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CRACK
Dave and Jack were flies buzzing in syrup. Stuck in the sweetness and ready to die.
The entire world was melting together. Cyan walls flowed and moved. Hot flashes of hot-white, every color ever, like sparks and stars and fire exploded right inside of Jack Kennedy's fractured skull.
CRACK.
Tar poured from his head, thick, black and old. Jack could not conceal the animal groan that seeped past his trembling lips. Undeath had never been so pleasurable. God, if he was forced to live, then this was the best way to spend his miserable life—
With his darling breaking his skull into the ground. Chasin' some faraway sadomasochistic high.
Jack could not manage to speak coherently between the white-hot impacts. He could only slur out nothing-words, tongue full of honey, his ears ringing and gut roaring with warm arousal.
Twice was enough, Jack rasped. Dave obediently crashed their lips together. They shared a kiss that was sloppy and horribly invasive. Jack's syrup oozed across colorful marble mosaic tile.
Oh, that kiss breathed life right back into the clementine fool. Ooze stuck to his hair. He snapped as he reeled his head up, cradled by a pair of oversized purple hands. Jack pulled himself from the ground again. Retook his agency. A sticky hand gripped Dave by his wild hair and pulled him down, commanding submission. It did not come without a fight, but it never did. The kiss was mean. They could never treat each other nicely.
They pulled back from each other with a trail. Dave looked wicked. His head was gone, too. Jack was too woozy to care about anything else but getting off. They were both in the same boat, sprawled in lush red silk sheets on the floor, nude as the day they were born. Their limbs were tangled and so many designer drugs roved in their hot veins that it was impossible to make any decisions that would be good or fair to the world. They were perfectly high, and everything was fun and pretty.
This affair transcended the bed. Fucking like this needed to happen violently on the floor, because tile was the perfect surface for some good old-fashioned brutality.
As Dave smiled, Jack whipped his head to the side. He sputtered out hot wads of old black blood. The floor warped before his eyes, seemingly defiled, no longer glittery and beautiful. It was really just a fetid, grungy bathroom floor. For a moment, everything was filthy and grey, the real world bleeding between plumes of psychedelic delusion. Jack looked back to Dave wetly. He was speaking— his mouth was moving, but whatever he was saying was completely lost. Jack could only hear the ringing, and some muffled drawl.
Dave was blurry. He leaned in close to grip Jack, a hand placed right on the back of his bleeding skull. A flash of stars. He dug his dirty nails into the flesh. The world was beautiful again, but this was an attack. Clementine hands wildly lunged forward and caught Dave by the throat.
Jack was thrown into action again. He opened his eyes wide and thrust his entire body forward. It was a hard tackle. Vision sharpened before him. Dave groaned, orange thumbs bruised his neck. He snatched him by the throat and crushed him in a mean fist.
Jack wrung out that crooked neck until Dave began to spasm on the floor, kicking and reeling with pleasure. Their bodies rocked together. Jack could feel Dave rolling his hips, desperate, dick strained up against his tailbone.
"God, Dave," His voice sounded lewd. "You're so fucking disgusting, you know that?" He purred, punctuating his insult with a hot kiss to the purple man's jaw. His fist remained hard-wrapped around Dave's throat. Dave's back contorted and arched. The sound he made was nasty. He writhed until he couldn't bear it any longer. A purple hand clawed up and snatched up a fistful of ginger hair, wrenching him clean off and away. The other made a pained growl and let go as Dave furiously tossed him to the side.
Jack reeled. Dave huffed for air. They grinned at each other.
"Sportsy, ya fucker," Dave wheezed. His neck horribly contorted, first stretching upwards, then sinking back into a more normal albeit crooked resting position. With Jack's grip, it was bruised for certain now.
"I'm done playin'! I want some of that sweet ass! As much as i'd love to kill ya." His accent hung on the word "ass". Jack sneered back at him. "You're out of your damn mind," He laughed. "No chance." They both acknowledged that was a challenge.
If Jack was going to bottom, Dave needed to fight for it. Otherwise, that tangerine bastard was going to assert himself.
"Hell if you're touchin' my ass. That's some gay shit," Dave sneered. He lunged forward, going for the wrists, only for his gut to be met with a hard kick. The impact was almost enough to send last night's dinner right back up. Dave lurched to the side and dry heaved, barely missing out on fouling the tile. There was no mistaking this place for a dreamy wonderland. They were simply high as balls in the bathroom.
Seizing the new opportunity, Jack grabbed him by the hips and dragged him in, grinding Dave's bony ass hard down onto his own lap. His dick pressed desperately against his cheek.
"Fuckin' nasty," Jack commented cruelly. Dave groaned. His crooked back contorted in a backward arch. He twisted his neck with a crack to watch, too, but his vision was all out of whack. He should have seen Jack grinding himself against his tailbone, rocking their hips in a slow smooth motion, but all he could fathom were undulating plumes of color. The ginger growled into Dave's spine and dragged his bloody tongue across a scar.
The gangly man curled. He rolled his hips hard and snatched a hand back, tearing Jack away by the hair. The man grunted angrily but lay prone on the tile for long enough for Dave to hulk over him. Of course, only to sucker punch him right over the jaw with some shit-eating grin.
