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Knock Me Down A Peg or Two

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Olli grimaced as he took a swig of the warm beer in his hand. He could ask someone to go get him another, but the room was already starting to spin. The darkness of the place, split every now and then with flashes of light from the dance floor, wasn’t helping his vision any. He was seated on a small couch, stuffed between Pepe and Hessu, and finding it difficult to move. It was so hot in the club that he could feel sweat starting to trickle down the back of his neck and he squirmed uncomfortably. Jalle was seated across the low table from them, surrounded by friends of the band. Everyone was laughing drunkenly and shouting at each other over the pounding of the music. Normally, Olli would join right in, but tonight he was having trouble finding his groove over the anxiety in the pit of his stomach, though, maybe that slightly sick feeling was just from the beer.

A pair of very large, and very fake, tits suddenly entered his field of vision, hoping for a smile or a look of approval, anything, from him that showed an interest, but Olli quickly looked down at the bottle in his hand. He wasn’t in the mood for tits that night, well sculpted though they may be.

Olli shifted again on the couch, trying to find a better position in their too-tight seating arrangement, although, the real source of his discomfort loomed somewhere over across the room. He could feel the other’s presence, his piercing gaze burning the back of Olli’s skull every now and then. Risking a nonchalant look over Pepe’s shoulder, Olli quickly scanned the crowd for the one who had been labeled his nemesis by the media and zealous fans, alike. Eyes that were bright and fierce, even from this distance, almost immediately locked with Olli’s, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe under the scrutinizing stare of Simon-fucking-Cruz. The two frontmen eyed each other for a moment before Olli could finally tear his gaze away.

Giving himself a mental shake, Olli rose to leave on unsteady legs. He needed fresh air in a bad way and suddenly felt like he couldn’t get out of the club fast enough. He leaned down to yank his leather jacket out from behind Hessu. “Dude, chill out!” Hessu shouted over the music.

“Where are you going?” Pepe yelled, as Olli started climbing over his legs.

“Home.” Olli responded. “Too tired.”

Pepe eyed him doubtfully, as Olli swayed on his feet. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, already starting to rise.

Olli waved him away. “I’m fine. I’ll get a cab.” Pepe still looked unsure, but he settled back into his seat. Tits had already found her way into the spot that Olli had vacated, and was now pressed against Hessu’s side.

Following a combination of the path of least resistance and the nearest exit sign, Olli made his way through the crowd. He breathed a sigh of relief as his hands found the solid metal of the rear entrance door, the night air surrounding him as he gave it a shove. The combination of alcohol and relief made his legs feel weak, and Olli stumbled through the doorway. For a moment, he thought that he was going to eat pavement, until strong arms grabbed him from behind, pulling him back upright.

“Careful. Don’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Olli stiffened, immediately recognizing the gravelly voice as belonging to Simon Cruz. “Fuck off.” he muttered, giving his savior a push. Simon laughed, the sound a harsh echo in the narrow alley, and grabbed Olli by the shoulders, ramming him against the brick wall of the club. Olli grunted at the pain that ratcheted through his lungs as the air left them. His vision blurred and the sound started to leave his ears for a moment. When everything came back into focus, Simon was leering down over Olli’s half doubled-up form. With a low growl, Olli came up swinging, wanting nothing more than to beat the stupid smirk from the mohawked singer’s face. Simon easily countered his attack and sent Olli stumbling back into the wall with a laugh.

Olli panted against the cool bricks for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He eyed his assailant’s long legs and knew there was no point in trying to run in his current state of intoxication. They were pretty evenly matched for weight, but Simon had him beat in height, and, it appeared, at this point in time anyway, clear headedness. “What the fuck do you want?” Olli finally wheezed.

