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Eddie's proud of how far he's come. From being a super super senior to making a comfortable living as a musician with Corroded Coffin. They are far from a household name, but they are getting well-known in the metal crowd, and that's enough for the metalhead. He and the band are playing at a metal music festival over the weekend in Indianapolis. It's a vast field littered with stages and booths spread far enough apart that the music won't clash. Their stage is already set up for CC's set. The band has spread out, exploring the festival. Eddie is looking at a merch booth, greeting anyone who recognizes him when Gareth comes running over. He grabs Ed's shoulder, panting a little.
"Bro you have to come to see this, they let in some girl pop band. They are all half undressed !" Eddie lets himself be led over to a stage with bright pink drums set up. Gareth wasn't kidding, no metal band would use pink drums. There are a couple of girls on the stage set up, and holy shit Gareth wasn't kidding. There's a blonde girl in a ponytail setting up a mic stand. She's in What can only be considered a pink bra, with a white button-down that stops at her collarbones. She's wearing a little pink plaid skirt and torn-up tights under pink platform boots. A short brown-haired girl is tuning a bass guitar in baggy hot pink cargo pants low on her hips, showing off the waistband of boxers. The pants are so big that Eddie almost didn't notice the black platform shoes. They've got on a hot pink cropped tank top and a black mesh sweater that's as short as the blondes. Their presence alone has garnered a lot of attention, both negative and "positive" (read: inappropriate). Two more people come out from the back curtain, talking adamantly. A dark curly-haired girl in some complicated mesh top, black shorts, big pink buckled boots, and some harness around her waist.
Eddie's attention shifts to the other person who just emerged and Jesus H. Christ . It's a dude with perfectly styled brown hair, but that's not the interesting part. He's in a pink little top with a big heart across the chest and a white mesh shirt that's the same length as the first two girls. And holy shit he's in a little white skirt and white combat boots. The metalhead thinks he sees something on his thighs, but he's too far away to tell. The curly brown-haired girl grabs a pink guitar and slings it on, still in conversation with the guy. He's sitting down behind the drums, gesturing with his hands while talking. The short-haired one shouts, getting the others' attention. The blonde grabs the mic and taps it before talking into it in a sweet high voice.
At this point, Eddie is certain a pop band has somehow got a stage at a metal concert. That voice was too light to pull off metal. "Hey ya'll, thanks for coming to watch us play. We are Scene Queens." A distorted bass plays the starting notes and the drums follow, creating a pop beat. The brunet boy makes the drums look so effortless, it comes across as almost bored if it weren't for the grin he's wearing. The blonde comes in, and the lyrics she's singing are definitely strange; they are aggressive but still sound like pop music.
"Oh, you like me now?
Bad bitch on the prowl
Straight dudes, big dogs
Lock 'em up chow"
Eddie is about to leave, the music is not his style in the slightest. He gets one last look at the group when he stops. The lead singer is wearing an innocent expression, but the group looks like they know something the crowd doesn't. It keeps Eddie from leaving the stage. The blonde unhooks the mic from the stand and drops to her knees on stage, looking up and talking into the mic held in her hands like a prayer.
"Bless me father for I have sinned
It's been a week since my last confession"
She stays on the ground, eyes coming down to stare at the crowd, voice gaining an edge that promises more. As she sings the verse, the energy of the group feels palpable in the air. The last line comes out like a growl that shouldn't work with such a sweet voice but does.
"Pink rover, pink rover
Please send the coward over
And if that bastard whistles
Put a knife up to his boner
Cut him"
She brings a fist down onto the stage, mimicking a knife in her hand before jumping up onto her feet in one swift motion. The anticipation breaks and the music suddenly shifts to something aggressive, the drummer rocks out the heavy drum beat with his whole body, hair flying everywhere. The bassist and guitarists are both matching the drummer's energy, putting their entire bodies into the performance. Eddie's never heard metal like this before. He's entranced by the group, specifically the pretty drummer, who's now shining with sweat in the midday sun. If he were to look over at Garth, he'd see his best friend having a similar reaction toward the lead singer.
