𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐔𝐩

self indulgent jameson.

waitress jason inspired by all those crazy waitress bits james and jason had. ok bye.

telling my kids kurt cobain was jesus christ

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

warnings: drug usage, drinking to cope, first time(s), anal sex, sad sex

nsfw under the cut :)

Jason had drunk himself into a stupor. Both to forget the hazing from his bandmates and to numb the pain of being their punching bag, both metaphorically and physically.

That night’s show was a disaster in his eyes—his bass had mysteriously gone out during “My Friend of Misery”, preventing his beautiful bass solo from getting played. That, coupled with the fact that James and Lars nitpicked everything he did on stage after the show.

His eyes glazed over, slumped over on the couch as he thought. When he got drunk, he wasn’t boisterous like James, he wasn’t a gossiper like Lars or plain stupid like Kirk. He was quiet. Reserved. Lost in thought and sat to the side in thoughtful silence. 

Alone in his hotel room drinking a 6-pack all by himself, joint resting on an ashtray. Millions and millions of thoughts filled his head. Like a hot air balloon that threatened to burst, he quelled his thoughts with another puff of his joint. 

You could always rely on a good beer and joint combo to blank out any bad thoughts. 

He’s getting through the night already, he can’t tell what time it is but it sure as hell felt like forever. Jason had the windows open, the soft, cool wind blowing in, mixing with the smell of pot and the beer laden on his breath. 

When he’s finally unwinding, he’s coiled taut again by the sharp rapping against his foot. He places down his fourth beer of the night and stubs out his blunt, standing to open the door. 

And there stood the root sources of his own self-destructive act. 

“Can I help you guys?” He asked, slurring his words ever so slightly, door half-open. He knows he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up, eyes bloodshot and clearly zooted. The smell of weed drifts from his room into the hallway, and Jason’s eyes strain at the brightness in the hallway.

“Oh..uh…” started Lars. Jason tilted his head, waiting for whatever he had to say. “We were just wondering what you were doing since you left the afterparty so early.”

Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t in the mood.” James scoffs softly. “Obviously in the mood to drink and smoke by yourself.” In no mood to entertain them, he raised his eyebrows over half-lidded eyes. 

“Now you know what I was doing. G’night.” 

“Hey, wait—“

Before he can shut his door, a shoe blocks it in the last second. Jason holds back the urge to groan. “What?” He says annoyedly, opening the door a fraction to peek out. 

“Listen, you need to stop acting like a spoiled child. It isn’t our fault your bass went out.” James says defensively. Jason wants to roll his eyes. Wants to yell at him and say that it was, that he had planned it all, that he was the mastermind. But even in his inebriated state, he retained his sobriety and retained his temper.

“Uhuh.” Was all he had to say, rubbing one of his reddened eyes. “Jesus Christ…whatever, get mad at us. See if we care.” He saw James and Lars storm off in the other direction, no doubt speaking ill of him behind his back and planning their next “prank”. And as he moved to close his door, he was stopped again, but not by force this time.

“Wait.” 

He almost wanted to cry out in frustration. But he didn’t. He couldn’t be temperamental. He couldn’t. After all, he was supposed to be the calm one. 

Kirk stood outside his door—previously overshadowed by the two biggest egos in the hallway, Jason barely noticed his presence. But now it was the two of them. 

“..Yeah..?” Jason couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. Kirk was always the most passive among the other three with his hazing, if one could even call it that. Sure, he participated in the beginning, but he got over his grief, and acknowledged Jason as another person with feelings. Not like he was a puppet built to destroy like James and Lars thought he was. 

“Can I come in? I just..I wanna talk.” Kirk stood in front of the gap in the door now, eyes locking with Jason’s. Against his better judgement, Jason opened the door. Kirk was let in, and Jason closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it. 

“I’m sorry about what happened…I didn’t know-“ “It’s fine. It’s not like you would’ve done anything like this. I think.” Kirk awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot. It hurt slightly to hear Jason speak like that.. “You can sit.”

Kirk flopped next to Jason, the two sitting and facing the open balcony window. The moonlight shone down with her smile, her crescent smile familiar to Jason after nights being alone and contemplating his decisions. 

“The guys don’t know what they’re doing. And I don’t take responsibility for their actions. But they’ll understand, not now, but maybe when they’re 40.” Kirk’s words are almost comforting. 

Almost. 

But it hurts. The reassurance of their realisation only when they’ve seen the world and what it’s for hurts. Why couldn’t they have their moment of clarity now? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Jason. But nothing was ever fair since Cliff passed. 

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. Kirk rested his head against Jason’s shoulder. It’s an intimate gesture—it’s not playful like when they’re in interviews or posing in photos. It’s like Kirk sees him. Sees through him and sees him right to his core.

“I’m sorry. About what I did. And what I didn’t do to stop them.” Jason wants to laugh bitterly. He knows that Kirk won’t do anything to stop them, not now and not anytime soon. As much as he’d like to believe his words, they’re as real as the groupies he hears them bang every night. 

They sit in silence. Contemplating. As if they had the same thought: “Jason’s suffering.” They share the same mind, even if it’s for a split second. 

It’s the closeness of Kirk to him, the way his warmth spreads and seeps through his clothes onto the cold husk of himself. He wants to believe those little white lies. He wants to believe that this would all stop. But how can one fool themself so easily? 

Kirk lifts his head and looks up at Jason. Jason looks back down at him. All this thinking and sitting in silence sobers him up further. Having deep thoughts drunk and high was fun, till it was with someone else. He always needed to retain control, before he let anything he didn’t mean to say aloud slip out. 

And when their gazes lock, the warmth in the eyes of Kirk’s enveloping the stony greyish blue in Jason’s, he wants to melt. Kirk looks at him with such tenderness. One unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. 

And before he can pull away his gaze, Kirk leans upwards, a hand caressing Jason’s jaw tenderly as his lips meet Kirk’s. Nothing properly registers in the younger man’s mind till Kirk slips a hand through his mussed curls, eyes closed. Once again, the loving action foreign, but not…unwelcome? 

Jason accept the gesture, albeit tentatively. What if Lars and James set him up to this? But it couldn’t be, that moment was too real and too raw to be a prank. You could fake depth but you couldn’t fake sincerity. 

And Kirk kissed him with all the sincerity of a long-lost lover finding his other half. 

Jason’s on his back now, hair sprawled out like an auburn halo, and Kirk thinks that he must be God’s favourite angel. 

So Kirk takes off each article of clothing all gentle and all tender, like he would shatter Jason if he were too rough. And as much as he hated being treated like a fragile little thing, it wasn’t derogatory with Kirk. It was all worshipful and admiration. 

Kirk maps out the plane expanses of Jason’s body with his hands, tracing each beauty mark and contour with his hands. Kirk was never like this with Lars, who liked it all teeth and friction and crazed lovemaking. It was a nice change of pace from the Dane. 

When Kirk’s hands slip lower and lower, Jason, always a loud presence on stage, let out a soft whine. Jason, who was all growls and guttural vocals, let himself a moment of vulnerability with Kirk. Fondling him now, the auburn man is all breathy gasps and pathetic little whines. It eggs Kirk on, and Jason mewls while bucking up into his hand. 

His hand moves faster, and they kiss again, as tender and loving as the first. Jason grants him that, that small sliver of his true side, and Kirk savours it like a drug. Jason gasps and writhes and moans Kirk’s name, and he drinks it all in. With Lars, he was the one getting boned six days from Sunday, but now he got to give Jason what he always wanted to receive. 

When Jason’s spend coats his hand, the man moans so sweetly. It’s oh so damn intimate and genuine, and it’s not pornstar-eqsue and fake like with groupies. It’s not like the animalistic growls with Lars. Sugar to his ears, icing of sin dripping off an angelcake. 

He strips himself down to match Jason, and he glanced up for permission. To take him. To have him. To show him how much he cared and adored him. Jason sat up. 

“I’ve never done this before—been with a guy, I mean.” The hesitation is clear, but Kirk gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll make it good. You just have to trust me.” Trust Jason does, settling into his back. Kirk finds the lube easily, abandoned and barely used. Jason could find girls easily, but what wasn’t easy was letting them in during this dark period of time. 

Jason trusts him, and that’s all he needs before he’s got his fingers slicked up and has Jason’s legs spread. 

“Deep breaths, okay? It’s gonna feel weird, tell me if I need to stop.” One lubed fingers pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and Jason groans. It’s not uncomfortable or painful, but it’s a unique sensation. Kirk thrusts this finger in and out gently, and Jason lets himself be pliant. 

