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I am now completely finished with my Charlie Watts/Mick Jagger fic. It took forever to actually finish the last part. I had wrote it but it sat in my folders for a bit. Then I type it up and had not typed up the last bit. So, here's the rest.
Title: Lessons Learned
Pairing: Charlie Watts/Mick Jagger, past Mick Jagger/various others
Rating: NC-17, but not explicit.
Edit: I'd say around 1971. I keep thinking a date, but, I get confused at which one I want. I really like 1968 and 1972. You can choose either year.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the members of the Rolling Stones, but I would sell my soul to own them.
Warning: Proceed at your own risk. Don't say I didn't warn you. Don't send me hatemail because you got upset. So, if you are offended in anyway, then it's your own fault. You should've obeyed my warning. I cannot stress this enough.
Again, your own fault if you get offended.
Again, it'll still be your fault. Just so you know.
--
Even if this mindless chattering graces his ears, he’s still not use to it. Just not quite. He did understand what it felt like to beat on the drums, feel the thunderous vibrations echoing through his body. There’s been time when the music doesn’t gel together. But this flagitious and sardonic taunting tongue casting piqued, sharp replies. It still doesn’t fully settle.
Even if these absurd noises happen many times, he still can’t grapple it.
All the while it’s draining away his will of self preservation from this uptight situation.
Everything could have been quiet., but there was a steady churn of teeth grating against each other. To stultify those grouse noises of agitation as he unconsciously drinks his tea absurdly loud.
Charlie is seated. It’s hard to project this feat. Mick is spontaneous now. He’s acrimonious, ireful, and volatile. For some reason, Mick has pin pointed him out. Mick’s tongue is spewing out convulsive jabs and ebbs.
It makes it all the more difficult to keep his attention brutally trained on the still steaming cup of tea.
“Does it make you happy Charlie” Mick comes to a standstill, to cast a malign stare. “To know that you can sit back and not do a damn thing?”
Charlie’s nostrils flare up and expand. Fingers are tense. This little activity causes his fingers to wrap sternly around the warm mug.
“Why the ******** is that Charlie?” Mick turns, an acidic overtone dousing his words.
Charlie remains. He tries to keep a level-headed mind. Charlie stares with a staunch face. Violence would only escalate the situation into a much unhealthier situation.
“It’s all the same. No variety in what you call drumming.”
Charlie nearly directs the cup at Mick’s head. It would be a bit of a mess, wouldn’t it? It would be such a waste of tea.
Charlie tensely unfolds from his seated position from the chair. The adrenaline is coursing; fight or flight. The flexing of muscles to find a way to relieve this feeling. Striding to the kitchen, Charlie sets down the tea and pinches the bridge of his nose.
His nerves are throbbing. Mick gazes out at him with disdain. One his is cocked to the side, an overtly feminine gesture. Charlie has the urge to just laugh. Here is some demanding, over bearing person in the form of a greatly exaggerated image of an androgynous person.
“Christ,” Mick says exasperated. Charlie doesn’t turn his attention to Mick. Something that Mick can’t stand; it’s irritating to him.
Charlie turns, the cup in his hands. Mick is standing stead fast in front of Charlie. His blue eyes are shimmering with destructive energy; just brimming over the top.
“Mick,” Charlie tries to calmly put out. “I can’t do the things you do. You ‘n Keith already ha-”
“So?” Mick is very impatient. “You could at least try, instead of just lazing about like a drag.”
Charlie’s own blue eyes narrow. “What do you know about what I do?”
“A lot more than you’ll ever know,” Mick snorts at Charlie’s remark.
“******** off,” Charlie retorts. “Don’t act like you’re mightier than me.”
“On the contrary,” Mick smirks. :I am. Me ‘n Keith write, produce, take charge, the works. We do everything. You’re just there.
Charlie’s chest expands. His lungs feel like they’re going to burst. This is becoming more punctilious; it’s evolving into an animus situation through angry words. Charlie’s had enough of Mick’s ostentatious attitude and turns away.
