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a motley crue fanfiction ft. nikki sixx x tommy lee
rated m for mature due to language, sex, and blood
Summary: This wasn’t the first time that Tommy had playfully teased Nikki about his rather well-known medical fetish, but he had a feeling this might just be the last.
So being as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee had known one another for thirty-some-odd years, it was rather mandatory that they knew damn near everything about each other. However, there were still a handful of things that the drummer and father of two didn’t need to know, and when Sixx’s kinky sex life with ex-girlfriend Katherine (better known as Kat von D) involving an old dentist’s chair, he had to say that was rather on the verge of TMI.
“You are a kinky son of a bitch,” said the drummer as he shook his head at the black-haired bassist. This wasn’t exactly dinner conversation for your average person, but honestly, it was one of the more normal things that the boys of Motley Crue would talk about. This time, over Nikki’s barbequing. A bit of a boy’s night in, given that both the men were without their ladies for whatever reason. Even so many years later, they saw fit to make time for one another… and their girlfriends (or wives, as they had once been) were left wholly unaware. A covert love affair… though it was almost more than love. But really, who were they to but names on feelings? (Tommy, for the record, fucking hated the term bromance.)
A shake of Nikki’s head as he playfully tossed the package of hamburger buns at his long-time friend, rolling his eyes, “Like you haven’t done worse. Need I say, All-You-Can-Eat-Cock-Buffet? You know, the one you wrote about in your book?”
The reflexes of the drummer were on time as ever as he caught the buns and proceeded to prepare his food as normal. Sixx had always been a damn good cook. Sixx always had loved food, as well, though you wouldn’t have known it back in the 80s; the man had been ninety pounds soaking wet, but cocaine does that to a man. “Touche. We’ve both done some crazy shit, bro,” commented Lee before he shrugged and took a drink of the lemonade that was sitting by his plate. Nikki chose not to drink at all, and he of course respected that, never even thinking of bringing liquor onto Sixx property. He could pretend to be a good boy, after all. “But aren’t we a little old to be bragging about our sexual triumphs? I mean, c’mon, you know that medical shit creeps me out.
“I bet you’d like it if you tried it.”
It must have been that conversation that lead to this, the drummer mused as he found himself firmly strapped to an archaic chair that had been used for God knows what in the past (including but not limited to Nikki fucking Kat, ew) with nothing on but a pair of undone leather pants. Had he been wearing leather pants before? He really didn’t have the foggiest idea, but apparently he was now. Leather pants, some lovely metal cuffs around his ankles holding them to the chair and some thick leather straps holding his wrists to the barely padded wooden arms of the old chair. This wasn’t exactly his idea of comfort, and he was sure things would get better when Nikki showed up. Better, or worse. He didn’t really know. Given Sixx, it would probably be worse, and he would be lying if he denied at least some sort of unease in the pit of his stomach. They did stupid shit like this to one another in the eighties because, well, it was expected of them then; but they’d been a bit restrictive with their sex lives together lately. Given they both had children and significant others, it was pretty tough to make times to hang out, let alone have crazy, kinky bondage sex in The Funny Farm, Nikki’s studio. At least, that’s where Tommy thought this was going. Knowing Nikki, that was probably where this was going.
“And you were saying you wouldn’t enjoy this,” he heard the bassist’s voice from over his shoulder… only to realize, he couldn’t turn his head. There was something holding that in place, too. What the fuck did dentists do back in the olden days that required this shit? Or maybe Sixx had had it modified.
He’d probably had it modified. Freak.
“You’re already hard.”
Tommy couldn’t help but let out a hiss between his teeth when he felt those tattoed hands grabbing onto the already just-a-bit tight leather pants. (By extension, grabbing his crotch, because he hated underwear. Well-known fact, that.) Then he realized the tattoos were obscured by latex gloves tinted to that really weird blue. He’d always wondered why they were blue… but regardless.
There was a bit of a struggle as he shifted his eyes around, trying to get a glimpse of Nikki and realizing from the vantage point he could really only see that hand and a white sleeve that was attached to some sort of jacket. He groaned a bit, in a manner that wasn’t exactly happy with his situation. Dick might be. Tommy was not.
“C’mon, Sixx, you know I don’t like to be tied up…” It was true. As much as he knew Nikki had that controlling freak, he wasn’t nuts about giving in to it. Honestly, sometimes even after thirty years, Nikki scared him a little. And this was one of those times. All he could really do to retaliate was push himself against the uncomfortable chair to try and get away. Not that an action like that would really do shit. It wasn’t like he could just get up and walk away. The ball was in the bassist’s court fully now, and the drummer didn’t so much as have a racket to beat it away with at this point. He was boned. In more senses than one, had had a feeling, and so he swallowed hard, closing his eyes.
