Gonna Be Honest I Don't Know What To Caption This With Lol But Jason Gets Surrounded Briefly

watching a year and a half

heyy im requesting again cus i liked the work you did for me so much :) could you do one with Jason/Anyone based on @hexxeddorm’s drawing on a waitress Jason? (im pretty sure you’ve seen it) the rest is up to what you want to write, just need to have him dicked down in that uniform 👀

again, love your works so much and take your time if you need to :) ❤️

GAHH had to make this into a halloween fic! i love that fanart so much this ask made me SO happy :)

Prove It

1987 • James/Jason

CW - semi public sex, toxic yaoi lmao, cross dressing, dubious consent kind of i don’t know, use of the F slur, internalized homophobia

Jason always looked forward to Halloween.

He’d dress in a fun costume, drink, maybe play a Halloween show if he was lucky. The Flotsam guys were even bigger on Halloween than he was and dragged him to countless costume parties with hookers hanging around; they’d give him a look, that look, and one of his bandmates would push Jason to go talk to a prostitute with a smirk.

“Cmon man, she’s like, totally your type! Blonde hair, blue eyes, looks like she could kill ya… go get ‘er!”

Yeah. It’s his type.

The girls were almost always wearing a sexy outfit. Skimpy, cheap clothes that accentuated their curves. The costumes were predictable— Sometimes a nurse. Sometimes a slutty witch who wants to trade her potions for your semen. Maybe a particularly naughty angel who decided maybe a little defiance would be good.

Or, a waitress.

Jason stares at himself in the mirror, regretting everything about this. He was still the Newkid, had to do everything the band told him. What James told him. So, when he was ordered to embarrass himself by wearing a very feminine, very revealing Waitress costume for the upcoming Halloween party, he obliged. Jason shuffled to the side to check the rest of his costume. Remembered how these costumes were made to show off ass and curves. It’s not a nice memory. His thighs seemed too muscular for the thin fabric of the light pink skirt, his chest and shoulders too broad and thick for the revealing top. Trying on costumes had been enjoyable in the past; now wearing his costume is the last thing he wants to do.

Jason’s eyebrows furrow as he continues to check himself out in the mirror. Maybe, he thinks, if he was a chick, there was a chance he would look good. But he’s not. No, he’s a guy in a fucking waitress costume too small for him just because James would get a kick out of it. Everyone else had a normal costume— a vampire, a werewolf, an imp. And, fuck, here he is. In a women’s skirt and top. In a shitty halloween store’s changing room where plastic decorations hang from the ceiling and walls. The painted on smiles of the plastic spiders don’t help Jason’s mood.

Jason sighs. He really doesn’t wanna do this. Surely there’s a way he can convince James to have mercy on him, right? Maybe he’d offer his personal stash of weed or Heineken. Embarrassed, Jason stops staring at his masculine figure in the mirror and takes a deep breath. James is on the other side of the dressing room, impatiently tapping his foot, and Jason assumes it’s because he wants to hurry up and get back to the guys.

“James? You’re.. really serious ‘bout this? Don’t wanna like, take my hash instead? This is stupid. Really fuckin’ stupid.”

Jason hears the other man grunt from the other side.

“What, too pussy? If you can’t even dress up in a stupid costume, why should I even keep you around?”

Well. Fuck.

“I- Fine. Whatever. I’m ready.”

A pause, then James is opening the door from the outside, not realizing how tantalizingly slow he’s going. Why did he do this again? To be honest, he wasn’t really thinking when he asked Jason to wear the costume. He was drunk. And, yeah. He’s usually drunk. Caught him there. But it was different. Jason was the one who brought costumes up in that stupid cheery voice, and you couldn’t blame James for wanting to mess with him. Not when he’s waiting for Jason to snap.

