title: i'm the boss.
pairing: blond!luke (liberty spikes era) x brunet!luke (jet black era)
content warning and author's note: potentially dead dove content and i will be utilizing the tag to say that if you don't heed the warning now you have no right to be upset about what is present in the fic. boundary pushing, dom breaking, power play, gunplay, and forced russian roulette will be present.
summary: the general consensus is that the brunet is the more dominant personality. the problem is, he's always pushing it. the blond's had it with his shit. he snaps, and just so happens to have a gun on him when he does.
word count: 3,883.
the brunet likes to think he knows everyone’s limits. he likes to think he knows which buttons to press and which ones not to press. he likes to think he knows which boundaries he can cross and which ones he can’t. today, his little theory fell through.
the blond is standing across from him, gun in hand. he tilts his head to the side and runs ringed fingers through spiked hair. he’s laughing maniacally and it’s more than clear that there’s tension in the air. the brunet is standing across from him with his hands up, careful to not upset the blond further. frankly, the blond’s just about had it with all of the brunet’s bullshit, however, and he’s not putting the gun away. they’re going to settle this now, see, because the brunet has a bad habit of being condescending and demeaning— amongst other things— and the blond can’t take it anymore. he’s snapping.
“why don’t you put that away?” the brunet suggests with a smile that’s all too aware of his situation, but one that could still dial it back on the smugness.
“get on the ground,” the blond says.
“let’s talk about this,” the brunet lets out a nervous chuckle.
“get on the fucking ground,” the blond tells him again, voice low and serious as he cocks the gun. he was in the middle of enjoying a cigarette and he intends to finish it. he takes a drag off of it, then taps the ashes off to the side. they fall to the ground without care or concern.
by now, the brunet is on his knees. he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. he’s never experienced anxiety like this before. he’s also never had a gun pulled on him before. first time for everything.
“happy?” the brunet asks. “now what?”
“i can see i’m gonna have to adjust that fuckin’ attitude of yours,” the blond mutters, gun placed beneath the brunet’s chin. he leverages the gun to lift the brunet’s head so that he’s forced to look up at him, then reaches to remove the sunglasses the brunet is wearing and tosses them aside. he wants to actually see the look in the brunet’s eyes when this next part comes. “you always think you’re god damn untouchable, don’t you? i’m gonna prove you wrong. open your mouth.”
“what?” the brunet asks, stunned.
“you heard me,” the blond answers. “open up your fucking mouth,” he growls, then jerks the brunet’s jaw open before he shoves the barrel of the gun past the brunet’s teeth.
by now, the brunet looks terrified. that cool, calm, and collected demeanor is nowhere to be found. meanwhile, the blond has this wild look in eyes that are normally so bored with the world; something that says he’s enjoying this.
“better,” he says when the brunet gives in and his jaw goes slack around the gun. he looks up at the blond through horror stricken and widened baby blues. he’s in shock, heart racing and adrenaline pumping. his hands are still raised, like he’s afraid to make any sudden movements. he’s trembling. there’s a loaded gun in his mouth and he’s not sure what’s coming next.
“you look pathetic like this,” the blond laughs some more, then shakes his head in disbelief. “but it’s a good look for you, i like it.”
the brunet would scowl, argue— anything, but he’s fighting back tears. he’s scared. his hands slowly drop from where they’re raised in the air and they land on his knees.
the blond continues to puff on his cigarette, before he eventually finishes it off and throws the butt of it on the ground and puts it out beneath his shoe. when he’s done with that, he runs his fingers through the brunet’s curls and gives them a harsh tug before he shoves the barrel of the gun deeper down his throat. he pushes it further and further, until the brunet chokes and gags— he doesn’t stop, until spit covers his lips and drool coats the outside of the metal. he even guides the brunet’s head along the gun, forcing him to work back and forth along the barrel.
“uh huh… suck on it, baby— just like that,” the blond murmurs, condescension in his tone. his tongue is pressed to his inner cheek, jaw slightly open as he watches in awe. he bites down on his lower lip to stifle a laugh, then finally pulls the fun from the brunet’s mouth. a string of spit connects from the tip of the barrel to the brunet’s swollen, pink lips and he’s blushing so bad that the rosy colored tint has spread up to his ears and down past the v-neck of his button-up. he pants softly, brows knitted together as he glares daggers up at the blond who just can’t seem to help himself from grinning.
the blond pauses for a moment. he looks down, then takes note of the crimson glow spread across the brunet’s skin. he glances elsewhere and notices the way the brunet’s fists are balled up tight, then remarks the lack of protest. albeit, there is the loaded gun. great motivation for keeping a person in check, but… something’s off. all signs point to pent up frustration.
