The Senses/Joick/R
Title: The Senses
Rating: R
Warning: BEING NAKED! & kissing.
Summary: Let's pretend we don't exist let's pretend we're in Antarctica.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: Inspired by "Your Body is a Wonderland" by John Mayer. & Summary provided by Of Montreal ("Wraith Pined to The Mist" if you wanna hear the song)
Everything about Nick stimulates your five senses; when you see him your body instinctively reacts: your heart speeds up, as does your breathing. When you hear him speak, or sing, you smile a little to yourself, when you touch him or he touches you it’s like it send out a bunch of tiny little tingles kind of like little electrified snakes slithering all out through your body.
When you catch a whiff of him it makes your stomach feel all warm and kind of weird but it’s a good weird. The way he tastes - this a little bit more intimate but whatever - it’s nothing insanely crazy and you’re not some cannibal but he does taste well, good.
And so the way you guys spend your Sunday mornings is pretty simple: You guys wake up, eat breakfast, take separate showers and then just go lay around in bed. However, you can only do this when you know your brothers or parents won’t be barging in and all like, “HEY I’M GOING TO BUTT INTO YOUR GUYS’ BUSINESS LULZ.”
Right now Nick’s lying on his back on his bed. The curtains are open - you guys are on the second story and not close to any other houses - and so the light from outside is filtering in and making the room look light and calming.
You’re above him; sliding your hands down his sides to the gentle curve of his hips, down his thighs and all the way down to his cute little toes. He instinctively tries to pull his feet back ‘cause that’s his most ticklish spot but you look up and give him a look as if to say, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tickle you.”
He licks his lips and continues to watch you inspect him, for lack of a better word. The old clock in the hallway chimes and in the back of your mind you hear that it started to rain. With one last look at the door to make sure it’s locked and move over Nick so that you’re face to face with him.
Your hands are on either side of his shoulders and his are resting on your neck and when you lean down to kiss him it’s just like all the other times except this one is slow and paced.
His lips are a little chapped and that’s okay. You curl yourself more around Nick and let yourself succumb to the kiss. However, you eventually need to pull away. You look at him for a moment before you look back at the door again, a little paranoid.
Your guys’ towels are thrown on the floor along with some clothes and you only look back when you feel Nick’s hands on your cheeks and force you to look back. When you see his face, it’s stern.
“Joe, stop worrying. I told you we’re home alone and besides, the only person who knows how to pick a lock in this house is me.”
You bit your lip and nod a little, “I know I’m just… paranoid.”
Nick rolls his eyes, “Duh.” But then he smiles and pulls you down so he can kiss you again and then all your worries are forgotten.
Rating: R
Warning: BEING NAKED! & kissing.
Summary: Let's pretend we don't exist let's pretend we're in Antarctica.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: Inspired by "Your Body is a Wonderland" by John Mayer. & Summary provided by Of Montreal ("Wraith Pined to The Mist" if you wanna hear the song)
Everything about Nick stimulates your five senses; when you see him your body instinctively reacts: your heart speeds up, as does your breathing. When you hear him speak, or sing, you smile a little to yourself, when you touch him or he touches you it’s like it send out a bunch of tiny little tingles kind of like little electrified snakes slithering all out through your body.
When you catch a whiff of him it makes your stomach feel all warm and kind of weird but it’s a good weird. The way he tastes - this a little bit more intimate but whatever - it’s nothing insanely crazy and you’re not some cannibal but he does taste well, good.
And so the way you guys spend your Sunday mornings is pretty simple: You guys wake up, eat breakfast, take separate showers and then just go lay around in bed. However, you can only do this when you know your brothers or parents won’t be barging in and all like, “HEY I’M GOING TO BUTT INTO YOUR GUYS’ BUSINESS LULZ.”
Right now Nick’s lying on his back on his bed. The curtains are open - you guys are on the second story and not close to any other houses - and so the light from outside is filtering in and making the room look light and calming.
You’re above him; sliding your hands down his sides to the gentle curve of his hips, down his thighs and all the way down to his cute little toes. He instinctively tries to pull his feet back ‘cause that’s his most ticklish spot but you look up and give him a look as if to say, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tickle you.”
He licks his lips and continues to watch you inspect him, for lack of a better word. The old clock in the hallway chimes and in the back of your mind you hear that it started to rain. With one last look at the door to make sure it’s locked and move over Nick so that you’re face to face with him.
Your hands are on either side of his shoulders and his are resting on your neck and when you lean down to kiss him it’s just like all the other times except this one is slow and paced.
His lips are a little chapped and that’s okay. You curl yourself more around Nick and let yourself succumb to the kiss. However, you eventually need to pull away. You look at him for a moment before you look back at the door again, a little paranoid.
Your guys’ towels are thrown on the floor along with some clothes and you only look back when you feel Nick’s hands on your cheeks and force you to look back. When you see his face, it’s stern.
“Joe, stop worrying. I told you we’re home alone and besides, the only person who knows how to pick a lock in this house is me.”
You bit your lip and nod a little, “I know I’m just… paranoid.”
Nick rolls his eyes, “Duh.” But then he smiles and pulls you down so he can kiss you again and then all your worries are forgotten.