If You're Bound and You're Gagged, Draped and Displayed...
Title: If You're Bound and You're Gagged, Draped and Displayed...
Author:
monimi101
POV: 1st, Aaron
Paring: Pete Wentz / Aaron Gillespie / Sonny Moore
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, connotations of drugs and alcohol, minor bondage, implied cultverse
Summary: When he first saw the kid, bruised but determined, he never imagined that is would end up like this.
Author's Note: written a little bit ago, x-posted to
moresonnyslash
1
I see him across the room. Throwing his small frame into the moshpits, an angrily determined expression on his face. As if trying hopelessly to prove to them, to all of us, that he’s as tough as the people he’s amongst. But you can tell he isn’t. He’s shorter, skinner, and probably more sober than the others. While they wear Metallica shirts and ripped jeans, he wears a tight black hoodies and skinny jeans. I can’t see much of his skin, but I can tell it’s bruised. I can tell he wants it to be.
In that instant, I know I want to help him. I want to make him stop needing the bruises. Stop feeling like he has to be tough. Stop coming to places like this; dirty and dark and thick with smoke. He’s an angel; what’s he doing here? Wait, no. No, because God keeps his angels nearby. Not an angel, then. But he will be. Certainly someone like him couldn’t be condemned. Someone so beautifully fragile.
“Hey, who are you looking at?” Pete elbows my ribs and I winced. “You’ve been dazed all night.”
“I thought you were up there…” I gestured vaguely at the moshpits. He normally was.
“Well, I was, like fifteen minutes ago.” He’s a bit annoyed. “But I’ve been standing here, waiting for you to figure it out, for the past ten minutes. Geeze. If I was a worse person, I’d have your wallet, by now.” That’s worrisome. I reach into my back pocket, making sure it’s still there.
“Hey, I said if!” He yells at me over the music. “I’m not like that anymore.”
“That’s what you say.” I glare at him. If it’s happened before, it can happen again. “You stole thirty bucks from me, last time. I couldn’t go to a show for weeks!”
“Dude, that was ages ago. Stop holding grudges.”
“Four months is not ages.”
“Shut up.” He murmurs. “Anyway, who were you looking at?” I wince slightly. I don’t want to tell him that I’m staring at a guy like that. Not that I’m going to do something wrong. I was just looking… A guy shouldn’t be wearing jeans that hug his ass that tightly anyway.
“Wait, let me guess.” He’s excited. This will not be good. “The bassist, right?” I almost laugh. I hadn’t even been looking t the band. I shake my head.
“Okay… Oh! That one!” He points towards the moshpits as the little angelic boy comes into view. “The emo kid.” I blush. I shouldn’t blush, because I wasn’t looking at him like that, but I blush.
“I knew it!” Pete shouts. “You always say you’re not one of us, but I can tell! You have to admit it, now!” By “one of us,” he means gay. And just so you know, I’m not.
“I wasn’t looking at anyone.” I tell him angrily. “I was just thinking.”
“Right.” he says doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. We both watch the show. I try to look at the band, I really do. But my eyes are drawn to him. It’s all I can do not to drag him out of there and hug him, buy him some food. He’s way too skinny.
“So…” Pete starts. Somehow, I don’t like where this is going. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?” I startle, looking at him sharply.
“No.” I tell him. Of course he can’t.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested in him.” he teases.
“It’s not that.” I say. Of course I’m not interested in him. I’m straight.
“What is it then?” He asks. He’s already starting to slip into his other personality. The sharp tongue and confident walk and hipbones jutted out just so. Turning from the regular hardcore kid I know to a flirtatious, dangerous sort of person.
“He’s not like you.” I tell him. It’s a stupid thing to say. No one is like Pete. He’s completely different from anything.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. “You don’t even know him.” The edge is in his voice, now. I want to slap him, make him back into the person I know.
“He isn’t like you.” I repeat. He doesn’t give kids drugs just to see them fall the next morning. He doesn’t tear people apart for no reason.
“You mean not gay?” Pete asks spitefully. “Not like me, as in, not a fucked up bitch? As in, not someone bound straight for Hell? Not someone who does drugs and fucks strangers?”
“I didn’t say that.” I tell him, failing to sound as convincing as I want to, need to.
“You did.” Pete says. That awful hate is creeping into his voice. “Well, I’ve got some news. We’re all going to Hell. Every last one of us. That means you, too.” He dives into the moshpits, his compact body knocking a few unsuspecting people over.
“I know.” I speak to no one. “But he’s different.”
I left the show, after that. I sat at a pizza parlor down the street, sipping a Pepsi. I prefer Coke, but it’s all they have, here. They taste just about the same, anyway. I stare into space, trying to clear my head. Trying to get rid of thoughts of angels and demons. Thoughts of moshpits and bassists and dirty couches. Thoughts of small emo kids, lost among the taller, stronger people up front. The bruises that are going to cover his arms and legs and stomach and ribs.
Trying not to think about what Pete is probably doing. Buying him a beer, first. Even if he doesn’t drink, Pete will get a beer into him. Talk him in circles until he doesn’t know why he wasn’t drinking. He could get a vegan to eat veal, if he was determined enough.
He’ll keep talking, keep buying the kid beers. He’ll make the kid think he’s the coolest guy on the scene. It’s not true, of course. But I’m starting to be afraid it will be. He’ll convince the kid that everything is okay: underage drinking and drugs and bathroom sex and cutting and even sleeping with him. It’s not, though. Maybe the drinking age is a bit high, but the rest of it… It’s a personal choice, I guess. But still. Convincing people to do them can’t be right. Especially if you know, from experience, that is isn’t.
