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Burning For It	By : FioraSilverWing Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Avenged Sevenfold Views: 1071 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't know A7X or it's members, not real, no money. Blah.

Chapter List
- 1-Burning For It
- 1
Title: Burning For It

Author: Serenity Star

Pairing: Jimmy/Johnny

Rating: NC-17

Summary: “Fucking shit, not you too. If you’re going to be like that, you can just turn your ass around and leave.” Johnny has managed to hurt himself and can't do a whole lot with burned palms. Jimmy decides to lend a hand.

Warnings: Very much alive Rev

Author's Note: And next in line we have... I love writing Jimmy, even now. Something about the attitude and lisp.. I can just hear him as I write. And Johnny is fun to rile up. So this little fic was spawned. Very slightly angsty at the beginning, but with a sweet (and sexy!) finish.

Disclaimer: Fiction and all that. Pity.
It was midmorning by the time Jimmy showed up at Johnny’s house. It wasn’t exactly easy to drag himself out of bed when Brian was in it, warm and affectionate. But at least one of them went over every day to check on the midget since he’d injured himself. Today was Jimmy’s day. Plus he’d gotten some convoluted voicemail from Zack about Johnny being a bitch. Probably something he ought to check out.
He meandered up the driveway, loose limbed and smiling slightly with memories of the previous night. And morning. And just before he’d left the house. Hopping onto the front step, he knocked on the door and waited. And waited. He tried again, this time waiting only a minute more before shrugging and letting himself in.
“Johnny?”
Jimmy looked around the front room, frowning just a little as he shut the door again. Surely Johnny wasn’t still asleep. None of them were exactly what one would call ‘morning people’ though Matt made the attempt now and then. But lately, with nothing to overly exhaust him, Johnny was usually up by ten. He huffed a sigh, kicking off his shoes and then cocked a hip, resting a hand on it.
“Hey! Short shit!”
Johnny came around the corner a second later. And groaned.
“Fucking shit, not you too. If you’re going to be like that, you can just turn your ass around and leave.”
Jimmy lifted both brows. “Like what? I just got here!”
The bassist scowled, waving his hands around in agitation. “I can see it on you. You don’t even have to say anything! It’s the way you stand and the stupid fucking look on your face. Just like Zack. And I told him to get his ass out too.”
Brows furrowed, Jimmy stepped forward. Apparently Zack hadn’t been kidding. “Dude… are you drunk?”
Johnny rolled his eyes expressively, snide and still frowning. He held out both hands, palms up to showcase the shiny, still very pink skin. “Yeah, like I could get the cap off a bottle with my hands like this.” With a half snarl, he turned and stormed off towards his kitchen.
The drummer sighed, lifting a hand to run it through his messy hair before following the smaller man. He wasn’t going to take his attitude, recovering or not.
Johnny had thought it would be hilarious to spin a tiki torch at one of their parties. ‘Just like one of those Hawaiian dudes!’. Unfortunately, Johnny plus copious amounts of alcohol, plus fire equaled second degree burns. On both palms. Miraculously, he hadn’t burned the fuck out of his fingers. He could still get things for himself, for the most part, but only having the use of his fingers with nothing for bracing meant he couldn’t pick up much. Anything with any weight or that might rub would take more healing time.
Johnny was banging around, slamming cupboard doors, seeming all the more annoyed that he couldn’t get as much force behind it with just his fingertips. He pointedly ignored the drummer, grabbing a glass to fill with water, shoulders a tense line.
Jimmy leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed. “Mind telling me what the fuck your problem is?”
“Forgive the fuck out of me if I don’t want to have to watch all of you parade around in here, well fucked and flaunting it.” Johnny took a sulky gulp of water.
Parading around? This was news. “Um… would you rather we tell you stories? I can tell you about how Brian held me down this morning-“
Johnny slammed his glass down hard enough to hiss at the pressure against his palm, glaring daggers. “No! I don’t fucking want to hear it, you dick!”
