Life on Mars Anonymous Pornfest II - The Porn Bites Back
Please Note: We've declared the Very First Second Pornfest over, so any new prompts posted will be deleted. However, we do encourage you to post any anon fic in response to the existing prompts and comment on the lovely responses that we've already got
( Read more... )
‘Fuck!’ bellowed Gene, gripping Sam painfully by the wrist and sitting bolt upright. He clapped a hand to the side of his face, and looked at it angrily as it came away pink with blood-tinged shaving foam. He grabbed at Sam’s collar with the other hand, and Sam thought he might be about to lift him up and headbutt him. Instead, Gene tugged monstrously hard, and ripped half of Sam’s cheap, badly-stitched polyester collar from his shirt, pressing the torn fabric to the cut on his chin.
‘Bloody hell, Guv,’ said Sam, wide-eyed. ‘What am I going to wear home tomorrow?’
‘Wear one of mine,’ he said.
‘It’ll be swimming on me,’ said Sam, looking at the piece of cloth, now nearly saturated in crimson. ‘I think I missed the major arteries,’ Sam said, trying for levity.
‘Well that’s a bloody relief,’ said Gene, completely side-stepping the half-hearted humour. ‘Gimme that.’ He snatched for the razor. Sam held it at arm’s length. Gene leant over and grabbed for it again, and his face mashed against Sam’s, smearing Sam’s left cheek with blood and foam. Thrown off-balance, Sam relinquished the razor to Gene’s hold, and Gene sat back against the headboard again, turning the blade to catch the glare from the lamp. Sam watched the clean slashes of light it threw across the walls and ceiling.
Then Gene leaned forward and began to scrape the smeared shaving foam from Sam’s cheek with long, practised swipes of the razor blade. As he did so, Gene slapped Sam’s other cheek with the flat of his hand.
‘There’s nothin’ to shave,’ he said. ‘Yer such a prissy fuckin’ ponce, you ‘avent even got a lick of stubble.’ He let his hand lie still against Sam’s cheek. ‘Smooth. Like a bird.’ He drew his hand down Sam’s cheek, down his neck and gripped his shoulder tightly. ‘Like a girl.’ He threw himself onto Sam face-first, licking at his cheek and searching out his mouth with his tongue. Sam scrambled up from the floor and knelt on the bed in front of Gene, holding his head between his hands. They rubbed their faces together, their chins slick and messy from leftover shaving foam. Gene tugged his head away and wiped his face and Sam’s clean with the duvet cover, and then fell back onto Sam.
The whole bottom half of Gene’s face tasted bitter and powdery, sharp and clean. Sam poked out his tongue and licked across his smooth right cheek, over his nose and right across his stubbly left cheek. Gene looked a little ridiculous, he thought, half-shaven, though Sam couldn’t really care less. He started to bite at Gene’s cheeks, chew his chin, and suddenly Gene gripped Sam’s shoulders and began to give as good as he got. When they reached each others mouths, they were sucking, chewing with teeth, their jaws working restlessly and desperately. Gene put a hand on the back of Sam’s head and pressed their faces together impossibly tight. Gene’s nose brushed Sam’s cheek near his ear. Their mouths were open so wide that the corners of their lips threatened to split. Sam was still holding the straight razor in his hand, the blade out, held away from their bodies, almost forgotten.
They had never kissed for this long before.
The cut on Gene’s chin began to bleed again. He knew because he could feel a warm, thin trickle worming its way down the side of his neck. He took Sam’s hand and moved it until Sam’s thumb came into contact with the blood. Picking up the cue effortlessly, Sam smeared the blood up, back over Gene’s chin and pushed his thumb into the non-existent gap between their mouths, introducing the taste of copper into the mix of soap, smoke and spit.
Sam left Gene’s mouth and began to suck intently at the slice on the edge of Gene’s jaw. It was clean, long and deep, and Sam worked his tongue right inside of it, feeling the skin part, teasing out more blood to taste.
‘Aya!’ said Gene. ‘Who d’ye think ye are, fucking Dracula?’
Reply
Leave a comment