𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 - 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲

results of the last poll:

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

results of the second poll:

okay thanks I’m gonna go write now

cats I think the metalliguys would be

lars & james having a erotic fight ;3

this took forever i am so so so sorry! i also can’t write fighting. Like at all. i really suck at it. it’s also pretty short. sorry!!

Between Lust and Anger

1988

CW - spit kink, fighting, choking, frotting (i think it counts), blue balling, nipple play

Heineken was the basis of about half of Metallica’s interactions. 

It started with a beer spill. Plain and simple. A can of alcohol had slipped from the sweaty grip of Lars’ palm, painting James’ shoes, pants, and guitar cable. 

That’s all it took. In the Dane’s eyes, it wasn’t a big deal. There was the time where James had thrown up on Lars’ sneakers. And the time where James threw a glass bottle at Lars’ head. Both significantly worse than a little beer coating some shoes and a cable. But Lars knew better to bring up the past— he was already in for another annoying ramble of accented swears and nasty insults. 

“You asshole!”

Lars frowns, eyebrows furrowing. He almost argues that losing his beer is a lot more upsetting than getting it on James, but he swallows that thought down. James  angrily kicks the cable to the side, its light weight allowing it to skid across the hardwood floor with ease. The puddle of beer beneath him ripples from the sudden movement. 

“I didn’t fuckin’ mean to! It’s not my fault, dickhead! Don’t get so pissy, it’s just some beer..” Lars snarls, getting defensive. 

“Pissy? Fuck you! You are such a goddamn brat!” 

James nearly screams, throwing his hands in the air. It wasn’t unlikely for James to get upset over small things. Ever since Cliff left them, everything was a big deal. Especially when it came to Lars. The guitarist wasn’t good with feelings; his feelings either erupted like a volcano or stayed locked inside his heart, never to be shown. So when James realized he’s got some odd feelings towards Lars, something he can’t put his finger on, he responded by either feigning anger or showing him his real anger amplified like no one’s business. Real annoying to Lars. The shorter boy scoffs and crosses his arms. 

“Brat, huh? What makes me such a brat? You’re the one who can’t handle a little bit of beer on you. Get over it.” The drummer snaps back.

“Fucking- everything! You piss me off, go to hell!” 

A great example of James being more than dramatic. The boys usually found something else to blame it on. Beer, Cliff, a bad show, his mother.. It got to a point. Lars wonders if he gave James too much credit. If, maybe, he’s just like that. That it’s perhaps just in his nature to be.. well, an asshole. Because there’s no other way to put it. Lars was an asshole too, sure. He had a short fuse— but at least he had a fuse! James would simply explode when met with any kind of conflict. Something that Lars was drawn to, despite how frustrating it may be. And frustrated he was. The blonde seemed incapable of shutting his big mouth, hurling insults at Lars, and who was Lars to just sit there and take it? 

“I piss you off? How do you think I feel?! You get so worked up over nothing, I almost feel bad for you! Don’t you get it, James? You’re the bitch! You’re the asshole!”

James stares at him with a piercing, blue gaze. They aren’t so inviting and soft when the blonde is angry. Instead, a furious look burns into Lars when he meets eyes with James, and he can’t tell if that makes him more mad or more scared. He doesn’t get time to make up his mind. In a split second, James is reaching for the collar of Lars’ shirt to pull him closer. The situation had escalated in mere seconds. The shorter boy’s head spun with shock as  James lifted him several inches off the cold wooden floor and stared into those big, green eyes. 

“Call me a bitch again.”

Lars pauses. Stares into that icy cold gaze  for a few moments. His immediate thought is to tell James to let him go; but thinking it through, Lars doesn’t say that. His mind takes a few steps back. He really should just give in, call James a bitch. James deserved it, truly. Everyone else had to deal with Cliff’s passing and their own shit. You didn’t see him, Kirk, or Jason exploding at every minor inconvenience. He had to get his shit together eventually. 

But something about that piercing glare made Lars’ stomach turn with not only fear, but a warm tingle familiar to him. Like when a girl pressed against him and teased him, or when a groupie lowered her voice to ask Lars to fuck her. It’s something about those eyes. Or maybe the way James easily sweeps him off the ground like he weighs just a few pounds. Impressive, considering James is already tipsy. Lars opens his mouth to speak. James wants to play nasty? He can do that. He wants that.

