natural harvest (sga, nsfw, john/rodney, foster's bakery)
Title: Natural Harvest
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Word count: ~1600
Ratings/Warnings: NSFW, NC17. This story may be unsafe for people with triggers. ( Skip.) Descriptions of pornography and sexual fantasies.
Contains: Porn viewing, masturbation, fantasies of voyeurism and exhibitionism.
Summary: PWPish. John gives his computer to Rodney for maintenance, with permission to go through John's files. Rodney's not proud; he takes the laptop to bed. Part of the Foster's Bakery AU, though you probably don't need to read the others for this.
Notes: The title comes from this recipe book. Some images are inspired by these borderline-NSFW muscle magazine scans.
*
Rodney didn't even know John had a laptop, and if he'd speculated, he wouldn't have imagined this one. It's a totally boring Lenovo Thinkpad, two years old, running Windows XP; when Rodney sees the OS sticker, he groans, "My hands feel dirty just holding this thing. Also, who doesn't take the specs stickers off their two year old laptop?"
"This guy," John answers, hitching a thumb at himself and smiling in that smarmy way that says he knows he's being an asshole, and there's nothing God or anyone can do about it.
"Okay, here's the thing," says Rodney. "I'll hold my nose and fix it for you. But you have to specifically tell me not to look at your porn, because if you don't say it, I'm going to."
"And if I tell you not to, you still will, but you won't admit it?" Now it's the cynical variation on the smarm, John's eyes cinched up in wry amusement.
"If you tell me not to, I'll hand it back to you and make you at least archive it so I'm not as tempted. And then... and then I won't," Rodney promises.
John holds his gaze just long enough for Rodney to feel less sure, but then the moment breaks and John shrugs, elaborately casual. "It's fine."
Which means once Rodney gets the Thinkpad home and cures the simple popup virus and cleans the cruft off-- dear god, John never even deleted the Symantec trial off this thing-- he has only to find the most image-heavy folder and there it is, "C://windows/system32/1321345589144."
Rodney's not proud; he takes the laptop to bed and gets out his bottle of jojoba oil and a box of tissues, because he's half-hard already just at the promise of seeing John's fantasy material.
He wonders if John's porn habit is anything like his own: Rodney always starts with still images and switches to videos once he's turned on. If he's not already a little keyed up when he starts watching movies, he gets distracted by things in the background, or dumb pornspeak. John's image folder looks as if it'll give him plenty of material before he starts digging into the movies.
Of course, once he gets ready and clicks on the image folder, he finds it's full of clown pictures. John must have found a dozen gallery sites and used DownThemAll to get so many images so fast, because the metadata tells Rodney that John saved them all yesterday.
"Very funny," Rodney says aloud, and finds the second most image-heavy folder, also buried in the system files. He opens it up and his stomach does a little ripple of excitement as soon as the thumbnails render, dominated by skin tones.
Rodney's been speculating for months about John's porn, and he's psyched himself up for anything. A uniform fetish would be no surprise, and he's sure he'd be unfazed by almost anything BDSM-wise, and if it's all Disney characters going at it, well, he might not get any use out of the oil after all, but he can go with it. He likes John. That happens seldom enough to negotiate just about anything.
After all his preparation, though, John's porn is almost disappointingly vanilla. In fact, at first it seems so bizarrely innocent that Rodney runs another search, in case this is another dummy folder. But no, this is it, and when he checks, the images in this folder were gathered over the past two years, in the kind of spates that Rodney recognizes from his own experiences in gathering and stockpiling porn from the neverending bounty of the internet.
A number of the images are in shorts or posing pouches, which thoroughly baffles Rodney until he realizes that they're scans from old "bodybuilding" magazines, the stuff gay men had to settle for in the fifties and sixties. Most of the men in these saved pictures aren't all that bodybuilt, though; muscled, but not ripped.
Rodney slides further down the file folder and finds more modern stuff, and okay, this is more like what he expected, some actual porn: a lot of facials, apparently John likes the look of overflowing mouths; a lot of bottom-on-top fucking, which makes Rodney's thighs twinge. If they're going to do that, he'll need to do a little more exercise beyond bi-weekly hiking.
