pieces form the whole.
Title: Pieces Form The Whole
Author: kissoffools/wakeyourheart
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Jesse never expected it would happen, but here, with Andrew right up against him and his hands on Andrew’s waist, he realizes there’s no way it wouldn’t. This, he thinks, is the inevitable."
Disclaimer: Real people, fake story. Just go with it.
Notes: Diving into the RPF side of the Social Network fandom! Written for novelized, of all people, as part of my comment fic meme! Word Count: 1,771. Someone should take Microsoft Word away from me. The prompt was "Jesse/Andrew first time sex", so that is precisely what you're getting!
This, Jesse thinks for a fleeting second as he’s pressed against the door of a walk-in closet, is the last thing he’d expected from today.
The day flashes by in pieces, his mind barely able to keep hold of an image for more than a few moments thanks to Andrew’s lips against his neck. Jesse remembers a red carpet, microphones, tossing out whatever words come to his head first and trying not to trip as he stumbles along behind Andrew and Armie. He remembers the starched collar of his shirt rubbing the skin of his neck the wrong way and the cameras flashing in his eyes, more lenses than he could ever dream of trying to look into. He remembers the full Windsor of Andrew’s tie.
He remembers this, too, he thinks as Andrew scrapes his teeth along his collarbone. They’ve only done this once, during the wrap party as they headed into the wee hours of the morning, the booze keeping them both upright. Jesse never expected it would happen again, but here, with Andrew right up against him and his hands on Andrew’s waist, he realizes there’s no way it wouldn’t. This, he thinks, is the inevitable.
“You okay?” Andrew asks, panting as he straightens up a little. His eyes search Jesse’s, ready to back off in an instant if Jesse says no, don’t, get away from me, but Jesse doesn’t. He doesn’t say no because his brain’s too busy trying to figure out how to say god, yes. So he reaches up to kiss Andrew again, urgent and messy, and figures that’ll be good enough. Andrew will know what to do with that one.
Andrew’s fingers skirt down his chest and tug at the hem of his dress shirt, and Jesse doesn’t even remember losing his jacket when he feels Andrew tugging at his shirt buttons. There isn’t much he can do but hold onto Andrew’s tie, trying not to pull too hard but sort of enjoying the way Andrew’s breaths come in pants as he gets the last of the buttons undone. And then Andrew’s pushing the shirt off his shoulders and Jesse can’t help but tense nervously. Andrew’s been training for Spiderman, Jesse knows that, and he knows full well that his own body is pale and scrawny. His own body is no match for Spiderman’s, for fuck’s sake, and he wishes he were wearing an undershirt.
But then Andrew’s fingers dig into his hipbones and he presses a light kiss against Jesse’s lips. It’s tender and caring and so unexpected that Jesse’s eyes fly open to meet Andrew’s. “Stop worrying,” Andrew assures him, and really, would anyone blame him for growing hard at that accent? “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
How does Andrew do that?
“No, I’m really not,” Jesse counters before he can stop himself, his voice wavering a little as Andrew’s hand runs over his waistband and comes to rest on his belt buckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the inside of a gym and I really don’t like sports. Or the outdoors. And I read this thing once about how even ten minutes in the sun can lead to skin cancer and I don’t want to die before I’m sixty, so I mostly stay inside and even when I’m outside I usually wear sunscreen, because it’s just -”
“Jesse,” Andrew says, cutting him off. One of Andrew’s large hands curls around the back of Jesse’s neck, and it’s warm and comforting and actually seems to fit, for some reason. Andrew’s eyes are wide open and focused in on his own. When Andrew speaks, his voice is firm. “Stop worrying.”
And with that look in his eyes, Andrew may as well have said “It’s all okay, I’ve got you. This is good, this means something; we’re going to be okay. I’m taking care of you.” because Jesse immediately believes it. He believes in Andrew, he believes in the two of them, and he actually believes that this is all going to turn out okay.
Go figure.
Jesse has never done this before - oh, sure, he’s fooled around in closets at parties before. He was a teenager once, after all - but he’s never done this with another guy before, and he honestly has no idea if Andrew has, either. But Andrew’s fingers aren’t shaking as he removes Jesse’s pants, so Jesse figures that either means he has experience in this area or he’s just really, really sure about this. Jesse doesn’t say so out loud, but he kind of hopes it’s the latter.
His pants are down over his hips and Andrew’s palming him through his boxers, Jesse’s eyes pressing shut as he tries to compose himself for one fucking second. He might come right now if he isn’t careful, and that’s the most embarrassing thing in the world because Andrew hasn’t even really touched him yet. He really needs to focus.
My grandmother’s furniture. My… cats. Multivitamins. Armie Hammer.
