Hunter is my ex-partner. Nice to meet you, Rekker Sterling. You are a luthier? I am a guitarist myself and enjoy plucking notes on my Fender. Surfing is good but I've never tried it.
Fair enough since everyone is allowed their own choices in life.
I've always wondered about surfing. It's not such a big thing over here because our seas are often too choppy and cold for surfing. I'd love to give it a go though and I'm sure Bjorn would love to swim.
I'll have to warn him it isn't a nudest beach though because he sometimes strips off when high or drunk.
Oh, you do? Well, this might be easier where my brother is concerned. He's rather wild and crazy. Learner waves are good. Then we won't all end up swallowing big mouthfuls of salty water.
Hurry up you whore or I'll drink it all without you.
Rekker took two bottles of whiskey out on the back patio to lay out on one of the lounges there to drink. He hasn't drank in a long time and the burn is soothing. He's missed it and he's drinking fast. By the time Bjorn arrives Rekker has almost downed a fifth of whiskey. He has loud thrash metal playing on the outside sound system and he's vaguely playing around with the remote control, tossing it in the air while sucking down whiskey pretty fast.
Stretched out in only his jeans in the warm California nights he's wondering if the glam brat was going to show up. The front door was open in case the Swede actually showed up. The Brit didn't have high hopes for it, feeling for sure that Bjorn would get distracted by something better than him, even if it was just snorting drugs or drinking.
Bjorn was soon at Rekker's door banging on it loudly whilst giggling because he was high as fuck on coke and drunk. How much had he and Hunter drank? That fucking Joe kept spiking his red wine with Jack. Hunter giving him a shit ton of red wine and the Brit bassist kept tipping huge amounts of Jack in every time. Fucking amazing. Then there was Erik who kept daring him to do shots with him. How many Sex on the Beaches had he drank? 5? 10? Whatever.
"Hey, Gingerlocks, open up! You'd better not be fucking naked jerking off in there."
He's out in the back porch stretched out and lazy when he hears the banging. There's no way in hell he's getting up...both because he's too comfortable and he's cracked the second bottle already.
Come around to the door by the hot tub, through the house. I'm out back.
Bjorn could follow the deck around and through the sliding door into the bathroom. Rekker isn't getting off this lounge chair for anything except maybe another bottle after this one.
Bjorn rolled his eyes at Rekker's laziness. Fuck this. Why couldn't he just open the door? The Swede did follow the message though as he opened the door by the hot tub and walked down the side to enter the back. Seeing the ginger sitting in the lounge chair drinking made the singer lustful because the Brit was so fucking hot.
"Hey, sweet cheeks. I see you've started this fucking party without me. Rude."
The Swede stuck his tongue out and then walked over to greet the grumpy ginger. He was too high and drunk to care as he leant forwards kissing Rekker's nose. Bjorn had already tanked up prior upon entering the mansion because he'd been drinking with the bands and had snorted a considerable amount of coke too. Joe had seen to that.
Rekker's trashed from drinking way too fast. It wasn't so much laziness as he was too drunk to get up. He wasn't even drinking from a glass, just starting on the second bottle. Rekker managed a drunken smile when the pale singer appeared on the back patio. He hasn't been this drunk in awhile, mostly because he didn't have any booze around.
"You're not fucking sober either." Drunk, his British accent comes through thick and sort of slurred. "You were partying without me too you whore."
As Bjorn leans down he tries to push away the hair ticking his face, shaking his head to try and get away from it and laughing. He's totally wasted and can't stop laughing once he's started. Bjorn does get a full handed ass grab now that he's close enough. Rekker is way too drunk to be anxious about anything.
"Sober? What the fuck does that even mean? You're right though, honey. I'm fucking trashed like you are."
The Swede wondered what brought on Rekker to drink and part of him wanted to yank the bottle out of the ginger's hand and throw it into the hot tub. The man was depressed and not mentally stable. Should he even be drinking? Yet, Bjorn was no party pooper, even if he did worry about Rekker and the whole him being drunk thing.
"I thought you didn't drink."
Bjorn tapped Rekker on the nose in a playful way and just hoped the Brit wouldn't crash after getting smashed out of his face. If he did then the Swede would look after him just like he did in the elevator. So, for now, he would monitor it all best he could whilst still being mentally coherent in some form.
"You know what it fucking means." The ginger can't stop laughing. "You definitely are trash."
Rekker has to fight the giggles to get a drink from the bottle. His mental health may or may not suffer from this, but his stomach definitely was going to and likely find the Swede holding his hair for him at some point before morning.
"I don't." He grinned, snatching Bjorn's hand for that nose tap and yanking him toward the lounge chair. It's sturdy wood so at least if Bjorn falls on it, then it won't break. "Unless some trashy whore spends hundreds of dollars on hair spray and leaves me a case of whiskey."
This was why Rekker shouldn't drink, once he started he didn't stop and had no control. For the moment, he's playful and not much worse for wear.
Bjorn giggled when he felt himself get pulled onto the wooden lounge chair on top of the ginger. Rekker wanted cases of whiskey? The Swede would gladly buy it for him but knew he couldn't. The man shouldn't even be drinking and this wasn't the normal behaviour for the metalhead because he was smashed. Still, Bjorn wasn't a party pooper and liked seeing this playful side of the man.
"How about I give you a millionaire's blow job?"
The Swede was drunk too and obviously horny since his hand was now snaking down between Rekker's legs offering his crotch a good squeeze. Did he want to swallow the Brit whole? Fuck yes.
Rekker couldn't answer because that grab got a gasp and he almost choked on the whiskey he was drinking. He laughed though as soon as he got his breath back, setting the bottle on the ground beside the chair so he could pull the Swede in for a kiss.
"You're always a bitchy whore." And Rekker loved it as much as he didn't want to admit that. He craved the bitchy singer's company and that was getting to be about more than sex.
"You love it, babe. Just admit it. You love having me as your private bitchy whore."
The Swede just giggled and leant into the kiss, tasting the booze on Rekker's tongue. That got a soft moan out of Bjorn because he found it hot. His thrust his tongue inside the Brit's mouth and continued to palm the older man's crotch with his hand. He ached to taste Rekker's cum.
"I want to taste you."
Booze, it seemed, made Bjorn even more horny than he usually was.
"I let you into my house, don't I?" He's a bit sarcastic but it's affection to that the Swede could come and go as he liked.
And then there was that kiss, Rekker yanked Bjorn into it while grabbing his ass. Bjorn wasn't the only one that got horny and trashy when drunk, it was one of the reasons he didn't drink much anymore. His hips pushed up into his lover's hand, groaning with want.
"Then stop bitching and suck." The fucking bastard got Rekker so hot so fast it always felt like madness.
"Yeah, you let me into your fucking massive mansion, babe. I love it!"
So demanding. Bjorn tapped Rekker's nose with a fingertip as he then licked his lips and began pulling down the man's zipper on his pants and pulling out his hard cock. Groaning at the sheer size of the ginger, Bjorn thrust his mouth onto his lover's hard organ in one, deep-throating almost at once due to the amount of practice he'd had over the years. Sleeping around had it's benefits because it could make you more of a skilled lover.
Humming down the length, Bjorn licked and sucked whilst hollowing his cheeks, taking as much as he could. The trashy blond loving how dominant Rekker was over him, demanding that he got sucked.
Rekker watched the Swede slip away. It's been awhile since he got sucked and there was no denying that he fantasized about seeing those pouty, pink lips around his cock. Bjorn got a lusty groan from his lover before he even started sucking.
"Fuck." The warm of his lover's mouth as he deep throated caused the Brit to quake. Then he was shoving his hands into Bjorn's hair, pushing it back so he could watch. He might have bitched about lipstick when they first met but those full, pink lips were enough to get the guitarists pulse pounding. The Swede was perfect and Rekker had to relax back, breath coming as fast and shallow gasps until they turned to near growls of pleasure. His fingers started wrapping into the blonde hair, tugging gently, and the hairspray he hated so much forgotten for the moment.
The Swede sucked deep and long hoping to bring Rekker off through a haze of pleasure and ecstasy. Even drunk and smashed he was good at giving head and right now he was closing his eyes whilst sucking and licking at the ginger's hot cock. It felt so right filling his mouth up and causing him to moan deeply while his fingers toyed with Rekker's ball sac.
"Mmm...."
Humming down the metalhead's length, Bjorn began bobbing up and down, enjoying the musky taste of his lover and swallowing as much cock as he could manage, expertly giving his ginger a blow job. Would he please the man? He hoped so. The tugging to his hair-sprayed hair was a good sign as he giggled slightly with a mouth full of cock.
Rekker leaned up to watch those perfect pink lips sliding around his cock, felt them warm and soft against his cock. He pulled harder on the blonde's hair, offering him the first teasing taste when the Brit dripped pre-cum, moaning from the Swede's touch.
"OH fuck.. Bjorn." He could barely get the words out around ragged breaths, wanting to watch but he had to lay back as his eyes refused to stay open. His grip tightened on the singer's hair, pulling rhythmically. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, you bitch.. drag you up here...fuck your tight ass."
Bjorn's hot mouth pulling him closer to orgasm with each suck but also fueling his want and he was desperate for whatever he could get, drunk and out of his mind. Growling, the Brit shoved into his lover's mouth, feeling the throb in his cock, so close.
Bjorn was finding all of this to be so fucking hot as he swallowed Rekker's hot cock, tasting the bitterness of the precum on his tongue as he sped up his movements, sliding his mouth up and down the throbbing shaft. Fuck, it was hot! The ginger wanted to fuck him after so this caused the Swede to moan and rake his nails down Rekker's inner thighs, just wondering what other noises he could pull from his needy lover.
"Mmm---"
Licking and sucking at Rekker's cock, Bjorn closed his eyes and began lapping up at the head teasingly like a lollipop. Was he a huge fucking tease? Oh yes. He then deep-throated the ginger once more all the way to the hilt feeling his own cock throb with want.
Rekker let out a loud gasp as his thighs were raked, hands tightening in Bjorn's hair so he could thrust into his willing mouth. Those nails alone almost got him off.
"Scratch me you bitch." It sounded more like begging than he intended but he wanted the Swede to learn to scratch him, to always be burying those nails into his skin. Rekker was needy and that bump of his cock against the back of the blonde's throat was too much. Gripping his hair, tense and demanding he kept his cock shoved in the Swede's mouth as he pumped it full of cum.
"Fuck! You're a hot mouthed bitch." The words coming as pants as Rekker's hands slowly let go of all that teased blonde hair.
That loud gasp had the Swede giggling because he loved the shift in control just for these few moments while he licked and sucked the ginger bastard's cock. Fuck, he was so big and hard. Bjorn used his painted nails to scratch along the insides of Rekker's thighs, leaving red welts where he scraped the skin. It was so fucking erotic it caused the bleached blond to moan around the hot shaft in between his pink lips.
"Fuck, babe."
Then, a few more deep-throating sessions and the ginger was coming down the Swede's throat. Fuck! The singer swallowed every drop almost with a professionalism because he'd sucked off so many men before. A whore? Almost. Licking Rekker's cock with a swirl of his tongue Bjorn made a lewd pop noise then giggled.
Rekker's panting heavily and groans as he comes down from the orgasm.
"Come here." He tugged at the Swede, wanting him to climb up on top. It would be a few minutes before he was ready for more but he wanted more. Damn, the singer was hot and he couldn't resist. "I want your ass and to listen to you scream like my bitchy whore."
His words were demanding but the touch of his hands, wherever he could reach, was slow and sensual. He had it bad for Bjorn; love, lust, want.. all of it.
Bjorn could feel Rekker pulling him up into his lap and the Swede was all for this because he wanted the ginger to fuck him. Rough sex was just what he wanted after sucking off the ginger bastard. The blond pulled on Rekker's hair and then bit down on his lower lip, groaning.
"You fucking want my ass don't you? You're a dirty fuck and I love you."
The singer began grinding his hips down against Rekker's and making lewd soft noises in the back of his throat. He would soon get hard once more and this time the lube would be needed surely, for a smooth ride. Unless the Brit would forego it and take Bjorn dry for a rougher fuck.
Rekker bit back, grabbing Bjorn's ass with both hands and pulling. He wanted this so badly and could tell his lover did too.
"I always want you ass, you dirty bitch." He growled the words while shoving his hips up into the grinding. His sex drive always ran rather hot but drunk and off his medication it's burning hotter and leaves him nearly whining with want. Rekker lets his eyes fall closed to revel in the feeling of Bjorn's weight pressing on him and the soft skin beneath his hands as he grabs the singer's ass. The growled breaths got deeper, needy.
"You're so fucking...." Rekker's words trailed off as his hands slipped around to Bjorn's waist and chest, forcing him to sit up in the Brit's lap. "...fucking perfect against me."
There was lube to be had in Rekker's shirt pocket which was laying beside the lounge on the ground. He wasn't thinking about that now as he's near writhing under the Swede while his hands greedily explore his pale skin. The sounds from his bucking lover gets a hard pulse in his cock as he starts to harden again. "Fuck!! Fuck! I need you to ride me you damned bitch."
It's too easy to fall accidently. All the fucking bullshit he causes though is worth it. I don't fucking know why but it is. Even when he drives me to wanting to slit myself open he's somehow fucking worth it in my twisted, sick head.
"Yeah, I know how easy it is just to say fuck it all and end it because you don't even know how to think like a normal person anymore, whatever the fuck normal is."
Hans sighed and realised it felt good to talk with someone that had been there. Died and came back again. The Swede hadn't even known just how close to death he'd actually been but it was pretty fucking close. Hunter had explained this to him back at the hospital briefly before he walked away and got on with his life.
"Devon sounds like a rock. Someone to hold onto when everything goes to shit."
"It's not your fault your body is telling you to do things like that. There isn't such a thing as normal anyway, at least I don't think so. Social norms were what drove me to commit suicide."
Hans nodded, understanding about Devon wanting to be alone and brood because the Swede was guilty of that too. Hunter often coming to find Hans when he was alone and including him in conversation and passing the guitarist a soda. The singer was such a mother hen it warmed his heart.
"Being lonely isn't fun but it helps when you have caring band members around with you. I sometimes get told I sleep with my guitar and have my head buried inside of it."
"It's really fucked that I can tell the social norms to fuck off and then my own mind tells me to die and I want to listen." It wasn't exactly that black and white but it was as good of an explanation as any.
Rekker shrugged at Hans. "I like being alone. I don't like people in my house or space."
In general, that was true. Bjorn, in Rekker's mind was now part of his living space in an odd way. It wasn't that he didn't see the singer as a person, he definitely saw him as an incredible person, but that he was not an outside person. Hexed fell into that same strange void, so did Robert. Most people though, Rekker didn't want them around at all.
It's not a nickname. It's just what he is tonight. I usually call him whore or bitch. They try to call my car the sex mobile, obviously they are confusing it with my brother's limo.
Get a drink and some popcorn. Tonight is going to get wild.
"Whore or bitch? The boy doesn't get offended by those names? I suppose this is all new to me and usually those are offensive names where I come from. Unless Bjorn liked being called those names."
What did Rex know? The ginger and the trashy Swede obviously had something going on and who was the Brit to second guess it?
"Your brother's limo is the sex mobile then? Ziggy's limo? Also, when you say wild---what kind of wild are we talking here?"
"If anyone else called him a whore, bitch or harlot I'd fucking kill them." In Rekker's mind it was a pet name like calling someone else's girlfriend or boyfriend sweetheart and knowing that most other people used it as an insult.
"Everyone fucks in it." Rekker started laughing. "Who the fuck knows. That's why you sit and watch."
"I think I'll be doing a lot of sitting and watching throughout this crazy tour. But I do like taking part in some crazy things myself unlike my brother who likes to watch and not get involved."
Weird being the more responsible of the brothers even though he was younger. Rex often said Weird acted like a 52 year old man instead of the young 22 year old he was. It was strange but a fact.
"I'm single at the moment and I'm not sure if I should advertise this fact or not."
This was considering some of the trashier members of the tour looking for a good fuck or two. Rex had been keeping an eye on that Dane boy though---Ansgar? He was hot.
"You can't be sidelined here. Eventually, the chaos will consume you." Rekker laughed, partially because in his youth he was the person dragging the quiet ones into the madness, or Devon did. The unexpected quiet ones never stayed that way forever.
"They'll find out." Rekker was sure of that. He'd been watching as new people came around and it was amazing how quickly the whole tour knew if they were single, interested, and who they were interested in.
Isamu strolled into the cafe a short time later, his usual satchel slung over his shoulder. It had a fresh omamori dangling from it, a new years tradition he observed without fail. Noticing Rekker, he offered a friendly wave as he approached.
“Good morning.” He yawned, and sat down in front of the empty cup that was waiting for him. It would not be empty for much longer. “Apologies. Last night was not very conducive to sleep, and I am now coping with the consequences.”
He’d been doing some productive overtime in the lab, but the troubled sleep was more a product of Minoru’s text messages waking him up. Normally, Minoru was considerate of their opposing schedules, but every once and a while, he either forgot, texted the wrong person, or impulsively thought it was too important to wait.
Rekker grumbled in response and sighed before saying "Good morning."
Rekker pushed the pot and the tray of coffee amendments toward Isamu. "I thought I would get some sleep because Bjorn passed out early but every person that walked by the door banged on it to try and get him to come out."
Bjorn had been dead to the world but Rekker never actually got to sleep between all the banging.
“I would normally recommend hanging a Do Not Disturb placard outside the door. However, I would expect such things to be all but completely ignored by your fellow musicians.”
As he spoke, he highly considered switching his phone into Do Not Disturb mode. But what if there was an emergency that required his attention?
