Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/689029.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Justin_Bieber_(Musician), Bring_Me_The_Horizon
  Relationship:
      Oliver_Sykes/Justin_Bieber
  Character:
      Justin_Bieber, Oliver_Sykes
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Drinking, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, slight
      Voice_Kink, joke_fic_taken_seriously, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-17 Words: 3977
****** A Well-Kept Secret ******
by converseg1rl_(vanroku)
Summary
     Justin Bieber had a well-kept secret. He wanted nothing more than to
     meet Oli Sykes, the only person that could send shivers up his spine
     just by speaking.
Notes
     lmao its my unprompted crackfic. i call it Bykes.
See the end of the work for more notes
Justin Bieber had a well-kept secret. He loved metalcore and hardcore and post-
hardcore music. Well, he actually liked anything that had screaming in it.
But… that wasn’t exactly the secret. Sure, few people knew his taste in music,
but his actual secret was a little more… darker.
Sometimes he would lock himself in his room, slip on his headphones, turn up
the music as loud as his ears could handle and proceed to imagine every singer.
Male singer.
But there was a particular person that made him shiver just by hearing his
name. Oli Sykes. The singer (or rather, screamer) for Bring Me the Horizon. His
voice just brought him a sick sort of pleasure.
And there was a concert coming up.
And he had his ticket purchased… along with a backstage pass.
He knew the band would probably laugh at him because… well… he was Justin
fucking Bieber, people had a tendency to do that, but he couldn’t bring himself
to care. At all.
He was determined to meet Oli. Talk to him even.
He could feel his heart as it hammered in his chest, his door locked and his
headphones on with his fingers scrolling a little too quickly to the “B”
section on his iPod. He bit his lip, chose a song at random, and fell back onto
his bed. Immediately the screeching of the guitars began and sharply his breath
caught in his throat.
The anticipation for this concert made him want to scream. He’d finally be able
to hear the man live and meet him and possibly touch him and--
He groaned quietly.
He really wanted to meet Oli fucking Sykes.
 
                                       …
 
“Oi, Oli,” the man’s band mate, Lee, called, “wanna go to the ba’ with us?”
Everyone else was already outside, and the look on Lee’s face was screaming at
Oli to abandon the teenager in favor of getting shit-faced in a public
environment.
“Nah,” the brunet shouted back, “got me my sexy ladies he’e to keep me
company.” He held up two bottles of vodka by their necks. “’m good.” Awkwardly,
Justin stood beside the man, watching the group as they left with a glint of
nervousness in his eyes.
Loading…
Justin’s eyes widened slightly.
The fact that Oli was alone with him in this room sent a sweet little tremble
up his spine. “Why are they leaving?” His lungs were twitching, as were his
vocal chords, and he knew he was talking a bit fast. He closed his mouth and
stared up at the man with his cheeks slightly heating up.
Oli smirked at him, either ignoring his nervousness or not noticing it at all.
Justin wanted him to speak, because he also kind of had a thing with British
accents.
It was the best of both worlds.
…But that was sort of the reason.
He needed to break the ice.
“Alrigh’, Justin,” Oli said, his Sheffield accent thick and his voice somewhat
grating with exertion, “wha’ you wont to talk abou’?” He seated himself on the
couch, throwing his right arm over the back. He smirked at the minor and patted
the space beside him. Justin withheld himself and suppressed the stupid little
fan boy that wanted to scream. He sat with a ridiculous amount of space between
them with his back straight and rigid.
“Aww, c’mon,” the elder grinned, “I won’ bite… ha’d.” Justin could hardly
contain himself. However, he’s dealt with situations like this before (meeting
a celebrity he idolized/was sexually attracted to). He couldn’t go acting weird
all of the sudden. He had to stay cool. Calm.
He moved a bit closer and allowed himself to relax. When his back touched the
couch Oli said, “Tha’s be’ah.”
“Anyway,” Justin said, calming his frazzled nerves with a well-practiced
exhale, “I’m a really big fan of yours.”
“I’d nevah expect tha’ from you of all people.” Oli laughed. “I reckoned you’d
rathah listen to tha’ hip hop bullshet.”
He actually made Oli laugh.
Justin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, people tell me that all the time. What’s it
like being in a band like this? ‘Cause I gotta admit, I’ve never had that many
people so amped up like that before.”
