Friday Night Lights FF: Slash porn ficlets (Landry/Matt, Matt/Tim, Tim/Jason; R)
Friday Night Lights porn ficlets for oxoniensis's porn battle here
All R-rated, all spoiled for up to mid-season, all characters belong to Peter Berg et al.
Title: Faltering without falling
Pairing: Landry/Matt
Length: 637 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Matt/Landry, fumbling
Matt’s standing at the foot of the bed, shuffling from foot to foot, the way he does when he knows he’s screwed up. Landry raises himself up on his elbows and stares Matt down. “Yeah?”
“Look. Or, listen, maybe, I guess. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Matt?”
“Landry…” The edge of the bed sank when Matt sat down. “You want me to sleep on the couch?”
Matt had already pulled his feet up beside him, and tucked his toes under the quilt, but Landry played along. “No one should sleep on that couch, not even moronic quarterbacks who don’t know why they’re apologising. It has springs that poke out, and there’s always the possibility your Grandma comes out, mistakes you for a robber, and whacks you with her broom.
“She doesn’t have a broom, Landry,” Matt says, “or a cauldron, or a pointy hat.” He gets into the bed and lies side by side with Landry. “And I really am sorry.”
Matt kind of leans over the top of him, mashes their mouths together and reaches a hand for Landry’s dick. He’s still nervous and jittery, and trying to explain himself using brain cells he can’t afford to waste.
Landry sighs. “Why I am I cursed to have to do everything?” He shoves Matt over, as firmly as he can manage, until they are both on their sides, Matt’s back against Landry’s chest. Landry reaches around.
“La-Landry?”
“Yes?”
“I thought I was supposed to be apologising?”
“I’m helping you to relax first, Apparently you need a run-up at your apologies.”
Landry hooked a leg over Matt’s, rubbing his foot up Matt’s ankle. He bit Matt’s shoulder lightly to see what would happen - Matt gasped and twitched and stiffened under his hand. “This is helping me relax?”
“Don’t they always tell you to get some before the big game? Endorphins, Matthew - happy hormones.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly football.”
“Don’t try and tell me football isn’t homoerotic. Lots of men in tight trousers ‘tackling’ each other?”
“Landry!”
“And don’t give me the reflexive homophobic jock response. I have my hand on your dick, and after I’m done, you’re going to suck me off. You have absolutely no room to…”
He had been planning on going somewhere with that rant, but somewhere in the middle, Matt gasps, and claws himself harder into Landry’s hand. His orgasm is impressively long and messy, and he blushes from head to toe.
Matt lies there beside Landry for a little while, slumped and dreamy. The way he gets with a pencil in his hand and not a football, when he’s not freaking out about plays and drills and what other imposingly muscled men are up to. Landry used to think that meant happy.
Smiling, Matt turns them both back over, and slides down the bed. He uses his arms to brace himself up and look at Landry, and they’re kind of imposingly muscled too, but it looks better on him. Matt pulls at Landry’s boxers and lowers his mouth and it’s measured and sweet and so utterly Matt. His mouth slides up and down and he hums something that isn’t Landry’s style but everything sounds better when it’s being sung over your cock. He splays his hands on Landry’s stomach and it’s just an extension of sharing beds, and going to every game, and of Matt’s chatter when he’s excited and his amused attention all the other times. It’s still Matt.
“I still don’t exactly know, you know, specifically, what you need me to apologise for,” Matt says sheepishly, when they’re done, and lying beside each other again.
Landry grins. “Yeah, you’re not always that bright. But I’ll be magnanimous and let you call it square, just this once.”
( Thread posting)
- - - - - - -
Title: Watching
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Length: 665 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Jason/Tim, window
The door is closed but not locked, and Tim should really learn to be careful about these things. The window is shuttered with blinds, but Jason can see the flicker of the television in the dark, and Tim stretching his arms up above his head before slumping on the couch.
Even with Jason’s silent battle with the door and his chair, Tim has barely started when he gets inside. Tim’s hands are wrapped around his dick, and he is distracted enough by the girls undulating on the TV screen that he only looks up when Jason is halfway to him. His eyes are wide-bright-scared, and he freezes instantly.
“Not going to finish?” Jason asks.
Tim shakes his head, not an answer but only confusion. “What are you…?”
