Fanfic: It's Not Cheating If Your Lips Don't Touch
Title- It's Not Cheating If Your Lips Don't Touch
Fandom- Suits
Ship- Trevor/Mike, Trevor/Jenny mentioned
Rating- PG-13
Genre- established-relationship, slash
Warnings- drug use (marijuana), unbetaed
Wordcount- 930
Disclaimer- I do not own Suits
Summary- Trevor and Mike have a thing, but Trevor doesn't cheat on Jenny.
A/N- written for a prompt here at suitsmeme : Trevor/Mike, preseries, shotgunning weed.
They’ve been doing this for a long time, whenever Jenny isn’t around. She loves them both, and they love her, but there’s so much that they keep from her. The weed is only the beginning of the things she doesn’t know. There’s also their attraction to each other, which they act on- but don’t.
They agreed a long time ago that sex would be cheating, saying ‘I love you’ would be cheating, kissing would be cheating. Neither one of them wants to hurt Jenny. Neither one of them wants Trevor to cheat on her. But it’s not cheating if your lips don’t touch.
“Hey,” Trevor murmurs from his spot on the couch, and Mike looks up at him lazily from the floor. The scent of burning pot fills the room, and he’s feeling sleepy and warm. It’s always times like this that it happens. They can’t smoke when Jenny’s around, so they light up as soon as she leaves. Once the smoke is filling the air, the urge to touch grows until it’s almost a physical need, one they’re both more than willing to accommodate. But they never actually cheat.
Mike rises from the floor with a lazy smile, and climbs up onto the couch next to Trevor. As he crawls nearer, Trevor’s legs on the couch come unbent, until he’s more lying than sitting. Mike crawls between Trevor’s legs and places one hand on either side of his chest. Trevor reaches up and runs a hand through Mike’s short hair, humming in pleasure at the sensation of it against his skin.
Mike settles himself on top of Trevor, chest to chest and hips to hips, and he lets out a soft moan at the feeling. Trevor takes a long drag on his joint, then holds it out to Mike butt-first. Mike puts one hand on Trevor’s wrist and guides it towards his mouth until the tip of the joint brushes his lips. He takes it in his mouth, eyes meeting Trevor’s lazily. He can feel the dampness where Trevor’s lips touched, and it’s somehow almost as intimate as kissing. Mike inhales slowly. He can feel the smoke in his mouth, throat, lungs. He holds it in for a moment, then pushes Trevor’s hand back and exhales the smoke into the air.
Mike looks down at Trevor with a contented smile as Trevor’s other hand continues to pet his hair. The touch feels good, warm and soft. Without his realizing it, one of Mike’s hands is stroking over Trevor’s chest. This is what the weed does. It makes every touch feel so much better, so that it’s almost impossible to resist fitting his body next to Trevor’s and touching him, being touched by him.
Trevor puts the joint back to his mouth and breaths in, his eyes falling shut as he does. Mike reaches up and runs a hand down the side of his face, reveling in the feel of Trevor’s skin against his fingers. Trevor opens his eyes and takes the joint from his mouth, smiling up at Mike. Instead of offering the joint to Mike, he holds it out to the side. His hand in Mike’s hair urges him gently down, and Mike follows it. He knows exactly what Trevor wants.
Mike lowers his head until his lips almost touch Trevor’s- almost, but not quite. Trevor breathes out the smoke, and Mike can feel Trevor’s chest falling beneath his hands. He closes his eyes and breaths in, feeling the smoke Trevor’s just exhaled flowing into his mouth. It’s incredibly intimate, to share breath with someone. It’s probably more intimate than kissing. In times like these, when they’re hazy with the effects of the smoke, warm and sluggish and tactile and sensual, sharing breath almost feels more intimate than sex.
Mike doesn’t pull back when Trevor closes his mouth, but remains above him, his lips hovering only a hair’s breadth above Trevor’s. He tries to hold it in as long as he can, both the pot smoke and Trevor’s breath, until his lungs start to ache, but in a good way. Then he draws his head back from Trevor and breaths the smoke out into the empty space between them. He’s starting to feel a little light-headed -more than usual- so he takes a few breaths of the smoky air before opening his eyes and looking back at Trevor.
Trevor is smiling gently at him, and Mike smiles back. Trevor holds out the joint again, and Mike takes a drag. This time he’s expecting it when Trevor holds the joint away once he’s done. Mike leans down without Trevor’s prompting, though the hand buried in his hair does feel wonderful. He puts his lips just next to Trevor’s and exhales the smoke into his waiting mouth. He can feel the rush of air being drawn over his lips as Trevor breaths in. Even that feels amazing, and Mike closes his eyes in pleasure.
They go on like this, in the most intimate act they know, until the joint is burned to nothing but a stub. It’s incredible, and personal, in a way they can never put to words, can never act on outside these times when they’re alone in Mike’s apartment, without Jenny. They both love her, but she can’t know. And they can’t hurt her. They’ll never say they love each other, even if it hangs between them as obviously as the smoke they breathe. They’ll never act on it outside of this, these times, and they’ll never let their lips touch. It’s not cheating as long as they do.
