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Everyone's getting ready to go home after a long training session, drained of all energy and happy with a good workout.
"See you tomorrow!" Jason waves goodbye and exits the locker room with his sports bag slung over one shoulder.
"Bye!" Kirk follows, accompanied by several other young men.
"You're not coming?" Cliff asks Dave while putting his jacket on.
"Nah, gotta talk to James" the redhead huffs from his spot on the bench.
"Alright. Good night, then" Cliff leaves him by himself. He's sitting in his boxing shorts, pressing an ice pack against his shoulder with a scowl on his face. James, the gym owner, has taught him a lesson today.
Yes, Dave is a very good fighter. But he's brash and arrogant, and that's not a good thing to show when you're in a combat against someone. When he and James were on the ring, Dave thought he had the high ground - and decided to express it out loud. The result? His opponent hit him in the solar plexus, making him curl up on the floor in front of everyone. Oh, and the fall left a nasty bruise on his shoulder, too.
"Oh, hey kid. I didn't know you were still here" James walks in to conduct his nightly inspection of hygiene and overall good condition of the place "How are you feeling?" he points at Dave's contusions, smiling sympathetically.
"Hurts like a fuckin' bitch" Dave gripes, standing up to pack up and and go home.
"That's what you get for being overconfident" James chuckles and takes his own duffel bag "Let me finish checking if everything's fine and I'll give you a ride" what the man doesn't realize, is that Dave is too vengeful to let a comment like that slide.
"No" Mustaine murmurs, grinding his teeth.
"What?" James asks, surprised.
"No" the redhead is a little louder this time.
"Why?" Hetfield is genuinely curious as to why his offer is being rejected.
"I want a rematch" Dave speaks with confidence. But his determination shatters when a burst of laughter rumbles deep in James' chest.
"Yeah, sure" he says with irony, turning around to walk out "Let's go"
"I'm fucking serious" Mustaine hides his doubt under a thick shield of pride, not willing to let go so quickly.
"Really?" James drops his bag on the bench and looks him in the eye, searching for the faintest hint of sarcasm. But he can't find it; the kid is actually dead serious.
"Yeah"
"I thought getting your ass handed to you once would be enough" James jokes, trying to indirectly talk him out of it.
"Are you going to fight me, or not?" the ginger is getting more and more impatient.
"Fine. But you're getting thrashed again" James takes off his hoodie and tank top, kicking his shoes off and walking away to the gym. Dave follows him, trying to shake off the thought of how good those grey pants look on him. Those grey pants that hug his hips oh, so perfectly. Those grey pants that hide the defined lines of his thighs and the delicate shine of his body hair. Dave hates those grey pants. Fuckin' loathes them. Yeah.
"No gloves?" Mustaine asks once he sees James already on the ring, no padded gloves to be seen with him.
"No gloves" the blond man reiterates while Dave tosses his to the side and climbs up the elevated platform.
"Rules?"
"No low blows, no hits to the back of the neck, head or kidneys. That's it"
"Good"
"You ready?" James challenges him, and Dave isn't intimidated. Instead, the words make his blood heat up and adrenaline rush through his veins with anticipation.
"Born ready" and without further delay, they charge against each other. Dave manages to startle James with a couple of well-aimed hits, but his good luck doesn't last long. Hetfield's hands fly up to his left shoulder and right arm, hooking his muscular leg between the redhead's, sending him to the floor with one swift move, and making him land face down. Mustaine grunts and huffs, trying to escape the relentless hold that James has on him. He writhes and groans, hot breath condensing on the cold plastic of the ring.
"Jesus... Calm down, kid" Hetfield laughs, loosening his grip "I'm not gonna hurt you"
"What if I wanted you to?" the words fly out of Dave's mouth in less time than he's had to think them, making him blush seven shades of red when he realizes the slip of his tongue.
"What?" James' breath catches in his throat, big hands still holding Dave down against the canvas.
"You fucking heard me" the writhing has stopped, and both men are now panting from the exercise and a certain something else that they're too afraid of to properly identify it.
"You're fucking demented, kid" James chuckles, trying to buy time for his own brain to process what's going on.
