We have nothing to touch this engine, for brooklinegirl
For: brooklinegirl
Title: We have nothing to touch this engine
Fandom: My Life as a Dog, Johnny/Louis
Author: slidellra
Rating: porny
Prompt: "My Life as a Dog - Johnny/Louis. (anything at all, but Louis comforting Johnny after Zoe throws him out would be WONDERFUL.)" I figured BLG meant "Louis comforting Johnny with his penis," obviously.
Louis kisses Johnny maybe three minutes after stepping through the door to the caboose. Even tonight, with just the two of them, Johnny's wound tight, his words tumbling over each other and tangling up, and Louis sets a firm hand against his chest, puts the other to Johnny's cheek, and waits for Johnny to settle before kissing his chapped and parted lips.
Johnny kisses back right away, with a familiar rumbling pleased hum. Louis has always liked the way Johnny kisses, happy and hungry both, and he likes it even when Johnny opens wide, sticking his tongue crudely into Louis's mouth. It's an old joke from way back when they were little squirts practicing for girls, still gross and funny and hot, and they snicker into the kiss like little kids. Louis likes the way Johnny's eyes crinkle up at the edges now and the way Johnny twists them around on the couch, pushing Louis down half under him.
"Choo-choo," Louis sings, breathless under Johnny's hips and hands and lips, a much newer joke that earns Johnny's silent whole body laugh. Johnny's attempt at "chugga-chugga" comes out breathless and hiccoughing and then he's too busy getting his hot mouth on the skin of Louis's neck, on board this train and getting there fast.
Johnny sometimes laughs all the way through sex. He's easily distracted, loves to kiss and to watch and is proud as anything when he gets somebody off. Louis knows these things and a hundred more, and Johnny probably knows just as much about him. Johnny definitely knows how Louis likes Johnny on top of him, likes the lean surprising strength of Johnny's body. There was a time when Johnny winning a wrestling match, pinning Louis's wrists and holding him down, could trip Louis's adolescent hair-trigger.
Johnny uses that knowledge now, teeth sharp in his smile as he props himself over Louis on one hand and works himself slow against Louis's leg, slinky and hot while the rest of him stays laser focused on Louis, on Louis's slow, inevitable slide from turned on to desperate for it.
Louis's hands are already fumbling with his own zipper, then Johnny's, graceless, but the way Johnny arches fascinates him, slows him down enough to slide his hands down the back of Johnny's jeans to feel his ass flex.
"Mmm," Johnny husks, and kisses Louis again, and maybe they're two grown men making out and feeling each other up on a too-small, spring-sprung couch in a junkyard caboose in the backyard, but at the moment Louis thinks its impossible to feel better. Johnny's ass moves under his hands, their dicks slide against each other, oh god, better now that Johnny's shifted and gathered them up, directing them toward the best glide, the sweetest friction.
There isn't enough oxygen in the world as Louis pants, his stomach muscles shaking as he reaches up for Johnny's mouth and loses himself in more kissing, a perfect circle of shifting and thrusting and touching and good, yes, until Johnny bites Louis's lip and Louis has to come now, and he lets go of Johnny's ass and grabs his waist, gropes between them to help stroke them off.
It's clumsy and too dry with Louis's hands in the mix, so he curls up enough to spit in one palm and with that they slide better, Johnny grunting as he shoves into their hands.
Louis can feel Johnny's arm shaking as he holds himself up over Louis, their dicks curving up out of their pants and into their hands, Louis leading because Johnny's scattered, can't focus on a good rhythm, their boots and calves and thighs knocking and brushing against each other as they move, and here Louis can let himself moan and coax, let himself say, "Yeah, yeah, oh shit yeah, Johnny, like that, right there, so good baby yeah."
Johnny knocks Louis's hands away and drops his hips down hard, grinding and thrusting, fucking against Louis like he's inside. Louis's trousers and Johnny's legs have him trapped, but he arches his back and spreads his legs a bare centimeter more, giving Johnny everything he has, and Johnny catches his breath and then breathes out hard with a whine, his body a rigid line as he comes in short pulses over Louis's cock and stomach.
Louis lets him come down slowly, petting his hair and neck and just gently shifting himself against Johnny's softening cock and slick skin.
