A Kind Of Trouble That Nobody Knows
Title: A Kind Of Trouble That Nobody Knows
Author: smotheredakiss
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Jon/Greg.
Summary: He asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he’ll get up and talk to him.
Disclaimer: I don’t know or own Jon Radtke or Greg Corner.
Words: 1,394
A/N: Apparently, that last thing only helped me to write this. This is based on a dream I had that would NOT get out of head all day. (Not that I’m complaining...)
It's at some small show, something reminiscent of Elliot Smith and every other indie boy or girl with an acoustic guitar and a microphone, and Greg has no idea what he’s doing there. What he does know is that there is a beautiful, petite boy smirking at him from down the bar. He asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he'll get up and talk to him.
-
Before he knows it, he's got this gorgeous little thing - Jon - pinned against his apartment door, tongue gliding against the day-old stubble on the boy's throat. Jon's hands are gliding up his chest, gripping his shoulders, and there it is. That moan that Greg's been waiting to hear since he saw him at the show. He can feel his cock stiffening and is about to press his hips into Jon's when he realizes that they're still in the hallway.
"Fuck," he breathes into Jon’s neck. "My keys."
And Jon's little hand is digging into his pocket, sososo close, pulling out the handful of jangling metal. He reaches between them, pressing the keys into Greg's hand and moving out of the way. Greg keeps a possessive arm around his waist, pulling him close to his body and turning the keys in the lock. The door swings open and Jon's being tugged through, pulled against Greg's body and they’re kissing, tongues twisting gently. Greg backs him up against the closest wall, finally pressing their hips together. Jon gasps loudly into Greg's mouth, arms going around him, kneading his back and shoving his shirt up.
"Off," he says, and it's the only the second word he's said to Greg. The older man pulls his body away slightly, letting Jon tug off the T-shirt. The boy's mouth instantly latches onto one of his nipples, and Greg groans, stumbling backward a step and wrapping his arms around Jon. There's a tongue stud slipping and sliding over the pink skin, teasing it to hardness, and Jon's hands shove themselves down the back of Greg's pants, gripping his ass. Greg's hands slide over to Jon's hips, and after a moment's hesitation, his fingers glide towards the belt buckles, undoing both of them and letting them fall to the floor. Jon's teeth close around Greg’s nipple playfully before licking down his chest. Greg fumbles with the button and zipper of Jon's tight jeans, and he's drunk enough that when he finally does get it, he just sticks his hand right in, reveling in the boy's moan against his skin.
Jon manages to turn Greg around and against the wall, and he fucking slides down his body, landing on his knees. Jon's small, tan fingers undo the fastenings on Greg's jeans, pulling them down his hips to pool at his feet. Then he's licking Greg through his boxers, eyes rolled up and watching his reaction. The older man's knees are weakening, and it's when he thinks he might come just from this that Jon pulls the cloth down and that hot mouth is suddenly surrounding his cock.
"Fuck!" Greg's voice is loud in their silence. His hands fist in Jon's long hair, tugging slightly. The boy's tongue stud is a cool contrast, rubbing against the underside and teasing his slit. Jon's cheeks are hollowed from the suction, his head moving back and forth, and Greg shuts his eyes, knowing he'll come too soon if he keeps watching. His breathing hitches when Jon moans into his skin, one hand reaching up to Greg's balls. Grey eyes snap open at this, only to find Jon's other hand slipping down to rub himself. If there's one thing that gets Greg off like nothing else, it's watching someone else touch themselves. He's a voyeur at heart, and the sight of Jon sucking on him and touching himself sends him over the edge.
Greg slumps down against the wall while Jon sits back on his heels, and it's then that Greg realizes that the younger boy is still fully dressed. He reaches forward almost tentatively, brushing his hands down the boy's olive green shirt before starting on the buttons. Each one reveals more of that perfectly tanned skin, and when Greg slides the sleeveless shirt off of his shoulders, he doesn't think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Jon's just kneeling between his legs in his girl's jeans, fly undone, watching him. There's something so utterly masculine about him, despite how pretty he is, something that just gets Greg like nothing else.
Hands gliding to the boy's slim hips, Greg pulls him against his chest and kisses him thoroughly. One slender hand cups Greg's cheek, then those fingers slide through his hair. For a moment, the only noise in the room is the wet sound of them kissing, open-mouthed and tongues rubbing. Then Greg's hand travels up Jon's chest, pinching his nipple and Jon whimpers.
Gently, Greg pushes him back onto the floor, lying between his legs and keeping their mouths connected. Jon raises his hips from the ground, grinding up against him and wrapping his thighs around him. They get a rhythm going, a slow one, each of them starting to sweat and breathe harder. Finally, Greg's hands move down to push Jon's jeans down his legs, and they work together to get them all the way off. When it's skin on skin, Jon rolls them over so he's on top, straddling the older man. Greg reaches up, rubbing his hands over the boy's chest, and Jon groans, tilting his head back.
