the tallest man, the broadest shoulders
author // teapirate
rating // nc-17
pairing // [rpf] jesse/andrew
disclaimer // not mine
summary // Based off t his prompt from tsn_kinkmeme which basically just asked for post-Golden Globes celebratory sex. HONESTLY THIS HAS NO PLOT OKAY. Just shameless, hastily-written bathroom!sex.
word count // 1300 (oops)
author's note // Okay so I'm writing this long srsbusiness rps fic and I was very involved in the drama and angst and everything but then GG came on and there was PICKING UP and WINNING and ALMOST CUDDLING and my slutty, porny tendencies just took over and I begged them to stop but WHAT CAN I SAY THESE BOYS SERIOUSLY FUCK WITH MY HEAD and I obviously needed to take a sex!break from all the angst and seriousness so now there's some embarrassing award show fucking that I'm probably going to seriously regret in the morning. I'm sorry. Unnecessary title stolen from Sufjan Stevens (because really how does one title shameless, hastily-written PWP?)
Andrew kicks open the bathroom stall door and bodily throws Jesse against the wall.
Jesse fumbles for the latch behind him, whispering, “someone could see, someone could see--” but Andrew cuts him with a merciless kiss, teeth sinking into Jesse’s lip -- already chewed-up from his own night-long nervous biting.
“No one’s going to see. Trust me, no one’s coming in here...everyone’s at the after party.”
“Yes, which we should be at too--”
“You really want to be at the after party right now?” Andrew teases under Jesse’s jaw.
Jesse gasps uselessly when Andrew’s liquid-dark eyes turn up at him in question. It’s a rhetorical question, so he doesn’t bother answering but even if wanted to he doesn’t think his lungs contain all the breath necessary to form proper words, not while Andrew’s mouth is learning every dip and hollow of his throat and his hands are coaxing the jittery, lingering award show stiffness out of his lower back.
Andrew licks a bone-melting kiss into the clean, vulnerable knob of Jesse’s collarbone, and Jesse takes this time to admire the way Andrew’s muscles flutter under his suit, and the dark elegance of his back and hips and arms begging to be undressed. Jesse’s shirt is already half-unbuttoned so Andrew finishes the job, and Jesse reciprocates, squirming out of his jacket and allowing Andrew to silence his protests with a kiss when his clothes fall to the floor.
At least it’s a nice bathroom. But even if it wasn’t -- Jesse would still let Andrew do whatever the fuck he wants to him. For one thing, they fucking brutalized the Golden Globes. And even if they themselves didn’t technically win anything, who the fuck else is having celebratory sex in a bathroom stall?
Andrew seems to want everything -- his eyes have a dangerous, hungry sort of glitter as they drink in every inch of Jesse’s body. Jesse is glad the mirror is at his back because he doesn’t even want to know how his eyes look. Surely similar, because Andrew is looking divine -- all smoky eyes and wet mouth and lanky strength but mostly a stubborn set in his shoulders that says no matter what Eisenberg as long as I’m around, you’ll never feel anything but loved and protected and sometimes the self-loathing part of him pushes that away but right now he just wants to give Andrew as much as love as Jesse’s received from him.
He throws his arms around Andrew’s neck and his hands tangle clumsily in his hair and his nerves howl someone could come in here any moment and his cock responds l seriously could not give less of a fuck because Andrew is kissing him so hard it feels like nothing is left of his mouth but a tender red bruise and his body is split between writhing desperately against the wall and crippling paralysis.
Andrew seems to sense this, so he whispers, “Remember when you did this, just now, on national television” as he picks Jesse up (around his waist instead of under his arms, but still) and arranges him against the wall. Jesse falls limp and pliant under Andrew’s ministrations because oh my god, allowing himself to be manhandled and clutching desperately and probably painfully at Andrew’s hair as Andrew continues to plunder his mouth.
“Still can’t believe you did that--” Andrew whispers.