“Bitch.”

With an angry yell, Lars is thrown to the ground with force. The back of the brunette’s head hits the hardwood floor with a loud thud and a yelp of pain almost as loud. He lays on the floor, discombobulated from the sharp hit to the head, and looks at the fuming James above him whose chest is rising up and down in a heavy, steady beat. Now isn’t the time to be having a masochist awakening from being treated like a damn doll— but Lars can’t seem to help it. The brunette’s heart races, still groaning from the pain. Lars tastes a metallic tang in his mouth and realizes he’s also bit his tongue from the fall. It’s still in tact. Thankfully. He huffs and spits the blood at James, who scoffs at him right back. The guitarist wipes the bloody spit off with the back of his palm. 

“Just.. just gonna stand there? Not gonna beat me up anymore, big guy?”

“Says you. You’re the one lying on the floor. All bark, no bite.” 

James might be right. He is right, actually. Lars is just trying to egg James on, knowing he’s no better than the blonde is. The drummers got to do something. To show he can fight back. That thought excites him a little; seeing James even more pissed from Lars pushing back. James was always hot. But angry James was a different kind of hot. And, if Lars really needed to live up to his brat title to see that, so be it. James deserved this anyways. With that final thought, Lars slips his foot behind the guitarist’s leg and sweeps from behind, tripping James and sending him forward. 

James yells with surprise and falls, stopping when he’s hovering above the boy. His knees and hands stop him from completely pressing against Lars— instead, he stares down at the drummer with an unreadable expression and gathers up a chunk of spit in his mouth to spew at Lars in hopes of distressing him. Because James is petty. Really goddamn petty. And, his arms and legs are busy holding him up, so the fastest way to piss Lars off is to spit in his face. Make him grimace and wriggle around in disgust. 

James breathes in. Spit comes flying out. It’s cold. Initial disgust from Lars turns into even deeper arousal, and he feels his cheeks flush. And when James’ quickly switches his balance so his free hand that doesn’t need to support him comes to wrap around his neck with force, they flush even more. His gasp for air makes him inhale the sticky saliva resting above his lip, and James can’t help but feel a part of him melt when he sees it. 

The guitarist shifts yet again, sure to keep his unforgiving grip on the smaller boy’s neck tight as ever. Their position now is even more suggestive. James is sitting up now, knees spread, Lars between them. Their clothed cocks are dangerously close to each other. One arm is reached down to the drummer’s neck to asphyxiate him with his hand, while the other rests beside him. Here Lars is— face red, covered in spit, gasping for air, looking at him with tears in his eyes. James groans softly. His cock twitches to life in his pants. 

Lars should be too busy gasping for air and attempting to get James off of him. He should be afraid, disgusted. He can’t help that he’s a little, well, really turned on. When you have James fucking Hetfield above you degrading you like you’re his bitch, it’s hard not to pop a boner. This leaves two of them with hard-ons. 

“You.. you’re pathetic.. pathetic whore.” James croaks out. His voice is hoarse from being tipsy, angry, and horny. 

Lars only whines in response. It doesn’t help James’ boner.

It’s a little jarring how fast James can go from anger to lust. Maybe it’s because the two are so intertwined in his mind. Anger is lust, and lust is anger. Different feelings to most, very different, but nearly interchangeable to the guitarist. He almost forgets he’s choking the drummer to hell and decides to let his iron grip smooth for a moment. Lars gasps for air, his own lust and anger intertwining fingers, and bucks his hips against James. It’s the first time they’ve felt such an electric shock from just a simple touch. Both feel something inside them snap, and James is quick to act on it. 

“You really are a fucking slut, huh? Bucking your hips against mine. You liked being choked. You liked being spit on. You’re getting off on this.” James teases. He doesn’t bring attention to the fact that he too, is getting off on this. 

Lars only weakly nods, opting to respond with no words yet again. Like he’s afraid that if he says something, he’ll break James out of the trance and he’ll realize how wrong this is and stop. The brunette would rather do anything but stop. So he rubs against James again, harder this time, and relishes in the sweet sound of his groan. It doesn’t take long for Lars to keep doing this, creating a broken rhythm of hips thrusts and jerks against the blonde’s cock. 

