Sorry..

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

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

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

word count: 7.4K words (you were warned)

nsfw under the cut :)

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

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

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

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

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

Lars laughs and pats Kirk’s shoulder.

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

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

James snickered and leaned against the wall.

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

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

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

Kirk snorts and shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect prey.

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

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

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

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

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

So slender, so inviting. 

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

“So, enjoying the party?”

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

“What’s his costume?”

“He’s a ghost.”

“A ghost, huh?” 

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

“Beats me.” 

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

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

“What a waste of a night.”

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

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

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

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

“Where to?”

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

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

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

“Are you scared?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirk!?” 

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

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

Nothing. 

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

“Kirk..?” 

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

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

“Who’s there…?” 

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

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

Run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he falls. 

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

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

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

Still, nothing.

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

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

“Found you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans softly, unable to hold back the sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You taste so good, pretty boy…” 

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

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

“Just wait till I taste you elsewhere….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kirk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—”

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

He is a monster, isn’t he? 

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

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

“You’re a vampire!”

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

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

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

“You bit me!”

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bite me again. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s absolutely mouthwatering like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s get you cleaned up…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Say that killer vampire stole your heart.”

“And my blood?” 

“Sure.”

“…I can work with that.”

Hiiiii thank u for supporting my works! Could you do something with werewolf james and human jason? I’m thinking james bottoms and his claws scratch up jason’s back during sex.. so james, like the puppy he is, pleads with jason to lick the scratches better

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍/𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - 𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

warnings: mild blood, blood kink, scratching kink, wound licking, anal sex, rough sex, Jason’s too nice for his own good

okay wait you cooked with this req hold on

nsfw under the cut :)

Jason’s heavy breath ghosts against James’ sweaty neck, calloused hands gripping the blonde’s hips in a vice grip. Soft moans escape his lips, eyes screwed shut in concentration as he rams into James with reckless abandon, the younger man under him gutturally groaning.

Long legs wrap around his hips, bringing Jason ever closer to James, who has a hand tangled in the curly mess of Jason’s auburn hair.

Jason’s going easy on him—he’s always too tender and gentle when they have intimacy. Sometimes James has to remind the human that he’s not made of glass, that he wants him to push his limits.

With Jason’s soft touches, his gentle caresses and his tender nature it makes James’s mind fuzzy. He appreciates the tenderness Jason gives to him but sometimes it just is too much, James has to remind Jason that he won’t break, that he likes it rough at times. 

“Harder,” James growls, his claws dragging up Jason’s back gently, as if egging him on.

“Please, c’mon,” James groans, arching his back, the sheets beneath him ruffled and crumpled, a mess from previous events. James feels Jason press a delicate kiss to his shoulder, and while he usually melts under his touch, right now he needs it rough, he wants to go hard.

Jason’s sweetness is starting to get on his nerves.

“Jason, please just-“ James begs softly. He’s desperate for his human to understand what he wants, he wants Jason to let loose, to just use him. 

Jason seems to always be careful around him, he’s careful with his touches and his kissing, always being delicate and cautious. It’s starting to drive James insane with how soft he is being.

James groans in the back of his throat at yet another soft kiss on his shoulder, he’d never say any of this out loud for risk of Jason not understanding, but this is just too soft for him, he wants Jason to be rough, to slam into him, to give him it rough and hard, to break him.

His hand in Jason’s curls grips them roughly, drawing a whine of pain from the bassist. “James—” He chokes out, feeling the dangerously sharp nails against his scalp.

James tightens his grip, not a hair on Jason’s head will escape him, “Stop being so damn soft with me.” James growls out, moving his other hand to Jason’s neck, his large hand easily wrapping around it, his claws dangerously close. 

“Just stop being so gentle,” James whines. While one hand stays around Jason’s pale neck, his other claws slide down his torso and grab his hip, urging him for him to move faster, harder. Jason’s always acting like he’s too delicate.

Jason, ever the people-pleaser, picks up the pace, blunt nails digging small crescents into his tanned skin.

James sighs in relief at this, it’s better than before, but Jason’s still not at that pace James wants, he’s still too gentle. Jason’s still not going fast enough, he’s still too careful. He wants Jason to break him, just let loose and give it to him rough, make him unable to walk straight, just push him to his limit.

“Jason,” he groans, the name is a mix between a plea and a growl. James’ grip on both Jason’s hair and his hip is tight, almost bruising. 

He’s going faster but it’s still not enough, James is losing his mind with Jason’s soft nature, he’s being too kind with him and James wants more. “Faster,” James sighs, his other hand digging into Jason’s back, definitely leaving red marks in its wake.

Jason’s movements are still too careful, too soft for James, he needs Jason to just let go of his delicacy and go rough with him, to take him, to really give it to him rough, he wants it to hurt in the best way possible, he craves it. “C’mon please,” James begs now, he’s getting frustrated with Jason’s softness.

James’ tail flicks against the bed in agitation, Jason’s touches is making his mind turn to mush, but at the same, he just wants Jason to let go, to stop worrying so much about being careful with him, Jason needs to let go and give it to him hard, he wants it to hurt. 

His tail wraps around Jason’s leg, an attempt to get him to go harder, to stop treating him like glass.

