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Got Riff; *FINISHED* Het James /OFC Smut. A lot. And a bit of angst
Topic Started: September 2, 2015, 4:19 pm (4,429 Views)
Dragonlove
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@ Rockfan
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Honey, you turned the most crappy day into a FAB one.


:heart: That's so good to hear, thanks! Happy I could help :D

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I need a cigarette!!!

Ahem, that wasn't intended, sorry (strict non-smoker here)...

@jaymzbabe
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there is a God and its name it's @dragonlove.

Now you've made me blush deepest beet-red, I'm not worthy. Thank you.
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Dragonlove
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Here's the latest - I'll be on a camping trip soon and since I don't know when I'll get the chance to write, let alone post, I thought I'll update while I can.

No kinky smut in this, but still a warning:
Spoiler: click to toggle


Note: Now cross-posted on AO3



Hope you enjoy!




"So, now you're spreading your legs for an ageing rock star, cunt?"

The voice isn't very loud but in the hushed, polite atmosphere of the lobby it has the same effect as Kirk's Enter Sandman-Riff. It hits me like a sucker punch. I can feel all colour draining from my face and my blood runs cold.
Please tell me this is a nightmare. That's not Dara standing there. It can't be. But I know it's not a nightmare and while my brain still tries to get around the fact, my body has already switched into defence mode. Unnecessarily, as it turns out.

In one crowded moment James and Max step in front of me and Fran grabs my hand, pulling me back with Steve shielding her with his body, and the next moment Dara is lying on the ground with a bleeding nose. There isn't even enough time for hotel security to interfere.

"You'll pay for this!" Dara screeches. "All of you! I'll sue you, Hetfield! I'll make you pay!"

"Oh please, be my guest!" James snarls. "We've got more lawyers than you've got brain cells. And if I ever see your face again, you little piece of shit, or you try to get to Annika or anyone else I know, you'll be lucky to meet every single one of them. Got it?"

Never have I heard his voice sound so cold and hostile.

Max takes another small step towards Dara and from the corner of my eyes I can also see the hotel manager hectically motioning for the security guys to take care of him. But Dara scrambles up and gets off before they reach him, his legs almost overtaking the rest of his body.

James turns towards me and pulls me into a bear hug, his lips caressing my temple, his fingers softly threading through my hair, Fran still clutching my hand.
"You're trembling," he states, his voice now soft and concerned.

His kindness is just too much for me right now and I burst into tears.

"Okay, change of plans," Fran announces while I sob into her husband's chest, "I'll order up tea and you're going to tell us what that was all about."

Back in their suite, Fran curls up next to me on the couch and James sits across from us but so close that his knees touch mine, the two of them wordlessly offering comfort while they wait until I collect myself enough to start talking.

"There isn't much to tell, really," I begin, clutching a very damp hanky.
"I got the chance to go to Ireland for one semester when I was at university. So I went. I… I fell in love, got married and stayed."

I pause and Fran silently pushes a cup of tea towards me. I take a sip. It's hot and sweet and oddly comforting. I smile my thanks and Fran pats my knee.

"Then what happened?" James asks softly.

I take a deep breath, then shrug. "Have you ever seen that Julia Robert film where she's married to this psychopath?"

James shakes his head.

"Sleeping with the enemy?" Fran asks.

I nod, recognising the title. "It was a bit like that."

"Good Lord," Fran whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. James looks at her and seeing the horror in her face he turns awfully pale.

He clears his throat. "Did he… did he rape you?" he asks in a very flat voice.

I can see how much it pains him to even think about the possibility so I hasten to reassure him. "No! Thank God, no. He always thought that my sexual appetite was abnormal for a woman, so his way of showing me who was in charge was to *not* have sex with me."

I hesitate, but then I decide to tell the whole story from the beginning. "I guess I never really knew who I got married to. I was too young and too eager to have a family again - or the feeling of belonging to someone, I guess. Dara is a few years older than me. It was perfect when I was still studying, and when I got my degree we both got decently paid jobs in Dublin. I worked as an engineer and Dara was a finance consultant. Soon he wanted me to give up my job. I didn't want to and he became rather... pushy about it. Then economy slumped and he lost his job. So he couldn't really argue about me working any more, since I was the one providing for the both of us."

"I bet he didn't like that," Fran puts in.

"Not one bit," I agree, "he began to pick me up from work. At first I thought it was sweet, but then I realised he did it so he could make sure I went home directly after work. He didn't want me to go out with my co-workers on lunch break. Said we should save the money. But after a while I caught him hanging around the building I worked in. He actually monitored me. He told me what to wear and threw out all the clothes he didn't like on me. He tried to control everything in my life. He checked my cell for text messages and got really, really mad when I told him to stop doing that."

"Why did you stay?" Fran asks, her voice trembling with emotions.

I shrug, looking down at my cup. "I had nowhere else to go," I finally say and look at James. He nods with tears in his eyes and I know he can relate to that lost feeling.
I take another sip of my tea and I realise my hands are trembling. "Then one day, I woke up and he had cut my hair while I was sleeping. Just like that."

I can hear James' sharp intake of breath. I know how much he likes my long locks, since he takes every opportunity to play with them and automatically I run my fingers through my hair as if to check it has grown back all the way past my shoulder blades.

