FIC: Desecration (1/1)
Title: Desecration.
Fandom: Real People / 30 Seconds To Mars / Nine Inch Nails.
Pairing: Jared/Trent also, implied Jared/rest of band
Prompt: n/a
Word Count: 1,324.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: crossover, slash, implied incest, cursing, rough sex, reluctant (kind of not really)
Summary: Fans aren't the only ones who noticed a certain song receiving a light cover from time to time...
Author's Notes: Consider this the start of a possible streak of crossovers, as my muses are happily bouncing around... or rather, bouncing even more. They haven't really stopped since Sunday's concert. So yeah, don't be surprised if some Tomo-centric fics come from me over the coming days.
It was strange after all this time to feel a touch that didn't belong to his brother, or one of the other two. Strange in a way that made him unsure if he liked it or not purely because it wasn't what he was used to, what his body was conditioned to enjoy. At the same time though, not strange enough to make him try to get away.
The hands were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to the roughness of the grasp they carried out. A razor-sharp tongue reminded him of his own, drawing noises from him even when it wasn't on his flesh. Black hair tickled his skin and as his eyes rolled back he absently thought that it felt rougher than Tomo's. The guitarist too teased but not like this, not with such precision and intent. He was broken before the concept even entered his mind, hands grasping at hair and skin even after being batted away, in the end only halted by those soft hands pinning his wrists to the wall. Then he squirmed, mewled, clawed at the faded paper beneath his hands.
"Say it."
"No,"
"Say. It."
His stubborn silence lasted only a few moments before dissolving into groans, then further descending into whimpers. Legs were pinned by sharp elbows and his breath came in harsh pants, blue eyes darting around the empty men's room, the reality of the situation obscured by the haze of primal lust.
A gasp came when his forearms hit the wall, body instinctively stiffening up but then back arching as thumbs dug into his lower back and hot breath caressed his ear. Skin against skin was enough to make his head start to tilt back before his hair was grabbed, tugged on hard to force his head back further, eyes closing at the mix of pain and pleasure. The verbal prompt was no longer needed to coax out what they wanted to hear.
"Christ. Fuck me already." Fingers twisted tightly in his hair but even with the strain in his neck he arched his back more, his own hands curling against the dirty wall as he tried to press back against unmoving hips. The other hand took a hold of him without warning, tugging so hard it almost crossed the line into pain, and his legs trembled before he amended his statement. "Fuck me like an animal... please."
The wicked chuckle barely had time to send shivers through him before the penetration came, eyes rolling back as pain blurred out everything else. No time for adjustment was given, but it wasn't needed either, instinct and impulse taking over as the mind was slow to turn pain back into pleasure. His body moved on its own accord, arching as his legs braced him, taking most of the impact for his hands slid against the wall, unable to find purchase. His nipples grew harder as they scraped against the wall through his shirt and a low groan rose in his throat when he felt teeth bite at his shoulder, nails scratching his scalp. The others were never this rough, not without him expressly asking for it. He was always the aggressor and they took it willingly, eagerly almost. His mind didn't know what to make of this.
A bruising grip to his waist pulled him from his thoughts and he finally dropped his head forward, sucking in air as fast as he could get it, his forehead resting against the wall. His eyes watched the hand that twisted around and pulled on his hard flesh, the nails flecked with black nail polish that resembled his own. It wasn't the first moment part of his mind wondered if he was dreaming, contemplating what he was like from another's view.
Then that voice was in his ear, low and harsh and wicked, pulling him from his reverie.
He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, not when he was pushing back so eagerly, when his short nails were clawing at the wallpaper and their teeth were tugging and biting at his ear, his neck, his shoulder. Release built until he felt ready to burst... only for his hips to buck and his throat to go dry when forefinger and thumb curled tightly around the base of him and the hips behind him shifted to directly hit that bundle of nerves inside him with every thrust.
