Chapter Text
Since the whole “handjob in the bathroom” fiasco, there had been a lot of tension between Bob and Mikey, on top of a whole lot of silence. Seriously, Mikey wasn’t doing fucking anything . No pranks, no smug ass grins, Mikey was barely even acknowledging Bob’s existence and it was fucking ruining Bob. He’s not the type to just sit there and take it without an explanation and he’s about to demand one from Mikey.
Bob knows that Mikey is out with the rest of the guys at some bar and he doesn’t care if he’s about to make a scene. He needs to speak with Mikey now . He manages to find the guys at some dive bar in town and Mikey is chatting Frank up about something, probably guitars, before he manages to grab Mikey by the arm and pull him away, just barely apologizing to Frank for the intrusion.
“The fuck, Bob?” Mikey asks, almost stumbling and spilling his drink as Bob pulls him to the back hall near the bathrooms.
“‘The fuck’? Really?” Bob asks with a scoff. “You fuckin’ tell me! You fuckin’ jack me off in the bathroom at last week’s show and then don’t speak to me for a week—barely even look at me. So why don’t you tell me what it is I fuckin’ did to deserve the silent treatment from Mikeyway, huh?”
Mikey simply quirks an eyebrow and smirks, fucking smirks . Bob doesn’t know if he should be confused or angry.
“You want more, I take it? Come running back for round two?” Mikey asks teasingly, running his fingertips up Bob’s bare arm. This gives him those kinds of chills you can feel in your very core, but he needs to remain focused. “No, that’s not it, Mikey,” Bob manages. “You’ve been ignoring me and I demand to know fuckin’ why.”
That’s when Mikey’s smirk fades and Bob feels that stomach-dropping feeling of “oh shit” inside him.
“Here’s the thing, Bob,” Mikey says after some time, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t get to demand shit from me,” he says with dark lacing his tone. “You’re my fucking bitch, you got that? That means you wait until I give you what you want. You don’t get to tell me what to do on your terms. I will speak to you when I fucking want to, is that clear?” Bob can feel Mikey’s nails digging into his shoulder as he speaks and Bob knows he can’t face Mikey when he’s like this , all fucking dominant and sexy.
Bob tries to speak, dares to say something in return, but he can’t find the words. “Something tells me you need to be put back in your place, be taught some fucking manners,” Mikey says as he presses his hips against Bob’s, breathing hot against his ear as the music is turned up loud, drowning everyone else out. “We’re spending the night here in some hotel,” Mikey starts again as he pulls away to stare into Bob’s submissive eyes. “I left something for you in your bag. Bring it when you come to my room tonight.”
“What? But, what are you—”
“Unless you want your punishment to get any worse than it already is,” Mikey cuts him off, studying Bob’s unreadable expression before he can simply nod at Mikey’s threat. “Yes, sir,” is all he can say before he’s being shooed away by Mikey to return to the bar and act normal around their bandmates. Bob can hardly wait for the rest of the night’s events.
***
Bob nearly chokes on his own spit when he finds the little present Mikey had left him in his duffle bag. A collar. A spiked collar. It was so fucking pretty and Bob didn’t feel nearly worthy enough to be wearing it for Mikey, not after his outburst earlier at the bar that made him look ungrateful. No, he just wanted Mikey’s attention. That’s it—but he should be grateful for anything Mikey decides to give him, or not give him.
Bob wastes no time. He’s not even waiting until he gets to Mikey’s room to put the collar on, he’s already hooking it around his neck and admiring the gorgeous metal spikes that shine against the faux black leather of the collar. He’s taking a quick look both ways down the hallway before making his way down to Mikey’s and he’s so nervous, he definitely feels the butterflies in his stomach anticipating what’s to come.
He barely knocks twice before the door is opening and he’s being pulled in by Mikey into a harsh kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. “I fucking missed you,” Mikey breathes into Bob’s mouth, and Mikey tastes like sweat and whiskey and… something else.
Bob takes a step back to finally take in all of Mikey, and what a fucking sight it is.
Mikey is wearing this breathtaking lacy, red-and-black gothic aesthetic lingerie, adorned with a matching garter belt attaching to sheer knee-highs, and in addition to Mikey’s usual black eyeliner, he’s also wearing this beautiful scarlet-colored lipstick that seems to be flavored as well, maybe cherry, Bob guesses. He looks like a classic dominatrix and Bob is already falling to his knees on the carpeted floor in front of Mikey, ready to give himself up completely.
“I see you’ve been a bad boy, my pet,” Mikey smirks, leaning down to run his finger along one of the spikes on the collar. “I believe I told you to bring the collar here tonight, not to put it on beforehand.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Bob stutters, he’s finally being broken down enough to not be able to form words. “I just got so excited, the collar looked so pretty and I wanted to wear it so bad, I—”
“So your desire to wear the collar was stronger than your desire to please me, is that it?” Mikey asks, hooking a finger under the leather of the collar and tugging gently.
“No, no, no, that’s not it, I swear, sir, I—”
Mikey gives him a hard smack across the face to shut him up. “That’s Master to you,” Mikey says through gritted teeth, pulling Bob up to his feet and guiding him over to the edge of the bed. “How many do you think you deserve for being such a worthless pain in my ass tonight, huh?” Mikey asks, taking it upon himself to begin undressing Bob and he feels overstimulated from Mikey’s hands on him, his lack of clothing, and all these fucking questions that he needs to have the right answers to, or else.
“How many?” Bob asks worriedly.