"I was shocked and I was mad, but he just made light of it, acting as if he thought it was some kind of prank. So I tried to calm down and went to the hair dressers and had it cut into a pixie. A few days later, one of my co-workers celebrated his promotion. We all stayed a bit late and had a glass of bubbly together. Dara got furious."

I stop talking, battling with the memory of the most horrible experience in my life. I need a few seconds and when I continue my voice sounds strange to my own ears.

"That night he beat me. Broke my nose... and a few ribs, knocked out two teeth and threatened me with a knife. He... he said he would kill me if I ever disobeyed him like that again." My trembling fingers touch my lips and I half expect to see the pink froth of blood mixed with spittle on my fingertips again. I rub my hand on my jeans to get rid of the memory. "Finally he pushed me into our bathroom, telling me to wash off all that blood. I climbed out of the window and filed for divorce the next day."

"Good for you", Fran says and squeezes my hand, although silent tears are running down her face.

"That wasn't the end of it, though, was it?" James asks grimly. His eyes still have a telltale shine to them.

I sigh deeply. "No, it wasn't. In a way it got even worse. He started stalking me. Spreading rumours about me. Sending anonymous letters to my boss saying I was leaking company secrets or applying for jobs at rival businesses. Although that last one actually resulted in a raise of salary for me", I add with a weak grin and both Fran and James snort at that.

"But it got really ugly. He ordered all kind of things on the internet using my name. Luckily they had advised me to change my bank account immediately when I filed for divorce.
He slit the tires of my car, he... he scrawled "cunt" all over the front door of my house, scratched it into the hood of my car. And I'm pretty sure he broke into my flat, too. He sent dozens of hateful, threatening e-mails and letters. I changed my phone number so many times none of my friends could keep track.
He never attacked me physically again, but not knowing when... or what he would do next was... It turned me into a nervous wreck and finally I left Ireland and came back to Germany. I thought that would be enough. But after a few years he tracked me down again. I went to the police and got a restraining order prohibiting any contact, but you see how much use that is. I even took on my mom's maiden name and still he's found me again."
I slump against the cushions. "I'm so tired of this shit."

"It must have been this bloody pap pics," James says.

"I think James and Max scared him off, darling," Fran says reassuringly.

"I'm beginning to wish we hadn't", James mumbles darkly. "Anyway, there's a pretty good chance he saw the pics and found out where I was staying. Doesn't mean he knows your new name."

I hesitate, looking down on my hands plucking the damp hankie to pieces. I know I should tell them about the letter, but for some reason I'm scared to do so. Finally, I take a deep breath. "I probably should tell you that... I've known he's on my trail again since yesterday."

"What!? How?" James asks sharply. His eyes narrow and there's a frown on his face.

Immediately I wish I had kept that information to myself. Too late now. "I got a letter from him yesterday. The apprentice at the front desk had it sent up to my suite, but she swears she didn't tell him my name."

"And you were going to tell us about that when?" James asks, anger sparking dangerously in his eyes. I shrink back a little.
Fran reaches out to lay a hand on his knee and he calms down a little, even giving her the ghost of a smile. He lets out a deep sigh, rubs his hands over his face and then reaches across to grab both my hands.
"Annika, I know you're used to handle things on your own. But you don't have to this time. We can help. And if he is after you, we have to know. This concerns us, too, now. I meant what I said earlier, you know? From now on, whenever he tries to get to you again, he'll have to face every single lawyer from here to San Francisco. Money is not an issue. Hell, I'll set every law firm in the northern hemisphere on his trail."

"I've got a legal defence insurance," I say weakly.

James looks at me as if I've grown a second nose. Then a grin spreads on his face. "Yeah, I'm sure that'll help."

He stands up then turns to me. "You should tell the police. If he's under a restraining order they've got to know he went against it."

I nod, standing up as well. "I'm sorry he turned up. Now I've ruined our day."

James glares at me. "Don't you dare!" he says through clenched teeth.

"James!" Fran says reprovingly, seeing me tear up again, but James won't be stopped.

"Don't you dare apologise for that fucker. None of this is your fault, you hear me?"
He grabs my shoulders and looks into my eyes intensely. "You are a wonderful woman, you've got a brain inside that pretty head of yours, you've got a wicked sense of humour and a big, brave heart. And Lord knows you're sexy as hell. You deserve none of that." He gently tilts my chin up with his finger. Despite the harsh tone of his voice his kiss is tender, his lips soft against my own.
I close my eyes and feel a tear escape. James brushes it away with his thumb without breaking the kiss.

Fran comes over to us, slips her hand into mine and snakes her arm around James' waist. "You're not going to leave now, are you?" she asks gently.

With some astonishment I realise that the thought never entered my mind. And then I realise something else: since my family died no one has made me feel so at home like Fran and James have, not even Dara in the early days of our marriage. I squeeze Fran's hand. "No. He's not taking this away from me."

She smiles and with her free hand brushes my cheek. "Good."

James gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze and places a kiss on my forehead.

"Still up to hit the stores?" Fran asks blithely. I'm not really in the mood any more, but I don't want to be a spoilsport so I nod despite myself.

Fran claps her hands. "You'll see, nothing better to lift your spirits than spending too much money on pretty things."

I try a smile but I doubt that my bank account is up to the occasion.