The man smiled and Justin dug his fingers into the coarse fabric of his jeans.
“‘ey, kid, I’ve nevah sold ou’ arenas like you do. I should be asking you tha’
question.” Justin grinned. It was getting a lot easier to talk to him.
“Well, yeah. It’s pretty cool having girls screaming your name--” Oli laughed
and Justin felt his cheeks sear, “--but I never get to hear electric guitars or
badass drums, well-- unless I’m playing them. It’s all pop music.”
“You’re righ’ the’e. I don’ think I could like, evah deal with tha’ shet.”
Justin shrugged. “Pays pretty well.”
“But is it really whot you wont to do?”
Justin leaned a little further into the couch. He had never really thought of
that before. After a bit of silence he said, “I guess not.”
“You could start a rock band,” Oli said, “tha’ Nevah Shou’ Nevah kid did.”
Justin played with the hem of his shirt as he stared thoughtfully at the
carpet. “I don’t know how to scream, though. And my voice doesn’t really suit
rock.”
Oli laughed again, “Hell, I don’t know how to sing. I could try to teach you
though, sometime. We tour here a lot.”
The teen grinned up at him. “Really?”
“Yah, sure.” Oli grabbed the bottle of vodka and swirled off the cap with a
tattooed hand, knocking back the alcohol with a smile. He wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand and noticed that the small brunet was unabashedly staring
at him, somewhat curious and a tiny bit horrified. “Where ‘re my mannahs?” The
man smirked, “Wont a sip?”
The glass bottle was being held out to him, and hesitatingly the pop star
accepted it. Staring at it, he decided that without it, Oli may just up and
leave him behind because he was too much of a prude. He felt a bit pathetic,
but he wanted nothing more than the man’s acceptance.
“How can you even drink so much?” he asked quietly, bringing the bottle to his
lips with a trembling hand. The alcohol burned his throat but he refused to
show his discomfort. He handed back the bottle with a slight frown.
“Lots o’ practice.”
Justin never had alcohol, so it only took a few sips to actually get him drunk.
Oli was laughing beside him, drinking vodka straight out of the bottle like it
was water with a mischievous smile on his lips. “I can’ believe I actually got
innocen’ li’le Justin Biebah wasted.”
Justin loved the fact that, as Oli drank more and more, his accent grew harsh
and thick.
“Hey,” Justin said, lolling his head in Oli’s direction, “I’m not innocent.” He
broke into giggles.
“Mmhmm,” Oli hummed, taking another swig. He was getting a bit there himself.
“I can show you that I’m not innocent,” Justin said, demeanor suddenly serious,
yet suggestive. He may have been wasted, but he knew an opportunity when it
arose.
“Go ahead.”
Justin moved quickly, surprising himself when he discovered he wasn’t clumsy.
He straddled Oli’s lap and took the bottle of alcohol from his hands, taking a
brave, hefty swig himself.
“Vodka,” Oli began slowly. He was a little taken off guard by the fact that he
had the teen in his lap, “You’re soch a big boy--”
Justin crashed his mouth down onto the man’s, lips forceful and eyes closed.
His grip on the neck of the bottle was tight and he shivered when he felt Oli’s
mouth pressing back and his hands grabbing the alcohol from him. The elder
pulled away and moved the bottle to his lips once again, downing the rest of
the contents with the comment, “I’m g’na need thes.”
His mouth moved to Justin’s again, his hand dropping the glass bottle onto the
ground as his other hand rested on the teen’s hip. With a shiver, he gripped
Oli’s shirt, his lips moving against the man’s as his mind went into shock.
Here he was, kissing the man who he never thought he would meet in person. He
was in the lap of the man he never thought he would meet. Hell, he had the
tongue of the man he never thought he’d meet moving inside his mouth, tasting
bitterly like vodka.
His spine arched slightly and his body pressed against Oli’s when the man’s
tattooed hands slid beneath his shirt, up his hips, tracing his sides as if he
actually had curves. When he broke the kiss, panting lightly against the
younger brunet’s mouth, he mumbled, “Kissing is like, pre’y innocen’.”
“Then fuck me,” Justin said bravely, challenging the rocker. His words were
somewhat slurred and his mind was incoherent, but this wasn’t the alcohol
talking. He wanted this.
Oli hummed and drummed his fingers lightly on Justin’s skin. “I d’no...”
