Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Serj had always dreaded rehearsals. Even at 57, he worried about the impending show. Especially at 57. He preferred the freedom of his solo work now, where he could experiment with styles, vocals, instruments, without worrying too much about its reception. His music would find someone out there, as it always did. But System shows were so much pressure. He fretted endlessly over the expectations. The crowd wanted Serj from the recordings, Serj from 1998, immortalized forever in their minds by their smartphones. He was a very different man now. No more coked out escapades, no more jumping around like a maniac onstage. The surgeon that fixed his back would probably kill him if he even tried.

Serj was a much more positive man now, he liked to think, and he assured himself that the rehearsal would be wonderful. It was a chance to practice, to hone his performance, and he would be surrounded by men he’d considered brothers for years. He and John may have had their differences, but he was such a cool and stable presence that Serj always loved to work with him. And Shavo? Serj considered Shavo to be genuine family. He was unique, hardworking, and a surprisingly bright and optimistic person. He always knew when Serj was feeling off, and knew exactly how to make him feel better. In fact, as Serj entered the studio, Shavo was there, grinning. He instantly pulled Serj into a rough hug and proclaimed his arrival to the band and crew.

“Hey, brother! How you feeling?” Shavo asked as Serj set down his bag and started towards the mic.

Serj chuckled dryly. “Oh, you know.” Shavo laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, man. We’re gonna rock this shit, you know.”

Serj could feel the corners of his eyes crinkling as he started to smile. That damn Shavo always knew what to say. “Oh fuck yeah.” He responded. Shavo nodded and gave his shoulder another pat before he rushed off to tune his bass. Serj was left to futz anxiously with his mic stand. He distantly wished he’d brought his keyboard.

Daron and John had yet to show up, Serj realized with a sudden feeling of relief. Serj had been avoiding thinking too deeply about the fourth member of System of a Down, but he surfaced in his mind anyways. He and Daron had always had an odd relationship. When he had first met Daron, it was like they were magnets, drawn to each other by some invisible force. And much like strong magnets, when they got too close, they clashed violently. Perhaps both were too individualistic, too committed to their own visions, unwilling to compromise. And yet, they did, for years, find ways to compromise and work together. Serj couldn’t deny that when it worked… it truly worked beautifully. He heard in his head their voices harmonizing, Daron’s strumming matching rhythms he had never spoken aloud.

But when he and Daron fought, they fought hard. Daron could become distant for months if he detected any kind of anger or jealousy from Serj. But they hadn’t fought now in years. Serj remained warm and friendly, and Daron returned the favor, but he always felt the tension. There was so much still left unsaid. But Serj wouldn’t dare say it, and, it seems, neither would Daron. Their polite dance around each other continued on.

Finally, Daron arrived with John in tow, and they all greeted each other. John pulled Serj in and slapped him soundly on the back before busying himself setting up his drumkit. Daron let himself be pulled into a brief embrace. The fedora he often wore brushed against Serj’s chin, and Serj chuckled at the sensation. They exchanged no words yet, just a long glance as Daron walked past to open up his guitar case.

Rehearsal went fairly smoothly, despite Serj’s apprehension. Daron seemed to be having a good time, plucking his favorite riffs easily and screaming into the mic wildly when it called for it. He was so energetic. It reminded Serj of a bygone era, pink hair and mesh shirts and eyeliner. But as they neared the end of the practice, Serj was starting to feel it. It had been a while since he’d rehearsed with the band, at least a month or two. His throat was hurting, and his back hurt from standing for so long. He braced himself on his mic stand and focused on performing as well as he could. It felt like at these rehearsals, all eyes were on him. He was the frontman. He was the face. And he had to be perfect.

One of Daron’s favorite songs came up. Streamline. It was bitter, sad, and angry. Very Daron, Serj thought absently as the song started. Immediately he had to scream. “I WASN’T THERE FOR YOU!” He shrieked into the mic, and Daron screamed with him. This song was one of their most challenging, screaming and melody in rapid succession with minute time to take a breath. Serj could feel himself sweating under the pressure.

