Results Of The Last Poll:

Jason☹️ JASSSONNNN☹️☹️😭😭☹️ jason.. jassson.. ja… jaasson….jason… Jasoooonnn.. JASON☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ JAAAAAASOOOONNH☹️☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭☹️

self indulgent jameson.

It’s not a want. It’s a NEED

dave mustaine gay little applestore monkey

i WILL get him pregnant mark my words

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.

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜)

hi guys I know I haven’t been online much recently (exams💔) but to make it up to you guys this is a series I’m working on rn!! it’s a 3 part series that I plan to finish really soon (within the next week hopefully) and uhh yeah!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63466180/chapters/162621559

snippet:

By this time the sun has completely set, leaving the street cast in the soft glow of street lamps. Jason peers through the window, expecting the guy to be gone by now, or at least distracted by something. However, the guy is still standing where he left him, arms folded across his chest with a cigarette between his index and middle finger. He takes a long drag, his eyes on Jason’s window, as if to say ‘I knew you’d be back’. Damn it.

It’s not his fault his studio directly overlooks the man’s house. And it’s also not his fault the guy is too eye-catching to ignore.

Jason swallows. Hard. He can’t look away, and he’s pretty sure if he tried to, he’d just look like a weird, shifty-eyed creep. So he awkwardly locks eyes with the guy across the way, who still has his gaze fixed on his face. The guy’s gaze is strong and unwavering, his ocean-blue eyes locked unwaveringly on Jason. Jason’s heart quickens under this intense gaze. The man, almost as if sensing his rising unease, offers a smile. Charming, almost teasing in the manner.

Fuck, Jason might’ve creamed his pants a little.

Jason swallows again, and to say he was feeling a little self-conscious right now was a huge understatement. This guy was attractive as hell, and the fact that he was standing across from him, arms folded, looking completely at ease, in the dark with only street lamps providing light, wasn’t helping. He looked like some kind of model, or something. Jason was getting a little flustered. His heart is beating a little too fast, now.

Besides that—what was he doing outside? Just smoking?

Jason is pulled out of his thoughts when the guy, without breaking eye contact, brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag. The guy’s eyes flutter shut as he does this, looking completely blissed out for a moment before opening his eyes and exhaling a long puff of smoke. That is unfairly attractive. And it’s unfair to Jason.

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

warnings: psychological torment, non-consensual biting (at first), slight blood kink, begging, anal fingering, rimming, anal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, graveyard sex, sex on top of a literal grave but it’s okay cus it’s Kirk’s

Happy Halloween! I tried my hand at writing about (Jason) being scared, and there are first times for everything :)) anyways enjoy! (What I mean by crypt btw)

word count: 7.4K words (you were warned)

nsfw under the cut :)

Halloween. Kirk’s favourite holiday, where he could go out and mingle at parties without having to obscure his vampirism. He was starving, aching for fresh meat to sink his fangs into. The party he attended this year was wonderful—so many lovely choices of men and women, all dressed to the nines.

He scans the room, red eyes settling on the forms of Lars and James, dressed as a mummy and a shitty werewolf respectively. His friends spot him too and beckon him over. 

“Settling on the vampire look again?” Teases Lars.

Kirk rolls his eyes, adjusting his hair to stay out of his face. 

“And you’re a goddamn Mummy,” he retorts, shaking his head. “You two look like shitty actors from one cheap horror movie.”

Lars laughs and pats Kirk’s shoulder.

“At least we try something new,” he says cheerfully. “You wear the same thing every year and you’re only in disguise because you don’t want people to know you’re a blood-sucking monster.”

“And your costume is what exactly?” Kirk shoots back, not amused. “You look like a dollar-store bandage come to life. Not very scary.”

James snickered and leaned against the wall.

“You both look ridiculous, alright? But it’s a good night for hunting,” he says with a grin, a sly look on his face. “A lot of people here look very…tasty.”

Kirk smirks and looks around the gathering, taking note of some of the more delectable candidates. His gaze lands on a beautiful young man, standing by himself and looking rather lost. 

“Yeah…I guess there are a few options,” he muses, licking his lips absently. “I might go over and introduce myself to the pretty one over there.” James whines. “I was gonna go for him.”

Kirk snorts and shakes his head.

“You? You wouldn’t know what to do with him. He looks like the kind of man who’s sweet, polite, innocent. You’d scare him away with one dumb sentence, you big brute.”

James laughs at that. “And you’re going to be the charming prince swooping in to save the poor, innocent damsel?” Kirk rolls his eyes and grins arrogantly. “Of course. I’m far too charismatic to drive him away. I’ll charm the pants right off him.”

James snickers and pats his shoulder. “Well, alright. He’s all yours then. Try not to drain him fully when you finally sink your fangs into his pretty neck.” 

Kirk rolls his eyes and straightens his getup, adjusting the velvet cape around his shoulders so it drapes well down his back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back in a bit. Or not.”

Kirk eyes the man—dressed as an angel, a reflection of the characteristic innocence of the holy beings in those baby blue eyes. He can’t hold himself back—he has to have him. 