Moving his body closer, Justin rested his thighs confidently around the man’s
hips as his knees dug into the plush fabric of the couch. He bit down lightly
on Oli’s bottom lip, drawing a light hiss that went straight to the man’s
skinny jeans. “Don’t say I’m innocent,” he growled against Oli’s mouth,
trailing his hand down his chest.
“I think I like this a lo’ be’ah.”
Oli pressed his lips to the teen’s, hungrily moving his mouth down his jaw to
his throat, searching for the place that would make him moan. “That kinda
tickles,“ Justin giggled, yelping when the man bit down onto his neck to shut
him up. Oli’s hands tightened on his hips, his tongue brushing over the wound
he inflicted on the teen. With a grunt, Justin dug his fingers further into the
man’s shirt, his mind racing and a moan on his lips when his mouth moved to
just beneath his ear.
Justin couldn’t suppress his whimpers and he felt the brunet chuckle against
his skin, moving to another spot to suck on lightly. He felt as if he were
wavering, so he tilted his head back as his hands trailed up Oli’s chest to
grip his shoulders. In a selfish attempt to relieve some of the tension in his
jeans, he rolled his hips, feeling Oli pause to groan against his throat.
Rolling his hips again, he shivered when he felt Oli’s fingers drag up his
sides, pulling the bunched hem of his shirt along with them. Justin’s shirt was
shed and the man’s mouth moved down to his collarbones, drawing small
embarrassing sounds from his vocal chords. The marks Oli left him were growing
in number and Justin really couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed evidence
to show himself this really happened.
Oli shifted beneath him, moving so quickly that Justin’s cloudy mind didn’t
register that he was on his back until the man’s body was pinning him to the
couch. The man’s chest was bare now as well and that fact alone made Justin
groan with want. The elder brunet sat up between his bent knees, a lazy smirk
on his mouth as he stared down at the teen’s stomach. “You ‘ave tattoos. Tha’s
cute.”
“Shut up,” Justin slurred. “I don’t want to be covered in them.”
“You well be soon. I tend to ‘ave that effect on the people I fuck,” Oli
laughed. Justin felt his cheeks burn.
With that said, his fingers quickly worked on the button to Justin’s jeans, a
smirk rising to his mouth when he heard him moan quietly beneath him as his
hand brushed against his clothed erection. “I ‘aven’t even really to’ched you
yet, imagine the sounds you’ll be makin’ when I do.” He yanked down the teen’s
jeans past his thighs, down his knees, tossing them onto the ground
unceremoniously.
There Justin lay beneath the man, his only covering his boxers. He stared up at
him, cheeks warm and mouth parted. His eyes repeatedly focused and unfocused,
struggling hard to keep Oli as one person opposed to the double vision that
plagued him. “What?” he slurred, pushing himself up onto his elbows.
“Suck me off,” the elder said, leaning over the teen, never breaking the
somewhat smug eye contact he held with him. Blindly he groped at the table
beside the couch for the other bottle of vodka that was sitting there earlier.
“I need a few mo’.”
“Ahh, fuck,” Justin mumbled quietly. He sat up, watching Oli as he leaned onto
the other arm rest, biting his lip hesitatingly as he watched the man twist off
the cap.
“I ‘aven’t got all day,” he said, bringing the bottle to his mouth with a small
smile. He opened his knees and waited patiently for the teen. “This is whot big
kids do.”
Justin rolled his eyes and moved his hands to Oli’s belt, undoing it with
confident hands. However, when he unbuttoned the man’s jeans and stared down at
the tent in his boxers, he felt his confidence drain away. “Lemme see some of
that,” he said, grabbing the bottle from Oli. He took one last swig, wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand before handing the alcohol back to him.
Oli watched the teen carefully, his mouth on the opening of the bottle, sipping
every so often to calm himself. He wasn’t exactly too keen on fucking a guy (an
underage one at that), but he had to admit, the kid was pretty ballsy and he
hadn’t exactly had a good fuck in a while. He saw his hesitance, but when he
felt a mouth around his appendage, he couldn’t suppress the groan that rose in
the back of his throat.
