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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 11 days ago

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Don't Ya ♱ Kirk Hammett (18+)

Part Two of Blood Is Pretty

Mentions/Warnings: oral sex, sixty-nine, blood sharing, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, kirk's labret piercing

The short travel of the two floors you have to go up seem like seconds, in comparison to the minutes you have to wait for him to follow after you. Within the distance and with his bedroom door mostly to a close, you can still hear the strum of his guitar, James' vocals reverberating and echoing along the walls, and their sounds of relief as they finally finish up their rehearsal for the night. It's almost pitch black once you hear his footsteps ricocheting off the wooden staircase, and by then your top and bottoms have been removed and discarded, and the only item of clothing you have on except for your underwear, is one of his oversize shirts. Your eyes are flitting themselves over the small culmination of your items lined up against his dresser and his horror movie posters taped onto his paint spattered walls, when he's pushing the door open and leaning himself into the room.

The hurried and lust filled gaze he left you with downstairs is gone, and once again, he just looks like your best friend. Short and ringed curls stick themselves on the edge of his cloying forehead, and his breath unsteadily lifts his chest as his eyes fall to rest on you. The right end of his sleeve is almost resting in your inner elbow, and the neck cuff is tickling itself against the top of your shoulder blade. You freeze in your attempt to get up from lying on your side on his bed, and you halt your movement with all of your weight relying on your left forearm as his dilated pupils travel over the expanse of you. There's a stint of weighted silence, and then he's pushing off of the side of the door and making his way over to you. The sound of his booted feet sound even louder than usual on his carpeted floor, and you allow yourself to fall back pliantly as he sits on the edge of the bed, and in the curve of your arched front.

You tilt your head to the side as you look up at him, and whatever nervousness you somehow ended up with while waiting for him, evaporates while he looks down at you. His look is soft and gentle and exploring, and he easily gives in when you curl a fist into the fabric of his shirt and use it as leverage to tug him down. The second contact of your lips this evening is tentative and hesitant, featherlike, yet it gains momentum and strength as you curve yourself into his warmth and mold your legs alongside his waist. The hand he's not using to hold himself up from fully lying down on top of you, comes down to entangle itself in the mane of your hair, and you obediently open your mouth as his tongue comes out to lick along your bottom lip. There's a hint of alcohol in his mouth alongside iron, and your hunger reignites, with your own appendage elongating to trail over the entirety of his mouth. His hand purposely slides down, and he lightly places himself on top of you, until you're both chest to chest, and his groin is right against yours.

The small breaks you two take for breaths are stolen within the next, and dewlike strings of saliva break and land on your chin when he disconnects with you to peer down into your eyes. His lids are hooded, and his lips are kissed and sucked red. The hand he has in your strands tightens marginally, and you twist with the movement, your soon to be bruised lips lifting with the answering and praising groan he lets out as you do.

"Did you get yourself ready for me?" He asks you, his voice no louder than a husk of an aborted sound. Your nod feels slurred and slow, and your legs tremble with excitement. You want to tell him that you've been wet and prepared for him since the first drop of his blood made contact with your bottom lip and then your tongue, or maybe even before then. But your mouth only opens in a silent greeting, and its soon to be teased with his digit again. The taste of iron is mostly gone as his skin has begun to slowly start to heal, but the redness around it is enticing enough, and he moans as the tip of your tongue flits against the small opening of his wounded flesh.

Brown and russet curls come down to blanket over the sides of your head, and you're grateful for the red light you turned on before you got into his bed, because you're able to see the way his mouth molds into an expression of ecstasy. The calloused skin around his cut brushes around the delicate and irritated skin of your lips, and it presses in as he grinds his hips against yours. The lack of your pants and the thin material of his shirt and your underwear, has you choking around a shocked gasp, and his lips accentuate into a knowing smirk.

