Smosh Fic: (Almost) Sex Scene
Title: (Almost) Sex Scene
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ian/Anthony
Genre: Humour, Smut
Summary: Movies make sex look wonderful - like something that could be achieved by anybody.
Movies always make sex look like something easy. It’s dim orange lighting with perfect silhouettes falling gracefully into bed. The music is always slow - sensual - and all that’s heard is breath breathed long and hard, shuddering with anticipation. The moans are always whispers of more and ah, so good. Skin always looks smooth and soon glistening with heat as bodies move together languidly in time. Everything goes well, ending with cries of release that fade to white.
They make sex look wonderful - like something that could be achieved by anybody.
But Ian’s standing, fully clothed and one knee pressed against the foot of the bed with Anthony standing right next to him.
“Should we…?” Ian asks, turning his head slightly to look at Anthony. He’s a little afraid to stare into his friend’s eyes, lest Anthony notices Ian’s heated skin. Plus, he becomes light headed every time he glances at Anthony. The leftover alcohol doesn’t help to ease the uncertainty.
Anthony shrugs. “I guess.”
“All right.”
He feels Anthony’s hand on his back, ghosting so lightly that if it were anybody else, Ian wouldn’t have felt it. It leaves tingling trails all along his spine. If this were a movie, Ian thinks, this would be about the time they would fall into bed naked all of a sudden. But it’s another few seconds of them yet again standing still, completely covered head to toe.
“Um… Okay.” Anthony says and heaves a sigh before finally sitting heavily on the edge of the bed in front of Ian. It’s awkward, Ian thinks, as Anthony shifts clumsily so Ian is standing between his legs, thighs pressing against knees. It’s like a trap that Ian is stuck in and all Ian can see is Anthony’s buttoned up flannel shirt, rising just above the waist of his jeans revealing honeyed skin.
He pictures Anthony without that shirt. He pictures himself ripping it off of that tight body with fierce eagerness; the fabric tearing deliciously as it uncovers a chest he had seen many times but never really had the chance to freely explore. Ian’s fingers are dancing with anticipation to want his own devouring hunger reflected in Anthony’s eyes. He almost falls over just thinking about it all.
But he’s raised out of his thoughts with a hand around his thigh, gently nudging him forward. Ian shakes his head and obliges, sinking his own knee into the mattress between Anthony’s legs. He can hear his own breath, too loud and shuddering against Anthony’s mumbles of encouragement.
“Is this all right?” Anthony asks when they’re face to face, breath wrapping like a ribbon around Ian’s.
“Yeah, it’s good.” He feigns a weak smile, glad his words aren’t slurring anymore.
Ian can’t quite believe this is happening, caught up in that moment of holy shit, this is real and what the freakin’ hell am I supposed to do now? He’s afraid to make the first move but he really, really, wants to.
“C-Can I… Um…Can I kiss you?” Anthony asks finally, hesitantly, with eyes darting from Ian’s lips to his hands that are holding him up on either side of Anthony.
“Yeah, uh, sure, I guess.” Ian nods, surprised and adjusting so that the heel of his hands presses against Anthony’s side. “N-Not like we haven’t done it before… right?”
“Yeah,” he laughs nervously, “Right. We’re good at it.”
“Uh huh,” Ian smiles again and vaguely remembers how easy it was the first time. Somehow they had gone from a few shots of 151, to obscure and embarrassing tumbling confessions that would later result in locked lips fighting for more, more, more. It was like drinking water in the desert when they kissed for the first time - staggeringly desperate for that cool liquid to coat the dry.
But now, a few hours later (maybe it was only an hour, Ian didn’t know since kissing Anthony feels like kissing eternity), after a rapid cab ride home and a few bruised hips made by sharp kitchen counters and wall corners, they’re awfully awkward without as much adrenaline and copper venom fuelling their bodies to do things their mind would otherwise think twice about. Now they are thinking twice and even thinking three times which makes everything weird.
Extremely, fucking, weird.
It’s kind of weird when Anthony moves in at the same time as Ian, their mouths missing each other and their noses bent at harsh angles onto each other’s faces. It’s weird that Ian falls over and he feels Anthony and his own cock instantly jumps at the sentiment. Two hard dicks are weird. Ian’s not used to feeling that.
