Mosh (Seo Taiji/OMC)
Title: Mosh
Pairing: Seo Taiji/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masochism. Pretty mild, though.
A/N: Mitch is Tama's big, Jewish, bear-like, hardxcore piercer/roadie character, and he rocks. <3 I'm just borrowing him. ^^
Mosh pits are insane. The air is hot and humid and reeks of smoke, and the music makes Taiji feel like his teeth are rattling in his skull. He slams into someone so hard that the air whooshes out of his lungs and he almost loses his glasses. He has to tilt his head up to look at him - a massive, broad-shouldered man in his early twenties, with too-tight clothes and too many tattoos. Several piercings glint as he grins down at Taiji, then he shoves him away and everything goes topsy-turvy again.
Taiji tries to keep up and stay on his feet, but it's a losing battle. Every time he loses his balance and starts thinking he'll be trampled to death by a dozen pairs of Converses, though, the man is right there, yanking him up roughly enough to leave bruises on his upper arms and ruffling his hair before slamming him into someone else.
By the time the band finish their last song, Taiji feels like he's about to vomit or pass out or both. He's sweaty, panting, unsteady on his feet, and certain he's never been this turned on in his entire life. He doesn't want to contemplate the last part. The man grabs him before he even has time to get his bearings, dragging him through the crowd and out the back door of the club. Taiji knows he wouldn't be able to resist even if he wanted to, so he doesn't bother trying.
His back hits a brick wall and all of a sudden the man is right up against him, working a thigh between his legs, and the involuntary gasp that escapes Taiji's lips makes his face flush even more.
He tries to open his eyes, to focus, and when he manages to, the man's grinning down at him again. "What's your name, kid?"
"Tai-- Jimmy," Taiji pants out. He wants to add that he's thirty-one and definitely not a kid, but he isn't sure he could string that many words together.
"I'm Mitch," the man says, then presses his thigh against him and Taiji thumps his head back against the wall, mouth falling open, hands clutching at the man's shoulders as he tries not to make noise.
The man pulls his hands away easily and pins them against the wall - Taiji struggles to get free and, embarrasingly enough, can't do much more than squirm and arch his hips, increasing the maddening friction. He feels the scrape of stubble and the slide of smooth, warm metal against his neck, and then the man bites and Taiji comes so hard he sees stars, shuddering helplessly against him.
"You okay?"
Taiji nods slowly, not trusting his voice. He's not sure he'll ever catch his breath. The man - Mitch - puts a hand flat on his chest, pinning him against the wall, and Taiji dimly realizes that he'd been sliding down. His legs feel like jelly.
"Wanna come to my place?" Mitch asks. It must take a moment for Taiji's brain to register the question, because he adds "Do you speak English?"
He doesn't even have the energy to feel insulted. "Yes." He reaches up shakily to adjust his glasses and sees red streaks on the back of his hand. He feels something like panic bubbling up inside him - I just humped some American guy's leg in a dirty alley I'm bleeding oh God what the hell was that - and takes a deep, steadying breath as he lowers his hand.
Mitch is looking at him with mild curiosity. "Yes to which?"
"Either. Both." Taiji laughs softly and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Let's just... go."
Mitch snorts and grabs his arm, fingers digging into a bruise as he more or less drags him away. The dull pain sends a shiver up Taiji's spine, and he wonders if he should have stayed out of the mosh pit.
Pairing: Seo Taiji/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masochism. Pretty mild, though.
A/N: Mitch is Tama's big, Jewish, bear-like, hardxcore piercer/roadie character, and he rocks. <3 I'm just borrowing him. ^^
Mosh pits are insane. The air is hot and humid and reeks of smoke, and the music makes Taiji feel like his teeth are rattling in his skull. He slams into someone so hard that the air whooshes out of his lungs and he almost loses his glasses. He has to tilt his head up to look at him - a massive, broad-shouldered man in his early twenties, with too-tight clothes and too many tattoos. Several piercings glint as he grins down at Taiji, then he shoves him away and everything goes topsy-turvy again.
Taiji tries to keep up and stay on his feet, but it's a losing battle. Every time he loses his balance and starts thinking he'll be trampled to death by a dozen pairs of Converses, though, the man is right there, yanking him up roughly enough to leave bruises on his upper arms and ruffling his hair before slamming him into someone else.
By the time the band finish their last song, Taiji feels like he's about to vomit or pass out or both. He's sweaty, panting, unsteady on his feet, and certain he's never been this turned on in his entire life. He doesn't want to contemplate the last part. The man grabs him before he even has time to get his bearings, dragging him through the crowd and out the back door of the club. Taiji knows he wouldn't be able to resist even if he wanted to, so he doesn't bother trying.
His back hits a brick wall and all of a sudden the man is right up against him, working a thigh between his legs, and the involuntary gasp that escapes Taiji's lips makes his face flush even more.
He tries to open his eyes, to focus, and when he manages to, the man's grinning down at him again. "What's your name, kid?"
"Tai-- Jimmy," Taiji pants out. He wants to add that he's thirty-one and definitely not a kid, but he isn't sure he could string that many words together.
"I'm Mitch," the man says, then presses his thigh against him and Taiji thumps his head back against the wall, mouth falling open, hands clutching at the man's shoulders as he tries not to make noise.
The man pulls his hands away easily and pins them against the wall - Taiji struggles to get free and, embarrasingly enough, can't do much more than squirm and arch his hips, increasing the maddening friction. He feels the scrape of stubble and the slide of smooth, warm metal against his neck, and then the man bites and Taiji comes so hard he sees stars, shuddering helplessly against him.
"You okay?"
Taiji nods slowly, not trusting his voice. He's not sure he'll ever catch his breath. The man - Mitch - puts a hand flat on his chest, pinning him against the wall, and Taiji dimly realizes that he'd been sliding down. His legs feel like jelly.
"Wanna come to my place?" Mitch asks. It must take a moment for Taiji's brain to register the question, because he adds "Do you speak English?"
He doesn't even have the energy to feel insulted. "Yes." He reaches up shakily to adjust his glasses and sees red streaks on the back of his hand. He feels something like panic bubbling up inside him - I just humped some American guy's leg in a dirty alley I'm bleeding oh God what the hell was that - and takes a deep, steadying breath as he lowers his hand.
Mitch is looking at him with mild curiosity. "Yes to which?"
"Either. Both." Taiji laughs softly and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Let's just... go."
Mitch snorts and grabs his arm, fingers digging into a bruise as he more or less drags him away. The dull pain sends a shiver up Taiji's spine, and he wonders if he should have stayed out of the mosh pit.