As he approaches, it’s like the angel senses his presence immediately, those stunning blues locking with his dark ruby eyes. A faint blush rises on the angel’s cheeks, lips curving faintly into a shy smile. 

Kirk can’t help but notice how he’s almost trembling faintly in his pristine white outfit. He’s like a porcelain doll, so delicate, so sweet, so innocent.

Perfect prey.

His figure is sleek and lean, akin to a dancer, and he moves with a certain grace that has the vampire captivated. He’s only slightly taller than Kirk, and he’s got tufts of auburn curls messily resting on his shoulders, flowing down his back. Kinky bangs frame his captivating eyes, and the fake halo that sits amongst his curls is a shiny white. 

He’s like walking, talking temptation, and Kirk can’t stop staring. He’s so damn beautiful, his scent so very appetizing. He feels the hunger in his chest burning, but he controls it and smiles charmingly instead. 

“Hi there,” he greets the boy, his eyes wandering over the tight, silk material of his white robe, two small slits on either side of his legs for more leeway. His top is more snug, a sleeveless silk top with a banded collar and some little gold accessories to match.

The whole costume looks expensive, or took a lot of time to make at the very least. “Hi.” The man responds, friendliness clear through his toothy grin, a beer in hand.

Kirk can’t help but stare for a beat longer, taking in the pretty smile, the beautiful gleam of those eyes…and the delicate, elegant long lines of his neck. 

So slender, so inviting. 

Almost as if sensing the thought, the angel tucks his chin down, hiding his neck ever so slightly, as though shy. It’s an utterly charming gesture that only serves to fan the flames of Kirk’s desire. He swallows, snapping himself out of his thoughts and grins. 

“So, enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice…though I’m looking for my friend. He’s supposed to be here.”Kirk tilts his head to one side. “Is that so?” He asks, feigning mild interest. 

“What’s his costume?”

“He’s a ghost.”

“A ghost, huh?” 

Kirk’s eyes twinkle a bit with a hint of mischief. “And where exactly is this friend of yours? Off haunting the punch table or something?”

“Beats me.” 

The man’s phone dings, and Kirk can’t help but watch how his bangs frame his face when he cants his head. 

“Oh. My friend couldn’t make it. Great, now I’m stuck here alone.” He sounds less than thrilled, probably after having to go to such lengths to make his costume. 

“What a waste of a night.”

When the beautiful creature pouts, Kirk’s mouth dries up instantly. Christ, he’s adorable. “Hey, there’s no need to look so disappointed…” He says with a coy tone of voice, taking a few steps closer to the angel. 

“I could take you out somewhere else…” He offers tentatively. Jason’s interest piques, and he tilts his head to the side. “Like where?”

Kirk grins and takes one more step, their chests almost flush together. “The night is still young,” he purrs. “There’s so many more exciting places to go to before closing time…unless you’d rather stay at this boring party, of course.”

Jason thinks for a moment, considering his options. And his cerulean eyes lock with crimson ones, his resolve determined. 

“Where to?”

Kirk can’t help the shiver of excitement that runs down his spine. He grins, fangs gleaming in the faint light. This beautiful, sweet, gullible man was willingly walking into the jaws of a beast—a predator. 

“Follow me,” he says, almost huskily. “I know a spot.”

Jason’s holding onto Kirk’s arm as they creep through the graveyard. Kirk’s all too familiar with the place, but Jason’s like a scared little mouse.

“Are you scared?” 

Kirk purrs, a smug note audible in his tone. He can hear the rapid beating of Jason’s heart, the way his breath comes quick and shallow with nerves as they walk through the dark, silent graveyard.

“A little…” He gulps, glancing around in case anything were to jump out at them. Angels were supposed to be beacons of fearlessness, and here Jason was, shaking like a leaf, clinging to Kirk like his life depended on it.

Kirk bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. The angel was absolutely adorable when he was nervous like this. It made him seem so small and fragile, almost like a little puppy. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he assures, resting a hand on Jason’s lower back and rubbing it in a comforting gesture. “You’re safe with me.”

Jason glances down in surprise when he steps on a twig, his halo falling to the ground. He lets go of the ravenette’s arm to pick it up, and when he stands back up after readjusting its position on his head, he finds himself alone. 

He glanced around once, twice, thrice, and Kirk has vanished. Fear spikes through his heart like thorns, and his big doe eyes are wide in fear. 

“Kirk?” He asks, voice so shaky, fear rolling off him in waves.

Jason’s all alone in this creepy graveyard in the middle of god knows where, it’s coming close to midnight, and he swears he’s not alone. 

Fear gripes his heart like a vice, panic settling in as he swerves left and right to try and catch a glimpse of the man. He takes a few steps forward, oh-so paranoid, watching the tombstones and the shrubbery and the forest nearby. He might just believe in the supernatural now.

“Kirk!?” 

Jason calls again, panic rising. He can feel himself trembling from fear, the silence around him suddenly deafening. “Where are you?” 

