Another T-bag/LJ, with Kellerman sprinkles
Title: A Kind Of Symbiosis
Character/Pairing: T-bag/LJ, Agent Kellerman/LJ
Prompt: 096: Writer's Choice
Rating: NC-17
Summary: T-bag doesn't share, except when he does.
X-posted My journal, Hold My Pocket, Little Burrows, PB slash
Author's Notes: This is for my claim over at pb 100.
Egged on by iscaris. There is UNDERAGE sexin' going on here, and my interpretations of Linc's reaction to hypothetical situations. Don't like? Don't read.
Theodore was not a sharing kind of man. However, under certain circumstances with the right kind of people around, he was willing to make exceptions.
Agent Kellerman was one such exception. Imagine his surprise when Kellerman had returned Lincoln Junior a little flurried on the edges to the abandoned apartment building they were squatting in after leaving the shelter that Michael and Lincoln had provided, until Theodore and LJ had been found out. Theodore, despite what some might think, was not a dim-witted man. He could tell that Kellerman had sampled LJ somewhere, and seeing this as an opportunity to get back at Michael for nearly killing him when he was leaving with LJ, and for the knee cap, Theodore had quickly struck up a deal.
It was not his fault that Kellerman was a kinky one that agreed to ‘share’ LJ in exchange for giving up where Lincoln was and staying on the outside of prison bars. Funniest thing, being told that you were an insane degenerated pervert by your father had the most interesting outcome on a young lad these days.
And so, here they were, in a cheap motel with LJ trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. It was a beautiful sight. Long toned limbs, pert nipples and black leather crisscrossing the wrists. He’d look better with bruises blooming and bleeding, blood dribbling down and pooling at his throat, gasping for air, but all good things come in time. Kellerman was on top of him, running his trimmed, sharp nails down the boy’s chest. Theodore watches from an arm chair that has seen better days.
Spiky intake of breath and rise of LJ’s chest.
Theodore licked his lips in anticipation. Kellerman would go soon, preferring to slake his needs and depart, leaving Theodore to satisfy LJ. Kellerman was a selfish bastard. Theodore approves of men like him. They are rarely so honest these days.
He hadn’t been sure of why Kellerman agreed to any of the accord, but one night after Kellerman had imbibed much Tequila, he had said that he thought Theodore was something of a national treasure and wild lion all mixed into one borderline sociopath. A train wreck to admire from afar. Theodore had just smiled wolfishly and poured the man some water, laughing to himself.
A click of fake wood closing and lock sliding into place and they’re by themselves again.
Theodore rises from his chair and removes his clothes, slinking over to the bed.
LJ tracks his motions with his eyes, dark with need and eagerness. His chest is slick with evidence of Kellerman’s gratification. Theodore snatches a tissue off of the bedside table and wipes the skin clean. Flick of sound and he focuses his attention back to the willing boy under him. Theodore has never had prey, for prey has always been what people are to him, this willing before in his life. He is indebted to teenage rebellion, or what ever the reason was for this. He had been but a snake charmer, mesmerizing the boy with his mystery, his attention in a lonely shack in rural Iowa. And here they are.
He runs his hands down nubile throat and chest, past sensitive nipples that have been teased to redness by visiting skin cells minutes earlier. Down, into dark thatch of hair and hard, dripping cock. Gasps of want and he grins. “Mine.” He growls and LJ nods reverently, answering “Yours”, like he’ll find salvation in release. Maybe he will. Maybe they will.
Pumping, grinding together and then of cry of liquid bliss. Theodore coats himself in the pearls of masculine joy and after caressing LJ’s opening, thrusts in. Hiss of pleasure and edge of pain fill his ears and it’s so hot, searing hot and all encompassing. More gyrating and he’s griping the youth’s cock, constrict and release until the boy comes with a cry as he nudges the boy’s prostate. Grates against the lithe muscle several more times and he’s spilling his seed inside the lad, biting and sucking at his neck.
Unclasps the bindings at LJ’s wrists and lets them fall to the side of the bed before LJ turns over and they drift off to sleep. There will be time enough to clean up and head out in the morning. They never can stay in one place too long, even with Kellerman’s inattention blanketing them from federal notice. It’s amazing how life-like plastic and wax can look, and officially, they are dead. So for now they sleep.