“Don’t you walk out on me,” Mick calls to the back of Charlie. He takes longer strides to catch up to the older man. He steps in front of Charlie’s form. Mick throws his hand out with a fast velocity as it connects with the cup of hot tea.
Charlie stands frozen. The splash of tea and the clanging of the cup echo loudly in his ears. Slowly glancing to the side, his eyes trail down the splashed carpet and cracked mug. Charlie then released all of his self control.
Slap.
Mick’s head is thrown to the side by the force of Charlie’s hand. A sharp tang enters into Mick’s mouth as he darts out his tongue to survey the damage.
“Where the ******** do you think you get off with that?” Charlie’s voice is dark and low. The pain throbs dully on Mick’s cheek, punctuated by the slow spreading red mark. Charlie’s pupils have shrunken into dark, livid slits. Before Mick can say anything, Charlie rushes him and presses Mick bodily into the wall. Mick stumbles backwards and Charlie eagerly advances.
A hand wraps tightly around Mick’s exposed throat and it uses that grip to roughly pry Mick’s attention to its owners face.
“What the hell do you think your problem is?” Charlie grates into Mick’s face.
Mick wheezes out a strangled cough. His eyes are squinted as he tries to blink. Fallen locks of brown hair partially obscure his vision.
“Go ******** y’self Charlie,” Mick gruffly says. “Or have Bill do it for you.” With that, Mick spits onto Charlie’s face.
With his own pearly teeth mangling into his bottom lip, Charlie drags Mick across the wall by the collar and uses the same force to throw Mick to the ground. Mick makes a muffled sound as Charlie eagerly descends on to him.
“You ******** child,” Charlie says in a pique voice. “You can’t respect anybody with that arrogant attitude of yours.”
“What are you on about this ti-” Mick is wrenched from the floor and is jerked backwards and stumbles over his own unfocused movements. His long brown hair sends whooshing noises around in his ears. Charlie then yanks him back to the wall, no concern for the others comfort.
Charlie then halts to throw Mick crashing into the smooth surface of the door. Mick lets out a pained grunt as Charlie presses wedges his knee between Mick’s legs and presses Mick’s face harshly into the door.
“You’re just gonna have to learn the hard way to keep that blabbering mouth of yours shut.”
Charlie reaches a hand around the thin frame that’s bared down to the door and then withdraws as it clicks open. He shoves Mick callously into the room. Charlie then covers to Mick before the other can regain a better footing. Before Mick could fully get his bearings together, Charlie rushes Mick and presses him down into the bed. Charlie is heavier than Mick, but not by much.
“You’re such a stupid sod,” Charlie says in a sneering voice as he whispers it into the younger ones ear. The crudeness behind this remark strikes a bitter chord in Mick’s mind.
“Get off Charlie,” Mick calls out, his neck strained from the unnatural position that it was poised at. He struggles to try and recover and rocks from side to side to throw Charlie off. For such a skinny mother ********, he could squirm like no other.
“Since you want to be so ******** stubborn about this, we’ll do it your way.,” Charlie hisses and grabs a fistful of Mick’s hair and forces his head up. A harsh breath of air invades Mick’s throat. “Are you ready to apologize yet?”
“******** off, you c**t b*****d!” As soon as this spills forth from Mick’s neck, Charlie’s eyes narrow.
“Fine then, if that’s the way you want it.” Charlie reaches down to the loops of his pants to pull the belt out of it’s firm safety. Quickly glancing around, his eyes fall upon a scarf and he quickly reached and grasped it. With a firm hand and quick work, Charlie secured Mick’s wrists and binds them.
“What the hell is this?” Mick says, uncertainty spilling into his voice.
“You’re going to learn that you can’t do what you want. It’s called respect and it’s something that you obviously can’t understand.”
Charlie then gripped Mick’s pant loops and yanked them downwards, revealing his ivory backside. Charlie really can’t recall how this situation unfolded to this, but he goes on with his plan. Mick stops his squirming to take notice of the significant temperature change that caresses his skin. It’s enough to break character.
