Fake News (RPF) | Smoothly | NC-17 | Brian/Jon
Title: Smoothly
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Jon
Summary: Jon finally gets an answer to his question.
Word Count: 1,400
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: *shakes head* Gotta love Brian and Jon, even when they don’t shut the hell up. Thanks for the beta, Abigail.
“If we keep this up,” Jon tries to say smoothly, but given the way Brian has him pinned up against the door of the green room, it really comes out as more of a pant, “next time you’re on the show we’re just going to have to skip the interview entirely and make out instead.”
Brian smirks at him and kisses him hard enough to make him dizzy, and if he thought he was having trouble breathing before, he was sorely underestimating Brian’s ability to knock the wind out of him. “Jesus, Brian,” he groans, trying to press as close as he can. “What happened to foreplay?”
“You mean that interview was something else?” Brian asks him, and Jon feels a hand sliding down his stomach and resting on the bulge that’s betraying his eagerness. “I knew you agreed.”
“You’re just eager to get down south,” Jon replies, the word south turning into a moan as Brian squeezes. “Fuck.”
“You get a choice, Jon,” Brian says. “Continue being clever or get laid. It’s up to you.”
“And here I thought you loved me for my mind.”
Brian smirks at him. “How did I know you’d choose the former?”
“You’re not going to walk away now.”
“No, I’m just going to make you work for it.” Jon’s breathing quickens at the look in Brian’s eyes, and he adds with a smile that’s pure, concentrated evil, “You did ask how I seduced someone.”
Jon swallows. “Do your worst, Williams.”
He thinks that there’s a good chance Brian’s look will actually cause something to spontaneously combust as he replies, “Let’s go.”
Brian pulls away then, which is disappointingly necessary for their goal of getting some place more private, and Jon follows him out of the room. They pass Jason in the hallway and Jon tries to pretend he’s imagining the knowing smirk he gives him. It almost works.
The trip to Jon’s apartment is uneventful, if frustrating, and when Brian pins him up against the door the second he closes it behind them, he’s more than ready for it. “I think you get a kick out of pinning me to things.”
“I think you get a kick out of being pinned to things, so it evens out in the end,” Brian replies smoothly, and his smooth actually is smooth, like a jigger of fine scotch, sliding down his throat and warming him from the inside out. Brian somehow manages this despite the fact that Jon can feel his erection brushing up against his thigh, hot and hard, and he takes a second to be jealous of that talent.
“Sometimes I think you’re just a little too good at this,” Jon says, and he means to continue, but then Brian’s hand is unzipping his fly and on his cock and he can’t for the life of him remember what he was about to say.
“Afraid you’re just another notch on my bedpost?” asks Brian, hand stroking his cock at a maddening rhythm, and Jon lets out a long groan. “Or that you’re my mistress?”
“You promised you’d still respect me in the morning.”
“That implies a certain amount of respect beforehand,” says Brian, kneeling then, and Jon’s sure his response would’ve been quite pithy had Brian not immediately taken the head of his cock into his mouth.
“Jesus, fuck-” Jon curses, scratching at the door behind him, and dazedly wonders how Brian got so good at this particular skill, anyway. That thought floats merrily away-along with the rest of his mind-when Brian does something evil with his tongue and a sudden frisson of pleasure shoots up his spine. “Fuck, Brian-that’s-”
He doesn’t get to voice exactly what that was, because then there’s humming, and fuck, he hadn’t realized how wound up he was from just talking. What the fuck is wrong with him, about to lose it thanks to three minutes of a blow-job-a very good blow-job, but that’s not the point-like he’s sixteen again?
Maybe it’s a good thing that Brian pulls away just then, even if he thinks the frustration may kill him. At least he still has his pride.
Brian stands up gracefully, his movement sinuous, maybe like a panther on the prowl, and says in a voice so low that Jon briefly mistakes it for a purr, “Bedroom, Jon?”
“You’re-fuck-” Jon tries, but it’s hard for him to think when he’s this turned on, and Brian smirks.
“I believe the word you’re looking for here is smooth,” he says, and Jon allows himself to be dragged into his own bedroom.
“I hate you,” Jon manages, kissing Brian heatedly, and Brian responds in kind. They shed shirts, pants, and boxers in the time it takes them to reach his bed, and Brian pins him again.
“I bet you say that to all the guys,” he says, and then his mouth his on Jon’s neck, nipping at a sensitive spot as his hands map out his body, and Jon sighs in pleasure and arches into Brian’s touch.
“Now I remember why I love your interviews so much,” he groans, Brian’s mouth now toying with his left nipple.
There’s silence as Brian kisses his way along Jon’s stomach, pausing briefly to murmur into his hip, “I thought you liked the sparring.”
“The sparring. The fucking. Both of those are-fuck, good!” There’s a mouth on his cock again, and a hand toying with his balls, but it doesn’t last long, and he swears. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accuses, and Brian smirks up at him.