“Well, you wouldn’t get up,” Jesse gasps, delivering a particularly aggressive tug to Andrew’s hair when his mouth slips down to roughly explore Jesse’s neck.
“Still can’t believe we won--” he giggles into Jesse’s jaw, throwing all of Jesse’s weight onto his thigh so that his hands are free to cup Jesse’s face and feather it with kisses.
“Are you drunk?” Jesse asks.
Andrew just smiles mischievously.
“I think I’m drunk.”
“Jess, that’s called happiness,” Andrew says with a wry smile and a laugh in his throat. Jesse leans their foreheads together.
“Will it give me a hangover tomorrow?”
Andrew leans back to kiss Jesse’s forehead. “I don’t know. Would you say you are drunk-happy enough to let me fuck you in a public bathroom right now?”
Jesse nods frantically, fingers fidgeting at Andrew’s cheekbones and then scrambling to get his pants off, barely even flinching this time when they fall to the floor. Once Jesse is sufficiently naked, Andrew picks Jesse up again and props him against the wall.
“Are you okay?” He asks gently. His pants fall lazily off his sharp hip-bones, fly carelessly open. Jesse struggles to swallow.
“Yes, my god, have you seen my dick lately? -- just, yes -- now please hurry.” Jesse tries not to whimper or think about how slutty he sounds.
“Okay...shit. Um, here, just--”
Jesse grabs his hand before Andrew can finish and sucks two of his fingers in his mouth, eyes locked intimately with Andrew’s, who looks about as dizzy and needy and desperate as Jesse feels.
“Just do it,” Jesse says. Andrew’s fingers slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.
Andrew obeys, wrapping one arm around the entirety of Jesse’s waist to get enough leverage and using his other arm to maneuver between Jesse’s thighs, which part for him as pliantly and easily as water as Andrew prepares him. It’s clumsier and more aggressive than Andrew would like but Jesse’s flashing big, wet puppy-dog eyes up at him and offering himself up so thoroughly that Andrew doesn’t feel the least bit sorry when his cock finally just slides all the way inside.
Jesse shivers all the way down to his bones and his trembling has no rhythm at all and he’s gasping wetly into Andrew’s hair when Andrew finally just starts fucking him like they’ve both been waiting for the entire, tortuous night. Andrew wrenches his head back and presses their mouths together until Jesse is pink and breathless, his nails digging mercilessly into the back of Andrew’s neck.
Andrew’s arms are starting to shake from holding Jesse up and his back might seriously be sore tomorrow from the sheer force and speed of his fucking hips and his pulse is running a marathon and he can’t help but think: ‘hey Colin and Christian, what are you doing right now?’ which isn’t fair of course because they were both brilliant and deserved it and Andrew would be the first to admit it, but hey now, let’s be real. Who’s winning right now?
They come at nearly the same time, with Jesse a boneless, whimpering mess against Andrew’s chest and Andrew groaning a desperate litany of “I love you, I love you” into Jesse’s slack mouth. They hold that position for a while, just taking the time to finally breathe.
When Andrew finally lets him down, it takes all of Jesse’s strength not to just crumble to the floor. He smiles ruefully up at Andrew, who takes in Jesse’s sweaty hair and bright eyes and freshly-fucked glow with a fond, giddy smile. He can’t help but kiss him again. Jesse just slumps a little further down the wall.
“Are you okay? I’m here for you,” Andrew teases in his Eduardo voice.
Jesse rolls his eyes and starts grabbing his clothes.
“Hey, that line totally just won us a bunch of awards. It made the whole movie.”
“Yes, that line exclusively,” Jesse says dryly as he picks up his shirt.
“Actually, you just won us a bunch of awards,” Andrew says sweetly, plucking Jesse’s shirt from his fingers to dress him himself.
“Except I didn’t actually win.” Jesse turns around to face the wall and allows Andrew to pull his arms through his shirt.
