We're owl exterminators (shadow_hive) wrote,
We're owl exterminators
shadow_hive

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Tighten And Slacken

Tighten And Slacken
Pairing: Ian Watkins/Sean Smith
POV: Sean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Asphixiation, makeshift bondage
Notes: For clandestinemess I really hope you like this < 3

"Where is it?" I growled, walking around the stage as the others were setting up for the day's pre-show soundcheck.

"Where's what?" Snoz was the one to speak up, from his position seated behind the drums. He twisted one of his drumsticks in his fingers absently, studying me intently. I was glad it wasn't one of the others, especially Rhys. He'd have made some perverted comment.

"My mic." I replied simply. I liked using it. It was like Bob using his own guitar, or Snoz using his own drumsticks. It was mine and I didn't want anyone fucking with it.

"I dunno." Snoz shruggged and tapped his drums experimentally.

"I do." Bob said from behind me gruffly. "Ian had it."

I growled and, not bothering to thank Bob, went to find Ian. This may be Lostprophets tour but that didn't give him the right to touch my shit. He could be such a twat sometimes.

***

I found out from Lee that he was on the bus after searching the venue for him. I was ready to let him have it, striding to the bus, ready to smack him until he gave it up. What I wasn't prepared for was walking in on Ian wanking. He was in the back of the bus, completely naked. His dick was in one hand, my distinctive mic in the other, the cord of it around his neck. I remembered a talk Rhys had given us about this kinda thing, not to do it alone and whatever shit. Clearly Ian hadn't gotten such a thing from Jamie or whoever was the kinky one in the band.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with my mic?" He looked at me, blinked and stuttered, letting go of his grip on the mic so the cord became slack.

"I... I..."

"Don't. Mess. With. My. Mic." With each word I took a step closer, stalking over to him. I grabbed the mic, pulling it slightly so it tightened around his neck, but I only did that for a few seconds before letting it go slack. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide. I could tell he was this close to begging for more. I knew him well enough for that. "On your knees and I'll give you what you want."

Ian did as he was told and I admired the older man for a moment. He was pretty, with his dark hair all messed up and his tatts looking all so pretty and dark. Especially the guns. Everyone got turned on by the guns.

"Hands behind you." He did as I told him and I used the other end of the bright blue cord to bind his wrists together. Once I'd done that I licked my lips and stroked the inked skin of his arm. I noticed now he had something up his ass. Not an actual sex toy, but a drumstick. I wondered whose it was, but decided not to care. My mic was the issue at hand. "You're such an idiot Watkins. A hot one, but an idiot nonetheless." Later, I'd get Rhys over here to give him the talk. He was always willing to give anyone a talk about kink. He had props. And fingerpuppets. I growled and took my dick out of my jeans, moving around until it was level with his face. "This'll be the only lube you're getting." He whimpered and nodded, leaning forward to lick along my shaft. If there was one thing Ian was good at it was sucking cock. I'd say it was his number one skill while singing was down there at about four or five.

I moaned softly, his tongue lapping at me as he took my head into his mouth. He felt so fucking amazing. Thankfully his skills weren't wasted. Blow jobs weren't like riding a bike, it wasn't a skill that would stay with you. Without practise you'd lose it. I knew that he never would thanks to his band. And anyone that came within five feet of him with a dick. He probably had some sort of chart somewhere to keep track.

"That's enough." I groaned softly as I pulled back, smirking as he whimpered. "Calm down slut. You're getting it again soon." I shifted behind him and snatched my mic from him, using my other hand to pull out the drumstick and drop it on the table. "If it gets too much give me the finger." He nodded slightly before pushing into him.

Ian wasn't a virgin, in fact he was far from it, so I was soon thrusting away at full force within him. It took a few thrusts before I was comfortable enough to pull on the mic, tightening the cord around his neck. I heard him groan as he started to choke from it and I thrusted twice inside him before making the cord slack again.

"More... please." I smirked, then pulled it tight again. "Ugh..."

I let out a groan of my own, his already tight arse squeezing even more from the lack of air. "Fuck..." I let the cord go again after three thrusts this time, knowing if I didn't I'd probably no want to let go until I'd came. He took a few a few deep breaths, pushing back against me like te needy slut he was.

"Next... next time I do it you cum. Understand?" He nodded and I pulled again, slamming my hips against his arse. It didn't take long for him to shoot, mere seconds after the cord had tightened around him. I guessed it was for the best he had. I let it go, pounding into him hard as I leaned close kissing the neck above the cord. "Mmmm good boy." He whimpered and tilted his head to one side, his breathing still ragged. I groaned his name against his skin, sinking my teeth into him to mark him as my own, my movements just quick jerks of my hips now. I came deep inside him the second I tasted his blood.

I pulled out after riding it out, unravelling the mic cord from round his wrists and throat. "Never ever touch my mic again you understand?"

"Yes Sean... thank you." I smirked and nodded, tucking my cock in and zipping myself up quickly. Normally I'd have stayed, helped him clean up but I decided not to this time. His punishment for using my mic.

"Clean up. I'll see you later." I turned and left him there, still on his knees, covered in his own cum. Absently I swung the mic around as I walked the short distance from the bus to the stage. I'd have to do it to one of the others before this tour was over. Maybe Gavin.
Tags: fic, ian watkins, ian watkins/sean smith, lostprophets, sean smith, slash, the blackout
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