Rating: Smut: 8.9 ... bunny and puppy: 2.0
Warning: there's some language, violence, and I like blood
Disclaimer: I'm really disappointed that I don't own Ronnie Vannucci and Brandon Flowers, but after reading this, you'll probably be glad that I don't.
I'm new here, so this is my "hello" Criticism is appreciated, but I'm new at the whole fanfic thing, and even newer at smut, so it will probably be really awkward.
Long after the last note was played and the concert attendees had swept back into their vehicles, the dullness of post-concert depression already slowly and cruelly driving out their sense of belonging and happiness, I decided I’d join my worn bandmate in the activities of meeting fans that had been grouping beside the buses. We figured they wouldn’t leave unless they got a little piece of what they wanted. Brandon of course insisted that he wanted to go meet them, but I knew he was eager to get back to the hotel for various reasons.
I knew what one of those reasons were, but I was getting bored of how we did things. I was at the point where I want something else, you could say…I just started to get curious how it would feel…the other way around. But I definitely wasn’t going to beg the way Brandon does. That’s pathetic. I didn’t want to feel pathetic, so I planned to force Brandon into this. To him, it would be just another way of me showing I was above him and that I could make him do anything I wanted to. He knows he’s pathetic, but he doesn’t need to know I’m just the same.
So I trailed behind him, noting how the parking lot lights set fire to his ruffled hair, giving the stray wisps an orange glow. Fuck it, I was admiring his hair again, so I looked somewhere else, the ground, the cars, -ah, Brandon’s ass. Now I didn’t feel as stupid.
”They’re right up here, Ronnie,” Brandon whispered, stopping. My eyes flicked back up to his head, this time seeing how the lights bounced off his face and how his skin almost glowed. Fuck, did I hate him right now. I need to get him out of my sight. I would hate to see how lovestruck my face probably appeared. My fucking thoughts didn’t even sound like me.
In front of me, Brandon picked up his pace the closer he go to the fans, who by now, had gone silent, still trying decipher our figures in the shadows. Brandon slipped from the dark first, immediately the small group of people sounded like a schoolyard of small children. The stood and jumped, most keeping their distance now that it was obvious that we were coming to them.
”Hi!” Brandon called, his voice quiet and filled with forced enthusiasm. I loved him, but it irked me when he did things like that. It was as if his own awkwardness was being rubbed off on me.
I looked over to check on him, he was getting lost in the mass of mostly teenaged fans. I found myself chuckling to myself at his misfortune and turned back to my own little crowd. It was the usual, signatures and photos, which I really didn’t mind much. So I pulled the usual in some photographs, which was a weak smile and an arm around whoever was in the photo. Others, I made over exaggerated grimaces take over my face, which, they seemed to love even more. They were too easy to please, and oddly polite, so I didn’t have to fuss much. I struck up a chat with the few that lingered after getting their fix with both of us. They looked like they had something to say, but were either too afraid or too excited. So I tried to get them to talk, and finally they did, voices meek. It reminded me of the way I pictured Brandon for later, which I quickly wiped away from my mind. But it left stains, and with each pause, a different clip of him played in my mind. I was more than ready to get back inside.
I felt Brandon brush against my side, a little sign that he wanted back in the building like me. I grinned, bringing my face closer to his,feeling his short little breaths. I knew the distance was killing him; he kept his gaze on my lips a bit too long and even I found it difficult to fight the urge to place my lips against his right in front of these people.. “Alright,” I began, my voice low for Brandon’s torture. I heard him sigh with disappointment as my gaze fixed back upon the teenaged girls before us. “I think that will be it. You guys have a great night, get home safely.” I turned my body back toward the entrance to the building, feeling my pace quicker than I one I used to get out here.
Brandon came jogging up to my side, bumping against my side a little as he stopped. “So?” He prompted expectantly, keeping close to me so that our bodies clumsily collided every once in awhile.
“So what?” I responded, pushing him away from me with one hand, a grin on my face. If I irritated him enough, maybe he would be angry enough with me to do what I wanted him to do to me later.
“Hotel?” Brandon’s voice descended to a whisper, a nervous smile pulling across his face. He did that when he felt too uncomfortable, which is something you learn within 10 minutes of meeting him.