"There you go," Kirk commends, and your jaw slackens as his digits are moved away from your mouth, and as they travel down to flatten themselves on the hem of your nearly see through cotton. Warmth bleeds into your middle, and you spread your legs as wide as you can with him on top of you. Your head is raising from the bed to chase after his as he pushes himself back up onto his knees, and his hand in your hair stops you in place, before letting go to meet with his other. "Let me take my time with you."

His words are gentle sounding, yet you know they aren't a suggestion. His shirt is bundled up and folded underneath your breasts within seconds, and you flush a deep pink as he hungrily licks his lips. "You think you've been the only one craving something you thought you shouldn't be able to have? To allow yourself to eat and enjoy?" Your knees bend with the pulse that comes from in between your legs, and you can feel as your essence bleeds out and is absorbed into your underwear.

"I didn't know you were hungry." You weakly respond, and your stomach muscles contract as you force yourself to stay still. Hot to the touch and roughened palms press themselves into your flushed skin, and you eagerly lift your hips as his fingertips bend to collect the top of the cotton. The first cool cascade of air making contact with your bare sex has a shiver wracking itself through the precipice of your spine, and your legs tighten around him as he sits back to push the ruined material down to the tops of your knees.

Your sharp inhalation is trapped within your throat as he lifts both of your legs to remove the item fully, and you almost shy away as he presses them forward and into your body. You look down and watch as he stares at the glistening shine of arousal proudly displaying itself against your pussy, and you reach forward to grab onto the hand nearest to you before he can descend down.

"I want to taste you too." Is transcending out of you in a whisper, and disbelief and wonder fills his eyes, before he's nodding along and using his hold on you to carefully flip you onto your knees. His shirt rides up and falls and frees itself over your head, and your tits are nearly fully exposed as you hear Kirk hastily undress himself from behind you. The sound of his boots being kicked off and roughly landing on the floor has you jolting, and then an excited and anticipatory smile is making dormancy on your face. There's a zipper being pulled down and the fabric of a shirt being removed grazing your left ankle, and then his hands are back. Stable hands are securing a hold onto the backs of your knees, before you feel the bottom half of his bed dipping in, and you're slid multiple feet backwards.

A sudden and loud pelt of shocked laughter escapes you, and then its hastily swallowed as Kirk's tan thighs are presented from underneath you. Your fingers fist the soft and bunched material of his duvet, and your clit throbs as a gentle caress of a soft and hesitant breath is making contact with the underside of your ass. There are a few inches of safe room in case you want to change your mind, and Kirk's hands loosen their hold around you as you flatten yourself onto his upper chest, and as you slide back until you're face to face with his dick. Its resting and pearling on the top of his pelvic bone and flushes a bright red at the tip, and you flatten yourself down fully, until you're no longer arching, and you can feel your pussy almost graze his awaiting chin. Wanton and the need to feel him and have him in your mouth overwhelms you, and you untangle your hands from the duvet to rest your hands on the sides of his happy trail. Your knees relax into the soft material, your stomach rests against the beginning of his, and you cry out as the tip of his tongue makes a teasing appearance on the lips of your dripping sex.

"I'm starving." Is what he nearly sighs, like he's content and tense at the same time, and then he's moving forward. A shrill is pierced out of you at the collision of his sopping wet and ready tongue eagerly making its way through your folds, and you shakily tilt your head downwards, before licking your lips and pouting them open. The first glide of his tip against your lips feels foreign, but as you steadily take your time and inch him further into your mouth, instinct takes over. The salty and tangy pearlescent taste of him covers your mouth, and you do your best to relax your jaw as the weight of him helps you keep your mouth fully open. The slight suction that comes with you enclosing your lips around his shaft has him groaning against you, and the vibrations have you sliding forward and swallowing around his tip. His cockhead bleeds pre-ejaculate at the beginning of your tongue, and your eyes water at the welcomed intrusion. Kirk laps and sucks at your clit incessantly, his labret piercing making contact with your opening, and the sensation has your legs tensing and your hips bending down to begin to push into his face.