“I mean come on, Timmy,” Jason interrupts. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before. Or was that different? Back when I wasn’t a cripple and you hadn’t stolen my girl?”
Tim winces at ‘cripple’ and hides his face at ‘stolen’, just as Jason knew he would.
“Used to do it when we shared rooms for away games. Even did it with Lyla in the room, when she was with me and she thought you were asleep but I always knew, Tim. Every time.”
Jason wheels himself just a little closer. He lifts his hand, still more of an effort than it should be. “I’d help, but you know… So go ahead.” It’s not polite. It’s not an allowance, or even a request. It’s thirty-three, split-left, blue. It’s the way Tim always does what Jason asks even though Jason’s never known why exactly and he’s never ‘til this moment taken advantage. Tim slides his hand down his dick and back again. Then a second time, hissing when he rakes the underside with his nails.
Jason pulls the plug from the television. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Tim. Look at me.”
Tim meets his eyes and it hurts, watching him, but Jason had asked. Asked for what he couldn’t have and couldn’t take, but he could watch. He could listen. The words trip out of Tim in a stream - Six, Street, Jason, Jay. The last stretched out into too many syllables, and Jason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, or maybe had just wanted once. Tim’s thumb brushes the head of his cock. His other hand - his good hand - rubs around his balls and reaches back further, pushing in. Tim’s eyes close again and Jason doesn’t stop him because he has already seen too much. “Six,” Tim whispers again, rough, his breath catching with each push of his finger.
“Stop,” Jason says. “You know I didn’t mean… You can stop.”
Tim mutters, “It’s alright.” And then, “Jay.” He bangs his head on the back of the couch when he comes, leaking through his closed fist, with a finger still in his ass because that’s what he thought Jason had wanted. And it isn’t all right.
Because now Jason knows what Tim looks like, fucked-over and miserable, with Jason’s name on his lips. The mirror cracked and now, through the gap, there is Tim’s sadness to match his own. Tim’s sorrow and Tim’s remorse and it had been so much better wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.
“I’ll let myself out.” Jason starts to wheel himself around.
“Okay,” is all Tim says. Like this was just some exercise in vengeful humiliation that Jason had thought up on his way over here. Tim’s never been able to lie worth a damn, and Jason hates doing it but it’s never been a problem before. Not before Tim slept with Lyla and Jason punched Tim and both of them had to start pretending that they didn’t care anymore. Jason doesn’t know how things got screwed up so fast. He can’t say sorry, but he can’t leave like this either.
He turns the chair around. “Good game on Friday,” he says, staring intently at the door.
“You were watching?”
“Every time.”
( Thread posting)
- - - - - - - - -
Title: Custom-made
Pairing: Tim/Matt
Rating: R
Length: 768 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Tim/Matt, [none]
“Do you… want something to drink?”
Tim looked over at Matt Saracen, who was rubbing his fist nervously along the counter-top. It was awkward. Landry had sworn blind it’d be five minutes, in and out. But something was up with his band and he’d taken off with a kind of smug, you guys’ll be fine for a few hours, right?
Matt had spent twenty minutes watching Tim read for his assignment. Then Tim had closed his book with a thump and looked up at Matt.
“Beer?” he asked.
“Um. No, sorry. I mean, I drink, you’ve seen me drink, but not in the-
Tim interrupted before Saracen got himself even more knotted up, “Soda?”
“Sure.”
Matt handed him a can of coke, opened his own, and they stared at each other for a minute. Reaching, Matt asked, “Want to watch some TV? Or one of the game tapes, maybe?”
“Our games?”
Matt came around the counter into the living room, and knelt down beside the TV. “I have our games if you want. But I meant the Ravens, for next week. Coach Taylor keeps sending me home with tape. He’s trying to keep me busy so I don’t…”
“Get his daughter pregnant?”
Matt laughed nervously. “Well. Yeah.”
Tim lay back on the couch and waited for Matt to sit down. He did, awkwardly, leaning his elbows on his knees. The noise of the game was the only sound, and then Matt leant back, and waved an arm at the screen. “Look.”
“What?”
“Right there. There’s no… Okay, listen.” Matt drew lines in the air. “You go…” He stabbed a point that Tim was pretty sure was meant to be the end of the run. “And then when I…” Another sweep of his hand. “Touchdown.”
“Sure you don’t mean Smash?”
“Huh? No. I mean, Smash is great and all, but this one is… it’s you. I get it to you and it’ll be easy.”
