Pairing: Matt/Derek (Alkaline Trio)
Summary: There's something about pain that excites Derek beyond belief...
Note: Yeah, I decided to just add to the first one instead of writing another chapter...since I figured there was no point if there's only two chapters! So...FINALLY I got my act together and finished it!
Sitting in his eerily darkened room, Derek looked down to the image he was generating. Cold, dark eyes stared back at him, slightly hidden underneath strands of dark hair. Behind and to the left of the gothic male figure, a timid, frightened female with long black flowing hair was chained to a wall.
Derek smirked at his creation. The satanic glint in the male’s eyes invoked domination and control, and excited something in Derek which he could not explain. He picked up his pencil and drew fancy letters, one by one, spelling out a phrase he was all too familiar with. This could be love…
Sighing, Derek set down his pencil. Something was missing from the illustration that sat before him. He pondered this for a moment, an idea evolving in his mind. He reached into his desk, and pulled out a red pencil crayon. Etching minimal amounts of red onto his paper, he smiled triumphantly at the sinister effect caused by such a small amount of colour. The blood that Derek added augmented the gothic art perfectly.
“Hey there Grant whatcha drawing?”
A startled Derek jumped in his seat, and quickly turned around to find one Dan Andriano curiously staring back at him.
“Uh…it’s just…it’s…it’s nothing” the drummer stuttered. Dan reached around him and snatched the sketchpad.
“Oooo spooky!” the bald man snickered, a grin forming between his cheeks.
“Gimme that!” Derek snapped, grabbing at his prized drawing, but failing miserably as Dan bounced out of reach.
“Hey, this dude in front looks just like Matt! Creepy!”
“Dan! Give it back!” the drummer hollered, cheeks growing red and hot with utter embarrassment.
“Nevar!” Dan shouted, running out of the drummer’s bedroom.
Derek chased after the wretched art thief, running beelines throughout the house. Catching up with Dan, Derek tackled him, and managed to get a hold of his precious artwork.
“May I ask what’s going on here?”
Derek looked up to see an amused looking Matt, glaring back at him.
“Relax Matthew,” Dan laughed, “I stole Derek’s drawing and he was chasing me trying to get it back.”
The guitarist cocked an eyebrow and shook his head.
“What am I going to do with you boys?” Matt giggled. The drummer drew in a quick breath and swallowed nervously. He began thinking about the way Matt towered over him, and how small and insecure he felt at the moment.
Derek stood up, artwork in hand, and dashed into the living room. He grabbed the remote and switched on the tv, revealing the James Bond movie ‘Golden Eye.’ Muting it, he cast his eyes downward examining his drawing once again. A few minutes later he heard someone enter the room.
“Dan told me to tell you he’s going out to buy handcuffs so he can chain you to a wall.”
Derek slowly lifted his head to watch Matt flop down onto the couch beside him. Blinking slowly, Matt stared profusely at Derek until he offered an explanation.
“Well, actually I think he went to his girlfriend’s place, cause he took the flowers from the dining room table before he walked out. But that’s not important. What’s important is why Dan wants to chain you to a wall.” Matt snickered.
A deafening silence took over the room, aside from the slight humming of the muted television. Looking back down, intimidated by Matt’s almost satanic glare, Derek handed Matt the sketchpad. Examining the page, Matt’s eyes widened slightly. Derek chose to ignore Matt’s expression, and returned to studying his intertwined hands.
Derek could feel Matt’s eyes on him, so he apprehensively angled his head to the side, not bothering to lift his head. Matt grew an evil smirk.
“Tortured artist are we?” He said with a low and raspy voice. Derek shivered at the sound, and then mentally slapped himself for allowing Matt to have such an effect on him. He gave a weak smile and turned his attention to the screen in front of him.
Matt cocked his head and looked curiously at the drummer. His mind began to wander back to the drawing, and he wondered how such an intelligent, quiet, and shy man could produce such a dark, sinister piece of art.
“So we’ve got a show tonight…”
Derek glanced up at Matt and then back to the tv.
“Cool. Can’t wait.”
* * *
Staring in awe at the beauty that danced before him, the shy man silently thanked his dark father that the guitarist had his back to him. If the drummer were ever caught, he would surely die of embarrassment.