“I’m gonna add another, is that okay?” Kirk caressed the side of Jason’s face, his middle finger ready. Jason nodded, and in slipped the second. There was a slight stretch that had Jason squirming, not exactly unwelcome, though. It felt unique and almost good—but it all changed when Kirk crooked the ends of his fingers by a few degrees, brushing past a spot that made him see stars. 

“Fuck—“, he choked on a moan and his body curved upward. Kirk stilled, concern welling in his eyes. “What..what was that?” “That was your g-spot. Let me find that again , and you’ll know why it’s called that.”

When Kirk crooks his fingers further, his knuckles rub against the rubbery ball of nerves that set Jason’s loins aflame. He keens, toes curling as he grips the sheets. Kirk smiles and continues his assault on that spot, stars sparkling behind his eyelids. “How does that feel?”

“Kirk—that’s..oh, fuck-!” Jason moans, the familiar pressure building in his belly, and he’s sure he might come just from that. It’s all so overwhelmingly good that his mind spins, already muddled from the beers. Kirk set a steady rhythm, curling and scissoring his fingers in a way that had Jason keening. 

“Good?” The older man asks. It felt good to make Jason feel good, the bassist recently seemed to be down in the dumps after shows, no matter how high-energy he was on stage. “So good—“ he choked out, eyes squeezed shut as breathy moans escaped his parted lips. Precome pearled at his tip, dripping down the underside of his cock.

When Kirk retracts his fingers, he whines at the loss. “Why..” he asks, question left unspoken but understood. “I want you to come on my cock.” Flushing at the obscene words, Jason’s pale face went pink in a matter of seconds. How cute, Kirk thought. 

Squeezing a generous amount of lube, he slicked up his length, his clean hand pushing the hair out of Jason’s face. “You’re gorgeous, Jase.” He complimented, and Jason scoffs in embarrassment. 

Kirk lines himself up with Jason’s hole, and looks up at him for confirmation. The younger man nods, biting his lip. Kirk’s cock prods at him, before the head slips in. He lets Jason adjust, watching with care. 

Jason bites down a cry, Kirk softly rocking his hips and working Jason open further. It felt like he was being torn into two, unused to the stretch that came with having a dick up his ass. “Oh, fuuuck—“

Kirk’s hips stuttered as he felt the flutter of Jason’s hole around his dick, and it had Kirk gripping Jason’s hips tightly. Jason looked his hottest like this, back bowed in ecstasy and his ass stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey with Kirk’s dick. The elder carefully draped himself over Jason and tilted up his chin gently, leaning in against his chest and tilting his head so that he could look into his eyes. 

As he fucked him slow and gentle, they kept eye contact, Kirk analysing every expression Jason made. His face scrunched up, brow glistening with sweat.

Kirk was hitting Jason’s sweet spot dead in with each smartly calculated roll of his hips. Jason’s prostate felt raw, and it was all so much, it took everything not to come right then and there. Kirk gave him a particularly well-angled thrust, cock hitting Jason’s prostate like a bullseye. Kirk moans at his sheer tightness, gripping his thighs tight.

Kirk’s dick rubbed against it deliciously as he withdrew, only to slam in and nail it again, right on the dot. It made Jason arch his back into a taut bow against Kirk as the sparks lit up every nerve ending like lightning.

It was never-ending pleasure, and Jason didn’t even notice his orgasm, taking him by surprise when he spilled onto his chest. Kirk didn’t stop, still gently fucking into him and chasing his own pleasure now that Jason was satiated. With the younger man clenching around him like a vice, it was hard to continue past a few thrusts before he fills Jason, insides all warm and gooey. 

They lay there for a while, their panting filling the room. Their bodies are warm against the cool midnight air—it’s so serene and feels unreal. Everything blurs together. Their bodies and their passion and their shared intimacy under the gaze of the moon. 

Tender and soft, Jason’s curled against Kirk’s chest with his body painted with his and Kirk’s come, but he doesn’t mind. Kirk has an arm draped across his waist, breathing in the faint pot smell from Jason’s hair. 

Jason knows that Kirk’ll be gone in the morning, back in Lars’ bed like this encounter never happened. He was bound to Lars, and to leave him for Jason was unforgivable. This little affair was meant to be forgotten in the morning. To never be spoken of again, despite their passions for one another.

Kirk and Jason. Jason and Kirk. In another world they’d be inseparable. In another world, they’d be lovers. In another world, they wouldn’t have met the way they had. But God hates Jason, that’s why he makes him suffer. 

The one who suffers through it all, is God’s most beautiful angel. He is beautiful and he is pained, bound to fall far from God’s grace when the time comes. Bound to slip through Kirk’s fingers soon. 

So they’d let themselves have this. This tiny sliver of heaven a sanctuary to them, they, who are not granted it.

results of the last poll:

since it was a tie there’s gonna be a second poll :)

results of the second poll:

okay thanks I’m gonna go write now

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐀 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

I’m back!! Yippee!! Yay!!

warnings: anal sex, first time bottoming, strap-ons, pegging, crying (very mild), overstimulation, trans James Hetfield :)

When James had first pitched the idea of pegging Dave, the older man had brushed off the comments like it was nothing more than a whisper in the wind. He had assumed that it was just curiosity, an interest that would blow over soon enough. Of course, he didn’t realise that his indifference would lead to the blonde becoming even more adamant on trying it.

Every time James had a chance, their conversation would stray towards Dave getting on his back for him, and his consistent pushing for them to try it psyched Dave out. He couldn’t possibly imagine James, who wouldn’t know a thing about fucking someone, even be able to last more than a minute before tiring out. Then again, the man was always full of surprises, but Dave was insistent on keeping his ass untouched. James chalked it up to his ego not allowing himself to get topped, something along those lines.

"No. I swear to god, James, I swear to-"

Dave cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could hear James’ persistent rambling again at his side, something about just trying it out and it feeling good, that he should try it once with him at the very least. The more annoyed he got, the more stubborn James got, and it was a cycle that frustrated the hell out him.

"James, you have to listen to me!" Dave finally blurted out, in a moment of irritation, looking over to his side. Blazing hazel eyes are filled with exasperation, and yet, James is unrelenting, determined to have a taste of Dave at his mercy.

"You're too soft," James pointed out, his smirk devious as Dave shot him another fed-up glare, "Too scared to even try something new." He knew fully well how that would irk Dave and his ego, how he’d prided himself on being sexually flexible and yet wouldn't allow himself to take it up the ass.

"What makes you think I would even enjoy it?" Dave tried to keep his voice steady, speaking defensively, despite how his heart had begun to race at the mere thought of it. James had a tendency to rile him up, despite his best efforts to not give in to what he said. The man always found a way to get at him, whether it was something as big as this, or a simple jab at his guitar playing.

"What's there to not enjoy about it?" James asked, feigning cluelessness. “I enjoy it lots when you fuck me—no difference.” “There is a difference, James. A very big one.” The blonde scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, pish-posh. What, you won’t let me fuck you because I don’t have a dick? Is that it?”

Immediately, Dave puts his hands up in surprise and defensiveness. “Hey, that’s not what I meant—”

"What DID you mean then? Am I not enough for you? You want a real man to top you?" James pushed, not moving his eyes from the ginger’s now terribly alarmed ones, putting on a disgruntled expression. He knew exactly how to ruffle Dave's feathers, to get a reaction out of him. He always relished in the way his bandmate would stutter under his gaze, how he'd struggle to keep his voice steady, or his expression neutral. It was all too easy to push Dave over the edge, a fact that James knew all too well. He'd always enjoyed seeing the ginger squirm when his tongue was sharp and his tone was harsh, making him all flushed and tongue-tied. Just like now.

"You idiot! You know you are, alright? Don’t put words in my mouth. I just don’t want to, okay?" He huffed, pulling his gaze away to stare at the ground. Dammit. He couldn't help the heat pooling in his gut, and while the thought did excite him, he was less than eager to go through with it.

"You're so damn stubborn, y'know that?" James murmured, taking a step closer to Dave. Hazel eyes roamed his face, studying his mannerisms and facial expressions intently. The heat in his gut was growing, his own excitement beginning to get the best of him, yet he still tried to hold onto some sense and reasoning.

"I just-" Dave trailed off, his voice cracking, his walls crumbling. Curse James, he always knew how to get what he wanted. "I don't think I'd like it…"

"And how would you know?" James retorted, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and amusement. "You haven't tried it. Why are you so scared of trying it?" He was really trying to test Dave, pestering him with endless questions, seeing how far he could get.

"I'm not scared...it's just...it's not something I want to try." Dave tried to keep his voice firm in spite of the way James could so easily get past all his defences. He can hear the pathetic waver in his voice, and so can James. The latter’s grin spreads, knowing that he has the older man backed into a corner.