I kept walking, looking straight ahead in silence. Honestly, I had no plan to tell him what I wanted to do to him, or rather him do to me. “Well, I don’t have any plans for the hotel,” I replied, glancing over to watch his face drop. “Don’t you think that was getting a little old?”
He looked around silently, his eyes avoiding my face. “R-Ron…”
I chuckled to myself, making him give me a deathly glare. “I want to try something,” I felt my heart thudding in my chest. Since when did I begin to care about Brandon’s opinion of how we did things? “a little different. Don’t you think that will be nice? And I think you’ll love it.”
”What do you mean?”
”If you would shut up, you might get to find out later,” I groaned. I hated it when he started up this shit. Too many questions. Plus, I needed to remind him that I would always be dominant over him.
Huffing, Brandon threw his head back in frustration. After a while, he glanced over at me again desperately.
”Just wait,” I kept on. Soon, we were back inside the building, avoiding looks from the rooms we passed. If we looked busy, no one would follow us.
At the end of the hall was the room I had planned for the activities to be held. It was not occupied, obviously. The walls were honey colored, the floors carpeted black with large red circles dotted about, a few silver and gold rings around each. It definitely was not my taste, but did it matter? We would just have sex, with probably hardly any kissing or affectionate gestures, then we would be out of the room and back to the normal. I didn’t need any candles or nice music. I honestly didn’t give a fuck. I just knew Brandon was pathetic enough to give me what I wanted, and I blocked out any possibility that I might love him for more than my friend. Best friend, to be fair. Because I knew the way he looked at me that he was in love with me, probably more than anyone had ever loved me. And- goddamnit, I’m about to get too deep and emotional.
Basically, I’m the world’s biggest asshole and Brandon’s a fucking moron.
I closed the door behind me as I watched Brandon search about the room, his body gliding around aimlessly with anxiety. I made sure it was locked; this didn’t have to be special but it needed to be private.
”There isn’t a bed in here, Ron,” Brandon noted with worry in his soft voice.
I looked at him, now he was standing with a leg jerking, arms crossed, all of his figure suggested insecurities. “Of course there isn’t. You don’t need a bed to have sex on, don’t you know that, being a male?” I teased, a small smile on my face. I knew that smile wasn’t the friendliest, and it wasn’t going to ease him, but I really thought he was quite funny and cute.
”Oh…well, you did tell me it was going to be different,” He turned to search around for something else. “No couch…no chair…there’s a few tables?” He added the last part as if he was frightened.
I took my opportunity while his back was turned to grab what I had brought from the lunchroom to use on him. The silver caught my reflection, and I paused for a while to look back at the scruffy, wolffish man on the blade of a steak knife. I drew my lips back as if to bare my teeth. I was still strong, but I needed Brandon to be outraged and angry enough with me to fight back. And the only way was to push him into survival mode.
I gripped the handle of the knife tightly in my hand as I snuck across the room towards Brandon. I got close enough to him to kick a leg out and put him on his knees, hearing him yelp with surprise at my boot hit the inside of his knee, followed by a groan of pain as he fell to the floor. Quickly, I sat on his legs to keep him still as arms shot out to keep himself steady. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding the blade against his skin to let him know it was there. His body went limp and defeated under mine, and that’s when I realized how much it was taking me to control myself from going ahead and doing it the way I was so used to instead of having the patience for trying something else out.
I needed something to distract myself from my thoughts. “Ever fucked on the floor, Brandy?” I growled into his ear.
He swallowed then panted before speaking with a dry voice. “No sir,” He began to tense up again, so I placed the knife against his cheek, taking my free hand to his neck. For some reason, I loved to place my hand there, maybe it was the fact I knew I was in control.
”Good,” I smiled a little; I was a terrible person.
”What are you going to do to me?” Brandon’s voice trembled weakly, though I had to admit that was pretty brave of him. “Not going to cut me, are you?”
I let out a laugh. “Not much,” I tightened my grip on his neck and shoved him forward so his face was pressed into the carpeting, removing the knife from his cheek and laying it at my side. “Only in the places others can’t see.” I pulled his shirt up to his shoulder and paused to place my hand on his chest to support him as I got his sleeves off as well.
He sat back up on his legs when his shirt was completely off, and I was already sensing a little defiance in his attitude about this. My eyes were involuntarily scanning his back, the little bumps visible going down his spine, the little faded scar on his shoulder, his shoulder blades…I was going to miss this view.
