Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/517823. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: Multi Fandom: Bandom, My_Chemical_Romance, Fall_Out_Boy Relationship: Mikey/everyone, Mikey/Pete Character: Mikey_Way, Pete_Wentz Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_BDSM, Gangbang Series: Part 45 of Slantverse Stats: Published: 2012-09-11 Words: 1541 ****** Get Inside (Motherfucker) ****** by Gala_and_Elle, gala_apples, theletterelle Summary Mikey wants all the people in his ass. It’s Friday, it’s 10:30, and Mikey is ready to party. He waits on the corner for Pete to pick him up, his breath steaming in the night air. If Pete doesn’t hurry, all the slots will be taken, and neither of them will get to have any fun tonight. Pete finally pulls up twenty minutes late. “Where were you?” says Mikey after slamming the door. “We’re going to be late.” “My mom didn’t want me to go out.” Pete’s jaw is tight. He drives too fast, steering too hard around the corners. “I talked her into it. Eventually.” Mikey nods. Pete’s fights with his parents are legendary. They drive on in silence until Pete starts up his iPod and the Clash comes blasting out of the speakers. When they get to Swarm, the parking lot is packed. That could be good or bad, depending on what they’re here for. Neither of them are dressed up tonight. There’s no point; they’ll be getting naked soon enough. Mikey takes a deep breath and lets a shiver run down his body. Pete looks at him, uncertain. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asks. Mikey nods. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, though. I don’t care.” “Well I’m not going to back out now,” says Pete. Mikey shrugs. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t care. You could play the other side.” “No. No, fuck it, man. I’m going for it.” He shrugs again, flashes his ID at the bouncer and holds out his money when it’s his turn. The man stamps his hand, which is a little ludicrous. A slant like this, it isn’t something you do, go home for dinner, and come back to. He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he doesn’t run to the sign-up sheets, but calling it powerwalking wouldn’t be too inaccurate. “Sweet.” Mikey plucks the dangling pen out of the air, and quickly writes his name on one of the purple lists, and Pete on another. Both already have a lot of names on the numbered lines. Mikey can’t help but grin at the mental image of the near future. A few of the names are female, which is interesting. Mikey hasn’t visited Swarm in awhile -a one slant club has less draw than one like Imagine where anything can happen- but the last time they didn’t have a toy service available, meaning the only females were those getting fucked. There are still blue lists up, so that much hasn’t changed. “Toy service?” he asks Pete quietly, trying to draw him into details rather than the overwhelming whole. Sometimes Pete thinks too much. Mikey understands it, sometimes he does too. They’re good at refocussing each other, or just being there when that doesn’t work. “Could be they’ve just brought their own. I bet a bunch of the guys have cockrings.” “Yeah, probably.” Mikey’s name gets called before Pete’s. Mikey feels a bit bad about it, but that feeling is nearly entirely eclipsed by the excitement of stepping into one of the rooms. The room minder stands near the basket of condoms placidly. He just drips with calm domination, Mikey feels safer just knowing he exists in the universe. Which is the point, of course. There are places you can go for this kind of thing with less or even no rules. If you go to Swarm, there will be benches with padding, there will be condoms, and there will be a minder to make sure no one gets out of hand. “You want this recorded?” Mikey thinks for a second, then turns it down. He’s already got the video from his second time at Swarm. It’s ten bucks, which is tomorrow’s cover somewhere, and it’s probably not gonna look much different than the one he has at home. The minder helps him onto the bench and adjusts it to fit. Mikey rests his chin on the facepad, grips the handles, and waits for the minder to strap him in. He could do it without, but he likes the secure feeling of being bound down, and he knows that as the time goes on it’ll help him stay in place. His cock is half-hard, snug between his body and the bench padding. Depending on how many people have signed up for his room, he’ll probably