"Come on," James began, his tone growing softer. "I'll be gentle with you. Please...?" His fingers gently traced the other man's jawline. "If you don’t like it, we can stop. I promise. Cross my heart.”

Dave was trying to remain steadfast, but all at once, his resolve was dissolving, weakening. He wanted this, wanted to try it, to ease the gnawing curiosity at the back of his mind, but he couldn't bear to relinquish his control. Eventually, he lets out a reluctant huff, eyes falling in defeat. "Fine," he grumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. His willpower was shattering at every moment—it's all too obvious to the blonde. "But you'd better be careful. If not, God so help me, James..."

"Don't worry, I will be," James assured, giving Dave that familiar gummy smile. Inwardly, he was rejoicing—he'd finally won. He'd finally, finally gotten his egotistic, stubborn, prideful partner to submit to his whims. He'd always wanted to try it, he just didn't have Dave on the same page as him.

Calloused fingers were still tracing the outline of the guitarist’s jaw, gently rubbing his thumbs along his plush lower lip. The thought of that mouth being on him—God, it was driving James insane already. But he restrains himself, tossing his guitar off his lap and dragging Dave off the couch.

"Come on," James urged as he leads Dave to the bedroom, the latter's heart pounding in his chest. He'd only had a fleeting imagination of this moment, but now that it was actually happening, it felt surreal—dreamlike. He was so focused on not stepping on his own feet that he'd almost forgotten to take a moment to glance at Dave. When he finally does, powder-blue eyes rake over the older man, taking in the way he fidgets under his intense gaze. Nervous and not as confident as he usually was—he looked like a wet cat, and James couldn't help the low hum that left his throat.

God, he couldn’t wait to bend him over.

“Wait—now?” Dave is quick to speak up, but all he manages after is an incoherent string of consonants. James can't help the chuckle that breaks out of his lips, watching as Dave scrambles to gather his words. He's all too eager to see the other man fall apart, watching him squirm under his gaze.

"Yeah, now," the blonde replied, a smirk tugging at his lips, "I've been thinking about it for too long now. It's time, don't you think?" In James language, that meant ‘I bought it a long time ago and was just waiting for the right moment.’ He leans back, giving Dave the chance to collect his thoughts before they’re fucked out of him.

Dave's deepen in a few shades of red, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. "You've been…planning this or something-?" He asks, his voice coming out more like a squeak than he'd intended. He'd like to pretend he wasn't curious, wasn't even a little bit drawn to the idea, but he was. He always had been, somewhat.

"For...for how long?”

James grins, amused by Dave’s flustered state. "Months," he admits, leaning back against the headboard as Dave stands in front of him, eyes darting around his room desperately, trying to avoid his stare. "Ever since Lars first mentioned it that one time." It’d been such a throwaway comment, a simple joke between the two men that had discovered something deep within himself. When Lars had casually mentioned it, a spark was lit in James. He'd been dying to try it ever since, pushing the idea onto Dave at any given chance.

Dave swallows thickly, his gaze slowly trailing back to James, taking in the sight of him—so laid back and composed, as if they were talking about the weather. Dave was a bundle of nerves, the exact opposite of his friend. A shiver of anticipation runs through his body, and he fidgets with his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric anxiously.

James doesn’t waste a moment to get himself naked, revealing those mesmerising scars that run under his pecs that Dave always loved to trace the pads of his fingers against. He just stares, watching each fluid movement with such an intensity that James was sure he could feel the heat of his gaze drift across his body.

In a few hasty and graceful movements, James was already shedding his clothes and tossing them aside. Dave's eyes were glued to his friend's body, his gaze roving over the familiar expanse of pale skin. Dave, on the other hand, felt almost self conscious, like he was a blushy virgin all over again as he slowly started to strip, fingers trembling as he pulls off each piece of clothing one by one.

While Dave fumbled with his clothes, James was digging out a box hidden under clothes in their closet, a mauve colour and glossy like a magazine.

Once Dave had finally stripped himself naked, James was already sat down on the bed, the box neatly placed beside him, watching as Dave approached the bed hesitantly. still feeling all too shy to look the blonde in the eye. He's never felt so flustered in front of him, and James was doing his best to not make any other sound besides a hum of approval.

The ginger has never, ever been so timid, not even in his worst moments, and he himself wasn’t quite sure why he was acting like this. He hates it. He’s supposed to be the one making James all flustered and embarrassed. Relinquishing his control is an unfamiliar feeling, and it makes him feel weak. Like he has no control over whatever happens next.

And he can’t help but wonder, is this how James always feels with him?

"C'mere, sit down." James cooed, patting the spot next to him. His voice was gentle and soft, in stark contrast to Dave's nerves. The guitarist had never been so submissive in his life, and it was a huge turn on to James. He was used to the usual flirty banter, to the teasing he got used to, but this time he had Dave on the backpedal.

The box lays open on James’ lap, and the sight is rather daunting to Dave. There’s the typical leather harness, plain, with a few studded square rivets along the length of the straps. Then, there’s the dildo itself, deep violet—a colour that James had always taken a liking to. It was quite similar in size to Dave, perhaps a little less girthy, but still impressive nonetheless. Knowing his own size, he knows that it’s going to hurt, and when he looks at James with a wide-eyed expression, the blonde merely shrugs with a stupid grin.

Dave takes a tentative seat beside his friend, trying not to fidget as he stares at the box with a mixture of interest and trepidation. The sight of the different pieces inside is somewhat intimidating, and while he was excited, he was also nervous. His eyes flit to James, and when he sees that annoyingly nonchalant expression, a shudder runs down his spine.

"You…you really think it'll fit?" He asks, voice coming out as a strangled whisper, almost a squeak that he can't seem to control.

"I…we'll make it." James says, a gentle reassurance that makes Dave want to either roll his eyes or shudder in arousal. He glances down at the box again, eyes lingering on the purple toy with an almost hungry look, a shiver coming from the pit of his stomach. "That thing's big." Is all Dave manages to get out, voice low and somewhat strained. “Not too much of a difference from your dick.” James pats Dave’s shoulder like this is all so normal, as if they were talking about the weather. Dave hates how James is so unbothered, like he’s done this a million times.

Dave can't help the small gasp that gets caught in his throat, feeling his face grow hot at James' blunt words, but he tries to brush it off, keeping his gaze on the toy. "Stop it." He mutters gruffly, swallowing hard as he tries to keep his breathing steady.

His heart is pounding in his chest, his body heating up. He's both anxious and aroused, and he can't help but shiver as the tips of his fingers trace the soft ridges at the base of the toy, along the faux veins.

Then, quick as lightning, yanks his hand away like he’s touched hot coals, electricity sparking up his fingertips. It's stupid, acting like he’s never touched a dick before. And yet, this was the first time he would have one in him.

"Stop what?" James asks, feigning innocence, as if he's not trying to rile Dave up. He knows damn well what he's doing, he can see the way his friend's face flushes, and the way his fingers twitch with impatience at his sides. His own eyes roam over Dave's body hungrily, taking in every twitch, every shiver.

"I'm not doing anything." He mutters innocently, although the way his voice drops half an octave in a gravelly tone is anything but. Dave scoffs, rolling his eyes yet again. Gunmetal eyes take the sight in, eager to make them roll back in another way other than annoyance.

“Shut up and do what you have to already.” “Impatient, are we?” James teases, lips quirking up into another smile. He slides the box off his lap, making sure to take the bottle of lube out of it before. He settles himself to sit with his legs folded on the bed, beckoning Dave forward onto his lap.

With Dave’s legs spread, his broad back resting against James’ chest, the latter runs his hands up and down smooth, muscular thighs. Sure, Dave’s fingered James loads of times—he was no stranger to it—but the thought of doing it to himself was unnerving. The sound of a bottle cap opening echoes through the silent room, James coating his fingers in a more than generous amount of lube. A warm hand rests on Dave’s stomach, just shy of his cock, the other reaching between his legs. He gulps—there’s no turning back from this once it’s done.

He can't even bring himself to look, eyes fluttering shut, his hands clenching and unclenching, trying to keep himself under control despite the growing anxiety that was making itself very apparent. “Relax,” James chides, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze in reassurance.

"Easier said than done," Dave murmurs under his breath, his cheeks flushed. He feels a shiver run down his spine at the sound of James' voice, and his body instinctively tries to relax. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to lay more lax against his friend, his voice coming out a whisper. "Just…be careful."

"Don't worry, I will be," James assures, his tone softening, and his hand on Dave's stomach rubs a circle. His other hand gives a firm pat on Dave's inner thigh, coaxing him to spread his legs even wider, and Dave does so obediently, a soft gasp escaping. "That's it," He coos, encouraging in a gentle tone, almost like he was a mother soothing a child.