And actually, thinking about Armie almost works, because Armie’s big and intimidating and so not his type, but then he feels a tug on his boxers and Andrew’s hand wraps around him.
“Shit,” Jesse hisses, and he opens his eyes to find Andrew smiling.
“How’s that feel?” Andrew asks in a low voice, and Jesse huffs out a laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”
Jesse reaches out and tugs the bottom of Andrew’s shirt, untucking it from his dress pants. He’s standing here almost naked, for god’s sake - Andrew may as well join him.
“No, don’t worry about it,” Andrew whispers, leaning forward to graze his teeth across Jesse’s jaw. Jesse’s knee shakes.
“Come on,” he urges, and that’s that. Andrew steps back for a second to shuck his clothes, letting them drop in a pile on the carpeted closet floor. He pauses to fold his jacket, which Jesse thinks is strange considering the way the rest of his clothes are already halfway to wrinkled, and he raises his eyebrows when Andrew turns back towards him.
“It’s Dolce,” Andrew explains with a shrug.
“And your pants are what - Target?”
He laughs. “Shut up and kiss me.”
And really, who is Jesse to refuse a request like that?
Jesse tenses up again when his boxers are kicked off to the side and Andrew has a hand between his legs. He knows he should relax, that this whole thing won’t hurt as much if he can just fucking calm down for two seconds, but he can’t. This isn’t some random fuck with some random girl - this is Andrew, for god’s sake. This is him and Andrew. And he may not know what all of this means, or what’s going to happen once they open that door and head back out to the party, but he sure as hell knows that he’s nervous.
Andrew kisses him then, slow and gentle, and keeps his forehead pressed right up against Jesse’s when they break for air. “If you aren’t sure, we can stop.”
“Are you?” Jesse’s words are barely there now, just the softest curve of air around the syllables that he doesn’t even mean to ask in the first place.
The fingers on Andrew’s other hand twine with his own. “You have no idea.”
Jesse’s never felt I love you before, but when the words bounce around in his own head, he finds he isn’t even all that surprised.
The nice thing about Andrew is that he’s honestly a good guy. He isn’t someone reckless or dangerous, not really, and he puts care and attention into everything he does. With someone else, Jesse would probably be feeling a lot worse - hell, he might even be feeling scared, and that really shouldn’t be the dominant emotion during sex. But he trusts Andrew more than most people that he’s known forever, and so when Andrew pushes inside him, Jesse braces his back against the wall and presses a kiss to his lips.
Andrew doesn’t move; not at first. He runs a hand through Jesse’s messy hair and keeps kissing him, soft and sweet, waiting. Jesse isn’t sure if Andrew’s more concerned about his body or his heart at this point - hell, this is Andrew. He’s probably concerned about both, and that’s kind of really fantastic. So when Jesse feels like he can breathe again without whimpering from the pain, he pulls his lips away from Andrew’s and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Okay,” Jesse says quietly, “move.”
He won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt, because fuck does it ever. But he wants this to be good and he wants to hear more of those little gasps fall from Andrew’s lips, so he presses his forehead against Andrew’s bare shoulder, mouth open as he pants and waits.
And - there. Fuck. He isn’t sure what Andrew did, but it felt like a twist of his hips sent a jolt of electricity up Jesse’s spine, and yes, he actually liked that quite a lot.
“Do that again,” he urges, his voice shaking just a little, and when Andrew does, Jesse’s teeth sink into his shoulder.
He doesn’t know how long they’re there for, two minutes or ten or twenty as they rock against each other. His eyes mostly stay closed as he moans quietly against Andrew’s skin, but he manages to choke out a “Fuck” when Andrew’s hand wraps around his cock again. He has no idea how long they’ve been gone from the party and he has no idea if anyone’s missing them, but he does know that he doesn’t give one shit about everyone on the other side of that door.
Andrew’s name, broken and breathy, is on his lips when he comes. And he can’t help the smile that crosses his face when he hears Andrew groan “Jesse”, too.
“You all right?” Andrew asks after he’s pulled out, a hand coming up to cup the back of Jesse’s neck. Jesse knows his hairline is damp from sweat and he feels a little bad about that, but it isn’t exactly like there’s anywhere handy to freshen up so he figures he probably shouldn’t worry too much.
“Trying to walk is going to be fun.”
“God, Jesse, I’m sorry.” Up close, Jesse can see the worry cross Andrew’s eyes.
“Don’t be, you moron.” Jesse reaches up just a little so he can drop a kiss on Andrew’s lips, tapping a finger against Andrew’s chest. He doesn’t say out loud what that means, but he has a funny feeling that Andrew knows anyway. Andrew’s good at that. “Don’t ever be sorry for something like this.”
end.