Rekker laughed quietly before sipping his coffee. "They'd probably start banging and screaming about sex. That's the meaning of a do not disturb sign for a couple in everything."
Rekker could only imagine though, at least, rue worst for that kind of behavior was probably the one already in his room. Small miracles and relief.
"Do you want breakfast?" Rekker might be grouchy but he does have manners and wouldn't eat in front of someone without offering.
“On the whole, they have been far more considerate when we place the placard outside the door. However, given that the vast majority of overnight trips into your world involve me sharing a room with Minoru, I suppose I am merely reaping the benefit of his peculiarities.”
Isamu could count his blessings there.
“Oh, yes, please. I have not yet eaten this morning.” He glanced up to a display board to see what, if anything, this particular cafe seemed to be known for. Isamu was far less picky than his brother when it came to food.
"They don't know my temper as well as Ziggy's either." Rekker imagined that eventually he would lose his temper and then, like Tom, he'd be given extra courtesy. Until then, he'd have to endure.
"Get whatever you want." Rekker was picky like Minoru, vegetarian but a little more lenient because he would eat freshly caught fish or meat when Devon went hunting. On tour though, he was effectively vegetarian. They already knew here that he ate veggie omelets with triple cheese and extra toast. They learned quickly, or it was Rekker's tendency to eat breakfast foods most of the day.
The omelette looked appetizing, so Isamu ordered something similar - albeit with added bacon and a side of hash browns.
“Having experienced Ziggy’s temper first hand - and not even the full extent of it, as I am very aware - it would be safe to assume you to be a frightening force to be reckoned with when angry…”
"Tom says his kid has a worse temper than he does but the fuse is longer." Rekker knew better than to light that wick. Tom was bad enough. "It takes a lot to make me angry, especially on my medication."
Mood stabilizers moderated his temper as much as his depression. He's eager to eat and hoping it wakes him up some. "Everyone can have a bad temper if you push the wrong places."
“Unfortunately, a longer wick is still able to be depleted… Perhaps I should merely be grateful that angering Ziggy did not also earn me Tom’s ire. The well-being of his child is, of course, one of those places.”
When it came to emotions, Isamu was typically more even keeled. While he was frustrated at being woken up multiple times by his brother’s texts, he wasn’t necessarily angry. Though, when heavily stressed, he could, and did, have his moments. They usually came across as more frantic and panicked - hilarious for the guy whose name means Courage. Some were more justified than others.
“Direct attacks on my character as a scientist is one of mine.” He admitted. “As is being thrust into a needlessly reckless, life-threatening situation.”
"You don't mess with anyone's family; blood or found." Rekker knew that was true from seeing the bands and seeing the Scandinavians that were family.
Rekker stopped eating and raised a brow at Isamu's soft spot. "It's good that you aren't a musician. They constantly attack our character, as musicians, as people, anywhere they can get a hook in." It was one of the few things Rekker truly hated about being in music. "I'm an adrenaline junkie most days."
“Yes, well, my research is my livelihood. The scientific pursuit of knowledge is like life itself.” He insisted as he opened his laptop to get the data simulations running on schedule. “Thankfully, academic review boards typically deliver their criticism more thoughtfully and more constructively than music fans. From what I have gathered, at least.”
When his omelette arrived, he stopped to take a few bites.
“Minoru is an adrenaline junkie everyday.”
As long as neither of them were forcing him along for the ride - a harrowing trip down the gauntlet in Hunger City immediately sprung to mind - Isamu was more than willing to live and let live.
"That sounds demeaning and sarcastic." Rekker is momentarily glad Bjorn has hounded him about his medication or this might have made him angry. "Yes, well, my research is my livelihood, isn't the best response to someone talking about their own livelihood. You're coming off sounding like mine is better than yours."
Rekker was old and he'd heard a lot of people through the years talk down on people who were musicians, as if it was a waste or a place for people of low intellect or low control. He didn't linger but thought it best the kid knew how a musician, or anyone in the arts probably, would hear those words.
"Academic review boards get fired for lies. Music critics get praise for them." Rekker went on eating because he knew that was true. Gossip was praised in the critics of his field and everyone thought their opinion was truth.
Rekker smiled and shrugged while eating. "It not always safe for me to act on my impulses for adrenaline."
He learned long ago that some moods might have him wanting to see what something truly dangerous would be like, or when the voice in his head was whispering too loudly about death. "You come across as someone wound too tight for that kind of fun?"
Isamu cocked an eyebrow. “Demeaning? Hardly. And sarcastic, certainly not - unless you actually believe your livelihood holds significantly less importance to you than mine does to me.”
It seemed the best way to succinctly define its relative importance. The part about the music critics wasn’t sarcastic either. As unfortunate as it was, there was quite a bit of truth to that quip. It also suggested that, in his field, Isamu had less experience handling that kind of criticism, because he was put in that position far less often.
His voice softened as the conversation continued, though.
“Perhaps I am more tightly wound, but… I must admit, I do worry about my brother sometimes, in that respect. His impulses putting him in increasingly dangerous situations.”
Rekker raised a brow at the young man across from him and paused in eating. "It's common social knowledge that most of the world values, and sees more worth, in science over the arts." Rekker sat his fork down and took a breath to keep his mind clear. "That alone makes responding to the abuse of an artist with a line about 'my career is my livelihood' and 'my work is life itself' sound a whole hell of a lot like you devalue music compared to your work."
Rekker's not upset but he's pointing out something that irritated him as politely as possible. He slowly went back to eating and sighed as he tried to remain pleasant. It really wasn't one of his natural personality traits but he's working hard on it. "My career has more importance to me than you can imagine. It has kept me alive when I've tried to die, and I use it to help other people stay alive. I've done things people, including scientists, told me I couldn't or is destined to fail."
The conversation turns though and Rekker's mood easily moves along. Living with Bjorn has been helpful for his mood. Mostly, someone who watches him like a hawk over his medication and therapy. Isamu's comment gets a laugh, easily.
"Dangerous for him, or dangerous when you imagine yourself trying?" Rekker's grinning and shaking his head. "Devon used to get on me about driving fast and skydiving the same way. I'm sure he's safer than you think."
He'd heard a few things, mostly building climbing and obstacle courses. Neither of which felt particularly dangerous to Rekker. Then again, his own concept of self-preservation was skewed and biased.
Isamu was wise enough (this time) to let that first part be. There was little to be gained by continuing a literal discussion about ‘things that cause my temper to flare up’ if it was only going to end in tempers flaring up.
He checked on the data that was populating in the various spreadsheets, letting that impulse subside.
“The latter goes without saying.” He scoffed. There was obvious humor in that. “Though, some of the situations he has put himself in, due to the nature of the Nexus and the availability of other worlds, should qualify as dangerous, period.”
It was no secret to the bands now that Minoru (and Isamu too), were from a different world.
“Freeclimbing a highly unstable cliff without the necessary safety equipment, for example. Attempting to scale a literal skyscraper. Horseback riding through a gauntlet of plague-infested giant rats, military drones and sharpshooters whose sole purpose is to annihilate you… that sort of thing.”
Competing on American Ninja Warrior was probably one of the tamest things Minoru did, actually.
Rekker is fine with saying why he's not happy and moving on. It's part of his own therapy to learn to talk instead of throwing things or worse, so this is an improvement.
The comment about danger has him shrugging and then laughing. Unlike the other musicians, Rekker has a little more insight into the various things he's mentioning. "At least he does it sober."
There was a point and quite a bit of humor to Rekker's commentary now. "It looks like he's survived all of it. I suppose you wouldn't want all of us to teach him to street race."
Freeclimbing the skyscraper with Joe was one of the few things Isamu actually heard his brother say went too far. Not because they climbing higher than one could even hope to survive a fall, not because they got arrested and even taken to jail, not because they worried their loved ones tremendously - but because Joe was under the influence. Minoru felt responsible for keeping Joe alive up there.
His craziness did have a limit.
“Simply because he has survived up until this point does not mean I do not worry sometimes.” Isamu added quietly. “… Do I even want to know what street racing entails?”
"We have different ideas of dangerous." Rekker knew there would be no deterring Isamu though, he had an older brother too. It was futile to try and stop them from worry. "It's what it sounds like."
Rekker takes a few bites of food and then lets out a sigh. "It wouldn't be happening if Bjorn wasn't mouthing off about how my car was faster than any of their bikes." It was sweet that Bjorn thought so highly of him and his car but now he felt compelled to stand up to the challenge... and it would be fun.
Older brothers were like that when it came to risk-taking adrenaline junkie younger brothers, it seemed. And Isamu was technically the older one - by a few minutes.
“You are racing your car versus the various punks on their bikes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that unless you have a car that far exceeds average performance, they have the advantage. Motorcycles’ high power-to-weight ratio and small profile result in less wind resistance and a low drag coefficient, and this leads to faster acceleration as well.”
"They want to go out on highway 1." Rekker thinks this all sounds fun. "I have an Eastwood-620 engine and sport upgrades. It looks like a typical Firebird but inside it's close to a racecar."
This is something Rekker could talk scientifically, or almost, since he was involved in the rebuild of his car even if he didn't do the mechanic work himself. "Ducati is zero to 60 in 2.6 seconds or so, my car is 3.6 but I I can maintain higher speeds. Short distance they'll outpace me but I can catch up. I know the road better too."
“From a purely hypothetical and scientific point of view, of course, if you wish to further stack the odds in your favor, I would suggest a course with curves and turns. It is basic physics. Cars do not need to reduce their speed as much as motorcycles do when taking a turn.”
He specified this as hypothetical, because it would make it that much more dangerous for the bikers. But a short race on a straight track already put Rekker at a disadvantage, something the other man just alluded to. If the track were long enough, a fast car could overtake a fast motorcycle, but it would depend on a lot of variables he had not even begun to seriously calculate.
"I don't think this is hypothetical." Rekker started to laugh again. No, this was probably was going to happen. "When all things are equal skill helps. Ollie and I both have race experience."
Rekker much less and not professionally but he did feel like they were the two that would be the most competitive. "Motorcycles can cut curves in races to reduce the amount of speed reduction. The wide berms on the inside curves will help them, if they notice."
He didn't mention that most of this road had a sheer drop to the ocean for most of the length. That was what made it interesting when you might fall to your death. "I didn't choose the road. They did."
Isamu looked at him warily. First for the remark about this actually happening. Second for the fact that they’ve probably done this sort of thing before. And third for the added element of unnecessary risk that the specific stretch of road would create.
“They are insane.” He finally managed to reply.
And he made a mental note not to let Minoru borrow the car any time soon. (Even though, technically, it was Minoru’s car. Isamu was the one who drove it 97% of the time.)
Rekker has to try not to choke on his coffee at the comment. "I am insane. Everyone knows it."
He could joke about his mental health, usually did. In this case it was applicable because some of this was happening because the Brit lacked a lot of his sense of self preservation.
"Everyone needs adrenaline. Where do you get yours?" Now Rekker is curious since anything remotely fun or high intensity felt off the table for Isamu.
The only saving grace of this conversation was that at least this was one bout of insanity Minoru wouldn't be getting mixed up in. At least, not the racing part of it. He wasn’t taking the car, which wasn’t built for racing in the slightest. He didn’t own a bike. And he could never keep up on foot, and likely would not make an attempt on skateboard.
He’d learn about Ollie soon enough. And plant his face squarely into his own palm…
“In the laboratory. In the library. Wherever I happen to be the moment my research leads to a breakthrough.” He replied. “It is exceedingly rewarding, though I would not go so far as to classify it as dopaminergic.”
"Writing music is an adrenaline surge sometimes." Rekker could imagine there might be some correlation between a recording studio or writing lyrics to working in a laboratory. "It's nothing like being on stage."
The turn in conversation was a pleasant one. He considered the topic while slowly eating. "Music therapy; writing, playing and sometimes listening alleviate a lot of my depression symptoms. It's one of the reasons I was eager to join the tour."
Sure, tours got crazy but a daily or every few day surge in adrenaline and dopamine did wonders for his mental health.
There certainly was. For Isamu, the closest feeling to being on stage would probably be the excitement and satisfaction of having one of his papers published. It was more than rewarding enough to make up for weeks, sometimes months, of research, writing and countless revisions.
“Given those specific conditions, it does appear to be an environment in which you are already set up for success.” Isamu nodded. “While I cannot make a direct comparison, as I do not need to alleviate depressive symptoms, in some ways, moving to the Nexus was, for me, what joining the Ziggy Stardust tour was, for you. An opportunity to increase those most rewarding experiences.”
The work he’d done at IRIS was well beyond that which a traditional Ph.D. program in his home world could provide. He had more freedom, more access, more opportunities to make bigger and bolder discoveries.
"Usually, successful." More so now that he was older and didn't fall for some of the more negative aspects of fame. "Music helps me survive but I almost refused the tour."
He wasn't going to say much more on the subject though he suspected Isamu might know more than the others since his twin was close to Ziggy. The mental illness he carried around wasn't exactly healthy for Antheans, though Bjorn, with all his madness, helped alleviate that strain for both red-heads.
"It'll be good for all of us to be back in the stage."
Rekker took a bite of food while thinking how he should reply. Surely, Minoru knew what Ziggy was if they were lovers and his brother. Rekker took a breath after swallowing.
"I'm an anxiety ridden, self-loathing, suicidal depressive with panic attacks." Rekker shrugged and let out a breath. "Do you know what my presence is like for Ziggy?"
He left that hanging without clarity because he figured the response would answer the question about how much Isamu knew about Ziggy.
Rekker’s assumptions were correct. Minoru knew, quite intimately, what Ziggy was. And as the brother of an alien’s boyfriend and friend of the Stardust household, Isamu was very much in the know. But at the same time, he was also trying to discern exactly what Rekker knew - especially before saying anything that could lead to trouble.
He really didn’t want to make any more trouble with Ziggy…
“Enough to assume that neither Ziggy, nor Tom for that matter, would have likely offered your band a spot on the tour if they felt he was unable to cope with your presence. In one form or another.”
It wouldn’t have surprised Isamu if the cocaine use increased whenever Rekker was nearby. To even things out. (Oh, to be able to study the pharmacodynamics there… one of the many curiosities Isamu had about Antheans.)
"I grew up with Tom." Rekker laughed because he had memories of that time which were amusing. His own temper clashing with Tom's notoriously bad temper had nearly driven his brother crazy in a way that only people who were like three brothers could.
"I've recovered enough in the past few years." He finally mentions but there had been worry at first. Rekker supposed that Ziggy had also improved over time. The teenage personality that had been there when they first met had matured which had to make Rekker's emotions easier to deal with.
"He used to tell me I felt like a graveyard in a hurricane." Which was both an amazingly metal description and an accurate one for his mindset when they met.
The pieces clicked together and suddenly, Isamu looked up. “Oh! Yes, that is right. Robert is your brother! Of course, you have known Tom and his family for a quite some time. And have likely amassed quite a number of interesting anecdotes, if your expression there is any indication.”
Ziggy’s comment on what Rekker felt like, Isamu decided, was better left alone. It was a very powerful metaphor of death and destruction, a paradoxical stillness surrounded by a maelstrom. But he wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse than being compared to the monstrous bastards who vivisected Mister Newton…
Rekker started to laugh. "Tom and I got along like gasoline and matches. I did everything I could to mess with him. It drove Robert crazy because he's so placid and we're both hot headed." That was probably an understatement, though both men had calmed significantly with age the tempers remained. Luckily for everyone on the tour they no longer turned on each other so often.
Rekker accepted his mental state. He was a stormy man, obsessed with death sometimes, and unpredictable. However, it might sound to others he saw no insult in how Ziggy experienced his presence. Isamu as correct in identifying the calm Rekker usually presented, watchful but very easy to stir up. "My brother is Ziggy's godfather."
Which made Rekker family but he easily fell into the presence of the crazy uncle anyway, even with the other young band members.
His attention was firmly on Rekker now, and Isamu paid little attention to the data simulations running on the laptop next to him. His eyes widened. “Given the dynamics of many on the tour, it sounds as though apples do not fall far from their trees.”
It wasn’t a true generational divide. But thinking of Tom and Rekker getting into the same kind of hothead mischief that he recorded during his study was somewhat amusing.
“Godfather?” He tilted his head curiously. “Is that in a secular or religious sense?”
"Tom and I aren't related." Rekker points out while still drinking coffee between sentences. "My brother and I are opposite."
Rekker's behavior was quite opposite to Robert's eternal calm and cool collectiveness. Though, as Joe had learned, if you pushed Robert far enough he had a temper as bad as the redhead. Robert's calm was part of what lead to Tom and Rekker no longer fighting so often.
He has to think about the question Isamu posed. "It might be religious for Tom but my brother takes it as a secular... military duty." Rekker changed his mind on the words because it was a precise and defensive mindset Robert had about Ziggy.
“Neither are most of the band members, but there is a kind of familial bond between them nonetheless. The comparison is based more on behavior than on blood.” Isamu noted.
He’d long seen his friend Tom as the cool and collected one, exasperated at worst, but not anywhere near as hot-headed or volatile as the younger musicians. It was somewhat amusing to think of how he might have been when he was younger, or how some of the crazier band members might be when they are older.
“A more protective role...” He found himself nodding.
Rekker nodded to his misunderstanding of what Isamu meant. "I'm the crazy uncle."
He'd heard it more than once from the younger musicians and thought it was fun and applicable. Isamu has just been spared seeing older Tom lose his temper. It was rare but Rekker had heard about the flowers and Tom breaking up Viktor and Rik fighting almost a year ago.
