FLYBOYS FLAMETASTIC FANFICTION ENTRY: SMUT
yaaaay! i got off my ass and actually wrote my entry! :D
forgive me for shittiness. i haven't written in a while D:
TITLE: Otherwise Occupied
AUTHOR: that lazy smut-writing whore Jawsy
RATING: NC-17, bitch.
SUMMARY: "So I went outside and knocked on the door, and he's like, 'What if we're changing and we don't have any clothes on?' and... other things..."
DISCLAIMER: Oh yeah. I totally own Michael and David. Just like I invented Disneyland and have an army of vampire rabbits.
The loud buzzing of David's vibrating cell phone was ringing in his ears, distracting him, seeming louder than the beat of his heart or the rumbling engine of the tour bus. The light on its small screen flashed, and it slid across the table as it moved.
David pulled his mouth away, yanked one arm free and reached across the table toward the phone. Michael ignored it, busy in the process of sucking on David's ear, running his teeth over its lobe, smiling into the shiver that visibly ran straight down David's body.
“Leave it,” Michael whispered into his ear. He brought himself down on David, pushing him back against the cramped couch in the rear of the bus, leaning over him until he was crawling on top of him. The bunk creaked with their combined weight suddenly thrust upon it, but David was kissing him back, those kisses that left him punch-drunk, deep kisses that made him feel as if he were already naked.
Hands went inside his shirt again, blunt nails digging into his skin. He shifted his body, positioning them so they were laying on the couch instead of flopped lazily over it. Michael's mouth moved from his lips to his neck, gently nipping at his skin as he tipped his head back and groaned longingly. His hands were underneath him, fingers running up and down his spine, pausing at the small of his back and sliding back up again. His thoughts all melted into one. His nerves were on end, his heart was beating quicker and quicker, lust and pleasure shooting through his veins; that tongue and those fingers were working magic, but he wanted more, and these damn clothes weren't doing much good --
Michael yanked his shirt up, half over his arms and whipped it to the side. It dropped over the still-buzzing phone, dulling its noises. He pressed his hot, naked skin up against him, feeling the warmth of the cotton material of his shirt rub against his bare chest. It felt like a barrier to David, and he pulled backwards, head bumping against the cushioned arm of the seat. He ripped at his own shirt, tugging it off his body and letting it fall to the ground, forgotten, as the two tumbled around on the sofa shirtless.
David's breath was hot and wet against Michael's body as he rolled atop him and tucked his hands under him, arms hugging against his ribcage. He pushed downwards, his hair tickling Michael's flat stomach as he trailed kisses down his front. He ended up in a dog-like position, butt up in the air, on his knees with his chin pressed against the other man's lower abdomen. He scooted forward, sticky skin rubbing together as he met back up with Michael's face in a quick, fluid movement. Michael grabbed him by the rear - hard - and they tussled around again, rolling in endless circles.
Michael roughly shoved him below, climbing over him. On his hands and knees, he hovered over David, back arched and thighs straddling his hips. He stopped for a moment, David fidgeting beneath him, and looked down at him through half-lidded eyes, smirking slightly before he pounced atop him again.
David's breathing was heavy and hollow, his mind a foggy haze. His thoughts were virtually nonexistent; he had not the conscience nor the care to form a coherent thought with this gorgeous, moaning Aussie above him. He shoved his fingers down the front of Michael's pants as Michael's tongue - oh god, that tongue - slowly dragged across his skin. It traced the tattoo on his chest that he hadn't thought about for months, but now it tingled alive and all his flesh tingled with it. Sweat was pearling up on his body as he looked down at the dark brunette head that lazily moved across his chest, licking and sucking a pattern. David wound his fingers through the thick, dark hair and tugged Michael back up, their mouths meeting sloppily. The scratchy fabric of Mike's pants dragged over his belly, making his whole body ache with such a longing that his groin gave a pitiful throb.
“Time to get this show on the road,” Michael whispered into his mouth, accent causing David's heart to skip a beat.
