burned paradise [1/1]
Title: Burned Paradise
Author: sleepinnude
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Handerson Fourgy (but only directly featuring Cameron/Everett), allusions to tw/incest
Spoilers: lol, none
Summary: Just like that fucking '80s song, Cameron just wants Everett to want him.
“What,” Everett practically spits out as he tugs harshly at the hem of Cameron’s shirt, “the fuck,” another break, as he fists the back of Cameron’s hair and yanks back on it to map a fierce kiss, equipped with teeth, over the pale hollow at Cameron’s collar, “were you thinking?”
Cameron shoves Everett away, because the fumbling attempts he’s making at Cameron’s belt is really just bordering on pathetic now. “I was thinking, Everett, that I was in need and you were nowhere to be found but Blaine was readily available.” And then he’s shoving his jeans to the floor and pitching himself forward to slam Everett’s back against the wall, fingers bruising into the area just above the jut over his hipbones. “Please tell me you’re jealous. That would just be…priceless.”
Everett lets out something that is dangerously close to a growl and shoves back into Cameron, taking hold in his hair again and claiming his mouth, dirty and without warning. Releasing his tongue with a wet sound, Everett barks out something that would almost be a laugh were it not for the lava smoking underneath it. “I’m not jealous, Cameron. I just don’t like when Blaine…plays with my things.”
Cameron’s fingers pause at the collar of Everett’s shirt. “Oh, so now I’m one of your things?” His tone is equal parts outraged and amused.
“Now?” Everett asks without missing a beat. He palms at Cameron’s erection without hesitation, delighting in the gasp it elicits. “Cameron, you’ve always been mine.”
A strangled sort of whine breaks through Cameron’s lips but a smirk is following quick on its heels. “That aside, I think this is about you and Blaine rather than me and Blaine.”
“Mmm, really?” Everett asks, less focused on the argument and more intent on rubbing digging circles over Cameron’s erection with the heel of his hand.
“Yes, really,” Cameron replies in a tight voice, eyes shut from the sensation, before shoving Everett’s hand away, no matter what it’s doing for the pace of his heart and the cut of his breathing. “See, the problem is, you love fucking me but, you fucking love Blaine.” Everett gives a harsh laugh at that but there’s something like desperation on the edge of it. And he’s got his mouth open to say something, the hand that was at Cameron’s waist rubbing at the back of his own neck, but Cameron continues on. “So you weren’t jealous of Blaine sucking my cock,” he says deliberately, eyes trained on Everett, “you were jealous of me giving it to him.” Everett’s throat works through a swallow and Cameron almost smirks. “And I’ll bet you just hate that he took it, am I right? That he enjoyed it?”
He should have seen it coming, from the way that Everett stiffens then, but he doesn’t and so it’s a bit of a surprise when he’s spun around and his back is colliding against the wall, his head hitting so hard that his teeth clack together. But Everett is immediately there, pressing and biting in on Cameron’s lips and locking their hips together. His fingers bruise into Cam’s sides as he pulls back just enough for Cam to see the pulse of his Adam’s apple but not enough that he can see the twist in his eyes. “I just don’t like Blaine playing with my things,” he enunciates carefully, one hand spasming tighter.
Cameron knows he should just nod and tip his head back and get back to the sex but he’s hit a raw wound and he can’t just leave it alone. Not when it’s such an entertainment to see Everett flinch and squirm. Not when it gets Everett to crush his heated, hard body into his own. So instead of dropping it and coaxing Everett’s tongue into his mouth, he leans back even further and tilts his eyes at an awkward angle to catch Everett’s. “But Blaine is one of ‘your things,’ isn’t he? More than I am.” More than I could ever be. And his eyes are burning just as harshly as Everett’s because fuck, that sounded less taunting and more bitter. The next second they’re kissing and someone’s bleeding between their tongues but neither of them stops.
Somewhere along the way, among shoulder-blades catching bruises on walls and kisses loosing tongue and gaining teeth, Everett gets stripped down to match Cameron so they’re both down to just boxer-briefs. At the moment, Everett has Cameron against a wall - the opposite one as before - again. The air throbs with panting and skin skidding along skin and a dark litany of curses falling from Everett’s bite-bruised lips. He’s marking streaks of open-mouthed kisses down Cameron’s shoulder with one hand settled heavily over his ass.
Cameron is a little lost to it all, eyes wrenched shut, teeth slotting together and his hips dragging up and through and into the leg Everett has between both of his. His hands cycle through clutching at Everett’s hips and locking into fists pressed against the wall beneath him. And when the fingers of Everett’s free hand dance up and work into his mouth, he’s sucking on them, lewd and sloppy, before he can think that he doesn’t want to. Because, fuck, Everett fucking him is just more of Everett having him but him never having Everett.
