Pairing: Cliff Richard/Elvis Presley (mentions of others)
Notes: Written for mmom 2009, Day 11. Prompt from timbershiver, she requested Cliff wanking over Elvis. (Ok, it was a year ago. Some things take time.)
Warning: Cliff Richard! Wanking! Over Elvis! In 2nd person, no less.
You never forget your first love, do you?
Certainly not when you were just a kid and one of your mates said, “Hey, Harry, listen to this.”
The needle touched the vinyl and with those first words, Well, since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell. you found something completely new. A hunger, a longing, a passion for everything you heard in that voice.
A lot’s happened since then. You’re Sir Cliff Richard now and Elvis is long gone, but he still has a special place in your heart. Not just your heart, you think, with a sly smile. You gave your life to Jesus and never looked back, but you’re still human after all.
There are nights like this. Summer nights in the Algarve, when the air is full of wisteria and tuberoses, and you feel the stirrings, and you turn back to your oldest and truest love.
The Comeback Special goes in the DVD player, so you can lie in bed and see Elvis at his finest, absolute perfection in black leather, before he lost it all to drugs and food and all the temptations the world had to offer.
One night with you, is what I’m now praying for.
You feel your heart beating faster.
The voice is so pure, sending a thrill through your whole body as you reach into your pyjamas and start touching yourself. Loving Elvis doesn’t make you queer. You know that, no matter what the press has ever said about you, and what they’d think if they knew about this.
You know what queer is. You’ll never forget poor Larry Harvey, drunk and full of self-loathing, trying to fondle your knee at a restaurant. “Come on, Cliffie. Give me a few hours and you’ll forget about those slappers for good.”
If that was being “gay,” you certainly wanted no part of it. Your love for Elvis is nothing like that. It’s pure and passionate. Closer to the feeling you get when you’re onstage yourself, bathed in the love of the audience.
You close your eyes, feeling the hardness in your hand. Not bad for an old geezer, Peter Pan can still fly when he wants to. None of those funny blue pills here. Just you and Elvis.
Are you lonely tonight? Do you miss me tonight?
You’ve only ever told one person about this; your darling Liv.
You were watching telly together late one night at the house in London, and “Loving You” came on. You told her the story about how Elvis had arranged for his parents to be in one of the crowd scenes, and then he could never bear to watch the movie again after his mother passed away. Maybe you were a little over-enthusiastic in knowing various facts about Elvis’ life and career.
“You really love Elvis don’t you,” she’d asked, and sensing that this was the time, maybe the only person who might understand, you said that having her there and Elvis on the screen was almost too much. You couldn’t touch her until you were married, but would she mind being there while you…? It was hard to say, but she seemed to accept it.
“Oh, Cliff,” she’d replied and placed a kiss to your lips.
It was a nearly perfect moment. Sometimes you still wish that you and Liv had ended up together, but it’s God’s plan and not your place to question it.
If I can dream of a better land, where all my brothers walk hand in hand…
Your legs tremble as you squeeze your eyes shut, biting down on your lower lip. Your arm is starting to get tired. So close…
If I can dream, if I can talk. If I can stand. If I can walk. If I can dream. Please let my dream, come true. Right now.
There it is. Still. Again. Forever. That feeling. Heat and pleasure and brightness filling you up, leaving you sweaty and happy, gasping for breath.
Bloody hell, you think, so sated and sleepy you don’t have the energy to feel guilty for the profanity.
You never forget your first love and yours has never let you down.
Praise the lord.