Note: enjoy this filthy fic and give me some feedback in the comments. 🙈
You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling around with the bracelet on your wrist, playing with the shiny jewelry, watching at how the light reflected off of it. It was just you, Billy and Mike. They were off chatting on the sofa, laughter being heard as they talked.
Soon enough, Billy exited the room, leaving just you and Mike. Your heart began to pang in your chest, your breathing picking up as reality started to settle in. You were now alone with the man you so desperately loved and admired, the man who was responsible for all of the music you liked, and more.
You heard his footsteps on the carpeted floor as he approached you from behind and before you could turn back to look his arms were already snaked around you, his chest pressed up against your back as you sat opposite from him. You felt him breathe against your neck as his hands roamed your body, paying the most attention to your chest area. He caressed his hands against the fabric of your shirt before slipping them in to get a better feel.
"Now this is what you were waiting for, huh?" Mike whispered into your ear, his voice laced with malice.
"God, what is it with you groupies?" Mike remarked, his signature smirk marking his lips. His words cut through you; they were rude but you couldn't complain. He was right. This is what you've been waiting for, and you couldn't help but allow yourself to ease into his rugged touch. You relished in pleasure as he groped at your breasts, twisting and turning them like they were some toy. He squeezed them, moving along to pinch and rub your nipples. Mike did all of this in such rash movements, clearly showing he didn't necessarily care for your comfort, he was having fun with what he was doing to you, taking pride in the small whimpers you let out.
"I... I'm not a groupie." You said in a small cracked voice, your eyes rolling back as his hands traced down your stomach. He let out a smug laugh, shaking his head. "Yes you are. What do you call this then?"
"You're a fan getting touched up on by a member of a band. Pretty sure you're now classified as a groupie, babe." He backed up away from you, his hands temporarily leaving your body. He watched you, taking note of that irritated look on your face. The look that he was oh so happy to see. Part of him felt accomplished, actually. He wanted to prick and prod at you with his words, he wanted to crawl under your skin and make you hate him.
It's what fueled his desires and made him most joyful. He was toxic, he enjoyed defiling and inflicting some sort of pain onto either himself or others, and that's exactly what he was going to do right now, with you.
You thought meeting Mike and being invited back to the hotel that the band was staying at would be the best thing that's ever happened to you, but now you started to get the idea that it wasn't, and maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Part of you wanted to throw hot coffee in the jerk's face but the other was intrigued by his madness. You wanted to see what else he could do or say, you wanted to see how far he could actually go and how much you could withstand.
He grasped onto a patch of your hair, tightening his grip on your locks as he threw your head back roughly, causing you to exhale sharply. Your pleading eyes looked straight up into his dark ones, the look in them menacing. Your jaw was dropped as he held your hair into his balled fist tightly, tears bubbling into your eyes. The area of hair he clutched grew sore as he tugged at it, his grin growing wider and wider as you visibly grew more agitated.
Before you could let out any words, Mike let out his tongue, saliva slowly dripping down the pink fleshy thing. Your eyes widened as you felt his warm drool drip down past your lips, seeping into your opened mouth. Before you could recoil, Mike mushed his lips onto yours, giving you a wet slobbery kiss, holding your head in place as he allowed more of his saliva into your mouth.
By the end of it, you bizarrely wanted more. It was disgusting, filthy, degrading, but somehow you found some pleasure in it. Perhaps you were just as sick as he was, if that was even a possibility.
He licked his lips once more before wiping away any remaining drizzles of mess on his mouth with his sleeve.
Mike moved to sit beside you now, running the tips of his fingers down your thighs, goosebumps appearing on your exposed arms.
"How did that feel, baby girl?" He asked through a low, deep voice, seductive eyes looking straight through you. "... Weird." Is all you could manage to say, your eyes fixated at the floor, avoiding his gaze. You couldn't look at him in the eyes, not after that. It was bizarre, you weren't used to anything like that. The boys in your town were nothing compared to him in the slightest, they were decent, preppy, and plain out boring. Maybe it's the normalcy that bored you to death, maybe you were cut out for these type of indecent acts of salaciousness.
"Well, I say fuck normalcy. It's better to keep an open mind." He cheesed ear to ear with his fucked up smile, giving your thigh a hard squeeze before he pulled his hands into his lap.
With your mind a flutter, you still sat there, zoning out his presence as he moved over to the phone, dialing someone up, ignoring your existence for the time being, until he felt the urge to bother with you again.
