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Don't expect this to be a normal thing, you know, the posting so close together. Not that almost two weeks is close together.
Title: Lover He Doesn’t Have to Love
Rating: R/NC-17 for language and boy-sex.
Summary: Just read, because the titles should explain it all.
Pairing: Benji/Tony
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, at least I hope not, cause that would be sad.
"It's raining," you say, turning your head towards the sky.
"I know."
"It's cold," you whine.
"I know," Tony says, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice. He lets his hand slip from yours, but you reach for it in vain. Tony has already shoved his hand into his pocket. You walk in silence, both trying to gain warmth. The hotel is only a few blocks away and Tony's pace speeds up. He inhales the smoke from his cigarette, holds it limp between his fingers and finally lets it fall to the ground. The cinders hit the pavement as he blows the smoke from his lungs. You don’t like it when he smokes. It makes you think of cancer and dying of cancer and that only depresses you further. You don't speak until you're standing outside Tony's motel room.
"Tone?" you ask. "What is this?" He doesn't answer. Instead he shakes his head and looks down the empty hallway. You bite your lip and don't try to answer either. You let yourself into the room with the key he’d shoved into your back pocket. He stands behind you, eyeing you as you fumble to push the card into the slot. You hands are shaking and you don't like the way it feels to have his eyes boring holes in the back of your skull.
“If that’s what it’s like when you fuck Benj, I don’t wanna be on the receiving end.” The green light flashes and you push the door open. Tears sting your eyelids and you can only try to blink them away.
This isn't just lust. It has to be more. It has to be love. If it isn't love, why do you let him do the things he does to you? You want to hurt him and make him apologize for not answering, but you can't and you won't. Instead, you let him drag you through the room by the hem of your shirt. Words are so overrated and maybe that's a good thing, because you can't seem to form any.
"Fucking," Tony moans. His head falls down to your neck as he begins to lick circles around the fleshy skin. "…so fucking good tonight, Benj," he murmurs. He stands in front of you, his erection straining against his zipper. Grunts come from his chest as he pushes his pants and boxers down. "Fuck," Tony hisses, using one arm to grab your hair. He pulls hard, eliciting a yelp from you. He quickly muffles the yelp as he forces his way inside your mouth. His hands are needy and he rubs them over your skin. And it burns. He pushes on your shoulders and your knees buckle beneath you. You land hard on the dingy motel carpet, scraping your knees. It’s just another bruise in a long line.
He changes his mind and pulls you to your feet, guiding you to the bed. He strips off your jeans and you fall back onto the bed. Your eyes wander to the worn out bed spread with ugly pink flowers. The green of the leaves make you want to puke. No, that’s not what makes you want to puke. He spreads you legs and crawls between them. His movements and actions are frantic. He needs to be inside you. No sweet nothings, no coaxing touches to get you to loosen up. He pulls your legs around his waiste as your eyes fall closed. They don’t open again until you can feel the tip of his dick resting at your entrance. He pushes in suddenly and you respond by arching you back, trying to get closer to him. As if he wants you closer. He slams his hips and you shut your eyes again. Tear drops leak out of your tightly closed eyes, but you breathe out with the pain, wishing he would just finish. Let him get off and get it over with. And he does. He lets out a deep moan as he empties himself into you. His body relaxes, as does yours, but he doesn’t move. There’s still that familiar heaviness that fills you. At last he pulls out and rolls over to his side of the bed, and you thank god. It’s ironic though, because you figure you’re damned to hell for this.
It’s usually quick and painful. Painful; it’s just that: full of pain. You know things have changed. The first time you were with Tony he was gentle and slow. It must have been a hook to entice you in. He must have known you wouldn’t give him up after you’d committed. After that he knew he had you, and he could do anything he wanted. You tried to stop things, but sometimes you couldn’t give yourself the reasons to end it. Sometimes you want it.
"What is this?" Tony laughs, his head falling back against his pillow. He laughs again, softly this time, and he doesn’t say anything else. This amuses him and he congratulates himself on completely breaking your will and faith in mankind.
"I love you," you wait. Nothing. "I fucking love you," you whisper, your face contorting in disgust. Disgust in yourself and everything you are, because you're his lover. A lover he doesn't have to love.
Sorry for the shortness. It always feels longer when I'm writing it. btw, inspired by Bright Eyes and "Lover I Don't Have to Love". Love them both.