He scans the area around him, looking for clues of Kirk’s whereabouts. His heart is beating out of his chest, his muscles taut with tension as he takes a few halting steps forward, almost afraid of what he might stumble upon.

Nothing. 

Not a sound, not a glimpse of that dark hair or sharp smile, or even the flicker of that velvet cape. He’s well and truly alone now, a sitting duck in the middle of this dark and seemingly haunted place.

“Kirk..?” 

He says weakly, no conviction left in his voice. His breaths come in short puffs, vision going slightly hazy from fright.

He glances to his right at the sound of a twig snapping, whipping his head around and finding….nothing. Not a single soul. 

“Who’s there…?” 

Jason asks shakily, looking around in a frenzy for the source of the sound. His heart is beating madly out of his chest, panic clawing his throat with icy fingers.

The fright is swallowing him whole, and he can hear another twig snap closer to him, only a few feet behind him. He spins around—nothing. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. 

Run.

He takes off running with sheer panic, heart in his throat. He can’t bring himself to look back, can’t hear anything over the loud beating of his own heart and the rush of adrenaline. His mind is empty, focused only on the single goal of getting away from whoever or whatever is behind him.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, can’t see clearly in front of him, and stumbles over the uneven ground numerous times, twigs and leaves grasping at his ankles in his hurry. Adrenaline is roaring in his ears, fear driving his legs and fuelling his panic.

There’s a faint voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to slow down before he falls and breaks his ankle—but it’s soon drowned out by the fear of being hunted or chased down. 

His breaths are harsh and ragged, lungs screaming and muscles aching with the effort to run, panic driving him on. 

He can hear footsteps behind him, heavy and loud and gaining on him fast. He can’t even see what’s after him now—his vision swimming and chest clenching from fright.

He’s in hysterics, tears muddling his vision and his breathing is erratic—his lungs burn and so do his calves, but he keeps on running. The graveyard is a maze, and he can’t seem to find the exit.

And then he falls. 

His foot tangles up with a root sticking out of the ground, and he’s sent careening to the grass. Pain blooms in his ankle at the impact, sharp and sudden, and he can’t supress a cry of pain. He tries to scrabble and crawl away as he hears those footsteps coming close—almost upon him. 

He drags himself behind a large oak tree and muffled his breathing. The footsteps stop, and they sound confused…where did he go? 

The footsteps finally fade into the night after moving around a little more, and Jason breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. He peeks out from behind the tree to catch a glimpse of whatever had been chasing him. 

Still, nothing.

Just when he thinks he’s safe, there’s an overwhelming aura emanating from behind him. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s far too scared to even turn around. He’s cornered like a dog, and he musters the courage to look behind him.

But before he can do so, a strong hand wraps around his shoulders, pulling him back against someone’s chest. Jason’s wracked with sobs. He thinks it’s all over for him, this is how he’ll die. 

“Found you.”

Kirk does feel a pang of guilt at the sight of Jason like this—scared and crying and looking at him like he’s the devil himself. But he’s starved and he’s owed a meal, but not before playing with his food a little.

Of course, this is all part of his game. He needs to get the boy scared, get his blood pumping, and draw out that sweet fear pheromone. God, he's even more beautiful when he's so utterly petrified. Still, he has to admit to himself there’s something about the angelic boy’s frazzled and hysteric state that twists something in his chest slightly. God, he's even more beautiful when he's so utterly petrified.

Jason goes completely still when he feels the arm around him, tears streaming down his face as terror seeps through his very core. He’s trembling like a leaf even as he tries to keep quiet, scared of what will happen next. 

He swallows back a sob, trying to get his breathing under control. “Please…please don’t hurt me…” He whispers out brokenly, looking up at Kirk desperately, begging for his life. 

And he looks so, so beautiful in the dim light of the night, tears marring his soft features and eyes wide like a doe’s.

Kirk almost feels bad for having to scare him so badly, but he's also starving, and the fear makes his blood pump faster and his sweet scent even more potent. It makes his fangs ache in his jaws, and it's taking all his willpower not to sink them deep into that slender, smooth neck. 

His eyes gleam sadistically, leaning down so close that his lips brush over the shell of Jason’s ear. Jason’s chest heaves, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight. His gasps stutters and his breath shudders.

Jason’s body is rigid, frozen in fear as he feels the vampire breathing in his scent, that hand on his neck doing little to quell the panic that’s coursing through him. His lips are trembling, and a wave of dread courses through him. This is it. This is the end. 

“Please, please don’t hurt me…” He whispers pleadingly, a new wave of tears leaking from his eyes.

Kirk feels a pang of guilt again, but it’s quickly overridden by hunger and need. He grins and runs the tip of his nose over the pale, slender column of Jason’s neck, breathing him in greedily. He can feel the rapid beat of his pulse as he nuzzles over the skin on his neck, just shy of touching the sensitive skin with his mouth. 

He can feel the fear coming off Jason in waves, the scent of it strong enough to leave him heady and almost drunk.

