Motley Crue Preferences

What The Fück Do You Think-V.N

You first met your boyfriend singing cover songs at a party.

"They say you're going to be a rock star." An ambitious blonde says, talking to the singer.

"Oh yeah?" He answers back.

"Is it true?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

You mumble, not thinking anyone could hear me, "That you're a cover band singer not going anywhere but lame ass parties."

"Oh yeah?" His faze suddenly shifts to you. "In a year I'll be making it big while you're still stuck here at these lame ass parties."

"We'll just half to see about that." You challenge.

Before either of you could respond back a tall lanky kid with a leather jacket and long brown hair came over tapped singer on the shoulder with a tape. "Would you get a load of this blonde headed bitch!"

It was a year later and you were working down at some bar on the Sunset Strip, catering to all the bands and all the people coming to see the bands when you spot the cover band singer from that party. He was Vince Neil, lead singer for the band Mötley Crüe.

"Huh, I guess I was wrong. You have made it big." I told him, grabbing his attention.

"I fuckin told ya' didn't I?" Vince responded.

You look him over, taking in his completely naked frame. "Here." You hand him a towel which he graciously takes before walking off.

"I guess I was wrong too." Vince turns back around and looks at you. "You aren't still hanging out at those lame ass parties."

For some reason you couldn't seem to get Vince Neil out of your head. You knew his reputation; I mean he came out of his dressing room bare ass naked because his girlfriend had caught him screwing another girl. Besides all of that there was something about him. The bright color of his eyes, the way he looked at you, the way you just happened to run into him a year later when he in fact has made it big. Before you really knew what you were doing you knocked on the bathroom door with a pair of jeans in your hand. The door opened, showing Vince with the towel thankfully wrapped around his waist.

"I figured you might want some pants?" you help up the pants so he could see.

"Yeah. Thanks. Hey, what's you're name anyway?"

Vince suddenly dropped the towel causing you to shield your eyes.

"Put some pants on and I'll tell you. Cover singer." You smirk, knowing he was looking.

You and Vince had been dating for a while now, shortly after your conversation at the bar he had asked you to go on tour with him. You had been on tour with the guys for 8 months now and it was amazing. Sex, drugs, booze, and rock-n-roll. That really was a rock stars life and you were enjoying every moment of it. You guys were currently at a party getting pumped for the Crües gig tomorrow night.

"Hey Nikki." You say, taking a seat beside him.

"So did you do it?" Nikki slurred his words, obviously drunk and or high off his ass.

"Did who do what?"

"Did Vince do it? He's had the ring picked out for week now. Won't shut up about it either. Driving us all fucking mad."

"What?" You put down the drink and stare at Nikki.

"Yeah, he keeps asking if you will like the ring and if he's making the right decision. Like he'd listen to us anyway."

"Vince is going to propose?"

"Didn't he already?" After a moment Nikki seems to realize what he did. "Fuck. Fuck you weren't supposed to know that."

You smile at him before drowning the rest of your drink and patting him on the shoulder. "Thanks Nikki." You then go in search of Vince.

"I heard a little birder told me you were going to propose?"

"Who told you?" Vince's eyes suddenly went wide.

"Nikki of course. Too drunk off his ass to resize until it was too late. So is it true?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He smirks at you.

"Well," I eyed him up and down. "I'd say yes."

He slid a ring onto my finger and smashed our lips together before dragging the both of you back into the party. "We did it! We're getting fucking married!"