fic: You're Better Off Not Knowing
Title: You're Better Off Not Knowing
Author:imprinted_soul
Fandom: Drake and Josh RPS
Pairings/Characters: Drake Bell/ Josh Peck
Rating: NC17
Wordcount:~2000
Disclaimer: Boys aren't mine, this is pretty much my head at 1am in the morning when I'm trying to study.
Summary: Drake and Josh are both stars in their own right, both equally famous after finding fame together, but they've grown apart. They've grown apart, and both been changed by the whole circuit-friends, alcohol, drugs, and all that jazz. Josh sees sexy hips across the dance floor and wants those gyrating hips in his arms. Drake dances to forget everything, and just as he thinks it's just another day, nobody noticing anything and just ignoring him, he gets all the attention he's always kind of craved for(but would never admit to himself). This is Drake and Josh getting it on on the dance floor. Without knowing who they're getting it on with.
Author's Note: This is by far the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Won't say the idea's never occurred to me, because I dance, and I find dancing ridiculously sexy. But this is the first time I've ever attempted to even put thoughts into words. I just hope you guys do find it kind of sexy. And this actually is just the beginning of a larger story that's been growing around in my head. I kind of would like to know if you'd like to see where it goes. I'm going to be free for a couple of months and I'll have time to actually work on this if it's a worthwhile endeavour and you guys are interested in seeing where it goes, and this is basically how it would start. Yeah that's right. My idea of pulling you in is by giving you gratuitous dance!floor smexytimes.
This fic comes with music. For this one, we've got Closer by Nine Inch Nails. Enjoy.
The lights flash, and all he can catch are glimpses. A moving arm, swaying hips, a flick of hair. The beat of the music is loud enough to make this head throb, perhaps just drunk enough for the buzz running through his body to not be unpleasant. A pair of lips to his neck make him lean backwards into the owner of those lips, and while it's not surprising that while Mouth-Like-A-Vacuum guy licks his way up Josh's neck and whispers things that are completely lost on him, Josh's green eyes are mesmerised by the guy-boy-who seems to be more than comfortable dancing alone. Josh can't take his eyes off those slim hips, and as he moves his eyes over the boy's body at his own, slow pace, the flashing lights reveal the hint of a tattoo on the inside of his arm. Josh licks his lips as his mouth goes dry as the guy behind him tugs slightly at his hair. The boy's just screaming to be given some attention, and Josh shrugs off Vacuum Lips and makes his way across the dance floor. Vacuum Lips can only look at Josh open-mouthed in a haze of lust and disappointment as he sees Josh walk past dancers swaying and gyrating, controlled by the rhythmic beats and flashing lights of the club.
*
Drake can't hear anything other than the music. He can smell the alcohol, feel the humidity, the heat radiating off the people around him. He can't see much with the flashing lights but it's enough to make out shapes and silhouettes. Drake prefers to just keep his eyes closed, just let go and not give a damn. He swings his hips, feels the pull of muscles everywhere as he keeps moving, runs a hand lazily through his hair to get it out of his face. Everybody here knows who he is. They know exactly who he is, and they don't give a fuck.
Which is why he's surprised when a pair of hands tug lightly at his t-shirt, pulling it up slightly as he's pulled backwards into those arms- and a big, strong, hard, body. Hands slide around his waist and down his hips, fingers getting caught in his jeans that are already slung low. Drake's head rolls onto his shoulder as he keeps his hips moving, and he misses the soft chuckle it evokes from the other man. Drake tries to move, but he's being held down by this guy who clearly has some amazing arms from what he can feel, the strain of muscles as he keeps Drake as he is.
*
"You dance to get attention," Josh says into the boy's ear. Josh is breathing into the boy's ear, can feel his jaw tensing under his hot breath. "You put on a show, you know that?" Josh realises that he's sort of still dancing as he holds this guy to his chest. He's falling apart in his arms. Wouldn't be the first time anyone has. Josh lets go of the boy's arms only to slide them down his side, settling on those hip bones that are just screaming to be bitten and licked. If the boy makes a noise at that, he can't hear it, but Josh can sure as hell feel the hum it awakens in his chest, easily passing through thin black v-neck t-shirt and his own shirt. "You put on a show, and nobody ever watches. Not really-" he says with a low voice, sounding more gruff than he thought he would.
