TITLE: San Francisco, circa 1987
AUTHOR: Magenta
ARCHIVE: Ask.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Varies
SUMMARY: A look into a relationship between Lars and an unnamed girl, and the fiasco that insues when the band gets in the way.
STATUS: IP
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lars Ulrich (although I wish I did) or Metallica, and none of this actually happened.

I awake to the sounds of him rustling in the bathroom. What time is it? I turn over to face the clock. 11:21. He's late again. When is he ever on time? Good question. Never. The other guys are never on time, either, according to him. I roll over to his side of the bed and swing my feet over, only to have them meet with a pair of boxer shorts, jeans, and a Motorhead t-shirt. I pick up the shirt and smell it. I am hit by the smell of him. He smells of smoke and liquor. Sweat and dirt. I should be repulsed by the latter smells, but I'm not. I love his smell, no matter how repulsive it may be. He never washes his clothes, anyways. I have since picked up the task of doing that for him. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Otherwise he'll run out of clean underwear.

I kick the clothes aside and examine the jewelry collection on his bedside table. Bracelets and necklaces. No rings. He never was one to wear too many rings. That's James. I pick up his arrowhead necklace, and I'm tempted to put it on. This is my favourite of his collection, and he knows it. It's his favourite, as well, and that's why he doesn't give it to me, although I pester him about it almost every other day.

I make my way to the kitchen and make some coffee. He'll be wanting breakfast. He can make that himself. Besides, there's nothing here to eat anyways. I rummage through a cabinet and find a half empty box of cereal and out it on the table for him. Milk? I check the fridge. Yes. Good. At least he has these supplies.

The coffee stops dripping and I pour myself a cup. I make my way over to the ratty little couch he kept from El Cerrito. I didn't know him back then. I knew who he was. Everyone in this part of San Francisco knew who they were. Anyone who was a metalhead, that is. I met him after a show. I had been going to their shows ever since 1981, but I never got the courage to go back stage to talk to them. They were too famous to talk to, even though they weren't, really. One night, after a show, I ran into him in a hallway backstage. I was back there trying to find a toilet, it being my first time at that particular club. I saw him, but instead of telling him how great the set was, I just asked where the bathrooms were. He took me to another hallway, and I just ran into the ladies room, throwing a quick "thank you" as I ran. As I was washing my hands, I realized how much of an idiot I had been. I had my chance to talk to him, and I blew it by running to the toilet. I walked out the door, and there he was, waiting for me.

We talked, and he invited me to a party. I, of course, accepted, and I didn't leave his side the entire night. There were tons of groupies there, and while the other guys noticed and took advantage of them, he stayed with me.

We were sitting on the floor near the stere o, and that's when he kissed me. It was a soft, slow kiss, with no tongue at first. But I soon felt it on my lips, wanting to enter. I let him in, and it was the best kiss I had ever had. I proceeded to enter his mouth, and I guess that was the cue for him that everything was going to work out just fine that night.

He pulled back, and touched my hand. "Let's go somewhere a bit more secluded." I nodded, and he grabbed my hand and led me to a bedroom. As I was walking, I hoped and prayed that he didn't think I was just some groupie. I felt a need like no other to be with him for longer than just one night. A need I had never felt before. When I woke up the next morning, he was still lying next to me. He had his arms wrapped tightly around me. Was he making sure I didn't leave? I hoped so. That was over a year ago, and I haven't left since.

I sit on the couch and look out the window to the surrounding houses. I feel his arms wrap around my neck from the opposite side of the couch.

"Good morning," he says

"Hey, babe. You know you're late?"

"Fock if I care." He moves over and sits next to me. I grab him in a strong embrace, and then lay my head in his lap. He strokes my forehead, and runs his fingers through my hair. I snuggle into his stomach.

"Well, then you better call James so he can chew you out."

"I rather not. He'll take his anger out on Jason, anyways."

"You guys are still fucking with him? Would it hurt you two grow up, for a change? It's not his fault."

"Whatever. James is the worst, anyways. And what do you mean 'you two'? Kirk a part of it, too, ya know."

"But not as bad as you guys. The shit you pull on him borders on torture."

"Yeah, yeah." He leans down and kisses my forehead. I turn to meet his lips, and he gives me one of slow, sweet kisses. A kiss that only lovers could give. His tongue caresses mine, and he sucks on my bottom lip, ever so slightly. I sit up, and sit on his lap. I run my fingers through his long brown hair, still damp from his shower. He has the most beautiful hair in the world.

I pull back and rest my head on his shoulder.

"You need to go."

"No, I don't. I'm fine right where I am."

"So am I. But they need you. I'll ride with you. Besides, I have some stuff to shoot for a spread in the newspaper today."

"When are you gonna take pictures of us?"

"Whenever James let's me. Something about not letting personal get in the way of business?"

"He's just being a dick, as usual. Our business is more personal than anything."

