Dave Mustaine Gay Little Applestore Monkey

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

Thoughts?

I’ve been so busy brah I’ve neglected this account💔 I’m sorry chat I promise I’ll post real soon

Hi there!

I have a request based on some of the crazy comments I've read so many times. So, Lars (in 80s or 90s) somehow comes across the comments like 'It should be Lars, not Cliff' and becomes really upset. He is utterly devastated because of the hate he gets, one day James notices it (finds him crying after the rehearsal) and comforts him, so Lars gets all the TLC he deserves 🥰

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

warnings: angst, self-hating speech, comfort, Lars deserves better, James is actually nice

more under the cut :)

Lars is distraught. 

They’re right. It should have been him. Cliff should be there, up on stage. In the studio. In the photoshoots. He shouldn’t be here in Cliff’s place, hanging out with his bandmates and smiling and doing whatever it is that he does. 

It should have been him.

He tosses the magazine across his room and towards his door, burying his face in his hands. There’s a gentle ‘oof’ in place of the magazine hitting wood, and his head snaps up. James stands in his open doorway, magazine rumpled at his feet.

James is looking at Lars, and he can tell right away something’s going on. He walks over to Lars, and steps over the magazine. He sits next to his friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Lars? You okay?” He asks, his voice softer than normal.

Lars just leans his head on James’ shoulder, keeping his eyes closed. He doesn’t want James to see him like this. Soft, emotional, crying…Lars was none of those things. He’s just…tired. He’s tired.

James glances at Lars, his grip tightening slightly. “Hey, talk to me. You know you can—”James starts, but cut off by Lars’ voice.

“Stop talking.” It’s soft, but demanding. Still, James stays silent, and just rubs small circles on Lars shoulders.

“It should have been me.”

James’ hand freezes for a moment, before he starts rubbing small circles again. “…What?” He finally asks, trying to seem as calm as possible. He’s never seen Lars like this before, never.

“It should have been me. Cliff should be here. With you guys. Not—”

Lars cuts himself off. His voice is thick, he’s pretty sure he’s going to cry and he really doesn’t want to but he can’t help it. He’s been holding this in for so long, and he doesn’t think he can do it anymore. All that emotional distress and frustration has built up, ready to explode.

Oh.

James is silent for a moment, as he processes everything, and it becomes apparent—Lars is crying. Something in James’ chest clenches, and he tightens his grip, pulling his best friend into his lap like a small child.

He holds Lars against him, and feels the Dane shake as he holds back from really letting go. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” James soothes in a comforting voice, pulling him against his chest, rubbing small circles on his back and running his fingers through the younger’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here.”

These words are enough to push Lars over the edge, and he buries his face in James’ chest, letting the first few sobs come out. It takes a moment for him to gain enough control to speak, and when he does, his voice is hoarse, thick. “I miss him so much. He should be here.”

Hearing these words makes James clutch Lars tighter, and his heart aches. “I know, I know. So do I, Lars. I miss him all the time, but he’d want you here. I need you here.” He’s practically cradling the younger man in his arms now, murmuring quietly, trying to soothe him.

Another sob wracks through Lars, and he’s clutching onto James’ shirt, still burying his face in his chest, in an attempt to shield himself from the world. He doesn’t care if he’s acting like a child right now, he needs this comfort and he needs James’ comfort, and god, he just misses Cliff so much.

He just keeps holding Lars, rubbing his back and murmuring words of support—even though it hurts. James misses their bassist as much as Lars does, but for him to see his friend so broken just breaks his heart. “I know, I know. I want him back too. I would switch places with him in a heartbeat, if I could.”

And there it is again. The ‘I would switch places’. It makes something snap in Lars, and he looks up at James, eyes red and face stained with tears. “Why don’t you?!” He pulls away from James’ shirt, his eyes red and puffy. His head is still resting against the younger man’s chest, and he lets out a shaky breath, dragging his hands over his face. 

“I’m sorry.”

James is taken aback by the sudden outburst, and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Why don’t I what..?” He says, tilting his head and studying Lars’s face. “You don’t have to apologise, man. It’s okay. You’re not yourself right now.” James gently wipes a tear on the side of Lars’ face. Just seeing his normally cheerful, happy-go-lucky friend like this feels so wrong.