Jason’s pace seems to pick up a small bit, enough for James to notice the difference, but still just a tad too soft for his liking. James lets out a mix of a groan and a growl as his nails claw down his back, drawing red lines wherever they go. Jason just isn’t doing enough for him, he wants him to wreck him.

Jason hisses in pain, giving a particularly brutal thrust as retaliation. Fuck, that was good. That was perfect.

Finally. Finally Jason’s pace is what he wanted, he needed, he feels the familiar pain that accompanies Jason’s rough movements, a feeling James has come to love dearly. His hand retracts from Jason’s throat to grasp at the sheets

James lets out a guttural moan at the rough thrust, it’s what he’s been wanting all this time, Jason’s not being too soft anymore, he’s doing what James wants, it feels amazing.. 

James is finally getting what he’s been wanting, his nails dig into Jason’s back, definitely drawing blood this time, but he can’t find it in him to care when Jason’s got him so caught up in ecstasy.

It’s painful, it’s painful and good, it hurts in the best of ways and James loves it, he wants more, he needs more. He growls, low in the back of his throat, Jason finally getting the message. Jason finally understanding that James doesn’t want to be treated delicately like a god, that he wants him to use him, to treat him like he’s just a toy to derive pleasure from.

The sound of their skin slapping together is loud, it’s the only thing James can hear besides his own breathing, Jason’s breathing and the bed creaking beneath them, it’s music to his ears. James groans, Jason’s pace is the exactly what he wanted but he still wants more, he needs more. He wants Jason to break this time, to wreck him.

Jason’s pace gets faster, and the pain mixes in with the burning pleasure, it’s just what James wanted, Jason finally just letting go and giving it to him hard. Those rough hands fly to Jason’s back, digging into his skin slightly.

It’s rough and brutal, Jason’s letting go, not holding back, not being delicate, just giving it to him rough. James moans at that, his claws digging further into the human’s back, definitely drawing blood now.

Finally Jason’s getting it, just giving his all to him, not holding back at all. James feels Jason’s hands on his hips, bruises are already forming from his grip, he likes that, he wants Jason to ruin him. 

Jason’s pace is perfect, all James can do now is lay there and take it, a mix between a moan and a growl escaping his lips occasionally.

“You like it rough, you little slut?” Jason rasps, sweat dripping down his arms as he props himself up over James.

Jason’s words has James’ breath catch in his throat, his words sending a wave of pleasure through his whole body, his tail thumping against the bed, Jason’s hitting him in all the best spots, just hitting him perfectly. 

“Yes,” James groans, his breathing is ragged and his mind is fuzzy. At this point he’s completely lost his voice, he can barely form words, his tail is still thumping against the bed, Jason’s words affecting him more than the others.

Jason hisses as James claws at his back again. Sticky red blood smears across his back from the surface scratches, and he’s going to have a lot to explain should he get caught with such cuts.

James just loves the way Jason looks like this, the scratches he’s giving Jason, the red lines he’s leaving, his back all scratched up. Blood is smeared on his fingers from Jason’s back, and it’s beautiful to James. 

He wants Jason to be like this, covered in his scratches, covered in his marks and to have red lines in his skin showing exactly where James has been.

The way Jason is giving it to him just has his mind completely fuzzy, all he can do is moan. The scratches Jason has aren’t deep, but they’re definitely going to leave a mark, probably going to be there for a couple of weeks. Jason’s pace is brutal and that just has James’ mind turning to mush and his breath catching in his throat.

Jason’s head tips back, whimpers spilling from his lips like revered words, and god, James loves it when he’s like that. He sounds so pathetic, even when he’s not the one getting ruined.

James loves the sounds Jason is letting out, it’s music to his ears, the little whimpers and moans.. He can’t even think right now, his mind can only focus on Jason and the overwhelming pleasure that’s coursing through him. Jason’s pace is perfect, he’s perfect, everything about him in this moment is perfect.

Jason’s pace has James completely at his mercy, his mind fuzzy to the point that he can’t even form a coherent thought, all he can do is lay there and whimper and moan, letting out the noises Jason loves to hear so much. 

His tail is thumping against the bed, Jason hitting his prostate perfectly every time and James can’t do anything but lay there and feel the pleasure running through his veins.

As they simultaneously build up to their peaks, James’ nails break skin again, coating the shiny keratin in gore.

He can’t help but find a way to be gentle amidst the pleasure, James’ calloused fingers are rough against the scratches on Jason’s back and it’s a stark contrast from how brutal his touches have been previously.

Jason bites down hard on James’ shoulder, wincing as those sharp nails roam over the bloodied expanse of his back. The pain sinks into his flesh, but there’s an edge of pain that hits him just right, making it even more satisfying. 

James bites down on his lip to try to prevent a whimper from escaping it at the bite, but fails, a small whimper escaping him. Jason’s bite was definitely going to leave a mark, a nice reminder that James can keep, that Jason is his.

Heat coils in Jason’s loins like a firework ready to burst, his eyes squeezing shut as he hits his high, fingers digging into James’ slim hips with an iron grip. “Fuuuuck—”

Jason’s grip on his hips and his voice combined with the perfect pace just has James’ head spinning, his back arching off the bed, a moan escaping him at the rough grip Jason has on his hips. 