"My brother took a bullet for Ziggy." He wasn't sure if that was widely known but Rekker respected his brother's bravery.
Indeed, Isamu saw Tom as the calculated scientist and savvy business manager. (Minoru, on the other hand, had caught a few glimpses of Tom’s temper, but that usually involved being bailed out of jail. Or something else that just went too damn far.)
“Took a bullet for Ziggy?” Isamu repeated, recalling Ziggy’s own admission that this world was not a safe place, even without his alien heritage being suspected. His eyes fell. His voice quieted as he added, “That is an story I have not yet heard.”
Rekker nodded and thought it wouldn't hurt to tell him. Much of it had been in this world's newspapers so it wasn't hidden.
"After Ziggy's first band busted up his hands Tom asked Robert to come out of retirement to be security and the driver." He thought maybe Isamu would know that part but mentioned it just in case. "A few months later they were were heading back to the limo and a person came out of the crowd and started shooting. Ziggy was hit twice and my brother once while trying to cover Ziggy and Tom."
Rekker didn't know how to feel about it happening but he knew that was his brother after all the military training. "Most of us have had encounters with someone trying to harm us. I didn't much before but I probably will too once people realize who I'm dating."
Isamu knew of the crushed hands. He had heard references made to various shootings, and even a couple of attempts, but not with that much detail. Not enough to know who else was with Ziggy at the time, or that anyone else had been shot at the same time.
“I see…” he nodded thoughtfully, respectfully. “For that to be the case, who are you dating?”
He's glad the conversation about the old injury to his brother. He worried about him sometimes when he was working.
"Bjorn." He's wondering if it will be surprising to Isamu as much as it has some others. "He says it's better in his country but in L.A. it's already causing problems."
He did not know many of the band members as well as his brother did. But he recognized the name as one of them… the singer of one of the other acts on the tour. But the point of the matter was probably less about that and more about Bjorn being male.
“I keep needing to remind myself how different our worlds are in regards to the acceptance of same sex couples. It is baffling, honestly, how such a thing could be seen as unnatural or even the least bit offensive.”
"It's more than that." Though, definitely being seen as a straight male who dated beautiful women all of his career made it hard for people to accept he had a pretty man now.
"He's almost twenty years younger which brings up old rumors and shit I thought I was done with." Rekker's expression was more exasperated than angry at this point. "In L.A. our music genres are at each other's throats. They turn on us, we beat them up. It's been that way for years and now I've crossed that line too."
Rekker thought the music scene rift being turned on its head was amusing more than anything else. He could laugh about the ridiculousness of it all though he had personal dislikes of the glam scene in L.A. that he wasn't going to mention to anyone.
"That is a fairly significant age difference. It likely poses its own set of challenges- with or without rumors that I have never heard." he noted. "Though, I must admit I do not understand the musical rivalry."
"I retired to a private music teacher for the deaf and hearing impaired, by chance most of my students are young women." Rekker had intentionally learned to teach music to the deaf but the young women had simply happened. "The questions about my appropriateness with young people is out again because some people think Bjorn is 16 or 18 or whatever."
Which annoyed Rekker to no end. He was a lot of things and many of them he wouldn't even argue with but this one got under his skin in a bad way. It showed in the nervous tick that started with his fingers drumming on the table.
"Glam is soft, feminine and Speed is aggressive and masculine." The reasons were deeper but this was a quick and dirty explanation. "I have some long standing issues with a few bands in the local glam scene after putting them in the hospital."
They deserved it and that past had caused strife between him and Bjorn at first that almost turned to a physical fight rather than a verbal one. The two getting together hadn't been smooth or calm. They still had moments of flaring up at each other over behavior but it was subdued rather than the initial aggression.
“I do not know how old Bjorn is specifically. However, I was under the impression that most of the musicians are around our age.” He gestured to himself, making it clearer that he meant he and Minoru’s age, not he and the older Rekker. “At least in their early to mid twenties, even if they appear younger.”
In other words, the rumors were surely wrong. Though, getting people to believe that was another story.
“Were music genres monarchies, some would think a union such as yours would mark the end of an era of conflict, not the beginning of an even greater one.” He shook his head. “However, feudal-era diplomacy is admittedly not my forte.”
"Twenty five." Though admittedly he looked younger. "A couple are 19 or 20, I think."
Rekker didn't keep track of thier ages but he knew from the teasing among band members that a few were on the younger end of things.
Isamu's description of the conflict got a full laugh from the Brit. Not only was it funny but something he and Bjorn had talked about. "I'm the King of Speed out here and make a lot of the custom guitars. Not everyone is happy I've kidnapped a princess from our enemies."
While this is humorous and sarcastic the sentiment might not be fr off from the way he and Bjorn were stirring up thier respective music communities.
Isamu nodded, pleased that his perception was indeed accurate. Bjorn was exactly the same age as he and his brother. Rumors may still persist, but they could be easily refuted with basic facts.
“Then perhaps the princess should remind his subjects that petty grievances do not matter to a queen.” He suggested metaphorically, for whatever good it might do taken literally. Isamu knew nothing about the music industry, and very little about music in general.
"More the princess reminding his subjects that his king won't put any more of them in the hospital if they stop being assholes."
There was bad blood and history, enough that it showed in Rekker's expression. A flicker if anger and sadness before he got it under control. "I put a whole band in the hospital right after I joined Hexed. The rift was there but why I turned on them made it huge."
Likely, his prominence early on as a guitarist to watch gave him more sway than any 19 year old with a bad temper should ever be given. "It was before I had any therapy or medication, fucking bad, but the band I attacked... I'll never treat them well."
Rekker might adore a glam singer, might hang out with musicians here and there but the culture of the scene put him off at a visceral level.
Isamu stared for a moment, unsure of what to say to that. They’d just been talking about Robert taking a bullet for Ziggy, and the Anthean having his hands crushed by his former band. And here was Rekker stating that he’d put an entire glam act in the hospital for reasons unknown - unless being assholes was, in fact, a legitimate reason.
He finally ventured, “That… was then. And things are, or at least should be, different now?”
Was the music industry really this cutthroat and violent? Had everyone gone through this kind of traumatic experience? Did he really want to know the answers to those mental questions?
Not everywhere was violent but the mix in L.A. got volatile from so many bands and, at the time, so many young band members. Packs of 18 to 22 year old drunks with little supervision wasn't going to be a stable environment.
"The culture backstage is still the same in most of the clubs." With Bjorn going into these clubs Rekker was back to his usual brawling when necessary. "There are people in my life I'll never forgive and most of them are in that scene."
Rekker would probably carry this grudge to the grave.
Isamu blinked, taking this in and trying to rectify the new information with what he knew thus far. “Minoru has never described such an environment backstage. Nor has Tom. I certainly did not observe such threats during my select days of observation earlier in the tour, but I realize this was a smaller sample size than the current lineup…”
Was this really as widespread as Rekker was making it sound. Was there actually real trouble mounting on the Ziggy Stardust tour? (Or festival, really, given how large it had grown!)
“Oh, that is most definitely a relief.” Isamu was wholly ignorant of the club scene, clearly. “May I ask what you saw that, in your mind and Tom’s, would justify multiple people requiring prompt medical assistance?”
The question had a wary, inquisitive tone. It was not meant as a challenge. While there was slight concern of what might happen to someone who crossed Rekker the wrong way, it was mostly just a need for more context. What did that other band even do?
Rekker gets visibly uncomfortable, immediately, when he hears that question but it wasn't an unexpected one either. His anger had to draw curiosity from someone he figured had a scientific interest in his mental health.
It takes a moment, more coffee being brought and Rekker briefly wondering if he should even go there. The sound of his grinding teeth comes before he speaks. "I was, 19.. or just turned twenty. The woman I'd been dating for over a year was in the scene too. One night it got to be after one in the morning and she didn't come home so I went out to find her."
Rekker probably shouldn't be drinking more coffee while talking about something that would drive his anxiety through the roof but he needed something to do with himself too. "Asking around, she has a very unique look, I found out she was hanging with a band after a show. I didn't think anything was wrong until I walked into the dressing room. They'd drugged her and made a joke of her being the encore."
The teeth grinding was back between sentences while Rekker struggles. "I remember throwing one of them through the door but nothing after it. I didn't even know what I did between grabbing the guitarist and carrying her out to my car in my coat until they talked about the injuries during the court case."
Rekker felt the anger inside boiling up and it came through in the double handed death grip on his coffee mug. "I was put away in a hospital for months and it was hellish."
"Yeah." Rekker isn't surprised by the look on Isamu's face. Though he feels sorry for the kid, he did ask. "I'm not sorry for anything that I did."
Which kept him in the hospital longer and almost sent him to jail, his lack of regret or apology. Rekker put the cup down finally and then smiled, forced as it was. "Bjorn says that the scene in the rest of the world is better."
Which Rekker didn't believe but was trying to because there were, or well all the bands on the tour were Glam in some way. It was time to change the subject to anything else. He grasped for something funny or at least more lighthearted.
"I'm as surprised as everyone else that I'm dating a guy." He went back to Bjorn, to something current to yank himself out of his memories. "My inner asshole loves correcting the people that keep asking about my new girlfriend."
Bjorn was incredibly feminine and he could see the way casual observers would be mistaken. Rekker took great pleasure in watching the shock after correcting someone.
Isamu did ask. But at least he could squeeze a tiny bit of comfort out of the fact that you had to do some pretty horrendous and unspeakable things before Rekker would turn this remorseless rage upon you.
“Anything beyond what we have conditioned ourself or others to expect is surprising, yes.” Isamu nodded, thankful for the change of topic as well. “Informing our parents that Minoru was in a relationship, period, produced a similar sort of satisfaction. Though, I may have intentionally chosen a few words solely for their shock value… Papa did a literal spit-take with his tea.”
Isamu bringing home a date, usually a girl but sometimes an effeminate guy, was no surprise to anyone.
"I went from fist fights with Bjorn and only interested in women to dating him in a week? It was fast." Rekker didn't regret it at all but he was still shocked by his own behavior.
"I'm not talking to my family." Rekker took a drink and shrugged. "It would piss them off that I'm living instead of offing myself."
Then he starts to laugh. "Robert and Devon's reaction to coming over to find Bjorn half dressed on my couch was priceless."
That was definitely a quick change. Though, not an impossible one for Isamu to imagine.
“I informed our parents over dinner that my brother was not only dating, but had also slept with Ziggy - both entirely true statements, given proper context that I intentionally withheld.” Which was primarily that sleep was literal, and not the first thing that everyone’s minds jumped toward. “Priceless reactions are, by definition, priceless. Yes.”
Isamu had every right to be proud of that joke - given that Minoru had pulled the same one on him and he fell for it with the same cartoonish spit-take.
Rekker knew enough about the people around, and certainly about Ziggy, to get the idea of the joke that was pulled on people with the twist of language.
"I caused some shit like that a few concerts ago." Rekker started to laugh. "Dee outted me for being in a relationship on stage and this guy down front started screaming up to ask if my girlfriend had huge breasts."
He could see the desire to pick on people's misconceptions for sure. "The silence when I responded that my boyfriend didn't have any was like death."
“Of course, when Minoru played the exact same joke on me the first time, it was not nearly as humorous.” He replied, solely because it was at his expense. “But it was impressive that he was able to keep such a straight face the entire time. Had the circumstances not been what they were, I would have sworn he and Ziggy rehearsed the joke before Minoru delivered it. He may be asexual, but he is no idiot. He knew exactly what he was saying.”
"I'm sure it was hilarious." Rekker could only imagine the shock of that sort of unexpectedness from a brother. "When you want to tease your brother you are capable of amazing feats."
Rekker had done some things like this to Robert. "Of course he knew. I'm a little brother too. I know the game."
"There have been so many." Rekker couldn't help laughing because he knew he had driven his brother and Tom to the edge of thier wits over the years.
"Most recently..." Rekker glanced around to make sure none of the band members were around. "Bought Bjorn an engagement ring. One of the more pleasant shocks, I imagine."
If Rekker and Robert were anything like him and Minoru, the (sometimes playful, sometimes not) rivalry stretched way back into childhood. There would be quite a few hilarious moments.
“While that example may be quite the shock to many, I certainly hope, for Bjorn’s sake, that one is not a prank.”
"No more of a prank than your brother's claim." Rekker had seen the snuggling between Ziggy and the other twin and knew the prank was a play on words. Rekker obsessively carried the ring around in its box because Bjorn was nosy and he worried about him finding it.
"I don't know if me buying it or the size caused his eyes to get so wide." Either way, he had totally caught his brother off guard and that was what mattered.
Rekker was paranoid about too many, or rather too loud, people seeing it. After a moment he does pull out a lilac velvet box with 4 carat blue diamond ring..
"It's meant to be an ocean." The blues and swirls of platinum and silver. He offer Isamu the box to let him look.
Isamu was discreet. He opened the box beneath the table so as not to draw unnecessary attention, or make anyone think the wrong thing. His eyes widened, but probably not as much as Robert’s.
“That is quite an impressive ring.” He exclaimed softly. He closed the box, and discreetly passed it back. “Have you made plans on when and how you plan to propose?”
Love was clearly in the air. Isamu knew Mick had proposed to Ziggy already. Namely, because Minoru was incredibly excited about it, and about having a part, whatever that part might actually be, in his girlfriend’s special day.
"He likes colored diamonds and I like the ocean." Rekker was thoughtful about gifts when he could manage to give them. Sometimes his social anxiety got to him, like it was now. He did wonder if Isamu had the bracelet shoved in his face by Bjorn yet.
Rekker took it back and tucked the box away, silent for a long time before he sighs. "I'm not."
Rekker had the ring and had convinced himself not to actually give it to Bjorn. "It won't mean anything here or the UK. We can't get married."
Few people saw the rage Rekker had inside, at least during a civil conversation but it's there in tone and his eyes. He's furious with the state of things and that others are stopping him from doing what he wants.
Isamu nodded. It was a very thoughtful interpretation of the two of them joined together. He could appreciate that.
“It… would mean nothing? I do not under…” His voice trailed off, various comments from multiple individuals on what was socially acceptable in this particular world. “Is it because such things are frowned upon here? Or are there differences between your countries of origin?”
Mick and Ziggy were definitely getting married. Right?
Rekker sighed and wished he had an alcoholic drink right now even if he shouldn't be drinking at all. "We could in Sweden, maybe, but I'm dual US and UK citizen. It's not legal. As far as where I live I won't be married. If he moves here it would nullify it."
Not in thier mind but legally it would and that was what rubbed the guitarist the wrong way. If Rekker was religious like Vars things might be easier on him because something would remain that was meaningful. "I don't even think Sweden would recognize it because I'm a citizen where it's illegal."
Rekker's hands clenched up as the anger started to boil. He was furious. In general he hated other people dictating what he did but ruling over his life this way was too much. No amount of medication helped his mood even out when it came to this subject.
Isamu pursed his lips, silent for a few moments. In his world, that was not the case. While there still some countries that followed older religious or tribal traditions, the vast majority of the world’s powers had long since retreated from the ridiculous notion of legislating who one could love. He’d grown up in a world where the gay rights movement, like women’s rights and the civil rights movement, all happened before he was even born. (Before his parents were even born, technically.)
“That certainly complicates things.” He eventually replied. “How are Mick and Ziggy solving for this outdated legal lunacy? Could you not do something similar?”
Because while Ziggy was an Anthean female, on this world, he was officially considered male. So wouldn’t that couple be in the exact same boat as Rekker?
Rekker was trying not to seethe over the topic because the curiosity was natural. He knew that and it wasn't Isamu raising his ire anyway.
"I don't think they care about the legality." Rekker sighed and pushed his coffee mug and plate away roughly. "I'm older and suicidal sometimes. I'm going to die before Bjorn and I don't want him to have to deal with the legal shit to have access to what I own....or.." Rekker paused again to bite back the anger. ".. have him locked out of hospitals if I'm committed or some shit in the future."
These were all realistic issues for them as a couple that would be remedied by a legal marriage. The issues with the laws went beyond emotional and Rekker was notorious for grabbing onto something negative to obsess over it until he snapped.
“Hmmm…” Isamu hummed thoughtfully. Those kind of legal ramifications did make the situation infinitely more complicated.
Mick’s relationship with Ziggy was an entirely different kind of complicated. After all, if Ziggy were hospitalized, visitation rights and access to medical records would pale in comparison to the larger issue of him being a literal alien. Antheans might not even have a concept of a last will and testament. Isamu didn’t know.
There was also a lot about this world that Isamu did not know.
“Are there countries in this world where such a partnership is, without a doubt, legally recognized? How difficult would it be to set up residency in a new nation, or even obtain citizenship there?”
"I have to give up my citizenship in Britain." Rekker sighs but that was the minor part of the block.
"I could become a Swedish citizen if I live with my Swedish spouse for two years in my home country." The sarcasm is there, partially overshadowing the anger. Bjorn couldn't be his spouse so that part was already impossible. "Then I can move to Sweden with my Swedish spouse for another three years, apply for citizenship or residency, and then Sweden would recognize that we were a couple with rights."
But Bjorn couldn't be his spouse in his own country, or here in the states, so he was at a blockade. Rekker hated feeling pinned in by things out of his control. "The other Scandinavian countries are seven or ten years residency."
Rekker started drumming on the table anxiously. He'd be fifty before he could marry Bjorn anywhere and have it matter at this rate. He wanted to get up and throw the table he was sitting at but he didn't. It took all his willpower. "It wouldn't be recognized in the states if we moved back."
Isamu hummed as he nodded. Rekker had done considerable research into the topic, which was not surprising. What was surprising, however, were the results - but that boiled down to a lot of differences between their worlds.
