Watch Me Burn

Disclaimer I do not own Mike and Chester, they own each other ^.^ Lyrics are from “Love the way you lie” Eminem. Enjoy!

Just gonna stand there And watch me burn

But that's alright Because I like The way it hurts

Just gonna stand there And hear me cry

But that's alright Because I love The way you lie

I love the way you lie I love the way you lie

You're sitting there in your apartment alone. Always alone. You smile down at your small crystal glass of whiskey, savoring the burn it leaves behind with each sip. It's been such a long time since your last drink and you honestly didn't think you'd ever feel so low again that you'd have to take that old, dirt road laced with broken dreams and tainted with betrayal. Why exactly are you throwing everything, you've worked so hard to achieve, away for the warm tingle the strong alcohol engulfs your body in? You know it's because of him.

You swish your glass clockwise and listen to the brown liquid mingle with the two square ice cubes. You really did miss drowning your pain, didn't you? But what's so terrible in your life that you'd throw your sobriety out the window? What about your band mates? What are they going to do when they find out you're drinking again? You don't give a fuck, do you?

Your smiling at the thought. Your band mates, friends, are going to be pissed. They are going to be hurt and frustrated. You should have just talked about what has been bothering you for months, it might have prevented you from even getting to this point. But would it have really? The person you needed to talk to was done listening to you rant about making a commitment to your relationship and if you had told the others what twas really going on, they would probably be enraged, disgusted even.

It was just you and your whiskey now. Did you really need more than that?

You heard hard, angry fists pounding madly at your door. You didn't bother getting up from the kitchen bar stool, you just listened to the person's futile attempts to breakdown your door. You laugh out loud, amused at the fact your door isn't locked, yet the person seems to be releasing their frustration all over your innocent, wooden door.

You hear the knob turn and a soft click as the door opens and slams behind the intruder, your muse. Your eyes were still locked onto your crutch, but then again you didn't need to look up to know who had just walked in on you committing a crime against yourself.

“Chester, what the fuck are you doing??” He screams at you, noticing your self indulgence.

Before you even think about corroding your throat with the medicating liquid again, he knocked it out of your hand with such hatred that you swore you could feel you hand crush under the weight of it. The sound of shattering glass reverberated throughout your deathly silent dwelling.

“Obviously, I was trying to enjoy a little drink.” You finally look up to see Mike glaring daggers at you.

“I can fucking see that!” His dark eyes glistened with tears, full of rage and hurt. “Why the fuck are you doing it?”

“Why are you here?” You sigh, obviously Mike was someone you'd rather not see right now.

“Um, probably because you went completely psycho at practice and then stormed off. The guys are worried about you. I can see why.”

Yeah, the guys are worried. He didn't include himself. He never did.

“Mike, it's none of your business what I do to myself.”

You didn't have to move from the stool. Mike removed you from it himself. He grabbed you by a wad of the back of our shirt and hauled you to your feet. The stool slipped sideways with a thud as you now stood face to face with your so called best friend. You stripped him of that title months ago, the first time he broke your fragile heart.

“What do you mean it's none of my business?” his jaw was clenched tightly as he hissed his words.

You were still relaxed, having enough of the delicious drink in your bloodstream to keep you calm. “Shouldn't you be home with Anna, you know, your wife? Can't let anyone be suspicious of us, can we?” Did you really mean to laugh when you said that?

Mike jammed his index finger daringly into your chest cavity. “You left your family; I didn't make you do it.”

You grow annoyed, despite your euphoria, and grab Mike's hand, prying it away from you. “It is your fault I left my family.”

Mike snapped his hand away from your grasp and stared at you in disbelief. It was just like you to put the blame onto someone else. You can't handle knowingthat you were the one that set your hopes out of bounds and reality came crashing down onto you, crushing your bones. Bu they're only metaphorical bones, right? So, what does that even matter?

“Chaz, you knew what this was.” he confessed to you.

True, you knew that you and Mike could never actually be together, but that didn't prevent you from going the extra mile, silently praying he would follow you. When he didn't, when he stayed right where he belonged; with Anna, you were convinced you just weren't worth the risk. You would push Mike away, reel him back in like a fish on a hook, then cast him away once again. Honestly, how was Mike supposed to react to your confusing mood swings?

“I . . . I thought you wanted me, Mike. You said you loved me!” You couldn't help but cry.