As the song reached its crescendo, Serj was screaming, voice strained to near its limit. He furrowed his brows. His head hurt. His voice broke at the peak of a note and reduced to what sounded to him like a pathetic squeal. Serj panicked, holding the mic as far from his mouth as he could, and he coughed into his elbow. As he tried to catch his breath, Daron stopped playing, John slowed to a halt, and Shavo followed soon after. Shavo immediately came over to pat Serj on the shoulder as he coughed. His eyes teared up. Completely involuntary, and yet it made Serj feel like crying as he felt helpless to stop it. Getting old is a bitch, he thought to himself.

“Sorry, sorry guys.” Serj cleared his throat gruffly. “Just let me get a drink of water, we can start right back up.”

“Well hurry it up.” Daron nearly spat. He strummed an energetic riff on his guitar, the annoyance showing in his rushed movements. He wasn’t looking at Serj.

“Actually, I could use the bathroom.” Shavo interjected quickly. “How about we just take 15 and come back? We could all use it. Not in our twenties anymore, huh?” He elbowed Serj, who just offered him a lackluster smile. Daron looked like he was glaring, but he nodded and started to take off his guitar.

John wiped his face with a towel and Shavo rushed off to the bathroom. Daron was sitting next to his guitar, tapping his fingers rapidly on his leg. Serj downed half a bottle of water and started to feel a bit better. Daron’s obvious mood was freaking him out though.

“Is everything alright?” Serj asked softly. Despite his better judgement, he took a couple of steps toward Daron, clutching his water bottle to his chest. Daron looked up at him, vitriol in his dark eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s great. I’m ready to go on stage and ruin our fucking reputation in a week.” Daron’s retort scathed Serj instantly. He felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry?” Was all Serj could manage to say, bewildered.

“Have you even fucking practiced?” Daron hissed, standing suddenly. Despite how much smaller he was than Serj, Serj suddenly felt claustrophobic. “I work my ass off to be ready for these rehearsals, and you treat it like fucking karaoke.” His hand came up to push at Serj’s chest, and the taller man stumbled backwards, feeling burned by his touch. A dull ache was growing behind Serj’s ribcage, yet Daron had barely touched him.

“I made a mistake. Big fucking deal.” Serj felt desperate and pathetic as he tried to defend himself. “I work as hard as you do, you know.”

Daron’s eyes widened. “No you fucking DON’T!” He spat, shoving Serj hard in the sternum. Serj placed a hand where Daron had pushed him and backed away as Daron cornered him against the fast approaching wall. “You never have! You play around like this shit is some fucking game and wonder why you sound like SHIT when you never even try.”

Serj felt his back hit the wall, and Daron was still fast approaching him. John must have gone to the bathroom or to get water, because no one was here to see this, to defend him at all. They were utterly alone. Serj’s cheeks were hot with a mixture of shame and rage. His throat was tight and he felt out of air, but he tried to keep his voice even.

“You know that’s bullshit.” Serj said, his voice barely above a whisper. Daron was staring up at him, brows furrowed and eyes blown wide. He was breathing raggedly through his nose as he reached forward and bunched Serj’s shirt in his fist. Serj had nowhere to go, back pressed against the concrete wall behind him, Daron suddenly pressed to his front.

“You better take the rest of this practice seriously,” Daron growled, breath hot on Serj’s neck. Serj felt claustrophobic, his skin burned where Daron was pressed to him. Daron’s thigh was pressed against his, his stomach pressing into Serj’s. Serj’s eyes roamed the ceiling. When would John and Shavo return? Shavo would get him out of this, surely.

Serj finally looked down at Daron. His eyes were dark and his breathing still hot and shallow. His head hardly came up to Serj’s chin. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. His brows furrowed with anger, the bitter resentment boiling up in his chest.

“Fuck you,” Serj breathed, leaning down into Daron’s space so far that the tip of his nose brushed Daron’s. Serj closed his eyes. Their breath mingled, hot and angry, and Daron’s fist tightened in his shirt. The smaller man shoved him back again, Serj’s back pressing painfully into the concrete, as Daron’s lips crashed into his.