“That would be counterproductive.” He works his way back up Jon’s body, as though he’s trying to commit it to memory-Jon snorts as he thinks he’d be surprised if Brian hadn’t already-and then he’s being kissed forcefully.
“Done teasing yet?” Jon pants when they break the kiss, and his eyes are open just wide enough to see Brian reaching for the lube and a condom from the nightstand. He drops his head back and groans when he feels a slicked up finger pressing inside him, and moans even louder when it’s followed by another, then another. “Fuck me!” he demands, and hears the tell-tale sound of the condom being opened, and then Brian’s situating his hips, and the next thing he knows there’s a thick cock being pressed inside him, swiftly, in one fluid motion, and he cries out. “Fuck, Brian-move!”
Brian’s thrusts are steady and slow, hitting that spot every time, but the pace is nothing short of maddening. “Goddammit,” he growls, hands clutching at the sheets, squeezing them toward their death. “Stop fucking teasing. Faster.”
“Anyone ever tell you,” Brian pants, and Jon momentarily feels proud of the fact that he’s not as infuriatingly calm anymore, “that you talk too damn much?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a fucking tease?” Jon replies, letting out a cry when Brian shifts angles on him and speeds up. He moans.
“What was that, Jon?” Brian groans, and Jon wants to know how he can still sound smug.
“Fuck-fuck you,” he gets out, and Brian just grins.
“Got that backwards,” he says, and that’s the last of the coherent talking, because his pace increases, and it’s all Jon can do to whimper and moan as Brian pounds into him, begging him to keep it up, right there, just like that-
“Fucking close,” Jon grits out, which is followed by another hard thrust, and he loses it right there, coming hard, vision tunneling, gripping onto the sheets so hard that his knuckles turn white. Brian keeps on thrusting, and in his haze, Jon recognizes the look on his face: he’s almost there, one, two, three, four thrusts later and Brian finishes, grunting what Jon thinks is his name into his neck.
Jon pants as Brian pulls out, disposing of the condom before collapsing next to him on the bed, and Jon rolls onto his side. He enjoys seeing Brian like this, when he’s not so composed, but it never lasts that long. It’s good to take advantage of it when he can.
Brian seems to know what he’s thinking, though, because he rolls onto his side as well, eyes alight and dancing mischievously, even as he continues to catch his breath. “Did that answer your question?”
Jon laughs breathlessly. “Smooth,” he says, then kisses him.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Jon
Summary: Jon finally gets an answer to his question.
Word Count: 1,400
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: *shakes head* Gotta love Brian and Jon, even when they don’t shut the hell up. Thanks for the beta, Abigail.
“If we keep this up,” Jon tries to say smoothly, but given the way Brian has him pinned up against the door of the green room, it really comes out as more of a pant, “next time you’re on the show we’re just going to have to skip the interview entirely and make out instead.”
Brian smirks at him and kisses him hard enough to make him dizzy, and if he thought he was having trouble breathing before, he was sorely underestimating Brian’s ability to knock the wind out of him. “Jesus, Brian,” he groans, trying to press as close as he can. “What happened to foreplay?”
“You mean that interview was something else?” Brian asks him, and Jon feels a hand sliding down his stomach and resting on the bulge that’s betraying his eagerness. “I knew you agreed.”
“You’re just eager to get down south,” Jon replies, the word south turning into a moan as Brian squeezes. “Fuck.”
“You get a choice, Jon,” Brian says. “Continue being clever or get laid. It’s up to you.”
“And here I thought you loved me for my mind.”
Brian smirks at him. “How did I know you’d choose the former?”
“You’re not going to walk away now.”
“No, I’m just going to make you work for it.” Jon’s breathing quickens at the look in Brian’s eyes, and he adds with a smile that’s pure, concentrated evil, “You did ask how I seduced someone.”
Jon swallows. “Do your worst, Williams.”
He thinks that there’s a good chance Brian’s look will actually cause something to spontaneously combust as he replies, “Let’s go.”
Brian pulls away then, which is disappointingly necessary for their goal of getting some place more private, and Jon follows him out of the room. They pass Jason in the hallway and Jon tries to pretend he’s imagining the knowing smirk he gives him. It almost works.
The trip to Jon’s apartment is uneventful, if frustrating, and when Brian pins him up against the door the second he closes it behind them, he’s more than ready for it. “I think you get a kick out of pinning me to things.”
“I think you get a kick out of being pinned to things, so it evens out in the end,” Brian replies smoothly, and his smooth actually is smooth, like a jigger of fine scotch, sliding down his throat and warming him from the inside out. Brian somehow manages this despite the fact that Jon can feel his erection brushing up against his thigh, hot and hard, and he takes a second to be jealous of that talent.
