NO WAY IN HELL! (A Marilyn Manson fanfiction)

NO WAY IN HELL!: Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Thank y'all for taking yo time to read this book, it really does mean a lot to me. Heres another chapter, also dedicated to  miw-sells-cocaine because you're fucking awesome, my god 💅🏻💜. Enjoy!

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Brian's POV:

So it's been about three hours and Twiggy nor Stephen had shown up yet.

Normally I'd be lying here, chewing on my chipped, black painted nails in complete and utter nervousness, but for sure, I know Twiggs wouldn't just ditch.

He probably got a bit tired and sleepy, or maybe Stephen started feeling sick.

Why didn't he call me though? Ugh his phones probably flat.

I sighed in pure boredom and frustration.

I mean, they could show up in about five minutes, I guess I could wait. I looked around the room to find something to pass time.

The closest things were my guitar and my phone.

I looked between them. Guitar or phone...  the guitar's leaning against the wall so,

Fuck

I grabbed the closest, my phone, switched it on and decided to play Pac-man for another hour, unaware of how much time had passed.

"Oh fuck you, you stupid cunt pink shit bitch ghost son of a fucking bitch!" I yelled!

"God!" I screamed and threw my phone down beside me, putting my hands over my face in a fluster, closing my eyes and sighing, tired. I'm so tired.

A door slamming woke me from a day dream, and I looked up from my hands, scanning my eyes around the room, mind you the door slam was quiet so it wasn't one of our house doors.

I picked up my phone at checked the time. 3:36pm it read.

I flipped myself off of my bed and wearily made my way to my bedroom window, peering out into the summer.

A blonde shimmer catches my eye and it's no other than Tim-motherfucking-Skold stomping his way through his bedroom, fully clothed by the way this time.

I watched closely, not really needing binoculars this time.

He ran his long but thick and rough fingers through his  tangled, waist length, blonde hair in a frustrated manner. A quick jerk of his body signalled that he had obviously kicked something, a loud growl erupting from his throat, echoing out of his open window into mine. I only bit my lip to suppress and sigh. God, that really was hot.

And as soon as he came in, he left. Slamming his bedroom door behind him after grabbing a packet of his cigarettes, this time, them obviously being blunts because they were in a completely different packaging, aka, tin foil.

Another slam of a door caught my attention, and there he was, walking frustratedly down the street, still having his black polished nails running through his hair.

I wouldn't freak out over this, and I wouldn't worry if he'd gone the other direction and not kick open my fucking front door to my house.

I couldn't move from where I was sitting, put in place by complete shock and confusion, and the nervousness raised as soon as my bedroom door was busted open, putting a crack from the bottom half.

As he came closer, I grew angry, and managed to choke out a few words.

"TIM WHAT THE F-mmmfff!!" My sentence was shortly cut off by his large hand shoved over my mouth.

He only looked me dead in the eyes, a face full of rage and complete frustration just staring back at me, and he snarled as he grabbed my shirt and threw me off the window sill onto the carpeted floor, soon following me while taking his shirt off.

At first I was inwardly raising my eyebrows, big fat question marks popping up in my head, until he reached straight for my shirt, is when I realised what's happening.

Angry Tim + Hot Brian + Bedroom = Hot, angry, private sex.

I wouldn't call it rape because even if he had asked, I would've said yes, and as soon as he took his shirt off, all the red lights turned green as fucking fuck.

Realising that nothing was really going to get anywhere unless I did something, I just reached for his hair and tugged his head towards me, then roughly shoving my lips straight into his. Only when we needed breath was when we pulled back.

Tim looked at me with a bit of guilt, but his face still showed a fair amount of animosity.

"Brian are y-"
"Shut up and just fuck me Tim" I growled straight into his lips.

Apparently that's all Tim needed because as soon as the words came out of my mouth, he was violating every part of me. Some moves making me moan, some moves making me scream and want to cry, but honestly, it wasn't bad. Not at all.

I had not a care in the world while literally being fucked in my goddamn ass, and nor had I thought about how I had a boyfriend, that I was practically cheating on him, I did not even think about if Jeordie and Stephen were still coming over, and I didn't think to quiet myself down while in the middle of rough intercourse, nor did I think to close my front door or to answer my calls on my phone.

The only thing that really made me think was a quiet whimper, barely audible, and I don't know how I heard it, or what made me stop and have my body go completely numb, but when I found out where it came from, my heart sunk.

The whimpers turned into sobs, then into desperate cries.

I would stand up and help, I would apologise, but I was numb, I couldn't move, nothing could move except for one tiny part of me.

I looked past Tim while placing my hands on his chest, signalling for him to stop, and he did.

I gazed past Tim, right into his little face, a tear streaming down his frail little cheeks, Stephen behind him, a red face, and white knuckles.

"Jeo..."

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-A/N: oh shiaaat