I'm a man, can't you see what I am...?
title: Mirror Ball, Disco Time
involves: Ty Conklin/Marc-Andre Fleury
rating: NC-17
notes: How long could I let this kink meme prompt go unfulfilled: With Flower making fun of Conks' epic pornstache -- and Conks fucking him through the mattress. Or any other surface. (Slightly adapted version) -- Special disco vibes provided by the Bee Gees' "To Love Somebody".
disclaimer: The Blues had "Sunday Night Fever" on January 31 (Ty on L in *cough*lavender glasses and balls*cough*), in St. Louis... but that's all I know.
This was how people lived in the 70's, Ty thought muzzily. They had the thrill of knowing that they were going to fuck whoever they wanted at the end of the party, not giving a damn about even a single repercussion whatsoever.
"You don't remember the seventies?" The voice broke into his alcohol-fueled thoughts, distantly.
"I was three when they ended, Flower. Depending on what psych books you read, there was only so much sex I was supposed to be focusing on at the time."
(Right now the only sex he was focusing on concerned the Flower, who was being both appropriately and inappropriately biological and refusing to let him think straight… not that he really could, from the second he appeared, what with this tribute to Elton John he'd already been sporting all night.
Marc had thrown him straight into a time warp, for a change, appearing from wherever the hell he'd managed to do it to make the end of the party -- and it was incredibly exciting to have company with him, for once.
The exact company he'd been lusting for all this separated time, no less.
"Shouldn't you be dancing?" A dazzling grin, an accent he would have known blindfolded, and a perfectly conversational tone -- the volume was way too high, the gala far too inebriated for anyone to pay attention to anyone else's discussion.
It was a fantasy night and Marc was somehow both glittering -- and real -- in his eyes.
"You really didn't want me to come and play with your balls, Ty, hnn?"
Tight black shirt unbuttoned enough to show off his own medallion, white pants and shoes -- like some disco version of his Pens uniform, almost -- but with all the naked, uncovered hair on top of his head almost turning him into a virtual stranger, stranger even than Ty's own massive, fluffy fake Afro.
"Just tell me you're not staying at the Y."
"Wouldn't you touch me in the shower anyway, Ty? With that thing on your face." Eyes dark, deep and sparkly… and laser locked on his own.
He grew the mustache for the sake of the party and, well, Marc was the party -- for the rest of the night, anyway. Tracing all the hair on his upper lip slowly, with his first two fingers and leaving Ty licking that lip in his wake, reflexively, nervously, despite all the drinks.
It was as though half of him had left the 70's and the 21st century to just go ahead and start their own party.
And the other half was about ready to drag his knowing, twinkling surprise culmination right after him.
Marc was, in fact, staying somewhere quite a bit nicer than the YMCA, something more commensurate with his multi-million dollar salary.
"Voulez-vous couchez av.…" Ty muttered, grinning through the golden Bud Light haze.
"Non, mon sorcier, we've been over this…." Not too often he had way more control than Ty. "You don't use vous with people you sleep with… Tu vas coucher avec moi. Je veux te baiser… t'es le mien." Coaxing repetitions out of Ty all along the way...
Parallel night, wheel spun, alternate universe -- Marc's wicked tongue still familiar on places on his body, and he rimmed like he -- well, like he did anything else to distraction, or anything just to hear Ty curse. His brains were scrambled enough to be nothing more than fascinated watching Marc fuck his own fingers, distant echoes wondering when and where he picked the trick up…
"I knew it wouldn't hurt." Smart mouth, smartass, and a smart, slick hand pulling his cock in close. "Baise-moi en cul, Ty. Fuck me in the ass, mon sorcier. Do it tonight. Now."
"I'm gonna make you bite the pillow. Turn over. Now."
The way Marc assumed the position, ass high; back and shoulders sloping all the way down to the pillows, Ty knew that he was just going to end up falling over top of him eventually, hanging on to Marc like the sort of sexual-career-life preserver, the lithe brilliant reflector he was…
Marc got LOUD first, though, with Ty moving deep inside him, kissing his back and neck, hair bristling against smooth skin -- and satisfied, and Ty didn't know why he wasn't surprised, not one bit, not in the slightest…
Early morning found Marc lazily tangled awake in white sheets, though, as Ty returned from the bathroom naked -- upper and lower lip included.
"You fuck like a porn star, you know? Even when you don't try to look like one."
" 'Touch me in the shower, Ty,' that was what you said?"
"No."
"No?"
That gaze, dark, gleaming, still caught somewhere other than Monday daylight. "Non. You'll have to fuck me out of this bed. Only way you're getting me in that shower." Marc, spontaneously deciding his itinerary could go fuck itself. "No matter when I have to leave."
The words came, feeling like just another continuation of every part of last night's festivities, and Ty grinned -- and Marc would never let him know just what that smile did to his insides.
"You little whore. And I'll fuck you wherever when I do."
Coaxing repetitions and sweet strangeness out of Ty, Marc smiled, knowing and hearing "I love you, and it's way too damn late for me to take anything back."