But he guesses his body likes it because it sends a thrill of heat blazing through his bones and he can’t help but let out a shaking gasp. Anthony’s lips quirk up, finally finding his and they sink deeper into the sheets kissing and tasting. The alcohol buzz is creeping dangerously fast around Ian again at the same time as Anthony’s warm hands slide under his shirt.
Ian struggles to get out of his shirt, suddenly too hot for it. “Hold still, idiot,” Anthony instructs, tugging at the grey cotton until it slips off of a red-faced Ian. “There…” Anthony says, staring with a look of awe and tentatively reaching a hand out to graze over Ian’s stomach.
“I need to work out,” Ian says, feeling like he needs an excuse for his too soft belly, just picturing Anthony’s own tight, flat one with abs just slyly forming. If he had known he’d be naked in bed with his best friend, Ian would have dragged his fatass to the gym a few months ago.
“Nah, you… you look good.” He nods when Ian shakes his head. “Really! I-I like - You look fine, Ian. Trust me.”
“Okay, I guess I’m pretty sexy,” Ian jokes, settling in against Anthony’s chest again as it rumbles with laughter. Anthony plants another long deep kiss on Ian’s lips, sending a wave of breathlessness to blanket over them. It feels good moving against Anthony, running his hands over the exposed skin of Anthony’s neck and finding the pulse matching almost exact to Ian’s own excited heart. Anthony runs a tongue over Ian’s bottom lip and Ian returns the favour by thrusting his hips deep against Anthony’s thigh. He wants him now, especially when a hand grabs onto his ass, kneading hard.
The earlier idea of shredding Anthony’s shirt claws at Ian’s mind and he quickly grabs fistfuls of the blue and white plaid. The sound of ripping fabric and the exposure of skin is surprising and pulls both of them reluctantly away from each other.
“Dude! T-That’s my shirt!” Anthony exclaims between heavy pants, twisting his fingers through the now ruined shirt. Ian’s a little surprised at his ferocity but he’s so turned on he can’t really give a fuck. He only shrugs and dives in again for another kiss, silencing his friend’s whines because Ian wants it so bad, right now. Anthony seems to forgive him because he manages to shed the broken garment off and wrap his arms around Ian’s middle, bringing fiery skin together.
Oh, God, Ian thinks as Anthony’s hips buck upwards so that their erections brush again. The piercing feeling drips to the tips of his toes to the blood that rushes from his head to his cock, jumping and shocking his body each time their jean covered hips thrust to contact.
Ian wants this now. Right fucking now. He can hardly form his next words because Anthony has his lips and his tongue in Ian’s mouth, tracing the inside of his cheeks and fucking it, hard. Ian finally manages to croak out, “Pants. Off.”
Anthony agrees, mumbling between breaths, “Pants, yeah. Off.” Ian manages to roll off of Anthony, fumbling with the buttons and fuck, fuck, fuck, so close to being completely naked but the damn zipper is a bitch and it takes four hands to get those tight jeans off.
“Shit, Ant, just get them off me.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Fuck.”
“A-Ah… don’t-oh my god.”
“Don’t you fucking come before I get this shit off!”
“O-Oh ah… t-then stop rubbing me l-like - oh-like that!”
Ian is starting to see swirls and sparkles as Anthony presses too hard and tugs too strong at the zipper. Maybe if they weren’t drunk out of their minds, this simple task would actually be simple.
Finally. Ian’s free. But Anthony’s hands are gone.
Ian looks down to find Anthony staring, something maybe moving out of his throat because his mouth hangs open. And it takes a wiggle from Ian’s hips and a breathy, “What?” for Anthony to suddenly jump off the bed and start to tug at his own jeans.
Anthony has a little more luck too, able to slip out of his jeans and his boxers in two swift motions: down and a kick to the side so that everything plops against the wall and lands in a pile across the room.
By now, Ian is completely hard, taking deep breaths because the slightest sound, the slightest movement, the slightest idea of what could happen next, gets him too excited and too close. So fucking close… He has to scrunch his eyes shut and force his fingers to clench the sheets to stop the waves of I want this so so so fucking much of overcoming him.