”Now, Brandon,” I picked the knife back up, resting the dull part of the blade on the back of Brandon’s neck. “You’re going to stand up so I can get these pants off of your ass. Do exactly as I say. So stand up slowly” I ordered, turning the knife as I drew it back to my side so that it gave him a shallow cut down his back, only enough to draw some blood and send him a little sting before I dropped the knife to the floor.
With a grunted whine, he stood up shakily, glancing at me tentative glance over his shoulder. Of course, he wanted this to happen, but he also wasn’t one hundred percent happy with the way I treated him sometimes, and I’m sure he knew we were changing things up a little more than just having sex in the floor. I knew he loved me, but he didn’t completely trust me when it cam to us having sex. Why should he? I gave him so much pain, even emotional pain. Basically, I couldn’t understand why he didn’t hate me the way he should. What a fool.
Clearing my thoughts, I put my lips next to his ear, feeling him shiver as I breathed. “I’ll take care of this,” I clawed his hands away from his belt, taking my time as I undid it myself. With time, I felt his back getting warmer, his breathing heavier, and his patience drying out. Then, I was flinging his jeans down to his feet, his belt clicking as it fell down as well. My hands returned eagerly to his boxer briefs, slipping fingers down inside of them to scratch his hips. Almost instantly, he groaned aloud. I haven’t touched him or seen him, so I couldn’t tell how hard he was. But he definitely was getting excited from the sounds of it. I knew I was myself.
Letting my nails scratch against his legs, I pulled his boxers down slowly and cruelly. I wanted to hurt him enough to inflame his darker side.
”Gah!” Brandon cried when they were on the floor. His lips were smacked onto mine, our teeth clashed as he gnawed on my mouth to get me to permit him access to the inside.
"Brandon!" I shouted, shoving him away. Hell, I did want to kiss him, but he wasn’t doing what he was told, and I had to at least pretend that angered me. Shit, he had to be so frustrating; maybe I would have to go ahead and fuck him my way. Either decision, someone was going to get fucked hard tonight.
He glared at me intensely. “What?”
Okay, he was so hot when he glared at me like that; my control had disintegrated. I shot forward, grabbing him by the neck and twisting him so that his back was against me again. I sunk my fingers into his skin as I pulled him into me by the shoulders, only to throw him forwards as if he was just merely an object. Stumbling, he fell forward, his head colliding with the wall, creating a sickening sound.
I kicked his backside once again, turning him over with another kick underneath his side.Once his front was exposed, I could tell he was fully erected.
His eyes slowly reopened, but his face was still twisted as a grimace. “You’re an ass,” His voice cracked. “Why do you always do this? You hurt me for no reason, don’t you? Get it over with. How come you can’t just go ahead and fuck me!?” He growled the last two words through his clenched teeth.
”Because,” I smiled smugly. This was exactly how I wanted him. “I wanted you to be pissed off enough to give me my own taste.”
Brandon raised an eyebrow, clearly lost.
”Here,” I offered my hand, which by the look he gave me, wasn’t what he expected. Reluctantly, he took it and I pulled him to his feet. Once he was up, I clutched his naked body to me, pressing my jeans against his erection. “I wanted you to fuck me the way I fuck you, Brandon.”
The other eyebrow went up in shock, his mouth hanging open as well. A couple of noises that sounded like him trying to say something came from the back of his throat before his voice finally sounded in a squeak. “Huh?”
I exhaled loudly. I don’t I could have been anymore frustrated. I was trying not to embarrass myself, but of course Brandon was there to ensure it to be awkward. “Before I change my mind, fuck me. Show me how angry you’ve been.” I growled lowly in my efforts to seduce him.
Paralyzed, his eyes darted around the room, possibly looking for an escape. “I…” He stuttered, shaking his head in refusal.
One set of my fingers clenched his hip roughly while the other held one of Brandon’s ass cheeks. “I want you inside me,” Mentally, I was cringing at my words, but I was about to do anything to excite him. And I obviously wasn’t very used to it. It was really eating on my pride. But, hell, did I need him.
Brows furrowed, he tilted his head to side a bit, sympathy softening his eyes. Did he know how I felt? Could he have lost his pride the first night he begged me? With a pang of shame, I realized he couldn’t have; I forced him into this relationship. He never begged until later on when I made him. I had broke him myself.
