Nine in the Afternoon, 1/1, R, Stark/Pawel, 1,248
Title: Nine in the Afternoon
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Stark Sands x Pawel Szajda
Warning(s): AU, shameless smut
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for kari_hermione because she inspires me to do bad things. Also, witchling for basically the same reason, and providing the world with this.
Word Count: 1,248
Rants: I had thought when I got out of Supernatural I would never right RPF again. Apparantly I was wrong.
Summary: It’s just the two of them, warm and in bed, and they have nowhere better to be.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these boys and I have no good excuse for defaming them as such within. I’m sorry.
Everything about Pawel is warm and bright and perfect. He stretches across the silk sheets, exposing the line of his back to the sunlight filtering in through the slats of the blinds, and Stark’s surprised Pawel isn’t actually purring. There’s a soft smile on his face, the one he always has when he realizes Stark is watching him, even though his eyes are still closed.
There’s no hesitation in Stark reaching out to trace his fingers along the lines of Pawel’s face. Pawel’s skin is warm and soft and a pretty flush spreads across his cheeks when Stark’s thumb skims the curve of his lower lip. Stark presses down, and Pawel parts his lips, letting Stark’s thumb slide into the slick heat of his mouth, Pawel’s tongue curling around it before he starts to suck lightly.
And maybe they don’t have time for this, because it’s well past noon on a Thursday and the longest either of them has been out of bed was when Pawel went out to fetch Stark a cup of coffee from that place near the park that Stark loves so much, but it isn’t like they’ve actually got anywhere else to be. Stark’s certainly not going to let the fact they’ve already done this once today stop him and if the way Pawel is letting his fingers skim up Stark’s naked thigh are any indication, Pawel isn’t either.
The sheets are cool against his skin when Pawel nudges Stark’s hip, tipping him onto his back. Stark parts his legs immediately to the first touch to his knee, and Pawel smiles beautifully down at him from between Stark’s thighs. Not that anyone born of the sun could have a smile that was anything but. Pawel cradles Stark’s hip with one hand, bracing himself with a palm by Stark’s head as he ducks forward to kiss his forehead.
Stark sighs happily, letting his eyes flutter shut and enjoys the warm brush of Pawel’s lips. He can feel Pawel’s mouth on his temple, the part between his eyebrows, once on each eyelid, and the tip of his nose. It doesn’t come as a surprise when Pawel nuzzles against Stark’s cheek lightly, and he’s long since learned to accept that he’ll only feel Pawel’s lips pressed against his when Pawel wants him to. Pawel enjoys this too much, pressing small kisses to every inch of Stark’s skin he can reach and Stark loves the open and adoring look on Pawel’s face too much to object.
There’s no telling how long it takes for Pawel to trail kisses down Stark’s throat and across his chest, nosing along the curve of a rib before nestling his cheek happily against a sharp hipbone. The only thing Stark knows for sure is that he’s warm and heavy, both from the sunlight creeping across the bedspread and Pawel’s hands and mouth, and that his mind is foggy and he’s half-asleep from the gentle touches. Pawel’s fingers trace soothing circles into Stark’s skin, a calming caress that has Stark struggling to stay on the side of barely awake.
Pawel’s lips are rough when they press against the crown of Stark’s cock and Stark can practically feel Pawel’s smile when he sighs happily. He’s only half-hard, but it doesn’t take long for his blood to rush south and his dick to swell when he’s got Pawel’s breath, hot and wet, on him or a slick tongue tracing the line of his shaft. There’s no rush in this either for Pawel, and he mouths and sucks at Stark’s shaft and sac, taking his time in familiarizing himself with Stark completely before he drags his tongue along the slit of Stark’s cock and takes him into his mouth.
Everything about Pawel is warm, from his secretive smiles just for Stark to the familiar heavy weight of his skin, but here he is almost too hot. His blue eyes are half-lidded as he watches Stark, lapping at the head of Stark’s cock lazily before swallowing more of him down. There’s nothing for Stark to do but arch further into Pawel’s mouth, groaning at the familiar slide deeper into wet heat. And Pawel just lets Stark, relaxing his throat when the head of Stark’s cock brushes deep, letting Stark fuck himself into Pawel’s mouth for a handful of thrusts before he captures Stark’s hips and pins them to the bed.
After that, it’s back to being Pawel’s show. His head bobs determinedly between Stark’s thighs, his lips sealed tight around the base of Stark’s cock and he sucks hard as he pulls off. His attentions shift to the head of Stark’s cock then, sucking wetly and letting his tongue splay over the width of it, teasing at his slit and around the ridge before Pawel sucks him back down. It’s dizzying and breathtaking and Pawel is working without a pattern, focusing on whichever aspect of this that he wants at any given time.
