Adrenalize Me

Featured: Fang and Chris

In This Moment - Adrenalize

Another horse show. Another victory. Chris should be reveling in his success. This is all he ever wanted growing up. To be able to put his talent to good use. To be his own success. But he couldn’t help but feel overshadowed by his own name at the same time. He was a Burton. It was expected of him as a Burton.

“Oh wow, that Chris guy did really great! Awesome rider!”

“Well, yea, he’s a Burton. It’s in his blood. I’d be surprised if he didn’t do well!”

He’s a Burton. “Ch.” He was more than just a last name.

So he decided to do something a little…out of the ordinary for a Burton. He saw on his social media feed that there was an unofficial band meet up. It was going to be a mix up of smaller bands in the area, putting on for the real fans. Only the dedicated really knew about it. And Chris had connections that got him the details. They guaranteed him it would be something he’s never experienced before. And Chris was going to be the judge of that.

Chris wasn’t an overly huge fan of heavy metal or screaming into a mic about someone’s daddy problems. He glared over the crowd, just narrowly blending in with his thin, athletic 6’0” frame. His clothes sure made him stick out in his Ralph Lauren polo and designer jeans, and let’s not forget that Rolex watch. He didn’t quite fit the emo shirts, wristbands, studded belts, and torn skinny jeans vibe. But he wasn’t here to make friends anyway.

Sweat, yelling, smoke, drugs, chicks pulling their shirts up for their “friends”. What the hell was this place. It was on the outskirts of town so the blaring guitars were muffled from law enforcement. This gave the people a sense of freedom and living. Well, his connection wasn’t wrong. This was certainly something else. He’d stay for at least one more song but this wasn’t what he was wanting. This wasn’t making him feel any less of a Burton as he looked down upon all of them. He could tell he had more money in his front pocket than they all did combined.

Chris heard some gargled guttural screaming into another song.

“I must confess I’m addicted to this Shove your kiss straight through my chest I can’t deny, I’d die without this Make me feel like a god Music, love and sex”

He looked to the stage, expecting to see another gross example of hormones gone wrong. But who he actually saw caused him to physical curl his lip, scowl, and want to spit. Fang. He was on stage with his bandmates, guitar in hand, looking mangey and disgusting. Rubbed black eyeliner, sweat from the muggy old building, ruffled hair from banging his head. Ugh.

“I crave excess Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck I can’t deny, I’d die without this Make me feel like a god Adrenaline and sex”

Fang looked into the crowd with a smirk as he growled along with the song. A lovely cover song. The band knew the crowd would love it. A great opener to the rest of their set. Get them hooked in. Get them wanting more. These were the people he lived for. Those that knew what struggle was. They all had that in common. No one lives life without struggle. Not even…some rich stuck-up prat…. Fang saw Chris sneering back at him. Holy shit…

Fang dropped out of the chorus, strumming along. His bandmates glanced over at him but kept playing along to cover for him. What the hell? Fang skipped over the entire chorus bit and hit the finishing riff instead. The whole band looked pissed off. Beyond pissed off! And the look of confusion and anger only increased as Fang started to head off stage as soon as they somehow brought that song to an end.

“Fang, what the fuck are you doing,” his lead singer hissed at him.

Fang ignored them all and headed backstage to ditch his guitar. He had a bitch boy to go chase down. Why the hell was he here? Of all fucking places? He just shows up to one of his gigs!? How? Did he know? Was it intentional? How could it not be? Literally, how could he have just coincidently shown up!?

Fang hurried out of the building in the direction Chris took off. He looked about for that polo-wearing bitch. He caught sight on nice shoes and styled frosted tips turning down a street. “Hey!” Fang called and chased him down.

Chris growled out loud and kept heading down the street at a brisk pace. Great. He had seen him and like a mosquito, followed him. And before long, the stench of cheap beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat was breathing down his neck, “Hey, bitch boy! What the fuck are you doing here? Your nanny forget to drop you off at day care?”

Chris glared ahead. “You’re such a fucking parasite,” he spat.

Fang grabbed his shoulders and drummed his fingers, chuckling, “You mean I get under your skin? I’m in your blood, bitch boy.”

Chris smacked his hands away and kept going. He’d shake him off eventually. “Typical. Can’t do anything on your own.”

Fang smirked and walked alongside him, “Why would I have to? Unlike you, I actually have friends.”

“The ones you just ditched onstage? Great friend you are.”

“Eh, they can go on without me.”

“Surprise. They actually don’t need you. Ya know, that says something about your talent,” Chris glared over at him.

“Well, you showing up to our gig says something about your tastes. So what didya’ think, bitch boy? Get the juices pumpin’?” Fang gave him a little push.

