𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

hii if u don't mind could you maybe do some kirk/dave rough sex/hate sex???? top dave!

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 - 𝐃𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

warnings: degrading, degradation kink, slight humiliation kink, blow job(s), face-fucking, semi-public sex, Kirk’s a slut (we all knew that)

okay after this setting Dave actually takes Kirk back home I just don’t know how to progress from there but I’m just putting this out because yeah!!

nsfw under the cut :)

From across the bar, Dave glares down Kirk. He knows fully well who the guitarist is—his replacement in Metallica. How dare he waltz right into the band the same day he was kicked onto the streets like a dog? Resentment and bitterness towards him stewed in his heart, hazel eyes staring him down.

Kirk doesn’t seem to notice—he’s too busy laughing and chatting with his bandmates, though there is the small feeling of someone watching him…

Dave's stare is relentless though, studying each movement, each laugh that comes out of Kirk's mouth as if to scrutinize any sign of weakness he may have. It's a fierce gaze, a mixture of envy and anger, directed solely at the unsuspecting guitarist.

Beside him, Junior is a little concerned. He knew it was a bad idea to come to this place, and now Dave was mad and the whole evening would go wasted.

Dave sensed Junior's unease beside him and reluctantly diverted his gaze from Kirk for a moment. He looked at Junior, his expression still hard. "Relax, kid," he muttered, his voice gruff. "Why are you so nervous?”

Although Dave's words are supposed to reassure, they're said without much warmth, still too focused on Kirk across the room. He can still see the guitarist laughing and talking, like an annoying buzzing in his ear that he wished would stop. Frustration simmers within him, and his jaw clenches involuntarily.

Taking a swig of his drink, Dave's gaze once again finds its way back to Kirk, observing him with a mixture of jealousy and disdain. It's as if he cannot help but watch Kirk like a hawk, as if his mere presence is a taunt to his own misfortune.

Kirk walks off to the bathroom, and Dave decides he’ll take his chance. The guitarist turns to Junior, giving him a look that said “I’m going to do something you won’t like”, and Junior takes the hint, immediately moving from the bar to find some chick to spend the night with.

Dave, seizing the opportunity like a pouncing tiger, watches as Junior saunters off. He allows himself a sly smirk, pleased with himself for clearing the path. 

With a steady determination, he peels himself away from the bar and starts making his way across the room towards the bathroom.

Dave's strides are confident as he weaves through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the door to the bathroom. He tries to appear nonchalant, but his heart is pumping with a mix of anticipation and anticipation. 

He's aware that what he's about to do is probably not the wisest choice, but his bitterness towards Kirk is like a wildfire, burning hotter with each step he takes closer to the bathroom.

Dave reaches the door, a look of determination mixed with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He pauses a moment, taking a deep breath, the sound of the music and chatter in the bar just a faded hum in his ears. He grips the handle and pushes the door open, revealing the bathroom beyond.

It’s super empty. To be fair, the bathroom Kirk had gone into was quite secluded, and he never would’ve know it was there if not for Kirk. 

Dave enters the restroom, the sound of the main room now muffled behind the closed door. He looks around, noticing the solitary nature of the bathroom. It's eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of the bar's main area. It's perfect.

Dave stalks further into the bathroom, his boots softly echoing against the tiled floor. He comes to a stop by a sink right next to Kirk. The guitarist’s brown eyes fly up to see who it was. Kirk gives a small smile, familiarity shining in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Dave.” 

The fucker remembers his name… 

Dave's expression darkens even further as recognition flashes in Kirk's eyes. A curt nod is given in return, his voice a low, gruff rumble. 

“Kirk.” 

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, his irritation already brewing underneath the surface. Dave's eyes narrow, studying Kirk, his thoughts swirling with suppressed anger and jealousy.

He moves closer, positioning himself next to the guitarist. Their reflections are seen in the mirror above the sinks, Dave towering over Kirk by a few inches. The close proximity and intimate setting of the bathroom adds a layer of tension in the air.

Meanwhile, Kirk’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he gulps silently, wondering what the hell the ginger would want from him of all people. He barely knew the guy and yet he looked like he had his funeral all planned out.

Dave leans against the sink, his gaze meeting Kirk's in the mirror. He's silent for a long moment, his eyes taking in the guitarist's features, the nervousness in his expression, the gulp, the slight tremble in his hands. Dave can't help but smile wryly. He found it pathetic.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Dave says finally, his voice low and mocking. “Relax. I haven't got a baseball bat hidden somewhere.” 

His tone is casual, but the underlying tension is palpable. Dave's eyes never leave Kirk's reflection, his gaze intense and unwavering.

He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping another octave. “I just want to talk...privately.” 

The bathroom's dim lighting casts shadows across Dave's face, making his already fierce features more intense and imposing.

Kirk's heart is now slamming against his ribcage, his nerves on full throttle under Dave's intense gaze. He swallows again, hard. 

“O-okay,” he stutters out, trying to remain calm despite the obvious implication of Dave's request. “What do you want to talk about?” Dave lets out a snort, a mocking smile playing across his lips. He doesn't move away, still standing only a few feet apart. 

“You know, Kirk, I've been watching you,” Dave muses, his voice almost in a purr. “You seem...popular. The golden boy of Metallica.”The bitterness in Dave's tone is clear, his words spitting venom.  

“Everyone seems to love you. Look at you now, getting fawned over by everyone in that room. I bet it feels good, huh?”

He steps closer, invading Kirk's personal space. The guitarist can feel Dave's warmth radiating off him, his scent filling the small area of the bathroom. Dave's eyes burn into Kirk's, his voice dropping even lower. 

“Must be nice...having everything handed to you on a damn silver platter.”

Dave leans in slightly further, his body almost touching Kirk's. He can see the fear in the guitarist's eyes, the way his breaths shallow out, the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously. Dave revels in it, relishing in the power he has over Kirk in this moment.

“Must be nice,” Dave repeats, his voice a mere whisper now. He's close enough that his lips brush Kirk's ear with each word. “That they love you so much. That you get their applause...their admiration...their respect.”

Dave's breath is hot against Kirk's ear, sending shudders down his spine. The ginger's body is so close now, the heat coming off him mixing with the cold air of the bathroom. Dave seems to almost envelope Kirk, his presence overpowering and intimidating.

And Kirk can’t help but find it so arousing, having Dave looming over him. It’s got his blood thrumming, however much scared he was at the moment.

Dave's hand comes up, gripping Kirk's throat in a rough gesture. He uses it to pull Kirk closer, the guitarist pressed up against his body. Dave's chest is nearly touching the back of Kirk's, and he can feel the man's heart pounding through his shirt.

His other hand comes up to rest on Kirk's hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh with almost bruising force. Dave's mouth is hovering millimeters away from the nape of Kirk neck, his voice coming out as a dark, sultry purr.

“You have no idea how much I hate you,” Dave growls lowly, almost right into Kirk’s ear. “How much I have to bite my tongue whenever I see you up on that stage, with that stupid, pretty face of yours. Do you have any idea how much the thought of you makes me seethe inside?”

Dave's grip on Kirk's neck and hip tightens, his body pressed almost flush against the guitarist. His breath is coming fast now, quickened by his own anger and...something else. 

“You look so damn perfect up there,” Dave continues, his voice filled with an underlying hint of lust. “So damn perfect...and I hate you for it.”

Kirk shudders, his jeans feeling a little tighter. He doesn’t resist Dave. To be honest, Dave had been an object of his fantasies for a little while, with those dark devious eyes and that smirk that always had him spilling onto his hand.

