Fic, F**K, Luke/Noah, NC17
The second fic I posted on LJ was another super short meta writing deal. I got the inspiration while I was cooking Thanksgiving dinner, and pumped this out in about ten minutes. It involves the most adorable (and infurating) boys on television, Luke and Noah from As the World Turns. By the way, if you're not already following the boys via Brian's liveblog at After Elton, you're missing out on some good times. Anyway, the background you need for this story is that Luke and Noah broke up because Luke tried to rig the college election and Noah told the dean and got Luke expelled. Oh, and Luke's new step-grandpa tried to make out with him and Luke is drinking by the gallon (again), which is bad because of his one kidney. Seriously, the things these boys have gone through are just straight up ridiculous, but hey, it's a soap, right?
Title: F**K
Author: Glitterfey
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Noah
Rating/Word Count: NC17/~500
Spoilers/Warnings: Bad words, bad words, bad words! Oh, and sex. And anger. And schmoop, but just a little.
Summary: Variations on a word...
Disclaimer: If I owned Luke and Noah, they'd be naked a lot more.
Notes: Hello! Somewhere between baking the sweet potatoes and making the stuffing, the fanfic bug came over me. I wasn't sure how the community felt about curse words on the front page, so I used some strategically placed stars. Rest assured the stars are nowhere to be found after the cut. Happy Thanksgiving!
Fuck. The only vaguely appropriate word he could think of. A grandma with cancer, an expulsion, a touchy feely grandfather and a breakup - not the best of months by far. And while Luke could find comfort in neither Joyce nor Bronte nor Mayer, at least he could find comfort in Jack.
Fucked. The only vaguely appropriate way to describe Luke. Noah knew he’d been drinking and knew he was in a bad place, but when Luke decided to cheat, Noah’s faith was shaken, and Luke’s turn back to the bottle wasn’t helping. But he still loved Luke and couldn’t watch him suffer.
Fucker. The only vaguely appropriate name for the bastard who ripped his heart apart. Luke was just fine, thank you very much, and while he maybe couldn’t walk a straight line, he certainly didn’t need some sanctimonious former boyfriend explaining right and wrong. Noah had made his choice, and it clearly wasn’t Luke.
Fucking heavy. The only vaguely appropriate term for a drunk-off-his-ass Luke. And the constant slaps and kicks and half-hearted ranting certainly weren’t adding to Noah’s goodwill. Half tempted to leave him in the street behind Java, Noah put one arm around Luke’s middle and used his other hand to try to cover Luke’s mouth.
“Fucking leave me alone!” “No.”
Fuck. The only vaguely appropriate word that popped into Noah’s mind. He hadn’t expected Luke to grab his collar when Noah tossed him on the bed to sleep off the liquor. He also hadn’t expected Luke to trace the side of his neck with his tongue, and he hadn’t expected himself to turn his head into Luke’s frantic kiss.
Fucked. The only vaguely appropriate way to describe what Luke wanted. He needed to be fucked, not loved, not held, not any of the things that Noah was doing. They weren’t making love, they were fucking, and Luke used his weight to flip Noah onto his back, restraining Noah’s wrists with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other.
Fucker. The only vaguely appropriate name for Luke right now. Noah wanted to show Luke that he loved him, that even though things had been bad, Noah still wanted to be with him. But when the back of Luke’s throat tickled his dick and a finger breeched his ass, Noah’s focus shifted more towards his need to come than to prove his love.
Fucking heavy. The only vaguely appropriate term for the blissed out Noah draped across Luke’s body. They’d never had sex like that, raw and open and mean. Luke had felt it, though, when eyes locked and orgasms hit, that no matter how animalistic the sex, no matter how much pain and anger they shared, it was still making love.
“Fucking love you.” “Yeah.”
Title: F**K
Author: Glitterfey
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Noah
Rating/Word Count: NC17/~500
Spoilers/Warnings: Bad words, bad words, bad words! Oh, and sex. And anger. And schmoop, but just a little.
Summary: Variations on a word...
Disclaimer: If I owned Luke and Noah, they'd be naked a lot more.
Notes: Hello! Somewhere between baking the sweet potatoes and making the stuffing, the fanfic bug came over me. I wasn't sure how the community felt about curse words on the front page, so I used some strategically placed stars. Rest assured the stars are nowhere to be found after the cut. Happy Thanksgiving!
Fuck. The only vaguely appropriate word he could think of. A grandma with cancer, an expulsion, a touchy feely grandfather and a breakup - not the best of months by far. And while Luke could find comfort in neither Joyce nor Bronte nor Mayer, at least he could find comfort in Jack.
Fucked. The only vaguely appropriate way to describe Luke. Noah knew he’d been drinking and knew he was in a bad place, but when Luke decided to cheat, Noah’s faith was shaken, and Luke’s turn back to the bottle wasn’t helping. But he still loved Luke and couldn’t watch him suffer.
Fucker. The only vaguely appropriate name for the bastard who ripped his heart apart. Luke was just fine, thank you very much, and while he maybe couldn’t walk a straight line, he certainly didn’t need some sanctimonious former boyfriend explaining right and wrong. Noah had made his choice, and it clearly wasn’t Luke.
Fucking heavy. The only vaguely appropriate term for a drunk-off-his-ass Luke. And the constant slaps and kicks and half-hearted ranting certainly weren’t adding to Noah’s goodwill. Half tempted to leave him in the street behind Java, Noah put one arm around Luke’s middle and used his other hand to try to cover Luke’s mouth.
“Fucking leave me alone!” “No.”
Fuck. The only vaguely appropriate word that popped into Noah’s mind. He hadn’t expected Luke to grab his collar when Noah tossed him on the bed to sleep off the liquor. He also hadn’t expected Luke to trace the side of his neck with his tongue, and he hadn’t expected himself to turn his head into Luke’s frantic kiss.
Fucked. The only vaguely appropriate way to describe what Luke wanted. He needed to be fucked, not loved, not held, not any of the things that Noah was doing. They weren’t making love, they were fucking, and Luke used his weight to flip Noah onto his back, restraining Noah’s wrists with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other.
Fucker. The only vaguely appropriate name for Luke right now. Noah wanted to show Luke that he loved him, that even though things had been bad, Noah still wanted to be with him. But when the back of Luke’s throat tickled his dick and a finger breeched his ass, Noah’s focus shifted more towards his need to come than to prove his love.
Fucking heavy. The only vaguely appropriate term for the blissed out Noah draped across Luke’s body. They’d never had sex like that, raw and open and mean. Luke had felt it, though, when eyes locked and orgasms hit, that no matter how animalistic the sex, no matter how much pain and anger they shared, it was still making love.
“Fucking love you.” “Yeah.”