Take Me Away (Tear Me Down)

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Champagne... dripping... Larry!!! :drool: Making out in the bathroom... Whoa Bona, I'm out of breath!
 
Ah, yes... Soon, darlings. Soon, I promise. Gawd I hate midterms. 'Nuff said...

Thanks for your wonderful words! I'm so glad someone is enjoying this!! And I promise you won't be losing sleep for too much longer. ;) It's just Larry has kept me busy. *evil grin* :D

~Bona
 
Bonavoix said:
When did he take my pants off?


I don't know why, but I busted out laughing when I read that!!
:laugh::lol::lmao::laugh::lol:

BTW, THAT IS AN AWESOME STORY.
YOU ARE A VERY TALENTED WRITER:ohmy:
Seriously, that's the best fan story I've read.:yes:
 
flaming june said:
Is there an impatient smiley anywhere? :impatient: :wink:


Saving Silverman Quote:

Come on! Come on. Commmmmme on! COME ON!
ARG, Come on. Cooooooome onnnnn. COME ON. Come on, Come on. Comeeeeeeeee onnnnn. COMEEEEE ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Come on! Come on. Commmmmme on! COME ON! Come on. Cooooooome onnnnn. COME ON. Come on, Come on. Comeeeeeeeee onnnnn. COMEEEEE ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Come on! Come on. Commmmmme on! COME ON! Come on. Cooooooome onnnnn. COME ON. Come on, Come on. Comeeeeeeeee onnnnn. COMEEEEE ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Come on! Come on. Commmmmme on! COME ON!
Come on. Cooooooome onnnnn. COME ON. Come on, Come on. Comeeeeeeeee onnnnn. COMEEEEE ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

:hyper: :hyper: :hyper: :hyper:
 
:D

Once again, I'm sorry for the wait on this one... midterms, then I broke up with my boyfriend (from here on known only as "Dicksmack.")

So yeah... this took a while. One more after this, then it shall be done... Thanks for not giving up on me quite yet!!

The next part isn't far off, and I mean that this time!! I have more time now, no boyfriend to steal me away. :D

Enjoy.

~Bona


----------------------------------------------------------------
It?s been an entire week since I got the phone call from my mother. There?s been no improvement in my father?s case. In fact there hasn?t been any kind of change at all. He?s still deep in that coma, and the doctors keep saying he hasn?t got much longer. The only blessing with this situation is that the past two nights have been shows played in my home town. My father is in a hospital less than 20 miles away. So just like Bono did, I?ve been leaving the stage immediately and going over to spend my last time with my father. Last night I told him how much I loved him, what he?s done for me and that he?s the reason I?ve gotten this far. Then this morning, I got a call from my mother. Dad died early this morning. What precious little solace I do find now comes from Larry.

Speaking of Larry, the gods seem determined to keep us apart. We?ve hardly had time to talk. So it?s been nearly impossible for us to figure out what, if anything can work for us. It?s obvious there?s something strong there, but I?m just not sure what to do about it. Every time we intend to stop and talk about it, there?s some kind of interruption. Case in point, Monday night. Just as we started to get into why ?us? could or could not work, for the third night in a row the phone rang. Tuesday night, he took the phone off the hook. His cell rang, and of course it was urgent. Wednesday night, cells were turned off, and the phones were off the hook. Bono barges in. This time, it seemed somewhere along the course of the evening they lost track of Edge. Thursday I didn?t see him at all, nor yesterday and today there just hasn?t been time between the show and me coping with my father?s death. And I still don?t want to hang on him, either. So for now, it?s been back to me and my guitar, and here I sit after my sound check. U2 are on their way to theirs. Larry breezes past me and momentarily, I look up from my guitar. He hasn?t acknowledged my presence.