Edited by Dragonlove, June 6, 2016, 1:30 pm.
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Rockfan71
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Oooh wow. That was a great piece of writing. We finally have some backstory on her past. And I ADORE how James & guard stepped in to defend her. Though this has potential to blow up in their face but somehow, I don't think they care too much about it. They are a tight knit family with a tight knit entourage/security network around them. And what a relief for Annika to be able to finally tell someone her secrets. They are going to make it just fine!!

Happy Camping my dearest. See you when you get back. :huggie:
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Dragonlove
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Yes, it's been a while... but I haven't abandoned this fic or the board :lol:
Hope some-one's still reading :P
I've lied more than usual in this chapter: Alas, there is no Elie Saab store in Germany. Not yet :)




James' phone literally screams at him and he fishes it out of his pocket with a sigh while I almost jump out of my skin. Fran grins. "That's Lars' personal ring-tone," she explains in a whisper, "Kirk programmed it as a prank but James still hasn't figured out how to change it."

"I'm running late. Apparently the guys are already on their way from the airport. Oh, and Lars booked a table for nine o'clock, so I'll try and be back around seven thirty, okay?" James looks at his watch and pockets his phone again.

He takes my face in both of his hands and gently kisses my lips. "Enjoy yourself, okay?"

I nod and he turns to Fran, kissing her, too.

Originally we had planned to stroll down Ku'damm which is literary just down the street from the hotel, but after the incident with Dara, James put his foot down and insisted we take the car. "And Fran?"

"Yes, darling?" Fran sighs.

"No splitting up, okay? Steve can’t have an eye on both of you if one is trying on shoes and the other goes book shopping or whatever."

"I know, babe. Now be gone with you."

James hugs and kisses both of us again before he grabs his guitars and heads for the lift. "Have fun!"

"You too," we call after him then Fran looks at me with an exasperated sigh. "See? That's what I meant when I said he can get overprotective."

"Well, he does have a point, I guess."

Fran huffs. "I know. The point is he *knows* I know and *still* he needs to spell it out like I'm a five-year old. It's his old need for control, I guess. Sometimes it shows…" she trails off, distracted by her own thoughts.
After a second she gives me a bright smile and loops her arm through mine. "C'mon. Let's see if we can find something pretty."

I can't help feeling a bit sorry for Steve as he follows us through the maze that is the KaDeWe, the iconic department store in Berlin. I've only been here once before, but Fran seems familiar with it and she purposefully heads for the most exclusive boutiques.

The shop assistant, very slim, very blonde, looks as if she's just stepped down from a Vogue cover herself. She gives me a super quick once over and doesn’t seem impressed. But as her eyes zero in on Fran’s Birkin bag, she decides we’re worth her attention anyway. "Willkommen bei Elie Saab. Mein Name ist Nicole. Wie kann ich helfen?" she warbles.

Fran beams at her and puts on her American accent extra thick. "Hi, we're meeting friends for dinner and I don’t think we packed the right outfit."

The shop assistant - Nicole - makes an inviting gesture into the showroom. "Would you like a glass of champagne while I put something together for you to look at?" she suggests, now trying to sound like Lady Mary Crowley.

"Marvellous idea," Fran chirps and, winking at me, pulls me with her. For once, Steve seems relieved to stay behind.

"Now, do you have anything particular in mind? What kind of outfit are you looking for?" As she brushes back her wheat blonde hair, half a dozen bangles jingle on her arm.

She's definitely starting to go on my nerves, fast. Taking a page out of Fran's book I exaggerate my Irish brogue as I answer.
"Sophisticated with a touch of fuck you, I'd say. What do you think, Fran?"

"Couldn't have said it better," Fran answers with a broad grin.

The assistant is professional enough not to let it show but I'm pretty sure she's sighing inwardly.
"I'm sure we'll find something adequate."
Nicole gives a little wave and another beautiful and stylish woman appears, carrying a tray with two glasses.

I notice the blonde doesn't ask our sizes and I wonder if she's really that good, but then I guess they only sell model sized fashion anyway.

Either way she doesn't take long before she reappears, pushing a small garment rack with about half a dozen outfits.

"Okay, you said dinner with friends so I thought we'd go for something chic but not too elegant. And I thought we could emphasise your complementary colouring." She pulls out a short black dress with a seventies-inspired slightly psychedelic pattern in red and purple. "This one for you..." she leaves the sentence hanging in the air while she offers the dress for Fran's inspection.

Fran leaves the sentence hanging long enough to become slightly uncomfortable before graciously giving her first name. "Francesca. And no, I don't think so. That's more something for my oldest daughter. I'm too... grown up for that."

"Okay, what about this one?" Nicole pulls a deep blue long-sleeved dress off the rack. It's got a slightly flared, knee-length skirt and a lace pattern on top and sleeves that looks like inverted angel's wings.

"That's more like it," Fran instantly says.

Nicole smiles and drapes the dress over another rack. "And for you," she says looking at me, "I thought this..." and she pulls out a chili red one-piece suit with wide legs and lace-covered cut-outs in the top that blend into the full length lace sleeves.

If I was standing, I would back up now. Not only do I rarely wear bright red, more importantly I could never afford Elie Saab. Accompanying Fran is one thing, but actually trying on something might be pushing things a bit too far for me.

Fran on the other hand seems enthusiastic. "Now, this is perfect for you Annika!"
She furrows her brow as she sees me hesitate. She doesn't ask but grabs both outfits and pulls me off the sofa.