“Such a mouthy bitch.” Simon tisked, crowding in close. Olli started to struggle in earnest again, as Simon’s hands clutched at his shoulders. The two men grappled for dominance until Simon grasped Olli firmly by the lapels of his leather jacket and, with a jerk and a shove, pinned him tight against the wall once more. Olli’s head thunked painfully against the bricks this time and he groaned at the abuse. “I think it’s time that we settle this rivalry once and for all.” Simon hissed. “It’s ridiculous, no, pitiful that they would even consider us in the same class.”

Olli tried to bring his knee up to connect with Simon’s groin, but they were too close, and Simon was able to block him with a leg. Simon’s answering back-hand left Olli seeing stars for a moment, as the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth from where his tooth cut the inside of his lip. He breathed a sigh of relief as Simon’s weight left him, only to gasp in surprise as he was turned roughly and pinned to the wall from behind.

“ ‘the fuck?!” Olli rasped, as his cheek scraped painfully against the brick. He felt Simon’s hands on his hips before they moved around to struggle with Olli’s belt buckle. Olli scrabbled against the wall, trying to get out from underneath the taller man, smashing Simon’s knuckles against the roughness of the bricks in the process. Simon brought his thigh up sharply between Olli’s legs in reply, and Olli groaned at the painful pressure against his balls.

“Stop fighting, or I’ll grind your perfect fucking face into those bricks until there’s nothing left!” Simon barked, as he yanked Olli’s skinny jeans down to his knees. The night air felt almost cold against Olli’s clammy skin and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips.

Through the pounding of his pulse and alcohol induced haze, Olli dimly heard Simon fumbling with his own belt and then the rip of a foil packet. “Simon! Simon, please!” Olli pleaded. “Fuck, can’t we…” Simon’s left hand clamped over Olli’s mouth as something slick and impossibly large-feeling nudged at his hole.

Olli screamed against Simon’s palm at the first thrust, which propelled Simon half-way into Olli’s unprepared passage, and Simon groaned gratefully. A burning feeling had taken residence in Olli’s core and it felt like he was being split in two. His inner walls fluttered uncontrollably around the intrusion, trying to expel it from his body.

The second thrust found Simon’s hips flush against Olli’s ass, and Olli’s teeth embedded in the meat of
Simon’s thumb. Simon grunted at the spark of pain, “Fuck!” his hot breath washing over Olli’s ear and neck.

Giving neither of them time to adjust, Simon immediately began to rock against Olli’s body, trying to find some leverage between the clenching of Olli’s abused hole and the awkwardness of their position. He kicked Olli’s legs as far apart as they would go, still half encased in denim as they were, to get better purchase. The sensation went from painful to just uncomfortable as Simon began to move, and Olli tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in the corners of his eyes.

Rhythm finally established, Simon moved his right hand down from where it was clutched around Olli’s waist to tug roughly at the other’s cock, which slowly began to fill from the added stimulation. Olli moaned appreciatively at the sensation.

Finding it hard to breathe around Simon’s hand, Olli panted harshly through his nose, snot and spit mingling on his face, as each snap of Simon’s hips now sent a spike of pleasure through Olli’s core. “Jesus, fuck!” Simon invoked, as he continued to thrust. “You feel so good, so fucking tight!”

Olli could only offer a muffled moan in reply, his legs beginning to shake, as Simon pounded away the last bit of control that Olli possessed. He arched backward, entreating Simon to find his white hot center and end it. Simon growled, thrust once, twice, and Olli screamed once more as his world exploded outward from his core and he came in Simon’s tight grip. Simon muffled his own shout against Olli’s shoulder, his hips stuttering with pleasure, as he released deep inside of Olli.

They were still for a moment, Simon clinging to Olli and Olli to the wall, both trying to come down from the high of a quick, nasty fuck. Olli winced as Simon shifted suddenly and withdrew from his body, leaving behind a gratifying ache that Olli would feel for days.