I sit for another moment, listening to U2?s sound check and the only thing I hear are the drums. HIS drumming. I want to go in there and watch him play. There?s something incredibly erotic about Larry while he?s drumming, whether it?s the way he moves, his concentration, or the faces he makes. But as I?m sitting there listening, everything that?s happened over the course of the past two weeks comes flashing back to me, playing like a silent movie in my head. How I?ve gone from dreading Larry?s presence to almost needing it. I?ve been on this roller coaster lately, and between Larry and dealing with losing my father, my show tonight is different. Music has always been a bit of a safehouse to me, and tonight I?m relying on it. Letting it surround me, carry me, wash me clean. I don?t stay to hear U2?s show. I?m so drained when I walk off stage that all I want is to find some place to sleep. I?m lying on my back in my room with my eyes closed, peacefully in meditation after tears, and I hear a knock at my door. I find Larry on the other side. It occurs to me that it must be later than I realize. ?Hi,? is all I can manage to get out.
?Hi,? his reply is simple. There?s an awkward moment. He continues, ?How are you??
?Okay, I suppose,? I gesture him in and close the door. I lean my back against the wall and he stands across from me. He hasn?t changed from the show yet, still standing in an open white shirt, looking like a sight for sore eyes. We stare at eachother for a moment, silent.
Finally, he inhales and says quietly, ?I?m sorry to hear about your father.?
?Thank you.?
?How are you doing?? he asks.
I inhale, ?So far, I?m okay.?
He glides up to me and it?s surprising how things seem so much more peaceful in someone?s arms. Biolage and Irish Spring have gone from a source of torture to a source of warmth and calm for me. The next thing he says to me is, ?I?m also sorry that there hasn?t been much time for us lately.?
?It?s not your fault.?
?If you want to leave??
?No.?
?Tess, if you want to leave the tour, you can. I can work that out,? he pulls back.
?That?s not your responsibility, Larry.?
?No, but I think your family needs you right now,? his voice gets a little more stern.
?Lar??
?Tess, I know you?ve been having some doubts, and I?ve been wanting to talk to you all week, but---?
?If you?re trying to get rid of me, Larry, then all you have to say---?
?Get rid of you? Why would I do that??
I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.
?Tess, if I didn?t think this could work, I wouldn?t have started anything,? he says firmly.
?And yet you?re telling me that I should leave.?
?Listen, I would LOVE to see what we could do and be for each other, but I care too deeply to keep you here for such selfish reason.?
Part of me thinks that perhaps I should stop while I?m ahead and not argue with him, because I?m under a lot of stress right now emotionally, between losing my father and everything else. Perhaps I?m not stable enough to be rational about this, but I ignore the warning and push on, ?Is that it?? I spit at him, ?You think you?re being loving and selfless by leading me on all week, letting me do exactly what I was trying to avoid, which was let myself fall completely head over heels for you? you think you?re being loving by letting me build up hope that something between you and I could actually work, and now you want me to leave?! How wonderful of you!?
?Tessa, wait---? his voice is raising with frustration.
?Larry, if you don?t want this then just say so, but don?t lead me on---?
He cuts me off and screams at me, ?I LOVE YOU!!! DON?T YOU SEE?!?
I just stop, stunned.
He steps toward me, taking my face in his hands and his voice is quiet again, ?Why don?t you believe that? Why can?t you see??
I look up at him, and it seems like his eyes are pleading with me for something? His touch, his hands on my face is little solace.
?I don?t want you to fall apart, and yet that?s exactly what I see happening. You?re falling apart.?
?No,? I try to argue, and I?m not entirely sure why, because I know he?s right.
?You need to go home. Please. There will always be time for you and I,? his low Irish purr in my ears? The next thing I feel are his lips on my forehead, then on my mouth. That one small bit of reality sends me into tears again. I didn?t want him to see me like this, and instead of leaving like part of me wishes he would, he tightens his hold on me. And he doesn?t leave later either. For the second time, my heart stops when he lies back next to me. For the second time, he wraps himself around me, I give in and allow the natural rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing be a rare source of relaxation. We fall asleep together almost innocently. I leave the tour a week later.
 
Bonavoix said:
There?s something incredibly erotic about Larry while he?s drumming, whether it?s the way he moves, his concentration, or the faces he makes.


:yes: I agree!!! There's nothing as sexy as Larry playing the drums...

GREAT work Bona! Can't wait for the last part. :hyper:
 
lovin this story a lot.....keep up the good work and please don't keep us in suspense much longer.


:hyper: :hyper: :hyper: :hyper: :hyper:
 
Here we go, girls... this is it. The End. Tutti. Everything.

AGAIN, sorry for the delay. I hate midterms. Really.

At any rate, I hope you've enjoyed the ride, thanks for staying with me! Criticisms are also welcome here too... :)

Thanks again for reading!! Hope you enjoy this...

~Bona

----------------------------------------------
One year later?