Chris slapped his hand away again. The nerve he had. Truth be told…he hadn’t minded the music. Sure, he thought it was loud and stupid sounding. But the lyrics had caught his ear. Those people were all looking for something more too. He could tell. He’d never admit wanting the same thing as them. He felt above that. But for a moment, he had been hooked into it. He paused, turning to Fang slightly, “It sounded like mutilated cats being dragged across steel wool. Shit. Honestly, you’re probably doing your band a favor by leaving.”

Fang stopped with him, turning his head and smiling. As if he hadn’t heard ridicule before. The music industry was full of it day in and day out. It was a dog eat dog industry. It pretty much bounced off of him by this point. Especially because he knew if Chris hadn’t liked it, he would have left sooner. He stepped a little closer to Chris to whisper, “Then why’d you stay?”

Chris hated the smug look on his lips. Like he knew him. He glared at all of his stupid piercings and wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of smoke on his breath. He smirked a little cocky grin of his own, returning the glare back at Fang with his stupid red colored contacts. “Why do people watch videos of idiots falling down stairs? To laugh at their failure, of course.”

Fang hummed, staring back at those cold eyes. Bitch. He wasn’t going to get the best of him. He had the look of someone who didn’t know how to lose. Fang hated it. He had always been the loser. He was changing that today. He stepped forward, grabbing Chris by his shoulders and pushing him up against the building beside them. He kissed him hard, breathing in his expensive cologne. Smelled nothing like a cheap hooker or his sweaty groupies after a show. He was a different flavor. Clean and refreshing.

Chris was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He was taken off guard by Fang’s sudden kiss. He was engulfed by him. He felt the cold piercings rub on his lips. The smell of smoke and sweaty skin filled his lungs. He tasted like an ashtray and old beer. Disgusting. The final straw was when he felt Fang drag his tongue piercing across the roof of his mouth. Chris felt a little pang of excitement.

He scowled and bit down on Fang’s tongue. He shoved him away and slapped him hard. He spit that disgusting taste out of his mouth and glared at Fang like he was a filthy roach, “Do you know any other way of life other than leeching off of someone!? Don’t you just assume that something in front of you is yours for the taking! I’m am not your fucking toy! This is why you’ll never make anything of yourself! You don’t work to earn anything. You’re nothing but a worm. I have better things to do than hang around some nobody!”

Fang covered his cheek where he had been slapped and stared at Chris while he got his ass chewed. So, he was a little too forward… okay. “Sorry, dude. Chill.” Guy was blowing a gasket over a kiss? He kind of was a prissy one. Well, in great emotional distress, there was nothing better than a good old sarcastic comment, “Daddy didn’t come to your piano recitals, did he?”

Chris was thrown off by the snide sarcastic response back. He glared at him and very seriously instructed, “Fuck off.” He turned heel and headed down the street. Fang didn’t understand a damn thing. He never would. They were too different. Chris didn’t know poverty. He knew the struggle of prestige. Fang didn’t have the overbearing weight of expectations to make something of himself. If Fang ended up flipping burgers, no one would bat an eye or care. If Chris wound up in a low end job, the whole world would know about it. A Burton flipping patties at McDonalds? Never.

Fang watched Chris go. Something told him that he might have strummed a touchy string in Chris. Fang stared at the ground. He wished he had it all like that kid. Everything about him was success. Fang hadn’t known what that feeling was since he was a kid. He was an outcast in his family. He knew it from an early age. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He didn’t want to do what they did. They didn’t approve of that. He was shunned and forgotten about. Nothing he did as a cry for attention earned him anything. Not when he dyed his hair or listened to rock instead of hillybilly country. He’d joke about Satan while they prayed at the table and it went ignored. The worse he got, the more they ignored him. He was just living under a shell. He walked away from that home when he was 16. He never looked back and they never tried to find out where he went. Not a single one of them. He’d been struggling to make it on his own ever since. He wasn’t rich and he didn’t get everything handed to him. Maybe they were too different…

Fang looked up again and felt a spark in his chest. That glare! Chris had just looked over his shoulder. Just like that time at the hotel. That siren’s call. The burning flame behind those cold eyes seeking something more. Fang heeded his call. He hurried after Chris down that dark street.

Chris let him gran him again and push him against the building once more. Fang kissed him again, running his hands through Chris’s hair. He leaned up against him, sliding his hands down to his shoulders and down his sides. He tugged at Chris’s shirt and cracked his eyes open when he felt hands grab his wrists. He was met with those icy eyes.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Chris grumbled, looked agitated.

“Uh…” Fang looked around like there was supposed to be an obvious reason. Was it a trick question?

Chris sighed, pushing him away, “We’re in the road, you idiot.” Chris walked off again.

Fang smiled and followed along, “Not into road rash on your ass?”

Chris cringed at his crass joke. “I could only pray you’d get run over.”