Where Isamu came from, same sex marriage had been legal in his country for decades. And the path to citizenship was closer to a three to five year process, depending on the situation. He remembered doing research on the topic back when he and his brother turned 22. Because their parents maintained their Japanese citizenry (and only lawful permanent residency in the United States), they had to technically abide by Japanese law to either choose their nationality or retroactively lose it. It was far simpler to check the box on the latter, so to speak, so they both sent their letters and declared their intent to remain U.S. citizens.
“Citizenship laws are complicated…” he commiserated. “And unfortunately, Mama and Papa were already married when they applied for visas to study in America. And they both received independent employer sponsorship, Papa as a biomedical engineer and Mama as a clinical engineer. So even if we were in the same world, the situations are rather different.”
Rekker was in quite a pickle.
He couldn’t even suggest the Nexus. While they could undoubtedly get married there, interdimensional law (if such a field even existed) was definitely not his forte.
Rekker was only partially paying attention to Isamu while his thoughts absorbed his attention for a moment.
"My brother suggested I turn my clout, fame and money on the British government." The Brit was considering it more and more every day. Waging war on his own government wasn't what he wanted to do but his rage was not calming over time. No amount of therapy or medication was helping either.
His mind was rolling Isamu's words over and over in his mind before he glanced over at his breakfast companion. "HUh.... I wonder if Ziggy would leverage his lawyers for me?"
Now Rekker is starting to think like he does when he goes into a barfight. What were his resources, who needed to die, and how he could win. Even if he could pull the strings on the government it might take years and Rekker was not a patient man with most things. He wasn't any less angry but he was starting to focus which would be better for everyone else when it kept him from imploding randomly.
“Actually, if you are unable to abide by an unjust law, working to actively change that laws could be a worthwhile endeavor. There may be loopholes too, that a lawyer may know and the layperson may be unaware of.”
Honestly, given the chaos that Tom vented about on the regular, and the things he and Ziggy had to hide at all costs, the lawyers they kept on retainer had to be some of the best in the world. If anyone could help on that front, they probably could.
"I don't want loopholes. I want to burn it down." Rekker was self centered sometimes but not so much that he didn't recognize that people he cared about, including his own brother, were potentially about to crash into this same issue.
"It's time to remind the world what kind of an asshole I am when I'm pissed off." Maybe that was partially a joke but Rekker wasn't going to backdown and unlike Ziggy's placid way of trying to change the social norms, Rekker would be more like a hurricane and far more destructive along the way.
“I confess, this is now quite far from my area of expertise.”
Breakfast was as good as done or long forgotten by this point. Isamu was fairly certain that anything he said would rile Rekker up even more. The emotions were entirely justified, given the blatant injustice of the situation, but it still made Isamu wary.
Rekker goes quiet for a time both because he knows he's feeling angry and he can recognize that he's made Isamu a little uncomfortable. After a moment of staring off he's ready to be a human being again.
"What is your area of expertise?" He's calmed down enough to ask a passing waiter for more coffee.
The awkward silence gave Isamu enough time check on the data simulations he was running and then begin another set.
“Biochemistry.” He replied. “With a slight specialization in neurochemistry.”
Though he had worked on a variety of research projects with his fellow IRIS researchers, some not even in his chosen field. Working with Dr. Malcom on a survey of mass extinction events was fascinating.
“I am currently doing a significant amount of research into brainwave patterns and neurotransmitter levels associated with altered states of consciousness.”
Rekker is interested now, more than he was previously. He had a good bit of knowledge about how the brain worked from his his own treatments over time though it wasn't exactly scientific.
"My brain will fuck up your work." Rekker laughed quietly. "I have sections of my brain that aren't right so I don't get inhibitory effects or respond to serotonin properly. I was in a research study a few years ago where they were trying to understand the brain chemistry of killing yourself."
Rekker knew enough though that he could talk about what went on his brain, in layman's terms but might struggle with too much scientific jargon. "I have functional differences in my prefrontal cortex and the receptors there are shitty."
“Whether or not your brain would fuck up my work, as you put it, would be entirely dependent on what I was intending to measure.”
Despite the delicate subject matter, once the topic of conversation turned scientific, Isamu was mentally sorting through the veritable catalog of information he had read on the neurobiology of depressive disorders, the multi-faceted developmental and signalling actions of serotonin in regulating depressive symptoms, and even the glutamate-driven alterations in synaptic connectivity within the pre-frontal cortex. He nodded as Rekker spoke,
“Was the study successfully peer-reviewed and published?” He eventually asked. “I would like to read it.”
Rekker had no qualms about discussing his mental health. He had been doing so for years with doctors and several of Hexed's songs referenced conditions he endured.
"I'm not sure." Rekker never asked for the study. "The doctor is still researching how suicidal brains function. I've met with him for other studies."
He thanks the waiter for more coffee and thinks about what this particular researcher had told him. "The last one was about my orbital prefrontal cortex. I don't remember exactly but he mentioned that part malfunctioning makes people unable to moderate their desire to harm themselves, and others, and can cause damaging situations to not register normal reactions like recoiling or fear."
Rekker paused because he was trying to parse his memories. "HPA hyperactivity causes anxiety that apparently makes everything else worse including the serotonin problems."
Isamu nodded. “Yes, I do recall a few studies comparing structural differences in that region of the brain with deficient cognitive control and impaired decision-making in the context of intense emotions. And a few following similar changes in the ventrolateral prefrontal cortex and dorsal prefrontal cortex.”
Of course, there were other studies on other parts of the brain - the amygdala, the anterior cingulate cortex, the pons, for example - that also played a role in impulsive behaviors, heightened stress reactions, difficulty regulating emotions or perceiving pain. Honestly, finding a true biosignature for suicidal thoughts and major depressive disorder was still a massive challenge. The same findings weren’t always detected across multiple studies.
“Some of these differences seem to be be more pronounced among those who employed violent methods in their suicide attempt, though there are enough conflicting findings that many individuals with suicidal thoughts and behaviors may not exhibit consistent structural differences at all.” He mused aloud.
Rekker nodded his agreement. "Those changes and my adrenaline seeking nature can get dangerous. I like the feeling of thinking I might die if I do something."
Thankfully, Rekker had found healthy outlets like surfing, skydiving, being on stage, racing and some other less than deadly activities. That didn't always work but he was mostly stable with his usual outlets, therapy, and medication, mostly anyway.
"I'm a slicer." Rekker admitted which was why he often wore long sleeves to hide all the scars. "I don't keep knives or razors or anything in the house and tell restaurants to take them off the tables." Or realistically, one of his companions remembered to tell them. "I'm a wrench in some studies since I am an anxiety ridden, self-loathing, uninhibited, thrill-seeking, major depressive with suicidal ideation. I probably have all the malfunctions."
And that was a bit of his self-loathing slipping in, believing he was broken. Even though he was doing better he still felt like he was a mess in ways humans shouldn't be.
Isamu was startled at first by the frank first-hand description of such behavior, but remained stoic. This was still a scientific discussion after all. And he found himself glancing at the place setting, even though the server had taken away both their plates and silverware by this point.
“Those aforementioned structural abnormalities, hyperactivity in certain portions of the hippocampus and amygdala, and potential underactivation of thalamic areas involved in pain, would be quite the combination.” He agreed, though not with a tone that would suggest he thought Rekker was broken. “Quite the case study.”
Rekker was nearing 30 years of talking about his mental health with people and well over 20 in therapy. He'd learned to be frank so people knew exactly what he was facing because otherwise they couldn't help him in the moments when he was no help to himself.
"I feel pain." Rekker mentioned between sips of coffee. "The wiring is wrong in my head. Pain feels better to me than it should." He wasn't going to say any more than that because it got into territory that he thought might make Isamu uncomfortable. "You're not the only one who's mentioned that. I've been through most of the psychiatric treatments available at some point. I've found a combination that keeps me functional about 90% of the time."
Which Rekker was pleased with now that he recognized there were moments, sometimes long stretches, where he was close to non-functional as a person.
“I do not mean to suggest that you do not feel it. I should have specified that I was not referring merely to the sensory processing of pain intensity. There is compelling evidence to suggest the affective processing of pain - its unpleasantness - may be different in individuals who participate in self-harming behaviors.” He corrected himself. “Not to mention the fact that pain is modulated by contextual stimuli, such as emotions, social factors or other perceptions.”
And that didn’t even begin to analyze the potential role of abnormal feedback in the striatal dopamine system, or dysfunctions of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis and its altered secretion of stress hormones and affect on serotonin.
"Some people think that's how it works, you hurt yourself because you don't feel it." Rekker had heard that line of thinking more than once in his rounds with the media. "Sometimes I think I do it because I can feel it. I've heard theories that because the pain and pleasure receptors and areas are so close that it's easy for the wires to get crossed in brain development or the alterations to the brain from trauma."
Rekker considered that last statement for a long time and then nodded. "I like to be in control of the pain that's happening to me. I want to cause it directly or indirectly. I don't like when other people hurt me." He started laughing. "Except when I'm in a fight."
“I dare say wires being crossed is quite an appropriate metaphor, as fMRI studies have documented masochists activating brain areas involved in sensory processing rather than affective pain processing when they receive painful stimuli within that particular context.” He nodded. “But through involvement of the parietal operculum, which suggests additional cognitive evaluation, not the ventral striatum, which would suggest the processing of rewards.”
In other words, it was less about pleasure and more about memory and cognitive reevaluation. Which seemed to fit with Rekker’s desire to remain in control of his pain. At least partially.
"I don't understand all of that." Isamu had forged past Rekker's understanding of the medical terminology about his condition. While being curious he wasn't a scientist, though he did understand many of the scientific terms when it came to mental health.
"I know it feels like an addict getting a hit after being off for a long time." He could speak to that having both had a time of wrestling with drugs and alcohol. "I don't always realize how much I've done until I come out the other side. Things can trigger it starting too, like when a cokehead sees cocaine and can't resist. Sharp objects can trigger me the same way, especially if I'm already down."
“Hmm… That runs counter to what a number of studies have found, but that does not mean it cannot be ruled out. After all, opioid and dopaminergic systems and the HPA axis can both be activated either by psychoactive drugs or by behaviors. So it is still plausible that for a subset of cases, the same biological mechanisms support the development of addiction as well as self-harming behaviors.”
Rekker gave a non committal shrug. "I'm speaking as someone who was an addict and is still suicidal. Studies are only as good as the questions they ask."
Rekker had been in enough studies by this point but still stifled a laugh. "I don't just like pain when I'm trying to off myself or feel like shit."
He left the implications of what he was talking about unsaid for now, unless the twin asked.
Isamu’s eyes widened for a moment, though he felt no need to ask for clarification. He could easily read between the lines, and scoffed a hasty, “whatever releases dopamine in your nucleus accumbens, I suppose…”
That sort of thing was not a turn-on for the scientist. And unfortunately, very little scientific literature actually existed on that particular subject to fill in the gaps.
Rekker just shrugs and laughs at the reaction because what else can you really do? It takes all kinds of people and relationships were built on the right kind of strange coming together.
"When you're angry and depressed healthy outlets are important." Which was a more scientific approach to the shocking unspoken. "How's the number crunching going?"
It was time to change the subject even if he was amused and would, if it were one of the band, continue to harass.
Rekker caught the signing and knew exactly what they were saying but the words in his ear from Bjorn caused him to growl quietly. He couldn't stop it and his body was waking up in ways it just shouldn't with his students here.
He was about to answer when the knock on the table got his attention. The students did that when he got distracted, though it usually wasn't this kind of distraction. He turned his attention from Bjorn to the signing and nodded. Ana grinned and then laughed as she stood up. The younger girls running to the back of the house. They were going to go out and take care of the goats and his horse. They had some time and as soon as they were out of sight he grabbed Bjorn's crotch and bit his neck.
"Get in the bedroom!" Normally Rekker would right here but not with the kids, not in the dining room while they were here. The bedroom though, that was fair game. Rekker knew Ana was well aware of what was going on. He'd taken her and her boyfriend out and they had the same kind of moments certainly.
Bjorn looked up from his food when he heard the knock on the table. Was this how the students got Rekker's attention? It would seem so. The singer giggled and then cried out when the Brit bit his neck and grabbed his crotch once they were alone. Fuck! The Swede then laughed and jumped off Rekker's lap to stick his tongue out while running away towards the bedroom but not quite inside it.
"Make me, bitch!"
The Swede wanted to play games with the grouch while the students were busy outside. At least if they did fuck it would be in private within Rekker's bedroom. Instead of walking into the bedroom as he was told, Bjorn bent over in the doorway and wiggled his ass at the grouchy ginger just to tease him.
He would make him for sure. As soon as Bjorn got to his feet, Rekker was on his and the Swede barely got away. Rekker wasn't going to run after him but that wiggling was enough to make him crazy. He headed right for the Swede and if Bjorn didn't run he was going to get snatched around the waist and dragged off to bed.
However, Bjorn was certainly going to pay for running off. The Brit felt angry inside over the way he ran away.
Bjorn yelled the words, not caring if the neighbours heard or not because fuck them. They were assholes anyway from what Rekker had said about them. The Swede was now squealing and giggling as he now ran around the apartment, pulling off his scarf and throwing it behind him as bait for his ginger. This was fun.
Rekker raised a brow at the Swede and smirked while walking toward his bed. He sat on the edge and called after Bjorn.
"You'll come to me when you can't take it any longer." He was absolutely going to be a bastard about this. Sure, he was horny and wanted Bjorn but he wasn't going to run around after him. "We have about thirty minutes before they're back inside. You're wasting time."
"Grumpy bastard. Fuck, this was suppose to be a fun game!"
Bjorn huffed and knew Rekker wasn't going to chase him anymore so just shrugged and then ran into the bedroom, jumping into Rekker's lap once more wrapping his arms around his lover. The Swede was often a whirlwind of high energy at times and this was one of them.
"What are you going to do to me, babe?"
The blond biting on Rekker's collarbone, giggling.
Rekker laughed at the way Bjorn came storming back. As the Swede jumped into his lap, Rekker laid back on the bed while grabbing Bjorn's ass with both hands. The bites got a gasp from the ginger.
"I thought you were going to do something to me." He grinned up at the blonde already getting hard. The relationship was new and Rekker had been alone for way too long. He's easy to get wound up, not that he's usually difficult to get in the mood anyway.
"I could put you over the dresser." Holding on tight to Bjorn's hips the Brit shoved up under him rhythmically. He wanted to Swede desperately.
"You want me to suck you, ginger bastard? Be nice. Will you ask me?"
Bjorn was in a playful mood and wanted to suck his ginger and then get shoved over the dresser because it sounded to fucking hot. The Swede squeaked a little when Rekker pushed up underneath him, grinning and licking his lips. It would be a quick blow and fuck because of the students around but it would be worth it. Sliding off the Brit's lap, Bjorn then got down on his knees and gripped the ginger's knees, shoving his legs open.
"Get your pants off, babe."
The Swede raking his nails along the denim of Rekker's jeans.
"You offered." Rekker teased right back but feeling the Swede slide off his lap got a groan.
He wasn't in the mood to argue or wait. As soon as he was asked the Brit started unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. "You should do that on my skin."
The thought of the Swede raking his nails down his thighs while that mouth was all over him made everything feel so desperate. Rekker shoved his pants down and sat up to half pull, half kick them off. By the time he's free Rekker is near fully hard and panting. He paused to grab Bjorn's hair and pull him into a needy, wanton kiss, then let go so the Swede could put those pouty pink lips to work somewhere else.
"Yeah I did and I think your students knew what we were thinking."
Bjorn could tell that they were giggling among each other and the signing must have meant something regarding the two. It was cute. Watching Rekker unbuckling his pants and kicking them off was hot because now Bjorn just wanted to pleasure the man he loved. He could feel his own cock throb underneath Rekker's jeans he was now wearing since pulling them on waking up hungover.
"I know what you want."
The Swede raking his nails down the Brit's exposed thighs, leaving light red marks against the skin. The kiss felt good and he gave Rekker's long ginger hair a good few pulls before sinking down once more to slide his pouty lips over his lover's cock, offering the head a few licks.
Rekker wanted this so badly that he could feel his breath coming in fast pants.
"You're bare ass against my cock?" He wanted sucked but really wanted to fuck the Swede senseless too. Those nails pulled sighed gasps from Rekker and his legs quivered from the pain. He kept his hands in Bjorn's hair stroking his hair and trying not to start pressing his cock into Bjorn's mouth.
Of course they did. How could they not? The two making eyes at each other and casually flirting whilst eating. That and Bjorn feeding his ginger while touching his leg under the table. Anyone could see it a mile off.
"Fuck. I want this. Come in my mouth first though, babe."
The gasps were so hot and erotic as Bjorn sucked Rekker's hot cock, feeling it's smooth, hard texture in his mouth; his tongue sliding down a pulsing vein as his nails raked down the Brit's inner thighs. His own body now heating up, feeling his skin prickle and his heart rate rise. He wanted the ginger to unravel first and fill his mouth with salty cum.
He had to lay back on the bed because it felt so good. If the Swede wanted him to fall apart this would do it. Spreading his legs farther he pulled on Bjorn's hair, biting his lip to muffle how loud he would have been otherwise.
"You're such a whore." And that was a compliment filled with lust as he tried to breath. "Harder."
He didn't even know if he meant the sucking or the nails when he said it, both maybe. Bjorn wasn't going to have to work too hard to get Rekker off after so long without a lover. Rekker wanted everything, fast and rough, and soon found himself pulling on the Swede's messy blonde hair. .