He had admitted he loved you months ago. They were words you've heard your wife say many times, but they only felt magical when he said them to you. Ever since then, every fiber of your being belonged to him. You ate, breathed, slept and lived for Mike. When you found out he wanted to be with you secretly, you didn't think your heart could have broken the way that it did. You thought Mike would leave his wife too, and sing about yours and his relationship to the world. But no, Mike didn't want that. He wanted the best of both worlds. You didn't think Mike could ever be that selfish, but he was.

“I do love you, Chester, but you're getting out of control. Look at you.” He commented your disheveled appearance.

You had always taken so much pride in your appearance, but now you don't even try to impress anymore. You truly are a china doll; a fragile little creation now dropped and in pieces strewn to the side. You have dark purple rims under your bloodshot eyes, you're too thin, and even your once lively, brilliantly colored tattoos look dull again your pasty white skin. You're an absolute wreck, Chester.

“Then why, Mike, why don't you want to be with me like I want to be with you? If you love me so fucking much, why continue living in the fucking shadows?”

“Chaz, please.” He rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “I like what we have. Why do you want to ruin everything? Do you realize that if I left Anna and we came out to the band and to the public, we would lose everything?”

“We would have each other!” A sob choked through your hoarse vocal cords. “Is that not enough for you? Am I not enough for you?” You whimpered, regretting asking that question.

You already knew the answer to that question. Why the fuck are you risking what you have with Mike? Weren't you happy with finally making him yours, partially anyway? So what if he was still married, he still made time for you. Maybe it wasn't enough for you anymore.

You were infuriating your lover; his beautiful tan face contorting in anger as you forced your content relationship into a whirlwind of jagged truth and selfishness. He growled and shoved you, distraught over how you questioned his feelings for you. Your back roughly hit the edge of the counter, digging into your protruding spine. Instead of wincing in pain or feign being hurt by his action, you foolishly retort by shoving the larger man. He hit the plaster-white kitchen wall, slightly taken back by your strength. He lunged angrily at you, his fist ready to mar your chiseled jaw. Why didn't you dodge it?

You let Mike's iron-tight fist make ear-splitting contact with your face. You could feel your ears ring at the crack of bone against bone and your mouth fill with blood. How did it come to this? When did things get so sour? You spit out a large glob of blood onto the tiled floor as Mike stood there stunned. He didn't mean to hit you. He didn't mean to get so angry with you.

“Oh my God, Chaz . . . I . . . I'm sorry. I lost my temper.” He stammered.

You rub your jaw, the throbbing starting to cause your whole body to ache. You feel Mike's slender fingers peel your hand away so he could look at his handy work. You wanted to curse him, tell him you hate him for killing your heart, but you couldn't. You needed him. As usual, you caved under his touch and broke down crying. You've come to terms with just how weak and pathetic you really are. No wonder Mike couldn't fully commit to you.

“Baby, don't cry. I'm sorry.”

When would an apology be enough? You crumbled against the counter and fell in a broken heap onto the cold floor. He quickly rushed down to you, wrapping his arms protectively around you. You cry even harder at the contact, unable to keep yourself from cowering in his grasp.

“Chester . . . please . . .” You hear him begging for your comfort.

He really does love you, he just can't be with you like you desperately craved to be. He kissed the top of your shaved head repeatedly, asking you to stop crying. It only makes your sobs more deafening. This love was toxic, but you were addicted. The fucked up part was how much you love the torment it brings you. You'd rather rot away and have him watch you burn in your own personal hell that to be without him.

You finally lift your head and look into your lover's tear stricken face. You weren't crying alone, Chester. You may feel alone, but you're not. Can't you see how sorry he is for hurting you so much? In a perfect world, Mike would be by your side and never leave it, but reality isn't perfect. He's so sorry he can't risk it all like you were willing to do. Can't you see the pain in his deep, brown eyes that you love so much?

He thumbs away the lines of salty tears that stain your red, puffy cheeks. He choked on a painful whimper as he eyed the purple, swollen bruise on your jaw. Please believe he didn't mean to hurt you. Your lips trembled as you felt his warm breath fan just a few inches from your face. You shift awkwardly on the uncomfortable tile, your face flushing pink as you notice how hard you've become. You couldn't help but find Mike's temper flare, then sudden sensitivity, arousing. He could literally hold a gun to your head and you would be hard as a rock, begging for him to rape you and make you bleed. Are you really that desperate for Mike's love? Even if it was a lie? Yes.

He noticed your sudden change in mood; your sobs died into quiet hiccups, your breathing was slightly uneven, your face was pink, your lips parted and quivering, your eyes heavy and shyly glancing away. Mike has been around you long enough to read your body language. In a normal scenario, becoming aroused after being struck in the face would be . . . simply disturbing, but you have no idea how hot you're making Mike. The fact you're getting off on the pain he accidentally caused you has made Mike's groin throb.

