Featured: Fang and Chris
He had it all: looks, intelligence, talent, money. But he had always had those things. They weren't anything exciting anymore. If anything, he was dull to them. He had finished his basic education a year sooner than his other classmates. He got accepted into University before he even turned 18. Not to mention, he still had a solid career going as a show jumper first, three-day eventer when he needed to and dressage only if he had to. He still held it in great distaste. It was not his cup of tea. Put him on a jumping course, though, and he was a solid point and shoot kind of jumper that could slam a horse over fences all day. But even that was only oh-so exciting. Basically...Chris Burton was bored... Just another jumping show. It was just routine at this point for Chris. At least, this time, he didn't have to share rooms with the other staff members. He was responsible enough to be let on his own. Not to mention, an adult now. So he had more freedom to move about on his own schedule. So he worked a bit later into the night and got to the hotel later. He walked passed the check-in counter and spotted a group of...interesting...individuals. They had enough tattoos between them to make their own coloring book series. They'd never make it through a metal detector with all of their piercings too. From the guitar cases they carried, Chris put together they were some rock band or some shit like that. Nothing he had interest in. They better not fucking play in their room in the middle of the night. He had a competition to prepare for. One of the taller members, noticed Chris giving them a judgmental look. He returned it, staring him down. Who the fuck did this prick think he was? In his Ralph Lauren polo, designer jeans, and was that a Rolex watch? What a prat. He stuck his tongue out at Chris and flipped him the bird. Chris wrinkled his nose in digust and made off down his hall, spitting a, "Ch" in his direction. He just wanted attention and Chris wasn't giving it to him. Loser. "He just called me a loser," the tall man scowled in Chris's direction. "Fang, he didn't say anything," one of the band members responded boredly. They really didn't care. "Yea, but he said it in his head," Fang grumbled. He grinned and shoved the guitar he held at the band member, "I'll be back." "Fang, please," the other band member groaned with annoyance. Not again. Fang ignored the plead and took off down the hall at great pace to catch up to Chris. Chris was just stepping back from pressing the button on the elevator to close the doors when the lanky man squeezed in. He gave a toothy grin, flipping his long half mohawk over his shoulder, "Heya." Chris scowled hard at him as the elevator closed and started going up. "You left the rest of your clown posse behind. Which means you followed me. What do you want?" Fang leaned back on the wall, crossing his legs at the ankle and getting comfy, "Oo, a smarty too, huh? Lemme guess, top ten of your preschool?" Chris raised a brow, returning the insult, "And let me guess...couldn't even get into preschool." Fang grinned, "Aight, bitch boy. What's your deal?" Chris's expression darkened over being referred to as a 'bitch boy' right off the bat. The guy was even more trash than he had thought originally. "My deal?" Fang was perfectly comfortable just as he was, "Starin' us down like we live under your shoe." "You mean staring at a bunch of people that looked like they came out of a Sharpie commercial for emotionally unstable teenagers? Yea, I sure did," Chris spat back. Who did this guy think he was? If he thought he was intimidating, he was wrong. They both stood eye to eye right at 6'0" respectively. They were about the same build. Chris filled out in his later years of constant riding. Fang had a certain set of genes that he hadn't tapped into but if he tried, he sure could turn into a musclehead but he didn't care to. He wanted to get as far away from his family ties as he could and that meant appearances too. Fang laughed at Chris's comeback, honestly enjoying it. "And you're so exciting. You look like you walked out of some all boy's boarding school after you got your ass paddled with that pissy face you have on." "The very school you'd never be able to get into no matter how much grovelling and begging you did," Chris grinned, holding his chin up in superiority. "The same school your daddy and mommy paid for you to be in?" Fang watched as Chris scowled hard again. He chuckled, "Hell no. My life actually has some excitment unlike your drab-ass rich boy existence." Chris was quite done with this man. He saw they were almost to his floor and ended it there, "Don't talk to me about a sad exisitence when yours is solely based off the appreciation of others. You'd be nothing on your own." Chris turned heel and headed off the elevator as it dinged and the doors slid open. Fang stared at him at he left, mulling over the little back and forth they had. He was certainly an interesting guy. Most people just cringed and tried to stay away from him. Or tried to be cool. That guy