Bjorn squeaked when he felt Rekker pull on his platinum dyed hair, licking up the side of the Brit's shaft, enjoying the musky scent his lover had. More nails raking down Rekker's inner thigh as Bjorn suckled the head then deep throated the guitarist's cock in one, opening up his throat almost skilfully because Bjorn wasn't a virgin at cock sucking. He'd sucked many men off before but none as needy and aggressively horny as Rekker.
"Fill my mouth, babe. I want it."
The Swede smirked up at his ginger lover and then began toying with Rekker's balls using his fingers.
Rekker growled, low and lusty through nearly clenched teeth. "I want your tight ass, fuck!"
Those nails had the ginger gasping raggedly and pulling on the Swede's hair harder. The Swede was so good that Rekker had to struggle to stay relatively quiet, even so he was groaning loudly. His fingers twisted tighter into that blonde hair as he started to thrust into Bjorn's mouth. He couldn't hold back and tugged on all that platinum hair to shove the singer's mouth all the way down on his cock as he came.
It left the guitarist gasping, hands still clinging to Bjorn's hair before he could let go. The moan of satisfaction had to come out as he stroked the blonde's hair.
Bjorn swallowed every drop of Rekker's cum as he slipped his mouth off the Brit's cock with a soft pop. Fuck, that was good! The trashy Swede now giggling as he licked his lips and leant up to kiss the ginger's own lips, still tainted with remnants of his own cum. So dirty.
"How did that feel, babe? You know I'm too fucking good."
The Swede winked at his lover and slid his palms up the insides of the Brit's thighs. Rekker's soft hairs tickling the Swede's hands as he gently raked a few nails along the soft flesh there.
Rekker didn't care about Bjorn's mouth being tainted. He didn't have a repulsion like some men did, and that was clear in the way he yanked Bjorn into a full open mouthed kiss.
The hands on his thighs got a deep gasp among the panting as the Brit tried to catch his breath. "You're mine."
And Rekker meant it. The Swede made him feel out of his mind in a way he hadn't felt in years. Aggressive but not angry.
"Why don't you get me hard for your ass." Rekker growled the words before biting his way down the Swede's neck to his shoulder.
Rekker came into the bar ignoring everyone else even if he acknowledged the usual chaos was going on. He had a one track mind. It didn't take long for him to spot Bjorn leaning on the bar and waiting for his shots. Rekker didn't say a word as he grabbed the singer around the waist from behind, shoved him into the bar and bit the back of his neck.
Bjorn was about to lean over to pick up his shot just as Joe downed his and Aarne was next. Fuck! What the?---someone was grabbing him from behind which caused the Swede to scream and then squeak when he felt those teeth at his neck. He was being shoved into the bar too!
"Fuck, babe!---"
It was Rekker and Bjorn squealed a little because he wasn't expecting the ginger to sneak up on him like this in the middle of a packed bar. Fuck! Joe laughed and then bit Aarne on the ear just as the ginger was now attacking his blond in all the best ways. Bjorn reached up and yanked some of Rekker's long ginger hair, giving it a hard yank.
Rekker probably smelled of whiskey more than anything at this point. He couldn't even remember how much he and Mick had drank. The ginger growled at the hair pulling and reached down to grab Bjorn's crotch.
"You're such a hot bitch." Rekker snarled those words in the Swede's ear as he shoved harder against his ass. Rekker's too horny and drunk to think much about the bar.
Aarne laughed and pulled on some of Joe's hair before downing his shot and turning around to give him a kiss.
Bjorn could smell the booze on Rekker and knew the man shouldn't be drinking so much when he was on medication. But, he wasn't depressed right now but horny so it should be ok? The Swede assumed so as he cried out at the crotch grab. The man was fucking horny and Bjorn knew it.
"You're a drunk ginger asshole. Who have you been drinking with?"
The trashy singer giggled a little because he was drunk too as was half the people at the bar area. Hunter winked at the couple as Gilly began tugging his boyfriend's hand as they drank up and went back to their room. Joe screamed once more and didn't mind if Rekker fucked Bjorn against the bar because he did it with Aarne all the time.
Rekker started rubbing roughly against Bjorn's ass while stroking him through the front of his pants.
"Mick." Rekker felt out of control and it was good that he was stuck on something positive right now.
"I want you." Rekker pushed the words out through nearly clenched teeth before giving the singer a nip behind the ear.
Aarne giggled more and tugged Joe toward the couch they had just been sitting on before getting up for shots. Watchung Bjorn get manhandled had the Fin wanting Joe too. He had so many good memories of Joe handling him the same way.
"Ronno? Were you two talking about a porno he's going to be in next?"
Bjorn laughed then squealed loudly at the nip behind his ear. Fuck! The ginger was riled up and the trashy blond knew it. Joe was now tugging on his Finn's black hair and kissing Aarne on the lips because it was hot watching Bjorn and Rekker get feisty with each other.
"You want me right here? Fuck, babe! Did Ronno talk you into being an exhibitionist too?"
The Swede knew Rekker didn't care who saw him with Bjorn and didn't give a shit about fucking him in public either, as long as it was safe and around people he knew.
"No." Rekker growled. "We weren't talking about porn."
Not exactly, though it was certainly pornographic. Rekker could hear Joe and Aarne getting rowdy behind them. It certainly didn't deter him from what he might do in public.
"How many times have I had you in the back seat or the hood of my car?" Rekker did have some exhibitionist tendencies though not with an unknown crowd. He knew how territorial he could be.
"You don't need to because we are fucking porn. Us together, babe."
Bjorn grabbed a fist full of Rekker's ginger hair and yanked on it hard. He knew the ginger was horny and wanted sex but it still didn't stop the Swede being a teasing bitch as always. How far would Rekker go in front of the band members here?
"I love it when you do, you dirty ginger bastard."
The singer giggled and then bit down on Rekker's lower lip whilst giving his crotch a hard grab.
Rekker growled at the hair pull and grabbed a handful of Bjorn's hair. He did want his partner right now. He wasn't thinking about the others. Hunter and Gilly were always naked and so were the other two. They could deal with whatever came from this teasing.
"I could push you right over this bar like the hood." Rekker bit back and shoved his body against Bjorn to pin him against the bar.
Bjorn laughed and then screamed when his hair was pulled. Of course he was loving this and no one would care if they got naked because everyone else did. Hunter slapped Gilly naked down the corridors so it was fair game.
"Will you?"
The Swede turned his head so he could see Rekker, shooting his tongue out at the Brit and then shoving his ass backwards like a bitch.
"I'll tear these pants off you and pin you to it." Rekker groaned and grabbed Bjorn's hips while nipping his neck. Soon he was starting to yank Bjorn's pants down before he ended up ripping them off.
"Are you going to beg for it?" Rekker growled as he shoved his partner's pants a little farther down his thighs.
"I know you fucking do because you ruin them. You trash these? You buy me more."
Bjorn winked at Rekker then squeaked when his pants began to get ripped down his thighs. Fuck! He loved it really and knew Joe and Aarne wouldn't care if the two got naked and fucked or whatever.
"You know I don't fucking beg."
The Swede reached around and pulled on more of Rekker's long ginger hair.
"You don't care that I spend it because I've got a card but don't go over the amount."
Bjorn had gotten better at spending his allowance Rekker gave him but sometimes he splashed out on some expensive boots or clothes he liked. Fuck it, he wanted to live! Rekker's hands felt good on his smooth legs and this caused Bjorn to reach around and grab the Brit's face into a rough kiss.
"Eat me, bitch."
Laughing, Bjorn felt how hard Rekker was and knew both would be a hot panting mess soon enough.
Rekker said that with so much love. He gave Bjorn the money to do with as he wished. He opened his mouth to the Swede and shoved his tongue into his mouth. He wanted him so badly but not so badly that he wouldn't wait him out to hear the begging.
"You'd like that." Rekker whispered in his ear. "I remember you on my counter for your birthday."
Bjorn said the words with love, even though they would seem demeaning to anyone else hearing them. The Swede giggled at remembering his birthday and the amazing and unexpected blowjob he'd received on his birthday.
"I didn't expect that at all. It felt really nice."
The blond feeling a blush come to his cheeks because it was something he never thought Rekker would do.
Bjorn wiggled his ass and gasped when he felt Rekker push against his ass once more. He was wearing tiny neon pink panties and loving that now the ginger got a full view of them.
"Like my undies, bastard? You bought them."
The Swede going out with Hunter on an underwear spending spree with Rekker's money.
Rekker so rarely saw Bjorn blush so it was adorable when it happened.
"I like them so much I want to rip them off." Rekker grinned and snapped the side of Bjorn's panties before sliding his hand around to the inside of his thigh.
Bjorn was thinking along the lines of Rekker having lots of hot girls who used to blush with him maybe. Even though the Swede was a boy he could still blush just like any girl and wanted to please Rekker.
"You're going to rip my panties off, bitch? Ahhhh!---"
The Swede screamed and giggled when he felt his panties get snapped against his thigh.
Bjorn meant it too. He knew how much Rekker spoiled him and spent his hard earned cash on the trashy singer as well as take him out to dinner and things. Did the Swede want the ginger to rip his panties off? Maybe. He was in two minds because he liked them but also wanted Rekker to go wild on him.
Bjorn gasped when Rekker nipped his ear, knowing the ginger might get off on him asking to have his panties ripped off. It was so fucking kinky and he loved it. Joe was busy with Aarne now so no one was really watching the two.
"You're a kinky fuck but ok----rip them off, you ginger bastard."
Squealing, Bjorn bucked back and then reached around to grab Rekker's crotch once more.
"I know you fucking will either way. As you always do."
Bjorn reached around Rekker's back and slapped his ass playfully. They were still by the bar area and people could see. Well, fuck them. They were with friends so it was fine. Joe and Aarne had probably gone off to fuck too.
"I'll yank those pants down of yours and suck your cock."
"Like that dirty little Dane does with your bassist." Rekker started to laugh but there were some similarities between Bjorn and Mikkel, and if he was honest, himself and Sigurd.
"I'd rather fuck you." Rekker growled in his ear and twisted his fingers in the waistband of Bjorn's panties. One hard tug and they ripped free. "Right here."
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rage_rekker) wrote2021-08-11 04:17 am
For Hans
Flicka? Does that mean you're not a horse?
[That was certainly an insult people might want to avoid and all he could think of for Flicka was the horse movie.]
I know of Hunter. I'm Rekker Sterling, lead guitarist, songwriter, and luthier I've swam in the Channel but I prefer surfing.
We don't get along.
Re: For Hans
Hunter is my ex-partner. Nice to meet you, Rekker Sterling. You are a luthier? I am a guitarist myself and enjoy plucking notes on my Fender. Surfing is good but I've never tried it.
Fair enough since everyone is allowed their own choices in life.
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No one had the guitar sound I wanted. I made my own. Surf season is coming. Fall and winter are the best waves.
[Rekker is oddly pleased to see the acceptance of his dislikes. Most people fight him on them.]
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I know the feeling on that. I've played so many guitars and end up going through so many. The Fender was the eventual one I settled on in the end.
What's it like surfing in Autumn and Winter? I like to swim in the ice lakes in Winter.
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The waves are largest late fall.
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I've never tried surfing but it looks fun. Back in Sweden I swim the many lakes and rivers surrounding my hometown.
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I've always lived by oceans or traveled to them.
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I fancy dipping into LA waters soon since I'm not actually playing with any of the bands. Maybe I could invite Bjorn to come along too.
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I'll have to warn him it isn't a nudest beach though because he sometimes strips off when high or drunk.
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I can teach you to surf. It's not that hard.
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That would be nice, vän. I'm sure once you gain your balance and have a few wipe outs it gets easier?
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It's better not to wipe out. You can get clobbered in the head with the board like I did when I was learning.
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Then, it's best if I stay on the board and not make myself look like a complete dumbom.
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For Bjorn
Hurry up you whore or I'll drink it all without you.
Rekker took two bottles of whiskey out on the back patio to lay out on one of the lounges there to drink. He hasn't drank in a long time and the burn is soothing. He's missed it and he's drinking fast. By the time Bjorn arrives Rekker has almost downed a fifth of whiskey. He has loud thrash metal playing on the outside sound system and he's vaguely playing around with the remote control, tossing it in the air while sucking down whiskey pretty fast.
Stretched out in only his jeans in the warm California nights he's wondering if the glam brat was going to show up. The front door was open in case the Swede actually showed up. The Brit didn't have high hopes for it, feeling for sure that Bjorn would get distracted by something better than him, even if it was just snorting drugs or drinking.
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Bjorn was soon at Rekker's door banging on it loudly whilst giggling because he was high as fuck on coke and drunk. How much had he and Hunter drank? That fucking Joe kept spiking his red wine with Jack. Hunter giving him a shit ton of red wine and the Brit bassist kept tipping huge amounts of Jack in every time. Fucking amazing. Then there was Erik who kept daring him to do shots with him. How many Sex on the Beaches had he drank? 5? 10? Whatever.
"Hey, Gingerlocks, open up! You'd better not be fucking naked jerking off in there."
So tactful as usual.
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Come around to the door by the hot tub, through the house. I'm out back.
Bjorn could follow the deck around and through the sliding door into the bathroom. Rekker isn't getting off this lounge chair for anything except maybe another bottle after this one.
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"Hey, sweet cheeks. I see you've started this fucking party without me. Rude."
The Swede stuck his tongue out and then walked over to greet the grumpy ginger. He was too high and drunk to care as he leant forwards kissing Rekker's nose. Bjorn had already tanked up prior upon entering the mansion because he'd been drinking with the bands and had snorted a considerable amount of coke too. Joe had seen to that.
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"You're not fucking sober either." Drunk, his British accent comes through thick and sort of slurred. "You were partying without me too you whore."
As Bjorn leans down he tries to push away the hair ticking his face, shaking his head to try and get away from it and laughing. He's totally wasted and can't stop laughing once he's started. Bjorn does get a full handed ass grab now that he's close enough. Rekker is way too drunk to be anxious about anything.
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The Swede wondered what brought on Rekker to drink and part of him wanted to yank the bottle out of the ginger's hand and throw it into the hot tub. The man was depressed and not mentally stable. Should he even be drinking? Yet, Bjorn was no party pooper, even if he did worry about Rekker and the whole him being drunk thing.
"I thought you didn't drink."
Bjorn tapped Rekker on the nose in a playful way and just hoped the Brit wouldn't crash after getting smashed out of his face. If he did then the Swede would look after him just like he did in the elevator. So, for now, he would monitor it all best he could whilst still being mentally coherent in some form.
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Rekker has to fight the giggles to get a drink from the bottle. His mental health may or may not suffer from this, but his stomach definitely was going to and likely find the Swede holding his hair for him at some point before morning.
"I don't." He grinned, snatching Bjorn's hand for that nose tap and yanking him toward the lounge chair. It's sturdy wood so at least if Bjorn falls on it, then it won't break. "Unless some trashy whore spends hundreds of dollars on hair spray and leaves me a case of whiskey."
This was why Rekker shouldn't drink, once he started he didn't stop and had no control. For the moment, he's playful and not much worse for wear.
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"How about I give you a millionaire's blow job?"
The Swede was drunk too and obviously horny since his hand was now snaking down between Rekker's legs offering his crotch a good squeeze. Did he want to swallow the Brit whole? Fuck yes.
"I can be your tarty whore for the evening."
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"You're always a bitchy whore." And Rekker loved it as much as he didn't want to admit that. He craved the bitchy singer's company and that was getting to be about more than sex.
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The Swede just giggled and leant into the kiss, tasting the booze on Rekker's tongue. That got a soft moan out of Bjorn because he found it hot. His thrust his tongue inside the Brit's mouth and continued to palm the older man's crotch with his hand. He ached to taste Rekker's cum.
"I want to taste you."
Booze, it seemed, made Bjorn even more horny than he usually was.
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And then there was that kiss, Rekker yanked Bjorn into it while grabbing his ass. Bjorn wasn't the only one that got horny and trashy when drunk, it was one of the reasons he didn't drink much anymore. His hips pushed up into his lover's hand, groaning with want.
"Then stop bitching and suck." The fucking bastard got Rekker so hot so fast it always felt like madness.
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So demanding. Bjorn tapped Rekker's nose with a fingertip as he then licked his lips and began pulling down the man's zipper on his pants and pulling out his hard cock. Groaning at the sheer size of the ginger, Bjorn thrust his mouth onto his lover's hard organ in one, deep-throating almost at once due to the amount of practice he'd had over the years. Sleeping around had it's benefits because it could make you more of a skilled lover.
Humming down the length, Bjorn licked and sucked whilst hollowing his cheeks, taking as much as he could. The trashy blond loving how dominant Rekker was over him, demanding that he got sucked.
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"Fuck." The warm of his lover's mouth as he deep throated caused the Brit to quake. Then he was shoving his hands into Bjorn's hair, pushing it back so he could watch. He might have bitched about lipstick when they first met but those full, pink lips were enough to get the guitarists pulse pounding. The Swede was perfect and Rekker had to relax back, breath coming as fast and shallow gasps until they turned to near growls of pleasure. His fingers started wrapping into the blonde hair, tugging gently, and the hairspray he hated so much forgotten for the moment.
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"Mmm...."
Humming down the metalhead's length, Bjorn began bobbing up and down, enjoying the musky taste of his lover and swallowing as much cock as he could manage, expertly giving his ginger a blow job. Would he please the man? He hoped so. The tugging to his hair-sprayed hair was a good sign as he giggled slightly with a mouth full of cock.