He sat up, feeling Michael jerk back. He licked his lips as he frantically grabbed at his belt and pulled it loose, unbuttoning his pants and trying to kick his shoes off at the same time. Michael ripped his own shoes off, dropping his trousers easily.
Michael sprang, shoving the other man against the wall, crushing him tightly and rubbing his lower body against the hot, slick skin of David's stomach. He sucked on the salty sweat that was rolling down David's chest, followed the beaded line back up to his neck, holding his face in his palms as he playfully nipped at the soft flesh of his collarbone.
David gasped and wriggled slightly, bringing one of his legs up to curl around Michael's. The older man felt the pumping motion of David's hips and decided this foreplay shit had gone on long enough. He gave his nape one last lick of appreciation and pulled back, turning around and yanking open the drawer to his desk.
Blindly rifling through the worthless crap kept therein, he retrieved what he was looking for. David pulled him back, kissing him, fingers twisting through his tussled hair as he uncorked the bottle he had yanked out of the drawer and poured the oil onto his fingers. It dripped down between them, on David's blushing pink thighs, on his own skin and down onto the floor. He slipped his knee under David's leg and pushed it outwards to the side. Before he could get any farther, David pulled back, backing himself into the bunkposts and snatching the bottle from him.
“Wait a second,” he panted. “Let me.”
Michael leaned up against him, getting right up in his face. “Ain't happenin' that way, mate.”
David swallowed. He narrowed his eyes. “Then it isn't gonna happen.”
Michael waited persistently, still rubbing his thigh against David, dragging his warm skin up and down. He felt David open up under him, just the slightest widening of his legs, the slightest tip of his hips.
“Look, I can take all this,” Michael wriggled his whole body from shoulders to hips in silent acknowledgment of his own attractiveness, “somewhere else. You aren't the only game in this town, sugar. In fact, Chickezie has a pretty nice --”
“Alright, alright,” David relented, moaning with every syllable, “Just get on with it, please...”
At his last word, Michael leaned back, felt David stumble, grabbed him by the arm and flipped him around, hips flush against his ass. He snickered lightly, pushing his back up against him, chin resting on his shoulder.
“You better be pretty fucking good,” David breathed into the wall.
Ten seconds later, the fingers inside of him were fucking torture. Michael had both of his arms pinned over his head, with his faced pressed against the bedposts. He was pushing back against the insistent pressure inside of him, widening his stance and waiting for the next stage. Michael could feel his impatience and pulled his fingers free, shifting on his feet behind him. Then, without warning, he shoved himself in, one fluid thrust that pushed him all the way into Dave, feeling the muscles of his inner walls cramping down on him. David felt the Australian man's face against his shoulder, the hot breath on his skin, and bit his lip hard enough to taste coppery blood. Michael's hand went all the way down his back, curled around his waist and held him tightly as he felt the slim hips behind him begin to move.
Every slow pump made him want to buck forwards, cry out loudly. The older man was shifting into him, the thrusts becoming shorter and faster, heat and pleasure building up as he whispered sweet nothings endlessly into his ear. Every muscle in his body twitched in time with those thrusts as Michael's other hand reached around and grabbed him, panting in clipped, hard breaths. David rolled beneath him, against him, arching his back and pushing him further in.
He had no idea how much time had passed by now; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. It hit him before he even knew it. It hit them at the same time, in fact. The world vanished and all that was left were the waves of pulsating pleasure that rolled through them, ribboning around them and squeezing together. David barely even noticed the half-hissed, half-moaned yelpings of his name as Michael buried himself deep within him one last time.
As he pulled away, he toppled over onto the couch. David fell atop him, and they laid there for a moment, each trying to catch their own breath. Michael looked up at him and smirked once again. David met his smirk in a gentle kiss, and --
Before he could do anything more, there was a loud pounding on the door of the bus.
“You guys in there? You didn't answer your phone... And I'm knocking this time, Michael!” came a shrill, familiar female voice.
Michael cursed under his breath. “Uhh... One second, Brooke, I'm... not dressed!”
Brooke sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and waited, leaning against the bus outside. “You better be serious this time!”