"He told me that everything was business. Nothing personal."

"Oh, okay Micheal," he says in a playful voice. When is his voice not playful?

"Being the Corleone, not me. That'll be another thing you two can bitch about together today. Something to get your mind off of Jason."

"Jason and James are the furthest thing from my mind right now."

"Yeah," I sigh. "But I'll see you tonight."

********

We soon leave the house and he drives me over to the newspaper offices. I kiss him goodbye, and watch him drive off. I hope all goes smooth today. As smooth as it can get with those guys. If they aren't fighting about one thing, they're fighting about another. And the funny thing is, that with them, it's a sign of affection. These boys would lie down in front of a fucking train for each other. But to them, it's much easier to be ass-holes instead.

********

It seems as if I've been taking photographs all day long when I pull my key out of the lock and open the door. It's around eight o'clock at night, darkness slowly but surely falling. I quietly sing to myself as I walk inside - "In the velvet darkness/ of the darkest night/ burning bright/ there's a guiding light." I am surprised by a sudden interruption.

"Hey Rocky." A voice comes out of the darkness, and I jump with fear.

"Fuck, Lars! You scared the shit outta me!"

"Sorry, baby," he says as he makes his way over. He warmly embraces me, and kisses me with even warmer lips. His tongue gently licks my lips, begging to enter. I open my mouth just a little, so he can barely let his wet intruder in. That's enough for him right now. I pull back, and he leads me to the bedroom. I lay on the bed, and he cuddles in next to me. I start to play with his hair. He has since learned to deal with the fact that I love messing with it. Just running my fingers through his luscious, full brown locks. I hope he never cuts them off.

"How was picture taking to today? Did you miss me?"

"What do you think? I missed you like there's no tomorrow. How 'bout you? Get any work done, or did you guys just manage to find another way to fuck with Jason some more."

"Yes, we got some work done," he says with a mischievous grin. "And we messed with Jason, of course. Can't get through a day without doing that."

"And I guess you think that deserves some kind of reward?"

"Of course." I lean in closer to him, and give him a kiss. A slow, sweet, hot kiss. I push my tongue in his mouth, and tease his tongue with it. I slowly pull away, giving him little kisses on the forehead. I start to get up, but I feel his pleading hands on my hips.

"Where ya going? I was just getting started."

"Sorry, but I've been outside all day, and I'm a bit dirty. I'd like to get a little bit clean before we start fucking. Besides, you're even dirtier than I am, ya fuck," I say, smiling at him.

********

"Fine. Hurry up, though."

"Yeah, yeah." I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. How can anyone as beautiful as him love someone like me? I just can't stand it sometimes. I move towards the shower and turn the water on. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. I think I'll keep him waiting. Long showers are the best.

I slowly begin to slink out of my clothes and step into the shower. I let the water run on my head, drenching me long hair. I just close my eyes and let it run. Hot water dripping down my back, reminding me of the sweet kisses that he gives me.

I wash, then step out and dry. Now. Now I'm ready. I walk out into the bedroom, only to find that he is no longer there. Goddammit. Why are they so impatient? I just wanted to be clean. I hear a noise in the living room. Television.

"Jesus Christ, ten minutes is too fucking long to wait, huh?" I say, as I make my way into the living room.

"I guess so. But you better not tell Lars that you wanna fuck me", a different voice says.

"Shit, James. Where's Lars? What are you doing here?" Thank God I've got my robe on. Not that I'm known for walking around naked, but still.

"I'm just hanging out. He's in the toilet. Kirk's here too. He's in the kitchen."

"You guys couldn't of called earlier to let me know? Had to scare me to death instead?"

"Totally. We won't be here long anyways, so you can relax."

"Yeah, sure." I make my way into the kitchen, leaving James alone. He gives me the weirdest feelings, I just don't understand. Something about him gets my heart racing when I'm alone with him. But when Lars is around, he doesn't do a damn thing to me. Fucking crazy. Shit, I wish Lars would hurry up and get out here.

I get to the kitchen, and Kirk's sitting at the table with a beer and some monster magazine.

"Hey Quirk. How goes it?"

"Hey. It goes fine. Tired as fuck, though. Those two just don't know when to stop. You know, your boyfriend can be quite a mercenary."

"Tell me about it. I hate being around those two when they fight. Speaking of which, where's Jason? You run him off back to Arizona?"

"No, but I'm sure he's thinking about it. I'm sure James would really appreciate it, though. Sometimes he can get pretty cruel."

"That's what I hear. But, that stuff depresses me." I quickly change the subject. "Buy any new guitars lately?"

"Almost. I saw this really nice Gibson, from about 1963. But I changed my mind after I played it a few a times."

"Cool cool. You want something to eat? I'm sure Lars wants dinner, now that he's up and about." James saunters in as soon as I finish my sentence. Good thing Kirk's in here. I hate being alone with James. I feel so....vulnerable. I just don't get it.