Then he’ll ask the kid how he’s getting home. He’ll say his mom is coming, or that his friends will drive, or he’s getting the bus. And Pete will change his plans. Just like that, he’ll say, no, come with me. He’ll get the kid to ditch his ride, even if it’s his mom, without saying a word to them. He’ll take the kid further downtown. Down to an even dirtier, smokier, wrong place, and get him something he knows the kid can’t handle. He likes pills. He’ll get some anti-depressant long-banned for being to strong, or something that isn’t anything remotely legal that I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me what he uses. I don’t ask.
And then he’ll take the kid somewhere a little more private. Only a little, mind. A bathroom stall or a silky loft or just a corner of the room. And make sure they have something to remember the next morning. Scars and bruises. A limp and a hangover. Sometimes even a broken heart.
Suddenly, I’m really pissed. I am not going to let that happen to him. I can’t. Pete can find someone else, and he knows it. He knows that kid isn’t like him.
I throw my can of Pepsi in the trash as I leave. It wasn’t quite empty, and it sloshes and fizzes in the garbage can. The old door slams as I race down the street. I know where he’s gone, today.
I shoulder through the line outside, slipping in through the back door. The bouncer sees me, but doesn’t care. He knows I’m one of Pete’s friends. And he knows what happened the last time someone fucked with Pete.
I look around the room slowly, scanning corners and booths. At first, I don’t see them. And then I hear the sweetest, purest laugh I’ve ever heard, over at the bar. On a stool beside Pete is the kid, the angel. He’s flushed with drink. Pete’s eyes give me the chills. I push thoughts of what might have happened had I not shown up out of my mind, pushing through the crowd towards them.
2
“Hey, Aaron.” Pete’s eyes are cold and dangerous. The person I know is still in there, I remind myself. The timid and eccentric kid, full of ideas. “Have I introduced you to Sonny?”
I smile, despite myself. His name suits him. “Hello, there.”
“Heyy…” He trails, and giggles. “Wanna drink with us?” He’s smiling weirdly. I hate this. He shouldn’t be here, like this.
“Yeah, sure.” I sit down beside him. I haven’t drank in a while, but I need to keep an eye on him.
“Hey, my friend here needs a drink!” Pete shouts. The bartender pours me something. I don’t know what it is, or how legal, but I’ll live. I take a sip, cautiously. It’s extremely bitter, and the alcohol in it is tangible. I grin. It’s good.
“So, Pete.” Sonny starts. “Why’ja pick me?” His eyes are fishing for complements. He wants, needs, to hear something good.
“My friend here had his eye on you, actually.” Pete smiles at him, and it almost looks real. I shoot him a glare. “I must admit, he has good taste.”
“Reeeeeally?” Sonny leans his head backwards, looking at me upside down. It’s amazingly cute. I think I blush a little, and nod.
“Yeah.” I gulp down half my drink. Definitely good, strong liquor. I notice a few empty glasses beside the cute emo kid. He’s drunk out of his mind. He probably won’ even remember this, tomorrow. Somehow, that relaxes me.
“Wow, a pretty guy like you?” Sonny asks. He swivels his stool to face me, and fixes his hair. “It must be these new jeans.” He grins.
“They do look nice.” I tell him, regretting it instantly. He’s going to think I’m like Pete, now. “But it’s you that fits so well in them.” I totally sound like I’m coming onto him. Pete is grinning at me. I can see an ‘I told you so’ in his eyes. I’m really starting to think I should get out of here, get Sonny out of here. I drink the other half of my drink, only to find it refilled the moment I set it down.
Sonny grabs his drink, and takes a swig of it, as if proving he can drink, too. I want to take it from him and make him stop. I want to get him out of here.
“How’re you getting home, after this?” I ask him.
“Iiiunno.” His speech is crazily slurred, and it really should not be that cute. I notice his lip piercing for the first time. I notice how moist his lips are. “I don really wanna go home.” He’s leaning forwards and his darkly lined eyes look up at mine. They’re beautiful, I think absently. I mean, I’d almost think he was a girl. Which really, I shouldn’t be thinking about. Because now I’m starting to wish he was a girl, because them I could kiss those moist lips and put my hands on his slender waist and…
“Just kiss already.” A girl a few seats over tells us scornfully. I blush a little bit, and Sonny’s blush gets deeper.
And then I hear a musical laugh, and his lips are on mine. His hands are on my cheeks, and he just feels to small and needy and wonderful that I find myself kissing back, and my hand finds its way to the small of his back and maybe it’s okay after all, to like guys. And if it isn’t he’s not too manly anyway, maybe God thinks he’s a girl, but got messed up, somehow. And he won’t remember any of this tomorrow, anyways.
And then my tongue is in his mouth, and he tastes like the liquor Pete got me, only sweeter and a little bit like vanilla coke and cigarettes, too. And it’s a really good flavor. And his hair is really smooth, I notice when my hand knots in it, bringing him even closer. His skin is soft, as I let my hand wander up the back of his shirt. And the sound he makes as my hand brushes his side, that little half-moan in the back of his throat…
I pull away from him abruptly, taking him in with my eyes. His face is flushed beautifully, the contrast obvious on his pale skin. His lips are plump and pink, accented by silver. His eyes are bright and cloudy, his lashes long and black. The turquoise and black eye makeup glimmers in the yellowy light, starting to run down his face. His silky black hair is starting to get messed up. His thin frame shudders as he breaths, his legs are slender and long, every curve visible in his jeans. A certain curve draws my attention, and I smirk.