Here’s how it happened; the two were sitting in Jason’s room together with the steady beat of Electric Eye. Jason and James left all alone because Kirk and Lars wouldn’t do a damn thing without the other and Lars was tasked with getting the band more beer. Jason eyed James. James eyed Jason. Jason spoke up, blurting out a stupid question about Halloween, earning a groan from James. Like he wanted to make Jason believe talking to him was a chore. The conversation went on— if you count Jason sheepishly blabbering in hopes of entertaining James a conversation. It was when Jason mentioned those parties with his old band, Flotsam, that the blonde got an idea.

That’s when he asked Jason just how far he would go. Jason looked confused at first. The guitarist enlightened him. James asks the brunette what his problem is first, because of course he does, and follows it with something that made Jason determined.

“You always just take everything. All the pranks, all the jokes. When are you gonna snap at us, huh? When are you gonna snap at me? How far can you really take it? Prove to me you’re good enough.”

That’s how they ended up here. Jason showed him how much humiliation he can take by allowing James to lay eyes on him when he’s dressed like this. Because Jason is strong, Jason can take it. He can take all the shit James and the guys give him. In fact, he has to. So the bassist doesn’t hide when the door is finally opened all the way, only looking to the side, his cheeks dusted a light pink.

It hits James like a truck. He feels absolutely winded after he first takes the first look. The waitress skirt perfectly hugs his hips like it was specially tailored and crafted for Jason to give the guitarist a boner. His mouth goes dry, scanning the bassist up and down. The boy in front of him wasn’t supposed to look so damn perfect, the whole thing was supposed to be a joke. A stab at Jason, to see how far he’ll take it. To see if he’s good enough to be in Metallica. He is a replacement, after all. However, James would be lying if he said that replacement wasn’t making him short circuit. And James was also a dirty fuckin’ liar, because the waitress gag was more than just a gag to him.

“You. You, uh. You look stupid.”

There’s silence for a few moments. Then, Jason starts laughing. It throws James off, and he scrunches his eyebrows. The bassist giggles for a few moments longer before shaking his head.

“Is that all you have to say?”

James shifts uncomfortably and looks to the side. Walks in, closes the door behind him, then scowls. Like he didn’t just invite himself into an occupied dressing room like a freak. And he wasn’t! He swore. He only shut the door so no one else would see Jason like this. Which, fuck, wasn’t a great reason either, considering that’s the whole reason he’s forcing Jason to buy this stupid costume anyways. So people can see. And laugh. The only one that’s laughing is Jason, though, because he realized he’s got the big James Hetfield’s panties in a twist ‘cause of what was supposed to be a prank on him. Ironic.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me. Be grateful I’m closing the door so only I can see you. I should be the one laughing at you.”

Jason rolls his eyes. He’s not dumb enough to not pick up on what the situation is, though it is much different from what he expected. He really did expect James to laugh at him, to think he looked stupid. Instead he got that look, yes, that look, and a couple stuttered words when James stared at him like a dog staring at a treat. Jason’s no virgin. Maybe surprised, but he won’t let that show. What he does plan to show is dominance over this perverted blonde who was slowly getting closer to him.

“You look conflicted. Got something to say?”

Jason asks quietly, watching James get closer like a cartoon character floating to a pie. Pathetic, he thinks. He’s supposed to be the intimidating one and Jason’s got him hardening in his jeans from a simple costume like a homo. If you asked him, James was not a homosexual. He only liked girls. That was his justification for quickly hardening in his jeans at the sight of Jason. He looked like a girl, okay? That’s it. That’s the only reason.

But it wasn’t. Because James was inches away from the bassist, staring down at him with a hard on.

“I’m not- I’m not conflicted. Fuck are you trying to say?”

“Well.. I can see your boner through your jeans, but you’re trying to make yourself look like you’re mad. How’s that for a conflict?”

The blonde snarls. That was it. James shoves Jason against the back wall, rattling the little decorations in the dressing room. Jason yells with surprise and slight panic as he’s tossed against the wall like a ragdoll. Really hot once the initial surprise wears off, but he keeps that to himself. Jason’s chin is yanked up to look up at James’ flushed face. They meet eyes, the waitress boys’ gaze teasing and hungry while the guitarist’s is angry and lustful.

