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Tawagoto Speaker

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Roger is needy and an attention seeking brat. He craves attention. He seeks it out like a dog for a scrap of meat. 


Consistently, he directs this attention from anything and anyone to keep him entertained. He can't remember when the needs and desires of pure sex began, exactly. Perhaps during university he needed to lay off some steam from his father's pressured gestures to pursue a career in dentistry to him switching to Biology. Whatever the excuse, Roger cannot bring himself to care that much. 


It wasn't so much as sex with girls. Those days were debunked in his high school days when he had a few girlfriends here and there. A couple at Uni, just before he joined the band, Smile. But then he began experimenting. And in the midst of this came his abnormal attraction towards the same sex. At first, he didn't pay mind to the fact he diverted his gaze from girls to guys. Maybe it was because he wasn't the one taking it, more or less, he was the one diving into that tight heat himself — to any gay guy he could find.


After a while, he began to realise he didn't, per say, enjoy that. He became bored and restless, his sexual frustration craving even more.


He caught up with a guy he had just finished with, both out of breath, sweaty and disgusting mangled in the sheets of this guy. It was a single room with one bed, curtains drawn, cigarettes littering the carpet and the stench of post-sex filling the room. 


The boy, a little older than Roger, sat up and pulled the sheets over him. At this point, Roger would normally just get up and leave. But he felt too ... too depressed to even try. The boy, Jayden, seemed to pick up on his melancholic behaviour. Roger didn't want to exactly judge, but Jayden is the type of guy whom you immediately know is a raging homosexual: with his long eyelashes, to bleached blonde hair, 'girly' accent, swinging hips and obsession with fashion. Roger is just thankful he is none of those things ... he ignores that part about his blonde hair. But at least his eyebrows aren't dark, unlike Jayden's. His at least looks natural.


"What's wrong, sweetheart?" said Jayden. He reached out, not hesitant at all, and caressed Roger's cheek. "You have a sense of sadness about you today."


That's right — today in meaning this isn't the only time they have hooked up. 


In his daze of drugged-induced mind — because Roger had taken a shot of ecstasy before he followed Jayden inside of this room —  Roger leaned into the touch. He craved that touch. A hug in which he cannot even get from his own friends at the moment.


Not even Brian can make time for him. But can he blame the man? No. Roger has been the definition of a moody bitch for the past couple of months, so no wonder they weren't very fond of him at the moment. 


That isn't even the point; the matter of the doubt is that there is this sinking feeling that rocked from side to side in his heart. Whether he felt incredibly sick one minute from utter sadness, or completed happy and chilled out the next, he just knew he hated living the way he is at the moment. Him and his band mates are supposed to be up and early the next morning to make their way to their recording studio.


Roger scooted away from Jayden, huffing out a tuff of breath, shivering in his own skin.


"Baby, do talk to me~" His voice was sickly sweet, but he's the only person Roger can listen to right now. He needed Jayden, even after knowing him for more than a good few months now. "Tell me what's wrong."


Roger didn't want to answer. He just felt as if he was at an incomplete line. It unsatisfied him in his sexual frustrations. He needed something more, but he's not sure what. 


He never did voice his thoughts, but Jayden seemed to of picked up on what he was feeling. The boy was some sort of genius in his own way, but he's wasting his precious time in secret gay bars and prostituting himself to others. Roger did not allow himself to do that. Even Roger drew the line at that. 


Jayden removed the sheet from him again, exposing his pale, lean and naked body. A twitch stirred within Roger at that, and he sat up a little straighter. Whatever Jayden wants next, he will provide. When his body is dominated mainly by drugs and alcohol, he finds himself complying to stuff he doesn't want to. To things he regrets severely after the drugs and hangovers have worn off.


"I know what you need," Jayden purred. He pressed his cracked lips to Roger's own softer ones, consuming his mouth and letting his tongue explore his insides.


