The very last thing that Christine Hill expected was the exponential success of Mötley Crüe-the band she loved to hate.
And she never would've surmised that she'd be dragged-kicking and fucking screaming, by the nape of her neck-along for the wilde...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Warnings: light (and I mean light ) smut
Nikki's neuroticism had always been a pet peeve of Vince's.
How the most trivial--the most minor, insignificant--of quirks had the aptitude to strike that big a nerve inside of him, consequently landing every soul within a ten miles radius on his shit list.
He was highly-strung, even before his wife. Before the heroin, the cocaine, the irreparable hearing and nerve damage, even before Mötley Crüe, Nikki was as brittle as they came and he was notorious for it.
She'd always say that he was a control freak, but Christine's seething hypocrisy and countless ill-feelings toward that man blinded her, it seemed.
Because she was exactly the same.
She had the same thought-processes, the same tendencies in most aspects, and the same fucking attitude--which was, arguably, one of the most toxic traits that she could have lifted from Nikki.
But, for the most part, she was able to control herself. She knew when her opinion was and was not wanted, and she wasn't so hasty with hurling insults at people these days.
He wasn't lucky enough to have that valuable skill bestowed upon him, however.
No matter how he hard he strived to keep his mouth clamped, to shut the fuck up when he didn't need to express his innermost thoughts, Nikki just couldn't do it.
He didn't want to do it, either. Because his overly opinionated assertions were part of his twisted personality.
"We got like," Tommy squinted a bit, trying to visualize the calendar that Heather had given to him, "like four days left with the girls until they go back home, man. I think we need to head some place nice before we're all officially bitch-less."
"You just called Heather your bitch, dude--"
"I didn't call her my bitch." He defended, smirking in Vince's direction. "Don't get it twisted, douchebag."
"Right...So, what you're saying is, you just think she's a bitch?"
"No, Vince. That's not what I said--"
"Well, that's what I'm hearing."
He'd been cornered. He'd been gotten good.
Unable to wriggle out of the trap that he had fallen into at the hands of Vince Neil, Tommy just remained silent--stewing in his thoughts.
Maybe 'bitch' was a choice word that he could've mulled over a little bit more, but not everybody disagreed with the negative connotation that came along with it.
"If the shoe fits." Nikki muttered, not looking up from the papers he was scribbling words onto. He had a twisted grin tugging at his lips, however.
"What was that?" The singer quipped, waiting for the man to scowl at him. But he didn't.