“Easy?”
“Okay, not easy, maybe, but we can get it right. And then it’ll just be… it’ll be perfect.”
Tim didn’t think about Saracen that often. Matt was on his radar because Matt had been QB2 and Jason Street had been injured. He was captain not because of his leadership skills but because he had been made QB1 and that came with a few advantages. But he wasn’t Jason - there was nothing in common between them. Except, maybe, that Matt drew two crosses in the air - QB and fullback - with the clear-eyed conviction that if he threw it, Tim would catch.
Matt was nice, and he was good, and he went to parties with the team and the rally girls but it wasn’t really his thing. He was smart, and he had spent his evening carefully not listening to Tim’s stumbling answers to Landry’s quiz. And he thought up plays to give Tim.
Matt was tight up against his side because they were football players and this was a small couch. It was embarrassingly easy for Tim to move his hand from his own leg to Matt’s. It was actually kind of creepy that Matt didn’t really notice until his fly was all the way down, and Tim brushed the head of his dick with a finger. “Tim!”
“Yeah?”
“You want to, maybe not…?”
“Nope. See, Matt, good girls are great, nothin’ wrong with good girls, but they won’t do this for you.” It wasn’t a great angle, and he ended up on the floor kneeling between Matt’s legs. “Or, they do, but it takes them a really long time to get there. The rally girls will, but you don’t seem so keen on them.”
“So why are you… what are you…?”
“You need to get laid more than anyone I ever knew, Saracen.”
“But why-?”
“Because you’re an okay guy. And I don’t mind.”
Matt had got hard with just Tim’s still hand and being looked at. It had been a while since anyone did that with Tim, but it wasn’t a problem. Matt hissed, quiet and strange, when Tim dropped his head and licked. His hands grabbed at the couch, not painting plays in the air any more. He fought to keep still, trying not to jerk up and hurt Tim. Sucking him in deeper, Tim planted his hands either side of Matt. Too nice for his own good, Matt tried to warn Tim, but he was ignored in favour of a half-inch of teeth and a long swallow that wrung him dry.
Tim sat back on the couch, in time for the beginning of the second half. “Wanna tell me some more?”
FIN! That should have excised my FNL porn bunnies at least until we finish S1
All R-rated, all spoiled for up to mid-season, all characters belong to Peter Berg et al.
Title: Faltering without falling
Pairing: Landry/Matt
Length: 637 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Matt/Landry, fumbling
Matt’s standing at the foot of the bed, shuffling from foot to foot, the way he does when he knows he’s screwed up. Landry raises himself up on his elbows and stares Matt down. “Yeah?”
“Look. Or, listen, maybe, I guess. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Matt?”
“Landry…” The edge of the bed sank when Matt sat down. “You want me to sleep on the couch?”
Matt had already pulled his feet up beside him, and tucked his toes under the quilt, but Landry played along. “No one should sleep on that couch, not even moronic quarterbacks who don’t know why they’re apologising. It has springs that poke out, and there’s always the possibility your Grandma comes out, mistakes you for a robber, and whacks you with her broom.
“She doesn’t have a broom, Landry,” Matt says, “or a cauldron, or a pointy hat.” He gets into the bed and lies side by side with Landry. “And I really am sorry.”
Matt kind of leans over the top of him, mashes their mouths together and reaches a hand for Landry’s dick. He’s still nervous and jittery, and trying to explain himself using brain cells he can’t afford to waste.
Landry sighs. “Why I am I cursed to have to do everything?” He shoves Matt over, as firmly as he can manage, until they are both on their sides, Matt’s back against Landry’s chest. Landry reaches around.
“La-Landry?”
“Yes?”
“I thought I was supposed to be apologising?”
“I’m helping you to relax first, Apparently you need a run-up at your apologies.”
Landry hooked a leg over Matt’s, rubbing his foot up Matt’s ankle. He bit Matt’s shoulder lightly to see what would happen - Matt gasped and twitched and stiffened under his hand. “This is helping me relax?”
“Don’t they always tell you to get some before the big game? Endorphins, Matthew - happy hormones.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly football.”
“Don’t try and tell me football isn’t homoerotic. Lots of men in tight trousers ‘tackling’ each other?”
“Landry!”