“You said you don’t want to go home.” I say. My hand is still in his hair, and I love the feeling of control. I’m starting to doubt alcohol was the only think in the drinks, but I’m beyond caring. “Would you like to try my home?”
3
“Yeah…” Sonny breaths. And his voice still sounds pure and wonderful, even when breathless. Pete is smirking at me, and I figure he’s crashing at my house, too. My family is staying at my grandparents’ house, this weekend. I would be, too, if not for Pete. Sometimes his cursed tongue does lead to good things, I suppose.
I let go of his hair and get up, though not before downing my drink. It is in my glass, after all. It would be rude not to. I walk towards the exit, knowing that both boys are following me. If briefly occurs to me that I didn’t want this to happen, and that’s why I was here, but screw that. Screw Sonny. That’s what I’m going to do. I laugh a bit.
We have to walk a ways to get to my car. I start off quickly down the street. Pete walks beside me, but Sonny is stumbling. I turn a around and pick him up. He gasps as I do.
“Hey… Wassurname.. I cin walk, yknow.” He slurs.
“My name is Aaron.” I tell him. “And no, you can’t.” He pouts, and I really want to kiss him again, but I wan to get home, too.
“So, Aaron.” Pete says, grinning slyly. “You still think he’s not like that, do you?”
“Shut up!” I shout at him. “He isn’t!”
Pete raises an eyebrow. If my hands weren’t full of cute emo kid, I would punch him out. “No what?” Sonny asks blearily. He brings a hand around to my side, and starts tracing words there, his fingertips dancing lightly across my skin. I bit my lip and shake my head. I need to get home… Home.
We get to the street where my car is, and I’m reluctant to put Sonny down. I do, to grab my keys, and I open the passenger seat door for him. Pete jumps in before he can. I glare at him, and open the back door for Sonny. He climbs in, grinning happily. I walk around to the other side and start to car up. It’s late, probably three in the morning. The traffic is still heavy, but not nearly as much so as it would be during the sunlit hours.
“I can see the lust in your eyes.” Pete whispers in my ear. “I can see the way you blush every time you look at him. You’re no better than I am. Worse even, pretending not to be.” His hand is on my leg, and it’s really weird; he’s my best friend. “I know what you want. You want to control him. You want to see him on his knees, his lips around your cock.” I almost moan at the image, and Pete’s breath on my neck is really hot, like he’s burning up inside. “You want to tie him up, don’t you? You want to bite his neck and his thighs.” His hand moves further up my thigh. “You want to see his eyes filled with lust and tears. You want to drive into him, hear him scream. You want to leave him broken and bleeding, crying for more…” His hand closes over my crotch, and my hips jerk up into his hand and this is so wrong, it’s Pete, for Godsake, he’s my best friend…
I almost hit a telephone poll, just barely swerving around it. I look around frantically, praying there are no police nearby. Praying that tonight, just tonight, God is watching someone else. I catch a glimpse of Sonny behind me. His hoody is open, now, and his shirt is riding up his torso, exposing smooth, pale skin. I want that, so badly. Want all of him, want him writhing under me, begging for more. Once again, Pete is right. He always is, I suppose.
4
I pull up in the driveway. My car is the only one here, and the windows are dark. Exactly as it should be. I get out of the car. Pete does too, still smirking evilly. I get the feeling that this time, his plan isn’t going to be such a bad one. Sonny stays in the car, and I go around to open his door.
His face lights up. I hold out my hand. I can be a gentleman, if that’s what he wants. He takes my hand and pulls himself up. He leans up on his toes to kiss me, and my hand stays in his. It feels sort of right. It takes me by surprise, and I pull him towards to door. It’s already open, as Pete’s just let himself in. I wonder when he got a copy of my house key, but I don’t really care. I close the good behind me, and walk towards my bedroom.
As we get there, a familiar song starts playing within. I open the door.
If I cut off your arms and cut off your legs
Would you still love me anyway?
Pete is sitting on my bed. He has a pair of handcuffs. I have no idea where they came from, but I suppose I don’t need to. Sonny smiles and starts singing along absentmindedly.
If you're bound and you're gagged, draped and displayed
Would you still love me anyway?
I bite his neck, and a raspy moan escapes him. It’s really a lot hotter than it should be. I love it. “I think you’re going to be the one draped and displayed, Sonny.” I whisper in his ears. I pull on his hoody, sliding it off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I kick the door shut behind me.
Cutting with the knife, blood is spilling everywhere.
I bite on his neck again; the same place, licking at the skin. His breathing is shallow. He sits on the bed, and I kneel over him, one knee on either side of him. He gasps, and I break away for a moment, to let Pete pull his shirt over his head. I push him so he’s lying down, lick at his chest. The blush spread across his cheeks is beautiful, still. And I know it’s all for me. Pete grabs his wrists and cuffs him to the headboard.
“Ah…” Sonny breathes. “Why’re ya tyin’ me…? I’mna goinnewhere.” He looks a bit confused, and there’s a little bit of fright in his eyes.
My hands are trembling
I can't spare to slip up with this knife
Pete slaps him harshly, and Sonny winces. The fear in his eyes grows. “Don’t question us.” Pete growls. I want to tell him that it was completely unnecessary to hit him. I want to, but this isn’t about necessity. We can do whatever we want to him. Anything.
Pete slides Sonny’s pants off, taking his boxers with them. I sit beside him, just watching. Sonny is needy and lustful, and best of all, he’s completely at our command.