Almost panting, Greg lifts a finger, then two, and Jon licks them, not taking them into his mouth just yet. That pink tongue licks between them and around them and Greg just is not breathing. After what seems nearly too long, even Jon wants them and he sucks them in, biting gently with his molars. When they're covered in his saliva, he releases them with a wet sound and they look at each other for a moment before Greg reaches around Jon. One finger rubs the boy's entrance, making Jon tense and drop his mouth open. Finally, Greg pushes that finger in and then another, stretching him slowly and scissoring them. Soon, Jon is riding his fingers and Greg is watching him, mesmerized. He's so hard again, and Jon moans loud, loud enough that Greg has to do something, anything, or else he'll explode without even being touched.
"Oh, oh god, Jon. I...I need you so bad." And he's pulling his fingers out and lifting Jon up. The boy settles back, steadying himself before slowly lowering his body down onto Greg with a sigh. He stays there for a moment and watches the older man's face, watches his chest kick with half-breaths, watches while he waits for the pain to ease. Then he's lifting himself up, oh-so slowly, and back down, shuddering with the moan that Greg lets out. Greg's big hands rest on his hips, helping him to move, and his hips rise up to meet Jon. Their movements are fluid and smooth, the only sound their harsh breathing. It's when Greg hits that spot inside of Jon that he gets vocal.
"Mm, shit! Fuck, do that again. Yeah, just...god, faster!"
Jon's hair is wet with sweat and swinging while he moves, his skin shining. Greg reaches up, wrapping his hand around Jon’s cock and pumping quickly. At this, the boy groans and his fingers trail up to his nipples, almost teasing himself, before rubbing them. Greg can't take much more of this. He's grunting and panting and when Jon comes, swearing and moaning, he can't hold back. He pulls Jon off of him, coming on his back, and Jon looks almost surprised. They lie on the floor for a while, and without meaning to, Greg falls asleep. When he wakes up, Jon's gone.
-
It was at some small show, something reminiscent of Elliot Smith and every other indie boy or girl with an acoustic guitar and a microphone, and Greg knows why he comes to these now. He's waiting for a beautiful, petite boy to smirk at him from down the bar, but all he sees tonight is a small, dark-haired boy who smiles shyly at him. He sighs and asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he’ll get up and talk to him.
Greg never sees Jon again.
A/N: So this took a different turn than I was expecting. It was just going to be some good ol' smut, but...it got angsty. :/
Author: smotheredakiss
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Jon/Greg.
Summary: He asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he’ll get up and talk to him.
Disclaimer: I don’t know or own Jon Radtke or Greg Corner.
Words: 1,394
A/N: Apparently, that last thing only helped me to write this. This is based on a dream I had that would NOT get out of head all day. (Not that I’m complaining...)
It's at some small show, something reminiscent of Elliot Smith and every other indie boy or girl with an acoustic guitar and a microphone, and Greg has no idea what he’s doing there. What he does know is that there is a beautiful, petite boy smirking at him from down the bar. He asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he'll get up and talk to him.
-
Before he knows it, he's got this gorgeous little thing - Jon - pinned against his apartment door, tongue gliding against the day-old stubble on the boy's throat. Jon's hands are gliding up his chest, gripping his shoulders, and there it is. That moan that Greg's been waiting to hear since he saw him at the show. He can feel his cock stiffening and is about to press his hips into Jon's when he realizes that they're still in the hallway.
"Fuck," he breathes into Jon’s neck. "My keys."
And Jon's little hand is digging into his pocket, sososo close, pulling out the handful of jangling metal. He reaches between them, pressing the keys into Greg's hand and moving out of the way. Greg keeps a possessive arm around his waist, pulling him close to his body and turning the keys in the lock. The door swings open and Jon's being tugged through, pulled against Greg's body and they’re kissing, tongues twisting gently. Greg backs him up against the closest wall, finally pressing their hips together. Jon gasps loudly into Greg's mouth, arms going around him, kneading his back and shoving his shirt up.
"Off," he says, and it's the only the second word he's said to Greg. The older man pulls his body away slightly, letting Jon tug off the T-shirt. The boy's mouth instantly latches onto one of his nipples, and Greg groans, stumbling backward a step and wrapping his arms around Jon. There's a tongue stud slipping and sliding over the pink skin, teasing it to hardness, and Jon's hands shove themselves down the back of Greg's pants, gripping his ass. Greg's hands slide over to Jon's hips, and after a moment's hesitation, his fingers glide towards the belt buckles, undoing both of them and letting them fall to the floor. Jon's teeth close around Greg’s nipple playfully before licking down his chest. Greg fumbles with the button and zipper of Jon's tight jeans, and he's drunk enough that when he finally does get it, he just sticks his hand right in, reveling in the boy's moan against his skin.