Nicole instantly guides us to the changing room. "If you need my assistance, I'll be right outside the door," she says as she opens the door to a smaller but no less luxuriously furnished room.

"Fran, I could never afford this," I whisper hotly as soon as Nicole has closed the upholstered door behind her. "Outfits with no price tags definitely cost more than I earn in a month."

"What are you talking about? I tagged you along, so it's my treat."

"But I could never pay you back! And James has already paid for the hotel..."

"Sheesh!" Fran rolls her eyes at me. "Stop being so... so... so German. Your gift to us is worth so much more than money. At least let me do this for you." And she thrusts the red suit into my hands.

Still doubtful I look from the outfit to her expectant face. Suddenly her lips stretch into a leer. "Want me to undress you?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows like a cartoon character.

I laugh and give in, kicking off my shoes. "Atta girl," Fran grins and pulls her sweater over her head.

Neither of us bothers to get behind one of the folding screens, since that would feel really strange after the last couple of days. By now, I don't hesitate to zip up Fran's dress while I'm just in bra and panties.
"I like it," Fran says, smoothing the skirt down.

"You should. It's beautiful. Matches your eyes, too."

Fran does a small turn in front of the mirror, checking her profile. "Yep. I think that'll do. Now it's your turn."
She helps me into the outfit and pulls the zipper in the back all the way up.
"Wow, look at you!"

I look at my image in the mirror and cringe. I can hardly recognise myself.
The woman looking back at me now looks like vamp, only sans the make-up.
Since I'm quite tall for a woman I already get too much attention for my liking a lot of the time. So I am used to rather dress down than make myself stand out even more in a crowd. But there is definitely no way to avoid attention with this outfit.
"You think? Isn't it a bit... too much?"

"Are you kidding? You look stunning! It really brings out your Snow White-look. Nicole!"

The door instantly opens and Nicole comes in, a wide smile on her face. "I knew it! You look amazing," she says, forgetting about her Mary Crowley impersonation. She comes over to me and brushes and invisible lint off my shoulder. "It will look even better with the right make-up and a strapless bra."

"And I know just the place to get the latter," Fran whispers to me with a wink.

Quickly we change back into our own clothes and as Fran arranges for the outfits to be send to the hotel, I can't help but notice that the credit card she hands over to Nicole is black.
I've never seen one with my own eyes, but Nicole doesn't even blink.

Back in the car Fran turns to me as soon as we're moving. "I know you like it a bit rough sometimes, but have you ever... taken things further?"

"Ventured into BDSM-land you mean?" I'm curious what she'll reveal. After the last few days I know that both Fran and James are much more adventurous in bed than I have been so far.

Fran chuckles. "If you want to put it like that."

"I've played with handcuffs occasionally, but nothing more. You?"

"Not for quite a while, but I think James needs to let off some steam. Remember this morning when I said his old need for control was coming through?"

As I nod she continues, "Sometimes, his need for control pushes him too far, too close to the edge. Back in the days he would drink himself into a stupor, but we've found a healthier - and much more fun way - to deal with that. He needs to have control taken away from him, or he'll snap. So I take over."

I cock my head and raise my brows. "I'd have thought that forcing him into a situation he can't control would only make him snap sooner."

Fran smiles. "I bet it would. But I don't *force* him into anything. I'm offering, is all. I'm offering to take over for a while, to take care of him, to be the giving part, the one who decides what comes next. I'm giving him the opportunity to worry about nothing but his own feelings. I take him out of his comfort zone but only as far as he lets me. I may be the active part in this, but he knows – and that's vital – he can stop me with just one word. You see, it's always about trust. Him trusting me to stop when he says the word and me trusting him to actually say it when he needs me to stop."

I nod. "That's why I've never explored further. I've never reached that level of trust."

Fran holds my gaze. "Would you like to try? With us?"

For some strange reason I can feel goosebumps spreading on my arms. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Fran looks out of the window as the car slows down. Smiling, she turns to me again. "I'll show you in just a few."

We stop in front of a small shop called "Frauenzimmer". The shop windows show a display of lingerie ranging from elegant to bold.
"Kirk's wife first told me about this joint. I bet we'll find the right bra for you here. And then... we'll have a look at the things they sell in the back-room."
Fran winks at me and pushes the door open. Steve gives a small sigh, and gestures for me to go ahead.




As we return from our shopping spree, Lars and James are in the living area, their heads bowed over the set list for tomorrow's show.
"Hey!"
James comes over to us and Lars stands up, too, his hands pushed deeply into his pockets.

James greets Fran with a tender yet thorough kiss. Then, winking at her, he turns to me, an evil smile tugging at his lips, before he greets me the same way. Fran giggles and I can practically hear Lars' jaw hit the floor. His eyes the size of dessert plates he mumbles "Fuck!"

"Hi Lars," Fran says cheerfully, hugging him, while Lars keeps staring at James and me. Finally, he hugs her back, kissing her cheek. "Hi sweetie."


He shakes my hand as James introduces us, but the look in his eyes is unreadable for me and he seems strangely tense.

Fran gathers our small "Frauenzimmer"-bags in one hand and pulls me with her into the bedroom.

While Fran and I store away our loot we can hear the voices in the living room getting louder. "Why are you being so anal about that?" Lars complains.