James’ hand lingers on his cheek, and Lars closes his reddened eyes, leaning into his touch. He hates this. Hates that Cliff is gone. Hates that people think he should’ve been the one to go. And hates that because of this James is stuck having to comfort him. 

He lets out another shaky breath, opening his eyes again and looking up at James—and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that’s rare coming from Lars. He never lets himself be this vulnerable, always keeping up the tough image, but he’s tired. He’s tired of keeping it all inside. And he wants to lash out, and scream and yell; that none of them should have gone, not Cliff, not any of them. But the expression on James’ face causes his heart to pang, and he looks away as fresh tears fall from his eyes.

James’ heart clenches again, and he gently grabs Lars’ chin, tilting his head so the Dane’s eyes are focused on him again. “Listen to me. Okay? I know you’re upset. I know.” James says, softly but firmly. “Don’t say that bullshit that you should’ve died instead, because that’s bullshit and you know it. Cliff loved you. We all do. We need you here. I need you here.”

“But everyone thinks, they all say that they wished I—“

James immediately cuts off Lars, his grip on his chin tightening ever so slightly. “I don’t want to hear that. That’s all lies and bullshit. Okay? You’re here, alive and kicking. And you’ll stay that way.”

Lars lets out a soft whimper, and James’ eyes soften as his friend tries to hold back another sob. The guitarist pulls the younger man closer to him, one of his hands coming up to gently card through the younger man’s hair. “I would never wish you’d died, okay? I wish none of this ever happened, but I wouldn’t change the fact that you’re alive. That you’re here with me right now, in my arms. Okay?”

Lars lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus on the soothing hand running through his hair. He hates this. He never cries, he’s not an emotional person, and yet here he is, breaking down in the arms of his best friend. 

A long moment of silence passes, all that can be heard in the room Lars’ shaky breathing and occasional sniffle. Then..

“Can you just stay with me?”

James immediately nods, tightening his grip on Lars. “Of course. I’m staying right here with you. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to.” He moves to lay down on the bed, pulling Lars down with him, and gently guides the other man’s head to lay on his chest.

Lars lets out a soft sigh, burying his face in James’ chest once more, and lets his eyes flutter close. The sound of James’ heartbeat is oddly comforting, and slowly the tension seems to melt out of his shoulders. “Don’t go.” He mumbles, his voice thick with tears.

“I’m not going anywhere.” James soothes gently, his hand moving to rest on the small of Lars’ back as he lets the other man bury his face in his chest. He rests his chin on the top of Lars’ head, and lets his mind wander to Cliff. He doesn’t doubt for a second that the bassist is probably laughing at them from the afterlife.

A soft, almost inaudible scoff of a chuckle comes from Lars at that thought, the first sign of emotion other than despair and misery. He can hear the smile in James’ voice, and he focuses on the sound of the other man’s steady heartbeat, using it to keep himself somewhat grounded. For a few moments, the only sounds are the faint voices of Jason and Kirk, as well as the ever soft thudding of James’ heart.

“Hey…what do you think Kirk and…the new kid are doing?”

A small chuckle comes from James, as he continues combing his fingers through Lars’ hair. “Probably plotting another prank. He’s been causing nothing but trouble since we picked the new kid up. I swear, they share a brain cell.”

Lars lets out another small scoff, shifting his head on James’ chest, closing his eyes. It’s moments like this where he wishes he could stay forever, wrapped up in the embrace of the older man’s arm, listening to the thrumming, comforting sound of his heartbeat. 

For the first time in a long while, Lars feels…safe. Protected. Which is ironic, considering it’s James he’s curled up against.

James doesn’t say anything, just continues combing his fingers through the younger man’s hair, the other resting on the small of his back. He can feel as Lars relaxes against him, becoming fully pliant as he just…lays there in his arms. James’ mind drifts to the days when it would’ve been Cliff in his arms instead, and he closes his own eyes, swallowing around the lump that’s formed in his throat.

Lars slowly lets his eyes close, and he focuses in on the soft thudding of James’ heartbeat. In the comfortable silence, the soft thumping is nearly a lullaby to Lars as he feels his eyes grow heavy—and he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this relaxed. He feels as the guitarist’s fingers move through his hair, the light touch like a gentle caress.