Jason’s breaths are coming in short, sharp gasps, every exhale a small whimper of fear. He can feel the press of that mouth on his skin, feel the hot wet puff of breath tickling his collarbones, and he can’t stop the tears from streaming down his face. 

“I-I’ll do anything…please—whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me. Please.” He whimpers out, tears running freely down his face. It’s so pathetically arousing to Kirk.

Kirk feels it as a shiver runs through Jason’s entire body with that utterance, and it causes a jolt of excitement and arousal through him, too. The sheer begging and pleading would’ve been enough to get him all hot and bothered alone, but the fear pheromone emanating from those words, mixed with the tears on that smooth, porcelain face, was like an electric shock to his body. 

He groans softly, unable to hold back the sound.

Jason can hear the groaned out sound from the vampire as well as feel his breath on his neck, his entire body trembling in fear, pulse racing. He closes his eyes, almost praying to whatever god is out there that he’ll get out of this alive somehow. 

He can’t stop the tremors, can’t stop the tears, and he can’t help the pitiful whimpers that escape him as he continues to cry. He knows he looks a mess right now—terrified, pathetic, hysterical…

It’s taking all of Kirk’s restraint to hold himself back. The tears, the smell, the whimpers—he’s holding back the animalistic instincts within himself in a battle of restraint. He’s not going to pounce on the beautiful boy here and now—he’s going to drag this out a bit more. 

He can’t help the way he nuzzles his face into the crook of Jason’s neck, letting out a shaky breath at how close he is to tasting this angelic creature. As much as he’d like to take him right there and then, it would be more enjoyable if Jason could derive pleasure from this too.

Jason can feel everything—the press of that mouth on his neck, the cool breath of the vampire on his heated skin, the heat from that body pressed flush against his back. And then, suddenly, he feels a sensation that makes his brain come to a screeching halt. 

He can feel the vampire’s tongue licking a slow stripe over his neck. He freezes instantly, heart in his throat, body trembling.

Jason’s reaction to that one gesture is the final nail in the coffin. 

Kirk’s restraint snaps, the desire and hunger becoming too strong to hold back. His breathing huffs out in ragged gasps, and he pushes the boy’s head to the side with his nose, baring that lovely neck even more. 

He lets his lips finally press down over the soft, sensitive skin of his neck, mouthing over it eagerly.

Jason groans, and Kirk’s free hand slides down his body, sensing his now growing arousal, and holding onto his hip with a firm grip.

Meanwhile, the angel is having a terrible time with his unwarranted arousal, how could he be getting hard when there’s someone, something, that could kill him any time?

That faint sound of pleasure from Jason sends a jolt of heat through Kirk’s body. So, the boy does want this. Interesting. He grins against the crook of his neck at the Kirk is absolutely addicted to the sounds the boy makes. 

He can’t stop himself from touching as much of that lovely skin as possible, his touches gentle as his fingers slide up the inside of Jason’s thigh. 

Kirk nips at the angel’s ear, licking softly at the skin. He can also feel his own arousal growng, pressed against the red-head’s thigh as he continues to lick and mouth at Jason’s neck. He can’t stop the soft guttural growl that comes from the back of his throat.

Jason can feel it too, digging into his leg so shamelessly. And as much as he wishes he wasn’t, his briefs started feeling tighter. This was the worst—getting hard by someone you don’t even know, in a situation that meant life or death.

He can both feel and hear the whimper that leaves Jason’s lips as he realises the boy’s growing arousal as well, and it makes his grin grow even wider. The whimper also causes him to give a hard press of his hips against the thigh, the friction making him shiver a little. 

His tongue continues to lap and lick along the sensitive skin of his neck, before he nips the skin gently, fangs just barely scraping over the surface of it.

By now, Jason’s well aware the person behind him has some sort of fangs, so it’s some sort of unnatural humanoid creature that’s marking up his neck like a lover.

Jason’s neck is absolutely bruised from the vampire’s lips and teeth, marked so pretty that there’s no doubt of what caused it. Kirk continues to mouths along his neck, moving up and biting at the skin just below the ear. The hand on the angel’s hip slides down further, the other still gripping firmly at his throat.

“You taste so good, pretty boy…” 

Kirk speaks against the skin of his neck, lips moving back and forth over the flesh. His tongue occasionally laps over the surface to gather more of that sweet taste. He loves those whimpers and soft gasps the boy’s letting out and the way he’s pushing back against him ever so slightly. 

His tongue and lips slowly move up towards the boy’s ear and he grins. 

“Just wait till I taste you elsewhere….”

A jolt of arousal runs up Jason’s spine, his cheeks flushing. Kirk thinks it’s divine intervention that Jason doesn’t recognise his voice, but then again, they’d only met that night. 

Despite the unfamiliarity, the reactions he’s getting from the angel is making it more fun by the second. The flushes across his face that he can’t tell apart from the fear, those delicious whimpers and gasps, and the hardening of his arousal against his own body. 

He decides he wants more of these reactions, so that’s where he’s going next. 

His hand on the boy’s neck slides down, fingers skimming along the buttons of his shirt and popping them open slowly, down until his sternum.

