This Charming Man
I just found this on my hard drive and realised I'd never posted it to my journal, so there you have it.
Title: This Charming Man
Author: Raven
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Gabe/Mikeyway
Warnings: knife-play, blood
Disclaimer: not real that I know of, title by The Smiths
A/N: So I thought I couldn’t fit knife-play in this verse, but the folks in my head disagreed. Chronicles B-side or something, set during the summer of like.
Whatever anyone says about Warped, the worst part isn’t everyone doing each other or no one taking showers or the shitty food or the screwed-up timetables that mean you get to play three hours earlier or five hours later then planned. The worst part, no contest, is that you can never, ever get any privacy to do some relaxed, quality fucking.
Gabe doesn’t mind rough and he doesn’t mind quick, but there’s only so many times you can back up some random guy against a bus and fuck his brains out before it gets boring and predictable.
He gets by, obviously, but it just isn’t all that. Besides, Mikeyway is right fucking there, all the time, all day, every day. Right in his fucking face.
Mikey and he go back a good few years, in fact, there’s enough blackmail material on both sides to rival the Camorra, that’s why they’ve never stopped being friends in the times between rounds of fucking.
Also, Mikeyway has this secret superpower of coming over incredibly slutty without even trying to. Gabe’s never seen anything like it in any other guy he’s done. It’s not like Mikey even does anything, much less says anything, he can just stand there with a cup of coffee in hand, a cigarette dangling from his lips, leaning against the wall all detached and casual and forlorn, it makes you want to fuck the guy into the floor.
Gabe kinda talks to a couple of people and calls in a few favours and he ends up with an empty MCR bus. Which is more of a pit then anywhere else, but it’s the easiest option. Pete’s got the hots for Mikey and is particularly shit at sharing his toys, so the FOBs are out. The Midtown bus doesn’t work, cause William. Well. He’s being William, essentially. He’ll get over that or move on eventually.
Mikey’s the kind of guy who hides in his bunk even when the bus is empty. He’s wearing some sort of grey sweatpants that ride way too low on his hips cause they probably belong to his brother and the kind of t-shirt that will disintegrate the next time it comes into contact with detergent. Mikey’s greasy hair’s sticking out at weird angles beneath the ever-present woollen hat and for fuck’s sake, none of it should be hot. Except that it is. Except that Mikey looks up with that tiny glint in his eye and that thing that’s never quite a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“’sup?” he asks - innocent, nonchalant, monotone, disaffected, what the fuck ever anyone could call that. Gabe just knows it makes him want to fuck Mikey until he screams.
“Get the fuck out into the lounge, slut. If you aren’t naked within the next five, you’re not getting off.”
The thing about Mikey is that he blinks, shrugs and gets up, like Gabe asked for a beer or a soda. Like he’s decided it’s not a big deal to play along. Another thing about Mikey is that his eyes grow and darken the less clothes he wears. It’s weird shit. When he stands there, skinny and frail and exposed, his eyes are steady in a way they usually aren’t and he never looks away if you don’t tell him to. He lets you read him and it’s both freaky and hot to stare into someone like this.
Gabe might be a little hard pressed to keep with the breathing and there’s a sort of growl in the back of his throat as he pushes Mikey up against one of the kitchen counters. Gabe’s never quite lost it with anyone the way he loses it with Mikeyway and the magic of it is that Mikey likes that. Above anything, Mikey really gets off on being used, whatever that entails. Gabe’s never hit on a limit with Mikey.
“Fucking hell, Mikeyway,” Gabe shoves Mikey back against the kitchen counter hard, hard enough that he’s positive Mikey’s gonna have a bruise from it the next day. He also knows Mikey’s gonna twist and turn in front of any available mirror to examine it. He’s not into the pain as much as he’s into the marks it results in, the bruises and abrasions that mean he belongs to someone. Gabe isn’t gonna pretend Mikeyway isn’t a little bit of a twisted motherfucker.
“If you weren’t always flaunting yourself like the fucking pathetic whore you are, this shit wouldn’t happen.” Like Gabe really believes his own bullshit. Mikey stares right at him, but doesn’t answer. Gabe reads the challenge on Mikey’s pale face and smacks it off without thinking. He doesn’t miss the way Mikey bites back a small grin and just for that, he backhands Mikey again, the grin not vanishing but broadening as Mikey’s lip splits and a little blood trickles down his chin.
