Title: Purple
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic. R for language, NC-17 for hopelessly romanticised, graphic depiction of homosexual sex. M/m action, no drug references, pretty glistening flesh, like that.
Status: posted to the site 5 October 2004
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: ("What, there needs to be a Hairbraiding II?") This is *He Dyed His Hair!* I doubt *He Still Has Dyed Hair!* is gonna go over.
Disclaimers: All parts of my fannish being are enriched by the presence of Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, and all the merry characters at View Askew Productions (including their current master, Miramax,) save for that pesky financial part of my being, which receives no compensation whatsoever for these tawdry little tales.
Notes: Was it Goblin gave me this bunny? I can't recall. I can recall the idea of dyeing Jay's hair purple. Still don't know why, exactly, Jay would ever dye his hair. He seems pretty comfortable being rock-star blond. :>
Summary: Jay dyes his hair and Bob has lusty wrong feelings. ("You have lusty wrong feelings for Parker!" "No, I don't!" "No, you don't." "Oh, I *so* do!" "No, I mean they're not wrong feelings." --paraphrased, Willow to Buffy)
Warnings: This for Alexa--hair pulling, but in a good way. Bob reading poetry. Assertive!Jay. Smart!Jay. Jay calling Bob Robert and not getting slapped down for it. Hand-kissing. Brand-name lube. Safe sex mentions. And, as long as we're here, I highly approve of Tuxedo condoms. :>

by Kelandris the Mad

*I do not know how to praise you, O my love,
For I am no master poet who can claim the twelve branches.
Your hair in my hands was sweet as new milk,
Your lips against mine like the rich mead of kings.*

Bob was reading a book of Irish poetry, daydreaming on his roommate, when that roommate walked in from the bright afternoon. He automatically glanced at the VCR clock, realizing the blond's jaunt down to the Quick Stop and back had taken an hour longer than any other time in their history. The dark-haired man looked up, wondering what Jay'd gotten himself into *this* time, and his mouth fell open.

*when I see the way you paint your lips
and I smell your perfume
when I see the brand new color that you've dyed your hair, too
I know, you know, it's more than physical*

Some part of his mind not completely stunned thought that he'd rather have seen bruises. Bruises he could handle. Bruises he could process. This stopped all thought in his head.

"What in the hell--" he began, startled, then closed his mouth with a snap. Jay snorted, tossing his hair over his shoulder. It flew over, lofting with violet grace into the sun-drenched Sunday air, falling liquid down his back in tinted purple majesty.

"What, Lunchbox? Just fuckin' say it, already." He was grinning as if Bob's reaction was the best joke he'd heard all week.

Bob swallowed, blinking. Okay. He could do this. Change was fine. Change was good. Change was...change was incredibly, incredibly bad, when it left Jay with purple hair, glowing with its own bright violet highlights, the afternoon light glittering along the strands. Bad, change. Very, very bad.

"What have you--" he managed to gasp.

"Kills, huh? Some chick at that mall talked me into it." He flopped down bonelessly on the couch next to Bob, stretching his arm across the back. "An' no, before you ask, you jealous bitch, I din't fuck her. She wasn't interested."

Good God, why *not*? Instinctively, he reached his hand out to touch, and had actually trailed his fingers down one long strand before he got control again. Jay only grinned.

"Yeah," he said softly, "she tol' me I'd have to take care of it, that it might bleed a little, y'know, I'd have to condition and shit. Like I never condition my hair." He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the same time, and flickers of light spun through the purple mass.

*my love, my love, my love, love is chemical*

Bob closed his eyes briefly, summoning strength. When he opened them, Jay had scooted closer to him on the couch. He felt Jay's body heat radiate through his sweats, and he blinked again, looking at the purple-haired man. The purple-haired man leaned towards him, moving the hand on the back of the couch closer to Bob's head. The fingers of that hand began to stroke through his hair, causing Bob to shudder, his breathing stuttering to a halt.

"Maybe you should dye this," Jay said reflectively. He lifted one of the seal-brown strands into the fading light. "Burgundy, maybe, or onna them purple-blacks, you know, really bring out your eyes. You'd look hot."

Embarrassed, Bob looked away, shaking his head, and then the word sank into his brain. *Hot*. Jay had said--

"Hot," he repeated. Or rather, his lips formed the words, but there was no sound. He hadn't even breathed out across the word so the whisper would carry.

And Jay just grinned. "C'mon," he said. His voice was low, nearly a growl of lyric on the air. Dust motes, Bob thought frantically, moved faster than Jay's lips right now.

"Say it. Say 'hot'."

Bob's mouth went dry as Jay's hand fell to the back of his neck. He felt suddenly flushed. Was it hot in here, or was it just Jay? He wanted to take off his t-shirt, but Jay was here, and suddenly, stripping down to shorts from tee and sweats was the last thing on his mind. Or, rather, it was what he was thinking about, which was why he couldn't do it.