Jason shivers—this predicament he’s in is surprising, but he only wished that it wasn’t some creature that wished to fuck him.

More and more of the angel’s skin is revealed as Kirk pushes the fabric of the shirt to the side, exposing those lovely collarbones, those soft and smooth shoulders, the skin that he could just devour. 

His lips and tongue are all over that skin now, leaving behind a trail of bruising kisses and faint marks of his teeth, moving and sucking up to the boy’s ear. 

“You’re gorgeous…” He murmurs hotly, breath tickling the skin of the boy’s ear. He spots his own single crypt nearby—black delight violas pooling around the base. His plan is simple: to have Jason on top of his own coffin, on the sleek greyed marble, untarnished through the years.

He slowly maneuvers Jason back towards his own crypt, mouth continuing to bruise up the skin beneath his lips, leaving behind a pretty trail of marks that’s almost hypnotising to himself. 

His nose nudges the boy’s head to the side, exposing the crook of his neck, and Kirk can’t help it. He needs to taste this sweet skin once again, needs to taste the blood pumping right underneath the surface. 

That neck is exposed so willingly now, and Kirk runs his lips and tongue right over it again.

Jason is flipped around to face him—and the angel expects to see some horrible, ugly creature of the night, but is met by a familiar face buried in his neck…

“Kirk?”

Kirk lifts his head from Jason’s neck at that sound. He’s surprised that the boy hadn’t recognised him already.

“You…I thought you…” He’s speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to be mad? That Kirk had left him and chased him around and held him hostage like it was some funny little game? Or was he supposed to be even more aroused, that the pretty Californian man had hunted him down like he was some sort of rabbit and marked him up like he owned him?

Kirk can see and hear the conflicting thoughts running through that pretty head. He can smell the confusion in the pheromones that are still being released from his body—arousal, confusion, a little bit of hurt. 

He grins at the sight, a mix of amusement and hunger, feeling a dark thrill at the way Jason looks right now beneath him. He can’t decide if it’s adorable or arousing that the boy is so confused, so conflicted. 

He’s holding Jason prisoner, pinning his slender body against the thick marbled gravestone of his very own resting place…

Kirk presses forward some more. He’s leaning forward, keeping that body pinned against the marble, watching the way Jason looks back up at him with wide eyes, full lips parted. 

“You look so beautiful like this….” He murmurs lowly, eyes running all over the slender figure, taking in every little bit of skin that’s exposed and every little mark he’s left. 

Now, Jason’s sat on the crypt, Kirk standing as he mouths desperately at his neck, tracing his lifeline with his tongue. Jason’s robes are hiked up for his legs to have more room to move, pooling around the marble like a veil. 

Despite all his questions and all, Jason can’t help but let Kirk do what he wants, clutching his costume as he groans softly, eyes screwed shut. Kirk’s free hand moves lower, under Jason’s robes to trace his thigh.

Jason’s skin is so smooth under his fingers that it has him shivering, and when that lovely moan comes out, he almost buckles at the knees. He’s never heard anything so sweet. He continues to run his tongue and lips along the boy’s neck, sucking harshly at the skin occasionally to leave behind marks of his own. His other hand is on his pale thigh, running up and down that bare skin.

Jason’s skin is addictive to the touch. It’s so soft and smooth, like supple porcelain, and Kirk absolutely craves more of it, just to explore, to devour, to claim. 

He nips at that delicious neck again, sucking at the skin roughly, and he can feel the moan of pleasure that vibrates through Jason’s body. His teeth graze over the bruised skin, just a hint of fangs in the gesture.

Then, as quick as lightning, he sinks his teeth into Jason’s jugular, and those ice blue eyes fly open. A pained cry escapes his lips, and his neck throbs. He claws at Kirk’s clothes, the sharp pain almost numbing.

When the blood hits his tongue, it’s absolutely heavenly. It’s a rush of pleasure and ecstasy and sweetness that floods through his veins, leaving him euphoric. He could get very used to how this boy tastes, how he feels and sounds and smells. He grips Jason’s thighs, keeping them open and spread to fit him between, taking more and more of the blood from his neck.

“Stop—what the hell-!” Jason tries to pull Kirk off, eyes wide in fear and betrayal. 

There is no stopping now. Jason can only watch as Kirk continues to drink and feed from his neck. But he can sense the panic and the fear and betrayal rising in Jason, and a small part of him does feel guilty for not telling the boy the truth, for leaving him in the dark like this. 

So he pulls back reluctantly, licking over the wound he’s made.

Jason’s staring at him like he’s a serial killer drenched in gore, and he feels the puncture wounds in his neck with horror. 

“You—”

The look in Jason’s eyes makes something in Kirk twinge. Those beautiful pools of blue staring at him like he’s some kind of monster. 

He is a monster, isn’t he? 

He stares back, watching those eyes widen even more at the dark stains of red on his lips and the fangs that are visible.

His breath shudders, and Jason curses himself for being so naive—who goes to a graveyard with a person they’d only met that night? 

“You’re a vampire!”