“do me a favor,” the blond says, then his foot nudges itself between the brunet’s thighs before he even gets the command out. “spread your legs,” he demands, only to press the front end of his boot against the brunet’s lap before he has time to react.
there’s no verbal objection. the brunet merely shudders and grasps at the blond’s leg. he keeps his head tilted downward and absolutely refuses to match the blond’s gaze. this whole situation is humiliating.
“no way,” the blond chuckles. he scratches his temple with the end of the gun, then points it back at the brunet again. “you want it, right? of course you do,” he nods his head, as if things are starting to make sense.
he moves his foot and his boot rubs over the brunet’s arousal, but the brunet manages to muffle whatever sound attempts to escape him— granted, not without consequence. he does end up rolling his hips forward, jaw tightening as he curses under his breath.
“sadomasochistic freak— you’re a sick fuck, you know that?” the blond calls him out on it.
“six syllables— that’s a big word for you,” the brunet replies, snide and pompous.
“you need to learn when to shut the fuck up,” the blond sneers. he whips the brunet across the face with the back end of the pistol without a second thought. it leaves a large bruise across his cheek, along with a fresh cut. blood pours from the wound, down the side of his face, and the blond considers— just for a moment— how pretty the brunet would look with his face all beat up.
“you need to learn to control your temper,” the brunet retorts. there’s a whimper somewhere in there, between the hit and the retaliating statement. the brunet’s rage is hidden behind a deep breath. his head is reeling, ears ringing as his vision doubles.
the blond doesn’t reply. he thinks: whatever, essentially. the brunet’s the one getting off to this. although, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half hard right about now. seeing the other look so pathetic is really doing it for him, so he gets his belt undone. his hands pop the button on his jeans, then unzip the fly. his pants loosely hug his hips, boxers peeking out, and the brunet just stares at him— dazed, anticipating what’s to come.
instead of saying anything, the blond grabs the brunet by the back of the neck and shoves the brunet’s face right into his crotch. his cock rests against the brunet’s uninjured cheek and the brunet reaches for the blond’s hips to steady himself. he’s just lucky that, at this point, the blond has withdrawn his foot from between his thighs. he’s more focused on pressing the head of his cock against the brunet’s lips and pushing past them so that he can bury himself in the warm, wet heat of his mouth.
“oh, fuck,” the blond groans, then shoves deeper on instinct. it’s like he just can’t help himself. he doesn’t just force his way in all at once, though. no, he wants to enjoy this, so he gradually works his way through the motions. he thrusts in and out of the brunet’s mouth. slow, just the first few inches, occasionally pulling out to slap his cock against his face or to tap it against his tongue. that last part takes some working up to. the brunet acts all stubborn about getting his mouth open, but— eventually— his jaw goes slack and he sticks out his tongue when he’s told to.
the brunet learns to breath through his throughout the whole thing. either that or he holds his breath when he has to. it doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the blond starts thrusting a little too deep and he can’t get enough air into his lungs. it’s not until the blond starts to do it on purpose that there’s a problem. the blond shoves past the limit of what he can handle, the brunet starts to choke, and the blond decides to savor the moment by continuing his movements so that he can keep listening to the brunet struggle around his cock. he never gives him the satisfaction of just pulling out to let him breathe or simply burying it down his throat so he can find some sense of stability. he teeters him on the edge, until the brunet gives a harsh shove at his hips to let him know he’s had enough and finally the blond responds by letting him have all of it. he shoves the brunet’s head down on his cock until he’s taking every inch of him. he doesn’t stop— not until his lips are wrapped around the hilt, balls pressed against his chin as his nose gets buried in the lower half of the blond’s happy trail.
the brunet grapples with not being able to breathe, but the blond helps him along. well, sort of.
“oh, no—” the blond grins. a breathy laugh escapes him. he pats the brunet’s cheek and gives the back of his head an extra shove to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about trying to pull away. the brunet just squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, then blinks back tears as eyes begin to water from having his throat stretched out and attempts to whine judging from how everything constricts around the blond’s cock, earning a groan. “gonna have to learn. y’know, like how you taught me.”
don’t think for a second, by the way, that the blond isn’t taking this as a teaching opportunity. for all the times the brunet held him down a little too long— it’s his turn now. he waits until the brunet is red in the face to draw his hips back. even then, he doesn’t move. not until he’s blacking out around the corners of his vision.