Fang chuckled, “Well, I’ve got bad news for you. God’s dead and he ain’t listenin’.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “I don’t blame him. You were born and he’d rather hang himself than admit creating your shit existence.”

Fang honestly got a laugh out of that, “I like to think it’s because he couldn’t understand how I was better looking than him.” Fang hugged Chris from behind, latching onto him, “You’ve got a godkiller on your hands. What are ya gonna do? Report me to the police? I’m unstoppable.”

Chris growled at him hanging on him like a toddler. He felt Fang bump and grind into his back and it made him shiver a little. He couldn’t wait ten minutes and they’d be at his nice hotel room? He wasn’t a barbarian or an animal. He wasn’t going to do anything out on the streets.

Fang felt him shake a little and saw the goosebumps. He was definitely thinking about the same thing. The fact he wasn’t shaking him loose and pepper spraying him in the face meant he was leading this game again. But Fang wanted to push him to open up a little more. Not be so stuck up. Live a little. He whispered into Chris’s ear, “Don’t you wanna live before you die?”

Chris stopped short. Don’t you wanna live before you die? Yes, Chris did want that. He felt so dragged down and stuck in place. He was never going to throw his success away…but he wanted more. He wanted something exciting. He wanted the taste of ashes and cheap beer in his mouth. He needed a rush. Something more exciting than the same old horse riding adrenaline. He was immune to that anymore. But Fang was different. Too different.

Chris frowned and looked around. There was an old building for rent. That meant it was still empty. It looked run down and forgotten. Dusty and left behind. He whisked into it (and by the power of HARPG, it was unlocked).

Fang’s smile turned downright filthy. “Fuck yes.” He convinced the little baby bird to step out of his comfort zone. He needed him. Fang followed him in, closing the door behind him. Once inside, he grabbed Chris and had him against the wall, kissing him more. Even Chris joined in, finally. Their tongues tangled as they pushed up against each other, grinding in unison.

Fang reached down and undid his belt, kicking off his shoes. He didn’t give a fuck. He had one thing on his mind. He slipped his pants and underwear off, stepping out of them while staying attached at the lips on Chris. He grabbed Chris by his waist and turned him around, kissing his neck, “You taste like an old lady’s purse.”

Chris grimaced and felt Fang rub his hard dick against his ass, “Yea, and you taste like her asshole.”

Fang ran his hand down Chris’s hips and undid his pants, “You kinky boy. Tongue punching grandma’s fart box.” He sucked a finger and then ran it under Chris’s ass, playing with him.

Chris tensed, bracing himself against the wall. “You’re disgusting.” Fuck, this feeling again. He let a little breath out, feeling Fang push his finger into him. He grit his teeth, willing himself to relax. Don’t give in and let him think he was bothered.

Fang smiled, working him up. Try as Chris did, there was no hiding how tense he was. Fang pushed his dick between Chris’s legs, teasing him at the same time with his finger. “We’re all filthy animals when we get down to it.” Fang pulled back, lining his dick up to Chris. He didn’t want to go in raw, really but he make a bitch fit about him spitting the other time…what was a guy supposed to do. He glanced down at his pants. He definitely had a little packet of lube in there…

Chris through a fit anyway. He shoved Fang off of his backside, feeling his dick press against him, “Wrap it.” Chris was dead serious.

Fang snorted a little, “You want me to put a condom on?”

“Ch.” Chris pulled his pants back up and was headed for the door immediately. He wasn’t playing around this time. If Fang wasn’t going to do what he was told, then he had no interest in carrying on any further.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on! I’ve got one in my pocket! Wrap it before you tap it, aight!” Sheesh. This guy was fussy. It brought a smirk to his face. He reached down into his pants’ pocket and pulled out a condom and the lube. Perfect. He also grabbed a cigarette and lit up as he rolled the condom down his dick. “Afraid I’ll get you pregnant?” Fang was back behind Chris again, sliding the lube up and down his dick. He rubbed the rest of it between Chris’s butt cheeks with a smile.

Chris flinched a little, feeling the cold sensation. “Fuck you. I don’t know where you’ve had your dick.”

Fang grabbed his shoulder, taking a drag and leaning into him, pressing his dick into his ass, “I’ll tell you where it’s been but I think you’re about to get a pretty good idea.”

Chris tensed and took a deep breath, feeling him slide inside of him. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise. Like nothing he ever knew before. Nothing a Burton would do. Fuck some tatted nobody in an abandoned retail shop? Never.

Fang worked his dick into Chris, feeling the rush come on. He widened his stance and leaned over him. He bumped his hips back and forth, working Chris slow at first, making room for his proud dick. About the only thing he could thank his family bloodline for. He leaned back, keeping an arm on Chris’s shoulder and banged away. He smiled and took a drag on his cigarette. Fuck yes.