“Hmmm,” Andrew grins, lining up against Jesse’s back and leaning in to kiss behind his ear. He grabs Jesse’s spent cock and whispers, “I’d say we won just enough.”
rating // nc-17
pairing // [rpf] jesse/andrew
disclaimer // not mine
summary // Based off t his prompt from tsn_kinkmeme which basically just asked for post-Golden Globes celebratory sex. HONESTLY THIS HAS NO PLOT OKAY. Just shameless, hastily-written bathroom!sex.
word count // 1300 (oops)
author's note // Okay so I'm writing this long srsbusiness rps fic and I was very involved in the drama and angst and everything but then GG came on and there was PICKING UP and WINNING and ALMOST CUDDLING and my slutty, porny tendencies just took over and I begged them to stop but WHAT CAN I SAY THESE BOYS SERIOUSLY FUCK WITH MY HEAD and I obviously needed to take a sex!break from all the angst and seriousness so now there's some embarrassing award show fucking that I'm probably going to seriously regret in the morning. I'm sorry. Unnecessary title stolen from Sufjan Stevens (because really how does one title shameless, hastily-written PWP?)
Andrew kicks open the bathroom stall door and bodily throws Jesse against the wall.
Jesse fumbles for the latch behind him, whispering, “someone could see, someone could see--” but Andrew cuts him with a merciless kiss, teeth sinking into Jesse’s lip -- already chewed-up from his own night-long nervous biting.
“No one’s going to see. Trust me, no one’s coming in here...everyone’s at the after party.”
“Yes, which we should be at too--”
“You really want to be at the after party right now?” Andrew teases under Jesse’s jaw.
Jesse gasps uselessly when Andrew’s liquid-dark eyes turn up at him in question. It’s a rhetorical question, so he doesn’t bother answering but even if wanted to he doesn’t think his lungs contain all the breath necessary to form proper words, not while Andrew’s mouth is learning every dip and hollow of his throat and his hands are coaxing the jittery, lingering award show stiffness out of his lower back.
Andrew licks a bone-melting kiss into the clean, vulnerable knob of Jesse’s collarbone, and Jesse takes this time to admire the way Andrew’s muscles flutter under his suit, and the dark elegance of his back and hips and arms begging to be undressed. Jesse’s shirt is already half-unbuttoned so Andrew finishes the job, and Jesse reciprocates, squirming out of his jacket and allowing Andrew to silence his protests with a kiss when his clothes fall to the floor.
At least it’s a nice bathroom. But even if it wasn’t -- Jesse would still let Andrew do whatever the fuck he wants to him. For one thing, they fucking brutalized the Golden Globes. And even if they themselves didn’t technically win anything, who the fuck else is having celebratory sex in a bathroom stall?
Andrew seems to want everything -- his eyes have a dangerous, hungry sort of glitter as they drink in every inch of Jesse’s body. Jesse is glad the mirror is at his back because he doesn’t even want to know how his eyes look. Surely similar, because Andrew is looking divine -- all smoky eyes and wet mouth and lanky strength but mostly a stubborn set in his shoulders that says no matter what Eisenberg as long as I’m around, you’ll never feel anything but loved and protected and sometimes the self-loathing part of him pushes that away but right now he just wants to give Andrew as much as love as Jesse’s received from him.
He throws his arms around Andrew’s neck and his hands tangle clumsily in his hair and his nerves howl someone could come in here any moment and his cock responds l seriously could not give less of a fuck because Andrew is kissing him so hard it feels like nothing is left of his mouth but a tender red bruise and his body is split between writhing desperately against the wall and crippling paralysis.
Andrew seems to sense this, so he whispers, “Remember when you did this, just now, on national television” as he picks Jesse up (around his waist instead of under his arms, but still) and arranges him against the wall. Jesse falls limp and pliant under Andrew’s ministrations because oh my god, allowing himself to be manhandled and clutching desperately and probably painfully at Andrew’s hair as Andrew continues to plunder his mouth.
“Still can’t believe you did that--” Andrew whispers.
“Well, you wouldn’t get up,” Jesse gasps, delivering a particularly aggressive tug to Andrew’s hair when his mouth slips down to roughly explore Jesse’s neck.