Character/Pairing: T-bag/LJ, Agent Kellerman/LJ
Prompt: 096: Writer's Choice
Rating: NC-17
Summary: T-bag doesn't share, except when he does.
X-posted My journal, Hold My Pocket, Little Burrows, PB slash
Author's Notes: This is for my claim over at pb 100.
Egged on by iscaris. There is UNDERAGE sexin' going on here, and my interpretations of Linc's reaction to hypothetical situations. Don't like? Don't read.
Theodore was not a sharing kind of man. However, under certain circumstances with the right kind of people around, he was willing to make exceptions.
Agent Kellerman was one such exception. Imagine his surprise when Kellerman had returned Lincoln Junior a little flurried on the edges to the abandoned apartment building they were squatting in after leaving the shelter that Michael and Lincoln had provided, until Theodore and LJ had been found out. Theodore, despite what some might think, was not a dim-witted man. He could tell that Kellerman had sampled LJ somewhere, and seeing this as an opportunity to get back at Michael for nearly killing him when he was leaving with LJ, and for the knee cap, Theodore had quickly struck up a deal.
It was not his fault that Kellerman was a kinky one that agreed to ‘share’ LJ in exchange for giving up where Lincoln was and staying on the outside of prison bars. Funniest thing, being told that you were an insane degenerated pervert by your father had the most interesting outcome on a young lad these days.
And so, here they were, in a cheap motel with LJ trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. It was a beautiful sight. Long toned limbs, pert nipples and black leather crisscrossing the wrists. He’d look better with bruises blooming and bleeding, blood dribbling down and pooling at his throat, gasping for air, but all good things come in time. Kellerman was on top of him, running his trimmed, sharp nails down the boy’s chest. Theodore watches from an arm chair that has seen better days.
Spiky intake of breath and rise of LJ’s chest.
Theodore licked his lips in anticipation. Kellerman would go soon, preferring to slake his needs and depart, leaving Theodore to satisfy LJ. Kellerman was a selfish bastard. Theodore approves of men like him. They are rarely so honest these days.
He hadn’t been sure of why Kellerman agreed to any of the accord, but one night after Kellerman had imbibed much Tequila, he had said that he thought Theodore was something of a national treasure and wild lion all mixed into one borderline sociopath. A train wreck to admire from afar. Theodore had just smiled wolfishly and poured the man some water, laughing to himself.
A click of fake wood closing and lock sliding into place and they’re by themselves again.
Theodore rises from his chair and removes his clothes, slinking over to the bed.
LJ tracks his motions with his eyes, dark with need and eagerness. His chest is slick with evidence of Kellerman’s gratification. Theodore snatches a tissue off of the bedside table and wipes the skin clean. Flick of sound and he focuses his attention back to the willing boy under him. Theodore has never had prey, for prey has always been what people are to him, this willing before in his life. He is indebted to teenage rebellion, or what ever the reason was for this. He had been but a snake charmer, mesmerizing the boy with his mystery, his attention in a lonely shack in rural Iowa. And here they are.
He runs his hands down nubile throat and chest, past sensitive nipples that have been teased to redness by visiting skin cells minutes earlier. Down, into dark thatch of hair and hard, dripping cock. Gasps of want and he grins. “Mine.” He growls and LJ nods reverently, answering “Yours”, like he’ll find salvation in release. Maybe he will. Maybe they will.
Pumping, grinding together and then of cry of liquid bliss. Theodore coats himself in the pearls of masculine joy and after caressing LJ’s opening, thrusts in. Hiss of pleasure and edge of pain fill his ears and it’s so hot, searing hot and all encompassing. More gyrating and he’s griping the youth’s cock, constrict and release until the boy comes with a cry as he nudges the boy’s prostate. Grates against the lithe muscle several more times and he’s spilling his seed inside the lad, biting and sucking at his neck.
Unclasps the bindings at LJ’s wrists and lets them fall to the side of the bed before LJ turns over and they drift off to sleep. There will be time enough to clean up and head out in the morning. They never can stay in one place too long, even with Kellerman’s inattention blanketing them from federal notice. It’s amazing how life-like plastic and wax can look, and officially, they are dead. So for now they sleep.