You slide both of your hands over to lightly fist him, and partially raise your upper half as you twist them in opposite directions while tonguing at his weeping slit. His legs writhe underneath you and spasm, and your eyes burn with satisfied tears as he beckons you to ride his face and use him. His tip slides out from between your lips as you glide back the distance of the expanse of his tongue, and you cry his name as a tether of tightened heat threatens to break in your lower groin. The hands you have around him tighten, and you try your best to continue as he grips onto your ass and guides you back and forth. Your spine forcibly straightens and goes ramrod straight, and you shudder around a wail as you cum against the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance. You slump forward and desperately gasp for air, having to scoot yourself forward and out of his grip as he tries to continue to eat you out. Your pussy makes audible sound as it messily connects with his contracting and heaving stomach, and your eyes shut as his hands come up to run themselves soothingly down your sides. Your eyes tearily blink as his dick jumps in your loosened hold, and he hisses as you absentmindedly run your thumb over his blood red tip.

"Come here." He instructs, and he carefully turns you around until you're facing him. Your slick is covering his mouth, chin, his piercing, and the upper half of his neck, and without giving yourself a second to doubt it, you unsteadily lean forward to lick his chin clean. The slightly musky taste of yourself is grounding and uplifting at the same time, and the grip he has around your middle tightens as your tongue flicks against the labret to lap it clean. His mouth descends down onto yours, and the mixed taste of you two has you both moaning and hungrily licking into each other's warmth. Despite your lust laden kiss and his stabilizing and strong grip on your hips, you two are able catch your breaths. You rest your forehead on his and laugh around an aborted exhale, and you relax in his hold when he joins in soon after.

"Are you still starving?" You hum, and his eyes pierce yours as he looks up at you in question. You bring your bottom lip into your mouth and run it against your lower incisors, before carefully biting down. The slight taste of iron has you letting go, and Kirk opens his mouth to welcome you back in without even hesitating. The taste of your blood has him tensing in your hold, before he's sliding his hands back to press them into your spine, and then he's forcibly parting your lips with an eager tongue. Your bottom lip is sucked into his mouth and lathed and latched onto, and your eyes close in bliss as he takes in your taste like you'd done with his earlier.

Your clit reawakens and pulsates in between your legs and against his stomach, and you let yourself take by grinding yourself along his smooth skin. The hands he has pressing you down become more pliant, and you lean back enough to be able to move your hips in long and slow, fluid motions. Kirk reluctantly leans back to rest his head fully against the bed, and his eyes are enlarged and darkened as he watches you steady yourself with trembling hands on his chest. His lips have a small red patch of your blood on them, and you bend down to lick them clean, before straightening out your spine again.

Confidence and endorphins run through you, and you boldly pause your ministrations, before bringing up something you had on your mind before he came upstairs. "Earlier, you told me to use you, to get myself off." Your voice sounds hoarse and overly used, and the roughness of the swallow has you hungrily reminiscing on the earlier weight you had of him in your mouth, and almost your throat. Kirk hums, seemingly so enraptured with you looking debauched on top of him that he's unable to speak. You can feel the tip of his still hardened dick on your ass from where you're rested, and you're reaching back to grasp onto his left wrist before you can even finish the conversation you started.

"I want to use your fingers, and then I want to ride you instead," You restart, and satisfaction blooms in you as he begins to look thrown off kilter, and then enamored. He's leaning up to guide his held wrist towards the wide gap in your legs, and then pausing just centimeters away from where you're nearly dripping, and now straddling him. You allow your own fondness to seep into your tone, and the look in his eye softens at your next words. "You've always made me feel good and looked after, let me do the same for you."

You wait for his answering nod, and make sure to maintain eye contact with him as his middle and ring fingers find purchase on your swollen clit. You instruct him to rub at your nub and gasp around a slanted attempt of his name, and you whimper praises as the same fingers tease their way through your folds, and into the entrance of where his piercing almost slid into. The mental imagery of the small, sharp barbell teasing at your entrance has you gripping his wrist in place and hurriedly riding his fingers, and Kirk moans with you, as if he's sheathed inside of you instead of his digits. A second orgasm threatens to overcome you, and you halt your thrusts before it can, wanting him to be the one filling you up, rather than his second and third, calloused knuckles.