Nails digging into skin, Josh pulls this boy closer to him, and from this close, Josh can smell his cologne and it's definitely something that impresses him. He knows exactly what it is, what ingredients make up that sensous, spicy scent that's making his own head swim a little. Maybe he's got this guy all wrong- maybe he's not just another kid wanting to get laid. Maybe he's not just some first-rate douche who knows he can get everything and anything he wants. Maybe he's not as young as he looks or feels, his lithe frame and narrow hips vaguely lighting up a flickering bulb somewhere in his mind- but that's not important now. Nothing's really important right now. Other than the writhing boy (he's decided on boy- the reactions he's getting are proving that this is something new for him) in his arms, nothing else really matters right now.
*
Drake feels his stomach flutter as he's pulled up even closer to this man. Magic Hands- that's the name Drake subconsciously gives this guy, because he'll be damned if anyone else's hands could feel so fucking amazing on him- Magic Hands seems to love what everyone else loves - the hips. Girls go a little crazy looking at the way jeans cling to those narrow hips, biting their lips whenever his t-shirts ride up just barely enough to reveal a hint of skin. Guys- the ones who want Drake in their pants, they don't just go a little crazy, they get full-on caveman and just want to grab and hold and have. Drake's not one to be all self-conscious and he knows whatever he's doing, it's totally pushing it for this guy behind him. And he's going to keep pushing it as far as he can. He continues to move his body, just keep moving as long as there's music beating thunderously from all around, the lyrics turning him on even though he's only subconsciously processing the words. Pulled up this close, he can't help but flush feeling the hard length against the base of his spine.
Drake stopped counting shots after number seven, from Eyelashes Guy maybe an hour ago, and now his mind's not exactly making connections between what he knows and what he's feeling right now. He's just going along with whatever his body's telling him to do, and apparently his body is fine with being controlled by someone else. Any sense of caution is forgotten, any sense of propriety ignored, because Drake does what he wants- and right now, it's to keep dancing, keep moving, keep doing this with solid arms around his waist and hot breath on his neck.
But then Magic Hands turns out to have a Magic Voice as well, low, husky, hushed and up and in his ear, and Drake's muscles slacken a little at the rush of blood beneath his skin, little goosebumps raising all over his arms. He's whispering things in his ear, things that make Drake's breath catch and manage to make him stop moving and just focus on breathing because it seems a little hard right now. Drake's eyes are half-lidded as he sees his own chest rise and fall, the pace slowing down. Drake tries to snake an arm between this guy to just get hold of something, but he pulls away and tugs at Drake's shirt again and Drake surrenders, just gives in, because everything is telling him to just give in.
*
Josh smiles against the boy's neck, feeling the fight all flow out of him as he relaxes under Josh's arms. With his face turned into the boy's neck Josh can feel the boy breathing deeply, the throbbing pulse slowing down as his chest rises and falls with the flashing lights. Eventually his own breathing syncs up with the boy in his arms, a sort of calm washing over all the frantic movement earlier. Josh knows how this plays out. Josh knows how this is going to play out. There's a moment where he feels detached from the music and dancing and drinks and everything else. In that moment, this boy's heart beating counter to his own is all that he catches, and he slides a hand up his chest, whispering a soft "I watch," hand ghosting over the t-shirt that's now a second skin on this boy. "I watch, I've been watching... and I pay attention." Josh's hand slides down the boy's chest, feeling the well-defined muscle flutter as his hand runs past it. He licks a stripe up the boy's neck, earning a gasp which seems to distract the boy from the fact that his hand has found his full-on erection that needs some attention of its own.