Pete licks his shaft, just once, keeping eye contact with the dark angel. He moans and shudders, his hips jerking upwards. I trail a fingernail down his chest, digging in deeply, leaving a red mark. Pete pulls my hand back, as well as his own. We watch him, smiling. His eyes are full of need. He squirms slightly towards us.
“What do you want?” I ask him. I don’t really care, but I love his voice. I want to hear him.
“I…” his voice wavers. Pete tugs on the hem of my shirt, and I remove it quickly. I notice that Sonny’s socks are gone. “Please…” he whispers. “Please, anything…” I smirk. Anything? “Aaron…” The way his says my name is insanely, unbelievably sexy. I want to hear it again.
“Remember that name.” I tell him. “You’re going to be screaming it, soon enough.” Pete grins. He’s naked, too, now. I undo my belt, remove my jeans. Sonny watches. I love the anticipation I feel from him. I love the way his eyes take me in hungrily.
“You want this?” I ask him. “Is that what you want?”
He nods, licks his lips. I crawl towards him, hold my cock in front of his face, smirking powerfully. He leans up slightly, licks me timidly. “Come on.” I tell him. “You know what to do.” His mouth closes around the head, is tongue swirls around me eagerly. The chain on Pete’s handcuffs rattles as he tries to touch me. I grab a handful of his hair, jerking him down. He almost chokes, but manages not to. His tongue swirls around me, he hollows his cheeks. I hear a light groan, and realize it was me.
And then he gives a deep noise around me, and I can hear Pete behind me. Seems like his mouth is good for more than just talking, after all. I thrust down Sonny’s throat, forcing him to swallow around me. His makeup is smudged almost beyond recognition, and I can feel his hot breath on my pubes. He moans again, and I jerk my hips. He just takes it, takes everything I give him. I’m fucking into his mouth, not even trying to hold back, and one of his wrists is bleeding for rubbing against the handcuffs, but he’s not complaining, not even trying to.
I pull back just as I’m about to cum, and his mouth looks wet and slick and oh so kissable, so I kiss him, and he kisses me back hungrily, with need, making little noises in the back of his throat. I break away, and look down his body towards Pete. His head is just behind Sonny’s cock, and I can almost see his tongue vanishing into the tight hole just behind, and I groan. It’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen.
I place my hand by Pete’s head, pushing two fingers in, beside Pete’s tongue. “Ahh!” Sonny exclaims, and somehow, his voice is still sweet and innocent, even though he’s tried to by bed and getting fucked by Pete’s tongue, his hips rocking back to meet each thrust, his back arched off the bed. I shove in my other two fingers, and I can feel him stretch to accommodate it, and he’s moaning, and I think maybe I am, too, and then Pete puts an elastic around the base of the kid’s dick, and says something into him, and he just screams my name, and it is, by far, the sexiest thing I have ever heard, and I almost go over the edge right there, so I withdraw my fingers, and Pete takes out his tongue, and Sonny is writhing under us, trying to get some contact, anything. And Pete has a condom, somehow, and he’s sliding it onto me, which I guess should be weird, but really, who cares? He lubes me up a bit, and I crawl between Sonny’s legs, lining myself up.
He whimpers and pushes himself onto me, and I really can’t control it, I thrust deep into him, hard and fast. I can feel something tear, and he screams, really loud. And I smile; it’s my name. Pete is lying beside him, whispering in his ear, tracing patterns on his chest.
I am still for a moment, letting him adjust to having my dick inside of him. I don’t particularly want to. And I know I could just tear into him, go as hard and fast and deep as I want to. I know I could, and the thought almost makes me do it. But somewhere deep inside myself, I can’t. I want to prove, to Pete, to myself, that I’m better than that. That I’m still, in some way, a good person.
And then Sonny moans my name, and moves his hips against mine, and I move. I thrust into him, striking something that makes him scream, again and again, and he’s deliciously tight and hot, and I know my bed is going to be covered with blood and sweat later, but I don’t care.
Pete is still whispering into his ear, furious and quick, his words to quiet for me to hear. And then something Pete says makes Sonny try to nod, just barely, and Pete’s hand reaches for his cock, tugs off the rubber band. And it wraps around his balls, and I can feel his knuckles in my lower stomach with each thrust, and then Sonny gets even tighter, and screams really loudly, and he comes, and then so do I, hard.
I withdraw my dick, and collapse between Sonny and Pete, and Pete pulls off the condom, dropping it behind the bed. There’s a viciously satisfied look on Sonny’s face, and a smirk on Pete’s as he undoes the handcuffs.
“Hey, Aaron.” He whispers aloud. “You could help me out a bit.” It’s then I notice he’s still hard, and I reach a hand towards him, but then Sonny gets up and closes his lips around my friend’s cock, and he just looks so eager and willing to please. And somehow, I just want to brake him, tie him up and hurt him, but I’m too tired and happy right now, so I help, swirling my tongue around the base. Pete growls, deep within his throat, and Sonny pulls back a bit, so I take over, trying to get as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can, and he growls again. I wrap a hand around his balls, massaging them, and he comes into my mouth. A bit off-guard, I swallow most of it, and some of it dribbles down my chin, and then Sonny licks it up, kissing me eagerly. I sit back and enjoy the kiss, let him do what he likes. And them the three of us lie down, and I wrap an arm around each of them. Sonny curls up against my side, asleep almost instantly. Pete puts one arm protectively over me, gently stoking Sonny’s shoulder. I smile haphazardly, and then I, too, am sleeping.