“Charlie,” he calls out with uncertainty. “What are you d-”
The sentence was replaced by his voice twisting as something strikes at his rear end. He pulls in his bottom lip and his arms tense.
“You’ve been such a berk lately Mick,” Charlie tsked. “An now, I’m going to put that respect back into you with this little lesson.”
Before another sound could be pulled out, Charlie brought down another strike and Mick let out a pained and surprised gasp when the pain shot through his backside. Mick’s fingered curled and anchored themselves into his palms until there were nail imprints.
“You’ve been such a stupid child,” Charlie said as he swung the belt. “You’ve got to learn respect. You can’t get it acting like that.”
“Charlie,” Mick rasped out. Sto-” Again, another wave of pain and dull heat exploded. It felt like fire was biting at his a**.
Somewhere inside, Charlie couldn’t deny that he was enjoying this level of control over Mick. Normally, he would just resign and not say anything, opting for the silent treatment. He sort of enjoyed watching Mick writhe in pain. A dull wave pulsed through Charlie as he tried to shake it off.
Mick’s voice began to show signs that it was cracking. Charlie dropped the belt, but the sound barely registered to his ears as he moved closer to the bed. He loomed over Mick’s form as he whispered into Mick’s ears, “Are you an immature child Mick?” It was soon punctuated by a loud slap.
Mick sucked in sharp breaths through clenched teeth. A burning sensation had drilled into his eyes. Salty tracks threatened to burst from Mick’s eyes and leave his face wet. His hair spilled over his shoulders as he lowered his head.
“******** yo-” Another slap makes contact as the retort slid back down his throat. A pained grunt tore from his throat, but it sounded strangled as Mick tried to stop it from slipping past his large, cherub lips.
“Admit it, you slag,” Charlie said relentlessly. “Admit it.”
Charlie couldn’t actually believe that he was enjoying this position. That he actually enjoyed hearing those cries spill from Mick’s body. There was something about the image of a trembling, squirming Mick at his mercy that flowed through Charlie’s mind. He gazed at Mick to see his eyes pressed shut.
“C’mon Charlie,” Mick said, his voice now unsteady.
Charlie stopped his hand before it struck again; red marks imprinted on Mick’s skin.
“I didn’t hear you.: Charlie’s voice was much deeper. A huskier quality. “Tell me, you ******** whore.”
Mick struggled with speaking. “I,” he said, his voice fluctuating in sound.
“What was that?” Another firm strike.
Mick was actually shocked that this pushed him into a slightly pleasurable standpoint. It was becoming quite nice as to how Charlie was hitting him. His stomach was granulating into the warm sheets.
Another wave quickly paced through Charlie again. He sucked in light, but boisterous breaths. He slowly undoes the button of his pants.
Tears already flecked his skin with moisture trails. There was pulsating heat and throbs that took over his senses. Charlie was going to say something in Mick’s ear, but then noticed how albescent his skin was. He brought down another hand.
This time, he slowly dragged his hand slightly across the heated flesh and Charlie knew what was steadily happening.
“I still don’t hear anything. Are. You. A. Naughty. Boy?” Each word was heavily accentuated.
Mick finally let the cries of pain that he held back flood out like an out of control leak. His senses became over whelmed. His breaths are ragged and sag heavily. Sweat forms at his brow as it seeps into light brown strands. Mick is a disheveled mess. Charlie is becoming heated from this.
“********!” Mick nearly screams out. “Yes, yes, Charlie! Just ******** stop!”
Mick cant stop the hiccupping from treading into his voice.
Hands slowly trail up to raw wrists, irritated by the scarf, and gently, but firmly untie these bonds. Mick lets his hands drop to the bed and doesn’t even look up. Charlie gazes softly at Mick and reaches underneath him to sit him up.
He pulls Mick into an embrace. “It’s alright Mick,” Charlie softly whispers. He threads his fingers softly through the others hair.
Mick finally pries his eyes open; misty blue eyes gaze red rimmed up at Charlie. He’s unable to find his voice.
