Lyrics © Asking Alexandria
Every breath you take
I watch you slip away
You're slowly killing yourself
I won't give in
If my heart could sing, would you stay?
Would you stay and listen?
If my soul was torn, would you help?
Would you try and fix me?
Would you help un-break me?
The stench, the eyesore, the horrible cacophony of shrill shrieking and untrustworthy heavy snorts. A battleground of man versus animal. Fang imagined the disgusted face he was making at these creatures was much the same as the owners were giving him. He wouldn't take his eyes off them. They weren't to be trusted. Too big, too powerful, too stupid: horses. Absolutely horrible creatures.
Fang stayed as far away from them as possible, keeping to the middle of the aisles as the other spectators helped themselves to meet and greet the beasts. Fang had a different monster to find. He knew Chris was supposed to be somewhere at this show or whatever it was. Apparently, the guy was famous enough to track through a Google search. Or at least where he'd be at on a horse next. If there was any other way to track him down, Fang would have done it. But he had gotten impatient waiting for him to randomly show up at one of his gigs. It was his turn to drop in unannounced! He couldn't wait to see Chris's cheeks turn green at the sight of him.
Fang's smile vanished as he jumped sideways after a horse snorted in its stall. Fists raised, Fang was ready to knock a horse out if he had to! Damn straight that horse startled to the back of it's stall, giving Fang a wide-eyed look. The hell was his problem!? (Both man and horse thought this). Fang lowered his fists when he read the sign on the door with "Burton" printed on it. Aha! So he was here! And he was getting close! He could practically smell his pompous ass in the air already!
Fang jogged out of the barn, a smile on his lips, heading for where he saw the trailers parked. He assumed the letter and number combo was a placeholder for where they could find the owner. If he wasn't there, he'd just start asking where he was. Ask where a rich asshole was, most everybody knew. Of course, on grounds like these, most of the attendees fit that description. Truth be told, Fang was looking forward to seeing the shit. He had worked his ass off since the last time they ran into each other to make a decent earning to travel with yet again - another new band. But this one was going to be the one, he could feel it.
"Nice hair…" a stranger's voice said sarcastically. Wrong asshole, but they caught Fang's attention anyway.
"Hey, thanks, man." Fang gave the stranger finger guns and a charming smile. "Tell me, what's your secret to keeping that asshole so tight." Fang scoffed, flipping them off as they retreated back into "their people". Stuck up close-minded assholes. Ugh.
Speaking of… Fang was sure he spotted the flash of a Rolex under stupid frosted tips. Iconic. He had his face tipped down, typing on his phone. Fang smiled, aiming his path right for him. He'd never see him coming. Chris was too late when he finally noticed someone about to crash into him. Fang barged into him, tucking his arms under Chris's armpits and slamming his chest into him, "Hey, Christofucker."
Chris's gears shifted hard from surprised to annoyed to pissed off. For one, he couldn't believe some dickhead didn't have eyes to move out of the way. Second, some dickhead without eyes proceeded to barge into him. Third! That dickhead was the last person on earth he wanted to crash into on show grounds unannounced! His eyebrows sank lower and lower, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment and anger, his lip curling in disgust. "No," he growled.
Fang had a cocky grin on his lips, lowering his hands. He bet his ass felt great in those tight pants, "Yes." Checkmate, bitch boy.
Chris shoved him away from him, his hands breezing past his hips. The nasty piece of shit. He wouldn't be caught dead being felt up in daylight by anyone. There was scandal in media fueled by lies and then there was just outright photographic proof and he'd have none of it. "Fuck off," he muttered, giving him a warning glance before turning back to escape into the living quarters of the trailer his dad was renting.
Fang giggled and followed with no intention of heeding empty threats. He had the advantage of making the first move now. If he wanted Fang to behave, he'd have to be a hell of a lot nicer. "Ow!" Slamming his hand in the trailer door wasn't a good start. But Fang was a forgiver. He braced to get his ass chewed at the second he closed the door behind him, now in private quarters.
"What the fuck do you think you're going to get out of coming here?" Chris growled. Not 'how did you get here' or 'how did you know how to find me'. Not even a simple 'hello'. Those were stupid questions with obvious answers that didn't matter. "If you think you're getting fucked, the answer is no. I have shit to do, you're not a part of it, now leave."
