[Fic] Miles to go Before I Sleep (R) DPS: Neil/Todd.
Title: Miles to go Before I Sleep
Author: faynia
Fandom/Pairing: Dead Poets Society: Neil/his right hand, Todd
Rating: R
Word Count: 417
Summary: Todd listens to the sounds of the night.
Disclaimer: Dead Poets Society belongs to Peter Weir and co. I am making no money off this short venture.
Highlight for Warnings: *Sort of voyeuism*
Beta: inabathrobe
A/N: Written for mystictwilight during the 2007 BBTP fest on IJ.
He couldn't be doing that. Todd rolled onto his back, trying not to listen. But, how could he miss that? Slapslapslapslapslap. He squirmed beneath the thick green blanket. Neil was...was...right? No, he must be doing something else. Something equally wet and slick were making those loud noises because Neil wouldn't. Not when he was in the room. Not when the rules about these sort of things were so strict at Welton.
A bead of sweat trailed down his cheek as he gripped the mattress beneath him. Did Neil think he wouldn't hear him? It could be the only answer and he pressed his thighs together and released them, unable to remain unaffected. He'd have to be dead from the waist down to remain unaffected by this...this... Neil moaned. The soft sound that would otherwise have gone unheard seemed louder than ever in the small cramped room.
Oh God.
This was wrong. This was very, very wrong, and Neil. Jesus. The blanket rubbed across his boxer shorts, scratchy and abrasive and he couldn't help but thrust into it. This was sick.
He rolled onto his sides and squeezed his eyes shut, but that couldn't block out the sounds. The quiet groans overlapping the slaps which were faster now as Neil. The bed frame squeaked in tandem with the slapping noise. Surely someone downstairs would hear this. Neil would get caught and in more trouble than any of them had been all year, but there were no sounds in the hall. No footsteps hurried towards there door.
Neil!
Todd whimpered, the noise getting caught in his throat. The squeaking and slapping abruptly stopped and Todd had to tell himself not to roll over and look. That it would be wrong to watch Neil, lithe, good looking, brunet, best friend arched high in the air, mouth open in ecstasy.
"Jesus," Neil whispered into the still night. Sweat and semen coated the air with their thick scents and Todd twitched beneath the covers, hand compulsively moving lower. He was so hard and he only wanted sleep. One squeeze that was it. That was all he was giving his body, just one--
"Todd?"
His hand stilled on its journey, thumb right on the base of his cock. Oh God. Oh God. He prayed silently that Neil wouldn't get up and come over here, and it seemed that someone was listening.
Neil rolled over on his bed, springs groaning under his dead weight, and the room fell silent once more.
Todd didn't dare move for the rest of the night.
Author: faynia
Fandom/Pairing: Dead Poets Society: Neil/his right hand, Todd
Rating: R
Word Count: 417
Summary: Todd listens to the sounds of the night.
Disclaimer: Dead Poets Society belongs to Peter Weir and co. I am making no money off this short venture.
Highlight for Warnings: *Sort of voyeuism*
Beta: inabathrobe
A/N: Written for mystictwilight during the 2007 BBTP fest on IJ.
He couldn't be doing that. Todd rolled onto his back, trying not to listen. But, how could he miss that? Slapslapslapslapslap. He squirmed beneath the thick green blanket. Neil was...was...right? No, he must be doing something else. Something equally wet and slick were making those loud noises because Neil wouldn't. Not when he was in the room. Not when the rules about these sort of things were so strict at Welton.
A bead of sweat trailed down his cheek as he gripped the mattress beneath him. Did Neil think he wouldn't hear him? It could be the only answer and he pressed his thighs together and released them, unable to remain unaffected. He'd have to be dead from the waist down to remain unaffected by this...this... Neil moaned. The soft sound that would otherwise have gone unheard seemed louder than ever in the small cramped room.
Oh God.
This was wrong. This was very, very wrong, and Neil. Jesus. The blanket rubbed across his boxer shorts, scratchy and abrasive and he couldn't help but thrust into it. This was sick.
He rolled onto his sides and squeezed his eyes shut, but that couldn't block out the sounds. The quiet groans overlapping the slaps which were faster now as Neil. The bed frame squeaked in tandem with the slapping noise. Surely someone downstairs would hear this. Neil would get caught and in more trouble than any of them had been all year, but there were no sounds in the hall. No footsteps hurried towards there door.
Neil!
Todd whimpered, the noise getting caught in his throat. The squeaking and slapping abruptly stopped and Todd had to tell himself not to roll over and look. That it would be wrong to watch Neil, lithe, good looking, brunet, best friend arched high in the air, mouth open in ecstasy.
"Jesus," Neil whispered into the still night. Sweat and semen coated the air with their thick scents and Todd twitched beneath the covers, hand compulsively moving lower. He was so hard and he only wanted sleep. One squeeze that was it. That was all he was giving his body, just one--
"Todd?"
His hand stilled on its journey, thumb right on the base of his cock. Oh God. Oh God. He prayed silently that Neil wouldn't get up and come over here, and it seemed that someone was listening.
Neil rolled over on his bed, springs groaning under his dead weight, and the room fell silent once more.
Todd didn't dare move for the rest of the night.