Derek cautiously continued to observe the object of his attraction. He took in every inch of his body; most of it regrettably covered by clothing. He viewed the guitarist’s black beaten-up converses, to his black pinstriped trousers, to his black work shirt. And although Derek couldn’t see it, he knew Matt was wearing a bright red tie. His eyes continued to travel upwards to the back of the man’s neck, to his perfectly sculpted hair. Derek marveled at the sheer splendor that radiated from Matt.
As he watched Matt sing his heart out to the crowd, the drummer’s mind began to wander. He allowed his eyelids to block out his sight, willing his dark fantasies to conquer him. He imagined being fiercely shoved onto the floor, naked, only to be brutally whipped by a belt. By Matt’s belt. He imagined the guitarist towering over him, a sadistic smirk plastered on his flawless face. He could almost feel the collar and leash around his neck, and the handcuffs bound too tightly to his wrists. He could almost taste the copper from the crimson liquid on his lips, where the guitarist bit down too hard. Pain, sweet pain; the gratifying sensation that had become all too alluring for the drummer.
Slowly lifting his eyelids, his vision began to come into focus as he realized the song was coming to an end.
Sighing, the drummer slowly made his way off the stage, unhappy with the fact that he would now have to face the real world.
The drummer lifted his head to find a concerned, yet sweaty bass player looking back at him.
“Seriously Derek, you were nuts today, I thought you were going to break the skins on your drums. Is everything alright?”
The drummer attempted a half-hearted smile, “Yeah Dan, I’m fine, just a little stressed, thanks.”
The next while was spent in silence as they loaded the equipment into the van and drove home. Heather and Dan attempted conversation, but gave up realizing neither Matt nor Derek were in the mood for talking.
Roughly 20 minutes passed, and Dan was dropped off at his girlfriend’s apartment for the night, then Heather at her apartment, and finally Matt and Derek arrived at their house.
“I’ll unload my stuff in the morning, Derek. I’m too damn tired to do it now.”
“Oh, okay goodnight then.”
Derek pondered whether or not he should bring in his drums now or later, and decided it was best to do it now. Trucking his drums into the practice room as quickly as possible, he unloaded the van. He also decided that he would bring in both Matt and Dan’s equipment as well.
Dragging himself upstairs to his bedroom, the seemingly tired drummer was shockingly awakened by the smell of burning incense. He didn’t even know Matt had candles, let alone that he was assed to light them if he was so tired.
Derek gasped when he opened his door to discover that the candles were in his room. His eyes widened in shock as he scanned the room. The bed linens had been changed from the usual grey to complementary red and black, matching perfectly with his crimson red walls. The room looked truly stunning, so much that Derek thought for a moment that he entered the wrong room.
Suddenly, the drummer let out a muffled scream as he was grabbed from behind, one hand covering his mouth. The frightened boy turned around swiftly, and was met face to face with a twisted smirk and bright blue-green eyes.
A sudden, sharp pinch around his wrists caused the drummer to jump. Looking down his eyes widened to see handcuffs, bound a little too tightly to each of his wrists. His jaw dropped as he felt something cold around his neck-a collar. The shorter man’s mouth twisted into a smirk, and he felt himself swelling in his pants, ecstatic that this was happening. Then there was a click, and a tug at his neck, and the drummer was thrust down onto the bed. Matt must’ve attached a leash. The grip around his wrists was removed, immediately followed by his shirt, belt, pants, and boxers. Then Derek felt a tug at his arms and sharp pinches on his wrists once again, this time bound to the iron bed frame. Looking up to one wrist, the smaller man drew a sharp breath as he saw the crimson liquid leak from his restrained arms.
A quick jerk on his neck sent Derek’s attention back to the guitarist, who had a sadistic smirk plastered on his face. The drummer’s eyes grazed lower, noticing Matt’s clothing had been removed, and that he was now holding a wine glass. Derek couldn’t contain the grin that was forming.
And before Derek realized what Matt was doing, a loud shattering sound filled the room and the guitarist was straddling Derek’s stomach. The guitarist towered above Derek, holding the stem of the glass, with a sharp point at the tip.