"Because you know I'm right and you're just being too much of a dick to admit it," James answers only slightly calmer.

We can hear Lars huffing and Fran grins at me. "They can still set each other off like nothing else. James will be so ready for our special tonight..."

Lars mumbles something and James' voice is getting sharper. "C'mon, Lars, you don't care that much about the stupid opening song. What's this really all about?"

"Oh, fuck, Hetfield, don't act so fucking innocent - you bring your fricking mistress along? You think that's fair on Fran?"

I tense and look and Fran, afraid he's got a point there. Fran only lightly shakes her head and puts a gentle hand on my arm as we both keep listening.

"I've told you before, and I'll tell you again now: Stay out of my love life, Ulrich," James answers with a forced calmness.

Lars lets out a mirthless chuckle. "Love life? Oh, this is getting better and better! You mean it's not just about the sex?"

My heart stops for a moment, before jumping into my throat, hammering like a double-base. I don't dare looking at Fran in this moment.
Just from his voice I can tell James is blushing. "I... it's... Fuck, I'm not even discussing this with you, it's none of your business."

My shock must be clearly visible on my face as Fran giggles. "C'mon, silly, don't tell me you didn't notice he's falling for you. Hell, I think I'm falling for you and I'm not even bi," she whispers, smiling.

"Oh my God," I sigh and squeeze her hand. "I've been trying - so hard - not to fall - for either of you." I'm so relieved that a silly giggle escapes me.

"Fine," Lars hisses on the other side of the door, "but don't come running to me when Fran finally dumps you for good. Man, you've put her through hell before and now you put her up with that chick..."

"Cut it out, Lars. It was Fran's idea in the first place."

"It was..."

I guess it's not often that one witnesses Lars Ulrich lost for words. Fran decides not to miss the rare opportunity and opens the door, still holding my hand.
"It's sweet of you, Lars, but there's nothing to worry about." She shrugs with a grin. "What can I say? I like to watch and you've got to admit, Annika's hot."

For a moment, Lars just stares at her wide-eyed, then quickly glances at me and back at her. Then he shakes his head and looks at James. "I swear to God I don't know what you've done to deserve her, Het."

James sighs. "Believe me, dude, I've been asking myself the exact same question for years."

Fran smiles and runs her hand through his hair. "And I hope you'll keep doing that for a very long time."









Edited by Dragonlove, September 10, 2016, 9:29 am.
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jaymzbabe
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:biggrin 😊😊😊☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ 🙋🙋🙋🙋 I'm still here 🙋🙋🙋🙋🙋 and I'm so excited to see this update, I love the interaction between the three of them and James falling in love with her 😘😘😘 I love it, hope you can update soon!!!!
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Rockfan71
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You are BACK!!!

This was AWESOME!!!!
I love how this little threesome is falling for one another. And Lars. My little Larsy-Poo is just a tad jealous!!

Gimme more!!!


Please!??! :huggie:
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HellHathNoFury
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This story makes me want to sleep with Fran and James. Seriously. They seem like they'd be so much fun :D

Also, I love that you updated. I wanna go lingerie shopping now after that :)
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Dragonlove
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Again, much later than I intended, and rather short, this is the first part of a longer chapter that I split up to just get me posting again and to keep me from re-writing the whole chapter for the umptienth time :rolleyes: Hope you enjoy!




"You, Mister, need a haircut," Fran says, ruffling James' hair as he bows down to tie the laces of his black sneakers.

James grins at me and ostentatiously rolls his eyes.

I give him a wink and a smile. "I like your hair like that. But your beard could use a trim."

"See, Annika likes it like that," James grins, conveniently ignoring the second half of my statement. He combs his hair back in shape with his fingers and very maturely sticks his tongue out at Fran.

Ignoring her husband's antics, Fran gives me a mock glare. "You say that now. But give it another week and he'll start slicking it back with that dreadful gel and that makes him look like a drowned cat."

Her obvious disapproval makes my smile grow into a wide grin. "Fine by me. In a week I won't be around to see that." I say with a half-shrug, managing to make it sound much more light-hearted than I feel.
Truth be told I don't want to think about going back to work only three days from now. Back to my life without James and Fran in it. These past days have been an emotional roller coaster, and I've cried more in the last 48 hours than I have in years, but somehow calmer waters don't appeal.

I shriek with surprise as James grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. "Please can we keep her?" he asks Fran, giving her his best puppy eyes.

"Hey!" I push against his chest, while trying to wriggle out of his hold, "let go of me you big brute. You've already got one gorgeous woman, stop being so greedy." No use to let on I don't want to accept the inevitable.

Fran smiles at us but I can see the pensive look in her eyes.




Ten minutes later we're in the car on our way to meet the guys at the restaurant.

As the car turns the last corner I suddenly understand why Fran took me out shopping. I'm not a keen follower of social events, but even I have heard of this restaurant as one of Germany's true celebrity hotspots. I've also heard that you have to book a table at least six weeks in advance. But then I guess a black credit card gets you in front of many lines. And thanks to Fran I don't even feel under-dressed. I snuggle a bit deeper into James' biker jacket he's lend me - again – to add the required "touch of fuck you" to my outfit.

We escape curious eyes by driving round to the side entrance and once we've left the car we're quickly ushered inside and up a flight of stairs. The maître d' guides us through a small but exquisitely furbished hallway, past the most beautiful dining room I've ever seen and into a room that would best be called a library if it wasn't part of a restaurant. It's then I realise that Lars hasn't booked a table but the whole floor.


