Work Text:
You'd think being a warlord in the post-apocalypse wouldn't include paperwork.
It does.
There's a stack of unsigned papers about half as tall as Dice sitting on his desk. It's tempting to skip reading them and just sign, sign, sign. But some contracts are tricky, and he could throw away his place on the list just like that. He's a gambling man, but even he knows that could only end poorly.
So he reads.
A knock on his door interrupts the mundanity of this task. He lets himself sigh.
"Come in."
One of his bikers peek their head into the doorway, "Uh, someone's here to see you."
Dice leans back in the chair, eyes narrowing to what could only be described as a sneer. "Well, who is it?"
A second hand reaches for the door and pushes past the worker, who scoffs with a middle finger. A familiar blonde man with a helmet and smiling red lips stands in the doorway.
"Ah, Buzzo. Welcome. Come on in." Dice sets his papers aside, sitting up and scooting his chair forwards.
Buzzo approaches, the other guy quietly shuts the door, bootfall slowly quieting down the hallway.
He places a small hemp sack on the table. Dice already knows the insides, judging by the sound of pills clacking against each other inside.
"For you." He says, motioning towards it with a hand.
Dice eyes at the joy, then looks at Buzzo, a frown on his face.
"...Why the house call, Buzzo? You never come here alone, or with such a small shipment."
"What, no 'thank you'?" He smiles.
"..Thanks. Now, why are you here? It's late."
Buzzo's lazy grin grows wider. "Does that put you on edge?"
Dice raises an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair and locking his bony hands together.
"..It's certainly new. Is there a..special occasion that's brought you here?"
"...So to speak."
Dice eyes Buzzo as he slowly walks around the desk. Buzzo watches him and chuckles.
"Do I intimidate you?" He asks. Dice scoffs in surprise.
"Do I to you..?"
"Not in the slightest. Don't dodge the question." He moves Dice's chair so they face each other head on. Real close and personal. Dice fails to hide his eyes widening.
He looks Buzzo up and down, eyes locking with the machete at his side.
He clears his throat. "Hm..well, you certainly don't..don't intimidate me."
He offers a smile, sharp and intentional as he bounces his leg.
Buzzo laughs lightly and leans in just a bit more.
"Do you trust me..?" He places a hand on Dice's thigh.
His leg stops bouncing, eyes darting to the scarred hand on leather.
"...What.... is this..?"
"I remember seeing you pre-flash. 'Dice Mahone, the rockstar,' You probably got around, right?" His second hand reaches out for Dice's hip.
"...From time to time." He doesn't meet his eyes, silently thanking his lucky stars this isn't an assassination attempt.
"And how did that feel?"
Dice crosses his legs, cracking his knuckles. "Pretty good.."
Buzzo laughs, saccharine in nature as he shakes his head.
"Use up that shroud of decency, Mahone. You won't need it where we're going.." he runs his hand from Dice's cheek down the side of his neck. Dice unconsciously raises his head to give him more room.
"Is this that special occasion you were talking about...?"
Buzzo smiles in reply.
"Do you want this..?"
"Yes." He takes hold of Buzzo's hand and situates it more on his neck.
He gets closer, almost straddling his legs in the chair. "Dice Mahone, do you trust me with your body?"
He meets Buzzo's eyes again, inches from his face. His swallow is felt through his Adam's apple.
"Yes..for now." he mutters out, leaning forwards with a pucker. Buzzo adds a bit of pressure to his neck and pushes him back.
Dice blinks, but allows it. He's curious on how this will go, sue him.
"What's your take on blades?" He asks casually, releasing the grip and un-crossing Dice's legs.
"What, like, in this context?" Dice spreads a lot more than necessary, light chub twitching between his legs.
"No, when you're eating steak." Buzzo rolls his eyes. "Yes, during sex." He takes a strand of blue hair from Dice's face, tucking it behind an ear, almost affectionately. Dice sputters.
"I- uhm..S..Sure! Just...not too extreme."
"You want a safeword?" He asks, pulling his machete out and putting it on the desk.
Dice's eyes follow it the entire way, hands finding the armrests and gripping them. He swallows again.