*
Drake can't tell where exactly things changed. Somewhere something just shifted three steps to the left and he feels like he's moved from a hot, steaming sauna to an ice cold shower. It's not bad. Hell, maybe it's even better slower, and Drake's sure he's feeling every little movement amplified ten fold. Call it sensory overload. But this guy, he knows what he's doing, knows what cards to play, and instead of making Drake feel used, it's actually turning him on more. Every word that's whispered into his neck sends a shudder through his body he can't stop, every movement of his hand on his body is making him want to scream for more. Drake throws his head backwards as the guy licks his neck, past that sensitive spot that makes his knees buckle slightly, and Drake can't stop the gasp from his mouth as Magic Hands runs a hand down the middle of his chest, slow and trying to feel as much as he can through his t-shirt. Drake can only respond by rolling his head against this guy's shoulder. It's more relief than surprise when his hand settles on his dick, Drake feeling his skin crawl as the guy unashamedly grabs his dick and then rubs his palm against it purposefully. Drake's losing it, and his mind's starting to forget that he's in a club, in public, and there are people watching him. Scratch that last one. Nobody ever watches him. Nobody watches over him either.
*
"You're going to remember this," Josh growls, moving against Drake in a way that would make his own now-raging hard on very much acknowledged. He brings his hand down to the boy's crotch, palm rubbing against his erection through his jeans. Josh knows how this must feel. This boy's a quivering mess in his arms, and the mere thought of that makes Josh smile slyly. He gives the boy a brief moment to calm himself down, to make him stop thrashing his head around so much, and he trails his fingers down his hips, feeling the hard lines of the delicate bones. He inhales and exhales loudly in attempt to slow the boy's breath down with every rush of hot breath against his neck. Josh slides both his hands inwards and up the boy's t-shirt, fingers splayed over his navel, pretty much the only thing holding him up. "Do you want this? Are you ready for this? How bad do you want this?" The only response he gets is a sharp jerk of his hips and a muffled moan as a hand grabs onto his leg and slide backwards. "You're going to remember this." Josh whispers into his ear again before sliding one hand down, past the sensitive trail of hair, and fists his dick. Josh vaguely registers that he should be surprised about the lack of underwear, but he's lost the capacity to come back with a witty retort about it and he just gets going, doing absolutely nothing to silence the boy shaking and moaning filth in his arms, but in fact enjoying every single moment of it. They move to a rhythm of their own now, music and lights a world away, too lost in immediate senses and sensations to bother with the identity of who they're with.
*
Drake arches as he comes, his emphatic moan diffused into the music surrounding them. Magic Hands , whose hands Drake believes are truly fucking magical, pulls his hand out, trailing a finger up Drake’s chest and lingers over Drake’s mouth. Drake doesn’t hesitate to grab the wrist in front of him and suck on the fingers, cleaning his own come off those long fingers, tongue swirling around each finger tip one by one. Drake hears the guy behind him groan slightly at the action, and without a second thought, Drake takes advantage of this guy’s momentary loss of control to spin around and drop to his knees right there and then.
Drake forces himself not to look up, realizing he’s enjoying this particularly because of the element of mystery to it all. Granted, he knows he’ll be miserable tomorrow while he deals with his hangover and oversensitised everything and doesn’t know who caused him all that, but right now he can’t deny that it’s incredibly sexy and he’s never done anything like it.
Drake’s guitar-playing skills translate into giving pretty amazing handjobs, but he’s willing to go one step further and suck this guy off right here in the middle of the dance floor. If it’s going to be anything like the time he was on the receiving end of one memorable blowjob on the same dancefloor, he knows there’s not much that can go wrong in this. Not that his brain’s worrying about all this. His eyes closed once again, he slides one arm around this guy’s leg, pulling him forwards, and pulls his zipper down using his teeth. That’s just the beginning, Drake thinks, laughing internally at the string of expletives that spouts from the guy above him.
***
The club is crowded and the night is still young. This is the kind of place where everyone does as they please and nobody gives a shit about what happens with who. Step in here, and you're bound to find someone you want to buy a drink for, or someone who'll buy you a drink just so they can say they've met you. Nevertheless, even famous people are only human, and it's definitely interesting when you see something like that happening right in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe interesting enough to want to take a photo of it. Or a video, since that's just so easy now.