Dave noses along the side of Kirk's neck, inhaling his scent. It's driving him crazy, and he can't deny the effect the guitarist is having on him right now. His body is reacting in ways he refuses to admit, the mixture of anger and desire swirling inside him like a storm.

Dave's hands wander now, caressing and gripping Kirk's hips and sides in a possessive way. His mouth continues to explore the side of Kirk's neck, nipping and sucking, leaving little marks on the sensitive flesh.

“I should strangle you right now,” Dave husks, his voice a mix of anger and lust. “I should wrap my hands around your pretty little neck and squeeze until you’re gasping and begging for air.”

The words send a shiver down Kirk's spine, his body responding to the rough touch and harsh words. He swallows hard, his back arching a little without him realizing it, pushing him closer against Dave.

Dave can feel the response in Kirk's body, the subtle arching, the shivers, the quickening breaths. He smiles against Kirk's skin, his own breath coming out hot.

“You'd like that, wouldn’t you?” He growls lowly. “You'd like me to get rough with you...use you like I own you.”

One of Dave's hands moves to the front of Kirk's jeans, palming his growing hardness through the fabric. He smirks at the sharp intake of breath from the guitarist, his own body reacting eagerly to the contact.

“Look at you,” Dave hisses, his hand continuing to palm Kirk's through the denim. “You're so goddamn eager for it, aren't you? You'd let me do anything to you, right now. I bet you'd even get on your knees for me.”

The words make Kirk gasp, his hips canting into Dave’s hand involuntarily. A flush of shame and arousal washes over him, and he can’t help the way his body responds to the ginger. It’s maddening, the way Dave is talking to him, with so much anger and lust in his tone.

Dave's breath comes even harder now, ragged and hot against Kirk's ear. His hand continues to work over the guitarist, his touch rough and possessive. 

“You have no goddamn clue, how badly I want to break you,” he murmurs, practically growling the words out. “How much I want to hear you begging and whining for more.”

Dave's lips are pressed against the side of Kirk's throat, his teeth scraping across the flesh. He can taste the guitarist’s desperation on his tongue, the neediness and vulnerability. Dave feels himself beginning to lose control, the anger and lust mixing together until they are an incoherent wave inside him. 

“Say it,” he commands, his voice a rough, dark whisper. “Say you want me to break you.”

Kirk’s breathing is fast and heavy, his body tensed against Dave. He can feel the heat of the moment coursing through him, the need for it almost overwhelming. Dave’s words, his touch, it’s like a drug that he can’t get enough of. 

“Break me,” he gasps, his voice ragged and pleading. “Please…break me…just please…I’ll do anything.”

Satisfaction and desire flood Dave at the words, a dark, possessive thrill coursing through him. He smirks as he leans in close, his teeth nipping at Kirk’s ear. 

“Anything? Those are dangerous words, y'know.” 

Kirk lets out a quiet whimper, the pain and pleasure mixing into a heady sensation. “I don’t care,” he pants out, his whole body feeling like molten fire. “Just…break me…use me…please…”

Dave’s grip in Kirk’s hair tightens, pulling his head further back. His lips trail down the exposed skin, nipping and sucking, marking the guitarist as his own. 

“Careful what you ask for, sweetness,” he husks, the nickname a mockery as much as it is an endearment. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Dave's lips have now found Kirk’s collarbone, tasting the skin there with his tongue. He lets his hand fall from Kirk's hair, sliding down his back to grip his ass, pulling him harder against him. 

“If I do,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, “then there’s no going back. Understand?”

Kirk’s breath comes out in a harsh gasp as Dave’s hand explores his body, his own hands coming up to clutch at the ginger’s shoulders. He nods, his words coming out in a needy, pleading whisper.

“Yes, I understand. I don’t care. Just…” He lets out a guttural moan as Dave’s lips move to a sensitive spot on his neck.

Dave's lips turn up into a sardonic smile against Kirk's neck at the needy sounds coming from the guitarist. His hands grip and squeeze relentlessly, pressing the smaller man against his body. 

“God, you're so desperate it's pathetic,” he muses, his tone a combination of amusement and lust.

Dave’s hands are everywhere now, roaming across Kirk’s body as he presses him up against the wall. He lets his lips explore the sensitive flesh of the guitarist’s neck, biting and sucking at the tender spots. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want. “You’re so willing, so eager. You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

Kirk’s mind is a swirling mess of need and shame, the sensations and Dave’s words sending waves of both arousal and humiliation through him. He gasps and whines as Dave’s lips continue their assault on his neck, his body trembling beneath the ginger’s touch. 

“Yes,” he manages out in a hoarse whisper, his voice raw and needy. “Yes…anything…please…”

Dave chuckles a little at Kirk's obvious neediness, his body and reaction fueling the fire in his gut. He pulls back from the guitarist's neck, his eyes raking over Kirk's flushed and panting form. 

“You’re so vulnerable,” he taunts, his voice harsh and mocking. “So willing to let me do whatever I want to you. Are you like this with James and Lars? I bet you are..”

Kirk’s breath hitches at the words, his eyes widening at the mention of James and Lars. A wave of shame and guilt washes over him as he’s reminded of his bandmates, who are blissfully unaware of the things happening behind the bathroom door. 

“No,” he manages to get out, his voice quiet and shaky. “I’m not like this with them…”

Dave laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “Sure you’re not,” he mocks cruelly. “I bet you beg and whine for their attention just as you are for me. You’d let them touch you and kiss you, wouldn’t you?”

Kirk tries to deny it, shaking his head weakly, but he can’t find the energy to do so, the truth sitting heavy in his gut. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t though of such things with his band mates, especially James. 

But he also knew it would never happen, that such feelings were unrequited. So instead he just lets out a small whimper, his eyes dropping to the floor in shame.

Dave notices the change in Kirk’s expression and body language, the way the guitarist avoids his gaze and fidgets weakly. A cruel smile plays on his lips as he leans in closer, trapping Kirk against the wall. 

“Oh,” he teases, his voice dripping with mockery. “That’s right, they’re not exactly interested in a needy guy like you, are they? That’s why you’re so desperate for it, why you’re letting ME have you like this.”

The sting of Dave’s words hit hard, a truth that cuts deep. Kirk can feel his eyes begin to prick with tears, a mixture of shame and hurt swirling inside him. He nods weakly, unable to deny it. 

“Yes…” he whispers, his voice small and defeated. “Yes…I’m desperate…please…you’ll give it to me…right? You’ll give me what they won’t…”

Dave’s smirk turns more smug at the broken look on Kirk’s face, savoring the sight of the guitarist so vulnerable and pathetic. He likes him like this, begging and needy, all for him. 

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low growl as he murmurs, “That’s right, I'll give you what you want, pretty boy. But you’re gonna have to do something for me first.”

The words send a thrill through Kirk’s body, his mind immediately going to what Dave wants. He nods again, more eager this time than before. 

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice soft.

Dave's grin widens, his hand coming up to grip Kirk's chin, tilting his head up to look at him. 

“Get on your knees for me,” he commands, his tone gentle but firm. “Show me how desperate you are.”

The demand makes a flush of heat spread through Kirk, his body practically aching to comply. He doesn’t hesitate, slipping out from Dave to kneel on the floor in front of him. He looks up at the ginger, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“Like this?” He asks meekly.

Dave looks down at Kirk, his gaze taking in the sight of the guitarist on his knees before him. A dark thrill goes through him as he looks at the other man, a heady mix of power and lust swirling together. 

“Yes,” he responds, “just like that. You look so pretty down there, on your knees for me. I bet you like being on your knees, huh? Makes you feel like you belong to me, doesn’t it?”