"Yeah..."
"Is 'red' okay?"
He nods.
"Perfect.." He partially climbs onto Dice. The chair groans with the added weight. He picks his machete up again.
Buzzo uses the tip of it to unzip Dice's leather jacket. Dice twitches away with light gasping breaths.
"C-Careful! That's delicate.."
"Mm, you know what else is delicate?"
"What?"
"Skin." He stabs the machete into the chair in between Dice's legs.
Dice tenses away from it with a gasp, heart racing. He looks up at Buzzo with wide eyes.
"...Take off your shirt." He orders, his own narrowed, like he's talking to scum on the sidewalk.
He whimpers softly, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth. He shakily nods, and sits forward to take off his jacket. His shirt comes next, and they're both unceremoniously dumped to the floor with a shaking hand.
So much for them being delicate 5 seconds ago.
"Ooh, nice tattoos." Buzzo says with a sloppy grin. It's unclear if he's being sarcastic.
"Thanks..." Dice says anyway.
Buzzo runs his hand down Dice's bare chest, then he runs his machete down. Dice sucks in a breath at the coldness of it.
"You like that?" Buzzo tilts his head slightly.
"Yeah.." Dice breathes out, goosebumps appearing across his skin. His nipples harden.
"You want marks?"
"Mm, mhm.." Dice places a hand on Buzzo's free Bicep.
Buzzo presses down lightly, letting the blade do its work. He dots a few small nicks into Dice's stomach. The other lightly hisses in pain, his legs try to twinge closed, but he forces them to stay open.
"Want more?" Buzzo asks, it's almost teasing at this point.
"Yes, god, fuck..." Dice whispers out, watching the crimson marks form. His hand tenses and relaxes on Buzzo's arm, biting his lip.
Buzzo drags the machete up towards his chest. He lands a few longer ones, dancing the blade all around his torso. He moves his other hand down, groping the other's bulge.
"Aah...." Dice's head lolls up, hitting the back of the chair. Buzzo chuckles.
"Oh, you like that?" He kneads firmly, feeling him get harder under his calloused hand.
"Y-es..." his voice cracks, breathing hard as he shifts his hips up into him.
"Ah, ah, ah..." Buzzo tuts, pressing the blade against his neck. Dice stalls, staring at him.
"Did I say you could do that, Dicey?"
He swallows.
"Nn...no..."
"Exactly." The tip of the blade nicks Dice's chin, forcing him to raise his head to look at Buzzo. "So why are you doing it?"
"I-I..." Dice's hips twitch forwards without his want, gasping softly. "I don't know, I'm- I'm sorry."
"Oh, you're sorry~?" Buzzo coos.
Dice nods, hitting his chin again. "I am."
The blade is set back against his collarbone.
"You should be. Now I'll have to fuck you rougher..." He shakes his head, disappointed. Dice gasps softly, right as Buzzo grabs his leg and brings it up onto his shoulder.
He yelps, gripping the chair to keep himself stable.
"God- Buzzo! Warn a guy next ti...me..." He trails off.
Buzzo is positioned right between his legs, slowly, teasingly leaning forwards. His cock imprint on his pants intentionally dodges Dice's by centimeters. Dice groans softly, which turns to a whiny moan as Buzzo begins to grind.
"You sound real good, you know that?" Buzzo grunts. "Real good..."
"Sss...so I've been told." He mutters, like it's been a lie up until this point, up until Buzzo said it.
"Relax.... Let me hear how perfect I can make you." He puts the machete on Dice's shoulder, right by his ear.
Buzzo picks up the pace, making Dice's eyes roll up in their bloodshot sockets.
"Buzzo." Dice suddenly says, his eyes not leaving the blade.
"Hm?"
"I want you to bend me over my desk and take me."
"Oh?" He grins.
"Machete to my throat during it.."
"......"
Buzzo licks his lips and climbs off the chair.
"Stand up."
He does.
"Undo your belt."
He fiddles with it for a second, then drops it in the pile of his other clothes.
"Take off your pants—slower than that....Yeah, perfect..." He rubs his jaw, needing something to do as he watches the self-made strip torture ahead of him.
