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Wrap It in Your Soiled Dress

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Trent sat there sulking miserably, watching everything happening right before his eyes. Deep down, he knew he was overreacting, but no one wanted to admit that. It was too much to take in as it was, and he felt that familiar twinge and swell of some sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach, making him want to puke. Anyone who noticed the way his sharp eyebrows furrowed together in a hardened gaze above those green eyes glazed over would know instantly what was going on.

 

God, he just wished Twiggy would quit that incessant giggling of his. He wished Manson would stop fucking touching him with that shit-eating grin on his face. And right in front of him too. Didn’t Manson know how much this riled him up? For all Trent could see, the god of fuck was his and his only. He admired Twiggy; when he wasn’t stoned off his ass, the man was an excellent artist. But this was too much. There they both stood, right in front of him, laughing and touching and flirting.

 

One thing was for certain. Trent was jealous.

 

Suddenly Manson leaned over and whispered something in Twiggy’s ear. Whatever it was, it caused the bassist to blush uncontrollably and burst into yet another fit of giggles. Trent pursed his lips and glared. What the hell? What game was Manson playing? Was he deliberately trying to get him jealous? It was certainly working; Trent was fucking sure of that. Then, right before the man’s green eyes of pure envy, Manson reached down and gave Twiggy’s ass a squeeze, causing him to squeak loudly.

 

This was too much. Fuck this. Trent just wanted to get up, get out, and feel sorry for himself. With Manson fawning all over Twiggy, Trent finally had enough and stood up abruptly, actually catching the attention of Manson and his bassist, who both looked at him with confused expressions. Trent said nothing in return, spun on his heel, and walked out the door and down the hall, fuming over their fucking display. Honestly, sometimes he just wanted to yank on Twiggy’s dreads, rip his pretty dress to shreds, make him cry-

 

Pretty dress, huh? Trent nearly stopped dead in his tracks as an idea began to form in his mind. If this was what Manson was insinuating, if this was what he wanted… Trent was right outside Twiggy’s room when he decided to take the notion that popped into his head at the moment. He eyed the white dress in his closet and almost smiled mischievously. It was short and frilly and, well, perfect. Honestly, how many goddamn dresses did Twiggy own? It didn’t matter. With himself stripped down to his underwear in front of the mirror, Trent slipped the thin dress over his slim body and eyed himself up and down. At first, he thought he looked absolutely ridiculous, but then a slow smile spread across his face and he smirked. Pretty as a girl.

 

Meanwhile, Manson watched Trent’s rather unexpected exit and furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, Twigs?” he began, looking down at his bassist. “I think we overdid it.”

 

Twiggy glanced up disinterestedly and then eyed the doorway Trent walked out from. “Oh.” He shrugged himself out of Manson’s arms and walked around to strum at his bass. “Gotta be honest, I don’t even know why we did it.”

 

Manson sighed. It was true he was trying to get Trent jealous because, well, he had been getting rather jealous himself. What with the album and all- or lack thereof, he began to feel as though Trent was growing more and more distant from him, more absorbed in the task at hand rather than everything else around him. That was always Trent; most times, he seemed all work and no play, and that irked Manson near the edge. Then he saw Trent talking to Twiggy and laughing with Twiggy and… hanging… with Twiggy, and that was what irritated him most of all.

 

Twiggy was oblivious of course, but that gave Manson all the more reason to conspire against Trent with him, to make him jealous. Even getting a rise out of him, an angry rise was enough to get him to notice him again. And it seemed to be working for a while until Trent abruptly left the room, irate and envious. Manson suddenly found himself back at square one, and he realized how ridiculous his plan had sounded when he constructed it. This was Trent. A man who put his music and work above everything else, but that did not necessarily mean he was purposefully ignoring Manson. Knowing that only made Manson feel worse.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose and squaring his shoulders, he told Twiggy he was going to go after him and exited the room, passing through the hallway until he heard some shuffling and the bed creaking in Twiggy’s room. Curiosity overtook Manson, and he reached for the handle, turning it slowly, and opening it ajar. The room was dark. As soon as he flipped on the light switch, Manson froze where he stood and sucked in a breath, blinking once, eyes wide, astonished and honestly a bit aroused at what he saw.

 

“Thought you’d never get here.” Trent lay against the pillows, playfully and carelessly fiddling with the skirt of the frilly, white dress. He gently stroked his inner thighs while he did so, and Manson felt the heat rush to his face and the blood swell to his cock. Absent-mindedly, he placed a hand over his crotch and swallowed. Trent observed this tense reaction and bit his lip sensually.

 

“What…” Manson coughed, cursing himself to get the words out. “Is that… Twiggy’s?”

 

Trent shrugged and rolled his eyes, stretching his arms over his head. Manson thought he looked absolutely adorable like that, all stretched out on the bed, soft and pretty, like a kitten. How he wanted to pounce on him and make him purr. But he contained himself for now.