There's not a lot of group sex, but there's a non-negligible number of images with two guys fucking in front of onlookers. There's an assortment of outdoor sex scenarios, but they're not overtly exhibitionist in nature, to Rodney's relief. Occasionally he comes across images of guys in a sling, getting fucked or fingered or rimmed or blown; the sling seems to be the common factor in that subset.
It's all still weirdly wholesome, though, and when he comes across a guy licking up come, Rodney finally realizes why. Because the guy is smiling as he swabs his tongue through come on the (tile, not particularly clean-looking) floor.
There are plenty of typical O-faces, but a lot of the guys in these pictures are smiling, or at least look-- not just into it, but cheerful.
It makes him backtrack and shuffle through the collection, seeing it in a new light. Men who look blissed out, men who look happy. Some of the outdoor sex images are just kissing, fully clothed.
Rodney braces himself for disappointment, sorts by date of download, and goes back a year or so. If someone looked through his porn collection, they'd probably notice that around that time, his collection shifted emphasis from blondes of all genders to dark-haired men with lean bodies and lush mouths.
There's no sudden shift, but Rodney spots a few men with builds like his, and a run of ass shots, which he decides to take credit for too. His dick perks with more interest. It does something for him, thinking of John thinking of him. Rodney gets his left hand around himself and pumps up and down, feeling himself thicken promisingly.
He scrolls down and down, blowjob, fucking in a sling, rimming, kissing and a handjob outdoors, blowjob in front of a crowd, blowjob, rimming-- they haven't done that yet, he hopes John's willing to try it for real. Further on, he hits a run of outdoors shots. Several of the kissing shots, outdoor blowjobs, fucking against a tree, which looks seriously uncomfortable but still... very hot.
Rodney lingers on a shot of a man sitting on a low tree limb, legs wrapped around the hips of the other man who holds him steady and presses against him, kissing him, one hand firm on the bulge in his pants. It's a turn-on, but it's also oddly familiar, and then he thinks to check the download dates.
November. John downloaded this bunch of outdoor images after he and Rodney kissed in the park that first time.
And then it's like Rodney can see it, see John searching out these pictures, slumping easily back in his chair and letting the images roll by, eyes heavy-lidded, squeezing and stroking his hardening cock and fantasizing about pushing that kiss further, about groping and sucking right there in the park.
John fantasized about that day, about Rodney, about the two of them in the open like that. Rodney flips clumsily back to the guy facing the tree and bracing against it while his partner fucks him, and it's not a fantasy Rodney's ever had before, but he can imagine it, the two of them on that day in the park:
John shoving him there and Rodney's pants down and opening his own fly; John dropping and rimming him, licking into him-- Rodney's grip on himself tightens, he has to move his hand-- John rising and hooking his fingers up into Rodney, opening him up roughly, spitting in his palm and wetting his shaft, just that for lube and nothing else, like Rodney's doing with his own palm now, because it's too hot to wait for lube, privacy, a bed-- and just, just John fucking him, so hard, right there, right there...
Habit makes Rodney cup his hand over his cock when he shoots, and semen fills his fist and drips through his fingers. Rodney flashes on John's pictures of men with come flowing out of their mouths, imagines John blissfully come-soaked like that, and his balls give up a last, belated spurt.
Rodney cleans up with the tissues, coming down. Afterglow doesn't last that long when he masturbates, he finds. Sex is better in a lot of ways, but still, there's nothing quite like jerking off.
He idly skates through the rest, chronologically, finding that after last November, John foraged for porn less often, or at least saved fewer pictures. The ones he did keep are intriguing, though, even without the rose-colored tint of arousal. Rimming, fucking, outdoor kissing, blowjob in front of onlookers. Rodney doesn't think either of them are genuinely exhibitionist enough to want to screw around in front of other people for real, not even in the back room of a gay club.
But he does wonder if John would get off on it if Rodney dragged him to a men's room and did him there, with the whole world on the other side of a flimsily-locked door. Doing John there, reminding him all the while that he'd be sending John out into public afterward with a reddened face and bitten mouth and rubbery legs. Rodney's not exhibitionist about himself much, but it's hot to imagine sexing John up and then sending him out looking even hotter than usual, flushed and wobbly and satisfied...
And, god, he actually feels like he could probably go again just from that image and another tour through John's porn.
Maybe this time he'll even get as far as watching the videos.