Shaky sighs escape Dave's lips, his breath catching as James caresses his skin, a flutter of nerves and excitement in his stomach. He tries to spread his legs more, but he's already as far open as he can get, and he's still trembling like some damn virgin. As he’s about to speak, a finger dips past his hole, plunging deep into him without warning. A strangled gasp escapes Dave, his blunt nails digging tiny crescents into James’ thigh. His face scrunches up, unused to the sensation. The blonde’s finger moves around a little, as if searching for something, his index curling and uncurling in ways that had Dave sucking in sharp breaths.

"Shh..." James soothes, his mouth brushing up against his ear, lips lightly grazing against the shell of the older man's ear. A quiet chuckle makes its way through his throat, amused at Dave's reaction. "Relax, stop clenching so hard." He murmurs, his voice quiet. Dave shudders, hands still digging into James’ thighs with such force, there might be bruises tomorrow.

"You're the one who's doing this—how the hell do you expect me to relax when you're sticking your finger up my ass?" Dave mutters, his words coming out strangled and breathless. He feels so out of control right now; he's never felt so vulnerable in his life and it's making him dizzy with anxiety. He's not used to not being in charge—the feeling of helplessness is absolutely maddening. "I can't...I can't just-"

"I have every damn reason to feel as vulnerable as you do," James growls in his ear, his tone taking a slightly harsher edge. His index and middle finder begin to work his boyfriend open, the sound of Dave’s ragged breathing filling the silence. "God, listen to yourself. You're rambling. You're acting like some sort of nervous bride."

The ginger squeezes his eyes shut, feeling James scissor and spread his fingers, drawing little groans and whines from him. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, being stretched out, a strange sensation that he can’t see himself getting used to. Searching fingers prod against that spongey ball of nerves deep inside Dave, sending currents of pleasure up his spine, a loud and unintentional whimper ripping from his throat. His dick jolts, spurting precome across the expanse of his chest.

"God, James," Dave gasps, the sound of his voice a strangled sob, almost a cry, when the blonde gets three fingers in. "Stop tensing up, you need to relax, baby." "I'm not—I'm not trying to. It's—ah, ah, it's—” His words come out in a choked series of garbled sounds, and his head falls back against his bandmate’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the bed covers. James gives a smug hum, knowing that he’s found Dave’s prostate, focusing on that spot with unyielding fingers. The older man squirms and writhes, pathetic pleads for James to stop his relentless assault and give him a break going ignored.

"Look how responsive you are," James goads, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, voice smug and pleased that he’s reduced Dave to this quivering mess. He knows he should feel guilty—Dave is not at all used to being dominated and it shows. But god, the look on his face, the sound of his moans and whimpers. It's driving the singer crazy. "I thought you were a big man. Strong, tough." He leans his mouth to Dave’s ear, sucking on the lobe in a way that he knows drives him insane. "I thought you were so stoic, unbothered. And yet, you’re whining like a girl from a little bit of fingering.”

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Dave gasps out, his breath coming out in short, jagged pants. He can't believe how right the older man is; this feels so embarrassing. He's supposed to be strong, dominant—yet here he is, a quivering and squirming mess just from a couple of fingers and a bit of tongue to his ear. "I—ah—I'm not whining," His protests sound weak to his own ears, and a strong hand grips James’ forearm, fingers wrapping around the limb as James’ fingers curled in him. Dave's terribly embarrassed by the filthily wet sounds that James' fingers make as they plunge in and out of him, lube smearing all across his inner thighs. 

"Yeah, you are," James shoots back, his voice dripping with an amused amusement that only serves to rile Dave up further.

The teasing is starting to get boring, so James ups the ante, starting by pulling his fingers out, Dave’s cock twitching limply on his chest in its own little puddle of precome. The guitarist sighs, feeling the absence of James’ fingers with a loss of warmth and a newer, harsh cold emptiness.

Dave sucks in a breath, his chest heaving as he tries to steady his ragged breathing, trying to find the strength to form coherent words, his mind still hazy with the sensation of James' fingers still lingering inside him. He swallows hard, trying to push back the thoughts of embarrassment at how overwhelmed he feels, trying not to make a fool of himself. Sliding Dave off his lap, James eyes the plum-coloured box, eager to test his little toy. The ginger watches as James reaches for the box, heart pounding a frantic rhythm. It feels as though his entire body is buzzing, every nerve ending on fire with unmet need.

"Are you excited?" The guitarist asks, his voice low and sultry, an edge of dark humor lacing his words. He watches Dave’s face as the other man struggles to regain his bearings and regain the capacity to form words. "Don’t look so damn scared. It's just a toy."

"Shut up, it's not that," Dave mutters, feeling his face heat up as he struggles to regain his composure, his gaze focused on the box and the ominous purple strap-on inside. "I'm not scared. Just...just nervous. That's all." He can't meet the other man's eye, almost offended by the insinuation that he's scared of a small purple toy.

"Nervous?" James chuckles, his eyes flickering over the other man's face, the way his cheeks flush, how he won't meet his eyes. "You don't need to be nervous, c'mon." Dave shifts, letting out another huff of breath in frustration, and this time it's an amused huff, a hint of a laugh. "What are you gonna tell the guys?"

"Nothing," Dave mutters in response, not wanting to think of them right now. "I'm not gonna tell them a damn thing." "God, are you embarrassed or what?" James teases, lifting the toy out of the box, inspecting it.

"No," Dave replies firmly, his ego bruised. "I'm not embarrassed. It's just...I don't know. It's kind of intimate, is all. I'm not telling them. Never, in a million years." He averts his gaze again, trying to sound nonchalant; his voice holds just a hint of defensiveness to it. After all, they were close, but still, secrets are secrets.

"You're getting awfully uptight over a little toy," James teases, holding the toy up in front of the other man's face, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "It's just a toy, it's not that bad. It's not like we're going to tell the guys. What, do you think Lars would get jealous? I'm pretty sure Cliff’s seen something like this before anyway."

A flicker of irritation crosses Dave's face. "Don't...don't bring them into it," he mutters, averting his gaze. "It's not...it's not even about 'intimacy', it's just...it's just weird. The idea that I'm just...letting you do this to me."

James laughs, an amused smirk playing on his face. "Jesus, it's not that weird, man. Don't make it into something it's not. I just think this could be fun, and I've seen you get 'weird' with plenty of girls." He teases. "What's the difference, with me?" "I—Well—" Dave splutters, his cheeks darkening. "It's a little different. With girls, I feel more in control, and it's not like they're my bandmate. You're my best friend. It's not the same at all."

Another snort of laughter leaves James' lips. "You don't like it when you can't control the situation, do you?" He chuckles, the grip on the toy tightening. "You're a control freak, Dave. You can't handle not having all the power. It's your worst trait."

"I am not a control freak," Dave retorts defensively, tone tinged with the slightest bit of hostility. "I just...like to be in charge. It's how I've always been. I don't like not knowing what's going on, being left in the dark. It's uncomfortable."

"I know you don't," James says, a smirk playing on his lips as he studies Dave's face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the way he's trying so hard to appear cool and confident, even though the other man can see right through him. "You're not used to not being the one in charge. You're not used to not being the one with the power. I think it’s cute."

Dave's face flushes deeper, but he doesn't deny it. He'd always been a bit of a control freak. Being in power was a comfort to him. But the thought of letting go, of surrendering control, was unsettling. "You're pushing my buttons. Cut it out."

James gives a lamenting sigh, like Dave was his father telling him off. He stands and turns away from Dave, picking up the strap. Dave sucks in a harsh breath, unable to pull away as James fastens the strap to his hips and thighs. The dildo stands tall and proud, allowing Dave to take it all in with a less than enthusiastic grimace. The driver's pad of the strap was a vivid mix of surrealistic gold and violet swirls that reminded Dave of strange contemporary artworks. 

"Get on your back." James all but commands, arms folded across the tanned expanse of his chest, a proud and smug little grin on his face that Dave so badly wanted to wipe off. Grumbling, the ginger complies, a little taken aback by James' authoritative tone. It was hard to believe this was the very same man that got stage fright whenever they would play a show. Okay, maybe it was a little hot to see jams in control, but that didn't mean he wanted a fucking dildo rearranging his guts. 

Dave's hair fans out on the bedsheets like a warm fiery halo as he lies back, thighs still coated in a now drying layer of lube. James shuffles on the bed close enough to Dave that the strap was mere inches from the older man's cock. Dave's leg is thrown over James' shoulder, fisting the sheets as James squeezes out way too much lube onto his palm. Dave can't look away as James pumps his strap, slicking the silicone up until he's satisfied, before slipping a finger into Dave one last time just to tease.  

