Broken Kind of Feelings

Kirk's head slammed against the cement, the force bruising his jawbone. Moaning, he turned over slowly. Just in time to see a shadow overtake him.

"Say `no' again, Fucker. PLEASE. Say `no' again...."

Dark eyes narrowing, he darted his tongue across his lips. Blood. Distinctive taste: almost erotic, in the right circumstances. He parted his lips to answer the challenge, but was silenced by the cruel smile that spread over James Hetfield's face.

Flipping over to his stomach, Kirk tried to crawl away. Thick fingers closing around his slim forearm arrested that movement. James twisted Kirk's arm sharply and hauled him to his feet. Kirk stumbled, helping the movement upward as much as possible. The fear of his arm snapping was very very real– the fear of losing his one outlet. With a broken arm, he would have no way to play guitar, no way to get his fears, frustrations, and loneliness out. Surely James wouldn't take that away from him?"

"Walk, fucker." The growl was barely human. Kirk tried to get his bearings– he knew that they were still outside. His mind moved forward in time, to tomorrow, to what James would tell the neighbors. Not that any of them would ask.

`Oh, you know Kirk. Clumsy fucker. He just had a bit too much to drink at Lars' place. Once I got him to bed, he was just fine.'

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kirk fought back tears. He needed to think: as long as they were outside there was still a chance to get away, this time. But he wasn't clumsy. And he hadn't had too much to drink. Not nearly as much as James, at least. Before he could capitalize on the one hope, his chest thumped against the thick wooded door.

"Get your key out." James growled his demand, and gave Kirk no option otherwise. James wrenched the dark arm just enough to send a shot of pain through Kirk's shoulder. Quickly, he fumbled with his keys. Too soon, they were inside their cozy place, and the door slammed shut.

Kirk found himself once again pressed against the door. The air inside seemed thicker, but it was just as dark. James pressed against him, and Kirk could feel James already hard and straining against his denim. Never chancing to let his grip slip, James dragged his tongue along Kirk's throat. When Kirk tilted his head to try to prevent James' access, James bit down. Hard.

"Aw, Kwirk– look what you made me do. I tore your pretty shirt."

Kirk whimpered as his shoulder grew warm and then numb. A moment later, his arm was free and the rest of the shirt was in shreds by his feet. His eyes could barely focus on the slip of red satin on the floor, with a slightly darker red spot near the collar. James fingers were firm closing around his neck, tipping his head back.

Warm breath across his cheek made him feel vulnerable and disgusted with himself. These were the last thoughts before James' teeth once again sunk into Kirk's flesh. This time, the smaller man only sagged against his larger `lover'. In response, James grunted. The firm grasp shifted, and Kirk found himself thrown away from the admittedly warm body.

A sickly crack could have easily been a bone or the wood of the doorframe. Kirk landed against their bedroom door, and the entrance swung open. He inched up, trying to figure out how to make his world stop spinning. Before he could catch a breath, James had come down on him. Kirk fell backwards, but James caught his head by a handful of ebony curls, and held him still.

He looked down at Kirk's face, twisted in pain. With the back of his hand, he stroked Kirk's cheek and watched some of the agony slip away. Kirk looked up at James' guarded eyes, his own pale cheeks, and reached up towards his `friend'. As Kirk's fingertips slid over James face and down his jaw, the singer relented just the slightest bit. Until. Seeing James' resolve weaken, Kirk couldn't suppress the glimmer in his eye, and James caught it. The words were growled with such feral enmity, Kirk actually shivered, "Trying to manipulate me like everyone else? Huge fucking mistake, Hammett. HUGE."

His window was about to close. Now or fucking never. Kirk reached up again with his left hand, and began to wipe the sweat gently from James' brow. He parted his lips to make James believe an answer was coming, something soothing and docile. Surrender. That was what James wanted, and what Kirk would give.

Instead, Kirk clawed his fingers down James' cheek.

"Fucking Bitch!"

A sharp intake of air, and James had recovered enough. The new scar fueled his fury, giving blind strength to his lust. Fingers strengthened from years of playing sunk down through Kirk's hair and bit painfully into his scalp.

"You worried me there for a minute, Kirk. When you were about to give in." James snickered. Just a moment ago, yet it seemed that time was dragging on painfully. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to force out James' cruelty. "It's so much more fun when you fight. It's _almost_ like you think you have a chance."