"Did someone say dinner?" James asks with a grin.

"Yeah, but I'm not cooking. That boy doesn't know how to shop for groceries. All he buys is liquor."

"Well, liquor's all you need."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll probably send him out for sushi, since that's all he eats anyways."

"Sushi's fine with me."

"Same here," Kirk chimes in.

"He's been gone for a while. I'm gonna go check on him. Don't make any messes." Kirk chuckles softly, and James gives me a smile. I smile back nervously and hurry out into the hallway. His smiles can melt me into a pathetic little pile of goo sometimes. What the hell?

I try to forget James and the looks he gives me. Lars. Lars. I go to the guest bathroom and softly rap on the door.

"Baby? Are you okay? We're gonna get sushi." There's no answer. Okay, I'm starting to get a tad worried. I slowly open the door. And there's no one there.

As I walk towards the bedroom, I hear a ruckus in the kitchen. They better not be making a mess. A new voice emerges from the kitchen. Jason. Good. I like Jason. Too bad if those guys are too babyish to appreciate him for who is.

********

I get to the bedroom, and, sure enough, Lars is sleeping on the bed. He's so cute when he's sleeping. I contemplate waking him up. Too bad. He needs to be a good host, no matter how informal those guys may be. I shut the bedroom door and get in the bed with him. I snuggle up next to him and give him little Eskimo kisses.

"Baby, why the fuck are you sleeping? Ten minutes ago you were ready to knock boots, and now you're sleeping. You baffle me, you know that?" I kiss him on the lips, and he smiles.

"You are such a faker. Come on, little drummer boy." I keep kissing him, and he giggles.

"Little drummer boy. You better not call me that in front of James."

"I won't. It'll be our little secret." I kiss him again, and lick his lips with my tongue. He opens for me, and I give him a deep-tongued kiss. He teases my tongue with his own, and I suck on his bottom lip. He loves it when I do that. I pull back and he opens his eyes with a smile.

"Speaking of which, why are James and Kirk here?"

"Hey, it's my house."

"I'm not debating that. But I'd like to be told the next time James Hetfield shows up while I'm in the shower. That way I don't walk out into the living room with just a robe on."

"I'm sure he enjoyed it."

"Oh, you ass hole." I tackle him, and roll over to where I'm on top of him. He kisses me, long and slow. I pull back, and start to pull up his shirt. pepper his stomach with baby kisses. He sits up, and puts me in his lap. I kiss him on the neck, and he slowly unties the sash on my robe. He pulls the robe off my shoulders, and starts to kiss them. I pull back.

"Up," I command. He puts his arms up, and I pull his shirt off. I rub my hands over his chest, and his nipple harden. I lean down and lick one, then the other.

He gets my robe halfway off, and I'm topless. He follows suit and runs his hands across my breasts, and gathers them in his hands. He leans down and sucks lightly on one nipple, and feel them harden under his warm, wet caress. He moves to the next one and lightly bites it. I let out a yelp, and I feel him harden under his jeans.

He moves his hand down my sides and in between my legs. I soon feel a finger enter me, and I let out an even louder groan of pleasure. I move my hands from his chest to the waist of his jeans, and slowly unbutton his pants. My hand moves down, and I grab his cock through his boxer shorts.

He moves down to lay on the bed, and pulls me with him. My robe is totally gone now, and he pulls the sheets over both of us.

I suddenly lose all sense of passion as soon as I remember who is in the kitchen.

"Baby," I say to him. He groans in response.

"Jason's here." His breathing slows, and he holds me for a second.

"They're all out there, aren't they?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Fock. I totally forgot. Sorry."

"It's okay." I roll off of him and get out from under the sheets. I realize I'm still completely naked, and I blush as I fumble for my robe. I'm still very modest about my body around him, even after one year of sleeping with him. I have such a low self-esteem, I still get nervous.

"Baby," he says to me. "You're beautiful. Stop beating yourself up."

I sit on the bed and turn to meet him. "I love you, Lars. I love you."

He sits up and kisses me lightly. "I love you, too, baby. I love you, too."

I sit up and go to his dresser drawer and put on a pair of his boxer shorts. I fumble around the drawer some more until I find one of my camisoles. I put it on and turn around to see him putting his shirt on.

"They decided they wanted sushi. They probably sent Jason out to get some."

"Sushi's good. Let's go." He reaches out his hand, and I take it.

We walk out into the living room to see James and Kirk drinking more beer and watching television. James looks up to see us, and his eyes meet mine. I quickly dart them away, looking at the television instead.

"What were you two doing in there?" he asks with a smile. "Fucking again?" Kirk lets out a soft chuckle, and James laughs aloud.

Lars smiles. "Even if we were, do you think I'd tell you two focks about it?"

"Why not? You always do." James laughs even louder.

I look at Lars with wide, almost cold eyes.