As they catch their breath, Jason’s lighter frame draped over James, they feel boneless. The both of them lay there for a little while, until James feels a liquid drip down onto his thigh from Jason’s back. 

Jason’s beautiful wine-coloured blood, warm and hot against his cool skin.

James wraps his arms loosely around Jason’s waist, a small sigh escaping him. His eyes glance down to his thigh, where Jason’s blood is dripping onto his skin, it’s pretty. James almost can’t tear his eyes away from it, wanting to burn the image into his mind.

Shakily, Jason sits up and moves off James, wincing at the semi-deep cuts’ sting. James can’t help but want to see the damage, his handiwork.

James sits up as well as Jason gets off him, his hands gently grabbing Jason’s shoulder, gently turning him. He looks down at Jason’s back, the scratches he’d left there, the red lines running down his back, all of them with blood staining a couple of them. 

He can’t help but be proud, he did that, he made Jason look like this, he did that to him. He wants Jason to keep those marks for as long as he can, he wants to see his scratches on him everyday.

“Turn around.” He commands, and Jason obeys like the good little human he is.

The red lines, the scratches that show exactly where James had been, the scratches that were all his doing, it’s gorgeous. Jason looks perfect like this, the scratches, the bruises and the marks. James can’t take his eyes off them, the scratches that are his to look at for as long as Jason keeps them, they’re his own creation.

To Jason, it’s a little bit concerning how much his back bleeds, trickling down his sweaty skin. To James, it’s so tantalising, reminiscent of a fresh kill to him. There’s the primal ache to just reach out and taste his gore, hot and a cherry red. 

He swipes up the blood left on his thigh, popping the finger in his mouth for a little taste, maybe it’d satiate him..

Jason’s blood on his thigh and the taste of it on his tongue has him sighing contentedly. His blood reminds him of the time the two first met, when his blood had been on his fur, he doesn’t feel ashamed thinking about it any more, because Jason is his, he is Jason’s. 

The blood from Jason on his tongue is bittersweet, it tastes metallic and like Jason, and there’s something primal inside James that just wants to keep tasting it, keep it pouring and keep this to himself, to his memory. A reminder of how he’d made Jason look like this, a reminder of how Jason is his in these moments, a reminder that Jason is his to ruin. 

“…What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Jason says half-seriously. It’s not meant as an insult, but he certainly is bewildered.

James hums, pulling his finger out of his mouth. “It tastes as good as it smells,” he explains, not bothering to elaborate further. 

He likes that Jason doesn’t understand him, that Jason won’t understand his desire to taste his blood, the way it reminds him of when they’d first met. It is comforting that Jason simply won’t get that.

“..Right, forgot you’ve got a taste for…blood.” Jason mutters, shaking his head.

James hums again, grabbing Jason’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Jason’s blood smells amazing, even just watching the small amount drip down on his back is wonderful, he wants to lick it off like a wound, a reminder that Jason is his, but he can’t, and it’s frustrating, he wishes Jason would just understand, he wants him to understand but he won’t.

“I should probably get that cleaned up.” He mutters, wiping his brow. “What would Kirk and Lars say…”

“What, you’re worried they’re gonna wonder what happened?” James guesses, letting his hand travel down Jason’s back. 

He’s pretty sure they’ll probably ask about it, and Jason probably won’t give a direct answer. He’s sure Kirk and Lars will know what’s up, they’re smart enough to figure it out, well, maybe not Lars, but still.

It’s amusing to think about what Jason will say if they ask, because they’ll definitely ask him, James knows that. They’re probably gonna ask if he’s been getting laid, and Jason will either lie or tell them he got attacked by an animal, it’ll be hilarious.

On unsteady feet, Jason stands. He knows fully well that showering will be a pain in his ass now that he’s all cut up.

James looks at Jason, eyes roaming over his scratched back a bit more, before looking up. He watches Jason stand up, stumbling a bit at first. He seems to be a bit unsteady on his feet, but James’ eyes are now fixed on the scratches on his back, he can’t help but admire his own handiwork again. It’s gorgeous, really.

“Where ya goin’?”

“To get this mess cleaned up.”

A thought pops into James’ head—Jason’s wounds need to be cleaned, and he’s got a craving for more of that coppery blood. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Come back—I’ll help.”

“Don’t we need to go to the bathroom?” An eyebrow raised, Jason turns back, wiping at the blood that’s trailed down to his tailbone,

James’ eyes flicker down to the blood that’s trailed down Jason’s back, a sight he loves to see, loves to look at. He’s proud of the sight and the scratches he’s caused. 

“It’s fine. We can get the sheets cleaned if it gets too messy.” He waves off Jason’s concerns, patting the spot in front of him.

“The sink—“

“Just sit.”

A small sigh escapes Jason, a small sigh that’s almost a huff. He can be stubborn, and James knows that, but he also knows Jason would probably prefer his wounds getting cleaned. So with that, Jason relents and sits back down in front of James, sighing as he does so. 

James shifts behind Jason, glancing at all the scratches he has left on Jason’s back.

Softly, his fingers brush against the scratches on his back, a couple of them causing Jason to flinch at the pain. James is gentle for now, because the scratches are still fresh and painful, and he doesn’t want to hurt Jason any more than he already has. 