“Don’t,” Charlie says softly, like consoling a lost child. “I had to do it. You were very out of control.”
“I,” Mick finally found his voice. “Said some things that I didn’t mean. I was just… so very pissed off.”
“You don’t go and take it out on other people. Especially if that person might have a good fist on ‘em.” Charlie chuckles a little, trying to lighten the mood.
Mick lets out a small laugh. He then smooths out some of Charlie’s fallen hair. Charlie leans down to plant a small kiss on Charlie’s face.
“It’s just.. The stress of moving, the band, the wedding that’s comin’ up and just everything else.” Mick just let’s out a frustrated sigh. “It’s like life’s tryin’ to constantly kick me in the crotch.”
Charlie laughs and shakes his head.
“Speaking of that, you may want something for that.” Mick remarked. Charlie then gazed quizzically.
“It’s a bit uncomfortable when your poking me in the side.”
A dawning collapsed on Charlie as he realized what it was. Great, he thought, what would Mick think now? Would he recoil and look at him in disgust? He just didn’t know which so he mentally prepared himself for the worst.
“I think I know…” Mick trailed off.
“Please Mick, no.,” Charlie sighs. “Bringing up a woman isn’t going t-”
“No,” Mick interrupted. “I mean /I/ know what to do.”
Finally, after connecting the dots, it unfolded into Charlie’s mind. “No Mick.” Charlie held up his hands. “I’m not doing that. I’m not into that.”
“Oh come on Charlie!” Mick stared at the older man, an exasperated expression marring his face. ”It’s not like anyone is gonna find out. It’s just you ‘n me.”
Charlie was being very resolute. Doubt was collecting in his mind in a thick fog. But the insistent problem below was very demanding and spent more time getting his attention by the second. He really couldn’t just waltz out of here with a screaming tent pitched in his pants. Too much of a hassle in willing it to go away either.
“…. alright,” Charlie finally conceded.
Before Charlie could get out another sound, Mick clasped a hand in Charlie’s long, darkish blond hair; Mick then jostled their lips together and Charlie was surprised at the intensity. Charlie lightly joked in his mind that he could have heard an audible ‘smack’ between them
Hesitantly, Charlie opened his mouth and then again, was surprised at his own eagerness when his tongue was met by Mick’s. As Mick deepened it, Charlie found himself loosening up and he began to accept this this thing that he and Mick were doing.
Charlie’s fingers were walking up and down the others’ side Mick’s fingers were lazily scratching at Charlie’s scalp as he slid into a much better position into Charlie’s lap. Mick wanted, needed, to take it to a much more heated compromise, but felt as though he shouldn’t rush the Charlie.
He let his hand inch down deeper into Charlie’s pants and Charlie broke away as he felt a hand encase him. Charlie let those sounds flow from his throat as Mick trailed downwards on Charlie’s neck. His hand moved at a faster pace and Charlie shot his arms out to grasp Mick’s shoulders. Mick winced at the rate of Charlie’s hand clenching at his arms.
In a flash, Charlie pushed Mick back to the bed. As soon as Mick could look up, Charlie was already over him and was already hungrily devouring Mick. His hands ran everywhere and Mick let out an appreciative noise.
Mick began to pry at Charlie’s shirt and soon it became a shed piece of clothing. With clothes discarded, they both spent time just exploring each others body and what it had to offer. Charlie vaguely wonders what next to do as his mind slowly processes what to do. His body is moving faster than what his mind can produce.
Slowly, Charlie pressed a digit to Mick. A sharp breath escapes the singers throat and he squirms as Charlie adds more pressure. It was a foreign feeling and not something Mick was used to. There was a time when this happened. Possibly a few time. He only really remembered them from Brian, and when beat poet Allen Ginsberg and Labour MP Tom Driberg visited him unannounced*. Other than them, other times were cloudy.
There were those cloudy occurrences. When drugs viscously concealed what he had done, but had never had the effort to go and decipher. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that he seemed to attract a lot male and female attention.