Serj gasped aloud. The kisses were hot, wet and openmouthed. Daron’s teeth clashed against his, and Daron bit down hard on Serj’s lip. He let out a cry he could only describe as a whimper. Daron pressed his thigh in between Serj’s legs, and the taller man grinded into him without thinking. What was happening? What was he doing? His brain was fuzzy with rage and a fair amount of arousal. The anger coursed through him as Daron bit his lip again, and he tasted blood. Serj gasped and reached his hand up, burying it in Daron’s hair. He pulled hard, yanking Daron off of his mouth. Daron moaned at the pain.

His mouth was open, lips red and wet. Serj imagined his looked about the same and he felt oddly warm at the thought. Daron’s eyes were wide, those dark irises showing some indescribable emotion. His breath came in ragged gasps. Finally, he let go of Serj’s shirt. Serj slowly extracted his hand from Daron’s hair, and their eyes both drifted to the floor. They separated, oddly slow and reluctant. Serj felt cold at the sudden absence of his heat. He looked down. His shirt was wrinkled. He raised a hand to his lip, and found a drop of blood on his fingers. He sucked on his lower lip to try and quell the bleeding, and couldn’t help but be reminded of Daron sucking on it just moments before.

“I…” Serj’s voice barely worked. He got out a single syllable before he stopped himself.

“I’m sorry.” Daron muttered, voice raspy. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, refusing to look at Serj. The sudden distance between them was palpable. Serj’s eyes widened as he realized the other’s words. Daron hated to apologize.

“No, no…” Serj assuaged, reaching out a hand and then thinking better of it, leaving it clenched at his side. “I’m sorry. It… won’t happen again.” Daron made eye contact for a split second, and shuffled away stiffly, hands in his pockets. Serj was left to think about what he’d said. What wouldn’t happen again? His vocal mistake, that horrible crackling cough he’d broken into in the middle of practice? Or the kiss? The grinding, the pulling, the biting? Serj felt heat rise again into his cheeks, and he shoved the thoughts of the encounter away.

He looked down at the front of his jeans, suddenly very grateful they were baggy, and adjusted himself quickly. John and Shavo would be back soon, as well as the crew. Serj breathed shakily in and out. This rehearsal was going to be wonderful, he told himself, definitely being overly optimistic.

Chapter Text

Finally, Shavo returned from the bathroom, but as soon as he appeared, Serj wished he hadn’t. He immediately detected something was off. Daron sat as far from Serj as possible, plucking a discordant melody on his sparkly guitar. Serj studied his empty water bottle intently, rolling it back and forth in his palms. Shavo approached Serj quickly, a brow already quirked. At least he would break the silence, Serj reasoned, looking up at him.

“Everything alright, Serj?” Shavo questioned, placing a hand on his bandmate’s shoulder. He glanced at Daron, who looked up briefly, but said nothing.

Serj chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, of course. Just chilling. You know, recuperating.” He managed, hoping it sounded convincing enough for Shavo to leave him alone. Shavo’s brow furrowed and he lingered by Serj’s side. He definitely didn’t believe him. Serj cleared his throat. “Y’know, I’m sorry about the, ah, fuck-up back there.” Shavo’s eyes instantly widened and he slapped Serj firmly on the back.

“Oh, come on! Don’t worry about that shit, man.” Shavo grinned at him. “You’re acting like I’ve never fucked up a riff. It’s just rehearsal, Serj.”

Serj smiled weakly, but Shavo’s words did comfort him a bit. He knew his talent, but it didn’t mean insecurity didn’t get the best of him. And Daron’s words had been harsh, to say the least. Music was no game to him, it was his passion, his art. Serj contemplated what Daron must think of him, and he felt that dull ache in his ribcage again. He swallowed thickly and attempted to regain his regular composure.

“Thanks, Shav.” Serj pushed himself up from his chair and approached the mic stand again, and Shavo smiled at him as he picked his bass back up and tested a couple of chords.