(For about half a second, Tommy realized this was a moment the internet would refer to as ‘not sure if want’. Damnit. He really needed to lay off Twitter.)
There was a sigh of relief when the other man moved away for just a moment, allowing Lee to relax his body and breathe again. But when he finally did see Sixx, there was this weird knot in his stomach. Honestly. There was no way he saw what he was seeing. This was some really weird, sick, fucked up excuse of a dream, right? Right? Because there was no way in any layer of hell that Sixx was standing in front of him in black slacks, black shoes, a nice shirt, tie, and a white lab coat. There was definitely no way that the coat had a little embroidered bit on the left chest that read Dr. Feelgood, either. He had to be imagining shit.
“That’s Dr. Sixx to you, Tommy.”
He wasn’t imagining shit. Shit.
“And judging by your current condition, it’s time for you treatment.”
Treatment. Treatment. What the hell did this idiot mean by that? And his condition? This knot in his stomach might just be arousal, honestly, but there was a lot of shit going on in his head, and he tried to keep that to himself, but his darting eyes probably gave it away. And damn that half-smirk. That fucking cocky-ass half smirk that always made Tommy want to take Nikki to a bathroom and—
“I’m just going to need you to relax.”
This was surreal. There was no way that Nikki was getting onto his knees in front of him and undoing these leather pants (that he was now pretty sure were not his) with those gloved hands and oh my god why was this so hot. He really shouldn’t be getting as turned on as he was by this, should he? Especially given that he was not prone to enjoying this loss of control; only to Nikki. Only ever to Nikki would he surrender control (or in this case, have it forcibly taken from him) and enjoy it. Never to anyone else—never—
As much as it could, his head snapped backwards and his eyes closed, a long, breathy moan came from deep within him as he felt a still latex-covered hand sliding over his cock, eased by some sort of lubrication. He didn’t even want to ask what was serving as lube right now, but it was cold and it was a bit of a shock to Dick, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one. The latex made things a little awkward. But he was glad he didn’t have an allergy. Really, really glad he didn’t have a latex allergy. Then again, Nikki would have known about that by now. Again, thirty years of friendship and there’s very little that you don’t know. “You—aren’t…”
“Aren’t what, Tommy?” came that all too familiar voice that made him squirm just a bit in his pants. Fuck. Fuck, Sixx, did he have to talk like that? He was positioned so he could hardly even raise his hips in surrender to the light touches that were gone way too soon, in his opinion. “You shouldn’t just leave your doctor waiting, now, should you?”
“… I forgot.”
“I think I have to agree with Pamela here, Tommy. You should really take those ginkgo biloba supplements for your memory.”
“Dr. Sixx, Tommy.”
A frustrated groan. “Dr. Sixx, I think we have more pressing matters than my memory—“
“Your memory is very important. I’d hate for you to forget something like this…” he heard Nikki say, causing him to roll his eyes. What a cocky son of a bitch. But he always had been. If nothing else, he could count on Sixx to be cocky, full of himself, and a freak in the bedroom. Some things really hadn’t changed from the eighties. (Honestly, he was glad for that. A little variety is the spice of life.) The fact the statement was left hanging, only to be punctuated by a powerful grope to his crotch didn’t help things. How the hell would he forget this? He had to grind his teeth a bit, his body squirming under the touch. This shouldn’t be as sexy as it was. Damnit, Sixx.
“I think this calls for a more thorough evaluation,” he heard ‘Dr. Sixx’ musing from between his legs. He had only just opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, a ‘further examination’ would entail, but he was answered before he could even ask. The mouth was involved and that was enough to make Tommy’s nails bite into the poor excuse of cushioning that remained on the refurbished chair that he was currently bound to. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why was Nikki’s mouth so perfect? He just wanted to curl his hands in the hair of the other man but they were bound. That was the most frustrating part: he wanted to touch Nikki. To feel him. That was the downside of being bound: he couldn’t do that. As much as he wanted to voice that, he just whined a little bit and did his best to lift his hips into the hot, wet mouth. Nikki Sixx was a devil, just as much now as he been thirty years ago. Just smarter about it.
Every feeling was like fire. He felt Nikki’s tongue dragging up the bottom of his cock, he felt the covered hands pulling the pants away and latex-covered thumbs running over the outline of his hips (something Sixx knew drove him fucking wild. Damned sensitive hips, damn them). He wanted to touch Nikki. He wanted Nikki to touch him. But between the binds and the gloves, the only skin-to-skin contact was lips-to-cock right now. And that was so frustrating. Doubly so when he felt the warmth suddenly removed and only then decided to turn his gaze to his long-time partner-in-crime. This was with enough time for him to see the slacks readily descending from Nikki’s body as lips came to crash against his own. Suddenly there was another body on this chair. Another body he still couldn’t touch. Another body that was still eighty percent clothed.