Roger allowed it, guessing Jayden is just up for a round two. He didn't even comprehend Jayden pulling him forwards and then pushing him down so he was lying on his front. It's a position him and Jayden haven't done a lot — with Roger on top — Jayden preferred to dominate Roger and ride him a lot, or instruct him on what to do. And the fact that Jayden is the one crawling on top of him made him break out into a cold, anxious sweat. It must be the drugs, so he keeps quiet. 


Jayden begins massaging his thighs, pressing light kisses to his upper back and trailing downwards. Roger tensed when he reached his lower back. 


"Shh, it's okay..." Jayden whispered in his ear, hot breath tickling Roger's face. 


The boy then moved again, his hands trailing to Roger's ass and spreading him open, breath now ghosting over his untouched hole. This is when Roger began to move away, not liking the feeling at all. 


Jayden pushes him down, giggling at him. "Hey, trust me. You'll love this, baby. Just relax yourself." 


Roger swallowed, the dryness of his throat making him cringe. But he did as Jayden asked and, to comfort the older man, he leaned back into his touch, needing that care. He knew Jayden to be gentle. He never went outside of Roger's comfort zone within reason. And despite liking to wreck Roger, after making the smaller cum three times in half an hour, Jayden always cared for him after. He's sweet in his own sadistic way. 


A hot stripe of Jayden's tongue licked at Roger's opening and Roger buried his face into the questionably stained sheets. His fingers clenched, blunt nails digging into his palms. He let a croaky whimper sound from his throat as Jayden began to delve deeper, eventually letting his tongue slip past the tight ring of muscles.


Roger didn't feel right; the sensation is disturbingly strange. It didn't hurt, except for the tiny bit of burn of having anything actually inside of him. But it didn't feel good, either. It just felt ... it felt weird. How could Jayden enjoy something inside of him? Roger has never put his tongue down there, because he didn't even like doing that with girls, but he believed that fingering someone had a similar outcome. 


Roger continued to pant into the sheets until Jayden's tongue poked at something inside of him that made his toes curl. A small squeak could not help but escape past his lips shamefully. 


Jayden took his tongue out, rubbing at Roger's bare back. "See, little one? It's not so bad. That's what you hit in me all the time."


Roger felt a reckless tear squeeze past his eye. He coughed into the sheets, still ashamed. He shouldn't be enjoying this; this is something girls irked boys to do for pleasure — to scream and shout at wanting more, wanting it harder, faster.


"My sweet boy, please use your words..." Jayden leaned down and bit at his earlobe before sucking a love bite just under his ear. "Roger."


Roger swallowed. "I—" He coughed again, the nausea building up more and more. "I - Jay—"


Jayden forcefully flipped Roger over and seductively trailed kissing up his front, ignoring his weeping cock. He put one hand around Roger's throat, the pressure constricting. He then licked inside the smaller boy's mouth, drawing a moan. 


"Do you want me to eat you out?" he said. 


Roger blushed, moving his head away. But Jayden caught him, again kissing him. 


"C'mon, Roggie ... You'll love it." He said. Roger only nodded, which only caused Jayden to tighten the grip on his throat. Roger was worried Jayden was going to suffocate him. "I said words, precious. I need you to use your words."


Roger nodded again, but with dialogue, "Y-Yes, can you ...? Mmf—"


He trailed off when Jayden let go of him and wrapped the hand he had around his throat to his cock, blocking the tip so he wouldn't dribble pre-cum everywhere, and Jayden’s tongue helping with lubricating Roger's virgin hole. 


Roger stared up at the ceiling, his gaze cloudy and mind in a daze. He felt too hot, like he was placed in a the middle of a desert, but he couldn't help but sweat his own fever off. The pants he came out with only encouraged Jayden more, and he once again hit that bundle of nerves.


"Ah—!" Roger quickly put a hand over his mouth, embarrass with his cheeks burning. He released his hand when a sharp squeeze from Jayden on his cock indicated to not let his voice from being held back. 


