(no subject)
Title: Knowing
Pairings: Maxxie/James, Maxxie/James+Sid
Rating: nc17
wordcount: 1611
Warnings: exhibitionism/voyeurism
Summary: Sometimes Sid finds himself asking questions to which he really doesn't want to know the answer. And sometimes it turns out knowing is better.
Spoilers: 2/08
Disclaimer: not mine
Author's note: from the prompt voyeur for my skins challenge table. As with the previous fic of mine, this is from a direct moment in canon, this time being 17:10.
There's something wrong with his brain. There has to be. It's the only explanation Sid has.
In Sid's world it's a common piece of knowledge; you don't ask the questions you don't want answers to. Horrible, utterly horrific answers can arise. Unfortunately, he's basically shit at knowing when to shut up, and intoxicants of whatever variety don't exactly help the wall between brain and mouth remain at high levels.
In fact, all of Sid's top three horrific answers took place under the influence. The first was bragging about past hallucinations while drunk, the exact question something like 'what was the worst thing you've ever seen while doing salvia', to Anwar's answer of 'people shitting on each other'. Sid no longer smokes the black crumbs for fear of seeing that exact image. A shame, really, all the power of a shroom trip in ten quick minutes.
The second was the first conversation he had with Chris about their respective home-lives as children. The E had made them want to talk about everything, childhood was only one of hundreds of topics that had come up in forty hours of talking without sleeping. The repeated ingestion of more pills each time they began to come down for the entire weekend made Chris lose the memory of discussing it. Sid had unfortunately remembered, and furthermore thinks Peter was lucky to have escaped.
The third question had resulted in the ultimately incorrect answer of Tony's prognosis upon waking up/if he ever would wake up. And no, Sid doesn't feel guilty about occasionally smoking a bowl before visiting, it was the only way he made it through some days. Hospitals suck.
So when you think about it, Sid should have plenty of experience in understanding the importance of shutting the hell up. He's been fucked up and had his head played with enough to either put him off getting fucked up, or put him off asking questions. And yet, there he was, asking "So, James, what's he like?"
Actually that's a good place to lie the blame. It's because he's sober. Scary answers to innocent questions shouldn't intrude into his sober life. It's just not right.
Of course, he's also an idiot. Why the fuck would he ask about their sex life at all? Even if that's not how he meant it (and he's not even kidding himself saying that's not how he meant the question, he'd never convince a jury of his peers), he should have known that's how James would take it.
"He's good. Really good."
James smiles, and Sid's mind goes off in a hundred different directions. All he can think of to say is a weak "Oh, that's good."
Just as he's trying desperately to not think about his awful habit of asking stupid questions, Cassie bursts into the room. He loses himself in her, and it helps for awhile. But by the end of the day he's cursing himself again. Because as much as he shouldn't have asked in the first place, James' answer wasn't very helpful. Good? What does that mean? He shouldn't want to know, but he has to. Tony is right, he is a pathetic wanker.
He gets James' cell from a mate, only to see it's already in his phone when he goes to add it. When you attend as many house parties as Sid does, having a dozen numbers in his phone unlabelled or with titles like Guy With Hands isn't unusual. He texts him, sitting on the floor beneath his locker. wht's maxie lke?
The answer comes quickly, and Sid blanches. Maxxie is like sitting right beside his boyfriend, wanting to know why his friend wants to know. I recognise this number, idiot.
srry It's obviously his place in life to be a magnet for awkward situations. He doesn't know why it's still surprising.
Don't be sorry, just, WTF? Really, Sid.
So Maxxie and James want some sort of explanation. How the fuck is he supposed to do that, when he doesn't know what the hell possessed him to ask in the first place, never mind request clarification. Sid considers not texting back, even for a moment tossing his cell into the nearest rubbish bin. But he's going to see Maxxie again, tomorrow if not hanging out with mates tonight, and avoiding it now will only make it worse later.
nt sure. curious? srry
How curious?
What? Sid stares at his phone for a full minute before texting back er, what? srry fr askng!
Would you stop saying that? We just want to know how curious you are.
