VIP: Part Eleven
Yeek I'm in a hurry. AND STOP READING THESE, DOMINIC! YOU'LL JUST BRING THEM UP AT EMBARRASSING TIMES LATER!
He rose to his feet, ruffling the untidy hair at the nape of Bam’s neck and turned, heading back to where he’d dropped his shirt. A quiet whimper marked his absence, and Bam struggled to his feet, trying to stay near him. The few steps he took mirrored Ville, and he tugged at his clothing, embarrassed. His eyes stayed glued to the singer as he walked and bent to retrieve his borrowed shirt from the floor. By the time he glanced back, Bam had found his feet and zipped his pants; a terrible step back, Ville thought. In fact, it was getting terribly quiet again. Uncomfortable, unsure silence. Well, well… Ville had never picked a straight, or uncertain man in his life, and if he did, his mere presence had overcome both of those traits. Bam proved to be nothing to the contrary, and stepped forward, scooping the taller man into his arms and laughing, dragging him out the door and into the hall, easily restricting Ville’s escape. “You’re MY rock star now, get it?” He mocked a growl, obviously with the intent of intimidation.
Ville found the whole thing rather charming, really, and laughed, until the boy shifted, tossing him onto his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. With the size difference, that seemed impossible, but the bathroom wasn’t far. They found their way in no time.
It took a while for Bam to get used to the idea of such a large space as a bathroom. Like the kitchen, the room was all white tile and soft curtains, a room not much used by the singer or his motley crew. It still had all of the professional decorators little knickknacks in it, fake flowers here, embroidered washcloths there. The bathtub took up most of the wall; an antiqued, claw-foot affair with silver taps. Looked rather like a small swimming pool, but on the whole, not unappealing. Ville let himself be carried, thrilled at the strength in the boy’s arms, feeling safe, feeling wanted, feeling... feeling-- (he could only stare incredulously as Bam stepped back from the bathtub and turned the shower on full blast) really, really wet. A monsoon of icy water hit his face, and he could barely struggle out of the tub, shock weakening his muscles, and dump himself at the feet of Brandon, whose laughter echoed in the huge, tiled bathroom.
Bam felt Ville moving around, slogging his way to a towel, probably…. And then he felt wiry hands on his back. His laughter stopped dead in his throat as he felt himself tackled from behind, the wind knocked out of him as his abdomen hit the edge of the tub. In an instant, the world was upended; and there was a split second where he gasped, shocked that Ville was that strong, and-- now he was coughing up water as he got a chilly taste of his own medicine. God damn, cold water was so…. COLD.
Blue eyes laughed down at him. “Yer the one supposed t’be showerin’ you moron! Throw me in…” Ville tried glare scornfully but really looked delighted with himself, tutting happily at Bam. He laughed, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, and admonished, “You should clean yourself up, young man…” His hand reached for the knob that would turn the water to a tolerable temperature, but wrist was accosted before he got halfway there. Clear blue eyes flashed fear; he yanked once, twice, but the effort was futile, that hold felt like iron. Brandon’s smile spoke of terrible things to come, and Ville only managed a yelp before he was pulled into the tub and used as a shield from the water. A rather undignified squeal escaped him as he struggled. The floor became a enormous puddle, originating beneath the tub and spreading all the way to the door, aoking every expensive rug in its path.
The taller man struggled. “No!! Stop!! Fuck you, Bam!! Let me-“ With freezing water at his back, there was only one place to go, and he plastered himself to Bam’s chest, shivering. Dark-lined eyes looked up at him, promising a wrath of untold might. “… I am gonna get you for that….” Oh god. These pants… who knows how much thought had been put into finding these exact ones, ones that fit him like a second skin and… became so difficult to remove when wet… “I will get you…” Warm arms encircled his body; he tried to press closer and push him away at the same time, but the boy was stronger than him, and stroked his hair like he was a child. He snarled his indignation, but with his head under the boy’s chin, nuzzling for warmth, it wasn’t very menacing at all.
