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False Prophet | MAUL! KILL! CONSUME! | Abyss of Gore.
Opening for Dissolving Faith
August 4th at The Orpheum.
DOORS @ 6:30PM
MUSIC @ 7:30PM
$10 ADV
$15 DOS
Shane took his time setting up his drumset in the center back of the outdoor stage, False Prophet was getting ready to open for Dissolving Faith’s third headline tour. Unfortunately for him, his band’s set was to be followed by maul kill consume. Shane couldn’t be bothered to say the band’s name with enthusiasm in his own head. He fucking hated them. They were trashy, annoying, and lacked depth. This wasn’t an anti metalcore mindset, Shane doesn’t discriminate when it comes to anything hardcore.
But he did when it came to Ilya Rozanov.
So, to rephrase his previous sentiment, “I don’t hate THEM, I hate HIM, Hayd,” Shane rolled his eyes and sighed, “I’m just so sick of having to deal with him every fucking night. He thinks he’s so much better than us, it’s annoying. He’s such an asshole.”
Hayden was tuning his bass, pick in his mouth, “They’re all just like him though, so might as well hate the whole band,” he shrugged his shoulders and moved the pick to his pocket and the guitar onto his back. He walked over to where Shane was setting up and rummaged through his bag looking for the magnum sharpie they all used to draw the X’s on the backs of their hands.
“Dude, what’d you do with it?” He emptied Shane’s bag onto the top of the amp next to the drums. Shane got up and wiped the sweat from his face with the collar of his shirt, “With what?”
“The sharpie? I was looking for it earlier, but couldn't find it, so I thought just now it’d be in your bag, but it’s gone. Did you lose it?” Shane shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows trying to jog his memory. “I’ll just go see if there’s one lying around. Just clean this up because I’m gonna be pissed if you leave my shit out like that again,” he said pointing at Hayden sternly.
Shane hopped off the stage and walked to the indoor section of the venue, heading for the bar to ask the bartenders if they had one. They gave him a thin sharpie, but he declined because he’d need at least a jumbo.
The thicker sizes made it a lot less tedious.
He started biting the inside of his cheeks, a bad habit he’s never been able to kick, as he turned around to check the security desk until he bumped into someone, his teeth snapping shut on the skin of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. His gaze shifted from the ground to face the body that interrupted his train of thought.
“What are you doing at the bar buddy?” Ilya teased, a half finished cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Shane made sure his annoyance was noted, “Looking for something. Can you move?” Shane was eager for this interaction to be over. He attempted to move past Ilya, but Ilya mirrored his movements to block his path, “Damn, not even a hello? Six shows together on this tour and you’re still pissy as ever. What are you looking for?” Ilya put the cigarette between his index and middle finger and exhaled the smoke into Shane’s face.
What a fucking dickhead.
“A sharpie. Now fuck off,” he said, his eyes filled with rage and his cheeks burning. Ilya made an X with his arms and shoved Shane before shaking the ash of his cig onto the floor in front of his feet. Before Ilya could say anything else Shane sped walked past him, bumping their shoulders.
Shane really, really hated this guy.
Every show with Ilya was getting harder and harder to stomach and it’s not like Shane could just not do the shows. He was lucky to even be playing local venues, let alone opening for Dissolving Faith. This would be huge for False Prophet. The event was so momentous Shane decided to sell a custom painted drumhead at their merch booth. $70 felt really steep, but maybe someone would snatch it up. The aggravation was worth it.
Shane took a deep breath and moved behind the security desk and started looking for anything that was big enough. Anything to get out of this room that Ilya was lurking in. He could see him out of his peripheral vision on his phone, his back turned towards Shane.
As much as Shane hated Ilya, he knew he was hot. Like, really fucking hot. If he wasn’t so annoying about Shane being straight edge then he’d probably take him into his van and give him the best head of his life, but Ilya was annoying so fuck that guy.
Shane chuckled at the thought, finding a jumbo sharpie at the same time.