This conversation just gets more and more fucked up. Sid types his words slowly, correctly, as if the time will make everything clear. I don't know how you want me to answer that.
Curious enough to watch us shag? Sid's lungs spasm, and for a minute he thinks he's going to collapse onto the linoleum and die. He coughs for what seems like ages, mind focused only on surviving, taking in enough air to live.
But when he's got function of his hands back, he sends back yes. He might be pathetic, but he's not stupid. He decides to say fuck it to waiting for Tony, when chances are he's already following Michelle home, carrying her books or some such crap. You'd think he could at least text and say he's changed plans, but of course that much consideration is beyond Tony. Sid's used to it by now.
It's nearly dinner by the time the bus arrives at the stop closest to Maxxie's apartment. The entire ride, he hasn't received a single message, and Sid hopes they weren't just messing with him. He waves off Mr Oliver's offer of meatloaf, instead making his way to Maxxie's room at the back of the house. Maxxie and James are sitting together, and Maxxie looks up from what looks like a renter's guide to smile at him.
"Hey," he says, stuttering oddly over the single syllable.
"Hey Sid. You change your mind?"
"Er, no. You said he was good?" And seriously, how is it that he's here, how is it that he's the one coming on to them? How is this possible whatsoever? But fuck it, he's here and it's happening. He sits in what he's sure is a dining room chair, facing the bed. Sid hopes it's not just moved here for this, which would make the awkwardness notch up another level, but it does have a week's worth of discarded shirts on it.
"No. I think I said he was really good." James smirks at him, and then the brunet is leaving wet kisses along Maxxie's neck and jaw. Sid stares as they make out, it shouldn't be that much different from the hundreds of times Tony and Michelle have in front of everyone, but it is. It's so different it's making him hard. Okay, so watching Tony and Michelle sometimes did that too, but he'd never even considered touching himself. But when Maxxie pulls away so he can slide James' shirt off his body, and then toss his own onto the floor, Sid's hands work at his zipper frantically.
He's already stroking when Maxxie slides down the slippery comforter onto the floor. James plants both feet on the floor and both arms behind him, like he's bracing for something. Maxxie licks the tip of James' cock before sliding his lips down the head. And Sid should really be thinking of Cassie or Michelle right now, how it felt with their lips, but he just can't bring up those memories when right in front of him Maxxie's head is bobbing at warp speed.
James' fingers curl in the sheet, and though he doesn't make any noise -can't, not with the Olivers rooms away- Sid knows by Maxxie's undulating throat that he's coming. Christ, Maxxie is swallowing come. Do all blokes swallow? Is that the obvious difference between the sexes, aside from the pussy versus arse thing?
Sid bets it would be brilliant to come into a waiting mouth. There's always a sharp moment of disappointment when Cassie pulls away. It's not like it stops him coming, but it could be just that much better.
His fist moves quickly along his cock, and Maxxie's standing, his knees reddened from the floor. James sits up and Maxxie starts wanking, right in front of him. Sid finds himself trying to match the blond's pace, and when Maxxie shoots all over James' face, Sid groans and comes into his hand.
He's still breathing hard, cock flaccid and tired outside his pants, when James looks at him. James' cheek still has a long, wet line of spunk on it, and he doesn't even seem to care, just grins and says "So, how's Maxxie?"
Sid blushes hotly and mutters "really good". There aren't really words for what has just happened.
"I told you," James says, though it's muffled through a shirt Maxxie is using to clean up his face with. And as much as thirty seconds ago everything was sexy, now it's just affectionate, and Sid feels like he's interfering. He adjusts himself back into his trousers, wiping his hand on the first article of clothing he can reach.
"I'll just... go?" he says, standing.
"Might as well stay for dinner, right?" Maxxie shrugs, and nods his head in the direction of the kitchen.
"I'm going to as well," James adds, and smiles. Sid thinks about it for a moment and shrugs. If they're not feeling awkward about it, than why should he? And what's at home, besides a house of memories and a grieving mum? Sid adjusts his hat and follows the couple out of the room.
