Work Text:
Fuck. Magnus ripped his jacket off and threw it to the ground. He slammed the bedroom door shut and sank to the ground, cursing and yanking at his own hair.
He was so fucking mad at Nathan. This was the third time this week Magnus' bandmates had gotten in an argument with him, and it was the third time he'd lost.
It was all Nathan. He gave Magnus that immobilizing look and it silenced him. He'd never admit it in a million years, but he was actually scared of Nathan. And the fucking singer never took his side, even though Magnus was always right and his solos were always the best. Magnus was all alone.
Or so he thought. A voice from the other side of the room said "What ams the matter?" Fuck. It was Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Magnus had forgotten that they were sharing a room now. The blond rhythm guitarist was on his bed, fretting aimlessly with his Explorer and looking quite bored. What an asshole.
"None of yer fucking business." Magnus pried his shoes off and threw them at the wall. He knew it was immature, but he was angry as hell and he didn't care.
"Gets in a fight again?"
God, Skwisgaar's stupid accent was so grating. Magnus didn't understand how anyone could possibly be so annoying and remain unaware of it. Maybe he was aware of it and he was just trying to irritate Magnus. That would be in character for the bitch.
Yeah, well, Magnus would show him. Fucking trying to annoy him.
Magnus got up with a sigh, his back cracking. He meandered over to Skwisgaar and stood in front of him. The rhythm guitarist's mind seemed occupied by only the presence of his instrument. He didn't even look up when Magnus was there. Fucking disrespectful.
"Skwisgaar."
"Ja?" Skwisgaar still just looked bored. This was infuriating.
Magnus' hand darted out, wrapped loosely around Skwisgaar's neck, forced him to look up into his eyes. The guitar fell to the floor with a loud CLUNK as Skwisgaar clawed weakly at Magnus' grip around his neck, confused. Skwisgaar's blue eyes looked up into Magnus' brown ones. Magnus saw that he was already tearing up. It felt good.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Magnus whispered.
"Um—uh—okays."
"Fucking asshole." Magnus traced Skwisgaar's prominent cheekbone with his thumb. Skwisgaar tried to draw away, but Magnus already had a hold on him. "Think you're fucking better than me, do you?"
"Uh, no! No I don'ts!"
Magnus yanked the Swede up to his feet by his neck. "You've got to learn to keep your mouth shut."
"Stop it!" Skwisgaar tried to shove Magnus away. The effect was Magnus' Bowie knife instantly finding its way to Skwisgaar's throat. The rhythm guitarist sucked in a breath and went still.
"You're just trying to get on my nerves, aren't you?" Magnus said. "The stupid accent, the constant fucking around with the guitar. That...that fucking face you make when I talk to you. You're doing it all just to bug me."
"Magnus, that ams just my face, okay? No need to freaks out."
"You're still fucking doing it!" Magnus shoved Skwisgaar into the wall, grabbed a fistful of his long blond hair and yanked his head back. He pressed the blade against his exposed throat. Skwisgaar was grabbing at Magnus' hand that was pulling his hair, but as the knife pressed hard enough into his skin to draw a drop of blood his arms moved back to his sides and he seemed to be trying to disappear into the wall. "That can't be your real accent, can it? You've been living in America for years," Magnus said. "Are you really that stupid?"
Skwisgaar didn't say a word. He looked back and forth at Magnus' eyes.
"Fuck." Magnus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with the same hand he was holding the knife with. Skwisgaar took this opportunity to punch him in the jaw.
Magnus stumbled. He felt the instant tang of blood in his mouth, and when he wiped his mouth off he could see red staining his fingers.
Skwisgaar sank to the floor and huddled into a ball, buried his face in his hands. "Please just leaves me alone!"
Magnus probed at the inside of his mouth with his tongue. There didn't seem to be any broken teeth—apparently Skwisgaar didn't punch very hard—but his bottom lip was swelling up from being bitten and there was definitely going to be a bruise spread across the left side of his jaw.