Fang kept on smiling, his nasty attitude bouncing right off his armor. He gave a sharp whistle, "My God you're as sharp as grandma's cold titties. Cute boots, you got a whip too?" He stepped forward, reaching for Chris only to get shoved back again, "Can't I just come say hi? That's what friends do, dude."
"We are not friends. What do you want? Haven't you gotten enough attention from my press? How much money do I have to pay you for you to leave?" Chris wasn't having any of his shit. He did not plan for this. This was a disaster. There was no point or purpose for Fang to be here. He was a liability, if anything. And mostly, a migraine waiting to happen. He did note that he at least looked like he had a shower since and didn't look as run down as last time. At least he fixed that stupid hair cut a little. Chris's eyes narrowed, figuring his influx of cash probably didn't come from a band gig. He'd proven anything but successful there. Yet, he was probably too stupid to actually earn dirty money.
Fang waved his hands, "This ain't a hostage situation, dude. I don't need your whore money. See, I got myself another band. Been doing pretty damn well for ourselves. And maybe thanks for the publicity. Had enough saved up, thought I'd drop in-"
"Congratulations. I don't care," he snapped.
Fang sighed a little. Okay, he expected him to be pissy but he wasn't even being the slightest bit cute about it. He went for the more honest approach, looking at the ground for a second and then back up to Chris. "Look dude, I was just checking in on you. You've been pretty hard on yourself lately."
The media around him said it all: Burton making risky decisions, Burton throwing away success, Burton leading second life… "Sounds like some fucked up shit, man. Why are you out to fuck your life up?"
"Fuck my life up?" Chris raised a sharp eyebrow. Oh, he was going to chew Fang up and spit him out if he thought he had any intentions to pry into his personal life. "What the fuck do you know about my life?" He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Enough to know you're tearing yourself down like a self-destructive dumbass. Trust me, I know the signs-"
"I'm not like you, Fang." Chris stepped forward, ramping up to deliver the finishing blows. He wasn't going to play nice. "Don't you ever assume I'm anything like you. I'm not a fuck up and I don't need your concern."
"Fuck, I'm beginning to understand why you don't have friends…" Fang didn't look impressed. He was going from bitch to hateful. And it didn't look like he was done either.
Fine. Chris decided it was time to drop the sword. He had plenty of friends he enjoyed hanging out with. Fang would never be one of them. If he wasn't going to play his part, it was time to get rid of him. "Fang. This is going nowhere. Let me make it clear to you. You honestly do not mean anything to me. I don't care. I don't care about you or your fucking life. I don't care that you scraped some idiots together, called it a band, and walked your ass here. I don't fucking care. I don't care that you give a shit about me. None of that shit matters to me. I don't even want you to care about me. Nothing you say to me will have any impact on my life. I have my own shit to deal with, I suggest you do the same and fucking leave."
Fang scowled at him. His first thought was to give up on it. Fuck this guy. But as much as it stung, it was just more self-destruction before his eyes. He was shoving anything away that even showed an ounce of compassion. If this was his idea of getting what he wanted, it was a shitty reality. All it did was tighten around Fang's heart and he hated it. "Fucking liar. If it didn't matter, why the fuck are you making such a shit-fit out of it? Too bad man, I do care about you and your shitty attitude. I don't give a fuck if you bitch my ear off about it, asshole. Why else would I even be here…"
Chris clenched his hands into fists, gritting his teeth harder. Why the hell wouldn't he just go!? Why wasn't his words sharp enough? Just standing there and being berated and not budging a bit. Of course he was there because he thought there was something more between them. Chris wasn't that stupid. He knew exactly why Fang was there. And it fucking terrified him. He didn't want it. Not Fang. God no. Never.
"You were a mistake, Fang." He just said it. Dropped it with as much regret and discontent as he could muster. He didn't budge a bit, watching Fang's expression crumple and deflect to the floor.
That one hurt. Fang's face showed it too. There was no bluffing with a fake cocky grin that he showed the rest of the world. Chris found his wounds and ripped them open.
Kill yourself.
Fang's face twisted as that voice in his head pierced his mind. He'd rather just hear the numb silence.
Kill yourself.
A fucking mistake. How long had he believed that to be true? Shunned by his family. A joke in school. Beat to shit because of his life choices. Treated like a disease by society. Scoffed at by the music industry. How could he blame any of them? If he was the mistake...
Kill yourself.
How many scars marred his arms, trying to erase the mistake? The taste of gunmetal still cold on his tongue. The smoke he wished would choke his lungs.