"No," he answers, reading my thoughts. "I don't tell them anything." He quickly changes the subject. "What the fock did you guys do with Jason?"

"How did you know he was here?" Kirk asks.

"I heard him on the way to the bedroom," I answer.

"We sent him off for sushi," James says. He looks me in the eyes, and my heart skips a beat. Stop it, James!

As if on cue, Jason walks in the front door with a bag of sushi and, surprise, more alcohol.

"Alcoholica at it's finest. Sushi and Stolichnaya," I say, with a grin to Lars. They all chuckle as Jason makes his way to the kitchen, James and Kirk following intently.

Lars looks at me with a smile and kisses me on the forehead. "I love you," he whispers.

I look deep into his emerald green eyes. "I love you, too," I whisper back. "I love you so much, I can't even tell you."

He leads me to the kitchen where the boys are already chowing down. I go to the counter and grab my cigarettes and make my way outside. Lars grabs my swinging wrist.

"Where ya going? You're not going to eat?

"I'm not hungry. I'm gonna go smoke, and let you boys have your fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Go, talk, eat. Maybe then they'll leave." James looks up to me and gives me a sarcastic smile. Kirk and Jason both snicker, and Lars just smiles. I go outside and light up.

After about five minutes, James comes outside.

"What? Where's Lars?"

"They're inside watching something stupid on TV. I couldn't take it, so I thought why not come out here and shoot the breeze with you."

"Sure." James bums a ciggie, and he lights up. And we just sit there, smoking, the awkward silence stifling me.

"So....ah....how'd rehearsals go today?"

"You're boyfriend fucked up about five fills and then bitched at me about it for an hour," James says, in an almost accusing tone.

"And that's supposed to be my problem?"

"I don't know, maybe. You're the one who's supposed to be taking care of him, or whatever couples do. Or do you guys just fuck each other exclusively or something?'

"Lars Ulrich can take care of himself. What the fuck is your problem, James? You're always like this to me, and I'm nothing but nice to you. You gotta problem with me?"

James doesn't answer. He just stares into the night. Finally, he speaks up. "No. No, I don't have a problem with you. That's just it."

I lean closer to him and touch his hand. He jumps at this a little, but he lets me keep touching him. It's just a friendly touch, but he's taking it as something else.

"What? How is that a problem? James, you aren't making any sense."

"I know. Just....nevermind, okay?" James hesitates for a moment. Then he does something totally unexpected. He moves his hand around mine, and holds it. I can feel him shaking. And I don't move my hand. I just let him hold it.

"James..." I whisper. "What are you..." I am suddenly interrupted by and even bigger surprise. I find myself with James Hetfield's lips on my own. Warm, soft lips. That belong to Lars' best friend.

I pull away and look at him with confused, questioning eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know you love him. I just don't know what to feel or think. I don't know what the fuck it is, but when I'm around you, I just...You get me going inside. I'm sorry I kissed you."

"It's okay James. Don't feel bad." This time, I hesitate. He looks up at me. "I...I...when you look at me...I get a funny feeling, too. But, no. No." I look to the ground. "I love Lars. Let's just forget this whole thing ever happened, okay? We're just friends. Nothing more."

"Yeah, I know. Okay, no more." We stare at each other, and the impulse overcomes me. I grab his face and kiss him. He opens mouth wide and gorges me with his tongue. I feel his hands move around my waist, and he's holding me closely and tightly. No, no, no! I can't. Lars. James pulls me closer, and his hand is running slowly down my back. I move my hands from his face to his shoulders and I pull back.

"No. No, no, no!" I almost scream. "I'm sorry. No" I get up and run back inside, leaving James.

********

I get to the living room and run to Lars sitting on the couch next to Jason. They both look up in surprise. I collapse in Lars' lap and start to cry. The tears just gush out, like a never-ending water fall.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Lars asks. I keep crying. I feel Jason's and Kirk's eyes on me.

Lars pulls my head up slowly, and looks at me for a second, and then kisses me on the forehead.

"Let's go into the bedroom," he says. I nod my head and slowly stand up. Lars stands with me, and puts his arm around my waist to support me.

I look up and to see James staring at us with a blank expression on his face. I know little about James, but I do know that he never shows any emotions that might make him seem vulnerable, like sadness or fear. I'm sure he's feeling the latter.

"James," Lars asks, "Do you know what's wrong?"

"Ah, no. I'm just as clueless the rest of you guys." His eyes dart around nervously. This just makes me cry even harder.

Lars holds me closer and takes me to the bedroom. He sits me down on the bed, and kneels to speak.

"Baby, I'll be right back." I protest by grabbing his hands. He chuckles softly. "I promise. I'm gonna go send them home, okay?"

He gets up and I let go. I lay on the bed and cry softly for awhile. About five minutes later, he comes back. I watch him take his shoes and pants off, leaving him only in a tee-shirt and boxer shorts. He turns off the overhead light and turns off the overhead light and turns on the little reading lamp on his bedside table, and then gets into bed with me.