But the long-haired boy can't tear his eyes away from the pretty drummer on stage as he pulls a mic towards his red-bitten lips, growling lyrics along with the blonde. If asked, Eddie would absolutely deny how his pants tightened at the drummer's voice. Before this moment, Eddie would have said his type is big tough men, but this drummer has forced him to rethink his type, now including pretty boys in women's clothes with rough voices. The song closes out and the blonde introduces the band.
"Thank you, that was Pink Rover. I'm Chrissy Cunningham, lead singer for Scene Queens. On bass over here, we have Robin Buckley," she plays a little riff in acknowledgment, grinning at the crowd. "On my other side is Nancy Wheeler, our guitarist, and vocalist." She slides her fingers down the string, making it whine, bowing the string to alter the sound. Her curls bounce as she nods to the group on the ground. "Last but certainly not least, we have Steve Harrington on drums and vocals." He plays a fast beat and tosses up one of the drumsticks. He catches and kisses it before tossing it out into the crowd and grabbing another one. The stick comes flying in Eddie's direction and he jumps to catch it. The stick is dented all over from hitting the rim of the drums and there's a light pink, barely-there lip print on the stick. Holy shit . Steve is wearing lip gloss. Eddie's mind wanders, is he wearing any other makeup? How would it look all messed up? The sound of a new song snaps the metalhead out of his train of thought and brings his focus back to the stage. Chrissy is talking into the mic, pretending to be on the phone,
“Hi, Cody- I mean, Ken. Are you free right now? I have a song that I need you on...like now?”
Guitar and drums come in simultaneously, starting with a fast, aggressive beat. Steve pulls his mic closer and Eddie knows he’s done for before the drummer even sings. Chrissy and Steve sing back and forth, the drummer not losing focus on the beat even as he joins in on the verse. Chrissy is turned slightly towards Steve, playing it up so it looks like the two are in an argument while singing.
“Barbie’s been a princess way too long,” Steve taunts the blonde, joining in the act that they are fighting.
“Barbie’s got a gun with no safety on,”
“Barbie needs to listen when I fucking talk,”
“Barbie thinks Ken is about to get shot!” Chrissy mimes pointing and firing a gun toward Steve.
He throws his head back like he was shot, showing off the line of his throat, sweat flying off his brow. Eddie feels light-headed with arousal- that was easily the hottest thing he's seen in his life. How Steve managed to tilt his head that far back and still play without missing a beat was beyond the metalhead. He definitely needs to add a competency kink to his already long list of kinks. The drummer leans back towards the microphone, singing along with Chrissy, harmonizing the violent lyrics of the chorus.
“Ken and Barbie sitting in a tree
K-I-L-L-I-N-G
Barbie and Ken in a pink dream house
Two go in, only one comes out,
I cut you, you cut me
We bleed in perfect harmony
I cut you, you cut me
We bleed in perfect harmony,”
The song carries on as an aggressive back-and-forth between the two, describing how they want to kill each other. And God , Steve growling out lyrics about murdering someone shouldn't be so goddamn hot , but Eddie was never one for listening to what he should or shouldn’t do.
The set ends after two more songs and the two best friends find themselves staying behind to see if they could talk to the band. They amble around the stage, staying close to see if they can spot the group. Gareth won’t shut up about how pretty and talented Chrissy was. Eddie sees a flash of pink on the side of the stage, his head snapping towards it. The color stands out against the sea of black that is the festival. Steve is talking to an older guy, looking increasingly disgusted with the conversation. Eddie moves quickly in that direction to help the drummer out of the situation.
It turns out it was unnecessary because as the older man steps closer, Steve brings his knee up between the guy's legs, making contact with his dick. As he starts to curl over in pain, the tip of a switchblade, wielded by Steve, is pressed under his chin. The metalhead has no idea where a knife would even be hidden in that outfit. The man freezes, unable to stand up straight with the pain, but not able to collapse to the ground. “Ah ah ah, don't bend down too far, wouldn’t want you getting hurt. I’m not known for my steady hands.” Eddie had moved within hearing range just as Steve threatens the creep. “You thought you could come over here and tell me how big your dick is and I’d fall to my knees to suck you off? You’re fucking pathetic.”