Simon gingerly removed his now injured hand from Olli’s mouth to stuff himself back into his pants, though he kept one arm around the other man for support. Olli could only pant brokenly against the wall, until hands that were surprisingly gentle helped him turn, and he could lean back against it. His legs were trembling and he didn’t quite trust them to stand upright yet, though he made use of his free hands to pull up the front of his shirt and wipe the wetness from his face.

Simon grabbed Olli’s jeans to pull them up over his hips, and Olli grimaced as the rough fabric chafed against his sensitive cock. The thoroughly-used feeling of come and lube, slick on his thighs, was both satisfying and disgusting at the same time. Simon proceeded to set Olli’s clothing completely to rights, and only when that was done, would he meet the other’s eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, gazes unreadable, until Simon put one hand to Olli’s face, cradling his cheek and gently thumbing over his swollen lip, trying to assess the damage that he had inflicted. Olli had no doubts that it would look terrible come morning.

“Hey, come here.” Olli said, tugging gently at Simon’s shirt. Simon obliged and Olli wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck, humming thankfully at the contact, as Simon kissed him. Olli let his tongue play over Simon’s lip ring, sucking at it for a moment, before deepening the kiss and letting their tongues tangle over the remnants of beer, blood, and vodka. Simon finally pulled back with a moan, and Olli took the opportunity to press his face against his boyfriend’s neck, inhaling the spicy musk of his skin. He reveled in the solid feel of Simon’s embrace, and, though he would never admit it to anyone, loved the fact that Simon was taller than him.

“I need a smoke.” Simon muttered, pulling back. Olli let him go and leaned against the wall once more to watch Simon dig around in his pockets for a lighter. He finally found it, lit a cigarette, and took a quick puff before handing it to Olli, who accepted it gratefully. Simon lit another for himself and they smoked in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Sooo…that was intense.” Olli said with a grin, his good humor restored now that the tension of the night was over.

Simon smirked back, because that was his only expression of a smile. “Craziest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve done, like, ever.” Olli replied, emphatically.

Simon just laughed, “You’re such a good boy, Olli, the kind that every woman wants to bring home to her mother. Keep hanging out with me and I’ll corrupt you.”

Olli rolled his eyes. “I think it’s a little late for the warning, Simme. Though, one of these days you’re going to get me plastered across every tabloid in Europe.”

“I have a knack for getting noticed, I guess.” Simon said, with a shrug.

“Yeah, you do.” Olli replied, fondly. He stubbed out his cigarette on the wall before pushing off to move closer to Simon. He felt much steadier on his feet now that some of the alcohol had left his system, and grounded in a way that only a good fuck could provide.

Olli studied his boyfriend as the other finished his cigarette. While Simon had a reputation for being terse and a bit wild, he was a great lover. He always made sure that Olli took his pleasure first, and, if he ever inflicted pain, it was only because Olli had asked him to. He was also guarded in a way that only years of trauma and heartbreak could induce, not all of which he’d yet disclosed, but Olli had become an expert at reading the subtle messages behind his lover’s eyes. At the moment, Simon was positively glowing and so proud of himself, he could preen. Olli couldn’t help the stupid-happy grin that stole over his face as he watched his boyfriend.

Simon gave him an odd look as he finished his cigarette and caught Olli staring. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Olli replied, as he wound an arm around Simon’s waist and began moving them toward the mouth of the alley. Simon allowed the contact and slung his own arm around Olli’s shoulders. While they’d been seeing each other for a while, they had yet to come out to their friends and family, let alone the public. Their respective bands had accepted the unlikely friendship between the two frontmen without much remark, and that was as far as they were willing to go at the moment. If someone did happen to glance down the alley and see them, they’d probably just perceive two drunken friends trying to help each other to the street, which wasn’t altogether inaccurate.

“Are we going to your flat or my hotel?” Simon questioned.

“Let’s go to my place. I want to fuck in my own bed in the morning.” Olli replied with a smirk.

Simon cursed under his breath before turning to catch Olli in a quick, but possessive, kiss. “Who says it can wait until morning?”