The words go straight to Kirk’s core, making him shiver and whine unconsciously. It’s shameful, how badly he’s craving this, how good being on his knees for Dave makes him feel. 

Dave sees the way Kirk’s entire demeanor shifts, the way he trembles and whines, and it only fuels the dominating fire that was starting to burn inside of him. He moves forward, standing directly in front of the kneeling guitarist, his hand coming up to grip the man’s hair once more. 

“You know what to do.”

The command is clear, and Kirk is helpless to deny or resist it. His hands come up to Dave’s pants, unbuttoning and tugging them down until they pool at the ginger’s ankles, revealing his growing hardness. 

He looks up at Dave, his eyes clouded with a mixture of submission and lust. “Can I…?” He asks, his voice soft and needy, asking Dave’s permission.

Dave lets out a low hum, his fingers tightening in Kirk’s hair at the pleading tone of his voice. The sight of the guitarist at his feet, so obedient and vulnerable, is beyond intoxicating. 

“Go ahead, sweetness,” he purrs, his tone almost taunting. “Take me.”

The permission sends a jolt of excitement and anticipation through Kirk, making him shiver again. He leans forward, his eyes still locked with Dave’s like he can’t look away, and wraps his lips around the tip of the ginger’s throbbing cock.

His eyes never leave Dave’s, watching the ginger’s expressions carefully, taking in every little twitch and gasp. He takes it as a point of pride, how he’s able to affect Dave this way.

Dave lets out a low hiss as he watches Kirk take him in, his eyes dark and focused on the kneeling guitarist. It’s erotic and powerful, to watch as the other man goes to work on him. 

“God damn,” he mutters out, his voice ragged and rough. “You look so good like this, sweetness. On your knees, my big cock in your pretty little mouth. You like it, don’t you?”

A shiver runs through Kirk again, his body and mind overwhelmed with how good this feels. The words, the tone, the dominant way Dave is talking to him, it’s all feeding the fire inside him that only wants more of it. He moans around Dave’s cock, trying to take more of his length down his throat.

Dave hisses again, gripping Kirk’s raven curls tight. The guitarist holds the sides of Dave’s hips. But it feels so good to be gagging and choking on Dave, knowing that his bandmates could walk in and find them. 

The ginger hums smugly as Kirk finally takes him to the hilt, stroking his hair softly now. “I’m surprised you can take all of me—you done this before, little slut?” His cheeks burn in embarrassment, but he groans around Dave’s dick again. 

He isn’t sure whether that’s a denial or confirmation, but either way, Dave’s got Kirk blowing him. 

The ravenette starts to bob his head up and down, his blunt nails digging into the soft skin of Dave’s hips. He noses ginger pubes, the curls nestled neatly over his cock. As Kirk gets more used to the pace, he goes faster, and Dave chokes on a moan, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Shit—”Is all he has to say, fisting Kirk’s hair again. Soon, he’s facefucking him, Kirk’s eyes prickling with tears. God, it burns, but it feels so good..

Tears trickle down the guitarist’s cheeks, drool dribbling down his chin, but it’s worth seeing Dave come undone from his work, hissing and groaning gutturally. 

Kirk is pliant, letting Dave use him as he wishes. Dave takes advantage of that, using him like a fuck toy and chasing his own release. Kirk chokes on him a few times, but Dave doesn’t stop, and he won’t, not until he’s coming down Kirk’s throat.

The sounds they’re making are terribly obscene and loud. The thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in at any second has Kirk groaning around Dave’s cock again. Dave shudders, his release draws near and Kirk knows it. He relishes in it.

The ginger’s balls draw tight, and he shoved Kirk’s head down to his hilt, keeping him there as he finishes down his throat. Kirk takes it all, swallowing it and savouring the taste like it was holy water. 

Kirk pulls off with a wet pop, and Dave runs a hand over his own flushed face. Even as his dick hangs limp now, Jesus, he’s big. And if he’ll let him, Kirk would gladly bend over for Dave. 

“You’re a vacuum.” Dave mutters, tucking himself back into his jeans. Kirk grins and sticks his tongue out, letting Dave see his spend on his tongue. “Christ, you’re a little fucking whore, aren’t you?” He laughs breathlessly, helping Kirk up, who also chuckles.

“Take me back to your place.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

cats I think the metalliguys would be

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 - 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

thanks to @thenaughtynun for giving me the motivation to write this

warnings: blow jobs, deepthroating, glasses kink, facials, slight hair-pulling,

nsfw below the cut :)

The first time James had seen Dave in those thin, wire-framed glasses that he used on occasion, he was enraptured. He looked like some kind of geek, like a computer programming nerd, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

It’s so tantalising, the way they perch on the bridge of his nose as he watches movies while sprawled out on their couch, and God, James never wanted to thank the divine more for myopia existing. His innocent adoration for Dave in glasses had soon enough morphed into something of an aching need to see his boyfriend utterly ruined in those specs. 

Come splattered across those delicate frames, lying low and crooked on his nosebridge. He’s have to wipe it off with his sleeve like some kind of dork cleaning his glasses, and somehow that thought was even more arousing than getting a blowie.

The thought took up most of the space in his mind, occupying most of his brain when he saw Dave walking around the house with them like a total slut. And James knows it isn’t his fault he looks so good in glasses, but it also kind of is, when he’s popping a boner every time he strolls past.

It was like a never ending hell of being turned on, unable to hide his very obvious arousal. God, it was torture, and Dave wasn’t even trying to be a tease (for once). 

It doesn’t help that Dave is very much an oblivious idiot, as well. So, whenever he catches James ogling his ass, he merely sends him a small grin, believing that he was being leered at because he was cute, not because of his glasses. Even worse, Dave always seemed to be wearing those damn glasses whenever they went somewhere together, the only time he took them off being in the car, where James couldn’t touch him..

It’s a late Sunday afternoon, and the two were currently relaxing at home, Dave settled into a comfortable looking sweater and his wire-frames,  scrolling through the TV channels. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration, and James found himself unable to keep his eyes from trailing down the bridge of Dave’s nose, his eyes fixated on his boyfriend’s glasses. 

“What the hell are you staring at, James?” Dave murmurs without looking up, not missing a beat in his browsing.

James grits his teeth. Dave was such an oblivious idiot, but that was one thing he loved about him, as contradictory as that seemed. It wasn’t even like Dave was being purposely ignorant of the fact that he was the source of James’s obsession this time.. he was just naturally slow on the uptake. 

“Nothin’…” James muttered, still not taking his eyes off Dave. His fingers tapped nervously on the leather of the couch between them, his eyes flickering to his boyfriend’s specs, under the guise of staring him in the eyes.

Dave didn’t seem convinced, though, and he turned his head to face his boyfriend, finally peeling his eyes away from the television. “You need something or what?”

James hesitates for a moment, considering if he should just tell Dave the truth, or if he should just lie. The thing was, he knew Dave wouldn’t be opposed, not at all, but he wanted to see what his boyfriend would say, even if they both knew he wouldn’t mean it. 

Still, he didn’t want to be too blunt. Dave could be a pretty sensitive guy, and James would rather not say the wrong thing. “I want a blowjob.” Of course, he’s throwing all his considerations out the window because he wants—no, needs—to ruin Dave in those terribly erotic spectacles.

Dave stares at him for a moment, a blank look in his hazel eyes before he broke into a small scoff, shaking his head. “What, are you horny, Het? Go jerk off. You don’t need to give me a shitty excuse to tell me you want me to suck you off.”