I can see that Rob and Kirk are already there, both nursing a drink and chuckling over something that Rob said. They raise their heads as we approach and my heart beats faster with unease. Neither of them seems surprised. James must have told them I'd be coming along. Or did Lars say something?
Both Kirk and Rob greet Fran with a friendly hug and then turn to me. James lays his hand on my shoulder. "Guys, this is Annika." He gently squeezes my shoulder before releasing it.

Rob is a bit shorter than I expected, but my hand vanishes completely inside his larger one as he shakes it with a warm smile and a simple "Hi".

I immediately understand what Fran meant when she told me not to worry about these two. Rob radiates so much calm that I bet his kids never needed a pacifier. And Kirk, well, he's been keeping James and Lars off each other's throats for so many years he should have been awarded the Nobel Peace Price decades ago.

"Nice to meet you," Kirk says with a small smile.

"My pleasure," I answer, nervously tugging my hair behind my ear.
Kirk's smile widens and he hugs me in the same friendly, warm way as Fran. "James says your into yoga. What style do you prefer?"

"Uhm, I can't really say. I guess I pick from a lot of styles. Vinyasa a lot, but also Iyengar," I stammer. From all the things I've expected to happen, a discussion on yoga theory was pretty low on the list, way below crude remarks about groupies or gold diggers.

Before I know it I'm in the middle of an animated discussion about eastern philosophy, yoga and Buddhism. Kirk is very knowledgeable about all three topics and I find myself completely relaxed and enjoying myself until the energy in the room suddenly changes. Kirk notices, too, and he gently touches my elbow and winks at me. "Don't let him bully you," he whispers.
I'm grateful for Kirk's support but I'm already determined that I won't be intimidated by somebody almost two heads shorter than me.

But it doesn't seem like Lars wants to intimidate me. He just ignores me for most of the time, until suddenly, half way through the delicious main course, he turns towards me.
"Sometimes I think eating is just as much as fun as sex. Don't you agree... Annika?" Lars smirks at me.

I'm not sure I like the challenging undertone in his voice and I can see James arching an eyebrow at his friend. "I'd say that depends on the quality of both the food and the sex," I answer calmly. "And anyway, I wouldn't deliver a judgement before..." I pause and look straight into his mischievous eyes, "I've had my dessert."

There's a short tension laden pause before Lars starts cackling and everyone else joins in. "Good one," Lars nods and salutes me with his wine glass.

"What was that all about?" I whisper to James.

"He wanted to see if you're easy to embarrass. He would have made a sport of teasing you."



"What song would you want us to play, Annika?" Kirk asks me, picking up the earlier topic of the conversation again.

Usually I would need time to decide since there are so many Metallica songs I love. But thinking back to this morning's events the choice is easy. "Don't tread on me."
Underneath the table, James squeezes my knee. I knew he'd understand immediately.

Rob laughs. It sounds like a minor landslide. "I don't think I remember playing that, like...ever."

"That's your favourite Talli-song? Fuck, I don't even know if I remember how to play that one. Must have been ages," Lars splutters, almost choking on his wine.

"Nah, my favourite song's probably Fuel," I say, sharing a grin with Fran, "But I guess there's a good chance that's already on the set list."

" 'sides, I don't see anybody treading on you. Not without getting their ankles bitten, anyway," Lars grins.

It's not exactly an apology, but I can recognise a peace-offering when I hear one. I laugh and raise my glass to him. It seems I've convinced the Danish Dictator I'm neither a threat nor a pushover. "I'm glad you think so."

For the rest of the dinner, Lars seems a lot more relaxed. I don't know what kind of test he thought he had to put me through, but I've obviously passed and he is now as easy going and friendly towards me as towards everybody else.
He doesn't even pester me when I decline the offer of more wine. "No thanks, I've had enough," I say as the waiter moves to refill my glass.

Lars' green eyes twinkle with mischief as he glances from me to James and back. "Fine, have it your way. More wine for the rest of us," he smirks.

James just rolls his eyes, but Fran smirks back at him. "I do hope you enjoy it," her voice so full of innuendo it almost makes me blush.

Rob laughs out loud and Kirk cackles. "Oh, the look on your face, Uli!"


It's almost midnight as we leave the restaurant. "Don't wear him out, girls. We've got a show to do tomorrow," Lars says as we part ways. He hugs James good night. "You're one lucky bastard, Het."

James pats his back. "I know."








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jaymzbabe
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:nanner: :nanner: 🤘🤘🤘🤘👏👏❤️❤️❤️
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Rockfan71
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YOU ARE BAAAAAAACK!!!!
YAY!!!
:nanner: :nanner: :nanner:
:huggie: :huggie: :huggie:

Can you tell I missed you!
And the :bed: :lick: :bed: :blush: :bed:
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Dragonlove
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Good to see you're still with me @jaymzbabe and @rockfan. My apologies for the absence of :bed: and my promise to make up for it in the next part :biggrin
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Bring t on, baby!!!
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Dragonlove
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My muses tricked me into writing this part. Go write some kink, they said. It'll be fun, they said. Never mind that I know next to nothing about this and it's not exactly something you can research while being at the office. Also, not so easy to do at home if you don't want to give your boyfriend any funny ideas. Anyways, half a year and one hard drive meltdown later, here is the latest. Hope you enjoy!

