Darren Loves Cock [RPF]
Title: Darren Loves Cock
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: Exactly What It Says On The Tin
Notes: Written mid-summer for aubreyli, I believe. Please note that this is not in any way intended to be interpreted as fact or belief about the actual person. It's more of a headcanon for a fic version than anything else. :>
Darren Criss is a hipster. This, more than any other word, describes him to a t. He is unapologetic about his lack of irony, and almost everything he does and says would sound like something out of a book on “how to be a douchebag” if he wasn’t so damn cute while he did and said it.
Like all hipsters, one of the things he says the most (and most infuriates pretty much every woman he ever dates), is “I just don’t do labels, man.” It’s true, too. Darren refuses to label anything, and even though he tells the media he’s straight, he says it with a knowing grin and a roll of his eye. It’s not that Darren doesn’t like women. Darren loves women. He loves how they look and how they feel and - more than anything, he loves the way they taste. One of the most intense orgasms he ever had was while he ate a woman out until she came so hard she passed out, and even if he lives to be a hundred (which, if some of his relatives can be held up as an example, is totally within the realm of possibility), he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop puffing out his chest with pride when he thinks of it.
The fact that there was a guy fucking his ass like a jackhammer while it happened was just part of what made it so much fun.
See, here’s the thing. Darren loves the ladies, but he also loves the cock. He loves everything about cock. How it looks, how it tastes, how it smells - but most of all, he loves the way it feels. He loves how the way it feels in his hand is different from how it feels in his mouth, and he especially loves how both are different from the way it feels in his ass.
In Darren’s hand, a cock is like possibility made flesh. He’s not the best at giving hand jobs (which is funny, considering how much time he’s spent getting himself off over the years), but he likes the potential of them. Knowing that he can make the soft ones hard, and the hard ones burst with come that coats his hand in a sticky mess. He likes the feel of them - all warmth and tension, and he loves the moment when the first few drops of precome begin to make themselves known. That moment, he always feels, marks the point when things go from “this feels good” to “I need you.”
Darren loves to feel needed.
In his mouth, a cock is weight and pulse and the most distinct flavor anyone possesses. It is curve and ridge and velvet against his lips. He especially likes to feel the imprint of veins against his tongue as he works to take more and more of it deeper and deeper until it hits his gag reflex and he has to admit defeat. When he manages to take enough that he can nuzzle the tip of his nose in the thicket of hair surrounding the base, he considers it a personal victory.
Victory is a key word for Darren, because he tends to look at sex as a challenge. He may see sex as a way to have fun, but he doesn’t see why that means he shouldn’t always play to win. “Winning,” in the case of sex, means pushing his limits. It means going further, pressing harder, and stretching his every limit to the furthest possible point, then finding ways to go further.
(And on the topic of stretching…)
In his ass, a cock is heat and vibration and the best way of being invaded. It is pressure and fullness and sensation and - when it hits him in just the right spot - nothing short of bliss. He enjoys it when a woman uses toys on him, and it can be silicone, or jelly, or glass, or metal, or jesus fucking christ, that wooden one was fucking amazing - but it’s not the same as the more organic version, as he likes to call it. No toy - not even the best one - can compare to the desperate feeling of someone pounding into him as hard as they can, stuttering his name and collapsing into utter uselessness as they bust their load inside of him. To knowing that being inside him made them come so undone.
Darren likes undoing people. It’s why he lives to serve. It’s why he eats women until they can’t speak. It’s why he sucks cock until he’s drained every drop. It’s why, when he fucks women, he makes sure they come before he does. It’s why, when he lets men fuck him, he takes every inch and begs for more. He knows he makes them feel good, so why not take pleasure in it? One of these days, he’ll take it in the mouth and the ass at the same time. He’ll do it with two women, but whenever he pictures it, he’s always with two guys. Two guys with big, beautiful cocks that stretch his limits (and his openings) and take every bit of his strength to accommodate.
It’s probably his biggest fantasy, though he knows better than to admit to it in most circles. Because, see, most people equate loving cock with loving men, and Darren just…doesn’t. Oh, sure, he loves his guy friends in that socially acceptable kind of “I love you, man” sort of way, but he doesn’t love guys. He just loves fucking them, and that’s a big difference.
So if he finds himself picturing that fantasy of being with two men more and more often after getting to know Chris, that’s not really such a big deal, is it? And if the two faceless guys begin to resemble his co-star more and more every time he jerks off to them, well, that’s not such a big deal, either. Chris is an attractive guy, and you don’t need to be gay to admit that.