“Sometimes I think you’re just a little too good at this,” Jon says, and he means to continue, but then Brian’s hand is unzipping his fly and on his cock and he can’t for the life of him remember what he was about to say.
“Afraid you’re just another notch on my bedpost?” asks Brian, hand stroking his cock at a maddening rhythm, and Jon lets out a long groan. “Or that you’re my mistress?”
“You promised you’d still respect me in the morning.”
“That implies a certain amount of respect beforehand,” says Brian, kneeling then, and Jon’s sure his response would’ve been quite pithy had Brian not immediately taken the head of his cock into his mouth.
“Jesus, fuck-” Jon curses, scratching at the door behind him, and dazedly wonders how Brian got so good at this particular skill, anyway. That thought floats merrily away-along with the rest of his mind-when Brian does something evil with his tongue and a sudden frisson of pleasure shoots up his spine. “Fuck, Brian-that’s-”
He doesn’t get to voice exactly what that was, because then there’s humming, and fuck, he hadn’t realized how wound up he was from just talking. What the fuck is wrong with him, about to lose it thanks to three minutes of a blow-job-a very good blow-job, but that’s not the point-like he’s sixteen again?
Maybe it’s a good thing that Brian pulls away just then, even if he thinks the frustration may kill him. At least he still has his pride.
Brian stands up gracefully, his movement sinuous, maybe like a panther on the prowl, and says in a voice so low that Jon briefly mistakes it for a purr, “Bedroom, Jon?”
“You’re-fuck-” Jon tries, but it’s hard for him to think when he’s this turned on, and Brian smirks.
“I believe the word you’re looking for here is smooth,” he says, and Jon allows himself to be dragged into his own bedroom.
“I hate you,” Jon manages, kissing Brian heatedly, and Brian responds in kind. They shed shirts, pants, and boxers in the time it takes them to reach his bed, and Brian pins him again.
“I bet you say that to all the guys,” he says, and then his mouth his on Jon’s neck, nipping at a sensitive spot as his hands map out his body, and Jon sighs in pleasure and arches into Brian’s touch.
“Now I remember why I love your interviews so much,” he groans, Brian’s mouth now toying with his left nipple.
There’s silence as Brian kisses his way along Jon’s stomach, pausing briefly to murmur into his hip, “I thought you liked the sparring.”
“The sparring. The fucking. Both of those are-fuck, good!” There’s a mouth on his cock again, and a hand toying with his balls, but it doesn’t last long, and he swears. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accuses, and Brian smirks up at him.
“That would be counterproductive.” He works his way back up Jon’s body, as though he’s trying to commit it to memory-Jon snorts as he thinks he’d be surprised if Brian hadn’t already-and then he’s being kissed forcefully.
“Done teasing yet?” Jon pants when they break the kiss, and his eyes are open just wide enough to see Brian reaching for the lube and a condom from the nightstand. He drops his head back and groans when he feels a slicked up finger pressing inside him, and moans even louder when it’s followed by another, then another. “Fuck me!” he demands, and hears the tell-tale sound of the condom being opened, and then Brian’s situating his hips, and the next thing he knows there’s a thick cock being pressed inside him, swiftly, in one fluid motion, and he cries out. “Fuck, Brian-move!”
Brian’s thrusts are steady and slow, hitting that spot every time, but the pace is nothing short of maddening. “Goddammit,” he growls, hands clutching at the sheets, squeezing them toward their death. “Stop fucking teasing. Faster.”
“Anyone ever tell you,” Brian pants, and Jon momentarily feels proud of the fact that he’s not as infuriatingly calm anymore, “that you talk too damn much?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a fucking tease?” Jon replies, letting out a cry when Brian shifts angles on him and speeds up. He moans.
“What was that, Jon?” Brian groans, and Jon wants to know how he can still sound smug.
“Fuck-fuck you,” he gets out, and Brian just grins.
“Got that backwards,” he says, and that’s the last of the coherent talking, because his pace increases, and it’s all Jon can do to whimper and moan as Brian pounds into him, begging him to keep it up, right there, just like that-
“Fucking close,” Jon grits out, which is followed by another hard thrust, and he loses it right there, coming hard, vision tunneling, gripping onto the sheets so hard that his knuckles turn white. Brian keeps on thrusting, and in his haze, Jon recognizes the look on his face: he’s almost there, one, two, three, four thrusts later and Brian finishes, grunting what Jon thinks is his name into his neck.
Jon pants as Brian pulls out, disposing of the condom before collapsing next to him on the bed, and Jon rolls onto his side. He enjoys seeing Brian like this, when he’s not so composed, but it never lasts that long. It’s good to take advantage of it when he can.
Brian seems to know what he’s thinking, though, because he rolls onto his side as well, eyes alight and dancing mischievously, even as he continues to catch his breath. “Did that answer your question?”
Jon laughs breathlessly. “Smooth,” he says, then kisses him.