Once again, James yanked Kirk up to his feet. Dark eyelids fluttered open and Kirk realized that James was already naked. He must have gotten rid of his clothes when he tossed Kirk away in useless disgust. Distracted, trying to figure out the whys, Kirk didn't fight when James gripped Kirk's wrists.

"So, c'mon, Baby– make it fun for me."

The smile Kirk received was so disturbing, now he did begin to struggle. A throaty laugh was not encouraging. James forced Kirk down on his back to the bed, the smaller man battling back as best he could with his wrists held in one of James' large hands. The fingers gripped painfully into Kirk's sensitive skin as he writhed and twisted, crying curses at James. This earned Kirk a cruel grin from a clearly amused James. With his free hand, James wrenched Kirk's pants open and down, pulling them roughly off so that Kirk lay naked before him.

He licked his lips as he looked down his possession to play with, however and whenever he choose. James grinned. Kirk may fight and scream that he didn't want this, but as usual– his body betrayed him. Kirk's cock was hard, and pressed against James' thigh.

James could feel Kirk's pulse. James let his head roll to the side and sighed. He fucking loved moments like these. Before he let himself linger too long, and lose his objective, James focused on the task at hand. Crawling up the bed, James forced his knees between Kirk's legs, pushing them apart and up so that he lay spread out in front of him. His toy, Kirk gave himself freely too many times to convince James that the protests could be earnest. He let his gaze wander over Kirk's body. Dark, lean chest-- heaving from the exertion, the sheen of sweat made Kirk's skin glow and his face was bloody, eyes defiant.

It was the defiance that James reacted to. His fist crashed into Kirk's face again and blood flew in an obscene arch before splattering against the wall.

When Kirk turned his head back, James saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and his nose might even be broken. The defiance was still there, burning bright in those dark chocolate eyes and James snarled.

"What, you're gonna fucking scream?" James leaned forward, letting the breath that carried his threats caress Kirk's skin. The motion also brought James' cockhead up against Kirk. Again, Kirk's body betrayed him, swelling slightly at the familiar touch. Kirk squirmed, on the verge of being torn physically and emotionally. It was nothing new, James' throbbing dick against Kirk's ass– but not like this. Please, not like this....

"Ok...let's just _say_ someone hears you. You think they're going to come-- going to care? Everyone knows about you and me, Kirk. Everyone knows that you let me fuck you... and you love it. So fucking love this..."

Grasping his cock, James slammed his hips forward, burying himself ball deep in Kirk's dry ass. The resulting scream must have wakened the dead.

Instinctively, James covered Kirk's mouth with a large paw. Following his quietly screaming heart, James slid his hand up Kirk's cheek, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Beads of sweat made the black curls cling to dark skin, and James found himself cooing gently. Kirk looked up, and James read him plainly. There was such a sad love deep in his eyes.

James froze. For a moment, every notion left him except the desire to cradle Kirk, protectively. He almost gave in–until he caught himself. Enraged at the weakness he was about to show for the second time, James quickly reminded himself of all the reasons Kirk deserved _exactly_ what he was being given. The indecision shone through James' eyes, though, because in this moment, Kirk tried to take control. He pushed up against James insistent– challenging. Sharp teeth clamped onto the fleshy part of James' thumb, and James reacted the way he always does to pain– with violence.

A quick backhand to Kirk's face was all it took to rekindle James' fire, but it was a far cry from satisfying his lusts. Leaning most of his weight against Kirk, James kept him pinned down with his fist firmly around the smaller man's throat. He pounded aggressively until the thrusts were met more easily. With fingernails biting deeply into Kirk's already marked shoulders, James drew his cock roughly from Kirk's ass. Curling his top lip, baring his teeth in disgust and determination, he slammed back into Kirk once more. James withdrew abruptly, the harsh tug hurting Kirk almost as much as the initial intense entry. Perhaps more, since Kirk was now empty. Choking back a sob, Kirk tried to scramble off the bed and towards the door.

If he had been capable of thinking, he would have given a care to his clothes or the fact that James was stronger and more focused at the moment. Kirk could have been faster, but his eyes were blurred by tears of desire– for James attention, yes, but more so for fucking freedom. But James was faster and more intent on keeping this moment secret. He easily caught Kirk, and roughly jerked him into the middle of the room. Man-handling him, James gave up no opportunity to harm his lover on the way back to submission.