And Darren isn’t gay.
Is he?
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Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: Exactly What It Says On The Tin
Notes: Written mid-summer for aubreyli, I believe. Please note that this is not in any way intended to be interpreted as fact or belief about the actual person. It's more of a headcanon for a fic version than anything else. :>
Darren Criss is a hipster. This, more than any other word, describes him to a t. He is unapologetic about his lack of irony, and almost everything he does and says would sound like something out of a book on “how to be a douchebag” if he wasn’t so damn cute while he did and said it.
Like all hipsters, one of the things he says the most (and most infuriates pretty much every woman he ever dates), is “I just don’t do labels, man.” It’s true, too. Darren refuses to label anything, and even though he tells the media he’s straight, he says it with a knowing grin and a roll of his eye. It’s not that Darren doesn’t like women. Darren loves women. He loves how they look and how they feel and - more than anything, he loves the way they taste. One of the most intense orgasms he ever had was while he ate a woman out until she came so hard she passed out, and even if he lives to be a hundred (which, if some of his relatives can be held up as an example, is totally within the realm of possibility), he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop puffing out his chest with pride when he thinks of it.
The fact that there was a guy fucking his ass like a jackhammer while it happened was just part of what made it so much fun.
See, here’s the thing. Darren loves the ladies, but he also loves the cock. He loves everything about cock. How it looks, how it tastes, how it smells - but most of all, he loves the way it feels. He loves how the way it feels in his hand is different from how it feels in his mouth, and he especially loves how both are different from the way it feels in his ass.
In Darren’s hand, a cock is like possibility made flesh. He’s not the best at giving hand jobs (which is funny, considering how much time he’s spent getting himself off over the years), but he likes the potential of them. Knowing that he can make the soft ones hard, and the hard ones burst with come that coats his hand in a sticky mess. He likes the feel of them - all warmth and tension, and he loves the moment when the first few drops of precome begin to make themselves known. That moment, he always feels, marks the point when things go from “this feels good” to “I need you.”
Darren loves to feel needed.
In his mouth, a cock is weight and pulse and the most distinct flavor anyone possesses. It is curve and ridge and velvet against his lips. He especially likes to feel the imprint of veins against his tongue as he works to take more and more of it deeper and deeper until it hits his gag reflex and he has to admit defeat. When he manages to take enough that he can nuzzle the tip of his nose in the thicket of hair surrounding the base, he considers it a personal victory.
Victory is a key word for Darren, because he tends to look at sex as a challenge. He may see sex as a way to have fun, but he doesn’t see why that means he shouldn’t always play to win. “Winning,” in the case of sex, means pushing his limits. It means going further, pressing harder, and stretching his every limit to the furthest possible point, then finding ways to go further.
(And on the topic of stretching…)
In his ass, a cock is heat and vibration and the best way of being invaded. It is pressure and fullness and sensation and - when it hits him in just the right spot - nothing short of bliss. He enjoys it when a woman uses toys on him, and it can be silicone, or jelly, or glass, or metal, or jesus fucking christ, that wooden one was fucking amazing - but it’s not the same as the more organic version, as he likes to call it. No toy - not even the best one - can compare to the desperate feeling of someone pounding into him as hard as they can, stuttering his name and collapsing into utter uselessness as they bust their load inside of him. To knowing that being inside him made them come so undone.
Darren likes undoing people. It’s why he lives to serve. It’s why he eats women until they can’t speak. It’s why he sucks cock until he’s drained every drop. It’s why, when he fucks women, he makes sure they come before he does. It’s why, when he lets men fuck him, he takes every inch and begs for more. He knows he makes them feel good, so why not take pleasure in it? One of these days, he’ll take it in the mouth and the ass at the same time. He’ll do it with two women, but whenever he pictures it, he’s always with two guys. Two guys with big, beautiful cocks that stretch his limits (and his openings) and take every bit of his strength to accommodate.
It’s probably his biggest fantasy, though he knows better than to admit to it in most circles. Because, see, most people equate loving cock with loving men, and Darren just…doesn’t. Oh, sure, he loves his guy friends in that socially acceptable kind of “I love you, man” sort of way, but he doesn’t love guys. He just loves fucking them, and that’s a big difference.
So if he finds himself picturing that fantasy of being with two men more and more often after getting to know Chris, that’s not really such a big deal, is it? And if the two faceless guys begin to resemble his co-star more and more every time he jerks off to them, well, that’s not such a big deal, either. Chris is an attractive guy, and you don’t need to be gay to admit that.
And Darren isn’t gay.
Is he?
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