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"OH fuck.. Bjorn." He could barely get the words out around ragged breaths, wanting to watch but he had to lay back as his eyes refused to stay open. His grip tightened on the singer's hair, pulling rhythmically. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, you bitch.. drag you up here...fuck your tight ass."
Bjorn's hot mouth pulling him closer to orgasm with each suck but also fueling his want and he was desperate for whatever he could get, drunk and out of his mind. Growling, the Brit shoved into his lover's mouth, feeling the throb in his cock, so close.
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"Mmm---"
Licking and sucking at Rekker's cock, Bjorn closed his eyes and began lapping up at the head teasingly like a lollipop. Was he a huge fucking tease? Oh yes. He then deep-throated the ginger once more all the way to the hilt feeling his own cock throb with want.
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"Scratch me you bitch." It sounded more like begging than he intended but he wanted the Swede to learn to scratch him, to always be burying those nails into his skin. Rekker was needy and that bump of his cock against the back of the blonde's throat was too much. Gripping his hair, tense and demanding he kept his cock shoved in the Swede's mouth as he pumped it full of cum.
"Fuck! You're a hot mouthed bitch." The words coming as pants as Rekker's hands slowly let go of all that teased blonde hair.
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"Fuck, babe."
Then, a few more deep-throating sessions and the ginger was coming down the Swede's throat. Fuck! The singer swallowed every drop almost with a professionalism because he'd sucked off so many men before. A whore? Almost. Licking Rekker's cock with a swirl of his tongue Bjorn made a lewd pop noise then giggled.
"You fucking loved it, bitch."
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"Come here." He tugged at the Swede, wanting him to climb up on top. It would be a few minutes before he was ready for more but he wanted more. Damn, the singer was hot and he couldn't resist. "I want your ass and to listen to you scream like my bitchy whore."
His words were demanding but the touch of his hands, wherever he could reach, was slow and sensual. He had it bad for Bjorn; love, lust, want.. all of it.
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Bjorn could feel Rekker pulling him up into his lap and the Swede was all for this because he wanted the ginger to fuck him. Rough sex was just what he wanted after sucking off the ginger bastard. The blond pulled on Rekker's hair and then bit down on his lower lip, groaning.
"You fucking want my ass don't you? You're a dirty fuck and I love you."
The singer began grinding his hips down against Rekker's and making lewd soft noises in the back of his throat. He would soon get hard once more and this time the lube would be needed surely, for a smooth ride. Unless the Brit would forego it and take Bjorn dry for a rougher fuck.
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"I always want you ass, you dirty bitch." He growled the words while shoving his hips up into the grinding. His sex drive always ran rather hot but drunk and off his medication it's burning hotter and leaves him nearly whining with want. Rekker lets his eyes fall closed to revel in the feeling of Bjorn's weight pressing on him and the soft skin beneath his hands as he grabs the singer's ass. The growled breaths got deeper, needy.
"You're so fucking...." Rekker's words trailed off as his hands slipped around to Bjorn's waist and chest, forcing him to sit up in the Brit's lap. "...fucking perfect against me."
There was lube to be had in Rekker's shirt pocket which was laying beside the lounge on the ground. He wasn't thinking about that now as he's near writhing under the Swede while his hands greedily explore his pale skin. The sounds from his bucking lover gets a hard pulse in his cock as he starts to harden again. "Fuck!! Fuck! I need you to ride me you damned bitch."
For Hans
Devon is a good man.
It's too easy to fall accidently. All the fucking bullshit he causes though is worth it. I don't fucking know why but it is. Even when he drives me to wanting to slit myself open he's somehow fucking worth it in my twisted, sick head.
Re: For Hans
Hans sighed and realised it felt good to talk with someone that had been there. Died and came back again. The Swede hadn't even known just how close to death he'd actually been but it was pretty fucking close. Hunter had explained this to him back at the hospital briefly before he walked away and got on with his life.
"Devon sounds like a rock. Someone to hold onto when everything goes to shit."
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It did feel oddly good but Rekker knew to be careful because his own dark went way far down into the abyss.
"He is but I know some of it is learned. He's a shithead about it but we check in on him too. He gets lonely and broods sometimes."
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Hans nodded, understanding about Devon wanting to be alone and brood because the Swede was guilty of that too. Hunter often coming to find Hans when he was alone and including him in conversation and passing the guitarist a soda. The singer was such a mother hen it warmed his heart.
"Being lonely isn't fun but it helps when you have caring band members around with you. I sometimes get told I sleep with my guitar and have my head buried inside of it."
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Rekker shrugged at Hans. "I like being alone. I don't like people in my house or space."
In general, that was true. Bjorn, in Rekker's mind was now part of his living space in an odd way. It wasn't that he didn't see the singer as a person, he definitely saw him as an incredible person, but that he was not an outside person. Hexed fell into that same strange void, so did Robert. Most people though, Rekker didn't want them around at all.
For Rex
It's not a nickname. It's just what he is tonight. I usually call him whore or bitch. They try to call my car the sex mobile, obviously they are confusing it with my brother's limo.
Get a drink and some popcorn. Tonight is going to get wild.
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What did Rex know? The ginger and the trashy Swede obviously had something going on and who was the Brit to second guess it?
"Your brother's limo is the sex mobile then? Ziggy's limo? Also, when you say wild---what kind of wild are we talking here?"
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"Everyone fucks in it." Rekker started laughing. "Who the fuck knows. That's why you sit and watch."
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Weird being the more responsible of the brothers even though he was younger. Rex often said Weird acted like a 52 year old man instead of the young 22 year old he was. It was strange but a fact.
"I'm single at the moment and I'm not sure if I should advertise this fact or not."
This was considering some of the trashier members of the tour looking for a good fuck or two. Rex had been keeping an eye on that Dane boy though---Ansgar? He was hot.
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"They'll find out." Rekker was sure of that. He'd been watching as new people came around and it was amazing how quickly the whole tour knew if they were single, interested, and who they were interested in.
For Isamu
I'll have them bring a pot of coffee and another cup.
[Rekker was happy to have some calmer company for once. He adored Bjorn and the other musicians but sometimes he just needed a break.]
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“Good morning.” He yawned, and sat down in front of the empty cup that was waiting for him. It would not be empty for much longer. “Apologies. Last night was not very conducive to sleep, and I am now coping with the consequences.”
He’d been doing some productive overtime in the lab, but the troubled sleep was more a product of Minoru’s text messages waking him up. Normally, Minoru was considerate of their opposing schedules, but every once and a while, he either forgot, texted the wrong person, or impulsively thought it was too important to wait.
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Rekker pushed the pot and the tray of coffee amendments toward Isamu. "I thought I would get some sleep because Bjorn passed out early but every person that walked by the door banged on it to try and get him to come out."
Bjorn had been dead to the world but Rekker never actually got to sleep between all the banging.
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“I would normally recommend hanging a Do Not Disturb placard outside the door. However, I would expect such things to be all but completely ignored by your fellow musicians.”
As he spoke, he highly considered switching his phone into Do Not Disturb mode. But what if there was an emergency that required his attention?
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Rekker could only imagine though, at least, rue worst for that kind of behavior was probably the one already in his room. Small miracles and relief.
"Do you want breakfast?" Rekker might be grouchy but he does have manners and wouldn't eat in front of someone without offering.
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Isamu could count his blessings there.
“Oh, yes, please. I have not yet eaten this morning.” He glanced up to a display board to see what, if anything, this particular cafe seemed to be known for. Isamu was far less picky than his brother when it came to food.
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"Get whatever you want." Rekker was picky like Minoru, vegetarian but a little more lenient because he would eat freshly caught fish or meat when Devon went hunting. On tour though, he was effectively vegetarian. They already knew here that he ate veggie omelets with triple cheese and extra toast. They learned quickly, or it was Rekker's tendency to eat breakfast foods most of the day.
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“Having experienced Ziggy’s temper first hand - and not even the full extent of it, as I am very aware - it would be safe to assume you to be a frightening force to be reckoned with when angry…”
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Mood stabilizers moderated his temper as much as his depression. He's eager to eat and hoping it wakes him up some. "Everyone can have a bad temper if you push the wrong places."
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When it came to emotions, Isamu was typically more even keeled. While he was frustrated at being woken up multiple times by his brother’s texts, he wasn’t necessarily angry. Though, when heavily stressed, he could, and did, have his moments. They usually came across as more frantic and panicked - hilarious for the guy whose name means Courage. Some were more justified than others.
“Direct attacks on my character as a scientist is one of mine.” He admitted. “As is being thrust into a needlessly reckless, life-threatening situation.”
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Rekker stopped eating and raised a brow at Isamu's soft spot. "It's good that you aren't a musician. They constantly attack our character, as musicians, as people, anywhere they can get a hook in." It was one of the few things Rekker truly hated about being in music. "I'm an adrenaline junkie most days."
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When his omelette arrived, he stopped to take a few bites.
“Minoru is an adrenaline junkie everyday.”
As long as neither of them were forcing him along for the ride - a harrowing trip down the gauntlet in Hunger City immediately sprung to mind - Isamu was more than willing to live and let live.
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Rekker was old and he'd heard a lot of people through the years talk down on people who were musicians, as if it was a waste or a place for people of low intellect or low control. He didn't linger but thought it best the kid knew how a musician, or anyone in the arts probably, would hear those words.
"Academic review boards get fired for lies. Music critics get praise for them." Rekker went on eating because he knew that was true. Gossip was praised in the critics of his field and everyone thought their opinion was truth.
Rekker smiled and shrugged while eating. "It not always safe for me to act on my impulses for adrenaline."
He learned long ago that some moods might have him wanting to see what something truly dangerous would be like, or when the voice in his head was whispering too loudly about death. "You come across as someone wound too tight for that kind of fun?"
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It seemed the best way to succinctly define its relative importance. The part about the music critics wasn’t sarcastic either. As unfortunate as it was, there was quite a bit of truth to that quip. It also suggested that, in his field, Isamu had less experience handling that kind of criticism, because he was put in that position far less often.
His voice softened as the conversation continued, though.
“Perhaps I am more tightly wound, but… I must admit, I do worry about my brother sometimes, in that respect. His impulses putting him in increasingly dangerous situations.”
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Rekker's not upset but he's pointing out something that irritated him as politely as possible. He slowly went back to eating and sighed as he tried to remain pleasant. It really wasn't one of his natural personality traits but he's working hard on it. "My career has more importance to me than you can imagine. It has kept me alive when I've tried to die, and I use it to help other people stay alive. I've done things people, including scientists, told me I couldn't or is destined to fail."
The conversation turns though and Rekker's mood easily moves along. Living with Bjorn has been helpful for his mood. Mostly, someone who watches him like a hawk over his medication and therapy. Isamu's comment gets a laugh, easily.
"Dangerous for him, or dangerous when you imagine yourself trying?" Rekker's grinning and shaking his head. "Devon used to get on me about driving fast and skydiving the same way. I'm sure he's safer than you think."
He'd heard a few things, mostly building climbing and obstacle courses. Neither of which felt particularly dangerous to Rekker. Then again, his own concept of self-preservation was skewed and biased.
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He checked on the data that was populating in the various spreadsheets, letting that impulse subside.
“The latter goes without saying.” He scoffed. There was obvious humor in that. “Though, some of the situations he has put himself in, due to the nature of the Nexus and the availability of other worlds, should qualify as dangerous, period.”
It was no secret to the bands now that Minoru (and Isamu too), were from a different world.
“Freeclimbing a highly unstable cliff without the necessary safety equipment, for example. Attempting to scale a literal skyscraper. Horseback riding through a gauntlet of plague-infested giant rats, military drones and sharpshooters whose sole purpose is to annihilate you… that sort of thing.”
Competing on American Ninja Warrior was probably one of the tamest things Minoru did, actually.
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The comment about danger has him shrugging and then laughing. Unlike the other musicians, Rekker has a little more insight into the various things he's mentioning. "At least he does it sober."
There was a point and quite a bit of humor to Rekker's commentary now. "It looks like he's survived all of it. I suppose you wouldn't want all of us to teach him to street race."
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Freeclimbing the skyscraper with Joe was one of the few things Isamu actually heard his brother say went too far. Not because they climbing higher than one could even hope to survive a fall, not because they got arrested and even taken to jail, not because they worried their loved ones tremendously - but because Joe was under the influence. Minoru felt responsible for keeping Joe alive up there.
His craziness did have a limit.
“Simply because he has survived up until this point does not mean I do not worry sometimes.” Isamu added quietly. “… Do I even want to know what street racing entails?”
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Rekker takes a few bites of food and then lets out a sigh. "It wouldn't be happening if Bjorn wasn't mouthing off about how my car was faster than any of their bikes." It was sweet that Bjorn thought so highly of him and his car but now he felt compelled to stand up to the challenge... and it would be fun.
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“You are racing your car versus the various punks on their bikes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that unless you have a car that far exceeds average performance, they have the advantage. Motorcycles’ high power-to-weight ratio and small profile result in less wind resistance and a low drag coefficient, and this leads to faster acceleration as well.”
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This is something Rekker could talk scientifically, or almost, since he was involved in the rebuild of his car even if he didn't do the mechanic work himself. "Ducati is zero to 60 in 2.6 seconds or so, my car is 3.6 but I I can maintain higher speeds. Short distance they'll outpace me but I can catch up. I know the road better too."
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He specified this as hypothetical, because it would make it that much more dangerous for the bikers. But a short race on a straight track already put Rekker at a disadvantage, something the other man just alluded to. If the track were long enough, a fast car could overtake a fast motorcycle, but it would depend on a lot of variables he had not even begun to seriously calculate.
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Rekker much less and not professionally but he did feel like they were the two that would be the most competitive. "Motorcycles can cut curves in races to reduce the amount of speed reduction. The wide berms on the inside curves will help them, if they notice."
He didn't mention that most of this road had a sheer drop to the ocean for most of the length. That was what made it interesting when you might fall to your death. "I didn't choose the road. They did."
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“They are insane.” He finally managed to reply.
And he made a mental note not to let Minoru borrow the car any time soon. (Even though, technically, it was Minoru’s car. Isamu was the one who drove it 97% of the time.)
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He could joke about his mental health, usually did. In this case it was applicable because some of this was happening because the Brit lacked a lot of his sense of self preservation.
"Everyone needs adrenaline. Where do you get yours?" Now Rekker is curious since anything remotely fun or high intensity felt off the table for Isamu.
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He’d learn about Ollie soon enough. And plant his face squarely into his own palm…
“In the laboratory. In the library. Wherever I happen to be the moment my research leads to a breakthrough.” He replied. “It is exceedingly rewarding, though I would not go so far as to classify it as dopaminergic.”
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The turn in conversation was a pleasant one. He considered the topic while slowly eating. "Music therapy; writing, playing and sometimes listening alleviate a lot of my depression symptoms. It's one of the reasons I was eager to join the tour."
Sure, tours got crazy but a daily or every few day surge in adrenaline and dopamine did wonders for his mental health.
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“Given those specific conditions, it does appear to be an environment in which you are already set up for success.” Isamu nodded. “While I cannot make a direct comparison, as I do not need to alleviate depressive symptoms, in some ways, moving to the Nexus was, for me, what joining the Ziggy Stardust tour was, for you. An opportunity to increase those most rewarding experiences.”
The work he’d done at IRIS was well beyond that which a traditional Ph.D. program in his home world could provide. He had more freedom, more access, more opportunities to make bigger and bolder discoveries.
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He wasn't going to say much more on the subject though he suspected Isamu might know more than the others since his twin was close to Ziggy. The mental illness he carried around wasn't exactly healthy for Antheans, though Bjorn, with all his madness, helped alleviate that strain for both red-heads.
"It'll be good for all of us to be back in the stage."
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"I'm an anxiety ridden, self-loathing, suicidal depressive with panic attacks." Rekker shrugged and let out a breath. "Do you know what my presence is like for Ziggy?"
He left that hanging without clarity because he figured the response would answer the question about how much Isamu knew about Ziggy.
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He really didn’t want to make any more trouble with Ziggy…
“Enough to assume that neither Ziggy, nor Tom for that matter, would have likely offered your band a spot on the tour if they felt he was unable to cope with your presence. In one form or another.”
It wouldn’t have surprised Isamu if the cocaine use increased whenever Rekker was nearby. To even things out. (Oh, to be able to study the pharmacodynamics there… one of the many curiosities Isamu had about Antheans.)
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"I've recovered enough in the past few years." He finally mentions but there had been worry at first. Rekker supposed that Ziggy had also improved over time. The teenage personality that had been there when they first met had matured which had to make Rekker's emotions easier to deal with.
"He used to tell me I felt like a graveyard in a hurricane." Which was both an amazingly metal description and an accurate one for his mindset when they met.
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Ziggy’s comment on what Rekker felt like, Isamu decided, was better left alone. It was a very powerful metaphor of death and destruction, a paradoxical stillness surrounded by a maelstrom. But he wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse than being compared to the monstrous bastards who vivisected Mister Newton…
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Rekker accepted his mental state. He was a stormy man, obsessed with death sometimes, and unpredictable. However, it might sound to others he saw no insult in how Ziggy experienced his presence. Isamu as correct in identifying the calm Rekker usually presented, watchful but very easy to stir up. "My brother is Ziggy's godfather."
Which made Rekker family but he easily fell into the presence of the crazy uncle anyway, even with the other young band members.
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It wasn’t a true generational divide. But thinking of Tom and Rekker getting into the same kind of hothead mischief that he recorded during his study was somewhat amusing.
“Godfather?” He tilted his head curiously. “Is that in a secular or religious sense?”