"Fine, you want to play dirty? Let's play, dickhead." James forced Kirk's arm up behind his back once again, and slammed him face first onto the dresser. In panic, Kirk struggled and screamed... and found it all useless. With his face turned away, James couldn't see the tears that slid down the flushed cheeks and onto the scared wood. James used his other hand to separate the golden cheeks of his possession's ass, took his sweet time positioning himself, and slid effortlessly inside. The only resistance came from Kirk's bloodied lips.

"See? No trouble at all. It's cause you want this, you fucking whore." James' words were broken interspersed with grunts and groans as he pounded Kirk's torn ass. "You're so pretty... but sometimes you need to be hurt, Kirk. Sometimes you need to be forced to accept the pleasure. God, you bleed so beautifully. You take the pain so well, and you want me, I know. Take me deeper...."

Kirk went deathly still, his head braced on the dresser. He held himself motionless, coldly accepting. Absently, he felt his hips pinched as James found his grip, his hard fucking picking up speed. The bottom row of James teeth being drug over Kirk's back brought him back to the present. Kirk's hands found purchase on the edge of the dresser above his head, pushing back, trying to force James deeper even as he cried out in pain. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut– maybe if he did as he was ordered, it wouldn't be as bad in the morning. One hand left Kirk's hip only to be brought down–stinging hard– on his already burning asscheeks. Kirk whimpered at the sharp bite of capillaries being broken, the rush of blood to the surface of his skin. It was all he could do not to scream out anymore– his throat was coarse anyway. Instinctively, Kirk answered the pain by clenching his ass around James' cock.

In return, more cruel words met Kirk's ears. Inside, he knew he deserved this– everything James was giving him and more– worse. Still, he sighed with relief when the words were drained away and only panting and soft swears filled the room. Low moans hung in the thick air, sounds of pain and lust intermingling with the slap of sweat soaked skin and the deep thud of the dresser being slammed across the floor. Anyone listening would have no doubt about what was happening, yet anything they choose to believe in their candy coated minds would be wrong. Dead wrong.

Before Kirk could become lost once more in his thoughts, James reached forward. Twisting his fingers in the dark curls that covered Kirk's scalp, James anchored Kirk firmly in the gruesome reality. Tugging brutishly, James drew Kirk's head back. His neck arched at an uncomfortable angle increased Kirk's feeling of vulnerability. Leaning over his back, James' lips whispered over the sensitive shell of Kirk's ear.

James let Kirk shiver beneath his breath, let him wonder what was coming. The curiosity was always the worst part– anxiety building, fear clenching at your throat. It made reaction slow and denial impossible. That was exactly what James was after: these next words would be marked indelibly on Kirk's mind, long after the bruises faded.

"You. Are. Mine."

The trademark growl, once a sound of comfort to Kirk, followed the claim. Harsh words were followed by the harsh driving of James hips. He slammed into Kirk with as much speed and force as his pale body could muster. James ground his body against his smaller lover's, and was not surprised to hear Kirk whimpering under him as he came near his own release. James threw his head back and howled: his cock swelled, pulsed, and James came so hard, he saw stars.

Panting, James gripped Kirk by the back of the neck. As he was pulled away from the hard wood, a stream of cum completed Kirk's exposure and weakness. At last, James was done with Kirk's body. He threw the smaller man roughly over onto the bed before stumbling forward against the far wall. He was breathless and dizzy, not much better than Kirk's bruised form. James turned, facing the bed, and then slid down the wall in a self loathing slump.

Kirk lay on his back, gasping for air, and half hung over the side of the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, and gingerly touched his shoulder. Nasty gash. Nasty fucking man that left it there.... He looked across the room to find James slumped against the wall, his chest also rising and falling trying to catch up to his heart. Kirk managed to contain the smirk this time, and rose to his knees. He swung his legs off the bed, and crawled weakly towards James. James tried to laugh, but it came out a little cough as Kirk approached. He opened his arms, and the guitarist laid his cheek against the heaving chest. Both men closed their eyes and sighed from mixed emotions.

The growl softened, and ushered back in comfort. "Have fun, Baby?"

Kirk tilted his head up to lightly kiss James' neck. "That was perfect. You– wow. You're the best, Love. Thank y–" James quickly moved his hand from Kirk's shoulder to cover his mouth.

"Ah, ah. Not necessary. You know... anything to make you happy." James yawned and hugged Kirk closer, trying to protect him from all the pain in the world. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images he had just helped to create. "Anything."

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((( the point of the mixing was that they were on the same page throughout the whole thing. Well, more or less the same page. James was a little reluctant. But they are very much in love, very much in a relationship, and doing this together. If that didn't come through... oh, well, I can't write, I guess)))