FIC: Going For A Ride (Tennant/Simm, NC-17)
Since versaphile has been pestering me to put some of mah RPS up, might as well crosspost 'em here. Just a couple of mini-fics.
Title: Going For A Ride
Author: snowgrouse
Pairing: David Tennant/John Simm
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Insta-fic, gratuitous PWP, lame jokes
Disclaimer: I don't claim this ever happened. At least anywhere except in my own dirty imagination.
Length: ~711 words
Summary: Dave. John. Cardiff. Handcuffs. What more do you need?
A/N: Wrote this last summer for sizeofthatthing, so 'tis just quick and dirty with no redeeming value whatsoever, just cheap pr0n. Yes, the title is lame, but it was either that or "Clink, Clink, Unf, Unf". Thanks to Pam for checking it for glitches/typos. And to whoever prompted it on the kinkmeme.
David is not much of a Method man, much to John's chagrin. Classical training, blah blah, Shakespeare and all that crap--but if David's idea of "rehearsal" means John gets a) handcuffed to the bed and b) David bouncing on his cock, John finds he doesn't really mind.
David is also bloody loud, moaning and yowling as he sinks down onto John's cock, again and again, but John doesn't mind that either. Not when it's accompanied by rather impressive clenching and writhing, David's hands on his chest, his long fingers slippery with lube and sweat. In fact, it's so good that John finds himself moaning as well, hips bucking up when David curls his back and--stops. Damn him.
David catches his breath, laughing, leaning on top of John, his long fringe tickling John's face. David blows his hair away from John's eyes, grinning mischievously. "Do you want to come?"
John groans, narrowing his eyes, looking down between them and then up at David again. "Yes", he hisses, rattling the cuffs, "If it's not too much trouble."
"Well, then." David kisses him, briefly, doing that fucking squeeze with his arse again. "Bastard", John mumbles into his mouth. He thinks David is going to resume his ride, but David climbs off him, turns around, and John catches a glimpse of David's arsehole, pink and open and wet. It's a pretty sight, sure, but that's not what he wa--and then David's mouth is on his cock. "Fuck!" his hips lift off the bed and his eyes roll back in his head, and he may have just died and gone to heaven, bucking and coming into David's mouth, David sucking and stroking his balls and oh god.
He's still jerking and shivering when David lifts his legs and starts pushing inside him--oh, fuck, he didn't even hear the snick of the lube bottle opening, but David's cock is slick and wet and he's being bent double and it hurts. John's hands curl around the bars of the bedframe, his wrists straining against the cuffs.
"Shh", David murmurs, his lips still glistening with John's come, reaching down to stroke John's face. He adds more lube, begins thrusting slowly and John remembers to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale, and slowly, the pain recedes, and his cock twitches against the coarse hairs of David's belly.
David fucks him deep and slow, dragging his hands down the sensitive skin of John's forearms, kissing his neck, making John's skin break out in goosebumps. David rolls his hips--god, this must be why women fucking adore him--and John bites into David's shoulder, to keep from moaning too loudly. This makes David's hips snap, makes David growl into his ear and speed up, fucking him so fast the bed creaks, balls slapping against John's arse, so John bites again, harder this time. David lets out a long cry, thrusting wildly as he comes, kissing John so hard their teeth click, his cock slippery with his own come, still moving inside John long past his orgasm.
They stay there for a while, David panting against John's neck. He is heavy for such a skinny bugger, though, and John would quite like to be able to breathe again. John clears his throat and rattles the cuffs. "Ahem."
David looks up, eyes even wonkier than usual, and yes, the smile on his face is just as ridiculously goofy as John expected. What's worse, John can't help but smile back. David blinks. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." He fumbles for the key to the handcuffs, slipping out of John as he frees him.
Despite himself, John lets himself be held, one of David's arms around his chest. He leans back, smoking, grinning when David makes a face and fans the smoke away from his eyes. "Disgusting habit." John shrugs, flicks the end of his cigarette into an empty teacup on the bedside table and kisses David, David spluttering in protest. Ashtray mouth or not, it seems to be a good way to shut David up. David doesn't complain too much, except when John gets out of bed and starts putting clothes on.
"Oh, no".
"What?" John raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're having a pang of conscience. It's a bit too late for that."
David gestures at him, making an exaggerated wince.