Johnny's eyes are indecent when he finally pulls back, sex drunk and pleased with himself, and Louis catches his face and kisses him again, wanting as much of this as he can get. Johnny makes that purring sound again, and Louis thrusts up harder, wanting more of that.
There's thin trails and puddles of come on his skin, and Johnny slides his fingers along it, half gathering and half rubbing in, the dark hair and pale come forming swirls together. Louis watches down their bodies, his hands still on Johnny's face, fingering his ear and damp hairline as Johnny touches his cock too gently to get him off, teasing and stroking and slowly building again.
Johnny's soft cock is hanging down, still plump, and Louis wants it in his mouth, wants everything at once. He tightens his fingers hard in the muscle of Johnny's shoulders and thrusts up, Johnny jacking him harder now, the dark glossy skin of Louis's dick sliding between Johnny's long fingers as Johnny urges him on in his low, raspy voice.
Louis catches the collar of Johnny's shirt in his mouth, sucking and dampening the fabric and it helps, every little bit helps, and when Johnny slides his thigh up a little more firmly between Louis's, when Johnny holds just the right rhythm for just long enough, Louis comes hard and good all over them, the sight of his come dripping down Johnny's slowing hand enough to keep him going a little longer, beautiful.
"Like the way you come," Johnny says, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of Louis's head above his ear.
"Jesus," Louis gasps, staring at the ceiling without a thought in his mind. After a minute he turns his head and there's Johnny's face, Johnny's forehead, Johnny's hand brushing his lips. Louis opens immediately, licking his come off Johnny's skin, sucking on a knuckle. He lifts Johnny's hand far enough away to focus on it, the damp streaks of saliva and come, the way Johnny's knuckles stand out and the thin ring of dark dried blood around the nail of Johnny's thumb. Louis nuzzles against Johnny's musky palm, smiling again at Johnny's muffled snorting laugh, far away and getting farther.
He wakes up with a jolt, the room too bright like somebody'd flipped a switch. Johnny's wedged into the back of the couch and Louis is just about falling off. Johnny's snoring, nature is calling and the caboose lacks certain amenities, so Louis eases off the couch and hauls his trousers up one-handed as he steps outside into the buggy hum of night. When he ducks back in the door a minute later, the room is still too bright and Johnny's sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning like he'll split his face open.
Louis just watches, amused by the contortions Johnny's got his face into, and when Johnny's done he does this shoulder wriggle, a one man wave, reflecting amusement back Louis's way. Johnny's back is an easy curve, his dick tucked away but his fly still wide open, and he looks a million times better, some of the real Slip magic back as he lifts an ankle over the opposite knee and starts pulling at his bootlaces.
Zippers down and boots on and coveralls gaping open in a corner of the shop, it's the way of things between friends like them. Louis tries to remember the last time he saw Johnny fully naked, wonders if they can get away this month, go fishing or something, get themselves all the way unzipped and stripped bare.
He's having a good little moment there by the door, thinking about Johnny laid out naked and hard when the real, mostly dressed Johnny asks, "You heading home?" casually to his own foot as he works on boot number two.
Louis should; he lives there. His life is there. But there are no deliveries in the book for tomorrow, no reason he can't open late. Johnny's lost the tense, bewildered look Louis hated on him earlier, but Louis knows from a lifetime's experience that he can get looser. And there's not much in the world as fine as Johnny Johannson when he's sitting right in his body, relaxed and easy and provocative to look at, unless it's the work it takes getting him that way, all the way.
It's no decision at all as Louis steps between Johnny's legs, gently knocking Johnny's knees farther apart and making a space for himself that conveniently puts his dick right by Johnny's face. Johnny tilts his head up, face a little brighter, and opens his hand, fingers splaying wide as his boot falls heavily to the floor.
Louis curls his fingers under his own shirt and ripe undershirt and pulls them up over his head in one go. He drops them back behind his shoulder even as Johnny's palms run up and down his back before slipping around to the front and his belly and where his dick is just beginning to plump up against his fly.
Come tomorrow, Louis is going to be sore in the good way, worn out and wrung fresh clean, and he's going to love Gimli just a little bit more than he did every day of his life before.
Come tomorrow or the day after that, Zoe's going to look twice and keep looking and Louis would bet five dollars Johnny's sleeping in the house before the week's out. Tonight, though, he and Johnny are heading fast into round two, and Johnny's wicked sexy eyes and hot happy wet laughing mouth are all for him.