Pairings: Maxxie/James, Maxxie/James+Sid
Rating: nc17
wordcount: 1611
Warnings: exhibitionism/voyeurism
Summary: Sometimes Sid finds himself asking questions to which he really doesn't want to know the answer. And sometimes it turns out knowing is better.
Spoilers: 2/08
Disclaimer: not mine
Author's note: from the prompt voyeur for my skins challenge table. As with the previous fic of mine, this is from a direct moment in canon, this time being 17:10.
There's something wrong with his brain. There has to be. It's the only explanation Sid has.
In Sid's world it's a common piece of knowledge; you don't ask the questions you don't want answers to. Horrible, utterly horrific answers can arise. Unfortunately, he's basically shit at knowing when to shut up, and intoxicants of whatever variety don't exactly help the wall between brain and mouth remain at high levels.
In fact, all of Sid's top three horrific answers took place under the influence. The first was bragging about past hallucinations while drunk, the exact question something like 'what was the worst thing you've ever seen while doing salvia', to Anwar's answer of 'people shitting on each other'. Sid no longer smokes the black crumbs for fear of seeing that exact image. A shame, really, all the power of a shroom trip in ten quick minutes.
The second was the first conversation he had with Chris about their respective home-lives as children. The E had made them want to talk about everything, childhood was only one of hundreds of topics that had come up in forty hours of talking without sleeping. The repeated ingestion of more pills each time they began to come down for the entire weekend made Chris lose the memory of discussing it. Sid had unfortunately remembered, and furthermore thinks Peter was lucky to have escaped.
The third question had resulted in the ultimately incorrect answer of Tony's prognosis upon waking up/if he ever would wake up. And no, Sid doesn't feel guilty about occasionally smoking a bowl before visiting, it was the only way he made it through some days. Hospitals suck.
So when you think about it, Sid should have plenty of experience in understanding the importance of shutting the hell up. He's been fucked up and had his head played with enough to either put him off getting fucked up, or put him off asking questions. And yet, there he was, asking "So, James, what's he like?"
Actually that's a good place to lie the blame. It's because he's sober. Scary answers to innocent questions shouldn't intrude into his sober life. It's just not right.
Of course, he's also an idiot. Why the fuck would he ask about their sex life at all? Even if that's not how he meant it (and he's not even kidding himself saying that's not how he meant the question, he'd never convince a jury of his peers), he should have known that's how James would take it.
"He's good. Really good."
James smiles, and Sid's mind goes off in a hundred different directions. All he can think of to say is a weak "Oh, that's good."
Just as he's trying desperately to not think about his awful habit of asking stupid questions, Cassie bursts into the room. He loses himself in her, and it helps for awhile. But by the end of the day he's cursing himself again. Because as much as he shouldn't have asked in the first place, James' answer wasn't very helpful. Good? What does that mean? He shouldn't want to know, but he has to. Tony is right, he is a pathetic wanker.
He gets James' cell from a mate, only to see it's already in his phone when he goes to add it. When you attend as many house parties as Sid does, having a dozen numbers in his phone unlabelled or with titles like Guy With Hands isn't unusual. He texts him, sitting on the floor beneath his locker. wht's maxie lke?
The answer comes quickly, and Sid blanches. Maxxie is like sitting right beside his boyfriend, wanting to know why his friend wants to know. I recognise this number, idiot.
srry It's obviously his place in life to be a magnet for awkward situations. He doesn't know why it's still surprising.
Don't be sorry, just, WTF? Really, Sid.
So Maxxie and James want some sort of explanation. How the fuck is he supposed to do that, when he doesn't know what the hell possessed him to ask in the first place, never mind request clarification. Sid considers not texting back, even for a moment tossing his cell into the nearest rubbish bin. But he's going to see Maxxie again, tomorrow if not hanging out with mates tonight, and avoiding it now will only make it worse later.
nt sure. curious? srry
How curious?
What? Sid stares at his phone for a full minute before texting back er, what? srry fr askng!
Would you stop saying that? We just want to know how curious you are.
