Their bodies met, and it was like nothing else existed.

They moved together, their motions familiar and strange all at once. They’ve touched before but never like this. Edward reaches up with his hands but John grasps them, holding them tightly in his own as their mouths continue to mould together. Taking slow steps forward he doesn’t stop until he has Edward pressed up against the closest wall, his body bearing down on him, refusing to let go. Not that Edward minds. He opens his eyes lazily, heavy lidded with lust, and moves back in for another kiss.

They are guided by instinct and urged on by heartbeats and shivers. Their kisses were uniquely theirs and theirs alone - no other kiss in the world could ever be quite like it. They spoke to one another through curious fingertips and skin humming with anticipation, through mouths that did not speak and sounds that were not words.

They fit together perfectly, and, entwined together this way, they breathed one breath. They were separate heartbeats that thrummed in time together. They were one.

Title: Bad Behaviour
Rating: M
Pairing: John/Edward
Notes: This is quite similar to the last prompt I received, so forgive me for writing stuff of a similar nature!

John starts skipping camply past a group of very rough, tattooed men with dark eyes, giggling drunkendly, and Edward feels his thoughts begin to unwind. I’m going to kill him, he swears, staring blankly as one of the nasty looking men nudges the other and points out John, I am going to actually kill him.

It all began rather innocently. A swig of brandy backstage before a gig, and perhaps just a little swig afterwards, too. It had all been a bit of fun, really; the two had never been drunk before in their lives, and the prospect of drinking even such a small amount of alcohol had them giggling like idiots. 

And then John had to take everything too far. By downing an entire bottle.

Idiot! Internally, Edward curses his brother as he hurries to keep up with him, moving at a stupidly fast walking pace, but not quite breaking out into a fully fledged run. He doesn’t dare to - not while those men are gathered outside that cheap looking pub, anyway, casting curious, amused glances at both John and Edward. Mostly John, though, who has now taken it upon himself to start screeching out in a voice worse than usual - which Edward knows himself is saying something - the Wham rap. 

Oh, God.

Edward is cringing as he finally catches up with John. He grabs his sleeve and yanks him close, wanting to get as tight a grip on him as possible, to squash any possibilities of his twin doing yet another runner. Automatically, John breaks off mid-song and glares hatefully at Edward. If he wasn’t quite so pissed off with him, Edward might have laughed at the childish expression. John’s eyes are dark, no doubt accentuated by the street lamps casting shadows over the late night, and his lips are pushed out, making them look plumper than ever. Edward’s eyes hover on those lips for a fraction of a second too long. Then John leans in. Edward can smell the brandy on his breath.

“Edward, why are you chasing me?” He slurs, that frown still in place. His words are slowed, just like his singing, and it takes a while for his lips to fully shape the words he’s saying. It’s incredibly obvious that he’s been drinking, especially when he stumbles in an attempt to pull away from Edward’s grasp, and ends up almost, but not quite, falling over. The men gathered near the pub burst into mean laughter. John takes no notice, but Edward feels himself begin to redden with embarrassment. He wishes John would just move. “I told you… I’m going… to the hotel. Like… you told me… to.” John finishes triumpantly with a nob of his head, almost like he’s pleased with himself for managing to get the words out, despite being crazily drunk.

Edward ignores everything John has to say. He’s angry with him, and not just because he embarrassed them both by running round the streets whilst they were suppossed to be walking to the hotel. Usually they would be driven straight to their venue for the night, but Edward had assured their management that a bit a fresh air would do John good. How wrong he had been. Instead of sobering him up, all the ‘fresh air’ seemed to have done to his twin was make even more of a nusiance than before. Maybe, if John hadn’t been ignoring Edward’s pleas of him to stop, Edward might not have been so irritated. Actually, he would have most likely found John’s behaviour hilarious. But, John had ignored Edward, and it seemed to have hit a nerve with the slightly younger boy. John never ignored Edward. Edward never ignored John. They adored each other and never said no to the other twin. It was just how they worked.