Since leaving the tour I?ve moved into the city and started taking some classes at the conservatory. It had nothing to do with the fact that Larry owns an apartment about a half hour outside of here. It had nothing at all to do with that. Really. I actually didn?t even find out that he had a place here until about a month into the semester. He never mentioned it to me, but then again you know how he is. Private and all? I can?t stand being away from him, but what other choice do I have? I?ve picked up a music history course and to get my mind off of missing Larry, I decide to take a night and head down to a local bookstore and study for a while. It?s one of those fancy places too, with a caf? and music department. So I?m sitting in the caf?, studying? well, I intended to study. I?m actually only sitting here staring at my reflection in the window. From what little of the sky I can see, there?s no stars tonight, and it?s getting pretty late. I shake my head when I hear a U2 CD start playing over the store?s PA system. So much for getting my mind OFF of him. I pick up my book and open the front cover and stare at 2 pictures of Larry I?ve stowed away and have been using as bookmarks. They?re computer print outs, and I?ve got lyrics scrawled all over them. I?ve got some basic ideas for some songs, but nothing really concrete. It?s mostly stuff that you can tell came out of me missing him? shite about love and being displaced and all that.

Now that I?ve found out that Larry?s got a place around here, I feel like a stalker. Or worse, I feel like a fan-girl. But I don?t know if he?s even staying there right now. It?s been cold as hell around here lately, and if he wanted that he may as well just stay in Ireland. Howth would probably be warmer at this point anyway. He could be anywhere. Lord knows he?s probably got a thousand places everywhere that no one knows about. Besides, I haven?t seen him around here lately, and I?m NOT about to go up to his apartment and look for him. So here I sit, trying to get on with my life, trying to NOT think about what almost happened, trying NOT to remember what it was like to sleep in the same bed with him, even if I was drunk and nothing happened. Here I sit, in the middle of a bookstore caf? staring at a man who once, was almost mine rather than reading about plainchant and clausulas and things like that. Something tells me to look up, and I almost have a heart attack when I see Larry standing over by the magazines. I stare for a moment, half in shock and half transfixed. Some things are like fine Veuve-Clicquot, only getting finer as time passes. He looks up after a moment and sees me. I look back down at my book, and suddenly I have no idea who the hell Pope Gregory was or why he?s got an entire genre of chant named after him. This is way too awkward. Suddenly he brushes past me and sits next to me. For a moment I say nothing. One of us has to break the ice, and I finally give in, ?Larry.?
?Tess.?
?You look well.?
?So do you. Thanks.?
Silence. I flip through my textbook mindlessly, and he stops me. He pulls out one of the pictures I?d stowed away of him, and starts studying it. I?ve no doubt he?s reading my lyrics. He gives me a look and sighs, offering me the picture back. I don?t wait for him to ask, ?I miss you.?
?So you carry pictures of me wherever you go??
?No, just to music history class.?
?Are you in music history class right now??
?No, but I?ve got the textbook with me.?
He doesn?t say anything. For a moment, neither do I.
?So how long have you had that apartment?? I ask.
?About 3 months.?
I realize I?ve been in school for three months already. ?Did you move for the privacy, or what?? I probe.
?No, I heard you were here.?
I have difficulty believing him. ?So you moved here just for me.?
?It?s quiet, private. It?s a nice area, and besides,? he pauses for a moment, then quietly, ?We weren?t finished.?
I inhale, ?No, we weren?t.?
?I?m surprised you didn?t come to find me.?
?I wasn?t sure if you were around. I figured you were in Dublin.?
?I was at first.?
For the first time tonight, I look up at him. He?s beautiful, and I think he knows it. There?s a split second where I wonder if he?s thinking the same thing. Awkward silence? Thankfully, he breaks it.
?Tessa, I?m sorry,? he sighs, ?I didn?t think---?
?No, Larry, you were right. I was better off home,? I cut him off.
?No, Tess, I didn?t mean to lead you on then cut you off that way.?
My head snaps up at him, and my stomach drops. So this is how he chooses to end this. Beautiful.
?I wish I could have been clearer with you---?
I cut him off again, ?It?s okay, Larry. You don?t have to finish.?
?The last thing I wanted was to see you hurt, then I went and?? he trails off.
?You don?t need to explain, Larry. If you want to end this, then just end it and go,? I almost spit at him. I don?t want to end up breaking down in front of him.
?End what?? he looks at me, genuinely bewildered. ?I love you, Tessa, why would I end this? I brought you in then sent you away. That?s what I was apologizing for.?
That?s the second time he?s told me that he loves me. I know he doesn?t throw that phrase around, and then it finally hits me. He loves me. ?I just want you to do what?s best for you.?
?Shouldn?t that be my decision?? he gives me a look. ?For tonight, what?s best for me is that you would let me take you out of here.?
?What?d you have in mind?? I?m not going to argue with this. I?ve finally realized that I have no reason to. For tonight, there?s nothing wrong with being in love.