David was yanking his boots on as Michael pulled his shirt over his head and ran his hand through his hair quickly. He snickered. She didn't even know the half of it.
forgive me for shittiness. i haven't written in a while D:
TITLE: Otherwise Occupied
AUTHOR: that lazy smut-writing whore Jawsy
RATING: NC-17, bitch.
SUMMARY: "So I went outside and knocked on the door, and he's like, 'What if we're changing and we don't have any clothes on?' and... other things..."
DISCLAIMER: Oh yeah. I totally own Michael and David. Just like I invented Disneyland and have an army of vampire rabbits.
The loud buzzing of David's vibrating cell phone was ringing in his ears, distracting him, seeming louder than the beat of his heart or the rumbling engine of the tour bus. The light on its small screen flashed, and it slid across the table as it moved.
David pulled his mouth away, yanked one arm free and reached across the table toward the phone. Michael ignored it, busy in the process of sucking on David's ear, running his teeth over its lobe, smiling into the shiver that visibly ran straight down David's body.
“Leave it,” Michael whispered into his ear. He brought himself down on David, pushing him back against the cramped couch in the rear of the bus, leaning over him until he was crawling on top of him. The bunk creaked with their combined weight suddenly thrust upon it, but David was kissing him back, those kisses that left him punch-drunk, deep kisses that made him feel as if he were already naked.
Hands went inside his shirt again, blunt nails digging into his skin. He shifted his body, positioning them so they were laying on the couch instead of flopped lazily over it. Michael's mouth moved from his lips to his neck, gently nipping at his skin as he tipped his head back and groaned longingly. His hands were underneath him, fingers running up and down his spine, pausing at the small of his back and sliding back up again. His thoughts all melted into one. His nerves were on end, his heart was beating quicker and quicker, lust and pleasure shooting through his veins; that tongue and those fingers were working magic, but he wanted more, and these damn clothes weren't doing much good --
Michael yanked his shirt up, half over his arms and whipped it to the side. It dropped over the still-buzzing phone, dulling its noises. He pressed his hot, naked skin up against him, feeling the warmth of the cotton material of his shirt rub against his bare chest. It felt like a barrier to David, and he pulled backwards, head bumping against the cushioned arm of the seat. He ripped at his own shirt, tugging it off his body and letting it fall to the ground, forgotten, as the two tumbled around on the sofa shirtless.
David's breath was hot and wet against Michael's body as he rolled atop him and tucked his hands under him, arms hugging against his ribcage. He pushed downwards, his hair tickling Michael's flat stomach as he trailed kisses down his front. He ended up in a dog-like position, butt up in the air, on his knees with his chin pressed against the other man's lower abdomen. He scooted forward, sticky skin rubbing together as he met back up with Michael's face in a quick, fluid movement. Michael grabbed him by the rear - hard - and they tussled around again, rolling in endless circles.
Michael roughly shoved him below, climbing over him. On his hands and knees, he hovered over David, back arched and thighs straddling his hips. He stopped for a moment, David fidgeting beneath him, and looked down at him through half-lidded eyes, smirking slightly before he pounced atop him again.
David's breathing was heavy and hollow, his mind a foggy haze. His thoughts were virtually nonexistent; he had not the conscience nor the care to form a coherent thought with this gorgeous, moaning Aussie above him. He shoved his fingers down the front of Michael's pants as Michael's tongue - oh god, that tongue - slowly dragged across his skin. It traced the tattoo on his chest that he hadn't thought about for months, but now it tingled alive and all his flesh tingled with it. Sweat was pearling up on his body as he looked down at the dark brunette head that lazily moved across his chest, licking and sucking a pattern. David wound his fingers through the thick, dark hair and tugged Michael back up, their mouths meeting sloppily. The scratchy fabric of Mike's pants dragged over his belly, making his whole body ache with such a longing that his groin gave a pitiful throb.
“Time to get this show on the road,” Michael whispered into his mouth, accent causing David's heart to skip a beat.
He sat up, feeling Michael jerk back. He licked his lips as he frantically grabbed at his belt and pulled it loose, unbuttoning his pants and trying to kick his shoes off at the same time. Michael ripped his own shoes off, dropping his trousers easily.
