Wut Will Nicht Sterben
Zac
For a moment, he’s frozen, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, too shocked to turn his head. His usually porcelain complexion seems even paler compared to the dark red mark I’ve left. I’m surprised as well, but the power I feel is a strange high. It feels good to shut him up, to literally smack the smartass grin off his pretty lips. When he finally meets my eyes, he’s like a completely different person. Gone is the arrogance, the vanity, the smug confidence. All I see is fear. And I like it.
My lips are on his again, crushing them as I force them to part for me. He tries to turn his head, to escape, but my hand on his jaw holds him firmly in place. After a moment, he relents, letting me have my way, and I feel a sick pleasure in bending him to my will for once. I rock my hips against his, and a small part of me is surprised to feel his erection, hard as ever. With the realization that he’s actually enjoying this, any last shred of hesitance disappears.
I break the kiss, the hand on his jaw moving up to grab roughly at his hair. He sucks in a breath as I yank his head to the side, descending on his neck. I don’t care if I leave him covered in marks; it would serve him right. I sink my incisors into the taut muscle, stopping just short of breaking skin. He cries out, but his hips jerk forwards, telling me how he really feels. I grind against him as I bite all over his neck, my head swimming as I listen to him whine and moan.
I take a step back, releasing his wrist, but not his hair. His eyes are wide and pleading, but I toss him in the direction of the bed, where he falls on his back, his arms barely supporting himself. I stroll over slowly, my eyes locked on his. He glances at the door for a split second, before closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He could try to leave, and maybe I would let him; I may want to hurt him, but I’m not sick enough to truly hold him against his will. But he just lays there, either out of fear or desire; judging by his hard-on, and the way he’s shaking, my guess would be a bit of both, but it doesn’t matter. It seems he’s made his choice, to accept what’s coming to him.
Maybe deep down, he knows he deserves this. Maybe he even wants it. Not that I really care what he wants, not now. It’s always been about him, in every aspect of our lives. I was always just the drummer, the goofy one, Taylor Hanson’s crazy little brother. He was the diva, the one people came to see, the one who always got his way. But tonight, it’s my turn to be selfish. I’ve earned this.
Taylor
I stare up at Zac, gasping for air and trying to pull myself up at least to a sitting position. The way he’s staring down at me makes me feel so vulnerable. I don’t do vulnerable. All these games I’ve played in my life, not just with him, have always been designed so that I win. I’ve never needed or wanted to submit to anyone.
Zac hasn’t said a word and it’s killing me not to know what he’s thinking and planning, if he even has a plan for this. I look up at him, questioning, my lips pursed but not pouting. I’m not about to beg, but I’m past teasing him further. But he can’t just leave me hanging like this forever.
He points at my shirt. “Off.”
I don’t need it made any clearer than that. My hands are trembling, but they still manage to find their way to the shirt’s buttons. Zac’s eyes are on me the entire time, watching my every move as I fumble to peel the shirt away.
He steps in closer and draws his hand up to my face. I can’t help flinching, fearing another slap, but this time he’s gentle. His eyes are still taking in every exposed inch of me, like he hasn’t seen this much of my body before. His hand snakes around to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair and dragging me forward until I fall to my knees.
With his hand still firmly gripping my hair, he tugs at his pants, popping the button free and yanking the zipper down. He pushes his pants and underwear down all in one motion with his free hand. I know what’s coming next, but he still tugs on my hair and nudges his cock toward my mouth. My faltering confidence comes back to me. I lean in and run my tongue just along the tip of his cock, just enough to feel him shudder. I lick slowly from the base to the head, pausing to make a few more circles around the head, before drawing him into my mouth. He’s holding steady, not giving in to the urge to thrust his hips, but I know he’s dying to match my moves.
I pull back slightly and gaze up, just to gauge his reaction. I expect to see his eyes shut, his face flushed with lust, but instead he’s staring back at me, his lips a tight line. He grips my hair tighter in his hand and pulls me forward, forcing the rest of his length down my throat. I cough and sputter, but Zac doesn’t give me time to recover. In fact, he doesn’t give me time to do anything. His hand is still planted in my hair, shoving me forward at his own furious pace.
If I didn’t know better, I would think this wasn’t even about me, that it was only about him getting off. And I could get him off without being forced to swallow every inch like this, but there’s something different… something almost exciting about having this taken out of my control. The idea of submitting, so unlike me, makes my body shake, my knees threatening to stop holding me up. I have to do something to ease the tension. My hand creeps up my thigh, finding my erection easily and squeezing it. If I could just unzip my pants, just pull myself free…
Zac
Still thinking of himself, the bastard. I pull him off of me, yanking his hair to pull him to his feet. He stumbles, but his lack of balance is none of my concern. I release his hair roughly, pushing him back onto the bed, before peeling off my shirt. He stares up at me, his eyes wide; the fear is still there, but now clearly mingled with lust.
I crawl over him, pushing his head out of the way to return to his neck. The skin is already covered in splotches of purple, and I can’t help feeling proud of my handiwork. I trace the various marks with my tongue, relishing every pained hiss. I reach down and quickly undo his jeans, tugging at the hips; for once he does something right, pushing them off, his hands returning to his sides.
I let my eyes travel down his body, finally resting on the spot that’s ever on display, and yet hidden away from the unworthy masses. I’d never been one of the blessed few, or not so few if the rumors were to be believed, but right now nothing is keeping me from taking my fill. Taylor’s body trembles, every muscle tightened to the extreme; he flinches as I brush my hand over his legs, my nails scratching lightly at his thighs. I know what he wants. But for once in his life, he’s not going to get it.
“Turn over.” My voice is almost a growl, and I hardly recognize it. Tay stares up at me, head cocked slightly, and I hear myself snarl. I shove his side roughly, and he nearly jumps, finally rolling onto his stomach. I look over his backside, my eyes lingering on the perfect ass he’s so fond of showing off. The muscles in his back quiver, drawing my attention there. I ghost my hand up his spine, up to his neck, before raking my nails all the way down to his waist; he moans loudly, arching his back, his hips grinding into the mattress.
“Don’t you fucking move,” I shout, my hand descending swiftly on his ass. He gasps and flinches, earning him another, harder smack; this time, he has the common sense to stay still, although I hear him whimper. His cheek is already turning red, but I can’t resist giving him another few slaps. Something about punishing him, in such a demeaning way, pleases me more than I ever would have expected. I notice him gripping the sheets, his knuckles white; I brush my fingertips against the tender skin, watching with amusement as he tries so hard to be still.
“Get over here.” I pull Taylor up by his arm, turning him towards me. A push on his shoulders is all the instruction he needs, before he’s taking me in his mouth again. I’m not quite as forceful as I was before, but my hand on the back of his neck sets the pace. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not bad. I refuse to consider just why he’s not, my attention focused instead on the almost overwhelming sensations. I push him off of me before things go too far; he’s not through paying for all his sins. I shove him onto his hands and knees; he turns back to look at me, a wild, panicked look in his eyes.
“Zac… wait…”