Water was splashing EVERYWHERE, the tub wasn’t very big, and someone’s foot was blocking the drain, so the water was overflowing, but neither boy cared, their flushed bodies warmed the water around them, and wet, hungry kisses made them deaf and blind to anything else. Ville’s hands found the edge of Bam’s sullied shirt and pulled; the wet materiel clung to his skin. It peeled away with one great tug, and then there was skin; hot, glorious skin, all for Ville to taste and touch and--- they shifted, the water began to drain, Bam held his hips still and lined up their tattoos, noting with satisfaction that they were almost the same size…
It took them ten seconds to clamber out of the tub, the tile cold beneath their feet, then Ville was leading them out, not caring about the water on the floor or the mess they left behind. He was pushing a door open, looking over his shoulder, eyes as cool and clear as a lagoon. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, Bam followed, overwhelmed and dizzy with arousal. Part of his mind balked when he saw a bed, but he was thinking mostly with his dick now, and allowed himself to be led, then pushed, into the room and onto the cover. He allowed his soaked pants to be torn at and thrown away, his boxers tugged off and tossed to the side, his thighs to be straddled and his renewed erection handled teasingly.
“Stop, stop…” Ville was looking up at him, those sky-colored eyes burning into his. “Please…. Please stop…” A warm mouth took him in with more skill than he was prepared to handle. “Jesus Ville, I…” A rather high-pitched gasp escaped him as he struggled to not thrust up into that hot, hungry mouth--- “God damnit, you bastard, STOP for a second!!” A very annoyed Ville pulled off him with a loud pop, and glared up at him.
“What’s wrong NOW, boy?”
Bam’s looked up at him, all flushed cheeks and baby-blue eyes. “You… you haven’t even.. you…“
‘Oh, God.’ Ville thought, ‘Could you be any more perfect?’ His smile said more than words ever could, and the boy beneath him felt immobile, trapped in the confines of Ville’s desire.
“Don’t worry about me...” Bam gasped as Ville disappeared between his legs again, his eyes slipping shut in bliss. 'Just wory about you' he thought, and hummed around his mouthful of over-exceited boy. This promised to be a wonderful night.
NO CLICKY, DOM.
He rose to his feet, ruffling the untidy hair at the nape of Bam’s neck and turned, heading back to where he’d dropped his shirt. A quiet whimper marked his absence, and Bam struggled to his feet, trying to stay near him. The few steps he took mirrored Ville, and he tugged at his clothing, embarrassed. His eyes stayed glued to the singer as he walked and bent to retrieve his borrowed shirt from the floor. By the time he glanced back, Bam had found his feet and zipped his pants; a terrible step back, Ville thought. In fact, it was getting terribly quiet again. Uncomfortable, unsure silence. Well, well… Ville had never picked a straight, or uncertain man in his life, and if he did, his mere presence had overcome both of those traits. Bam proved to be nothing to the contrary, and stepped forward, scooping the taller man into his arms and laughing, dragging him out the door and into the hall, easily restricting Ville’s escape. “You’re MY rock star now, get it?” He mocked a growl, obviously with the intent of intimidation.
Ville found the whole thing rather charming, really, and laughed, until the boy shifted, tossing him onto his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. With the size difference, that seemed impossible, but the bathroom wasn’t far. They found their way in no time.
It took a while for Bam to get used to the idea of such a large space as a bathroom. Like the kitchen, the room was all white tile and soft curtains, a room not much used by the singer or his motley crew. It still had all of the professional decorators little knickknacks in it, fake flowers here, embroidered washcloths there. The bathtub took up most of the wall; an antiqued, claw-foot affair with silver taps. Looked rather like a small swimming pool, but on the whole, not unappealing. Ville let himself be carried, thrilled at the strength in the boy’s arms, feeling safe, feeling wanted, feeling... feeling-- (he could only stare incredulously as Bam stepped back from the bathtub and turned the shower on full blast) really, really wet. A monsoon of icy water hit his face, and he could barely struggle out of the tub, shock weakening his muscles, and dump himself at the feet of Brandon, whose laughter echoed in the huge, tiled bathroom.