Damn it. Dave could read him like a book, of course he could. Still, despite the fact that he knew Dave was kidding, he still acted offended, pretending like he really was giving an excuse. “I mean, don’t put it like that, I just want some attention, dude, come on… I haven’t gotten any in days, y’know? Come on, baby, please?” He whines, leaning forward and rubbing against him like some sort of cat, trying to get his attention. “Help a guy out.”

“You’re pathetic, I hope you know that.” Dave says, but he can’t keep a smirk from his face and he tilts his head, letting James nuzzle against him for a moment. “Can’t go a couple nights without head? Jesus, what are you, a teenage boy?”

“It’s been more than ‘a couple nights’.” James mumbles, sounding like a petulant child at this point, his body completely pressed against Dave’s by now. He can feel his cock growing stiflingly hard in his jeans, and he lets out a soft huff, moving up to press kisses to the side of Dave’s neck. “Just really want you tonight.”

That’s a half-truth. But he’s not going to tell Dave the real reason he’s all wound up or he’d never those glasses ever again.

It seems to work, though, because Dave lets out a soft huff of a sigh, placing one of his hands on the back of James’ neck, his fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “Okay, fine, alright. Fine, you win, you needy fuckin’ baby...” He sighs to himself, eyes rolling, but the teasing words lacked any sort of heat to them.

As Dave slides off the couch to sink to his knees, there’s that trembling sense of anticipation in his gut. Finally, he’ll get what he’s been wanting to see for the longest time, and the thought is even more blissful that it should be. 

Nimble hands pull his pants down to his mid-thigh, one step closer to freeing his aching dick from its confines. Then, he peels James’ boxers away, letting his cock spring free, a flushed and angry red. James practically salivates as Dave tucks his hair behind his ears, shuffling closer to hover his mouth over James’ throbbing length.

When Dave brings his mouth down, letting James sheath himself in that tight wet cavern that is his mouth, his hand settling to tightly grip those brassy curls as Dave hollows his cheeks and bobs up and down, able to take him to the hilt with a practiced ease. He groans as the shaft pushed past his throat, James shudders at the vibrations, pleasure tingling up his spine.

“Jesus—shit, ah, fuck—!”

Choking on a moan, James uses the back of his hand to cover his mouth, almost embarrassed by the lewd noises he lets out freely. However, the sounds encourage Dave even more, and he once again takes all of him, drool stating to dribble down his chin obscenely. 

Warm lips wrap around his cock perfectly, as if they were practically made for him, tonguing the base of James’ length. His eyes flutter shut, stars exploding behind his eyelids at the sensations, because Dave’s too damn good at blowjobs and knows exactly what makes him tick. 

“Fuck—”

Tears prickle the ginger’s eyes, his throat beginning to feel raw with each stab to the back of his throat with James’ tip, a had reaching down to cup and fondle his balls. James draws in a sharp breath, his grip on Dave’s hair increasing tenfold. Dave’s fingers dig into his thighs, and it would be stingingly painful if not for the bouts of pleasure his boyfriend presents to him. 

James’ balls throb gently in Dave’s hands, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft pulsating, twitching in his mouth like it was waiting for something to push him off the edge, to be granted his orgasm. So he increases his efforts tenfold, doing everything in his power to make James come even faster, wanting nothing more than to swallow his load and get back to Breaking Bad. 

“Dave, Dave, please, I’m gonna—”

Dave hums in response, the vibrations drawing a cry of ecstasy from his partner. He can feel James’ cock thicken in his mouth, strangled sounds wrenching themselves from his throat. As the blonde is about to come, he pulls Dave’s lecherous mouth off him, shooting ropes of spunk over his face and glasses. Taken aback, Dave doesn’t exactly know how to react well. 

“You fucker, you got it on my glasses!” Shooting a nasty glare at James, Dave looks as debauched as he had imagined, specs slanted and coated in his come, his seed dripping down his face. The man merely shrugs in response, with really nothing more to say. Dave doesn’t take his glasses off but grumbles something about having to clean them under his breath, another about getting a facial in front of Jesse Pinkman, and the look of his very come-coated face with those wiry frames has James jumping to full hardness again. 

“Hey, Dave…?” He asks, leaving his question unspoken, voice oh-so meek. 

“Yeah, yeah, help me outta my clothes.”

thanks for the tag @madamsixx

mary jane - megadeth

tagging: @h3ll0k1ttyl0v3rrr @dethtallica @thenaughtynun @ju1ian @ride-the-hammett @hiamnoal

ATTENTION

If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

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

mood rn

so I’m taking a little break

just for a little while maybe until about end of January (to catch up on requests and other stuff on my writing) but I’ll be back before February :)

thanks for all your support and stuff i love you guys a lot 🗣️🙏🙏

expect 4 or more fics to be published when I’m back :))

I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMFG YOU'RE THE BEST ILY

no I love you more 😝😘

hmo. james/dave arcane au. "you're /hot/, cupcake." do with that what you will. i've just been barrelling through s2 and your post abt it sparked something in my head.

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐈𝐭 𝐁𝐞?

warnings: arcane au, dry humping, anal sex, riding, slight degradation, teasing, begging, whiny top James, power bottom Dave, orgasm denial, ambiguous ending

okay so this kinda follows the plot of s1 ep5 but like also doesn’t?? Idk man

James cringes at Dave’s sloppy eating—the dish was some kind of strange blue meat covered in a honey-coloured sauce. It smelled a little strange, but Dave acted like it was the best meal he’s had to date. 

“Oh, Jericho! Have I missed these…” Dave muses, and ‘Jericho’, the strange fish-humanoid merely garbled a response, cackling to himself. 

The redhead hums softly in an unspoken question, holding a piece of the fishy meat out to James. He cringes in response, responding with a curt, “No. Thank you.” Dave shrugs plopping the meat into his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “You’re missing out.” 

Exasperated, James pulls his hood to shield his face from Jericho in a feeble attempt to mama his identity. “Are you going to question him?” He hissed, blue eyes narrowing as they scan Dave’s happy-go-lucky demeanour. 

The Zaunite raised an eyebrow, as if he knew nothing of what he was asking. “About what? The meat?” Conveniently, Jericho scratches his ass right after that question. “Definitely not above board.” He shakes his head softly, scraping up sauce to coat another slice of meat. 

“Silco. His connections? Isn’t that why we’re here?” James can feel his blood pressure rise, because by Janna, this man is insufferable. Dave turns to face him, looking utterly irritated at James’ consistent prodding. “We’re here because I’m hungry. Do you know what prison food is like?” Hazel eyes scan the ex-enforcer. “No, of course you don’t.” 

He slurps up another piece of the tangy meat, and then another, as James begins to rant to him softly. “Unbelievable, I didn’t break you out of jail to eat…slop.” He stands, his hand gesturing around in a controlled, yet annoyed movement. “I knew this was a terrible idea! You don’t know anything, do you?” He growls, pointing an accusing finger at the ginger, who’s busy gulping down the remnants of the honeyed sauce from the bowl. 

Dave wipes his mouth with the bandaged back of his hand, ignoring James as he sighs in contentment. “Mm… Better than I remember.” He praised wistfully, and Jericho finally faces them, gibbering in whatever language it is that he spoke. He swings his butcher’s knife onto the slab of wood he uses as a knife block, taking Dave’s bowl and sliding a napkin towards him with another jabber.  

Dave picks up the corner of the napkin, eyeing the symbol on its underside. He gives a sideways glance to James, whose blue eyes widen in surprise. He slides the napkin into his crimson jacket, walking off as a silent beckoning for James to follow. 

