Categories > Celebrities > Motley Crue > Scream Until You Like It
Vince lay there motionless, both physically drained and afraid to react to what had just happened. He didn't know whether or not he was allowed to speak, or move, or do anything. The two of them laid on the bed in silence for what seemed like an eternity to the blond, long enough to make him grow restless. Finally, the older man broke the silence at last with a soft chuckle.
“Well, would ya look at that.” Blackie shifted slightly on the bed, looking down at himself with a smirk, while the young singer tried to lift himself up as best he could to look as well. “What a mess you've made, blondie!” Vince's eyes surveyed the bassist's body carefully, and once his gaze reached the older's abdomen, his cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. It seemed that when he'd reached his climax, he'd managed to do so all over the bassist's stomach.
“You know what you have to do, don't you, blondie?” Blackie's words snapped the younger out of his guilty thoughts. Vince looked up at his captor, confusion in his eyes, and shook his head.
Blackie reached for the keys that he'd left on the night table and used them to uncuff the blond's wrists once more. “Clean it up,” the dark-haired man commanded, his mouth curled into an evil smirk. Vince frantically looked around him, searching the room for a towel, or tissues, or something of the sort with which to clean up his mess.
The older snickered. “Whatcha lookin' for, blondie?” he asked. Vince stopped scanning the room around him, and instantly returned his gaze to the bassist. “Your mouth works, doesn't it?” The singer made a face, clearly less than thrilled by the idea of tasting his own sperm. But then he stopped to actually think about it. It can't be that bad, he told himself. I already swallowed his, and it wasn't as bad as I expected...and this is coming from my own body...How bad could it be?
Before he could form another coherent thought, he found himself being roughly grabbed by the hair once again, his head being pushed down. “Before it dries, blondie,” the older growled impatiently, giving the singer's hair a rough tug. “I don't like to be kept waiting. You keep me waiting any longer, I'll use that perfect blond hair of yours as a mop, you hear me?” Vince yelped in fear, and nodded. Anything but the hair!
The younger man leaned his head down, wrinkling his nose a bit in disgust as he eyed the mess he'd made on the bassist's tan stomach. There wasn't that much of it, he noted, so maybe if he did it quickly, he wouldn't even taste it. He finally convinced himself to stick his tongue out, sliding it along the older's abdomen, licking up the sticky fluid like a cat lapping up its milk. Blackie loosened his grip on Vince's hair, and, despite himself, let a soft moan escape his lips. He'd always loved when women would lick his stomach like that during foreplay, and that little blondie certainly had a way with his tongue.
It wasn't long before Vince had cleaned up his mess. He hardly noticed, though, since by then, he was concentrating more on the soft, sexy noises that were coming from the bassist's mouth. With each stroke of his tongue, the older would give his hair a light tug, and he would moan low in his throat, which was making the blond incredibly turned on. Within a few minutes, it was pretty obvious that the bassist was turned on as well, and when Vince noticed, his cheeks flushed bright pink.
“Goddamn, blondie,” Blackie laughed, shaking his head. “You're just not gonna let me quit, are you?” Vince let out a nervous chuckle, lowering his head a bit. “I thought you didn't wanna be here. You were all concerned about your precious Sixx. Now it looks like somebody's developed a little case of Stockholm Syndrome.”
“No, I haven't!” Vince snapped suddenly, speaking for the first time in what must have been hours. “I sure as hell don't fuckin' love you!”
With an amused smirk, the older grabbed a hold of the blond's hair once more, tugging his head upwards so that he could make eye contact. “What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, blondie? And that nasty language!” Vince frowned, clearly not appreciating being chastised by his captor. “I never said you loved me, stupid. Those were your words, not mine. What I'm saying is that there's definitely a spark of attraction there, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. Although the evidence is kinda hard to deny at this point.” With a snicker, he pointed downwards, towards the young singer's crotch. Vince instantly looked down, and was somewhat ashamed to find that he was hard...again. The look of realization on the young singer's face delighted Blackie greatly. It confirmed the fact that he was in control of the situation, and he was going to use that to his advantage, as he always did.
“Now, I could always do something about that unfortunate little problem of yours,” he purred wickedly, reaching his hand over to accidentally-on-purpose brush against the blond's manhood, making him shudder. “But I've already given you the privilege of getting off, not just once, but twice! So now, I think I'm just going to watch you suffer.” He swiftly straddled Vince's hips, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head, so that he was unable to relieve himself.
“It's so fun to watch you squirm,” the bassist mused, grinning as the younger bucked against him, trying to either free himself from Blackie's grip, or to rub up against him in an effort to somehow get himself off, neither of which were successful attempts. With an evil laugh that sent chills down Vince's spine, the older picked up his trusty set of silver handcuffs and attached the singer's wrists to the headboard once again, before getting up off the bed completely, leaving the younger there in agony, his aching hard-on refusing to go away.