Oh, the bitch was going to pay for this.
He drew his knife once more and stood over the rhythm guitarist, casting a shadow over him. Skwisgaar looked up, tears in his eyes, blood still slowly dropping from his neck.
"Get up," Magnus snarled.
Skwisgaar quivered and struggled to his feet. He stood with his back pressed flush against the wall and his arms dangling limply by his sides. He was almost as tall as Magnus, but he was slouching over, subconsciously deferring to the older man.
Magnus returned one hand to Skwisgaar's hair and the other to his knife which went back to the blond's throat. He pulled Skwisgaar's head aside once more and it went easily. Magnus pressed his mouth to the blood dripping from the boy's neck and lapped it away.
"Stop," Skwisgaar whispered. His breaths were shaky. Magnus could feel his heart pounding. He pressed the length of his body against Skwisgaar's, pinning him to the wall. Skwisgaar whimpered. Tears were beading in his eyes.
"This is your fault." Magnus leaned forward and kissed Skwisgaar, ravaged his full lips, biting and licking at him. "It's your fault for being an insolent little bitch. You're going to pay for it, sweetie." He smiled charmingly and stroked Skwisgaar's face, callused fingers parting his flushed lips. "Suck."
"I'm gonna calls Nathan. He's gonna kicks your ass."
"Go ahead." Magnus slowly traced the blade all the way up from his navel to his chin. Skwisgaar tried to shy away, biting his lip.
"Umm-mm..." Skwisgaar murmured.
Magnus let out a short bark of a laugh. "I thought so. Now suck."
Skwisgaar did so. Magnus smirked as he felt the blond's tongue working over his fingers.
"You do that good, sweetie. You must have some experience, right?"
Skwisgaar shook his head, hate in his eyes.
"Don't lie," Magnus said. "I know what you did to Nathan, to get him to let you in the band."
"Wha-what ams you talkings about?"
"You sucked him off, didn't you?" He curled his fingers into Skwisgaar's pretty hair again and yanked hard. "I know Nathan wouldn't let no-talent scum off the streets into the band without some...other incentive. Admit it."
"I didn'ts, Magnus!" Skwisgaar was full-blown crying now. He still couldn't look into Magnus' eyes, and his face was flushed. "Why woulds you fuckings—I don't—" He was cut off by Magnus kissing him again.
Skwisgaar was unresponsive to the kiss, still trying to shy away even though Magnus had a knife at his throat. It was weirdly arousing. The lead guitarist could feel himself getting hard; he wanted Skwisgaar to feel it too. By his sudden twitch of a response as Magnus slowly rolled his hips against him, he definitely could.
"M—Magnus, don't do this." Skwisgaar looked tired already.
"You're just afraid you'll like it," Magnus purred, toying with the blade against Skwisgaar's voicebox. He smiled as the blond swallowed and made the knife bob up and down. "Now, on your knees, honey."
He had to push the rhythm guitarist down. He winced in pain when his knees hit the hard floor. Magnus pulled his cock out and Skwisgaar looked frightened half to death. It was adorable.
Magnus had to threaten him with the knife before he'd do anything but sit there and stare. He placed his full lips around Magnus' hardness and then looked up, not sure where to go from here.
"Lick it," he said. "C'mon, I know you've had this done to you. Just copy how the others do it to you...That's good." Magnus leaned back, his shoulderblades digging into the wall. "Yes, right there, you slut, that feels so good..." He moaned.
"I ams not—"
Magnus yanked Skwisgaar's hair, making him squeal. "Don't talk with your mouth full, bitch! What, so now I have to teach you manners along with how to speak English?"
Tears ran down Skwisgaar's face as he ran his slick tongue up over the head of the lead guitarist's cock. Magnus couldn't stand it anymore. He threaded his fingers through the boy's hair and fucked his mouth hard, hammering on the back of his throat and making him choke and gag.
