Gay Motley Crue Oneshots (Complete)

Week Away Part 1 (Mick x Nikki)

Hello my darlings, I am so fucking sorry I took so long to get this up but I kept getting stuck on it. Due to writer's block I will be publishing what I have now and writing up a part two later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Desperation dripped from Nikki's voice as he got to his knees, a loud thump echoing through the hollow floor of the house,"Mick you can't go! What's so damn important about this trip?!"

Mick glares down at him, trying to force Sixx's iron grip from around his hips. It was vice like, hot pain flares traveling up and down his spine. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it though. He was more focused on the pathetic, mewling bassist at his feet.

Pathetic. A perfect way to describe Nikki Sixx in this moment. In any other instance, such a term would be ludicrous to use. This...this groveling man, like a child whose mother refused to buy them a toy....was a completely different person! It baffled Mick, honestly.

If he knew anything about this motherfucker, it was that he would never grovel. Especially beg. But here he was: Nikki fucking Sixx, literally on his knees, tears in his eyes, pleading with Mick in profound disquiet.

"Get on your feet,"The words left Mick's mouth like a hunter's arrow, sharp and precise,"You're being fuckin' pathetic."

Nikki's piercing green eyes search Mick's face, glittering with something the guitarist finds himself unable to identify. The look disappears, pulsing away like ripples in water. Sixx lets his arms fall loose, dropping to his sides as he pushes himself to his feet. He keeps his head bowed submissively.

"Sixx...it's just for a week. I don't know what's gotten into you but it's pissing me off," Mick turns around on his heel, rubber squeaking against the dirty wood floor. Nikki doesn't move from his stance, his voice trembling on an invisible breeze.

"Don't go..."

But...his words fall on deaf ears, puncuated by the angry slam of the front door. The sound sends a rumble through the thin walls, sending ominous vibrations through Nikki's legs.

The bassist's normally piercing green gaze falls on the floor, unbearable dryness spreading through his tightened throat.

But he wouldn't cry....no.
He wouldn't be pathetic.

So Nikki Sixx does what best took him away from the cruel world of emotion. He takes a bindle and trudges off to the bathroom.

Minutes later he's watching his potential relief burn on a spoon. Lately, his tolerance had been building up, forcing to shoot up increasingly larger doses to get that high he fucking craved.

Sure, Nikki had done more than a few drugs, mixing them together just to see how his already damaged body would react. But heroin? It was probably the closest to true love he had ever felt.

Nikki holds the sharp tip of the needle against his protruding vein. Just one push of the plunger and all his problems would disappear. At least until he needed his next fix.

But still...the raven addict knew it was nothing compared to the high Mick gave him. Yes, Mick Mars, the catalyst of his aching heart. At least the little fragments that were left of it.

Sixx's mind was constantly plagued by thoughts, both innocent and sinful, of his older friend. From holding him under the starlight to being tied down and punished with those strong, dexterous hands.

It was so hard to believe that the world didn't see how fucking beautiful Mick was. Those bright, icy blue eyes shot cupid's arrows straight into Nikki's heart whenever he gazed into them. On several occasions the guitarist had caught him staring too long. Thank god the older man had thought nothing of it, chalking it up to Sixx being intoxicated or daydreaming. Not to mention that gorgeous head of long, thick, black as night hair he longed to run his fingers through. It just looked so fucking silky.