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Dirty. Clean. Love.

Title: Dirty. Clean. Love.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Metallica
Characters: James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich
Warning: Contains graphic m/m sex.
Summary: James and Lars celebrate their anniversary.
Notes: Huge thanks to cobrasnaps for being my beta in this!!! If you love Metallica slash, specifically James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich, then you really need to check her out. She's all kinds of awesome. Anyroad, enjoy ♥

Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of Metallica any associated entites, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.

Lars has just returned home from scuba diving and can't wait to take a shower. He’s so excited to feel the familiar comfort of the heated spray that he doesn't see James lazing on his couch and ends up making enough noise to wake James from his light doze.

Only he doesn't know it. He doesn’t even realize that James is there.

He goes upstairs, undressing along the way, totally oblivious.

Behind him James is all silent predator: following him, checking him out, planning his attack.

He goes into the bathroom to start the water, adjusts the temperature and climbs in.

James undresses in the doorway as he watches Lars lather up his body.

Finally, Lars sees James in his peripheral vision as he approaches the shower.

At first he starts a little, and then he sees the hungry gleam in James' eyes. No smile, no games. Just James wanting him. Wanting him badly. Something within him responds, and he gasps at his own body's instinctive need of James.

Before the shower door is even open Lars finds his breath speeding up and his movements slow to a stop at the pure hunger in James’ eyes. Even his blinking stops as he gapes, the intensity of this moment between them overwhelming and uncontrollable. This moment of wanting and needing each other so very much.

James opens the door. The weight of his want causes Lars to back up a little, while at the same time he's pulled forward.

James gets into the shower. He closes the door, never breaking eye contact. Neither of them can look away nor speak.

James leans forward.

Lars starts to tremble.

James' arms plant themselves on either side of his head.

Then, Lars drops the soap, and James attacks.

He claims Lars' mouth as Lars secures his body against his own, arms around his neck. He presses them together as the water threatens to slide them apart.

James gives his all into this as he finally wraps his own arms around Lars, a response to Lars' whimper. He pushes Lars against the wall at the same time his tongue pushes against Lars' own. He slides his hands down to Lars' waist and lifts, until his legs are wrapped around his waist.

They moan on contact. If they've ever been this hard before neither of them can be bothered to remember.

Lars hangs on, runs his fingers through James's hair, grips his shoulders and uses that wicked tongue of his to trace trails across James' collarbone.

James caresses him. His stomach. His back, all the way on down to his thighs, 'til his hands tire of wandering and they grab hold of his ass.

He grips it firmly, fondles it, squeezes it as Lars' breathy moans pant themselves into his ear.

Fuck, the sounds he makes are delicious as James bends his neck to latch onto and suckle Lars' neck.

Lars moans, pants and whines, but James makes no move to do anything more. No, he won't. Not until Lars pleas. Not until Lars begs. Not until Lars craves it.

And when he does, it's sweeter than anything James could have imagined.

His voice is heavy with want, thick with desperation. "Oh god, James," Lars purrs, "fucking driving me crazy. Please, need you inside me. I need you inside me so bad. Need to feel your cock in me. Need to feel it. Need you baby, please."

All fucking bets are off. Lars is lathered enough to easily lube.

James looks at Lars again. Lars looks back at him, lowers his lids, his eyes turn to slits and he pants. Hard.

James slips a suds-covered finger down his crack and into his ass.

He removes it -- smack -- and shoves it back in.

Lars hisses.

He adds another, removes -- smack -- and puts the fingers back in.

Lars whines.

He fingers and scissors inside, over and over, until he's absolutely sure that Lars won't get hurt, that much, at least. When he is sure, he grips Lars' thighs, bites at his collarbone and he thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, until he's in.

Lars chokes on a breath. It hurts. But it hurts so fucking good. James is throbbing inside of him, but barely moving. Not even moving. He's still. He needs him to move. He needs him. Needs.

Then, James begins to massage his cheeks. Towards each other, away, towards, away, as he sinks deeper into Lars.

Lars can't breathe.

James stays latched onto his collarbone sinking in in in until he's all the way in. He's so inside of him he can barely see straight.


Lars bucks so hard, he hits his head on the wall. That would concern James, if his cock wasn't being hugged to the point of suffocation by tight, hot, velvet skin.

