Movie Star Contacts (Jesse/John)
Title: Movie Star Contacts
Author: goodbyesheesha
Pairing: Jesse Lacey/John Nolan
Rating: NC-17
Summary Nothing special, really. It's just some crazy drunken sex.
Dislaimer: The following is a work of fiction. All names are used in a fictitious manner.
Notes and Dedications: This is for Jackie, because I just found out her birthday is coming up, and she wanted me to finish this anyways. It's called killing two birds, kids.
I actually wrote this while my computer was virus-infested, so it gets somewhat rushed (and much less serious. I can't help it: I'm a douche.) near the end, because I was trying to write out as much as I could before crashing.
John Nolan was completely smashed. You know, he was trashed, drunk, three sheets to the wind, standed at sea. Any synonym is fine enough.
John was drunk, while Jesse was more or less sober. Jesse had had a bit to drink earlier on, but that had faded enough that the only sign was a slight blurryness in the corners of his vision, like when you burn the edges of coffee-stained paper to give your sixth grade History project that aged look.
Jesse's such a nice guy, isn't he? He walked John home, which, often times, was closer to carrying him, because John is the kind of drunk where he can't stand competently.
He's not an honest drunk, though. He was kind of sad about it, because he just wanted to tell Jesse things. You know, the personal kind of things he was never supposed to utter. He wanted to tell Jesse how unhappy he was with his marriage. He wanted to tell Jesse about all the times in highschool when he jerked off to thoughts about Jesse. He wanted to tell Jesse about how he'd jerked off to thoughts of Jesse earlier that night. He also might have wanted to tell Jesse that he loved him. Just maybe.
John and Jesse sitting in a tree.
What's not to love about Jesse Lacey? John loved him, yeah. He loved Jesse's awkward, throaty laugh. He loved his blue, blue eyes like movie star contacts. He loved his giant fucking forehead, and his complete inability to think anything for himself.
Okay, yeah. John admitted what a tool Jesse could be at times. It was endearing to John, really it was. This could just be because John's an asshole, though.
Jesse was just so busying hanging out with Kevin, and trying to forget who he was with John. John realised this this-- he saw through Jesse-- because it was hard not to. Jesse was trying so hard to please. He'd always been like that.
Really, it was kind of funny. Really, John is just soulless. Clearly that's the only explanation.
Or maybe he was heartless. That was a tad more fun, because then he couldn't really be in love, could he? Maybe he just wanted to be able to say he'd had crazy gay sex with his best friend, like something out of a bad romance novel? Maybe he just wanted an excuse to end everything with Camille? Maybe he was way too drunk to be thinking that much.
Jesse's hands were all over John, holding him up. They were around his shoulders, and tucked beneath his armpits. At one point, he was simply holding John's hand. Those hands were soft, too soft for a guitarist-- at least one who makes a living from their instrument. If John were a little more sober, he might have asked if Jesse was neglecting the instrument.
"You have fucking soft hands," John commented, as Jesse was making a somewhat pathetic attempt to lug him through the doorway. John didn't really expect the words to come out clearly, but they didn't sound too bad to his own ears, and Jesse was laughing.
"Thanks, John."
John's clothes were sticky with sweat and a faint smell of vomit clung to them. Jesse carefully undressed John, and put his clothes in the wash.
And then Jesse layed John down to bed.
The thing about John Nolan, is that he's a clingy drunk. He's clingy and lovey and he has completely perfected that wounded puppy look. So when John put on his sad, sad eyes and asked Jesse to stay, with that sad, shakey voice, how could Jesse say no? How could any nice guy say no?
Jesse slipped under the covers beside John, careful to keep enough space; John was radiating heat, and just laying in that bed almost felt like torture at times. Thanks to the alcohol, John was pretty quick to fall asleep, although he woke up twice to run to the bathroom to vomit, and he didn't even make it out of the bed on one occasion and ended up decorating his bedside table. It had been some years since Jesse had last slept in the same bed as John, and he had forgotten how bad the snoring could be. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable sleep for either of them.