“Good enough,” he sighed to himself,
He got up and made his way to the exit of the indoor stage, but hesitated before stepping out. He was still pissed and he wasn’t going to let Ilya have the last word. He turned around and walked back to Ilya, gently kicking his calf. Ilya turned around and groaned upon seeing Shane, but Shane didn’t let him even begin his sentence, “What the fuck is your problem with me? I don’t do shit to you and yet every time we’re at a show you just can’t help but be a dick,” he demanded an explanation, but also kinda just wanted to yell at Ilya.
“You make it fun.” Ilya had a grin on his face that reeked of cockiness, taking one final puff of his cig before throwing it on the ground.
“What?”
Ilya’s face was now inches away from Shane’s, he reeked of nicotine, “It’s fun. I say something mean, you freak out and get angry. You give me reaction every time, you give me exactly what I am looking for. And that makes it fun,” he stomped out the cigarette butt. “Maybe you like it when I’m mean,” he winked and it made Shane clench his fist.
Fuck, he was so right. Shane couldn’t help but fall for the bait every time.
“Whatever man, just don’t fuck up your set. You already have to go after us so that’s bad enough,” Shane stepped on Ilya’s boot and made sure he scuffed it, though his shoes weren’t exactly pristine so it was more to send a message than anything else. “Break a leg. Like, I actually hope you do.” Shane turned around and walked out, his head held high by his newfound confidence.
Hayden was taking a sip from his waterbottle, his feet swinging off the stage as he noticed Shane come back out. “Did you find anything?” He asked.
Shane took the marker out of his pocket and twirled it before tossing it to Hayden, his bandmate catching it.
“This set is gonna fuck.”
False Prophet ended their set with an older song of theirs “Death Disguised as Salvation”, Shane assisting with the vocals towards the end. MAUL! KILL! CONSUME! was waiting for their time slot to come up so they could dismantle the set up and start their own set.
As much as Ilya teased Shane, there was a reason he was supporting at so many shows with him. Seeing Shane lose himself in the music, slamming on the drums so hard he had to keep a comical amount of extra sticks on him at all times. The sweat drenching him, he would just give up and take his shirt off. The way his shorts hugged his legs, the fabric wrapping around his dick begging to be stared at, but more than anything released.
Ilya looked at Shane with carnal lust in his eyes and made it his mission to build a disgusting amount of tension between them, an animosity that was so nauseating, that when Ilya finally got to fuck Shane it’d be the most intense orgasm of his life. He was selfish like that. He knew he could make Shane cum, he’d thought about it a lot, but he wanted to use Shane. He wanted Shane beaten and bruised, left with no choice but to submit.
Tonight Shane was going to belong to Ilya.
The set transition was swift and quick, Ilya getting right into hyping the crowd.
“Are you motherfuckers ready to lose your fucking minds!” Ilya screamed into the mic, the crowd went batshit as the music began.
Ilya’s voice went back to normal, but it was demanding and fueled by anger, “I want you to fucking hurt somebody. I want to see every one of you walk out of here limping, bloody, and broken. I want you to see red,” Ilya was gutturally screaming, “I WANT YOU TO MAUL! KILL! CONSUME!” The crowd chanted with Ilya as their first song started. It was nasty, it was fast, it was intense. It was called “The Rodents Race” and it was one of Shane’s favorites, he couldn’t help but headbang on the wing of the stage as he watched Ilya perform.
In addition to being hot, Ilya was a kickass vocalist. Maybe Shane was jealous of the attention he got, seeing as drummers often go unnoticed, but Ilya had a stage presence that was unlike anyone else in the scene. He looked so scary stomping around on the stage, grabbing audience members by the necklines of their shirts and throwing them back into the crowd. His arms were huge. Ilya loved to wear tight cropped shirts and the same baggy camo shorts like it was a uniform, but Shane wasn’t complaining.
He loved to shamelessly stare at Ilya’s chest when he wasn’t looking and watch the sweat drip down his happy trail. He often imagined licking it, Ilya’s sweat probably tasted disgusting.
After two more songs Shane was fucking in it. He wanted to have fun, and fuck what Ilya thought. He was getting in that pit and he was going to seriously injure somebody. Shane ran onto the stage, past Ilya, and started screaming at the crowd demanding they catch him. He dove and an ocean of arms carried him into the center of the mosh. Shane was still shirtless and wearing those slutty little shorts, but his shoes were more practical; a ran through pair of vans and some crew socks. Light weight, good grip, simple.