It doesn’t help that Anthony isn’t hurrying the fuck up with getting back into bed.
“Anthony,” Ian whines, peaking one eye open to look down at his friend. Anthony is just standing there, naked, holy glorious erect cock right at Ian’s level of vision and looking like he doesn’t have a clue what to do next.
Anthony looks fucking unreal.
And beautiful, too.
“I-Ian…” Anthony starts, taking a step towards the bed. It takes a lot of control for Ian to sit up on his elbows because every part of him is shaking. “W-What… What now?”
Ian lets out a shaky breath, trying to contain himself as he hungrily takes in Anthony’s body. He looks so fucking good. Ian wonders what he feels like… what he tastes like… what-
“Ian?”
“O-Oh… uh… ah… I don’t know.” Ian shrugs. “How do gay people do it?”
Anthony looks a little shocked. “H-How would I know?” He scoffs, “I’m not gay.”
Ian rolls his eyes, feeling his dick die down a little so that he’s able to sit up. “I’m pretty sure we’re gay now. I mean…” Ian starts, freakin’ blushing since he’s embarrassed but can’t keep the words in, “You’re a guy and… And I want you, so bad. My balls are going to turn blue if you don’t get over here right now!”
“Okay, okay, geez!” Anthony is grinning like an idiot now, a little bit of pink flushing in his cheeks and Ian is again reminded of his situation: completely and utterly turned on by everything.
So he drags his ass back to the edge of the bed and pulls Anthony back to him until they’re hip-to-hip, stomach-to-stomach and best of all, cock-to-cock. Ian is surprised he doesn’t explode just holding Anthony’s hand. A moan escapes out of him from the tip of his spine, rippling with pleasure.
“Shit, Ian, you feel so good,”
Ian gasps as their dicks slide together in time - in that “languid” way in the movies - but it’s a not really but more faster, hungrier, rushed with more sweat and profane cries of holy shit, again, what-don’t-fuck, fuck-oh my fucking god!
And they’re just rubbing off each other and already Ian can feel his control dabbling away. He wonders how long he can keep this up. He wants to just go but at the same time, keep this going because, shit, it’s the best feeling in the world when Anthony groans in his ear and grips his shoulders so hard Ian’s skin goes raw red underneath.
“I think-” Anthony starts to say but Ian likes it much better when their mouths are connected. “A-Ah-We’re suppose-” Ian’s mouth is back for another kiss. “Supposed to-uh-fuck, Ian!”
Ian smirks at Anthony’s cry, knowing it was because he’s got both of their dicks in his hand now. It was weird having his own and Anthony’s in his palm. It’s softer than he anticipated and he can’t help but to jerk his hand up and down the hard shafts, discovering that each stroke causes Anthony to blurt out obscene curses and moan even louder. Ian is fascinated and intoxicated by the way Anthony writhes on top of him, back arching in the most delicious arch as he tightens his grip, letting his thumb slide over the tip of Anthony’s dick.
“Fuck, Anthony, you’re so hot.” Ian can’t even believe the words coming out of his mouth.
Anthony nods and buries his face in the crook of Ian’s neck, breathing hard and planting little bites and kisses there that make Ian’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Everything feels like too much and so incredible. They should have done this sooner. Ian pumps harder and harder, his hips and his dick moving faster and faster until friction seems to overload with that wonderful mix of hotness and almost-ecstasy, almost-bursting, almost-fucking-there of release.
Anthony manages to say “S-Shit fuck, Ian, I’m gunna-” before coming in the most erotic way that every porno Ian has ever watched looked like a G-rated children’s show. It’s the way Anthony struggles to keep his position, shaking uncontrollably and gripping hard on Ian’s shoulder blades. It’s the way Anthony throws his head back at the same time white spills all over Ian’s heaving chest. And the way Anthony cries out his name as his cock digs deep right up against Ian’s and has Ian coming with grappling sensations he didn’t know even existed.