After carefully checking the scratches, James leans in close to whisper to Jason.

“Can I lick ‘em?”

Instantaneously, Jason’s head whips around, and James gets a face full of curls. 

“You..WHAT?” Jason looks so taken aback, like it’s a horrifying thing James just asked. “It tasted good,” James explains with a shrug, his fingers still gently brushing against the scratches he’d made. He knows Jason isn’t gonna understand, but it doesn’t hurt to try and explain anyway. 

“Just a taste, I promise,” he adds, his tongue darting out of his mouth, the thought of licking those up making his mouth water.

“They’ll get infected!”

“They won’t,” James says softly, his fingers gently brushing against another scratch, watching as it drips a bit of blood. “Werewolf saliva prevents infection,” he lies, looking back up at Jason. “I just wanna taste,” he says, a bit of a whine escaping him.

“C’mon, please? Jase…”

James’ fingers brush against another one of the scratches, and his tongue involuntarily darts out, licking a bit of the blood from his finger. 

He doesn’t understand why Jason is so against it, because it definitely isn’t going to give an infection, and it’s just something that he wants to do, he wants it. It’s like when dogs lick a wound.

Jason considers it—and the poor bastard accepts the lie, huffing and turning his back fully to James, sweeping his hair out of the way. 

“Get on with it, whiny brute.”

James has a victorious feeling in his chest when Jason agrees to this, he can’t contain the proud smug on his lips as the human exposes his back for him.

The blonde shifts again, now he’s sat directly behind Jason, his eyes are fixated on the scratches he’d left on his skin. A small sigh escapes Jason’s lips and James takes it as the go ahead, before he leans in close, a hand gently on Jason’s thigh, the other on his waist to steady both them.

James pulls him close, his warm, unnaturally long tongue swiping at the weeping wounds, and Jason shivers. His saliva stings a little, cold against his heated skin. Warm hands fondle his body while James’ tongue favours the salty and coppery taste. 

“Licking it til’ it’s all better, huh?” Jason muses, glancing back at James.

James pulls Jason as close as he can while being careful not to press against his wounds too much, his tongue gently swiping at Jason’s scratches. His hands gently caress Jason’s waist and thigh, taking his time to lick all the scratches clean. 

James’ tongue laps at the various scratches he’d left on Jason’s back, his eyes occasionally glancing up to meet Jason’s. When Jason glances back at James, the werewolf pulls away for a second to answer.

“Mhm. Till it’s alllll better…” he purrs, before resuming licking at a particularly deep scratch.

He gathers up the blood from the scratches, his tongue swirling over them, his lips occasionally pressing against them in something that’s almost a kiss. He gets to them all, not a single scratch left without being cleaned, lapped at, or having his lips pressed against them.

He takes his time with licking Jason’s cuts clean, and when he’s done he’s satisfied with his work, his tongue flicks over the scratches one last time to catch any stray drops of blood that he may have missed.

James pulls away after making sure he’s gotten them all cleaned, a pleased hum escaping him as his tongue slips of his mouth. His hands are still on Jason’s waist and thigh, keeping him close. 

He can’t stop looking at the scratches on the human’s pale skin, he loves the marks he’s made, and he loves that he’s cleaned them up.

He loves the way they look, having his own marks on Jason’s soft skin. But he thinks what he loves even more is the fact that he’s got Jason right now, his human, his beautiful human in his hold, he’s got him sitting in front of him, his back on full display for his eyes to see. 

James pulls Jason even closer to his chest, the human’s back pressed against him, his arm wrapping around Jason’s waist, holding him flush against his chest.

He loves the way they look, having his own marks on Jason’s soft skin. But he thinks what he loves even more is the fact that he’s got Jason right now, his human, his beautiful human in his hold, he’s got him sitting in front of him, his back on full display for his eyes to see. 

James pulls Jason even closer to his chest, the human’s back pressed against him, his arm wrapping around Jason’s waist, holding him flush against his chest.

“I should get these wrapped up..” Jason lifts James’ hands off his body, shuffling to the edge of the bed. His back feels cold from the now-drying saliva on his back. Gross…

A slight pang of disappointment hits James when Jason pulls away from his grip, shuffling to the edge of the bed to get up. Not being able to touch Jason like that, to hold him like that is almost torture, but he doesn’t voice his disappointment. 

Instead, he watches in silence, his eyes looking at the scratches on Jason’s back, his mind running rampant as he thinks of the way Jason looked with them earlier.

Into the bathroom Jason goes, leaving James there on the bed alone. With nothing better to do, he follows his human in, holding onto the walls for support.

James follows Jason, his legs still a bit wobbly and shaky from their activities earlier, his hands holding onto the wall for support. He doesn’t say a word, he just follows, wanting to be close to Jason and watch him.

The auburnette finally gets a good look at his wounds—numerous scratches on his back, dried up blood faintly there. Yikes, it was worse than he thought. He twisted his body and dabbed at his wounds, wincing at the water on the warm washcloth. 

James just watches in silence, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes flick over to Jason, watching the way Jason carefully dabs the washcloth against his back, wincing at the pain. He can’t help but feel a hint of pride in his chest at the sight.