He slides out a bit then.

Lars whines.

He slides back in a bit.

He massages his cheeks again. Towards each other, away, towards, away. Picks up a slow pace. Pants as he nuzzles Lars' face.

Lars begs for more with his breath alone.

James slides out a bit, then slams back in. Slams directly into Lars' prostate.


"Faster, James," Lars demands. He hitches on his next breath as he exclaims, "Baby, faster!! Yeah, ooh yeah."

James seats himself deep inside of Lars. Then--


All over again. The feeling of being hugged in the most sinfully tight heat and without thought he's pounding into Lars... he's losing it. He can feel himself losing it. He growls as Lars once again throws his head back, exposing himself.

Skin meets skin and the sound reverberates around the room.

Lars is pressed fully against the wall, mouth hanging open. James finds his voice where Lars has lost his.

"You like that? Huh, baby? You like me inside of you? Huh? You want more? You want faster? You gonna take what I give you? Yeah, yeah you are. You love it. You fuckin’ love it. I know you do, baby, I know."

He throws his own head back at the sudden sharp tug in his balls. His cock is now driving the entirety of the bottom half of his body; forward, backward, forward, backward.

Lars wraps his arms completely around his shoulder and whines, "Jaaames."

That’s all James needs before he is cumming so very hard, shooting into Lars. His cock pulses inside Lars and he shifts so that his cum shoots directly into his prostate the way he knows Lars loves it.

It's rare when Lars can come without being touched. When it does happen this is usually why and it does. He barely registers his cum landing on his chin and chest because he's too surrounded. He's wrapped himself around James so tightly, legs around waist and arms around shoulder and still he feels so surrounded, ungrounded.

James swivels his hips.

Both begin to tremble so hard that James has to lower them both to the floor. They breathe until they can breathe easy.

James kisses his shoulders. Lars lets James' kisses bring him back from where ever his mind has shot off to and he smiles.

"Fuck," Lars murmurs.

James rests his forehead on his shoulder then shifts so that his chin replaces it.

"Yeah," James responds.

Lars presses their temples together.


James cuts him off, "What was that?" and begins to grin.

"Yeah," Lars says. "What was that?"

"Think about it."

Lars purses his lips in thought, furrows his brows, narrows his eyes then his face lights up. He, too, begins to grin. "Today is our anniversary."

James nods as he continues to grin. "Yep. The first time we ever had sex in the shower."

Lars can't help but chuckle as his eyes gloss over in memory. "I remember. I kept saying it was too dangerous, too slippery."

"And I kept saying 'Who cares?' and you were all 'Of course you wouldn't.’ Which, by the way, still hurts." He feigns a look of sadness.

Lars doesn't miss a beat. "I’ll tell you about something that still hurts."

James pulls back with a look of offense, "That's what the massages were for!"

Lars rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Just get me outta here. The water is getting cold."

"Yes, your tiny bossiness." James turns off the water as Lars smacks his arm.

They both laugh.

James stands up first. Then he reaches down to help Lars up. Lars is halfway on his feet when his foot catches on the previously forgotten fallen soap.

James' smile drops instantly.

Lars is okay. He manages to get back on his feet even if his hands shake as he grips James' own. His former smile has been replaced by a look of concentrated annoyance.

Letting go of his hands, James opens the shower door and walks out. Lars can only hear the shit eating grin forming on his face.

"Every movie ever made that you're too high class to watch will tell you: Don't drop the fucking soap.”

Lars face is indignant. "So, it's my fault?!"

James returns to the doorway and he spreads his arms. "Nope, it's mine. I’m just too sexy for my own good."

Lars stomps out of the shower as James walks away laughing.

"Dick," he angrily mutters as he reaches for his bathrobe.

He catches a glimpse of James scratching his ass as he looks for a clean pair of boxers. Mirth re-enters his eyes even as his lips remain pursed, his nose scrunched.

"Sexy dick."


This time he rolls his eyes in humor, that boiling pool of overwhelming desire warmed into an ocean of happy to have as he slips into his bathrobe.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Nov. 4th, 2010 04:19 am (UTC)
hee hee poor lars. fic was hot
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


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