One Shot: Snakes on a Mother F***ing Plane
Title: Snakes on a Mother F***ing Plane
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Rating: NC-17. PWP, blowjobs, handjobs, swearing.
Disclaimer: if I owned them, you'd be the first to know
Summary: Matt's got a bad fixation on his guitarist's mouth. Also, he's bored. Good Combination?
AN: for
berrysoup , who is le sick :( also, i'm sorry that i haven't updated Rock in a while, that chapter is gonna be epic hard to write, so gimme some time. i swearz, it'll be good.
There was something about the way Brian wrapped his mouth around anything that got Matt's blood rushing to places down south. Truth be told, the guitarist wasn't exactly shy about putting things in his mouth. Mikes, Picks, Tootsie pops (God help them all if it was a red one. Matt liked red a lot), beer bottles; pretty much anything phallic had to somehow morph into either an innocent, or entirely guilty, fellatio-a-thon.
And weirdly enough, while Matt enjoyed the display that his paramour put on just to get him riled up, it was the innocent oh-damn-I-need-my-hands-for-something else moments he really liked. Because usually it meant that Brian was concentrating on something, and damn if that boy wasn't pretty when he was thinkin'. Then after, when he took whatever it was from between those, well okay, for lack of a better term, sinful lips, and his tongue darted out and swiped across, Matt was left a slobbering mass wherever they were. Which, unfortunately, usually was side-stage at a show after yet another Synyster Gates Solo Extravaganza. Never was the singer so jealous of a guitar pick. Or the fans that jumped wildly to catch them. Due to Matt's inability to think straight after visiting his own mental porn site, he usually had to go over the next song a fair few times to remember exactly what he was singing.
The best times were when they were all just hanging out; working, traveling, socializing, and Matt could just yank a handful of Brian's shirt and steer them into the nearest dark corner, growling the dirtiest of words that he knew would get the shorter man just as hard as he himself was from the display.
One such occurrence happened while on the plane from Chicago to Dublin. Cross Atlantic flights were never fun, boring as all fuck, and if one thought too hard on the subject, scary as hell. Thus Matt was watching his band-mates, seeing what they were doing to keep the boredom/terror at bay. Johnny, who probably had the best idea, had taken an Ambien after departure and stuck his headphones in his ears. Zack and Jimmy were talking about the Angel's chances this season (well, Zack was chattering on and Jimmy was "hmm"ing semi-interestedly). Brian happened to be leaning over a notebook, pen in hand, looking so focused, someone could've shouted "COCK!" and the guitarist would never even blink. But what exactly he was concentrating on, Matt will never be able to tell you. As Brian let out a frustrated huff, he bit at the pen in hand, then sucked it into his mouth, releasing it only to spit it across the fold down-table, quickly picking it back up and twirling it between the "M" and "A" of his fingers.
Luckily, they were both on the aisle, sitting across from each other. Also luckily, Brian never really held stock for the seat belts provided (logic being that if they were to crash, what the fuck was a seat belt going to do?), and had removed his as soon as the pilot said "You're-".
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Matt would've laughed a both Brian's and the paper's flail. One landed on the floor, the other stumbled up the aisle, pen flying to hit a snoring Johnny on the nose. Again, would've been hilarious if the ache in Matt's jeans hadn't been so insistent. He really thought he should've tried out for some Olympic sport when he had the tiny bathroom door opened, the both of them inside, and the "occupied" sign all nice and lit up all in the time it took Brian to utter "What the HELL, Matt?"
As they were pressed together in the small space, confusion gave way to amused understanding, feeling the hard line of Matt's dick against his thigh. "Oh. I did it again, huh?"
"Don't get all innocent, Haner. You know damn straight what that mouth does, how you get me all hard just imagining those sweet lips feel around my big cock, how you moan like a whore every time I pull your hair and fuck straight down your throat."
Lust blown eyes and a smirk to kill, Brian wasn't unaware of how badly he affected his lover. Besides, the growl that rose in the singer's throat when he was turned on was quite possibly the sexiest noise ever. How was Brian to turn that away? He darted in quick, grabbing the power before Matt could exert it, and kissed him. It wasn't that kind of dominance battle, deep throating, but a flirting tease of tongue and teeth. The kind that said exactly what kind of attention and skill Matt's dick was about to get, the kind that Brian knew would set the other man's legs to jelly.