Shane started bouncing off the edges of the pit, crowd killing at the peak of the song “Target Acquired", their most popular one. The chorus just flipped a switch in Shane’s brain and he felt free. Shane was two stepping, spin kicking, and borderline assaulting people in this pit. His violent advances didn’t go unpunished and Shane was right where he wanted to be. A guy four inches taller and 100 pounds heavier pushed Shane to the concrete and he scraped his knee badly.
Shane fired back by climbing on the stranger's back and riding him like a bull as the pit started circling. Shane was thrown around a few more times and his body collided with the concrete under him enough to have Shane limping at the end of the song, his body decorated with bruises and bloody scrapes. The stranger Shane was previously riding on lifted him above the crowd and he was surfing, being carried right back onto the stage.
While Shane was losing his humanity in the mosh, Ilya was enabling it and feeling this raging fire in the crowd and his stomach. Fuck, he loved to see Shane devolve into an animal. He was always so well spoken and sweet with fans and other bands, but to watch Shane deck a stranger in the jaw and ride a 300 pound man like he was commanding the pit made him want him more. He was taking a mental note of all the injuries Shane was sustaining.
He was going to hurt him so fucking bad after this set, his cock was throbbing just thinking about it.
Maul! Kill! Consume! played their last song and started to break down their set for the final opener Abyss of Gore and Ilya was hurrying, but not to be nice. Usually he took his time breaking shit down. Tonight Ilya was hurrying because he needed to get Shane alone. Shane was in the perfect condition for Ilya to use him.
He was tired, sweaty, and most importantly, injured. He was malleable and Ilya wanted to build him up and break him down.
The cleanup was fast and Ilya bolted for the indoor section of the venue, quickly pouring himself his second glass of vodka from the bar and lighting a cigarette. He needed Shane to think this was unplanned and impulsive. Made it that much hotter.
He walked to the shared dressing room to see Hayden and Shane together, a very likely and currently intrusive occurrence. Ilya leaned against the door and cleared his throat, taking the cig out of his mouth to have a sip of his drink. The sight of Shane bloodied made him inhale sharply, his dick begging to escape the restraint of his pants.
Shane craned his neck toward Ilya, “Dude. What.” It was less a question more a “please get the fuck out, you’re pissing me off”. Ilya jerked his head towards Hayden and then the door, to which Hayden scoffed, “Excuse me?” He looked at Shane in disbelief. “I want to talk to Shane. Not you,” he said before taking a swig of his vodka and putting the half full cup down on the small table in the corner. “Go,” he insisted, raising his eyebrows and his voice.
Shane was beyond annoyed. “Just go Hayd, it’s fine. Text me if you need to restock any of the merch or if the drumhead sells. If Rozanov wants to get bitched in the green room then that’s his problem.” Shane’s gaze on Ilya could burn a hole in a piece of paper, the pit in his stomach growing.
Hayden nudged Shane’s shoulder and left, but not before taking the cigarette out of Ilya’s mouth and dropping it in the cup of alcohol.
Ilya snickered and lit a fresh one immediately after, hoping Hayden could hear the click of the lighter before he shut the door. He was really banking on Shane liking how annoying he was.
“I saw you during my set. Good to know I am touring with a band that recognizes good music, though I had to sit through your set and it definitely left something to be desired,” Ilya said through a pout, leaning against the door to lock it without Shane noticing. “The only reason the crowd even gave a shit about the sloplist you put together like frankenstein’s monster is because WE got them excited,” Shane fired back as he stood up, his leg visibly hurt.
He would’ve winced had Ilya not been here, but he had a point to prove and he wasn’t going to give Ilya the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. “I just feel bad that you had to come after us. Partly for you, but mostly for them. Must’ve been really fucking disappointing to only see people lose their shit when I jumped into the pit, which by the way, was the weakest I’ve ever seen. Like, holy shit, it’s a good thing you didn’t call for a wall of death because I would’ve died of second hand embarrassment seeing nobody participate,” Shane was such a fucking liar, but his pride was on the line. He was clenching his fist so hard his nails were digging into his skin.