Buzzo grabs him by the thigh and guides him to the desk, easing him down so his stomach just barely touches it.
He's sat there a moment as Buzzo fiddles with his own pants, the machete on his back as the other struggles.
He puts Dice in a sort of headlock position, one hand softly pulling at his hair while the other places the machete at his throat. Buzzo's torso leans on his back as he starts roughly grinding on him, their boxers still on.
Small beads of blood ooze from the scrapes on Mahone's torso. The pressure from the desk stings, pain and pleasure bear down on him, he whimpers with a smile.
"H...how long have you had your eyes on me..?" He asks, somewhat breathlessly.
"Wouldn't you like to know." Buzzo grunts.
He would, but he's starting to be at a loss for words.
He suppresses another whine in his throat. Buzzo scoffs.
"Oh, Dicey, we haven't even gotten started yet!" He presses the blade against his neck a bit harder.
His breath hitches as he scrambles for an explanation, anything to help keep his image.
"It..it's just the......the..." he trails off, coming up with blanks.
Buzzo laughs. "No, no. Dice, I get it. You like this. You like having no control, don't you...? I saw how you splayed your legs out, putting on a little coy blush to try and save face. You like being a little slut, don't you, Dice Mahone..?" He asks, sliding Dice's boxers down.
He softly moans just at the title, then he swallows his tongue trying to regain composure, but the mask's already slipped off.
"..God, yes. Fuck yes...Just make me yours, Buzz.." he looks back at Buzzo, shame thrown out the window. Half-lidded eyes meet over his shoulder.
Buzzo grins back at him.
"And what makes you think you can tell me what to do..?" He taunts, raising Dice's head up with the blade and stepping away.
His breath quickens. "I-I don't think that! Uh, you can do anything you w-" he cuts himself off as Buzzo gropes his ass.
"Sheesh, Dice, I didn't know you were that into me." Buzzo says, reaching around and feathering a hand over the other's erection.
"Hhhhohh..." is all Dice can say. Buzzo snickers.
"Has it been a while or something?"
He nods, nicking his neck on the machete before Buzzo pulls back on it.
"Verbally."
"..Yes, it's been a whiLE-!" His voice goes up an octave as Buzzo presses a bit on a cut right next to his nipple. It feels really fucking erotic.
Buzzo giggles softly in his ear.
"You wanna start..?"
"Yes."
"Perfect.."
Buzzo eases Dice down a bit farther on the desk while he takes off his own boxers.
"You got any lube on you?" He asks.
"In the drawer."
Buzzo pulls out some coconut oil and adds it accordingly.
"Allllright. Ready?"
"Mhm."
Buzzo pushes in slowly, softly, sweetly, even. It sorta takes away from the fact he has a machete to another man's throat. He lets himself acclimate to being inside another man, grunting softly as Dice opens up.
He speeds up fast, to a breakneck pace in seconds. Dice yelps in surprise at the speed of his thrusts.
"You like that?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Dice moans out, clawing at the edge of his desk.
Buzzo laughs. "How loud you are...I wonder if anybody outside can hear you..?"
An excitement rises in Dice's chest as he twitches against Buzzo's cock.
"That door's unlocked, Dice. Anyone could come in. Anyone could see what a little whore you are.."
Dice Mahone can do nothing but moan.
Buzzo cups his hand over Dice's penis, not jerking him off, just lightly holding it against his stomach. It provides friction all the same.
He feels a sting on his neck as the blade digs in.
God, fuck-! Scar me, scar me! is what he wants to say, but he can't speak due to being fucked stupid.
Buzzo grabs his thigh as his legs are slipping.
"Mmm, does it feel good?" Buzzo leans in right next to Dice's ear.
No answer due to the aforementioned being-fucked-stupid. Buzzo bites his earlobe with a grin.
His moans get short, breathless. His legs struggle to support his weight. His back arches to the best of his ability.
Buzzo screeches to a halt.
"Christ, we've just started and you're already about to let yourself cum in my hand? Unbelievable..you truly are a slut.." He mutters, running a hand through Dice's hair. The other tries to find friction in Buzzo's palm, thrusting against it, but it's taken away from him. He pants into the table dejectedly.