Fin...et commencement ;)
involves: Ty Conklin/Marc-Andre Fleury
rating: NC-17
notes: How long could I let this kink meme prompt go unfulfilled: With Flower making fun of Conks' epic pornstache -- and Conks fucking him through the mattress. Or any other surface. (Slightly adapted version) -- Special disco vibes provided by the Bee Gees' "To Love Somebody".
disclaimer: The Blues had "Sunday Night Fever" on January 31 (Ty on L in *cough*lavender glasses and balls*cough*), in St. Louis... but that's all I know.
This was how people lived in the 70's, Ty thought muzzily. They had the thrill of knowing that they were going to fuck whoever they wanted at the end of the party, not giving a damn about even a single repercussion whatsoever.
"You don't remember the seventies?" The voice broke into his alcohol-fueled thoughts, distantly.
"I was three when they ended, Flower. Depending on what psych books you read, there was only so much sex I was supposed to be focusing on at the time."
(Right now the only sex he was focusing on concerned the Flower, who was being both appropriately and inappropriately biological and refusing to let him think straight… not that he really could, from the second he appeared, what with this tribute to Elton John he'd already been sporting all night.
Marc had thrown him straight into a time warp, for a change, appearing from wherever the hell he'd managed to do it to make the end of the party -- and it was incredibly exciting to have company with him, for once.
The exact company he'd been lusting for all this separated time, no less.
"Shouldn't you be dancing?" A dazzling grin, an accent he would have known blindfolded, and a perfectly conversational tone -- the volume was way too high, the gala far too inebriated for anyone to pay attention to anyone else's discussion.
It was a fantasy night and Marc was somehow both glittering -- and real -- in his eyes.
"You really didn't want me to come and play with your balls, Ty, hnn?"
Tight black shirt unbuttoned enough to show off his own medallion, white pants and shoes -- like some disco version of his Pens uniform, almost -- but with all the naked, uncovered hair on top of his head almost turning him into a virtual stranger, stranger even than Ty's own massive, fluffy fake Afro.
"Just tell me you're not staying at the Y."
"Wouldn't you touch me in the shower anyway, Ty? With that thing on your face." Eyes dark, deep and sparkly… and laser locked on his own.
He grew the mustache for the sake of the party and, well, Marc was the party -- for the rest of the night, anyway. Tracing all the hair on his upper lip slowly, with his first two fingers and leaving Ty licking that lip in his wake, reflexively, nervously, despite all the drinks.
It was as though half of him had left the 70's and the 21st century to just go ahead and start their own party.
And the other half was about ready to drag his knowing, twinkling surprise culmination right after him.
Marc was, in fact, staying somewhere quite a bit nicer than the YMCA, something more commensurate with his multi-million dollar salary.
"Voulez-vous couchez av.…" Ty muttered, grinning through the golden Bud Light haze.
"Non, mon sorcier, we've been over this…." Not too often he had way more control than Ty. "You don't use vous with people you sleep with… Tu vas coucher avec moi. Je veux te baiser… t'es le mien." Coaxing repetitions out of Ty all along the way...
Parallel night, wheel spun, alternate universe -- Marc's wicked tongue still familiar on places on his body, and he rimmed like he -- well, like he did anything else to distraction, or anything just to hear Ty curse. His brains were scrambled enough to be nothing more than fascinated watching Marc fuck his own fingers, distant echoes wondering when and where he picked the trick up…
"I knew it wouldn't hurt." Smart mouth, smartass, and a smart, slick hand pulling his cock in close. "Baise-moi en cul, Ty. Fuck me in the ass, mon sorcier. Do it tonight. Now."
"I'm gonna make you bite the pillow. Turn over. Now."
The way Marc assumed the position, ass high; back and shoulders sloping all the way down to the pillows, Ty knew that he was just going to end up falling over top of him eventually, hanging on to Marc like the sort of sexual-career-life preserver, the lithe brilliant reflector he was…
Marc got LOUD first, though, with Ty moving deep inside him, kissing his back and neck, hair bristling against smooth skin -- and satisfied, and Ty didn't know why he wasn't surprised, not one bit, not in the slightest…
Early morning found Marc lazily tangled awake in white sheets, though, as Ty returned from the bathroom naked -- upper and lower lip included.
"You fuck like a porn star, you know? Even when you don't try to look like one."
" 'Touch me in the shower, Ty,' that was what you said?"
"No."
"No?"
That gaze, dark, gleaming, still caught somewhere other than Monday daylight. "Non. You'll have to fuck me out of this bed. Only way you're getting me in that shower." Marc, spontaneously deciding his itinerary could go fuck itself. "No matter when I have to leave."
The words came, feeling like just another continuation of every part of last night's festivities, and Ty grinned -- and Marc would never let him know just what that smile did to his insides.
"You little whore. And I'll fuck you wherever when I do."
Coaxing repetitions and sweet strangeness out of Ty, Marc smiled, knowing and hearing "I love you, and it's way too damn late for me to take anything back."
Fin...et commencement ;)