Your hand is loosening and letting go of his wrist, and Kirk's groaning at the first brush of your fingertips against his nearly purpling shaft. You shift back until you're positioned right on top of him, and you lower yourself down until his cockhead is resting right under your beading clit. You temporarily let go of him to collect some of your slick, and then fist him again with a sopping hand. He's tensing underneath you and leaning up against his elbows by the time you have him nearly dripping in your essence, and his cockhead is pressing itself into your opening. "You can use me as much as you want and for however long you want to, baby. But please, do something." The plea in his voice is desperate and a complete juxtaposition to how he was in the bathroom earlier, and his expression slackens as you slowly lower yourself down onto him. The stretch of him is unfamiliar and shocking, and you have to steady yourself with a hand on his pelvis by the time he's halfway in.

Kirk's eyes are nearly shut in relief and him visibly holding himself back, but he's still aware enough to lower himself onto his back and rest his palms on the expanse of your tremoring thighs. You both sigh in relief once he's fully sheathed inside of you, and the light dusting of his pubes bring a grounding friction against your sensitive sex. "I always pictured us like this." You admit, breathless and already aching, yet still ready to feel even more full. A punched out sound leaves his chest, and his kiss chapped lips gape open with the exertion.

"Me underneath you?" He's rubbing small circles into your skin as he asks you, and his touch tightens as you raise your hips until he's nearly fully outside of you again. You shake your head and keen as you feel a shared droplet of your guys' dripping prerelease fall down near his raised ballsack, and as you audibly lower yourself back down. You have a steady rhythm by the time you realize you haven't answered him yet, and you plant your feet underneath you as you fuck yourself onto him up and down.

"Us feeding from each other, feeling closer," you pant, your hands reaching back to encircle themselves around his ankles for leverage. You feel his cockhead brush up right against your spongelike spot when he raises his feet and presses them into the mattress, and you wail as your hands slide up to grip onto his knees for purchase instead. An etched out cry escapes you at the new depth and sensation, and your knees snap shut as he starts thrusting up to piston himself inside of you. His grunts are gut deep and satisfying sounding, and he's reaching up to yank you up and down his length with his hip's movements. "I've wanted this since before I can even remember." You finish around a sob, and you desperately grasp onto his forearms as the force and finesse behind his impalements nearly have your feet lifting from underneath you.

The familiar and rapid coil of your second orgasm is barreling into you, and you blink around overstimulated tears as things turn from you using him, to him giving himself to you in a way you've always wanted and craved. Kirk's curls are fanned out around him and stuck on his forehead and chest as he exhausts himself, yet his eyes are glued on you. Unmoving, and taking in every single shift in your gaping and sweating and satisfied expression. He catches onto the desperation and the wetness threatening to fall from your eyes, and his movements intensify. "You said you wanted to use me, so how about you take me giving myself to you instead," he cants, his words steady even as his chest heaves and his hold against you tightens for more depth. You force yourself to hold onto him tightly and just take it. Every deliberate plunge, every sharp thrust he throws in against your spot, every rough pinprick of his nails in your skin as he holds onto you. "You say you wanted this, you want to be closer? Just fucking take it. Take it all away from me, then."

You're unable to speak as your body forces your eyes to roll to the back of your head, and as your orgasm causes your vision to whiten out in their peripherals. You tense and you tremor, and sweat cascades down your blushed red skin, and you hold on. You whimper and wail and mewl as Kirk continues bury himself inside of you, over and over again. Every press and pound and slam into you brings you even closer to him, and by the time your third orgasm is approaching, your legs are numb, your chest is pressed against his, and you're struggling to breathe. Kirk's pressing against your lower back with one hand while his other grips onto your ass, and with his last few thrusts, you two cum together.