Author:
monimi101
POV: 1st, Aaron
Paring: Pete Wentz / Aaron Gillespie / Sonny Moore
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, connotations of drugs and alcohol, minor bondage, implied cultverse
Summary: When he first saw the kid, bruised but determined, he never imagined that is would end up like this.
Author's Note: written a little bit ago, x-posted to
moresonnyslash
1
I see him across the room. Throwing his small frame into the moshpits, an angrily determined expression on his face. As if trying hopelessly to prove to them, to all of us, that he’s as tough as the people he’s amongst. But you can tell he isn’t. He’s shorter, skinner, and probably more sober than the others. While they wear Metallica shirts and ripped jeans, he wears a tight black hoodies and skinny jeans. I can’t see much of his skin, but I can tell it’s bruised. I can tell he wants it to be.
In that instant, I know I want to help him. I want to make him stop needing the bruises. Stop feeling like he has to be tough. Stop coming to places like this; dirty and dark and thick with smoke. He’s an angel; what’s he doing here? Wait, no. No, because God keeps his angels nearby. Not an angel, then. But he will be. Certainly someone like him couldn’t be condemned. Someone so beautifully fragile.
“Hey, who are you looking at?” Pete elbows my ribs and I winced. “You’ve been dazed all night.”
“I thought you were up there…” I gestured vaguely at the moshpits. He normally was.
“Well, I was, like fifteen minutes ago.” He’s a bit annoyed. “But I’ve been standing here, waiting for you to figure it out, for the past ten minutes. Geeze. If I was a worse person, I’d have your wallet, by now.” That’s worrisome. I reach into my back pocket, making sure it’s still there.
“Hey, I said if!” He yells at me over the music. “I’m not like that anymore.”
“That’s what you say.” I glare at him. If it’s happened before, it can happen again. “You stole thirty bucks from me, last time. I couldn’t go to a show for weeks!”
“Dude, that was ages ago. Stop holding grudges.”
“Four months is not ages.”
“Shut up.” He murmurs. “Anyway, who were you looking at?” I wince slightly. I don’t want to tell him that I’m staring at a guy like that. Not that I’m going to do something wrong. I was just looking… A guy shouldn’t be wearing jeans that hug his ass that tightly anyway.
“Wait, let me guess.” He’s excited. This will not be good. “The bassist, right?” I almost laugh. I hadn’t even been looking t the band. I shake my head.
“Okay… Oh! That one!” He points towards the moshpits as the little angelic boy comes into view. “The emo kid.” I blush. I shouldn’t blush, because I wasn’t looking at him like that, but I blush.
“I knew it!” Pete shouts. “You always say you’re not one of us, but I can tell! You have to admit it, now!” By “one of us,” he means gay. And just so you know, I’m not.
“I wasn’t looking at anyone.” I tell him angrily. “I was just thinking.”
“Right.” he says doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. We both watch the show. I try to look at the band, I really do. But my eyes are drawn to him. It’s all I can do not to drag him out of there and hug him, buy him some food. He’s way too skinny.
“So…” Pete starts. Somehow, I don’t like where this is going. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?” I startle, looking at him sharply.
“No.” I tell him. Of course he can’t.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested in him.” he teases.
“It’s not that.” I say. Of course I’m not interested in him. I’m straight.
“What is it then?” He asks. He’s already starting to slip into his other personality. The sharp tongue and confident walk and hipbones jutted out just so. Turning from the regular hardcore kid I know to a flirtatious, dangerous sort of person.
“He’s not like you.” I tell him. It’s a stupid thing to say. No one is like Pete. He’s completely different from anything.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. “You don’t even know him.” The edge is in his voice, now. I want to slap him, make him back into the person I know.
“He isn’t like you.” I repeat. He doesn’t give kids drugs just to see them fall the next morning. He doesn’t tear people apart for no reason.
“You mean not gay?” Pete asks spitefully. “Not like me, as in, not a fucked up bitch? As in, not someone bound straight for Hell? Not someone who does drugs and fucks strangers?”
“I didn’t say that.” I tell him, failing to sound as convincing as I want to, need to.
“You did.” Pete says. That awful hate is creeping into his voice. “Well, I’ve got some news. We’re all going to Hell. Every last one of us. That means you, too.” He dives into the moshpits, his compact body knocking a few unsuspecting people over.
“I know.” I speak to no one. “But he’s different.”
I left the show, after that. I sat at a pizza parlor down the street, sipping a Pepsi. I prefer Coke, but it’s all they have, here. They taste just about the same, anyway. I stare into space, trying to clear my head. Trying to get rid of thoughts of angels and demons. Thoughts of moshpits and bassists and dirty couches. Thoughts of small emo kids, lost among the taller, stronger people up front. The bruises that are going to cover his arms and legs and stomach and ribs.
Trying not to think about what Pete is probably doing. Buying him a beer, first. Even if he doesn’t drink, Pete will get a beer into him. Talk him in circles until he doesn’t know why he wasn’t drinking. He could get a vegan to eat veal, if he was determined enough.
He’ll keep talking, keep buying the kid beers. He’ll make the kid think he’s the coolest guy on the scene. It’s not true, of course. But I’m starting to be afraid it will be. He’ll convince the kid that everything is okay: underage drinking and drugs and bathroom sex and cutting and even sleeping with him. It’s not, though. Maybe the drinking age is a bit high, but the rest of it… It’s a personal choice, I guess. But still. Convincing people to do them can’t be right. Especially if you know, from experience, that is isn’t.