The only thing Stark can think to do is tangle his fingers in Pawel’s hair and hold on, struggling against Pawel’s hold on his hips as he comes with a strangled groan. Pawel moans around Stark’s cock, swallowing easily before he pulls off of Stark slowly with a wet ‘pop’. His tongue runs along the line of Stark’s dick slowly, trailing through the wet mess, and he pulls back when Stark moans. Pawel sits back on his heels, wiping the wet mess from his chin.
Stark reaches for Pawel, wrapping his hands around the nape of Pawel’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. Pawel goes easily, his tongue pressing against Stark’s before their lips even meet. Stark can taste himself on Pawel’s tongue, moaning into the kiss even as Pawel’s tongue strokes along Stark’s teasingly.
Pawel’s fingers curl around one of Stark’s thin wrists, and he tugs Stark’s hand between their bodies until Stark’s knuckles brush along the slick head of Pawel’s cock. Stark smiles, nipping at Pawel’s tongue lightly, but he can take the hint. Pawel is hot and hard in Stark’s hand, his hips rolling up to fuck the ring of Stark’s fingers even before Stark finishes curling them. He groans into Stark’s mouth softly, his breath catching as Stark tightens his grip around Pawel, his thumb pressing against the head of Pawel’s cock and smearing the beaded precome messily.
The press and slide of Pawel’s tongue becomes more erratic the closer to the edge he gets, the flicking, teasing touches dissolving away until Pawel is just sucking desperately at Stark’s tongue. He’s panting roughly, his hips rocking up into Stark’s fist with sharp jerks. Stark isn’t surprised it doesn’t take long to feel hot ropes of come land on his stomach and chest as Pawel shudders through his release, keening into Stark’s mouth. Stark strokes Pawel through his orgasm, wiping his hand on his stomach messily after he lets go.
Pawel stays above Stark, breathing into Stark’s mouth for another moment, before he presses a tender kiss to Stark’s mouth and rolls onto his back at Stark’s side. They share a smile, small and soft, and Stark squirms closer until he can pillow his head on Pawel’s shoulder, their sides pressed together as they lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, trying to catch their breaths. The sunlight is warm in the cool of the room, almost as warm as Pawel, and when Pawel starts to trace circles into Stark’s hip, Stark thinks he might never move again.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Stark Sands x Pawel Szajda
Warning(s): AU, shameless smut
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for kari_hermione because she inspires me to do bad things. Also, witchling for basically the same reason, and providing the world with this.
Word Count: 1,248
Rants: I had thought when I got out of Supernatural I would never right RPF again. Apparantly I was wrong.
Summary: It’s just the two of them, warm and in bed, and they have nowhere better to be.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these boys and I have no good excuse for defaming them as such within. I’m sorry.
Everything about Pawel is warm and bright and perfect. He stretches across the silk sheets, exposing the line of his back to the sunlight filtering in through the slats of the blinds, and Stark’s surprised Pawel isn’t actually purring. There’s a soft smile on his face, the one he always has when he realizes Stark is watching him, even though his eyes are still closed.
There’s no hesitation in Stark reaching out to trace his fingers along the lines of Pawel’s face. Pawel’s skin is warm and soft and a pretty flush spreads across his cheeks when Stark’s thumb skims the curve of his lower lip. Stark presses down, and Pawel parts his lips, letting Stark’s thumb slide into the slick heat of his mouth, Pawel’s tongue curling around it before he starts to suck lightly.
And maybe they don’t have time for this, because it’s well past noon on a Thursday and the longest either of them has been out of bed was when Pawel went out to fetch Stark a cup of coffee from that place near the park that Stark loves so much, but it isn’t like they’ve actually got anywhere else to be. Stark’s certainly not going to let the fact they’ve already done this once today stop him and if the way Pawel is letting his fingers skim up Stark’s naked thigh are any indication, Pawel isn’t either.
The sheets are cool against his skin when Pawel nudges Stark’s hip, tipping him onto his back. Stark parts his legs immediately to the first touch to his knee, and Pawel smiles beautifully down at him from between Stark’s thighs. Not that anyone born of the sun could have a smile that was anything but. Pawel cradles Stark’s hip with one hand, bracing himself with a palm by Stark’s head as he ducks forward to kiss his forehead.