Author: kissoffools/wakeyourheart
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Jesse never expected it would happen, but here, with Andrew right up against him and his hands on Andrew’s waist, he realizes there’s no way it wouldn’t. This, he thinks, is the inevitable."
Disclaimer: Real people, fake story. Just go with it.
Notes: Diving into the RPF side of the Social Network fandom! Written for novelized, of all people, as part of my comment fic meme! Word Count: 1,771. Someone should take Microsoft Word away from me. The prompt was "Jesse/Andrew first time sex", so that is precisely what you're getting!
This, Jesse thinks for a fleeting second as he’s pressed against the door of a walk-in closet, is the last thing he’d expected from today.
The day flashes by in pieces, his mind barely able to keep hold of an image for more than a few moments thanks to Andrew’s lips against his neck. Jesse remembers a red carpet, microphones, tossing out whatever words come to his head first and trying not to trip as he stumbles along behind Andrew and Armie. He remembers the starched collar of his shirt rubbing the skin of his neck the wrong way and the cameras flashing in his eyes, more lenses than he could ever dream of trying to look into. He remembers the full Windsor of Andrew’s tie.
He remembers this, too, he thinks as Andrew scrapes his teeth along his collarbone. They’ve only done this once, during the wrap party as they headed into the wee hours of the morning, the booze keeping them both upright. Jesse never expected it would happen again, but here, with Andrew right up against him and his hands on Andrew’s waist, he realizes there’s no way it wouldn’t. This, he thinks, is the inevitable.
“You okay?” Andrew asks, panting as he straightens up a little. His eyes search Jesse’s, ready to back off in an instant if Jesse says no, don’t, get away from me, but Jesse doesn’t. He doesn’t say no because his brain’s too busy trying to figure out how to say god, yes. So he reaches up to kiss Andrew again, urgent and messy, and figures that’ll be good enough. Andrew will know what to do with that one.
Andrew’s fingers skirt down his chest and tug at the hem of his dress shirt, and Jesse doesn’t even remember losing his jacket when he feels Andrew tugging at his shirt buttons. There isn’t much he can do but hold onto Andrew’s tie, trying not to pull too hard but sort of enjoying the way Andrew’s breaths come in pants as he gets the last of the buttons undone. And then Andrew’s pushing the shirt off his shoulders and Jesse can’t help but tense nervously. Andrew’s been training for Spiderman, Jesse knows that, and he knows full well that his own body is pale and scrawny. His own body is no match for Spiderman’s, for fuck’s sake, and he wishes he were wearing an undershirt.
But then Andrew’s fingers dig into his hipbones and he presses a light kiss against Jesse’s lips. It’s tender and caring and so unexpected that Jesse’s eyes fly open to meet Andrew’s. “Stop worrying,” Andrew assures him, and really, would anyone blame him for growing hard at that accent? “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
How does Andrew do that?
“No, I’m really not,” Jesse counters before he can stop himself, his voice wavering a little as Andrew’s hand runs over his waistband and comes to rest on his belt buckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the inside of a gym and I really don’t like sports. Or the outdoors. And I read this thing once about how even ten minutes in the sun can lead to skin cancer and I don’t want to die before I’m sixty, so I mostly stay inside and even when I’m outside I usually wear sunscreen, because it’s just -”
“Jesse,” Andrew says, cutting him off. One of Andrew’s large hands curls around the back of Jesse’s neck, and it’s warm and comforting and actually seems to fit, for some reason. Andrew’s eyes are wide open and focused in on his own. When Andrew speaks, his voice is firm. “Stop worrying.”
And with that look in his eyes, Andrew may as well have said “It’s all okay, I’ve got you. This is good, this means something; we’re going to be okay. I’m taking care of you.” because Jesse immediately believes it. He believes in Andrew, he believes in the two of them, and he actually believes that this is all going to turn out okay.
Go figure.
Jesse has never done this before - oh, sure, he’s fooled around in closets at parties before. He was a teenager once, after all - but he’s never done this with another guy before, and he honestly has no idea if Andrew has, either. But Andrew’s fingers aren’t shaking as he removes Jesse’s pants, so Jesse figures that either means he has experience in this area or he’s just really, really sure about this. Jesse doesn’t say so out loud, but he kind of hopes it’s the latter.
His pants are down over his hips and Andrew’s palming him through his boxers, Jesse’s eyes pressing shut as he tries to compose himself for one fucking second. He might come right now if he isn’t careful, and that’s the most embarrassing thing in the world because Andrew hasn’t even really touched him yet. He really needs to focus.
My grandmother’s furniture. My… cats. Multivitamins. Armie Hammer.