"You still haven't said no" Dave sees how the blond's face is turning a bright shade of pink from the corner of his eye, breath quickening.
"You still haven't explained yourself"
"Do I need to?" a smug grin spreads across Mustaine's face.
"Well, I need to know if you mean what I think you mean"
"I want whatever you have to give. If you want to give it to me, that is"
"I want unequivocal explanations. Either that, or this is over" he starts letting go of Dave, who accepts his terms in a flash.
"Fine!" he whines, eager to get James' strong hands back around his wrists and pinning him down.
"Then get speaking, kid"
"I... Fuck, this is difficult" Dave is at a loss for words, his thoughts faster and far more abstract than anything his mouth can manage to say "I... I like it when you fight me. I like being cocky for you to win in the end. I like your strength. And your technique. And..." his voice wobbles with the last part.
"And?" James prompts him to keep going.
"And I... I think it's hot. Like, super hot" the words feel like broken glass on his tongue, but Dave manages to spit them out.
"And?" Hetfield is finding genuine enjoyment in pushing his buttons.
"And I would like it if... You took it a step further?"
"I told you I want exact answers"
"Could you please fuck me?" Dave rasps against the floor "There, I said it. Happy now?"
"Happier than ever" James lets go of him "Look at me" both of them kneel in front of the other "If you actually want this, there's some rules you need to follow"
"Fine by me"
"First of all, you can't call me James. So you better come up with something else, because you're only allowed to use it if you want me to stop. Understood?"
"Yes" Dave observes how James' pupils have swallowed the blue in his eyes, turning them into dark wells that overflow with hunger.
"Good. Second; if you want me to stop, you have to say 'James, stop'. If you can't speak, tap me three times wherever you can reach. One, two, three" he demonstrates by tapping on his own clavicle with his hand.
"Fine"
"Third; you have to do what you're told and answer when asked a question"
"Yes, Sir"
"Quick learner. I like 'em that way" James' smile is sickly, sly. It makes Dave's skin crawl. Hetfield stands up, walks to the corner of the ring and leans against it, smiling to himself when he realizes that Dave stays put, awaiting his instruction "Come here" the redhead tries to get up, but James disapproves "Did I tell you to stand up?"
"No, Sir" Dave gets back on his knees and also leans on his hands, approaching James in that position that feels so utterly humiliating.
"That's what I thought" the older man stares down at him "You look beautiful on your knees. Should make you do that more often..." he considers the prospect out loud "Bet you would look even better with those pretty lips around my cock, though" the lewd words send a jolt through Dave's body.
"May I...?" Mustaine's pale, freckled hands hover above the tent in James' sweatpants, too scared to untie the knot without permission.
"Yeah, baby. Get to work" James leans further into the padding and lets the ginger undo his pants and pull them down to the middle of his thighs. Carefully, Dave palms him through his black boxers, feeling the heat that radiates through the fabric. Empowered by the grunt that roars deep inside James' chest, Dave sticks his tongue out and licks a strip over the clothed bulge, dampening the fabric as he goes "Good boy" the praise easily rolls off James' tongue, going straight to Mustaine's crotch. The ginger pulls his boxers down, letting James' cock spring free. Not to be dramatic, or anything, but it's the prettiest fucking dick he's ever seen.
"Fuck..." Dave gasps as it almost hits him in the face, amazed by its rosy color and perfect size.
"Watch it, slut. I'd have no compunction about soaping that dirty mouth of yours if you swear again. And good boys don't like getting their mouths soaped, do they?" he grabs a fistful of orange hair and pulls with vehement strength, making the boy's eyes water.
"No, Daddy" Dave cries out, sniffing when James lets go of his hair. With shaky hands, Dave grips the base of his cock and his tongue darts out to meet the tip. He's rewarded with a gasp, which encourages him to take the head into his mouth and hollow his cheeks. He swirls his tongue and starts taking more of the length into his mouth with each tiny bob of his head. In the meantime, James just admires how his slim hand grips the space that his mouth can't cover just yet, how his plump lips stretch around his girth.