"Fucking fag" the creep bites at him without moving, still aware of the knife at his throat.
The drummer pulls the knife away and kicks the man in the chest onto the ground and spits on him, the glob landing with surprising accuracy in the creep’s eye.
"You were the one who wanted the fag to suck your dick." Steve points out, stepping over the man and tucking the knife into his boot. That's where it came from. He looks up and makes eye contact with Eddie, eyes assessing the metalhead before landing on the drumstick in Eddie's front pocket. “Ah, you’re the cutie that caught my stick.” There’s no way this ethereal beauty just called Eddie a cutie, he feels like he's died and gone to heaven. Maybe it's the fact that the hottest man he's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on just held a knife to a man's throat, threatening violence, or the fact that said man just called him cute, but Eddie can't think .
“Y-Yeah, that's me. You guys were really good, I’ve never heard metal like that, it was amazing. You're really talented.” The guitarist can feel his face getting hotter as he rambles, unable to stop the word vomit coming from his mouth. Steve chuckles and steps closer to Eddie. This close, Eddie can see the black lining his brown eyes and the little moles scattering his face. There's a thin layer of sweat still sticking to the golden skin.
A hand traces his hip, “Like I said, cute,” Steve comments, taking the drumstick out of Eddie’s pocket. He pulls a sharpie out of his boot and uncaps it with his teeth. Using his spare hand, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and brings it up to his face so it's held out flat. The drummer spits the cap onto the metalhead's palm. "Hold that," Heat burns through Eddie's body like wildfire at the casual command. The ring-clad hand closes around the marker cap and drops to his side. The corner of Steve's glossy lips quirks up at the easy compliance. He signs the drumstick, right next to the lip print. "I was hoping you would catch it, you know. You were looking up at me like I hung the moon and the stars. Cap ." He pauses, holding out his hand. The marker cap is set gently in the drummer's hand and the marker is put back in his boot. Eddie's head is starting to swim a little. "Good boy. You had that pretty mouth open half the set. Was I really that awe-inspiring?"
A quiet whine escapes the metalhead, his face turning red as he nods. A pink-nailed finger drags across the metalhead's bottom lip and his mouth opens instinctively, a pierced tongue swipes out and licks the pad of Steve's finger. The tip of his tongue is caught between two fingers, forcing Eddie's mouth to hang open. "You're so obedient. Like a dog. You want to be a dog for me?" the fingers holding his tongue shift and slide into his mouth, trapping the barbell of his tongue piercing between thick fingers. This is the single hottest thing to ever happen to Eddie, no one has looked at him and immediately flagged him as a sub. Everyone assumes the scary-looking metalhead wants to take control in bed. His head is shaken side to side by the fingers in his mouth, bringing him back to the moment. "Need an answer. Do you want to be a dog for me?" There's spit pooling in his mouth and rolling down his chin and Steve's wrist. He's never felt like such a mess so quickly before.
Eddie forces a garbled "uh-huh" around the fingers in his mouth, whining when they pull away with a thin line of spit connecting to his lip.
"Shush, I'm taking us somewhere more private." Steve laces their fingers together and leads Eddie to the abandoned backstage. Steve flicks on the lights in the little dressing room backstage, letting the long-haired man enter first. The door is closed and locked behind both of them. “Safeword?”
“Vecna or three taps,” Eddie responds obediently, looking up slightly at the taller man.
“Good boy. Kneel.” Steve tosses a pillow onto the ground that Eddie’s knees land on as he collapses to the ground. From this angle, the metalhead can see up Steve’s skirt a little, seeing the pink leather harness around his thighs and disappearing under the skirt. Eddie’s head spins at the view. “What's off limits?”
“No permanent damage or scarring.”
Those pink lips quirk up again. “That's it? I could piss on you and you’d like it?” He can’t help the low moan that escapes his throat at the thought, making Steve laugh. “Such a desperate boy. From this point on, you will call me sir or daddy, understood?”
