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If You Want It to Be Good	By : unseenlosergirl Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Good Charlotte Views: 2137 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Good Charlotte. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-If You Want It to Be Good
- 1
Title: If You Want it to Be Good
Author: Me. Becca.
Rating: NC-17? X? Ratings are confusing here.
Pairing(s): Benji and Joel
Author’s notes:I do not listen to gothic industrial and I know I've made fool of myself by using Apoptygma Berzerk lyrics. I just looked them up and used them. Shoot me.
Disclaimer:I don't know Benji or Joel or any other memeber of Good Charlotte. I don't make money from this story and according to the mods here don't on it either. It's fiction people. It's never happened nor ever will. Apoptygma Berzerk lyrics are probably copyrighted as well so credit to them.

“I’m your bad boy, I’m your bad boy,” he whispers against my ear. His breath is warm and is shoots into my ear, sending shock waves down my spine. My back arches, pushing my head into the crook of his neck. He turns his head and his lips are pressed against my cheek. I’d kill right now to feel them other places.

He moves from around me, wrapping an arm loosely around my waist, pulling my lower section closer to him. He’s forceful; it’s obvious our roles have changed if only for tonight. But the gentleness sill lies within him as he runs a finger from his free hand down my chest, slipping it under my shirt.

For a minute, he rests there, before letting go of my waist to use both hands to pull my shirt up over my head and to the waiting floor.

He grins at me sideways. It’s halfway evil, halfway sexy, and the two have fused into one making me feel wrong, the best kind of wrong. I close my eyes becoming completely absorbed in this moment. The blackness in front of me makes my head spin, throwing my equilibrium off. I stumble one step back and there he is again, wrapping his arms around me, holding me safely. I lick my lips and smile, not bothering to open my eyes.

“Lay on the bed baby,” he asks quietly. I open my eyes to oblige his request, spreading myself out on the black and white striped bed. But I am obviously not where he wants me to be, and he points his head to the headboard. I get the drift, and I move upwards, spread eagle.

I’m quite vulnerable in this position, made worse when he locks handcuffs around my right wrist and then to the headboard. I look up to my hands in surprise but he just smiles at me again and does the same to the other wrist.

He leaves me on the bed, half naked and horny. n hen hear him rustling around in his bag but I can’t see him. He’s left our bedroom and is now in our living room. I wonder what he’s gonna do now, what he’s got planned for tonight. It doesn’t take long before he returns, and places something at the end of the bed I can’t quite make ou

S

Still in his other hand I can see the shape of a CD. He presses the ‘open’ button and I hear the buzz of the motor as the door slips out and he slips the disk in. it buzzes again when he pushes it closed. He presses play and out filters “Love Never Dies” by Apoptygma Berzerk. My grin too turns evil. He knows this turns me on and he knows how bad it makes me wanna be. I assure myself tonight will be fantastic. Starting with the fact he’s playing a song for me, a song he can’t stand. He says it makes love feel wrong and dirty. Like it’s a curse and not a blessing. He smiles at me and I know for tonight, he’s pushing those thoughts aside.

He makes his way closer to the bed, standing at the edge, staring at me. “You afraid?” he asks. I’m caught completely off guard. Up until this point he’s been nothing but wonderful. But should I be afraid? I wasn’t until now, thanks to that question. I wonder what the years of my loving ‘abuse’ has done to his head. Will he exact his revenge on me tonight? My heart starts besting faster, and the sweat comes thicker. I swallow the lump in my throat and choke out, “no”. My words come out spoken like a 14 years old boy just hitting puberty.

He climbs onto the bed, kneeling just between my legs, and unhooks my belt, never loosing eyes contact with me. “Raise your hips,” he commands. I think I’ve been too complacent, too compliant.

“No,” I say defiantly. He raises an eyebrow; surprised I’m so disobedient in such an exposed place.

“No,” he questions back.

“No,” I mouth. He looks to me, nostrils flared and tells me, “Fine” and with all his might grabs the bulge in my pants. I’m suddenly thankful for the fabric separating my groin from his hands. His nails are digging into me but he releases and asks again.

“Will you raise you hips?” I continued with this game. Without my resistance this game is nothing. So I stay silent. He exhales sharply, obviously annoyed by my antics and he grabs me again. This time, if possible, harder. I whimper out. It’s no longer fun and I’m truly in pain. With no words, I raise my hips. He releases me and pulls my pants from by body. The erection I had from the words he spoke in my ear had faded. He takes notice.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks sweetly. I nod, still in pain. He smiles softly at me and removes the last bit of clothing from my body, my underwear. I look down to my penis. I see the red marks where his fingers held me. I’m a bit worried, I am a man after all, but I realize I’ve done this to him numerous times and he’s always been okay.

he wraps his right hand around my flaccid dick and begins to stroke it softly. I close my eyes and toss my head back into the pillows. This makes up for the pain, I almost forget we’re playing a game.