Leave it to the “nobody” to fuck the “prince” behind closed doors. They all wanted the same thing. They wanted to live. Feel the adrenaline rushing through their veins. Feel their heart rate pick up and breathe a little harder. Nothing else around them mattered than the hot touch from the other person.

Fang leaned forward again, hooking his chin over Chris’s shoulder, “Loosen up a little, bitch boy.” He could teach him to relax a little. He sure was a tight ass in more than one way.

“Get your smoke away from me. This shirt cost more than your week’s earnings,” Chris spit at him.

Fang shook his head, “You want a drag? Might do you some good.”

“No,” Chris denied the offer. “I think I’ve disgraced my body enough,” he strained to say, trying to keep it cool as Fang ramped up into him. He grunted a little and held his breath again.

“What good is your body if you’re not gonna have a little fun with it?” Fang teased, reaching down and pulling up Chris’s shirt.

Chris was about to reach up and yank his shirt down again when he jolted, shoving his ass back against Fang, stifling a moan. He glanced down, seeing Fang had wrapped his hand around Chris’s dick, working it in tandem. Fang lifted a leg and braced it on the wall, fucking Chris even harder.

Chris threw his head back, trying to push Fang’s hand off of his dick, “I told you, keep your hands off me.”

Fang nodded, “You’re on my turf now, bitch boy. You’re in the slums. This ain’t your kingdom. You don’t make the rules here, bud.”

Chris gasped, clenching his teeth at how hard Fang was railing him. He was paralyzed. He reached back with one arm, pushing at his hips to try and slow him down. He grit his teeth and reached back with the other hand, hooking his fingers into Fang’s corset piercing. He caught the red ribbon and yanked.

Fang laughed out loud, “Who’s playing dirty now!?”

Chris growled, “I told you once before. You aren’t worthy. You asked me what will give in first but I have a different gamble for you. Let’s see which runs out first. Your luck or your skin.” Chris gave a harder yank on the ribbon.

Fang growled with enthusiasm. Damn! The boy had balls after all! He only fucked him harder, giving his dick a vigorous work over. He’d make him come for sure this time. Physical pain was temporary anyway. He grit his teeth as Chris pulled harder, “I don’t think this trade is fair.”

Chris was definitely starting to feel himself get riled up and start to build into an orgasm. He wasn’t going to lose to this guy! He was the loser! He couldn’t answer Fang back without it straining his voice so he didn’t.

Fang noticed the silence and the heavy breathing. He had him. He groaned, feel the skin on his neck stretch where the piercings were. Shit, this guy wasn’t letting up. But neither was Fang. He was a fighter. He fought to have everything in life. He was never given anything for granted. He worked for it whether the bitch on his dick acknowledged it or not. He didn’t need his approval. He was the loser this time.

Chris yanked harder and harder, finally letting a quiet moan out. There was no stopping now. He’d do what no Burton had done before. Disgrace the name. Chris leaned back, closing his eyes, yanking hard on those ribbons as a wave of pleasure washed over him. It hit him hard, harder than Fang fucking him into the wall.

Fang hissed and felt the burning sensation on his neck. He felt one of the rings be ripped from his neck, “Fuuuck.” He also felt it at the same time Chris finally came. He glanced over to see his frustrated face twisted with pleasure. Fuck, it was hot. He knew he lost. A few more pumps into Chris and Fang groaned low and breathy too. He had a condom on so he wasn’t technically coming inside of him…

Wrong.

Chris growled angrily and stepped forward, nearly moaning as Fang slid out of him. He almost doubled over, still feeling the rush of hormones. He snagged Fang’s shoe, straightened up, and decked him in the nose with it, “What did I tell you last time!?”

Fang stumbled back and landed on his ass, laughing. What was the big deal? He had a condom on for Christ’s sake!

Chris stepped on his chest, pushing him back to the floor, glaring down at him well he dragged his pants back up. Chris was a bit of a sore loser. “Don’t think you’ve won anything, dumbass. If you can’t follow the rules, you can’t win.”

Fang chuckled, looking back up at him, “Losers don’t get to make the rules.”

Chris growled and stormed out of the building, leaving Fang pantsless and alone. He hated him. The cocky bastard. He thought he could best a Burton? He thought his little nobody self would be better than him? That’s all he’d ever be! Was a nobody!

Fang smiled, watching Chris run out. Damn, he was a fiery one. He slowly peeled off the condom and picked up the stub of a cigarette he still had left and took one last drag. It felt good to win. It felt good to fight for something. He wiped the little trickle of blood off his neck. He’d show that guy what it meant to live. He could tell they all wanted the same thing whether Chris was too stubborn to admit it or not. They all just wanted to feel alive.