John emerged from the bathroom soon after. He said nothing about the still-palpable tension in the room, just looked around as he walked between his bandmates and sat down again behind his drumset.

Rehearsal continued pretty much as usual. The tension never truly dissipated, but it slowly got easier to ignore. Serj focused on hitting his notes, perfecting his timing. His throat cried for him to stop, but he pressed through the last songs. He felt proud of the screams that vibrated through his chest and the melodies he belted out. It felt good, like he was proving Daron wrong. He would show Daron karaoke, fucking prick. Serj kept glancing over at Daron, whose eyes remained fixed on his guitar for the most part. He wanted him to notice, wanted to see that same fire in his eyes from earlier. He kept picturing the rage in Daron’s wide, dark eyes, and a mixture of excitement and anger bubbled up in his chest.

They ended with Sugar, one of Serj’s favorites to sing. By the end, though his voice was hoarse, he was screaming and growling with wild abandon. It felt so good, so familiar, and as the song finally ended, he was bouncing on his heels, practically howling the lyrics.

“IN THE END IT ALL GOES AWAY, IN THE END IT ALL GOES AWAY-HEE!” He let out a strained chuckle as the song ended, catching his breath. Shavo let out a long whooping noise and ran up to Serj, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“Man, that was crazy!” Shavo grinned at him, slapping Serj on the back before letting him go. “This show is gonna be sick.”

“If you can keep that up,” Daron remarked quietly, already packing his sparkly guitar into its case.

Shavo turned, looking surprised. Serj felt hot frustration burning up his arms and flushing his neck. It reminded him of earlier, pressed against the wall. Daron thought he had done well. At least, that’s what he implied, but it still wasn’t enough for him. Serj tensed his hand. He would show Daron enough. The show was going to be perfect.

“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed today.” Shavo teased as he started packing up his bass. “Dar, Serj, you wanna come over and smoke? John says he has more important shit to do.” He flicked off the drummer with a grin, and John returned the gesture.

Serj was helping a couple of the sound crew put things away. “Ah, I can’t. Sorry, Shav.” He could have, but he didn’t particularly want to have more awkward silence with Daron, and he wanted to get home and forget all of the day’s events as soon as possible. There was also the fear in the back of his mind that he might get high and accidentally tell Shavo about the kiss. He went a bit red at the thought.

“Another time, for sure.” Daron responded similarly. He had already slung his guitar case over his shoulder. He left pretty much silently, tipping his silly fedora at Shavo and John. He ignored Serj, who watched him with a sinking feeling. He didn’t know why he’d thought maybe they would have another fight, maybe he would get to tell Daron off, relieve some of this goddamned tension. But Daron was gone. He probably wouldn’t see him again until the night of the show.

Shavo and John packed up and left, the crew finished organizing all of their equipment and storing it away. Serj waited around, finding random tasks to complete. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to be the last one to leave. He desperately wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He wandered into the equipment closet. It was littered with amps, speakers, cords all over the place, microphones and their stands lining the shelves and leaning against the walls. He remembered closets like this from System’s early days. They had been so much smaller, cramped and cluttered, with no rhyme or reason to which equipment went where. He remembered a particular show where someone had grabbed Daron a broken cord for his guitar and they had to switch it out halfway through the show. He had been so pissed, screaming to the crowd about his broken guitar and shooting Serj desperate, angry looks.

Daron had always been easy to set off. In those early days, he had been insane, always on some unholy combination of coke and marijuana, bouncing off the walls. Serj blanched at thoughts of the early days. What would he have thought back then, if he knew he would briefly make out with Daron in his late 50s? He almost laughed aloud at the idea of it. Although, back then, they’d had so few boundaries. Serj had seen Daron’s dick more times than he could count on one hand. He was almost certain they had swapped girls at a coked out orgy at some point in the 00’s. But he’d never really thought about Daron that way before. However, the feeling? It didn’t feel new. The burning, sweaty heat that came from being close to Daron, that frustrating tension between them, it was unbearably familiar. How long had he felt this way, Serj wondered to himself. How much longer would it last? At the moment, it was miserable, a flush rising to his cheeks as he thought again of grinding against Daron, Daron’s teeth sinking painfully into his lip.