Jericho looks at James expectedly with a toothy grin, and the blonde hums and returns an awkward smile before attempting to match Dave’s pace. He finally makes it to Dave’s side, whispering a soft, “What does the symbol mean?” Dave gives James a once-over, huffing as he blows a curl out of his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. It’s where we need to head to.” 

As they walk through the lanes, Dave pulls his hood up, his curls bouncing as they lay against the flat expanse of his chest. The Piltie trails behind him, scanning the scene with a little paranoia. He didn’t know what to expect down in the Undercity. 

Dave leads him through a myriad of alleyways and past what looks to be the black market, until they climb up a flight of stairs. Walking along a balcony overseeing the ground, Dave’s eyes are particularly drawn to a huge eye-like non sign that reads ‘The Last Drop’. The Zaunite pulls his hood back, resting his hands on the oxidised metal of the railing, and they watch as two big burly guards shove away a man who’s stirring up a ruckus.

Dave’s breathing speeds up, his brow furrowing as a soft ‘Hm’ escapes his lips. Hazel eyes lock into the building, his thoughts stirring in a mix of unadulterated anger and mourning.

Like the insensitive Piltie he is, James looks over his shoulder and scoffs ever so softly. “Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement.” That statement hits too close to home, and Dave clenched the railing as he exhaled raggedly. The metal creaks softly, and he pulls away, scowling as he shoots a glare at the blonde. “You don’t know anything.”

Dave roughly bumps into James’ shoulder, and he looks at the man’s fleeting figure. He frowns, not exactly sure what Dave’s problem was. Typical Zaunite behaviour is what he chalks it up to, before finally trudging after him, still pondering what caused such an outburst. 

Eventually, the pair reach a large, ornate door in the nook of an alleyway, bearing the symbol they had seen on the napkin. Dave raps against the door, and a small opening slides open, a big green eye peeking out to observe. James glances at the eye before facing down, his expression carrying surprise as he clears his throat. Dave meets the eye with a jerk of his head upwards, and the guard groans as it scans for anyone else. 

Satisfied, he closes the little window and unlocks the reddish door, revealing the long hallway down. It’s carpeted with velvet and smells like bergamot and frankincense, wicked laughter echoing through the hall. 

“The one place all the secrets are spilled.” Dave shoved his hands into his jacket’s pocket, beckoning James with a tilt to his head as he leads the way. Uptight, James follows, as if trying to make himself seem smaller. ‘Great,’ the Piltie thinks with a strange shiver going through him. ‘We’re in a brothel.’

They saunter past rooms, all decorated to the nines with plants, paintings, food and most of all, drugs made with shimmer. James averts his gaze, looking awkwardly side to side as his shoulders tense, sticking close to Dave. They can hear laughing and indistinct chatter, and his partner doesn’t seem even the slightest bit out of place. Perhaps he’s come here before, and that thought makes James’ stomach lurch with an unwelcome jealousy.

There’s soft jazz playing in the background, and James eyes a couple lounging in one of the room, sharing a puff of shimmer. A woman with a cat mask exhales the purple fumes, and a man in a goatish mask inhales it, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. James nervously looks away, looking towards the other side of the hall, where there’s a couple bathing. 

He’s taken aback by the sight of them quite literally fucking in the bathtub, not caring for who saw them. “…Like a trumpet!” The man grunts with conviction, and the woman giggles, tracing down his body with a teasing finger.

He takes his leave and hurries after Dave, a soft blush blooming onto his skin. He raises a finger, trying to get his bearings. “How exactly do you propose we go about this?” He gulps, and a little humanoid elf thing hums as it walks past them in BDSM gear. Dave scoffs with amusement, turning to James as he tilts his head, motioning towards the humanoid. 

“Let them think you work here.” James’ head snaps up to meet his gaze, appalled. “Excuse me? I will not!” Dave sighs, backtracking towards James. “You know what your problem is?” James harrumphs, raising an eyebrow as he challenges. “Please. Tell me.”

Dave’s voice is soft, but still firm. “You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you have to let them think you have what they want.” He begins to circle the blonde, who gulps nervously. 

“And..what do I have?” He asks, following Dave’s movements as he turns his head, still quite the bit oblivious to what the strawberry blonde was implying. 

Eyes scan James’ form appraisingly, and Dave can’t lie, James is attractive. 

“You’re hot, cupcake.” 

He leans in way too close for James’ liking, walking him back into a wall, holding eye contact that’s too intense for him. A hand plants itself beside James’ head, effectively keeping him in place. He can see all the details of Dave’s face up-close, the small scars on his cheeks and brow, his ear piercings and the tattoo that creeps up his neck. Most of all, those peachy lips that are far too tantalising to resist. 

James flushes, incredibly embarrassed and turned on by the whole scenario. “So what will it be, man or woman?” Dave places his other arm on the other side of James, leaning in even closer. It’s a little funny given that Dave has to slightly look up to him, but nonetheless arousing. 

James tries to stutter out a response, and the ex-inmate raises an eyebrow, waiting. After a few more seconds of James gaping like a fish, they hear footsteps. Dave glances sideways and curses, taking it upon himself to drag James into one of the empty rooms in the brothel, ensuring that the door was locked.

James is shoved into the room, stumbling before he regains his footing and steadies himself, feeling a tad lightheaded. His heart is thrumming with something he can’t really understand, his chest heaving with sharp breaths as Dave leans against the door, crossing his arms loosely as he eyes him up and down.

Feeling quite intimidated, James steps further into the room, looking on at the plush blankets and pillows scattered about, all different colours of the rainbow. It’s rather eye-catching to look at, and it’s clear what this room is meant for.

“Uhm.” He clears his throat, trying to rid himself of the lump lodged in it. Dave’s gaze is still on him, and he can feel it burning into his back as he walks to the bed, sitting down onto the edge and placing his hands in his lap. He’s embarrassed by how red his face is, and he averts his face, staring intently at the gaudy patterns on the bedsheets.

Dave chuckles behind him, strolling over to where James is sat, his gaze scanning his form. “You know..” His tone is deceptively sweet, as he places a hand on James’ shoulder. The Piltie shivers slightly at just a mere touch, and Dave pushes on.

“For being the son of a councillor, you’re quite shy.” He mutters, eyeing the slit under the drapes where someone’s standing. Watching.

James clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to shove Dave away. That’s about the last thing he needs, and he’s not that naive. Although, the way Dave’s palm is beginning to wander down to his side isn’t helping. 

“I’m not shy..” He mumbles quietly, shifting a little closer to the edge of the bed. Dave hums thoughtfully, his free hand gently tipping up James’ chin and forcing the blonde to look towards him.

“No?” His thumb moves across James’ jaw, his eyes darkening. He takes in the sight of James looking up at him, and it’s oddly satisfying. The strawberry blonde can see the way his throat bobs when he swallows, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The faint flush on his cheeks and the way his eyes dart around nervously, almost like a caged animal. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this. 

Dave’s hand moves to the back of his head, gripping his hair and pulling him forwards, a knee slowly making its way between his legs.

“Wha—mmh!” James’ squeak is stifled by Dave’s other hand, pressing against his mouth firmly and forcing him to keep staring up at him. This is embarrassing and it’s making his head spin. The ex-con slowly pushes James onto his back, crawling on top of him and pinning his hands down. 

"Don’t fight it, cupcake.” Dave murmurs, his free hand travelling across the expanse of James’ chest.

James gasps silently, his heart beating in his throat. This is far too much for him, and Dave’s fingers are exploring his body with no reservations, and the blonde can’t find the will to push away. Dave presses himself against him, his hips rolling against his, his teeth grazing under his ear and James’ skin prickles.