"Chickenshit," Jay murmured.

Bob's eyes grew wide. He'd followed along on that Bob-stripping-down thought? How the hell had he...Oh. He felt even more embarrassed now. He'd been commenting on the 'hot' discussion.

"How about this one? It would make you look fuckin' pretty. But then, you always look fuckin' pretty."

*What the hell?!* He nearly squeaked the words aloud, and he began shaking his head, small, minute little movements that only stroked Jay's fingertips over the nape of his neck. Cannot deal. Can*not* deal, sorry. Too much information. Central processor is slag.

*well I know the saying goes
that all in love and war is fair
but I've never stood a chance against your chemical warfare
the polish on your fingernails
mascara on your eyes
the lotion you rub on at night to make sure your hands ain't dry*

"Jay, uh..." He started to say something--later, he could not remember what it would have been--and Jay cut him off, squirming up into his lap and looping his long arms around Bob's neck. For one long, breathless moment, he just looked down at Bob, those burning teal-colored eyes strobing their own color into the air.

"Have I got your attention yet, Robert?" he whispered, leaning down. He licked the rim of Bob's ear, sucking gently on the earlobe, and then sat up, looking at him expectantly.

Bob nodded, but it was more of a spastic muscle jerk than an actual calm, reflexive nod.

**Okay,** he thought. **Okay. So he licked you. He's played with you before. Calm down. Everyone, just calm down.** **But he--!** **Has done this before.** **NOT like this!**

"Good," Jay murmured. He seemed to be fascinated by the emotions swirling in Bob's eyes. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Who the hell *was* this?? Bob, dazed by the tongue on his ear, dazed further by Jay's tone, dazed in the beginning by his amazing colored hair, could only stare up dumbly, blinking. Jay shook his head.

"Shit, boy, why I'm so retarded for you, I have no fuckin' clue. But man, I am. And I will fuckin' *die*, right here, right now, if you don't pull your shit together and kiss me. You think you up to that?"


"Shit, I *do* have to do everything in this relationship. You catch up when you can, Lunchbox."

And Jay leaned down, licking along the bow of Bob's upper lip, licking his full, rose lips open, sucking on his bottom lip. Bob began to moan, hands rising, clenching in air. Jay made some exasperated noise, grabbing them and placing them on his hips. Suddenly they clenched, digging into those hips, and pulling Jay forward with a clean jerk. The hands then moved up Jay's back at speed, reaching the young man's head and pulling it forward, pulling it down, and savagely kissing Jay over and over, kissing all his breath and everything else away.

Jay pulled away, gasping for air, and that was when Bob flipped him off the couch.

*my love, my love, my love,
love is chemical
love is chemical
love is chemical*

With a muffled thud, Jay sprawled over the floor. Before he could manage to rise, or dredge up any one of several angry emotions, Bob was on the floor beside him, reaching for his clothes. He removed layer after layer, unzipping, unbuttoning, or pulling whatever it was over his head, down his hips. At the same time Bob was throwing his clothes right and left, and soon, they were both naked, on a floor that really needed vacuuming. Jay only noticed for a moment, though; because Bob knelt between his legs, thrusting upwards so that their cocks could fence together. Jay cried out, arching off the floor in sensual abandonment.

Bob thrust forward again, whimpering, then dove for Jay. He scorched kisses over his chest, across his shoulders, down his sides. He licked and sucked and nibbled every inch of skin he could reach. And it was all in silence, all in deep quiet punctuated only by Jay's babbling, a hundred thoughts an hour, and Bob's breathing growing swift and quick.

"Jesus, man, slow it fuckin' down, I know I been teasin' you an' shit, but--*shit!*"

Jay arched off the floor again as Bob's mouth fastened on one of his nipples.

"Oh my fuckin' *GOD*, man, you gotta--you gotta--*AHH!*"

No. No. Too much time lost. Not enough control. No amount of control enough for this. Somewhere, deep in the backbrain, one of the little adviser voices was screaming, appalled at what was happening. Calmly Bob packaged that voice up, throwing it to the bottom of his subconscious, and went on licking Jay's skin, tasting him, tasting sweat and pot and something citrus-y, spicy, wholly appropriate to Jay.

"Oh, man, oh, *fuck* man, fuck, Bob, please, please, please Bob please--"

Bob, breathing hard, pulled up from Jay's skin, looking down at him. Purple hair splayed out on the carpet, and Jay couldn't seem to stop his hands from moving, clenching on the couch, the coffee table, the carpet, Bob's skin. Later, they would both discover several fingertip-sized bruises and laugh. Now, though, Bob just wanted Jay writhe frantically.