Ilya got closer to him and inhaled, but held the smoke in his mouth. “I think everyone was just excited to dog on a straight edge pussyboy who’s too scared to light a fucking blunt,” Ilya said in a low voice. Before Shane could react, Ilya grabbed his face and forced his mouth open, blowing the smoke into his mouth.
Shane was seeing red once again; Maul.
He braced his knuckles for impact and punched Ilya right on the nose, his head snapping to the left and his body trying to find its center of gravity. He was so fucking turned on he could pass out, the blood dripping into his mouth and the headache inducing pain the only thing keeping him grounded. Ilya wiped the blood from his nose onto his hand and chuckled as he stabilized himself, “Go ahead, hit me again,” he goaded Shane. He wanted this more than anything. To see Shane devolve into a fucking animal scared and gaurding its food, curled up in the corner and biting wildly to protect itself.
“Maybe this time it will actually hurt,” he teased, Shane’s bruised fist raising in preparation to attack was the exact response he was hoping for, and this time he was ready. Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist and pushed him against the wall next to the door, pinning both of Shane’s arms against the wall above his head. Shane’s shirt had lifted to expose his belly and Ilya scanned his body with his eyes for any injuries he could aggravate. He found a deep purple bruise on the right side of Shane’s torso and he could feel his cock twitch.
Bingo.
Ilya used one hand to keep Shane’s arms pinned against the wall, now pushing his own pelvis against Shane’s to aid in keeping him trapped, his free hand reaching for the bruise and pressing down on it with enough pressure to make Shane wince.
“Awww,” he pouted sarcastically, Shane’s head rolling back in pain, “Dude, get the fuck off me,” Shane raised his voice, attempting to free his hands, but Ilya was unrelenting in his strength. As Shane lifted his arms off the wall Ilya retaliated with a forceful shove, Shane’s wrists hitting the wall. “Ilya stop, fuck, that hurts!” Shane pleaded, realizing he was fighting an uphill battle and losing miserably.
He was tired, limping, and bloody. He was a wounded dear being hunted by a hungry wolf. He didn’t stand a chance.
Ilya inhaled through his teeth, “Fuck, Hollander,” he exhaled, rolling his hips against Shane’s, “I know it does. Isn’t it so nice?” Shane turned his head to the left, his shame and embarrassment making it impossible to look Ilya in the face. He liked it, loved it even. The pain Ilya was inflicting upon him was intoxicating. He didn’t understand why, it’s not like he moshes and lets people beat on him for some sick fantasy, but with Ilya on him like this, his cock pressed against his own and his hands exploring Shane’s wounded, weak body, he felt a bliss unlike any human has ever felt.
Ilya was buzzed off the 2 vodkas and the cigarette he had smoked before their confrontation, and Shane was drunk off the feeling of being completely helpless in Ilya’s hands. He may say he didn’t want it, but fuck did he need it.
Shane stifled a moan as Ilya moved his fingers down to Shane’s hips, lowering the waistband of his shorts and underwear as one unit just enough to expose the top half of his pelvis, admiring the marks on his soft flesh. Ilya thought Shane must taste so sweet and was desperate to take a bite. “You love this shit, don’t you?” Ilya looked back up at Shane and left a trail of saliva as he kissed down his neck sloppily, dry humping Shane’s crotch. “You look so fucking sick. Absolutely depraved. My little pussyboy loves being hurt,” Ilya said, biting the supple flesh of Shane’s neck.
Shane’s breathing was ragged and his body could no longer deny itself of what it wanted. He grinded his erection in time with Ilya’s movements, his face flushed with shame. Ilya took note of Shane’s compliance and let his wrists go, scratching down his trembling arms before taking the blood from his nose onto his thumb and forcing it into Shane’s mouth. To Ilya’s surprise, Shane accepted–no, more than that–Shane savoured it. The metallic taste of Ilya’s blood, his thumb occupying the empty space in his mouth, the smell of sex in the air.
Shane wanted more; Consume.