He’s unable to control the way his body automatically reacts as Dave pushes against him, a small noise of pleasure muffled by his fingers. Dave makes a noise of amusement, feeling the way the blonde is squirming under him. 

“God. You’re so squirmy, aren’t you?” Dave murmurs into his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, leaving behind little marks as he goes. He keeps his hands pinned down as he continues to tease him, his knee still pushed between his legs.

Dave leans in even closer, whispering just above a breath. “Someone’s watching us. Play along.”

James’ eyes widen, his breathing hitches as he realises what Dave’s implying. Play along. Yeah, easy enough. Not. He’s trying to resist the moan slipping from his lips, but Dave’s making it so difficult for him. His body is betraying him, arching into every touch and shiver against his skin, and he hates how good it feels. The warmth pooling in his lower abdomen is becoming unbearable, and it doesn’t help that Dave’s still moving against him, grinding their hips together. 

He looks up, and he realises that they are, in fact, being watched. A pair of beady greyish eyes reflect through the gap in the curtains. Metal glints in their grasp, and James is now acutely away of the gun in their hand, hence Dave’s strange behaviour.

Dave continues to kiss and suck marks into his skin, his hands sliding over his body to his hips, slowly moving them in a small circle and rubbing against his crotch. That makes James let out a high-pitched whine, and Dave can’t help but chuckle as he presses down harder, drawing a gasp from the Piltie, who throws his head back, revealing his pale neck. 

Dave takes the opportunity to start sucking at the flesh, leaving a series of kisses down the expanse of his neck for show, all the while, the figure watches them, expression unreadable. Dave eyes the figure out of the corner of his eye, and even when they make eye contact, the person doesn’t leave. 

James is starting to get lost in the sensation, barely taking notice of the figure staring at them. He’s more focused on the way Dave is working his mouth down his neck and collarbone, sucking, biting and licking at his skin. His breath stutters as Dave’s lips latch onto that one spot, sucking so harshly that he’s sure it’s going to leave a huge bruise later on. 

He suddenly feels Dave’s hips still, and the strawberry blonde murmurs into his skin. “They’re still watching.”

James’ eyes widen as his brain finally catches up to him, and he realises why Dave’s words make his stomach churn in a very unpleasant way. He’s still pinned down, his hands restrained above his head with Dave sitting on his hips, looking utterly disheveled. 

He swallows as he glances towards the figure, who hasn’t stopped staring. “How long are they going to continue?” He murmurs, fighting to keep his voice steady, and Dave just shrugs, his mouth back on his chest and working another mark onto his skin. “Just play along until they leave.”

Dave’s biting and sucking up and down on his chest, and he’s sure that he’s going to have quite the collection of lovebites later on. It’s embarrassing how worked up this is getting him, and he’s trying his best to hold back the noises from leaving his lips. Despite this, a small gasp escapes as Dave pushes against him, rolling their hips against each other. 

The figure is still in their place, eyes watching every single movement. This is both terrifying and humiliating, and James can’t decide which it is at this point.

Dave’s hands slide from his hips to his thighs, gently pushing them apart so that he can get in between, grinding against him. James lets out a shaky breath, his legs moving to wrap around Dave’s waist of their own accord. Dave doesn’t seem to mind, making some sort of guttural noise as he leans up to press a kiss onto his lips, the first actual kiss in this whole situation. 

James can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes him, and he’s shocked when Dave uses the opportunity to push his tongue into his mouth. Oh Janna.

Dave’s tongue is in his mouth, licking and sucking into him, and it’s embarrassing how fast and how hard James is getting. Dave’s own hips are rubbing against him, and the blonde can’t quite tell if it’s for show or if Dave actually enjoys this. But he’s getting lost in the sensations, his legs wrapping tighter around the strawberry blonde’s hips, drawing them in closer together. 

James’ back is arching, his mouth open and letting out soft sounds of pleasure. Everything feels good, even if it’s being watched.

Dave’s hands are wandering up and down his body, his tongue still exploring the inside of his mouth, and James is pretty sure he’s going to die if it doesn’t stop. But he doesn’t actually mind if it doesn’t stop, he’s enjoying it quite a bit. The only thing he can’t stand is the staring. He’s trying not to look, but it’s in his line of sight and it’s making his skin burn just a bit hotter. They’re pretending to actually be at the brothel for sex, not…whatever it is Dave has planned.

Dave’s hands run over his hips, his mouth still on his own, and the blonde is feeling a tad lightheaded as Dave begins to bite at his lower lip. He can barely think, his mind all hazy with pleasure that he’s is drawing from him. His body seems to move on its own, grinding against Dave’s in all the right ways. 

He’s starting to let out soft moans, and he suddenly realises that the figure is no longer in their spot by the door. It’s only him and Dave, alone together. Satisfied, the ginger pulls away, straightening out his shirt.

James is still in a daze as Dave gets off of him, panting for breath. It takes a few moments for his sight to clear, and when it does, he’s suddenly all too aware of the silence in the room. He gulps, sitting up and staring at the ginger, trying to find the right words to say. He can still feel how his lips still tingle with the ghost of Dave’s touch. 

“Did it work?” His voice is a lot raspier than he expected, and Dave glances over, a lazy smirk on his face. “Of course it did. Now get up, we have information to gather.”

James lets out a small noise of annoyance. “You used me as bait.” 

He’s still a bit annoyed and lightheaded, but he quickly pulls his clothes back into place and stands up, running a hand through his messy hair to try and bring it back into some sort of order. 

Dave snorts, rolling his eyes. “Well, yeah. But it got results. You’re just a good enough actor for it.” He takes a few steps closer, reaching up to pat his hair back down. The touch is gentle, and James hates how it makes him shiver. “This isn’t fair.” 

The Zaunite raises an eyebrow, half-amused. “What isn’t?”

James’ gaze is avoiding Dave’s as he gestures somewhat vaguely. “You just…you get me all hot and bothered and then you just stop like that. It’s not fair. You use me like some sort of doll.” His voice almost comes out like a whine, and he hates how whiny he probably sounds. 

Dave scoffs, his smirk turning into a grin as he moves in even closer, backing James up against the wall. “What, did you expect me to properly fuck you?”

James’ breath hitches at his bold words, and he feels himself lean back against the wall, looking up as Dave cages him in with his arms. A flush is back on his face, and he’s trying to form a response when his mind goes completely blank at what Dave just said. The strawberry blonde looks far too pleased with himself as he lowers his head, his breath fanning over James’ ear. “Is that what you want, cupcake?” 

James’ brain has apparently imploded, because the only response he can give is an embarrassingly needy whine.

Dave doesn’t get a response, but the small whine he lets out is far too sweet and appealing to him, and he’s already got an unfair upper hand on the Piltie. He knows he’s already got him in the palm of his hand as he leans in, murmuring into his ear. “Since you whined so nicely.” He’s taunting, and the blush on the Piltie’s face is so damn adorable that it has his stomach twisting.

James lets out a gasp as he hits the bed, bouncing slightly before sinking into the plush blankets. He feels oddly exposed as he watches Dave crawl onto the bed, a lazy smirk on his face as he positions himself over the Piltie. He’s pinning him down again, and James can’t help but let out a small whine, his hips bucking of their own accord. 

“Let’s make this quick, yes?” Dave mutters, his calloused hand roaming down the length of his body.

Dave’s hand is trailing over his stomach, the rough skin of his palm leaving a trail of fire behind it. James can feel the heat pooling in his lower stomach, and he’s trying to keep his breathing even as the ginger’s hand stops at his pants, toying with his belt buckle. 

He whines, his hips arching into the touch, and Dave chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Damnit,” the blonde mutters, his breath shaky, “stop playing around.”