come twice, maybe three times. The minder takes his time about lubing Mikey and stretching him open. Mikey appreciates it. A good burn is nice sometimes, but not what he wants tonight. It’s maybe thirty seconds after the minder finishes that the first man comes in. Mikey’s facing the wall, so he can’t see who it is or what he looks like. All he hears is the rip of the condom wrapper, and a breath or two later, he feels a hand on his hip and the slow push of the man’s cock into him. Mikey lets out a sigh. It’s amazing. “So tight,” says the man, “God, you’re tight.” He sets up a slow rocking rhythm. “I love being the first one in. You’re gonna so feel this tomorrow.” Of course he is. That’s the whole point of this expedition. Mikey’s gut is tight with anticipation, and he grips the handles on the bench so tight his knuckles flush and go white. The man’s strokes are angled well enough so they hit his prostate more often than not. Mikey appreciates that too. The man doesn’t speed up until the end. Mikey can hear him panting, feel his harsh breath on his shoulder. He fucks Mikey in short, sharp strokes until he thrusts once, hard and deep, and exhales with a hand on Mikey’s back to keep him steady. “God. Yeah. Fuck yeah, boy, that was good.” Mikey wriggles a little to get his own dick in a more comfortable place, and the man laughs and slaps him on the ass. “You’re one eager little bitch.” The condom comes off and goes into the trash, and as soon as the first man leaves, the second one enters. He’s got a close cut beard, maybe one of those lame hipster goatees. Mikey can feel it scrape where his neck turns into his back each time he angles in to bite. He’s never had a hickey on the nape of his neck before, but he won’t say no. Nights at Swarm are about saying yes. About saying yes and yes and yes, until he can feel it marked over every inch of skin. The third man reaches for his balls. Mikey squirms, he’s too sensitive for it after coming. It doesn’t do anything but hurt. He doesn’t say stop, and the man doesn’t let go until he’s finished. The fifth man scratches his back and ribcage the whole time, completely off- sync with his thrusts. Mikey can’t see the minder, but he’s sure he’s tensing, prepared to toss the fucker bodily from the room if Mikey says ‘Swarm’. Instead he stays silent, only breaking to hiss when the sixth man’s sweaty frame rubs against him and makes the lines sting. At least, he thinks it’s the man’s sweat, not his. It’s beginning to be harder to tell what’s him, and what’s being done to him. “Hi Mikey,” the...somethingth whispers into his ear. Mikey’s lost track. It doesn’t matter. The minder will tell him, if it matters. He doesn’t have to think about if it matters. It’s not his job right now. “You recommend it from that side?” Advice isn’t his job either. It’s never his job. That’s Gabe, or Gerard. Mikey croaks, hopes that’s enough. “Hey Mikeyway.” It’s not the same one. It’s a different one. It’s Pete. Does that matter? The minder will tell him if it matters, right? “I couldn’t do it. Called Swarm-” Mikey shakes his head no, just in case his minder thought it was him, not Pete “before the first guy even started. You’re braver than I am.” Mikey might be brave. He might be anything. He’ll think about it later. Right now someone is having sex with him. He’s mindless, reduced to pure animal feeling. The someone on his back yanks on Mikey’s hair, and Mikey bucks. How many times has he come? There’s no point in even trying to count. He ruts back against the man’s body as hard as he can, and a hand reaches down and grabs Mikey’s dick. Mikey comes almost instantly, and collapses on the bench. A trail of drool runs out of the corner of his mouth. It takes a minute of breathing before Mikey’s aware of hands unbuckling his straps. The minder puts a hand on his shoulder and peels him off the bench, and catches him when he staggers. “I got him,” says a voice, hey, Pete again, “I’m his friend, I’ll take him to the lounge.” “Mikey?” asks the minder. Mikey hazily wonders how the man knows his name. “Do you know him?” “‘sPete,” slurs Mikey. “Bessfren.” He slings his arm around Pete’s shoulders, and Pete takes his weight. “Okay, Mikes. Let’s get you hydrated.” Mikey goes with him. Part of him thinks Sisky should be holding him so Pete doesn’t have to. But Sisky isn’t here. Pete is here. So everything is okay. Mikey knows everything is okay. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!