Jon manages to turn Greg around and against the wall, and he fucking slides down his body, landing on his knees. Jon's small, tan fingers undo the fastenings on Greg's jeans, pulling them down his hips to pool at his feet. Then he's licking Greg through his boxers, eyes rolled up and watching his reaction. The older man's knees are weakening, and it's when he thinks he might come just from this that Jon pulls the cloth down and that hot mouth is suddenly surrounding his cock.
"Fuck!" Greg's voice is loud in their silence. His hands fist in Jon's long hair, tugging slightly. The boy's tongue stud is a cool contrast, rubbing against the underside and teasing his slit. Jon's cheeks are hollowed from the suction, his head moving back and forth, and Greg shuts his eyes, knowing he'll come too soon if he keeps watching. His breathing hitches when Jon moans into his skin, one hand reaching up to Greg's balls. Grey eyes snap open at this, only to find Jon's other hand slipping down to rub himself. If there's one thing that gets Greg off like nothing else, it's watching someone else touch themselves. He's a voyeur at heart, and the sight of Jon sucking on him and touching himself sends him over the edge.
Greg slumps down against the wall while Jon sits back on his heels, and it's then that Greg realizes that the younger boy is still fully dressed. He reaches forward almost tentatively, brushing his hands down the boy's olive green shirt before starting on the buttons. Each one reveals more of that perfectly tanned skin, and when Greg slides the sleeveless shirt off of his shoulders, he doesn't think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Jon's just kneeling between his legs in his girl's jeans, fly undone, watching him. There's something so utterly masculine about him, despite how pretty he is, something that just gets Greg like nothing else.
Hands gliding to the boy's slim hips, Greg pulls him against his chest and kisses him thoroughly. One slender hand cups Greg's cheek, then those fingers slide through his hair. For a moment, the only noise in the room is the wet sound of them kissing, open-mouthed and tongues rubbing. Then Greg's hand travels up Jon's chest, pinching his nipple and Jon whimpers.
Gently, Greg pushes him back onto the floor, lying between his legs and keeping their mouths connected. Jon raises his hips from the ground, grinding up against him and wrapping his thighs around him. They get a rhythm going, a slow one, each of them starting to sweat and breathe harder. Finally, Greg's hands move down to push Jon's jeans down his legs, and they work together to get them all the way off. When it's skin on skin, Jon rolls them over so he's on top, straddling the older man. Greg reaches up, rubbing his hands over the boy's chest, and Jon groans, tilting his head back.
Almost panting, Greg lifts a finger, then two, and Jon licks them, not taking them into his mouth just yet. That pink tongue licks between them and around them and Greg just is not breathing. After what seems nearly too long, even Jon wants them and he sucks them in, biting gently with his molars. When they're covered in his saliva, he releases them with a wet sound and they look at each other for a moment before Greg reaches around Jon. One finger rubs the boy's entrance, making Jon tense and drop his mouth open. Finally, Greg pushes that finger in and then another, stretching him slowly and scissoring them. Soon, Jon is riding his fingers and Greg is watching him, mesmerized. He's so hard again, and Jon moans loud, loud enough that Greg has to do something, anything, or else he'll explode without even being touched.
"Oh, oh god, Jon. I...I need you so bad." And he's pulling his fingers out and lifting Jon up. The boy settles back, steadying himself before slowly lowering his body down onto Greg with a sigh. He stays there for a moment and watches the older man's face, watches his chest kick with half-breaths, watches while he waits for the pain to ease. Then he's lifting himself up, oh-so slowly, and back down, shuddering with the moan that Greg lets out. Greg's big hands rest on his hips, helping him to move, and his hips rise up to meet Jon. Their movements are fluid and smooth, the only sound their harsh breathing. It's when Greg hits that spot inside of Jon that he gets vocal.
"Mm, shit! Fuck, do that again. Yeah, just...god, faster!"
Jon's hair is wet with sweat and swinging while he moves, his skin shining. Greg reaches up, wrapping his hand around Jon’s cock and pumping quickly. At this, the boy groans and his fingers trail up to his nipples, almost teasing himself, before rubbing them. Greg can't take much more of this. He's grunting and panting and when Jon comes, swearing and moaning, he can't hold back. He pulls Jon off of him, coming on his back, and Jon looks almost surprised. They lie on the floor for a while, and without meaning to, Greg falls asleep. When he wakes up, Jon's gone.
-
It was at some small show, something reminiscent of Elliot Smith and every other indie boy or girl with an acoustic guitar and a microphone, and Greg knows why he comes to these now. He's waiting for a beautiful, petite boy to smirk at him from down the bar, but all he sees tonight is a small, dark-haired boy who smiles shyly at him. He sighs and asks the bartender for another beer - just one more and he’ll get up and talk to him.
Greg never sees Jon again.
A/N: So this took a different turn than I was expecting. It was just going to be some good ol' smut, but...it got angsty. :/