One bar and a couple of rum and cokes later, we end up at his apartment. He lives on one of the upper floors, so his view is decent, to say the least. Though luxury is not completely absent, his d?cor is modest. When I walk in, I?m greeted with black leather couches and a glass coffee table, an entertainment center across the room against the wall and off-white carpeting. I lean on the arm of the couch, facing him and I smile, ?It?s beautiful.?
He says nothing, responding only by gliding up to me and covering my mouth with his. I?ve been deprived of this heaven for a year now, but he?s just as dizzying as he was a year ago.
The next few minutes are a blur, a whirlwind. He?s still using Biolage and Irish Spring and it still makes me shudder. I suddenly find myself falling farther and farther back until I fall completely onto my back on the couch and he?s got one knee resting on the arm of it staring down at me. He slides his other leg over the arm of the couch and then he?s on top of me. One wicked little grin and he?s reaching behind me, over both of our heads and judging by the sound I realize he?s taking the phone off of it?s cradle, preventing our usual interruption. Something about that is twistedly romantic, but it still makes me laugh. While he?s still stretched over me like a cat, my first opportunity to admire the shape of his body, I reach up and slide my hands underneath his shirt and around his waist, up and across his back while he?s coming back down to me. He cuts off my laugh by kissing me?hard. Another minute and my shirt is already off. I even things out and slide his off his shoulders and it slides onto the floor with mine. We?re moving a bit fast, but it?s been a year and I don?t think either of us wants to slow down. He?s intoxicating, exhausting even, and with every new place he kisses me, his hips grind into me a little more. He?s rock hard. I turn my head to the side while his mouth is at my neck and before I can worry about the Italian leather couch, my hand has found its way into his pants. One noise from the back of his throat triggers a dizzying few minutes. A year?s worth of waiting, daydreaming, fantasies, wishes? all that comes promptly to an end when his hand slides up the inside of my thigh and he breathes into my neck, ?I?ve missed you so much??

Hours later, lying exhausted on a queen sized bed in the bedroom, my head on his chest. Dull night light from the half-open curtain makes his skin practically glow aside from the sweat, he still smells like lovemaking but somehow I can still detect a trace of Irish Spring. His off-white cotton jersey sheets are a mess, but changing them hardly seems worth it tonight. That?s what afternoons are for. He?s got his arm around my back, and his other hand is pinching a cigarette between drags. I prop my chin up on his chest and watch the bright orange glow from the end of his smoke while he takes another drag. My eyes shift and I watch and love his mouth as he exhales and says quietly, ?Do you believe it now??
It takes me a minute, but I then realize what he?s referring to. ?Yeah, Lar?? I start, ?I?m sorry I made it so difficult.?
He shakes his head slightly, ?You didn?t,? he starts, and he reaches over and pats out the cigarette in a nearby tray, then rolls over so he?s looking down at me again. He?s beautiful and he knows it. I trace my finger along the tattoo on his shoulder, he rubs his nose against mine like he?s about to kiss me. ?There?s nothing wrong with being in love.?
Louhve. I love the way he says that word.
?I wanted you to see that,? he finishes his sentence.
?I think you?ve done that,? my fingers are still preoccupied with his tattoo. There?s another minute where we?re both perfectly still, his mouth not an inch away from mine. I break the silence with the question that we meant to answer a year ago, ?So what now??
He says nothing, but actions speak louder than words, and the kiss I receive a second later says enough. It?s funny how things always seem so much more peaceful in someone?s arms. I feel better when I?m close to him this way, I can admit that now. He pulls me a little tighter, the bed feels warmer, I feel a little safer and for the first time in a year, I fall asleep quickly.

~End~
 
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I really shouldn have read this today!!!

Very good Bona! But I'm in one of those moods today, if you know what I mean :shifty: and this has made it worse!
 
Awww, FJ! Should I apologize or say "you're welcome?" lol.

Just bought a tshirt from this french horn quartet I just saw in concert and the back says, "Lick me! Buzz me! Tongue me! Stick your hand in my bell!!"

I should wear it around Larry. :D

Glad you all enjoyed this!! I hope the last scene wasn't too cheesy... I was trying to make it hot without it being too graphic. I HATE writing sex scenes. Which is half the reason I had to give Lars blue balls and keep them from having any till now. lol. Poor Larry. Poor TESSA, what am I saying?!?! :lmao:

Thanks, y'all! And Happy Birthday Larry! *kiss*

~Bona
 
Re: I really shouldn have read this today!!!

flaming june said:
Very good Bona! But I'm in one of those moods today, if you know what I mean :shifty: and this has made it worse!

:evil::mac:


Seriously, Bonavoix.........you are talented!!!!
You can really picture the story!!!
It is soooooo great!!!
Thanks for sharing it with all of us!!!:hug: :heart:
 
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