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Xisuma is easy to force to his knees. Sure he’s a little exhausted from moshing all night, sure he’s a little lightheaded from being punched in the nose and bleeding all over himself, and sure having the hot lead singer and guitarist of your favourite metal band Goatmeat split a cigarette and make out sloppy in a ratty bathroom might make him a bit easier than normal. But he is always easy to force down.
Knees in something sticky and wet, the flickering light above him, Doc looks like he’s about to finish disembowelling him. Something about that makes his cock twitch and his boxers wet.
There’s no need to ask. Doc is gonna take his cock out and Xisuma is gonna suck him off. He’s sure he would, even if Xisuma was fighting him on it. But why would he ever do that.
Doc smirks as he unloops his belt, Xisuma leaning closer, eyes big and hazy, mouth wet. Blood drips down his philtrum, leaving a pitter patter of red down his tank and the murky tile below as he mounts himself on Doc’s boot.
“Eager little thing ain’t ya kid?” Xisuma shivers at his voice, husky and deep, glaring down at him like he’s some doll to play with. His throat tightens with each shuffle and clash of the buckle, the drag of it on the belt loops, the pop of the button and the tear of the zipper, anticipation and nerves clawing at his throat.
He just nods. Eager, overly so. No doubt Doc has seen this star-struck sluttiness before. The thought of just being another notch on his belt, another nameless hole filled, made him shiver.
Words fail him as he looks up at Doc. A dilf-y softness overtaking athletic leanness, silver and grey seasoning his heavy flow of curls and frizz [sporadically braided] into a delightfully wisened salt and pepper colour, age and many sleepless nights partying, performing, and fucking showing on his face.
He was hot in his twenties, but in his late forties he was smokin’.
“You needa be told to open your mouth too or just gonna stare?” Xisuma didn’t even realise Doc’s cock was out and - Fuck .
He wasn’t even hard yet but he was thick. He pulled himself out from his jeans and boxers, flooding out the open zipper. Again, words fail Xisuma, staring wordlessly at the heavy cock: just not quite as thick as his own wrist, a heavy metal ring through the frenulum and a series of straight piercings on the underside of his cock.
Xisuma touches his cock like it’s going to bite his hand off. Inspecting it, lifting it to follow the Jacob's ladder to the heavy balls that his mouth salivates at the thought of gargling on them, he can’t help but breathe Doc. As soon as that heavy musk hits his nostrils his cock throbs in his boxers, rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric, something like instinct making his grind down against the boot filling the space between his legs.
Xisuma shudders out a groan, trying his best to focus on the labour in front of him. But when Doc slaps his cock against Xisuma cheek, smearing pre over his scarred cheek, all that focus gets knocked out his head with it. He moans, and he knows Doc can hear it over the set raging in the back and the rabble flooding in from under the bathroom door.
“Need me to do everything for ya, thought a slut like you would be on this ” He did. He wouldn't admit he is a virgin. Not to Doc. Couldn’t stop to tell him that the most he had done is watch his friends fuck and get ignored and left to cum on his own fingers. Wouldn’t stop Doc from assuming that a “cute little thing” like him has been passed around and worn out - it’s aspirational, dress for what you want ya know. And apparently it was working in setting the precedent.
“No.”
Doc’s cock slaps him again. Harder. Xisuma wouldn’t be surprised if he has bruises on his cheek by night's end. But it’s worth it, feeling Doc’s cock harden as it hits his cheek, throb and pulse, the metal hard against his skin.
“They not teaching manners anymore?” Doc bucks his foot up and tap’s Xisuma’s cunt. He chases it down as it settles back on the floor, whimpering desperately for more.
Xisuma nods. “Yes Daddy.” He meant to say sir. But Doc’s cock throbs a little bead of pre out, so clearly he doesn’t mind.
“Good. If you want that autograph - get to it,” Xisuma didn’t ask for an autograph - unless autograph is code for marking him with cum in which case - yes.
Swallowing back the anticipation of collecting wet in his mouth, Xisuma buries his face in Doc’s balls and just breathes deep.