His seed spills into you, and he grinds around a curse as your walls flutter and convulse and constrict around his length to milk him dry, and attempt to keep him inside. Red light emanates and saturates the bedroom of your best friend, and your teary and unfocused eyes land on the poster of the movie Stab. In bold lettering underneath the title, it says, this is gonna hurt.

You recollect on the years you two spent throwing yourselves into getting injured and being fascinated with Kirk's blood, to wanting to get closer to him, while not necessarily knowing how to. But now, as you lay on top of his shaking and unsteady figure, with the taste of shared blood in your mouth, with him still fully buried inside of you, and his hands pressing your flesh flush against his, you accept it. You accept any type of pain that comes with life, as long as you can be with your best friend, and you can have the taste of him saturating your tongue.

"Happy Halloween." He's grinning out once he's stable enough to not have to talk around a stammer, or the aftereffects of his strong orgasm. You repeat the same to him and lift your head in confusion when he begins to shift around, and your eyes roll in disbelief as he raises a ghostface mask he had been hiding underneath his bed. Pushing away from him with mirth as he tries to put it on with one hand, as his other attempts to keep you on top of him, you grin widely as he instead just rests it on top of his face in defeat.

"What's your favorite scary movie, Sid?" He purposefully gravels in a drawl, and you two fall into another round of laughter at your response, before you temporarily lift the mask to give him a chaste, yet long lasting and deserving kiss.

"Stab."

#metallica #kirk hammett #kirk hammett smut #kirk hammett x reader #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #kirk has long hair with his labret piercing because i said so #thank you ethel cain for this idea of cannibalism without it actually being cannibalism #happy early halloween #my fellow freaks #this was a lot of fun!

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 17 days ago

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Blood Is Pretty ♱ Kirk Hammett (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: blood fixation, blood sharing, guided masturbation, thigh riding, kirk's labret piercing

Part Two

You always try to make sure that your blood fixation and fascination isn't too obvious. It'd started when you were a kid, and back when you and Kirk were just barely old and big enough to be able to run around the neighborhood without adult supervision. Your mom had gotten you a matching set of skateboards in a value pack, and you two were out of your childhood home before your mom was even able to fully unwrap them from their protective plastic cover. You two found an uneven and jagged curb across the street, and before you two could second guess it, you were both grinning at each other and pushing yourselves forward. The abrupt and harsh contact of the uneven and rough concrete underneath your palms and the sides of your legs had your eyes burning, but the pearl and beaded droplets of red that rushed out from underneath it made your pain a soon, distant worry. You were so transfixed on the stark contrast of red on top of your scraped skin, that you almost didn't register the sharp intake and hiss of a breath coming from behind you.

Kirk was sat with his knees cradled to his chest, and his chin was wobbling in barely concealed and discomforted pain, yet he was still beautiful to you. And so were the trails of bubbled red making their way down the bottom halves of his legs. You had rushed over and placed your hands underneath his kneecaps to try and help him alleviate some of the pressure, but your scraped skin gave way to the wetness, and you combined your guys' blood together instead. Your red mixed with dirt brown and his a more vibrant red, and your mom had to remind you to wash the mess off of your arms after she ran over once she heard Kirk's cry of pain. You were seven and a half when you were stood on top of a stool and watching the dark red hue of yours and your best friend's caked blood, slowly make its way down the drain. Small, darkened flakes remained afterwards, and you slowly picked them off with your scraped fingernails in awed wonder, somehow feeling like you two were now even more closely bonded. The next day at school, you and Kirk were sat next to each other in class with identical adhesive bands atop torn skin, and you couldn't shake the urge to want to peel his back and see how his still matched yours. And how you wanted to feel closer to him, like you had the afternoon before.