Warning:
Spoiler: click to toggle



As soon as the suite door closes behind us, James pulls me close for a heated kiss, his hands fumbling for the zip at the back of my one-piece. While he quickly pulls it down I can see Fran's hands snake around his torso from behind to unbutton his black dress shirt.
James reaches back with one hand to run it along Fran's flank.
I take a small step backwards to wriggle out of my suit and kick off my heels and James turns fully towards Fran to take off her dress, too.
"Lars is right," he says as he lets his eyes travel hungrily over both Fran and me. "I *am* a lucky bastard."

He reaches out to pull us close again, but Fran takes a step back pulling me with her.
"Uh-huh," she shakes her head with a small, sinful smile. "You've got to wait here for a bit. We've got a surprise for you."

James pouts. "What? You wanna start without me?"

Laughing I nod towards the bulge in his pants. "Seems you rather like that thought."

Fran's smile widens. "Give us ten minutes."

James sighs and hangs his head dramatically. "You do know you'll have to make it up to me, right?"

Fran blows him a kiss. "Promise."

She pulls me with her into the bedroom and we quickly prepare the scene. I take a quick look into the adjoining bathroom and there's indeed a bottle of iced champagne in a cooler waiting next to the tub. I grin as I take the bottle out. That's the one thing we won't need tonight.

Meanwhile Fran has set on lightning the countless candles in the room, including three pillar candles in white, bright red and burgundy she places on the bedside table.

"Why the different colours?" I ask.
Fran grins. "The darker the candle, the hotter the wax," she explains.

I shake my head with a smile. "The things I learn from you."


James inhales sharply as he steps into the bedroom, already stark naked. I can see his nostrils flare and his hands twitch, like an animal sensing danger. If I had still had any doubts, now I'd know that he's not unfamiliar with this setting.
He's taken in the scene with one look. The dimmed light, the lit candles, the space blanket spread on the bed, the coils of rope on top of that.

Fran walks up to him, caressing his face with a gentle hand.
"Trust me," she prompts, her words a mere reminder of established facts.

"Always," James answers simply.

"And do you trust Annika?"

James turns to look at me. He swallows and nods. A warm feeling of pride spreads through my entire body. I know that like myself, James isn't one to trust easily.

With her hand on his chin, Fran turns James' face to herself again. "Good, then lie on your back on the bed. *Now*, James." Her voice is soft but here is no mistaking the edge of steel in it.

Still, James hesitates, holding her eyes with his own.

Fran doesn't blink as she sinks her long nails into the muscle of his thigh, causing James to wince. But I'm certain I can also see the ghost of a smile pass between them.
The space blanket rustles softly as James lies down, his eyes darting from Fran to me and back. I can see goose bumps spreading on his arms and chest.

Fran moves slowly to sit on the edge of the bed. Again she caresses his face, bows down for a gentle, almost chaste kiss. "Remember the word?" she asks softly.

"Quidditch," James answers, his voice barely audible.
I have to bite my lips and look away to keep myself from laughing out loud. Quidditch? Why, thank you. Now I'll never look at Harry Potter the same way again.

Fran, however, seems satisfied with his answer.

They share another kiss while Fran reaches for the rope. She uncoils it and lets the end trail over his ribcage and I can see James shivering. Anticipation? Nerves?

"We're going to tie your wrists down with this, okay?"

James nods, his eyes never leaving Fran as she reaches for his hand. Her movements are slow and deliberate, giving him the opportunity to observe what she's doing.
Like dealing with a spooked horse. The thought makes me smile, until I realise I've been watching, spellbound, while I should be there on James' other side.
Taking Fran's lead I approach them slowly, running my fingertips up his long leg and hip until I can gently grasp his wrist.

James turns his head to watch me wrap the rope around his wrist a few times before fastening it with a quick-release knot.
While I secure the other end to the bedpost, Fran fetches the shaving kit. James' eyes seem to be glued to the straight razor and he swallows hard. I can't say I blame him.
Fran on the other hand seems perfectly calm and confident. "Still okay, babe?" she asks with a small smile.
James tugs on the restrains, testing them. The muscles in his arms and wrists strain visibly, but the rope doesn't give. "Yeah," he answers in a low voice.
I can see his cock twitch as it begins to grow.

As much as I love to feel his strong hands on my skin, seeing him like this - his raw power tamed by our bounds and even more by his seemingly unending trust in both of us - is an extreme turn on.
I reach for the shaving foam and set on spreading the white fluff on James' chest and stomach. He flinches a bit at the first contact and again I'm not sure if it's nerves or the coldness of the foam.
Thank God Fran's hands are steady as she begins to shave James' broad chest with even strokes. Obviously she's done this before.
As she's finished her job of scratching almost every hair off James' front, Fran wipes the razor clean one last time and carefully sets it down on the bedside table. Then she reaches under the second pillow and tugs out the black silk scarf.

I can almost hear her unspoken question for James' consent. In answer, he merely lifts his head to make it easier for Fran to fasten the blindfold.
The emotion between them makes me shiver and I feel extremely humbled that they are comfortable with my being a part of this.