There was no line between pain and pleasure anymore. He couldn't find it because he'd fallen -- been pushed -- over the edge and now there was nothing to grab onto. He couldn't believe the noises that were coming out of his mouth but at the same time, he couldn't help himself. His body was all but trembling, oblivious to everything but them.
Two sharp thrusts came and then his name was growled, warmth filling him. However, the hand remained stationary, the torture continuing. Wetness on his cheeks was never felt as his shaky voice begged, pleaded for release, hips trying to move in vain. Silence stretched, filled only by the sound of their breathing, and he wondered if he would go mad.
Seconds became minutes before it was broken by an order, a demand that was as degrading as it was music to his ears:
"Cum like the little bitch you are, Leto."
Teeth sank into his skin hard enough he felt it break but that sensation became blocked out by the final, glorious release of pressure, the restraint shifting to one last firm stroke. He couldn't have stopped himself from giving in if he wanted to, and indeed, it was the last thing he wanted. A broken cry fell from bitten lips as his body shook, hands trying to take a hold of the wall, and were it not for the body still pressed against his he would surely have sank to the floor.
He was surprised he didn't black out, chest heaving as he swore he heard his racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. The loss was barely felt save for the dripping down the backs of his thighs when he was turned, a motion he didn't have the energy to want to fight. Lips pressed hard to his and he tasted the copper of his blood on the tongue that intruded, coaxing his into one last searing kiss. It seemed oddly intimate in comparison to all else that transpired and threw him off even more than he was.
A smirk that bordered on a sneer was given to him as he watched pants be pulled up, a shirt straightened and dusted off. "See, I told you it wasn't that hard to ask for permission. Just try to do it before you start covering my shit next time. Maybe I'll be more gentle."
When Shannon found him still in the men's room five minutes later he had yet to catch his breath, though he at least cleaned himself up somewhat, jeans pulled up but fly undone. He met his brother's gaze in the mirror but couldn't hold it, dilated eyes flicking away as his hands curled around the sink's edge.
As his mind tried to sort through things, Jared knew only one thing at that moment; he'd never be able to listen to "Closer" the same way again.
Fandom: Real People / 30 Seconds To Mars / Nine Inch Nails.
Pairing: Jared/Trent also, implied Jared/rest of band
Prompt: n/a
Word Count: 1,324.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: crossover, slash, implied incest, cursing, rough sex, reluctant (kind of not really)
Summary: Fans aren't the only ones who noticed a certain song receiving a light cover from time to time...
Author's Notes: Consider this the start of a possible streak of crossovers, as my muses are happily bouncing around... or rather, bouncing even more. They haven't really stopped since Sunday's concert. So yeah, don't be surprised if some Tomo-centric fics come from me over the coming days.
It was strange after all this time to feel a touch that didn't belong to his brother, or one of the other two. Strange in a way that made him unsure if he liked it or not purely because it wasn't what he was used to, what his body was conditioned to enjoy. At the same time though, not strange enough to make him try to get away.
The hands were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to the roughness of the grasp they carried out. A razor-sharp tongue reminded him of his own, drawing noises from him even when it wasn't on his flesh. Black hair tickled his skin and as his eyes rolled back he absently thought that it felt rougher than Tomo's. The guitarist too teased but not like this, not with such precision and intent. He was broken before the concept even entered his mind, hands grasping at hair and skin even after being batted away, in the end only halted by those soft hands pinning his wrists to the wall. Then he squirmed, mewled, clawed at the faded paper beneath his hands.
"Say it."
"No,"
"Say. It."
His stubborn silence lasted only a few moments before dissolving into groans, then further descending into whimpers. Legs were pinned by sharp elbows and his breath came in harsh pants, blue eyes darting around the empty men's room, the reality of the situation obscured by the haze of primal lust.
A gasp came when his forearms hit the wall, body instinctively stiffening up but then back arching as thumbs dug into his lower back and hot breath caressed his ear. Skin against skin was enough to make his head start to tilt back before his hair was grabbed, tugged on hard to force his head back further, eyes closing at the mix of pain and pleasure. The verbal prompt was no longer needed to coax out what they wanted to hear.