The thing about Mikey is, Gabe really wants to know. Gabe wants Mikey to get up and walk out, to beg, to show some kind of reaction that isn’t greed or satisfaction. Mikey never does. Mikey just takes and smiles.
There’s a knife on one of the kitchen counters, not your average run-off-the-mill bread knife but something that looks more like a dagger or a prop from Lord of the Rings. It’s the MCR bus, so Gabe doesn’t think twice about it. He wouldn’t put it past Gerard to keep a pet dragon in the pantry, so.
He reaches over to grab the knife and sees Mikey’s eyes following the motion. He quirks a smile at Mikey who’s staring at him, maybe looking a little worried.
“Yeah, like you’d complain, whore. I could fuck you with it and you’d beg for more.”
Mikey doesn’t argue, arches his back instead and lets his head roll back, his hips still pinned to the counter, his neck stretched and long and pale and so very fucking inviting. Gabe traces the blade over the skin of Mikey’s throat, careful not to break the skin. Not just yet, anyway. He brings it down over the sharp collarbones and then angles it slightly, sharper against the skin of Mikey’s chest, leaving a thin, red line that’s not quite bleeding. Again, not just yet.
Mikey’s aching hard against Gabe’s hips and Gabe keeps grinding lazily as he lets the metal do the rest of the job, exploring and mapping every protruding bone, every inch of white skin. He’s dead careful around the more sensitive parts, obviously. Even Gabe can’t justify cutting a dude’s dick off, no matter how much Mikey might seem to be begging to be taken to apparently non-existent limits.
Judging by the helpless, shaky little whimpers, Mikey’s having a good time as it is, anyway so maybe they can save the decapitating thing for later. Gabe doesn’t warn Mikey before spinning him round, pressing him down and running the blade down right next to Mikey’s spine, not tracing or teasing this time, but cutting. For real. He watches as little drops form all along the wound, as the line gradually broadens and the drops start blurring into each other, covering the white edges of parted skin and then pearling down Mikey’s back like a drop of rain runs down a window.
He pauses, stunned by the beauty of the display, staring at the small river of blood on trembling canvas, absorbing the fact that holy shit, I just did that. He let me. It actually is a pretty big deal, the high he gets from that.
Mikey? Mikey shakes and there are goose-bumps all over his skin and he doesn’t make a sound. Gabe knows Mikey’s good. Gabe knows Mikey wants exactly that. Mikey craves going under like no one else Gabe’s ever done. The next cut is slower, more deliberate and slightly deeper, running along down the other side of Mikey’s spine, the effect of red blood on white skin just as captivating as the first time.
Gabe needs to force himself to leave it at that if he’s gonna be honest about it. He could watch in fascination as he gradually filets Mikeyway, who’d probably still be hard and not making a sound and enjoying it. Someone’s gotta step up and be sensible and Gabe knows there’s no way it can be Mikeyway.
Well, sensible as in not cutting Mikey into bite-sized pieces, at least. He manages to find a condom while the knife’s still resting against Mikey’s skin, lower now, pointing at the crack of his tiny, firm ass. He manages to keep it there while he somehow fumbles his pants down, tears the wrapper of the condom open with his teeth and rolls the fucking thing on, all of which seems to take too much time and effort, but Mikey still hasn’t moved.
He brings the hand holding the knife around to Mikey’s neck, pressing the flat side of cold metal against the skin.
“Don’t fucking move, bitch.” Then, he proceeds with what he came here to do and fucks Mikey. Like, a lot. Just the way Mikey likes, which means the guy isn’t gonna walk normally for about three days. He feels the strain of Mikey’s skin under the blade and presses down just a little, not stupidly, just a friendly reminder that he’s pretty much just raping Mikey at knife-point. He isn’t surprised when Mikey clenches around him with a small sob and comes just as Gabe feels the skin break.
He manages another couple of thrusts before giving in and riding his orgasm out, letting go of the knife so he can slam Mikey’s hips back on his dick.
When he pulls out, he finds himself staring at the smears of blood all over Mikey’s back and for a split second, he wonders if he should apologize. If he should ask. If. He doesn’t. He helps Mikey back to his feet and Mikey smiles that quarter of a smile and Gabe knows he doesn’t need to.