He can see the horror, the fear, and the realization in Jason’s eyes. It makes some part of him cringe, knowing this is not how he would have wanted the night to end. But there’s no denying the truth anymore, so he nods, a soft exhale escaping him. 

“…I am.” He replies quietly. Of course he is. 

He’s still standing between Jason’s legs, hands resting on the tops of his thighs, pinning him to the smooth, grey, polished surface of his resting place.

“You bit me!”

It’s a simple statement. He did bite him. 

His lips are still tinged a deep red from the boy’s blood, and there’s small drops of the liquid in the corners of his mouth. He stares back at Jason, guilt settling like ash in his lungs. 

“I did.”

“I’m going to die!” He shrieks, and Kirk thinks he’s louder than the banshees that used to be his neighbours.

There it is. The panic and the panic-induced hysterics. Jason’s going to think he’ll die and then go on a rampage. 

“No—No! You’re not going to die—I only drank a little…and besides, I’d never kill you.” Kirk reassured, and Jason can tell Kirk’s panicking a little too.

“Relax…I only drank some. You won’t die, I won’t let you. I’d never kill you…I only drink from people every once in a while, usually when I’m hungry, but you, you just taste so damn good…I couldn’t resist. But you’re fine, you’re not dead, you’re going to be okay, I’m telling you..” 

He’s rambling by now, desperately trying to keep Jason’s attention and calm him down, hands gripping at his thighs soothingly.

“You’re a vampire—you’ll drink me dry and-and leave my body here!” Jason’s making up scenarios in his mind, which in turn make him even more panicked and scared. And now the boy’s even making up scenarios in his mind. Kirk frowns, knowing it’s only making this situation even more difficult. 

So he does the only thing he really wants to do at that moment. 

Their mouths clash together, Jason’s own blood filling his mouth, coppery and tangy. Kirk is desperate, their lips moving together in a heated, passionate manner.

Jason stares at him, taken aback, but Kirk’s so tender and gentle that he almost wants to believe him. If Kirk wanted to drain him, he would’ve done so by now, right?

Kirk pulls back, leaving Jason breathless and wide-eyed and confused once again, and he leans his head forward until their foreheads are pressed together, his hands still holding softly onto the boy’s shoulders.

He can’t help the desperate plea that leaves his lips. “Please…trust me. I won’t kill you, or drain you, or anything of the sort. I swear. All I did was drink a few drops….”

Jason hesitates. He seems so genuine, and those wine red eyes look up at him pleadingly, like he was an innocent creature that just wanted a meal. Kirk can see the hesitance in Jason’s eyes, but at least there’s something other than fear in them. He gently touches the underside of the boy’s jaw, tilting his head to the side so more of that lovely neck is exposed to him once again. 

“I swear, I won’t kill you.” He repeats in that same pleading voice, hands gripping slightly tighter at his shoulders. He doesn’t want to accidentally bruise those beautiful shoulders. “I’d rather do something else to you, anyway..”

Heat floods Jason’s cheeks at the admission, and without prompt, Kirk leans in close, a hand sneaking up Jason’s thigh, creeping past his briefs. Cold hands cup Jason’s growing erection, a shudder running up the angel’s spine, a soft gasp escaping his lips. 

Having a literal vampire fondle him shouldn’t make him this aroused, but somehow it does. He’s not quite sure if it’s the fact that Kirk could kill him any second if he wanted to, or that he chooses not to, that has him so turned on.

Kirk is absolutely addicted to the sounds Jason makes. He nips at the boy’s ear, licking softly at the skin before speaking in a soft and pleading voice. 

“I want you so bad, baby…” His voice is low, breathing in Jason’s scent and licking up the blood trickling out from his wound. 

Kirk’s hand slides under Jason’s underwear to stroke softly at his hardened cock, marveling at how big it is. Jason stifles a moan, holding onto the lapels of Kirk’s cloak. He gazed at the human adoringly, like he was a prized painting in an art gallery.

He frees Jason’s shaft from its confines, shoving his robes up to gather around his hips. The vampire spat into his hand and pumped the angel’s cock with fervour, drawing a sigh from Jason. Precome pearls at his tip, leaking down the underside of his engorged dick, further helping Kirk’s hand slide up and down even faster. 

“Fuck—like that…please..” He murmurs, resting his forehead on Kirk’s shoulder, fingers digging into his cloak. Kirk’s hand moves quick, Jason’s mind spins in pleasure from the pace, praises spilling from his lips like holy words.

Leaning onto Kirk as his toes curl, Jason whimpers incessantly, quivering in the ravenette’s hand. He can feel himself drawing close, balls growing tight as his climax builds. 

He’s so, so close, and just as he’s about to hit his release, Kirk pulls away with a sly grin, leaving him high and dry.

“Wait—please..don’t stop..!” Jason whines into Kirk’s clothes, lifting his head up to meet him. His eyes are glassed over and hazy with pleasure, need welling in his powder-blue orbs. Kirk almost wants to give in, to give Jason exactly what he needs, but he restrains himself.

