I Wanna Be Your Dog (OneShot)
Title: I Wanna Be Your Dog
Rating: R,NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own. Never Happened. Don't sue.
Summary: Ville misses Bam on nights alone.
**crediting x_carnivale_x, vagueangel and ecstatic_agony for their wonderful stories that I referenced**
I still can’t get past these nights alone, Bammie. When I’m cold and I feel those shivers down my spine and I roll to you and you’re not there.
I woke up for the umpteenth time and reached for my cigarettes. Our cigarettes. I remember you hated these until you stole enough from me. From what I hear, you still smoke these, too. I smiled as I lit up and inhaled, thinking of you smoking next to me. You would be leaning against the wall with your legs spread eagle and poor posture making those little rolls in your stomach. I would laugh and pinch at them and you would swat me away, trying to pinch me back. We’d end up forgetting about the smoking and fuck until we were worn out. We’d wake up a few hours later and repeat.
I took deep drag, a part of me wishing the smoke would just stick and put me to sleep forever. I can’t stand being alone like this. Not just the physical part, either, Bammie, but I can’t even call you anymore. You’re always so wasted and out of it, it’s hard to even have a full conversation with you.
I remember when we would stay up for hours just talking. You’d pull me to the roof or drag me out to the treetop casino and we’d just smoke and talk. We’d talk about your crazy day and what shit Novak pulled and you’d listen to my boring day of traveling and interviews…then we’d end up fucking.
I liked it best when we’d just lock ourselves up your room for days. You’d go through the extra trouble and climb out the window to avoid everyone when we needed food or more cigarettes and I’d wait for you to come back and you always did. We’d eat and smoke and end up fucking.
It always ended up in fucking, didn’t it? Not that I’m complaining. I miss that body. Lord, do I miss your body, Bammie.
I let this fag burn to my fingers and roll over to put it in the tray, wondering if you miss me like this. I wonder if you lay there at night with that girl next you and wish she was me. Do you fantasize about me when you’re fucking her, Bammie? Do you picture my hands around your cock and tongue teasing you? Do you imagine me riding you and pinching your nipples like I know you love?
I roll to my back and let my hand find my hard prick in my pants and I think of you. I think of that time when we were squished in the back seat of your hummer and I rode you for the first time. The first time I felt your tongue on my cock…
I think about that time when we were flying to L.A. and you sent me that video of you wanking in the bathroom. You drove me to the point of madness under that blanket...
I think of the time when I let you blindfold me and you tortured me with that feather. You’d stop touching me for a second and I’d think you’d left me but then you’d surprise me with that sweet mouth around my cock. You fucked me silly and I paid you back with that candle on that delicate skin. Oh, Bammie, I miss those times. I loved it when you’d take over and make me your bitch. I loved it when you’d do shit like that, tie me up or slap me around and make me beg for more.
I feel my dick get hard in my hands and try to imagine that it’s you. It’s your rough hand around me and driving me crazy. God, I miss those hands and how forceful you were.
Oh, Bammie. I want you so bad. I want you to tie me up like a little slut and make me beg for you. I want to beg for you. I want to be your bitch.
I feel your hand wrap around me and I let out those moans that you love and I lift one arm above me and feel my favorite scarf being tied around my wrist. I feel you pinching and biting at my skin, leaving crescent marks and maybe even drawing blood and you lick my wounds like a dog. I’m your dog, Bammie. I’m your dog and I need to be punished for being a little shit while you were gone.
I want to cum, Bammie. I want to cum but you won’t let me. You won’t let me and I can’t keep my eyes open to watch you torture me with that tongue. Oh, you’re tongue on my skin and I want to cum so badly.
I hang on as long my body will let me and you catch it with that sweet mouth of yours. You come up for a kiss and make me taste it, too. I wince when you bite my lips a bit too hard but I love how I taste in you.
I can’t get past these nights alone, Bammie. I want to be your dog.
Rating: R,NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own. Never Happened. Don't sue.
Summary: Ville misses Bam on nights alone.
**crediting x_carnivale_x, vagueangel and ecstatic_agony for their wonderful stories that I referenced**
I still can’t get past these nights alone, Bammie. When I’m cold and I feel those shivers down my spine and I roll to you and you’re not there.
I woke up for the umpteenth time and reached for my cigarettes. Our cigarettes. I remember you hated these until you stole enough from me. From what I hear, you still smoke these, too. I smiled as I lit up and inhaled, thinking of you smoking next to me. You would be leaning against the wall with your legs spread eagle and poor posture making those little rolls in your stomach. I would laugh and pinch at them and you would swat me away, trying to pinch me back. We’d end up forgetting about the smoking and fuck until we were worn out. We’d wake up a few hours later and repeat.
I took deep drag, a part of me wishing the smoke would just stick and put me to sleep forever. I can’t stand being alone like this. Not just the physical part, either, Bammie, but I can’t even call you anymore. You’re always so wasted and out of it, it’s hard to even have a full conversation with you.
I remember when we would stay up for hours just talking. You’d pull me to the roof or drag me out to the treetop casino and we’d just smoke and talk. We’d talk about your crazy day and what shit Novak pulled and you’d listen to my boring day of traveling and interviews…then we’d end up fucking.
I liked it best when we’d just lock ourselves up your room for days. You’d go through the extra trouble and climb out the window to avoid everyone when we needed food or more cigarettes and I’d wait for you to come back and you always did. We’d eat and smoke and end up fucking.
It always ended up in fucking, didn’t it? Not that I’m complaining. I miss that body. Lord, do I miss your body, Bammie.
I let this fag burn to my fingers and roll over to put it in the tray, wondering if you miss me like this. I wonder if you lay there at night with that girl next you and wish she was me. Do you fantasize about me when you’re fucking her, Bammie? Do you picture my hands around your cock and tongue teasing you? Do you imagine me riding you and pinching your nipples like I know you love?
I roll to my back and let my hand find my hard prick in my pants and I think of you. I think of that time when we were squished in the back seat of your hummer and I rode you for the first time. The first time I felt your tongue on my cock…
I think about that time when we were flying to L.A. and you sent me that video of you wanking in the bathroom. You drove me to the point of madness under that blanket...
I think of the time when I let you blindfold me and you tortured me with that feather. You’d stop touching me for a second and I’d think you’d left me but then you’d surprise me with that sweet mouth around my cock. You fucked me silly and I paid you back with that candle on that delicate skin. Oh, Bammie, I miss those times. I loved it when you’d take over and make me your bitch. I loved it when you’d do shit like that, tie me up or slap me around and make me beg for more.
I feel my dick get hard in my hands and try to imagine that it’s you. It’s your rough hand around me and driving me crazy. God, I miss those hands and how forceful you were.
Oh, Bammie. I want you so bad. I want you to tie me up like a little slut and make me beg for you. I want to beg for you. I want to be your bitch.
I feel your hand wrap around me and I let out those moans that you love and I lift one arm above me and feel my favorite scarf being tied around my wrist. I feel you pinching and biting at my skin, leaving crescent marks and maybe even drawing blood and you lick my wounds like a dog. I’m your dog, Bammie. I’m your dog and I need to be punished for being a little shit while you were gone.
I want to cum, Bammie. I want to cum but you won’t let me. You won’t let me and I can’t keep my eyes open to watch you torture me with that tongue. Oh, you’re tongue on my skin and I want to cum so badly.
I hang on as long my body will let me and you catch it with that sweet mouth of yours. You come up for a kiss and make me taste it, too. I wince when you bite my lips a bit too hard but I love how I taste in you.
I can’t get past these nights alone, Bammie. I want to be your dog.