He hasn’t felt this peaceful in months. It’s almost enough for him to forget about the grief, about Cliff.

As sleep claims him, tugging his eyelids lower and lower with each slow blink, everything becomes white noise around him.

For a while he can only stare down at the younger man in his arms, his chest tightening. As it normally does when he sees Lars. 

Lars drifts off into sleep, the rise and fall of the younger man’s chest against his own is oddly soothing to James. The tension in his shoulders slowly starts to melt out, replaced by a warm, calming comfort. He lets out a sigh, looking down at Lars. The guy is a handful to deal with, but god knows he loves the little bastard.

James waits another minute, just to make sure the younger man is fully passed out, before speaking in a soft voice. “I miss you, Cliff.”

And it’s as if he’s expecting a response, even a half-assed one. But of course the silence hangs thick in the air, an uncomfortable, suffocating blanket over him. Despite this, James continues. 

“I know you’re probably over there, laughing at us. Making fun of us.”

Cliff would have found all of this downright hysterical.

He can easily imagine the older man’s response if he was there. Are you two cuddling without me? I’m hurt.

The thought brings a soft, sad smile to his lips. He misses the bassist. He misses his best friend. 

The silence that follows, save from Lars’ soft breathing and the faint voices of Kirk and Jason downstairs, seems to confirm that he’s alone.

But James drifts off to dreamland, he swears he can hear a whisper right by his ear, just faintly, almost as if it’s a memory long forgotten. Cliff’s voice, gentle as the breeze, a caress against his cheek lighter than a feather.

I know.

And maybe, just maybe, everything might be alright.

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.”

Ovulating and had the biggest idea ever oh my god

sex crazed Jason who lacks access to groupies at a music festival so he has to get help with his sexual frustrations from the people around him

basically banging his whole band + a few extras

please tell me I’m not insane for wanting to write this

self indulgent jameson.

mood rn

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 - 𝐄𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

warnings: anal sex, anal fingering, blow job(s), gunplay, threats of violence,

nsfw under the cut :)

Dave was stirred from his sleep by soft footsteps. He glances at the clock—2 AM it reads. Oh, bother. He instinctively falls back into the sheets, thinking it to be his mother doing something random at an ungodly hour. Just as he was halfway through going back to sleep, his breath catches in his throat.

He lives alone.

Immediately, he sobers up and he stiffens. There’s footsteps ringing through his house, and he lives alone. Shit. Did he leave his door unlocked? No, he triple-checked and double locked the door. Window? All locked as well. Shit. This has to be a break-in. He can hear the intruder’s soft scuffling. His dog’s not there to scare away the intruder, and Dave finds himself lacking any phones nearby, just his trusty glock. Was this the guy that’s been robbing houses in his area? Fuck.

Dave takes the weapon and slides it under the sheets. Tension coiled in his heart, his head pounding with each thump of his heart, adrenaline spiking his form. He cocks the gun, safety flicked off. The assailant’s outside his door now, and he ducks under the sheets, feigning sleep as he grips his gun tight.

The door creaks open, and Dave can hear his own breathing, louder than everything and anything in this room. His eyes flutter shut, and he can sense the person. They’re close. Sneaking to his side of the bed, by his nightstand. The bastard opens his drawer, tentatively looking at Dave to measure how much of a deep sleeper he was. No reaction Dave gave, a statue in his bed.

The intruder rummaged through his nightstand drawer. Took out photos, resting them uninterestedly on the side. Ignored his car keys and stashes of drugs. Tutting, even. Rude..

Dave shifts and sits up—the robber turns, met with the head of Dave’s glock to the forehead. The person’s eyes widen in recognition—his own weapon mistakenly left on the ground a meter away. Dave stared down at the intruder, inclined to pull the trigger.

“Well.” Dave mutters, relishing in the fear that sparks in the bright blue of the intruder’s eyes. He smirks, the person just where he wanted him. He presses the gun harshly into the robber’s forehead, enough that the person’s head tilts back a little, frozen in shock and fear. Now it’s the man’s turn for the adrenaline to pump. Now it’s his turn to feel like the cornered rabbit.

“Never thought I’d get robbed. Silly me.”

