Feeling Like This [1/1]
Title :: Feeling Like This.
Fandom :: Football (NFL).
Pairing :: Andre Johnson//Cortland Finnegan.
Rating :: Light R.
Summary :: Andre's response is some sort of butchered, half-slur of Cortland's name.
Warnings :: Sex.
Word Count :: 181.
Notes :: Done for a meme on juliella . Requested by du_secondaire .
When you had to go I hated the thought
I always wish the night was twice as long.
[Can't Get Enough Of You Baby; Smash Mouth.]
It's hot, much too hot as far as Cortland is concerned, because the fan isn't on and Andre is almost smothering Cortland with his too hot body, chocolate skin gleaming under the bright sunlight streaming in through the open windows.
"'Dre..." Cortland half moans, half hisses, too lazy to pronounce both syllables of Andre’s name as he digs blunt nails around the thick muscles popping under Andre's skin. "Move, goddammit."
Andre's response is some sort of butchered, half-slur of Cortland's name into the crook of his neck, punctuated by a slow roll of his hips, and Cortland tighten his fingers around Andre’s shoulder, slick with sweat and slipping under his hand.
Cortland rocks up in a lazy attempt to get more friction, although it feels like he’s moving through caramel, the temperature in the room stifling and sticky, and he just shifts under Andre, hooking his knee around the back of Andre’s thigh to pull him closer. Andre feels like a furnace and Cortland sighs, fingertips roaming over Andre’s chest absently, tracing over the body he’s gotten to know so well.
Fandom :: Football (NFL).
Pairing :: Andre Johnson//Cortland Finnegan.
Rating :: Light R.
Summary :: Andre's response is some sort of butchered, half-slur of Cortland's name.
Warnings :: Sex.
Word Count :: 181.
Notes :: Done for a meme on juliella . Requested by du_secondaire .
When you had to go I hated the thought
I always wish the night was twice as long.
[Can't Get Enough Of You Baby; Smash Mouth.]
It's hot, much too hot as far as Cortland is concerned, because the fan isn't on and Andre is almost smothering Cortland with his too hot body, chocolate skin gleaming under the bright sunlight streaming in through the open windows.
"'Dre..." Cortland half moans, half hisses, too lazy to pronounce both syllables of Andre’s name as he digs blunt nails around the thick muscles popping under Andre's skin. "Move, goddammit."
Andre's response is some sort of butchered, half-slur of Cortland's name into the crook of his neck, punctuated by a slow roll of his hips, and Cortland tighten his fingers around Andre’s shoulder, slick with sweat and slipping under his hand.
Cortland rocks up in a lazy attempt to get more friction, although it feels like he’s moving through caramel, the temperature in the room stifling and sticky, and he just shifts under Andre, hooking his knee around the back of Andre’s thigh to pull him closer. Andre feels like a furnace and Cortland sighs, fingertips roaming over Andre’s chest absently, tracing over the body he’s gotten to know so well.