Title: This Charming Man
Author: Raven
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Gabe/Mikeyway
Warnings: knife-play, blood
Disclaimer: not real that I know of, title by The Smiths
A/N: So I thought I couldn’t fit knife-play in this verse, but the folks in my head disagreed. Chronicles B-side or something, set during the summer of like.
Whatever anyone says about Warped, the worst part isn’t everyone doing each other or no one taking showers or the shitty food or the screwed-up timetables that mean you get to play three hours earlier or five hours later then planned. The worst part, no contest, is that you can never, ever get any privacy to do some relaxed, quality fucking.
Gabe doesn’t mind rough and he doesn’t mind quick, but there’s only so many times you can back up some random guy against a bus and fuck his brains out before it gets boring and predictable.
He gets by, obviously, but it just isn’t all that. Besides, Mikeyway is right fucking there, all the time, all day, every day. Right in his fucking face.
Mikey and he go back a good few years, in fact, there’s enough blackmail material on both sides to rival the Camorra, that’s why they’ve never stopped being friends in the times between rounds of fucking.
Also, Mikeyway has this secret superpower of coming over incredibly slutty without even trying to. Gabe’s never seen anything like it in any other guy he’s done. It’s not like Mikey even does anything, much less says anything, he can just stand there with a cup of coffee in hand, a cigarette dangling from his lips, leaning against the wall all detached and casual and forlorn, it makes you want to fuck the guy into the floor.
Gabe kinda talks to a couple of people and calls in a few favours and he ends up with an empty MCR bus. Which is more of a pit then anywhere else, but it’s the easiest option. Pete’s got the hots for Mikey and is particularly shit at sharing his toys, so the FOBs are out. The Midtown bus doesn’t work, cause William. Well. He’s being William, essentially. He’ll get over that or move on eventually.
Mikey’s the kind of guy who hides in his bunk even when the bus is empty. He’s wearing some sort of grey sweatpants that ride way too low on his hips cause they probably belong to his brother and the kind of t-shirt that will disintegrate the next time it comes into contact with detergent. Mikey’s greasy hair’s sticking out at weird angles beneath the ever-present woollen hat and for fuck’s sake, none of it should be hot. Except that it is. Except that Mikey looks up with that tiny glint in his eye and that thing that’s never quite a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“’sup?” he asks - innocent, nonchalant, monotone, disaffected, what the fuck ever anyone could call that. Gabe just knows it makes him want to fuck Mikey until he screams.
“Get the fuck out into the lounge, slut. If you aren’t naked within the next five, you’re not getting off.”
The thing about Mikey is that he blinks, shrugs and gets up, like Gabe asked for a beer or a soda. Like he’s decided it’s not a big deal to play along. Another thing about Mikey is that his eyes grow and darken the less clothes he wears. It’s weird shit. When he stands there, skinny and frail and exposed, his eyes are steady in a way they usually aren’t and he never looks away if you don’t tell him to. He lets you read him and it’s both freaky and hot to stare into someone like this.
Gabe might be a little hard pressed to keep with the breathing and there’s a sort of growl in the back of his throat as he pushes Mikey up against one of the kitchen counters. Gabe’s never quite lost it with anyone the way he loses it with Mikeyway and the magic of it is that Mikey likes that. Above anything, Mikey really gets off on being used, whatever that entails. Gabe’s never hit on a limit with Mikey.
“Fucking hell, Mikeyway,” Gabe shoves Mikey back against the kitchen counter hard, hard enough that he’s positive Mikey’s gonna have a bruise from it the next day. He also knows Mikey’s gonna twist and turn in front of any available mirror to examine it. He’s not into the pain as much as he’s into the marks it results in, the bruises and abrasions that mean he belongs to someone. Gabe isn’t gonna pretend Mikeyway isn’t a little bit of a twisted motherfucker.
“If you weren’t always flaunting yourself like the fucking pathetic whore you are, this shit wouldn’t happen.” Like Gabe really believes his own bullshit. Mikey stares right at him, but doesn’t answer. Gabe reads the challenge on Mikey’s pale face and smacks it off without thinking. He doesn’t miss the way Mikey bites back a small grin and just for that, he backhands Mikey again, the grin not vanishing but broadening as Mikey’s lip splits and a little blood trickles down his chin.