When John awoke, the clock read 11:03. He assumed it was AM, but the blinds were closed and he couldn't be sure. It took him some time to notice Jesse sleeping soundly beside him, but when he finally clued in, Jesse's presence perplexed him. His first thought was Woah. Did I totally bone Jesse?
And his second thought ran somewhere along the lines of I should do it again.
Within minutes, John had gone from a deep sleep to straddling a still-unconscious Jesse.
Jesse had always been quite groggy upon waking, and it took him a good ten minutes to notice John on top of him, touching him, running his hands up Jesse's shirt. And okay, it wasn't necessarily unenjoyable, but it was John and it was awkward and he was far from lucid. Jesse reached up and slapped John sharply with his too-soft hand.
This seemed to pull John back to reality, because he gave an exaggerated blink and stared down at Jesse.
"Oh shit, " John said, "I am sorry. I just, I thought that we'd-- And then, you know, we were naked. I was naked, anyways. You were there, and-- Haven't you ever been curious?"
Years of friendship had given Jesse the impressive ability to understand John Nolan's drunken rambling-- Not that he wanted to understand it most of the time, mind you. And it's not as if Jesse didn't already know that John had homosexual tendencies, because John talks a lot when he's drunk, even if he's not always honest. Of course, this was still a brutally awkward and awful situation and should be taken as such, despite any humour that one may be able to find within.
"Maybe you should just sleep this one off, John. I think that's your best move, " Jesse said, in an attempt to sound soothing. It didn't work particularly well, and sounded preachy, if anything, but John didn't call him on it.
John kneaded Jesse's crotch through his boxers and murmured another "Haven't you ever been curious?" and Jesse had always been weak-willed; he admitted it. Plus, hey, he hadn't gotten laid in a long time and it was the perfect opportunity. As long as Jesse got to be the "man", he could pretend there was nothing strange or awry.
And then Jesse was naked, because John may have been drunk, but he was also apparently quite skilled in the art of undressing, which Jesse wasn't sure he wanted to think about, because it was John and Jesse had always liked to pretend that John was sweet and virginal, even if he did have proof to the contrary.
And then John was fumbling through his bedside table for lube, and taking extra time, because his mind kept wandering back to American Pie, and John was terrified of having to go with the hospital with Jesse Lacey glued inside of him.
That's almost kind of romantic, if you ignore how creepy and awkward it would be.
After a number of seconds that felt like minutes, John located a bottle with a green label and held it up ceremoniously, before dispensing some into his hand.
Then John was impaling himself on Jesse's thick, hot cock. He wished he had a mirror or something, just so he could see it disappearing inside of him. He wanted to see himself stretching to accomodate Jesse; he wanted to see Jesse become part of him.
It didn't hurt, like John expected it to. Instead, it was more like a severe discomfort that wasn't even all bad. It was just different.
John waited, not to let himself adjust, but to let Jesse adjust. He watched Jesse keenly, looking for something. He just wanted a reaction he could work with. He didn't want to give Jesse pleasure; he wanted to give him Love. It sounded pathetic, even to John, even in his inebriated state.
Jesse's eyes opened, and they just stared at each other for a moment, and it was enough for John. He started moving, and it took a slow effort at first, but he got the hang of it. Jesse was grunting, and it was almost enough, right there, for John to give up on any romantic visions, because he didn't need them anymore.
It was good. John was being jerked off by Jesse-- convenient, since John had tried himself, and found he couldn't balance without both hands holding onto Jesse for leverage-- and he wasn't sure how long he could last, which was almost embarassing but John was still three-sheets-to-the-wind and John was still a romantic.
And Jesse came before John, which made it okay for John to push himself over the edge. He focused all his thoughts on Jesse and on the knowledge that he had made Jesse come.
He focused all of his thoughts, and his orgasm took him like a panther slaughtering its prey.