But John had ignored Edward. As he now begins to drag his - though a passer-by would certainly not think it - older brother through the streets to the hotel, ignoring his constant wailing and babbling on even more incoherently than usual, Edward decides that he doesn’t really like John when he’s drunk.

By the time Edward’s found their hotel for the night, checked in and half dragged John upstairs to their shared room, he’s tired and grouchy as hell. They’ve been performing non stop for weeks on end now, and after another very enjoyable, yet energy zapping, gig, all Edward wants to do is sleep.

He slams the door and releases John - who at once stumbles and begins to sway very drunkendly on the spot - heads over to the bed and throws himself down. With a sigh of relief, he kicks off the high top trainers that have become their trademark, closes his eyes and relaxes for one minute. It’s not a good idea to leave John to wander drunkendly around the hotel room, Edward knows, but he’s too tired and this bed is too comfortable. Perhaps, if John hadn’t annoyed him so much, he would have been his usual finicky self and been fussing non stop over him. But, John had annoyed him, so the thought doesn’t cross his mind. He begins to doze off. 

Suddenly the mattress dips heavily. Edward slowly prises his eyelids open - and almost jumps back in fright to see John an inch away from his face. Staring almost hungrily at him. His eyes are focused on Edward’s lips - and Edward hasn’t missed this.

“What the - “ 

John smiles and moves closer. Blearily, Edward blinks rapidly. It’s not the closeness that makes him jump; John and him are always physically close to each other, curling up in bed together or hugging when they watch a film and it’s too cold in the house. It’s a twin thing, and to them, it’s really not a big deal.

What does make Edward jump, however, is the look on John’s features. His eyebrows now raise in amusmant at Edward’s reaction, though the rest of his expression stays the same; the hungry eyes, the pouted lips, the slight half smile. It’s the same look Edward has seen quite a few times before, in the past - when John fancied someone and was attempting to flirt with them. With girls, specifically - not boys. Especially not boys who he is related to. Why he should do it now is completely beyond Edward, but he can’t help but feel old feelings arise as John moves closer, breath tickling Edward’s face as he speaks.

“Did I tell you that you like, look really sexy tonight Edward?” John breathes, and still Edward can smell that brandy. It’s a constant reminder of the fact that John isn’t himself; that he wouldn’t be saying this if he was sober. Still, he barely comprehends that, because John just called him sexy.

“What?” Edward tries to shrug it off with a hollow laugh. Uncomfortably, he glances away, and then back again. He tries to turn onto his other side, but something stops him. He stares into John’s eyes, hoping that he looks completely confused by the fact that his brother just called him sexy - Because that’s what he should look like. He shouldn’t have eyes that are beginning to fill with hope - because John can’t possibly find him attractive in that way. Can he?

Edward isn’t sure when it happened, exactly, but at some point in his life something weird happened. He’d always thought John was beautiful, which was strange, he knew, since they were twins - but he did. He loved him, they were brothers - but at some point, he started to think John was beautiful in a different way. He began to stare at him in a way that wasn’t normal. His private thoughts - which should have been filled with girls in his class, or famous actresses, singers, whatever - were instead of John. And him. Together. Edward always knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care. Occassionally he caught John staring back… but he never dreamed that John could possibly feel the same way about him.

“You heard what I said,” John grins, not prising his eyes away from Edward’s. He crawls closer to his brother on the double bed; each movement is clumsy from the alcohol that Edward knows is pumping through his system, and the mattress creaks underneath his weight. All the while, John’s staring him down, eyes glinting. He’s so drunk it’s not even funny. 

Edward wants to look away, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He knows that John is drunk and that they really shouldn’t be having this conversation - but the words tumble out before he can stop them. 

“I look… sexy?” Edward doesn’t know waht to say. His eyebrows twitch with nerves. John’s face is getting worryingly closer to his, and his breath hitches in his throat. “What the hell, John?” He stumbles getting the words out; John is so close to him, and his eyes aren’t moving from his own. “You do realise that you just, like, called yourself sexy as well.”