A door opened distantly, and Serj jolted upright. He pushed the unwelcome thoughts from his mind and peeked out of the supply closet sheepishly, expecting some kind of security or one of the members of the crew having forgotten something.

Instead, his eyes locked with Daron’s. He’d taken his fedora off, long messy hair falling down his shoulders. As he saw Serj, his eyes widened just slightly, and he started towards the open closet door. Serj blanched and retreated back inside, unsure what to do. Daron appeared at the door, one hand on the handle, staring in at Serj. The older man shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure what to do with them, and unsure how to explain the situation. “Sorry, I was just sitting in this closet alone, thinking of you”? Did he want to sound absolutely insane?

“I’m glad you’re still here.” Daron said, running a hand over his long beard nervously.

“Oh.” Was all Serj could manage to say, feeling silly and confused.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Daron shifted, making eye contact for a split second before he fixed his eyes down near Serj’s shoes again. “Rehearsal was great. I just… get nervous.”

“I wasn’t as horrible as you thought, hm?” Serj poked, still feeling bitterness from earlier. His heart started to race. He was asking for another fight. Sure enough, Daron’s eyes snapped up, brows twitching. His dark eyes didn’t falter as he stepped forward into the closet.

“I’m trying to make it right. Can you just…” Daron trailed off, looking uncertain again, maybe even guilty.

“What? Lie down and take it?” Serj surprised himself with these words, but they were genuine. His chest burned with intensity and anger. Daron flushed, and the rage from earlier seemed to have returned to his dark eyes. Serj smiled at the look, taking a step forward into Daron’s space. He wasn’t sure why, but this was what he’d wanted. He could hear his heart beating, the blood rushing in his ears.

Daron raised an eyebrow, lip curling with disgust. “Are you… getting off on this?” He said under his breath. Serj flushed red, and Daron’s eyes widened.

“What?” Serj asked, miming disbelief. He swallowed hard as Daron stepped forward, raising a hand. He took hold of the front of Serj’s T-shirt, slowly curling it tighter around his fist. Serj let out a shaky breath, and Daron’s brows raised. His lips curved into a wicked, incredulous grin.

Their noses were inches apart, Serj’s eyes heavy lidded and his breathing shallow. Daron stared back at him, unflinching, eyes wide as usual. Serj noticed a bit of smudged eyeliner around the edges he somehow hadn’t seen earlier, and he swallowed thickly. Daron’s knuckles pressed into his chest with every breath.

“Did you enjoy that? What happened earlier?” Daron whispered, still avoiding directly addressing it.

Serj only smiled in response. He felt hazy, not fully there, unaware of what he was doing and why, just aware that he was fucking enjoying it.

“There’s something wrong with you, man.” Daron breathed, looking surprised, but his words didn’t seem to have any real bite.

“You didn’t?” Serj asked, leaning down so the tip of his nose barely brushed Daron’s. Daron swallowed, glaring at Serj intensely. He released Serj’s shirt, the crumpled v-neck lying against Serj’s flushed skin. Serj’s eyes were glued on him as Daron turned, walking to the door. His shoulders fell. Daron was going to leave. Maybe he would never see him again, after all of this. God, he felt like a freak. Getting off on fighting with Daron, baiting him into yelling at him, just so he could feel Daron’s breath hot on his mouth. He felt sick and pathetic.

Daron reached for the door handle, and slowly closed the door, turning the lock as it shut. He turned back to Serj, eyes relaxed and yet still dark and exciting. Serj’s eyebrows shot up. He backed up against the shelves as Daron approached, slow and deliberate. The smaller man reached out to Serj’s neck, curling around the back and tangling in Serj’s salt and pepper curls. He pressed into Serj against the metal shelving, cords pressing into Serj’s back uncomfortably, and Daron’s belt shoving into his upper thigh.