Let himself get lost in the deep mature smell, the sweat of the night intermingling on his tongue as he drags it up from the base of his cock. The whining pants of pleasure, desperate and pleading, amped by whatever that cute guy had given him an hour ago, spilling past his lips.
The harsh taste of metal warms his tongue as Xisuma’s tongue finds the start of the ladder. He remains for a while, breathing in Doc’s musk, the smell of stale cigarettes, the pungent aroma of piss, and the dredges of something intoxicating in the air before continuing upwards. Climbing Doc’s cock with a trepidation appreciation, he lavishes each rung of the ladder in attention - watching for Doc’s reaction as he awkwardly laps at the piercings.
There isn’t much of one - Doc treating Xisuma’s feveralant licking more like a gust of wind pleasant on his balls. He doesn’t look bored, but he doesn’t look amused, he looks disappointed. Like he expects more of Xisuma.
Underwhelmed. He can see it plain as day once he’s lavishing the head in long laps of his tongue, desperate to get more than an amused noise out of him.
He doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want to cry because he’s doing a bad job, but he can feel it pricking his eyes as he laps at the little bubble of pre like an oasis long chased and finally found.
“Fuck you’re bad at this…” Doc huffs and Xisuma whimpers pathetically. Before he can even get the head in his mouth Doc’s hands are on him. None too gentle. He doesn’t deserve that after not even getting a sound of him while covering his cock in a thick shine of saliva.
Doc doesn’t say it, but he can feel the judgement burning into him - like he knows that Xisuma’s sexual basis comes from watching porn and nothing else. Not that ametaur stuff, only that hyper produced porn that’s basically sex acting. Sure he had a chance of making Doc feel good if left to his own devices but the way he was being manhandled, Doc clearly didn’t want to wait. Neither did X.
Head back, looking up at Doc before the soft heft of his gut - Doc pries Xisuma’s mouth open like it’s a bear trap. Like he’s about to reach down his throat with his arm and pull out his heart. His thumb hooks behind the teeth of his bottom jaw, and Xisuma can already feel his muscles cramping before Doc’s cock is anywhere near his mouth.
His other hand goes for his nose, pinches tight between his digits and yanks his head back, leaving his mouth gaping as far as it can go. Perhaps a little more if Doc wanted to break his jaw. Although Xisuma would prefer his jaw getting broken from Doc’s cock stretching him open.
As Doc pinches his nose, blood spurts out before the flow is stemmed in its entirety. Xisuma can feel the swill against his nostrils, trying to find a crevice to flow through but Doc’s fingers - his thick worn fingers - firmly capture his nose.
“Clearly need Daddy to show you how to throat proper…”
Doc stands to the side of Xisuma. Kneeing perpendicular, Xisuma watches helplessly, with increasingly wet eyes as Doc positions his cock above his awaiting maw.
Desperate little gasps of breath horde air, Doc’s cock swinging above him like the sword of damocles, and Xisuma is struck by a realisation. Doc’s not fully hard yet - hard enough to fill out but not enough to be rigid.
“Doc I-” his objections and concerns are stuffed back down his throat by Doc’s cock cramming itself in. Xisuma jumps, like Doc is shoving a sparking wire down his throat - a THICK sparking wire - bouncing on his knees, arms flailing at this side, settling in something sticky and nasty.
But he can’t move his head. Can’t move at all, like a fish held up by the gills thrashing about. Suffering the aches seeping into the very marrow of his bones.
He just has to kneel there and take it. Take Doc boring down his throat. Bulbous head grinding down his tongue, harsh drags of metal filling his mouth as Doc’s prince Albert sinks into his throat and he can already feel himself gagging.
Throat tightening, trying to reject the large metal ring and the heavy set cock it is attached to dangling at the precipice of his throat about to delve deeper whether Xisuma wanted it or not. Sure he did. But did his body? No time to answer.
Doc’s hold on his head tightens, prying him open as far as he can, angling his hips as high above X’s face as he can as he stuffs himself down and moans gruffly. Breathing is replaced by gulping down Doc’s throbbing shaft, air replaced by the hefty mature musk clogging his windpipe letting nothing past - more like breath in the sea.
