THE SIGN'S OUT
An Empire Records fanfiction
joska the gypsy
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A.J. sat under the familiar neon mass of the M, under the sign that didn't work. He hated to admit it, but he was sulking.
Stupid… I'm such an idiot.
He ran a hand through his hair, mentally wondering what cigarettes were like and if they would help in this kind of situation.
Joe was right.
A.J. paused, and reconsidered the manager's words. Never mind. Scratch that. Joe had said to just say 'I love you.' A.J. snorted. Some plan that had been.
He heard the door to the roof open, and he groaned, putting his face in his hands. "Leave me alone."
"Nah," was the answer. A.J. could hear the vague grin. At least it wasn't Corey.
"Berko… please… just leave me alone."
Berko's heavy footfalls chinked over, and then the other teenager sat—no, plopped—down beside him, leaning forward slightly, grinning at him. "Cummon man. How'd it go?"
"Terrible. Awful. Shit."
Berko's grin stretched, if it was possible. "You're startin' to sound like Deb, man."
A.J. sent him a glare, rubbing his forehead agitatedly and once more mussing his hair.
"Don't freak out, man. Maybe the Harvard type ain't for you."
"Then… Then what is for me, man?!" said A.J. suddenly, with more than a little heat. He stood up, and started pacing around, gripping his temple. "What is for me?! I'm… I'm stuck here forever! Me! A.J.! The stupid best friend!! It's ridiculous! We try and try and try and all we get is—"
"Really, dude, you sound like Deb. You're freakin' the shit outta me."
"Could you at least try to be sensitive?!" said A.J. hotly.
"I don't even know how to spell sensitive," said Berko, almost proudly.
A.J. stared at him. "You really don't care about anything, do you?"
"Nah," said Berko, grinning and shaking his head.
"Berko—"
"Look, man," said Berko, standing up a bit wobbly, looking A.J. in the eyes, "you can't get all depressed, man. N' whatever you do, don't shave your head." He reached out with a vague grin and touched the curly lock next to A.J.'s cheek. "I like your hair."
"I like yours too," said A.J., uneasily.
"You don't need her, dude," said Berko, cocking his head to one side. "Come on. Move on. Get over it."
"But—"
"Come on…" Berko cocked his head to one side, hand dropping from A.J.'s hair to his sleeve, and then running down the other teenager's arm. A.J. shivered at the touch. "Get over it, man. Think of it like music—the song's over and dude, the next one's intro is fucking awesome."
"Nice allegory," muttered A.J., eyes trailing with Berko's hand.
"But you've never heard it before," continued Berko, "you know the band, but the music's not quite clickin' in the familiarity zone, dude."
"Why are you suddenly so poetic?" wondered A.J. aloud, still eyeing him cautiously.
"'Cause," said Berko lightly, hand closing around A.J's wrist. "I'm a starving musician. You gotta have some sense of lyricals."
"I don't get what your lyrics are saying," said A.J., wetting his lips.
"Read into it a bit, dude," said Berko, grinning, tugging on A.J.'s wrist and making the other boy stumble against him with a yelp. Next thing A.J. knew, his mouth was clamped up against Berko's, rather suddenly.
"Berko—!!" He jerked away, staring at the other boy in shock, not quite understanding the sensation.
"Let go, man," murmured Berko, leaning forward, and kissing him again, more roughly.
A.J. felt a tongue shoved hard against his and soon after, something else just as hard pushed violently against him a bit lower down. He stumbled back helplessly, his back rammed into metal piping and neon tubes.
And strangely enough A.J. didn't mind.
Berko leaned against him, the pressure incredible. Berko pushed one hand against A.J.'s collarbone, licking right up his chin and over his lips.
A.J. wasn't sure exactly what he was getting himself into.
The neck of Berko's guitar—at least A.J. half-hoped it was the guitar—brushed against the side of A.J.'s thigh. A.J. was insanely tempted to run his fingers up the smooth tight arc of the zebra-print guitar strap. A.J. hated that stupid thing. It was so tacky, even past art-kid standards. But the guitar was still practically another part of Berko, and now, that fell in the category of the appealing parts of Berko.
All one big fat tease.
Just like Berko.
Their lips hovered apart, barely an inch from each other, and Berko still had the same facial expression.
"How long have we been tight, A.J.?" he murmured.
"I… I dunno," said A.J., the tension near too much. He felt the telltale tingling in his navel and let out an involuntary shiver when Berko pushed harder against his collarbone. The wind was wild in Berko's feral hair, and A.J. wondered what it was like to run his hands through it and kiss it and feel it against his skin.
"So we're friends," purred Berko, running his lips against A.J.'s. A.J. felt very girly indeed when he let out the strangled crack of a moan.
It made Berko laugh under his breath.
"Stop laughing, man," said A.J., flushing so red he felt the heat. Berko just grinned at him, and in one smooth motion crushed their hips together, making A.J. jerk.
Berko giggled.
"Virgin."
A.J. flushed a second time. "Am not."
"With a dude?" Berko's tongue found its way against A.J.'s light peach fuzz, and then up near his ear. A.J., for lack of something to do, dug his fingers into Berko's what-could-hardly-be-called-a-shirt.
Berko's teeth clipped against his neck, and A.J. let out a shaky breath, barely holding back the moan he knew Berko would laugh at. He tilted his head to hide the slight wince before it started to feel good, but completely different from anything he'd felt with a girl.
Berko grunted lowly, starting to move his hips against the other teenagers, smiling into A.J.'s neck when he felt the friction take its effect.
"Unh, yeah…" he grunted
A.J. shuddered. "B-Berko—!"
Berko's kisses into his neck picked up, and then there was a hand between his legs.
A.J. jerked and broke the kisses. "B-Berko! We're on the roof—!"