He holds me close, and I nuzzle into him. I feel so safe in his arms. I just want to stay like this forever. I just want to forget about his drumming and my photography. To forget about James. To forget about Metallica. Just him and me. Me and him.

He strokes my forehead and runs his fingers through my hair. "What's wrong," he whispers.

"I can't tell you," I whisper back. I can't speak any louder. It'll hurt too much. His soft voice keeps me safe.

"Yes you can. You can tell me anything...Did James do something to you outside?" His soft voice is filling with anger. No matter how much bigger James is than Lars, he'd still fight him. Lars would defend my honour against anyone. That's why I'm so upset about kissing his best friend. I start crying again, and he holds me closer and tighter.

"What is it? You have to tell me," he pleads. His forehead touches my own, and I feel his warm breath on my face. It smells of soy sauce and vodka.

"I....I....James kissed me." I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, waiting for the explosion.

"Oh," is all I hear. He pauses. "What did you do?"

"I kissed him back," I say in-between tears. "But I stopped right away, and told him that I loved you. And that's when I ran in crying. I feel absolutely horrible about it. It was a terrible mistake." I cry harder, and he says nothing. I'm waiting for his grip to loosen and to be pushed away.

********

...But I don't feel it. Finally, he speaks.

"Why did you kiss him?"

"I don't know. I caught in the moment. But I don't feel anything for him. My heart belongs to you."

He pauses for a long time. Oh, please, speak!

"I know you love me."

"Why aren't you pushing me away?

"I'm not angry with you." He pecks me on the lips, and I open my eyes to meet his. They shine with understanding. "I forgive you, baby. I could never stay angry with you. I love you too much."

"I love you, too. I need you. I don't know what I'd do without you." I want to kiss him, but he's too fast for me. His lips open wide against mine, and I open for him. He moves his tongue over the inside of my mouth, and I tease his tongue with my own. I bite his lip, and he groans. A groan of pleasure, mixed with pain.

He pulls back, and just looks at me. Just stares, deep into my eyes, examining my face.

"What?" I ask with a smile.

"You. Just you. That's all I care about, that's all I want."

"And all I want is you." I sit up and pull off my camisole. His eyes grow dark with lust and excitement. He smiles devilishly.

"I'm gonna make you forget everything that happened tonight. It's just you and me, now," he tells me.

He pulls his shirt off. He stares at me, asking with his eyes if he can take control of me. I submit.

He picks me up, and stands me up on the floor. He looks at my breasts, and takes them in his hands. He buries his face in-between them, and inhales me deeply. His tongue licks at the taut flesh of my nipples. He moves his hands up my back, and then down to my waist again.

He slowly pulls off my shorts, and guides my legs out of them. I am now completely naked. But not nervous. This is the first time that I haven't been embarrassed.

"Lars," I whisper. He looks up at me. "You cured me." He smiles, and kisses my stomach.

He lays me back on the bed, and moves towards the dresser. He grabs two candles, sets them on the bedside table, and lights them. He shimmies out of his boxer shorts, and I glance at his hard, throbbing cock. He turns the lamp off, and places himself on top of me.

His warmth envelopes me. Only the candle light guides us, and the sweat forming on his skin glistens under the pale light.

He kisses me, deep and slow, moving his tongue around the roof of his mouth. He slowly pulls away and bites my lip. I squeak in pain, but a good pain. He knows what he's doing.

He pulls away, and slowly glides his tongue between my breasts and down my stomach to my navel. He kisses it, and moves his hand between my fingers. He spreads me open, and glides his drummer's fingers into me.

He finds the spot that makes me scream, and starts to slowly rub, gaining speed with each thrust and groan that I give him. "Lars!" I scream, as I come, and we're both breathing heavily.

He lays his head upon my stomach, letting me regain my strength for his turn.

Suddenly he moves, and his tongue is inside me, sucking at me and lapping up my wetness like a cat. He lifts my clit up with his hot tongue, making me scream, yet again. He eats deeper into me, finally making me come again. I arch into him one last time and moan, and then fall back down on the bed.

I feel the need to take control. I feel his hot breath on my stomach, and I run my fingers through his hair.

"Lars," I gasp. "Get on the bed."

He looks up at me, and his lust-glazed eyes shine like burning coals in the candle light.

"What?" he whispers.

"Get on the bed. It's your turn."

He smiles, baring his off-white teeth. Lovely teeth that know how to bring pleasure, and how to bring pain.

He slowly gets off my stomach and lays next to me. I sit up and stare him down. "It's my turn to play," I say with a wicked smile. He smiles back, and rolls his eyes into the back of his head with a groan.

I mount him, and rub his chest. His soft nipples, and I slowly lick a circle around one of them. I hear him moan, which just turns me on. I feel myself start to go wet.