Lars had been inside a lot of women. They felt good, really good, usually. But nothing compares to the intense friction of jeans to jeans, cock to cock. It’s so good. And so wrong. James is his best friend, and best friends don’t dry hump each other. On the floor. After a fight. Especially not when your best friend is your bandmate. But it made everything so much better, knowing it’s wrong. Because the drummer could feel his cock pulsate with need as the two rub dicks, searching for pleasure when James’ whole world seemed to be pain. 

Huffing, Lars looks at James’ face. His face is contorted into a concentrated look. Sweat beads on his forehead as his hips roll in tandem with the smaller boy beneath him. Lars can’t tell if the blonde’s mind is going blank or if it’s spinning with a million thoughts. Either looks plausible; but it’s hard to focus on when his cock is dragging against his own with delicious precision. Wanton moans seep from both of their mouths. Just like the pre cum staining both of their boxers. 

James thinks, in the back of his mind, that he’s never seen Lars look so perfect before. Sure, it’s a similar look when he’s done playing a grueling show. Sweat covers his body. He’s got pink cheeks. Breathing heavily. It’s not the same when James is the reason behind this. The larger male on top snaps his hips particularly rough, hoping to hear a whine from Lars, and god does he deliver. It’s intoxicating. Makes James realize what he’s been missing out on. He needs more, more more more, so his hand sneaks up the brunette’s shirt to flick his pink nipple. 

A stifled moan and a sob is what he gets in response. It’s amusing; Lars reacts like a girl when his nipples are played with. Without missing a beat, James continues to toy with that pretty bud until Lars finally speaks up to babble nearly incoherently. 

“J-James.. fuck, fuck, close already, please….!”

James sighs in pleasure. 

“What makes you think I should make you cum, huh? I could just leave you here yknow-“

Lars sobs at that response, a loud cry emitting from his abused throat. 

“Please! Please don’t, I’m sorry, please, just make me cum!”

James grunts and speeds up his rutting. The two claw at the floor for dear life from the harsh pace. Surprisingly, he finishes before Lars, his orgasm hitting him like a truck. He stops his hips completely, letting himself cum in his jeans as he moans loudly. His erection throbs as white spurts coat his boxers and jeans, and Lars swears he could drool from the sight. It takes a bit, but James comes down from his orgasm and sits up. He assumes it’s his turn now. That James will show mercy and use his hand to finish him off. To make it even. 

He was stupid for thinking that. 

On wobbly legs, James stands up, and Lars looks confused. His erection still throbs in his pants. He was so close to release— wasn’t James gonna help him? Leaving him like this was cruel. There was no way James would just leave like that. He’s an asshole, Lars knows this, but when the dane was so close to finishing, how could he just leave like that? Lars watched as James walks out, leaving him on the floor in utter disbelief. 

“…Come back, you asshole!”

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

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

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

nsfw under the cut :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy birthday, old man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Birthday.”

Jason is a bottom no one can tell me otherwise

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄

warnings: Lars and Kirk playing matchmaker (kind of?), James being an a confusing asshole, Jason being helplessly charmed by James, Fluff

inspired by @magnetadraww’s art of Jason & James!! Defo gonna make a part 2 to this!

fluff under the cut :)

Over his time in Metallica, Jason found that spending nights hanging around his bandmates leaned into two different paths—they’d get shitfaced and pass out, or they’d play a stupid game that always involved one of them getting terribly embarrassed.

Tonight, it was clear it was going to end with someone getting humiliated. Hopefully it’s not him again…

With his arms crossed and his legs spread out, Jason sat on the hotel floor with his back against the sofa, watching Lars spin an empty bottle on the carpet in front of him. All three of his bandmates were seated on the sofa, watching with interest as the bottle clattered against the carpet, spinning in sharp, quick intervals before slowing down.

Watching with mild interest, he pops a blueberry in his mouth from the fruitbowl their hotel had so graciously provided. Blue eyes lock onto the neck of the bottle, watching it go round and round.

Eventually, the bottle slithers to a slow stop, and the neck of it points directly at Jason. Lars snickers lowly under his breath and Kirk looks like a child about to receive a birthday present, practically bursting with curiosity and excitement.

He huffs a groan, knowing he’ll have to pick between the lesser evil in Truth of Dare. It’s like they’re 13 year old girls at a sleepover. What’re they gonna do next? Chat about which teenage mutant ninja turtle deserves a death penalty?

“What’ll it be, Jase?” Kirk asks, barely able to keep the amusement out of his tone.