“fuck, you have no idea how satisfying this is,” the blond moans, elated. the brunet’s grip at his hips weakens and hands slowly slide down the blond’s thighs as he starts to pass out. that’s when the blond pulls out. “get a good breath in ‘cause i’m not done with you.”
the brunet jerks away, gasping for air and coughing violently. he grasps at his throat, then wipes the spit from his mouth once he’s regained his composure. he parts his lips to speak, but obviously that was the wrong move because it just gets his mouth stuffed full again. the blond shoves his head right back down. he makes him take every inch one more time around. the head of his cock hits the back of the brunet’s throat and he knows his voice will be hoarse after this, especially with how rough and careless the blond is being.
the brunet tries to look tough. he does his best. it’s kind of difficult when he’s getting his face fucked and there’s drool to show for it. the messier, the better. the blond kind of likes the fact that it’s all over his mouth and dripping down his chin right now… especially when he starts rammining it in, hard and deep— barely pulling out and letting himself stay immersed in the warmth of the brunet’s mouth. he just fucks his throat for a while. he gives him breaks when needed, but— for the most part— he makes him take what he has to offer.
eventually, the blond’s head tips back and his face scrunches up. he can swear he’s close. he can feel it building up. he doesn’t want to be done, though. hips stutter to a halt and he takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out of the brunet’s mouth.
the brunet doesn’t look too happy. he was hoping the blond would finish up soon. that, and his own frustration is getting the better of him and he absolutely refuses to touch himself during this.
“what else do you want?” the brunet rasps.
“hm?” the blond hums. “oh,” he ponders a thought, then laughs like it’s obvious. “‘c’mere,” he says, only to grab the brunet by the collar of his shirt so he can drag him to his feet. he shoves him around, until he’s almost bent over the arm of the couch. the brunet side steps the dilemma and stands upright.
“you’re out of your mind,” the brunet deadpans.
“just bend over,” the blond says expectantly.
“are you fucking crazy?” the brunet laughs, then shifts uncomfortably. he avoids eye contact. “listen, it’s been fun. you’re not fucking me.”
the blond unloads the gun and places it in his back pocket as a peace offering. for whatever reason, the brunet accepts. he bends over the arm of the couch, but not without a grumble.
“i’ve got another one, just so you know,” the blond says as he steps behind him. the brunet rolls his eyes while the blond peels him out of his pants. suddenly, he feels all too exposed. he’s never been bent over in front of anyone before. he feels out of place and quickly goes to stand upright, only to get shoved back down. the blond’s got him pinned, but he doesn’t make any sudden movements. he gives the brunet a chance to really change his mind.
instead, he buries his face in the crook of the brunet’s neck and slides up against him. he lets his cock sit between his cheeks, then grinds forward a few times, until the head catches against the brunet’s entrance. the brunet is just about to say something about, but the blond’s already buried every inch he has to offer him without a second thought, and all the brunet can do is spread his legs, scream, and take it.
“you’re okay,” the blond tells him and his faux sympathy is so bad that it’s almost sad he even made the attempt. easy for him to say, he’s balls deep, sighing happily and kissing the brunet’s shoulder before standing upright to grab him by the hips. he’s getting ready to move… meanwhile, the brunet can only wince. he’s teary eyed, whole body tense and entire frame trembling. his muscles flex and clenches up tight around the blond’s cock, causing the blond to groan.
the brunet grinds his teeth. it’s not an easy fit. the blond barely gets it all in without a little struggle. he’s big and thick. the stretch burns and it’s overall just painful, until he adjusts. the blond gives him some time to. he waits for the go ahead— whatever that looks like— then thrusts.
neither of them are the type to care about this being the brunet’s ‘first time,’ so the blond isn’t entirely gentle. he pulls out to the tip, then shoves back in and repeats the process a few times. it’s enough to make the brunet’s eyes roll back… especially when the head brushes past his prostate at just the right angle. they slowly work their way up to a rougher pace. the brunet is already dizzy. the blond can tell he’s not gonna last, but he doesn’t care. he’s mostly focused on himself.
“fuck, fuck— oh, fuck,” the brunet pants as a shaky hand reaches back to rest on the blond’s thigh. he can feel his cock throbbing hard, trapped between the arm of the couch and his stomach. the blond fucks him and it hurts so good he didn’t even know it was possible. he thrusts and thrusts, searching for something inside him that’ll make him see stars. he feels the brunet tense when he rams into it, then focuses his thrusts in the direction of that sweet spot just to make him fall apart.
“you’re so fuckin’ tight,” the blond mumbles and the brunet moans loud in response. “yeah, you like that?” he asks, hips rocking forward as he rams into him. he slows down sometimes, just to keep things from ending too fast, then speeds them right back up.
“don’t talk—” the brunet demands. the blond obviously doesn’t listen.
“takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” the blond mutters and his hands grip tight at the brunet’s hips, until fingers press bruises into the skin and nails leave crescent shaped imprints. he picks up the pace, pounding him rough and deep. “who knew you liked getting fucked like a slut, huh?”