Then he’ll ask the kid how he’s getting home. He’ll say his mom is coming, or that his friends will drive, or he’s getting the bus. And Pete will change his plans. Just like that, he’ll say, no, come with me. He’ll get the kid to ditch his ride, even if it’s his mom, without saying a word to them. He’ll take the kid further downtown. Down to an even dirtier, smokier, wrong place, and get him something he knows the kid can’t handle. He likes pills. He’ll get some anti-depressant long-banned for being to strong, or something that isn’t anything remotely legal that I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me what he uses. I don’t ask.
And then he’ll take the kid somewhere a little more private. Only a little, mind. A bathroom stall or a silky loft or just a corner of the room. And make sure they have something to remember the next morning. Scars and bruises. A limp and a hangover. Sometimes even a broken heart.
Suddenly, I’m really pissed. I am not going to let that happen to him. I can’t. Pete can find someone else, and he knows it. He knows that kid isn’t like him.
I throw my can of Pepsi in the trash as I leave. It wasn’t quite empty, and it sloshes and fizzes in the garbage can. The old door slams as I race down the street. I know where he’s gone, today.
I shoulder through the line outside, slipping in through the back door. The bouncer sees me, but doesn’t care. He knows I’m one of Pete’s friends. And he knows what happened the last time someone fucked with Pete.
I look around the room slowly, scanning corners and booths. At first, I don’t see them. And then I hear the sweetest, purest laugh I’ve ever heard, over at the bar. On a stool beside Pete is the kid, the angel. He’s flushed with drink. Pete’s eyes give me the chills. I push thoughts of what might have happened had I not shown up out of my mind, pushing through the crowd towards them.
2
“Hey, Aaron.” Pete’s eyes are cold and dangerous. The person I know is still in there, I remind myself. The timid and eccentric kid, full of ideas. “Have I introduced you to Sonny?”
I smile, despite myself. His name suits him. “Hello, there.”
“Heyy…” He trails, and giggles. “Wanna drink with us?” He’s smiling weirdly. I hate this. He shouldn’t be here, like this.
“Yeah, sure.” I sit down beside him. I haven’t drank in a while, but I need to keep an eye on him.
“Hey, my friend here needs a drink!” Pete shouts. The bartender pours me something. I don’t know what it is, or how legal, but I’ll live. I take a sip, cautiously. It’s extremely bitter, and the alcohol in it is tangible. I grin. It’s good.
“So, Pete.” Sonny starts. “Why’ja pick me?” His eyes are fishing for complements. He wants, needs, to hear something good.
“My friend here had his eye on you, actually.” Pete smiles at him, and it almost looks real. I shoot him a glare. “I must admit, he has good taste.”
“Reeeeeally?” Sonny leans his head backwards, looking at me upside down. It’s amazingly cute. I think I blush a little, and nod.
“Yeah.” I gulp down half my drink. Definitely good, strong liquor. I notice a few empty glasses beside the cute emo kid. He’s drunk out of his mind. He probably won’ even remember this, tomorrow. Somehow, that relaxes me.
“Wow, a pretty guy like you?” Sonny asks. He swivels his stool to face me, and fixes his hair. “It must be these new jeans.” He grins.
“They do look nice.” I tell him, regretting it instantly. He’s going to think I’m like Pete, now. “But it’s you that fits so well in them.” I totally sound like I’m coming onto him. Pete is grinning at me. I can see an ‘I told you so’ in his eyes. I’m really starting to think I should get out of here, get Sonny out of here. I drink the other half of my drink, only to find it refilled the moment I set it down.
Sonny grabs his drink, and takes a swig of it, as if proving he can drink, too. I want to take it from him and make him stop. I want to get him out of here.
“How’re you getting home, after this?” I ask him.
“Iiiunno.” His speech is crazily slurred, and it really should not be that cute. I notice his lip piercing for the first time. I notice how moist his lips are. “I don really wanna go home.” He’s leaning forwards and his darkly lined eyes look up at mine. They’re beautiful, I think absently. I mean, I’d almost think he was a girl. Which really, I shouldn’t be thinking about. Because now I’m starting to wish he was a girl, because them I could kiss those moist lips and put my hands on his slender waist and…
“Just kiss already.” A girl a few seats over tells us scornfully. I blush a little bit, and Sonny’s blush gets deeper.
And then I hear a musical laugh, and his lips are on mine. His hands are on my cheeks, and he just feels to small and needy and wonderful that I find myself kissing back, and my hand finds its way to the small of his back and maybe it’s okay after all, to like guys. And if it isn’t he’s not too manly anyway, maybe God thinks he’s a girl, but got messed up, somehow. And he won’t remember any of this tomorrow, anyways.
And then my tongue is in his mouth, and he tastes like the liquor Pete got me, only sweeter and a little bit like vanilla coke and cigarettes, too. And it’s a really good flavor. And his hair is really smooth, I notice when my hand knots in it, bringing him even closer. His skin is soft, as I let my hand wander up the back of his shirt. And the sound he makes as my hand brushes his side, that little half-moan in the back of his throat…
I pull away from him abruptly, taking him in with my eyes. His face is flushed beautifully, the contrast obvious on his pale skin. His lips are plump and pink, accented by silver. His eyes are bright and cloudy, his lashes long and black. The turquoise and black eye makeup glimmers in the yellowy light, starting to run down his face. His silky black hair is starting to get messed up. His thin frame shudders as he breaths, his legs are slender and long, every curve visible in his jeans. A certain curve draws my attention, and I smirk.