“Yes daddy.” Big doe eyes look up at Steve, begging. Steve gives a genuine smile at the compliance and steps forwards, the bulge of his dick almost touching Eddie's face. The kneeling boy sways forward to get contact but his hair caught in a fist, holding him in place. With his free hand, Steve pulls the fabric of his thong to the side under his skirt, releasing his dick from its confines. Eddie’s mouth waters before he even sees Steve's dick. Those pink-nailed hands tuck the skirt out of the way, showing off his cock. Eddie has seen plenty of dicks in his short years on earth, but he would argue that Steve has the most perfect cock he's ever seen; it's deliciously thick and long.
“Hands on my thighs, tap if you need a break.” Eddie knows what's coming next and opens his mouth wide, tongue hanging out. The drummer slides his dick into his mouth, grabbing Eddie’s head with both hands, and guiding him further onto his cock. He gets a second to adjust once his nose is pressed to Steve’s neatly trimmed pubes, but once that second is over, his mouth is used as a glorified fleshlight. Eddie’s head is yanked back and forth on Steve’s cock, getting beautifully floaty with a lack of oxygen. He waits until his wet eyes are fluttering with the effort to stay open to tap out. The dick is pulled out of his mouth and he gasps for air, getting a couple of breaths before Steve is forcing his cock back down his throat. “ God , look at you puppy. You were so desperate for my dick, huh? You look so content being stuffed full.” This time, Eddie’s head is held still as his throat is fucked into. That light-headed feeling comes back quickly, leaving the metalhead moaning on Steve’s cock. The vibrations make Steve’s hips stutter before returning to their brutal pace. There are tears streaming down the kneeling man’s face, ruining the eyeliner smudged around his brown eyes. Steve groans at the sight, thumb tracing his lower lashes, smearing the wet makeup. “Fuck, your throat is tight around me pet. Ready for a treat?” Eddie whines low in his throat, feeling the dick in him twitching as Steve cums.
He thinks it's over when the drummer’s dick stills in his throat, but he feels something warm pooling in his stomach, and holy fucking shit Steve is pissing in him. His dick is so hard between his legs, he thinks he could cum from a light breeze. When Steve’s bladder is empty, he pulls the metalhead off his dick and lets him collapse onto his back on the cold ground. Eddie catches his breath, feeling pleasantly fuzzy. He stares up at the dom with stars in his eyes, smiling dopily. Steve rewards him with a smile in return before schooling his expression again. “You have one minute to get naked or I’m cutting your clothes off. Your jewelry can stay on.” Eddie hesitates for a moment, before getting up, and stripping off his clothes as fast as he can. As hot as it would be to have his clothes cut off, that's what he's performing in later. The leather jacket and cropped band tee hit the ground, his ripped jeans and boxers following, hitting the ground with a loud thud from his belt chain and belt. He stumbles and curses, he had forgotten to take off his boots first. Steve catches him with a chuckle steadying the metalhead before stepping away to let him fumble with his boots. Eddie manages to get his boots and socks off, looking to Steve for further instruction. "On your back on the ground pet." He scrambles to comply, managing to get to the ground without falling.
Steve seats himself over eddies hips, ignoring the dick pressing against his ass. The brunet reaches back and pulls his switchblade out of his boot. The knife is flicked open. "Don't think I didn't see you considering getting your clothes cut off." Steve teases, lightly dragging the sharp blade down tattooed pale skin. Eddie gasps at the sensation, squirming. "Stay still pet. You don't want daddy to cut you, do you?" the long-haired man bites his lip and hesitates before shaking his head.
"Want to be good for you daddy," Eddie whines, the non-answer not lost on the drummer. He passes the knife over his puppy's chest a little harder, little beads of blood welling up along the cut. Eddie fights his body’s instinct to thrash against the pain, hands grabbing onto Steve's thighs for grounding. " Please , please again sir!"
