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crack_van2006-11-12 07:22 pm
lydia-petze.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-11-12 07:22 pm
Entry tags:
Moroccan Heat by Clandestine (NC-17)
Fandom: U2
Pairing: Adam Clayton/Bono
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clandestine269
Author Website:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
u2slash. Please note to join u2slash you must be over eighteen years of age and have your birth year on your LJ profile.
Why this must be read:
For a Bono girl, I seem to have been reccing an awful lot of Larryfic ;-) Time to change that with Moroccan Heat. Take note of the title, the word heat is there for a reason! Clandestine writes some pretty hot sex, and one of the things I like about her is that she doesn't tend to mince words - I come across so many euphemisms in slash it's nice to just sometimes hear an unvarnished term, you know? Pr0n aside (just for a moment), what makes this story more than just a PWP is Clandestine's delineation of character and interaction - the band are all irritated and snappish with one another at the beginning, thanks to the heat, which I thought was a nice, domestic sort of a touch. Even more, I love how she touches on the reasons someone like Bono could be driven to be a rock star: hunger for love, need for approval, gnawing insecurity that can make one overcompensate. All this is drawn in a few deft lines that you could miss if you were too caught up in the hotness of the story, but that's where the pleasure of re-reading comes from.
The loud Allah-hu-Akbar's added to the surreal feeling and Bono cleared his throat.
"Do you know what it means?"
Adam turned his head. "He's stating that 'God is Great'."
When the expected reply didn’t come, he walked over to the bed and sat down, stroking a few strands from Bono’s forehead.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Mmm, heavenly." The singer nuzzled himself closer, resting his head on Adam's thigh. "You?"
"Not a wink."
"Why not? Being sleepless is my job, remember?"
Adam shrugged. "I didn't feel like it. Took the opportunity of some sunbathing." His thoughtful expression softened as he gazed upon his friend and let his hand glide in a light caress. "And then I had a wonderful time watching you sleep."
Bono sighed contently, arching into Adam's touch, amazed at the jolt of pleasure it always brought him.
It's been years now and I still feel it. It's never casual, never routine.
He had never understood what Adam saw in him. This clever, charming man, who had proven his ability to have his pick among women and men alike – why would he want a short, slightly stocky, married, soon-to-be father of two? A man who wouldn't make any promises, wouldn't give himself entirely. Bono could admit that he was greedy, that he had wanted to have it all.
And he let me. What does that say about him – and about me?
Because it had been about wanting, mostly about what he wanted and what he was prepared to give up to get it. In the end, he had given up very little, or at least it felt that way on this lazy, hot afternoon with his head resting in Adam's lap and Adam's hands fondling him. And he had received so much. Simply by asking, he had gotten everything. Everything Adam.
He never does that – never asks for anything else, anything more. Never makes any demands. He takes whatever it is he gets.
Except in bed. Because in bed, Adam matched Bono's greed with his own passion, his own possessiveness.
Now, his fingers were still caressing Bono's face, combing through the slightly damp strands of his thick hair, lightly tracing the sensitive skin on his neck. Bono looked up and met the affectionate smile in the eyes looking down on him.
"What if I had never met you?" he burst out.
Adam’s expressive eyebrows raised in reply.
"I’m serious," Bono said. "I can’t think of what it would have been like without you."
The loving smile changed to a self-mocking smirk. "I suppose you would have gotten yourself a much better bass player then."
Moroccan Heat
Pairing: Adam Clayton/Bono
Author on LJ:
clandestine269Author Website:
u2slash. Please note to join u2slash you must be over eighteen years of age and have your birth year on your LJ profile. Why this must be read:
For a Bono girl, I seem to have been reccing an awful lot of Larryfic ;-) Time to change that with Moroccan Heat. Take note of the title, the word heat is there for a reason! Clandestine writes some pretty hot sex, and one of the things I like about her is that she doesn't tend to mince words - I come across so many euphemisms in slash it's nice to just sometimes hear an unvarnished term, you know? Pr0n aside (just for a moment), what makes this story more than just a PWP is Clandestine's delineation of character and interaction - the band are all irritated and snappish with one another at the beginning, thanks to the heat, which I thought was a nice, domestic sort of a touch. Even more, I love how she touches on the reasons someone like Bono could be driven to be a rock star: hunger for love, need for approval, gnawing insecurity that can make one overcompensate. All this is drawn in a few deft lines that you could miss if you were too caught up in the hotness of the story, but that's where the pleasure of re-reading comes from.
The loud Allah-hu-Akbar's added to the surreal feeling and Bono cleared his throat.
"Do you know what it means?"
Adam turned his head. "He's stating that 'God is Great'."
When the expected reply didn’t come, he walked over to the bed and sat down, stroking a few strands from Bono’s forehead.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Mmm, heavenly." The singer nuzzled himself closer, resting his head on Adam's thigh. "You?"
"Not a wink."
"Why not? Being sleepless is my job, remember?"
Adam shrugged. "I didn't feel like it. Took the opportunity of some sunbathing." His thoughtful expression softened as he gazed upon his friend and let his hand glide in a light caress. "And then I had a wonderful time watching you sleep."
Bono sighed contently, arching into Adam's touch, amazed at the jolt of pleasure it always brought him.
It's been years now and I still feel it. It's never casual, never routine.
He had never understood what Adam saw in him. This clever, charming man, who had proven his ability to have his pick among women and men alike – why would he want a short, slightly stocky, married, soon-to-be father of two? A man who wouldn't make any promises, wouldn't give himself entirely. Bono could admit that he was greedy, that he had wanted to have it all.
And he let me. What does that say about him – and about me?
Because it had been about wanting, mostly about what he wanted and what he was prepared to give up to get it. In the end, he had given up very little, or at least it felt that way on this lazy, hot afternoon with his head resting in Adam's lap and Adam's hands fondling him. And he had received so much. Simply by asking, he had gotten everything. Everything Adam.
He never does that – never asks for anything else, anything more. Never makes any demands. He takes whatever it is he gets.
Except in bed. Because in bed, Adam matched Bono's greed with his own passion, his own possessiveness.
Now, his fingers were still caressing Bono's face, combing through the slightly damp strands of his thick hair, lightly tracing the sensitive skin on his neck. Bono looked up and met the affectionate smile in the eyes looking down on him.
"What if I had never met you?" he burst out.
Adam’s expressive eyebrows raised in reply.
"I’m serious," Bono said. "I can’t think of what it would have been like without you."
The loving smile changed to a self-mocking smirk. "I suppose you would have gotten yourself a much better bass player then."
Moroccan Heat
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