Title: Between Friends, part 2
Word Count: 2,169
Disclaimer: I'm sorry! I own nothing!
Summary: Roger should have known he'd never get away with it.
A/N: I should be shot. After a shit load of rewrites, it is done. And it's still crap. This is the last of this crack, I swear!
Part One (should you want to have the full cracky experience...)
Roger walked into the loft and immediately knew something was up. What the hell? He peered over to Mark's room. “Mark, you here?” He made to move when a voice startled him.
“That boy ain't here.” Roger slowly turned to face the owner of that deep voice. Collins.
The anarchist was sitting on their beat up couch, slouched, arms stretched over the back and legs sprawled out in front of him. His black capped head was resting on the couch's back, his gleaming eyes gazing at Roger and a devilish grin on his lips. And he was wearing... a choker, a thick black choker. Oh shit...
“Collins...” The musician greeted hesitantly. He has that grin; that is not good. “Where's Mark?” Just don't show fear...
“Out filming some event in the park, said he'd be home after eleven.” He smirked. Oh shit. Oh shit. Roger tried to recall what time it was. Let's see... Mimi just left for work so that makes it... Roger paled slightly. It was after six.
He cleared his throat. “So, what brings you, Thomas?” Roger still didn't move. He just stared at Collins, trying not to tremble.
Collins sat up straighter, though he was still slouching. His grin, that damn, devilish, I-know-a-secret grin, was still draped across his lips. Roger was always fascinated by it but now was simply unnerved. “Well, you see, I got wind of some interesting news.” His eyes had a mischievous glimmer in them.
Oh God... Roger tried to take a subtle breath to calm himself. Did Mark tell? Did Angel? They wouldn't right? Fuck. Shrug it off, Davis. “If it's related to how you think I'm somehow in love with my best friend, I don't think it's interesting.” Good, just pretend nothing happened. It's worked before, right? ...Crap. “You've been barking up that tree since I brought Mark here.”
Collins' grin widened, showing off his pearly whites. Roger was briefly reminded of that damned cat in that Wonderland story. “No, it's not.” He chuckled. “But that is true.” Roger actually managed to roll his eyes. “No, what I'm talking about happened 'bout two weeks ago.” He gracefully stood up and narrowed his eyes a little, making his grin seem sinister. “Know what I'm saying?” It was a challenge.
Roger froze. Oh, holy fuck. His heart pounded within his chest. Roger had always made it a point not to cross Collins. He remembered when Benny did once. The following day, the soon-to-be yuppie was exhausted, jumpy, and refused eye contact. He wouldn't reply when asked what happened, only making little whimpering noises, and Collins would only shrug, that same grin dancing on his lips.
Roger nearly jumped out of his skin when Collins grabbed his shoulder. He gazed fearfully into the chocolate brown eyes that were suddenly in front of him. Dear God...
“That's right,” Collins smirked as he tightened his grip, making Roger wince, “be afraid, bitch.” The anarchist roughly shoved Roger toward the couch. The blonde stumbled, almost fell when the back of his legs touched the couch.
“Wha...?” was all he could manage before Collins yanked his shirt over his head. For a few terrifying seconds, Roger couldn't see what Collins was doing. Then finally, he was able to blink his vision into focus. When he tried to move his arms, he found that his wrists were tied behind his back with the very shirt Collins had just taken off him. How the fuck did he do that? Collins pushed him down.
The anarchist towered over him, his grin – that fucking grin – taunting. Roger became vividly aware that he was without a shirt as Collins peered over him through half-lidded eyes. The blonde swallowed.
“Collins,” his managed quietly, though his voice trembled, “what's going...” He didn't finish, for Collins had started to gently slide his hands down the sides of Roger's body. The musician shivered at the unusual sensation those fingers created. Slowly, Collins' hands stopped at Roger's hips and then abruptly seized them, causing Roger to wince in pain. Fuck, he has a strong grip.
“Now, now, baby.” Roger's head snapped to the doorway in shock. “Don't be too rough with him... yet.” Angel sauntered toward her lover. “After all,” she smiled mischievously, “it's his first time.”
Roger's mind didn't register her words; it was too busy taking in Angel's appearance. Her wig was golden, cropped short and messy just below her earlobes, and a thick choker adorned her neck. He noted that the chocker was similar to Collins', which didn't bode well. Angel smiled at him, her ruby red lips full and enticing. Roger froze, completely dazzled by the look in her eyes. Oh. Dear. Christ.
Collins forgot his grip on the musician, much to Roger's relief, and walked behind the smiling Angel. He immediately grabbed her ass, attacking her neck and causing Angel to bite her lip, a smirk forming. Collins' hands traveled all over her body, one stopping on her stomach, the other her crotch. He pulled her closer to him, gaining a moan from her red lips.
Angel turned around, claiming Collins' lips fiercely. One of her long legs rose to wrap around the anarchist's waist, grinding against him. Roger's eyes widened. Please tell me they are not doing this in front of me. Collins groaned as Angel bit his neck, still grinding against the seductress.
Roger couldn't move; the sight had frozen him to his place on the couch. One of his best friends and his girlfriend were going at it right in front of him! Somewhere between the grinding and the necking, Angel had managed to unbutton Collins' shirt, revealing his decently toned chest. Roger did not remember his former roommate being that, well... that hot. Where the fuck did that come from?
Roger was brought out of his thought of his friend's hot ass chest by the sound of a zipper. Angel was now on her knees undoing Collins' pants, revealing his erect cock. Roger's eyes widened. Holy shit, he's huge! Angel smiled devilishly before licking the head. Oh God. Roger tried adverting his eyes elsewhere, resting on Collins' face, but that was a mistake.