And actually, thinking about Armie almost works, because Armie’s big and intimidating and so not his type, but then he feels a tug on his boxers and Andrew’s hand wraps around him.
“Shit,” Jesse hisses, and he opens his eyes to find Andrew smiling.
“How’s that feel?” Andrew asks in a low voice, and Jesse huffs out a laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”
Jesse reaches out and tugs the bottom of Andrew’s shirt, untucking it from his dress pants. He’s standing here almost naked, for god’s sake - Andrew may as well join him.
“No, don’t worry about it,” Andrew whispers, leaning forward to graze his teeth across Jesse’s jaw. Jesse’s knee shakes.
“Come on,” he urges, and that’s that. Andrew steps back for a second to shuck his clothes, letting them drop in a pile on the carpeted closet floor. He pauses to fold his jacket, which Jesse thinks is strange considering the way the rest of his clothes are already halfway to wrinkled, and he raises his eyebrows when Andrew turns back towards him.
“It’s Dolce,” Andrew explains with a shrug.
“And your pants are what - Target?”
He laughs. “Shut up and kiss me.”
And really, who is Jesse to refuse a request like that?
Jesse tenses up again when his boxers are kicked off to the side and Andrew has a hand between his legs. He knows he should relax, that this whole thing won’t hurt as much if he can just fucking calm down for two seconds, but he can’t. This isn’t some random fuck with some random girl - this is Andrew, for god’s sake. This is him and Andrew. And he may not know what all of this means, or what’s going to happen once they open that door and head back out to the party, but he sure as hell knows that he’s nervous.
Andrew kisses him then, slow and gentle, and keeps his forehead pressed right up against Jesse’s when they break for air. “If you aren’t sure, we can stop.”
“Are you?” Jesse’s words are barely there now, just the softest curve of air around the syllables that he doesn’t even mean to ask in the first place.
The fingers on Andrew’s other hand twine with his own. “You have no idea.”
Jesse’s never felt I love you before, but when the words bounce around in his own head, he finds he isn’t even all that surprised.
The nice thing about Andrew is that he’s honestly a good guy. He isn’t someone reckless or dangerous, not really, and he puts care and attention into everything he does. With someone else, Jesse would probably be feeling a lot worse - hell, he might even be feeling scared, and that really shouldn’t be the dominant emotion during sex. But he trusts Andrew more than most people that he’s known forever, and so when Andrew pushes inside him, Jesse braces his back against the wall and presses a kiss to his lips.
Andrew doesn’t move; not at first. He runs a hand through Jesse’s messy hair and keeps kissing him, soft and sweet, waiting. Jesse isn’t sure if Andrew’s more concerned about his body or his heart at this point - hell, this is Andrew. He’s probably concerned about both, and that’s kind of really fantastic. So when Jesse feels like he can breathe again without whimpering from the pain, he pulls his lips away from Andrew’s and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Okay,” Jesse says quietly, “move.”
He won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt, because fuck does it ever. But he wants this to be good and he wants to hear more of those little gasps fall from Andrew’s lips, so he presses his forehead against Andrew’s bare shoulder, mouth open as he pants and waits.
And - there. Fuck. He isn’t sure what Andrew did, but it felt like a twist of his hips sent a jolt of electricity up Jesse’s spine, and yes, he actually liked that quite a lot.
“Do that again,” he urges, his voice shaking just a little, and when Andrew does, Jesse’s teeth sink into his shoulder.
He doesn’t know how long they’re there for, two minutes or ten or twenty as they rock against each other. His eyes mostly stay closed as he moans quietly against Andrew’s skin, but he manages to choke out a “Fuck” when Andrew’s hand wraps around his cock again. He has no idea how long they’ve been gone from the party and he has no idea if anyone’s missing them, but he does know that he doesn’t give one shit about everyone on the other side of that door.
Andrew’s name, broken and breathy, is on his lips when he comes. And he can’t help the smile that crosses his face when he hears Andrew groan “Jesse”, too.
“You all right?” Andrew asks after he’s pulled out, a hand coming up to cup the back of Jesse’s neck. Jesse knows his hairline is damp from sweat and he feels a little bad about that, but it isn’t exactly like there’s anywhere handy to freshen up so he figures he probably shouldn’t worry too much.
“Trying to walk is going to be fun.”
“God, Jesse, I’m sorry.” Up close, Jesse can see the worry cross Andrew’s eyes.
“Don’t be, you moron.” Jesse reaches up just a little so he can drop a kiss on Andrew’s lips, tapping a finger against Andrew’s chest. He doesn’t say out loud what that means, but he has a funny feeling that Andrew knows anyway. Andrew’s good at that. “Don’t ever be sorry for something like this.”
end.