Serj was taking shallow breaths, eyes wide with disbelief as Daron pressed his hooked nose into Serj’s neck. He exhaled warmly on Serj’s skin, and the taller man shuddered against his own will.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” Daron said, leaning back to catch Serj’s eyes. Serj was avoiding his gaze, freckled cheeks burning. He knew Daron wasn’t even teasing, just acknowledging a fact. Serj swallowed and nodded softly in response. Daron smiled, his hooded eyes looking Serj up and down in a way that made him want to squirm.

Daron’s fist found its way again to the front of Serj’s shirt, and he found himself staring as the smaller man curled his fingers slowly into the fabric, pulling Serj ever so slightly closer. The hand tangled in Serj’s curls put a slight pressure on the back of his head, tilting his mouth down so it almost met Daron’s. They breathed hot onto each other's skin until Serj couldn’t take it anymore, and pressed their mouths together. Daron laughed into the kiss, and it made Serj angry for some reason. He wanted the other man fully focused on this, the way he was. He grabbed the lapels of Daron’s stupid squeaky leather jacket and pulled him in closer.

Serj parted his lips and Daron eagerly slipped his tongue into the other’s mouth, velvety against his own. Serj felt like he was being devoured, Daron’s stubble scraping against the edges of his mouth, his teeth grazing the edges of his tongue dangerously. Daron scraped his teeth along Serj’s bottom lip, and Serj whimpered aloud, shuddering against Daron. He could feel his cock hardening in his jeans, starting to press into Daron’s soft stomach. Daron’s fingers tightened painfully at the back of Serj’s head, drawing out another soft cry from the older man. He could feel Daron smiling against his lips, and he felt truly pathetic for whining at every touch.

Daron released Serj’s lips with a final, hard bite to his lower lip. He stared at Serj as he breathed raggedly onto Daron’s neck, hips shifting almost imperceptibly to grind against him. A drop of blood welled up and Daron lapped it off of Serj’s lip hungrily, eliciting a low, raspy moan from him. Daron pulled back to look at Serj, his half-hard dick pressed against Serj’s thigh, Serj’s erection grinding slowly into his lower belly. Serj was staring at him desperately through his thick lashes, lips red and parted with arousal. Daron grabbed the taller man’s hips and pulled him in, grinding him harder against his hips. Serj let out a breathy gasp at the friction, eyes squeezing shut.

“Serj.” He loved the way Daron said his name, perfect Armenian pronunciation. It spilled sweetly from his mouth like sugar, and Serj let out a soft noise when he said it, low against Serj’s neck.

“Get on your knees.” Daron said, pulling tightly at the curls at the back of Serj’s neck. He gasped and winced, chin tilted so it was difficult to look down at Daron. The intensity in his eyes made Serj’s pulse accelerate. He swallowed thickly, and Daron slowly let his hair go.

Daron backed away, and Serj looked down at the ground as he tentatively lowered himself to his knees. The concrete pressed against his kneecaps uncomfortably, but it was forgotten immediately as Serj looked up and Daron pressed himself to Serj’s face through his jeans. Serj’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth open, inhaling the warmth of his clothed cock. Daron’s palm found the crown of Serj’s head and pressed his long nose deeply into his crotch. Serj let out a muffled moan as he breathed hot into the fabric. He could hear Daron exhale shakily above him.

Serj inhaled, the scent of warmth and musk and dick filling his head. Daron groaned audibly, rutting into Serj’s cheek roughly, pulling at his hair. Serj whimpered onto his erection. Daron pulled back suddenly, leaving Serj’s face cold, his mouth open. The older man stared reverently up as Daron undid his belt. The end of the belt narrowly missed Serj’s face as he flicked it open. Daron was biting his lip, hands shaking slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans.

