A/N: I FINALLY got my computer and internet up and working again! *cheers* YAY me! And, as celebration, I stayed up late and wrote this. :) Enjoy.

D/C: Really, now. All I own is this crappy comp *throws a shoe at it*, my new Converses, $3:50 and a ticket to Livid (LP IN 4 DAYS =D). So, ok, it's not gonna help if I'm sued. :)

~

He doesn't love me.

He's told me he does.

But I know he doesn't.

He also doesn't think I can hear him. He thinks no one knows what he's doing. I can hear though. I know. Every moan, gasp and muffled scream he lets out echoes through my brain, whizzes down my spine and coils a tightly in a fluttering pool of lust at the bottom of my stomach. I hear the sheets in his bunk rustling as he writhes in pleasure. I can just picture him now, all flushed and sweaty and radiant, big sparkling eyes wide open- never closed. If he closes his eyes, images of my start swimming through his mind. I know this because he told me.

He tells me everything. Every fantasy, everything he thinks about. Mostly it's me. Me fucking him, him riding me. Damn, he loves to bottom. Underneath those blazing tattoos, screams, swearing, spikey collars and anger is a man who gets off on being dominated like the little bitch he really is. Every time I give in and go fuck him- which isn't often- he begs me, begs for more, harder, faster. And I always comply.

I can hear him getting more and more into it. He's thinking about me now. He gave in- not me, him. I just know. The sheets rustle faster, his moans increase in pitch and volume and he has a hard time muffling those pretty, pretty screams. I begin to hear my name in between the cursing and gasps.

"Oh, oh m-my God... Mike... Mikemikemike Miiiiike..."

I smile to myself, happy he's given in again. I haven't yet. I'm still holding onto the very last tiny shred of my self control...

"Mike... oh fuck... oh fuck... oh my God... Mike... MIKE..."

... and that scream broke it. I could almost hear it snap. I'm giving in again. I'm going to watch him. I rise quiety as I can off the sofa and walk over to his bunk, holding my breath. Another muffled cry penetrates my skull and I let it out shakily. I sneak up to the curtains.

He's so far gone that he doesn't even notice the thin strip of light that spills into the dim bunk and illuminates a line of his skin. I can see one of his dark nipples clearly, all hard and bruised- as if he's pinched it too hard. My suspicions are confirmed when his hand covers it, pinches hard and twists.

"Oh FUCK yes..."

I reach up and cover my mouth, trying to conceal my now heavy breathing. I peer further into the darkness, watching him. His left hand grips his swollen, dripping erection, stroking fast and hard. His slim hips gyrate upwards on every other stroke, pushing himself up into his own tight grip. His right hand alternates between teasing those hot little nipples and rubbing his balls.

As his strokes increase in pace, I can almost feel the air heat up along with his slick skin. He reaches up to his lips with his hand and slips two of his long fingers into his mouth and sucks, wetting them with saliva.

He loves this part the most. The pain most people feel doesn't even register with him. He just feels the pleasure. He begs and pants, groaning for more.

I watch his hand slide down his body. He lifts his hips a little, gripping his erection tighter. I watch his fingers intently as he slides them into his hole, letting out a long, loud, drawn-out moan. Like I said, he loves this more than anything. He told me once,

"Mike, you have no, n-no fucking idea how good this is... oh fuck it feels so amazing... so full... oh Mike it hurts... so good..."

Hurts so good.

Judging by those amazing sounds tumbling from his lips, he's telling the truth. He works his fingers in and out and jerks himself off faster, slamming his hips up into his hand and down onto his fingers over and over. With every up movement of his hips he moans, but on every down he screams. He really does love to bottom.

His breathing quickens and gets louder, and his strokes reach a crescendo, followed by his cries.

"Oh... shit... SHIT... Mike.... Mmmmiiiike... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... I'm-"

His sentence is cut off by a loud moan that turns into a short, sharp scream. Pearly semen splatters onto his fingers, thighs and belly. I watch in awe as he seems to cum forever, groaning and panting and calling my name like a mantra.

"Mike, Mike, Mike, MIKE! I love you! Ooooohhh, God... Mike... I love you so fucking much..." he pants, riding out his orgasm for all it's worth.

I know it's not true, though.

Those words mean nothing.

But, as always, they push me over the edge and I give in.

"Chester?"

His head shoots up and his handsome face contorts in a gasp, then relaxes out into a lazy smile when he realises it's me.

"You heard me..."

Of COURSE I did. And he knows that. That was more of a statement. He does this to push me over the edge. He does it to make me give in.

I nod.

And again, I give in. I climb into the bunk with him and on top of him, not caring when his cum smears all over my favourite black pants.

"Mike... fuck me..."

Damn, he loves to bottom.

And, damn, I love giving in.

~fin