“Fuck!” Ian cries, toes curling and every muscle in his body tightening as his dick lets out the last of his delirium, the leftover fervor reverberating through his being. Anthony falls completely heavy, letting out a loud moan and one last buck of the hips for good measure - to squeeze out whatever’s left of this amazing feeling.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
Ian’s slips his hand out from between them, sticky and warm with come and not really caring if he got it all over Anthony’s back. He just wants to feel his friend’s shivering skin.
“That’s what-” A heaving breath. “-we were-“ A gulp, trying to catch air. “-supposed to do.”
Ian nods absentmindedly, still caught up in that sweet orgasm. Anthony’s words eventually enter through the haze and he asks casually, whispering and wanting to revel longer in the bliss, “Do what?”
Anthony moves his face out of Ian’s neck, hovering just above Ian. There’s a teasing smile there, dimples on either side.
“Fuck you.”
Ian’s half-lidded eyes open wide. “What?”
“Fuck you. In the ass.” Anthony’s laughing now and Ian’s brows furrow. A little bit of anger wallows up but it’s mostly confusion that surfaces. What was Anthony talking about? Did he… did he not like what just happened? Why is he laughing?
Bitch.
“Well… fuck you, too, Anthony. In your ass.” Ian frowns and begins to try to push his friend off of him but Anthony is shaking his head and not budging.
“Sure but n-no, I meant… hah…” Anthony is still laughing. Ian can’t really see what’s so funny. “I meant, oh God, I meant that’s how gay sex… that’s what we should do: fuck.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…” Anthony nuzzles his nose in Ian’s neck and comes up to capture Ian’s lips in a kiss. He breaks apart and gazes seriously into Ian’s eyes, hesitant but hopeful. “So… Um… What do you say?”
Ian supposes he could do that, thinking about it. There are always those movies with more than one sex scene.
“Only if I get to fuck you.”
A/N: My first "smut"... can you call it smut when they don't even get it in? I had intended for that but... I couldn't handle it. This was too much for me to write already (I bow to those who can. Oh, masters, you are all so brave and provide me with so much "knowledge" as to how parts of bodies that I don't possess operate!). LOL! It was a fun, plot-less, thing to write though!
I'd love con-crit! It's a good way for me to improve (and learn what I completely butchered to pieces)!
Want more Smosh slash?
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ian/Anthony
Genre: Humour, Smut
Summary: Movies make sex look wonderful - like something that could be achieved by anybody.
Movies always make sex look like something easy. It’s dim orange lighting with perfect silhouettes falling gracefully into bed. The music is always slow - sensual - and all that’s heard is breath breathed long and hard, shuddering with anticipation. The moans are always whispers of more and ah, so good. Skin always looks smooth and soon glistening with heat as bodies move together languidly in time. Everything goes well, ending with cries of release that fade to white.
They make sex look wonderful - like something that could be achieved by anybody.
But Ian’s standing, fully clothed and one knee pressed against the foot of the bed with Anthony standing right next to him.
“Should we…?” Ian asks, turning his head slightly to look at Anthony. He’s a little afraid to stare into his friend’s eyes, lest Anthony notices Ian’s heated skin. Plus, he becomes light headed every time he glances at Anthony. The leftover alcohol doesn’t help to ease the uncertainty.
Anthony shrugs. “I guess.”
“All right.”
He feels Anthony’s hand on his back, ghosting so lightly that if it were anybody else, Ian wouldn’t have felt it. It leaves tingling trails all along his spine. If this were a movie, Ian thinks, this would be about the time they would fall into bed naked all of a sudden. But it’s another few seconds of them yet again standing still, completely covered head to toe.
“Um… Okay.” Anthony says and heaves a sigh before finally sitting heavily on the edge of the bed in front of Ian. It’s awkward, Ian thinks, as Anthony shifts clumsily so Ian is standing between his legs, thighs pressing against knees. It’s like a trap that Ian is stuck in and all Ian can see is Anthony’s buttoned up flannel shirt, rising just above the waist of his jeans revealing honeyed skin.
He pictures Anthony without that shirt. He pictures himself ripping it off of that tight body with fierce eagerness; the fabric tearing deliciously as it uncovers a chest he had seen many times but never really had the chance to freely explore. Ian’s fingers are dancing with anticipation to want his own devouring hunger reflected in Anthony’s eyes. He almost falls over just thinking about it all.