He says mockingly to the intruder. The man doesn’t respond. Merely sits there on his knees like a fearful dog, power stripped the moment Dave brought the gun up to his head. Dave revelled in rush that it brought, smirk settling on his features.

“You’re that guy that’s been breaking into people’s homes, right? Nod.”

The robber hesitates, blue eyes flickering with apprehension. He nods.

“Take that stupid thing off.”

Dave all but commands, gun still firm against his head, moving back a little so the intruder could take his black balaclava off. Dave’s breath caught in his throat as the intruder’s face is revealed. Hazel eyes narrow, and the gun roughly pressed against the man’s temple. He bares his teeth like a savage dog, lip curling up as he eyed the blue-eyed blondie he had come to loathe.

“Oh my fuckin god… Well, if it isn’t the mighty ol’ Hetfield. God, I should blast your brains out for this.” Dave croons, dragging the man forward by the collar. James winced at the cold steel against the side of his skull, digging into his skin.

“Shit—I didn’t know you-“

“Save the excuses, Hetfield. Gimme a good reason as to why I shouldn’t split your skull open right now. It’s low to rob, but to try and rob me? Fuckin’ Christ.” Dave muses, tutting as he shook his head like a disappointed parent. Grinning wildly with his pearly whites peaking through peachy lips.

“Listen, Dave, I didn’t know you lived here—it’s not my fault I don’t keep tabs on you.” James tried his best not to stutter under the stress.

Dave sneers, it’s oh so familiar to James. 

“Blame yourself for being a thief. Four homes already, James. Aren’t you supposed to be in San Fran with your wonderband? Wonder what your buddies at Metallica would think… When the police get to you, oh, that’d be hilarious. That is, if I don’t make a crime scene of you.”

Dave isn’t good natured in basis, and neither is he on cordial terms at all with James, so Hetfield is royally screwed. Just as Metallica was finally making it big-time with Master of Puppets. Pulling this stupid cash-grab stunt would ruin everything he and Lars had worked so hard to build. As much as he knows he’s a petty thief, he knows that Dave has the same, if not more, crimes under his belt than himself.

“Listen, just let me go, don’t tell anyone, and I’ll make it up to you.” James hates how pleading his tone is, how pathetic he looks on his knees in front of David fucking Mustaine of all people. “Please.”

Dave’s face shifts to thoughtfulness, the same conniving smirk returning to his stupid face. He had something in mind, that much was for sure.“Make it up to me how?”

James hesitated. “Any way.”

Dave grins down at him. “What do you think is a suitable compensation?” Fucker was making James spell out what they both had in mind, and it was making James’ pride crack each second that passed. Fuck this cocky, egomaniacal ginger.

“I…” James began, swallowing thickly. “I could blow you.”

James cringed internally as soon as the words left his lips. Dave’s eyebrow quirked in interest. Wouldn’t have been the first time James had to compensate Dave with a blowjob. Dave feigned being deep in thought, unable to wipe his stupid shit-eating grin off his face.

“You better show me a good time.”He says half-jokingly, a serious threatening undertone to his words. His hazel eyes scan James’ face, before he pulls his gun away slightly, keeping it in his hand. James knows he isn’t playing around, and even if he was, wouldn’t want to risk being arrested or worse. 

He’d rather sacrifice his dignity than die at the hands of his enemy.

Mustaine shifts to the edge of the bed, smugly watching James get to work. Quick to slide Dave’s boxers down, the ginger was already semi-hard and working to a full erection. Did he get off to James’ fear? Or maybe his pathetic pleading? Damn pervert…

James still remembers what Dave’s cock looks like even after what, 3 years? Beautiful rosy head, a prominent vein on the left, soft and slightly trimmed strawberry blonde curls nestled above his flush shaft. James peels off his gloves, curling his fingers around Dave’s now raging hard-on. James could feel the thick veins pulsing on the underside of his shaft, precome pearling at the head as he gave him a firm, languorous stroke. The skin of his dick was silky, soft and flaming hot against James’ cool palm.

Dave shuddered an exhale, hands propping his form up as he leaned back slightly to rest on his wrists. He watched the blonde through devious hazel eyes, swirling with lust and pride. It’s been far too long since he’s had anyone touch his dick, and to have his old flame on his knees? It almost made Dave laugh if not for the electric currents snaking up his loins like a serpent of pleasure.