(He doesn't.)
http://cesare.dreamwidth.org/89436.html |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth
Author: Cesare (almostnever)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Word count: ~1600
Ratings/Warnings: NSFW, NC17. This story may be unsafe for people with triggers. ( Skip.) Descriptions of pornography and sexual fantasies.
Contains: Porn viewing, masturbation, fantasies of voyeurism and exhibitionism.
Summary: PWPish. John gives his computer to Rodney for maintenance, with permission to go through John's files. Rodney's not proud; he takes the laptop to bed. Part of the Foster's Bakery AU, though you probably don't need to read the others for this.
Notes: The title comes from this recipe book. Some images are inspired by these borderline-NSFW muscle magazine scans.
*
Rodney didn't even know John had a laptop, and if he'd speculated, he wouldn't have imagined this one. It's a totally boring Lenovo Thinkpad, two years old, running Windows XP; when Rodney sees the OS sticker, he groans, "My hands feel dirty just holding this thing. Also, who doesn't take the specs stickers off their two year old laptop?"
"This guy," John answers, hitching a thumb at himself and smiling in that smarmy way that says he knows he's being an asshole, and there's nothing God or anyone can do about it.
"Okay, here's the thing," says Rodney. "I'll hold my nose and fix it for you. But you have to specifically tell me not to look at your porn, because if you don't say it, I'm going to."
"And if I tell you not to, you still will, but you won't admit it?" Now it's the cynical variation on the smarm, John's eyes cinched up in wry amusement.
"If you tell me not to, I'll hand it back to you and make you at least archive it so I'm not as tempted. And then... and then I won't," Rodney promises.
John holds his gaze just long enough for Rodney to feel less sure, but then the moment breaks and John shrugs, elaborately casual. "It's fine."
Which means once Rodney gets the Thinkpad home and cures the simple popup virus and cleans the cruft off-- dear god, John never even deleted the Symantec trial off this thing-- he has only to find the most image-heavy folder and there it is, "C://windows/system32/1321345589144."
Rodney's not proud; he takes the laptop to bed and gets out his bottle of jojoba oil and a box of tissues, because he's half-hard already just at the promise of seeing John's fantasy material.
He wonders if John's porn habit is anything like his own: Rodney always starts with still images and switches to videos once he's turned on. If he's not already a little keyed up when he starts watching movies, he gets distracted by things in the background, or dumb pornspeak. John's image folder looks as if it'll give him plenty of material before he starts digging into the movies.
Of course, once he gets ready and clicks on the image folder, he finds it's full of clown pictures. John must have found a dozen gallery sites and used DownThemAll to get so many images so fast, because the metadata tells Rodney that John saved them all yesterday.
"Very funny," Rodney says aloud, and finds the second most image-heavy folder, also buried in the system files. He opens it up and his stomach does a little ripple of excitement as soon as the thumbnails render, dominated by skin tones.
Rodney's been speculating for months about John's porn, and he's psyched himself up for anything. A uniform fetish would be no surprise, and he's sure he'd be unfazed by almost anything BDSM-wise, and if it's all Disney characters going at it, well, he might not get any use out of the oil after all, but he can go with it. He likes John. That happens seldom enough to negotiate just about anything.
After all his preparation, though, John's porn is almost disappointingly vanilla. In fact, at first it seems so bizarrely innocent that Rodney runs another search, in case this is another dummy folder. But no, this is it, and when he checks, the images in this folder were gathered over the past two years, in the kind of spates that Rodney recognizes from his own experiences in gathering and stockpiling porn from the neverending bounty of the internet.
A number of the images are in shorts or posing pouches, which thoroughly baffles Rodney until he realizes that they're scans from old "bodybuilding" magazines, the stuff gay men had to settle for in the fifties and sixties. Most of the men in these saved pictures aren't all that bodybuilt, though; muscled, but not ripped.
Rodney slides further down the file folder and finds more modern stuff, and okay, this is more like what he expected, some actual porn: a lot of facials, apparently John likes the look of overflowing mouths; a lot of bottom-on-top fucking, which makes Rodney's thighs twinge. If they're going to do that, he'll need to do a little more exercise beyond bi-weekly hiking.