“That’s why I said it.” John smiles craftily. He pauses, and then his eyes drop away from Edward’s, and instead focus on his lips. Edward feels like he can’t breath. All he wants to do is lean up from where he’s laying on the bed and press their lips together. But he really can’t. It’s not right, John’s drunk - and it wouldn’t be right anyway, if they were sober. 

He turns his head away, defeatedly to one side. “You’re like, so drunk.” He mutters.

“Aren’t you a genius,” John’s smile is getting more wolfish by the minute, and it’s making Edward feel tense in places that he shouldn’t. “And, well yeah, that’s why I’m saying it.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Edward’s breathing heavily. A terrible thought has entered his mind, and it won’t shake away. John’s drunk. He won’t remember any of this in the morning. So if Edward just so happens to confess that he’s completely and utterly in love with him, that he has been for his entire life - and if anything else happens - it wouldn’t matter, because John won’t remember.

Anyway, it’s not like John isn’t willing. He shifts again, and Edward can’t help but feel a little shocked, despite his thoughts, when John straddles him. A gasp escapes his lips, and John’s face splits into a smile.

“Just kiss me, Edward,” he whispers seductively, hair flopping down into his eyes, and arms propping himself over Edward’s body by resting on the pillow underneath him. “Go on. It’ll be like, so deadly.”

Despite his better judgements, Edward finds that his brain isn’t controlling him anymore. Instead, it’s the sudden ache he can feel in his lower regions that makes him roughly grab the back of John’s head. His fingers comb through the messy blonde hair as he brings John’s lips crashing to meet his own. The feeling of his twin’s hot, wet lips against him that he has yearned for for years causes him to feel light-headed, dizzy. John presses his hips against Edward’s, causing his arousal to become very obvious against Edward’s own, who groans into his brothers mouth. 

Edward swears fireworks go off as John’s tongue dips against his own. The free hand that isn’t entwined in John’s hair begins working on the button and zip of his red jeans. John instinctively reaches out to do the exact same to Edward, and after much fumbling they are both naked, save for their boxers, laying on the double bed, John still on top of John. 

Edward grabs John’s waist, grinding it against his own. John moans slightly and thrusts messily against Edward’s hip. A throaty whine escapes Edward’s mouth as John thrusts his hands into his boxers and teasingly strokes him at a painstakingly slow pace. The pleasure is just too much. Edward presses his forehead against John’s, whimpering. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“John -” A gentle groan leaves Edward as he feels the warmth of John’s hands around the tip of his cock. He shifts his hips foward, pressing himself further against his twin’s hand. John grins, and slowly rubs his hand up and down his brother’s arousal, making his hardness almost painful against the fabric of his boxers. He can feel John’s own, identical erection pressing hard against his through the soft matieral, and he lets out a moan at the sensation.

Suddenly, the warmth of John’s hand is gone, and Edward’s eyes flash open. John is grinning, and he reaches out a hand to the top of Edward’s boxers.

“I think we should get rid of these.”

He whips them off, and edges down the bed, positioning himself so that he is laying in between Edward’s thighs. He eyes his brother’s long and hard erection, and it suddenly occurs to Edward what he is about to do. 

Before Edward even has a chance to process the thought, however, the atmosphere shifts suddenly. John stops deathly still and his eyes go wide for just one second - and then, his face goes green. He lurches violently upwards, almost catching Edward in the chin with the top of his hair. Edward lets out a ‘What the - ?’ of complete confusion as he watches John stumble desperately towards the bathroom. This has got to have been the craziest evening he’s had for a while. John pushes the door open, and lunges for the toilet. It takes a couple of seconds for Edward to process this, and then he realises - just as the horrible yet unmistakeable noise of gagging and vomit hitting toilet water reaches him. 

In a flash, Edward is running into the toilet. He rubs John’s back, putting the previous events behind him for the given moment and willing his crotch to just stop standing to attention. He pulls John’s fringe out of his face, and tells him that’s it’s going to be okay. John doesn’t respond, just continues to hurl, and the strange thing is that, even though the stuff coming out of John’s mouth is green and smells disgusting, Edward decides that, actually, he really doesn’t mind John when he’s drunk.