Collins was looking right at him, a grin Roger never seen before on his lips. Collins' hand traveled to Angel's head, grabbing a fistful of hair. Roger watched as Collins delighted in the way Angel licked and sucked his cock, gently guiding her with his hand. Entranced, Roger could not take his eyes of Collins as Angel continued to use her tongue in skillful ways.
Then suddenly, Angel pulled away and broke free of Collins' grasp. Roger thought the anarchist would protest, but he just stood there, a grin on his face and his eyes on Roger. Angel sauntered toward the bound blonde, a very seductive look on her face.
Collins followed, eyeing Roger with a devilish smirk. The musician's heart beat quickened as he looked into chocolate brown, lustful eyes. The anarchist was watching him the whole time. He knew that Roger was getting aroused by the situation. He looked down at the blonde, that smirk, that leer still in place. Roger knew he knew. He should not be so turned on by that thought!
Roger jumped when he felt Angel undoing his pants. Roger held his breath as she smiled seductively at him. They stood that way for a while. Then, Roger gasped.
Angel had grabbed him rather forcefully. She brought her hand to her lips, sucking on her index and middle fingers. Once she was done, she grinned at Roger, a strange glimmer in her eyes. Oh shit. Angel brought her fingers down to Roger's ass. Roger eyed her nervously. “Relax.” Angel cooed.
Roger groaned when she entered him. Angel smiled as she added a third finger already, stretching him as best she could. Roger bit his lip as he felt Angel's fingers scissor within him. He noticed Collins grin as Roger panted, a hungry look in his eyes. Angel nodded to herself after a while, pleased at Roger's eager hole.
“Have at him, honey.” Angel turned to Collins after giving Roger's semi-hard cock a quick kiss. Roger gazed fearfully at the anarchist as he neared the blonde. Collins sat down next to the quivering musician, that grin plastered on his face. He slowly reached over to Roger and gently pulled him into his lap. Roger groaned as Collins rubbed his erect cock against his own. The anarchist then positioned Roger above his solid erection.
With painfully slow movements, Collins brought his mouth to Roger's ear. “I'm gonna make you scream.” Roger's eyes widened. Holy shit. Then, Collins entered him, quick and hard. Roger groaned, adjusting to the size of Collins' dick. Oh holy fuck.
Roger was panting now as Collins slowly ground into him. He looked up at Angel as she stroked her cock, excitement in her eyes as Collins moved inside him. Roger moaned aloud as Collins moved gently in and out of the musician. Roger found himself rolling his hips against Collins'. He wanted more. And Collins knew it. The bastard knew it! Roger's breath was haggard, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He wanted Collins to go faster, to go harder, but he wouldn't. And Roger knew why. The bastard wanted him to say it. He wouldn't. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
“More...” Roger found himself moaning. Oh hell, fuck it. “Fuck – more!” He heard Collins chuckle as he bit the blonde's neck. Roger felt hands grasp his hips and raise him. Then, those hands pulled him down on that deliciously huge cock. Roger moaned louder as Collins hit that spot, that fucking sweet spot. Collins moved, repositioning them so that Roger was on his knees, Collins holding him up by his tied wrists.
“Fuck! Faster!” Roger groaned, his head bowing in pleasure as Collins rammed into him. “Harder! Please, God, more!” Collins kept on ramming him, hitting that one spot each time. Roger felt he was going to pass out from the pleasure. It felt so fucking good. He winced when Angel forcefully grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. He panted as she brought her cock to his lips. Eagerly, like a famished beast, he took her in his mouth. Angel led the way, her hands never leaving his hair.
Roger didn't need to be told twice. He wanted this. He wanted Collins to fuck him hard while he moaned like some ten dollar whore. He wanted to suck Angel off, to hear her groan with pleasure. He wanted this so much.
But he found that he didn't want it from them. Roger found himself wanting it from Mark. He wanted Mark to be the one to smack his ass as he pound onto that sweet spot, not Collins. He wanted Mark's cock and taste as he hallowed out his cheeks to take it in fully, not Angel's. He wanted Mark. Oh God...!
Picturing Mark doing all these things to him, fucking him raw, making him suck his dick, being brutally aggressive, was too much for Roger to handle. He released Angel's cock as he panted, moaning with each thrust sent to him. He knew he sounded like some dumb slut, begging for more, but he didn't care. Angel had started to pump herself in time with Collins' thrusts. Roger could feel his muscles tighten around Collins.
In his mind, Collins was no longer there. Just Mark. So when Collins spoke, Roger heard Mark telling him, “Come for me, you little bitch!” That was it. With a great cry, Roger came. Very. Hard. His release sent Collins over the edge, spilling his seed inside of Roger. The sight before her made Angel bit her lip as she too climaxed, coming over Roger's face.
Roger panted heavily, slowing coming down from his electrifying high. Collins pulled out of him, allowing some cum to trickle out of Roger's worn hole. He rolled Roger over, looking down at the pathetic creature breathing haggardly, legs spread open, eager still. He watched with a smirk as Roger licked some of Angel's cum off his face.
He and Angel turned to each other and smiled. They didn't fail to notice what name their lovely toy cried out in the heat of passion. Angel chuckled as she untied his wrists. Roger just laid there, still recovering from their little tirade. He didn't even notice when the devil couple left.
Gingerly, he sat up, wincing slightly. Great, I'll be sore for a week now. Damn Collins. As he cleaned up, he decided not to mention what had happened to anyone, not even Collins and Angel. Recalling his delusional state of mind during the deed, Roger blushed. He did not believe he let that happen. What's more, he did not believe he thought of Mark. It's Mark, for fuck's sake! He wouldn't do any of that stuff. And that's what saddened Roger most.
Roger stopped moving, realizing what he just thought. “Well, fuck...”