He bit Ilya’s thumb with enough force that it hurt, but not enough to cause any real damage. Ilya hissed and gripped Shane’s jaw with his hand, pushing his head against the wall and his thumb further into Shane’s mouth to make him gag. “Is my pussyboy mad? Yeah?” Ilya mocked, shaking Shane’s head in his hand before removing his thumb from his mouth to knead Shane’s pecs aggressively. Shane’s split lip had started bleeding again and he used it as ammunition to spit on Ilya’s face, “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he exhaled with a burning rage.
Shane let go of all his inhibitions and was blinded by a mixture of anger and lust. Shane needed Ilya Rozanov, bruised and bloodied, twitching inside of him.
Their lips collided with enough force to bring them crashing onto the floor, their tongues eagerly exploring each other’s mouths. Thank god Abyss of Gore was still playing their set, the bass of the music loud enough to drown out the screams and moans coming from the dressing room. Shane straddled Ilya’s hips and desperately grinded his clothed cock against Ilya’s, the blood from his lip dripping down his chin watered down by the mixture of their saliva.
“Ffffuck Ilya,” Shane moaned in a drawn breath, his voice cracking, “Feels so fucking good.”
“I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now. Humping my fucking dick like a dog in heat,” Ilya growled, gripping Shane’s hips and smacking his bruises in between thrusts, “Is that what you are? A little puppy?” He moved his right hand up to Shane’s throat and held it firmly in his grasp so Shane would have no choice but to look at him as he desperately rode his worst enemy. “A little puppy begging to be fucked and filled,” Ilya rolled his head back, fucking up against Shane’s hips.
Shane ripped Ilya’s hand off his neck, biting at the skin of his forearm before moving off of Ilya’s lap and positioning his head between Ilya’s legs. He buried his face in the fabric and took a deep inhale, “You smell like shit,” he teased as he looked up at Ilya, his eyes welled up with tears. As he began unbuttoning Ilya’s pants, he decorated his abdomen with bites and marks, running his tongue down Ilya’s happy trail like it was magnetized to his dick. He put his mouth over Ilya’s cock through his underwear to tease him, the lack of direct contact frustrating him.
“Don’t be a fucking tease,” Ilya pulled his cock out of his briefs and used his other hand to force Shane’s mouth onto him, grinding against his mouth. He tilted his head and bit his lip as he felt his cock hit the back of Shane’s throat, looking down at Shane with pride, “Taking it all for me like a good little bitch. Puppy loves sucking cock, doesn’t he?” Shane moaned around Ilya’s length, gagging as the tip prodded at the back of his throat, and wrapped his arms around his legs to make sure Ilya’s thrusts wouldn’t risk his cock escaping the soft, warm heaven that was Shane’s wet mouth, begging to be used.
Ilya’s movements maintained the same pace, but became more forceful as he commanded in a low voice, “Touch yourself through your pants while you suck my dick. I want to watch how needy my dumb little puppy is to get bred.” Shane’s left arm slid down Ilya’s pelvis, making a quick stop to massage Ilya’s balls for just a moment, before moving down to his own leaking cock to palm it aggressively.
Shane was a whimpering mess and his saliva was all over Ilya’s pelvis, the spit still tinted pink with his blood. Ilya gripped Shane’s hair and pulled him off his cock, their faces now inches apart. Shane was rubbing Ilya’s chest, ultimately resting his hands on his biceps.
“Tell me what you want.” Ilya commanded.
“I want,” Shane began, but was interrupted by Ilya slapping him.
“Faster. What do you want, puppy?”
“I want y-” another slap, the impact cutting the inside of Shane’s cheek against his teeth in the same spot Shane was biting earlier when Ilya bumped into him.
Ilya’s grip on Shane’s hair tightened as he started to tug. “Want you to fuck me until I’m crying,” Shane whimpered, digging his nails into the skin of Ilya’s arms and pulling him closer. Ilya slapped Shane two more times, “If you want me to fuck you you’re going to have to beg a lot better than that, puppy.” Shane loved being treated like he meant nothing.
“Want,” Shane began, his heart beating rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath,” Need to feel you inside me, filling me with your come. I want to be bred-”“Like what?” Ilya interrupted, “What are you, Shane?”