Kill yourself.
How hard had he been fighting from making that mistake?
Kill your-
He glanced up and the throbbing in his head ceased. Red in his eyes. Whether it was from anger or something else, Chris had red in his eyes. He took that voice away; that monster of his mind. That's who had said those words. Not Chris, but that vile manifestation of hatred that had them both by the throat, whether Chris believed it or not. Fang couldn't let it have him. He wouldn't make the mistake of letting go of him. He wouldn't give in.
I'm a ghost of what's left of me
Begging you to hear me
Can you even feel me?
I can't let you go, save me please
Will you stay here with me?
Will you ever leave me?
Your smile it eats me alive
I can't turn away any longer
Every breath you take
I watch you slip away
You're slowly killing yourself
I won't give in
Chris growled, grabbing Fang by his shirt. He had some nerve to cross the void between them and slip his arms around him. The smell of smoke hit his senses, filled his mouth, almost choked him. If he thought a kiss would mean anything-
Fang leaned on him, resting his forehead against Chris's. He looked into his eyes, beyond his pupils, deeper into the darkness. He pleaded with him, "Let me care about you, dammit."
What? Chris's grip loosened on Fang. Did he not hear what he said? He didn't care about him. He didn't want him to care. He was a mistake. He was...a huge mistake. Chris had lit a fire he was losing control of, the smoke finding the cracks, seeping in, filling the room, suffocating him. It was all around him, closing him in. It terrified Chris. He had to open a door or a window, something, anything, he couldn't breathe. "Give...up…" his voice shook, forcing anger or fear into each word.
Fang closed his eyes. He saw what he needed. It didn't scare him. He shook his head, "I won't." He must have finally got through to him. Beyond the screams of that awful monster. For once, Chris was quiet like he was drained of acid. He felt his fingers on his chest fidget slightly. He opened his eyes again to see bloodshot eyes, a flurry of emotions looking back at him. Poor guy. Fang smiled sweetly and gave him the sugariest little kiss on his forehead.
"I hate you," Chris growled, shoving his face away from him in disgust.
Fang giggled, "That makes two of us."
Chris gave Fang a hard look. A glance at the clock above the door. No time. He pushed Fang out of his space yet again. Fang didn't push back this time. He was pretty sure he could at least score his phone number before he kicked him out of the trailer and followed him to the door. He had accomplished what he felt he needed to do already. He bumped into Chris, startled even, as he heard the click of the lock and Chris turn on heel. "Make it quick," those hateful lips played on Fang's. It tickled more than his lips just then.
Fang's eyebrows jumped at the gun. So, the siren made his call after all. Fang grinned, grabbing the loops of those hot pants, "Oh? What happened to your chastity belt, Mother Mary? What if I said I didn't feel like-"
Chris grabbed a handful of Fang's hair, pulling him in closer, glaring at him with a false smile, "You're wasting my time, shit-for-brains. Are you fucking deaf?"
Fang's zipper about burst apart. He grabbed his belt buckle and pulled it open, whipping the leather loose, "Heard ya loud and clear, Captain. I'm on it. Yessir." His pants hit the floor at mach speed, might have even singed some hair on the way down. He started ripping open the little condom packet, spitting out the wrapper and watching where Chris was going.
Chris rummaged through a drawer, found the little box he was looking for, pulled it out and opened it up. There was no lube is this trailer (he'd throw up if he actually found any because it would mean it was his father's and that thought was just vile) but some simple aloe vera would do in a pinch. He snatched up the green bottle and was back on Fang or Fang was back on him. They both collided in the tiny space, grabbing on to each other. The temperature in the small space was starting to ramp up from the hasty breathing.
Fang didn't have to coax himself along to get up and ready, rolling the condom on and locking lips. So hot. This was the most involved he had ever seen Chris get. He kissed his neck, breathing him in when Chris turned his head from him. The tease. He flinched a little, feeling a cold sensation on his dick and then groaned with lust, feeling Chris's hand wrap around him. Holy fuck. All he had to do was get him to nearly cry and say he cared about him and suddenly he was blowing his fucking mind! Fang leaned back on the small table, knocking over some of the items sat on it (who cared). He grinned, wiggling his lip piercings around, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. He wondered what else he had earned himself.
Chris glanced back in front of him and scowled. He grabbed Fang's hand and slapped the bottle into it, "You don't have time to be slacking. Fucking work."