“Just give me a fucking number,” Mikey nearly growls, pushing Bob down on all fours on the bed and rubbing his hand gently over the older man’s pale cheek before giving it a smack, not as hard as he’s planning to, of course. Bob still yelps in surprise before blurting out a random number. “Twenty, Master,” he says quickly, trying to collect his thoughts that are floating through his brain at a million miles an hour.
Mikey hums in approval. “I think you deserve twenty, too,” he says and delivers another hard smack to the backs of Bob’s thighs. “Count, bitch.”
Bob counts for each rough smack he gets, the next one getting harder and harder than the last.
By number eleven he’s whining uncontrollably. The pain feels unbearable as he can feel the stinging, burning pain radiating from his ass cheeks that must be so fucking raw and red by now. Mikey is eating up every last bit of it. “You look so fucking good like this, such a good pet. So open and exposed for me, so red. It’s so fucking pretty. Wish you could see it,” Mikey murmurs, almost to himself, as he delivers another smack. They can barely get to twenty counts before Mikey is fucking devouring Bob’s hole, spreading him wide open with his thumbs and fucking him with his tongue to get him nice and lubed up. Bob nearly keels over when he feels Mikey gripping his ass with so much force, and feeling his tongue so fucking deep in him has him fighting to keep his sounds restrained.
“Fucking moan for me, I want to hear all your beautiful sounds, pet,” Mikey breathes, his throat hoarse before working his tongue back around the rim, pushing a finger smoothly inside Bob who pushes back on his Master’s finger, desperate to feel the stretch.
“So fucking needy, so desperate you just fuck yourself on my finger—well, go ahead, show me how much you want it,” Mikey says, pushing in a second finger to test Bob even more with the additional stretch. Mikey is pleasantly surprised though when he finds Bob still pushing back even after Mikey’s second finger, and begins fucking himself and rolling his hips. “God damn, how fucking hot is that? So beautifully desperate to have your tight hole filled. Maybe I should give my gorgeous sub what he wants so badly, hm?”
“Yes, Master, please,” Bob whines, daring to look over his shoulder at Mikey whose eyes are devouring him like prey. “I need you to fuck me, please .”
Mikey removes his fingers and Bob can hear the snap of a bottle cap behind him, breathing deeply as he prepares himself to finally be filled up. Thankfully, all Mikey needs to do is take his cock out of the pretty lace panties he has on for easier access, so he can really make use of the lingerie. “Need me to fuck your pretty asshole and fill it with my come, is that right? Say it, whore, I want to hear you say it,” Mikey demands, teasing Bob with the tip of his cock against his entrance. Bob is fighting so, so hard not to push back against him.
“I need you to fuck my pretty asshole and fill me with your come, Master,” Bob forces out, he feels like he can barely talk properly when his mind is just filled with Mikey, and being filled by Mikey. He feels the sudden intrusion, finally, biting his lower lip hard as he adjusts to the burning stretch of Mikey’s cock inside him, and thankfully Mikey is kind enough to let Bob get used to it before moving his hips, slowly at first, then engaging in a solid rhythm. Mikey’s got his hand fisted in Bob’s blonde hair, all sweaty and matted down to his head from the nerves and his spanking from before, the other hand on Bob’s hip, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises as he drives into Bob full force.
“Such a pretty fucking pet. This ass is all fucking mine, do you hear? Who do you fucking belong to, slut?” Mikey growls as he moves both hands to Bob’s ass, spreading his cheeks open again to watch his own cock slide in and out of the other man who’s a fucking mess beneath him. “I’m your fucking pet, Master, I belong to you, all of me belongs to you,” he groans out, his knees going weak and letting out from beneath him as Mikey takes the lead.
“Fuck yeah you do, my perfect whore. Gonna fill you up with all my come and make you really feel how much you belong to me,” Mikey says through choppy breaths, and Bob can hear how close Mikey is through his breathing. He reaches down to finally jerk himself off in time with Mikey’s thrusts, and Mikey is too strung out by the euphoria of his own orgasm to notice that Bob is touching himself and coming without permission. Both of them reach their high as they come together, Bob all over the bedsheets, and Mikey right into Bob. He can feel the hot streaks of come dripping down his inner thighs before Mikey even pulls out, all white, wet, and sticky before Mikey is laying Bob down on a cleaner area of the hotel bed on his stomach, careful of his backside that's likely still stinging from the hits he took.
“I’m sorry,” Mikey says after a moment of silence.
“For what?” Bob asks. “You just gave me, like, the best sex of my life.”
Mikey just blushes, actually fucking blushes . “I’m sorry for ignoring you all week. I was just nervous, I guess? I was worried I overstepped in the bathroom the other night and that you didn’t like it. I meant to give you space, but clearly, that’s not what you wanted.”
Bob just smiles and pushes some of the sweaty, dark hair from Mikey’s forehead. “I wanted to talk to you. That’s all. I mean, this sex was an awesome bonus, but I just wanted my friend back. I wanted you.”
Mikey finally presses a loving, thoughtful kiss to Bob’s lips, not hard and sloppy like earlier. It felt like Mikey really cared. “So we’re okay?” Bob adds after their lips part. Mikey can’t help but smirk at the thoughts lingering in his mind. “We will be.”
“We will be?” Bob repeats in question.
“You came without my permission,” Mikey bites his lip and intertwines his fingers with Bob’s, who can feel the red sneaking up his neck to his cheeks. He smiles sheepishly. “Oh… yeah, sorry. I just—”
Mikey presses a finger to his lips to shush him. He has an idea.
“Just give me a number.”