Dave clicks his tongue as he slowly undoes the buckle, tugging the belt out of the loop. “Hush.” He wastes no precious time pulling his pants off, and James is trying not to squirm and whine as the bastard purposely avoids the place he really wants his touch. 

He’s embarrassingly hard and leaking in his boxers, his clothes in a messy bundle around his ankles. “Please, I don’t want to wait—” Dave tuts, shushing him once more as he sheds his own pants, climbing to straddle James’ lap. “I’ll make this quick.”

Dave’s in his lap now, straddling him. It’s a sight that James can’t quite get used to, especially as the ginger slowly starts to roll his hips. The friction between them is painfully blissful, and James has to bite back a moan. Damn bastard for making this hard. 

“Bastard,” he gasps, trying to keep his breathing steady, “do something other than just sitting there.”

Dave raises an eyebrow, the look on his face far too smug as he rolls his hips again, his own erection pressing against James’, and he can’t hold back the sound he lets out. “You’re desperate,” the ginger murmurs, reaching over for a bottle of oil in a clear glass, “poor you. Must be so repressed by Mummy, hm?”

Dave keeps humping against him, the friction almost driving James mad, and it’s making it so difficult to speak. But the neediness wins, and he manages to form a short sentence. “Get on with it, dammit—”

Dave laughs, and James’ heart flutters slightly at how breathless he sounds. It only flutters for a second before Dave uncorks the oil bottle, and now his fingers are slicked up, and James doesn’t know what’s gonna happen. But he’s guessing he’s about to find out when Dave moves back, his hand moving behind his back. 

He’s confused for a moment, until he realises what he’s going to do. “Oh,” he mutters, eyes widening as he watches Dave reach his hand backwards, shuddering a gasp as he preps himself. Janna, James wishes he could bear witness to the sight, but Dave works quick, hovering above him while pouring a generous amount of oil onto his palm.

The ginger’s hand is now coated in slick oil, and James’ breath hitches as Dave takes his hand away, now resting it on James’ hip while the other braces against his shoulder. Dave leans down, hovering above him, and the Piltie can’t help but shiver as Dave murmurs into his ear. “Ready, cupcake? I’m not gonna wait for you to stop whining for one second.”

James nods, and he’s about to respond with a snarky remark when Dave sinks down, his tongue suddenly lost as a gasp tears from his throat. It’s almost too good and too much all at once, overwhelming him to the point where a whimpering moan is all he can manage as the ginger sits in his lap. 

He’s gripping Dave’s thighs, his nails digging in as the man above him adjusts and shifts, his breath coming in gasps. “H-Holy-”

It’s all he can get out, his brain is fuzzy, and he’s feeling every single damn thing like it’s being heightened. He can feel every single shift and shiver, the way Dave clenches around him, the way the ginger is panting, as well as his own breathing, short and ragged and desperate. 

James has his head thrown back, his eyes closed and his grip almost painful as he whimpers, trying to hold back the moans. dave is riding him, and it’s all that matters in this moment. His nails dig into the soft flesh of his thighs, and he’s lost in the sensations of it all. 

Dave merely scoffs, chalking James up to being a virgin, or lacking any sexual expertise. “You better not come before I do, cupcake.” James can’t tell is he’s joking of if he’s joking around, but he doesn’t want to know. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire. James can’t think straight, but he thinks he responds with a whimper and a small nod, which is better than nothing. There’s too much to feel, and his brain can’t keep up with the overwhelming amount of sensations. He can’t form a single coherent thought, his mouth just producing a stream of desperate gasps and moans. 

Dave is above him, riding him like he was made for it, and James doesn’t know how long he’ll last at all. His body is practically vibrating, his hands shaking as his head is leaned back, eyes squeezed shut. “H-Holy-” it’s the only word he can currently get out, his thoughts fuzzy. All he can feel is the heat coiling in his stomach, building up more and more with each movement, lost in the way that Dave is riding him, bouncing in his lap with a wicked smirk on his face that has his stomach flipping.

Dave is still riding him, driving him wild. The sounds coming from the Piltie are absolutely sinful, little gasps and moans that are like music to the ginger’s ears. Even so, he’s still trying to taunt and tease, leaning down so he’s closer to the man’s ear. “I don’t think you’re gonna be able to last very long. Poor you, not getting any action up in the fancy city, hm?”

James whimpers softly, his breathing ragged as he tries not to let himself go over the edge yet. Damnit, he doesn’t want Dave to have that privilege of being smug and correct. Not when he’s the one getting ridden to the moon. 

“I-I’m trying…” he mutters, opening his eyes just enough to glance at Dave, who has a smug smile on his face, the bastard. “D-Don’t look at me like that—”

Dave laughs a little, rolling his hips harder and grinding down, earning a sharp whine between the gasps and moans, the way the Piltie was coming apart was incredible. But he can see that James is struggling to hold on, the way his body is shaking and trembling, practically vibrating. 

“Come now, you can’t keep yourself together?” He asks, mockingly curious. “You really must have been suffering up topside.”

James shivers a groans, his hands tightening their grip on Dave’s thighs, trying to keep himself grounded and hold on for just a bit more. If he gives in now, it’ll give Dave all the ego boost in the world. He’ll never live it down.

He looks up at the ginger, looking for an insult, but nothing comes to mind. Everything is fuzzy, except for one thing. The snarky bastard isn’t looking too composed himself. “You…you look pretty close.”

Dave’s breath hitches for a moment, a brief flash of surprise on his face. Damn him for catching onto that. But still, he scoffs, his hand reaching out to grip James’ chin tightly, fingers pressing into his jawline. “How about you shut that pretty mouth before I stuff my underwear into it?” The threat is honestly deeply arousing, and Dave mutters a quick curse, head tipping forward as he tries to gain his bearings, but the way James’ tip is consistently prodding at his prostate at the right angle has him nearly drooling.

The thought of Dave going through with that threat has his breath catching in his throat, a small, desperate sound escaping his lips. Even so, he still manages to regain a bit of his composure, trying to match Dave’s boldness and keep going. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The Piltie is barely getting the words out, his chest heaving. “You think I’m pretty?”

Dave scoffs, but the small noise he lets out is a definite tell of just how much of an effect James is having on him, and it’s fueling the Piltie’s ego again. “No, I think you’re a whiny bastard.” He mutters, although the words are far too breathy to be taken seriously, his chest heaving as he leans in, resting his forehead on James’ shoulder. “But you’re a pretty good, I’ll give you that.”

The words make James shiver, the praise going straight to his head. And to his dick, which is still being used and bounced on like a toy by the ginger. He’s still a whining, whimpering mess, and he’s desperate to hold back and not let go just yet. James watches as Dave’s face scrunches up, head leaned back against the bed as he gazes at the ceiling, the sound of the headboard of the bed thumping against the wall. 

Strong thighs tremble around James’ middle as Dave comes, white spend splattering conveniently over where his shirt had ridden up. He seizes tight around James, choking out a half-moan-half-whimper, trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Wasting not a single second to bask in the afterglow, he slides off James’ dick, reaching for his discarded underwear. 

James is left reeling as Dave gets off him, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. He’s trying to process all of the things that just happened, his head spinning and his entire body feeling on fire with the overload of sensations. Dave is already back in his pants, straightening his clothes and trying to tame his messy hair. 

“I didn’t come!” James hisses in protest, sitting up, feeling his cock throb with need. Dave gives an unsympathetic shrug, tossing him his clothes. “Too bad.”

Dave doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty, and the damn bastard is just as smugly self-satisfied as James knew he would be. The ginger glances down at his pants as he buckles his belt, his expression still infuriatingly smug and proud of himself. 

