Gift for cf33!
cf33, Santa brought you a short fic and some icons!
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Title: Hand Jobs and Hair Gel
Pairing: Johnny/Stéphane
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It's all completely and utter false... just a product of my twisted mind. All mistakes are mine, and if something's horribly wrong, I apologize.
A/N: Written for cf33! Your icons are at the end... feel free to request any changes or to edit them yourself.
Johnny reaches out, shoves his coat off and presses him up against the wall. He kisses him fiercely, not giving him a chance to react. He’s changed out of his costume, but his left hand is still covered in silky semi-transparent black cloth.
“Did you fuck him?” He whispers harshly, nipping at an earlobe. Stéphane’s head hits the wall with a dull thud, and he gasps.
“Fuck who?” he forces out while Johnny’s hands head south. Johnny kisses him again, teeth clashing, and brings his naked hand up to tug on his hair.
“You know damn well who.”
Stéphane’s eyes flutter open to stare hazily at Johnny. Surely he can’t be expected to play guessing games now.
“I don’t kn-ahhh!” Johnny’s gloved hand squeezes him roughly through his thin track pants, and Stéphane’s head hits the wall again. “Don’t know what you’re talking about!” he gasps.
“I wouldn’t blame you, you know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Can you feel his eyes on you, even when you’re not looking?” he hisses in his ear. He shoves his gloved hand under the elastic waistband and gently palms his cock with the soft cloth. Stéphane arches into the contact, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud. “He seems to yell a lot. Very intense. Does that turn you on?” Johnny’s silky voice cuts through the haze and goes straight to his cock. “He helps you dress doesn’t he? Does he undress you as well?” Stéphane whimpers as the hand is immediately withdrawn.
Johnny pulls back and stares intently into his eyes. “So did you?”
Stéphane shakes his head frantically. “No, dammit.” He sees a triumphant gleam in Johnny’s eyes, and can’t help but add, “Though I did think about it.”
He thinks he hears a soft growl in Johnny’s throat before the gloved hand is cupping his neck and angling head just so. Johnny’s bare hand finds its way into his pants, and any thoughts of reciprocation flee as Stéphane’s hands scramble helplessly against the smooth wall, looking for something to hold on to. Johnny’s tongue is in his mouth, his hand is on his dick, and oddly enough it’s that silky black hand trailing down the side of his face and onto his neck that finishes him. Johnny swallows the groan that tries to force its way out as he arches up and bucks into Johnny’s hand one last time.
He slumps bonelessly against the wall, Johnny’s body pressing firmly into his as the only thing preventing him from sliding down to the floor. Johnny has the nerve to wipe his hand on the inside of Stéphane’s shirt before gently patting his crotch and saying cheekily “You might want to change your underwear.”
Stéphane’s retort is cut off by quick press of lips as Johnny’s presses a hotel key card into his hand and turns to go. He gets about two feet before he suddenly turns to point a gloved finger at him. “If you keep winning, you’re buying me another glove. I can’t risk- eewww!” Johnny peers closely at his gloved hand, inspecting it for damage, then frantically wipes it on his jeans. “Must you use so much shit in your hair? It’s disgusting!”
“I will buy you the glove. I won. I can afford it now.”
Johnny pouts for a second, then rolls his eyes and walks away.
Stéphane just grins.
*
*
Title: Hand Jobs and Hair Gel
Pairing: Johnny/Stéphane
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It's all completely and utter false... just a product of my twisted mind. All mistakes are mine, and if something's horribly wrong, I apologize.
A/N: Written for cf33! Your icons are at the end... feel free to request any changes or to edit them yourself.
Johnny reaches out, shoves his coat off and presses him up against the wall. He kisses him fiercely, not giving him a chance to react. He’s changed out of his costume, but his left hand is still covered in silky semi-transparent black cloth.
“Did you fuck him?” He whispers harshly, nipping at an earlobe. Stéphane’s head hits the wall with a dull thud, and he gasps.
“Fuck who?” he forces out while Johnny’s hands head south. Johnny kisses him again, teeth clashing, and brings his naked hand up to tug on his hair.
“You know damn well who.”
Stéphane’s eyes flutter open to stare hazily at Johnny. Surely he can’t be expected to play guessing games now.
“I don’t kn-ahhh!” Johnny’s gloved hand squeezes him roughly through his thin track pants, and Stéphane’s head hits the wall again. “Don’t know what you’re talking about!” he gasps.
“I wouldn’t blame you, you know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Can you feel his eyes on you, even when you’re not looking?” he hisses in his ear. He shoves his gloved hand under the elastic waistband and gently palms his cock with the soft cloth. Stéphane arches into the contact, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud. “He seems to yell a lot. Very intense. Does that turn you on?” Johnny’s silky voice cuts through the haze and goes straight to his cock. “He helps you dress doesn’t he? Does he undress you as well?” Stéphane whimpers as the hand is immediately withdrawn.
Johnny pulls back and stares intently into his eyes. “So did you?”
Stéphane shakes his head frantically. “No, dammit.” He sees a triumphant gleam in Johnny’s eyes, and can’t help but add, “Though I did think about it.”
He thinks he hears a soft growl in Johnny’s throat before the gloved hand is cupping his neck and angling head just so. Johnny’s bare hand finds its way into his pants, and any thoughts of reciprocation flee as Stéphane’s hands scramble helplessly against the smooth wall, looking for something to hold on to. Johnny’s tongue is in his mouth, his hand is on his dick, and oddly enough it’s that silky black hand trailing down the side of his face and onto his neck that finishes him. Johnny swallows the groan that tries to force its way out as he arches up and bucks into Johnny’s hand one last time.
He slumps bonelessly against the wall, Johnny’s body pressing firmly into his as the only thing preventing him from sliding down to the floor. Johnny has the nerve to wipe his hand on the inside of Stéphane’s shirt before gently patting his crotch and saying cheekily “You might want to change your underwear.”
Stéphane’s retort is cut off by quick press of lips as Johnny’s presses a hotel key card into his hand and turns to go. He gets about two feet before he suddenly turns to point a gloved finger at him. “If you keep winning, you’re buying me another glove. I can’t risk- eewww!” Johnny peers closely at his gloved hand, inspecting it for damage, then frantically wipes it on his jeans. “Must you use so much shit in your hair? It’s disgusting!”
“I will buy you the glove. I won. I can afford it now.”
Johnny pouts for a second, then rolls his eyes and walks away.
Stéphane just grins.
*