“And don’t give me the reflexive homophobic jock response. I have my hand on your dick, and after I’m done, you’re going to suck me off. You have absolutely no room to…”
He had been planning on going somewhere with that rant, but somewhere in the middle, Matt gasps, and claws himself harder into Landry’s hand. His orgasm is impressively long and messy, and he blushes from head to toe.
Matt lies there beside Landry for a little while, slumped and dreamy. The way he gets with a pencil in his hand and not a football, when he’s not freaking out about plays and drills and what other imposingly muscled men are up to. Landry used to think that meant happy.
Smiling, Matt turns them both back over, and slides down the bed. He uses his arms to brace himself up and look at Landry, and they’re kind of imposingly muscled too, but it looks better on him. Matt pulls at Landry’s boxers and lowers his mouth and it’s measured and sweet and so utterly Matt. His mouth slides up and down and he hums something that isn’t Landry’s style but everything sounds better when it’s being sung over your cock. He splays his hands on Landry’s stomach and it’s just an extension of sharing beds, and going to every game, and of Matt’s chatter when he’s excited and his amused attention all the other times. It’s still Matt.
“I still don’t exactly know, you know, specifically, what you need me to apologise for,” Matt says sheepishly, when they’re done, and lying beside each other again.
Landry grins. “Yeah, you’re not always that bright. But I’ll be magnanimous and let you call it square, just this once.”
( Thread posting)
- - - - - - -
Title: Watching
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Length: 665 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Jason/Tim, window
The door is closed but not locked, and Tim should really learn to be careful about these things. The window is shuttered with blinds, but Jason can see the flicker of the television in the dark, and Tim stretching his arms up above his head before slumping on the couch.
Even with Jason’s silent battle with the door and his chair, Tim has barely started when he gets inside. Tim’s hands are wrapped around his dick, and he is distracted enough by the girls undulating on the TV screen that he only looks up when Jason is halfway to him. His eyes are wide-bright-scared, and he freezes instantly.
“Not going to finish?” Jason asks.
Tim shakes his head, not an answer but only confusion. “What are you…?”
“I mean come on, Timmy,” Jason interrupts. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before. Or was that different? Back when I wasn’t a cripple and you hadn’t stolen my girl?”
Tim winces at ‘cripple’ and hides his face at ‘stolen’, just as Jason knew he would.
“Used to do it when we shared rooms for away games. Even did it with Lyla in the room, when she was with me and she thought you were asleep but I always knew, Tim. Every time.”
Jason wheels himself just a little closer. He lifts his hand, still more of an effort than it should be. “I’d help, but you know… So go ahead.” It’s not polite. It’s not an allowance, or even a request. It’s thirty-three, split-left, blue. It’s the way Tim always does what Jason asks even though Jason’s never known why exactly and he’s never ‘til this moment taken advantage. Tim slides his hand down his dick and back again. Then a second time, hissing when he rakes the underside with his nails.
Jason pulls the plug from the television. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Tim. Look at me.”
Tim meets his eyes and it hurts, watching him, but Jason had asked. Asked for what he couldn’t have and couldn’t take, but he could watch. He could listen. The words trip out of Tim in a stream - Six, Street, Jason, Jay. The last stretched out into too many syllables, and Jason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, or maybe had just wanted once. Tim’s thumb brushes the head of his cock. His other hand - his good hand - rubs around his balls and reaches back further, pushing in. Tim’s eyes close again and Jason doesn’t stop him because he has already seen too much. “Six,” Tim whispers again, rough, his breath catching with each push of his finger.
“Stop,” Jason says. “You know I didn’t mean… You can stop.”
Tim mutters, “It’s alright.” And then, “Jay.” He bangs his head on the back of the couch when he comes, leaking through his closed fist, with a finger still in his ass because that’s what he thought Jason had wanted. And it isn’t all right.
Because now Jason knows what Tim looks like, fucked-over and miserable, with Jason’s name on his lips. The mirror cracked and now, through the gap, there is Tim’s sadness to match his own. Tim’s sorrow and Tim’s remorse and it had been so much better wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.
“I’ll let myself out.” Jason starts to wheel himself around.
“Okay,” is all Tim says. Like this was just some exercise in vengeful humiliation that Jason had thought up on his way over here. Tim’s never been able to lie worth a damn, and Jason hates doing it but it’s never been a problem before. Not before Tim slept with Lyla and Jason punched Tim and both of them had to start pretending that they didn’t care anymore. Jason doesn’t know how things got screwed up so fast. He can’t say sorry, but he can’t leave like this either.