Author: goodbyesheesha
Pairing: Jesse Lacey/John Nolan
Rating: NC-17
Summary Nothing special, really. It's just some crazy drunken sex.
Dislaimer: The following is a work of fiction. All names are used in a fictitious manner.
Notes and Dedications: This is for Jackie, because I just found out her birthday is coming up, and she wanted me to finish this anyways. It's called killing two birds, kids.
I actually wrote this while my computer was virus-infested, so it gets somewhat rushed (and much less serious. I can't help it: I'm a douche.) near the end, because I was trying to write out as much as I could before crashing.
John Nolan was completely smashed. You know, he was trashed, drunk, three sheets to the wind, standed at sea. Any synonym is fine enough.
John was drunk, while Jesse was more or less sober. Jesse had had a bit to drink earlier on, but that had faded enough that the only sign was a slight blurryness in the corners of his vision, like when you burn the edges of coffee-stained paper to give your sixth grade History project that aged look.
Jesse's such a nice guy, isn't he? He walked John home, which, often times, was closer to carrying him, because John is the kind of drunk where he can't stand competently.
He's not an honest drunk, though. He was kind of sad about it, because he just wanted to tell Jesse things. You know, the personal kind of things he was never supposed to utter. He wanted to tell Jesse how unhappy he was with his marriage. He wanted to tell Jesse about all the times in highschool when he jerked off to thoughts about Jesse. He wanted to tell Jesse about how he'd jerked off to thoughts of Jesse earlier that night. He also might have wanted to tell Jesse that he loved him. Just maybe.
John and Jesse sitting in a tree.
What's not to love about Jesse Lacey? John loved him, yeah. He loved Jesse's awkward, throaty laugh. He loved his blue, blue eyes like movie star contacts. He loved his giant fucking forehead, and his complete inability to think anything for himself.
Okay, yeah. John admitted what a tool Jesse could be at times. It was endearing to John, really it was. This could just be because John's an asshole, though.
Jesse was just so busying hanging out with Kevin, and trying to forget who he was with John. John realised this this-- he saw through Jesse-- because it was hard not to. Jesse was trying so hard to please. He'd always been like that.
Really, it was kind of funny. Really, John is just soulless. Clearly that's the only explanation.
Or maybe he was heartless. That was a tad more fun, because then he couldn't really be in love, could he? Maybe he just wanted to be able to say he'd had crazy gay sex with his best friend, like something out of a bad romance novel? Maybe he just wanted an excuse to end everything with Camille? Maybe he was way too drunk to be thinking that much.
Jesse's hands were all over John, holding him up. They were around his shoulders, and tucked beneath his armpits. At one point, he was simply holding John's hand. Those hands were soft, too soft for a guitarist-- at least one who makes a living from their instrument. If John were a little more sober, he might have asked if Jesse was neglecting the instrument.
"You have fucking soft hands," John commented, as Jesse was making a somewhat pathetic attempt to lug him through the doorway. John didn't really expect the words to come out clearly, but they didn't sound too bad to his own ears, and Jesse was laughing.
"Thanks, John."
John's clothes were sticky with sweat and a faint smell of vomit clung to them. Jesse carefully undressed John, and put his clothes in the wash.
And then Jesse layed John down to bed.
The thing about John Nolan, is that he's a clingy drunk. He's clingy and lovey and he has completely perfected that wounded puppy look. So when John put on his sad, sad eyes and asked Jesse to stay, with that sad, shakey voice, how could Jesse say no? How could any nice guy say no?
Jesse slipped under the covers beside John, careful to keep enough space; John was radiating heat, and just laying in that bed almost felt like torture at times. Thanks to the alcohol, John was pretty quick to fall asleep, although he woke up twice to run to the bathroom to vomit, and he didn't even make it out of the bed on one occasion and ended up decorating his bedside table. It had been some years since Jesse had last slept in the same bed as John, and he had forgotten how bad the snoring could be. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable sleep for either of them.
