Living In Torture
Title: Living in Torture
Authors: absinthe_memory & trollsttroll
Chapter: 6
Fandom: Jackass/Viva La Bam/HIM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ville/OC, Ville/Bam
Warning: When we said gore!kink we meant it...
Disclaimer: Fiction means this isn’t real... unfortunately...
Word Count: 1600
Summary: The antics on the set of Jackass 3 drag Bam into a world unknown...
Dedicated to: Johnny_Darko who not only made us the absolutely gorgeous banner you see under the cut, but also inspired us to pick this story up again...
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
~full size~
White lights flash behind my eyes, it's not enough... it's too much. This time is so much more intense than before. I literally have no fucking control. My body is moving as if on puppet strings. My hand creeps down my chest... my hand, and I can't stop this shit. He's controlling this, making me do this, and I don't want it to stop. Everything is so much more... real. And even though it's my hand cupping my cock through my pants, it's not. It's more than just a teasing squeeze luring me to want more. His grasp is brutal.
I lift my head back and moan, the part that I can control only seems to be some sound, and then there's his deep voice coming through my lips as well, and I can't tell where I begin and he ends. And then I feel it. At first it reminds me of a tattoo needle digging into my skin. He's trembling... so I'm trembling. My mouth falls open as he hisses from somewhere deep inside of me.
I'm shaking as the button is popped on my jeans and his voice speaks inside my head. Milky and thick, so fucking hot. ‘More, darling?’
"Oh, please." I beg. "Please, please, please..."
My hand wraps around my cock, thumb sliding across the tip, and we arch into it, our moans fighting to get out of my mouth at the same time. Fingers drag along the skin stretched taunt. His touch seems to falter at the smoothness. But as he draws the pads of his fingertips under the sensitive head, my skull connects with the floor with a resounding thump. But I'm so lost in our actions, that I barely notice it.
'Been so long,' I hear him murmur somewhere inside me. I want to answer, fuck, I really want answer him. But instead, all I can do is moan. He grips harder at this, slowly stroking down. I fight the whine that wants to come from my lips. This only seems to egg him on as his movements speed up. If I had any control over my own body, I'd be thrusting into his touch. The familiar burning in my gut blossoms. God, I want this so fucking much. Spreading my legs as wide as my barely removed pants allow, Ville digs his... our free hand into my inner thigh. "Harder..." I cry out hoarsely.
Our hand stops, instead changing into something soft, and he moans softly. It feels so unlike him, but I can't know that... Yet I do. Just the same as I know that this gentle touch excites him far more than he ever expected. If only he'd relinquish some control, I'd show him just how good feather light touches can be.
My hand reaches up, fingers dancing through my hair, and it feels so good. He lets me close my eyes, whispering to me to just feel. And I do it without hesitation. My body hums with pleasure. I feel cut open and exposed, wounded yet loved... a million and one conflicting emotions and reactions battle inside of us. When his fingertips brush over my clothed nipples I moan, praying that he'll get the hint.
He does... he lifts up my shirt, giving the softest sound as he trails my hand up my chest, making us shiver from just this touch alone. 'If you could... would you touch me like this, Bam?' His voice silent but there once again inside my head.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," I chant, words choking in my mouth when he strokes me harder. God, I could forget to breathe, it never felt like this... nothing ever has. 'Never...' His voice catches my thoughts. I feel a rush so incredibly alien yet so completely my own as my toes begin to curl. The scream on my lips goes silent as I cum so fast and hard that I swear I'm going to pass out.
My hand lifts to my mouth and I want to close it. I watch as my juices slip between my fingers, but he keeps my mouth open. 'I want to taste you and this is the only way.' I moan as he smears my essence over my lips and tongue. "Fuck..." I manage to gasp before my tongue snakes out and laps each and every droplet off my hand. I feel weightless for just a second, falling down with nothing to hold onto, and then he's in front of me, crumpled on the floor, panting harshly.
"Please, Bam... please leave before I do something I can't take back... "
"What? No..." I don't want to leave, fuck, don't make me leave after this. I can't leave after this. The way he makes me feel... it makes me wish I was dead just so I could be there with him. The way he makes me feel... God, I want it to never ever fucking end.
"Go, now, Bam... NOW!" I watch in horror as deep cuts split over his wrists and start to bleed and I look to his face, watching as he starts to fade.
But I can't look away. My eyes are glued to the spot where he once knelt until every trace of him is gone. The blood that had flowed from his wrists spreads out and soon is lost in the carpet. And I am suddenly so cold. So fucking cold. The pleasure that had just moments ago filled my body has left with him. I'm shaking so damn hard I can barely roll to my side.
It seems like hours until I can move, until I can get up, and walk down the hall. I don't want to leave, but staying could mean he'll never come back. Making my way out of his home, out of this place, seems to be the longest walk I've ever taken, and when I get into the hummer. I realize that I'm just going to keep coming back.