"Yeowch! Old Sport, you fuckin' bastard!" Dave flared and hissed, rubbing at his head with his unoccupied hand. He'd wipe that smart fucking smile off of his face. With the other hand, he tightened his grip on Jack's hair enough to slam him back down onto the tile again. It was like getting fucked against the skull. The impact packed enough force to make that orange motherfucker's mind go completely, deliciously blank.
"Fuckin' serves you right, Old Sport. C'mere." He spat, grinning like a maniac.
Jack groaned between hot and cold flashes. Dave took advantage of his situation, having deemed himself the winner, and climbed over Jack. He grasped for the man's rotten orange thighs and dragged him in closer on the floor.
In a fumbling, rushed motion, he spat on Jack's already-soaked cunt and gripped his own dick. The thing was way too big, but incredibly eager, and Dave wasted little time. He furiously pressed his tip against Jack's pussy and shoved up inside. Unceremoniously, of course. Dave never had any class.
"Ohhh, fucking Hell...." Jack knocked his head back into a pool of blood. Tears burst from his sunken eyes. Oh, God, it felt so good. Some way too many inches of Dave pressed at the very back of his guts. It was all too burning hot. The man gasped wetly in the air. His skin prickled as Dave hunched over him, extended neck gone limp to press their foreheads together.
Dave's entire face had gone dark, dark purple. He made some deep, strangled, pleased noise and could not help but immediately thrust his hips, smacking up hard into Jack. It was such a fucking treat to be here. Dave was already drunk, but even if he wasn't, he'd be drunk on this alone. He rocked himself fervently into his tangerine darling, like his goddamn immortal life depended on it. Each motion made him so fucking keen. Jack sputtered. Desperate orange fingers dragged through Dave's hair.
"Fffuck, Ja—ack..." Dave whined out. His drugged little head spun. Jack knocked his head back again. Stars. His thighs clenched and hooked along Dave's.
"Youu fucking...lucky bastard," Jack growled between little pleasured grunts. He always was quieter than Dave. "You get this just once....Fuck, there, good boy—" As Jack demanded, Dave obeyed. Much to Jack's vocal pleasure, he hammered himself right up close, not daring to draw out much at all. He slid to grip his darling by the hip. His other hand slid itself down, collecting blood and sweat as he rested fingers spread on Jack's gut.
He could feel himself inside of him, fucking like a goddamn dog. Jack was mind-meltingly tight. He couldn't help it.
"Fffuckin' Hell, yer so..." He couldn't finish his sentence.
Jack hissed. He sloppily grabbed for his own dick and stroked himself furiously in time with Dave. Between their ragged panting and moaning, hot sparks of light burned between their dizzied skulls. Dave made some pathetic whimpering sound and Jack snapped him up in a filthy kiss to mask his own sound. They traded more than enough spit. They always were so horrible and invasive.
Eager, Dave dragged the other up by the hips and smoothly rolled their position down, sitting back on bloody sheets. Jack assumed control. He drew his hips far up and slammed himself right back down onto Dave, letting the tip squish right up against his cervix. Dave spasmed beneath him and found himself rolling back, lowered to the floor, bucking wildly up into Jack.
"Agh—! Jack, please!"
"Shit, Dave, calm the f-- aah..." Jack's eye lights flickered. He couldn't stop. He was so close. They were both so close. He gripped that purple bastard right around his middle and fucked himself on him desperately. The sounds Jack made were usually so unlike him- he was keen, growly, and loud with the mouth of a sailor. Jack's slick oozed copiously between their thighs.
"Fuck. I'm gonna cum." He slurred. Dave didn't need to be told twice.
He raked a gangly hand so hard down Jack's back that it broke the skin. Black syrup beaded under his fingernails. With a final hungry thrust, Dave planted himself as deep into his tangerine babe's guts as he could manage and came inside so hard that it took the breath right out of him. That tight cunt wrung out everything he had. Jack's vision swam. His movements stopped with a stutter. With shaking thighs and the droopy eyes of someone fucked utterly silly, Jack sat right back and furiously tugged at himself until he too came hard onto Dave's belly. What a horrid mess.
"Aaagh- Fuck! Dave!" He cried. Dave whined pitifully beneath him. They came down from their high together, connected, panting in each other's arms. With a sticky, wet sound, Jack drew himself very shakily up off of Dave's dick and sat back onto his lap.
"God damn it, Dave— it's-" Jack groaned. Cum rolled thickly out of his tired cunt, catching on the hair. Dave's entire body shivered. His flaccid, soaked dick twitched tenderly in the air. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jack and dragged him in as close as he could.
"Hhh....Ha! Sssorry, Old Sport." He slurred. Jack grunted tiredly. He squeezed his eyes shut. Far too high to feel disgusted by this, for now. He'd puke about it in the morning. Dave would be as keen and goddamn giddy as could be if he could remember any of it. The pair laid back against the floor, still huffing and recovering, stewing in their own mess of blood and cum and god knows what else.
For a nasty, high fuck in a motel bathroom, this one was one of the best, at the very least.
Dave yawned from the floor. He was starting to catch his breath again.
"Want t' go again?"