Fang felt like a king! He grabbed Chris by his waist, spun him around and pushed him up against the table. Using the impromptu lube, Fang wriggled a hand down the tight breeches, pushing them down. "How fast can you even take it, bitch?" He asked massaging his ass.
Chris checked the clock again. He didn't have time to play stupid games. He glared over his shoulder, scoffing. Was he going to have to do everything himself? He reached back and used his own fingers to prep. He wasn't waiting around for Fang's stunted brain to actually understand what he kept saying.
Fang glanced down and saw Chris playing with himself and felt a tinge of jealousy and also a whole lot of 'hot damn'. He wasn't kidding around. He knew Chris liked his sex but this was a whole new level of needy. What if he just…
Fang pulled Chris's arm out of the way, pinning it to the table, "Fine, I'll give it to you. Spoiled rotten shit. Only 'cuz I like you..." He humped over Chris's back and pushed his hips into him, taking a moment to widen his stance. He formed a bridge with his fingers to guide his dick into him, groaning, hooking his chin on Chris's shoulder. "That fast enough for you, thirsty slut?" He pushed harder, one piercing at a time, feeling the tingling bliss spread through his body as his slid into him. God bless lube. He forgot how fresh Chris still was and pulled back, thrusting back into him to get right into motion. He jumped and stopped, hearing Chris yelp and drop underneath him. "Fuck, you ok-"
Chris was shaky to recover his breath, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. Maybe this was a tad bit too fast but fuck it. They didn't have time to play nice. Chris turned to face him, raising a brow. Fang wasn't sure what the look was about. "What? You want me to split your ass open?" He cocked his head to the side, watching Chris hoist himself up on the table.
Chris didn't look amused. "Keep up or get out," he shrugged.
Fang glanced down and saw Chris being greedy with his hands. All for himself and none for Fang. "Heeeyyy, don't be having fun without me," he chuckled.
Chris grinned, feeling triumphant in having something he wouldn't allow Fang to have. He frowned as soon as he saw Fang ducking down into his lap. He growled, catching him by his nose piercing, "Don't you put your disgusting mouth anywhere near me."
Fang came back up, with a mischievous grin, nipping at Chris's hand. What dude turned down a blow job? A fussy one. He nuzzled right up to Chris's neck, dragging his piercings against his tender skin, leaning him back, "I wouldn't mind your whore lips on my cock one bit."
"I'd rather eat dog shit," Chris spat.
Fang wrapped his arms under Chris's knees, leaning more and more into him. He chuckled, "Sure, you can eat my ass while you're in the neighborhood. I don't mind." He jerked Chris's knees up, sliding him forward, putting him on his back. Registration forms, pens, a coffee cup, and a pair of white gloves tumbled to the floor, deemed unworthy of the table top. Fang hiked a leg up on the small seating area just beside it. He leaned over and kissed the disgusted look off Chris's lips. Funny, how he didn't mind his lips now.
Clearly, he wasn't too banged up if he was still going to bitch at him. Fang shoved Chris's breeches out of his way and pushed back into him, oh, sweet hot ass. He felt Chris pick up the pace like he had gotten excited for his backdoor visitor.
Chris glanced at the clock, gritting his teeth. He looked back up at Fang who was looking way too proud of himself. Dumb bastard. What did he even have to be proud of? Chris felt his cheeks get warm. Ugh. Fucking idiot. Chris relaxed. Fine. He'd help him along just this time but if he didn't take the hint, that wasn't Chris's problem.
Fang found his rhythm now that Chris was actually relaxing under him. His mind was in a blissful cloud when he heard a soft moan under him. He looked down and saw a beautiful angel looking back with hooded eyes. Dear God, this might have been the first time Fang saw Chris with a neutral expression?? Not the usual pissed off or indifferent look. Maybe even like he was enjoying something for once?? Oh god, he had broken him. Fang smiled, giggling to himself. He had won! His heart soared!
Chris's expression shook and faltered as Fang's excitement turned into fast and hard strokes, beating Chris into the table. Fang just wanted to fuck as fast as his heart was beating! But Chris's damn pants were in the way! Fang groaned in protest. He was losing his damn mind! He leaned down, sinking his teeth into Chris's collar bone.
Thwack!
Chris caught Fang in the ear with an open hand, "Keep your fucking teeth out of me." He didn't care how sexually frustrated he was. He didn't get to go being an out of control animal for it.
