PORN* FOR GREAT JUSTICE.
SO AS WE ALL KNOW, STEPHEN COLBERT WAS HORRIBLY ROBBED OF THREE (FOUR, REALLY) AWARDS THAT WERE RIGHTFULLY HIS, AND SO SEVERAL OTHERS AND I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS OUR SOLEMN DUTY TO GET THE POOR DEAR FICTITIOUSLY LAID A WHOLE BUNCH, YAY.
BASICALLY, THIS FUNCTIONS LIKE A KINK MEME.
THE ONLY REQUIREMENT IS THAT YOUR FIC MUST FEATURE STEPHEN COLBERT ( Read more... )
BASICALLY, THIS FUNCTIONS LIKE A KINK MEME.
THE ONLY REQUIREMENT IS THAT YOUR FIC MUST FEATURE STEPHEN COLBERT ( Read more... )
It was said all in one breath, and at first Jon was relieved: it was the first thing Stephen had said since climbing into the car. Then he did a double-take. "Wait, why?"
Stephen rested his clenched fists on his knees. Or maybe his hands were in some kind of lotus position. It was hard to tell. "Well, I...I have a little bit of anger and frustration to work through right now. So it would probably be best if I just let myself into the executive lounge and meditated for a while. Or did some yoga. Something to help me find my center again."
His articulation was hardly surprising, even after making the rounds on the party circuit: Stephen had the alcohol tolerance of a mule. Jon, who had a nice buzz going, settled back against the leather and remarked, "Or you could throw me down on the bed and fuck me into the mattress."
Stephen looked up at him with a start. "That wouldn't be a good idea," he breathed, streetlights glittering hungrily off his eyes. "The way I feel right now...you'd probably end up...bruised."
"Well, somebody oughta be, after the way tonight went down," said Jon philosophically. "Why not me?"
"You don't deserve that," insisted Stephen. "You shouldn't be punished just because somebody else voted to give you an award."
Jon considered this, then unbuckled his seatbelt.
After years of watching his words around Stephen, of always having to keep an eye on the limits because Stephen would never set any of his own, this private arrangement was taking some getting used to. But the more Stephen got comfortable with taking control, the more Jon liked it. It was deliciously freeing to be able to relax, to slide out of the boss role, even to let himself be a bit of a brat once in a while.
"Steeeephen," he wheedled, flopping down across the other man's startled lap. "Punish me. C'mon. You know you wa--"
He was cut off by a slightly panicky hand clamped over his mouth.
"Mmph," he finished, and concentrated on breathing through his nose as he looked placidly up at Stephen. Is that all you got?
Stephen swallowed, eyes still glittering, though Jon couldn't have said if it was from the streetlights or their own internal fire. "Will you -- beg for forgiveness?"
Arranging his face into his best 'helpless comedian' expression, Jon lifted one hand and reached plaintively towards Stephen's heart.
"Ohgod," gasped Stephen, a growl creeping into his voice as his hand tensed around Jon's jaw. "Oh, Jon, you're not going to be able to stand when I'm through with you."
(Anyone want a prompt? FINISH THIS.)
(Reposted for HTML fail.)
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ERIN
WHY DO YOU HATE AMERICA
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SURELY THERE IS SOMEBODY MORE WORTHY WHO FEELS CALLED TO TAKE UP THIS PROMPT.
SURELY.
(er, the title got eaten in the repost - this is Liberalverse, if anyone was confused.)
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I REALLY LOVE THE DETAIL ABOUT THE STREETLIGHTS GLITTERING HUNGRILY, THAT'S JUST O MUCH *_*
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♥
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"Is that really what you want?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Jon nodded as emphatically and as best he could. Another pause, just the rush of the wind around the car. After a quick glance up front - (red light, garish yellow, green, go) - suddenly Stephen let go of Jon's face only to shove his legs off the seat. "Off. Down."
He didn't need to be told twice. After an awkward tangle of limbs, Stephen watching Jon cautiously, Jon was kneeling between Stephen's knees, looking up. Stephen bent down, tried to take Jon's hands in his own, but Jon shook his head slightly.
"Punish me," he said softly, throat dry. Stephen hesitated - Jon could just see himself getting back up, Stephen going to go meditate, an unsatisfactory encounter in the room later - and grew slightly desperate. "Please, punish me, take me, use me - " He could see the words getting to Stephen, only a flicker of movement when he swallowed.
"Get - get my pants - down." It was stuttering, but it was a start.