Lars nudges his arm against Jason’s shoulder, looking at him with an excited expression.

“C’mon, we all know you’ll choose truth. It’s not like you have the balls for a dare.”Lars knew exactly how to irk Jason—and to prove Lars wrong, he picked dare.

“Dare.” His voice holds a challenge—whatever they give him couldn’t be too bad. They had boundaries set for this: no nudity, public humiliation and dangerous dares.

Lars grins; it’s exactly what he wants, for Jason’s pride to make him pick dare.

Kirk, who had been sitting on the left, glances at Lars with an amused look on his face. It was obvious by their reactions that they were hoping he would pick dare.

“Alright then… I got a good one for you.” Lars grins mischievously, licking at his bottom lip.

Leaning forward, Lars sits up and looks down at Jason, who’s eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

“So, my dare… Is for you to eat a strawberry.”

Jason’s taken aback at how simple the dare is. There must be a twist…

“…Just eating a strawberry?” He says in a bewildered tone. Lars smirks—he’s clearly loving this.

“Yup! Just eating a strawberry.”

Kirk sits back against the sofa, his face displaying a look of feigned confusion.

“What’s wrong, Jason? Scared?”

“No, just..confused.” He mutters, reaching into the fruit bowl for a perfectly red strawberry. He thinks everything’s going maybe okay, until Lars drops the bomb on him. The second half of the dare.

Once Jason’s settled with the strawberry in his fingers, Lars grins and adds, “Oh—almost forgot to mention the one little catch…”

“You have to eat it with James.”

Kirk nods in agreement, like this was all planned out, and it probably was.

“You both have to eat half of the strawberry, with the strawberry right between you guys. Should be simple right?”

Jason swallows back a groan—they were always trying to push him and James together. It’s not that he hated James, no, not at all. But the guy kind of intimidated him, and the feeling he got when he was around the frontman was strange and a little uncomfortable.

He looks up at his two bandmates, both of which were waiting for his answer and he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. If he refuses, he’ll be labeled a pussy. 

“Why’re you dragging me into this?” James laments, frowning. James made it very clear he didn’t like the idea one bit—typical James behaviour.

Lars rolls his eyes, and Kirk grins mischievously.

“Oh c’mon, it’s a damn strawberry. It’ll be over in ten seconds.”

“Yeah, we’re not asking you to make out.” Kirk chirps, knowing that would get a rise out of James. It worked, and James threw him an annoyed look.

Jason watched the back and forth like a tennis match, and he could see the wheels turning in James’s head. Jason’s sure the guy’s gonna refuse, like he always does, until James suddenly speaks. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Jason’s eyes widen and he can’t help but wonder why James had changed his mind. He watches as James sits up against the sofa, and he realizes it’s probably because he doesn’t want to appear like he’s scared to do a silly dare.

“Atta’ boy, James!” Lars exclaims happily, patting James’s shoulder. Kirk grins, and Jason’s certain he’s secretly enjoying the two of them being forced together.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Jason’s face begins to flush red. He can’t believe James actually agreed, and he can already feel his heartbeat increase. This would be a long night.

Jason hoists himself off the ground, settling next to James on the couch. This is so embarrassing, even with just the four of them in the room. He doesn’t know where to start—where to even place the strawberry, how this would work. 

It seems like James has other plans, because he’s soooo confident, taking the berry out of Jason’s hand. So he was going to take the lead? Okay, he could work with that…

Jason could sense James’s confidence, and it only made him more flustered. He could see Lars and Kirk smiling at them both, their heads leaning forward like they’re watching a movie. 

Jason’s heart hammered in his chest when James’s fingers brushed against his. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, but it didn’t work. James was so close to him, and he swore he could feel the heat from his body.

James smirks smugly, and Jason’s just glad to find that the guy isn’t giving him any issues yet.

“You don’t need to look so nervous, Jase. It’ll be over before you know it. “

He shifts in his spot, moving a little closer to Jason and holding the strawberry in front of both of their faces.

Jason could hardly respond—he was too focused on trying not to have a heart attack. James being close to him like this was overwhelming, and it was only going to get worse. The fact that Lars and Kirk were eagerly watching them didn’t help either. He felt so awkward, but he knew there was no backing out of this now.