Honestly, Fang expected it. He was such a softie, it was adorable. Mr. Hate Glare didn't like it so rough. "Biiiiiitch," Fang taunted, wrapping his arms around him. He needed more and these pants were driving him insane. He flexed his arms and abs and then tugged Chris off the table. He held him straddled against his chest, "I could go a hell of a lot faster without your boots and shit in the way." Fang grunted and fucked up into him, bouncing him in his arms.
Chris had tensed completely, just a small gasp rushing out of his lungs before he slapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn't expected this and he wasn't sure what kind of sound would come out of him; pain, lust, confusion, shock? He wasn't risking it. He kept his mouth covered, squeezing his eyes shut. He braced himself over Fang's shoulders, growling. "I...told you... I won't... make time for you. I have shit to do."
Fang growled back at him in protest, slapping his ass. He heard Chris make some sort of bitchy protest but a good thrust back into him shut his pretty little mouth up, right after a wonderful little gasp teased Fang's ear. He let Chris down near the door, turning him around, "I've got shit to do too, and that's you," he chuckled.
Chris grinned, looking back over his shoulder, "Oh yea? How about you start on that already? I don't have all day."
"Just you watch…" Fang tipped Chris's face forward. He had him pressed up against the full length mirror. He grabbed Chris's wrists like he was making an arrest and held them together pinned above Chris's head. He watched him in the mirror, fucking up into him, watching his expression change. Another moan, hell yes. He caught Chris looking at the damn clock again and fucked him hard, getting his attention again. He felt Chris try to pull an arm free. He let one of them go, wondering where it was headed. He felt a sense of pride that Chris was wanting to finish so passionately. He normally didn't let Fang anywhere near him when he came. Maybe having someone around that actually gave a shit about him made him decide to let the iron curtain down and be vulnerable for just a damn second of his life. Fang wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging him close, closing his eyes.
Chris leaned back into him, working himself to where he wanted to be. He deserved this. After all of those frustrations and feelings Fang stirred up earlier. 'Let me care about you, dammit.' It made Chris want to gag. He felt that little sting in his gut again. The fear, the hate. He cracked his eyes open to see Fang over his shoulder, looking way too happy with himself. Even after the harsh acid Chris had spat in his face. He remembered the hurt on Fang's face… why was he still around?
Chris scoffed, spreading his stance just a bit further. Forget Fang. This wasn't about him. This wasn't his moment. Chris gave him his chances with the faked moans and little gasps. He humped back, knocking Fang off balance and letting go of him. "Time's up-"
Fang glommed back onto him, dragging them both to the floor. "Nah, I got plenty of time," he slurred, feeling a climax coming on but resisting it just to get a little extra time with Chris.
Chris, on the other hand, grabbed the first thing he could to catch. He hung his head, shuddered, and then all at once felt all his frustrations leave his mind. Oh god, finally, some relief. Finally, Chris could breathe again. He felt, for just a moment, a sense of clarity like he had been washed clean. Ironic, having a man fucking his backside. One that smelled like a stale ashtray. Ugh.
Chris sighed, wiping off with Fang's underwear that had been within arm's reach. As far as he was concerned, this moment was done. He got what he wanted and just in time. His eyes flicked up to the clock; perfect timing. He felt a good shove from Fang crashing into him like some hormonal bull… he was probably close too. But Chris didn't have anymore time to spare. Tough shit, Fang. This was a hard lesson to listen to what he was told in the first place.
Fang had his eyes closed over, humming a tune, picking up his volume as he got closer and closer to feeling the best he had in weeks. Never had he expected to actually get through to Chris. Goddamn, he was outright joyful! So much he was just leaning down to give the hateful ass a much deserved and probably needed hug! Unsurprisingly, he was rejected by a hard elbow to his ribs. But what was more surprising was Chris shoving him further back and getting up! For a split second, Fang let him, excited to see what the hell he could be getting out of this! Maybe straddle his lap!? Suck him off-? And then he saw his piece of ass disappear back into those pants. Wait…. the horrible sound of a zipper being sealed shut. Wait! "H-hwuht the fuck??" He had been so close! Wait, when did he even-!?
Chris did up his belt, fixed his shirt, grabbed his sunglasses that had been knocked off the table and headed for the door. He unlocked the door and grabbed the handle-
Fang only had enough blood in his brain to flap his mouth and make a bunch of incoherent noises. Was he getting blue-balled!? After all that!?