But he’s raised out of his thoughts with a hand around his thigh, gently nudging him forward. Ian shakes his head and obliges, sinking his own knee into the mattress between Anthony’s legs. He can hear his own breath, too loud and shuddering against Anthony’s mumbles of encouragement.
“Is this all right?” Anthony asks when they’re face to face, breath wrapping like a ribbon around Ian’s.
“Yeah, it’s good.” He feigns a weak smile, glad his words aren’t slurring anymore.
Ian can’t quite believe this is happening, caught up in that moment of holy shit, this is real and what the freakin’ hell am I supposed to do now? He’s afraid to make the first move but he really, really, wants to.
“C-Can I… Um…Can I kiss you?” Anthony asks finally, hesitantly, with eyes darting from Ian’s lips to his hands that are holding him up on either side of Anthony.
“Yeah, uh, sure, I guess.” Ian nods, surprised and adjusting so that the heel of his hands presses against Anthony’s side. “N-Not like we haven’t done it before… right?”
“Yeah,” he laughs nervously, “Right. We’re good at it.”
“Uh huh,” Ian smiles again and vaguely remembers how easy it was the first time. Somehow they had gone from a few shots of 151, to obscure and embarrassing tumbling confessions that would later result in locked lips fighting for more, more, more. It was like drinking water in the desert when they kissed for the first time - staggeringly desperate for that cool liquid to coat the dry.
But now, a few hours later (maybe it was only an hour, Ian didn’t know since kissing Anthony feels like kissing eternity), after a rapid cab ride home and a few bruised hips made by sharp kitchen counters and wall corners, they’re awfully awkward without as much adrenaline and copper venom fuelling their bodies to do things their mind would otherwise think twice about. Now they are thinking twice and even thinking three times which makes everything weird.
Extremely, fucking, weird.
It’s kind of weird when Anthony moves in at the same time as Ian, their mouths missing each other and their noses bent at harsh angles onto each other’s faces. It’s weird that Ian falls over and he feels Anthony and his own cock instantly jumps at the sentiment. Two hard dicks are weird. Ian’s not used to feeling that.
But he guesses his body likes it because it sends a thrill of heat blazing through his bones and he can’t help but let out a shaking gasp. Anthony’s lips quirk up, finally finding his and they sink deeper into the sheets kissing and tasting. The alcohol buzz is creeping dangerously fast around Ian again at the same time as Anthony’s warm hands slide under his shirt.
Ian struggles to get out of his shirt, suddenly too hot for it. “Hold still, idiot,” Anthony instructs, tugging at the grey cotton until it slips off of a red-faced Ian. “There…” Anthony says, staring with a look of awe and tentatively reaching a hand out to graze over Ian’s stomach.
“I need to work out,” Ian says, feeling like he needs an excuse for his too soft belly, just picturing Anthony’s own tight, flat one with abs just slyly forming. If he had known he’d be naked in bed with his best friend, Ian would have dragged his fatass to the gym a few months ago.
“Nah, you… you look good.” He nods when Ian shakes his head. “Really! I-I like - You look fine, Ian. Trust me.”
“Okay, I guess I’m pretty sexy,” Ian jokes, settling in against Anthony’s chest again as it rumbles with laughter. Anthony plants another long deep kiss on Ian’s lips, sending a wave of breathlessness to blanket over them. It feels good moving against Anthony, running his hands over the exposed skin of Anthony’s neck and finding the pulse matching almost exact to Ian’s own excited heart. Anthony runs a tongue over Ian’s bottom lip and Ian returns the favour by thrusting his hips deep against Anthony’s thigh. He wants him now, especially when a hand grabs onto his ass, kneading hard.
The earlier idea of shredding Anthony’s shirt claws at Ian’s mind and he quickly grabs fistfuls of the blue and white plaid. The sound of ripping fabric and the exposure of skin is surprising and pulls both of them reluctantly away from each other.
“Dude! T-That’s my shirt!” Anthony exclaims between heavy pants, twisting his fingers through the now ruined shirt. Ian’s a little surprised at his ferocity but he’s so turned on he can’t really give a fuck. He only shrugs and dives in again for another kiss, silencing his friend’s whines because Ian wants it so bad, right now. Anthony seems to forgive him because he manages to shed the broken garment off and wrap his arms around Ian’s middle, bringing fiery skin together.
