Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Peter, what the hell was that?” Mike slammed the door behind him as he stormed into the pad, his anger palpable in the air. The flickering light overhead cast shadows on his furrowed brow, amplifying his fuming expression.

Peter stood frozen, shame flooding his features like a tide. His gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Mike's furious eyes.

“Mike, I told you I’m sorry. It was an accident, you know that!” Peter’s voice trembled, and tears began to pool in his eyes, glistening as they threatened to spill over.

Micky and Davy exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the impending confrontation. Sensing the tension mounting, they quietly slipped outside, leaving Mike and Peter alone to battle the storm brewing between them.

"You ruined the only show we’ve had in months,” Mike seethed, his fists clenched as he sank onto the worn couch.

“All because you couldn’t handle the crowd? We’re musicians for god sakes, you're supposed to be able to handle a crowd!” His voice rose, echoing off the walls, reflecting his mounting frustration.

Peter’s gaze remained anchored on the floor, a mix of guilt and despair etched into his features.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely a mournful echo of Mike’s wrath.

“This was our chance for a little bit of income! We’ve been scraping by for so long, and you just had to screw it up!” With a vehement stomp of his foot, Mike rose again, sending a jolt of fear through Peter.

“I said I was sorry, I just got overwhelmed!” Peter’s voice faltered, the weight of his admission barely lifting the despair that draped over him.

“That doesn't fix what happened, Peter. Is it too much to ask? For you to be normal for just a couple of hours?” Mike shot back, his tone laden with disappointment as he turned toward the stairs, ready to leave the room and the conversation behind him.

Peter stood there, feeling the sting of Mike's harsh words. He sank to his knees, overwhelmed by a desperate desire for Mike’s approval. “Michael, please… I’m sorry…” he pleaded softly, which caused Mike to pause and look back, a spark of intrigue flickering in his eyes.

“You wanna make it up to me? Come here.” Mike’s voice dripped with a teasing demand, and Peter felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him as he moved closer, his heart racing.

“What is it? I’ll do anything.” Peter implored, desperation lacing his tone, his wide eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and dread. Mike’s expression shifted to one of smug satisfaction as he closed the distance, his hand suddenly gripping Peter’s crotch firmly.

“You're my fucktoy today, and I call the shots.” Mike’s breath was a heated whisper against Peter’s ear, sending shivers racing down his spine.

Peter gasped, the sensation both confusing and disconcerting. “No… I don’t want to do this.” he stammered, uncertainty clouding his mind.

“You don’t really get a say, Pete. You messed up, and now you get to face the consequences.” Mike smirked, pulling Peter closer and squeezing harder, prompting a startled yelp from him.

“Get upstairs. Now.” Mike commanded, pointing decisively. Without a choice, Peter sprinted up the stairs, his heart pounding as he entered the bedroom, feeling a mix of anxiety and unwilling anticipation.

Mike followed closely behind, already shedding his shirt and unzipping his pants with practiced ease. By the time he entered the room, bare-chested and clad only in his underwear, Peter’s eyes widened at the sight.

“You’re going to give me what I want, and I won’t take no for an answer.” Mike declared as he straddled Peter, an expression of dominance etched across his features.

Peter sat rigidly on the bed, a wave of helplessness crashing over him. “Michael, isn’t there another way? This doesn’t feel right,” he murmured, avoiding Mike’s gaze.

“Shut up.” Mike snapped, his fingers deftly undoing Peter's jeans and pulling his cock out with a determined fervor.

“I can see you want this, how else do you explain that boner?” Mike taunted, pressing himself against Peter's cock with a predatory grin.

“Please… I don’t want to do this.” Peter pleaded, a note of desperation ringing in his voice.

Mike scoffed, intensifying his grinding motion in response, overwhelming Peter with sensations he neither asked for nor wanted.

Peter groaned, wracked with anxiety and confusion, his body writhing under the weight of unwanted pressure as he fought against the reality of his situation.

Mike hoisted himself up, just long enough to remove his boxers, then settled back down heavily, pressing and grinding his cunt against Peter's cock with relentless intent.

Peter whimpered and groaned, a mix of fear and repulsion flooding his senses. Desperately, he struggled to push Mike off, but his weight held Peter firmly in place, unyielding.

The pressure built within him, reaching a tipping point as his cock involuntarily twitched beneath Mike's imposing form.

“Please.” Peter begged, his voice strained as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the tidal wave of unwanted sensations surging through him.