He looked around the living room. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Bed," he gasped. He rose, cock standing at attention, looking wild-eyed at his bedroom door.

"Gimme a fuckin' minute to get up, then! Shit, man!" Wobbling on unsteady legs, the purple-haired man rose to his knees, which put him on eye level with Bob's thick cock.

"Oh, *fuck*..." he whimpered.

Bob looked down, perplexed. What the hell was it now? Then he looked down further, following his eyes. Oh. Right. He started to take a step back and Jay grabbed him, shaking his head.

"Oh, you ain't goin' fucking *nowhere*, dude!" And he leaned forward, taking the purpling, mushroom-sized head into his mouth. Bob gasped, twitching, eyes staring blindly across the room. Jay murmured something Bob didn't catch, and the sensation of vocal tremor across such sensitive skin made him moan loudly.


Jay pulled off, licking the head. He grabbed Bob's cock with one hand, slowly working it as he looked up, grinning.

"Yeah? What else can you say?"

*I know, I know, it's more than physical,
hey babe
my love, ny love, my love,
love is chemical*

"Bed," he said firmly, pulling him to his feet. He pushed the young man forward, and stumbling, Jay moved to the bedroom, opening the door.

Jay walked in, taking a moment to see the room, to register everything. Bob's extensive comics collection lay in several long white boxes to the right. On two of the walls, huge bookshelves were full of floor-to-ceiling books. On the left was the dark metal computer desk with its tall CD rack of games. Then he crawled onto the bed, looking over his shoulder.

"Well, Lunchbox? You gonna fuck me or what?"

Bob actually growled at that, and Jay flinched back, nearly falling off the bed. Bob walked forward, his cock bobbing in time to his steps, the purpled length of him pointing unerringly at Jay. Jay bit his lip, then looked around.

"Shit, we gonna need lube, where the hell you keep that shit?"

An eyebrow rose mockingly, and Bob sat down on the bed, opening a side drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of Slippery Stuff, flipping the top with a practiced motion.

Jay sneered. "Oh, like you done this so fuckin' often."

Bob looked over, then leaned over, grabbing Jay by the neck and pulling him close. He kissed him again, savagely, driving all breath from the boy, and when he pulled back, Jay was panting, hands trembling. A light sheen of sweat covered his chest.

"Holy *fuck*," he breathed. Bob smiled slightly, pouring a dollop of lube onto his hand.

*well I hope that you don't take offenses
it's not that you're not pretty
it's only that I feel like I'm in love with test tube city
I know, with you, I'm on the pinnacle
come on pinnacle, baby*

He pressed Jay back against the bank of pillows at the top of the bed. He pressed his back flat against the bed, then spread his thighs apart. And suddenly, Jay was trembling.

"Hey, um, I ain't, I ain't done this in...uh...years..." He broke off, eyes widening at the expression in Bob's eyes. But Bob only leaned down, kissing along his jawline.

"Shhh," he whispered in Jay's pink-shell ear.

"Yeah. But Bob, I think you should--"

Bob just looked at him, his dark eyes wells of deep emotion. He brought one of Jay's hands up to his lips, kissing it lightly. His hands were trembling. So were Jay's.

"Shhh," he repeated, and Jay swallowed, blinking.

One lubed finger probed between Jay's spread legs, moving down from his scrotum into the cleft of his cheeks, between them to push against the tightly puckered entrance. Jay hissed air between his teeth, mouth open and gasping. Bob leaned forward, lying next to Jay. He needed to feel Jay's skin against his, and he smiled when he made contact, the first finger joint disappearing inside Jay at the same moment he pressed against Jay's skin.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fucking *God*, oh, oh, don't stop, don't you fucking stop--"

Bob just laughed softly. Like he could. Like he had any control of this situation. Touching Jay like this, it was all he could do not to scream defiant joy at the ceiling, throw Jay down on the bed, and invade him, conquer him completely, pound him into the mattress. He trembled with the force of his want. But he went as slowly as he could, trying to open Jay up, open him wider, stretch him. Trauma right now would be bad. Very bad. Especially since he wanted to do this again, and as often as possible. As often as Jay would let him, he thought, sliding another finger in, wiggling them and watching Jay twitch.

*my love, my love, my love,
love is chemical
my-my love, oh,
love is chemical
love is chemical*

"Fuck, fuck, *fuck*," Jay panted. "You gotta stop teasin' me, man. You gotta *fuck* me! C'mon!" The last word was nearly whined, and Bob smiled shakily. He stopped smiling when Jay's hand snaked out, grabbing his cock and pulling him closer.

"C'mon, gimme, fuck me already, you wanna, I know you wanna, *please*..."

Bob leaned his head against Jay's chest, sliding a third finger inside Jay. He moved them all in as even a rotation as he could manage, and Jay yelled his approval. But his hands plucked at Bob's skin, pulled at his hair, urged him forward.