“please, stop talking—” the brunet begs him this time, but his cock jumps in excitement and he feels himself getting closer every time the blond says something. it’s like every word pushes him nearer to the edge.
“well, don’t fuckin’ worry, ‘cause i’m gonna fill you up like one, too,” the blond promises, forcing his cock in deeper and deeper, until he’s barely pulling out while he fucks him. the brunet’s hips sputter and attempt to arch away, like it’s too much or he can’t take that much at once, but the blond holds him in place and makes him, until he’s slack jawed and strings of moans are erupting from his chest.
the brunet can feel his orgasm fast approaching. he reaches down to wrap a hand around himself, squeezing fingers around the base of his cock to hold off the release, but he just ends up rutting into his palm until the heat in his gut pools over and he spills all over his hand. he cums hard, panting heavily and whimpering in the process.
the blond’s hips yield to a stop momentarily. he takes the opportunity to catch his breath and regain his stamina, then pulls the tired brunet’s arms behind his back and holds them together at the wrists with one hand while another hand tangles itself into pretty, dark curls and holds his head against the couch cushion. he starts moving again— harder, faster, and rougher than before. it’s obvious his focus has shifted. instead of pushing them both towards something, he’s just using him. the brunet seems to be getting off on it, regardless. he moans like he is, anyway. the blond goes like that for a while, until he unloads inside of him. he’s shaking, hips barely able to keep up with the pace he’s set by the time he gets close. he can feel it coming fast and he just needs to bury it deep and make the brunet take it, so he does.
“don’t—” ‘cum inside’ is what the brunet goes to say, but it’s too late. the blond’s already finished and the brunet’s response is too slow. he sighs heavily in annoyance, but the flush on his cheeks tells another story.
the blond lets go of the brunet and moves to pull out. he’s not gentle. it doesn’t matter. his hands find their way to the brunet’s ass and he spreads him open, then watches as his cum leaks out of him.
“whore,” the blond snorts, then fixes his pants and turns to leave.
“wait—” the brunet calls out and it gets the blond’s attention, enough for him to turn back around. “you’re seriously just going to leave me here?” he asks, but it’s a ruse. he’s waiting for the right moment to strike.
“uh, yeah,” the blond scoffs. “i’m not your keeper.”
“fine,” the brunet stands to his feet and straightens out. everything feels amazing right now, but he knows he’ll be sore tomorrow. “just one thing,” he says, then spins around to face the blond, after he’s pulled up and fixes his own jeans. it’s all the dignity he’s getting. he’ll go clean up in the bathroom in a second.
for now, he steps forward and an arm goes around the other, causing the blond to step back, but it’s too late— the brunet’s already reached for the gun in the hidden holster in the back of his jeans. the brunet slams the gun against the side of the blond’s head hard enough to send him kneeling, then he crouches down next to him. he caresses the gun along the blond’s jawline on the opposite side of his face before turning his head towards him. the blond has never looked more furious.
“drop it,” the blond says through his teeth, knowing damn well the brunet’s never been able to drop anything when power dynamics come into play.
“one more game,” the brunet insists, unloading a few bullets from the gun. he leaves one in— just one— then gives the chamber a spin. “you know what comes next, right?” he asks, a sinister grin spread across pearly whites. he looks demented. the tables have turned and the blond’s not having fun anymore. when the brunet plays for power, he always overdoes it. “here, i’ll even go first.”
the brunet presses the gun beneath his chin, then—…
“don’t!” the blond shouts, but the click comes. he looks scared shitless. his heart’s in his throat, beating fast.
“look at that, you do care,” the brunet turns the gun on him, finger on the trigger.
“enough!” the blond scrambles, whole body tense. “i get it, i won’t fuck with you anymore.”
the brunet pulls the trigger. another click, another empty chamber.
“guess we both got lucky,” the brunet chimes.
“fuck!” the blond throws his hands up, tears coming to his eyes. “do not fucking pull that trigger again, i swear to god— i’ll do whatever you want, i promise.”
“you promise?” the brunet pretends to be enticed, only to load up another bullet in the chamber and give it another spin. “what do you think the odds are this time?” he asks, straight faced. all the playful sadism has disappeared. he just looks cruel now.
“i’m sorry! is that what you want? fucking shit!” the blond yells.
“oh, an apology,” the brunet finally smiles. he pats the blond’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears that have begun to fall. “yeah, that’ll do,” he says, then hands the gun back and licks the tears from his thumb. he knows the blond won’t do anything with it. “maybe next time you’ll remember your place,” he mutters, then turns on his heel and disappears down the hall. "i'm the boss."