This. Wasn’t. Fair.
Every bit of him just wanted to pull off that coat and the clothes beneath it but, given that he was strapped to a fucking chair that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Fuuuuuuuck.
“I think I know exactly how to solve this little malady of yours.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what that sent a shockwave of chills down his spine. Maybe it’s because Nikki’s mouth was right at his ear when he said it and he punctuated the comment with a bit of a devilish laugh, but none the less, it did. Given that his long-time friend was straddling him and naked from the waist down, well, that probably didn’t help (hurt?) the situation any.
There was a moment of heavy silence before Tommy couldn’t help but let out a moan as he felt their bodies meshing into one entity… Well, as much as they could, given that he couldn’t grab onto the curve of Sixx’s hips, or run his nails down that tattooed back. He didn’t like not being able to touch Nikki. Well. Maybe this was another one of those ‘not sure if want’ moments? Honestly, he was equal parts let down and aroused by the idea.
Wow. Maybe he was the freak in the room.
… Nah. Sixx still won that title.
There was something undeniable about their bodies: they just fit. Well, after the first awkward time way back when, their bodies just fit together so perfectly it was the epitome of sinful. It never felt the same with a woman as it did with Nikki, but how could he expect it to? There wasn’t this much chemistry with a woman, there never had been; not Heather, or Pam, or Mayte or any of the other women. It was great, don’t get him wrong. He loved women, he really loved women, but just. Nikki. Nikki Fucking Sixx. Was Nikki Sixx a gender? Seriously, it should be. He was just so different. So fucking perfect.
“Sixx—Doctor Sixx—oh, fuck, man…”
One latex covered finger silenced his lips before it came to rest on his shoulders. The shifting up and down movement, they way at least part of their bodies were just fitting together like puzzle pieces. Like they always did. It was impossible to deny there wasn’t some physicality between them. (Honestly, how hadn’t anyone else noticed? Thirty years of friendship his ass.)
He wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him, to pull him down closer. Fuck, he was practically tearing up, given the immense pleasure he’d been going through already and the fact that he was just that far from Nikki. It wasn’t fair. Not fair. Not at all. Damnit. No amount of shifting in that chair, no readjusting could get him any closer to the man he loved. And he let out a low whimper of need. He was already really, really close to cumming and he knew it (As notorious as he was for his stamina, there was just something a bit weird in his body right now. Regardless) but he wasn’t willing to tell that to the bassist—ahem, doctor—that was riding him right now.
“Sixx. Nikki. Doctor Sixx. What the fuck ever, Nikki—”
“What?” came the voice of the bassist, already labored due to the ministrations of the moment. Good to know he wasn’t the only one that was being driven insane right now.
“Kiss me. Please.”
It was perhaps one of the most innocuous things he had ever asked of Nikki in his entire life, and he was glad to have it fulfilled just as he felt his entire body stiffen like a plank and his orgasm wash over him in waves of white-hot fire. There was nothing like an orgasm that Nikki brought to him. No high in this world could even get close to it. Not cocaine, not heroine, not even spinning upside down over hundreds of thousands of fans, nothing.
And he was pleased that he and Sixx seemed to be synchronized to a point that they both reached a climax at the same time, though it seemed the lab coat took the majority of the mess. Well, that would make cleaning up a lot easier, wouldn’t it?
There was only a few moments of panting before Tommy was able to do something other than just breath. And that was to say, “Alright, Sixx, what the hell did you do to knock me out?”
“Bro. You were just asleep. Not my fault you sleep like the dead.”
A low, complaining whine came from him when he felt the dark-haired bassist moving away and watched him pull up the black slacks, raising one of his eyebrows. He wasn’t even going to ask why Nikki had this getup or what had possessed him to do this, because some things were just left to the mysterious mind of Nikki Sixx. He did, however, have a few things to say. “Shit, I never cum that fast…”
“That’s probably the aphrodisiac’s fault.”
“What? Aphrodisiac? You drugged me?”
“Hey, I’m a doctor, I’m allowed to medicate my patients if it helps get rid of their problems. You’re the one that got a hard on in your sleep. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. And you weren’t going anywhere, either.”
“Yeah, yeah…” spoke the drummer as he shifted a bit in the chair, pulling at the restraints as he heard Nikki fastening the belt that would hold up the slacks. “Can you let me go now?”
There was a silence, a pause. The Nikki shook his head. “No, I think I’ll just have Sofi come find you like this.
“OH COME ON!”
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Oooh, that was really hot :D I loved the surprise at the end...it was so funny xD
I actually laughed at parts (yes, that's a good thing) and I almost was disappointed it was over. However, a good conclusion to a story like this and good job at making it believable.