Soon followed Jayden's fingers. Roger would have thought that at least he'd use one, but the older boy went for two, beginning to already scissor him open. 


"Ow! Jay—Jayden, s-stop!" He tried reaching down to grab a fistful of Jayden's hair, but he was much stronger than Roger's tiny form. He held him down, having to let go of Roger's member in order to stop Roger from escaping. "Jayden! It hurts!" 


A third finger was used and Jayden pulled his tongue out. The pain was even worse now. God, had he been hurting Jayden this whole time? Is that why Jayden isn't taking any empathy? Because Roger has hurt him, and now he's seeking revenge? In that case, Roger deserves it ... But the pain is horrible, and he wanted it to stop, but Jayden wouldn't listen.


Jayden leaned up, pressing his three fingers inside of Roger, forcefully pumping them in and out, trying to reach the tiny blonde's sweet spot again. The older kissed away Roger's free falling tears, shushing him like a baby animal. 


"Shh, it's okay, my precious ... it's okay. It'll all be over soon..."


It will all be over soon? Will it really? From what Roger could recall, whenever he fucked Jayden, the older boy wanted Roger to cum inside of him as much as he could. In other words, Jayden liked this stuff to last for a hell of a long time. And Roger thought girls were demanding. When having sex, people would expect him to be more wild and perhaps louder. Well ... he was. He was with girls at least, and at first with boys. But Jayden rubbed him the wrong way ... and ... and he can't help but feel his self-esteem eat at itself when with Jayden. He needed Jayden, and he's not sure why. 


Roger hadn't registered that Jayden had lined himself up with Roger and had started pushing in as slowly as possible. Roger couldn't relax. That's all there is to it. It hurt like hell. 


He leaned up in panic, but Jayden pushes him down.


"Stop! Stop, Jayden! That hurts!" he let out a dry sob, chest heaving with uneven breaths. 


Jayden growled, but the sparkle of care still wanders in his hazel eyes. "I know it hurts, my angel. Shh, shh, relax, little one..." He left a long kiss on Roger's lips to block his crying. "You're doing so well, okay? Just some more." Jayden thrust a little, causing Roger to turn his head and yelp pathetically. 


Once Jayden was all the way in, Roger was grateful that he left him time to adjust. Honestly, he doesn't know why he topped men in the first place. Mostly all the ones he's been with have had bigger dicks and are much bigger and taller than him. He's just unfortunately short — though he knows he’s still growing. It's not as if it's uncommon knowledge. He just hated to admit it. 


He suddenly wishes he was with his friends. With Freddie, and his calming words. He much preferred Freddie calling him sweet nicknames than Jayden. He wished for Brian to be here — to hold him closely, his lanky body consuming Roger's own tiny one. Last of all, he wanted John there, with his wise and thoughtful words to help calm him. And as much as he craved the attention from all, he knew he could only seek comfort in Jayden for now. And he feels even more guilty for brushing Jayden off like that. He did, after all, take Roger under his wing. 


Jayden picked up a rhythm, not quite angling himself into Roger's prostate. But the smaller found that he started to enjoy the easy flow of the boy's thrusts. They were the right pace, no jerky movements or slowing down anytime. And soon, Roger was busy holding onto Jayden, arms around the older's back and head resting on his shoulder with his thoughts wrapped around Jayden's waist like a harness, sweet, soft moans emitted from his sinful lips. 


"You liking it now, baby?" Jayden grunted, delivering a hard thrust. 


"Ah — fuck!" Roger cried out. Jayden smirked against his hair and used that own power to hit the smaller's prostate again. "Ah, ah - Jay—Jay, can you — mmf!" Roger hands started to trail to Jayden's back, his blunt finger nails digging weakly at the smooth skin. "Jayden!"


Jayden moans in response, quickening his pace. His continued to nip and press kisses to Roger's neck behind his ear, almost as if he was savouring the taste of Roger. 