"That's it, baby. You're doing so well" he pats Dave's hair, making him moan around his dick. With one last push, Dave manages to completely engulf him. The tip of James' cock hits the back of his throat, triggering his gag reflex and causing his stomach to lurch. Tears fall, making his cheeks sticky while he tries his best to keep his breathing under control. A calloused thumb dries the salty droplets from his face, and he looks up to meet James' gaze "Take it easy, honey. We've got all night" Hetfield caresses his soft skin and he pulls off to make up for the lack of oxygen with loud, unsteady inhales.
Less dizzy and with some of his lost confidence back, Dave fumbles with James' balls while he starts taking him in his mouth once again, drawing the sweetest pants from his thin lips. In the meantime, one of Mustaine's hands drops down to rub his own aching cock through his shorts.
"Stop" James' voice abruptly interrupts the established pace, making Dave pull off with a loud pop. His lips are swollen and wet with saliva, hazel eyes glassy and loose strands of fiery hair stick to his temples with sweat. It's a sinful sight to behold, and it makes James want to completely ravage him right now.
"Is anything wrong, Sir?" Dave stops stroking himself and looks up at him through messy bangs, wondering if he's done anything that James hasn't liked.
"Strip" Hetfield commands, touching his own cock as he watches Dave quickly discard his shorts and underwear "Wanna do Daddy a favor?" Mustaine nods "Touch yourself for me, darling" James keeps moving his hand up and down his own length, observing the shudder that rips through Dave's body when his fingers first make contact with his neglected dick.
"Oh, G-" Dave moans; this is the sexiest thing that's ever happened to him. Without being asked to, the boy returns to his previous task, dipping his tongue into the blond's slit and moaning around him to feel his knees buckle. After falling back into a steady rhythm, Dave pulls off to voice a request "Sir?"
"Yes?" he sounds hoarse, worked up.
"I want you to fuck my mouth" he thinks for a second before adding "Please"
"Now we're talking" James' chuckle has a dark tint that makes the youngest's stomach tingle with excitement. Both of the blond's hands grip his flaming hair, unforgiving and severe, guiding the red lips down onto his cock one more time. Even when Dave feels like he's about to faint due to the alarming shortness of breath, his hands fly up to rest on James' thighs and, instead of pushing him away, he keeps leaning into the discomfort. Shakily inhaling through his nose, Dave manages to regain control of his own body, giving the older man a tap on the leg, a cue to start moving.
The ruthless grasp on his hair grows even tighter, sending rivulets of electricity running down his scalp to the rest of his body. Now that James has Dave where he wants him, he starts thrusting into his mouth with an energy that can only be described as cruel. But the violence is so deliciously good, so calculated and enjoyable, that Dave can only want more.
James' hips move viciously, clashing against a pair of lips that is already starting to bruise, making Dave's spit drip down his chin.
"Bet you'll fucking behave after this" James blurts out with a smirk so acidic it could curdle milk. Mustaine's curiosity betrays him when his eyes drift up to meet the blond's with a challenging look "Got anything to say, whore?" the nickname makes his guts twist with heat and arousal, chest heaving when James lets go and pulls out.
"Eat shit" the boy says both words slowly, smiling around them and watching James' face go through every single emotion gathered in the English dictionary until it settles on lust. Pure, ravenous, biting lust. The realization hits Dave like a slap in the face. Oh, and it isn't only metaphorical, no. A big hand with outstretched fingers connects with his cheek, filling the empty gym with a thundering slap. Right after the hit, comes a moan; the perfect contrast of sweet and sour doesn't go unnoticed. Mustaine is too stunned to speak, literally; his mouth is agape, face slowly turning to look at James again, letting everything sink in.
"Wanna say that again?" James looks impossibly tall from Dave's position, making the huge abyss of power between them even more apparent. But Dave never knows when to stop. Besides, he thinks it's impossible to have too much of a good thing; Shakespeare can go and get fucked.
"Sure" he's beaming, as if the big, red handprint on his face were nothing "Eat. Shit." he says it even slower than last time.
"I've had enough" James grabs him by his bicep so tightly that his fingers feel funny, a slight tingle crawling up his forearm. With one hasty maneuver, he's got Dave in the middle of the ring again, irritated face rubbing up against the shiny material of the floor and wrists pinned behind his back. The only difference is that this time, he's on all fours.
