Do You Want Bitten?
Dec. 29th, 2021 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rage_rekkerSmut prompt #34. "I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”
The bitch of a singer had been teasing for hours. It had started while Rekker was trying to practice the new song they were adding to thier set. Pulls on his hair, a rogue kiss, but the hand that slid around from behind and under his guitar was too much. He could play aroused but this was too much. The Brit was panting, unfocused and hunting for Bjorn.
People thought he was angry but this wasn't anger though Bjorn often called it rage. It felt like rage, wild and hot under his skin but this was want gone out of control. He came into thier shared room like a hurricane, slamming the door behind him as he threw the bolt on the door. He didn't want bothered and knew if anyone came in on him like this he might fight.
"Bjorn?" His voice was little more than a growl when the singer appeared. He was messing with his hair, hairspray stinking up the room but Rekker didn't care. He snatched the can and threw it somewhere into the room while shoving his lover against the wall.
"Is something wrong babe?"
Rekker snarled at the innocent act because he could see the smirk plastered on the Swede's face. He knew exactly what he had been doing all day. The Brit took a kiss, shoving his hips into the singer to pin him to the wall. He couldn't stop growling and Bjorn yelped from how hard his ass was grabbed. Rekker all but lost his mind when he felt Bjorn's hands down between them, working one of the bullets out of his belt so it fell to the ground. Then those painted fingers were unbuttoning his pants. Rekker bit the side of Bjorn's neck and got another yelp of pleasure pain from the Swede.
"Fuck! I'm going to pound your ass, you little bitch." He was threatening but Bjorn slipped away, down to his knees. All the Brit could do is moan and turn to put his back to the wall. He knew what the whore of a singer was up to. He couldn't keep those pouty, pink, glossy lips off the ginger's cock and Rekker loved it.
As soon as he could get a hold, the guitarist had Bjorn's blonde hair in fistfuls that ruined all the work he had been doing when Rekker found him. The little bitch pulled back against his grip.
"You're a needy fucking bastard."
The Swede was right he was needy and he growled. "It's your fucking fault."
All other words were cut off by the gasp when those perfect lips slipped around his cock. Rekker gave in. This was one of the only moments anyone got control of him, the only moment he wasn't the absolute authority in his surroundings. It felt so good that he snarled through clenched teeth, yanking rhythmically on Bjorn's teased hair. He wanted it faster, for him to suck harder. The Brit spread his legs farther and leaned heavily into the wall as Bjorn's soft hands slid under his partially untucked tee shirt.
Rekker knew what was coming and sucked in a ragged breath from anticipation just before the nails dug into his chest. He felt the blood prick up as they clawed down his torso. It got a cry of pain from the guitarist before it faded into a growl of ecstacy. That broke his resolve and patience. Those nails driving him to fuck his lover's mouth and shoving in to full his pretty mouth with cum.
Slowly, Rekker relaxed, gasping for air as he finally let go of Bjorn's hair to push his own out of his face. "Fuck."
He could hear Bjorn giggling and his hands sliding up the Brit's legs as he stood back up. The trashy bastard loved pushing until Rekker broke, the Brit knew it. Knew his lover wanted him growling and animalistic but he would never say no to it.
"You're a hot ginger bastard."
Rekker laughed into that kiss while staring at Bjorn's wild hair and smudged make up. He'd probably bitch about it when he got to a mirror but neither of them took that seriously. He slipped his hands around to grab Bjorn's hips.
"I locked the door." He growled into the singer's ear, watching his gaze move to the door. "I hope you don't like what you're wearing."
He didn't give Bjorn time to react before he grabbed the tank top he was wearing and ripped the front open. The Swede giggled at the growl and roughness. No doubt, this was what he wanted and Rekker knew, sometimes, despite appearances the Swede was the one in charge by stirring up the Brit until he lost control.
The bitch of a singer had been teasing for hours. It had started while Rekker was trying to practice the new song they were adding to thier set. Pulls on his hair, a rogue kiss, but the hand that slid around from behind and under his guitar was too much. He could play aroused but this was too much. The Brit was panting, unfocused and hunting for Bjorn.
People thought he was angry but this wasn't anger though Bjorn often called it rage. It felt like rage, wild and hot under his skin but this was want gone out of control. He came into thier shared room like a hurricane, slamming the door behind him as he threw the bolt on the door. He didn't want bothered and knew if anyone came in on him like this he might fight.
"Bjorn?" His voice was little more than a growl when the singer appeared. He was messing with his hair, hairspray stinking up the room but Rekker didn't care. He snatched the can and threw it somewhere into the room while shoving his lover against the wall.
"Is something wrong babe?"
Rekker snarled at the innocent act because he could see the smirk plastered on the Swede's face. He knew exactly what he had been doing all day. The Brit took a kiss, shoving his hips into the singer to pin him to the wall. He couldn't stop growling and Bjorn yelped from how hard his ass was grabbed. Rekker all but lost his mind when he felt Bjorn's hands down between them, working one of the bullets out of his belt so it fell to the ground. Then those painted fingers were unbuttoning his pants. Rekker bit the side of Bjorn's neck and got another yelp of pleasure pain from the Swede.
"Fuck! I'm going to pound your ass, you little bitch." He was threatening but Bjorn slipped away, down to his knees. All the Brit could do is moan and turn to put his back to the wall. He knew what the whore of a singer was up to. He couldn't keep those pouty, pink, glossy lips off the ginger's cock and Rekker loved it.
As soon as he could get a hold, the guitarist had Bjorn's blonde hair in fistfuls that ruined all the work he had been doing when Rekker found him. The little bitch pulled back against his grip.
"You're a needy fucking bastard."
The Swede was right he was needy and he growled. "It's your fucking fault."
All other words were cut off by the gasp when those perfect lips slipped around his cock. Rekker gave in. This was one of the only moments anyone got control of him, the only moment he wasn't the absolute authority in his surroundings. It felt so good that he snarled through clenched teeth, yanking rhythmically on Bjorn's teased hair. He wanted it faster, for him to suck harder. The Brit spread his legs farther and leaned heavily into the wall as Bjorn's soft hands slid under his partially untucked tee shirt.
Rekker knew what was coming and sucked in a ragged breath from anticipation just before the nails dug into his chest. He felt the blood prick up as they clawed down his torso. It got a cry of pain from the guitarist before it faded into a growl of ecstacy. That broke his resolve and patience. Those nails driving him to fuck his lover's mouth and shoving in to full his pretty mouth with cum.
Slowly, Rekker relaxed, gasping for air as he finally let go of Bjorn's hair to push his own out of his face. "Fuck."
He could hear Bjorn giggling and his hands sliding up the Brit's legs as he stood back up. The trashy bastard loved pushing until Rekker broke, the Brit knew it. Knew his lover wanted him growling and animalistic but he would never say no to it.
"You're a hot ginger bastard."
Rekker laughed into that kiss while staring at Bjorn's wild hair and smudged make up. He'd probably bitch about it when he got to a mirror but neither of them took that seriously. He slipped his hands around to grab Bjorn's hips.
"I locked the door." He growled into the singer's ear, watching his gaze move to the door. "I hope you don't like what you're wearing."
He didn't give Bjorn time to react before he grabbed the tank top he was wearing and ripped the front open. The Swede giggled at the growl and roughness. No doubt, this was what he wanted and Rekker knew, sometimes, despite appearances the Swede was the one in charge by stirring up the Brit until he lost control.