"So?" Berko laughed, pushing him back against the sign with his hips. A.J. winced when the other teen's hard shaft rammed into his hip bone, but shuddered at just how hard Berko was.
"Shit, Berk—"
"Yeah…"
Berko's hand worked itself slightly, quickly finding a tight hold on A.J.'s intimates. A.J.tilted his head back. "God—!" He couldn't help but move his hips, impulses taking over, rubbing his crotch against Berko's rock-hard groin.
It wasn't long until Berko's hand found buttons and zippers and pockets, and soon after, it found boxers. A.J. had no idea what to at this point. It had never occurred to him that something of this nature would ever happen to him and let alone that the driving force behind it would be Berko. He finally gave in to the temptation to run his hand up the guitar strap and around Berko's muscular shoulders, threading his fingers into Berko's hair. Berko panted into the younger boy's neck as he expertly undid the vest and pulled it off.
A.J. panicked, and more than a little. "B-Berk…"
"It's just a little fun," panted Berko, biting A.J.'s ear. A.J. simply melted into it after that, wondering what the hell he was getting into.
Deep shit, that was what.
Berko's hand slipped against bare skin inside the red boxers; his touch raised goosebumps on A.J.'s skin. But Berko wasn't much for foreplay—he was ready enough as it was, tongue hanging out like he was stoned hard as he ground his hips roughly into A.J.'s.
Berko's hand crushed tighter against A.J.'s stiffening member when his hip bone clamped harder against the other boy's. A.J. felt Berko grab him by his shirt and half-push half-toss him against the concrete, pushing his mouth against A.J.'s throat.
"God—!" A.J. struggled for a comfortable position but was half-thinking the pain in his muscles was totally worth the feelings in his groin. Berko tore open his fly, then pulled A.J.'s jeans to mid-thigh, straddling A.J.'s legs. He sat up off him, edging forward and then started to ride, pulling A.J.'s shirt up while the other teenager was left to writhe, buck, and suffer under him. Berko struggled out of his pants with some difficulty, and pulled the shirt off over A.J.'s head so violently that something ripped. A.J. opened his mouth indignantly.
"That was my favorite shirt--!"
"I hate that shirt," said Berko, smirking at him as he peeled off the rest of their clothes, giggling. "Aw, A.J., it's cute."
A.J. reddened considerably, looking away, deciding he'd keep his dignity and not say anything.
Berko leaned forward, kissing him lightly, then roughly, then running a wet long tongue down A.J.'s chest. A.J. jerked, putting his hand against Berko's hair. "Forget her, man," purred Berko, starting up the teasing rubbing again. A.J. moaned, voice cracking, holding onto Berko for dear life.
"B-Berk, man, we don't have a condom or anything—"
"Haa," said Berko, grinning, and pulling his jeans over, producing a crumpled package, "Berko comes prepared for anything."
"How old is that thing?" said A.J., swallowing.
"Day or two," said Berko, ripping it open, "I replace 'em once I use one."
A.J. shuddered and looked away when Berko's hand slipped over his—well, thing, slipping the condom on smoothly. A.J. twisted restlessly, wetting his lips, more than a little terrified.
"Don't freak out," murmured Berko, and A.J. felt a certain something brush against his interest lightly.
A.J. put a hand on Berko's chest, "B-but it's gonna hurt—!!"
"Pussy," mumbled Berko, nuzzling his neck, and then he shoved in.
A.J. screamed, feeling like the biggest moron in the world for doing it. Berko was about twice as thick as he'd expected. Berko just laughed.
"Get used to it," he said, starting to move his hips. "Mm, yeah."
A.J. let out a pained moan, wriggling slightly, trying to find a way to ease the pain. "Jesus, Berko—!"
Berko laughed, and kept thrusting his hips, forward and back, liking the chafing feeling. He ground his hips hard into A.J.'s, clearly not one for tenderness. Berko's voice was low against his neck, murmuring incoherent things he wanted to do to A.J., or wanted A.J. to do for him.
A.J. could only lie there until the pain started to numb and it started to feel… good. It was a welcome feeling to not have to do all the work for once. "Ung..." A.J. moaned, unconsciously moving his hips along with Berko's.
"F-fuck…mm… fuck yeah..." Berko whispered raggedly, panting, so far in that A.J.'s intimates were rubbing hot and slick against the skin of his hips. His groin burned with the feeling. His whole body was on fire, as a matter of fact, and all he could do was hold on tight as he could, moving his hips primally, only thinking of what might please Berko.
And at the same time, he was soaking up all the sensations, panting and panting harder. His moans were hoarse and his voice cracked embarrassingly but Berko didn't care. Hell, A.J. himself couldn't care, it felt so good.
"Unnh… unh… oh, god… Berko…."
"Yeah…"
"B-Berko! Unh…"
"Hell yeah… mm… unh…"
A.J.'s breathing shuddered and he felt telltale dampness on the end of his length, brushed off by one of Berko's fingers, a proud but vague grin plastered on the older man's face. His heart was beating in time with his desperate breathing, the wind icy against his fevered skin, stuck to Berko with a thick sticky film of warm sweat that felt like being slathered head to toe in hot sticky—
"A-Ahh!!" A.J. felt it hit him and he almost thought he felt Berko slack slightly before he realized it was all only harder. Berko let go of him and flopped off panting with his hair stuck to his face.
"You 'kay?" he said, wiping it from his stomach.
"Yeah…" panted A.J., closing his eyes.
And A.J. thought now that maybe getting over Corey wasn't going to be so bad.
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This is so old. Jesus. I wrote this so long ago. I'm sorry it's so embarrassing, but you can't tell me you never wondered why the sign was broken.
Well now you know. :P
-JtG