But he reminds me as he lets go, just as I’m starting to enjoy the attention. He leaves the bed, and takes off the only clothing he’s wearing. Black Dickies.

He picks up the thing he placed at the end of the bed. I can’t see it and he moves to the bathroom returning with a hand towel. But as he returns I can clearly see what he had placed earlier on the bed. Lube.

Which doesn’t surprise me, until he coats himself in it. I stupidly assumed it would be the way it ys wys was. Me inside of him.

Panic sets in. NOW I’m afraid. I wonder if it’s the lack of control or perhaps the impending pain that’s unsettling. But I’ve no time to think. He dabs to excess from his hand with the towel and leans over me. My eyes are pleading with him to be gentle as he presses his dick at my opening.

He smiles at me and slams inside. Immediately, my breath gets caught in my chest, like I’ve just hit cold water. I remember this same reaction in him the first time we made love. But he pays no mind to my reaction and continues pounding into me, searching for his release.

But soon it doesn’t matter because I’m starting to enjoy this. His movements are hurried and forceful. With every thrust he pushes me closer to the headboard and I don’t fucking care. I just don’t want him to stop. Not now.

I wish my hands were free. I’d bury one between us and wrap the other around his neck, pulling his lips closer to mine. The badness in me is pulled out again; I want to act on it. I want to hurt him; I want him to hurt me. I wanna feel alive.

I can tell he’s close. I’d recognize that look anywhere. I want him to cum, so I can get mine. I start thrusting my hips back against his. I can tell he’s pleased. His moans are more frequent, more intense. And within seconds he releases, groaning my name.

“Please,” I ask. He doesn’t say a word; he just pulls out from me. “Please,” I ask again. The heat from my groin is unbearable.

“Shh,” he says quietly, placing a finger over my lips. He leaves me waiting on the bed again, going to his bag to bring something else to our bedroom. I hear a noise come from the door way and again; he has one thing in each hand.

I see a bandana in one but that’s all I see. He covers my eyes with the black cotton cloth giving me only 4 senses. I hear the snap of a belt from across the room. I know what’s coming.

And it does. There’s a crack of leather against my thigh. But my ‘oww’ turns into a moan; I can’t pretenddoesdoesn’t make me horny. I’m sick that way.

He leans over the mark now beginning to swell and he licks it. My moan this time is absolved of pain but it comes back when he hits me again, this time on the opposite thigh.

But there was no lick, no kiss, no touc att attempt to make it better. There was just another whack landing across my stomach. I pull my legs up to my stomach and whither from side to side. That was truly painful, no part of it felt good.

A short, stumbling ‘roseanne’ comes from our lips. That’s our phrase, the one cueing the other to stop and he does. He rips the bandanna from my face, managing to pull a few hairs in the process and leans over me. One arm, placed on the opposing side of my body from where he sat, supported him.

“Are you okay baby? God I’m SOO sorry, I thought you’d like it.” He brushes a few hairs from my forehead and mumbles another ‘I’m sorry’ as he presses his lips against my brow.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” I manage to choke out. I’m still rocking side to side. He sits back, only to lean forward again when he reaches up to unlock my hands from the hand cuffs. I take my hands, and my eyes, down to my stomach to examine to damage.

It’s not as bad as it feels. I guess he hit me in a bad spot or something. I look to him to assure him I’m fine but he’s crying.

“I’m sorry Joel. I thought I’d be fun,” he sniffles and my heart melts. I swear, despite the copious piercings and tattoos he’s still so much a child at heart.

“Benji,” I say kindly. “It was fun. I just got a little hurt. You’ve gotten hurt sometimes right?” He nods and wipes the snot from his nose with the back of his hand. I smirk at his revolting behavior. “You know what might make me feel better?” He looks at me and grins from ear to ear. “One of your amazing, multi-orgasmic, world famous blow jobs.” He enjoys the ego stroking. I think bj’s are the only thing he thinks he’s good at, but that’s Benji for you.

He moves back across my body, hovering over me again. His kisses start at the right side of my neck and move to my lips and back down to my neck again. He doubles back to the middle of my neck to start his journey down.

He moves past my upper chest, straight to the imprint he left earlier. I start to push him away, swearing I really am fine but that thought’s thrown away as he starts drawing loopy designs on my stomach, even drawing an ‘I loou’.ou’.

I smile to myself at the sweetness of it all which is why I’m caught of guard when he runs his tongue along to underside of my dick. I’m so hard that my penis is pressed up against my stomach. I want to cum. I NEED to cum.

It doesn’t take much. He’s barely wrapped his mouth around the head of my cock and I cum. I moan in relief as he swallows and smiles, “If you want it to be good get yourself a bad boy”.

Somehow, don’t ask me he and I both know that song. I’m temped to make fun of him but I too get the joke. “A Backstreet Boys song? Could you be any cheesier?”

His smile grows wider and he replies, “Yes, I could dance too.”

I smile along with him. “We’ll save that for tomorrow night.”
- 1
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If You Want It to Be Good