With a smooth push and a muffled thump, Matt was against the wall and a black haired head disappeared to his navel, making quick work of his jeans and boxers. As a warm tongue traveled up the underside of his rigid cock, another thump and a groan echoed. Brian looked up, watching as Matt's adams apple bobbed and his eyes scrunched tight, already lost to the world in his pleasure. Being the curious and self-assured being he was, the guitarist enveloped the singer's tip, just to see what sounds he could wring from him. He sucked greedily, tasting the bitter pre-cum that dripped out, humming as a giant hand fisted itself into his dark coif.
Matt likes to think he has the power in this situation, considering he was the one getting his dick sucked, but ask him for anything while such a thing was happening, and he'd hand over his soul. The power rested in Brian's talented fingers, quite literally in fact, as he reached up to tug gently on the other's balls, rolling them and groaning around the length in his mouth as Matt's hand pulled at an almost painful angle. See, the reactions he wrung from Matt were the most fun part. Let's face it, not many people like a giant cock in their mouths, or their hair being ripped out by the roots. Giving pleasure, and getting an honest, carnal response in return was the golden ticket for Brian. Of course, his other hand straying down his own pants wasn't a terrible thing. Matt's noises would turn the most celibate of monks into masturbating fiends. His hips canted forwards to shove himself further down the guitarist's willing throat, the words he was attempting to utter turned into incoherent dirty ramblings. As a tongue played with the sensitive vein, and teased at the base of his cock, Matt's breathing became erratic. Considering he was frequently caught of a variety of everyday objects in his mouth, and forced into many a venue closet, Brian knew the singer was nearly there, but made no move to further along his own pleasure; he simply sucked hard at the tip and swirled his tongue around the ridge, raking his nails along Matt's inner thigh. Hair was audibly pulled from head as Matt cried out, arching hard against the plastic wall and shot down Brian's throat. The kneeling man sucked until the spasms halted, then used his tongue to clean off his lover. Strong hands lifted under his arms and Matt's warm lips collided with his wet ones, chasing the taste of himself through the other's mouth.
"Sorry 'bout your hair, didn't mean to." Matt's cheeks flushed as he regained his breathing.
Brian raised an eyebrow and tilted his head down, looking at his own erection, "'S not what I'm worried about."
Expecting another "sorry", Brian had a quick second of feeling like he was on a tilt-a-whirl before he was slammed back against his lover's chest. "Ah! Dammit Matt, can NOT manhandle me for once?"
A low chuckle sounded in his ear, lips brushing the skin on his neck, right below Brian's tattoo. "You know you like it, baby boy. Love when I shove you against the wall, hard cock pressing against your ass." The hand that had formerly tugged on the guitarist's hair was now opening his jeans and reaching for his dick.
As it wrapped around the hard length and pumped slow and deliberate, Brian had a hard time choking out, "Don't fucking call..nrgghme thaaa..shit."
Matt chuckled again, catching an earlobe between his teeth and pulling gently. As he flicked his wrist, he growled again, and sunk his teeth into the tendons at the back of Brian's neck. A sigh fell from parted lips as the smaller man's head fell to the side, allowing Matt further access. He kissed along a graceful jaw-line, sucking deeply to mark the man as his own, then bit down harshly, grinning at the groan that reverberated back at them from the wall. As Brian's fingers clawed at said wall and curled onto themselves, Matt increased speed and pressure on the cock in his hand, biting right onto the almost hidden tattoo as Brian echoed his earlier cry and spilled onto Matt's hand and the wall.
"Sir? Are you alright in there?" The melodic voice of the stewardess was coupled with a polite knocking.
After jumping out of their skins, Brian leaned his head back to whisper in Matt's ear, "Does she know that there are two 'Sir's in here?"
Matt laughed and said aloud, "Just fine, Ma'am. Sorry, lost my footing. Be out in a minute."
"Alright, be careful in there."
and that said, I am SO late in getting ready for social life with 12-pack/Dave, so BAI!