“I am not a fucking fag. Okay? I’m not. You- you just look like a woman, that’s IT. I don’t like guys. I don’t like you. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Instead of a reply, Jason forces his lips on James. Expecting resistance, he doesn’t go too hard— but, instead of being met with a punch to the gut, he feels the blonde hungrily reply by kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment for years. And, that’s not true. Because he’s only been waiting for months. Which is, like, significantly less gay. And this isn’t gay. Because right now Jason’s a just a slutty waitress. But, no matter how much James tells himself these things, they both know the truth. Thankfully, James’ worries melt away as they make out against the wall. Jason’s tongue finds its way into the blonde’s mouth and the taller boy whines, hands finding their way to Jason’s hips. It’s an ego boost feeling James fall apart in literal minutes all because of Jason. Jason did this to him. Made him straining against his jeans, begging to be inside the waitress boy. Made him shaky and whiny (to James’ dismay). He can’t think about that too long because everything’s happening so quickly—James’ hips start to rub against the bassists’ clothed dick as he nearly eats his face off with those sloppy kisses. It’s all teeth and spit as they dry hump each other, both sporting a full erection.

The kiss doesn’t last. James is pulling back, chest heaving, face red, and hard as a rock. His cock still rubs against the brunettes, and he can’t help but look at their strained cocks brushing against each other. Jason notices this and looks at the erotic scene too. He silently wonders if this costume will be ruined before he can even wear it for the party.

“If.. If you tell.. anyone about this.. I swear you’re a dead man..” James promises, trying to catch his breath and keep his desperate moans down at the same time.

“Won’t tell a soul.”

For some reason, that’s believable enough. ‘Cause James doesn’t miss a beat rubbing his length on Jason’s slightly shorter cock. Both are impressive. James thinks Jason’s is impressive. It’s got a pretty pink tip and girth that would make any girl drool— it’s too bad Jason’s using it on the Mighty Hetfield. Don’t ask James how he knows this. But, really, it is a beautiful cock, because all James can think about is how perfect and (probably) delicious it is as he ruts against Jason who is now leaning in to lick and suck at the blonde’s neck.

Shuddering, James’ grip on Jason becomes tighter as the tongue on his soft skin glides over him before picking a particularly sensitive spot and sucking. The bassist smirks against the taller boy’s neck as he sucks a hickey into the crook of James’ neck. Probably not a good look to have purplish marks all over your neck after you just walked out of a changing room with another man, but that was a worry for future James. He could always just say it was a vampire. And, ouch, Jason bites down on his flesh just like one, making James shiver and stutter. His hips trembled against the flushed cock below him and he bites his lip to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from his lips. It was already shameful enough he was doing this with another man, he doesn’t need the whole fucking store hearing it.

With a slick popping noise, Jason removes his tongue from his neck, leaving James dizzy. He stumbles back slightly, which he realizes is actually from Jason pushing him back to remove his skirt. The brunette’s fingers slowly push down that delicious pink skirt along with his boxers to reveal his weeping cock, and James swears he could’ve came right then.

“Don’t worry big boy, you can fuck me soon.”

Actually, he changes his mind. He could’ve cum to that. While he’s busy losing his goddamn mind, Jason’s fingers soak themselves in his wet mouth before dipping down to his hole, making sure James knows he’s teasing himself by circling his rim before dipping in. Jason makes a breathy noise as he works two fingers in and James can’t help but wonder if he’s starting with two because he’s done this before. His chest swells with jealously but he’s quickly distracted by realizing his hand made its way down to his cock to rub himself off while he watches his bandmate finger himself. He’s so goddamn horny his body’s doing shit on its own.

“‘S gonna feel so good, James. Just wait a- fuck- minute..”

James doesn’t respond. He can’t. His mouth feels like a desert. A third finger is added. When? It didn’t matter. James’ burning hot desire made everything feel like it was moving in both slow motion and high speed. Like he’s drunk, but really it’s just Jason making him feel like that. Because he can do that for some reason, which is really frustrating. It’s usually not very acceptable to fall for your bandmate, let alone fall for your male bandmate as a male.