“I might need a little help…” Jason murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at James. 

James perks up at Jason’s words, quickly pushing himself off the doorframe, walking over to Jason. He knows what he means, and he’s ready and more than happy to help. 

James steps up behind Jason, arms going around his waist, and he carefully takes the washcloth from Jason’s hands.

“Want me to do it?”

“Yeah.”

At Jason’s words, James is happy to do it, starting to dab at the scratches as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt Jason, his other arm still wrapped around his waist, holding him close. 

His eyes look at the scratches he’d left on Jason’s back, admiring them, watching the way the washcloth rubs against them, and he does his best at being gentle, not wanting to press to hard or hurt Jason.

“Maybe next time I should wear something protective so I my back doesn’t get all fucked up.”

James’ hands stop for a second, his arms tightening a bit around Jason’s waist. The thought of Jason being protected from him in some way doesn’t sit right with him, because he knows that next time it’ll happen again.

“No,” James says, his mouth close to Jason’s ear, his voice slightly muffled by Jason’s hair, although his voice definitely held an edge of finality to it.

“I’d rather not have the wounds reopen..” He tries to justify—it’s a legitimate concern.

James’ eyebrows scrunch up a little at Jason’s words, his mind running rampant with a mix of emotion. Jason doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand how it’s comforting for James to see his marks, he doesn’t understand how it would be unsettling for James if what they did earlier wasn’t a two way street. 

He just sighs, his hands gently dabbing the washcloth against Jason’s wounds again.

James’ movements are gentle as he dabs the washcloth against the scratches, his eyebrows still furrowed at his annoyance at the words Jason had said. He’ll be damned if Jason ever protects himself in any way from him.

Jason’s words ring in his ears even long after he’s done cleaning the scratches, James’ movements are still gentle, but his grip around Jason’s waist is still tight, his face buried in the crook of Jason’s now cleaned up neck.

Jason carefully unrolls a roll of bandages, holding them out to James in an unspoken question.

James sighs again, but carefully takes the bandages, wrapping them around Jason’s back over his scratches, securing them so they won’t fall off or let anything through them, making sure they won’t come undone. 

He’s still annoyed that Jason would even suggest protecting himself from him, but he tries not to let his annoyance shine through in his actions.

Jason turns back around and presses a chaste kiss to James’ temple, leaning up on his tippy toes. “Let’s go to bed.”

Despite his annoyance, James’ mood is softened slightly by Jason’s kiss, which has him nodding.

He grabs Jason’s hand, pulling him towards the bed, lying back down on it, keeping a hold of Jason’s hand, not wanting to let go or be far from him.

As sleep claims Jason, James traces the pattern on the bandages around Jason’s torso. Unfortunately for him, no tearing up Jason’s back for a while. And he’d have to see bandages instead of a beautifully scarred up back.

James lets out a small frustrated sigh at the bandages, his hand tracing over them, and his mind running rampant. The thought of Jason protecting himself from him is something he doesn’t like, and it makes his mind run wild with annoyance. He’ll have to talk to Jason about this.

James wraps his arms around Jason, hugging him close to the point it might’ve been too tight, his head buried in Jason’s messy curls.

The thought that he won’t be able to make Jason’s back worse for a while has him a bit upset, he wants to mark Jason up, make him his completely again, but he can’t. 

That’ll change, he promises himself that. He will get Jason to stop doing that, he’ll convince him to stop protecting himself from him.

He’ll make sure of it.

It’s not a want. It’s a NEED

theres no way they havent fucked dude

The waitress story😂

Jason's movements...😭😂😭😂

jason, if you even care.

hii, could you please write about dave/lars rough sex or hatesex? something like putting lars in his place, yk. thank you!

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐔𝐩

warnings: anal sex, rough sex, hate sex, no prep, degradation, choking, brief violence, no aftercare, brat taming (?)

thanks for the wonderful idea anon! didn’t know I needed this in my life

nsfw under the cut :)

Megadeth and Metallica are playing the same music festival—things have been cordial between Dave and the rest of the band, but Lars has been doubling over on his bitchiness disguised as wanting to “reconcile”. Dave’s getting tired of it, even as he puts on a tough front. 

And they’re soon alone in a room. Lars said he wanted to talk, smiling at him from across the room sardonically.

Dave rolls his eyes at Lars' mocking smile. Lars has been nothing but a thorn in Dave's side lately, and he's grown tired of his antics.

His ex was a handful to deal with, and his attempts at “reconciliation” were really just mean-spirited words with second meanings and sugared smiles. He doesn’t know how that new guy Jason would deal with them—hell, he’s heard that the poor lad’s been hazed. Maybe he should call him sometime—but not now.

Dave steps closer to Lars, the anger in his eyes palpable, "Lars, what's your problem man? Why you gotta be such a dick all the time?"

“I don’t have a problem, Dave.”

"Oh, really?" Dave scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "Then why do you keep throwing those damn snide remarks my way? You think it's funny to mess with me like this?"

“You’re the one who keeps reacting to them.”

"Cause they're annoying!" Dave snaps, his voice rising. "Why can't you just leave me alone instead of poking and prodding all the time?"