Jimmy managed to keep his face serene, not shifting from his unconcerned pose. Gentle pushes. “Why not?”
“Because I can’t fucking do anything about it!” Johnny all but exploded, pacing back and forth with short, sharp turns. “I can hardly pick shit up, you guys have to come in here and check on me like I’m five and then when you show up, you’re all- all- Ugh! And I can’t even get off with my fucking hands like this! And I’m supposed to be happy to see you?”
It took just a moment to wade through it all. But slowly, a smirk spread over Jimmy’s lips. “So… you’re telling me that the reason you’ve been such a bitch is because you need to jerk off and you can’t until your hands heal up more? Little Johnny is sexually frustrated?”
Johnny glared, clearly pissed, his fingers curled into something like claws at his sides, unable to actually clench, his eyes fiery. He stood there for a minute, seething, then seemed to collapse in on himself, gaze dropping, shoulders slumping. He voice was quiet when he spoke, hollow sounding, but for the underlying thread of desperation.
“Yeah. I am frustrated. I can’t do half the shit I want. I can’t play my bass because it hurts if the strings brush my palms. I can’t pick much up because too much weight hurts. I can’t jerk off because it hurts. Everything fucking hurts and I’m tired of it! I’m just… fucking tired.”
Jimmy sighed softly, letting his obnoxious grin slip away. Pushing off the counter, he moved over towards the smaller man, hesitating for just a moment. Johnny didn’t act like he was going to storm out again, and Jimmy finally slipped his arms around the bassist, pulling him close, rubbing a hand over an arm.
“Guess we kinda forgot about that part.”
Johnny looked up, eyes suspiciously bright. “What part?”
“We come over to make sure you don’t need help with anything, hang for a bit, then leave. So we’re not in your way while you’re healing. But you don’t just need someone to pick shit up for you.” He leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny’s forehead. “We’re fucking morons. How long has it been, two weeks?”
At Johnny’s nod and averted eyes, he sighed. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He didn’t get an answer. Just a half shrug. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.
“Let me guess. We’re already doing enough for you. Coming over here and making sure you don’t need anything. Or have fallen over and died. Or tripped over something you can’t pick up. Sound about right?” Again no answer, just a half hearted glare. “No wonder you were going nuts. Two weeks without an orgasm and I’d be fucking insane too.”
“Hey! I’m not insane.” The glare was a little more forceful this time. But nothing approaching what it had been.
Jimmy began pulling the smaller man from the room, guiding him with an arm tucked around his shoulders, crooning. “I’m not insane, I’m not insane!”
Johnny couldn’t help but smile, grudgingly, letting himself be steered from the kitchen and back towards his bedroom.
“That’s better.” With a grin, the drummer slid onto the bed, drawing Johnny up after him, urging him into his lap. He barely had them settled before reaching for the other man’s jeans, long fingers making quick work of the zipper to slip inside, finding the bassist’s cock already thickening. “I guess you weren’t exaggerating..”
With a groan, the younger man shuddered, hips bucking instinctively into the hands on him, shifting to help work his pants down enough to free his dick. His hands flew to Jimmy’s shoulders, only to pull away again, unable to grip and ended up tangled in his own hair, all but whimpering as soon as Jimmy’s hand wrapped around him, immediately rocking into it.
“Fuck, Jim, fuck- please..”
Jimmy cocked his head. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically begging.” He smirked, immediately setting a quick pace, not teasing despite his words. “I like you desperate.”
It was ridiculous how intense just a hand on him seemed, practically the only skin on skin contact, but it felt like he went from zero to achingly, urgently hard in a blink. Already panting, he just let his body go, letting it seek and demand relief, hips snapping with the rhythm the drummer set.
He moved a hand, curling his arm around Jimmy’s neck, fingertips pressed tight against his shoulder, holding close for both contact and leverage. He was muttering, probably stupid shit, but he didn’t even care, chasing down an orgasm that was going to hit hard and fast.
“Shit, shit, shit, don’t stop, don’t stop.. Fuck I need it, need to come, need it, fuck!”