Mick was collected in his thoughts that he never realized that Charlie had shifted. He then was brought out of his thoughts when he heard Charlie’s voice.
“Mick,” he asked unsure. “Are you sure about this?”
Mick nodded, words catching in his throat, but never spoken.
Slowly, Charlie pressed forewords and allows himself to push into Mick’s nervous body. He hopes he doesn’t screw up. He’s never done this and he’s not sure what will result from this. As Charlie settled farther inside, he felt overwhelmed at the sudden heat and the urge to surge forewords. Mick wasn’t off so well; he felt like he was being split in half. He took in unsteady gasps and steadied his gaze on Charlie.
Charlie groaned and steadied himself as best he could. Slowly, Charlie pressed his hips forewords and felt Mick shift and heard his audible groan. Charlie nearly presses forewords with a feverish pace. He stops to relish this opportunity. Charlie’s fingers scratch at Mick’s thin, jutting hip bones.
Mick tries to take this all in. It takes time to adjust to this feeling. Things were magnified and felt Charlie’s every movement. Soon, things reached a new high: something became desirable in this situation. His mind fell into oblivion as Charlie provided him the ecstasy that his body craved for. Charlie greedily slunk his hips forewords and uttered out broken words.
The bed squeaked as they became frantic in their movements. Charlie dipped his head, hesitant to take it further. His mouth hovered over Mick’s collarbone, as if deciding what to do. Charlie is sure that he could and slowly moved his mouth around the skin of Mick’s collarbone. He lazily licks the skin, thoroughly teasing.
“I can’t---… I you-.” Mick can’t form words as his mouth twists to say something. Charlie covers his mouth with his. Charlie increases speed, as if feeling that his world would tumble and shatter. In a way, it was. Charlie watches the younger below him; that pretty, little nymph like creature.
Charlie is nearly caught up in this. There is a feeling that is bubbling to overcome his body. His shoulders ache, his arms ache, but he can’t stop it. Mick is now reaching the climax of his beauty: Mick, with is head tipped back, eyes pressed shut and his jaw slack and swirling in ecstasy is presented to Charlie on a platter beneath him. It proves to be too much for Charlie.
It’s a moment where he’s ever seen Mick in this light; this vulnerability that shrouds Mick’s entire being proves to be Charlie’s undoing.
He goes weak and a sharp cry aims itself out of his mouth. He goes dizzy and feels himself drain inside of Mick’s body. Mick’s essence empties out onto Charlie’s stomach . Charlie looses his footing and drops on top of Mick’s recovering body. Both breathe, enjoying the afterglow of their previous actions. Charlie looks at Mick and smiles. Mick leans upwards to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.
Charlie rolled off of Mick, settling beside him. After a moment of silence, Charlie still gazes at the ceiling. “Y’know Mick,” he says airily. “You should do that more often.”
Mick snorts. “Me? How ‘bout you? My a** wouldn’t be grateful to me if I had another one of those.”
Charlie picks at locks of Mick’s long hair. He smiles and just laughs quietly to himself. “We can do that next time.”
--
* During the '67 Redlands bust, while Marianne was out, Allen had brought over Tom in a visit to Mick. Tom had actually protested Mick and Robert Fraser's treatment by the law. He had actually been surprised at how Jagger and Fraser handled themselves. Tom was also gay (as was Allen) and was an avid homosexual rights supporter.
Allen thought it would be a good idea to introduce Tom to Mick. While there, Tom listened to Mick and Allen talk (like, for a few hours), then he looked up at the mantle and saw an object. The infamous Chicago Plaster Casters had made a replica of his phallus. Then Tom put his hand on Mick's thigh and said "Oh my Mick, what a big basket you have." Mick, in quote 'blushed like a school boy". Allen would later talk openly of that night where he, Mick, and Tom slept together.
Allen was born in 1906 and Allen in 1926.
In other words, I read too much.
Currently listening to "If I Was A Dancer p. 2" by The Rolling Stones.