Every thrust hit perfectly at Roger's sweetest spot, and with it, came the blonde's soft moans, tears still rolling down his cheeks. Whether it was from humiliation or the burn or pleasure, Roger isn't sure. And he's not too sure with Jayden, but one thing is for sure — he much prefers being on the receiving end rather than being on top. It felt right, with each thrust jolting him, the pulsing of his own little cock begging for attention. He likes this ... he really does like this. 


Jayden slowed his pace for a bit, taking Roger's arms from around his shoulders to be pinned down. He had this opportunity to kiss Roger on the mouth, easily winning the domination battle as Roger, not even ten minutes in, was out of it. 


"Mm..." Roger moaned, eyes glassy and drooling slightly. The drug must be finally taking affect to draw him to sleep. Jayden let go of his mouth, giving him the liberty to breath more. 


"Come on, little one..." growled Jayden, sucking a huge bruise into Roger's pale collarbone. "Let me hear you." He sent a long, hard thrust, causing Roger to jerk. Only a squeak escaped the blonde, and Roger knew the older was determined to do more. He was too tuckered out to even cry out in pleasure. He almost felt the length of Jayden's member bulge against his stomach. He needed to lay off of the drugs more and start actually eating, because his limbs were too small and slim for his friends liking — according to them. But ... Jayden liked him like this, it seems. 


"Baby - fuck, Roggie, I'm so close—!" Jayden delivered another hard thrust before he sunk even more into Roger, slamming his prostate.


Roger squeezed his eyes tightly shut, holding his breath, his thighs violently shaking and trying to hold on around Jayden's waist. 


"Cum for me, little one. Come on, I know you can — come on—!" Jayden let out a long groan, finally releasing himself inside of Roger for the first time. 


Roger could feel his walls clenching and being filled with long streams of Jayden’s spill. It sent him over the edge, eyes still squeezed shut with tears staining his red cheeks. He felt the jolt of his orgasm spill across his stomach and chest, completely filed out. His mind left the room for a moment. 


Only Jayden's shaking woke him up again. He hadn't even realised he had blacked out. What time even was it? 


"Hey, my precious. How's my baby doing? Did you have fun?"


Roger let out a huge breath before shooting up in a panic. The lower side of his back screamed in protest and his thighs were aching terribly. 


Jayden quickly grabbed at his shoulders, trying to get Roger to make eye contact. "Roggie, darling, look at me. You're okay, sweetheart." The older let out a laugh as Roger finally dared look at him. "Aren't you a silly little thing? You fell straight to sleep after that. I had to at least save your modesty."


Roger deems that sentence to imply he is in fact naked under the white sheets Jayden provided for him. He instinctively pulled the covers up more, his muscles not considering the idea of even moving. 


"Um..." It is easy to say that Roger felt a little awkward, despite the fact him and Jayden have hooked up too many times for Roger to even care to remember. But he had never taken it, and it unnerved him — because he liked it. 


Jayden laughs again. "Don't worry, Rog. You've been asleep for a few hours."


Roger nodded in response. His head hurt — even heart — his heart beat slow, blood stream trying to rid itself from the nights alcohol and drugs he had taken. 


"What time is it?" he asked in a mumble, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He had no clue how long him and Jayden had stayed up — quite possibly into the wee hours of early morning. It was now light outside, the white sky of clouds lighting up the gloomy darkness of the bedroom. 


"It is..." Jayden leaned over to his side, checking the alarms clock that stood there. "It's 9:30 in the morning." 


Roger's eyes widened. "Oh, shit — you're kidding?" He jumped from the bed, not caring that he was stark naked — not caring that his bones were too brittle to start work this early. And shit did his lower back hurt to the point he was actually limping along the room just to retrieve his clothes from the mountains of other men's clothing left here? 


"I'm not joking, baby," said Jayden all too causally for Roger's liking. "Why? Somewhere you need to be?"


Roger shoved his trousers on and fumbled with the flyers, just so he looked half decent. He threw a shirt on over his head — a shirt probably not even belonging to him — and made a mad dash to the door where his trainers lay. 