That realization sets a rake over the coals searing in his stomach, turning the bright hot shards of anger and setting them aflame again. He jerks his head away, Everett’s fingers slipping from his mouth with a wet sound, and meets the other boy’s surprised look. “What the fuck?” Everett asks, but it’s not filled with the same anger stoking in Cam’s stomach. It’s more impatient, even with a laugh at the corners. Like he’s just humoring Cameron by even stopping and fuck if Cam will let him think that.
He slots their mouths together dizzily, fingers pressing points into the back of Everett’s neck, but that’s only for a moment before he’s pulling back. It’s too soon for Everett’s tastes, from the way he chases Cameron’s lips. Everett is still swaying into his space when Cameron plants a strong hand on his shoulder and manages to work him down to his knees. Everett goes without rhythm, half-collapsing to the floor really. Cameron misses the heated look Everett passes him because then he’s got his cock in his own hand and is curling his fingers around it so his breathing has gone tattered and his head is back against the wall. And then his hips are being slammed there too and he looks down just in time to see Everett swat his wrist with one hand, the other keeping him still at the hip, as he rolls his lips over Cameron’s cock.
Cameron moans but bites it off and fits his fingers through Everett’s hair. He should care that his knuckles are steadily going white from the hold he has in Everett’s thick curls but he’s still fucking pissed off at the asshole so he enjoys the ache instead and the sensation of Everett’s tongue sliding over the head of his cock, flattening out over it. And, he can’t help it, he can’t, his hips jerk forward, sliding deeper into the attention of Everett’s mouth.
It’s nothing like how it was with Blaine.
Nothing is the same as with Blaine because Cameron was sprawled out on the bed then and Blaine’s fingers smoothed over his skin, not bit into it. Blaine went slow and long and drew it all out. But when Cam looks down his nose, he sees still expects to see those hazel eyes looking up, lust blown and locked on him. They’re not though because this is nothing like how it was with Blaine and Everett’s eyes are shut and his cheeks are hollowed now and Cameron is still stuck wondering if this is just between Blaines for Everett. If he’s just a warm body, someone to rut up against while Blaine is off and occupied by serenades and hand-holding with Kurt.
It’s not about ownership. It’s not about him being Everett’s but rather about him wanting Everett so badly that he was Everett’s and so it’s only fair that Everett want him back, just as badly. For Everett to be his in return. Because aside from him, Everett still has Blaine. And once upon a time, Cameron had Kurt and he still did, but half-heartedly and with less affection and attention because where Cameron was entirely Everett’s, Kurt was entirely Blaine’s.
And, wanting Everett, it just makes his fingers clench deeper, his jaw to tighten more, his hips to roll in harder until it isn’t so much Everett blowing him anymore. Everett is just there, riding it out with Cameron and giving little groans and grunts along the way. Cameron doesn’t last long at all because he’s entirely worked out and worked up over this and when he comes it’s with a stutter and a choke and Everett takes it, swallowing and swallowing and licking over Cameron’s cock when he collapses against the wall, absolutely and entirely spent.
He’s against that wall for a few seconds before he notices that Everett hasn’t come yet, is fisting himself with his briefs thrust down as far as he can manage while kneeling and his head bowed. He lets himself fall, down and then forward. Pressing his face into Everett’s neck, he murmurs “Let me,” before taking hold of Everett and giving him just the few firm strokes he needs to put him over the edge. Everett comes with a shout and rocks forward a little, falling into Cameron.
They slump, sweat mingling where Cameron’s forehead is resting on Everett’s shoulder, where Everett’s leg is crushed over Cameron’s knee. For a moment they just breathe. Everett watches the floor, Cameron watches Everett through his lashes. After a tense moment where Cameron can almost see what he want in grasp and they don’t say anything, Everett chuckles, getting to his feet shakily. He rests a hand on Cameron’s head, fingertips playing through his hair. “Fuck, Cam. Maybe you ought to fool around with Blaine more often.”
And Cam looks up at him, at that smirk - never a smile - and swallows as Everett rips his free hand through his sweat-damp, bedraggled curls. He glances down at the mess over his stomach then and pulls a face, laughing again, before padding into the bathroom.
The door closes behind him and Cameron settles his back against the wall. He winces, wondering if that pain means a bruise from Everett slamming him around earlier. There’s water running in the bathroom and Cameron suddenly has the urge to cry which is ridiculous because… Well, because he’s Cameron fucking Hummel and he just more or less face-fucked Everett Anderson and that is nothing to cry about. So he swallows again, shoving the huge fucking pit of shame down deeper and stands.