 

“Is this what you like?” Trent asked, ignoring Manson’s first question. “Men in dresses? You like it when your boys dress like pretty, pretty girls?”

 

All of a sudden, Manson felt guilty from the scene before and he stammered out his explanation. “Trent… look. I’m sorry about w-what happened earlier. It was all a big mis-“

 

“Is this what you like, Brian?” Trent repeated, interrupting him. Manson saw his fingers stroke a little higher between his thighs, and then he hiked up the skirt, exposing what was hidden underneath. Goddamit, those were panties for girls.

 

Manson swallowed hard and finally answered, “Yeah. Lie back. Arms above your head like before.”

 

Trent grinned and complied immediately, spreading his legs a little wider when he watched Manson climb onto the bed and kneel in between his thighs. The man looked feral now, eyes dark and glazed over in lust as he scanned them over his body, up and down, very slowly. Trent stared back, green eyes now innocent like a doe’s and automatically his hands reached up to grip the bars of the headboard.

 

Suddenly Manson’s hands were upon him and roamed underneath the delicate fabric of the dress, fingers counting his ribs and teasingly brushing over his nipples, making his breath hitch in his throat. “Soft… You’re soft just like a girl you know, pretty like a girl,” Manson murmured while his hands ran up and down Trent’s sides and then splayed on his concave stomach, so, so close to where Trent wanted them to be. He groaned a bit as the tightness in the skimpy underwear he wore increased, and Manson noticed this, smirking.

 

“What a dirty, dirty girl you are wearing those panties,” he droned in that gravelly, deep voice now dripping with lust. “You know what that does to me, fucking tease.” Trent closed his eyes at the dirty talk and groaned some more, brushing the hair from his eyes. Before he knew it, the man above him had raised the skirt of the dress, exposing him, but rather than give his hardening member any attention, he instead bent down and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to his abdomen. “Did I ever mention how cute your little tummy is?” he remarked and proceeded to kiss it some more, pausing to lick at the skin.

 

“Brian…” Trent was desperate now. “Babe…”

 

“Begging now, are we?” Manson smiled, and his eyes glittered. “Lucky for you I’m hungry.” Spreading Trent’s thighs further apart and lifting his legs a little, Manson lowered his head, eyeing Trent the entire time, and grabbed the waistband of his panties with his teeth. Slowly, so slowly, he slid them from his body and flung them to the side of the bed before going back down to his desired destination.

 

Trent watched him position himself between his thighs and place his legs over his shoulders. Then he lowered his head. For a moment, he thought he was going to actually suck him off, but the tongue flicking teasingly at his entrance told him otherwise. Trent gasped and flung his head back, gripping Manson’s head and pushing him down further. He thought he heard a chuckle, but he didn’t care; all he could do was moan and shiver, begging for more.

 

Manson smiled at the fingers gripping his hair and felt the skirt fall over his head. He hummed contentedly and continued to pleasure Trent with his tongue, flicking and licking and laving that muscle over the entrance of his ass mercilessly. Just to get more of a rise out of him, he gently dipped his tongue inside. When he felt the fingers tighten and yank at his hair, Manson knew he had hit the spot. Before continuing however, he got out from under the skirt of the dress, breathless but obviously not done yet.

 

“Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.” Trent obeyed Manson’s order instantly and squeaked when he felt him hike up his skirt abruptly. Just to tease him for a change, he turned his head with a slow smile and shook his cute, little ass in his face.

 

Manson chuckled and gave it a good smack, licking his lips when he heard Trent squeal. “Want me to eat your pussy, princess?” he asked with a low, domineering growl.

 

“Yes, please… unh,” Trent moaned when he felt that familiar tongue slide from his balls to his entrance in one slick motion. “Eat it…”

 

“Rock your hips for me, baby girl,” Manson said. “Ride my face.” Trent bit his lip and began to roll his hips back, which earned him an approving slap to his butt. “That’s it… Just like that…” Manson breathed and moved in so that he was sucking and licking at Trent’s entrance, practically eating him while he undulated against him.

 

A high pitched whine escaped Trent’s lips, and he got up on his knees with one hand fisting into the mattress while his other hand reached behind to shove Manson’s face in deeper. Manson hummed and moaned into his ass and dug his nails into his cheeks before smacking them repeatedly and rhythmically to the time of Trent’s grinding in his face. Trent squealed and whined a little louder with each smack, each lick to his ass until he felt that growing knot in his stomach that filled him with such pleasure. Eagerly he reached down to bring himself to release until Manson forcefully swatted his hand away.

 

“Ah, ah, ah, pretty girl,” he hissed, suddenly flipping Trent on his back once more. “Only I get to do that, and we’re no where near done. Spread those legs wide, princess. Let me see you.”

 

Trent bit his lip and gazed at his lover through lidded eyes as he did so, scrunching up his skirt at his waist and looking positively sinful.