But when Jason’s fucking himself on his fingers up against the wall, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat as he moans like a girl quietly in his very much girly costume, it’s different, okay? It’s different. Not, but Jason will have to get James to realize that a different time, because now he’s focused on getting James inside him and doesn’t really care if it’ll haunt both of them for the rest of their lives. James almost seems angry when Jason reaches to undo his jeans, like he’s trying to make himself angry so he’s not embarrassed. Typical James behavior. Typical James behavior is also fucking people till they break, which Jason is a little too excited for.

A position change and a few desperate kisses, and they’re back against the wall with James’ cock pressed against Jason’s hole. The guitarist twitches against the tight rim and he goes to bite his lip again, which does not go unnoticed. The bassist almost wants to laugh again at how badly James wants this.

“Desperate, huh?” Jason teases.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Jason smiles lopsidedly, and James wants nothing more than to wipe it off his stupid, pretty face. So he grips Jason, white knuckling, and forces his hole down on his swollen cock, making them both groan. Jason’s eyes are wide as he’s stretched out and his legs shake and tremble . Hurts like a motherfucker, but damn, he knows it’ll be the best he’s had so far.

James doesn’t wait to prove that. He’s immediately ramming in and out of Jason, trying so desperately to hold back his embarrassingly girlish moans. It’s cute to Jason. He knows the poor guy is in the tightest hole he’s been in to date, because Jason knows himself, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. James can only tremble and watch his masculinity fade away as he’s being pleasured so immensely by a man, no, not a waitress, not a woman, no matter how much James wants to tell himself. James can’t control how fast he’s shoving himself in and out of Jason’s hole and the smaller boy almost feels bad— he’s really falling apart like a virgin. It almost reminds Jason of the first time he touched himself to a man. Except teenager Jason was exploring hormonal wants and James is fucking the prettiest guy around.

The bassist brings his hand up to the blonde’s face to gently caress it, the juxtaposition between the gentle touch and the rough sex below almost hilarious. His grayish eyes look into James’ blue ones, and he sees how vulnerable the boy is. He may be the one in Jason, but Jason’s done this before. With the Flotsam guys. With groupies. It’s not new. This is new to James because he’s denied himself for so long, and despite how awful James has treated the brunette, he feels the need to make the best for him.

“You’re doin’ so good- mmghh-, so good for giving in for me. Good boy, good boy-“ The bassist praises, tightening around him.

“S-stop-“

Jason pants, being cut off by a particularly hard thrust to his prostate. He seizes up, panicking, realizing he’s gonna cum. He’s gonna cum all over this costume he hasn’t bought and, well, it’s gonna be hot as fuck. James must’ve realized he’s gonna cum too, because he speeds up and goes even harder if that was possible. Jason cries out softly, trying to grab on to James as he feels his climax approaching. The humping the fingering, the fuck— it’s all gonna come crashing down into a brain numbing orgasm.

And that’s what happens when James stutters his hips and spills into him with no warning. Jason tenses, legs shaking and eyes watering, cum spurting out of him in thick ropes. It’s almost embarrassing how much he cums, and, James didn’t even bother to touch his cock. So why is he coming like a bitch in heat? And, funnily enough, James still isn’t convinced he’s gay despite cumming in another man’s ass. And liking it.

The two ride out their orgasms and catch their breath, thoughts spinning in their head. Am I gay now? What does this make us? Can we do that again? Did I seriously just cum in 5 minutes? The various hickeys become forgotten.

Questions left unanswered, because all that really matters is that Jason proved himself.

“…I still hate you, Newkid.”

FEMTALLICA

Thoughts?

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜)

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

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

snippet:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

waitress jason inspired by all those crazy waitress bits james and jason had. ok bye.

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

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.”

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

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 - 𝐃𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

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

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

nsfw under the cut :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hey, Dave.” 

The fucker remembers his name… 

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

“Kirk.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like this?” He asks meekly.

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

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

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

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

“You know what to do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me back to your place.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”