Instead, he pushes Jason onto his back on the crypt, his legs hanging over the edge. He kneels between his legs and tosses Jason’s briefs to the side mindlessly, focusing on the haven presented to him. 

Teasingly biting and sucking and marking up Jason’s inner thighs, Kirk lets his fangs scrape his thighs, goosebumps trailing up his skin. To his surprise, Jason mutters something so soft, he can barely hear it. 

“Speak up, darlin’, I can’t hear you.” 

“Bite me again. Please.”

He whispered it in such a needy tone, Kirk’s length jumped in his pants, straining against their confines, begging to be free and to have at Jason. He nearly gives in to Jason’s request, yearning to sink his jaws into his lovely pale flesh. 

But he had self-restraint, even in a time like this, and instead nibbles on his skin, leaving little indents of his teeth. That satisfies Jason enough, whining softly, begging for more stimulation. 

Eager to get to work to pleasuring Jason, he grips pale hips and lifts Jason’s pretty little pink pucker to mouth level, resting the crook of his knees on his shoulders. He’s buried between two muscular thighs which are trembling with anticipation, dipping his tongue into that tight wet heat, licking and sucking.

Jason grunts, Kirk’s tongue teasing around the rim, tracing the it with long, flat licks that has his cock leaking down his front. He stares up at the black sky and the stars, and he’s sure if God’s real he’d be looking back down at him disappointedly. Dressed as an angel, getting his ass eaten by a bloodsucking supernatural creature. How shameless he was, in a graveyard, a resting place for the deceased, no less.

And yet, the thrill of it all is intoxicating, getting chased around, bitten and fucking a super hot vampire. Kirk’s tongue dips deep into his hole, and it’s unnaturally long, prodding against a rubbery bump that has him crying out  unintentionally. 

“Shit—oh god..” He breathes, his leg muscles pulling taut as he stiffens in pleasure, thighs clamping around Kirk’s head. He merely hums between Jason’s legs, eating him out like a man starved. 

If this was how he’d die, Jason wouldn’t really mind it. 

The pressure in his belly builds up again, his cock pulsing. Kirk takes notice and somehow manages to speed up his movements, bringing Jason over the edge far sooner than he’d expected. 

Come spurts out of Jason’s throbbing cockhead, dribbling down his chest and dirtying his lovely silks. A skilled hand wraps around his sensitive shaft, milking him while working his fluttering hole. Jason squirms in oversensitivity, spasming around Kirk’s tongue. Cold hands knead the flesh of his ass soothingly, as if trying to ground him.

When every last drop is squeezed from the human, Kirk releases him and rests him back on the smooth marble. Jason’s chest heaves, body still coming down from the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Kirk climbs onto the sleek crypt, admiring the sight before him. He’s a little distracted for a moment. Jason’s shirt is in disarray, sliding off his shoulders, the first three buttons of the shirt ripped open to expose miles of creamy skin. The pale flesh is littered with a trail of marks from his own lips, bruised and tender looking. His hair is in disarray, and those big doe eyes are staring up at him wide with satisfaction.

He’s absolutely mouthwatering like this.

And soon he’ll have his fill of the man, settling between those pliantly spread legs again. He drags a finger through the puddle of cum on Jason’s abdomen, tracing around his hole. Their eyes meet again, and Kirk’s carry a silent question, to which Jason responds with a bite of his lower lip.

Jason jolts as a long finger slides into his warm walls. It’s been a while since he’d fucked anyone, and it’s obvious to Kirk from how he felt like a vacuum around his finger. Kirk moved to quickly push into Jason’s tight hole, hearing him whine loudly and rock back onto his fingers.

Another finger is slipped in, pumping in and out of Jason, fingers curling and uncurling. His fingers search for Jason’s prostate again, feeling around and spreading his fingers. 

“Another.” Jason croaks out, and Kirk complies, slipping another finger past that tight ring of muscle. He sighs, letting Kirk do the work as his dick worked to half-hardness again, jolting to a near-full erection when Kirk presses down on his g-spot. 

“There?” Kirk asks simply, working his fingers over that spot in a repetitive poking motion. “Right there…” Jason breathes, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overtakes him.

Once deemed prepared enough, Kirk pulls out his aching shaft and spits in his hand, gobs of salvia mixed with the remnants of Jason’s blood. He jerks himself off a few times, slicking himself up all while making eye contact with Jason.

Jason catches sight of Kirk’s beautifully hung length; the auburnette’s form tremors in anticipation, eager to be stuffed full like it was thanksgiving all over again. “C’mon…don’t make me wait..” He whines, arousal bleeding out into his voice. 

Kirk merely chuckles and aligns himself with Jason, giving one last glance of confirmation. 

“Please.” 

And that was all Kirk needed before he’s pushing the tip of his flush cock into Jason, ramming his whole dick into him without warning. Jason cries out at the sudden intrusion, his legs clamping around Kirk’s hips as if to still himself. 