(TBC)
Author:imprinted_soul
Fandom: Drake and Josh RPS
Pairings/Characters: Drake Bell/ Josh Peck
Rating: NC17
Wordcount:~2000
Disclaimer: Boys aren't mine, this is pretty much my head at 1am in the morning when I'm trying to study.
Summary: Drake and Josh are both stars in their own right, both equally famous after finding fame together, but they've grown apart. They've grown apart, and both been changed by the whole circuit-friends, alcohol, drugs, and all that jazz. Josh sees sexy hips across the dance floor and wants those gyrating hips in his arms. Drake dances to forget everything, and just as he thinks it's just another day, nobody noticing anything and just ignoring him, he gets all the attention he's always kind of craved for(but would never admit to himself). This is Drake and Josh getting it on on the dance floor. Without knowing who they're getting it on with.
Author's Note: This is by far the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Won't say the idea's never occurred to me, because I dance, and I find dancing ridiculously sexy. But this is the first time I've ever attempted to even put thoughts into words. I just hope you guys do find it kind of sexy. And this actually is just the beginning of a larger story that's been growing around in my head. I kind of would like to know if you'd like to see where it goes. I'm going to be free for a couple of months and I'll have time to actually work on this if it's a worthwhile endeavour and you guys are interested in seeing where it goes, and this is basically how it would start. Yeah that's right. My idea of pulling you in is by giving you gratuitous dance!floor smexytimes.
This fic comes with music. For this one, we've got Closer by Nine Inch Nails. Enjoy.
Click to viewThe lights flash, and all he can catch are glimpses. A moving arm, swaying hips, a flick of hair. The beat of the music is loud enough to make this head throb, perhaps just drunk enough for the buzz running through his body to not be unpleasant. A pair of lips to his neck make him lean backwards into the owner of those lips, and while it's not surprising that while Mouth-Like-A-Vacuum guy licks his way up Josh's neck and whispers things that are completely lost on him, Josh's green eyes are mesmerised by the guy-boy-who seems to be more than comfortable dancing alone. Josh can't take his eyes off those slim hips, and as he moves his eyes over the boy's body at his own, slow pace, the flashing lights reveal the hint of a tattoo on the inside of his arm. Josh licks his lips as his mouth goes dry as the guy behind him tugs slightly at his hair. The boy's just screaming to be given some attention, and Josh shrugs off Vacuum Lips and makes his way across the dance floor. Vacuum Lips can only look at Josh open-mouthed in a haze of lust and disappointment as he sees Josh walk past dancers swaying and gyrating, controlled by the rhythmic beats and flashing lights of the club.
*
Drake can't hear anything other than the music. He can smell the alcohol, feel the humidity, the heat radiating off the people around him. He can't see much with the flashing lights but it's enough to make out shapes and silhouettes. Drake prefers to just keep his eyes closed, just let go and not give a damn. He swings his hips, feels the pull of muscles everywhere as he keeps moving, runs a hand lazily through his hair to get it out of his face. Everybody here knows who he is. They know exactly who he is, and they don't give a fuck.
Which is why he's surprised when a pair of hands tug lightly at his t-shirt, pulling it up slightly as he's pulled backwards into those arms- and a big, strong, hard, body. Hands slide around his waist and down his hips, fingers getting caught in his jeans that are already slung low. Drake's head rolls onto his shoulder as he keeps his hips moving, and he misses the soft chuckle it evokes from the other man. Drake tries to move, but he's being held down by this guy who clearly has some amazing arms from what he can feel, the strain of muscles as he keeps Drake as he is.
*
"You dance to get attention," Josh says into the boy's ear. Josh is breathing into the boy's ear, can feel his jaw tensing under his hot breath. "You put on a show, you know that?" Josh realises that he's sort of still dancing as he holds this guy to his chest. He's falling apart in his arms. Wouldn't be the first time anyone has. Josh lets go of the boy's arms only to slide them down his side, settling on those hip bones that are just screaming to be bitten and licked. If the boy makes a noise at that, he can't hear it, but Josh can sure as hell feel the hum it awakens in his chest, easily passing through thin black v-neck t-shirt and his own shirt. "You put on a show, and nobody ever watches. Not really-" he says with a low voice, sounding more gruff than he thought he would.