He couldn't wait. Three would have to be enough, he thought, reaching into the same bedside drawer and pulling out a condom, tearing the package with his teeth. He poured a little lube on his hand, slicking his cock with smooth swirls of his hand, and rolled the condom down the lubed flesh. Jay whimpered when he saw this, his hips bucking forward. He nodded violently, hands fluttering in the air.

"Yeah," he gasped. "Yeah, yeah, now come fuck me!"

Bob poured a larger dollop on the latex, working it over the translucent black surface, eyes burning into Jay's.

**My God,** he thought. **You. Purple hair. You're insane. You're beautiful.**

It needed saying in more than just his head. "You're beautiful," he repeated aloud. Jay shivered, watching him.

"Bob," he breathed. And Bob took him, pushing inside with one smooth, even stroke. Jay gasped, hips arching up to meet Bob's, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Ho...ly...*fuck*..." he breathed. One hand released Bob, diving down to grab his own cock, fingers curling around the length and pumping up and down. Growling again, Bob knocked his hand aside, then pulled out, flipping Jay over on his stomach.

Jay protested, then all protests stopped as Bob grabbed his hips, pulling him back hard and impaling him on Bob's cock. He cried out as Bob thrust inside, his hand slipping over Jay's hip to grab his cock in strong, sure fingers. He began pumping Jay's cock, and thrusting in and out of Jay's ass, while Jay held himself up on arms that were beginning to tremble.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, dude, yeah Bob, yeah, yeah, fuck me good, fuck me hard, yeah, yeah, *yeah*--"

Bob sped up, breathing hard, closing his eyes. He was drowning in sensation; being gripped by Jay's rings of muscle, feeling muscles jerk and jump around his cock, under his fingertips, feeling the muscles in Jay's thighs contract. He shuddered, smiling.

*It's so much more than physical,
honey it's much more than physical*

**Fuck, if I'd known,** he thought. **This is so much better. No fantasy is as good as this.**

Aloud, he moaned, and sped up again, listening as Jay's words hit hyperspeed.

"Oh God oh fuck oh God so good so good oh Bob oh yes oh fuck yes fuck Bob yes fuck Bob yes--"

Chuckling, fist now encircling Jay's cock, pumping him as if he were stroking his own cock, he pounded into Jay, thrusting hard, thrusting deep. Breath shuddered out of him, and his head swam with a dizzying mix of hormones and lust. He regretted for the first time turning Jay over, because now he couldn't see his eyes. But he could hear. He could hear Jay moaning his name, crying out, bucking against him; he could hear Jay string words of encouragement and want and passion together; he could hear how much Jay wanted him, wanted this, wanted him to do this.

He moved a hand upward, stroking over the shining violet strands, glimmering in the last of the day's dying light. Then he grabbed a double fistful of his hair, gently pulling back on it.

Jay gasped, head moving back, and Bob pulled him upwards, spreading his legs and driving up hard into Jay.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, what're you---oh, *fuck*, Bob, Jesus, so fuckin' *good*--don't stop don't stop please don't, don't, don't stop--"

Bob leaned forward, pressing his chest against Jay's sweat-sheened back, leaning in to kiss the side of Jay's neck, the edge of his straining throat. He kissed, he licked along the rapid pulse he felt under the skin, he ate the taste of Jay into his mouth, his teeth vibrating lightly over the skin. Lifting the hank of hair further, he moved his mouth to the back of Jay's neck, where the hair would normally fall. He brought his lips together, sucking so hard he burst blood vessels under the skin. There. *Memento.* *Amor vincia.* He shuddered again, feeling close, wanting Jay to come with him.

Jay screamed, thrusting rapidly into the circle of Bob's fingers around him. He came, spurting on Bob's hands, across his pillows, screaming again. Bob looked at the mark, desire shuddering through him, and cried out himself, coming hard. He rapidly thrust into Jay, over and over again, releasing the fist clutching his hair, letting the young man fall forward.

Shuddering, he separated from Jay, Jay whimpering when he pulled out. A practiced motion slid the used condom from him, and he knotted the top, tossing it into the trash by the bed. Then he wrapped his arms around the shaking once-blond, drawing him into an embrace, kissing his forehead.

*"Unlooked for, maybe forgotten, I have come/To win you, who, once won, graced my arms/With your presence,"* Bob whispered softly.

"What?" Jay asked.

**Nothing, love. Poetry.** But that, he couldn't yet say aloud.

*hey baby,
my love is chemical
so much more than physical, honey*

(Song excerpts from Lou Reed's "My Love is Chemical" from the White Nights soundtrack. Poem read and quoted by Bob in the story is by Gael Baudino, from her book "Gossamer Axe") ***** Kelandris the Mad can't stop laughing but no one else gets the joke

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