But his hands were gliding up and down my side, a sweet, simple seduction. This is what he knew, I guess, showing true affection instead of trying to act tough. I felt his fingers grip the back of my shirt before it was up over my head, his other hand rubbing my chest, pulling the hairs slightly. I looked down at him, and he returned the look with a sweet, reassuring smile. This is what he was used to when he was in charge. But I didn’t like it.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair, and within a second I was dominant again. “Don’t be sweet with me. I just held a knife to your skin a minute ago. Get rough. Show me that I can’t disrespect you like that.” I let go, watching as a tear rolled down his face from the pain.
Licking his lips, he nodded, sniffling a little. “I’m sorry,” He grabbed my arms, spinning me around and shoving me forward so that I was pinned to the wall I had slammed him into a while ago. He began to work on my jeans as I scratched his back, causing him to shiver.
”Now,” he said softly, still nervous. “l-let me get those boxers off…” His fingertips tapped a little rhythm on my hips before he raked my under off with them and I had to smirk. I lifted my leg as he pulled them through the holes, watching him fight to keep his eyes away from my own erection. I should have been staring at his, because I was about to have it shoved into me, but I will admit I was a bit nervous and couldn’t. Don’t tell me that I was turning into Brandon.
Suddenly, his hand was on my chest again, then both of them where before he shoved his weight onto me. I fell onto my back, and though it hurt, I let out a grunt of laughter at his aggression. “Good boy,” I mock praised as he sat on my legs, placing his hands on my hips.
”Shh,” he breathed softly, locking his alert eyes with mine before leaning up to place a soft kiss on my forehead. Both of our bodies were burning, our eyes watering from the intensity. Fuck, if he didn’t start soon. He was just teasing me now.
I felt his hand run through my long hair as his lips were on mine finally, his chin nudging my head to move here and there. I parted first, attempting to kiss his neck, but his hand clenched my hair and tugged forcefully, drawing a grunt from my lips. “Don’t do that. I’m in charge,” He snapped, taking a quick nip to my neck before kissing me again. The kiss didn’t last long before he left me again, and I was about to get angry with him until I felt him scooting up my legs, resting just before where I wanted him. With a sigh, I lifted my head enough to see down my chest, giving Brandon a questioning look.
At first, his eyes widened. When I was in his position and I gave him a look like I just did, that normally meant he was in trouble, so he probably thought the same now. I kept the face, wanting to see how he would react.
After a long stare down, he scoffed, realising I couldn’t hurt him right now and that I would let him do anything to me. I wanted him to do horrible things to me, but I wasn’t going to beg and he was going to stay cautious and aware of me. I dropped my head back down, thinking maybe the anxiety of not knowing what he was doing would be enough to kinda get the feel of how it was to be him.
Without warning, I felt him entering me, a searing pain accompanied by the faintest sense of pleasure. My back arched in shock, my head snapping back up to see Brandon panting with his own enjoyment, eyelids barely separated. Again, he noticed me looking up at him and gave a cheeky grin, knowing how much pain I was in.
”Nice fucking warning,” I gasped, feeling him pushing further into me at a leisurely rate.
”Shut up,” He huffed, pinning my arms down. I guess he was starting to realise that he could finally get revenge for all the years that fucked him until he bloodied bed sheets, couches, chairs, bathwater, and toilet seats. I guess it would be my blood tonight, since I had never done this before and Brandon wasn’t exactly taking it easy now. Was I beginning to have regrets?
Brandon was beginning to pull back tantalisingly slow, giving me the feeling that he was ripping my organs along with him. “Shit,” I hissed, my eyes clenching shut. He hadn’t even began thrusting yet and I felt like I was bleeding. “Brandon…” I was feeling sick with all of the pain.
Shushing me quite, his hips began to move forward once again, and though this time it felt a lot better, it was still stinging. I groaned, opening my eyes to watch him, the funny expressions he made when he felt pleasure. At any other time I would have been laughing my ass off at them, but now Brandon was picking his speed up to a proper slow thrust. Pressing further and further until I let out a scream. He moaned in response, his voice breathy and high pitched. Letting my arms loose, he wrapped his arms around my body, holding me close to his smaller self, reminding me of how he still was caring and tender even if he was trying not to. He was pissed and horny, but with the tender massage he was giving me, there was no doubt he wanted me to feel safe in his arms.