Oh, God, Ian thinks as Anthony’s hips buck upwards so that their erections brush again. The piercing feeling drips to the tips of his toes to the blood that rushes from his head to his cock, jumping and shocking his body each time their jean covered hips thrust to contact.
Ian wants this now. Right fucking now. He can hardly form his next words because Anthony has his lips and his tongue in Ian’s mouth, tracing the inside of his cheeks and fucking it, hard. Ian finally manages to croak out, “Pants. Off.”
Anthony agrees, mumbling between breaths, “Pants, yeah. Off.” Ian manages to roll off of Anthony, fumbling with the buttons and fuck, fuck, fuck, so close to being completely naked but the damn zipper is a bitch and it takes four hands to get those tight jeans off.
“Shit, Ant, just get them off me.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Fuck.”
“A-Ah… don’t-oh my god.”
“Don’t you fucking come before I get this shit off!”
“O-Oh ah… t-then stop rubbing me l-like - oh-like that!”
Ian is starting to see swirls and sparkles as Anthony presses too hard and tugs too strong at the zipper. Maybe if they weren’t drunk out of their minds, this simple task would actually be simple.
Finally. Ian’s free. But Anthony’s hands are gone.
Ian looks down to find Anthony staring, something maybe moving out of his throat because his mouth hangs open. And it takes a wiggle from Ian’s hips and a breathy, “What?” for Anthony to suddenly jump off the bed and start to tug at his own jeans.
Anthony has a little more luck too, able to slip out of his jeans and his boxers in two swift motions: down and a kick to the side so that everything plops against the wall and lands in a pile across the room.
By now, Ian is completely hard, taking deep breaths because the slightest sound, the slightest movement, the slightest idea of what could happen next, gets him too excited and too close. So fucking close… He has to scrunch his eyes shut and force his fingers to clench the sheets to stop the waves of I want this so so so fucking much of overcoming him.
It doesn’t help that Anthony isn’t hurrying the fuck up with getting back into bed.
“Anthony,” Ian whines, peaking one eye open to look down at his friend. Anthony is just standing there, naked, holy glorious erect cock right at Ian’s level of vision and looking like he doesn’t have a clue what to do next.
Anthony looks fucking unreal.
And beautiful, too.
“I-Ian…” Anthony starts, taking a step towards the bed. It takes a lot of control for Ian to sit up on his elbows because every part of him is shaking. “W-What… What now?”
Ian lets out a shaky breath, trying to contain himself as he hungrily takes in Anthony’s body. He looks so fucking good. Ian wonders what he feels like… what he tastes like… what-
“Ian?”
“O-Oh… uh… ah… I don’t know.” Ian shrugs. “How do gay people do it?”
Anthony looks a little shocked. “H-How would I know?” He scoffs, “I’m not gay.”
Ian rolls his eyes, feeling his dick die down a little so that he’s able to sit up. “I’m pretty sure we’re gay now. I mean…” Ian starts, freakin’ blushing since he’s embarrassed but can’t keep the words in, “You’re a guy and… And I want you, so bad. My balls are going to turn blue if you don’t get over here right now!”
“Okay, okay, geez!” Anthony is grinning like an idiot now, a little bit of pink flushing in his cheeks and Ian is again reminded of his situation: completely and utterly turned on by everything.
So he drags his ass back to the edge of the bed and pulls Anthony back to him until they’re hip-to-hip, stomach-to-stomach and best of all, cock-to-cock. Ian is surprised he doesn’t explode just holding Anthony’s hand. A moan escapes out of him from the tip of his spine, rippling with pleasure.
“Shit, Ian, you feel so good,”
Ian gasps as their dicks slide together in time - in that “languid” way in the movies - but it’s a not really but more faster, hungrier, rushed with more sweat and profane cries of holy shit, again, what-don’t-fuck, fuck-oh my fucking god!