“Still can’t believe we won--” he giggles into Jesse’s jaw, throwing all of Jesse’s weight onto his thigh so that his hands are free to cup Jesse’s face and feather it with kisses.
“Are you drunk?” Jesse asks.
Andrew just smiles mischievously.
“I think I’m drunk.”
“Jess, that’s called happiness,” Andrew says with a wry smile and a laugh in his throat. Jesse leans their foreheads together.
“Will it give me a hangover tomorrow?”
Andrew leans back to kiss Jesse’s forehead. “I don’t know. Would you say you are drunk-happy enough to let me fuck you in a public bathroom right now?”
Jesse nods frantically, fingers fidgeting at Andrew’s cheekbones and then scrambling to get his pants off, barely even flinching this time when they fall to the floor. Once Jesse is sufficiently naked, Andrew picks Jesse up again and props him against the wall.
“Are you okay?” He asks gently. His pants fall lazily off his sharp hip-bones, fly carelessly open. Jesse struggles to swallow.
“Yes, my god, have you seen my dick lately? -- just, yes -- now please hurry.” Jesse tries not to whimper or think about how slutty he sounds.
“Okay...shit. Um, here, just--”
Jesse grabs his hand before Andrew can finish and sucks two of his fingers in his mouth, eyes locked intimately with Andrew’s, who looks about as dizzy and needy and desperate as Jesse feels.
“Just do it,” Jesse says. Andrew’s fingers slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.
Andrew obeys, wrapping one arm around the entirety of Jesse’s waist to get enough leverage and using his other arm to maneuver between Jesse’s thighs, which part for him as pliantly and easily as water as Andrew prepares him. It’s clumsier and more aggressive than Andrew would like but Jesse’s flashing big, wet puppy-dog eyes up at him and offering himself up so thoroughly that Andrew doesn’t feel the least bit sorry when his cock finally just slides all the way inside.
Jesse shivers all the way down to his bones and his trembling has no rhythm at all and he’s gasping wetly into Andrew’s hair when Andrew finally just starts fucking him like they’ve both been waiting for the entire, tortuous night. Andrew wrenches his head back and presses their mouths together until Jesse is pink and breathless, his nails digging mercilessly into the back of Andrew’s neck.
Andrew’s arms are starting to shake from holding Jesse up and his back might seriously be sore tomorrow from the sheer force and speed of his fucking hips and his pulse is running a marathon and he can’t help but think: ‘hey Colin and Christian, what are you doing right now?’ which isn’t fair of course because they were both brilliant and deserved it and Andrew would be the first to admit it, but hey now, let’s be real. Who’s winning right now?
They come at nearly the same time, with Jesse a boneless, whimpering mess against Andrew’s chest and Andrew groaning a desperate litany of “I love you, I love you” into Jesse’s slack mouth. They hold that position for a while, just taking the time to finally breathe.
When Andrew finally lets him down, it takes all of Jesse’s strength not to just crumble to the floor. He smiles ruefully up at Andrew, who takes in Jesse’s sweaty hair and bright eyes and freshly-fucked glow with a fond, giddy smile. He can’t help but kiss him again. Jesse just slumps a little further down the wall.
“Are you okay? I’m here for you,” Andrew teases in his Eduardo voice.
Jesse rolls his eyes and starts grabbing his clothes.
“Hey, that line totally just won us a bunch of awards. It made the whole movie.”
“Yes, that line exclusively,” Jesse says dryly as he picks up his shirt.
“Actually, you just won us a bunch of awards,” Andrew says sweetly, plucking Jesse’s shirt from his fingers to dress him himself.
“Except I didn’t actually win.” Jesse turns around to face the wall and allows Andrew to pull his arms through his shirt.
“Hmmm,” Andrew grins, lining up against Jesse’s back and leaning in to kiss behind his ear. He grabs Jesse’s spent cock and whispers, “I’d say we won just enough.”