"Will you come by later?" Jayden called just as he opened the door. "I had fun last night."


Roger sighed, heart on the edge of a dangerous speeding level. "Yes, I will, Jay. I'll see you soon!" He didn't even let Jayden finish his goodbye as he slammed the door shut.


This building was the definition of drugs and prostitution; Roger can smell the cheap weed in the air and dense smell of sex. It was disgusting, but over the past few months, he's become frighteningly used to it. The one thing that made him more uncomfortable were how thin the walls were and how little space there was in the hallway between each door. To experiment on his theory a couple of months back, Roger had stuck his arms out to test whether he could touch each wall on either side, and his experiment was deemed a success: he can do it. 


Roger skimmed the pavement, not bothering with calling for a taxi. Mainly because he has no money in his pockets. (These are definitely not his trousers). And he did not bring his car; he had some care to not drink and drive whilst also sexually frustrated and knocked up full of MDMA.


A couple of strangers gave him odd looks, but he just brushed it off to them recognising him from his band. They aren't exactly world famous, but they are quite well known around Britain and Japan. It must be strange seeing someone like him walk around in too-big of trousers and a lose fitting shirt. 


He guided his feet towards the studio him and the boys normally meet up at. They all shared a flat together with three bedrooms and a fairly spacious living room and bathroom and kitchen.


He guessed his walk from the poverty part of London towards a more luxury place took away a good thirty minutes of his life. So he was at least an hour late for the bands practise, to say the least. The whole walk he limped painfully, and trying to strengthen his course by leaning as much weight as possible on his feet to make him look a little more normal. 


He approached the back of the door, deciding he would rather not face the rage of his management and just face the boy's today. It would get everything over and done with. 


With a deep breath, Roger gripped the handle of the door with shaky fingers and entered the warmth and sweet smelling atmosphere of the room. Already he could see Brian with his fingers gracing over the strings of his guitar. Freddie was sat at the piano, with John next to him, teaching him certain notes on his base to go along with the piano. Maybe it he just calmly sneaked in without anyone noticing they would let him off?


False to his plan, he managed to trip over the base drum pedal when he went to sit down. A fiasco of events followed, such as the crash cymbal coming off its hinges and nearly smacking Roger in the head. A laugh from somewhere around the room followed and Roger felt like dying right then and there. His body was in even more pain now. And he refused to move until someone moved himself for him. 


A pair of strong hands, one gripping around his right upper arm and the other cradling his chest, lifted him up. 


"Help me, you wanker," Brian grunted. He was clearly frustrated, and Roger didn't want to push his buttons. So he made an effort to help stand up, nearly hissing in pain when he planted both feet on the ground again.


As he was settled, Brian made eyes with him, telling him to not hide behind his drum kit and follow him to the middle of the room. He did so, heaving a sigh and quick reminder to his barely functioning brain that fixing his drum kit will have to wait. Freddie didn't bother moving from his seat, and John places his base down, his expression unreadable.


Brian stared down at Roger, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for an explanation. They were all waiting for some sort of explanation. 


"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled and mentally smacked himself. They wouldn't buy that at all; one way to sound convincing and the other whiney and craving attention. It was most definitely the latter, because Brian's eyes darkened before they resumed back to their normal calm and collected self.


"This is the fifth time this month, Rog," he said. 


"Been counting, have you, Bri?" Maybe it was a bit of a dick move to mock a nickname that is only used when the older lad is looking out for him. But he can't help it. He didn't know what he was feeling at the moment. And worst of all, he doesn't think he can face his band today. He will have to go back to Jayden's tonight then. 


Freddie scoffed from his seat. "Please, Roger, do you have to be so hysterical?" 


Roger glowered at the older one. His hands, he realised, were shaking, and he put them behind his back in an attempt to steady them. 