He pulled out and pushed Skwisgaar to the floor. The blond lay there, still, struggling for breath. Magnus admired his work. Skwisgaar was crying, his hair a tangled mess, lips glossed with precum and his neck still bleeding a bit. He looked so violated already. Magnus imagined how good he'd look when he was done with him...
He got on the floor beside Skwisgaar, pulled the white tank top up, ran his hands over the guitarist's tight stomach. He brushed a hand over the boy's crotch and smiled predatorily at what he felt there. Oh, this was too good.
"You're hard already, you slut," he murmured.
Skwisgaar looked frightened. "I, um, I don't—"
"I told you you'd like it." He traced his knife down the center of Skwisgaar's stomach, then unzipped his fly and pulled out his almost-hard cock. It was just as pretty as the rest of him. Magnus leaned in and gave it a few kisses and licks, felt it twitch against his lips. Beautiful.
He straddled Skwisgaar's legs and began rubbing his cock against his. He groaned and gritted his teeth as he listened to the blond's faint crying. He couldn't help but pull the knife out again and slash shallowly across Skwisgaar's stomach. He covered the younger man's mouth, predicting the screams that would bubble up. "Shh," he soothed him. "I've got the knife here, I wouldn't cry if I were you."
That shut him up. Magnus started licking the salty metallic blood up off Skwisgaar's hot bare flesh. He felt him tremble as his tongue slicked across the wound, and had an idea that he found irresistible...a few seconds and a few more cuts later, the boy had the word SLUT carved into his skin. He hadn't stopped crying yet. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of tears.
The warm blood still tasted delicious.
Magnus was so hard he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hang on long enough to finish what he'd wanted to do. He climbed off the weakened rhythm guitarist and stared at him, seeming to devour him with his gaze. Skwisgaar already looked defiled, blood welling up from his cuts, cock jutting up below from its nest of soft curly gold hair. He seemed only semi-conscious. Perfect.
Magnus searched his jeans pockets and found the lube, poured some into his hand, eased it over his cock. He knelt in front of Skwisgaar and pushed his legs up, then entered him roughly.
He felt so tight, like he was sucking him in, and beautifully slick and hot. He was sobbing out loud now, clenching his fists with the pain. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands and drew tiny drops of blood like bug bites.
Magnus pinned him down and thrust into him again, harder. Skwisgaar was shivering and muttering out words in Swedish, mixed in with pained yelps. Magnus wrapped one hand around his cock as he impaled him against the floor. Skwisgaar's cries of pain turned into something else, faster, more urgent. Pretty soon he was thrusting up against Magnus, desperate for more, moaning like a slut as Magnus gave it to him.
Magnus knew it.
"You like that, yeah?" Magnus grinned, baring sharp teeth. "Slut."
"Ja," Skwisgaar gasped. His thighs twitched involuntarily every time the older man hammered against his prostate. It was cute.
"I knew you would." Magnus sunk his teeth deep into Skwisgaar's neck, drawing forth more moans of pleasure. "I was right. I'm always right, aren't I?"
"Ja...yes, please..." Magnus' remarks were falling upon deaf ears. Skwisgaar didn't care about anything any more except this strange new kind of ecstasy.
"Yeah. Now who's your daddy? Who's your daddy, boy?"
"You ams."
"Fucking right—ah!" He was so close.
"Ummh, fucks me, daddy, I'm gonna cum!" Skwisgaar's eyes were screwed shut and his fingers were grasping for any hold on the floor. Magnus was pushed over the edge. He gasped and dug his nails deep into Skwisgaar's sides.
"Whore," he groaned deeply as he pounded into the younger man and released inside him. Skwisgaar came too, all over his own chest and belly, his seed mixing with his blood.
After a moment, as the sizzling heat began to cool, Magnus licked every drop of cum off the boy's body, then zipped his pants up and abruptly left. "I'm going to the bar. I won't be back until late, don't stay up or anything," he slurred sarcastically.
Not sure what he wanted, Skwisgaar the slut was left reeling, humiliated, still weak from the shock and now scarred both outside and in.