Title: We have nothing to touch this engine
Fandom: My Life as a Dog, Johnny/Louis
Author: slidellra
Rating: porny
Prompt: "My Life as a Dog - Johnny/Louis. (anything at all, but Louis comforting Johnny after Zoe throws him out would be WONDERFUL.)" I figured BLG meant "Louis comforting Johnny with his penis," obviously.
Louis kisses Johnny maybe three minutes after stepping through the door to the caboose. Even tonight, with just the two of them, Johnny's wound tight, his words tumbling over each other and tangling up, and Louis sets a firm hand against his chest, puts the other to Johnny's cheek, and waits for Johnny to settle before kissing his chapped and parted lips.
Johnny kisses back right away, with a familiar rumbling pleased hum. Louis has always liked the way Johnny kisses, happy and hungry both, and he likes it even when Johnny opens wide, sticking his tongue crudely into Louis's mouth. It's an old joke from way back when they were little squirts practicing for girls, still gross and funny and hot, and they snicker into the kiss like little kids. Louis likes the way Johnny's eyes crinkle up at the edges now and the way Johnny twists them around on the couch, pushing Louis down half under him.
"Choo-choo," Louis sings, breathless under Johnny's hips and hands and lips, a much newer joke that earns Johnny's silent whole body laugh. Johnny's attempt at "chugga-chugga" comes out breathless and hiccoughing and then he's too busy getting his hot mouth on the skin of Louis's neck, on board this train and getting there fast.
Johnny sometimes laughs all the way through sex. He's easily distracted, loves to kiss and to watch and is proud as anything when he gets somebody off. Louis knows these things and a hundred more, and Johnny probably knows just as much about him. Johnny definitely knows how Louis likes Johnny on top of him, likes the lean surprising strength of Johnny's body. There was a time when Johnny winning a wrestling match, pinning Louis's wrists and holding him down, could trip Louis's adolescent hair-trigger.
Johnny uses that knowledge now, teeth sharp in his smile as he props himself over Louis on one hand and works himself slow against Louis's leg, slinky and hot while the rest of him stays laser focused on Louis, on Louis's slow, inevitable slide from turned on to desperate for it.
Louis's hands are already fumbling with his own zipper, then Johnny's, graceless, but the way Johnny arches fascinates him, slows him down enough to slide his hands down the back of Johnny's jeans to feel his ass flex.
"Mmm," Johnny husks, and kisses Louis again, and maybe they're two grown men making out and feeling each other up on a too-small, spring-sprung couch in a junkyard caboose in the backyard, but at the moment Louis thinks its impossible to feel better. Johnny's ass moves under his hands, their dicks slide against each other, oh god, better now that Johnny's shifted and gathered them up, directing them toward the best glide, the sweetest friction.
There isn't enough oxygen in the world as Louis pants, his stomach muscles shaking as he reaches up for Johnny's mouth and loses himself in more kissing, a perfect circle of shifting and thrusting and touching and good, yes, until Johnny bites Louis's lip and Louis has to come now, and he lets go of Johnny's ass and grabs his waist, gropes between them to help stroke them off.
It's clumsy and too dry with Louis's hands in the mix, so he curls up enough to spit in one palm and with that they slide better, Johnny grunting as he shoves into their hands.
Louis can feel Johnny's arm shaking as he holds himself up over Louis, their dicks curving up out of their pants and into their hands, Louis leading because Johnny's scattered, can't focus on a good rhythm, their boots and calves and thighs knocking and brushing against each other as they move, and here Louis can let himself moan and coax, let himself say, "Yeah, yeah, oh shit yeah, Johnny, like that, right there, so good baby yeah."
Johnny knocks Louis's hands away and drops his hips down hard, grinding and thrusting, fucking against Louis like he's inside. Louis's trousers and Johnny's legs have him trapped, but he arches his back and spreads his legs a bare centimeter more, giving Johnny everything he has, and Johnny catches his breath and then breathes out hard with a whine, his body a rigid line as he comes in short pulses over Louis's cock and stomach.
Louis lets him come down slowly, petting his hair and neck and just gently shifting himself against Johnny's softening cock and slick skin.
Johnny's eyes are indecent when he finally pulls back, sex drunk and pleased with himself, and Louis catches his face and kisses him again, wanting as much of this as he can get. Johnny makes that purring sound again, and Louis thrusts up harder, wanting more of that.
