heroes and virginity
Title: Heroes and Virginity
Author: pen_of_jen
Pairing: Anderson/Jon Stewart
Rating: NC-17...nothing explicit, but there is smut.
Summary: Jon is standing on the edge, unsure whether he has the strength to jump.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'Comedy Central', 'The Daily Show‘, 'The Colbert Report', 'Root of All Evil', 'Strangers with Candy', 'AC 360', 'Verdict with Dan Abrams', 'Countdown with Keith Olbermann', 'The Late Show with Conan O'brien', 'MSNBC', 'CNN', 'NBC', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
This was written for pr_scatterbrain as a ficlet over at ths_just_in and I've been prompted to share...so enjoy...
It could be argued that there are different kinds of virginity we cling to in order to maintain the last pieces of our innocence as we age. There’s that first deep, passionate embrace that we all remember as a sort of bursting of our cherry of sexual inexperience. There‘s the first time you allowed your own hands to wander, and the first time you allowed someone else’s hands to follow that same trail you’d bravely explored yourself. The hushed whimpers and yet to be discovered needs explored in the quiet and fleeting moments of youth.
Somehow things are different when you’re older, the change never obvious but always present as we explore uncharted waters without the childlike wonder and with all of the adult trepidation that past hurt has taught us to proceed with caution. No, we’re not talking about the awkward “40 year old virgin” antics of claiming breasts felt like sandbags. We’re talking here about the tingling feeling that is all consuming when you find yourself about to do something that you’ve only ever imagined. We’re talking about the fear and nerves that accompany said realization.
So we find our hero, standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering whether he ought to dive in head first, or run for the hills and tuck his head beneath his hands until a fine dust has settled over his latest exploit allowing him an easy return to life as he once knew it.
“Jon?” The voice in the darkness that both comforts and adds chill is soft but relentless. “Jon, are you ok?”
Ha! As though that’s not the most loaded question of all time. ’Sure, I’ve never been better. I’m just…you know…horrified that I might be in love for the first time since my divorce. That I might be in love with a man…named Anderson fucking Cooper. That he is naked, and I am needy and that I am a virgin in these waters and you…Anderson fucking Cooper…are a hungry shark. A naked shark…waiting and inviting me…’
“Jon?” This time there is a hand, a rough masculine hand, that feels alien and hot, so fucking hot. “Jon, if you aren’t ready…”
‘Man up asshole, he’s perfect and you’re ready…’ One glance south confirms that you are more than ready, ‘Just fucking jump.’
“Jon,” those lips, oh fuck those lips pressed lightly against goose bump covered flesh. “It’s ok, we can wait.”
And just like that the hot touch is receding, there is movement and clothes are reached for and put back in place.
It’s only as he reaches the doorway that our hero finds his voice, and though it’s weak, it’s heard by ears as needy as our hero’s lips.
“Andy, I want this…so bad.”
There is a soft smile, and then the return of those hands and oh god, those lips. A deep sigh as flesh comforts and covers flesh, need and desire expressed without words as our hero gives away control in favor of conquest.
“Jon, we can…anything you want. Only what you want.”
“I want you.” The words are stronger this time, the truth behind them urging them forward.
There is a whimpered moan, and those lips that are soft and comforting, tongues dancing to a secret melody as fingers slide along skin and expose the raw nerves of desire.
Our hero feels himself being sheathed, the cool lubrication spread over his need as he is positioned. The reality sets in about what he’s prepared to do as a cold chill runs up his spine. His eyes close out of protective reflex, hooded lids protecting and preventing.
“Andy…”
He moans, pressing back as Jon presses forward. There is a gentle pop followed by exquisite velvet tugging him deeper with delicious friction and such tight grip it seems impossible to be real, a figment of overactive desire and imagination.
“Oh God…oh God…”
There is a whimper or a giggle, a stifled noise that increases our heroes need to press forward. He begins to pump, both horrified and satisfied beyond any other sensation he’s ever felt.
“Jon, it’s ok…please…you feel so good.”
The words are more than enough, all fleeting inhibition disappearing into the darkness shrouded in needy moans and grunts filled to the brink with desire.
There is release, there are screamed need and softly whimpered promises. There is collapse, finally tangling fingers and shared sweat as flesh clings to flesh between sheets that are impossibly cool and soft against hot skin.
Our hero is consumed, completely devoured with lust and need, love and desire. His last plane of virginity gone, the outcome both tangible and wholly consuming.
It occurs to him, however, as Anderson whispers words of comfort while he discards Jon’s shield and tugs the covers over their still panting chests, that there is one last line in the sand he has yet to cross. One last barrier that needs to be broken in order for this to be real, for it to be solidified and complete.
“I love you.” It’s spoken as both an infallible truth and an unbreakable promise. “I love you. I have loved you forever.”
There is at first no spoken response, just a tightening of strong arms, a sharing of soft lips and eventually, inevitably, fingers brushing that one spot that forces stifled giggles to fill up the space moments earlier filled with needy moans and grunts dripping with sex and desire.
Only after the laughter subsides, all tension gone from the room, Anderson leans in and presses his lips to Jon’s temple, whispering his reply, “I love you Jon…always I’ve loved you.”
Our hero’s chest rises and falls in time with his lover’s, two hearts finding and matching one another through the dark. There is peace, and calm, and heaven in one another’s arms that neither were prepared for, but both embrace.
