Rough me up // Jameson.

Part 1

A/N: I've never written jameson and I'm kind of nervous but I hope people like it lmao. It's probably kind of ooc so sorry 😩 let me know what you think and I'll try to update soon. (chapters will probably be kind of short)

The night had started out as it always does: Me and Jason, horny and tipsy after a show, stumbling into our hotel room attached at the hip and mouth, frantically stripping each other as we prepared to fall into bed. So how the hell did that turn into the ridiculous fucking argument we're having right now? Was it when Jason pulled back before I could lay him down on the bed? Or when he looked away from me, biting his lip as I asked him what was wrong? Nah, it was definitely when he asked me to do that.

"You want me to do what?" If I sound incredulous, it's because I am, absolutely shocked even, and yet Jason's staring at me like I'm the crazy one, like he hadn't just asked me to- never mind. It's just too damn much. I still can't believe those words even came out of his mouth.

"Come on, James." His lips are pursed, hands on his hips like the very picture of stern disapproval, and a part of me wants to sink under his annoyed gaze, but I can see the shyness behind it, the pink tinting his cheeks and the embarrassment in his eyes as we continue to stare at one another across the hotel room, standing off in our respective stubbornness.

"No, there's no 'Come on, James.' What the actual fuck are you even thinking? " He rolls his eyes at my words, exasperated breath leaving his lips but I don't even pause in my rant. "You want me to..." Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? I've done plenty of fucked up, sexual shit in my time that could make a nun blush, so why is it that Jason's request has me acting like a nervous virgin? Why is it so hard for me to accept the fact that he wants me to be rough with him? To dominate him? To hold him down and fuck him like a whore?

Maybe it's because I never do that. Ever since we started dating -when I finally got over my bisexual identity crisis and accepted the fact that I did in fact have feelings for Jason and had been lashing out at him as a result- I've been treating him like a princess, wanting to make up for all the hazing and bullshit I put him through when he joined the band, and that's carried over into our sex life. Hell I'd thought he liked it when I fucked him soft and slow, what with all the shaking and screaming and crying he always did before he came.I just can't comprehend that maybe he's getting tired of the kid gloves, that maybe he's not satisfied with our relationship. The thought sends a pang through my chest, and I curse him for making me so damn soft all the time, eyes narrowed as we continue to bicker.

"So you're not satisfied anymore?" That seems to get him, his face falters, posture slipping lightly from its statue-like stillness.

"I never said that."

"Then why-"

"You treat me like I'm made of glass half the time and I just don't fucking get it. You never used to have a problem roughing me up, but now that I'm asking for it, trusting you to do it right, there's a problem?" He snaps, and there's a fire in his eyes I haven't seen for a long time blazing right towards me. Jason's usually a sweetheart- totally easy going, never the type to let anything get to him and full of infinite patience and forgiveness and love. He'd put up with our shit for years without losing a step, but Jesus if he wasn't scary when he got mad. "It's not like I'm asking you to do anything dangerous or illegal or gross, I just want us to try something new in bed."

And sexy. Really fucking sexy. But I'm not going to be cowed, I've never backed down from an argument and I wasn't about to start now.

"You've never said anything about this before." Because he hadn't. Hadn't even hinted at the fact that he was some kind of closet kink case sex maniac who apparently wanted me to tie him up and choke him to near unconscious while I pounded him to oblivion.

"Because I knew you were going to act like this."

Before I can even utter a "What's that supposed to mean?" He cuts me off my raising his hand, brows furrowed in annoyance as he begins to rub at his temple. "Just forget I said anything James, Christ. Let's just go to bed, we have a show tomorrow and if we're late again Lars will kill us both." I'm stricken at his tone of voice, guilt instantly filling me at the defeated, humiliated cadence.

He doesn't even let me answer though, speeding around my still form to get into the spare bed and turning off the bedside lamp with one last sad sigh. We haven't slept separately since we started dating and it just feels wrong, getting in bed by myself, looking out the corner of my eye to see the silhouette of his body, chest rising and falling. I know he's not asleep and I want to speak up, apologize, give in to his kinky fantasy, but I'm too damn stubborn to say 'sorry'. I turn towards the wall in frustration, turning off my own lamp and trying my best to sleep without him in my arms.