There's thin trails and puddles of come on his skin, and Johnny slides his fingers along it, half gathering and half rubbing in, the dark hair and pale come forming swirls together. Louis watches down their bodies, his hands still on Johnny's face, fingering his ear and damp hairline as Johnny touches his cock too gently to get him off, teasing and stroking and slowly building again.
Johnny's soft cock is hanging down, still plump, and Louis wants it in his mouth, wants everything at once. He tightens his fingers hard in the muscle of Johnny's shoulders and thrusts up, Johnny jacking him harder now, the dark glossy skin of Louis's dick sliding between Johnny's long fingers as Johnny urges him on in his low, raspy voice.
Louis catches the collar of Johnny's shirt in his mouth, sucking and dampening the fabric and it helps, every little bit helps, and when Johnny slides his thigh up a little more firmly between Louis's, when Johnny holds just the right rhythm for just long enough, Louis comes hard and good all over them, the sight of his come dripping down Johnny's slowing hand enough to keep him going a little longer, beautiful.
"Like the way you come," Johnny says, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of Louis's head above his ear.
"Jesus," Louis gasps, staring at the ceiling without a thought in his mind. After a minute he turns his head and there's Johnny's face, Johnny's forehead, Johnny's hand brushing his lips. Louis opens immediately, licking his come off Johnny's skin, sucking on a knuckle. He lifts Johnny's hand far enough away to focus on it, the damp streaks of saliva and come, the way Johnny's knuckles stand out and the thin ring of dark dried blood around the nail of Johnny's thumb. Louis nuzzles against Johnny's musky palm, smiling again at Johnny's muffled snorting laugh, far away and getting farther.
He wakes up with a jolt, the room too bright like somebody'd flipped a switch. Johnny's wedged into the back of the couch and Louis is just about falling off. Johnny's snoring, nature is calling and the caboose lacks certain amenities, so Louis eases off the couch and hauls his trousers up one-handed as he steps outside into the buggy hum of night. When he ducks back in the door a minute later, the room is still too bright and Johnny's sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning like he'll split his face open.
Louis just watches, amused by the contortions Johnny's got his face into, and when Johnny's done he does this shoulder wriggle, a one man wave, reflecting amusement back Louis's way. Johnny's back is an easy curve, his dick tucked away but his fly still wide open, and he looks a million times better, some of the real Slip magic back as he lifts an ankle over the opposite knee and starts pulling at his bootlaces.
Zippers down and boots on and coveralls gaping open in a corner of the shop, it's the way of things between friends like them. Louis tries to remember the last time he saw Johnny fully naked, wonders if they can get away this month, go fishing or something, get themselves all the way unzipped and stripped bare.
He's having a good little moment there by the door, thinking about Johnny laid out naked and hard when the real, mostly dressed Johnny asks, "You heading home?" casually to his own foot as he works on boot number two.
Louis should; he lives there. His life is there. But there are no deliveries in the book for tomorrow, no reason he can't open late. Johnny's lost the tense, bewildered look Louis hated on him earlier, but Louis knows from a lifetime's experience that he can get looser. And there's not much in the world as fine as Johnny Johannson when he's sitting right in his body, relaxed and easy and provocative to look at, unless it's the work it takes getting him that way, all the way.
It's no decision at all as Louis steps between Johnny's legs, gently knocking Johnny's knees farther apart and making a space for himself that conveniently puts his dick right by Johnny's face. Johnny tilts his head up, face a little brighter, and opens his hand, fingers splaying wide as his boot falls heavily to the floor.
Louis curls his fingers under his own shirt and ripe undershirt and pulls them up over his head in one go. He drops them back behind his shoulder even as Johnny's palms run up and down his back before slipping around to the front and his belly and where his dick is just beginning to plump up against his fly.
Come tomorrow, Louis is going to be sore in the good way, worn out and wrung fresh clean, and he's going to love Gimli just a little bit more than he did every day of his life before.
Come tomorrow or the day after that, Zoe's going to look twice and keep looking and Louis would bet five dollars Johnny's sleeping in the house before the week's out. Tonight, though, he and Johnny are heading fast into round two, and Johnny's wicked sexy eyes and hot happy wet laughing mouth are all for him.