I stick my hand between my legs and enter. I pull it out, and my finger glistens with my own wetness.

I lean back down and kiss him, gorging my mouth on his full, red lips. I pull back, and put my wet finger on his lips. I kiss him again, and I can taste my own sweet wetness.

He smiles at me, and I begin kissing his chest, slowly moving down to his groin.

I grab his already hard cock and stroke it lightly. I kiss one of his hipbones, making him thrust up a little. I kiss the other, making him wait for it for just a little longer.

"Baby, don't fucking do this to me," he gasps loudly. I just smile and begin my work.

I take his cock in my mouth, and slowly tease the head with my tongue. He groans again, louder.

I start sucking, gaining speed with each groan he lets out. He soon begins yelling and bucking up and down, until he finally comes. His sweet seed fills my mouth, and I slowly swallow it.

His breathing slows down, and I lay myself on top of him, absorbing his sweat and heat. He puts his arms around me and holds me closely, tightly.

He sits up slowly, still holding me, and he twists me around to where he's on top on me.

He kisses me, pushing his tongue inside my mouth with such forceful intensity. I return his force, my tongue swimming around his mouth. I grab his head and pull his hair. He's loving this, and he moans to show his appreciation. I pull his head up and look into his marine eyes.

"Lars. Make me scream. Make me fucking scream," I gasp. He looks at me with so much love and lust in his eyes that I feel myself go wet all over again. I can tell that he wants to be controlled.

"Now, fucker!" I scream. I push him off of me and instead mount him.

His cock grows hard and seeks my entrance. I grab it and guide it inside. He fills me with his throbbing cock and I tighten myself around it. He squeezes my hips, trying to fill as much of himself inside me that he can.

I slowly start to move back and forth, riding him faster and faster. He squeezes me, tighter, tighter.

He thrusts into me, faster, faster. Harder, harder. I dig my fingers into his chest. He starts to whimper, getting louder, louder. I soon follow suit. Faster, faster. Harder, harder. Louder, louder. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He moves with me as I start to scream his name. We both start to reach a climax. I scream as I finally come. "Lars! La-ah-rs!"

He's still going as I aftershock around him. Now it's his turn. He loudly groans my name, and his hot seed fills my body.

I roll off of him, and lay on the bed, my breathing slowing from heavy to normal. His breathing slows as well.

He rolls over and takes me in his arms, holding me close and tight. We bathe in each other's sweet sweat.

Suddenly, he sits up.

"Huh?" I moan. I hear a blown breath, and the candle light goes out. "Oh," breathe. He come back to the bed, holding me once again.

"I love you," he whispers. I feel his sweet, hot breath on my ear, and I smile.

"I'm judging by that reaction that I made you forget about James, huh?" He smiles, and his sweet, Emerald green eyes look into mine, dripping with love.

"James? James who?" I ask, giggling.

"I guess so."

"I love you, Lars Ulrich. I love you like there's no tomorrow." He snuggles into me and lays his head on my chest.

"As long as it's you and me, we got all the tomorrows in the world." He kisses one of my breasts lightly, sweetly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I hold his head close to my chest, and I hear him sleeping soundly. I drift away into a deep sleep, with only two things on my mind. Lars, and his beautiful green eyes.

********

I wake up with Lars tangled in my legs and arms. His head is still resting on my chest. I slowly begin to play with his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"You're so beautiful when you're sleeping. I love you. I love your beautiful hair. I love the grip tape you wear while you drum. I love the fact that you manage to put the word 'fuck' into almost every sentence that comes out of your beautiful mouth. I love your sweet, full lips. I love the fact that you talk dirty to me in Danish. I love the fact that you let me live with you, even though you could make me go home after every time we sleep together. I love how you cook me breakfast on Sunday mornings. I love the fact that you think I'm beautiful. I love the fact that you could have any woman you want, but you chose me. I love how you took me to Copenhagen last year, and put up with me being sick on the whole trip. I love your beautiful green eyes. I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, too." I make a startled jump.

"I didn't know you were awake. You heard all that?"

"Yes. Would you have rather I not?"

"No. No, it's just that, now I'm embarrassed. I know you're not a sap like me...I'm glad you heard it."

"So am I." He snuggles into my chest, kissing me softly. I hold him closer.

"What time is it?" he asks in a muffled voice.

I look over to his clock. "Around ten."

"Eh...who gives a fuck? I'm not going to the studio today. I'm staying in bed with you." He snuggles me deeper, and I feel his lovely hot breath on me.

I sit up. "What? You're really gonna stay home with me?" I slide down to meet his face. "See? This is why I love you." I squeeze him tightly, never wanting to let go.

Spending the whole day with Lars was wonderful. It's something that we never get to do. He's either working with James on new songs, or rehearsing with the guys in the studio, or recording an album. The only time we ever get to see each other is at night. And as much as I love sleeping with him, there are times when I long to spend "quality time" with him. And this "quality time" doesn't include James, Kirk, or Jason. And sometimes Lars can't get that past that heavy metal skull of his. But today was different. Today was one of our best days.