The knife carefully leaves a few more shallow cuts across the metalhead's chest and by the time Steve is putting the switchblade away, Eddie is trembling, tears staining his face. He's gripping Steve's thighs so hard there's sure to be bruises there, but his expression is blissed out, floating high in subspace. A couple of sharp taps bring Eddie back to the surface. "Can you handle daddy fucking you?" Eddie sobs, nodding his head quickly.
"Please fuck me please daddy," he begs, whining when Steve gets off of his lap. The brunet takes the hands reaching out toward him and shushes Eddie.
"I need to get my lube puppy. Be a good boy and play with your nipples until I come back." Grabbing hands drop to Eddie's chest, smearing the little beads of blood before moving to his nipples, staining the sensitive nubs red. The metalhead is whimpering by the time Steve returns from finding his bag backstage. "You can stop pet, hands at your sides." Eddie sighs in relief, hands falling beside him on the ground. He opens his legs for the drummer, letting him kneel between his spread legs.
When Steve slicks up two fingers with lube, Eddie makes a little noise of protest. "Please, no prep. I can take it, want it to hurt. Please sir?" Steve gives him an assessing look before smearing the lube on his hole. He gets more lube, getting his dick messy and adding more lube to his ass. The tip of Steve’s dick presses against Eddie's hole, slowly forcing its way in. Once the head bullies its way past the ring of muscle, the rest of his cock slides in easily. Eddie arches off the ground with a moan, hands still held by his sides like a good boy. Steve starts at a slow but rough pace, not giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. Eddie jolts with each thrust, whining high in his throat. His poor dick is neglected between his legs, head almost purple with how hard he is. “Please daddy, I need more please!” He cries, hands clenching and unclenching against the ground. A pale leg is thrown onto Steve’s shoulder, adjusting the angle to hit the metalhead’s prostate with every thrust.
“Fuck, play with your nipples pet,” The drummer instructs shakily, the tight vice of Eddie’s ass bringing him closer than he’d like. Like the good boy he is, Eddie brings trembling hands to his chest, pinching and pulling at his puffy, sore nipples.
Tears are spilling from his eyes again, sharp pain and overwhelming pleasure make a heady mixture that fogs his head and brings him to the cusp of orgasm. “Please sir I'm gonna cum please let me cum please please please!” Eddie is sobbing, letting out little ah ah ah’s with each hard thrust to his prostate.
“You can cum puppy, but I’m not stopping until I’m finished,” Steve warns, watching as the metalhead whines and his hips twitch up, seeking out just a little more sensation to tip him over the edge. Steve takes pity on the sobbing boy, scratching his painted nails down Eddie’s chest, leaving welts in their wake and reopening the shallow cuts, making more blood rise to the surface. Eddie does thrash this time, practically screaming as he comes untouched onto his stomach and chest. The drummer keeps fucking into him as he sobs and squirms away. “I told you pet, I’m not stopping until I cum.” He growls out, forcing Eddie back onto his cock, making him wail. Steve doesn’t last long as the overstimulated man cant stop clenching down on his dick. He holds the metalhead in place as he cums inside him, Eddie falling limp in his hold. Eddie lets out a shuddering sigh as the onslaught of pain and too much pleasure stops. His eyes close, basking in the soreness and floaty feeling of subspace. The brunet carefully slides out of Eddie's abused ass, grabbing and pressing a cool, metal butt plug from his bag inside the older man to replace his dick. He jumps at the sudden change in temperature before sagging back against the floor, the cold soothing the burn of his raw hole. Steve cleans up the metalhead of cum and blood, disinfecting the cuts on his chest with a nearby first aid kit. He shifts the long-haired man so his head was resting in Steve's lap, playing with the curls as he slowly surfaces from subspace. The man mumbles something into Steve's thigh. "What was that baby?"
Eddie rolls over and looks up at The drummer from his lap, repeating himself. "I never told you my name."
Steve throws back his head and laughs. "Everyone here knows your name Eddie." He pouts, confused as he's still regaining brain function.
"Baby, your band? Corroded Coffin?" Eddie gasps, sitting upright quickly. What if he missed his set? Steve rubs a hand across his shoulders. "You have an hour until you go on. it's okay, lay down a little bit longer baby."