Years go by, and with each that do, another scar is added onto your guys' skin. If it wasn't from skateboarding or hopping fences to try and illegally get into concerts and cinemas without paying, they were from homemade piercing guns. More Kirk than you, but by the time you guys are graduated from high school and in your early twenties, both of your ears are pierced, and so are a few other places. Your belly button being a favorite of his to tug onto, whenever you have it visible, and your favorite being his labret. The droplet of blood that slowly presented itself through the thick skin underneath his full bottom lip made you shake when you pierced him, and Kirk had looked knowingly at you as you dabbed it away. The more than ten years in between your guys' first tumble had you ending up seeing even more friends fall near or with you, and strangely, theirs didn't excite you or invite you in like his did. It took you until your late teenage years to realize that it wasn't just his blood you were attracted to, but him as well.

The thick lips that pull themselves upward when he sees you, his brown eyes that darken whenever you two touch, his roughened and calloused hands from years of playing guitar. Blood may usually interest you in a way a genre of music would, but the raw way his would display on his tan skin would make something sing inside of you. And on the day he slits his finger open on a string of his guitar during rehearsal, something inside of both of you just rewires, and then snaps.

Kirk's cursing and lifting his guitar and its strap over his head to haphazardly rest it on its stand, before rushing towards the guys' shared bathroom. And when the sound of glass shattering catches your attention over Lars still repetitively thumping against his drums, you're running after him in worry. Yellow tinged light is beaming into the enclosed space as you hurriedly make your way in, and you halt in place at the smudge of blood in the middle of the now partially ruined and broken mirror. Heat drips its way down into your middle, and it churns as Kirk paces with his hand elevated in your peripheral. His frustrated expression turns into a grimace at the look on your face, and then it breaks away to turn into something more apologetic.

"I shouldn't have done that," he starts, and then stops himself in the middle of his sentence as he sees your lidded eyes stare down at the thin line of red resting upon his inner wrist. The flank of your back makes contact with the countertop attached to the sink as you peer at him and his cut, and he doesn't stop you as you shakily lift a hand of your own and encircle your fingers around his forearm. Using the loose grasp on him as leverage, you tug him even closer, and by the time the fronts of his shoes are nearly grazing yours, the accumulated blooddrop is about to fall from his pulse point. Your pinky finger stretches out to catch it before it can, and your breath stutters in your chest as it travels down into the small space in between your hold, and finds purchase on your palm. There's a heavy pause in time, and your irises rest on his when you experimentally look up. Amusement dances in his, and the piercing underneath his lip moves with his heavy swallow. His tone is stretched out and sounding high as he asks you, "you think blood is pretty, don't ya?"

Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, you can feel yourself panic. You expect him to pull back and look at you in disgust, but you slowly start to untense yourself and your fingertips pressing themselves into his skin, when you find nothing but understanding in his gaze instead. The small gap in between your palm making almost exact contact with his arm closes in, and your tongue dampens your bottom lip when you find enough courage to answer and be honest. "Just yours." Your admittance is nothing more than a slanted whisper, yet from your guys' close proximity, he can hear you just fine. Something shifts in his gaze, and your eyes widen as he reaches forward to press the source of his bleeding against your bottom lip.

The dampness of the liquified iron welcomes itself into the pores of your lips and is absorbed, and then it spreads itself against your closed mouth's shudder. Confusion at his easy acceptance overwhelms you, until you look back and realize that he's had the same interest and fascination as you, all along. The way you two would mostly only watch horror movies together and dress up as killers during Halloween, the shared excitement over monster mania magazines, and the collection of horror movie memorabilia you two would keep over at yours for safe keeping. You slowly lax your lips until they open in a small gape, and maintain eye contact as Kirk slowly slides his bleeding index finger into the warm crevice of your mouth. The taste of copper isn't too pleasant and it's shocking against your tongue, but knowing that it's his and he's giving it to you, has you closing your lips around his second knuckle.

Kirk's eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when you apply light pressure to his incision, and he bites at his bottom lip while you suction to purposefully draw the last bead of blood from out of his cut. The heady taste has saliva pooling in your mouth, and as he slowly withdrawals his digit from in between your pursed lips, a trail of tinged liquid comes out with it. The thin and almost translucent line doesn't break until his hand is inches away from your mouth, and that's when you realize that his earlier look of understanding is a pale comparison to the hunger now painted on his face.

