Category Linkin Park

Dirty Deeds by mermaid_life87

Dirty Deeds

A/N: Hi everyone! :) I hope to get back to Expectations soon but this idea popped into my head and I couldn't resist. Inspired, oddly enough, by one of my biggest guilty pleasures-Rick Springfield's "Jessie's Girl". I'm really not sure if this is any good, and it's probably not everyone's cup of tea, but hopefully you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Also, I sorta combined different time periods and, if the smut sucks, forgive me. :p


"Mike, you can't be serious!" Brad exclaims, shock and disapproval evident in every word.

Oh but I am, I think arrogantly, but instead ask innocently, "And why not?" I switch my iPhone to the other ear and sip my now cold coffee.

"Why not?!?!" Brad's voice goes up a few octaves, even humorously squeaking a little. "I can't believe-no, Mike, just no. Do you even care about the band at all? Something like this could ruin us!"

With a roll of my eyes, I scoff, "Please, Bradford. They haven't even been dating that long. Bourdie isn't going anywhere." I assure him with complete confidence. "And neither is Chester." Well, he'll be migrating from Rob's bed to mine, but other than that-

"Mike, be rational. Please. I hate to use a cliche but there are lots of other fish in the sea. Why does it have to be Chester?"

Irritated, I glance at my watch. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you at the band meeting this afternoon."


"Bye, Brad."

Smirking, I end the call and rest my lower back against the cold granite counter top, one ankle crossing over the other. I can picture my nearly life-long friend, eyes wide and in a panic, his calloused fingers furiously typing away. Five, four, three, two, one...


And there it is. Like clockwork.

BBB: I know you're going to do whatever the hell you want but please consider the fallout.

My smirk becomes a full on mischievous grin as I send back the thumbs up emoji, reveling in my own antics. The best part isn't even here yet and I'm already having way too much fun.


After a tiring and fruitless two hours in my home studio, the guys gather their things and we begin our good-byes. Hopeful, I set my plan into motion and casually suggest Chester stay behind, lying about a desire to continue working on the lyrics we've been struggling with.

The newly formed couple share a look, visually clearing the change of plans with each other. "Yeah that works." Rob agrees, nodding his head. "I'll visit my parents. Are you cool with giving Chester a ride later though? We rode here together."

Of course you did. I promise to chauffeur the tattooed vocalist back to Rob's which prompts a flustered guitarist to cut in. Dave and Joe are long gone and I know Brad's lingering is intentional.

"Do you really think that's necessary, Mike? We have plenty of time before the deadline. And they probably had plans." Brad turns to Rob and Chester sitting close together on the couch, thighs touching. "Right, guys?"

They share another look before shaking their heads. Chester shrugs, "Nah, not really."

"See, Brad?" I chirp. "It's all good."

"Fine! Fuck it!" He huffs, storming out. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

"What the hell is his problem?" Rob wonders, confused.

"You know Brad. Probably didn't get enough sleep."


"Any specific lyric you wanted to work on?" Chester asks from the couch when we're finally alone. He's looking down, studying the paper in his hand.

"Not really." Leaving my desk chair, I cross the short distance between us, well aware of my first move.

"W-What are you doing?" Chester chokes out, eyes wide, as I straddle him. His body tenses. "We can't-Mike, this isn't a good idea."

Ignoring the nervous sentiments, I run my fingers down the right side of Chester's face and over to his lips, stopping at the silver hoop. Using my thumb, I glide over it, moving the circular piece of metal back and forth before inquiring, "Did this hurt?"

"N-Not too much." He swallows.

"Hmm. Interesting." Cupping Chester's perfect face in my hands, and tilting my head slightly, I lean forward to caress his famed labret with my tongue, mimicking the actions of my thumb a few seconds ago. A low sound, something between a moan and a sigh, escapes Chester. His body relaxes and with the lyric sheet forgotten, his hands find my hips, fingers curling in my t-shirt. I feel the blood in my body begin it's rush to one area and I'm forced to stifle a moan. I pull back reluctantly, our eyes locking. I'm greeted by Chester's blown pupils and just the tiniest change in his breathing-both clear indications things are going as planned.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" I whisper.

He nods his head still cupped in my hands and, smiling, I join our lips. Pacing is crucial so I force myself to keep this first meeting brief and chaste. As badly as I want him, I want him to beg for release, to beg for me even more.

Chester whimpers as the all too short kiss breaks, and our eyes lock for a second time. "I-I'm, I'm with Rob." He stutters unconvincingly.

I shrug. "So stop me."


"You're doing an awful lot of stuttering, Bennington." I point out, one hand traveling to his soft, short curls. "Didn't know you had a speech impediment." Gripping what I can, I guide his head backwards.

He moans eagerly before rasping, "I d-don't."

I smirk. "That didn't exactly help your case." Another fumbling rebuttal is silenced by my lips on his neck, aggressively exploring at will, fully intending to leave numerous colorful marks on the soft, pale skin. Chester arches his back. My fingers in his hair clench harder as he moans louder and I feel myself losing control, almost as much of a withering mess as he is. "...holy hell, Ches..."

The hand still on one side of his face trails down, searching for and pausing at the button of his jeans. Breathless, Chester pants my name and bucks his hips, demanding action.

"Tell me what you want, Chester."

He bucks again. "Please..."

"Say it."

"Fuck, Mike," he groans impatiently, "just fucking touch me."

Victorious, I smile against the skin I've abused so recklessly. With one last nip to his neck, I lean back, my fingers making quick but careful work of the button and zipper caging Chester's erection. "Lift up." He does as much as he can and I tug down the tight fitting denim, along with his underwear, just enough to fully expose his leaking cock, giving myself ample room to work.

Taking his length in my hand, I start with slow, meticulous pumps, my thumb grazing his swollen tip every other stroke or two, spreading and using his pre-cum as a make-shift lube.

"...Fuuck...", Chester, with eyes squeezed shut, bites his lip, his head going back to rest against the wall behind us. "God, Mike, keep going."

My dick, still painfully confined, throbs as I watch my forbidden bandmate respond so wantonly to my touch. The sight is overwhelming, and captivating, and so, so fucking arousing that I don't hear the door to the studio creak open. Or the the twirl of keys around a long finger. I barely even register the familiar voice call out to us-something about a forgotten phone-until it's too late. Until it's way too fucking late and Rob is standing just a few feet away. Standing and staring, mouth agape. His arm drops and his keys clash to the floor. Chester's breath hitches in his throat but his erection remains steadfast and so do I.

"Hi, Bourdie." I greet, with a cunning and evil smile, my hand on his boyfriend's dick never missing a beat.


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