“What do you want?” Mike shot back, his tone laced with frustration. “Gonna cum already? Not on my watch.” With that, he pressed his finger on top of Peter’s tip and inserted it slightly, causing Peter to flinch and yelp as shock rippled through him.

“Stop… no… please, Mike.” Peter cried, the intrusion igniting a wave of agony, his urethra especially protesting vehemently against the unwelcome insertion.

“God, you're actually pathetic.” Mike taunted, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he lifted himself up with a practiced ease, gripping Peter and guiding his cock inside of his wet cunt.

A sharp cry of surprise escaped Peter as he felt himself crossing the boundary into this unfamiliar realm, he had never been inside anyone before.

His mind swirled in confusion and overwhelming sensation as Mike began to rhythmically move up and down on his cock, each thrust sending waves of both pleasure and pain coursing through him.

Peter was reduced to a trembling, incoherent mess, teetering on the brink of ecstasy and discomfort.

With a laugh that echoed in the charged air, Mike continued his relentless movement until Peter fell silent, a vacant expression spreading across his face.

Sensing the shift, Mike slowed his pace, arching an eyebrow as he studied Peter's demeanor.

“What's the matter now?” he inquired mockingly, poking at Peter’s expressionless face, which was now devoid of any spark.

Peter offered no response, his gaze fixed listlessly towards the wall, the tears he had shed earlier had dried, leaving faint, streaked stains on his cheeks, a stark reminder of the conflict unravelling within him.

“I don't get it, what's your problem?” Mike exclaimed, his voice rising in intensity as he quickened his pace once more. But with each thrust, he noticed Peter's body tightening, a low groan escaping his lips.

Confusion washed over Mike as he observed the anguish etched on Peter's face, a vivid expression of discomfort that startled him. Suddenly, a wave of warm liquid cascaded through Mike, and a realization dawned upon him, he understood exactly what had just transpired.

“Wow, how weak are you? Can't even handle me for ten minutes, and you're already at your limit and cumming.” Mike taunted, amusement flickering in his eyes as he lifted himself off Peter, the cum dripping from his pussy.

Standing next to the bed, Mike looked down at Peter, a smirk dancing on his lips, delighting in the moment. “Bend over. let’s see how well you can handle me fucking you senseless instead, since apparently you can’t manage anything else.” he challenged, striding over to the shelf to retrieve something, the anticipation palpable in the air.

Peter, despite the reluctance swirling within him, complied, moving onto his hands and knees. The tension hung in the room as he steeled himself for what was to come.

Mike returned, now equipped with a strap. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over Peter, and without any preparation, he plunged the strap inside Peter’s ass, eliciting a sharp yell from him.

“Keep it down, it’s not as bad as you think.” Mike commanded, thrusting hard into Peter, who squirmed and cried out in pain.

“Please, Mike, it hurts! stop.” Peter begged, desperation clear in his voice, but Mike remained unwavering, deliberately thrusting harder.

“You're really tight, I take it no one’s done this with you before. I’m glad I got to be your first.” Mike said with a teasing edge, slapping Peter’s rear as he increased his pace.

With each thrust, Peter’s cries became a chorus, resonating with Mike’s movements. Every push made Peter yelp and groan louder.

As the intensity built, Peter felt himself nearing his limit, instinctively writhing against the strap, pushing back and hitting his prostate.

“So, you’re starting to enjoy this? Good to know,” Mike remarked, a satisfied grin on his face.

Peter let out a strained moan, his body tensing as he reached the peak of his torment, surrendering completely as the wave of release washed over him and he came, staining the sheets beneath. Mike's expression was one of disgust as he gazed at the scene before him.

“Pathetic,” he spat, delivering one final, forceful thrust that elicited a desperate cry from Peter, followed by a sob as Mike pulled out and the emptiness filled the space.

Mike scrutinized him for a moment, the weight of his indifference palpable, before casually removing the strap and flinging it carelessly onto the floor.

He rose to his feet and sauntered away, leaving Peter motionless on the bed, still on his hands and knees, his ass still raised into the air.

The ache within Peter throbbed, a constant reminder of his predicament.

He remained there, muffling his cries into the damp fabric of the mattress, unable to muster the strength to move. Every inch of him burned with discomfort and despair.

For Mike, there was no sense of shame or regret, he believed this harsh lesson was the only way for Peter to finally grasp the gravity of his repeated mistakes.

Perhaps, he thought, a little pain would finally set the boy straight.