James’ thumb circled around his slit, spreading his precome around, remembering how the movement used to make Dave’s eyes roll back and his breath die out. It seemed to still have the same effect, the ginger hissing as James’ finger thumbed his slit. James glanced up at the ginger, whose eyes watched him through heavy eyelids, biting down on his lip. ‘Pretty,’ Hetfield thinks to himself as he shuffled closer, leaning in to wrap his lips around Dave’s thick cock.

The inviting warmth of James’ mouth has Dave reeling, oh so familiar and yet a distant memory, a shadow of their past together. His hand settles to tightly grip those messy curls as James hollows his cheeks and bobs up and down, able to take him to the hilt with practiced ease. James groans as the shaft hits past his throat, Dave shudders at the vibrations, pleasure tingling his spine.

“That’s it…fuuuck..”

He doesn’t forget about the gun in his hand, and when James starts to slow down to a torturous pace to poke fun at the ginger, he’s quick to point it to his temple again. He knows Dave won’t shoot since he’s getting to embarrass James out of this as well as getting blown, but his little power-play of theirs has James’ cock stiflingly hard. That, paired with Dave ordering him to stop his teasing, has him nearly coming in his jeans.

The cold metal reminds James to pick up his pace, and he does, cupping Dave’s hefty balls while at it. Dave’s breath stutters, his grip on the gun falters. His one weakness, being fondled like that. A soft groan slips past his lips and that motivates James to bob his head up and down faster, tonguing the base of his cock. Dave pulls on James’ hair, cheeks now flush as roses, muffling his moans. James’ forgotten how many times he’s jerked off to Dave like that, all flush and sweaty with the image of himself choking on his cock. It’s his wet dreams come true.

“Shit…forgot how good you look sucking me off..”

James slots two fingers and a thumb at the base of Dave’s dick, jerking him off in the same pace as he’s bobbing his head, his fingers twisting in a way that has Dave seeing stars behind his closed eyelids. He mutters a string of “fuck”and “shit”, lips parted in pleasure, panting like a dog, soft whines escaping the confines of his throat. Saliva’s dripping down his chin, but James just hums. Dave’s nerve endings feel like they’re on fire with how good this all feels at the same time. He pulls James’ head to his hilt, revelling in the way James choked, it all felt so damn good.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—“

James can feel Dave’s balls strain, his cock thickening as it filled up, before the familiar feeling of Dave’s spend bursting down his throat returns. He swallows eagerly, choking here and there, massaging the ginger’s balls until the man hisses in overstimulation. James pulls off with a wet pop, licking the remaining spunk off his length. Giving a final kiss to Dave’s reddened and sensitive tip, James wiped the drool and come from his mouth and chin.

Dave looks out of breath and blissed, akin to a pornstar, only this was very real and very appealing. He smiled down languidly at James.

“Well,” Dave pants, catching his breath.

The blonde’s gaze roves over Dave, spent cock going limp, satisfied. But his own erection isn’t going away so soon, and he doesn’t think that Dave will reject an opportunity to get his brains fucked out like the good old times. He moves to unceremoniously slip Dave’s boxers off, the ginger raising an eyebrow.

“Can I?” James asks, lifting Dave’s thigh as the older man is pushed onto his forearms. Dave eyes the noticeable bulge in the blonde’s jeans. The ginger smirks. He knows that James could never resist the allure of getting ahold of Dave and fucking him senseless, even after their years of tension and enmity.

“You’ve always been such a hungry little slut for me, huh?” James felt the wind get knocked out of him. Dave’s filthy words, growled in his gravelly morning voice with that damn smirk, were going straight to his dick. It had been so long since James had told him that he was a slut for him. And it felt good to finally hear it once more.

“Lube.” He drawls, and Dave jabs his thumb towards his nightstand. James had skimmed past the large clear bottle, a little less than half used. No surprise a hot guy like Dave was still getting game after their messy break up, but it made James’s heart tug with uncharacteristic jealously.