Author: pen_of_jen
Pairing: Anderson/Jon Stewart
Rating: NC-17...nothing explicit, but there is smut.
Summary: Jon is standing on the edge, unsure whether he has the strength to jump.
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
Any mention of 'Comedy Central', 'The Daily Show‘, 'The Colbert Report', 'Root of All Evil', 'Strangers with Candy', 'AC 360', 'Verdict with Dan Abrams', 'Countdown with Keith Olbermann', 'The Late Show with Conan O'brien', 'MSNBC', 'CNN', 'NBC', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material.
This was written for pr_scatterbrain as a ficlet over at ths_just_in and I've been prompted to share...so enjoy...
It could be argued that there are different kinds of virginity we cling to in order to maintain the last pieces of our innocence as we age. There’s that first deep, passionate embrace that we all remember as a sort of bursting of our cherry of sexual inexperience. There‘s the first time you allowed your own hands to wander, and the first time you allowed someone else’s hands to follow that same trail you’d bravely explored yourself. The hushed whimpers and yet to be discovered needs explored in the quiet and fleeting moments of youth.
Somehow things are different when you’re older, the change never obvious but always present as we explore uncharted waters without the childlike wonder and with all of the adult trepidation that past hurt has taught us to proceed with caution. No, we’re not talking about the awkward “40 year old virgin” antics of claiming breasts felt like sandbags. We’re talking here about the tingling feeling that is all consuming when you find yourself about to do something that you’ve only ever imagined. We’re talking about the fear and nerves that accompany said realization.
So we find our hero, standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering whether he ought to dive in head first, or run for the hills and tuck his head beneath his hands until a fine dust has settled over his latest exploit allowing him an easy return to life as he once knew it.
“Jon?” The voice in the darkness that both comforts and adds chill is soft but relentless. “Jon, are you ok?”
Ha! As though that’s not the most loaded question of all time. ’Sure, I’ve never been better. I’m just…you know…horrified that I might be in love for the first time since my divorce. That I might be in love with a man…named Anderson fucking Cooper. That he is naked, and I am needy and that I am a virgin in these waters and you…Anderson fucking Cooper…are a hungry shark. A naked shark…waiting and inviting me…’
“Jon?” This time there is a hand, a rough masculine hand, that feels alien and hot, so fucking hot. “Jon, if you aren’t ready…”
‘Man up asshole, he’s perfect and you’re ready…’ One glance south confirms that you are more than ready, ‘Just fucking jump.’
“Jon,” those lips, oh fuck those lips pressed lightly against goose bump covered flesh. “It’s ok, we can wait.”
And just like that the hot touch is receding, there is movement and clothes are reached for and put back in place.
It’s only as he reaches the doorway that our hero finds his voice, and though it’s weak, it’s heard by ears as needy as our hero’s lips.
“Andy, I want this…so bad.”
There is a soft smile, and then the return of those hands and oh god, those lips. A deep sigh as flesh comforts and covers flesh, need and desire expressed without words as our hero gives away control in favor of conquest.
“Jon, we can…anything you want. Only what you want.”
“I want you.” The words are stronger this time, the truth behind them urging them forward.
There is a whimpered moan, and those lips that are soft and comforting, tongues dancing to a secret melody as fingers slide along skin and expose the raw nerves of desire.
Our hero feels himself being sheathed, the cool lubrication spread over his need as he is positioned. The reality sets in about what he’s prepared to do as a cold chill runs up his spine. His eyes close out of protective reflex, hooded lids protecting and preventing.
“Andy…”
He moans, pressing back as Jon presses forward. There is a gentle pop followed by exquisite velvet tugging him deeper with delicious friction and such tight grip it seems impossible to be real, a figment of overactive desire and imagination.
“Oh God…oh God…”
There is a whimper or a giggle, a stifled noise that increases our heroes need to press forward. He begins to pump, both horrified and satisfied beyond any other sensation he’s ever felt.
“Jon, it’s ok…please…you feel so good.”
The words are more than enough, all fleeting inhibition disappearing into the darkness shrouded in needy moans and grunts filled to the brink with desire.
There is release, there are screamed need and softly whimpered promises. There is collapse, finally tangling fingers and shared sweat as flesh clings to flesh between sheets that are impossibly cool and soft against hot skin.
Our hero is consumed, completely devoured with lust and need, love and desire. His last plane of virginity gone, the outcome both tangible and wholly consuming.
It occurs to him, however, as Anderson whispers words of comfort while he discards Jon’s shield and tugs the covers over their still panting chests, that there is one last line in the sand he has yet to cross. One last barrier that needs to be broken in order for this to be real, for it to be solidified and complete.
“I love you.” It’s spoken as both an infallible truth and an unbreakable promise. “I love you. I have loved you forever.”
There is at first no spoken response, just a tightening of strong arms, a sharing of soft lips and eventually, inevitably, fingers brushing that one spot that forces stifled giggles to fill up the space moments earlier filled with needy moans and grunts dripping with sex and desire.
Only after the laughter subsides, all tension gone from the room, Anderson leans in and presses his lips to Jon’s temple, whispering his reply, “I love you Jon…always I’ve loved you.”
Our hero’s chest rises and falls in time with his lover’s, two hearts finding and matching one another through the dark. There is peace, and calm, and heaven in one another’s arms that neither were prepared for, but both embrace.