And I did. For the first time, I felt his body and didn’t regard him as just a little play thing. I felt his erratic heart beat against my chest as his lips rested tenderly on my own. His heavy, desperate panting shuddered his rib cage as I pulled him closer to me. A living organism. I was finally, after all these years, noticing that he was another living being. He wasn’t just one of my possessions. He may have been hurting me purposefully, but I felt that he was making love to me, and if I hadn’t told him that I wanted him to fuck me without mercy, he would have done his all to make sure I felt the least amount of discomfort possible.
”Ron,” his voice in a hoarse croak next to my ear. Thank god he had pulled me from my thoughts. “I’m really close.” He sated with another whining moan.
”Hang in there,” I swallowed with difficulty, feeling the same. I wanted him to finish before me, I didn’t want him to see how well he was doing. He had already found the right spot to pay attention to, and I felt the pleasure making up for all the pain.
Brandon sped up, determined to get me to climax before him. His eyes locked with mine, turning me still. Sweat dripped off his face as his eyelashes fluttered rapidly before clenching together. He dropped his head down to my chest, licked my collar bone once before he nibbled at it. He was there, he was just holding it all back.
I let out a grunt when his pressure increased, to be honest it felt good. He lightly scraped his teeth around the area before he bite down harder.
"Brandon," I whispered. His eyes opened, biting me one more time as he stared at me innocently. I groaned and swore, now I was only holding it back.
With a devious grin, he sat up, observing my condition. Oh god, he wasn’t going to- awgh, fuck him, he was touching my dick now. One hand there and the other on my hip. I was surprised in myself that I could hold back. He laughed, not his sweet little dumb-ass giggle, but a deeper throaty laugh. Mischievous, even. Little shit. Still with me in his hand, he thrust faster, and with so much force that his little body looked absolutely ridiculous. And then I was coming, shock waves of pleasure making me stiffen up along my spine.
My arms were shaking fiercely by my sides, my legs jerking. And so was Brandon, with a lot more moaning of course. My eyelids clenched so tightly that I saw bright red. I finished, opening my eyes tentatively to see Brandon’s brows knitted, mouth open as one low moan came from the back of his throat. “Oh, Ron…” he blinked his eyes open as his body came to a shuddering stop, his hands leaving me as he pulled out, crawling to lay by my side. He wiped my mess off of himself with his hand before smearing it across my chest.
After I managed to catch my breath, I glanced over at him. Eyes closed blissfully with his lips slightly parted, I could tell he was in peace, probably tired too. My heart warmed a little.
”Are we good?” he asked, remaining still. While waiting on my answer, he grinned a little, as if he already knew the satisfaction he had presented to me.
“Yeah,” I sighed with exhaustion and contentment.
With a jolting shock, I remembered what I had planned to prove with this as a lesson. I sat up abruptly, glaring at him. Brandon sensed my sudden movement and sat up slowly, turning those big, concerned hazel eyes over me. “What’s wrong, Ronnie?”
Lunging at him, I pinned him to the ground, my body sitting on his as I pressed my palm firmly over his neck, blocking his airflow. “Slut!” I spat, looking at his face but avoiding his eyes, knowing that they would be nearly white with fear and anger of my betrayal. His strong arms pried me from his neck. I sent my hand across his face in the hardest smack I ever gave him, his face immediately filling with blood. I shot up and ran - a little awkwardly - to get my clothes, hearing him coughing harshly as he fought to regain his breathing. Quickly, I had my boxers on, then my jeans before I cast a glance back to the ground, Brandon struggling to stand. Next to his feet was a dark spot on the floor, mahogany in color. Shit. That was my blood.
I almost panicked, thinking about an embarrassing stain on my own pants but then I remembered that Brandon got them often and never had red spots past his underwear, which may I mention was a lot tighter than my own. And my boxers, thank goodness, were black today. Quickly, my shirt was slipped over my head and down my shoulders, I tugged the ends, making sure it didn’t look like I had just gotten changed. With one last look at Brandon, I noticed that he was already by my side, fumbling with his underwear.
”You’ll be sore,” he grumbled in a harsh, deadly voice. I guess I had pissed him off again, which was a score for me. “I made sure of that." Grimacing, I recognized smears of blood along his dick and groin area, which almost made me feel sick to my stomach.
Alright, as much I fucking hate to say it, I will go ahead and admit it.
My little Brandon gave one hell of a fuck.