Lungs start burning, throat spasming as the prince Albert rakes against his windpipe - forced open as Doc bears down on him. His muscles squeal in agony, squeezing Doc as if it could force him out but instead only manages to massage the hefty length and works it further in. Doc growling low and husky, stuffing himself in with a sick slight smile.
Xisuma mewls and chokes, wet gargling whines eking out in the crawl space between his jaws and Doc’s cock. Doc digs his thumb into X’s jaw and pinches his nose tight enough to rip it off. “Dumb sluts like you don’t need air, breathe in my cock like a proper whore.”
The thumping of the concert he was here to see feels so distant now. Even the burning of his nerves screaming at him to run are like some distant thing on the horizon. He can feel his eyes floating back, the world nought but an echo beyond Doc’s warmth twisting down his throat like a rod of barbed wire.
Each rung of the ladder catches on his tongue, on the top of his throat, demanding more space as they descend into his throat. Palette falling with the uneasy taste of metal.
Sputtering and hacking against Doc does nothing to slow the retired rockstar. Tears prickle his eyes, bubbling and spilling down his cheeks as he fails to get a breath.
It’s too thick. It doesn’t fit.
Doc makes it fit.
Growling in satisfaction as he looks down at Xisuma - X can’t see it but he can feel it. Doc bulging against his throat, a painful intrusion like a tumour forcing itself further and further down. Like he’s grown another Adam’s apple on the side of his throat. Bobbing further and further down until it reaches the hard boney nub at the bottom of his neck.
He can’t see Doc, can only see his worn sweaty palms as his hand keeps his nose pinched so tight he can’t even think of breathing in.
When Doc bottoms out in his throat, Xisuma forced lips to base with the salt and pepper thicket at the base, something rises to meet it.
Sobbing, saliva rises up, spluttering past Doc’s cock, spilling past his lips and quickly joins the swill of fluids standing his band vest. What a night to wear white. As Xisuma coughs and chokes up more fluid, Doc persistent in thrusting up and down into his throat taking great delight in the straining gargling wetness enveloping his cock, Xisuma wonders if anything else's will be staining his top by nights end - hopefully cum, maybe even some piss… The thought of Doc pissing on him gets his cunt just about as soaked as his lips are spluttering up another wave of saliva.
Something else joins the sobbing. Xisuma can feel himself soaking his boxers… his trousers, body too weak to stop the stream of piss knocked out of him by Doc. He whimpers - cracked and choked, as it soaks through his pants and drips to the murky stained concrete beneath.
Ultimately, Doc leaves him kneeling in a puddle of his own making, choked cries torn from him as his throat is fucked.
Fucked might be too soft a word.
Ruined - As his throat is fucking ruined.
“Mutt.” Doc’s voice is gruff and cutting, twisting that wet hot embarrassment in his gut and making him spurt out more piss.
If Xisuma wasn’t light headed before, pissing himself and throwing up the contents of his throat certainly would have made him. His limbs are slack, arms weakly twitching at his side as his throat is treated like a flesh light - cheap silicone Doc can bulge against and tear without a worry. The only reason he’s still vertical is Doc’s hands dragging him up.
Despite his enjoyment of being reduced to some no name hole, he can’t help the tears spilling down to join the mess. Sobbing in earnest as the muscles in his throat burn and his throat desperately claws for a breath - lungs straining and spasming for anything to fill them.
“Don’t be a baby, met plenty of whore on the road who can take me no problem,” Doc growls, delighting in how he can feel Xisuma’s body try and fight him, try and save itself and willfully fail. His jaws trying to clamp around the intrusion, his tongue wrestled under the monstrous length pumping in and out of him, this throat squirming and spasming in a vain attempt to reject him but only massaging and squeezing his length so fucking well.
The spill just lubes him up more and more as he hammers down Xisuma’s throat, saliva and fluids bubbling out and making a real mess on his jeans - but mostly down Xisuma’s chin and chest.
“See, I knew you were a slut. Want it so bad, even though your throat can’t handle it. You really are as much a slutty fanboy as the ones back in the day.” Doc chuckles and something like glee kindles in Xisuma’s chest - even though his sternum aches like Doc’s cock has been battering into it.