And they’re just rubbing off each other and already Ian can feel his control dabbling away. He wonders how long he can keep this up. He wants to just go but at the same time, keep this going because, shit, it’s the best feeling in the world when Anthony groans in his ear and grips his shoulders so hard Ian’s skin goes raw red underneath.
“I think-” Anthony starts to say but Ian likes it much better when their mouths are connected. “A-Ah-We’re suppose-” Ian’s mouth is back for another kiss. “Supposed to-uh-fuck, Ian!”
Ian smirks at Anthony’s cry, knowing it was because he’s got both of their dicks in his hand now. It was weird having his own and Anthony’s in his palm. It’s softer than he anticipated and he can’t help but to jerk his hand up and down the hard shafts, discovering that each stroke causes Anthony to blurt out obscene curses and moan even louder. Ian is fascinated and intoxicated by the way Anthony writhes on top of him, back arching in the most delicious arch as he tightens his grip, letting his thumb slide over the tip of Anthony’s dick.
“Fuck, Anthony, you’re so hot.” Ian can’t even believe the words coming out of his mouth.
Anthony nods and buries his face in the crook of Ian’s neck, breathing hard and planting little bites and kisses there that make Ian’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Everything feels like too much and so incredible. They should have done this sooner. Ian pumps harder and harder, his hips and his dick moving faster and faster until friction seems to overload with that wonderful mix of hotness and almost-ecstasy, almost-bursting, almost-fucking-there of release.
Anthony manages to say “S-Shit fuck, Ian, I’m gunna-” before coming in the most erotic way that every porno Ian has ever watched looked like a G-rated children’s show. It’s the way Anthony struggles to keep his position, shaking uncontrollably and gripping hard on Ian’s shoulder blades. It’s the way Anthony throws his head back at the same time white spills all over Ian’s heaving chest. And the way Anthony cries out his name as his cock digs deep right up against Ian’s and has Ian coming with grappling sensations he didn’t know even existed.
“Fuck!” Ian cries, toes curling and every muscle in his body tightening as his dick lets out the last of his delirium, the leftover fervor reverberating through his being. Anthony falls completely heavy, letting out a loud moan and one last buck of the hips for good measure - to squeeze out whatever’s left of this amazing feeling.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
Ian’s slips his hand out from between them, sticky and warm with come and not really caring if he got it all over Anthony’s back. He just wants to feel his friend’s shivering skin.
“That’s what-” A heaving breath. “-we were-“ A gulp, trying to catch air. “-supposed to do.”
Ian nods absentmindedly, still caught up in that sweet orgasm. Anthony’s words eventually enter through the haze and he asks casually, whispering and wanting to revel longer in the bliss, “Do what?”
Anthony moves his face out of Ian’s neck, hovering just above Ian. There’s a teasing smile there, dimples on either side.
“Fuck you.”
Ian’s half-lidded eyes open wide. “What?”
“Fuck you. In the ass.” Anthony’s laughing now and Ian’s brows furrow. A little bit of anger wallows up but it’s mostly confusion that surfaces. What was Anthony talking about? Did he… did he not like what just happened? Why is he laughing?
Bitch.
“Well… fuck you, too, Anthony. In your ass.” Ian frowns and begins to try to push his friend off of him but Anthony is shaking his head and not budging.
“Sure but n-no, I meant… hah…” Anthony is still laughing. Ian can’t really see what’s so funny. “I meant, oh God, I meant that’s how gay sex… that’s what we should do: fuck.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…” Anthony nuzzles his nose in Ian’s neck and comes up to capture Ian’s lips in a kiss. He breaks apart and gazes seriously into Ian’s eyes, hesitant but hopeful. “So… Um… What do you say?”
Ian supposes he could do that, thinking about it. There are always those movies with more than one sex scene.
“Only if I get to fuck you.”
A/N: My first "smut"... can you call it smut when they don't even get it in? I had intended for that but... I couldn't handle it. This was too much for me to write already (I bow to those who can. Oh, masters, you are all so brave and provide me with so much "knowledge" as to how parts of bodies that I don't possess operate!). LOL! It was a fun, plot-less, thing to write though!
I'd love con-crit! It's a good way for me to improve (and learn what I completely butchered to pieces)!
Want more Smosh slash?