“A puppy. Wanna be bred like a dumb, little puppy,” he whined, “A stupid, weak, fucked out little puppy that’s so desperate to make you feel good.” Shane was beyond gone, he was running on the primal instincts of humanity’s ancestors to procreate. Shane wanted to be pumped full of Ilya’s come and bare his children, he was drooling at the thought of it alone.
“Such a good girl,” Ilya rewarded Shane with a deep, wet kiss as he reached a hand into his shorts to palm his twitching cock. “You’re so hard princess, I bet your cock’s already leaking.” Shane was taken out of his trance upon hearing the new pet name Ilya had given to him, “What?” He questioned, pulling his mouth off of Ilya’s.
Ilya rubbed the tip of Shane’s cock with his thumb and started jerking him off slowly, “Did you like that? You like when I call you my princess?” A smile crept onto Ilya’s face as he watched Shane melt into his touch. “You’re lucky you’re pretty. So pathetic, it’s embarrassing," Ilya tightened his grip around Shane’s dick and kissed him, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away. “Say it again,” Shane was dizzy and fucking himself with Ilya’s hand.
He loved being Ilya’s princess, his puppy, his mindless cumdumpster that Ilya kicked and spit on to entertain himself. Shane loved being an object for Ilya’s deepest, most perverted desires.
Ilya put his mouth to Shane’s ear, “My princess,” he purred, biting Shane’s earlobe and pulling his shorts and boxers off as one unit to reward Shane’s compliance once more. He was training him to crave Ilya, the pleasure he provided Shane his gift for his pavlovian obedience. “I want you to get up, bend over the counter, and start fingering yourself,” Ilya said in a low voice, removing his hand from Shane’s cock and putting his thumb in his mouth so Shane could taste himself. He pulled his thumb away and slapped Shane one more time, waiting for Shane to obey.
Shane kicked his shorts and shoes off, his shaky legs already making the very simple task of standing up difficult enough, he didn’t want to risk tripping over his own clothes and embarrassing himself. He placed his palms down on the wooden surface and watched Ilya’s reaction in the mirror as he sucked on his middle and index fingers to lubricate them. He arched his back as he slid his fingers in, scissoring them open and shut to force his entrance open. He moaned softly and grinded his ass against his hand in hopes that Ilya’s patience was running thin and his desperation to fuck Shane was too much to bare, but Ilya enjoyed the performance, his will proving stronger than Shane’s.
“I love seeing you like this. Everyone else sees the nice, sweet Shane. So soft spoken and collected and professional, but this one is my favorite. Imagine if your bandmates saw you like this. If Hayden knew how needy you were for me. Sucking my cock like it’s your last meal. Touching yourself to show me how much you need me,” Ilya’s eyes were fixated on Shane’s ass as he stood up and positioned himself behind Shane, pulling Shane’s hand away and rubbing the tip of his dick against Shane’s cunt. With his free hand he raked his fingers though Shane’s hair and used it to pull Shane up, his back now against Ilya’s chest.
Shane and Ilya were both looking into the mirror as Ilya spit on his hand to lubricate his cock before sliding it inside of Shane. “Mmm, your pussy is so fucking tight, princess,” Ilya moaned against Shane’s ear, which was flushed, once again, with burning shame.
Shane’s mind replayed Ilya’s words over and over again as he felt his ass–no, not his asshole–his pussy get stretched by Ilya’s throbbing cock. Every heavy thrust accompanied by a new thought that made Shane’s stomach lurch. As he watched Ilya fuck him in the mirror the idea of everyone else, strangers and friends alike, seeing him so weak, so pathetically horny for Ilya it was disgusting, made him smile. Shane’s perversion was a shock to even him, he should be mortified at the idea of people seeing him in such a vulnerable state, it was sick, but that’s exactly what Shane loved about it. It was raunchy and immoral and, fuck, did it get him going.
Who needs coke when you can just fuck the guy you swear up and down you hate more than anything and imagine your best friend walking in?
As the image of Hayden bearing witness to Shane and Ilya’s desperation appeared in his mind, “Hey, Shane?” and two knocks.
Fuck.
“Answer him,” Ilya ordered in a whisper, moving his hand down from Shane’s hair to wrap his fingers around his throat, holding his head steady.