"Get on with it," hisses Dave, and it draws a mirthful hum from James. "Impatient, are we? Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you need." As Dave was about to follow up with a quip, he forgets all about what he was going to say when James grabs the base of the dildo, rubbing the tip of the at his soaked hole and guiding it in. Instantly, Dave tenses, chewing down on his lip as he feels himself being stretched wide over just the tip. "Shit, James-" He hisses, a hand reaching to James' chest to stop him from moving. "Deep breaths," James reminds, "and tell me when you're ready." 

After a few moments, the guitarist reluctantly gives him the 'go-ahead' signal. Just when he thinks that maybe it isn't so bad, James pushes in a few inches, and holy fucking shit, he's so wet it fucking squelches.

Dave jerks, his body shying away from James, who laughs as he slides in a little further. His breathing is uneven and ragged despite his best attempts to get it under control, feeling like he's being split into two. "Relax, you're doing so good for me..." James purrs, fingers digging into the thigh that's propped up. "Jesus," Dave hisses, the stretch painful and foreign. Dave feels like every part of him is on fire, from the heat pooling in his gut to the unfamiliar ache between his thighs where he's trying to accommodate James. The more James pushes in, the more lube is pushed out to make way, dripping down in obscene rivulets onto the bedsheets. Each little thrust draws little gasps and groans, Dave's eyes screwed up as he finally takes the strap to the hilt, shuddering a breath as the pain and stretch make way for a new, strange pleasure. 

And James, the little tease, traces a calloused finger around his stretched rim, smiling down at where they're connected.

A minute passes before Dave huffs, his eyes finally fluttering open. "Okay, you can-" Before Dave can actually finish his sentence, James all too eagerly pulls out and snaps his hips forward. Dave chokes on his words as James holds his hips in a near-bruising grip, beginning to fuck into him slow and hard. He can't filter himself, not when James is beaming down at him like he wasn't making Dave's eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. They're slow but calculated to rub against his prostate, he wonders just how many times James must have done this. 

"James--Jamie, please-!" Dave babbles, his toes curling as James pistons his hips into him, the dildo rubbing at his sweet spot with every unbearable movement. Any more of this relentless assault and Dave's brain would melt and ooze out of his ears, the simmering hotness in his belly becoming more like a burning flame. His neglected cock spurts a little precome with each roll of James' hips, dribbling down his length and pooling on his abdomen. "Fuck, Dave...you're so good for me. Just for me, right?" The blonde coos, kissing the side of his knee. "That's it, baby." James hoists Dave's other leg up over his shoulder, leaning down so that the man was nearly bent in half. "Fuck-!" Dave hisses, the James' strap rubbing against his prostate at an angle that made his mind numb. James takes on tentative thrust, another, one more, before he begins that thigh-quivering pace.

"Oh--oh-" Dave whines, a sound that has never, ever been heard by any of them. James stills, staring deep into Dave's eyes for a moment, before he ruts into Dave like he's never going to see him again.

Dave's face scrunches up, their breaths mingling, sweaty skin sliding against one another, moving his hands to dig into James' back. He's going to come soon, and James can sense it too, because he's angling his hips to meanly hit Dave's ball of nerves dead on with each thrust, hell-bent on making the older man come. He presses his body against Dave even more, folding Dave to fit his strap in deeper. Dave's stomach muscles quake, and his thighs ache from the position, but he's too far gone to care. 

"James--oh god, I'm gonna-!"

Dave can feel the pleasure coiling him snap, and his orgasm comes right after, way too soon for both of them to react. It barrels through him so hard he can only manage a couple of garbled praises before he's covering his own chest with his come. James waits a few moments after Dave comes, letting the ginger come down from his high before he begins to snap his hips forward yet again. Dave clenches tight around the strap, hissing in oversensitivity. 

"Wait, wait--" Dave cries, his cock twitching limply on his chest. James mercilessly fucks into him with that loving smile, holding Dave down tightly. Dave's still riding the aftershocks, which is becoming electricity in his belly. He can hear himself babbling curses and pleads for a rest, all going into deaf ears. James nails his prostate again and fuck, its unavoidable in this position, drawing pathetic little hiccupping cries as he blinks tears back. He can see James' twisted joy in seeing him so vulnerable, murmuring soft praises as Dave's second climax draws near. The thought of James just using him without much consideration for it being his first time is somehow incredibly hot to Dave, in spite of himself.

"JamesJamesJames--"

He can feel the pressure building up in his belly again, white-hot. His nails drag streaks down James' back again, and he's screwing his eyes shut, teeth clamping down on his lip before he's coming again, this time not explosive as the last. His dick weeps, come gathering on his belly, and he can barely hear James over the sound of his own breathing as he comes down from his own high. It's all a blur as James throws the dirtied blanket off the bed and wipes him clean with a washcloth. they're lying and facing each other, James bearing a shit eating grin Dave wants to smack off his face.

"You okay? Was it good?" 

Dave scoffs, his usual attitude now back. "We're never doing this again, you hear me?"

James has a grin so cheeky it would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. 

"Never say never."

hear me out

dilf jason…90s james…say gex…

i mean dirty sweaty disgustingly down bad sex

ok thanks for listening to my Ted talk

edit: you’re all freaks. i love it. i’ll add a link once I’m done writing this

Hiiii, friend! I say that your requests are open! 😉 I would really love if you could write a one shot of young, baby Lars wearing lingerie for older, silver haired daddy James? 🥵🥵 Thanks in advance!

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

warnings: lingerie, age gap, fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, slight size difference, literally ripping panties off

nsfw under the cut :)

Lars scans his body in the mirror. He looks good, clad in lacy white lingerie. He’d done a little bit of online shopping a while back, and this particular set he had ordered had come in just in time for James’ birthday. The old man deserved a gift for treating Lars so well, pampering him and funding his lavish lifestyle.

There’s the familiar sound of boots tapping against the tiling of their house, one that Lars has associated with James. 

Hurriedly, the brunette scurries to hide behind the door to surprise his boyfriend. Less than a few seconds later James opens the door, expecting to see Lars waiting for him.

James lets himself inside his room, and he takes a couple of steps in. He notices that Lars isn’t waiting out for him on the bed like he usually is, and is about to wonder where he is before Lars pounces on him from behind the door.

Lars covers James’ eyes with his much smaller hands, tiptoeing and giggling as he asks: “Guess who?”

James chuckles. “Well, I wonder who it could possibly be,” he ponders dramatically as a smirk forms on his face, his hands coming up to rest on top of Lars’ ones covering his eyes.

“Might be… a squirrel? Or a jerboa?” He guesses, just to joke around as his fingers slide around Lars’ wrists in an effort to pull his hands away from his eyes.

Lars gasps in faux offence. “Jerboa? Squirrel? Seems I dressed up all nice just to be insulted.” He harrumphs, a pout on his peachy lips.

James laughs loudly at Lars’ reaction, amused by his boyfriend’s offended tone. He finally succeeds in removing Lars’ hands from his eyes, and turns around to face Lars, only to freeze once he sees the man’s current outfit.

Then, he lets out a low and approving whistle. “Damn, you’re gorgeous,” James breathes out, checking the younger man out from head to toe. “Is this my present, you little minx?”

“Happy birthday, old man.” 

Chuckling at Lars’ cheeky comment, James hums in acknowledgment before wrapping his arms around the smaller male and pulling him flush against his body. “You’re the only good thing to come outta turning sixty,” James murmurs, a wolfish grin on his handsome face.

“Mm,” he muses, eyeing the younger man’s scantily clad body admiringly. “You’re lookin’ damn good in that,” He comments, his large, calloused hands rubbing up and down Lars’ sides and down to his hips, eventually landing on his ass, where they give it a firm squeeze.

Lars moans, hands trailing down James’ broad chest. The older man teases the Dane by bringing his other hand to toy with the garter belt, snapping it against Lars’ hip.

“Look at this, you little minx,” James drawls, his voice rough and low, the same way it gets whenever he’s riled up. “Wearing all of this, lookin’ like a present for me to unwrap. Guess it’s my birthday everyday in this house,” He muses, his rough hands slowly roaming up and down the smaller male’s body, touching all over, admiring all the soft, smooth curves and planes of his pale flesh.

James begins to nip and kiss at Lars’ neck, the older man’s beard scraping against Lars’ skin. “You should dress like this all the time, baby,” He mutters against Lars’ nape, his teeth occasionally nipping at the soft flesh. “It’d be quite a sight,” He adds with a low chuckle.