Jon's hands jumped at the buckle of Stephen's dress pants, snapped it open, slid his hands down with the material. He impatiently tugged down as he forced Stephen to contort to get his pants down to his knees. The tails of Stephen's shirt were still draped over his thighs, he was only half hard. Jon looked up at Stephen, waiting for instructions.
"Suck on it."
Jon dove. Held Stephen's gaze.
Stephen's eyes narrowed behind his white-light shimmering glasses. "Swallow," he said.
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*_*
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Only nitpick is that l!Stephen doesn't wear glasses. Tiny detail.
♥
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"Nngh." Stephen twisted in frustration, legs shifting around Jon's face. "No, Jon, I meant--" He caught himself as the realization hit. "You know exactly what I meant."
Jon smirked up at him (come on, babe, don't let me win here too). "What are you gonna do about it?"
Stephen let out a hiss through his teeth, then swatted Jon lightly across the cheek.
"Well, if that's all," began Jon -- then yelped as Stephen slapped him in earnest.
"And that was for stealing my Emmy!" declared Stephen, voice cutting through the ringing in Jon's ears as Jon leaned weakly against his thigh. "We deserved it! What did you do that we didn't, huh? Suck off the entire nominating committee?"
His voice caught over the last couple of words, betraying how self-conscious he was about being so openly irrational. "Um," he added shakily. "I don't actually think--"
"But you like the image, don't you?" interrupted Jon, trying to shake off his burning cheek and squaring his shoulders in his best suave-anchor pose. Brian Williams would have been proud. "The idea of me running wild...getting on my knees for anyone who offers me a pretty statue...." He arched his back slightly, doing his best impression of a greying, Jewy cougar. "Someone really ought to bring me in line."
Stephen shoved one leg between them and pushed Jon against the opposite row of seats, pinning him in place with a well-heeled leather shoe on his chest. "Stay."
Jon focused on breathing steadily while Stephen unknotted his own tie. It probably would have made more sense for Jon to be getting stripped, but Stephen had never liked formal clothes, so it was no surprise that if he wanted something to bind Jon's hands, he would start with--
--and then Stephen was pressing the fabric against Jon's face.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" stammered Jon, wriggling in surprise as Stephen tied the blindfold tight enough to pinch. "This is -- uh -- new," he finished lamely, trying and failing not to squeak.
"Not so easy to be cocky when you can't see, is it?" demanded Stephen, now working Jon's tie off.
"Got that right." Jon licked his lips, which had gone dry. He could take a lot more of this getting-beaten-up stuff than Stephen had gotten up the nerve to dish out, but it was different when you couldn't see it coming.
Stephen crouched in front of Jon and dragged him forward, disorienting him further, the better to wrest his hands around behind his back. Crammed up against Stephen in the small space, Jon could feel just how much this was turning the other man on, and allowed himself to slump bonelessly in Stephen's arms.
"Please," he begged, voice cracking, and not just thanks to his mediocre acting skills. He swallowed and tried again: "Please, be careful with me."
A tender hand stroked his still-stinging cheek, then moved to grip him by the hair. "Shhh," soothed Stephen, holding Jon in place as he backed away, presumably returning to his seat. "Come here."
He drew Jon forward, slowly, steadily; even so, Jon wavered, his sense of balance pretty much shot. Only Stephen's firm hands kept him from falling.
"I know you don't like this," said Stephen cautiously, in a tone that tacitly promised not to be upset if all Jon wanted to do was get out of the scene right then. "But if you can be a good boy and cooperate from now on, then I might forgive you for being so -- so incorrigible. Do you think you can do that?"
The car skimmed along the road, wheels barely touching solid ground, a spaceship in freefall. Surrounded by darkness and the white noise of the traffic, there might as well have been nothing around Jon at all, nothing else left in the world except Stephen's hands and Stephen's voice.
Jon realized he was trembling.
"Please," he repeated. "Tell me what to do."
A kiss brushed against his temple, Stephen's long hair whispering against his face. "Open your mouth."
Jon let his mouth fall open, and Stephen drew him down.
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SECOND OF ALL UM DEFINITELY THE FIRST ONE, THIS ENTIRE THING IS BASICALLY AN EXERCISE IN "DRAKE OBVIOUSLY DID A VERY, VERY GOOD DEED AT SOME POINT HER LIFE AND FATE IS SMILING DOWN UPON HER FOR IT."
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also, thank you ♥ ♥ ♥
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