A Jealous Man - Hollyoaks - John Paul/Kieron
Title: A Jealous Man
Pairing: John Paul/Kieron (implied John Paul/others)
Word Count: 316
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the porn battle. Also using for 7_deadly_sins_
Summary: "John Paul," Kieron had protested as he was led to the couch in the McQueen's living room. "We can't do this here. What if we get caught?"
He should've held his ground, he knows, but he's a weaker man than he'd thought.
"John Paul," Kieron had protested as he was led to the couch in the McQueen's living room. "We can't do this here. What if we get caught?"
John Paul's answering grin had been almost manic - "They're out, Kieron. They going to be out for ages yet. So relax." His blue eyes sparkled like long-lost gems. Mischief. Nothing but mischief. "We've got time."
Yes, Kieron should have argued a little more - but less than a minute later he is sitting on the couch with John Paul's sin-red lips around his cock. Kieron's mouth is frozen half-open and his hand clenches sporadically in John Paul's blond hair. "Oh G- Oh g-" He won't let himself say it. Won't take the Lord's name even at a time like this. Especially at a time like this.
John Paul's too good at this - too good at everything - and it's almost painful to look down at him and imagine who else has had this treatment, who else has had those skilled lips around their dick, who else John Paul has dropped to his knees for. Does he even know how many? Does he know their names? Do they know his?
(I'm not a jealous man, Kieron has to tell himself in front of the mirror every night. I'm not.)
His hardness is taken deeper - impossibly deeper - into the wet heat of John Paul's mouth. Kieron can't hear anything but the pounding of his pulse in his ears. His body clenches, tightens - and he spills without warning into John Paul's throat, crying out too loudly as it takes him over.
John Paul swallows and wriggles, snakelike, up Kieron's body. Kieron can only smile at him, come-drunk and happy. "You look gorgeous," he tells him, running a lethargic hand under John Paul's t-shirt. He kisses him and can taste his own bitter spunk on John Paul's tongue: the taste of belonging. The taste of possession.
Pairing: John Paul/Kieron (implied John Paul/others)
Word Count: 316
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the porn battle. Also using for 7_deadly_sins_
Summary: "John Paul," Kieron had protested as he was led to the couch in the McQueen's living room. "We can't do this here. What if we get caught?"
He should've held his ground, he knows, but he's a weaker man than he'd thought.
"John Paul," Kieron had protested as he was led to the couch in the McQueen's living room. "We can't do this here. What if we get caught?"
John Paul's answering grin had been almost manic - "They're out, Kieron. They going to be out for ages yet. So relax." His blue eyes sparkled like long-lost gems. Mischief. Nothing but mischief. "We've got time."
Yes, Kieron should have argued a little more - but less than a minute later he is sitting on the couch with John Paul's sin-red lips around his cock. Kieron's mouth is frozen half-open and his hand clenches sporadically in John Paul's blond hair. "Oh G- Oh g-" He won't let himself say it. Won't take the Lord's name even at a time like this. Especially at a time like this.
John Paul's too good at this - too good at everything - and it's almost painful to look down at him and imagine who else has had this treatment, who else has had those skilled lips around their dick, who else John Paul has dropped to his knees for. Does he even know how many? Does he know their names? Do they know his?
(I'm not a jealous man, Kieron has to tell himself in front of the mirror every night. I'm not.)
His hardness is taken deeper - impossibly deeper - into the wet heat of John Paul's mouth. Kieron can't hear anything but the pounding of his pulse in his ears. His body clenches, tightens - and he spills without warning into John Paul's throat, crying out too loudly as it takes him over.
John Paul swallows and wriggles, snakelike, up Kieron's body. Kieron can only smile at him, come-drunk and happy. "You look gorgeous," he tells him, running a lethargic hand under John Paul's t-shirt. He kisses him and can taste his own bitter spunk on John Paul's tongue: the taste of belonging. The taste of possession.