Grasping one of Dave’s asscheeks, James spreads it wide. He slathers his fingers up, quick to prod and push past the tightly furled ring of muscle that is Dave’s ass. Dave groans pleasurably as he’s fed James’ finger, and then another, knuckle deep in his heat. James set a steady rhythm, spreading and curling and scissoring his fingers in a way that had Dave keening. His breath hitched, and he’s half hard now, dick twitching eagerly.

“C’mon, open me up.” Dave breathes eagerly, hazel eyes hazy with lust.

Dave curses, elbows bending backwards as he fists his sheets, powerful thighs flexing with each brush against his prostrate. Fuck, Dave could probably come on James’ fingers alone at this rate. It was clear that nothing had even touched Dave’s pink little hole for a long time from his sheer tightness around James’ fingers. Somehow that made his cock throb more, twitching against its confines like a beast made to escape. Dave’s whines and soft groans only fed the fire burning in his core, molten lava in his loins.

“So fuckin’ tight for me, huh? Perfect little hole…” James mutters, and Dave moans obscenely at his words.

Finally withdrawing his fingers once Dave was deemed stretched out enough, Dave sighs, his hole fluttering as James pulled out his rock-hard cock. His tip is blurting precome, there’s a wet spot in his boxers. The younger sheds his clothes, tossing Dave’s shirt onto the mix of clothes on the ground. James shoves Dave’s sheets onto the ground, jerking off of his now slicked-up length. Dave bites his lower lip, eyes wanting.

“Don’t tease ‘n make me wait.” Dave mutters, spreading his legs as James chuckles raspily, throat still sore from throating him.

He glides his heavy cock against Dave’s perineum, the ginger shivers involuntarily, goosebumps prickling his skin. Fuck, he needed James buried in him right now or he’d get violent.

“Give it to me James,” Dave all but whines, James holds the back of Dave’s knees up, settling his ankles on his broad shoulders. He lines himself up with Dave’s lubed hole, tip rubbing against the ring of muscle teasingly. Dave scoffs, and James gives him a good slap on the thigh before the strawberry blonde is split open. Dave bites down a cry, James softly rocking his hips and working Dave open further. It felt like he was being torn apart, unused to the stretch that came with fucking someone as hung as James. It felt like their first time all over again, 5 years back in Lars’ garage, when James had popped Dave’s cherry at the height of their sexual tension and horniness.

“God, missed this fuckin’ pornstar cock…so big, never had someone as good as you.” Dave drawled, back stiffening as he’s stuffed full.

His cheeks burned as Dave’s obscene praise rung louder than it should’ve in his ears. His balls were now flush against Dave’s ass, and the short blond curls on his groin rubbed against Dave’s hot, slick skin. James felt the flutter of Dave’s hole around his dick, and it had James gripping Dave’s hips bruisingly. Dave looked his hottest like this, back bowed in ecstasy and his ass stuffed to the fullest it could be with James’ dick. James draped himself over Dave and grabbed at his chin gently, leaning in against his chest and tilting his head so that he could look into Dave’s eyes. James nuzzled Dave’s neck before drawling against his ear, “You like my cock so fuckin’ deep in your ass, yeah? You take me so good..”

Dave whines as each roll of James’ hips hastened, his eyes fluttering closed, his lashes fanned out and screwed in ecstasy. God, Dave missed this. Missed them—wait, nonono- He shoved those thoughts away when James’ crude moan broke the panting silence between them. Dave’s dick twitched at the sound, precome dripping from his cockhead. James sunk his teeth into Dave’s pale neck, biting down roughly. He released his hip in favour of jacking Dave off, whose hips bucked into James’ calloused hand like a fucktoy. “Fuckfuckfuck—“ Dave cried as James swirled the wetness on his tip, before giving him a few pumps and repeating. That pleasurably torturous cycle had Dave close to busting any second, squirming under James.

“Please—oh, fuck, James!”

James was hitting Dave’s sweet spot with each brutal and calculated roll of his hips. Dave’s prostate felt raw and swollen, and it took everything for him not to come right then. James gave him a particularly well-angled thrust, cock hitting his prostate dead on. His dick rubbed against it decadently as James withdrew, only to slam in and nail it again, right on the dot. It made Dave arch his back into a tight bow against James as the sparks spread up every nerve like he was lit up by lightning.