“Be the bigger man.” Lars drawls, that snarky look in his eye. He’s tempted to smack him silly…

Dave grits his teeth, Lars's words only serving to stoke the fire of his temper. "I already am, you fucking fairy.” “Call me that again,” says the harmless kitten to the ferocious tiger.

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want, fairy.” Dave scornfully spits, getting up in Lars’ personal space.

Lars uses the flat side of his palm to push the hollow of Dave’s shoulder socket. “Go fuck yourself. Still bitter we broke up and I left you for Kirk?” Dave stumbles a few steps back from the push, rubbing his shoulder. "Please, you're one to talk," he shoots back, a bitter edge to his voice. "I'm not the one who ended things to go chase after some long-haired pretty boy."

He can't help but feel a pang of bitterness with the words, the memories of their break up still fresh in his mind. It had been a messy affair, and Dave had taken it hard. He knew he shouldn’t let Lars get under his skin like this, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back.

"Maybe if you had more to offer, I wouldn't have left your sorry ass." Lars shoots back, a smug smile on his lips.

Dave's eyes narrowed at the smirk on Lars's lips. "I’d leave you for Kirk too. Pretty little thing.” Lars’ green eyes narrow to hear slits, throwing his hair over his shoulder. 

“Talk about my man again. Do it.”

Dave raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You get all possessive when it comes to your little guitar boy toy? I could take him from you any day. It’s not like you’re packing down there anyway."

Lars grits his teeth, coming up into Dave’s face. “Keep his name out your dirty mouth.”

Dave leans in, not backing down from the challenge, "Why? Are you worried I'll steal your precious little Kirk? Or is it the other way around? Maybe he's already eyeing his next guitar daddy."

He can see the irritation mounting in Lars’ face, and Dave can't help but revel in how easy it is to get under his skin. It's obvious Lars has a soft spot when it comes to Kirk, and Dave knows how to press all the right buttons.

Lars grabbed the collar of Dave’s shirt in his curled fist, dragging Dave down to his height so that they were nose-to-nose. “You really know how to make someone fucking mad. This is why you were booted from the band.”

Dave felt his temper flare as Lars grabbed his collar, yanking him down. He returned the glare, meeting Lars's eyes without faltering.

"Oh, spare me the high and mighty act," He snapped back. "You only kicked me out cause you knew I was a better musician than you’d ever be."

Lars’ fist curls—he just might swing and ruin Dave’s stupidly pretty face. Dave sees the fury in Lars's eyes, and he doesn't back down, even as he braces for the impending punch. Instead, he sneers, "Hit me. I dare you."

“You really asking for it?” Lars asks, his arm tensing as he draws it back in preparation to smack that smug look off Dave’s face. The ginger holds his ground, the smirk on his lips refusing to waver. “Come on. Do it. Show your fragile little ego at its finest.”

Lars’ lips twist into a snarl, and he really just might knock Dave silly. Dave's heart thumps in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He braces for the impact, knowing better than to back down now.

"What's the matter, fairy? Can't handle a little challenge?"

And Lars’ fist meets the side of his face. It’s a lot stronger than he expected, but he’s felt worse.

The blow lands hard, Dave's head snapping to the side with the force. He stumbles a couple steps back, hand coming up to his cheek instinctively.

"Is that all you've got?" Dave sneers, spitting out a bit of blood from where his teeth had dug into his lip.

The tension-filled couple of days leading up to their conflict had built up to this very moment—Lars and Dave moved from throwing words to punches. As the anger and tension between the two reached its boiling point, words turned into blows, and the fight escalated.

Dave lunged at Lars, throwing another punch aimed at his face. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the air as he made contact, his knuckles aching from the impact. 

Lars’ head snaps to the side, and his skin is quick to redden, showing off the force of Dave’s fist with his cheekbone. He’s sure there’s a bruise forming as he turns back to face Dave, and he reaches for Dave’s longer hair to yank at.

Dave lets out a pained cry as Lars grabbed a fistful of his hair. Instinctively, he reaches up to grab hold of Lars's hand, trying to free his hair from the other man's ruthless grip.

"You're a real cocksucker, you know that?" Dave grits out through clenched teeth, his eyes filled with uncensored rage. He reached out, remembering the one move that made Lars drop anything he was doing.

He reached forward and roughly pinched his nipples, hard.

Lars automatically released his grip on Dave’s hair, letting out a half-yelp-half-moan.

Dave couldn't help but smirk as Lars released his hair, feeling a rush of triumph at the sound that escapes the man's lips. It's the reaction he was looking for, and he leans in with a taunting edge to his voice.

"You still whimper like a girl when I do that, huh?"

Lars’ face was red in embarrassment and anger—Dave always played dirty.

Dave's smirk grew wider as he saw the redness on Lars's face—it was a combination of embarrassment and anger, a reaction he had grown all too familiar with.

"Still can't handle a little pinch, huh?" Dave teases, his voice dripping with condescension.

He considers his options, and he has nothing else to loose, so in a swift motion, Lars grabs Dave’s hair in an iron grip and smashes their lips together.

Dave lets out a surprised noise as Lars grips his hair and pulls him into a rough, bruising kiss. The shock only lasts a moment, though, and then he's responding in kind, meeting Lars's aggression with his own hunger.