“Eager little fuck.”
Xisuma can just about feel the reverberation of the drums and guitars through the coarse concrete of the bathroom floor, thumping up into his legs and hands. But it’s nothing but echoes compared to the sinfully wet sounds of his throat choking down Doc, drowning in that thick musky haze of his balls slapping against his cheek and jaw.
Lungs burn with each wet pummel of the cock down his throat, never leaving enough to breathe in air - that thick air heavy with the lingering smell of stale cigarettes, joints, piss, and sweat, but it would be air he would gulp down all the same - only to breathe in cock. Only Doc’s cock filling up his senses.
If it wasn’t for the aches spiking and rolling through his muscles, Xisuma is sure he would have asphyxiated. Jolts of pain keeping him from falling easy. But he was close to passing out.
Doc’s hands tighten, hammering down his throat like a crash of lightning, as he moans gruffly - a low and rough sound that makes Xisuma’s spine tingle. Doc throbs and twitches in his airway, filling him up more if that was at all possible, impossibly full.
But he can always be fuller.
So much so.
With a growl of a moan, Doc is flooding down into Xisuma’s stomach. Thick heavy ropes of cum paint his insides - overwhelms the uneasy taste of metal with something bitter and salty. Doc’s cum clogs his throat, makes it hard to even swallow him down.
Xisuma can feel his gut rolling, twisting, desperate to keep something down but as soon as Doc starts pulling up, the salty bitter load sitting on top of his stomach shoots up his mouth in a splattering cough. Doc doesn’t speed up or stop. Just continues to slowly pull his cock out of X like he’s pulling a sword from a stone. Doesn’t stop even as X coughs up his load, pisses himself again and is wracked by full body shivers, squirming in place like a fish flipping on land.
Cum splatters out in a milky mess between his lips, bubbling down the sides of his mouth as Doc’s shiny slick cock slowly lifts from his mouth. Xisuma gags and chokes as Doc’s load refuses to be swallowed, rushing back up and out of his mouth much to his delight, Cock still throbbing and the streaming mess splattering and spilling from Xisuma.
“You didn’t pass out, not bad kid.” It’s said so matter of factly that it almost sounds absurd. Xisuma groans, gargling on the saliva and cum sitting in his throat.
Slowly Doc pulls out of Xisuma’s throat. Although he takes his time, savouring the drag and squeeze of each fried gasping muscles clinging to him.
When Doc’s cock finally leaves his mouth, Prince Albert knocking against his teeth like a chime, Doc doesn’t let go of Xisuma’s jaw. Doesn’t let him have a breathe yet. Instead, he spits into Xisuma’s mouth, watching in sick delight as it joins the swill of cum and spit resting at the back of his throat.
“Swallow. Then you can breathe.” Xisuma whimpers as Doc removes his fingers from his bottom jaw but quickly obeys. He gathers what strength he has, forcing the frayed abused muscles of his throat to tighten and suck down the mess left in his throat.
It’s hard. And it hurts. And despite wanting to throw it all up with how easy and suck it settles in his throat, Xisuma does as he is told and swallows the mess, entire body shifting to swallow it.
Doc doesn’t let go of his nose, not until Xisuma opens his mouth for the older man and he can see it pleasantly empty, the dregs of his load and saliva still clinging to the back of his throat and mouth, but good enough for a virgin.
When Xisuma finally gets to breathe for the first time in minutes he almost passes out. The rush of air, greedily swallowed by his body leaves him dizzy, gasping and desperate. But the greatest prize is that he can finally see Doc’s face, something like sick satisfaction curling on his worn lip at the sight of the sputtering gasping twink lurching over to breathe in the muddy air of the bathroom.
He breathes in too quick, desperate to alleviate the tightness rotting in his chest and coughs up a bit of Doc’s cum on the floor, shredding his throat just that bit more. Gasping wheezes torn between the speed of the sensation and the desperate desire to have air back.
The world rubber bands hard. All of that which was so far away crashes into him with all the force of a semi-truck. The shredding and shouting of the concert crashing into him like a sledgehammer, the piss soaking his trousers and the spit, cum, and blood staining his top, the raw aches clawing at him with each shaky inhale - it was all too much, made him want to crawl out of him own skin.