Nails digging into skin, Josh pulls this boy closer to him, and from this close, Josh can smell his cologne and it's definitely something that impresses him. He knows exactly what it is, what ingredients make up that sensous, spicy scent that's making his own head swim a little. Maybe he's got this guy all wrong- maybe he's not just another kid wanting to get laid. Maybe he's not just some first-rate douche who knows he can get everything and anything he wants. Maybe he's not as young as he looks or feels, his lithe frame and narrow hips vaguely lighting up a flickering bulb somewhere in his mind- but that's not important now. Nothing's really important right now. Other than the writhing boy (he's decided on boy- the reactions he's getting are proving that this is something new for him) in his arms, nothing else really matters right now.
*
Drake feels his stomach flutter as he's pulled up even closer to this man. Magic Hands- that's the name Drake subconsciously gives this guy, because he'll be damned if anyone else's hands could feel so fucking amazing on him- Magic Hands seems to love what everyone else loves - the hips. Girls go a little crazy looking at the way jeans cling to those narrow hips, biting their lips whenever his t-shirts ride up just barely enough to reveal a hint of skin. Guys- the ones who want Drake in their pants, they don't just go a little crazy, they get full-on caveman and just want to grab and hold and have. Drake's not one to be all self-conscious and he knows whatever he's doing, it's totally pushing it for this guy behind him. And he's going to keep pushing it as far as he can. He continues to move his body, just keep moving as long as there's music beating thunderously from all around, the lyrics turning him on even though he's only subconsciously processing the words. Pulled up this close, he can't help but flush feeling the hard length against the base of his spine.
Drake stopped counting shots after number seven, from Eyelashes Guy maybe an hour ago, and now his mind's not exactly making connections between what he knows and what he's feeling right now. He's just going along with whatever his body's telling him to do, and apparently his body is fine with being controlled by someone else. Any sense of caution is forgotten, any sense of propriety ignored, because Drake does what he wants- and right now, it's to keep dancing, keep moving, keep doing this with solid arms around his waist and hot breath on his neck.
But then Magic Hands turns out to have a Magic Voice as well, low, husky, hushed and up and in his ear, and Drake's muscles slacken a little at the rush of blood beneath his skin, little goosebumps raising all over his arms. He's whispering things in his ear, things that make Drake's breath catch and manage to make him stop moving and just focus on breathing because it seems a little hard right now. Drake's eyes are half-lidded as he sees his own chest rise and fall, the pace slowing down. Drake tries to snake an arm between this guy to just get hold of something, but he pulls away and tugs at Drake's shirt again and Drake surrenders, just gives in, because everything is telling him to just give in.
*
Josh smiles against the boy's neck, feeling the fight all flow out of him as he relaxes under Josh's arms. With his face turned into the boy's neck Josh can feel the boy breathing deeply, the throbbing pulse slowing down as his chest rises and falls with the flashing lights. Eventually his own breathing syncs up with the boy in his arms, a sort of calm washing over all the frantic movement earlier. Josh knows how this plays out. Josh knows how this is going to play out. There's a moment where he feels detached from the music and dancing and drinks and everything else. In that moment, this boy's heart beating counter to his own is all that he catches, and he slides a hand up his chest, whispering a soft "I watch," hand ghosting over the t-shirt that's now a second skin on this boy. "I watch, I've been watching... and I pay attention." Josh's hand slides down the boy's chest, feeling the well-defined muscle flutter as his hand runs past it. He licks a stripe up the boy's neck, earning a gasp which seems to distract the boy from the fact that his hand has found his full-on erection that needs some attention of its own.
