Cloud no. 9
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real prompt, and commenting on that with your fill.)
3) Try not to get too srs business. ( Read more... )
Ed gasps, face screwed up like it hurts at the first tentative brush of his fingers, and he’s so hot and so hard that David wants more, and wraps his hand around him. “Oh,” Ed gasps, breathless, “Oh, yes, David,” and he takes hold of Ed’s wrist, pushes his hand down into the space between them.
He wants to kiss Ed. He wants to bite down at his full lower lip, and slick his tongue into his mouth and taste him. He can’t though, because that would be incest, and he turns his head to the side, bites down hard at his own lip, staring unseeingly at the television. Ed buries his face in the crook of his neck, breath hot and damp, raising goosebumps across his skin even as he mirrors Ed’s actions, and pushes into his palm with abandon.
Ed’s actions turn frantic a sign of how very much he likes it, and David works his thumb against the head, spreads the moisture gathering there. Ed gasps and groans in response, sucks at the skin of his neck and loosens the grip of his hand, trails it lower, until David’s shivering and helpless.
“Look at me,” Ed demands then, moving over him, supporting himself on one hand. “Come on, David.”
He can’t refuse, though he knows he should, and both his hands go to Ed’s hips, so he can push up even as he pulls Ed down against him. Ed looks wild, and he feels desperate, and he switches their positions, before Ed can drag them both down a road they can’t find their way back from.
His hand is on Ed and he forces himself to watch the screen, saying, “Touch me, Ed. Oh God, you have to touch me.” Ed does, clings to him, and drives him mad, like and unlike a million times before, and he pretends he doesn’t hear it when Ed tells him that he loves him, voice strained and hoarse, just concentrates on the feel of him hardening still further in his hand, and the way his body spasms beneath him.
David follows, helped along by the way Ed’s grip tightens, instinctively.
They lie side by side, flushed and panting, the sheets around them filthy. The film has finished, and the titles have run, and David realises that he’ll never know what it was. “It didn’t mean anything,” he whispers to Ed. “Did it?” When there’s no answer he stares at the ceiling, feeling sick. “I bet lots of brothers have done it. Don’t you think so?”
Ed burrows closer to him then, lays his head on his shoulder, and loops his arm around him. “Don’t be angry with me, David,” he says, and there’s so much anxiety in his voice that it’s comforting, because it means he doesn’t have to worry about himself, he just needs to solve Ed’s problem.
“I’m not angry,” he tells him, without thinking, holding him closer. Nobody’s going to know about it, he thinks. They were drunk; they didn’t know what they were doing. So really, he thinks, finally feeling calmer, it’s like nothing even happened.
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before Ed can drag them both down a road they can’t find their way back from.
Really liked this bit. It can be like that, in these Milicest fics, that they get rather lost in something they know they shouldn't. Ah, boys ;__;
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Glad you liked it anyway though! :D
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