“Open wide…” 

Jason’s eyes widen in shock as James commands, and he could feel a shiver run down his spine. How was he supposed to handle this? He swallowed back a gulp, but slowly did as the guy told him to and opened his mouth.

The heat in his cheeks deepened, and this was humiliating. This dare was a terrible, terrible idea. But he would get through it. James brings the strawberry closer to his mouth, and Jason’s mind is running a million miles a minute. 

He almost squeaks when James’s thumb makes contact with his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to allow the berry to enter his mouth. His hand then moves to hold his nape—the gesture is waaaay to intimate, and Jason notices the tiniest sound of surprise from Lars.

The strawberry is placed between their mouths, and Jason’s struggling to breathe. This was so wrong—there was no reason James needed to hold him like this. He could feel the guy’s fingers press firmly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and he’s positive James could probably feel how hot his skin is. 

Jason tries to maintain a calm demeanor, but he’s positive he’s a flushed mess right now, but he has to keep his cool. He can’t look like an idiot in front of James or his other two bandmates.

James smirks, and Jason’s sure it’s because the guy knows exactly what this is doing to him. The fingers against his nape feel like they’re burning through his skin, and the urge to press against James’s touch is almost too much to bear. 

He can still feel Kirk and Lars’s eyes on him. They’re probably enjoying this like two damn kids watching an interesting tv show.

Jason’s starting to regret ever agreeing to this stupid game—how could this dare be so intimate? They’re just supposed to eat a strawberry for god’s sake, but of course James had to make it so difficult. 

Jason’s eyes flicker up to James’s, and the smirk on the frontman’s face confirms that he’s enjoying this. It’s like he was trying to get a reaction out of him on purpose.

The strawberry is somehow incredibly juicy, and when James and Jason bite down on it simultaneously, the juice somehow all drips down Jason’s chin. James looks untouched, but Jason has to cup a hand to prevent the sweet juices from dirtying his clothes. James seems to be amused by that—though there’s a glint of emotion in his eye Jason can’t quite pinpoint.

Jason’s absolutely embarrassed, and he’s certain he’s the color of a tomato at this point, but James seems to be enjoying his suffering. He can’t believe he’s managed to make a mess eating a damn strawberry, but here he is. 

He’s too focused on trying to hide his shame to notice the way James’s gaze travels down to his lips, watching the trickle of juice slide down his chin.

He tries to discreetly wipe his chin, but he can’t help but feel James’s eyes on him. The guy’s looking at the drop of juice on his chin like he desperately wants to taste it. The thought sends a shudder running down his spine, and the only thing Jason wants right now is to get this experience over with. 

He glances up to get a look at their bandmates—Kirk’s snickering lowly, and Lars is completely shocked—but their reactions are the least of his worries right now.

“Okay, there. Happy?” He bristled, not very happy with either of the pair. This was their fault. They had planned this stupid dare.

“Yeah.” James leans back against the couch, and a wicked smirk graces his face. 

Kirk and Lars can’t help but snicker, their eyes flickering to examine the two bandmates. Kirk speaks up first, barely able to hide his amusement.

“That was… certainly something.” He chuckles lowly, and Lars grins widely, clearly enjoying himself too much.

By the end of the night, Jason knows that deep down, he’s the one that’s lost the game that time. Again. 

Throughout the rest of the night, Lars and Kirk continued to poke fun at him and James, but Jason couldn’t focus at all. He was far too distracted by the fact that James had been acting strange towards him. 

He kept catching glimpses of the guy looking at him, the look on his face almost…wanting. Whatever that was supposed to mean…

That evening, Jason’s mind would often wander back to their little ‘dare’. The feeling of James’s fingers against his neck and the heat from the guy’s body was forever burned into his mind, and that stupid little smirk that had been on his face…

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same guy that used to snap at him for the dumbest, tiniest things.

It was driving him crazy. He couldn’t think straight. His heart’s racing, and he’s positive all his thoughts and feelings were written all over his face.

The only way he was going to get rid of this uneasy feeling was to go lay down, but he knew he’d just lay there and replay the entire night in his head. He knew sleep wouldn’t find him tonight.

In fact, something or rather someone, found him instead…

Jason was in his hotel room, flopped on one of the beds as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget about the nights events. He could still feel the heat of James’s body and the touch of his fingers against his nape, like the sensations had left a permanent mark against his skin. 