was just a brutally honest asshole. Kind of like Fang. He got a smile out of their meeting but let it go. He was just some spoiled rich kid that didn't understand what struggle was. But that wasn't the last time they bumpd into each other. A couple month later, at another hotel, another competition, and another gig, and they were in a shared lobby again. Chris physically got chills of digust running down his spine, curling his lip at the sight of Mr. Tats. Fang caught sight of Chris too, flipping him his middle finger and sticking his tongue out again, "Hey, bitch boy." Great. He remembered Chris. That didn't make him feel any better. He flipped his hair and gave him the usual, "Ch." Fang one-upped him, returning with a, "Tch." And Fang followed him again. This time Chris ignored him half the time, rolling his eyes any chance he got. By the third time they had a run-in at a different hotel again...Chris was just annoyed. He almost expected it. He didn't even cast Fang a glance. Fang. What a dumbass name for himself? He mocked it the last time around. It was just dumb now. Fang huffed a little, being ignored by Bitch Boy. His bandmates groaned as he headed off again. "Ey! Bitch boy, what're you in such a hurry for?" Chris rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "I have more important things to do than chat with dog shit." "Well, I don't so..." Fang invited himself into the elevator as usual and grinned, "You look just as exciting as ever. Did you get a new hair product in that you're just dying to try?" "Ch," Chris rolled his eyes again already. He really was sick of this guy. But honestly...the smell of cigarette smoke, cheap beer, and sweat that was always on him was something new to Chris. Nothing about that guy actually said boring. Stupid and immature, sure. But not boring. Not like his life. Chris shot Fang a sideways glance, "You think I'm boring?" Fang snorted, "King of the dull and drab." He flicked the earring Chris had, "Though, cute attempt at being cool. Maybe try the next gauge u-mmph!?" Chris shoved Fang into the wall of the elevator by his shoulders and kissed him once but hard. He glared at him with ice cold eyes and a smirk, "How's that for dull, bitch boy?" Chris tutted his chin and walked out of the elevator, damn confident he shut that guy down forever. Boring? Never. Fang took a moment to recover, blinking a few times, flipping his lip rings back and forth as they had just about been pulled right off his face! He saw Chris glance back at him. Was that...an invitation? Fang jumped out of the elevator right before it closed, stumbling passed the doors. He hastened his pace after Chris who wasn't stopping either. Fang caught up just as he got to his door. He leaned on the wall next to him, "Think you're so bold, huh?" Chris looked Fang up and down, "I've yet to see you do anything to top that." Fang scoffed and gestured to his whole body. He even peeled off his shirt to show all of his expansive tattoo collection. "Seriously? Who's the bold one here?" Chris's expression didn't change from 'not impressed'. "Let's see...bad haricut, poked holes in yourself, and colored on yourself...everything a three year old could do." Chris opened the door to his room and headed in, letting the door swing shut. Fang caught the door and barged in, "So you want some fuckin' proof, huh?" Chris paused, looking over his shoulder for a moment. His eyes could freeze hell, they were so cold and uncaring. The kind of look Fang was used to getting from his childhood. His parents never treated him like the others. He didn't want to be like them. And they couldn't accept that so they just shunned him. And he learned to shun them back. Rebel and leave. He was used to fighting for what he wanted. He was never just given anything in life. Not like the snotty rich boy in front of him. Chris's look pissed Fang off. He stepped forward and shoved him back against the bed. Chris kept the same cold stare, "Wow, you can push people like a barbarian. I'm so impressed." Fang ran a finger down Chris's jaw to his chest, "You were given everything in life, weren't you?" Chris scoffed, "Because I deserved it." Fang's nose wrinkled up, "You really are a conceited rich boy, aren't you? That's why you look dead inside." "Wow, was that my horoscope?" Chris asked sarcastically. "Gee, tell me what my lucky numbers are while you're at it." Fang leaned down, looking into those cold steely eyes a little closer. He was mistaken. There was a little fire still in there. Begging to be fanned. Rich boy didn't have it all, after all. Fang grinned, "Tell you what, how about I give you a little excitement in your life instead?" For a moment, Chris looked mildly interested (a slight eyebrow raise) and then back to his resting 'I don't give a fuck' face. "See if I give a fuck what you do, waste of breath." Fang chuckled, moving an arm underneath Chris, "Oh, you won't be giving the fucks here, bitch boy." Fang flipped Chris over, pulling his hips up to him, grinding against him. Chris gasped a little, not expecting to be flipped so quickly. He