“You said you don’t want to go home.” I say. My hand is still in his hair, and I love the feeling of control. I’m starting to doubt alcohol was the only think in the drinks, but I’m beyond caring. “Would you like to try my home?”
3
“Yeah…” Sonny breaths. And his voice still sounds pure and wonderful, even when breathless. Pete is smirking at me, and I figure he’s crashing at my house, too. My family is staying at my grandparents’ house, this weekend. I would be, too, if not for Pete. Sometimes his cursed tongue does lead to good things, I suppose.
I let go of his hair and get up, though not before downing my drink. It is in my glass, after all. It would be rude not to. I walk towards the exit, knowing that both boys are following me. If briefly occurs to me that I didn’t want this to happen, and that’s why I was here, but screw that. Screw Sonny. That’s what I’m going to do. I laugh a bit.
We have to walk a ways to get to my car. I start off quickly down the street. Pete walks beside me, but Sonny is stumbling. I turn a around and pick him up. He gasps as I do.
“Hey… Wassurname.. I cin walk, yknow.” He slurs.
“My name is Aaron.” I tell him. “And no, you can’t.” He pouts, and I really want to kiss him again, but I wan to get home, too.
“So, Aaron.” Pete says, grinning slyly. “You still think he’s not like that, do you?”
“Shut up!” I shout at him. “He isn’t!”
Pete raises an eyebrow. If my hands weren’t full of cute emo kid, I would punch him out. “No what?” Sonny asks blearily. He brings a hand around to my side, and starts tracing words there, his fingertips dancing lightly across my skin. I bit my lip and shake my head. I need to get home… Home.
We get to the street where my car is, and I’m reluctant to put Sonny down. I do, to grab my keys, and I open the passenger seat door for him. Pete jumps in before he can. I glare at him, and open the back door for Sonny. He climbs in, grinning happily. I walk around to the other side and start to car up. It’s late, probably three in the morning. The traffic is still heavy, but not nearly as much so as it would be during the sunlit hours.
“I can see the lust in your eyes.” Pete whispers in my ear. “I can see the way you blush every time you look at him. You’re no better than I am. Worse even, pretending not to be.” His hand is on my leg, and it’s really weird; he’s my best friend. “I know what you want. You want to control him. You want to see him on his knees, his lips around your cock.” I almost moan at the image, and Pete’s breath on my neck is really hot, like he’s burning up inside. “You want to tie him up, don’t you? You want to bite his neck and his thighs.” His hand moves further up my thigh. “You want to see his eyes filled with lust and tears. You want to drive into him, hear him scream. You want to leave him broken and bleeding, crying for more…” His hand closes over my crotch, and my hips jerk up into his hand and this is so wrong, it’s Pete, for Godsake, he’s my best friend…
I almost hit a telephone poll, just barely swerving around it. I look around frantically, praying there are no police nearby. Praying that tonight, just tonight, God is watching someone else. I catch a glimpse of Sonny behind me. His hoody is open, now, and his shirt is riding up his torso, exposing smooth, pale skin. I want that, so badly. Want all of him, want him writhing under me, begging for more. Once again, Pete is right. He always is, I suppose.
4
I pull up in the driveway. My car is the only one here, and the windows are dark. Exactly as it should be. I get out of the car. Pete does too, still smirking evilly. I get the feeling that this time, his plan isn’t going to be such a bad one. Sonny stays in the car, and I go around to open his door.
His face lights up. I hold out my hand. I can be a gentleman, if that’s what he wants. He takes my hand and pulls himself up. He leans up on his toes to kiss me, and my hand stays in his. It feels sort of right. It takes me by surprise, and I pull him towards to door. It’s already open, as Pete’s just let himself in. I wonder when he got a copy of my house key, but I don’t really care. I close the good behind me, and walk towards my bedroom.
As we get there, a familiar song starts playing within. I open the door.
If I cut off your arms and cut off your legs
Would you still love me anyway?
Pete is sitting on my bed. He has a pair of handcuffs. I have no idea where they came from, but I suppose I don’t need to. Sonny smiles and starts singing along absentmindedly.
If you're bound and you're gagged, draped and displayed
Would you still love me anyway?
I bite his neck, and a raspy moan escapes him. It’s really a lot hotter than it should be. I love it. “I think you’re going to be the one draped and displayed, Sonny.” I whisper in his ears. I pull on his hoody, sliding it off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I kick the door shut behind me.
Cutting with the knife, blood is spilling everywhere.
I bite on his neck again; the same place, licking at the skin. His breathing is shallow. He sits on the bed, and I kneel over him, one knee on either side of him. He gasps, and I break away for a moment, to let Pete pull his shirt over his head. I push him so he’s lying down, lick at his chest. The blush spread across his cheeks is beautiful, still. And I know it’s all for me. Pete grabs his wrists and cuffs him to the headboard.
“Ah…” Sonny breathes. “Why’re ya tyin’ me…? I’mna goinnewhere.” He looks a bit confused, and there’s a little bit of fright in his eyes.
My hands are trembling
I can't spare to slip up with this knife
Pete slaps him harshly, and Sonny winces. The fear in his eyes grows. “Don’t question us.” Pete growls. I want to tell him that it was completely unnecessary to hit him. I want to, but this isn’t about necessity. We can do whatever we want to him. Anything.
Pete slides Sonny’s pants off, taking his boxers with them. I sit beside him, just watching. Sonny is needy and lustful, and best of all, he’s completely at our command.