This conversation just gets more and more fucked up. Sid types his words slowly, correctly, as if the time will make everything clear. I don't know how you want me to answer that.
Curious enough to watch us shag? Sid's lungs spasm, and for a minute he thinks he's going to collapse onto the linoleum and die. He coughs for what seems like ages, mind focused only on surviving, taking in enough air to live.
But when he's got function of his hands back, he sends back yes. He might be pathetic, but he's not stupid. He decides to say fuck it to waiting for Tony, when chances are he's already following Michelle home, carrying her books or some such crap. You'd think he could at least text and say he's changed plans, but of course that much consideration is beyond Tony. Sid's used to it by now.
It's nearly dinner by the time the bus arrives at the stop closest to Maxxie's apartment. The entire ride, he hasn't received a single message, and Sid hopes they weren't just messing with him. He waves off Mr Oliver's offer of meatloaf, instead making his way to Maxxie's room at the back of the house. Maxxie and James are sitting together, and Maxxie looks up from what looks like a renter's guide to smile at him.
"Hey," he says, stuttering oddly over the single syllable.
"Hey Sid. You change your mind?"
"Er, no. You said he was good?" And seriously, how is it that he's here, how is it that he's the one coming on to them? How is this possible whatsoever? But fuck it, he's here and it's happening. He sits in what he's sure is a dining room chair, facing the bed. Sid hopes it's not just moved here for this, which would make the awkwardness notch up another level, but it does have a week's worth of discarded shirts on it.
"No. I think I said he was really good." James smirks at him, and then the brunet is leaving wet kisses along Maxxie's neck and jaw. Sid stares as they make out, it shouldn't be that much different from the hundreds of times Tony and Michelle have in front of everyone, but it is. It's so different it's making him hard. Okay, so watching Tony and Michelle sometimes did that too, but he'd never even considered touching himself. But when Maxxie pulls away so he can slide James' shirt off his body, and then toss his own onto the floor, Sid's hands work at his zipper frantically.
He's already stroking when Maxxie slides down the slippery comforter onto the floor. James plants both feet on the floor and both arms behind him, like he's bracing for something. Maxxie licks the tip of James' cock before sliding his lips down the head. And Sid should really be thinking of Cassie or Michelle right now, how it felt with their lips, but he just can't bring up those memories when right in front of him Maxxie's head is bobbing at warp speed.
James' fingers curl in the sheet, and though he doesn't make any noise -can't, not with the Olivers rooms away- Sid knows by Maxxie's undulating throat that he's coming. Christ, Maxxie is swallowing come. Do all blokes swallow? Is that the obvious difference between the sexes, aside from the pussy versus arse thing?
Sid bets it would be brilliant to come into a waiting mouth. There's always a sharp moment of disappointment when Cassie pulls away. It's not like it stops him coming, but it could be just that much better.
His fist moves quickly along his cock, and Maxxie's standing, his knees reddened from the floor. James sits up and Maxxie starts wanking, right in front of him. Sid finds himself trying to match the blond's pace, and when Maxxie shoots all over James' face, Sid groans and comes into his hand.
He's still breathing hard, cock flaccid and tired outside his pants, when James looks at him. James' cheek still has a long, wet line of spunk on it, and he doesn't even seem to care, just grins and says "So, how's Maxxie?"
Sid blushes hotly and mutters "really good". There aren't really words for what has just happened.
"I told you," James says, though it's muffled through a shirt Maxxie is using to clean up his face with. And as much as thirty seconds ago everything was sexy, now it's just affectionate, and Sid feels like he's interfering. He adjusts himself back into his trousers, wiping his hand on the first article of clothing he can reach.
"I'll just... go?" he says, standing.
"Might as well stay for dinner, right?" Maxxie shrugs, and nods his head in the direction of the kitchen.
"I'm going to as well," James adds, and smiles. Sid thinks about it for a moment and shrugs. If they're not feeling awkward about it, than why should he? And what's at home, besides a house of memories and a grieving mum? Sid adjusts his hat and follows the couple out of the room.