“Yeah?” Lars grins, carding through James’ short silvery waves. His hands slide down to James’ neck, caressing so gently, his palms so soft compared to James’ coarser ones.

James hums in affirmation, mouthing along Lars’ collarbones. “Mhm. I wouldn’t mind it at all if you walked around the house like this,” He mumbles, his hands continuing to roam around Lars’ small, lithe frame, squeezing and admiring the supple flesh.

“You’re pretty excited, eh, old man?” Lars says with a smirk, and he can definitely feel how excited James is, all because of him. “I take it you like your birthday present, then?”

James grunts. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely lovin’ my present. Best present I’ve gotten all day,” He quips, his large, rough hands still roaming all over the smaller man’s frame. “You definitely know how to keep daddy happy, don’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, his facial hair brushing against Lars’ nape.

“I try my best,” Lars replies, shuddering under James’ touch, the older man’s rough stubble scraping against his sensitive skin. His nimble fingers find their way to James’ shirt buttons, undoing them with ease, revealing the older man’s toned chest. He’s still so gorgeous even in his senior years.

James feels the smaller man’s hands undoing his shirt and he grins at Lars. “Eager, are we?” He teases, the feel of Lars’ nimble hands pulling off his shirt already arousing him.

He lets Lars pull off his shirt, discarding the offending fabric to the side and letting it crumple on the floor. “You little minx, always so impatient,” James murmurs, large arms wrapping around Lars to hold him close.

“It’s my fault you’re so sexy, old man,” Lars replies with a teasing smile, slim arms winding around James’ broad torso. He can’t reach all the way around, damn him. He does, however, take the opportunity to touch and feel the older man’s pecs and abs, tracing the once defined muscles with his thumbs.

James hums in approval, his own arms keeping Lars close against his bare chest, his hands settling on the small of the younger man’s back. 

“You’re not a bad sight yourself, baby,” He says, gazing down at Lars, taking in everything: Lars’ sweet, pretty face, his slender figure, those lacy little panties… James’ thoughts are starting to run wild, his eyes glinting deviously.

He moves his hands lower down, large palms resting on Lars’ ass, fingers gripping the flesh and squeezing it. “My pretty little sugar baby,” he chuckles, and Lars can’t help but shudder under his deep, velvety voice. “Did you do all this for me? Just for my birthday?”

The question is rhetorical, but Lars still nods as a response, grinning at James. “Yeah. All for you,” Lars purrs, and it never fails to arouse the older man when Lars speaks so sultrily.

“Mmm,” James hums, biting at Lars’ jaw. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel young,” He murmurs against Lars’ ear, his grip on the younger man’s ass tightening. “And the only thing that gets you hard?” James merely scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Lars laughs as James pulls him towards their bed, tossing him down like he’s weightless. Lars’ tiny frame hit the mattress and his laughter morphs into a huff the moment he does. 

He glances up at James from below as the older man looms over him, crawling on all fours like a predator on top of its prey. “Still got a lot of energy for a sixty year old,” Lars teases.

“Damn right I do,” James grins, settling himself in between Lars’ legs, his large, calloused hands sliding up Lars’ smooth thighs, fingers tracing the lace garters. His gaze darkens, looking at his lover beneath him, all dressed up just for him.

“You gonna take it off?” Lars goads, but that’s far from what James wanted.

“Oh no,” He chuckles, his large hands sliding up to rest on the younger man’s waist and giving it a light squeeze, big thumbs rubbing circles against his pale skin. “No, I like it on you, sweetheart.”

“I want you to keep it on for a while,” James continues, a sly smirk forming on his handsome face. His large hands begin to slowly, very slowly, and teasingly, slide up Lars’ thighs again.

Lars lets out an involuntary gasp, feeling James’ rough palms touching his sensitive skin. The younger man lets his legs fall open a bit wider, a silent invitation for James to go on. And James is more than willing to accept.

James lets his hands wander higher, now tracing the expanse of Lars’ stomach and up to his chest, before finally settling on the lace covering his pectorals. His thumbs brush over the pebbled, pert nubs hidden under the lace, the action making the younger male shiver.

“Pretty little thing,” The older man murmurs, his rough hands gently caressing the sensitive buds, his touches firm and deliberate. Below him, Lars whimpers, hips arching up to meet James’ touch.

“James, please,” Lars whines, writhing under the older man’s touch, slender leg wrapping around James’ hip. “Please, don’t tease me.” He looks up at James through his lashes, his eyes big and dark, his mouth parted in a pretty little o-shape.

James can’t help but chuckle at Lars’ needy plea, but he does stop the slow, torturous touching, for now. He reaches over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging around inside until he pulls out a bottle of lube.

“Good,” Lars whispers, watching as James uncaps the bottle and pours a decent amount onto his palm. The brunette sucks in a shuddering breath when he catches sight of the thick, calloused, and large fingers now coated in lube, and it doesn’t take much to guess what’s next.

What he doesn’t expect is James reaching down and ripping the gusset of his panties off in one swift move. 

He’s startled by the sharp, sudden action, and he lets out something between a gasp and a yelp, his eyes wide as he looks down at his now ruined underwear, now with a decent sized slit in the material.

“Those were expensive, old man!” Lars protests, but is quickly cut off as James shushes him, fingers now rubbing against his exposed hole. “I’ll buy you some new ones, baby,” James mutters, and Lars lets out a groan, forgetting all about it.

Lars doesn’t mind having his expensive lace panties torn, if he’s being honest. It’s not like James can’t get him new ones anyway, and he can’t deny how hot it is being treated like this, like he’s a doll whose sole purpose is to be treated with care yet broken in the most delicious way.

“Damn, you’re so good for me, sweetheart,” He drawls, finger slowly working into Lars. “All dressed up just for me, in these pretty little things,” He continues, adding another digit to the first. “You know I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, don’t you?” 

Lars gasps, arching up into the thick fingers buried inside him. “Y-yeah,” He groans, his small hands gripping the sheets. “Ah, y-yeah, I know, Jamie.”

James huffs in response, his fingers working the younger man open, preparing him. “M’ gonna have a real good time tonight,” He mutters, and Lars can tell by the older male’s tone that he’s not going to be walking easy by the end of this.

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” James praises as his fingers begin scissoring to stretch the tight ring of muscles, “So good for me, aren’t you?” He leans down to kiss the younger man’s collarbones as his fingers press in up to the first knuckle, and Lars whines, eyes screwing shut.

“Daddy,” He whines, back arching and legs spreading wider, “Please...”

James hums, eyes dark and swirling with lust, and he just loves when Lars him by that name. “Please what, sweetheart?” He purrs, his other hand caressing Lars’ thigh and up to his hip.

“Please, want you in me, daddy, please,” Lars whimpers, one hand reaching out to grip james’ firm arm. The older male grins, pleased by the needy, wanton sound of Lars’ voice.

“Patience, sugar,” He drawls, still patiently working Lars open. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

The older male leans down to bite and suck at Lars’ neck, and the younger man mewls at the sensation of James’ rough facial hair scraping against his sensitive skin. His eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, pleasure coursing through his body, and it only escalates as James’ fingers brush against his sweet spot once, twice, three times.

“James,” The Dane gasps needily, “Please, I’m ready, daddy, I—“

“You think you’re ready for me already, darlin’?” James asks with a smug smirk.

He curls his fingers, hitting the spot he knows makes Lars writhe and cry. And, right on cue, the younger male gasps, brow furrowing as his hips buck.

“F-fuck,” Lars cries out, arching and writhing. “No, I-I need you, daddy, please,” He whimpers.

James can’t resist anymore, Lars’ pleading and begging going straight to his already hardened cock. “Yeah, think you’ve been waiting for me long enough,” He mutters, pulling out his fingers and sitting up. He quickly undoes his belt, unfastening it and throwing it off the bed.

Lars watches him, watching James unbutton his pants and pull them down, along with his boxers. Even at sixty, James is a sight, his muscular thighs and broad shoulders still defined, although they’d lost a little bit of their size in recent years. But Lars still thinks he’s the sexiest man to have ever existed on the planet, and he says just that.

“Sexy old bastard, still sexier than all these young hot, skinny guys you see these days,” He mutters, gazing at the older man.

James chuckles, taking the comment as praise. “Damn right I am,” He grins gruffly, now grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring out a good amount onto his hand, coating his leaking cock. “No skinny little brat could give you what I give you, could they, baby?”

“Mm, no, they couldn’t,” Lars mumbles, watching with wide eyes as James coats his length with the lube, pumping it slowly. “Only you, daddy. Only you,” He adds, as if it’s a sin for him to look at another man the way he looks at and worships James.