"What? You gonna spank me?" Dave teases, testing the waters before diving headfirst into them.
"Is that what you want?" Hetfield wrenches Dave's wrists in his hold, making his arms ache and his hair stand on end.
"It's what I deserve" he moves his hips to brush against James' bare crotch, enticing him further into this twisted fantasy that has emerged from nowhere.
Actually... Now that Dave thinks about it, he remembers that he's caught himself jerking off to the mental image of James more than once; when it happened, he just blamed it on his persistent libido and tried to move on. But the memory always came back. And now it's a real thing; flesh and bone and energy all piled on top of him.
"Self-critical, hm?" James mocks him and goes back to seriousness "This is how we're going to do this; five at a time, with a pause in between rounds to let you recover and tell me how you feel"
"Yes, Sir" Dave's stomach is full of fluttering butterflies as a rough hand smooths over the round of his ass, keeping the next move a secret. James slaps the palm of his hand across the ginger's ass, the satisfying sound bouncing off the walls of the deserted building. The butterflies feel more like a Motörhead concert after that "Ah-!"
"Count" James commands. Dave has been with enough people like him before to know what it means - although none of them made him feel the way that James does.
"One" his breathing is ragged and he bites moans in half with pearly white teeth every time he has to say a number out loud "Two!" this one lands on the sensitive section of muscle where the end of the thigh meets the beginning of the buttock, making his nerves thrill beneath heated skin and his soft lips curl around a piercing whine. The third blow is channeled through James' fingers, instead of his palm; the prickle is sharper this way, causing Dave to squirm and try to inch away, despite how much he likes it. When his body tries to slip forward across the laminated floor, the friction burns his elbows, knees and face. It's going to be a nightmare later. But, right now, he's got better things to pay attention to.
"Alright, baby" James rubs an alleviating hand over the red imprints that he's left "How are you feeling?"
"Better than ever" the boy readjusts his position and asks James to spank him again. The rounds go by so quickly, Dave wishes he could skip the pauses and get straight to the next one already. Several cycles of five hits later, James reaches out to place his hand in front of the kid's face.
"Open" he says, slipping two fingers into his mouth. Dave swirls his tongue, soaking them with spit from fingertip to knuckle. When James is satisfied with the result, he uses both digits to trace Dave's hole. His touch is more of a promise than a fact, but it makes the redhead's spine rattle with arousal all the same. The fingers travel down to lightly press against his perineum and fumble with his balls, ignoring his already neglected cock. Then, Dave hears James spit into his own palm and lube himself up, moving to nudge him with the head of his dick. And it's scary. An alarming shiver ripples throughout his slender body.
"What? We need prep and lu-" Dave tries to dissuade the blond, but Hetfield's deep voice cuts him mid-sentence.
"Nothing's going up your ass, kid" he chuckles "Not today, not here. I ain't no angel, but I ain't fuckin' evil, either"
"Oh. Then...?" Dave's unasked question lingers in the heavy air.
"Do you trust me?"
"Well... Yeah, I-" James could have killed him today if he really had wanted to, so Dave figures it's fine to let him take control.
"Then open your legs and lift your hips higher, whore" again, the nickname that James comes up with makes Dave's heart skip a beat. He does as told, curious. James' knees are outside his, pressing them closed. The head of the blond's dick presses into the gap between his thighs, sliding in to nudge against the back of Dave's balls, hitting a sweet spot that isn't as frequently stimulated as it should during sexual relations, making the pieces fall into place for the kid.
"Oh" a little sound of surprise and relief leaves his mouth.
"See? You should listen to me more often" James' remark is spiteful, aimed just right at the spot that makes Dave squirm.
"In your dreams" the redhead retorts, voice snide.
"We'll see about that" Hetfield starts thrusting into the tight space, and the poor lubrication provided by the evaporating drool is almost not enough, but the friction feels just so delightful, neither of them care. Dave drops his head and looks under himself, observes how James' cock emerges and disappears between two slippery thighs. His slippery thighs. It feels surreal, like a fever dream; the hottest man he's ever seen is fucking him senseless in the middle of an empty gym, on a Thursday night, after beating him to the most heterosexual sport he can think of. What are the chances, man?"