Bam felt Ville moving around, slogging his way to a towel, probably…. And then he felt wiry hands on his back. His laughter stopped dead in his throat as he felt himself tackled from behind, the wind knocked out of him as his abdomen hit the edge of the tub. In an instant, the world was upended; and there was a split second where he gasped, shocked that Ville was that strong, and-- now he was coughing up water as he got a chilly taste of his own medicine. God damn, cold water was so…. COLD.
Blue eyes laughed down at him. “Yer the one supposed t’be showerin’ you moron! Throw me in…” Ville tried glare scornfully but really looked delighted with himself, tutting happily at Bam. He laughed, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, and admonished, “You should clean yourself up, young man…” His hand reached for the knob that would turn the water to a tolerable temperature, but wrist was accosted before he got halfway there. Clear blue eyes flashed fear; he yanked once, twice, but the effort was futile, that hold felt like iron. Brandon’s smile spoke of terrible things to come, and Ville only managed a yelp before he was pulled into the tub and used as a shield from the water. A rather undignified squeal escaped him as he struggled. The floor became a enormous puddle, originating beneath the tub and spreading all the way to the door, aoking every expensive rug in its path.
The taller man struggled. “No!! Stop!! Fuck you, Bam!! Let me-“ With freezing water at his back, there was only one place to go, and he plastered himself to Bam’s chest, shivering. Dark-lined eyes looked up at him, promising a wrath of untold might. “… I am gonna get you for that….” Oh god. These pants… who knows how much thought had been put into finding these exact ones, ones that fit him like a second skin and… became so difficult to remove when wet… “I will get you…” Warm arms encircled his body; he tried to press closer and push him away at the same time, but the boy was stronger than him, and stroked his hair like he was a child. He snarled his indignation, but with his head under the boy’s chin, nuzzling for warmth, it wasn’t very menacing at all.
Water was splashing EVERYWHERE, the tub wasn’t very big, and someone’s foot was blocking the drain, so the water was overflowing, but neither boy cared, their flushed bodies warmed the water around them, and wet, hungry kisses made them deaf and blind to anything else. Ville’s hands found the edge of Bam’s sullied shirt and pulled; the wet materiel clung to his skin. It peeled away with one great tug, and then there was skin; hot, glorious skin, all for Ville to taste and touch and--- they shifted, the water began to drain, Bam held his hips still and lined up their tattoos, noting with satisfaction that they were almost the same size…
It took them ten seconds to clamber out of the tub, the tile cold beneath their feet, then Ville was leading them out, not caring about the water on the floor or the mess they left behind. He was pushing a door open, looking over his shoulder, eyes as cool and clear as a lagoon. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, Bam followed, overwhelmed and dizzy with arousal. Part of his mind balked when he saw a bed, but he was thinking mostly with his dick now, and allowed himself to be led, then pushed, into the room and onto the cover. He allowed his soaked pants to be torn at and thrown away, his boxers tugged off and tossed to the side, his thighs to be straddled and his renewed erection handled teasingly.
“Stop, stop…” Ville was looking up at him, those sky-colored eyes burning into his. “Please…. Please stop…” A warm mouth took him in with more skill than he was prepared to handle. “Jesus Ville, I…” A rather high-pitched gasp escaped him as he struggled to not thrust up into that hot, hungry mouth--- “God damnit, you bastard, STOP for a second!!” A very annoyed Ville pulled off him with a loud pop, and glared up at him.
“What’s wrong NOW, boy?”
Bam’s looked up at him, all flushed cheeks and baby-blue eyes. “You… you haven’t even.. you…“
‘Oh, God.’ Ville thought, ‘Could you be any more perfect?’ His smile said more than words ever could, and the boy beneath him felt immobile, trapped in the confines of Ville’s desire.
“Don’t worry about me...” Bam gasped as Ville disappeared between his legs again, his eyes slipping shut in bliss. 'Just wory about you' he thought, and hummed around his mouthful of over-exceited boy. This promised to be a wonderful night.
NO CLICKY, DOM.