Without warning or even the slightest indication, you grab a handful of Mike's shaggy black hair and crush your lips bruisingly onto his. He gasped in response as you jerk his head roughly to the side. You force your tongue into his mouth, needing to taste him. Sweet, so sweet. I'm sure he could only taste the whiskey on your tongue, but he sucked the tissue hungrily, indulging himself with you. You moaned in his mouth, sending vibrations down your lover's throat. His rebuttal was a growl, fastening his hands under your ass and easily lifting your off the floor. He stood up and you wrapped your long, slender legs around his thicker waist. You've always marveled at the difference between you two; he is mocha colored and muscular while your skin has grown rather pale and you've lost even more weight. He didn't seem to care; to him you're beautiful, even though you don't believe it. He carried you into the living room and intended on throwing you onto the couch to make sweet, passionate love to you, but as soon as he reached the couch, you pull his hair again roughly and ensnare his mouth with yours. Your teeth clenched around his bottom lip and you chewed on the plump tissue.

He moaned at the pain and his grip loosened on you as his head began to spin. Your odd behavior is making his sex burn for you. Is that what you want? DO you want Mike to get off from your pain? Like hell you do. Mike stumbled backwards as you jerked away from his grasp, allowing yourself to stand up. He slid to the floor and you wasted no time before your attack.

You pushed him back hard and he buckled backwards as he came into contact with your coffee table. His eyes were wide s he sprawled over the glass top. It flexed under his weight and you suddenly knew exactly what you were going to do to this poor man. You were going to literally fuck this man into the table. You looked down at him; your features unreadable. You were going to love this man, but you were going to make sure to hurt him; hurt him like he seems to hurt you without intending to.

You pulled your shirt slowly off your body, throwing it carelessly across the room. He watched in anticipation, licking his dry lips. You let your fingers glide down your chest, pinching the small buds of your nipples teasingly until they became hard like little pebbles. Mike's eyes were glued to your tantalizing ministrations. You tickle your own belly as you slowly make your way to the zipper of your jeans. You take the small metal clip and drag it down, unfastening the button with your other hand. As you strip off your pants, you're left standing there nude in front of Mike. He couldn't take his eyes off your body. How does it feel to have that kind of power? Amazing.

You teased him relentlessly, your thumb dragging across the tip of your own penis. Mike took a sharp breath as he watched you smear your precum across the head of your cock.

“Take off your clothes.” You demand hoarsely.

Mike obliged quickly and removed the offending garments. You watch as his hips raise off the glass coffee table, exposing himself to you. You can't help but shiver at his naked form. It was magnificent. Mike's chest was heaving up and down and you could see his cock twitching, begging for your tight hole to swallow him. Oh, how you're going to enjoy watching him squirm under your control.

You stick your middle finger in your mouth and suck on the digit, probing it in and out of your mouth. Your eyes were locked onto Mike's as he watched you, constantly licking his lips. God, you love the way he laps at those pink lips with that slick, wet tissue. You couldn't contain your smile that would have made the devil himself drop to his knees. You slide yourself up Mike's perspiring body, straddling the table and hovering above your lover, all the while your finger still soaking in your mouth. You let the digit slide out from between your lips and let it flutter down to its destination.

“Oh, fuck . . .” Mike's breath is forced out as he watches your hand ease down between your shaking thighs.

His hands automatically trail up those quaking muscles, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. As you let your slick finger enter your tight ring of muscle, you close your eyes and hook your top teeth over your bottom lip. You hear Mike mew as he watched you finger yourself, your other hand bracing yourself against the center of his chest. He watched as your knuckle disappeared, then reappeared, then plunged back in again. One, then two more fingers entering yourself, stretching the hole.

“Mmm, Mike.” You moaned the younger man's name, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“Ches, baby, please ride me. I want to be inside of you so bad.”

You open your eyes and peer down at him, his eyes swimming with lust. Your stomach burned with need, yearning for Mike to consume you. You retract your fingers and hover eagerly above Mike's erection. His hands slid up from your thighs to your hops and eased you down, your hand firmly on his member to help guide it into you. You bit your lip hard, breaking the skin as he disappears within you.

“Jesus, you're so tight baby.” The words echoed through your ears and tingled your spine.