He turns the chair around. “Good game on Friday,” he says, staring intently at the door.
“You were watching?”
“Every time.”
( Thread posting)
- - - - - - - - -
Title: Custom-made
Pairing: Tim/Matt
Rating: R
Length: 768 words
Prompt: Friday Night Lights, Tim/Matt, [none]
“Do you… want something to drink?”
Tim looked over at Matt Saracen, who was rubbing his fist nervously along the counter-top. It was awkward. Landry had sworn blind it’d be five minutes, in and out. But something was up with his band and he’d taken off with a kind of smug, you guys’ll be fine for a few hours, right?
Matt had spent twenty minutes watching Tim read for his assignment. Then Tim had closed his book with a thump and looked up at Matt.
“Beer?” he asked.
“Um. No, sorry. I mean, I drink, you’ve seen me drink, but not in the-
Tim interrupted before Saracen got himself even more knotted up, “Soda?”
“Sure.”
Matt handed him a can of coke, opened his own, and they stared at each other for a minute. Reaching, Matt asked, “Want to watch some TV? Or one of the game tapes, maybe?”
“Our games?”
Matt came around the counter into the living room, and knelt down beside the TV. “I have our games if you want. But I meant the Ravens, for next week. Coach Taylor keeps sending me home with tape. He’s trying to keep me busy so I don’t…”
“Get his daughter pregnant?”
Matt laughed nervously. “Well. Yeah.”
Tim lay back on the couch and waited for Matt to sit down. He did, awkwardly, leaning his elbows on his knees. The noise of the game was the only sound, and then Matt leant back, and waved an arm at the screen. “Look.”
“What?”
“Right there. There’s no… Okay, listen.” Matt drew lines in the air. “You go…” He stabbed a point that Tim was pretty sure was meant to be the end of the run. “And then when I…” Another sweep of his hand. “Touchdown.”
“Sure you don’t mean Smash?”
“Huh? No. I mean, Smash is great and all, but this one is… it’s you. I get it to you and it’ll be easy.”
“Easy?”
“Okay, not easy, maybe, but we can get it right. And then it’ll just be… it’ll be perfect.”
Tim didn’t think about Saracen that often. Matt was on his radar because Matt had been QB2 and Jason Street had been injured. He was captain not because of his leadership skills but because he had been made QB1 and that came with a few advantages. But he wasn’t Jason - there was nothing in common between them. Except, maybe, that Matt drew two crosses in the air - QB and fullback - with the clear-eyed conviction that if he threw it, Tim would catch.
Matt was nice, and he was good, and he went to parties with the team and the rally girls but it wasn’t really his thing. He was smart, and he had spent his evening carefully not listening to Tim’s stumbling answers to Landry’s quiz. And he thought up plays to give Tim.
Matt was tight up against his side because they were football players and this was a small couch. It was embarrassingly easy for Tim to move his hand from his own leg to Matt’s. It was actually kind of creepy that Matt didn’t really notice until his fly was all the way down, and Tim brushed the head of his dick with a finger. “Tim!”
“Yeah?”
“You want to, maybe not…?”
“Nope. See, Matt, good girls are great, nothin’ wrong with good girls, but they won’t do this for you.” It wasn’t a great angle, and he ended up on the floor kneeling between Matt’s legs. “Or, they do, but it takes them a really long time to get there. The rally girls will, but you don’t seem so keen on them.”
“So why are you… what are you…?”
“You need to get laid more than anyone I ever knew, Saracen.”
“But why-?”
“Because you’re an okay guy. And I don’t mind.”
Matt had got hard with just Tim’s still hand and being looked at. It had been a while since anyone did that with Tim, but it wasn’t a problem. Matt hissed, quiet and strange, when Tim dropped his head and licked. His hands grabbed at the couch, not painting plays in the air any more. He fought to keep still, trying not to jerk up and hurt Tim. Sucking him in deeper, Tim planted his hands either side of Matt. Too nice for his own good, Matt tried to warn Tim, but he was ignored in favour of a half-inch of teeth and a long swallow that wrung him dry.
Tim sat back on the couch, in time for the beginning of the second half. “Wanna tell me some more?”
FIN! That should have excised my FNL porn bunnies at least until we finish S1