James’ dick felt like it was in heaven—Dave’s tight, enveloping heat was too welcoming, unlike any groupie or woman he’d fucked in the last few years. No one made him crazy with lust, as spellbound over a person like Dave did. The way he clenched around his dick with each jab at his g-spot, a goddamn dick guillotine.

“James—!” Dave sobbed a final time, tears in his eyes as his core tightening, his dick pulsing and balls seizing up as he came. James drew him in for a kiss—one that they hadn’t shared in a long time. It felt good. Almost as good as when thick white ropes painted the pale expanse of his chest after he came, James’ hand slowing its pumping. James still mercilessly rut like an animal into Dave like a cocksleeve until he finally came a few moments after. Dave felt James’ spend fill him up, hot and making his insides feel runny. James made a few final, languid thrusts into Dave, fucking his seed in. He lowered Dave’s legs and collapsed onto the older man, both breathing in synchronicity.

Dave wrapped his arms around James in an uncharacteristic hug. James reciprocated. They laid boneless in each other’s embrace for a few minutes, their steadying breaths the only sounds in the room, James softened, and turned his head up to meet Dave’s gaze. “Does that count as a good time?” Dave huffed reluctantly with a pout. “Yes. Consider yourself…redeemed.”

James huffed a laugh and pulled out, to which Dave winced. Getting a towel from Dave’s bathroom, he cleaned them both up before they lay on their sides, spooning while drawn close. Intimate. Too long had gone without this. Dave revelled in the warmth of James. Even if James might be gone in the morning, he’d take solace in the heat of the now.

“Hey…Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make me leave.” James was pleading, vulnerable. Dave’s heart softened.

“..I won’t. Not tonight.”

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

warnings: anal sex, riding, getting caught, getting blue balled

I’ve been putting off posting this for the longest time so here you go

nsfw under the cut :)

Kirk leaned against the couch, condensation dripping onto his pants from the beer in his hand. Usually, he’d care to sit it down on the coffee table, but right now his eyes were fixed on the Dane in front of him, bent over and rummaging through a pile of old VHS tapes. 

“We got ‘The Thing’? Or do you wanna watch ‘Dracula’ first?” Lars called from the pile. Kirk shrugged—not like Lars could see him do it. 

“Anything. It’s not like I haven’t watched them a million times.” 

Kirk can practically feel Lars roll his eyes. “‘The Thing’ it is.” And when Lars stands again, Kirk almost frowns at the loss. He settled into the seat next to Kirk after slipping the tape in, and he switched the lights off. 

Kirk soon enough forgot about Lars’ ass, and focuses on the film, mindlessly absorbed into the film, fingers oily from popcorn. Lars, unfortunately for Kirk, seemed like he had to give his opinion on everything that the characters did in the movie. 

“He’s not having a heart attack, dumbass! He’s obviously the thing!” Lars raised an arm and pointed at the screen agitatedly. This is why Kirk watched movies with Cliff, not the Dane. 

When Copper used the defibrillator on Norris the second time, his arms plunged into the mouth cavity of Norris’ metamorphosised body. Lars cried out again. 

“I told you! Told you he was! Ain’t that right?” Kirk sighed internally. “Yeah, man.” Lars muttered more bullshit about how he predicted everything, thinking he was some sort of clairvoyant. Kirk had seen the movie a million times, and from day one even he knew what was going to happen, but it seemed that Lars prided himself on having basic common sense.

Three beers down and watching the next few movies, Lars is spewing nonsense again—one more beer and he’d sound like a conspiracy theorist. Kirk would ask him to shut up, but he’s well past caring, his alcohol-addled mind choosing to muffle out Lars’ incessant yapping.

When Lars finally shuts up, Kirk doesn’t register. He’s enthralled by the movie when he hears Lars’ voice right by his ear. “Kirk.” The Filipino startles, popcorn jostling in his bowl. “Shit, what?” He asked, leaning away from him. 

“I’ve been calling you for like…this long.” Lars holds his arms out like a child in his inebriated state. “Whaddya want?” Kirk groans, rubbing his strained eyes. The Dane tilts his head like a curious dog, only lit by the blueish light from the TV. “I’m horny.” 