Your face is slightly contorted in pain at the large intrusion. You sit still as soon as his length is fully inside your body. Mike's head is flat against the table and his eyes are tightly shut. Once the pain subsided, you began to rotate your hips, letting your testicles grind against Mike's dark fluff of hair. You couldn't help but smile at the scratching sensation. Mike's short nails dug into your hip bones because of your slow ministrations, silently urging your on. You let your hands cover his, the simple contact frittering your heart. You watch the small smile spread across your lover's face. Can Anna make him feel this good? You doubt it. He needs you.

You move his hands around to the back of your body, Mike gratefully squeezing your small ass with his large hands. You allowed him to take momentary control, letting him grind you down against him roughly. You moan in response and allow your hand to wrap around your own aching cock. It pulsed under your fingers as you stroked yourself. This only aroused your partner further. Your name rolled fluently off his tongue.

You dug your toes into the carpet, using your shaking leg muscles to lift yourself up a few inches before sliding back down. You continued this action slowly and it didn't go unnoticed. Mike's hold on you tightened and forced you up and down faster. You smiled as he changed his angle with each thrust. It took a few probes, but he found what he was looking for and smiled triumphantly when you screamed.

You let your head fall back, your face now cast toward the ceiling. “Fuck, Mike, touch me. Touch me!”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his hand over yours and began pumping in time with his thrusts. His grip was so tight around you and you started to mumble incoherently as your prostate was rammed into over and over. You could barely keep a steady rhythm as your vision blackened after each forceful probe.

You hear Mike continue to chant your name. “Chaz, I'm so close, baby, so fucking close. I want you to come all over my stomach, baby.”

You could have came that second just hearing Mike rap those words deliciously. But oh no, you were going to make him beg just a little more. You were going to make this night count. You allowed the Asian to pump your shaft faster and harder as you slid his engorged cock deeper inside of you, up and down, up and down so hard you could hear the glass top groaning against the iron frame of the small table you were defiling. Mike's knees retracted and pressed into your boney back. You could tell he was reaching his peak.

You finally open your eyes and look at your lover. His face writhing in ecstasy, his whole body slick with sweat, his gorgeous long hair matted to his forehead. You were going to enjoy his suffering. Just as Mike's mouth opened to reveal he was about to cum, you braced both feet firmly onto the carpet and slid him completely out of you. You watched as Mike's eyes snapped open, wondering why he was no longer able to release himself inside of your tight, wet body. You knew his groin felt like ti was on fire and his stomach aching with cramps.

“What the fuck . . .” Mike choked out, automatically tearing at the pain of having his orgasm suddenly taken away.

He had been on the brink of exploding in your and you took that from him. It felt great. You only smile that devil-rigged grin, feeling his aching member twitch against your thigh as you continue to hover above him. Without warning, you slam back onto him with such force his orgasm was almost immediate. He screamed louder than you've ever heard him scream before as your orgasm followed just seconds after his. You covered both yours and his hand as well as his stomach, as promised. You marveled at how Mike had just painted your insides with his milky, hot liquid. You swear you could feel the warmth travel up your smile.

Crack . . . crack . . . crash. Both you and Mike fall to the floor as the glass breaks under your lover. He's still in you as he lies on the now broken shards of the table. You can hear him wince at the stinging, but you can only smile and watch as your painful love consumes him. When you finally allow him to move away from the sharp pieces, you both stand and embrace one another. You feel empty, you feel like nothing again.

“I love you, baby.” Mike purrs in your ear, enjoying the feel of your sweaty skin against his.

How you wish it was true. “I love you more.” You confess.

He smiles against your neck and reluctantly pulls away, retrieving his clothes. “I'll be right back. I need to clean this off.” He informs you, pointing suggestively at his soiled body.

That's right, he's leaving you to go back home to his wife. You don't bother putting on your clothes as you trail back into the kitchen, finding your stability sitting, waiting for you on the counter. You and Mike are good this way, right? Even though you are his dark little secret, he still needs you, he still wants you. Why can't you just let that be enough? You take the bottle of whiskey and take a generous swig from the bottle, savoring the burn in your throat. You walk over to your pants and crouch down, taking out the silver rectangular object. You shuffle your feet along the carpet as you make your way to the closed door of the bathroom, whiskey bottle and lighter still in hand.

“You're not leaving me again . . .” You say, pouring the brown liquid down the door, down the hall and walls, over you.

You sit across from the bathroom door and flick on the lighter, taking one more gulp of the precious alcohol before tossing the flame into the puddle and watch the trails you made ignite. Tonight, Mike will burn too.

Just gonna stand there And watch me burn

But that's alright Because I like The way it hurts

Just gonna stand there And hear me cry

But that's alright Because I love The way you lie

I love the way you lie I love the way you lie