The candlelight flickered, and lit the guitarist’s face in such a way that his features were slightly outlined. Matt’s eyebrow’s furrowed, and he drew a quick breath, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth. Derek’s eyes shot down to the guitarist’s hand, slowly descending down his chest, dragging the broken glass behind it. Matt was good. Really good. Derek inadvertently wet his lips as he watched the blood creep from the wound Matt had created. He yearned to lick the newly formed gash, and to taste Matt’s fresh blood. The guitarist’s hand continued it’s descent, and the drummer’s eyes continued to follow.
Matt shifted on Derek’s stomach, and Derek’s eyes jumped down, his stomach flipping as he gawked at Matt’s erection. Derek pried his eyes off of Matt’s length and diverted his attention back to the broken glass, which was now drawing a line perpendicular to the first. Once it was complete, the guitarist dropped his hand and looked down at his chest to admire his work. A cross.
The smaller man jumped as he felt the cold glass touch his chest. A moan escaped his throat, and he strained against the restraints as the sharp object tore down his chest and abdomen. A stinging sensation clouded Derek’s mind, and he could feel the coolness of the wine glass and the contrasting warm blood creeping over his body. The final intersecting cut was made, and Derek whimpered, dissatisfied with the loss of pain.
Two identical groans escaped the men’s mouths as the slightly taller one pressed his weight down onto the drummer, stomach on stomach, chest on chest, their blood colliding and blending together. The friction created from the grazing erections sent both men into another moan. The sensation was far too erotic for the drummer to stand much longer, and before he realized what he was doing, a plea had escaped his lips. The guitarist sat up, eyes full of anger and discontent, and the inexperienced drummer immediately regretted it.
The sinister-looking guitarist removed himself from the bed, bent down to pick something up, then stood beside the bed, towering over the figure chained there. Derek’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation when he spotted the belt in Matt’s hand. Was he going to be punished? His breathing quickened as the silence continued. A sudden crack was heard and the drummer winced as a quick, hard slap shocked his ribcage.
“Derek, you fool.”
Another whip. Derek lifted his eyes up to the guitarist’s face, where his hair came down to a point, than to his bright green eyes, to his pierced nose, and his perfect lips. All of these combined gave Matt’s face a stern expression. Derek’s eyes traveled lower to the smeared blood on his chest, then back up to his face. The man standing before him was sheer perfection.
“Never speak unless you are spoken to.”
Another whip, opening the cross on his chest further. Derek let his eyes fall shut, and allowed the pain to overtake him, and bring him into an impossibly excited state of mind.
“Am I clear?”
The drummer looked back up to his dominatrix, eyes clouded with lust, and he slowly nodded his head, swallowing hard. The guitarist threw himself down onto the smaller man, and shifted so the drummer’s legs encircled his hips. And in one quick movement, the guitarist’s stiffness was thrust into Derek, causing a brusque twinge to dart up his back. A loud scream resounded the room as the drummer cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, thoroughly intoxicated by the man who dominated him.
Derek’s wrists were taking a beating from the jerking bed frame, and the friction on his stomach was stinging wildly, and still the drummer boy wanted more. He ached for release, and the agony of being so aroused had him whimpering uncontrollably.
The friction inside of him brought Derek further and further towards the peak. The guitarist forced hard onto a spot inside Derek, and the drummer hissed as he felt an electric shock surge through him. Wave after wave of electricity set his body afire, and he shuddered violently as he came forcefully over the two men’s blood-covered stomachs. The guitarist’s release followed almost simultaneously.
Reaching for the bedside table, Matt lamentably pulled out of the sore drummer and retrieved a key, unlocking the handcuffs. The smaller man was shaking slightly, the after-effects of the climax now settling in. Matt lay down beside Derek, throwing one arm over his stomach and gently resting his head on his shoulder.
Nuzzling into Derek’s side, Matt whispered, “I’m sorry, I think I got a little carried away.” Derek smiled warmly and softly kissed the top of Matt’s head.
“Nothing a little Advil and band-aids can’t fix.” The guitarist lifted his head and the two men shared a gentle kiss.
“And besides, it was incredible.”
…uh the ending was a little fluffy, but I kinda wanted it that way, so yeah.
Feedback would be truly wonderful, because I really went out on a limb here and tried something new. I don’t know if I did very well, and I would really appreciate comments, criticism, what you liked or didn’t like, you know. Feedback.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story, and I really hope I did alright with it.