He heard a knock against the door, and he groaned, assuming it was either Kirk or Lars ready to bug him some more.

He heaves himself up off the bed with a sigh, and he walks over to the door. He opens it, expecting to see Kirk or Lars standing in the doorway, but to his surprise, it’s…James.

The frontman stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, and he’s watching Jason with a calm expression. Jason’s completely shocked to see him here, and his first thought is that the guy’s here to continue making fun of him.

All he can manage out is a small “Hey.” It’s pathetic, but he doesn’t know what else to say, especially after that stupid dare. His heart beats against his chest like thunder, and he’s sure James could hear it from the way he smirks like something about his embarrassment is so funny.

James’s smirk deepens, and he pushes off from the doorframe to enter the hotel room, forcing Jason to side-step so he can get past. He closes the door behind him with a silent click, and the room instantly falls into silence.

Jason’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t know why. What was the guy even doing here?

James turns to Jason again, and it takes everything in him to not shiver under the guys intense gaze. He’s used to having to deal with James’s intimidating stares, but it feels different for some reason. It’s almost like he’s not used to having those sharp, dark eyes focused directly on him.

“You look nervous.” James remarks, his voice deep and low.

Jason clenches his jaw at the remark, and he swallows down the lump in his throat. He is nervous, but he doesn’t know why and he isn’t about to admit it to the guy either. 

“What do you want?” Jason’s voice is steady, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit flustered with James standing so close to him.

James raises his eyebrows, like he’s amused by Jason’s attempt at acting like he’s not ruffled. That smirk is still on his face.

“What? Can’t I just come see you?” He steps forward, now mere inches away from the other man.

Jason’s heart begins to thump even faster, and he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He’s been alone with James plenty of times before, but this was different. 

He didn’t know exactly what it was, but James’s expression and the way he was looking at him was making him anxious. It was like he could read right through him.

He crosses his arms over his chest, hoping to hide some of his nerves.

“You never just ‘come visit me,’ so spit it out.”

James keeps his calm demeanor, taking another step forward and effectively backing Jason up against the wall. Jason’s throat gets tight as he feels the cold surface of the wall behind him.

James places both his hands on either side of Jason, and he’s practically towering over him now. A small shiver racks through Jason’s body, and James can definitely see it now.

“Can’t a friend check up on his bandmate?”

James’s smirk morphs into a half grin, and he takes another step forward, closing the already small space between them. Jason’s heart is beating quicker than a damn machine gun now, and his whole face feels warm.

Jason doesn’t even know what to say. The front man was way too close to him—he could feel the heat of James’s body and the sound of his breathing. He clenches his jaw, and he desperately wills himself to hide any hint of how flustered he is.

“Is that what you do? Just corner your band mates and crowd them into a wall?”

“Only you.” 

James’s voice is a low, almost sultry tone, and Jason’s sure his heart just skipped a beat. He tries to come up with some sort of response, but the words get stuck in his throat.

He’s absolutely flustered now, and James has to know that he’s got him trapped against the wall like a fly.

James takes a moment to look Jason over, and the small shiver that wracks through the man’s body doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He moves in even closer, until there’s only an inch between them. Jason’s breathing increases, and a red flush slowly creeps across his cheeks.

“You look pretty like this.” James murmurs, his gaze wandering over Jason’s face.

The words catch Jason off guard, and he’s sure the flush on his cheeks deepens. This shouldn’t be having this much of an effect on him, but it was. 

James’s voice is so low, but his demeanor is still so calm, like he’s unaffected by having Jason this close to him. Jason swallows dryly, desperately trying to collect his thoughts.

“P-pretty?” He whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

James lifts a hand, and Jason’s breath hitches in his throat as the guy slowly moves his hand up to his face. He watches with wide eyes as James’s fingers gently caress his jawline, and a small gasp escapes his mouth.

The feeling of the other man’s touch sends shivers through his body, and the smirk on James’s face is so smug and irritating and…attractive.

James brushes a thumb over Jason’s bottom lip, and his smirk deepens when he feels the other man’s body shudder. The way Jason’s breathing was increasing and how his face had gone red was too good to ignore. 

He leans in impossibly close, his voice a low whisper right beside Jason’s ear. 

“So cute…”

Jason’s whole body goes tense at the feel of James’s breath against his ear, and he’s positive the guy can hear the rate of his heart thumping wildly inside his chest. 