Kirk sputters. “Seriously?” His face flushed further, avoiding eye contact with him, eyes glued to the screen. Lars hummed in response, fingers trailing up Kirk’s thigh tentatively. He shivered, grasping Lars’ wrist. “Cant we just watch this..?” he slurs, but Lars insists on bothering him further by resting a hand on his chest, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of Lars’ drunken grin, both of them drunk. Kirk barely retained any of his sobriety. 

“Please..?” Lars whispers, leaning in close with his breath ghosting against the shell of Kirk’s ear. It’s too hard to resist, to say no, and his decisions are influenced by the alcohol—so he lets Lars crawl on top of him, cling to him like glue and latch on with his lecherous teeth. 

The movie now plays forgotten in the background, the eerie horror now white noise. Lars lets his hands roam over Kirk’s tanned skin, warm against his cold hands. Goosebumps trail in his wake, skin pulling taut and hairs standing to attention. He’s like a vampire, lips attached to Kirk’s neck. He bites and sucks and laps over his skin greedily, making the older man squirm. Kirk’s hands rest on Lars’ narrow hips, cock already twitching in his boxers. 

Lars grinds against him, a strangled moan escaping his parted lips as he throws his head back. Kirk bucks his hips upwards, chasing the delicious friction. His fingers dig into the cool flesh of Lars’ waist under his shirt. 

Lars soon stops his grinding, and Kirk whines at the loss. But it’s all worth it because Lars shoves his pants down and tugs Kirk’s shorts off, hips hovering above Kirk’s erection. Maybe Lars had planned this, because the sneaky fuck had lube in his bag. He lubed up his own fingers and loosely stretched himself out, before slicking up Kirk and sinking down. 

Kirk chokes on his saliva—Lars wasted no time bouncing up and down on his cock like he was made for it. Jesus, either he loved the stretch or he had no feeling down there. Kirk’s hands rested on his hips again, following his movements with eagerness. 

“Fuck, Lars—Jesus, slow down..” Kirk drawled out, trying to keep up with the younger man. “I’m horny,” Lars repeats with a gasp, moaning out like a pornstar. Kirk was used to Lars’ already unusually high libido, but when he was drunk was a whole thing. “God—so good…thick fuckin cock.” Lars praises, the words going straight to Kirk’s head. 

“Fuck, you’re good..” He babbles on, spewing praises like Kirk’s the messiah. Kirk tips his head back, breathy whines escaping his lips. His hips buck upwards, meeting Lars halfway so that his cockhead brushes against Lars’ prostate maddeningly. 

Lars can feel his orgasm building up quick, with the way his cock pulses in sync with his heartbeat, standing tall and blurting precome. Kirk slams Lars’ hips down, and Lars grips his shoulders to hang on for the ride. Kirk screws his eyes shut and moves Lars’ hips up and down faster.

Lars moans, loud, and Kirk relishes in the sweet sounds. He wanted to hear more, see what else he could draw out of him. They’re both soon to reach their climax.

Until.

The clattering of keys and heavy-booted footsteps can be heard coming in fast from down the hallway, and the two freeze. 

They sober up in an instant, and Lars tries to pull off Kirk’s cock but there’s no time. They’re too late—the door opens, and James’ voice can be heard. 

“Hey guys—oh my god!”

Kirk and Lars share the same horrified expression—like they’d witnessed a murder. But nothing can beat the look on James’ face. James sounds and looks disgusted, covering his eyes like a child. Cliff is behind him, and he merely shakes his head like a disappointed parent. 

Kirk could feel the pressure in his gut immediately dissipate. Lars as well, both so close to a satisfying end, only to be stopped. 

“Yeah, I’m gone.” James gags, stumbling out the room dramatically. Cliff watches him for a second before turning back to them. He speaks like a parent chastising his children.

“Lock the door next time.” 

When Lars and Kirk are finally alone, their desires melted away, it’s awkward. So awkward, now that they’re thinking more clearly. Lars shifts uncomfortably on Kirk’s lap.

“Wow. They just blue balled us. What the hell!” He groaned, pulling himself off Kirk’s now flaccid dick. His own has softened, and he tosses Kirk’s pants to him while pulling his own up. What a way to have their night ruined. 

They would remind themselves to walk in on Cliff and James on purpose next time.