Their mouths mash together, all teeth and raw aggression. It's hard to tell who's in control, who's dominating this kiss, but one thing's for sure—there's no lack of passion, no lack of intensity.

Dave claws at Lars’ shirt, blunt nails raising red lines across the skin of his back. Lars has a tight hold on Dave’s hair, keeping him against his mouth. Being a little cunt, he even bites down hard on Dave’s tongue, sending tiny tears into Dave’s eyes.

Dave can't help but wince as Lars bites down hard on his tongue, the sharp pain drawing out a grunt of protest. But he doesn't pull away, doesn't back down, instead he responds with a tug on Lars's bottom lip, his teeth sinking in harder.

He's clawing at the fabric of Lars's shirt, his nails leaving red lines on the skin of the man's back. The heat between them is almost palpable, raw and fierce.

Lars pulls away for a moment—his lips are red and saliva-slick, but he doesn’t care. Dave backs him into a wall, larger frame looking over him as he feels the ginger bite and suck at his skin with as much vigour as a rabid dog.

Dave has Lars in a firm, almost possessive grip, his lean figure caging the shorter man against the hard surface. He's biting and sucking at Lars's skin with a voracious passion, the taste of the man's flesh and the feel of it beneath his teeth driving him wild.

He's pressing closer, every line of their bodies melded together. Lars might try to dominate, but Dave has something to prove.

Lars groans, his fingers wrapping around Dave’s neck. Not enough to cut off airflow, but to send a message.

Dave can feel the tight grip around his neck, Lars's fingers encircling his flesh in a gesture that's both sensual and commanding. He responds with a guttural noise, both a protest and a thrill.

The pressure against his throat stirs something primal in him, a need for control, but also a hint of excitement. He responds by pressing down against Lars, grinding his body against his, their hips aligned, their muscles taut.

Lars moans, his thumbs caressing the sides of Dave’s neck, pressing down on his carotid arteries. It’s enough o make Dave’s head spin hazily and for his aching hardness to increase.

Dave's skin tingles at the touch of Lars's thumbs along the sides of his neck, a moan escaping his lips as the pressure increases. His head feels light, and he can feel his body responding to the touch, heat pooling in his groin and a dizzying rush of sensation coursing through him.

"You little prick," he grits out, the words low and ragged, "You're playing dirty."

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” He drawls, taking advantage of Dave’s closeness to grind his teeth down on Dave’s lower lip.

"Can't help it you like it dirty,” Dave retorts, his voice a low growl. The bite on his lip makes his breath catch in his throat, a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain running through him.

He tightens his grip on Lars, pulling the man even closer—their bodies are flush, the heat between them almost overwhelming. He responds by retaliating with equal enthusiasm, his hand moving down to palming the growing tent in Lars’ jeans.

Lars sucks in a breath, the brunette pressing a little bit harder on Dave’s throat.

Dave feels the squeeze on his throat intensifies, drawing out a gasp from his lips. The lack of oxygen is doing something to his brain, making him delirious with need. His hips jerks forward, seeking friction.

He can't take his eyes off Lars, the look in the man's eyes that's both dangerous and arousing. "Keep that up, and I'll make you beg like a dog."

“I can choke you out.” Lars drawls, and the threat sounds pathetic. 

Dave lets out an annoyed huff, trying to ignore the arousal the words provoke, the image they paint in his mind. "You can try.”

Lars sneers, and Dave moved them away from the wall over to a nearby table—the door is locked and the room is safely isolated from anyone else. Dave slams Lars’ chest down on the table, making him bend at the hips.

There's a fierce look in Dave's eye as he stands behind Lars, hands roughly grabbing his hips to hold him in place.

Lars winced as his chest hit the table, and he feels a strong hand pin his neck down flat, another undoing his fly with practised ease. Dave takes a moment to admire the sight of Lars bent over the table, pinned beneath his grip. His fingers move nimbly, working on the button and zipper of the man's jeans.

"You've really pushed my buttons," he mutters, his voice thick with irritation and desire.

“Boo Hoo.” Lars bites back, looking up at Dave through the corner of his eye. "Don't get smart, you little piece of shit." Dave responds, digging his nails cruelly into the flesh of Lars's hips. "You brought this on yourself."

“You gonna shut up and fuck me or are your panties still in a twist?” Lars snarks, unflinching at the bite of Dave’s nails.

The taunt sparks a flare of annoyance in Dave, as if Lars's words were an extra push on a sensitive nerve.

"Watch your mouth," he warns, delivering a sharp slap across Lars's bare ass. "I'm not taking your smart-ass attitude, got it?" Lars moans, enjoying the sting that came with the smack. The ginger hated Lars with a passion, but god did he love taming that stupid little brat.

Dave can see the effect his slap has on Lars, the way he moans and arches his back slightly. Dave knows it's a dangerous game they're playing, the line between pain and pleasure is razor thin, but the fact that he can get under Lars's skin like this is too good to pass up.

His hand comes down again, this time with more force, making the sound echo loudly in the small, secluded room.

Lars groans louder, and he turns his head back, needing to egg Dave on to fuck him with another statement. “Course’ you know how to smack someone—bet you do it all the time with Junior..” 