"Please." Is coaxed out of you, from around the iron taste in your mouth, and you're surrounded by him. By the diluted taste of his blood in your mouth, by the shared and identical scars of your legs, by the piercings in your skin. He's all around you, and now, you just want him to be inside. He's using his free hand to reach over and push the wooden door to your left to a close, before using his other, still slick with his blood and your spit, to guide your face towards his. The first wet glide of your guys' lips is wet and sticky, and you feel yourself pulsate at the realization that his blood is the substance that's slick and helping you two maneuver together. The sharpened stub of his labret piercing is pressing itself into the sensitive skin of your chin as he laps at the inside of your painted mouth, and the moan he lets out at the taste of himself has you arching yourself closer to him. The reverberation of his sound quakes and tremors in your chest, and you lick at the roof of his mouth as the hand he used to close the door, slides down to rest upon the button holding your pants upright.

A cold chill breathes itself through the small gap Kirk creates as he begrudgingly separates himself from you to talk, and the pink and reddish hue smeared on his lips has your hips lifting to plant themselves up against his. "Just mine, huh?" He questions, his voice on the precipice of a husk, and the brown of his eyes is barely even visible. The bulge of his dick pressing itself against his zipper is apparent as you make contact, and you pant as the fingers he has resting against your chin holds you in place. "What else is just mine?" His fingertips trail down the tense curve of your neck and press down along your stammering pulse, and then they rest on your right collarbone. "Tell me."

"Everything is yours." You expose, and you gasp as he abandons the button of your jeans to press you into the hard counter, before stepping back to turn you around. The small, bare sliver of your middle making contact with the cold marble has goosebumps waking on your skin, and they multiply when he rests his front upon your back. You can only make out your guys' wanton expressions over the punched in and fractured glass, and you can feel your flush spread even though you can't see it. His hands come down to rest upon your waist, and then slide themselves forward to unfasten the button of your jeans. Blown out and lust laden irises stare at you through the mirror and hold you in place, and your kissed red and blood smeared lips open in a startled moan as he presses his flattened palm against your clothed sex.

"You think I hadn't noticed when you kept staring at me as we watched all those horror movies, and the way you kept shifting when those girls would be kissed and covered in blood?" He croons, the tone in his voice redundant as his left hand carefully tugs your pants down to your knees. His still spit slick lips brush themselves against your earlobe, and your knees buckle when he bends his knuckle to press it right into your pulsing and wet middle. "Teach me how you touch yourself, when you go home afterwards and think about me."

You shakily lift your right hand from the hard surface in front of you and slide it down your front, until your fingertips run along the beginning of his, and then you intertwine. Kirk presses the back of his hand into your palm in silent reassurance, before guiding your joined hands under the cotton of your underwear, and mounts his lips against your clavicle as you cry out loud. The juxtaposition of your fingers soft pads just barely missing your clit and his meeting it straight on with the harsh skin of a callous has your hips raising, and your eyes stinging with the onslaught of desperate tears. "I didn't ask you to hump me, I asked you to show me." His words are direct and harsh, but his voice is amused, and slightly muffled as he teasingly peeks his tongue out from between his teeth. His appendage is lapping over a love bite when you carve and curve your fingers in just the right way to have his index and middle fingers press into your bundle of nerves, and you tremble as you twist your wrist in direct, and fast circles.

You're grateful for the background noise of the guys still absentmindedly and cluelessly rehearsing from less than twenty feet away, as your whines and mewls raise in volume and register. You can feel Kirk slowly grind himself against the swell of your ass, and he groans as your slick gives way to his fast motioning fingers, and as you press yourself back into his groin. The heat permeating into your skin from his still clothed dick makes your mouth water, and your eyes slam to a close as you feel the familiar lick of heat curl itself around your middle and beckon you in. Only this time, the man you always picture while you touching yourself, is pressing his fingers up right against you, and sucking bruises into your skin.