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Rekker's behavior was quite opposite to Robert's eternal calm and cool collectiveness. Though, as Joe had learned, if you pushed Robert far enough he had a temper as bad as the redhead. Robert's calm was part of what lead to Tom and Rekker no longer fighting so often.
He has to think about the question Isamu posed. "It might be religious for Tom but my brother takes it as a secular... military duty." Rekker changed his mind on the words because it was a precise and defensive mindset Robert had about Ziggy.
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He’d long seen his friend Tom as the cool and collected one, exasperated at worst, but not anywhere near as hot-headed or volatile as the younger musicians. It was somewhat amusing to think of how he might have been when he was younger, or how some of the crazier band members might be when they are older.
“A more protective role...” He found himself nodding.
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He'd heard it more than once from the younger musicians and thought it was fun and applicable. Isamu has just been spared seeing older Tom lose his temper. It was rare but Rekker had heard about the flowers and Tom breaking up Viktor and Rik fighting almost a year ago.
"My brother took a bullet for Ziggy." He wasn't sure if that was widely known but Rekker respected his brother's bravery.
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“Took a bullet for Ziggy?” Isamu repeated, recalling Ziggy’s own admission that this world was not a safe place, even without his alien heritage being suspected. His eyes fell. His voice quieted as he added, “That is an story I have not yet heard.”
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"After Ziggy's first band busted up his hands Tom asked Robert to come out of retirement to be security and the driver." He thought maybe Isamu would know that part but mentioned it just in case. "A few months later they were were heading back to the limo and a person came out of the crowd and started shooting. Ziggy was hit twice and my brother once while trying to cover Ziggy and Tom."
Rekker didn't know how to feel about it happening but he knew that was his brother after all the military training. "Most of us have had encounters with someone trying to harm us. I didn't much before but I probably will too once people realize who I'm dating."
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“I see…” he nodded thoughtfully, respectfully. “For that to be the case, who are you dating?”
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"Bjorn." He's wondering if it will be surprising to Isamu as much as it has some others. "He says it's better in his country but in L.A. it's already causing problems."
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“I keep needing to remind myself how different our worlds are in regards to the acceptance of same sex couples. It is baffling, honestly, how such a thing could be seen as unnatural or even the least bit offensive.”
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"He's almost twenty years younger which brings up old rumors and shit I thought I was done with." Rekker's expression was more exasperated than angry at this point. "In L.A. our music genres are at each other's throats. They turn on us, we beat them up. It's been that way for years and now I've crossed that line too."
Rekker thought the music scene rift being turned on its head was amusing more than anything else. He could laugh about the ridiculousness of it all though he had personal dislikes of the glam scene in L.A. that he wasn't going to mention to anyone.
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Which annoyed Rekker to no end. He was a lot of things and many of them he wouldn't even argue with but this one got under his skin in a bad way. It showed in the nervous tick that started with his fingers drumming on the table.
"Glam is soft, feminine and Speed is aggressive and masculine." The reasons were deeper but this was a quick and dirty explanation. "I have some long standing issues with a few bands in the local glam scene after putting them in the hospital."
They deserved it and that past had caused strife between him and Bjorn at first that almost turned to a physical fight rather than a verbal one. The two getting together hadn't been smooth or calm. They still had moments of flaring up at each other over behavior but it was subdued rather than the initial aggression.
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In other words, the rumors were surely wrong. Though, getting people to believe that was another story.
“Were music genres monarchies, some would think a union such as yours would mark the end of an era of conflict, not the beginning of an even greater one.” He shook his head. “However, feudal-era diplomacy is admittedly not my forte.”
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Rekker didn't keep track of thier ages but he knew from the teasing among band members that a few were on the younger end of things.
Isamu's description of the conflict got a full laugh from the Brit. Not only was it funny but something he and Bjorn had talked about. "I'm the King of Speed out here and make a lot of the custom guitars. Not everyone is happy I've kidnapped a princess from our enemies."
While this is humorous and sarcastic the sentiment might not be fr off from the way he and Bjorn were stirring up thier respective music communities.
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“Then perhaps the princess should remind his subjects that petty grievances do not matter to a queen.” He suggested metaphorically, for whatever good it might do taken literally. Isamu knew nothing about the music industry, and very little about music in general.
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There was bad blood and history, enough that it showed in Rekker's expression. A flicker if anger and sadness before he got it under control. "I put a whole band in the hospital right after I joined Hexed. The rift was there but why I turned on them made it huge."
Likely, his prominence early on as a guitarist to watch gave him more sway than any 19 year old with a bad temper should ever be given. "It was before I had any therapy or medication, fucking bad, but the band I attacked... I'll never treat them well."
Rekker might adore a glam singer, might hang out with musicians here and there but the culture of the scene put him off at a visceral level.
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He finally ventured, “That… was then. And things are, or at least should be, different now?”
Was the music industry really this cutthroat and violent? Had everyone gone through this kind of traumatic experience? Did he really want to know the answers to those mental questions?
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"The culture backstage is still the same in most of the clubs." With Bjorn going into these clubs Rekker was back to his usual brawling when necessary. "There are people in my life I'll never forgive and most of them are in that scene."
Rekker would probably carry this grudge to the grave.
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Was this really as widespread as Rekker was making it sound. Was there actually real trouble mounting on the Ziggy Stardust tour? (Or festival, really, given how large it had grown!)
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Rekker didn't see the problematic behavior in any of the glam bands in the tour. "Bjorn says that the glam scene outside the US is different."
Then he snorts a laugh. "If Tom saw what I did he would have done the same."
Rekker and Tom were very different but there were. Few topics they agreed on, how and when to respect others was one of them.
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The question had a wary, inquisitive tone. It was not meant as a challenge. While there was slight concern of what might happen to someone who crossed Rekker the wrong way, it was mostly just a need for more context. What did that other band even do?
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It takes a moment, more coffee being brought and Rekker briefly wondering if he should even go there. The sound of his grinding teeth comes before he speaks. "I was, 19.. or just turned twenty. The woman I'd been dating for over a year was in the scene too. One night it got to be after one in the morning and she didn't come home so I went out to find her."
Rekker probably shouldn't be drinking more coffee while talking about something that would drive his anxiety through the roof but he needed something to do with himself too. "Asking around, she has a very unique look, I found out she was hanging with a band after a show. I didn't think anything was wrong until I walked into the dressing room. They'd drugged her and made a joke of her being the encore."
The teeth grinding was back between sentences while Rekker struggles. "I remember throwing one of them through the door but nothing after it. I didn't even know what I did between grabbing the guitarist and carrying her out to my car in my coat until they talked about the injuries during the court case."
Rekker felt the anger inside boiling up and it came through in the double handed death grip on his coffee mug. "I was put away in a hospital for months and it was hellish."
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Isamu could fill in the vulgar details between the lines quite well. And that explanation needed no further elaboration.
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Which kept him in the hospital longer and almost sent him to jail, his lack of regret or apology. Rekker put the cup down finally and then smiled, forced as it was. "Bjorn says that the scene in the rest of the world is better."
Which Rekker didn't believe but was trying to because there were, or well all the bands on the tour were Glam in some way. It was time to change the subject to anything else. He grasped for something funny or at least more lighthearted.
"I'm as surprised as everyone else that I'm dating a guy." He went back to Bjorn, to something current to yank himself out of his memories. "My inner asshole loves correcting the people that keep asking about my new girlfriend."
Bjorn was incredibly feminine and he could see the way casual observers would be mistaken. Rekker took great pleasure in watching the shock after correcting someone.
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“Anything beyond what we have conditioned ourself or others to expect is surprising, yes.” Isamu nodded, thankful for the change of topic as well. “Informing our parents that Minoru was in a relationship, period, produced a similar sort of satisfaction. Though, I may have intentionally chosen a few words solely for their shock value… Papa did a literal spit-take with his tea.”
Isamu bringing home a date, usually a girl but sometimes an effeminate guy, was no surprise to anyone.
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"I'm not talking to my family." Rekker took a drink and shrugged. "It would piss them off that I'm living instead of offing myself."
Then he starts to laugh. "Robert and Devon's reaction to coming over to find Bjorn half dressed on my couch was priceless."
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“I informed our parents over dinner that my brother was not only dating, but had also slept with Ziggy - both entirely true statements, given proper context that I intentionally withheld.” Which was primarily that sleep was literal, and not the first thing that everyone’s minds jumped toward. “Priceless reactions are, by definition, priceless. Yes.”
Isamu had every right to be proud of that joke - given that Minoru had pulled the same one on him and he fell for it with the same cartoonish spit-take.
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"I caused some shit like that a few concerts ago." Rekker started to laugh. "Dee outted me for being in a relationship on stage and this guy down front started screaming up to ask if my girlfriend had huge breasts."
He could see the desire to pick on people's misconceptions for sure. "The silence when I responded that my boyfriend didn't have any was like death."
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“Of course, when Minoru played the exact same joke on me the first time, it was not nearly as humorous.” He replied, solely because it was at his expense. “But it was impressive that he was able to keep such a straight face the entire time. Had the circumstances not been what they were, I would have sworn he and Ziggy rehearsed the joke before Minoru delivered it. He may be asexual, but he is no idiot. He knew exactly what he was saying.”
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Rekker had done some things like this to Robert. "Of course he knew. I'm a little brother too. I know the game."
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"Most recently..." Rekker glanced around to make sure none of the band members were around. "Bought Bjorn an engagement ring. One of the more pleasant shocks, I imagine."
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“While that example may be quite the shock to many, I certainly hope, for Bjorn’s sake, that one is not a prank.”
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"I don't know if me buying it or the size caused his eyes to get so wide." Either way, he had totally caught his brother off guard and that was what mattered.
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“Do you have it with you? I must admit I am rather curious now.”
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"It's meant to be an ocean." The blues and swirls of platinum and silver. He offer Isamu the box to let him look.
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“That is quite an impressive ring.” He exclaimed softly. He closed the box, and discreetly passed it back. “Have you made plans on when and how you plan to propose?”
Love was clearly in the air. Isamu knew Mick had proposed to Ziggy already. Namely, because Minoru was incredibly excited about it, and about having a part, whatever that part might actually be, in his girlfriend’s special day.
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Rekker took it back and tucked the box away, silent for a long time before he sighs. "I'm not."
Rekker had the ring and had convinced himself not to actually give it to Bjorn. "It won't mean anything here or the UK. We can't get married."
Few people saw the rage Rekker had inside, at least during a civil conversation but it's there in tone and his eyes. He's furious with the state of things and that others are stopping him from doing what he wants.
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“It… would mean nothing? I do not under…” His voice trailed off, various comments from multiple individuals on what was socially acceptable in this particular world. “Is it because such things are frowned upon here? Or are there differences between your countries of origin?”
Mick and Ziggy were definitely getting married. Right?
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Not in thier mind but legally it would and that was what rubbed the guitarist the wrong way. If Rekker was religious like Vars things might be easier on him because something would remain that was meaningful. "I don't even think Sweden would recognize it because I'm a citizen where it's illegal."
Rekker's hands clenched up as the anger started to boil. He was furious. In general he hated other people dictating what he did but ruling over his life this way was too much. No amount of medication helped his mood even out when it came to this subject.
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“That certainly complicates things.” He eventually replied. “How are Mick and Ziggy solving for this outdated legal lunacy? Could you not do something similar?”
Because while Ziggy was an Anthean female, on this world, he was officially considered male. So wouldn’t that couple be in the exact same boat as Rekker?
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"I don't think they care about the legality." Rekker sighed and pushed his coffee mug and plate away roughly. "I'm older and suicidal sometimes. I'm going to die before Bjorn and I don't want him to have to deal with the legal shit to have access to what I own....or.." Rekker paused again to bite back the anger. ".. have him locked out of hospitals if I'm committed or some shit in the future."
These were all realistic issues for them as a couple that would be remedied by a legal marriage. The issues with the laws went beyond emotional and Rekker was notorious for grabbing onto something negative to obsess over it until he snapped.
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Mick’s relationship with Ziggy was an entirely different kind of complicated. After all, if Ziggy were hospitalized, visitation rights and access to medical records would pale in comparison to the larger issue of him being a literal alien. Antheans might not even have a concept of a last will and testament. Isamu didn’t know.
There was also a lot about this world that Isamu did not know.
“Are there countries in this world where such a partnership is, without a doubt, legally recognized? How difficult would it be to set up residency in a new nation, or even obtain citizenship there?”
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"I could become a Swedish citizen if I live with my Swedish spouse for two years in my home country." The sarcasm is there, partially overshadowing the anger. Bjorn couldn't be his spouse so that part was already impossible. "Then I can move to Sweden with my Swedish spouse for another three years, apply for citizenship or residency, and then Sweden would recognize that we were a couple with rights."
But Bjorn couldn't be his spouse in his own country, or here in the states, so he was at a blockade. Rekker hated feeling pinned in by things out of his control. "The other Scandinavian countries are seven or ten years residency."
Rekker started drumming on the table anxiously. He'd be fifty before he could marry Bjorn anywhere and have it matter at this rate. He wanted to get up and throw the table he was sitting at but he didn't. It took all his willpower. "It wouldn't be recognized in the states if we moved back."
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Where Isamu came from, same sex marriage had been legal in his country for decades. And the path to citizenship was closer to a three to five year process, depending on the situation. He remembered doing research on the topic back when he and his brother turned 22. Because their parents maintained their Japanese citizenry (and only lawful permanent residency in the United States), they had to technically abide by Japanese law to either choose their nationality or retroactively lose it. It was far simpler to check the box on the latter, so to speak, so they both sent their letters and declared their intent to remain U.S. citizens.
“Citizenship laws are complicated…” he commiserated. “And unfortunately, Mama and Papa were already married when they applied for visas to study in America. And they both received independent employer sponsorship, Papa as a biomedical engineer and Mama as a clinical engineer. So even if we were in the same world, the situations are rather different.”
Rekker was in quite a pickle.
He couldn’t even suggest the Nexus. While they could undoubtedly get married there, interdimensional law (if such a field even existed) was definitely not his forte.
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"My brother suggested I turn my clout, fame and money on the British government." The Brit was considering it more and more every day. Waging war on his own government wasn't what he wanted to do but his rage was not calming over time. No amount of therapy or medication was helping either.
His mind was rolling Isamu's words over and over in his mind before he glanced over at his breakfast companion. "HUh.... I wonder if Ziggy would leverage his lawyers for me?"
Now Rekker is starting to think like he does when he goes into a barfight. What were his resources, who needed to die, and how he could win. Even if he could pull the strings on the government it might take years and Rekker was not a patient man with most things. He wasn't any less angry but he was starting to focus which would be better for everyone else when it kept him from imploding randomly.
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Honestly, given the chaos that Tom vented about on the regular, and the things he and Ziggy had to hide at all costs, the lawyers they kept on retainer had to be some of the best in the world. If anyone could help on that front, they probably could.
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"It's time to remind the world what kind of an asshole I am when I'm pissed off." Maybe that was partially a joke but Rekker wasn't going to backdown and unlike Ziggy's placid way of trying to change the social norms, Rekker would be more like a hurricane and far more destructive along the way.
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Breakfast was as good as done or long forgotten by this point. Isamu was fairly certain that anything he said would rile Rekker up even more. The emotions were entirely justified, given the blatant injustice of the situation, but it still made Isamu wary.
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"What is your area of expertise?" He's calmed down enough to ask a passing waiter for more coffee.
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“Biochemistry.” He replied. “With a slight specialization in neurochemistry.”
Though he had worked on a variety of research projects with his fellow IRIS researchers, some not even in his chosen field. Working with Dr. Malcom on a survey of mass extinction events was fascinating.
“I am currently doing a significant amount of research into brainwave patterns and neurotransmitter levels associated with altered states of consciousness.”
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"My brain will fuck up your work." Rekker laughed quietly. "I have sections of my brain that aren't right so I don't get inhibitory effects or respond to serotonin properly. I was in a research study a few years ago where they were trying to understand the brain chemistry of killing yourself."
Rekker knew enough though that he could talk about what went on his brain, in layman's terms but might struggle with too much scientific jargon. "I have functional differences in my prefrontal cortex and the receptors there are shitty."
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Despite the delicate subject matter, once the topic of conversation turned scientific, Isamu was mentally sorting through the veritable catalog of information he had read on the neurobiology of depressive disorders, the multi-faceted developmental and signalling actions of serotonin in regulating depressive symptoms, and even the glutamate-driven alterations in synaptic connectivity within the pre-frontal cortex. He nodded as Rekker spoke,
“Was the study successfully peer-reviewed and published?” He eventually asked. “I would like to read it.”
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"I'm not sure." Rekker never asked for the study. "The doctor is still researching how suicidal brains function. I've met with him for other studies."
He thanks the waiter for more coffee and thinks about what this particular researcher had told him. "The last one was about my orbital prefrontal cortex. I don't remember exactly but he mentioned that part malfunctioning makes people unable to moderate their desire to harm themselves, and others, and can cause damaging situations to not register normal reactions like recoiling or fear."
Rekker paused because he was trying to parse his memories. "HPA hyperactivity causes anxiety that apparently makes everything else worse including the serotonin problems."
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Of course, there were other studies on other parts of the brain - the amygdala, the anterior cingulate cortex, the pons, for example - that also played a role in impulsive behaviors, heightened stress reactions, difficulty regulating emotions or perceiving pain. Honestly, finding a true biosignature for suicidal thoughts and major depressive disorder was still a massive challenge. The same findings weren’t always detected across multiple studies.
“Some of these differences seem to be be more pronounced among those who employed violent methods in their suicide attempt, though there are enough conflicting findings that many individuals with suicidal thoughts and behaviors may not exhibit consistent structural differences at all.” He mused aloud.