“Better figure something else out to amuse yourself.” He mutters, taking another second to fix his hair to his liking before glancing back at James, his gaze going up and down his disheveled form with a final smug smirk, already half-out the room. 

“Get yourself cleaned up, cupcake. We have shit to do.”

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝

warnings: laced drugs, sex pollen, anal sex, hand job(s), overstimulation

nsfw under the cut :)

Kirk wiped his irritated nose—Lars gotten him some coke, and from the way his body was heating up further with each line he did, it was getting more and more clear it had been laced with something extra. He made a mental note to never ask Lars for blow again.

He abandoned the last line, left unfinished, and flopped onto his bed. He felt like he was on fire, skin a furnace and radiating heat. There was that stifling feeling in his jeans as well, his dick throbbing incessantly in his boxers to the beat of his heart.

Jesus, what was in that thing? Kirk unzipped his fly, spitting in his hand and slicking himself up. He fisted his cock, hand sliding up and down his length with haste like it was the last time he’d jerk off. There was the familiar pull at his abdomen, his balls growing tight as he reached his peak. 

And yet, even when he came over his chest, spilling over his fingers, the gnawing ache didn’t go away. It ate at him, and his cock got hard again at an alarming speed. This wasn’t good—they were due at soundcheck in less than three hours, and it was unlikely that the insatiable feelings he was having were going to go away so soon. 

The groupies won’t be available yet, and he doubts any random woman will want to hook up with him—he’s startled out of his thoughts when there’s a loud knock from the door. Quick to tuck himself back into his pants and hastily wiping himself clean, he calls out. “One minute!” When he’s finally presentable enough, he opens the door and peeks through the crack in it. 

“Yeah?” He asks, sniffling. Outside stands Jason, eyebrow raised as if he knew exactly what Kirk had been doing. “We’re heading for soundcheck in 2 hours.” Kirk wipes his nose, making sure there was no white residue left. Any rational thinking is thrown out the window as he reaches for Jason’s arm and pulls him in. 

Jason is taken by surprise, now standing with Kirk’s body flush against his. “Are you okay?” He asks, hand feeling up Kirk’s forehead. It’s near scorching and Jason swiftly pulls his hand back.

“You’re heating up. Do you have a fever?” Concerns swirls in the depths of his grey-blue eyes, and Kirk tiptoes, grinding his erection against Jason’s crotch. “Don’t know—I think my coke has something in it...” He pants out, pulling Jason close. “Has what in it?” He queries, feeling Kirk’s neck, just as hot as his forehead. 

“Don’t know, don’t fucking care. I need you. Now. Please.” Jason furrows his eyebrows in worry, but complies, letting Kirk push him down onto his bed and shove his shirt up, straddling his hips while grinding atop him. “Are you sure about this—“ “Shut up.” The auburn haired man groans, his dick stirring in his pants. 

Kirk grinds against him like a man crazed, face flush from how needy he was. He needed his dick in something—anything, and Jason was so conveniently there to satisfy his urges. Kirk grinds, precome soaking the fabric of his drawls. Jason’s hands rest on his hips, face scrunched up at the friction. 

Impatient and unsatisfied with just grinding, Kirk moves to undo his fly and peel off his skinny jeans. He tugs off Jason’s slightly baggier jeans with ease, boxers along with it. Wasting no time to lube up his fingers and feed them knuckle-deep to Jason, Kirk slots another in and scissors them. Jason merely takes it pliantly, seeing how desperate he was. 

“Fuck…Kirk-“ He hissed as he’s hurriedly fed a third, there’s a bite from the stretch underneath the pleasure. Kirk pumps his fingers a little more for good measure, before they’re pulled out and wiped on his sheets. His lubed up cock prods against Jason’s hole, before pushing past and rocking into the younger man slowly. 

His speed builds up as Jason grows a little accustomed to it, and soon he’s thrusting into him like a rabbit, body hunched over and gripping Jason’s spread legs. Jason fists the sheets as Kirk fucks into him, gasping as his prostate is assaulted with each hungry jerk of his hips. It’s the perfect mix of rough and fast that has him keening, no doubt that someone would hear them from next door, alongside the slamming of the bedframe against the wall.

Jason’s back jolts into an involuntary arch off the bed. He can feel his orgasm impending with the pressure coiled around his loins, like a spring soon to snap. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room, accompanied by Jason’s high-pitched whines and Kirk’s loud groans. Jason finally snaps and clenched tight around Kirk whilecoming over his stomach, his cock twitching weakly. Kirk doesn’t stop, because he can’t. If he did, he might just die from how utterly aroused he was.

The older man doesn’t stop his brutal pace, and Jason flutters around him, his prostate getting oversensitive. He bites back a whimper as Kirk dips his head forward, rutting into him like a bitch in heat. The overstimulation is getting a lot more intense, and Jason squeezes his eyes shut. It feels good, but there’s an almost painful edge to the constant assault on his g-spot. 

But the pleasure outweighs the discomfort, and he finds himself on the edge of another orgasm soon. Kirk can feel the tight, warm heat of Jason still clenching weakly around him, and from the way his cock blurts precome it’s clear he’s going to come again. That’s further proved when Jason grows tighter around him, his shaft pulsing. Jason babbles as Kirk slams his hips into him at such a furious speed that his mind span.

Kirk kindly spits in his hand and starts to jerk Jason off, less than two strokes in and Jason comes again with a loud moan. Only after the second time he’s come does Kirk feel the pulling at his belly, low and warm. His movements get sloppy and he chases his orgasm down. The familiar tug at his balls is getting more prominent. 

His orgasm is starting to grow closer, and Jason’s so overstimulated that he cries as he comes a third time so pathetically, dribbling down the upside of his shaft into the puddle on his stomach. Kirk throws his head back again, he’s so damn close. Jason’s incessant clenching about him finally has him spilling into Jason, hips stuttering to a stop. 

He pants, propping himself up on his hands as he stays in Jason, not wanting to pull out just yet to preserve the warmth. Jason wiped his own tears, sniffling just like Kirk had been. Kirk does the very least to kiss away his tears to soothe him, caressing his face.

“Fuck.” Was all Jason said, breaths hiccuping. “I’m sorry—did I hurt you?” Kirk asks gently, noticing how the pull at his dick ebbed away. “I’m-I’m fine,” Jason says shakily, his cock oversensitive and his hole getting sore, “Just a bit sore.”

Kirk pulls out and gets one of his shirts to clean up the mess on Jason’s abdomen and around his ass. Jason sat up and immediately winced, the soreness kicking in quick after a good fucking. Yeah, that show was going to be a pain in the ass, quite literally. 

“Did you like the coke?” Lars casually asked Kirk in their tour bus. James glanced over momentarily, uninterested. “What the hell was in that thing?” Kirk grumbled, still a little upset at the fact that he couldn’t get a good high. “Just some strong aphrodisiacs. How’d you get it outta your system? Groupie?” Kirk shifted in his seat slightly. James looks over, now interested. 

“Is that why Jase was limping just now?” He mentions with a raised eyebrow. Lars looks over at Kirk, surprised. “I assumed he had a bad time with a groupie or something. You sure did a number on him, lucky bastard.” The Dane nudges him with a smirk. “I don’t think Jase liked it very much after.” Muttered Kirk,  averting his gaze from Jason, who glared at Lars, lying on his side opposite on the couch. 

“Don’t ever do that again you bastard.” Jason mutters, flipping Lars off. “You better have painkillers, or your ass is mine.” Lars stuck out his tongue cheekily, “Well…not a bad proposition…”