Daron let out a breathy groan, finally slipping his hand beneath his waistband. He pulled his dick out and stroked himself a couple of times, sighing with relief. Serj’s brain was overloaded, drinking in the sight in front of him. Daron’s belly protruded slightly from underneath his black shirt, a trail of dark curly hair leading down to lazily trimmed pubes. Serj had vaguely known what Daron’s dick looked like, but he felt as if he was seeing it for the first time. He was about five or six inches and thick around the middle. He stroked himself again, slicking his pink tip with the small amount of precum he was leaking. Serj’s mouth was dry, and he licked his lips slowly.

Daron stepped forward, cock in his hand, now hovering near the tip of Serj’s nose. He grabbed onto the metal shelves behind Serj and stared down at him with those wide, intense eyes.

“You always talk too fuckin’ much.” He said. Serj swallowed.

“And what do you plan on doing about it?” Serj asked, feigning innocence as he tilted his head. Daron smiled wickedly. Serj was teasing him again. His hand quickly found the back of Serj’s head, and as he pressed his dick forwards against Serj’s mouth, he parted his lips instantly.

Serj choked almost immediately, Daron’s cock filling his mouth and hitting the back of his tongue. He gagged, tongue forcing Daron away from the back of his throat, which Daron just thrusted back into. He was trying to breathe through his nose, eyes rolling back as the tip of Daron’s cock hit the back of his throat. The smaller man held him there, nose pressed into Daron’s pubes, until Serj started to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. Daron pulled his length out finally, and Serj gagged, coughing and blinking the wetness from his eyes. Daron’s cock was wet with his spit, and Daron stroked it lazily, smiling down at Serj and looking oddly smug. Serj cleared his throat, unable to take his eyes off of Daron’s cock.

“I’m sorry,” He said, looking sheepishly up at Daron. “I, ah, I’ve never done this before.”

“I figured.” Daron responded, crooked teeth showing as he smiled. Serj flushed a bit at this. Every time Daron pissed him off, his heart started to race. Why was he enjoying this so fucking much? Daron pressed his cock to the side of Serj’s face, and Serj shuddered. “You ready?”

Serj nodded, feeling reverent as he sat back on his heels and stared up through his eyelashes at Daron. Daron smiled as he shoved his cock back into Serj’s mouth. He buried his hand in the back of Serj’s hair and Serj groaned, albeit muffled, when Daron started to fuck his face. Daron was hitting the back of his throat with every thrust. Serj was struggling for air, his nose full of the scent of musk. Spit started to drip down his chin into his goatee. He loved the feeling of Daron’s cock filling his mouth. He was painfully hard, straining through his jeans, still thrusting his hips uselessly into the air. Serj whined as he finally lowered a hand to his erection, relieving just a bit of his desperation.

“Fuck,” Daron shuddered, fucking into Serj’s mouth faster. His head hung forward, hair falling in his face. Serj could feel Daron pressing deeper, just past the back of his tongue. Daron’s cock pressed back, down into Serj’s throat, hot and heavy in his mouth, and Serj would have whined if he could. Serj could feel his throat starting to hurt, getting sore with the pressure and friction of Daron. Finally Daron pulled out again, hand gripping his own cock tightly. Serj caught his breath and wiped his spit-covered mouth. He stared up at Daron, who was shuddering above him and leaning heavily on the metal shelves, and he unzipped his pants. Serj pulled his cock out, whimpering as he finally got a chance to touch himself. Daron’s eyes locked on Serj, the taller man groaning as he fucked his own hand.

Daron’s hand grabbed Serj’s chin, redirecting his focus to Daron’s cock again. Daron pressed his tip to Serj’s mouth, and Serj kissed it wetly. He licked the head, slowly drawing Daron’s painfully hard cock further into his mouth. He licked it down the side, around the tip again, and then pressed himself forward, taking it all in his mouth again. Serj felt blissful, pleasure building in his stomach. He slowed his strokes of his own cock, feeling himself leaking on the concrete floor.

Daron facefucked him until he felt about to collapse, breath coming in short gasps, knees weak as he stood over Serj. He pulled out of Serj’s mouth, a mess of spit and precum coating his beard. Serj kept his mouth open, his hand working up and down on his own cock. Daron groaned at the sight before him, pumping his cock as quickly as he could. He could feel himself getting closer, stuck right at the edge of bliss. With every stroke of his cock, his tip grazed Serj’s tongue, mouth open as he stared up at Daron.