"Hit me again!" Dave mewls, hoisting his ass up and waiting for his wish to be fulfilled.
"You have to ask nicely, kid" James coos, raking the boy's back with his blunt nails, leaving smooth trails of pink irritation behind.
"Please! Please, spank me again!" Dave pleads, desperate in his elation.
"That's better" Hetfield scratches him once again, then hits him for the God-knows-which time tonight, admiring the beautiful imprints that his sinewy fingers leave on the freckled skin. His hips move more erratically now, falling into different patterns and rhythms that never fail make Dave whimper. A long arm stretches across his back until a hand curls around Dave's slim throat. The thumb digs into the carotid artery, just below his jaw. The same applies to the other side of his neck, where both the index finger apply pressure to restrict blood flow while the rest of digits are loosely wrapped around the base.
When circularion is cut off to the veins on his face, it feels like Dave's skin is being pinpricked. A tingling sensation appears, surrounding his eyes and lips with a slight pressure that had been unknown to him until now. But James knows it's not safe to do this for extended periods of time, so his hand is gone before Dave can even start panicking.
"Woah. That was..." Mustaine tries to describe how he feels about it, but it's confusing; both fear and lust are mixing in a whirlwind of emotions that has shaken his mind, interrupting all rational thinking.
"I know, baby, I know" Holy Shit, does that whisper - and what it implies - do things to Dave. If he keeps it up, the boy might even be able to cum without having his dick touched. Maybe Hetfield reads his mind, because he leans down to start stroking the ginger's cock with firm tugs, making it impossible for him to stay still.
"Faster, please!" Dave begs as his elbows skid on the synthetic floor, practically skinning them from the dry friction against the plastic. But the sweetness of James' cock trapped between his thighs and rubbing up against his perineum, combined with the sourness of his chafed knees and arms... It's wicked. Immoral. The filthiest, most pleasurable experience any of them has ever had "Daddy!" he squeals when a thumb rubs a circle around the tip of his cock.
With James stroking him like this, Dave's not gonna last much longer. And he can tell that Hetfield is getting there, too. It's sloppy, dry, and fierce, and James' movements are even more irregular, and Mustaine can feel a pair of legs trembling behind his own.
"You should see yourself like this" James leans down to whisper in his ear "So wet, moaning like a slut" Dave's cock gives a pitiful jerk at the words, feeling a spring coiling tightly in his chest that's waiting to be released.
"Daddy, can I-?" he's so dazed, he can't even speak properly "I'm gonna-"
"Yeah, baby. Cum for me" James greenlights his unfinished requests "Fuckin' scream my name, darling" he decides to break his own rules, asking Mustaine to say his name. And, Dave does.
"Fuck, James!" he sobs, spilling all over the floor and James' hand, all sticky and blotchy and hot.
"That's right" Hetfield continues ramming him into the stage, following every thrust with an expletive "Such a good toy for me" there's no lie there; Dave has already finished, James is using him. And best of all, he doesn't mind it. His dick twitches lazily, making his lower back hurt. Too much. Too soon "Shit!" James grunts his release into the tightness of the kid's wobbly legs, white spurts landing on the back of Dave's balls, his dick, the floor.
"Jesus Christ, dude" the boy pants, exhausted, collapsing on his side with James' strong arms wrapped around his chest.
"Go take a shower while I clean this up"
"But I don't want to take my shower alone!" Dave pouts, giving him a soft peck on the lips and chuckling when he feels the soft tingle of his mustache.
"Fine. But I have to clean this before it dries up. Then we can get ready and I'll give you a ride"
"Thanks" the ginger boy stands up and stretches his arms above his head, wincing when a sharp pang attacks his bruise, all while looking around for his missing clothes "Don't take long" he gives James a sly wink before going down the stairs of the ring and disappearing behind the locker room's doors.
While he searches for something to clean the mess they've made, Hetfield is left with the impression that this isn't going to be the only time they do this. And James, God help him, smiles. He's fucking beaming at the possibilities that cross his mind.