A light tsk is being breathed into the electrified air in the small bathroom, and then Kirk's forcing your hand off of his. Your heart plummets in your chest, and your eyes snap back open at the denial of your orgasm, before your lips mold into the familiar syllable of his first name. A taunting grin is raising his swollen lips, and then his hands are reaching down to spread your legs apart. A rough and clothed knee is pressing itself against you, and then calloused palms are guiding you up and down his jean clad thigh. "If you can't even keep your eyes open long enough to teach me, then the least I can do is help you use me," he drawls, and tugs your sopping underwear to the side. The fabric of your pants pool around your ankles, before sliding down to the floor as he lifts your feet from the ground. You're positioned onto his lifted thigh, and you can only grip and press your unsteady fingertips into the counter in front of you, as he guides you to ride and make a mess on his thigh. "You've been wanting this for so long, and you can't even teach me right."

The degradation would usually have you feeling offended. But right now, as his blood is still apparent on your tongue, as your pussy is roughly colliding with the dampening fabric of his jeans, as his teeth have made purple and red marks into your skin, and as his assuring and strong hands guide you back in forth, it only brings you closer to your release. You stare up at the blood smear just a few inches away from your face and ingrained in the reflector, and make the split decision to lean forward in his grip to run your tongue over it. It's dried into the fractured glass and nothing is added onto your appendage, but the visualization of you being hungry enough for more of him on your tongue has him cursing aloud behind you, and pressing the top of his knee into your sex.

You moan loudly and replant your hands in front of you as steady as you can, before pressing your weight into your forearms and circling your hips to bump and grind yourself against his limb. "That's right, sweetheart. Use me just like you need to, just like that." He's praising, and your vision whites out as your orgasm barrels into you. Oversensitivity and overstimulation makes you quake in his hold as he continues to beckon you back and forth, and he doesn't stop until you rest a hand against his and shake your head no. You're placed back onto your unsteady feet and carefully turned back around, before being lifted up onto the other side of the countertop. The coldness of the unused and glass free surface seeps into your bare backside, but you're unable to care as your head is tilted upwards and you're brought into a chaste and long lasting kiss.

Roughly swallowing around the last lingering taste of iron and panting into the welcoming heat of his mouth, you're only able to partially catch your breath, until he's leaning back with a carnivorous grin etched on his lips, and a hand is lightly tapping itself on the middle of the outside of your thigh. They shake in the aftermath of your orgasm, your chest still heaves, your eyesight is unclear, and your throat is sore and dry, but you're the fullest you've ever been. Yet, hunger reignites in you as he lowers himself in front of you to pick up your pants and realigns them with your ankles, and as he plants and sucks wet kisses and temporary marks on the expanse of your bare legs as he makes his way back up.

"I need you to head upstairs and get yourself ready," he instructs you once he is, and your pussy walls quiver emptily as you squeeze your thighs close and shut. Your head brushes against the unbroken side of the mirror as he follows you back, and your chest heaves as it sucks in your guys' shared breath. "I'm going to finish up here, and when I come upstairs, I'm going to tear you apart. Until you're crying and coming apart all over me, against me, and while I'm inside of you. That sound okay with you?" He's laughing as you needily and quickly nod, and the look he pins you with is filled with satisfactory want and anticipation. You watch unblinkingly as he licks at the fingers he had rubbing against you earlier until they're clean, and as he temporarily closes his eyes at the taste of you. When they reopen, his eyes are just as yours were when you were turned to look and face the mirror. Hungry, insatiable, soon to be fulfilled, and understood.

He's leaning back in a way that proves he doesn't want to be away from you, and then he's fully disconnecting his bottom half from yours with a heated promise, his hands trailing down your quivering sides as he takes a step back. "I'll see you upstairs. Go and get yourself nice and ready for me, baby."

#metallica #kirk hammett #kirk hammett smut #kirk hammett x reader #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #i saw a picture on pinterest and i RAN and wrote this out in less than two hours #happy early halloween #ya fellow freaks #blame the ethel cain interview of her talking about love being like cannibalism #not me

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