Kirk is kind enough to let him adjust to his size, and Jason flutters around him to try and accommodate. His cold, clawed hands settle on the warm and soft flesh of Jason’s hips, which are narrow with his ilium jutting out slightly. Kirk admires how sleek the mortal’s figure is, build akin to a dancer’s, and how his crimson blood has dried around those pretty puncture wounds.

Meanwhile, Jason breathes deep. Kirk is a lot to take, and while he prides himself on being more of a size queen, Kirk’s more girthy than his previous hookups. Soon enough, he’s shifting his hips back into Kirk as he seeks more friction. 

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirk, who gladly starts to fuck in and out of him at a not-so-slow pace. Nonetheless, Jason’s blinded by ecstasy, his loud cries of satisfaction ringing through the graveyard. Kirk pats himself on the shoulder for finding such a secluded spot—there’s no way he’d be able to keep Jason silent if it were closer to town…

Kirk’s cockhead draws back before snapping back into Jason and ramming against his prostate, drawing choked moans from the latter. “Don’t stop—!” He cries, fingertips digging into Kirk’s shoulders. The bite of his grip only serves to get Kirk further more aroused, rutting into his partner with even more vigour.

Jason doesn’t think he’ll last long at this rate, Kirk’s cold hands roaming the exposed expanse of his body, a cheeky hand tweaking one of his nipples, pulling on it just to hear him whimper. The other moves to circle Jason’s engorged tip, spreading his precome around while dipping his thumb into his slit slightly.

Face burning, he holds onto the edges of the crypt for stability as Kirk ruthlessly pounds into him like he’s got something to prove. It’s so good that it sends shivers up his spine.

If something like this happened every year, Halloween would be his favourite holiday. Not even his birthday would beat getting fucked by a super hot vampire on a tomb in the middle of nowhere.

Kirk’s analysing Jason’s every twitch and facial expression, trying to take note of what he liked and didn’t. Sweat beads on his brow and yet his boundless stamina contributes to his lack of tiredness. 

On one hand, his stamina was perfect for pleasuring people who took a while to come. On the other, it wasn’t as good for individuals like Jason, who’s now come once already, but is still getting fucked at the same pace. 

Overstimulation starts to overtake Jason, his chest heaving as his shaft pathetically spurts any remnants of come left from his orgasm. His hole is still being used like a fucktoy for Kirk’s pleasure, and he just pathetically clenched around him. All he could do is hang on for dear life as Kirk splits him open. 

To Jase, Kirk’s not really close to reaching his climax, focused intently on the sensations of Jason around him as he tips his head forward, raven curls hanging forward, wet with sweat. 

The pleasure now borders on pain as Kirk continues to tease Jason’s energy-drained body, jerking off his dick with a talented hand. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels sensitive to any little touches, even as he feels his third climax of the night start to build. He bites his lips, hard, eyes screwing shut. 

Jason’s third orgasm hits him hard like a ton of bricks. He whimpers pathetically, squirming in Kirk’s grip as release splatters over his chest like some sort of abstract painting. His chest heaves as he’s now shifting about in Kirk’s grip, trying to find a little relief from the constant assault on his prostate.

Kirk can just about feel his own high coming soon, looking at how messed up Jason was from him certainly brought it much closer. His hands shift to Jason’s hips, bruisingly tight, thrusting into him with reckless abandon, chasing his pleasure down like a hound. 

Weakly, Jason’s fourth orgasm comes around the same time Kirk’s does, splattering over his already ruined silks, even reaching his own chin. Kirk throws his head back, shooting his load deep into the warm confines of Jason. The latter is surprised by how much Kirk came in one go, his own dick twitching and going limp against his come-coated chest.

Jason can feel Kirk’s hot spunk leak out of his throughly loosened hole even while he’s still balls deep in him. Christ, he really was ruined, wasn’t he?

“That was amazing.” Kirk pants, lying next to Jason on his crypt. Jason’s dazed and he barely registers Kirk’s words. “Huh? Oh, yeah. It was…the best sex I’d ever had. What a way to spend Halloween.” He murmurs, glancing at Kirk, his body feeling like lead. Kirk scans his form with a soft smile.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…”

“Y’know we still have some time until the sun comes up.” Kirk grins, fangs gleaming as Jason huffs, blowing a piece of hair from his face. “What, will you burn in the sun or something?” 

Kirk merely laughs, and Jason wouldn’t mind seeing that everyday. “No, not at all. But I’d rather show you my home.” “Better not be a stupid castle or coffin.” 

Kirk rolls his eyes, but what could Jason really expect from a vampire of all things?

“Trust me, it’s a lot nicer than that. Who do you take me for?” “Nosferatu?” Jason offers. Kirk gasps in faux outrage. “Am I that ugly?” He pouts. “Certainly not.” Jason grins up at him, leaning into his cold grasp like it was the warmest place on earth. 

“Just take me to your home and bandage me up. And how do you suppose I hide the bite marks?” He hadn’t really thought of that. Neither of them had.

“Say that killer vampire stole your heart.”

“And my blood?” 

“Sure.”

“…I can work with that.”

cats I think the metalliguys would be

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."