James hums, pleased, and he moves between the younger man’s spread legs, looming over him. A small shiver of anticipation runs through Lars’ body, and he bites his lip as he watches James line up with his pink, twitching hole, pressing against it.

“You’re always so good for me, sweetheart,” He murmurs, big hands resting on Lars’ lithe hips and large chest hovering over Lars’ smaller frame. “Pretty, perfect sugar baby… I’m the only man you look at, right?”

“Yes, daddy, you’re the only man I look at,” Lars says, his hands gripping James’ forearms. He’s already panting, just from the feel of the tip against his entrance, and he can’t help but whine in anticipation for what’s coming next.

“P-please, Jamie, want it,” He whimpers needily.

“Mmm, I know you do,” James muses with a smug grin. “You’re always so eager for daddy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The silver fox can’t resist teasing the little minx by simply rubbing his leaking tip against the younger man’s tight, pink entrance. “Only I get to touch you like this, yeah? Only me.” James purrs.

“No one else but you, just you,” Lars gasps, eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He can’t help but squirm a bit, the feeling of the leaking tip against his sensitive hole making him shiver.

James grins, giving Lars one final, long kiss before finally, slowly, pushing into the younger man, and they both let out moans.

“Dammit, you’re tight…” James groans, 

Lars moans lowly as he feels James pushing in, and his hands come up to grip the older man’s forearms. The older man’s size makes his legs tremble as he tries to adjust to the stretch, his breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps.

“James,” he whimpers, and his hands slowly move up to clutch at his shoulders.

“You’re doin’ s’good, sweet boy,” James murmurs, the words almost mumbled into Lars’ neck. His hands move to Lars’ waist, grip firm but not rough, holding the younger man’s hips steady. “Feel so good around me, baby…”

He moves his arms to rest on either side of Lars, his hands now gripping the headboard as he takes in the absolutely gorgeous sight: Lars looking up at him, eyelashes clumped together, lips parted and gasping, cheeks flushed red. Damn, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Mmm…you okay, darlin’?” He asks. Lars nods wordlessly, still getting used to the aching sting of being stretched just how he likes. After a few seconds, the younger man slowly, tentatively, rocks his hips, wordlessly encouraging James to move.

So James does, bottoming out and pulling out until his tip remains, and then repeats that again and again until Lars is begging for him to move faster.

“Fuck,” Lars gasps, his hands now clawing at James’ toned back. “Feels so good, daddy, so good,” He slurs, the slight burn of the stretch slowly morphing into sweet, aching pleasure.

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” James asks, shifting his position slightly and angling his hips in a way he knows makes Lars cry out. His tip prods at Lars’ prostate so decadently, each thrust carefully calculated to bring him the most amount of pleasure.

He watches the reaction that follows—Lars’ body arching, his back curving and arching, and his hands clutching frantically at James’ back, letting out a broken cry and the brunette nods frantically.

“F-fuck,” Lars gasps, his legs wrapping around James’ back and drawing him closer, closer. “There, there, please,” Lars pleads, and James chuckles in response, continuing to aim at the younger man’s sweet spot.

“Right there, huh, little sugar?” James murmurs, continuing his slow, torturous pace, wanting to drive Lars crazy.

“Yes, please, right there!” Lars whimpers, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against James’ back. “I need you, please—!” He’s cut off as James snaps his hips forward again, deliberately fast and hard. 

A high pitched cry comes out of Lars’ pretty, parted lips, his eyes closed and eyelashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks.

James is so big, it’s always a struggle to take him even after they’ve fucked so many times. Lars always feels so damn full when he takes all of him, the stretch is so good to him.

“There you go, baby,” James purrs, watching the younger man coming undone beneath him under his touch. “So pretty for me,” He mutters, leaning down to kiss the pale, soft skin of Lars’ neck. “So goddamn sweet.”

James pushes Lars’ legs up to his chest for a deeper penetration, driving into him with such vigour that he can feel tears spring to his eyes. God, curse this old man and his talents…

Keening, Lars’ nails dig into James’ back, red lines streaking down the aged skin. He sighs blissfully, feeling his climax draw near as James speeds up, and all he can think is damn, for a sixty year old his stamina is crazy. The old man didn’t waver a second, and Lars thinks that this might be the best that James has ever fucked him.

The pressure building deep in his loins reaches its peak, his mind melting as James holds him close, muttering sweet praises. Tears of ecstasy slide down his flush cheeks, holding onto James like he was his lifeline as he comes between the both of them. 

It’s hot and sticky, but it doesn’t deter the older man from chasing his own release once Lars had spent himself. If anything, he was owed it. It was his birthday after all. 

Lars is beginning to get sore, whining like a kicked animal as James brutally pistons into him. A calloused hand caresses his face in gentle reassurance, blue locking with green. James wipes his tears, murmuring reassuring yet incomprehensible words. 

“Doin’ so good for me, sweet boy…so lucky to have you as mine…” 

The silver fox somehow takes forever to come, Lars knows that, but now it feels like the man’s orgasm can’t come soon enough because he’s spilling over his chest again with a choked cry. His dick twitches limply with nothing more to give.

Seeing Lars so blissed and overstimulated, teary and breathless, has James finally coming with a guttural groan, pumping his load deep inside the slick warm walls of Lars’ hole. 

They stay pressed against each other like that for a minute or two before James pulls out, hissing at his sensitive cock. Lars winces when that feeling of emptiness hits him again like there’s a piece of him missing. 

Even though he’s tired and achy and overstimulated, Lars musters up the energy to grin lazily up at his boyfriend. 

“Happy Birthday.”

Submitted by Anon

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

warnings: none! just pure fluff!

i should make a part 2 to this w smut but idk… anyways enjoy!

Dave’s been eyeing Metallica’s new bassist—a cheery, expressive guy that has a smile that could end wars. The guy’s not only got amazing talent on the bass, but he’s got looks that kill, too. In fact, that’s the whole reason why he’d been keeping tabs on the auburnette.

Dave had reached out to a mutual friend, Jacob, asking for Jason’s number under the pretext that he’d forgotten it when Jason “gave it to him” a few days ago. The guy was baited on and easily handed over Jason’s number. 

Now the hardest part came. 

Calling Jason up. 

The phone rings once. Twice. And then he’s sent to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Jason. I’m busy right now, leave a message after the beep!” Jason’s usual upbeat tone evident in the message. After the beep, Dave tapped his finger against the leather sofa, beginning to speak. 

“Hey, uhh…it’s Dave Mustaine. Call me back when you’re free. I wanna talk.”

And then he puts down the phone, nervous and standing, pacing the room eagerly as he waits. His plan was simple. Talk, invite Jason out, sugar him up and invite him into his bed. He speculated that Jason was into guys—the way he went starry-eyed when a pretty guy gave him an ounce of attention, even when they’re just fans.

His blue eyes would light up, attentive and fixated. Scanning for details, carefully tucked into the confines of his mind. He’d nod and smile and sign their merch, before he’d be forced to move on to the next fan. 

“Jason’s gonna call back,” Dave muttered, a hint of nervous anticipation lacing his tone as he paced back and forth across the room. The leather couch creaked slightly under the weight of his restless pacing, and he ran a hand through his hair, already imagining the possibilities of the upcoming conversation.

“He’s gotta call back. He just has to.”

He paused to glance at the phone sitting innocently on the wall, as if staring at it would somehow summon a call from Jason. But the phone remained silent, taunting him with its lack of sound.

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour as Dave continued his restless pacing. His heart was fluttering erratically, betraying his anxiety as he repeatedly checked the phone for any sign of a missed call.

"He’s taking his sweet time," Dave muttered, a mixture of impatience and worry coloring his tone. 

He resumed his pacing, the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor blending with the faint hum of the air conditioner and adding to the growing tension in the room. Each passing moment seemed to amplify his unease.

A hundred seconds pass by like a hundred seasons, waiting for something, anything, from that pretty little bassist that he’s so enraptured by. And he’s so sure god is real now, because his phone rings, and Jason’s on the other line. 

“Hey man, it’s Jason. I’m surprised you called me. You wanted to talk?” Dave’s heart flutters at Jason’s soft tone, not as spunky and energetic as before. 

“Hey. Thanks for calling back. Um…I was wondering if you’d like to go to a bar with me and Jacob? Have some drinks and whatever.” That’s a lie—Jacob’s not coming and Dave’ll make sure of it. He squeezes his eyes shut as the call goes silent. He’ll become a monk, he swears, if Jason says yes. 

“Uh..yeah, sure. When?” The ginger nearly let out a victory cheer, but he reminds him that Jason’s on the other line. 

“10?” He offers, and Jason happily snatches up the bait. “Okay, sounds good! See you then.”