Stark sighs happily, letting his eyes flutter shut and enjoys the warm brush of Pawel’s lips. He can feel Pawel’s mouth on his temple, the part between his eyebrows, once on each eyelid, and the tip of his nose. It doesn’t come as a surprise when Pawel nuzzles against Stark’s cheek lightly, and he’s long since learned to accept that he’ll only feel Pawel’s lips pressed against his when Pawel wants him to. Pawel enjoys this too much, pressing small kisses to every inch of Stark’s skin he can reach and Stark loves the open and adoring look on Pawel’s face too much to object.
There’s no telling how long it takes for Pawel to trail kisses down Stark’s throat and across his chest, nosing along the curve of a rib before nestling his cheek happily against a sharp hipbone. The only thing Stark knows for sure is that he’s warm and heavy, both from the sunlight creeping across the bedspread and Pawel’s hands and mouth, and that his mind is foggy and he’s half-asleep from the gentle touches. Pawel’s fingers trace soothing circles into Stark’s skin, a calming caress that has Stark struggling to stay on the side of barely awake.
Pawel’s lips are rough when they press against the crown of Stark’s cock and Stark can practically feel Pawel’s smile when he sighs happily. He’s only half-hard, but it doesn’t take long for his blood to rush south and his dick to swell when he’s got Pawel’s breath, hot and wet, on him or a slick tongue tracing the line of his shaft. There’s no rush in this either for Pawel, and he mouths and sucks at Stark’s shaft and sac, taking his time in familiarizing himself with Stark completely before he drags his tongue along the slit of Stark’s cock and takes him into his mouth.
Everything about Pawel is warm, from his secretive smiles just for Stark to the familiar heavy weight of his skin, but here he is almost too hot. His blue eyes are half-lidded as he watches Stark, lapping at the head of Stark’s cock lazily before swallowing more of him down. There’s nothing for Stark to do but arch further into Pawel’s mouth, groaning at the familiar slide deeper into wet heat. And Pawel just lets Stark, relaxing his throat when the head of Stark’s cock brushes deep, letting Stark fuck himself into Pawel’s mouth for a handful of thrusts before he captures Stark’s hips and pins them to the bed.
After that, it’s back to being Pawel’s show. His head bobs determinedly between Stark’s thighs, his lips sealed tight around the base of Stark’s cock and he sucks hard as he pulls off. His attentions shift to the head of Stark’s cock then, sucking wetly and letting his tongue splay over the width of it, teasing at his slit and around the ridge before Pawel sucks him back down. It’s dizzying and breathtaking and Pawel is working without a pattern, focusing on whichever aspect of this that he wants at any given time.
The only thing Stark can think to do is tangle his fingers in Pawel’s hair and hold on, struggling against Pawel’s hold on his hips as he comes with a strangled groan. Pawel moans around Stark’s cock, swallowing easily before he pulls off of Stark slowly with a wet ‘pop’. His tongue runs along the line of Stark’s dick slowly, trailing through the wet mess, and he pulls back when Stark moans. Pawel sits back on his heels, wiping the wet mess from his chin.
Stark reaches for Pawel, wrapping his hands around the nape of Pawel’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. Pawel goes easily, his tongue pressing against Stark’s before their lips even meet. Stark can taste himself on Pawel’s tongue, moaning into the kiss even as Pawel’s tongue strokes along Stark’s teasingly.
Pawel’s fingers curl around one of Stark’s thin wrists, and he tugs Stark’s hand between their bodies until Stark’s knuckles brush along the slick head of Pawel’s cock. Stark smiles, nipping at Pawel’s tongue lightly, but he can take the hint. Pawel is hot and hard in Stark’s hand, his hips rolling up to fuck the ring of Stark’s fingers even before Stark finishes curling them. He groans into Stark’s mouth softly, his breath catching as Stark tightens his grip around Pawel, his thumb pressing against the head of Pawel’s cock and smearing the beaded precome messily.
The press and slide of Pawel’s tongue becomes more erratic the closer to the edge he gets, the flicking, teasing touches dissolving away until Pawel is just sucking desperately at Stark’s tongue. He’s panting roughly, his hips rocking up into Stark’s fist with sharp jerks. Stark isn’t surprised it doesn’t take long to feel hot ropes of come land on his stomach and chest as Pawel shudders through his release, keening into Stark’s mouth. Stark strokes Pawel through his orgasm, wiping his hand on his stomach messily after he lets go.
Pawel stays above Stark, breathing into Stark’s mouth for another moment, before he presses a tender kiss to Stark’s mouth and rolls onto his back at Stark’s side. They share a smile, small and soft, and Stark squirms closer until he can pillow his head on Pawel’s shoulder, their sides pressed together as they lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, trying to catch their breaths. The sunlight is warm in the cool of the room, almost as warm as Pawel, and when Pawel starts to trace circles into Stark’s hip, Stark thinks he might never move again.