Then, somehow as if on cue, they heard the doorbell ring from upstairs. Blackie crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at the blond. “Well, whaddya know,” he teased. “Saved by the bell, blondie. It must be morning.”
“Well, would ya look at that.” Blackie shifted slightly on the bed, looking down at himself with a smirk, while the young singer tried to lift himself up as best he could to look as well. “What a mess you've made, blondie!” Vince's eyes surveyed the bassist's body carefully, and once his gaze reached the older's abdomen, his cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. It seemed that when he'd reached his climax, he'd managed to do so all over the bassist's stomach.
“You know what you have to do, don't you, blondie?” Blackie's words snapped the younger out of his guilty thoughts. Vince looked up at his captor, confusion in his eyes, and shook his head.
Blackie reached for the keys that he'd left on the night table and used them to uncuff the blond's wrists once more. “Clean it up,” the dark-haired man commanded, his mouth curled into an evil smirk. Vince frantically looked around him, searching the room for a towel, or tissues, or something of the sort with which to clean up his mess.
The older snickered. “Whatcha lookin' for, blondie?” he asked. Vince stopped scanning the room around him, and instantly returned his gaze to the bassist. “Your mouth works, doesn't it?” The singer made a face, clearly less than thrilled by the idea of tasting his own sperm. But then he stopped to actually think about it. It can't be that bad, he told himself. I already swallowed his, and it wasn't as bad as I expected...and this is coming from my own body...How bad could it be?
Before he could form another coherent thought, he found himself being roughly grabbed by the hair once again, his head being pushed down. “Before it dries, blondie,” the older growled impatiently, giving the singer's hair a rough tug. “I don't like to be kept waiting. You keep me waiting any longer, I'll use that perfect blond hair of yours as a mop, you hear me?” Vince yelped in fear, and nodded. Anything but the hair!
The younger man leaned his head down, wrinkling his nose a bit in disgust as he eyed the mess he'd made on the bassist's tan stomach. There wasn't that much of it, he noted, so maybe if he did it quickly, he wouldn't even taste it. He finally convinced himself to stick his tongue out, sliding it along the older's abdomen, licking up the sticky fluid like a cat lapping up its milk. Blackie loosened his grip on Vince's hair, and, despite himself, let a soft moan escape his lips. He'd always loved when women would lick his stomach like that during foreplay, and that little blondie certainly had a way with his tongue.
It wasn't long before Vince had cleaned up his mess. He hardly noticed, though, since by then, he was concentrating more on the soft, sexy noises that were coming from the bassist's mouth. With each stroke of his tongue, the older would give his hair a light tug, and he would moan low in his throat, which was making the blond incredibly turned on. Within a few minutes, it was pretty obvious that the bassist was turned on as well, and when Vince noticed, his cheeks flushed bright pink.
“Goddamn, blondie,” Blackie laughed, shaking his head. “You're just not gonna let me quit, are you?” Vince let out a nervous chuckle, lowering his head a bit. “I thought you didn't wanna be here. You were all concerned about your precious Sixx. Now it looks like somebody's developed a little case of Stockholm Syndrome.”
“No, I haven't!” Vince snapped suddenly, speaking for the first time in what must have been hours. “I sure as hell don't fuckin' love you!”
With an amused smirk, the older grabbed a hold of the blond's hair once more, tugging his head upwards so that he could make eye contact. “What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, blondie? And that nasty language!” Vince frowned, clearly not appreciating being chastised by his captor. “I never said you loved me, stupid. Those were your words, not mine. What I'm saying is that there's definitely a spark of attraction there, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. Although the evidence is kinda hard to deny at this point.” With a snicker, he pointed downwards, towards the young singer's crotch. Vince instantly looked down, and was somewhat ashamed to find that he was hard...again. The look of realization on the young singer's face delighted Blackie greatly. It confirmed the fact that he was in control of the situation, and he was going to use that to his advantage, as he always did.
“Now, I could always do something about that unfortunate little problem of yours,” he purred wickedly, reaching his hand over to accidentally-on-purpose brush against the blond's manhood, making him shudder. “But I've already given you the privilege of getting off, not just once, but twice! So now, I think I'm just going to watch you suffer.” He swiftly straddled Vince's hips, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head, so that he was unable to relieve himself.
“It's so fun to watch you squirm,” the bassist mused, grinning as the younger bucked against him, trying to either free himself from Blackie's grip, or to rub up against him in an effort to somehow get himself off, neither of which were successful attempts. With an evil laugh that sent chills down Vince's spine, the older picked up his trusty set of silver handcuffs and attached the singer's wrists to the headboard once again, before getting up off the bed completely, leaving the younger there in agony, his aching hard-on refusing to go away.
Then, somehow as if on cue, they heard the doorbell ring from upstairs. Blackie crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at the blond. “Well, whaddya know,” he teased. “Saved by the bell, blondie. It must be morning.”
Sign up to rate and review this story