Pretty Boy - new spn fic
Title: Pretty Boy
Author: Fingersofdawn
Pairing: Gordon/omc
Rating: R for m/m oral
Word Count: 1,074
Spoilers: Hunted, perhaps.
Summary: PWP encounter between Gordon and someone who seems kind of familiar to him.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. It makes me sad, yes, but they aren’t.
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He had a lot of time to think now. To think about things…about being humiliated, thwarted, locked up. And he had a lot of time to stare now, too.
He stared at the gray walls of his cell, he stared at the bleak horizon during his exercise period, and he stared at the milling sea of fellow inmates during each of his three squares. But it was all blind, inward staring. Really he was thinking about a certain someone, a name no one would recognize if it happened to pass his lips aloud. And why would it? He had no reason to speak it out loud. No reason to speak at all.
Most of the other inmates left him alone. He was too big and quietly menacing to be anyone’s bitch, though a few tried to be his. He kept them at bay just as efficiently with the right look or whatever it was about his hands that made other people afraid.
Except one. Shorter than him and ripplingly well-formed, but not a muscle maven, short dark-blond hair, prettily cut features. No more than a kid really, but old seeming. He called him Pretty Boy in his head when he thought of him at all.
Gordon had felt him staring at him in the showers with heavy eyes. His was as open an invitation as could be, if it could get around the cold apathy and slight petulance also there. He gave him the same flat, stay-the-hell-away look every time, but Pretty Boy wasn’t deterred. Each day he seemed to be telling Gordon to come and get it, with gamely sashaying hips and artful lathering.
Gordon was the one doing the watching today, from the corner of his eye - lean, gently curved hips and skin slightly golden where the sun was allowed to linger, but milky white otherwise - he was compactly beautiful except for the sneer perpetually on his lips.
Gordon watched the steam hug the air between them and felt his balls tighten, his shaft rise slightly. It had been quite a long time and he thought about it now. He also thought about how it had never been with a man and realized he didn’t know exactly what he wanted him to do, or even what he wanted to do, but that he needed to do something, now.
His breathing quickened and he rubbed lather into the short, coarse hair on his chest, eyes now singularly trained on the man a few feet away from him. They were almost alone, only a few other prisoners spread out in the cavernous shower areas, and the guards congregated at the far end, ignoring mostly everything. They all felt distant to his senses, removed.
The object of his scrutiny finally stopped pretending preoccupation with his shower head and looked at him again, wet tongue tipping out to sip up water from those lips of his. Pretty, pretty lips. He reminded him of someone and it tickled around the edges of his mind, but he ignored it.
They slowly began to inch their way towards to each other. Gordon stopped a hands breadth away, eyes slightly wide, wary. The man slowly reached out and Gordon watched his hand hesitantly come closer to his dark length, only half-hard but so alive already. It twitched at the first brush and they both breathed a little harder.
Blood rushed into his shaft quickly with the few gentle, slow jerks the man bestowed upon it. He felt it pull everything, all his attention, all his desire and Gordon could barely take his eyes away from his groin to look at him. He returned the look, eyes wickedly knowing and a cocky smirk budding at his mouth. Gordon’s hand stilled his.
“I want you to suck it.” The words barely left his mouth and the man was fluidly sliding to his knees in the wet, steamy air, dazed but eager, seductively worshipful. He opened his mouth and delicately brought the tip into it, eyes closing in ecstasy. Gordon shuddered as a flattened tongue swept up the center of his cock’s head and moved his hands to the close cropped head, cradling it firmly as the man took him further into his hot wetness.
Inch by inch he swallowed him, breathing through his nose and eyes closed. When he was close to the base Gordon gently rocked his hips and wrapped his arms further around the kneeling man’s head and shoulders. He languorously fucked the throat in short, rolling strokes, barely moving in and out. Pretty Boy rhythmically sucked in counter, lowly humming around the large cock in his mouth leaving barely enough room to move his tongue from side to side beneath it.
Gordon panted and opened his eyes, looking down at the face, the mouth stretched around him and sucking, the eyes barely slit with incredibly long lashes, pale brown and golden tipped. He could see a slight dusting of freckles over the straight bridge of the nose nearly nestling at his groin with each slide in. The eyelids fluttered and opened wide over a set of enormous doe eyes, brilliantly blue and vulnerable now. Not green and gold and brown. Not like Dean’s.
Dean. Dean Winchester. Him. That was who he reminded him of - Dean. Gordon felt a little snap inside, then a dark chuckle rose in his chest, bitter and strangled off by the cold anger he felt rushing after it. He quickened his strokes and held eye contact with the man below him. The eyes fluttered shut and Gordon felt his mouth obligingly widen out. Gordon maneuvered his head into a better angle, pushed all the way in to the base, and began to fuck, hard.
He felt a slight convulsion around his cock, but then the man relaxed and braced both his hands on Gordon’s slightly spread thighs, allowing the hard length between to freely piston in and out his throat. Gordon kept up the brutal pace, a low series of abrupt grunts falling from his mouth, one burn at the base of his spine melding into another as his balls drew up tighter and tighter until he finally burst forth in a hot tide that flowed down the waiting throat.
As every last bit of him came forth he rode the spasms over with short, anguished cries of release. An agonizingly ground out name, that no one recognized, was the last sound from his mouth.