was a lot stronger than he looked! He fought any sort of sound he might have made on accident. This guy was nothing to him. Just a test to see if he could find anything interesting for the night. He let him unbuckle his belt and slip his hands down his pants. They were suprisingly warm hands. He expected bony and cold, honestly. Fang quickly undid his belt and kicked a leg free of his own jeans. He was quickly getting hard for this kid. He was far from his usual guys or girls he ended up with. They were usually edgy and punkheads like himself. Not some rich boy prat like what was under him now. It was fascinating and kind of exciting to Fang. Something new. Something different. And one that wanted to play hard-to-get. He'd get to him, it was only a matter of time. Fang squeezed at Chris's thighs and buttcheeks, sliding his garments down, "Oo, someone works out. Here, I figured you'd just hire someone to do all the lifting for you." Chris growled a little at being messed with but not reacting to it too much. "Believe it or not, money doesn't replace talent. You're shit out of luck." He bucked up, trying to shake Fang off his back. He wasn't a bottom in any setting. He called the shots here. Fang laughed and grabbed Chris's arm, pulling it back and pinning it to his back. He held Chris there, shaking his head, "You say that but I'm feelin' pretty goddamn lucky right now. Now be a good boy." He spit into his hand and rubbed a finger between Chris's asscheeks. He'd make that expression change no matter what. He wasn't some peice of trash like those cold eyes were trying to tell him. Chris clenched and tried pinching his thighs together out of instinct, feeling an awkward sensation of discomfort and a tingle in the pit of his core that wasn't so bad. He huffed, remaining unaffected, "You must be pretty fucking worthless if you have to rely on luck to get what you want." Shit. He voice was a little strained. Fang knew he was chipping away at Chris. He could tell this guy was new to this kind of thing just by how tight and clenchy he was being. Newbie. Fang leaned down a little more, "Well, I guess you're right. I'm not the one kissing strangers in elevators and luring them into their rooms. Tell me, Bitch Boy, who's got who wrapped around their finger?" Fang slipped a second finger into Chris, giving a little flick to wake him up. "Ahnn" Chris gasped and buried his head in the sheets. What was that!? He had never made a noise like that before or felt something like that. And he kept doing it! Chris hunched his shoulders, keeping his face in the sheets for the meantime until he could figure out what was making him feel so hot. "That's a good bitch. Just relax." Fang was all grins. He finally wiped that shitty little glare of Chris's off his face. It was necessary prep work. Fang inherited quite a bit of girth from his family's gene pool. He looked about the room to see if there was anything in there that he could use for a lubricant. He had his own...back in his room...This guy surely wouldn't have thought of it. Welp, spit it was... Chris heard him start to snort and growled dangerously, "If you even think of spitting on my ass again, I will rip every single one of your piercings out and stuff them in your eye sockets." Fang paused, just about to spit. He swallowed quickly, "Well, I'm not-" He paused, being handed a little bottle of lube Chris pulled out from under his pillow. He grinned devilishly, "Well, whatdya know? You rich boys really do just have it all, don't you?" Fang patted Chris's butt like the good boy he was being. Chris cringed a little, felling him pull his fingers out. He'd be lying to say he wasn't a little nervous. He glanced back and scoffed loudly, "You have dick piercings too? What the fuck are you?" Fang glanced down at his blinged out dick. He snorted a laugh, "Out of everything on me...that's what surprised you the most?" Chris sneered at him, "I'm suprised you take so fucking long, actually." Fang lined up his dick, pressing into Chris a bit, "Oop, rich boy's getting impatient. Gonna have to charge you more if it's what you want. Guess I have a part-time job now, huh, bitch?" "Nn-!" Chris breathed out once, lightly, gripping the sheets and clenching his teeth together. Shit, it hurt a lot more than he had anticipated. "What's the matter, bitch boy? Need me to powder your ass, first?" Fang smacked Chris's thigh, pushing in a little deeper. "You virgin bitches are always so fuckin' whiny. Owww, not so rough. Oooo, I'll break~" Fang mocked with a laugh. "I am not a fucking virgin, asshole," Chris growled, scowling back at Fang. As if he would be. He was the popular kid that could have any girl he wanted whenever he wanted. Fang leaned over Chris more, pushing deeper and deeper, "Ooo, but your tight ass tells me that you are a virgin asshole." Fang shoved the rest of his thick dick into Chris without mercy. He could feel Chris tense and squirm underneath him. Chris groaned, turning his face down into the sheets to muffle himself. He wasn't going to let this prick get the best of him. Fang