Pete licks his shaft, just once, keeping eye contact with the dark angel. He moans and shudders, his hips jerking upwards. I trail a fingernail down his chest, digging in deeply, leaving a red mark. Pete pulls my hand back, as well as his own. We watch him, smiling. His eyes are full of need. He squirms slightly towards us.
“What do you want?” I ask him. I don’t really care, but I love his voice. I want to hear him.
“I…” his voice wavers. Pete tugs on the hem of my shirt, and I remove it quickly. I notice that Sonny’s socks are gone. “Please…” he whispers. “Please, anything…” I smirk. Anything? “Aaron…” The way his says my name is insanely, unbelievably sexy. I want to hear it again.
“Remember that name.” I tell him. “You’re going to be screaming it, soon enough.” Pete grins. He’s naked, too, now. I undo my belt, remove my jeans. Sonny watches. I love the anticipation I feel from him. I love the way his eyes take me in hungrily.
“You want this?” I ask him. “Is that what you want?”
He nods, licks his lips. I crawl towards him, hold my cock in front of his face, smirking powerfully. He leans up slightly, licks me timidly. “Come on.” I tell him. “You know what to do.” His mouth closes around the head, is tongue swirls around me eagerly. The chain on Pete’s handcuffs rattles as he tries to touch me. I grab a handful of his hair, jerking him down. He almost chokes, but manages not to. His tongue swirls around me, he hollows his cheeks. I hear a light groan, and realize it was me.
And then he gives a deep noise around me, and I can hear Pete behind me. Seems like his mouth is good for more than just talking, after all. I thrust down Sonny’s throat, forcing him to swallow around me. His makeup is smudged almost beyond recognition, and I can feel his hot breath on my pubes. He moans again, and I jerk my hips. He just takes it, takes everything I give him. I’m fucking into his mouth, not even trying to hold back, and one of his wrists is bleeding for rubbing against the handcuffs, but he’s not complaining, not even trying to.
I pull back just as I’m about to cum, and his mouth looks wet and slick and oh so kissable, so I kiss him, and he kisses me back hungrily, with need, making little noises in the back of his throat. I break away, and look down his body towards Pete. His head is just behind Sonny’s cock, and I can almost see his tongue vanishing into the tight hole just behind, and I groan. It’s the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen.
I place my hand by Pete’s head, pushing two fingers in, beside Pete’s tongue. “Ahh!” Sonny exclaims, and somehow, his voice is still sweet and innocent, even though he’s tried to by bed and getting fucked by Pete’s tongue, his hips rocking back to meet each thrust, his back arched off the bed. I shove in my other two fingers, and I can feel him stretch to accommodate it, and he’s moaning, and I think maybe I am, too, and then Pete puts an elastic around the base of the kid’s dick, and says something into him, and he just screams my name, and it is, by far, the sexiest thing I have ever heard, and I almost go over the edge right there, so I withdraw my fingers, and Pete takes out his tongue, and Sonny is writhing under us, trying to get some contact, anything. And Pete has a condom, somehow, and he’s sliding it onto me, which I guess should be weird, but really, who cares? He lubes me up a bit, and I crawl between Sonny’s legs, lining myself up.
He whimpers and pushes himself onto me, and I really can’t control it, I thrust deep into him, hard and fast. I can feel something tear, and he screams, really loud. And I smile; it’s my name. Pete is lying beside him, whispering in his ear, tracing patterns on his chest.
I am still for a moment, letting him adjust to having my dick inside of him. I don’t particularly want to. And I know I could just tear into him, go as hard and fast and deep as I want to. I know I could, and the thought almost makes me do it. But somewhere deep inside myself, I can’t. I want to prove, to Pete, to myself, that I’m better than that. That I’m still, in some way, a good person.
And then Sonny moans my name, and moves his hips against mine, and I move. I thrust into him, striking something that makes him scream, again and again, and he’s deliciously tight and hot, and I know my bed is going to be covered with blood and sweat later, but I don’t care.
Pete is still whispering into his ear, furious and quick, his words to quiet for me to hear. And then something Pete says makes Sonny try to nod, just barely, and Pete’s hand reaches for his cock, tugs off the rubber band. And it wraps around his balls, and I can feel his knuckles in my lower stomach with each thrust, and then Sonny gets even tighter, and screams really loudly, and he comes, and then so do I, hard.
I withdraw my dick, and collapse between Sonny and Pete, and Pete pulls off the condom, dropping it behind the bed. There’s a viciously satisfied look on Sonny’s face, and a smirk on Pete’s as he undoes the handcuffs.
“Hey, Aaron.” He whispers aloud. “You could help me out a bit.” It’s then I notice he’s still hard, and I reach a hand towards him, but then Sonny gets up and closes his lips around my friend’s cock, and he just looks so eager and willing to please. And somehow, I just want to brake him, tie him up and hurt him, but I’m too tired and happy right now, so I help, swirling my tongue around the base. Pete growls, deep within his throat, and Sonny pulls back a bit, so I take over, trying to get as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can, and he growls again. I wrap a hand around his balls, massaging them, and he comes into my mouth. A bit off-guard, I swallow most of it, and some of it dribbles down my chin, and then Sonny licks it up, kissing me eagerly. I sit back and enjoy the kiss, let him do what he likes. And them the three of us lie down, and I wrap an arm around each of them. Sonny curls up against my side, asleep almost instantly. Pete puts one arm protectively over me, gently stoking Sonny’s shoulder. I smile haphazardly, and then I, too, am sleeping.