There's not a lot of group sex, but there's a non-negligible number of images with two guys fucking in front of onlookers. There's an assortment of outdoor sex scenarios, but they're not overtly exhibitionist in nature, to Rodney's relief. Occasionally he comes across images of guys in a sling, getting fucked or fingered or rimmed or blown; the sling seems to be the common factor in that subset.
It's all still weirdly wholesome, though, and when he comes across a guy licking up come, Rodney finally realizes why. Because the guy is smiling as he swabs his tongue through come on the (tile, not particularly clean-looking) floor.
There are plenty of typical O-faces, but a lot of the guys in these pictures are smiling, or at least look-- not just into it, but cheerful.
It makes him backtrack and shuffle through the collection, seeing it in a new light. Men who look blissed out, men who look happy. Some of the outdoor sex images are just kissing, fully clothed.
Rodney braces himself for disappointment, sorts by date of download, and goes back a year or so. If someone looked through his porn collection, they'd probably notice that around that time, his collection shifted emphasis from blondes of all genders to dark-haired men with lean bodies and lush mouths.
There's no sudden shift, but Rodney spots a few men with builds like his, and a run of ass shots, which he decides to take credit for too. His dick perks with more interest. It does something for him, thinking of John thinking of him. Rodney gets his left hand around himself and pumps up and down, feeling himself thicken promisingly.
He scrolls down and down, blowjob, fucking in a sling, rimming, kissing and a handjob outdoors, blowjob in front of a crowd, blowjob, rimming-- they haven't done that yet, he hopes John's willing to try it for real. Further on, he hits a run of outdoors shots. Several of the kissing shots, outdoor blowjobs, fucking against a tree, which looks seriously uncomfortable but still... very hot.
Rodney lingers on a shot of a man sitting on a low tree limb, legs wrapped around the hips of the other man who holds him steady and presses against him, kissing him, one hand firm on the bulge in his pants. It's a turn-on, but it's also oddly familiar, and then he thinks to check the download dates.
November. John downloaded this bunch of outdoor images after he and Rodney kissed in the park that first time.
And then it's like Rodney can see it, see John searching out these pictures, slumping easily back in his chair and letting the images roll by, eyes heavy-lidded, squeezing and stroking his hardening cock and fantasizing about pushing that kiss further, about groping and sucking right there in the park.
John fantasized about that day, about Rodney, about the two of them in the open like that. Rodney flips clumsily back to the guy facing the tree and bracing against it while his partner fucks him, and it's not a fantasy Rodney's ever had before, but he can imagine it, the two of them on that day in the park:
John shoving him there and Rodney's pants down and opening his own fly; John dropping and rimming him, licking into him-- Rodney's grip on himself tightens, he has to move his hand-- John rising and hooking his fingers up into Rodney, opening him up roughly, spitting in his palm and wetting his shaft, just that for lube and nothing else, like Rodney's doing with his own palm now, because it's too hot to wait for lube, privacy, a bed-- and just, just John fucking him, so hard, right there, right there...
Habit makes Rodney cup his hand over his cock when he shoots, and semen fills his fist and drips through his fingers. Rodney flashes on John's pictures of men with come flowing out of their mouths, imagines John blissfully come-soaked like that, and his balls give up a last, belated spurt.
Rodney cleans up with the tissues, coming down. Afterglow doesn't last that long when he masturbates, he finds. Sex is better in a lot of ways, but still, there's nothing quite like jerking off.
He idly skates through the rest, chronologically, finding that after last November, John foraged for porn less often, or at least saved fewer pictures. The ones he did keep are intriguing, though, even without the rose-colored tint of arousal. Rimming, fucking, outdoor kissing, blowjob in front of onlookers. Rodney doesn't think either of them are genuinely exhibitionist enough to want to screw around in front of other people for real, not even in the back room of a gay club.
But he does wonder if John would get off on it if Rodney dragged him to a men's room and did him there, with the whole world on the other side of a flimsily-locked door. Doing John there, reminding him all the while that he'd be sending John out into public afterward with a reddened face and bitten mouth and rubbery legs. Rodney's not exhibitionist about himself much, but it's hot to imagine sexing John up and then sending him out looking even hotter than usual, flushed and wobbly and satisfied...
And, god, he actually feels like he could probably go again just from that image and another tour through John's porn.
Maybe this time he'll even get as far as watching the videos.
(He doesn't.)
http://cesare.dreamwidth.org/89436.html |
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