thought otherwise, thrusting into him harder and faster, rocking his hips as he went. He picked Chris's hips up again, "Don't get lazy or I'll have to have your butler come in and hold these up for you." Chris growled, gripping the sheets harder, breathing hard through his teeth. For fuck's sake, he could actually feel those piercings rubbing against him. He couldn't help but sass him back. It was in his nature, "I could say the same to you. But you're just a slacker by nature, aren't you? Afraid to work hard at anything. That's why you'll always be a nobody." Fang drilled Chris hard, making him call out a couple times and even swear at him. He grinned the entire time. This little bastard didn't know when to quit! He was just full of piss and vinegar. A vile little asshole. The nerve to call him a nobody! Like he got to make that decision! Fang decided long ago that the only person that got to decide his self worth was himself. Certainly not some rich boy piece of shit. Fang fucked him hard, pulling his hips back everytime his thrust into him. He reached forward, going to jerk off Chris while he was at it, seeing as Chris wasn't going to join in on the fun... Chris shifted and smacked Fang's hand away, "Don't you fucking touch me." Fang stared at him hard like he was an absolute idiot, "Seriously? What? Did you uncle touch you when you were a little boy and nobody believed you and now you don't want anyone touching your weiner because it triggers your PTSD?" Chris scoffed, raising up to his one hand and to his knees, feeling a bit more adapted now. He glanced over his shoulder with those cold eyes that ripped through Fang and that nasty little grin, "Hell no. You're just nothing fucking worthy." Fang felt a fire tear through his loins that gave him goosebumps. "You bitch." He shoved Chris back into the bed and plowed into him with great force. He clearly had wanted this from the very beginning of the night. He was a siren! He very damn well knew he'd be in here with Fang at some point! The kiss, the glance back at him to get him to follow, not slamming the door shut in his face, the lube, everything. He knew. Fucking private school bastard! Thought he was so goddamn smart! Well, if he was so goddamn smart, then he knew he was going to get fucked so hard he wouldn't shit right for weeks. Fang growled low an gutteral, pulling Chris back onto him, slapping his ass and finishing in him. He didn't even fucking ask. He didn't care. They were both in it for their own reasons. It certainly wasn't for a lasting realtionship. That was for sure. Fang pulled out and wiped the little sweat from his brow, looking cocky and proud of himself. Chris wobbled to his hands and knees, panting hard. He clenched his teeth, shuddering as the hot cum drizzled down his thigh. He felt nothing but adrenaline and hatred. He whipped around and slapped Fang across the face as hard as he could. Fang was genuinely taken off guard, covering his cheek, "Damn dude! What the fuck is your proble-" Chris grabbed Fang by the ribbon wrapped through the several piearcings down his neck and yanked him closer. Fang followed along, worried he might just rip his piercings out of his flesh if he didn't! Chris got right in his face, his eyes were cold and uninviting. "Don't you ever come in me again," Chris snarled. Fang rolled his eyes, hardly threatened by some prat, "Aight, aight. I'll wear a condom nex-" "EVER," Chris reinstated. He shoved Fang away, "Leave." Fang looked seriously unimpressed with Chris's behavior. So he should have pulled out. It wasn't like he'd get pregnant and Fang was clean of disease. Sheesh. It wasn't that big of a deal. He held up his hands in retreat, "Geez, alright. Some way to thank a dude who showed you a good time." Fang stepped off the bed and pulled his underwear and pants back up and snatched his shirt from the floor. He opened the door and glanced back at Chris hunched over on his hands and knees, still panting, rather dishevled looking. It was probably the roughest he'd ever look; Mr. Fucking Perfect. Ugh. Fang snorted, "So, you gonna deal with that," he gestured to the fact that Chris was still very hard, "or do you-" "Go!" Chris snarled. Fang shrugged and stepped out, letting the door shut and lock. Fussy bitches. Fang pulled out his crinkled pack of cigarettes and a sad looking lighter, lighting up to celebrate. Chris shuddered and his upper half collapsed to the bed. He gripped the sheets one more time and sighed in to the sheets. He didn't even have to touch himself to hit an orgasm after that performace. Shit. As if he'd ever let that nobody have the satisfaction of getting him off. He was not his bitch boy. If anything, Fang was his little toy. Fang smiled, hearing the sigh from the other side of the door. He chuckled to himself, feeling proud. He called out to the door, "Catch ya later, bitch boy. We'll see which runs out first; your luck or my money." He took a drag and blew a cloud of smoke, feeling elated. He chuckled, "I know where I hedge my bets."
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