Fandom- Suits
Ship- Trevor/Mike, Trevor/Jenny mentioned
Rating- PG-13
Genre- established-relationship, slash
Warnings- drug use (marijuana), unbetaed
Wordcount- 930
Disclaimer- I do not own Suits
Summary- Trevor and Mike have a thing, but Trevor doesn't cheat on Jenny.
A/N- written for a prompt here at suitsmeme : Trevor/Mike, preseries, shotgunning weed.
They’ve been doing this for a long time, whenever Jenny isn’t around. She loves them both, and they love her, but there’s so much that they keep from her. The weed is only the beginning of the things she doesn’t know. There’s also their attraction to each other, which they act on- but don’t.
They agreed a long time ago that sex would be cheating, saying ‘I love you’ would be cheating, kissing would be cheating. Neither one of them wants to hurt Jenny. Neither one of them wants Trevor to cheat on her. But it’s not cheating if your lips don’t touch.
“Hey,” Trevor murmurs from his spot on the couch, and Mike looks up at him lazily from the floor. The scent of burning pot fills the room, and he’s feeling sleepy and warm. It’s always times like this that it happens. They can’t smoke when Jenny’s around, so they light up as soon as she leaves. Once the smoke is filling the air, the urge to touch grows until it’s almost a physical need, one they’re both more than willing to accommodate. But they never actually cheat.
Mike rises from the floor with a lazy smile, and climbs up onto the couch next to Trevor. As he crawls nearer, Trevor’s legs on the couch come unbent, until he’s more lying than sitting. Mike crawls between Trevor’s legs and places one hand on either side of his chest. Trevor reaches up and runs a hand through Mike’s short hair, humming in pleasure at the sensation of it against his skin.
Mike settles himself on top of Trevor, chest to chest and hips to hips, and he lets out a soft moan at the feeling. Trevor takes a long drag on his joint, then holds it out to Mike butt-first. Mike puts one hand on Trevor’s wrist and guides it towards his mouth until the tip of the joint brushes his lips. He takes it in his mouth, eyes meeting Trevor’s lazily. He can feel the dampness where Trevor’s lips touched, and it’s somehow almost as intimate as kissing. Mike inhales slowly. He can feel the smoke in his mouth, throat, lungs. He holds it in for a moment, then pushes Trevor’s hand back and exhales the smoke into the air.
Mike looks down at Trevor with a contented smile as Trevor’s other hand continues to pet his hair. The touch feels good, warm and soft. Without his realizing it, one of Mike’s hands is stroking over Trevor’s chest. This is what the weed does. It makes every touch feel so much better, so that it’s almost impossible to resist fitting his body next to Trevor’s and touching him, being touched by him.
Trevor puts the joint back to his mouth and breaths in, his eyes falling shut as he does. Mike reaches up and runs a hand down the side of his face, reveling in the feel of Trevor’s skin against his fingers. Trevor opens his eyes and takes the joint from his mouth, smiling up at Mike. Instead of offering the joint to Mike, he holds it out to the side. His hand in Mike’s hair urges him gently down, and Mike follows it. He knows exactly what Trevor wants.
Mike lowers his head until his lips almost touch Trevor’s- almost, but not quite. Trevor breathes out the smoke, and Mike can feel Trevor’s chest falling beneath his hands. He closes his eyes and breaths in, feeling the smoke Trevor’s just exhaled flowing into his mouth. It’s incredibly intimate, to share breath with someone. It’s probably more intimate than kissing. In times like these, when they’re hazy with the effects of the smoke, warm and sluggish and tactile and sensual, sharing breath almost feels more intimate than sex.
Mike doesn’t pull back when Trevor closes his mouth, but remains above him, his lips hovering only a hair’s breadth above Trevor’s. He tries to hold it in as long as he can, both the pot smoke and Trevor’s breath, until his lungs start to ache, but in a good way. Then he draws his head back from Trevor and breaths the smoke out into the empty space between them. He’s starting to feel a little light-headed -more than usual- so he takes a few breaths of the smoky air before opening his eyes and looking back at Trevor.
Trevor is smiling gently at him, and Mike smiles back. Trevor holds out the joint again, and Mike takes a drag. This time he’s expecting it when Trevor holds the joint away once he’s done. Mike leans down without Trevor’s prompting, though the hand buried in his hair does feel wonderful. He puts his lips just next to Trevor’s and exhales the smoke into his waiting mouth. He can feel the rush of air being drawn over his lips as Trevor breaths in. Even that feels amazing, and Mike closes his eyes in pleasure.
They go on like this, in the most intimate act they know, until the joint is burned to nothing but a stub. It’s incredible, and personal, in a way they can never put to words, can never act on outside these times when they’re alone in Mike’s apartment, without Jenny. They both love her, but she can’t know. And they can’t hurt her. They’ll never say they love each other, even if it hangs between them as obviously as the smoke they breathe. They’ll never act on it outside of this, these times, and they’ll never let their lips touch. It’s not cheating as long as they do.