Dice allows himself to calm down, Buzzo plants the machete into the desk away from him so he can rest his head on his arm.
"Yeah, take that breather. I'm sure laying on a desk is just exhausting." You can hear the smile in his voice.
Dice looks back at him with a 'smartass' smirk on his face.
"Oh, don't tease me like that, I'll wipe that smug look off your pretty face."
Dice opens his mouth to rebuttal.
"You wouldn't like to see me try."
He closes his mouth.
"That's what I thought." He takes Dice's hips in his hands and slowly begins working them again.
Dice hums out a small moan, more showing gratitude than actual pleasure. Buzzo drags one of his hands upwards to tweak his nipple, playing with the piercing and the cut right below it. Dice inhales sharply, holding back a second moan.
"So sensitive..." Buzzo chuckles evilly, "I want to see it from the front." He decides, pulling out from Dice. The other scrambles at the loss of warmth, pulled from his comfortable position.
"Turn around." Buzzo says, and Dice quickly does as he's told, smacking a piece of paper that got stuck to his bloody chest away.
Buzzo gives him another look over, running a hand up the other's pinkish cock and taking some of the precum on his fingertip. He studies it on his finger for a few moments before looking back at Mahone.
"Wanna sit me down and frot us, Dicey?"
"...I thought you'd never ask." Dice gasps. Almost giddily, he lightly pushes Buzzo backwards into his chair and hungrily explores the joy boy's body, lingering his mouth by Buzzo's neck, but not moving on it. He grabs the lube and quickly gets himself ready before partially climbing onto Buzzo, one leg in the arm rest, the other on the floor.
"You can fully sit, you know. I'll hold you up." Buzzo offers, scooting them a bit closer to the desk.
"I don't wanna break the chair."
Buzzo shrugs. "Your call."
Dice lines their dicks up together and begins jacking them.
"Oh, fuck.." Buzzo breathes out, relaxing into the chair. He grabs at Dice's ass.
Dice speeds up slightly, craning his head into Buzzo's shoulder with a groan.
"Oh, no, no, no. I want to see you fall apart." Buzzo says through heavy breaths, he tugs on Dice's hair to pull his head back.
"There we go, keep going..hhf.." he moves his hands to Dice's back, digging in ever so slightly.
"Fuck, Berny.." Dice moans, hips jerking as he swaps hands.
"Hold out just a bit, hah—I'm almost there.." his nails drag down a bit. He's certainly not making it easy to hold back his cum.
He's so fucking close. His breaths turn into pants as he thrusts into the other dick before him. He moves the leg on the floor so he's actually fully sitting like Buzzo said before. The other quickly reacts and holds him up against the desk.
"Please, Buzzo-fuck..!" Dice begs, Buzzo responds by thrusting right back at him.
His hips jitter and shake and his breath quickens. His hand isn't even moving anymore, it's just providing friction as they fuck into each other.
Buzzo moans loudly, hips tense as he cums into Dice's hand. Once the other realizes what's happening, he quickly lets himself orgasm as well.
"Fuck, fuck..oh shit..you looked so fucking good.." Buzzo whispers, slowing his hips. Dice leans into Buzzo, relaxing his legs as he tries in vain to stop moaning.
The two sit entangled for a few moments, exhausted and in basic disbelief that any of that just happened. Buzzo opens one of the drawers and digs up two cigarettes. He places one in Dice's mouth and lights it for him.
"Not bad." Dice finally says, exhaling smoke.
Buzzo snorts. "Really? That's all I get for making you moan like that?"
Dice laughs. "Okay, okay. You were pretty good."
"Thank you." He absentmindedly runs his hand up and down Dice's back.
They share the out-of-ordinary peaceful silence for another minute or two.
Then the door pushes open, and an excited nasally voice begins to speak.
"Boss, have you finished with that paperwork y-"
There's a pause, Dice doesn't even look towards the door, uncaring.
"...What? You got a staring problem, pal?" Buzzo says.
The door shuts.
"Was that the short one with the dumb sunglasses?"
"Mhm."
"I was gonna shoot him yesterday."
"You should've."