Multiship 1-sentence meme: 2 fills
This is pretty old, now, but I thought I'd post them here before I forgot all about them!
Rating: R
Word count: 600
Prompt: drag queen!Mike, Tina dressing him up, for naderegen .
“Try and hold still.”
Tina’s voice is soft and patient, but it’s the third time in five minutes she’s had to ask him. “Sorry,” he says. “It feels weird.”
“But just think how pretty you’ll look when I’m done,” Tina says, and it should be teasing, but the words come out slow and husky in that low voice of hers, and it’s actually hot. He swallows.
“These eyelashes feel weird,” he says. “You promise they’re not gonna rip off my real eyelashes, right?”
“I promise. Just think how fun it’ll be. How are your fake orgasm noises?”
“My - huh?” Mike jerks in surprise, and Tina sighs as the eyeliner skates over his temple.
He can hear how hard she’s trying not to laugh as she wipes away the mistake. “You’re a Rocky Horror virgin, Mike,” she says, like it’s obvious. “The theatre we’re going to does fake orgasms for their virgin sacrifices, ever since two years ago that girl choked on her banana and almost died.”
Mike doesn’t get about ninety percent of that. “I have to fake an orgasm?” he guesses. He hears the snap of a lid and then Tina’s hands, warm and soft, brushing his hairline and cupping his cheek.
“You’ll do just fine. Eyes open, please?”
Mike opens his eyes, fluttering them a bit from the weight of the fake eyelashes. Tina smiles, bright and open and startling in her crimson lipstick. “Oh, wow,” she says, long and almost a sigh, and he smiles back at her, uncertain. She sounds appreciative though. “Okay, turn around.”
He turns, and she runs his hands along his shoulders and then down his back to the corset laces she has loosely tied, only tight enough to hold it around his waist. “Ready?”
He nods, one hand gripping the edge of her bathroom counter and the other wrapped around the towel rack.
She starts to pull, tightening each row slowly enough to give him time to get used to it. It steals his breath a little at first, but it’s not painful. It’s just… weird. Very weird. She’s not lacing it all that tight, he knows, but it’s a new and alien sensation.
“Are you okay, baby?”
And with the bind of the corset, and the heels that have his feet and calves aching in a strangely pleasant way (satisfying, like the feeling of having just had a good work-out), and the smell of makeup and hairspray everywhere, suddenly that word - baby - she’s said it to him a thousand times but suddenly, here, now, it sounds dirty. The black leather shorts he’s wearing are unforgiving on his suddenly hardening cock; he shifts his weight to the other foot, his whole body tense with the effort of staying balanced in these heels.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out a little rough and - kind of embarrassingly breathy. “I think maybe… you should help me practise for the virgin sacrifice, though. Only not so fake.”
Tina laughs, delighted, and she steps forward, pressing herself against his back, her hands sliding round to his front and into his shorts. “Really,” she says, pushing the waistband just over his hipbones, and he lets out a broken moan, because he can’t gather up the words to encourage her.
“I knew you’d look gorgeous like this,” she says. “Oh, wait - face the mirror.” Her hands on his hips twist, insistent, and they turn to see him, eyes dark with liner and shadow and lips a shock of deep red, shining and sharp against his skin. “Oh, Mike,” she says, and he tries to think of a response, but then she’s dragging the shorts down and pulling him free and he can’t speak at all.
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 800
Prompt: Puck/Lauren, orgasm denial, for devonwood.
“What are you wearing right now?”
Lauren’s laughter is sharp in his ear, with that edge that always makes him sit up straight. Except for now, because he couldn’t sit up right now if he tried. But the danger in it makes him freeze, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “Really, Puckerman? The ‘what are you wearing’ line? I’m going to have to start charging for these nightly chats.”
It makes him nervous when she says stuff like that. It might be sick and wrong but what’s a guy to do when she’s always teasing the way she does? He’d tried this one night and she didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask him about the groan he hadn’t been able to keep in when he came. So he kept it up.
“I’m just trying to get a clear picture,” Puck says, kind of in awe of his own badassness. Lauren could definitely beat him up for this type of talk. He risks moving again.
Lauren hums, deep and thoughtful, and it makes him jerk off harder, faster. “PJs,” she says at last. “They’re black.”
Puck has no idea if she means the sexy kind of PJs or a nightgown from the 1800’s but it really, really doesn’t matter. The PJs are so not the point here.
He pictures them satiny, though - a button-up shirt and pants, shiny and smooth to the touch. She keeps talking, telling him about the newest vampire novel she’s reading, and he keeps jerking off. Her voice is slow and throaty and he really hopes to God he’ll hear her talk dirty one day, because all she’s doing is plotting out some shitty teen book and he’s had to tilt the phone so the mouthpiece is away from his mouth because he’s starting to breath harder and he’s terrified she’ll hear. He pictures her in his bed now, thinking about how her candy-red lips would look around his cock, or just kissing the head - and she would start that way, barely touching, just to tease him. She’d look up at him with those sharp eyes and smirk, waiting for him to beg, to lose it, to prove that he’s hers-
“Not yet, Puckerman,” Lauren says suddenly, and Puck freezes, his whole body tensing up. He doesn’t even breathe. Lauren chuckles. “Exactly how dumb do you think I am?”
Puck can’t answer. His free hand, still holding the phone, shifts it straight so he could talk into the mouthpiece again, but he has nothing to say. He’s a dead man.
“Calm down, you big baby, I’m not going to kick your ass over this,” Lauren says. “I’m just telling you not to come yet. You’re jerking off over me, the least you could do is do it on my terms.”
Puck swallows, loud and a little painful. “Okay,” he croaks.
“Okay,” Lauren says, satisfied. “So you’ve got me curious, Puckerman. What were you thinking about?”
“You,” Puck answers, cautiously. The sigh Lauren gives tells him that’s not nearly enough information. “You… in my bed.”
“And what am I doing in your bed?” Lauren’s tone says she thinks he’s an idiot, or she’s just incredibly bored with him. It doesn’t matter, though, because he can’t even believe she wants to know this stuff.
He thinks about lying, because he doesn’t think she’ll like hearing that he’s picturing her blowing him. As fantasies goes, it’s probably not respectful. It’s not candlelight and the missionary position or some romantic shit like that. But he tells the truth in the end. “Sucking me off. But you’re not. You’re teasing me, acting like you’re going to and just starting to - put your mouth on me, but you-” He cuts himself off, not sure where to go from here.
“Well, that does sound like me,” Lauren says. She’s sounding totally unaffected by this whole thing.
There’s a pause. “What are you doing?” Puck asks, his voice raspy with the frustration of holding back.
“Painting my nails,” Lauren says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “All right, Puckerman. You’ve got sixty seconds to come, starting now.”
Puck doesn’t ask what’ll happen if he doesn’t make it. Sixty seconds is totally enough time, with his fantasy-Lauren flicking her tongue over the head of his cock and real-Lauren breathing in his ear, listening to him panting as he races to keep to her schedule.
“Good boy,” she says - purrs, really, when he’s fumbling for the Kleenex box on his bedside table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Puckerman.” There’s a moment of silence while he tries to catch his breath, and then she says, “And just so you know - there is some lace involved in these PJs.”
Puck lies there, gasping for air, long after she’s hung up on him.