"Christ. Fuck me already." Fingers twisted tightly in his hair but even with the strain in his neck he arched his back more, his own hands curling against the dirty wall as he tried to press back against unmoving hips. The other hand took a hold of him without warning, tugging so hard it almost crossed the line into pain, and his legs trembled before he amended his statement. "Fuck me like an animal... please."
The wicked chuckle barely had time to send shivers through him before the penetration came, eyes rolling back as pain blurred out everything else. No time for adjustment was given, but it wasn't needed either, instinct and impulse taking over as the mind was slow to turn pain back into pleasure. His body moved on its own accord, arching as his legs braced him, taking most of the impact for his hands slid against the wall, unable to find purchase. His nipples grew harder as they scraped against the wall through his shirt and a low groan rose in his throat when he felt teeth bite at his shoulder, nails scratching his scalp. The others were never this rough, not without him expressly asking for it. He was always the aggressor and they took it willingly, eagerly almost. His mind didn't know what to make of this.
A bruising grip to his waist pulled him from his thoughts and he finally dropped his head forward, sucking in air as fast as he could get it, his forehead resting against the wall. His eyes watched the hand that twisted around and pulled on his hard flesh, the nails flecked with black nail polish that resembled his own. It wasn't the first moment part of his mind wondered if he was dreaming, contemplating what he was like from another's view.
Then that voice was in his ear, low and harsh and wicked, pulling him from his reverie.
He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, not when he was pushing back so eagerly, when his short nails were clawing at the wallpaper and their teeth were tugging and biting at his ear, his neck, his shoulder. Release built until he felt ready to burst... only for his hips to buck and his throat to go dry when forefinger and thumb curled tightly around the base of him and the hips behind him shifted to directly hit that bundle of nerves inside him with every thrust.
There was no line between pain and pleasure anymore. He couldn't find it because he'd fallen -- been pushed -- over the edge and now there was nothing to grab onto. He couldn't believe the noises that were coming out of his mouth but at the same time, he couldn't help himself. His body was all but trembling, oblivious to everything but them.
Two sharp thrusts came and then his name was growled, warmth filling him. However, the hand remained stationary, the torture continuing. Wetness on his cheeks was never felt as his shaky voice begged, pleaded for release, hips trying to move in vain. Silence stretched, filled only by the sound of their breathing, and he wondered if he would go mad.
Seconds became minutes before it was broken by an order, a demand that was as degrading as it was music to his ears:
"Cum like the little bitch you are, Leto."
Teeth sank into his skin hard enough he felt it break but that sensation became blocked out by the final, glorious release of pressure, the restraint shifting to one last firm stroke. He couldn't have stopped himself from giving in if he wanted to, and indeed, it was the last thing he wanted. A broken cry fell from bitten lips as his body shook, hands trying to take a hold of the wall, and were it not for the body still pressed against his he would surely have sank to the floor.
He was surprised he didn't black out, chest heaving as he swore he heard his racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. The loss was barely felt save for the dripping down the backs of his thighs when he was turned, a motion he didn't have the energy to want to fight. Lips pressed hard to his and he tasted the copper of his blood on the tongue that intruded, coaxing his into one last searing kiss. It seemed oddly intimate in comparison to all else that transpired and threw him off even more than he was.
A smirk that bordered on a sneer was given to him as he watched pants be pulled up, a shirt straightened and dusted off. "See, I told you it wasn't that hard to ask for permission. Just try to do it before you start covering my shit next time. Maybe I'll be more gentle."
When Shannon found him still in the men's room five minutes later he had yet to catch his breath, though he at least cleaned himself up somewhat, jeans pulled up but fly undone. He met his brother's gaze in the mirror but couldn't hold it, dilated eyes flicking away as his hands curled around the sink's edge.
As his mind tried to sort through things, Jared knew only one thing at that moment; he'd never be able to listen to "Closer" the same way again.