 

“Mmm… soft and warm,” Manson muttered in a voice barely above a whisper as he ran his large hand over Trent’s inner thigh. Trent whimpered and squirmed a bit beneath his gaze. “Bet you want me to fuck you with the dress on, don’t you?” Manson purred. “Bet you want my great big cock inside of your tight, pretty little pussy.”

 

Trent pouted and looked down. “It’s not small…”

 

Manson clicked his tongue and grinned tauntingly. “You wanted to act like a girl.” Gradually he unzipped his pants. “You’re going to be treated like a girl.” Shoving his pants down a little, he hissed pleasurably as his dick sprang out fully erect. “And I’m going to fuck you like a girl. Stretch your fuckhole. Make you scream for me.”

 

Trent opened his mouth to speak again until two of Manson’s fingers fucked into his mouth, making him choke for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and wrapped his lips around them tight and began to suck. “There you go,” he heard Manson growl above him. “Suck my fingers good, slut.” Trent moaned and wrapped his hand tight around Manson’s wrist while he lapped at his fingers obediently.

 

All of a sudden, Manson pulled them from his mouth and gingerly rubbed at his hole, earning a delighted sigh from Trent’s lips. Without a warning, he pushed them in, slowly, up to the knuckle, and Trent writhed, clawing at the sheets and pillows and releasing small, pretty sounds.

 

“You like that, huh? You like my fingers fucking your pussy?”

 

Trent was at a loss for words. Here he was, lying on the bed in a fucking dress while Manson knelt between his legs, fingering him. He nodded.

 

“Wish it was my cock, coming inside you?”

 

Another nod, more frantic than the last. When Manson curled his fingers inside of him, stretching and scissoring him unrelentingly, Trent mewled and moaned whorishly, arching his back, feeling himself getting closer.

 

Manson pulled his fingers out abruptly, ignoring Trent’s protests. “See if Twiggy has any lube.”

 

Trent reached to the side and opened the drawer to the intable beside him and tossed the convenient bottle in Manson’s direction.

 

“Damn, babe, I’m gonna fuck your pussy so hard,” his lover growled while applying the lube to his hard, aching cock.

 

“Mhmm… Please fuck me, baby,” Trent murmured in a soft whimper. Wrapping his legs around Manson’s waist, he shoved the dress up, exposing most of his body and rubbed his ass against his member.

 

Slowly, achingly slow, Manson pushed in, relishing the euphoric feeling of Trent’s wet warmth surrounding his length, and he gently gripped his hips for leverage while rubbing small circles into his skin. Trent let out a high moan, and his hands instantaneously went to Manson’s arms, grasping them with a boa constrictor like grip.

 

“Fucking… so fucking tight for me, princess!” Manson grunted and began a steady thrusting pace, in and out of him.

 

“Unh…”

 

“You’re so beautiful,” whispered his lover while running a hand down his chest and fiddling with the ribbons of his dress. Before Trent could reply, Manson pulled out of him and then pushed in almost immediately, causing Trent to scream. “Yes, baby girl. I want to hear it.”

 

With every thrust, Trent cried out rhythmically, and the bed creaked beneath their weight and movement. The rocking back and forth caused the dress to ride up his body and his hair flew in disarray as Manson’s thrusts became more and more rough and erratic. The rougher he got, the further he reached, and Trent felt something inside of him explode with waves of pleasure, starting small and then gradually increasing in intensity. Trent didn’t think he could hold it back any longer.

 

“F-fuck, I’m-!” Manson let out a loud moan as his orgasm washed over him and he rode it out inside of Trent so that he could have his. “Come on, baby girl. You’re almost there. Come for me.”

 

Trent keened and arched his back as he spilled out over Manson’s chest and his stomach. He didn’t care how loud he was at this point; he wanted everyone to hear it, especially Twiggy. He wanted everyone to know that Manson was his. Eventually, his screams became whimpers in his high and the waves of pleasure became smaller and smaller as Manson rubbed at his cock, drawing out the rest of his orgasm.

 

“That’s it, baby doll,” Manson praised, slowing the flicking of his wrist. Trent purred in bliss in his comedown from his high and sank into the sheets, exhausted but thoroughly satisfied. Manson fell back beside him and wrapped his arms around him from behind, spooning him. “You make a very pretty girl.”

 

“Prettier than Twiggy?” Trent asked.

 

Manson groaned and sat up. “Trent, you know I was just trying to make you jealous. That’s all. I was just jealous because you had been hanging with him so much. I see now that I was being ridiculous.”

 

Trent said nothing but smiled to himself. Then he sat up as well and pressed a quick kiss to Manson’s lips for good measure. “Okay.”

 

“I still want to see you in that dress again sometime,” Manson grinned, tugging at the skirt of his dress a little. “I don’t know what you did to me back there, but fuck.”

 

Trent smirked and thought that Twiggy could do without one of his dresses. “Maybe you will.”