The thing about Mikey is, Gabe really wants to know. Gabe wants Mikey to get up and walk out, to beg, to show some kind of reaction that isn’t greed or satisfaction. Mikey never does. Mikey just takes and smiles.
There’s a knife on one of the kitchen counters, not your average run-off-the-mill bread knife but something that looks more like a dagger or a prop from Lord of the Rings. It’s the MCR bus, so Gabe doesn’t think twice about it. He wouldn’t put it past Gerard to keep a pet dragon in the pantry, so.
He reaches over to grab the knife and sees Mikey’s eyes following the motion. He quirks a smile at Mikey who’s staring at him, maybe looking a little worried.
“Yeah, like you’d complain, whore. I could fuck you with it and you’d beg for more.”
Mikey doesn’t argue, arches his back instead and lets his head roll back, his hips still pinned to the counter, his neck stretched and long and pale and so very fucking inviting. Gabe traces the blade over the skin of Mikey’s throat, careful not to break the skin. Not just yet, anyway. He brings it down over the sharp collarbones and then angles it slightly, sharper against the skin of Mikey’s chest, leaving a thin, red line that’s not quite bleeding. Again, not just yet.
Mikey’s aching hard against Gabe’s hips and Gabe keeps grinding lazily as he lets the metal do the rest of the job, exploring and mapping every protruding bone, every inch of white skin. He’s dead careful around the more sensitive parts, obviously. Even Gabe can’t justify cutting a dude’s dick off, no matter how much Mikey might seem to be begging to be taken to apparently non-existent limits.
Judging by the helpless, shaky little whimpers, Mikey’s having a good time as it is, anyway so maybe they can save the decapitating thing for later. Gabe doesn’t warn Mikey before spinning him round, pressing him down and running the blade down right next to Mikey’s spine, not tracing or teasing this time, but cutting. For real. He watches as little drops form all along the wound, as the line gradually broadens and the drops start blurring into each other, covering the white edges of parted skin and then pearling down Mikey’s back like a drop of rain runs down a window.
He pauses, stunned by the beauty of the display, staring at the small river of blood on trembling canvas, absorbing the fact that holy shit, I just did that. He let me. It actually is a pretty big deal, the high he gets from that.
Mikey? Mikey shakes and there are goose-bumps all over his skin and he doesn’t make a sound. Gabe knows Mikey’s good. Gabe knows Mikey wants exactly that. Mikey craves going under like no one else Gabe’s ever done. The next cut is slower, more deliberate and slightly deeper, running along down the other side of Mikey’s spine, the effect of red blood on white skin just as captivating as the first time.
Gabe needs to force himself to leave it at that if he’s gonna be honest about it. He could watch in fascination as he gradually filets Mikeyway, who’d probably still be hard and not making a sound and enjoying it. Someone’s gotta step up and be sensible and Gabe knows there’s no way it can be Mikeyway.
Well, sensible as in not cutting Mikey into bite-sized pieces, at least. He manages to find a condom while the knife’s still resting against Mikey’s skin, lower now, pointing at the crack of his tiny, firm ass. He manages to keep it there while he somehow fumbles his pants down, tears the wrapper of the condom open with his teeth and rolls the fucking thing on, all of which seems to take too much time and effort, but Mikey still hasn’t moved.
He brings the hand holding the knife around to Mikey’s neck, pressing the flat side of cold metal against the skin.
“Don’t fucking move, bitch.” Then, he proceeds with what he came here to do and fucks Mikey. Like, a lot. Just the way Mikey likes, which means the guy isn’t gonna walk normally for about three days. He feels the strain of Mikey’s skin under the blade and presses down just a little, not stupidly, just a friendly reminder that he’s pretty much just raping Mikey at knife-point. He isn’t surprised when Mikey clenches around him with a small sob and comes just as Gabe feels the skin break.
He manages another couple of thrusts before giving in and riding his orgasm out, letting go of the knife so he can slam Mikey’s hips back on his dick.
When he pulls out, he finds himself staring at the smears of blood all over Mikey’s back and for a split second, he wonders if he should apologize. If he should ask. If. He doesn’t. He helps Mikey back to his feet and Mikey smiles that quarter of a smile and Gabe knows he doesn’t need to.