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Thankfully, Rekker had found healthy outlets like surfing, skydiving, being on stage, racing and some other less than deadly activities. That didn't always work but he was mostly stable with his usual outlets, therapy, and medication, mostly anyway.
"I'm a slicer." Rekker admitted which was why he often wore long sleeves to hide all the scars. "I don't keep knives or razors or anything in the house and tell restaurants to take them off the tables." Or realistically, one of his companions remembered to tell them. "I'm a wrench in some studies since I am an anxiety ridden, self-loathing, uninhibited, thrill-seeking, major depressive with suicidal ideation. I probably have all the malfunctions."
And that was a bit of his self-loathing slipping in, believing he was broken. Even though he was doing better he still felt like he was a mess in ways humans shouldn't be.
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“Those aforementioned structural abnormalities, hyperactivity in certain portions of the hippocampus and amygdala, and potential underactivation of thalamic areas involved in pain, would be quite the combination.” He agreed, though not with a tone that would suggest he thought Rekker was broken. “Quite the case study.”
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"I feel pain." Rekker mentioned between sips of coffee. "The wiring is wrong in my head. Pain feels better to me than it should." He wasn't going to say any more than that because it got into territory that he thought might make Isamu uncomfortable. "You're not the only one who's mentioned that. I've been through most of the psychiatric treatments available at some point. I've found a combination that keeps me functional about 90% of the time."
Which Rekker was pleased with now that he recognized there were moments, sometimes long stretches, where he was close to non-functional as a person.
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And that didn’t even begin to analyze the potential role of abnormal feedback in the striatal dopamine system, or dysfunctions of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis and its altered secretion of stress hormones and affect on serotonin.
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Rekker considered that last statement for a long time and then nodded. "I like to be in control of the pain that's happening to me. I want to cause it directly or indirectly. I don't like when other people hurt me." He started laughing. "Except when I'm in a fight."
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In other words, it was less about pleasure and more about memory and cognitive reevaluation. Which seemed to fit with Rekker’s desire to remain in control of his pain. At least partially.
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"I know it feels like an addict getting a hit after being off for a long time." He could speak to that having both had a time of wrestling with drugs and alcohol. "I don't always realize how much I've done until I come out the other side. Things can trigger it starting too, like when a cokehead sees cocaine and can't resist. Sharp objects can trigger me the same way, especially if I'm already down."
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“Hmm… That runs counter to what a number of studies have found, but that does not mean it cannot be ruled out. After all, opioid and dopaminergic systems and the HPA axis can both be activated either by psychoactive drugs or by behaviors. So it is still plausible that for a subset of cases, the same biological mechanisms support the development of addiction as well as self-harming behaviors.”
Comorbidity at its finest. Wires getting crossed.
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Rekker had been in enough studies by this point but still stifled a laugh. "I don't just like pain when I'm trying to off myself or feel like shit."
He left the implications of what he was talking about unsaid for now, unless the twin asked.
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That sort of thing was not a turn-on for the scientist. And unfortunately, very little scientific literature actually existed on that particular subject to fill in the gaps.
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"When you're angry and depressed healthy outlets are important." Which was a more scientific approach to the shocking unspoken. "How's the number crunching going?"
It was time to change the subject even if he was amused and would, if it were one of the band, continue to harass.
For Bjorn
Rekker caught the signing and knew exactly what they were saying but the words in his ear from Bjorn caused him to growl quietly. He couldn't stop it and his body was waking up in ways it just shouldn't with his students here.
He was about to answer when the knock on the table got his attention. The students did that when he got distracted, though it usually wasn't this kind of distraction. He turned his attention from Bjorn to the signing and nodded. Ana grinned and then laughed as she stood up. The younger girls running to the back of the house. They were going to go out and take care of the goats and his horse. They had some time and as soon as they were out of sight he grabbed Bjorn's crotch and bit his neck.
"Get in the bedroom!" Normally Rekker would right here but not with the kids, not in the dining room while they were here. The bedroom though, that was fair game. Rekker knew Ana was well aware of what was going on. He'd taken her and her boyfriend out and they had the same kind of moments certainly.
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"Make me, bitch!"
The Swede wanted to play games with the grouch while the students were busy outside. At least if they did fuck it would be in private within Rekker's bedroom. Instead of walking into the bedroom as he was told, Bjorn bent over in the doorway and wiggled his ass at the grouchy ginger just to tease him.
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However, Bjorn was certainly going to pay for running off. The Brit felt angry inside over the way he ran away.
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Bjorn yelled the words, not caring if the neighbours heard or not because fuck them. They were assholes anyway from what Rekker had said about them. The Swede was now squealing and giggling as he now ran around the apartment, pulling off his scarf and throwing it behind him as bait for his ginger. This was fun.
"Coming to get me, babe?"
The Swede now bending over to smack his ass.
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"You'll come to me when you can't take it any longer." He was absolutely going to be a bastard about this. Sure, he was horny and wanted Bjorn but he wasn't going to run around after him. "We have about thirty minutes before they're back inside. You're wasting time."
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Bjorn huffed and knew Rekker wasn't going to chase him anymore so just shrugged and then ran into the bedroom, jumping into Rekker's lap once more wrapping his arms around his lover. The Swede was often a whirlwind of high energy at times and this was one of them.
"What are you going to do to me, babe?"
The blond biting on Rekker's collarbone, giggling.
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"I thought you were going to do something to me." He grinned up at the blonde already getting hard. The relationship was new and Rekker had been alone for way too long. He's easy to get wound up, not that he's usually difficult to get in the mood anyway.
"I could put you over the dresser." Holding on tight to Bjorn's hips the Brit shoved up under him rhythmically. He wanted to Swede desperately.
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Bjorn was in a playful mood and wanted to suck his ginger and then get shoved over the dresser because it sounded to fucking hot. The Swede squeaked a little when Rekker pushed up underneath him, grinning and licking his lips. It would be a quick blow and fuck because of the students around but it would be worth it. Sliding off the Brit's lap, Bjorn then got down on his knees and gripped the ginger's knees, shoving his legs open.
"Get your pants off, babe."
The Swede raking his nails along the denim of Rekker's jeans.
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He wasn't in the mood to argue or wait. As soon as he was asked the Brit started unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. "You should do that on my skin."
The thought of the Swede raking his nails down his thighs while that mouth was all over him made everything feel so desperate. Rekker shoved his pants down and sat up to half pull, half kick them off. By the time he's free Rekker is near fully hard and panting. He paused to grab Bjorn's hair and pull him into a needy, wanton kiss, then let go so the Swede could put those pouty pink lips to work somewhere else.
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Bjorn could tell that they were giggling among each other and the signing must have meant something regarding the two. It was cute. Watching Rekker unbuckling his pants and kicking them off was hot because now Bjorn just wanted to pleasure the man he loved. He could feel his own cock throb underneath Rekker's jeans he was now wearing since pulling them on waking up hungover.
"I know what you want."
The Swede raking his nails down the Brit's exposed thighs, leaving light red marks against the skin. The kiss felt good and he gave Rekker's long ginger hair a good few pulls before sinking down once more to slide his pouty lips over his lover's cock, offering the head a few licks.
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Rekker wanted this so badly that he could feel his breath coming in fast pants.
"You're bare ass against my cock?" He wanted sucked but really wanted to fuck the Swede senseless too. Those nails pulled sighed gasps from Rekker and his legs quivered from the pain. He kept his hands in Bjorn's hair stroking his hair and trying not to start pressing his cock into Bjorn's mouth.
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"Fuck. I want this. Come in my mouth first though, babe."
The gasps were so hot and erotic as Bjorn sucked Rekker's hot cock, feeling it's smooth, hard texture in his mouth; his tongue sliding down a pulsing vein as his nails raked down the Brit's inner thighs. His own body now heating up, feeling his skin prickle and his heart rate rise. He wanted the ginger to unravel first and fill his mouth with salty cum.
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"You're such a whore." And that was a compliment filled with lust as he tried to breath. "Harder."
He didn't even know if he meant the sucking or the nails when he said it, both maybe. Bjorn wasn't going to have to work too hard to get Rekker off after so long without a lover. Rekker wanted everything, fast and rough, and soon found himself pulling on the Swede's messy blonde hair. .
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Bjorn squeaked when he felt Rekker pull on his platinum dyed hair, licking up the side of the Brit's shaft, enjoying the musky scent his lover had. More nails raking down Rekker's inner thigh as Bjorn suckled the head then deep throated the guitarist's cock in one, opening up his throat almost skilfully because Bjorn wasn't a virgin at cock sucking. He'd sucked many men off before but none as needy and aggressively horny as Rekker.
"Fill my mouth, babe. I want it."
The Swede smirked up at his ginger lover and then began toying with Rekker's balls using his fingers.
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Those nails had the ginger gasping raggedly and pulling on the Swede's hair harder. The Swede was so good that Rekker had to struggle to stay relatively quiet, even so he was groaning loudly. His fingers twisted tighter into that blonde hair as he started to thrust into Bjorn's mouth. He couldn't hold back and tugged on all that platinum hair to shove the singer's mouth all the way down on his cock as he came.
It left the guitarist gasping, hands still clinging to Bjorn's hair before he could let go. The moan of satisfaction had to come out as he stroked the blonde's hair.
"Fuck you're so good."
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"How did that feel, babe? You know I'm too fucking good."
The Swede winked at his lover and slid his palms up the insides of the Brit's thighs. Rekker's soft hairs tickling the Swede's hands as he gently raked a few nails along the soft flesh there.
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The hands on his thighs got a deep gasp among the panting as the Brit tried to catch his breath. "You're mine."
And Rekker meant it. The Swede made him feel out of his mind in a way he hadn't felt in years. Aggressive but not angry.
"Why don't you get me hard for your ass." Rekker growled the words before biting his way down the Swede's neck to his shoulder.
For Bjorn
Rekker came into the bar ignoring everyone else even if he acknowledged the usual chaos was going on. He had a one track mind. It didn't take long for him to spot Bjorn leaning on the bar and waiting for his shots. Rekker didn't say a word as he grabbed the singer around the waist from behind, shoved him into the bar and bit the back of his neck.
Re: For Bjorn
"Fuck, babe!---"
It was Rekker and Bjorn squealed a little because he wasn't expecting the ginger to sneak up on him like this in the middle of a packed bar. Fuck! Joe laughed and then bit Aarne on the ear just as the ginger was now attacking his blond in all the best ways. Bjorn reached up and yanked some of Rekker's long ginger hair, giving it a hard yank.
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"You're such a hot bitch." Rekker snarled those words in the Swede's ear as he shoved harder against his ass. Rekker's too horny and drunk to think much about the bar.
Aarne laughed and pulled on some of Joe's hair before downing his shot and turning around to give him a kiss.
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"You're a drunk ginger asshole. Who have you been drinking with?"
The trashy singer giggled a little because he was drunk too as was half the people at the bar area. Hunter winked at the couple as Gilly began tugging his boyfriend's hand as they drank up and went back to their room. Joe screamed once more and didn't mind if Rekker fucked Bjorn against the bar because he did it with Aarne all the time.
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"Mick." Rekker felt out of control and it was good that he was stuck on something positive right now.
"I want you." Rekker pushed the words out through nearly clenched teeth before giving the singer a nip behind the ear.
Aarne giggled more and tugged Joe toward the couch they had just been sitting on before getting up for shots. Watchung Bjorn get manhandled had the Fin wanting Joe too. He had so many good memories of Joe handling him the same way.
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Bjorn laughed then squealed loudly at the nip behind his ear. Fuck! The ginger was riled up and the trashy blond knew it. Joe was now tugging on his Finn's black hair and kissing Aarne on the lips because it was hot watching Bjorn and Rekker get feisty with each other.
"You want me right here? Fuck, babe! Did Ronno talk you into being an exhibitionist too?"
The Swede knew Rekker didn't care who saw him with Bjorn and didn't give a shit about fucking him in public either, as long as it was safe and around people he knew.
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Not exactly, though it was certainly pornographic. Rekker could hear Joe and Aarne getting rowdy behind them. It certainly didn't deter him from what he might do in public.
"How many times have I had you in the back seat or the hood of my car?" Rekker did have some exhibitionist tendencies though not with an unknown crowd. He knew how territorial he could be.
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Bjorn grabbed a fist full of Rekker's ginger hair and yanked on it hard. He knew the ginger was horny and wanted sex but it still didn't stop the Swede being a teasing bitch as always. How far would Rekker go in front of the band members here?
"I love it when you do, you dirty ginger bastard."
The singer giggled and then bit down on Rekker's lower lip whilst giving his crotch a hard grab.
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Rekker growled at the hair pull and grabbed a handful of Bjorn's hair. He did want his partner right now. He wasn't thinking about the others. Hunter and Gilly were always naked and so were the other two. They could deal with whatever came from this teasing.
"I could push you right over this bar like the hood." Rekker bit back and shoved his body against Bjorn to pin him against the bar.
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Bjorn laughed and then screamed when his hair was pulled. Of course he was loving this and no one would care if they got naked because everyone else did. Hunter slapped Gilly naked down the corridors so it was fair game.
"Will you?"
The Swede turned his head so he could see Rekker, shooting his tongue out at the Brit and then shoving his ass backwards like a bitch.
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"Are you going to beg for it?" Rekker growled as he shoved his partner's pants a little farther down his thighs.
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Bjorn winked at Rekker then squeaked when his pants began to get ripped down his thighs. Fuck! He loved it really and knew Joe and Aarne wouldn't care if the two got naked and fucked or whatever.
"You know I don't fucking beg."
The Swede reached around and pulled on more of Rekker's long ginger hair.
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He slid his hand down the exposed, smooth legs. He loved Bjorn's legs.
"I bet you will eventually." Rekker shoved his clothed erection against Bjorn's bare ass. "I know you want me to take you like a little whore."
The hair pulling felt so good but Rekker was going to try and hold out.
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Bjorn had gotten better at spending his allowance Rekker gave him but sometimes he splashed out on some expensive boots or clothes he liked. Fuck it, he wanted to live! Rekker's hands felt good on his smooth legs and this caused Bjorn to reach around and grab the Brit's face into a rough kiss.
"Eat me, bitch."
Laughing, Bjorn felt how hard Rekker was and knew both would be a hot panting mess soon enough.
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Rekker said that with so much love. He gave Bjorn the money to do with as he wished. He opened his mouth to the Swede and shoved his tongue into his mouth. He wanted him so badly but not so badly that he wouldn't wait him out to hear the begging.
"You'd like that." Rekker whispered in his ear. "I remember you on my counter for your birthday."
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Bjorn said the words with love, even though they would seem demeaning to anyone else hearing them. The Swede giggled at remembering his birthday and the amazing and unexpected blowjob he'd received on his birthday.
"I didn't expect that at all. It felt really nice."
The blond feeling a blush come to his cheeks because it was something he never thought Rekker would do.
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Rekker smiled because it was sweet even if he was horny. He slipped his hands around Bjorn's waist and pushed against his ass again.
"You're sexy, bitch." Rekker mentioned before he started kissing up Bjorn's neck.
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Bjorn wiggled his ass and gasped when he felt Rekker push against his ass once more. He was wearing tiny neon pink panties and loving that now the ginger got a full view of them.
"Like my undies, bastard? You bought them."
The Swede going out with Hunter on an underwear spending spree with Rekker's money.
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Rekker so rarely saw Bjorn blush so it was adorable when it happened.
"I like them so much I want to rip them off." Rekker grinned and snapped the side of Bjorn's panties before sliding his hand around to the inside of his thigh.
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Bjorn was thinking along the lines of Rekker having lots of hot girls who used to blush with him maybe. Even though the Swede was a boy he could still blush just like any girl and wanted to please Rekker.
"You're going to rip my panties off, bitch? Ahhhh!---"
The Swede screamed and giggled when he felt his panties get snapped against his thigh.
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Sure, he had girls blush but it was more the idea that he had done something that made Bjorn blush rather than comparison to anyone else.
"I bet you want me to." Rekker wrapped his fingers into the waistband as if he was going to tear them off, but didn't.
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Bjorn meant it too. He knew how much Rekker spoiled him and spent his hard earned cash on the trashy singer as well as take him out to dinner and things. Did the Swede want the ginger to rip his panties off? Maybe. He was in two minds because he liked them but also wanted Rekker to go wild on him.
"It's hot when you rip my clothes off."
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Rekker meant it, even in the heat of arousal he did.
"You should ask me to..." Rekker whispered and nipped behind Bjorn's ear. He pulled him back, shoving their bodies flush to each other.
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Bjorn gasped when Rekker nipped his ear, knowing the ginger might get off on him asking to have his panties ripped off. It was so fucking kinky and he loved it. Joe was busy with Aarne now so no one was really watching the two.
"You're a kinky fuck but ok----rip them off, you ginger bastard."
Squealing, Bjorn bucked back and then reached around to grab Rekker's crotch once more.
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Rekker groaned from the feeling of his lover pushing back and grabbing him. This was incredibly erotic.
"You want them ripped off?" Rekker grinned and nuzzled. "Are you going to undress me too?"
This was hot, especially now that Bjorn was starting to squirm.
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Bjorn reached around Rekker's back and slapped his ass playfully. They were still by the bar area and people could see. Well, fuck them. They were with friends so it was fine. Joe and Aarne had probably gone off to fuck too.
"I'll yank those pants down of yours and suck your cock."
The Swede squealed and giggled.
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"I'd rather fuck you." Rekker growled in his ear and twisted his fingers in the waistband of Bjorn's panties. One hard tug and they ripped free. "Right here."