Here he tossed his head back, downing as much of the alcohol as he could before
he nearly choked. “Fuck,” he groaned, his grip on the bottle shaky as his eyes
watched the brunet once again. The vodka dribbled down his chin and trickled to
the back of his neck, his head tilting back as the hand that gripped the bottle
fell slack at his side. “Fuck,” he repeated. The moist warmth around his cock
was torture, and the tongue rolling beneath the sensitive organ was enough to
make him moan a little too loudly. He stilled his hips, his body begging to ram
himself down the teen’s throat but his foggy mind holding him back.
Justin, meanwhile, was stumbling through his movements, pushing his mouth
further onto the man’s length as he sucked hard. Despite the alcohol in his
system, his gag reflex was dormant and allowed him to go further and further
down. Dragging his teeth lightly on his cock accidentally, he heard Oli moan
again, a hollow sound in the back of his throat that made the younger brunet
shiver around him and make a similar sound. He wasn’t really sure what he was
doing, but from the way that the rocker was reacting, he felt he was doing
something right. He hollowed his cheeks, bobbed his head, and immediately the
man lost whatever control he had.
His fingers laced through Justin’s shaggy hair, pulling tight as he forced
himself further, thrusting his cock roughly down the teen’s throat. However,
with Justin choking around him, he finally managed to organize his thoughts
enough to realize what was going on and he pulled off the teen, their eyes
meeting and their mouths doing the same (after a bit of gasping for air from
the young brunet) soon after. Oli pulled Justin into his lap by the fists in
his hair, hips thrusting up against him, desperate for the friction his body
craved for.
“Who knew Justin Biebah co’d actualleh suck cock?”
“It’s ‘cause I’m drunk,” the teen slurred in retaliation. “I don’t even know
how.”
It was only a moment later when Oli found Justin without boxers lying atop him,
and it took the teen a bit to notice that Oli was working on stretching him
out. Their mouths continued moving together, tongues brushing against one
another as the pop star grasped desperately at his hair. Whimpers rose from the
teen’s throat, driving the intoxicated man further as two fingers turned to
three.
Sharply, Justin nearly yelped, his fingers tightening even further, pulling
hard as Oli moved his digits inside of him, scissoring and lazily thrusting.
Justin never expected the feeling of fingers inside of him to sting so much,
but as they moved a little deeper, he gasped, feeling a little spark of
pleasure shooting up his spine. His hands moved to the arm rest, pushing
himself onto his hands, digging his blunt fingernails into the warm material
that covered it as he allowed a quiet moan to escape his throat. His stomach
arched downwards, his teeth moving to his lip as Oli brushed against it once
again.
And again.
And again.
Pressing every so often against the teen’s prostate, Oli smirked from below
him, pressure purposely light.
“Tease,” Justin whispered hoarsely, quickly moving back onto the man’s fingers.
He whimpered, eyes clenching shut hard as he felt Oli withdraw them with a
snicker.
“This is gonna hurt,” the man said as he spat into his hand, coating his
erection with his saliva, a sort of meager, half-assed attempt to make things a
little smoother for the teen. Gripping the backs of Justin’s thighs, he slowly
began pushing up into him, eyes watching the teen’s arms as they shook
slightly.
“Aah, shit,” the pop singer ground out, gasping when Oli thrust the rest of his
length into him sharply.
“Virgin?” All Justin could do was nod vigorously in response. Oli couldn’t help
but grin at the new information.
“I’ll give yo’ ten seconds,” Oli whispered, voice shaky as he resisted moving
at all, resting his head back onto the arm rest. Closing his eyes, he groaned
lightly. The tightness around his member was nearly too much to handle, and he
wanted nothing more than to slam hard into it, with brutal volleys that would
make the teen scream.
Justin panted, adopting a higher pitch as he attempted to calm his nerves. Oli
was inside of him. Oli was inside of him, and it hurt like hell. However, he
was more concerned with the fact that the star of his wet dreams was actually
inside of him.
“Move,” he slurred, and immediately the man pulled out, slamming back into him
with enough force to rock his entire frame. He readjusted his hands with a
small grunt and tilted his head downwards as Oli repeated his actions again.
And again.
And again.
Harder and harder each time.
Oli moaned and chewed on his lip, his hips moving quickly as they continually
thrust into the pop star’s eager body. Justin opened his eyes, and all they
could take in were the colors. Reds, purples, and pinks were vibrant against
the man’s light skin, glistening with sweat. The teen couldn’t help but admire
the way the tattoos moved as the man’s muscles contracted with each volley.