Doc could kick him in the ribs so easily, would probably make Xisuma cum and he was really hoping he would. His pants were already a mess, what's a little more.
But he doesn't. Just lets him breathe, lets him take in the world beyond the cock being wiped off and tucked away in his pants.
Once Xisuma is somewhat steady - he’s not gonna be properly steady for a while, Doc picks him up by his messy top, fingers knotting in the loose neck and sleeve, holding him by his chest and gets him on his feet. Doc hums with a sound like appraisal, noticing the outstretched dragon wings tattooed over his top surgery scars. He looks like a puppet without its strings the way his feet sag lifelessly in the shiny heavy boots he chose to wear.
“Nice tat.”
“Thanks,” Xisuma moans at how wrecked he sounds, shivering at the feeble roughness of his own voice. Doc just smirks. A job well done.
Doc gives him a moment to remember how his legs work as he reaches into his jacket pocket. Gives him a moment to remember how to breathe as he inspects the young man with a coldly analytical eye that Xisuma would be jerking off to for the next fortnight.
Finally he finds an unsullied patch of skin on his neck, not slick from cum or saliva and easy enough to wipe away the sweat. Xisuma’s breath hitches and whines as Doc takes a marker and scrawls across his neck with practised ease.
Xisuma turns and looks at himself in the murky mirror and his heart swoons when he sees Doc’s signature carved into his neck with ink. It makes him feel lightheaded all over again.
“Wow… thanks.” He doesn’t even have time to think about how lame he sounds, staring at the ink branded into him, already dreading it fading, already wondering if he should get it tattooed on to him permanently.
Doc takes his arm next and Xisuma watches him write a number on it and he blushes like a schoolboy. He - HE - he was getting Doc - Doc of Goatmeat - Doc of Goatmeat who he has been jerking off to for years now - He was getting Doc’s phone number. He shivers at the realisation and looks up at Doc effortlessly taking his chin with a gruff smile.
He feels something pressing against his other hand, a little card. “For when you need someone to teach you how to fuck proper.” Xisuma shudders at the implication - Doc wants to be his first time, wants to take his virginity, ruin him. If this was a dream he was going to be beyond mad.
“Sounds good. Yeah. Yeah.” How is it he is only starstruck now? Less time to think when you’re getting all the thoughts choked out of your head by your idol’s monster cock. He can still taste the metal of his piercings on his tongue.
“See you soon then X.” Doc lets him go and Xisuma needs to lean against the bathroom wall to stop himself from falling over. His name has never sounded so good. Doc leaves him there, trying to stop himself from stroking his cock, heart threatening to break his sternum with how hard it was pounding against his chest.
“Soon. Yeah.” Xisuma can’t help the smile stretching across his scarred lips, looking down at Doc’s number printed on his forearm and the card with his personal cell on the other.
“Geez X,” Xisuma is slow to look up from the treasures in his hand and - oh. Etho is in the door of the bathroom, looking a little concerned. Although if you were dragged to a concert because your friend didn’t want to go alone and paid for you to come and then disappeared and you found them covered in bodily fluids smiling like an idiot - you might also be a little concerned. X looks a little sheepish, stuffing the card in his dry pocket.
“You missed the closer. Don’t think they are doing an encore.”
“Darn.” He was looking forward to the closer of this setlist. Etho is a little surprised at how hoarse Xisuma’s voice is. But then again, looking him up and down, he’s not as surprised as he might have otherwise been.
Etho doesn’t say anything about the fact he looks like roadkill and Xisuma admires the bruise blooming on his throat from Doc’s cock.
“Want me to call a ride, don’t think you wanna get on the train like that.”
“If it’s not too much of a bother.”
“Not at all.”
Xisuma can hear Etho making a call, bargaining a lift for them - something about a plastic tarp and or clean clothes - but Xisuma is absorbed by the dark scrawlings Doc left on his body.
Promises of more to come.
An invitation to leap into a fresh hell of unwaiting horrors he can’t wait to devour. Or more aptly, to devour him.