"i'm yours"; frottage; adam/dave; pg-13technicallysaneOctober 16 2011, 16:34:03 UTC
“You do realize I’ve got something like twenty minutes to get to class, right.”
Despite the rather belligerent words Dave is breathless, giddy even and Adam can always tell when Dave doesn’t really mean whatever irritable thing is coming out of his mouth. As it is, Adam’s pretty sure Dave couldn’t be happier than if he’d been dumped into a library stocked high as the ceiling with every physics book known to mankind.
He’s pretty sure it’s unhealthy that physics goes under the same level of excitement as basically humping your boyfriend but, well, there it is.
“I know,” he replies against Dave’s lips and smirks a little. They’re sprawled out on the bed, lanky limbs a perfect counterbalance, because otherwise there’s an extremely good chance Dave would’ve gone and toppled off the double as soon as Adam pounced. Neither one of them have gotten any better at coordination since this whole weird thing started up and Adam’s got a pretty good feeling that’s not changing any time soon. Adam rolls his hips in a downward motion, feeling the deep guttural moan that starts in Dave’s chest and works itself up to be swallowed by Adam.
“Twenty minutes is just enough time.”
“I have to walk,” Dave mumbles, hand coming up to cup Adam’s neck. “Cuts you down by like… like almost five minutes. Nngh.” The line of Dave’s neck when he tosses his head back is too delightful to resist dragging his tongue up, and Adam does just that before nipping Dave’s ear.
“You’re already dressed, Dave,” Adam points out breathily, and it’s true. Dave’s clothed to the nines for the nippy October air, coat buttoned and scarf already tied. Adam wishes he had more time to unravel that scarf, to slowly work open that coat, but somehow the thought of Dave practically ready for wintery Armageddon while Adam’s in pajama pants and his ratty Yankees tee, trying desperately to hurry up before he has to scurry to class is almost a turn-on.
Oh, who the fuck’s he kidding, he could come right here, right now.
He grinds his hips down again, feeling the hard line of Dave’s erection pressed up against the inseam of his jeans and grins again against Dave’s lips. Because you see, now he has a fully built-in excuse to continue his shenanigans. There’s no way Dave’s going to class with a boner, and while he may protest that the cold air could help his issue, there’s even less of a chance of Dave walking through Manhattan with a tent in his pants. It’s as if the world were shining down on him, praising him for his plan.
“You,” says Dave under his breath, fingers twitching for a second when Adam hits a particularly good angle, “are a jerk.”
“But I’m your jerk.”
“My extremely cliché jerk.”
“You love me,” Adam states smugly, tugging the scarf enough so that he can kiss Dave again. Dave presses up against him, hand moving from Adam’s neck to his hair, and mutters, “Maybe later we could do more with the scarf.”
“You are naughty,” is the gleeful response. Dave smirks-no, really, he actually smirks and Adam wasn’t even aware Dave knew how to smirk, let alone grab Adam by the shoulders and actually flip them over so he’s kneeling over Adam. Adam has half a second to think when did that happen when Dave catches him in another kiss, one that makes Adam suck in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter closed.
And then, in a pure display of that masterful Stutler Cockblocking, Dave mutters, “but right now, I really need to get to class” and, standing up, straightens the scarf and goes off to locate his hat; Adam had thrown it somewhere when he’d jumped Dave. Adam blinks and sits up just in time to watch Dave tug his coat down low, and with the addition of the hat plus his red cheeks he looks for all the world like he just came in from a particularly crisp day. He lets out a contented little sigh and pecks Adam on the cheek before grinning, still close.
Despite the rather belligerent words Dave is breathless, giddy even and Adam can always tell when Dave doesn’t really mean whatever irritable thing is coming out of his mouth. As it is, Adam’s pretty sure Dave couldn’t be happier than if he’d been dumped into a library stocked high as the ceiling with every physics book known to mankind.
He’s pretty sure it’s unhealthy that physics goes under the same level of excitement as basically humping your boyfriend but, well, there it is.
“I know,” he replies against Dave’s lips and smirks a little. They’re sprawled out on the bed, lanky limbs a perfect counterbalance, because otherwise there’s an extremely good chance Dave would’ve gone and toppled off the double as soon as Adam pounced. Neither one of them have gotten any better at coordination since this whole weird thing started up and Adam’s got a pretty good feeling that’s not changing any time soon. Adam rolls his hips in a downward motion, feeling the deep guttural moan that starts in Dave’s chest and works itself up to be swallowed by Adam.
“Twenty minutes is just enough time.”
“I have to walk,” Dave mumbles, hand coming up to cup Adam’s neck. “Cuts you down by like… like almost five minutes. Nngh.” The line of Dave’s neck when he tosses his head back is too delightful to resist dragging his tongue up, and Adam does just that before nipping Dave’s ear.
“You’re already dressed, Dave,” Adam points out breathily, and it’s true. Dave’s clothed to the nines for the nippy October air, coat buttoned and scarf already tied. Adam wishes he had more time to unravel that scarf, to slowly work open that coat, but somehow the thought of Dave practically ready for wintery Armageddon while Adam’s in pajama pants and his ratty Yankees tee, trying desperately to hurry up before he has to scurry to class is almost a turn-on.
Oh, who the fuck’s he kidding, he could come right here, right now.
He grinds his hips down again, feeling the hard line of Dave’s erection pressed up against the inseam of his jeans and grins again against Dave’s lips. Because you see, now he has a fully built-in excuse to continue his shenanigans. There’s no way Dave’s going to class with a boner, and while he may protest that the cold air could help his issue, there’s even less of a chance of Dave walking through Manhattan with a tent in his pants. It’s as if the world were shining down on him, praising him for his plan.
“You,” says Dave under his breath, fingers twitching for a second when Adam hits a particularly good angle, “are a jerk.”
“But I’m your jerk.”
“My extremely cliché jerk.”
“You love me,” Adam states smugly, tugging the scarf enough so that he can kiss Dave again. Dave presses up against him, hand moving from Adam’s neck to his hair, and mutters, “Maybe later we could do more with the scarf.”
“You are naughty,” is the gleeful response. Dave smirks-no, really, he actually smirks and Adam wasn’t even aware Dave knew how to smirk, let alone grab Adam by the shoulders and actually flip them over so he’s kneeling over Adam. Adam has half a second to think when did that happen when Dave catches him in another kiss, one that makes Adam suck in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter closed.
And then, in a pure display of that masterful Stutler Cockblocking, Dave mutters, “but right now, I really need to get to class” and, standing up, straightens the scarf and goes off to locate his hat; Adam had thrown it somewhere when he’d jumped Dave. Adam blinks and sits up just in time to watch Dave tug his coat down low, and with the addition of the hat plus his red cheeks he looks for all the world like he just came in from a particularly crisp day. He lets out a contented little sigh and pecks Adam on the cheek before grinning, still close.
“I meant it about the scarf,” he mutters.
Adam blinks.
“You bastard,” he says blankly.
Dave grins cheekily.
“But I’m your bastard.”
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No seriously. White wedding and everything.
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