After finally getting out of bed and taking a shower together, we went for sushi at lunch. Then we walked around downtown San Francisco all afternoon, something I hadn't done in a long time. Finally, I dragged him to Japan town and made him buy me some new manga. I even let him peruse the hentai.

Upon getting home, we learned that James wasn't very happy with our day out. He had left a message on the machine, screaming at Lars to get his ass down to the studio to "lay down the fucking drum track". There was a ruckus in the background, followed by a soft muffled voice, who I assumed to be Kirk's, trying to get James to settle down. Kirk was a Pacifist in a band full of war mongers.

But Lars was unaffected.

"Maybe you should call him and tell him what's going on," I tell him, slowly sitting on the couch and putting my head in my hands. This isn't the situation I want to be in right now.

"Why? So he can bitch at me some more just because he's got a fucking crush?" he says, growing louder. He stands, looking down at me.

"You need to discuss this with him! Last night you were fine with this. It was just a fucking accident."

"I'm okay with you, not him. He crossed a fucking line. I'm not in the mood to speak to him, much less look in his face!" he starts screaming down at me.

I bolt up, almost staring him down, although we're basically the same height. My eyes begin to water, and I start screaming back.

"Don't you fucking yell at me, Lars Ulrich! I told you that I feel like complete shit because of what happened! I don't know why I did it, okay? But you don't have to fucking scream at me!" The tears start streaming. �If you're mad at James, fucking yell at him - not me!"

He just stares at me, the anger on his face quickly washing away from sadness. He grabs me, holding me close and tight, and we fall to the floor together. He's crying, I'm crying. He buries his face in my shoulder, his hot tears raining on my neck, absorbing into my hair, shirt, and skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "This is just so fucking complicated. I don't know what to fucking do. I don't want to loose you, and I don't want to loose him."

"I know, I know. I don't want you to loose him, either. And I don't ever want to loose you." I pull back and stare into his sad green eyes. "I don't want to be the Yoko of Metallica," I whisper, with a pathetic smile.

He chuckles softly. "There's no fucking way that will happen," he says, taking me back in his warm grip.

The nest morning I wake up to him bustling in the bathroom. I sleepily get up and walk to the bathroom door. He's showering. I smile lightly, and get close to the shower curtain so he can hear me.

"I take it you're going to work today."

"Yeah," I hear from behind the curtain. He shuts off the water and pulls back the curtain. And there he is. Standing. Naked. Beads of water running down his slightly tanned skin. I grab a towel and throw it at him.

"Please," I giggle. I go to the mirror and wipe off the condensation. He embraces me, chilly and wet. "Ooooh, you're fucking cold," I say, playfully pushing him away.

"And you're fucking warm," he returns, taking me back into his arms, only closer.

I get out of his grip and straighten up. "You're gonna be late. You better hurry up." I smile, and he examines me, water still dripping from him.

"You're coming with me," he says, slowly beginning to dry off.

"What?" I choke out with a sarcastic laugh. "I don't wanna piss James off anymore than I already have. How do you think he'll feel when you show up with me in tow?"

"Well, he'll probably like it," he says, with a slightly mischievous smile. "I've known Hetfield for a long fucking time. And when there's a conflict that involves Metallica, he fucking wants it solved immediately."

I stop short. "So, I *am* a conflict for Metallica."

"No. No no no," he says, caressing my shoulders. "But when there's a problem between its two founding members and one of their girlfriends, James thinks it's a problem for the whole fucking band. So that's why we need to solve it. He needs to know that I'm not compromising anything. Not you, not the fucking band, and not him." He starts to dry off again, and I sit on the side of the tub, pondering this new endeavour over and over in my mind.

"Okay," I finally say. "I'll come with you."

********

I stare out the window on the way there. Lars is speeding down the highway in his brand-new Porsche, so everything we drive by is a blur of colors, somewhat resembling an Impressionist painting viewed up close. My mind is just as blurred. I don't know what to feel. Nervous seems right, but so does fear. And sadness.

As we pull into the parking space, my stomach turns over. Please, don't get sick.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

We get out of the car, and I grab his hand. I don't know if I'll be able to stand up without it.

He leads me towards a large, open room. There is an assortment of guitars and basses, and a giant drum kit. I survey the area and take a deep breath.

"So this is where the magic happens?"

"Magic? I wouldn't necessarily call it that. More like shit storms." He pulls me close. "Are you sure you're ready for all of this?"

"I gotta face it sometime. No time like the present."

"Yeah...I guess you're right."

"Lars? Are *you* ready?"

"I sure as fuck hope so." He slowly lets go of me and walks over to his kit.

I look around once more and see Jason sauntering in with a sleepy look in his eyes.

"Hey, Jase."