Dave's face twists in annoyance. Lars's mention of Junior is a low blow, and it hits the target. The man isn't playing fair, but Dave isn't above dirty tricks himself.

"You know how to push my buttons," he growls, leaning down so that he's close to Lars's ear. His teeth graze the flesh of Lars's earlobe as he speaks. "Don’t fuckin’ say his name ever again."

There's a possessive edge to his voice, a hint of a threat behind his words. Dave won't stand for talk of his precious bassist, Junior, in their moments together. It's a line he won't allow Lars to cross.

Despite giving the warning, Dave doesn't want to focus on that right now, he's already pushed to the limit of his patience and there's something else that needs his attention. His hands grab at the waist of Lars's jeans, tugging them roughly further down to his ankles.

A tingle of excitement shoots up Lars’ spine, and he feels Dave’s hands move off him. Dave takes a moment to admire the sight of Lars, half-undressed and bent over the table waiting for him. He reaches for the bottle of lube he keeps in his pocket, opening it up with a snap.

"Lift your hips a little higher," he instructs, his voice rough. 

“Make me.”

Dave's nostrils flare at Lars's defiant tone. The little brat is trying his patience, but he can't deny that his defiance only makes him more eager to take him down a peg.

"You're really asking for it, aren't you," he retorts, his hands moving to grasp Lars's hips, pushing up on them so that his ass is angled up. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that? Should do you raw for that.."

Lars considers holding back on the snark—he’d rather not be bleeding from his ass the next few days. But he knows Dave isn’t that cruel…he thinks. The older man has a hand on his hips, bruisingly tight in his vice grip. 

Dave can feel the tension between them crackling in the air. He's on the edge, and the thought of taking Lars rough and unprepared is a temptation. But he knows where the line is, knows not to cross it.

"You think I won't do it, don't you" He mutters, challenging tone in his voice.

“You won’t.” Lars says so superbly smug.

Dave growls, the stubbornness in Lars's voice fueling his annoyance. "You're sure of yourself, aren't you? You think you know me so well?” He’s determined to prove Lars wrong, so he takes it upon himself to do the bare minimum, to make sure it hurt.

There's a pause as Dave uncaps the bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount onto his hand, slicking up his cock. He’s not going to be nice, not a single bit.

Dave lines himself up with Lars. The Dane pauses. “Hey, wait—“

"What, have you changed your mind now?" Dave taunts, his hands still on Lars's hips, holding him in place. He doesn’t wait for Lars before he’s pushing in.

A squeal of pain escapes Lars, his eyes blown wide. He’s not prepped, so the discomfort increases tenfold. 

Dave cruelly snaps his hips forward into Lars, fisting his brown waves and forcing his head up. Lars, ever a slut for pain, moans and whimpers pathetically. 

“Stop—slow down!” Lars protests. Dave leans down to growl in Lars’ ear, “You ask me to stop like you hate it. I know you’re a fucking slut for pain, you masochist.” 

Lars’ cheeks and ass burn, one from embarrassment and the other from the stretch. The derogatory words somehow arouse him even further, the burning in his loins spiking, electric currents snaking up his spine.

Dave’s violently rutting into Lars like his life depended on it, ruthlessly hitting the younger man’s prostate dead-on. The burning stretch in his hole and the jolts of pleasure mix together in a mind-melting combination, and Lars can’t help but whine whorishly. 

Drilling into him with such vigour, Dave knows his thighs will be sore tomorrow, but he doesn’t really care. All that matters is fucking Lars till he can’t walk and leaving him like that. 

Maybe it’d teach him a lesson on being a cunt.

Dave’s hand lets go of Lars’ hair and moves to wrap his rough hand around the small expanse of Lars’ throat. The bastard whines when Dave pressed down on his carotids, lack of blood flowing to his brain doubling the pleasure he was drowning in.

Dave uses his neck as a small leverage as he brutally pistons his hips, his girthy cock splitting Lars into two. Dave grunts into Lars’ ear, his nails biting into the delicate skin of the Dane’s neck, littered with hickeys and rough bites. 

“Do you whore yourself out to anyone who’ll take you? I’m sure James has fucked you at least once, Kirk definitely does, and maybe that Jason kid too. You this much of a slut for all of ‘em?” Dave mocks, hand squeezing tighter around Lars’ neck. 

He thinks that his neck might snap, but his mind is going fuzzy and his vision is blurring out every few seconds. Somehow, the intense choking makes his orgasm crash down on him like bricks, splattering the concrete a milky white as his own vision fades to black.

The shorter man seizes around Dave every few seconds, the ginger’s climax building as his balls draw tight. With the consistent fluttering of Lars around him, Dave tightens his hold, and shoots his load deep in the confines of Lars’ ass. 

He stands there, hunched over the younger man for a few seconds. Then he pulls out and releases Lars, wiping the come off his cock onto the boy’s shirt. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up, leaving an unconscious Lars bent over and used on the table, come dripping down his thighs, walking out the room, whistling, as if that never happened. 

Submitted by Anon

some sketches on this mini sketchbook I think I'm having an artblock fml

Gonna be honest I don't know what to caption this with lol but Jason gets surrounded briefly

save me jameson yaoi

anyways hi guys it’s been a while😛