletch:
“Have you seen my glasses?”
“Nope!” Dave was shaking his head violently, like a child insisting that it was the cat who had eaten all the raspberry marmalade.
  He turned to Alan, winking him deviously. Usually Alan didn`t support their educational games with Fletcher`s glasses, but this time the temptation was too big even for him. From time to time he darted glances at Martin, sleeping in Andy`s spectacles. Well, Andy looked at Martin too, but he couldn`t see if those were Martin`s glasses or his own.
“Alan, have you seen my glasses?”
“I would tell you, Fletch, where I would like to see your glasses, but you will most likely be offended,” said Alan, smiling to the guy affectionately. 
  Fletch swore under his breath.
“Relax, Fletch, we will buy you a new pair!” Dave was wrinkling his nose not to laugh out too loud.
“I don`t want a new one, I am a retrograde, I`m eager for my old ones! My favourite old glasses!”
“Fletch, really, calm down, drink some coffee. Just realize you can drink coffee in the studio the whole day, and you won`t need glasses!”
  Dave twisted his finger at his temple:
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING `BOUT?! And how will Fletch read his newspapers?”
  They both burst out laughing. Fletch called them “degenerates” and “moral monsters”, and assured them that he knew who`d stolen his glasses, and as soon as he found the item, he would beat the shit out of that red impudent muzzle! 
  Alan tactfully pointed out to Fletch that he could not, of course, objectively judge the nuances of male faces and their expressions, but the only person with natural red hair color was Fletch himself, so he asked Andy to make sure he would call him to see how he would beat himself in the face.
  Dave whimpered from laughter and played a brief but expressive pantomime "Fletch beats the shit out of his impudent red head". Andy, however, continued to stick from one corner of the studio to another, occasionally howling melancholically like a ghost that had not found his rest in peace, in his search for the precious glasses.
  The first three times Alan and Dave tried to hide their grins until the pain in their cheeks, but the howling repeated so insistently that they started nickering like beasts. Martin woke up from their heehawing and sat on the couch yawning. He tried to rub his eyes but was unsuccessful as fuck because he rubbed the glasses instead. The guys started laughing even more than before. They were literally crying from laughter. Martin replied:
“Hah-hah-hah-hah,” he seemed to have understood what was going on there.
  Fletch decided to look inside the room again.
“Fletch,” Martin said joyfully, “why did you put your glasses on me when I was sleeping?”
“Me?!” Fletch said indignantly.
  After that short break they started to work more productively. They recorded five versions of one song. They all were just great from one point of view and just a crap from another, so when it was eleven o`clock, they decided that tomorrow is a new day. Andy took Martin by the scruff and said they had to go now, otherwise they would miss their train.
  Dan was sitting in his office, and Dave was on the telephone in the back room, rambling. Alan went downstairs to close the door behind them.
“Goodbye, Alan,” Fletch said ceremonially.
“I am looking forward to seeing you soon, Andy,” Alan replied in the same tone.
  Martin said nothing. Alan raised his eyebrow while closing the door. In his humble opinion, even on the scale of Martin pretending that nothing had happened he just surpassed all moral standards. There was a knock on the door at once, briefly - Alan had not even had time to hang the chain. He opened the door. There was Martin smiling broadly:
“I forgot something,” he said to Fletch over his shoulder, pushed Alan away insistently, rushing in and shutting the door with his leg, and stang Alan`s lips with his own.
“Oh...that`s so nice you remembered…because «something» was pretty puzzled!” Alan whispered into his very lips.
  Martin smiled but just deepened their kiss.
  The touch of their lips struck their bodies with an electric shock immediately: their mutual excitement knew the most precise and short way as it had learned the day before, so it worked out right now. Somewhere out there Dave`s voice was mumbling something peacefully from afar. And there were Fletch`s loud steps on the other side of the door.
  Alan pressed Martin against the door with his body, placing hot kisses on his mouth. Even through their sensual heated rush he felt the presence of Andy pacing in about a meter from them and having no clue that they were almost making out like some crazy pair of lovers. In fact, they were the crazy pair of lovers now - right from the moment Martin had French kissed him secretly. Before that it had been just a stupid experimental drunken fuck. Now it was a statement that they were lovers. He`d been waiting for that moment the whole fucking day; their lips were entwined now, and it meant that Martin was telling him, “Yes, I want to be with you.”
“MARTIN!” Andy shouted loudly to be heard through the door.
  It seemed he pressed his ear to it to hear better. Alan was trying not to suck Martin`s lips so vigorously, although he felt they both were almost laughing because of the adrenaline and the absurd of the situation.
“MART! ESSEX TRAIN IS NOT ANDY! IT WON`T BE WAITING FOR YOU!”
“Wait a minute, I am coming!” Martin said, fighting for breath.
  Alan was just lying atop of him now, breathing hard and feverishly licking his lips. Clasping the bottom side of Martin`s body to himself, he listened to Andy`s ramblings about some superstars who imagined that Essex trains would be waiting for them. Limousines could wait for the superstars, mini-vans and private jets could wait for them too, but Essex trains wouldn`t ever.
“Don`t go!” Alan said somehow too feminine and wistfully.
  He despised himself right at the moment he said it. He knew Martin had to go, and he didn`t plan to expose Martin or himself. What had happened was their private matter and nobody else`s business.
“I don`t want to,” Martin admitted honestly, “but...”
“I know,” Alan wanted to say the world to him now.
  “I don`t want to go” melted all the ice and let out what he wanted to keep inside himself. He was eager to tell Martin that the day had been the pure hell for him, and how he was waiting for his mere glance, and how he nearly died when he heard that “nothing out of the common”. But that was totally unmanly, so he just touched Martin`s cheek and asked, “Tomorrow?”
  Martin nodded. And at that exact moment they were pushed off the door by the Great Hurricane named Andrew! Alan shoved his hand quickly into Martin`s pocket, thoughtfully pulling his wallet out and trying to show it to Martin:
“Here is your wallet, Mart, here it is,” as Alan`s other hand was hugging Martin`s shoulder, showing as much caress as it could. “Already returned, Andy?” he greeted Fletcher coldly. “Missed me?”
“Oh, wha-what is that…ah, couldn`t it be, the wallet of mine!” Martin said cheerfully.
  Fletch dragged him out to the street silently.  Alan stood near the window and looked at long-legged Fletch angrily walking down the street and Martin, who was somehow stately and blithely at the same time skipping behind his friend half a length. When Alan turned around to go back to the studio, he noticed Dan standing in the way and cleaning his eye-glasses with his T-shirt.
“You should eat a lemon,” was his advice to Alan.
“Why?”
“To make your face shine not so bright!”
  Alan thanked his senior fellow for the advice, estimating how long Dan could have stood there. Then he remembered what had happened before and realized that for the first time in his life he didn`t give a fuck. Dan wasn`t a fool after all.
  He entered the room. Dave had just put the handset. 
“Whoah! You are so cheerful, Al,” Gahan said giggling. “That`s almost unnatural! How many people have you killed today?”

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