*
Drake can't tell where exactly things changed. Somewhere something just shifted three steps to the left and he feels like he's moved from a hot, steaming sauna to an ice cold shower. It's not bad. Hell, maybe it's even better slower, and Drake's sure he's feeling every little movement amplified ten fold. Call it sensory overload. But this guy, he knows what he's doing, knows what cards to play, and instead of making Drake feel used, it's actually turning him on more. Every word that's whispered into his neck sends a shudder through his body he can't stop, every movement of his hand on his body is making him want to scream for more. Drake throws his head backwards as the guy licks his neck, past that sensitive spot that makes his knees buckle slightly, and Drake can't stop the gasp from his mouth as Magic Hands runs a hand down the middle of his chest, slow and trying to feel as much as he can through his t-shirt. Drake can only respond by rolling his head against this guy's shoulder. It's more relief than surprise when his hand settles on his dick, Drake feeling his skin crawl as the guy unashamedly grabs his dick and then rubs his palm against it purposefully. Drake's losing it, and his mind's starting to forget that he's in a club, in public, and there are people watching him. Scratch that last one. Nobody ever watches him. Nobody watches over him either.
*
"You're going to remember this," Josh growls, moving against Drake in a way that would make his own now-raging hard on very much acknowledged. He brings his hand down to the boy's crotch, palm rubbing against his erection through his jeans. Josh knows how this must feel. This boy's a quivering mess in his arms, and the mere thought of that makes Josh smile slyly. He gives the boy a brief moment to calm himself down, to make him stop thrashing his head around so much, and he trails his fingers down his hips, feeling the hard lines of the delicate bones. He inhales and exhales loudly in attempt to slow the boy's breath down with every rush of hot breath against his neck. Josh slides both his hands inwards and up the boy's t-shirt, fingers splayed over his navel, pretty much the only thing holding him up. "Do you want this? Are you ready for this? How bad do you want this?" The only response he gets is a sharp jerk of his hips and a muffled moan as a hand grabs onto his leg and slide backwards. "You're going to remember this." Josh whispers into his ear again before sliding one hand down, past the sensitive trail of hair, and fists his dick. Josh vaguely registers that he should be surprised about the lack of underwear, but he's lost the capacity to come back with a witty retort about it and he just gets going, doing absolutely nothing to silence the boy shaking and moaning filth in his arms, but in fact enjoying every single moment of it. They move to a rhythm of their own now, music and lights a world away, too lost in immediate senses and sensations to bother with the identity of who they're with.
*
Drake arches as he comes, his emphatic moan diffused into the music surrounding them. Magic Hands , whose hands Drake believes are truly fucking magical, pulls his hand out, trailing a finger up Drake’s chest and lingers over Drake’s mouth. Drake doesn’t hesitate to grab the wrist in front of him and suck on the fingers, cleaning his own come off those long fingers, tongue swirling around each finger tip one by one. Drake hears the guy behind him groan slightly at the action, and without a second thought, Drake takes advantage of this guy’s momentary loss of control to spin around and drop to his knees right there and then.
Drake forces himself not to look up, realizing he’s enjoying this particularly because of the element of mystery to it all. Granted, he knows he’ll be miserable tomorrow while he deals with his hangover and oversensitised everything and doesn’t know who caused him all that, but right now he can’t deny that it’s incredibly sexy and he’s never done anything like it.
Drake’s guitar-playing skills translate into giving pretty amazing handjobs, but he’s willing to go one step further and suck this guy off right here in the middle of the dance floor. If it’s going to be anything like the time he was on the receiving end of one memorable blowjob on the same dancefloor, he knows there’s not much that can go wrong in this. Not that his brain’s worrying about all this. His eyes closed once again, he slides one arm around this guy’s leg, pulling him forwards, and pulls his zipper down using his teeth. That’s just the beginning, Drake thinks, laughing internally at the string of expletives that spouts from the guy above him.
***
The club is crowded and the night is still young. This is the kind of place where everyone does as they please and nobody gives a shit about what happens with who. Step in here, and you're bound to find someone you want to buy a drink for, or someone who'll buy you a drink just so they can say they've met you. Nevertheless, even famous people are only human, and it's definitely interesting when you see something like that happening right in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe interesting enough to want to take a photo of it. Or a video, since that's just so easy now.
(TBC)