“Yeah?” Shane stuttered, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt Ilya speed up. What a fucking asshole. “Are you good in there? It’s been like 45 minutes and Dissolving Faith’s starting their set. You haven’t come out at all so I just wanted to check in,” Hayden tried opening the door, but Ilya locked it as soon as he shut it. Shane was a little disappointed, but the, though at this moment small, rational part of him was relieved, “Uhh, yeah,” Shane exhaled sharply when Ilya started jerking him off with his saliva-covered hand, to which Shane responded by clawing at his arm. He cleared his throat and responded, “Yeah, everything’s fine, just busy.”
Shane rolled his head back onto Ilya’s shoulder for some form of relief, the only thing keeping him up being Ilya’s cock fucking him and his hand jerking him off. “Rozanov still in there with you?” “Yeah!” Shane responded quickly in hopes of ending this conversation so he could shift his attention back onto Ilya and tell him how much he fucking hated him. “Just,” he stuttered again as he felt Ilya lick his cheek, “talking stuff out!” His voice cracked and the moans he was holding back made tears well up in his eyes.
Hayden speaking to Shane completely unaware that he was currently being made into a sex toy for Ilya was so erotic, he could himself getting closer and Ilya could feel it too. So he stopped. His hand dropped and he stilled his hips, his cock sitting inside of Shane’s cunt. Shane pouted and Ilya kissed him, pulling away quickly, “Make him go away. I’m bored not hearing you beg for me,” Ilya spit in Shane’s mouth and he swallowed immediately.
“I’ll be back out soon Hayd, just let me finish up here and uh,” he quickly took a deep breath in and then out, “I’ll take care of the merch, alright?” He was panting. “Uhm, okay, sounds good. We just gotta be out by 12:30.” Shane started fucking himself on Ilya’s cock and ignored Hayden because he was getting impatient and needed to be bred. “You don’t even know if he left yet, what a disgusting little puppy,” Ilya watched Shane slam his ass against Ilya’s pelvis and smiled with pride.
He had trained Shane very, very well.
“You almost came, didn’t you? It made you so fucking wet that Hayden almost saw me fucking your cunt like this, princess,” Ilya found the bruises on Shane’s skin once again and remembered what he was here for; he wanted to destroy Shane and princess was starting to feel too sweet. He pressed his fingers against the bruises that decorated Shane’s soft skin and sunk his teeth into his shoulder. “Fuck, Ilya,” Shane choked out, biting his lip way too hard and reopening the freshly scabbed split. “I love hurting you. I think it’s my favorite thing to do,” Ilya’s breathing was growing erratic as he ran his hands down Shane’s thighs to irritate the raw parts of skin that dragged against the concrete just hours prior. “You deserve to be hurt. To be fucking abused by me for how much you piss me off. You look so hot when you’re on stage, but whenever we talk all you do is bitch and whine and complain,” Ilya’s spit had half dried and he was now slamming into Shane with a painful amount of friction.
Shane hissed, “Fuck you, Rozanov. You’re-” Shane was interrupted by Ilya picking at his scabs and smearing the blood on his legs. “Can’t even get through a fucking sentence. I pity you. You begged me for this and now you’re about to cry,” Ilya raised his voice, speeding up the movement of his hips. Shane’s hatred for Ilya washed over him and renewed him. “You’re such a fucking asshole,” Shane was whimpering, his stomach now flush against the counter and hands gripping the edges to keep himself stable.
This felt right. Ilya was about to breed Shane and they were back to telling each other how badly they hated each other; all was right with the world and Shane was in heaven.
“You’re mmore pathetic than I am, Ilya,” Shane was slurring his words, “If I’m so pathetic and easy, why haven’t you made me ccum yet,” Shane knew exactly how to get Ilya to let go of his inhibitions and finally give Shane what he wanted. Ilya cupped his hand and spit into it, stopping his thrusts for just a moment to get his cock lathered again and make Shane eat his words. He slammed into Shane, his head hitting the mirror from the force, quickly regaining the quick pace he had before Hayden interrupted them.