He doesn’t know what to do—he can’t think straight with James so close to him like this. James’s hand is still caressing his face, and he can feel himself slowly start to come undone under the other man’s touch.

“I can hear your breathing, y’know.” James mutters lowly, his thumb now caressing the sensitive skin beneath his chin. He tilts Jason’s head up, calloused fingers gliding against his skin like silk. 

Jason almost whimpers, but he quickly bites his bottom lip to stop any sound from coming out. The front man’s touch seemed like it was burning his skin, and it was so damn irritating how calm he still looked.

Jason swallows back a small gasp as James’s thumb still caresses the sensitive skin of his chin, and he can’t believe he was letting the guy do this. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop him or push him away. 

“You’re shaking.” James murmurs, and Jason’s breath hitches in his throat. The man was right—he was shaking like a damn leaf.

His body trembles slightly as James’s hand cups his jaw, and Jason curses under his breath. The guy’s touch was too warm, just like when he held him during the dare.

James runs the soft pad of his thumb against Jason’s cheek in a slow, gentle motion, and a small whimper escapes his mouth. The sound is pathetic and embarrassing, and he’s sure James is definitely laughing internally at how affected he is.

James leans in closer, and Jason can’t help but wonder is this is how all the girls feel like when James seduces them. Heart rate spiking, cheeks all flush and rosy, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

The blonde likes this—it’s different from all the groupies and girls he’s used to charming. It’s a good kind of different, one that he wants to draw out. He wants to make Jason want him more than does already; to chase him down and prove his worthiness for James’ true affections.

This is just a test run to see if Jason could get wrapped around his finger from a minuscule interaction.

James closes the small, almost microscopic space between them even more, and a small shudder wrecks through Jason’s body as he feels the other man’s breath against his skin. His heart is beating even faster, if that’s possible, and the look on his face feels so utterly pathetic. 

James’s own heart is racing, but he does a good job of keeping a stoic expression. Seeing Jason all flustered like this is doing things to him, but he doesn’t want the man to know it. 

Not yet, at least.

He moves his hand down to Jason’s neck, and the man’s breath hitches. James’s fingers brush against Jason’s pulse point, and he can feel how the man’s heart is pounding frantically. 

Jason is desperately trying to keep himself composed, but he’s failing miserably. James smirks again, now sure that Jason’s fallen into his love trap.

“You’re so damn shaky, hm?” James practically purrs, his voice deep and low in a tone that would make anyone shiver. He runs small circles against Jason’s skin, and the other man has to restrain himself from leaning into the touch. God, this man was such a jerk.

The guitarist leans in close to his bassist, their lips a hair’s length away from each other just as it was a while ago. Devious blue eyes dart to Jason’s peachy lips, a hunger clear in them. 

Jason’s flustered expression is like an invitation—one that he’s so eager to accept, and yet, he wills himself not to.

James can’t help but admire how Jason looks like this, vulnerable and so desperate. It’s so much more enticing than any of the women he’s been with. 

His eyes dart to the other man’s lips again, and he can practically see how they would be plump and soft against his own. Would making out with him be gentle and soft, tender like long-lost lovers? Or would it be passionate and rough like they were crazed animals in a rut? He almost shudders at the thought of kissing Jason.

But no, that would ruin the fun. He wanted to drag this out and tease the poor defenceless man until he came running to him begging for more.

James cruelly pulls away, patting Jason on the cheek gently like he was a kid. He flashes the auburnette his signature grin.

“I’ll see you around, Jase.” 

Jason wants to snap his neck. How dare he, after all the tension, the buildup? Just leaving him like that, sauntering out the door? The audacity! But what had Jason truly expected? To receive a kiss, or more?

Left alone with his stupidly filthy thoughts and the lingering touch of his frontman, Jason sinks down to the ground, head in his hands. 

Fuck, he cursed internally. He knew he was in the deep end. 

With the closing of the door, James’s smile falters. Damn it all, seeing Jason so flustered like that had him on the edge of losing all his patience. 

He desperately wants to go back to the room and pin the man against the wall, make him moan under his fingers. God, the way he had trembled when he touched his face had set his veins on fire. But no, he had to remain strong. He can’t make any moves too early…

…Not when the game had just begun.

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

Thoughts?

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

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐈𝐭 𝐁𝐞?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re hot, cupcake.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me when they’re being mean to Jason