His reserved grunts were quickly replaced by moans as Oli finally hit his
prostate. “Right there,” Justin moaned, closing his eyes with a louder sound
escaping his lips. “Right there.”
Oli spread Justin’s legs a bit further, pressing their lower halves closer
together as he readjusted his hips before thrusting sharply back into him. The
teen’s arms nearly buckled, and he was nearly screaming as Oli’s hips moved
even faster. Never had the teen felt such an intense pleasure, not even
simulated in his wildest dreams. And, with the way his hips were moving in time
with the man’s, his cock was in a place where it was pressed tightly between
the two of them, with enough friction to keep his arms in place.
Oli’s tattooed hand slid up his side, moving between them, wrapping around
Justin’s length with a grip that nearly prematurely brought him to his peak. He
and wantonly thrust into his hand, flicking his hair out of his gaze. He tilted
his head back, cursing with a hoarse voice.
Oli’s grunts and moans were drowned out by the teen’s, but the elder brunet
could hardly care. This screaming contest was one-sided and not once in his
life had he ever felt so satisfied. Justin’s shrieking was gorgeous, and it
marked the snapping of his final thread of innocence that his record company
struggled to preserve for money’s sake. With one hand around his cock and the
other groping his ass, Oli felt pleasantly satisfied that he had the privilege
of corrupting the pop sensation. He knew he’d never even have the opportunity
to fuck a more than willing virgin again, so he was having more fun than he
should have been having (with Justin Bieber of all people). A smirk worked its
way onto his mouth and he angled his hips a little differently.
Justin’s volume was steadily rising, and he never knew he could scream so
loudly. All the while, the man continuously rolled his hips, wanting nothing
more than to perpetuate the teen’s soprano.
“Harder!” the pop singer screamed, a choked noise rising in his throat as his
request was heeded.
Oli’s hand moved to the back of Justin’s neck, pulling him downwards, forcing
him onto his elbows roughly as their mouths melded together. The kiss, however,
did nothing but muffle the sounds the teen was making, and Oli was feverishly
harshening his staccato thrusting. Sharply, the younger brunet broke the kiss,
stuttering against the man’s mouth, “Sh-shit!” before he came, his seed
spilling onto the man’s tattooed hand vigorously.
Burying his face into the teen’s neck, Oli moaned, feeling him tighten around
his length. His hips stuttered and he followed after a few more thrusts,
shamelessly coming inside the teen. He rode out his orgasm, thrusting slowly,
shallowly into Justin, his hands moving to his waist with a tight grip. 
When his hips slowed to a stop, his head fell back once again as he panted
hard, his body exhausted. He felt Justin collapse onto him, his breaths shaky
and strained. Slowly, he pulled out of the teen, hearing him moan lightly and
dig his fingers into his arms.
“’M tired,” Justin slurred, pushing himself back onto his trembling arms.
“Reckon you’d be,” Oli replied, pulling his sticky hand off of the teen’s
waist. He stared at it with a grimace before wiping it onto the couch.
“Mom’s gonna be so mad.” With that said, the teen struggled to sit up, gasping
when he did. “Ahh, fuck, it hurts.”
“Tha’ tends to ‘appen.”
“Gonna have to keep this secret,” he whispered, groping at the couch to keep
himself erect. “I…”
“M’ cool with tha’,” Oli interjected, his foggy mind somewhat calmed at the
teen’s statement. Fucking a male minor by the name of Justin Bieber isn’t
exactly something one would want getting out. For the both of them.
“I have to go home,” Justin slurred. “But I don’t want my mom to see me like
this…”
“We’re not leaving until tomorrow afternoon,” Oli said. “You can sleep off the
hangovah and all that othah bullshet he’e if you wont.” The man was feeling
generous and he hadn’t a clue why.
…Must be the vodka.
“She’ll be mad--” Justin fell to the floor with a thump, groaning as he groped
at his surroundings for his pants. Oli sputtered, laughing at the teen’s
clumsiness. When the younger brunet found his boxers and jeans, he pulled them
on, curling up on the floor in his exhaustion. Faintly, the man heard him
mumble “I better remember this in the morning,” before Justin promptly fell
unconscious.
Oli sighed and pulled on his jeans, cracking a smirk as he prepared himself to
drag the teen to an empty bunk. “I can’t believe I just fucked Justin fuckin’
Biebah.”
End Notes
     the temptation to orphan this fucker is so real
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