the sea of hot language

i have taken the plunge and gone for it, yes, at last i've made a blog to detail my invariably deranged thoughts about the most beautiful men in the world, whom i love to put in the ugliest, lowest places.

the point of this blog is to spread like a parasite my pseudopoetic incest fanfiction. YES! YES! do not let the fire burn your eyes, do not walk back into the cave! i write about david sylvian and steve jansen fucking. ... and sometimes steve is david's dad, because i said so.

other than that i'll primarily post about japan, jbk, nine horses, and david & steve's solo work, though in all honesty any musical wisdom i share will probably be lyrics that pertain to the previously stated battcest conundrum. other music i enjoy includes rain tree crow, dalis car, the dolphin brothers, jansen/barbieri, mick karn solo, and other names that predominantly sound like porn categories i'd love to see realised. most of which are also just smaller-scale japan.

in coalition with my very very good friend @mysteriocest, i also tend to dabble in the fine art of the loeffler brothers (chevelle) fucking.

follow me if you like old men, young men, men who look like women, relatives fucking, and maybe all of the above at once.

then he recognises a ring on the hand holding the bottle. not to mention the hand itself, and then the voice from its owner - "pretend we aren't related!" - loud enough for david to hear, but careful as not to alarm anyone else.

david finishes the bottle without a spill, but can't keep from coughing once he has. he whips around, stares steve dead in his eyes like either one of them is about to end up dead, and pushes him against the wall just by the bar to start making out with him. the scene is sinful, consisting of rage, lust, envy, ravenous hunger, david's spindly hands grabbing carelessly at steve's hair, and steve returning the favour unilaterally to account for the bottle in his left hand.

"i hate you," david almost yells when he pulls back. but steve just laughs - he knows his brother, knows he's joking - and pulls him in again.

and there they persist, infinite, all but fucking eachother against the wall in that ungodly synthetic, cigarette-tar-infested club. david's lipstick stains steve's mouth a prettier red by the minute, and the mainstay predators of the place can't help themselves from telling the two to keep at it, ladies.

"what did you do, david?," steve asks so lowly his voice is almost as finely ground as those little pills david handled earlier.

"what?" - david's still playing innocent - "is there a problem?"

steve just tilts his head down a little, to whisper against the side of david's neck, as though his teeth are a gun he's setting a target for. "i think you know very well what i mean."

david's curt hum at the accusation comes out just a little too smug, a little too telling.

really, it's no surprise the dishes end up forgotten, the dining table swiftly cleared, so steve can pin his perverted little son down onto it and fuck him like he wanted. and it's no surprise david loves it so much, either. not when it's so glaringly obvious with how hard he was when steve stripped him for the act, all on his own accord, like just the satisfaction of feeling steve's stiff cock against the small of his back earlier had already made his twitch.

"don't do that again," steve groans right up to david's ear when they're done.

after a little too long of a silence, mick realises he must've been supposed to introduce himself, instead of staring at his friend's dad like he were a beautiful natural landscape rather than a man. david's been looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"i'm anthony," he croaks out, mouth dry, "but people usually just call me mick. it's a pleasure to meet you, mr. jansen."

david rolls his eyes - "when don't we call you mick?" - then looks over at steve. "he's my friend from school," he says, gesturing towards the boy.

steve lays aside his things, and steps over to shake mick's hand. though steve isn't the tallest man in the world, per se, he's still got a few inches on mick, and good god does that make him feel...something. that's for sure. he's afraid to ponder it too much with other people around.

"it's a pleasure to meet you, too, mick. i've heard a bit about you," steve smiles, voice gentle and reserved. he's where david gets his from, that's for certain. "would you like a cup of tea? i usually make one for david, i didn't know he'd be bringing a guest over."

mick beams, really beams at the gesture. "of course, thank you... i'm very sorry to bother."

steve pauses just as he's about to leave for the kitchen. he looks bemused - "bother? please, you're more than welcome, really. why don't you two take a seat, and i'll get back to you in a moment."

mick turns his head to watch after steve for just a second, then looks back at david, nothing shy of stunned. it asks many questions for a stare, none of them answered, in favour of a one-liner david definitely didn't see through the pertinence of;