“Yeah..” Jimmy growled, voice low, watching the smaller man fall apart under his hands, the way he jerked, head going back, throat tight, his hands scrabbling ineffectively, just fingertips to spare his tender palms. His eyes sparkled darkly as Johnny came over his fist in sharp spurts and he couldn’t help but think that the ragged, strangled sounds almost carried an edge of pain.
Johnny all but collapsed with a last shudder, panting, his forehead falling to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder. It was quick and dirty and he felt wrung out, momentarily numb but at the same time tingly, infused with a light, carefree sort of effervescence. He giggled quietly, rolling his head from one side to the other.
“Mmmmm…”
Jimmy laughed quietly, though he never let go of the bassist’s cock. He’d stilled his touch, but as the other man relaxed, he started rubbing again slowly, gentle but insistent. “Feel better?”
He couldn’t help but squirm, oversensitive and still caught between fading echoes of pleasure-pain. Who knew no sex for weeks and then having a rough, hard orgasm could actually hurt a little?
“Yeah. But.. Jim-“
“No. Hold still.” Jimmy’s voice hard gone dark. He wasn’t hard, Brian had wrung him out pretty well that morning, but he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Johnny come again in his lap. And he knew he could get him to. “It’s been two weeks now? After having sex at least four times a week before that? I don’t care how hard you just got off, you can come again. You’re not even completely soft yet.” The drummer gave a lazy stroke to illustrate his point.
Despite the bassist’s little noises of protest and halfhearted squirming, his cock hadn’t totally subsided and, under the attention, was indeed slowly hardening again.
“I-I can’t-“
“You can.”
“Jimmy..” Johnny whimpered softly, though his hips betrayed him, twitching forwards slightly. “A-ah-“
“See?” Jimmy’s grin was sharp as he firmed his grip, stroking harder as the flesh under his fingers thickened, hot, and throbbing. “I wanna see it again, Johnny. I want you to fuck my fist and come on me, screaming. Then I’m gonna lick my hand clean while you watch. And I might suck you off after and make you come again. How many times do you think I could get you off?”
Johnny was already panting harshly. He hadn’t really had a chance to catch his breath after the first time, but his dick was hard again and fuck Jimmy, but he wanted it. He wanted to come again, itched for it now that there was someone there to touch him, as if he’d been a junkie going through withdrawal and finally he was getting the hit he needed. He couldn’t even gather the breath to respond to the dirty words spoken near his ear, just groaned while he shuddered.
He let his eyes close as he did what the drummer told him and thrust into the strong grip, losing track of time, just existing in the slick slide of skin on skin, the hot friction, whining and inarticulate.
It took longer, but Jimmy had been expecting that. And it was almost better to watch this time; Johnny’s head back, eyes closed, just giving himself over, fucking his hand with a steady rhythm that made him proud.
He could tell when it was coming to an end, the way Johnny’s pace quickened, got sloppier, more sharp and frantic, the little grunting sounds that had seemed caught in his throat getting louder. Jimmy tightened his fingers, palm twisting over the head of his cock and Johnny arched, leaning back for a split second before curling into Jimmy’s larger form, all but sobbing into his neck as he came again, shaking.
It was too much, too much- But he couldn’t stop now, he was too close and he neededneededneeded… All he could do was cling to the drummer, gasping for breath, eyes wide and unseeing, trembling uncontrollably with the aftershocks.
Jimmy wrapped both arms around the smaller man, holding him close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “Fucking beautiful.”
Johnny could only mumble, turning his head just enough to peek out with one eye when Jimmy shifted, confirming that yes, he was licking his fingers clean, before hiding his face again with a weary little sound.
Jimmy chuckled.
“How does a nap sound?” He just grinned wider at the simple nod he received. “I can always suck you off after. You do need some rest. You’re still recovering.”
Johnny could only clutch harder and whimper.
- 1
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Burning For It