That is until he turns around, sends Edward a shaky smile - and throws up all over his crotch. 

Title: Drunken Minds, Sober Hearts
Rating: PG13
Pairing: John/Edward
Notes: As underage drinking was requested, this fic is set when the boys were seventeen, so prior to them entering the X-Factor competition. Also - thank you! My first ever prompt. (:


You’re not really sure how it all happened.

All you do know is, everything happened so fast.

One minute your parents were telling you, in serious tones, to behave, what number to call if anything went wrong and that there was a pizza in the fridge for dinner, before hurriedly leaving the house for some work extravaganza which they couldn’t possibly bring the two of you along to - not that either of you had a problem with that. The next, Edward was waving a big bottle of brandy in your face and telling you that they would never find out. Then you were taking turns to sip at it, wincing and laughing together at the disgusted faces you both pulled. Soon - sooner than you would have imagined - the laughter had doubled in volume and so had your spirits, and you were both jumping up and down on the sofa, a Britney song blaring loudly from the CD player and a quarter of a bottle of whisky laying forgotten on the floor. The next minute you were looking for more alcohol, and then dancing some more, this time on the kitchen table and then outside in the middle of the street. Then you were running back into your house and falling exhausted on your bed, and Edward followed. He lay next to you, breathing heavily, limbs slightly tangled in yours. 

And it felt so nice, it just felt so nice… and then Edward started talking, and everything was suddenly serious, and then he was crying, and you were sitting up and holding him and asking him what was wrong, and then he was crying harder than ever before, and looking into your eyes, and his eyes were so big and his eyelashes were so long, and you couldn’t believe how much he meant to you in that moment… 

And then you were kissing…

Kissing. 

Your hands are in Edward’s hair and his are holding onto the sides of your face, pulling you closer and closer until you fall on top of him. There’s ragged breathing all around and skin everywhere, hands everywhere, clothes everywhere but on each other. You slip your tongue into Edward’s mouth and it’s like you’re seeing life as it truly is for the first time.

You’re seventeen years old and you’ve never kissed anyone before, but somehow, you know. You know that this is right, what it’s supposed to be - and yet, despite this, as Edward pulls away for just a moment to fumble with the zip of your jeans, you’re pulling away. It’s over before it even begun, really. You shakily stand up from the bed, walking over to the door. You’re still not entirely sure why you did this. It was that moment, perhaps,  where there was a lapse in your kiss that somehow, something found it’s way through your drunken senses and told you to stop.

Suddenly aware that you’re half naked, you turn your face away from Edward, who is staring at you perplexedly from a compromising position on the bed. As you stare into his confused eyes which still contain a glimmer of hope, you identify the feeling which is coursing it’s way through your veins in an instant.

Guilt. Even in your drunken state, you recognise it. That’s because you’ve always felt it. Ever since… well, you couldn’t place a specific date on it. There are only moments you can remember, when the guilt was overwhelming. Like that time at Church when you were four years old and you told the priest you weren’t gong to have a wife, you were going to marry Edward, and his face was the very image of thunder. Like that time at your eighth birthday party when a little girl tried to hold Edward’s hand and so you tripped her over and she cried. Like that time you were eleven and had to watch a sex education video about incest and how wrong it was. Like that time you were thirteen and realised you didn’t fancy girls. Like that time you were watching Edward laugh from across the table during dinner, and realised, with your parents sitting beside you, that you wanted to kiss him. Like that time throughout your entire fucking life you’ve been completely and utterly in love with your twin brother.

You’re aware that the hopeful look in Edward’s eye is completely faded now. Instead, there’s a sign of defeat, of sadness. He knows just as well as you do. You try to speak but no words come out. The two of you just go on staring at each other. Staring and starting and staring. 

Eventually, you break eye contact with him and turn off the light. For a moment, you hesitate before climbing into bed - but then you just do it. As soon as you pull the covers over you, you half expect Edward to reach out and started kissing you again, or at least to try and embrace you. But he doesn’t. Of course you doesn’t.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

ARGHHHHH