Orange power cords are draped across the floor… The scent of fresh oil fills the room. This is it… the big pay off. I’ll never feel anything this wonderful again... not at another man’s hand anyways. Oh, there are still so many things I want to try… so many things… I want to have done to me… but from this point on out… it’ll have to become a group affair. I’m already facedown on the bed. Half hard, I slowly roll my hips against the weary mattress just to hear the springs under so many layers of cotton cry out.
He’s testing his drill now. The steady whir tells me he’s almost ready. The smell of rubbing alcohol fills the room. To prevent infection he tells me, and I laugh. He’s kidding, right? Would I seriously protest another set of fingers pressing into me… even if it was only in the most medical way possible? I think not.
He’s got style… I’ll admit that… He revs the drill like he’s preparing to race some old hot rod. It purrs under his touch. The bed dips beside me and I moan in anticipation… my cock leaks with need.
He runs a calloused thumb up my spine slowly until his fingers reach my shoulder blades. The whir of the drill comes to a stop momentarily before I feel the jagged yet oh-so-smooth edges boring into me. Though I despise them, my leather shackles are the only thing keeping me from climbing my way up the wall and away from him. I wail into the pillows; my mouth full of cotton and down. I’ve never felt anything quite like this.
He pulls the drill away slightly then presses it back into me. Jesus fuck… I’m rubbing my dick raw against the zipper of my trousers. I’d love to have him remove them, but I can’t stop and ask him for all the moaning I’m doing. He’s hit bone… and that’s when he’s suppose to stop.
But something’s gone wrong. I can barely hear him cussing over my screams as the drill presses through bone and cartilage so much faster than either of us had imagined. My next breath tastes of blood. I can’t feel it yet, but I know… I’ve just started to drown.
Funny that… I’ve never been one for airplay, especially when it came to water. Behind me, he’s starting to panic. The drill is free from my shoulder and I can hear the man crying. What a pussy. With a jagged cough, I bark at him. “Aren’t you going to fucking finish?!”
The metal tip of the drill betrays his reaction as it trembles and shakes against my back. The whir finally stars once more. And I’m pissed… so damn pissed that the searing pain in my chest is somehow drawing all the pleasure out of the act. I’m not even hard anymore. Next thing I know, the drill is quiet and the door to the room slams shut.
Spitting the linen from my mouth, I turn my head towards the noise. He’s gone. I’m so unbelievably pissed that he left me here on the brink… that is until I try to breathe and the only sound I hear is a wet gurgle.
That was it. Did I know that it would be? Looking back, I wonder… if given the chance… would I do it again?
Authors: absinthe_memory & trollsttroll
Chapter: 6
Fandom: Jackass/Viva La Bam/HIM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ville/OC, Ville/Bam
Warning: When we said gore!kink we meant it...
Disclaimer: Fiction means this isn’t real... unfortunately...
Word Count: 1600
Summary: The antics on the set of Jackass 3 drag Bam into a world unknown...
Dedicated to: Johnny_Darko who not only made us the absolutely gorgeous banner you see under the cut, but also inspired us to pick this story up again...
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
~full size~
White lights flash behind my eyes, it's not enough... it's too much. This time is so much more intense than before. I literally have no fucking control. My body is moving as if on puppet strings. My hand creeps down my chest... my hand, and I can't stop this shit. He's controlling this, making me do this, and I don't want it to stop. Everything is so much more... real. And even though it's my hand cupping my cock through my pants, it's not. It's more than just a teasing squeeze luring me to want more. His grasp is brutal.
I lift my head back and moan, the part that I can control only seems to be some sound, and then there's his deep voice coming through my lips as well, and I can't tell where I begin and he ends. And then I feel it. At first it reminds me of a tattoo needle digging into my skin. He's trembling... so I'm trembling. My mouth falls open as he hisses from somewhere deep inside of me.
I'm shaking as the button is popped on my jeans and his voice speaks inside my head. Milky and thick, so fucking hot. ‘More, darling?’
"Oh, please." I beg. "Please, please, please..."
My hand wraps around my cock, thumb sliding across the tip, and we arch into it, our moans fighting to get out of my mouth at the same time. Fingers drag along the skin stretched taunt. His touch seems to falter at the smoothness. But as he draws the pads of his fingertips under the sensitive head, my skull connects with the floor with a resounding thump. But I'm so lost in our actions, that I barely notice it.
'Been so long,' I hear him murmur somewhere inside me. I want to answer, fuck, I really want answer him. But instead, all I can do is moan. He grips harder at this, slowly stroking down. I fight the whine that wants to come from my lips. This only seems to egg him on as his movements speed up. If I had any control over my own body, I'd be thrusting into his touch. The familiar burning in my gut blossoms. God, I want this so fucking much. Spreading my legs as wide as my barely removed pants allow, Ville digs his... our free hand into my inner thigh. "Harder..." I cry out hoarsely.
Our hand stops, instead changing into something soft, and he moans softly. It feels so unlike him, but I can't know that... Yet I do. Just the same as I know that this gentle touch excites him far more than he ever expected. If only he'd relinquish some control, I'd show him just how good feather light touches can be.