Title: Lover He Doesn’t Have to Love
Rating: R/NC-17 for language and boy-sex.
Summary: Just read, because the titles should explain it all.
Pairing: Benji/Tony
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, at least I hope not, cause that would be sad.
"It's raining," you say, turning your head towards the sky.
"I know."
"It's cold," you whine.
"I know," Tony says, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice. He lets his hand slip from yours, but you reach for it in vain. Tony has already shoved his hand into his pocket. You walk in silence, both trying to gain warmth. The hotel is only a few blocks away and Tony's pace speeds up. He inhales the smoke from his cigarette, holds it limp between his fingers and finally lets it fall to the ground. The cinders hit the pavement as he blows the smoke from his lungs. You don’t like it when he smokes. It makes you think of cancer and dying of cancer and that only depresses you further. You don't speak until you're standing outside Tony's motel room.
"Tone?" you ask. "What is this?" He doesn't answer. Instead he shakes his head and looks down the empty hallway. You bite your lip and don't try to answer either. You let yourself into the room with the key he’d shoved into your back pocket. He stands behind you, eyeing you as you fumble to push the card into the slot. You hands are shaking and you don't like the way it feels to have his eyes boring holes in the back of your skull.
“If that’s what it’s like when you fuck Benj, I don’t wanna be on the receiving end.” The green light flashes and you push the door open. Tears sting your eyelids and you can only try to blink them away.
This isn't just lust. It has to be more. It has to be love. If it isn't love, why do you let him do the things he does to you? You want to hurt him and make him apologize for not answering, but you can't and you won't. Instead, you let him drag you through the room by the hem of your shirt. Words are so overrated and maybe that's a good thing, because you can't seem to form any.
"Fucking," Tony moans. His head falls down to your neck as he begins to lick circles around the fleshy skin. "…so fucking good tonight, Benj," he murmurs. He stands in front of you, his erection straining against his zipper. Grunts come from his chest as he pushes his pants and boxers down. "Fuck," Tony hisses, using one arm to grab your hair. He pulls hard, eliciting a yelp from you. He quickly muffles the yelp as he forces his way inside your mouth. His hands are needy and he rubs them over your skin. And it burns. He pushes on your shoulders and your knees buckle beneath you. You land hard on the dingy motel carpet, scraping your knees. It’s just another bruise in a long line.
He changes his mind and pulls you to your feet, guiding you to the bed. He strips off your jeans and you fall back onto the bed. Your eyes wander to the worn out bed spread with ugly pink flowers. The green of the leaves make you want to puke. No, that’s not what makes you want to puke. He spreads you legs and crawls between them. His movements and actions are frantic. He needs to be inside you. No sweet nothings, no coaxing touches to get you to loosen up. He pulls your legs around his waiste as your eyes fall closed. They don’t open again until you can feel the tip of his dick resting at your entrance. He pushes in suddenly and you respond by arching you back, trying to get closer to him. As if he wants you closer. He slams his hips and you shut your eyes again. Tear drops leak out of your tightly closed eyes, but you breathe out with the pain, wishing he would just finish. Let him get off and get it over with. And he does. He lets out a deep moan as he empties himself into you. His body relaxes, as does yours, but he doesn’t move. There’s still that familiar heaviness that fills you. At last he pulls out and rolls over to his side of the bed, and you thank god. It’s ironic though, because you figure you’re damned to hell for this.
It’s usually quick and painful. Painful; it’s just that: full of pain. You know things have changed. The first time you were with Tony he was gentle and slow. It must have been a hook to entice you in. He must have known you wouldn’t give him up after you’d committed. After that he knew he had you, and he could do anything he wanted. You tried to stop things, but sometimes you couldn’t give yourself the reasons to end it. Sometimes you want it.
"What is this?" Tony laughs, his head falling back against his pillow. He laughs again, softly this time, and he doesn’t say anything else. This amuses him and he congratulates himself on completely breaking your will and faith in mankind.
"I love you," you wait. Nothing. "I fucking love you," you whisper, your face contorting in disgust. Disgust in yourself and everything you are, because you're his lover. A lover he doesn't have to love.
Sorry for the shortness. It always feels longer when I'm writing it. btw, inspired by Bright Eyes and "Lover I Don't Have to Love". Love them both.