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Rating: NC-17. PWP, blowjobs, handjobs, swearing.
Disclaimer: if I owned them, you'd be the first to know
Summary: Matt's got a bad fixation on his guitarist's mouth. Also, he's bored. Good Combination?
AN: for
berrysoup , who is le sick :( also, i'm sorry that i haven't updated Rock in a while, that chapter is gonna be epic hard to write, so gimme some time. i swearz, it'll be good.
There was something about the way Brian wrapped his mouth around anything that got Matt's blood rushing to places down south. Truth be told, the guitarist wasn't exactly shy about putting things in his mouth. Mikes, Picks, Tootsie pops (God help them all if it was a red one. Matt liked red a lot), beer bottles; pretty much anything phallic had to somehow morph into either an innocent, or entirely guilty, fellatio-a-thon.
And weirdly enough, while Matt enjoyed the display that his paramour put on just to get him riled up, it was the innocent oh-damn-I-need-my-hands-for-something else moments he really liked. Because usually it meant that Brian was concentrating on something, and damn if that boy wasn't pretty when he was thinkin'. Then after, when he took whatever it was from between those, well okay, for lack of a better term, sinful lips, and his tongue darted out and swiped across, Matt was left a slobbering mass wherever they were. Which, unfortunately, usually was side-stage at a show after yet another Synyster Gates Solo Extravaganza. Never was the singer so jealous of a guitar pick. Or the fans that jumped wildly to catch them. Due to Matt's inability to think straight after visiting his own mental porn site, he usually had to go over the next song a fair few times to remember exactly what he was singing.
The best times were when they were all just hanging out; working, traveling, socializing, and Matt could just yank a handful of Brian's shirt and steer them into the nearest dark corner, growling the dirtiest of words that he knew would get the shorter man just as hard as he himself was from the display.
One such occurrence happened while on the plane from Chicago to Dublin. Cross Atlantic flights were never fun, boring as all fuck, and if one thought too hard on the subject, scary as hell. Thus Matt was watching his band-mates, seeing what they were doing to keep the boredom/terror at bay. Johnny, who probably had the best idea, had taken an Ambien after departure and stuck his headphones in his ears. Zack and Jimmy were talking about the Angel's chances this season (well, Zack was chattering on and Jimmy was "hmm"ing semi-interestedly). Brian happened to be leaning over a notebook, pen in hand, looking so focused, someone could've shouted "COCK!" and the guitarist would never even blink. But what exactly he was concentrating on, Matt will never be able to tell you. As Brian let out a frustrated huff, he bit at the pen in hand, then sucked it into his mouth, releasing it only to spit it across the fold down-table, quickly picking it back up and twirling it between the "M" and "A" of his fingers.
Luckily, they were both on the aisle, sitting across from each other. Also luckily, Brian never really held stock for the seat belts provided (logic being that if they were to crash, what the fuck was a seat belt going to do?), and had removed his as soon as the pilot said "You're-".
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Matt would've laughed a both Brian's and the paper's flail. One landed on the floor, the other stumbled up the aisle, pen flying to hit a snoring Johnny on the nose. Again, would've been hilarious if the ache in Matt's jeans hadn't been so insistent. He really thought he should've tried out for some Olympic sport when he had the tiny bathroom door opened, the both of them inside, and the "occupied" sign all nice and lit up all in the time it took Brian to utter "What the HELL, Matt?"
As they were pressed together in the small space, confusion gave way to amused understanding, feeling the hard line of Matt's dick against his thigh. "Oh. I did it again, huh?"
"Don't get all innocent, Haner. You know damn straight what that mouth does, how you get me all hard just imagining those sweet lips feel around my big cock, how you moan like a whore every time I pull your hair and fuck straight down your throat."
Lust blown eyes and a smirk to kill, Brian wasn't unaware of how badly he affected his lover. Besides, the growl that rose in the singer's throat when he was turned on was quite possibly the sexiest noise ever. How was Brian to turn that away? He darted in quick, grabbing the power before Matt could exert it, and kissed him. It wasn't that kind of dominance battle, deep throating, but a flirting tease of tongue and teeth. The kind that said exactly what kind of attention and skill Matt's dick was about to get, the kind that Brian knew would set the other man's legs to jelly.