While Fran makes sure that James' eyes are completely covered, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, I slip into the bathroom to get the champagne cooler. The ice cubes clink together as I pick up the cooler. I can only hope James doesn't recognise the sound right away. Making as little noise as possible I get back into the bedroom and wink at Fran. She nods at me and raises from the bed.

"Hey, are you two making out while I can't watch?" James protests.

We share a grin and Fran runs a fingernail from his sternum down to his navel. "That idea turns you on, doesn't it?" she purrs.

"Fuck, Fran." James' voice peters out as he squirms under her touch.
Fran gently lays a finger on his lips. "Shh, babe," she whispers softly, sealing his lips with her own.
With James suitably distracted it's safe for me to set down the ice and pick up the massage oil. I carefully dip my finger in the small metallic bowl to check the temperature. The liquid feels warm and smooth on my fingertip. It's a sexy feeling and my smile widens.

As Fran straightens up again she nods at me and I tip the small bowl a little, slowly trickling the warm oil onto James' skin. I can see the muscles in his abdomen contract with surprise but he quickly relaxes again, letting out a soft moan.

Carefully I dripple a bit more liquid onto his torso until the scented oil forms a little pool in the concave of his stomach. Before James' heavy breathing can disturb the oil both Fran and I set on spreading the warm liquid on his skin and James arches into our touches moaning under his breath.

I wonder if he's able to tell our touches apart. Fran wears her fingernails longer than I do, does that make her hand feel different on his skin? Are her caresses so familiar that he recognises them even when he's blindfolded? Are mine?

We take our time spreading the oil on James' skin until his body glistens in the soft candle light. He's closed his fingers around the rope so tightly, his knuckles have turned white. His cock, still untouched, is fully erect now.
It's easily the most erotic display I've ever seen.

Running my hands up his torso I bow down to kiss him. His lips instantly open and he hungrily kisses me back with a growl, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth.

Finally Fran wipes her hands on a wash cloth and reaches for the white candle on the bedside table. Holding it almost one meter above James' body she tilts it until the melted wax drips onto James' chest.

Arching up he hisses at the first contact, before the pained sound turns into one of lustful pleasure.

I watch with fascination while fishing inside the champagne cooler for an ice cube. The little buggers keep slipping through my fingers but finally I manage to hold onto one and I slowly circle it around James' nipple. James gasps out a moan and flinches under the coldness of the touch, squirming as much as his bounds allow.

Fran lowers the candle and drips a path of wax down the inside of his left arm. The muscles in his arms locked, James tilts his head back as he lets out another hiss-groan. His cock is constantly leaking now and Fran exchanges the white candle for the red one.

I fish out another ice cube to run it along his hip and down the inside of his thigh. Again he flinches and then quickly forces himself to relax, only to squirm and groan as the first red droplets of wax land on his stomach.

"Please," James whispers hoarsely as he arches against his restrains.

I take a deep breath, but Fran just smiles and slithers up his body.

"Yes, Jamie?" she purrs.

"Please let me come... I need... fuck...please..."

Hearing James beg for his release, his usually so powerful voice a mere hairbreadth away from breaking, is almost enough to push me over the edge.

Fran looks at me with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I want to take charge. But I shake my head. I have a feeling this should stay between the two of them.

She smiles, reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers. Seeing what she has in mind I nod with an answering smile.
Together we wrap our hands around James' hard cock. He instantly bucks up, while Fran undoes his blindfold with her free hand. James' wide eyes zero in on our joined hands and he groans loudly.

"Yes... fuck! Yes!"

It only takes two more strokes and he arches up and climaxes with a long, deep groan loud enough to make me fear Max will break down the door any second.

Fran lets go of my now sticky hand and bows down to give James a deep kiss. "I'll be right back," she whispers against his lips and gets up to go into the bathroom.

James is still breathing hard and I realise that while we've done all kinds of things, I still haven't tasted him. I kneel up and hold his gaze as I bring my right hand up to my mouth to lick the salty and slightly bitter essence off my fingers while reaching inside my panties with my left.

"Fuck, Annika," James pants, "you're gonna kill me."

I smile around the fingers in my mouth. James doesn't even blink while he watches me bringing myself off with only the lightest touch to my throbbing clit.

Fran reappears just as I let my now come-free fingers slip from my mouth. She grins as she lets a damp wash-cloth drop on the night-stand. "No more need for that, I see."
She sits down on the edge of the bed and runs a gentle hand over James' wax and oil-covered chest. "Let's get you untied and cleaned up, baby."

As I untie the knots of the rope I can see that James' struggle has made the soft fabric chafe the skin on his wrists and dig into his flesh. Pink bruises are already beginning to show. Underneath his tats the marks are hardly visible but they make me wonder how often his wristbands have been hiding more than ink on stage.







Edited by Dragonlove, December 13, 2016, 12:58 pm.
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jaymzbabe
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🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋❤️❤️❤️❤️ I absolutely love this update, it's so powerful yet so hot and the trust that he has in both is amazing. I hope you can update very soon 😊😊😊❤️❤️
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Rockfan71
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Holy shit!
That was so Stupid of me! Now I am all hot and bothered with no place to go! LOL!!
No, seriously Hun. That was amazing. I can see how research would have been very difficult for you both at work and at home.
Quidditch.... yeah....that changed life forever. I bet Harry and Ginny never did this...who am I kidding: there must be a fanfic out there.

Hun, this was amazing. Luvzzz you and please keep writing!!
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