Foxshy for the Queen.
At the request of Her Royal Majesty Queen halfdutch, I humbly present an offering of a Foxshy ficlet - that's Matt/Josh RPS just in case there is anyone who doesn't know what the heck I am talking about. I hope it meets with your approval, Ma'am.
Title: Want.
Rating: Porny.
Disclaimer: Not real.
It’s the sand that gets to him the most. He has spent hours, days, weeks even, trying to work out how they got that sand to cling to Josh’s face like it was a part of him, like Hawaii had somehow claimed him as one of its own and left its mark on his skin. When Matt looks at that picture he can imagine brushing his hand across Josh’s cheek, feeling the gritty texture loosen and shift under his palm, fall away to the floor as his hand slides up into Josh’s hair. He wonders if he’d kissed Josh on the day of the shoot would he have tasted the salt tang of the sea on his lips before it faded away and only the taste of Josh remained. Matt wishes he could have been there to find out. But he wasn’t, he only has pictures to fuel his fantasies.
The magazine is spread out beside him on the bed, open at the page that Matt can’t seem to stop staring at. There is a part of him that thinks he shouldn’t be doing this, thinks he shouldn’t be laying in his bed, masturbating over pictures in a glossy magazine like a teenager with his first crush. But he can’t help himself. He can’t stop the flood of heat that rushes through his veins whenever he thinks about the images of Josh that are burnt into his mind.
In his head he is there with Josh, just the two of them alone on the beach, no one else there to disturb them. He can feel the breeze on his skin as he walks circles around Josh’s kneeling figure - hands planted deep in the sand, his head low but not bowed. Matt arches into the circle of his fist as he stares at the picture and imagines trailing his fingertips across Josh’s back. Feeling the way the wet material clings to him, highlighting the shape of the muscles beneath it. He groans as he thinks about his shadow falling across Josh’s body as he reaches down and cups Josh’s chin, tilting it upwards until their eyes meet and he can feel Josh’s gaze burning into him, measuring him and his intent. Matt lets his head fall back on the pillow, closes his eyes and gives into the fantasy until it’s no longer his hand he is thrusting into but Josh’s mouth. He can feel Josh’s hair soft beneath his fingers, Josh’s hands curved around his hips holding his steady and the hot, wet heat of Josh surrounding him, urging him on, driving him to the edge until he can’t hold on any longer and he comes shouting out Josh’s name.
Matt thinks he should feel guilty as he cleans himself up and tucks the magazine away again in his bedside drawer. And he would, if it weren’t for the five words scrawled in the top corner of his favourite picture. The picture that makes him wish Josh was here with him now - solid, real, touchable, fuckable - instead of only being in his dreams:
I was thinking about you.
Title: Want.
Rating: Porny.
Disclaimer: Not real.
It’s the sand that gets to him the most. He has spent hours, days, weeks even, trying to work out how they got that sand to cling to Josh’s face like it was a part of him, like Hawaii had somehow claimed him as one of its own and left its mark on his skin. When Matt looks at that picture he can imagine brushing his hand across Josh’s cheek, feeling the gritty texture loosen and shift under his palm, fall away to the floor as his hand slides up into Josh’s hair. He wonders if he’d kissed Josh on the day of the shoot would he have tasted the salt tang of the sea on his lips before it faded away and only the taste of Josh remained. Matt wishes he could have been there to find out. But he wasn’t, he only has pictures to fuel his fantasies.
The magazine is spread out beside him on the bed, open at the page that Matt can’t seem to stop staring at. There is a part of him that thinks he shouldn’t be doing this, thinks he shouldn’t be laying in his bed, masturbating over pictures in a glossy magazine like a teenager with his first crush. But he can’t help himself. He can’t stop the flood of heat that rushes through his veins whenever he thinks about the images of Josh that are burnt into his mind.
In his head he is there with Josh, just the two of them alone on the beach, no one else there to disturb them. He can feel the breeze on his skin as he walks circles around Josh’s kneeling figure - hands planted deep in the sand, his head low but not bowed. Matt arches into the circle of his fist as he stares at the picture and imagines trailing his fingertips across Josh’s back. Feeling the way the wet material clings to him, highlighting the shape of the muscles beneath it. He groans as he thinks about his shadow falling across Josh’s body as he reaches down and cups Josh’s chin, tilting it upwards until their eyes meet and he can feel Josh’s gaze burning into him, measuring him and his intent. Matt lets his head fall back on the pillow, closes his eyes and gives into the fantasy until it’s no longer his hand he is thrusting into but Josh’s mouth. He can feel Josh’s hair soft beneath his fingers, Josh’s hands curved around his hips holding his steady and the hot, wet heat of Josh surrounding him, urging him on, driving him to the edge until he can’t hold on any longer and he comes shouting out Josh’s name.
Matt thinks he should feel guilty as he cleans himself up and tucks the magazine away again in his bedside drawer. And he would, if it weren’t for the five words scrawled in the top corner of his favourite picture. The picture that makes him wish Josh was here with him now - solid, real, touchable, fuckable - instead of only being in his dreams:
I was thinking about you.