My hand reaches up, fingers dancing through my hair, and it feels so good. He lets me close my eyes, whispering to me to just feel. And I do it without hesitation. My body hums with pleasure. I feel cut open and exposed, wounded yet loved... a million and one conflicting emotions and reactions battle inside of us. When his fingertips brush over my clothed nipples I moan, praying that he'll get the hint.
He does... he lifts up my shirt, giving the softest sound as he trails my hand up my chest, making us shiver from just this touch alone. 'If you could... would you touch me like this, Bam?' His voice silent but there once again inside my head.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," I chant, words choking in my mouth when he strokes me harder. God, I could forget to breathe, it never felt like this... nothing ever has. 'Never...' His voice catches my thoughts. I feel a rush so incredibly alien yet so completely my own as my toes begin to curl. The scream on my lips goes silent as I cum so fast and hard that I swear I'm going to pass out.
My hand lifts to my mouth and I want to close it. I watch as my juices slip between my fingers, but he keeps my mouth open. 'I want to taste you and this is the only way.' I moan as he smears my essence over my lips and tongue. "Fuck..." I manage to gasp before my tongue snakes out and laps each and every droplet off my hand. I feel weightless for just a second, falling down with nothing to hold onto, and then he's in front of me, crumpled on the floor, panting harshly.
"Please, Bam... please leave before I do something I can't take back... "
"What? No..." I don't want to leave, fuck, don't make me leave after this. I can't leave after this. The way he makes me feel... it makes me wish I was dead just so I could be there with him. The way he makes me feel... God, I want it to never ever fucking end.
"Go, now, Bam... NOW!" I watch in horror as deep cuts split over his wrists and start to bleed and I look to his face, watching as he starts to fade.
But I can't look away. My eyes are glued to the spot where he once knelt until every trace of him is gone. The blood that had flowed from his wrists spreads out and soon is lost in the carpet. And I am suddenly so cold. So fucking cold. The pleasure that had just moments ago filled my body has left with him. I'm shaking so damn hard I can barely roll to my side.
It seems like hours until I can move, until I can get up, and walk down the hall. I don't want to leave, but staying could mean he'll never come back. Making my way out of his home, out of this place, seems to be the longest walk I've ever taken, and when I get into the hummer. I realize that I'm just going to keep coming back.
Orange power cords are draped across the floor… The scent of fresh oil fills the room. This is it… the big pay off. I’ll never feel anything this wonderful again... not at another man’s hand anyways. Oh, there are still so many things I want to try… so many things… I want to have done to me… but from this point on out… it’ll have to become a group affair. I’m already facedown on the bed. Half hard, I slowly roll my hips against the weary mattress just to hear the springs under so many layers of cotton cry out.
He’s testing his drill now. The steady whir tells me he’s almost ready. The smell of rubbing alcohol fills the room. To prevent infection he tells me, and I laugh. He’s kidding, right? Would I seriously protest another set of fingers pressing into me… even if it was only in the most medical way possible? I think not.
He’s got style… I’ll admit that… He revs the drill like he’s preparing to race some old hot rod. It purrs under his touch. The bed dips beside me and I moan in anticipation… my cock leaks with need.
He runs a calloused thumb up my spine slowly until his fingers reach my shoulder blades. The whir of the drill comes to a stop momentarily before I feel the jagged yet oh-so-smooth edges boring into me. Though I despise them, my leather shackles are the only thing keeping me from climbing my way up the wall and away from him. I wail into the pillows; my mouth full of cotton and down. I’ve never felt anything quite like this.
He pulls the drill away slightly then presses it back into me. Jesus fuck… I’m rubbing my dick raw against the zipper of my trousers. I’d love to have him remove them, but I can’t stop and ask him for all the moaning I’m doing. He’s hit bone… and that’s when he’s suppose to stop.
But something’s gone wrong. I can barely hear him cussing over my screams as the drill presses through bone and cartilage so much faster than either of us had imagined. My next breath tastes of blood. I can’t feel it yet, but I know… I’ve just started to drown.
Funny that… I’ve never been one for airplay, especially when it came to water. Behind me, he’s starting to panic. The drill is free from my shoulder and I can hear the man crying. What a pussy. With a jagged cough, I bark at him. “Aren’t you going to fucking finish?!”
The metal tip of the drill betrays his reaction as it trembles and shakes against my back. The whir finally stars once more. And I’m pissed… so damn pissed that the searing pain in my chest is somehow drawing all the pleasure out of the act. I’m not even hard anymore. Next thing I know, the drill is quiet and the door to the room slams shut.
Spitting the linen from my mouth, I turn my head towards the noise. He’s gone. I’m so unbelievably pissed that he left me here on the brink… that is until I try to breathe and the only sound I hear is a wet gurgle.
That was it. Did I know that it would be? Looking back, I wonder… if given the chance… would I do it again?