Chris glanced back over his shoulder with a cocky grin, a shitty mischievous smile, the victor in the end, "I told you. I have shit to do and you aren't a part of it." He flipped his shades out and slid them over his eyes, smirk never fading. "Bitch." He opened the trailer door, blinding Fang with the afternoon sun. For a moment, he was completely exposed, full hardon out for anyone to see that happened to glance inside. Only, they just saw the swagger of Chris coming out of the trailer first, instead.
"Wait! Can I have your ass for like two more-" SLAM! "...seconds…" Fang looked down with great pity and empathy for his throbbing erection left out in the cold. He wrapped his hand around it like throwing a coat over its shoulders but it just made him whimper with disappointment instead. Chris was one of the most selfish, egotistical, narcissistic brats he had ever met. And he had the hottest smile he had ever seen too… "Goddamn it…" Fang pouted.
Fang wasn't long behind Chris. He was out to return the favor with added interest applied. He even left a personal mess on the table, spelling out 'CUNT' in fresh hot jizz, no thanks to Chris and made a pitiful heart next to it with the soggy condom. He jogged out of the trailer, nearly plowing through a silvering man with a killer mustache! "Sorry, gramps! Damn...nice 'stache." He set the flabbergasted man up straight again, dusted his shoulders off, slapped his arm, and carried on his crusade! Fang hit up the barn first, returning to where he had seen the Burton horse but it was gone now. Asshole. He moved quick!
"Raymore, you're up next! Please move to the main ring!" A stewardess called through a megaphone in the smaller sandy ring adjacent to the barn. He couldn't tell one set of white pants and black coats from the other but if the lady was calling out names… all he had to do was wait. Good things came to those that waited… and sure enough, the lady sat the megaphone down while speaking to another staff member to the side. Fang nonchalantly picked it up and made his way back into the shadows, unseen by many because they chose not to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.
"Burton! You're next! Please go to the main arena!" The poor lady had to call loudly. Seems someone had swiped her megaphone, the bastard. Probably some immature kid up to no good…
Fang grinned, watching his favorite asshole make his way from the little arena to the main. Fang spotted the nearest security guard roaming the grounds and ventured a guess he had a good ten seconds of time to collect on his debts. He stood just to the side of the pathway riders used to enter the arena. He chose it specifically to make certain to catch a pair of chilling eyes drilling holes into him. He gave Chris a mirrored smug grin and an innocent wave...of a megaphone. Fang lifted his chin, chuckling as he saw Chris glance at the megaphone and then right back at him with death in his eyes. Oh yes...who was the bitch on their knees, pleading for mercy now?
"Hey, Chris!" Tyler Raymore greeted him on his way out after his run on the course. "Careful on fence five, it's a- whoa...that dude is badass." He had spotted Fang, seeing what Chris had been staring at. Yea, he stood out. "Good lu- uh?" He looked back and Chris was already trotting into the ring. Anxious much…?
Fang didn't let him get the luxury of running off too far. Oh, hell no, Pony Boy. Fang flipped the megaphone on and picked it up to his lips with a smile straight from Satan's lips. "Ladies and gentlemen! This goes out to a very special boy in the ring." Fang took a deep breath, slamming a foot on the top rail and letting rip an anthem worthy of the shit Chris pulled on him in the trailer. A Fang original, belted out by the lungs of a screamer without a shred of shame:
"It's the Burty boy!
The very dirty boy!
He's an ass,
With some class!
Such a prick,
Won't suck my dick!
He's a whore!
Not a bore!
I'll fuck him more!
'Til his ass is tor-"
Fang cackled, trying to jump the railing to evade security, give them some fun for once. He doubted they often got to chase down "fans" after screaming profanity through a megaphone. Not among these rich assholes. The gasps and annoyed looks around him was plain evidence of that. He'd have to recite it for his friends and band-mates later. They'd think it was an absolute smash hit and laugh their asses off with him! He blew a little kiss to Chris is the ring and yelped as security finally got their shit together and took him to the ground. He didn't offer up any further resistance. His point was made loud and clear. He liked that boy. Liked him very much. A stupid amount of like. But if he was going to be a nasty witch about it, Fang lacked the shame to point it out to anyone and everyone around him. So take that, Chris. Could have just had a nice fucking and Fang would have behaved himself. Fight all he wanted, Fang had claws of his own. One of them would have to learn to play nice.
I gave you everything
I can't let you go, save me please
I gave you everything
I won't give in
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