"What the hell is that on your neck?" John suddenly piped up. He was pointing at Roger's neck, his finger moving gradually, as if pointing out little dots on the blonde's surface. "You know what, I don't even know why I asked that; of course I know what they are."


Roger gulped, resisting the urge to run to a mirror and check exactly what Jayden had pierced into his delicate skin. 


"Oh, deary me," huffed Freddie. "Haven't you been a busy boy, Roggie?" 


"Have you seen yourself?" Brian shook his head in disapproval. "Did you seriously go out like this?"


Roger couldn't take it anymore. As there was no mirror in sight, his best option was to use the glass separated from the music room to the sound room. It wasn't very clear, but he was just thankful no one was in there at that very moment. 


Faintly, he could see that his long hair was tossed and greasy. His nose was red and under his eyes a fading purple. Within his sclera was an outline of red, angry veins. To top it all off, not only were the clothes he was wearing not his and ragged, but the shirt showed his neck and a bit of his shoulders. They were absolutely covered in bruises. His neck, where Jayden had chocked him, had a thin, barely visible outline of purple and blue. (No wonder it hurt so talk so much). And the love bites trailed from under his ear and under his shirt. 


This is why he should look in a mirror before he decides to walk out and about. 


"What the fuck, Jayden..." he said this in a low, threatening mumble. It wasn't as if he was going to outright physically kill Jayden when he next sees him. But he damn sure will give him an ear-full. Roger is a lot of things, but he has never marked Jayden up like this. Mainly because he's not a biter, nor does he suck hard enough for there to be dark bruises. He's mostly light and gentle. 


"Who is Jaidyn?" said Brian. 


"Finally sticking with a girlfriend, Roger?" said Freddie. "That's a first. I don't think I've ever heard you say a girls name — you must like her."


Roger whipped around, nose scrunched up in disgust. "Shut up, Fred." 


Freddie put his hands up in defence, meaning no harm. Beside Roger, Brian sighed, no longer looking mad, but just disappointed. 


"Next time just let us know if you're drinking at night, okay? Because this happens far too much."


Roger glared and Brian this time, his anger flaring bit by bit. "What's that supposed to mean?"


"What they mean, Roger," said John, "that you are turning up later and later each-time we have band practise and you are not by any means cooperating with our music at all."


A lump filled Roger's throat at that. The comment was harsh, yes, but it was also true. He hadn't been in time with any of the beats, nor did his naturally high falsetto voice conquer any microphone at the moment. He couldn't cry, though. Because what he is doing is unacceptable, but he can't help it. He needs that drug to keep him sane. And the only other way to forget is drinking to burn and perish his liver. 


"Okay," said Roger, defeated. He just didn't care anymore. "Alright. Let's just — yeah, let's get on with it."


He failed to miss the now worrisome expressions each boy cast his way.


For that day, they spent trying out different rhythms, what words fit into what note and even managed to start some recording going on. It's not everyday they manage to record something, and when they do, a fight of some sort always breaks out. Not an ugly, hurricane of a fight where Roger throws his drum sticks at Brian, Freddie is shouting instead of laughing and John is using a set of colourful chosen words. 


"Ugh, no, it's not in tune!" Brian complained to John, who was trying to correct the tuning on his base.


"You left it, what, for five minutes, and it's already out of tune?" said Freddie, giggling to himself. 


"Roger must have knocked it!" 


"What?! I'm sitting here, banging my drum set, not having moved in a good half an hour! How is this on me?!"


"Because with you, there's still a point." 


"Oh, fuck off." 


Another hour goes by, and it is almost dark. By the end of it, all were hyped and proud, having recorded one song of the day. 


As they packed up, Roger chanced a look outside and saw it was dark. Jayden will not be happy with him. For it to be dark, Jayden would of at least had three rounds, and Roger isn't there to satisfy him. He left his drum kit, sneaking from the back door and quickly made his way out into the bitterly cold night. It doesn’t matter what the other may think of his I-Don’t-Care may-care attitude, because at the end of the day, Jayden will be there for him.