When John awoke, the clock read 11:03. He assumed it was AM, but the blinds were closed and he couldn't be sure. It took him some time to notice Jesse sleeping soundly beside him, but when he finally clued in, Jesse's presence perplexed him. His first thought was Woah. Did I totally bone Jesse?
And his second thought ran somewhere along the lines of I should do it again.
Within minutes, John had gone from a deep sleep to straddling a still-unconscious Jesse.
Jesse had always been quite groggy upon waking, and it took him a good ten minutes to notice John on top of him, touching him, running his hands up Jesse's shirt. And okay, it wasn't necessarily unenjoyable, but it was John and it was awkward and he was far from lucid. Jesse reached up and slapped John sharply with his too-soft hand.
This seemed to pull John back to reality, because he gave an exaggerated blink and stared down at Jesse.
"Oh shit, " John said, "I am sorry. I just, I thought that we'd-- And then, you know, we were naked. I was naked, anyways. You were there, and-- Haven't you ever been curious?"
Years of friendship had given Jesse the impressive ability to understand John Nolan's drunken rambling-- Not that he wanted to understand it most of the time, mind you. And it's not as if Jesse didn't already know that John had homosexual tendencies, because John talks a lot when he's drunk, even if he's not always honest. Of course, this was still a brutally awkward and awful situation and should be taken as such, despite any humour that one may be able to find within.
"Maybe you should just sleep this one off, John. I think that's your best move, " Jesse said, in an attempt to sound soothing. It didn't work particularly well, and sounded preachy, if anything, but John didn't call him on it.
John kneaded Jesse's crotch through his boxers and murmured another "Haven't you ever been curious?" and Jesse had always been weak-willed; he admitted it. Plus, hey, he hadn't gotten laid in a long time and it was the perfect opportunity. As long as Jesse got to be the "man", he could pretend there was nothing strange or awry.
And then Jesse was naked, because John may have been drunk, but he was also apparently quite skilled in the art of undressing, which Jesse wasn't sure he wanted to think about, because it was John and Jesse had always liked to pretend that John was sweet and virginal, even if he did have proof to the contrary.
And then John was fumbling through his bedside table for lube, and taking extra time, because his mind kept wandering back to American Pie, and John was terrified of having to go with the hospital with Jesse Lacey glued inside of him.
That's almost kind of romantic, if you ignore how creepy and awkward it would be.
After a number of seconds that felt like minutes, John located a bottle with a green label and held it up ceremoniously, before dispensing some into his hand.
Then John was impaling himself on Jesse's thick, hot cock. He wished he had a mirror or something, just so he could see it disappearing inside of him. He wanted to see himself stretching to accomodate Jesse; he wanted to see Jesse become part of him.
It didn't hurt, like John expected it to. Instead, it was more like a severe discomfort that wasn't even all bad. It was just different.
John waited, not to let himself adjust, but to let Jesse adjust. He watched Jesse keenly, looking for something. He just wanted a reaction he could work with. He didn't want to give Jesse pleasure; he wanted to give him Love. It sounded pathetic, even to John, even in his inebriated state.
Jesse's eyes opened, and they just stared at each other for a moment, and it was enough for John. He started moving, and it took a slow effort at first, but he got the hang of it. Jesse was grunting, and it was almost enough, right there, for John to give up on any romantic visions, because he didn't need them anymore.
It was good. John was being jerked off by Jesse-- convenient, since John had tried himself, and found he couldn't balance without both hands holding onto Jesse for leverage-- and he wasn't sure how long he could last, which was almost embarassing but John was still three-sheets-to-the-wind and John was still a romantic.
And Jesse came before John, which made it okay for John to push himself over the edge. He focused all his thoughts on Jesse and on the knowledge that he had made Jesse come.
He focused all of his thoughts, and his orgasm took him like a panther slaughtering its prey.