With a smooth push and a muffled thump, Matt was against the wall and a black haired head disappeared to his navel, making quick work of his jeans and boxers. As a warm tongue traveled up the underside of his rigid cock, another thump and a groan echoed. Brian looked up, watching as Matt's adams apple bobbed and his eyes scrunched tight, already lost to the world in his pleasure. Being the curious and self-assured being he was, the guitarist enveloped the singer's tip, just to see what sounds he could wring from him. He sucked greedily, tasting the bitter pre-cum that dripped out, humming as a giant hand fisted itself into his dark coif.
Matt likes to think he has the power in this situation, considering he was the one getting his dick sucked, but ask him for anything while such a thing was happening, and he'd hand over his soul. The power rested in Brian's talented fingers, quite literally in fact, as he reached up to tug gently on the other's balls, rolling them and groaning around the length in his mouth as Matt's hand pulled at an almost painful angle. See, the reactions he wrung from Matt were the most fun part. Let's face it, not many people like a giant cock in their mouths, or their hair being ripped out by the roots. Giving pleasure, and getting an honest, carnal response in return was the golden ticket for Brian. Of course, his other hand straying down his own pants wasn't a terrible thing. Matt's noises would turn the most celibate of monks into masturbating fiends. His hips canted forwards to shove himself further down the guitarist's willing throat, the words he was attempting to utter turned into incoherent dirty ramblings. As a tongue played with the sensitive vein, and teased at the base of his cock, Matt's breathing became erratic. Considering he was frequently caught of a variety of everyday objects in his mouth, and forced into many a venue closet, Brian knew the singer was nearly there, but made no move to further along his own pleasure; he simply sucked hard at the tip and swirled his tongue around the ridge, raking his nails along Matt's inner thigh. Hair was audibly pulled from head as Matt cried out, arching hard against the plastic wall and shot down Brian's throat. The kneeling man sucked until the spasms halted, then used his tongue to clean off his lover. Strong hands lifted under his arms and Matt's warm lips collided with his wet ones, chasing the taste of himself through the other's mouth.
"Sorry 'bout your hair, didn't mean to." Matt's cheeks flushed as he regained his breathing.
Brian raised an eyebrow and tilted his head down, looking at his own erection, "'S not what I'm worried about."
Expecting another "sorry", Brian had a quick second of feeling like he was on a tilt-a-whirl before he was slammed back against his lover's chest. "Ah! Dammit Matt, can NOT manhandle me for once?"
A low chuckle sounded in his ear, lips brushing the skin on his neck, right below Brian's tattoo. "You know you like it, baby boy. Love when I shove you against the wall, hard cock pressing against your ass." The hand that had formerly tugged on the guitarist's hair was now opening his jeans and reaching for his dick.
As it wrapped around the hard length and pumped slow and deliberate, Brian had a hard time choking out, "Don't fucking call..nrgghme thaaa..shit."
Matt chuckled again, catching an earlobe between his teeth and pulling gently. As he flicked his wrist, he growled again, and sunk his teeth into the tendons at the back of Brian's neck. A sigh fell from parted lips as the smaller man's head fell to the side, allowing Matt further access. He kissed along a graceful jaw-line, sucking deeply to mark the man as his own, then bit down harshly, grinning at the groan that reverberated back at them from the wall. As Brian's fingers clawed at said wall and curled onto themselves, Matt increased speed and pressure on the cock in his hand, biting right onto the almost hidden tattoo as Brian echoed his earlier cry and spilled onto Matt's hand and the wall.
"Sir? Are you alright in there?" The melodic voice of the stewardess was coupled with a polite knocking.
After jumping out of their skins, Brian leaned his head back to whisper in Matt's ear, "Does she know that there are two 'Sir's in here?"
Matt laughed and said aloud, "Just fine, Ma'am. Sorry, lost my footing. Be out in a minute."
"Alright, be careful in there."
and that said, I am SO late in getting ready for social life with 12-pack/Dave, so BAI!