When the line cuts Dave drops the phone and lets out the loudest shout of excitement he’s ever made. 10PM seems too far away, but the reward he’ll get outweighs the hours of wait.

Jason, meanwhile, is happily humming to himself as he works on his bass lines, unaware of Dave’s plan. While he does think Dave’s a pretty guy, very eye-catching, what would he do with a guy like him? He’s far too plain for someone like Dave, they’re opposite ends of the spectrum! 

So he shoves his thoughts down and reminds himself it’s just a friendly meeting with a mutual friend and Dave. It’s just drinking with someone you barely know. Easy, right?

Jason finds it’s not so easy when he enters the bar, a knot in his throat as he scans the room for Jacob’s signature blonde mullet. He doesn’t see him, but spots a fiery mane of curls by a booth, and a somewhat familiar face to match. 

He saunters over, heart beating a mile a minute as he sits across from Dave. Maybe Jacob was just late. Hopefully he wasn’t left alone with Dave. He always liked to take his time, that man…

Dave can feel his heart stutter in his ribcage as he sees Jason waltz over, his auburn curls bouncing with each step, springy coils so full of life.

“Hey, Dave.” It’s so much more awkward to speak face to face with him than over the phone.

Dave looked up from his drink as Jason approached, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the younger man's curls bouncing with every movement.

"Hey, Jason."

Dave returned the greeting, his fingers drumming anxiously against the tabletop. He could feel the tension in the air thicken between them, making the conversation feel more difficult than it should have been. He took a small sip of his drink, trying to appear casual.

"I'm glad you could come."

“Good to see you. Where’s Jacob?”

Dave's smile faded slightly as Jason inquired about Jacob's whereabouts. He'd been expecting this question, of course. He shifted in his seat, feigning casualness.

"Jacob couldn’t make it tonight," he said, taking another small sip of his drink to buy himself time to think. "He got caught up with some things. But I didn't want to cancel on you so I figured we could hang out anyway."

Jason’s peachy lips form a frown, but it’s gone the next second. “It’s fine. Just don’t have any conversation starters, haha…” 

This is so awkward..

Dave chuckled softly at Jason's comment, trying to ease the tension. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes conversations just happen and sometimes..." he trailed off, pausing to run a hand through his hair. "Sometimes they don't."

The sound of chatter and clinking glasses fill the momentary pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Dave clears his throat, his eyes scanning over Jason's features, taking in the way the dim light casts shadows across his face and how his hair looks almost luminous.

Dave's fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as he gathers his thoughts, trying to think of something, anything, to say. 

"So...um, how's the new gig with Metallica going?" he finally blurts out, his eyes fixed on the table in front of them. It's a generic question and a boring one at that, but it's the only thing he can think of at the moment.

“It’s good..in certain aspects.” Jason’s silvery blue eyes look down at his hands, and Dave can tell there’s something that’s wrong.

Dave notices the change in Jason's demeanor, sensing that there's something on the younger man's mind. He tilts his head slightly, his expression turning serious.

"What do you mean, in certain aspects?" he asks gently, hoping to encourage Jason to open up even slightly.

“The guys are…not the nicest.” He scratches his nape awkwardly, still unwilling to make eye contact with Dave. Dave knew the Metallica guys were douches, but to someone as nice as Jason?

Dave's eyebrows furrow at Jason's confession. He was aware of Lars and James not being nice to the bassist after Cliff’s passing, but still, hearing that they were treating someone as sweet as Jason badly stirred up a mixture of anger and protectiveness within him.

"They're giving you trouble?" he asked, his tone sharp. He reached forward, gently placing a hand on Jason's wrist in a comforting gesture.

Jason’s heart jumps, but his face remains passive. He’s sure his pale cheeks are reddening, and for the first time since he sat down, they lock eyes. Dave’s hazel eyes are deep and inviting, and he just wants to fall into their warmth forever.

“It’s nothing bad. Just some pranks, trashing my hotel room and whatever.”

Dave's gaze softened as he met Jason's eyes, noticing the way the younger man's cheeks were flushed. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at the small victory.

"Pranks? That sounds like them," Dave muttered, a hint of disdain in his tone. He gently squeezed Jason's wrist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the man’s skin.

"You shouldn’t have to deal with that bullshit. It's not right."

He relishes as Jason flushed further, his lips pouty in a frozen quiver, and he’s sure Jason interested in him. Otherwise, he’d have pulled his hand away, right?

Dave notices the way Jason's lips pout, his expression almost vulnerable, and it only amplifies his earlier determination to get the man in his bed. He leans forward, his hand on Jason's wrist shifting to a more intimate position, loosely gripping the man’s hand instead.

"Jason...I know this might sound cheesy, but...you deserve better than the bullshit they're putting you through. You're good. Too good to be treated like crap like that."

Jason laughs nervously, keeping his hand under Dave’s warm palm. His cheeks get redder and redder, and the ginger can’t help but watch how pretty he looks, even when all flustered. “It’s not a big deal—”

Dave cuts him off gently, his eyes fixed intently on the man's face. The sight of a flustered Jason is captivating, and Dave finds himself wishing he could make him even more red.

"Yes, it is. They shouldn’t be treating you like that. It's unacceptable." He leans even further forward, his free hand reaching up to brush stray curls away from Jason's face, his touch soft and gentle.

The hitch in Jason’s breath is audible and the bassist is sure Dave isn’t doing this out of friendliness. No friend would tuck hair behind his ear with such genuine affection. No way.

Dave is fully aware that his affection is beyond the realm of simple friendship. He studies Jason's reaction, noticing the hitch in the younger man's breath and the way he swallows hard. It fuels his determination to get the bassist alone.

He continues to lightly caress Jason’s curls, the soft strands of hair slipping through his fingers like silk. His thumb then moves to brush against Jason's cheek, a feather-like touch, barely there but deliberate and intimate.

Jason’s hypnotised by Dave, everything in the background fading out like it was some cheesy romance movie. But he swears there’s a spark between them because Dave’s eyes have such a genuine look of affection.

Dave is fully immersed in the moment as well. Every little reaction of Jason's is like a drug, fueling his growing sense of infatuation with the bassist. The dim lights of the bar cast a romantic glow over them both, as if the outside world doesn’t exist anymore.

"You're beautiful," Dave mutters as his thumb traces over Jason's lower lip, watching the way the man's lashes flutter in response.

“Thanks.” The auburnette says breathily, his face a tomato. 

Dave can’t help but smile as he watches Jason’s face flush an even deeper shade of scarlet. The sight is both adorable and seductive, and Dave finds himself wanting to see how flustered he can make him.

He doesn’t remove his hand from the man’s face, instead continuing to caress his skin gently. “You don’t hear that enough, do you?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.

He laughs, eyes crinkling as his signature smile spreads across his lips. His curls bounce as he tilts his head “Not as much as I’d like to.” 

Dave's heart flutters at the sound of Jason's laughter and the sight of his smile. He can't help but be enamored with the way the man's locks move with his movement, adding to his unassuming boyish charm. 

"That's a crime in my opinion." Dave replies, his tone a mix of playful and serious. "Such a pretty thing like you should be showered in compliments every day." His thumb drifts from Jason's cheek to lightly brush over his lip again, the action subtle and sensual.

“I wouldn’t mind if they came from you.” The bassist teases, emboldened by their mutual attraction.

The corner of Dave’s lips twitch as he hears Jason's words, the man's confident response pleasantly surprising him. He didn’t expect such a straightforward answer, but he’s certainly enjoying it.

"Oh yeah?” he purrs, leaning in slightly. His hazel eyes are fixed on Jason’s face, watching his every move. His hand moves down to the man’s neck, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin there. "You’d let me shower you with compliments, pretty boy? You know, you should let me take you home instead."

“I think both would suffice..” He offers, and Jason feels like a teenager all over again, falling in love with this handsome ginger who’s somehow the first person to call him pretty.

A sly smile graces Dave’s lips at Jason’s words, the ginger’s confidence only increasing further. He’s enjoying this newfound flirtation, and the way Jason’s responding is exactly what he’d hoped for.

“Now, look at you, being all cheeky.” he mutters, his hand moving from the man’s neck to ghost over his shoulder, the skin there so warm and so inviting. “I like that.” 

He leans in even closer, his voice low and sultry. “You’d let me take you to my place then?”

“If you insist.”

A sly smile plays on Dave’s lips as Jason agrees, the hint of submission in his voice only serving to arouse Dave further. He moves his free hand to rest on the man’s thigh, his fingers lightly gripping the denim-covered muscle, giving a light squeeze.

“Let’s get out of here yeah?” He suggests, his gaze not leaving Jason’s flushed face. 

“My place isn’t far from here.”