"Oh, hey," he says, surprised, no doubt, that I'm in a place where I'm sure no woman has ever before entered. "What brings you to our home away from home?"

"I have some business to conduct." I smile at him and pull out my Camels. I can't believe I'm being so calm about this in front of Jason.

"Well...uhhh..."

"It's okay, Jason. I'm not going to be here while you guys are working."

"Oh, okay." Jason starts for one of his basses, but Lars intervenes.

"Where's James?"

"Somewhere around here."

"Okay." He turns to me. "I need to talk to Jason about some stuff on one of the songs. You can stay, or look around, whatever."

"Sure." He turns back to Jason and starts talking. But I can't here a word they're saying. All I can think about is the imminent confrontation.

I walk out into the hall and light up. This place is really dank. It reeks of boys, and...something I can't quite put my finger on. Some kind of energy, for lack of a better word. An energy that these guys create together. Lars said it wasn't magical, but I think there's a part of him that believes it is.

I find what appears to be some sort of living room. There are couches, a pool table, television, everything that one would find in such a place. There is also a little kitchenette of in a corner.

James' back is facing me. He's watching something on the TV. Oh, fuck.

"Hey you," I say shakily.

He turns his head towards me and gets up from the couch.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well that's a fine 'how-do-you-do'." I *knew* he was gonna do this. Fuck. Why did I let Lars talk me into this?

He hesitates for a moment. "Sorry. I'm just surprised that you're here, you know, after what happened."

"That's why I'm here. We need to talk about it. You, me...and him."

"You told him?" he spits out, his voice getting louder. This is the Hetfield that I absolutely hate. "Fuckin' A!"

I calmly walk towards him. "Of course I told him. You don't think I would have been able to keep something like that inside, do you?"

"Is he mad?"

"What do you think?"

"Let me guess - he's mad at *me*, right, and not you?"

"I don't think he's mad at either of us. I think he's mad at the situation more than anything else. And that's why I'm here. We need to get this whole thing settled and taken care of. I can't stand this weight on my shoulders."

"Let's you and me talk first. Without him." He's suddenly very calm.

"What?"

"You heard me." He motions towards the couch and we both sit down. I stub my ciggie out on a nearby ashtray.

"Don't try anything funny, okay?"

"I hadn't planned on it."

I pull out another Camel and light up. I tend to smoke more when I'm nervous. Who doesn't?

"James," I slowly start. "Whatever I might have felt for you is just fleeting. It's nothing more. And I really don't believe you're feeling anymore than I am. And if there's some chance that you are, you have to stifle those feelings. And yes, I know that isn't easy. But don't do it because of me, or you. Do it for him. He doesn't deserve this, you know? None of you guys do." I hesitate to bring up the accident last year. No. That's one thing he definitely does *not* need to hear about.

"If this is a crush, I don't think I could take it if the real thing happened."

"No, James!" Oh, I want to fucking scream at this guy. Doesn't he get it? This can't fucking happen. "Listen, I'm sorry I led you on by kissing you last night. But I *know* you're not feeling anything more. Wasn't it you that always said that you can't let personal shit get in the way of business? What the fuck do you think this little episode is?"

"Don't you think I fucking know that? You think I want for this to happen?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." I stub out my other cigarette. Now I'm too fucked up to even smoke. I turn my head to avoid James' gaze, only to see Lars looking at the both of us. Now my eyes are watering, and all three of us are shaking. James looks at him for a second, then turns his eyes to his feet.

I get up and go to Lars, holding his shoulders and looking straight into his eyes.

"How much did you hear?" I whisper to him, tears streaming down both our faces.

"Enough," he whispers back, sniffling.

"Then there's only one thing to do." I turn to look at James, who is now staring at us both, and then look back to Lars. I slip my arms around his waist and pull him close to me.

"I love you. I always will. Please know this." Deep breath. Oh, God, I can't believe I'm doing this. But it's the only thing to do. "Regardless. I can't be apart of this. Or you."

His skin drains of color. And I think I hear James gasp.

"I can't break up seven some odd years of friendship. That would not be fair to either of you. And if you two have a falling out, then that means no more Metallica. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened.

I kiss him. Long and soft. "This is the way it has to be."

He's looking at me with those green eyes. Eyes that make me go weak in the knees. Eyes that I'll no longer be waking up to morning. Eyes that will no longer be the last thing I see before I go to bed at night.

"I love you, too," he chokes out. He looks at me, and I know that he knows that this is the only way.

I walk out of the studio building with tears still streaming down my face. I pull out a Camel and light out, yet again. Getting over him is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done before.

I decide to walk home.

~~~- Fast forward ten years -~~~

"Should we tell him?"

"I don't think we have a choice, Fran."

"Yeah, you're right." His hand is holding mine tightly as we lay next to each other.

"Besides," James continues. "I think he's really in love with that Skylar chick..."

~~~~The End~~~~