"It's not that. It's..."
"What?"
"The Master does not wear Man United football shorts."
Title: Going For A Ride
Author: snowgrouse
Pairing: David Tennant/John Simm
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Insta-fic, gratuitous PWP, lame jokes
Disclaimer: I don't claim this ever happened. At least anywhere except in my own dirty imagination.
Length: ~711 words
Summary: Dave. John. Cardiff. Handcuffs. What more do you need?
A/N: Wrote this last summer for sizeofthatthing, so 'tis just quick and dirty with no redeeming value whatsoever, just cheap pr0n. Yes, the title is lame, but it was either that or "Clink, Clink, Unf, Unf". Thanks to Pam for checking it for glitches/typos. And to whoever prompted it on the kinkmeme.
David is not much of a Method man, much to John's chagrin. Classical training, blah blah, Shakespeare and all that crap--but if David's idea of "rehearsal" means John gets a) handcuffed to the bed and b) David bouncing on his cock, John finds he doesn't really mind.
David is also bloody loud, moaning and yowling as he sinks down onto John's cock, again and again, but John doesn't mind that either. Not when it's accompanied by rather impressive clenching and writhing, David's hands on his chest, his long fingers slippery with lube and sweat. In fact, it's so good that John finds himself moaning as well, hips bucking up when David curls his back and--stops. Damn him.
David catches his breath, laughing, leaning on top of John, his long fringe tickling John's face. David blows his hair away from John's eyes, grinning mischievously. "Do you want to come?"
John groans, narrowing his eyes, looking down between them and then up at David again. "Yes", he hisses, rattling the cuffs, "If it's not too much trouble."
"Well, then." David kisses him, briefly, doing that fucking squeeze with his arse again. "Bastard", John mumbles into his mouth. He thinks David is going to resume his ride, but David climbs off him, turns around, and John catches a glimpse of David's arsehole, pink and open and wet. It's a pretty sight, sure, but that's not what he wa--and then David's mouth is on his cock. "Fuck!" his hips lift off the bed and his eyes roll back in his head, and he may have just died and gone to heaven, bucking and coming into David's mouth, David sucking and stroking his balls and oh god.
He's still jerking and shivering when David lifts his legs and starts pushing inside him--oh, fuck, he didn't even hear the snick of the lube bottle opening, but David's cock is slick and wet and he's being bent double and it hurts. John's hands curl around the bars of the bedframe, his wrists straining against the cuffs.
"Shh", David murmurs, his lips still glistening with John's come, reaching down to stroke John's face. He adds more lube, begins thrusting slowly and John remembers to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale, and slowly, the pain recedes, and his cock twitches against the coarse hairs of David's belly.
David fucks him deep and slow, dragging his hands down the sensitive skin of John's forearms, kissing his neck, making John's skin break out in goosebumps. David rolls his hips--god, this must be why women fucking adore him--and John bites into David's shoulder, to keep from moaning too loudly. This makes David's hips snap, makes David growl into his ear and speed up, fucking him so fast the bed creaks, balls slapping against John's arse, so John bites again, harder this time. David lets out a long cry, thrusting wildly as he comes, kissing John so hard their teeth click, his cock slippery with his own come, still moving inside John long past his orgasm.
They stay there for a while, David panting against John's neck. He is heavy for such a skinny bugger, though, and John would quite like to be able to breathe again. John clears his throat and rattles the cuffs. "Ahem."
David looks up, eyes even wonkier than usual, and yes, the smile on his face is just as ridiculously goofy as John expected. What's worse, John can't help but smile back. David blinks. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." He fumbles for the key to the handcuffs, slipping out of John as he frees him.
Despite himself, John lets himself be held, one of David's arms around his chest. He leans back, smoking, grinning when David makes a face and fans the smoke away from his eyes. "Disgusting habit." John shrugs, flicks the end of his cigarette into an empty teacup on the bedside table and kisses David, David spluttering in protest. Ashtray mouth or not, it seems to be a good way to shut David up. David doesn't complain too much, except when John gets out of bed and starts putting clothes on.
"Oh, no".
"What?" John raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're having a pang of conscience. It's a bit too late for that."
David gestures at him, making an exaggerated wince.
"It's not that. It's..."
"What?"
"The Master does not wear Man United football shorts."