“You’re such a fucking bitch, Shane, I wish I taped your mouth shut before I started fucking you,” his voice was gravely and his throat dry. “You’re nothing. Just some pretty little slut that got lucky enough to take my cock. What if I fill you up and don’t let you finish? Leave you sad and edged, my cum dripping out of your used up cunt,” Ilya was so close, he really could do exactly that, he would probably love to see it too. Take a couple pictures as black mail and his own personal use. But no, Ilya had already decided he was going to give Shane the best orgasm of his life.
Shane was being trained and that was how Ilya was going to make sure Shane would get on his knees without having to be ordered.
Ilya used one hand to grip Shane’s wounded hip and the other to pin Shane’s head onto the now bloodstained surface to give more power to his thrusts. Shane’s cock was twitching against his stomach and the pre was dripping down the tip. His eyes were rolled back into his head and all he could manage to respond with were moans that synced up with the rhythm of Ilya’s movement. “Cum for me, puppy. Cum and I’ll fill your filthy fucking pussy with my cum and knock you up. This is all you’re good for. The only purpose you serve is being a brainless mutt for me to breed and play with, so do your job and cum,” Ilya was forceful and his voice commanded respect. With a few more heavy, deep thrusts Shane came onto his chest, his moans messy and staggered, Ilya following suit. “Fuck, Hollander,” he exhaled, rubbing Shane’s ass before smacking it, “Feel better?” Ilya was dripping sweat and panting, Shane much worse off than him.
He nodded weakly, pushing himself harder against Ilya dreading the emptiness that was soon to follow the intense euphoria he just experienced. “Holy shit. Yes. Much better,” he chuckled. “Dickhead,” he winked at Ilya.
Now dry, clothed, and no longer at each other’s throats, Shane and Ilya were at their respective merch tables packing up the extras and taking photos with the stragglers that had stayed behind–no doubt waiting for them to come out. Shane noticed the drumhead he painted was gone and had assumed Hayden put it away. “Hey, where’d you put the drumhead?” Hayden smiled, “Dude it sold! They even tipped us an extra 20 bucks, super sweet. They were really looking forward to seeing you, but you were busy. That’s what I came to ask you about,” Hayden scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Fuck, no way,” Shane frowned. He was genuinely distraught, his fanbase meant more to him than anything. But not more than Ilya Rozanov fucking him, he wouldn’t have left that dressing room if the building was on fire.
After packing up the boxed shirts, flags, and various items False Prophet had for sale at their table and putting the boxes away in the trailer they took with them every tour, Shane went to look for Ilya. Just to say goodnight and wish them a safe drive. He would see him in a day and a half from now, tomorrow was their day off so Shane was going to find a record shop in the city and relax. Maybe Ilya wanted to relax with him.
Shane checked inside first, even shouting out Ilya’s name and being met with silence. He walked back outside and circled the perimeter, finding Ilya leaning against the wall not too far from the dumpster and smoking a cigarette. Likely place for Ilya to be.
Shane approached him with his arms behind his back, “Soooo, Atlanta. You ever been?”
Ilya smiled warmly, “Uhhh, yeah couple of times. You?” Ilya exhaled the smoke, making it a point to face away from Shane. “Nope. Know any nice places to visit? I was thinking of looking for record shops,” Shane noticed.
“Shane Hollander, are you asking me to hang out with you on one of our few off days?” Ilya chuckled, raising his eyebrows. He flicked the cigarette onto the floor and snuffed it out, stepping closer to Shane and putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
“Well, you basically invited yourself and now it kinda just feels awkward to reject you,” Shane sighed dreamily, “So, yeah, I guess you can tag along with me if you’re that desperate to hang out with me,” he teased, smiling back.
Ilya nodded, “I wouldn’t mind.” They exchanged numbers and saved each other’s contacts: Asshole and Pussyboy.
“Someone bought my drumhead, by the way!” Shane exclaimed as they walked back to their vans together, “Hmmm good, now I don’t have to watch you sit at your merch table like sad puppy dog waiting and feeling bad for you,” Ilya teased him, planting a kiss on Shane’s cheek.
Maybe MAUL! KILL! CONSUME! wasn’t as bad as Shane thought. They were just misunderstood.