Serj felt his arms burning, his legs protesting from kneeling so long, and he was able to ignore it all in favor of the pleasure burning through him. He stared up at Daron, so obviously close to cumming, and he wanted to be the one to cause it. Daron’s fist was stuttering, his breath coming out in shallow gasps as he muttered curses under his breath. Serj darted forwards hungrily, catching the tip of Daron’s dick in his mouth and sucking and licking at it desperately. Daron’s eyes went wide and locked on Serj. He gasped and sounded like he was choking.

“Serj- I-” Daron moaned loudly, eyes screwing shut as liquid started to pour out of his cock and onto Serj’s open mouth. “Ah! Fuck…” Daron whined, spilling hot, white cum onto Serj’s tongue. He held his cock steady as the remnants of his orgasm spilled onto the floor. Serj’s mouth was dripping with cum and drool. Serj’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide with pleasure. As Daron stared, breathing heavily above him and trying to steady his shaking legs, Serj’s eyes screwed shut. He gagged lightly, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog, dripping onto the ground in front of him as he stroked himself. Serj’s hand stuttered, and he let out a low, raspy noise as he came, white liquid pooling between Daron’s feet.

Daron finally stepped back, leaning against the door opposite Serj. Serj swallowed thickly and suppressed a gag at the bitter taste of Daron’s cum. He wiped his mouth with his shirt and immediately regretted it, cum already starting to dry at the bottom hem. He tucked his softening dick back into his pants and zipped himself up. He needed to change out of all of these cum stained clothes as soon as possible. He looked up at Daron. He looked thoroughly frazzled. The smaller man’s hands shook as he tucked himself back into his pants and rebuckled his belt hastily.

They were both flushed red and drenched in sweat. They made brief eye contact, each unsure what to do or what to say. Daron stared down at the puddle of his and Serj’s cum, drying slowly on the floor. Serj finally pushed himself to his feet, groaning and stretching his knees.

Serj didn’t know what to say. He stepped towards Daron. The smaller man was avoiding eye contact. His hair had frizzed up, stray curls drying now against his forehead. Serj wanted to fix his hair, but his hands were covered in his own cum. He kept them at his sides.

“You going to keep us trapped in here?” Serj asked softly, a smile spreading across his face. Daron’s eyes darted up to his, then away. He hesitantly opened the door. Serj followed Daron out into the hallway. The taller man tucked his hands into his pockets. Daron seemed frozen. Something felt wrong, and Serj’s stomach tensed with anxiety.

“Are you alright?” Serj asked. He was whispering, but in the silence of the building, he might as well have shouted it.

Daron swallowed, raising his eyes to glare at Serj. Serj’s heart dropped. “No.” He said.

“I… did I do something wrong?” Serj asked, scratching at the back of his neck. He kept his eyes on the ground. He felt if he looked into Daron’s angry eyes after what had just happened, he might cry. What had he done to deserve this treatment? After how good he had been? He pushed away those thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Daron said, voice rough. He cleared his throat and turned away from Serj. “I don’t want to talk about this ever again. You got that?”

Serj let out a shaky breath. “Yeah… Yeah.” He agreed softly.

Daron walked down the hall and to the door. As he pushed it open, he looked back. Serj stood there, unmoving, hands in his pockets. He turned away and slammed the door behind him.

Serj took shallow breaths as soon as Daron was gone. He rushed to the bathroom, washing his hands of cum. He looked into the mirror. He looked almost haggard, his eyes were red from... he didn’t want to think about why his eyes were red. Cum was drying into his goatee, he realized, and he cursed. As he washed it out, combing his fingers through the wiry grey hairs, his mind was drifting.

Serj dried his hands and wiped at his now wet goatee with a paper towel. He made his way to his car, stuck in his head. What the fuck was he going to do?