Michael sprang, shoving the other man against the wall, crushing him tightly and rubbing his lower body against the hot, slick skin of David's stomach. He sucked on the salty sweat that was rolling down David's chest, followed the beaded line back up to his neck, holding his face in his palms as he playfully nipped at the soft flesh of his collarbone.
David gasped and wriggled slightly, bringing one of his legs up to curl around Michael's. The older man felt the pumping motion of David's hips and decided this foreplay shit had gone on long enough. He gave his nape one last lick of appreciation and pulled back, turning around and yanking open the drawer to his desk.
Blindly rifling through the worthless crap kept therein, he retrieved what he was looking for. David pulled him back, kissing him, fingers twisting through his tussled hair as he uncorked the bottle he had yanked out of the drawer and poured the oil onto his fingers. It dripped down between them, on David's blushing pink thighs, on his own skin and down onto the floor. He slipped his knee under David's leg and pushed it outwards to the side. Before he could get any farther, David pulled back, backing himself into the bunkposts and snatching the bottle from him.
“Wait a second,” he panted. “Let me.”
Michael leaned up against him, getting right up in his face. “Ain't happenin' that way, mate.”
David swallowed. He narrowed his eyes. “Then it isn't gonna happen.”
Michael waited persistently, still rubbing his thigh against David, dragging his warm skin up and down. He felt David open up under him, just the slightest widening of his legs, the slightest tip of his hips.
“Look, I can take all this,” Michael wriggled his whole body from shoulders to hips in silent acknowledgment of his own attractiveness, “somewhere else. You aren't the only game in this town, sugar. In fact, Chickezie has a pretty nice --”
“Alright, alright,” David relented, moaning with every syllable, “Just get on with it, please...”
At his last word, Michael leaned back, felt David stumble, grabbed him by the arm and flipped him around, hips flush against his ass. He snickered lightly, pushing his back up against him, chin resting on his shoulder.
“You better be pretty fucking good,” David breathed into the wall.
Ten seconds later, the fingers inside of him were fucking torture. Michael had both of his arms pinned over his head, with his faced pressed against the bedposts. He was pushing back against the insistent pressure inside of him, widening his stance and waiting for the next stage. Michael could feel his impatience and pulled his fingers free, shifting on his feet behind him. Then, without warning, he shoved himself in, one fluid thrust that pushed him all the way into Dave, feeling the muscles of his inner walls cramping down on him. David felt the Australian man's face against his shoulder, the hot breath on his skin, and bit his lip hard enough to taste coppery blood. Michael's hand went all the way down his back, curled around his waist and held him tightly as he felt the slim hips behind him begin to move.
Every slow pump made him want to buck forwards, cry out loudly. The older man was shifting into him, the thrusts becoming shorter and faster, heat and pleasure building up as he whispered sweet nothings endlessly into his ear. Every muscle in his body twitched in time with those thrusts as Michael's other hand reached around and grabbed him, panting in clipped, hard breaths. David rolled beneath him, against him, arching his back and pushing him further in.
He had no idea how much time had passed by now; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. It hit him before he even knew it. It hit them at the same time, in fact. The world vanished and all that was left were the waves of pulsating pleasure that rolled through them, ribboning around them and squeezing together. David barely even noticed the half-hissed, half-moaned yelpings of his name as Michael buried himself deep within him one last time.
As he pulled away, he toppled over onto the couch. David fell atop him, and they laid there for a moment, each trying to catch their own breath. Michael looked up at him and smirked once again. David met his smirk in a gentle kiss, and --
Before he could do anything more, there was a loud pounding on the door of the bus.
“You guys in there? You didn't answer your phone... And I'm knocking this time, Michael!” came a shrill, familiar female voice.
Michael cursed under his breath. “Uhh... One second, Brooke, I'm... not dressed!”
Brooke sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and waited, leaning against the bus outside. “You better be serious this time!”
David was yanking his boots on as Michael pulled his shirt over his head and ran his hand through his hair quickly. He snickered. She didn't even know the half of it.