story part 5 the fuckin end
anonymous
May 16 2011, 21:12:18 UTC
"Ricky. Hey. Rick." He hesitantly reaches out and pokes Porcello with his shoe. Porcello angles his eyes up without moving his head. Justin swallows hard. "Um. Did you... d'you want to... er. What, um, what can I do to. Uh. Help?"
Porcello looks back down at the floor. "Can you just... can you just, like. Put your hand back? On my head?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but Justin hears him just fine.
"He wants me to put my hand back," he says for Emily's benefit, voice still husked and roughened. God, he hopes he wasn't screaming when he came. The laundry room probably does not have strongly soundproofed walls.
"Grab his hair," Emily says, bright and helpful. Justin almost whimpers, but manages to hold it in. His hand is shaking, though, as he reaches out and touches Porcello's head. He just strokes it at first, running his fingers through Porcello's hair, petting him like a dog. Porcello bows his head a little, letting his neck sag. One of his hands comes off of Justin's leg and disappears into his own lap. Justin digs his fingers in, grabbing on, as per Emily's instructions. Porcello shudders and tenses, his right shoulder shaking as the movements of his arm speed up.
"Jesus," Justin rasps, staring. "Is that... that's all you need? You can get off on that?"
"Don't tease him, Justin. I mean, think about it. You just threw a no-hitter." Emily is cheerfully matter-of-fact, as though this is all incredibly obvious. "You have a pretty sexy grip, you know. You do some nice things with those hands." Justin sputters wordlessly, and Emily laughs. "Oh, don't act so surprised. I said I get exactly where he's coming from."
"Christ," Justin mutters. He tugs a little, testing his hold on Porcello's hair. Porcello gasps and bows his shoulders, almost hunching forward. His arm moves faster, then stills.
The only sounds now are Porcello's breathing, slowing down from its racing rate; Justin's breathing, shallow and startled still; and Emily's breathing, easy and normal.
"Well," Emily says. "I think that was fun. Maybe we should do it again sometime."
"Um," Justin says.
"Congrats again, baby," she says. "I'll see you when you get back. Love you!"
"Love you too," Justin replies, automatic. The line clicks dead. He sets the phone carefully down on the nearest washing machine, flexing his fingers.
"So, uh." Porcello coughs, runs a hand backwards through his own hair. Justin wonders if his scalp hurts. Or his throat. Or his knees-- Porcello is still kneeling at Justin's feet. "Your, uh, girlfriend's pretty cool."
Justin looks at Porcello. He can see the wet spot on the crotch of Porcello's pants, and the smaller wet spot on his thigh, where he must have wiped his hand. His lips still look swollen, and there is a spot of come-- Justin's come-- drying on Porcello's bare chest, where it must have dripped.
He nods. "Yeah. She's basically the best." Every single part of him, body heart and soul, is in firm agreement about that.
He should probably do something extra nice for Emily when the team gets back to Detroit; she definitely deserves it. He runs his eyes over Porcello again, more thoughtfully this time. He's got a few ideas, now, about what he might be able to do to let her know just how appreciative he is of her, and of everything that she does for him.
OP is a greedy bitch - wishes for a sequel
anonymous
August 3 2011, 22:55:34 UTC
During Sunday's game while Justin was attempting, which seemed to be for the tenth time, his second no-no of the season, I thought that if he gets it, I'd request a sequel where Justin is sandwiched between the two of them or she watches them or something. But then shit happened.
But today I thought fuck it I'm doing it anyway because surely conversations occured after the first encounter.
Porcello looks back down at the floor. "Can you just... can you just, like. Put your hand back? On my head?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but Justin hears him just fine.
"He wants me to put my hand back," he says for Emily's benefit, voice still husked and roughened. God, he hopes he wasn't screaming when he came. The laundry room probably does not have strongly soundproofed walls.
"Grab his hair," Emily says, bright and helpful. Justin almost whimpers, but manages to hold it in. His hand is shaking, though, as he reaches out and touches Porcello's head. He just strokes it at first, running his fingers through Porcello's hair, petting him like a dog. Porcello bows his head a little, letting his neck sag. One of his hands comes off of Justin's leg and disappears into his own lap. Justin digs his fingers in, grabbing on, as per Emily's instructions. Porcello shudders and tenses, his right shoulder shaking as the movements of his arm speed up.
"Jesus," Justin rasps, staring. "Is that... that's all you need? You can get off on that?"
"Don't tease him, Justin. I mean, think about it. You just threw a no-hitter." Emily is cheerfully matter-of-fact, as though this is all incredibly obvious. "You have a pretty sexy grip, you know. You do some nice things with those hands." Justin sputters wordlessly, and Emily laughs. "Oh, don't act so surprised. I said I get exactly where he's coming from."
"Christ," Justin mutters. He tugs a little, testing his hold on Porcello's hair. Porcello gasps and bows his shoulders, almost hunching forward. His arm moves faster, then stills.
The only sounds now are Porcello's breathing, slowing down from its racing rate; Justin's breathing, shallow and startled still; and Emily's breathing, easy and normal.
"Well," Emily says. "I think that was fun. Maybe we should do it again sometime."
"Um," Justin says.
"Congrats again, baby," she says. "I'll see you when you get back. Love you!"
"Love you too," Justin replies, automatic. The line clicks dead. He sets the phone carefully down on the nearest washing machine, flexing his fingers.
"So, uh." Porcello coughs, runs a hand backwards through his own hair. Justin wonders if his scalp hurts. Or his throat. Or his knees-- Porcello is still kneeling at Justin's feet. "Your, uh, girlfriend's pretty cool."
Justin looks at Porcello. He can see the wet spot on the crotch of Porcello's pants, and the smaller wet spot on his thigh, where he must have wiped his hand. His lips still look swollen, and there is a spot of come-- Justin's come-- drying on Porcello's bare chest, where it must have dripped.
He nods. "Yeah. She's basically the best." Every single part of him, body heart and soul, is in firm agreement about that.
He should probably do something extra nice for Emily when the team gets back to Detroit; she definitely deserves it. He runs his eyes over Porcello again, more thoughtfully this time. He's got a few ideas, now, about what he might be able to do to let her know just how appreciative he is of her, and of everything that she does for him.
Reply
my brains are leaking out of my ears, anon. you dun liquified my brains.
this is one I demand you put on your journal so I can tuck it away in my memories forever and ever.
asdfghjkl;lkjhgfdsdfghjkjhgfd
Reply
That was so hot. I can't even. My god.
I don't know how to thank you. I will love you forever for this.
Reply
That was just...hot. Jeez.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
But today I thought fuck it I'm doing it anyway because surely conversations occured after the first encounter.
Reply
Leave a comment