In the Dark of Night: PWP, Angst, NC-17
In the darkness of the bedroom with the lights turned off and the window shades pulled closed, Sidney can pretend that this is isn’t so wrong. That the lean form fixated between his legs isn’t a male younger by two years, just barely legal; that he doesn’t know him, that he’s just another face, just another set of hands and lips. Just a quick fuck, later to be dismissed and forgotten, leaving him to continue with his not-entirely-voluntary vault into the public eye where lights burned your flesh and tore open your chest and left you on display; left you open to any shot that anyone wanted to take.
Except he knows all too well this particular set of hands. This mouth, this tongue, this husky voice. This body, with its curves and flat panes; its scars and smoothness. And even as the darkness assists him in pretending it also strips him of the lies he tells himself, and he can’t pretend that this isn’t exactly what he wants.
“More,” he gasps, arching his back and pushing up with his hips, chanting. “More-more-more…”
Lush lips wrap around his cock, a devilishly talented tongue curling around his shaft. Sidney moans and sighs; reaches down half-consciously to plunge his fingers into soft hair he knows is blond but the lack of lighting bleaches into white. He rocks his hips up and that heated mouth pulls away, only to return at the base of his dick, tongue dragging a burning line from balls-to-tip, lapping at the head like a lollipop. The allegory, with its faint implication of innocence, has his eyes rolling into the back of his head; has him coming with a keening cry. That greedy mouth swallows all he has to give and more, licking at his softening cock, cleaning him of any semen that may have dribbled out from between pale-pink lips.
As he lays there staring at the nearly-black ceiling, coming down from his high and panting for breath, kisses are placed below his bellybutton, against his chest, against his neck, until they reach his mouth. With what energy he has left he returns the searching kiss, tasting himself within it.
“Shouldn’t be here, Jordan,” he murmurs. “Shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Try saying that when I’ve got my lips wrapped around your cock, and I’ll believe you mean it,” Jordan whispers back, hot against his ear. Sidney shivers at the tone, at the words, and cups his hand around the back of Jordan’s neck, drawing him closer, pressing their lips together once more. Jordan controls the kiss, tangling their tongues together, his hand creeping up to curl around Sidney’s shoulder. He rocks his hips, methodically, sliding their cocks against each other until Sidney’s growing impossibly hard again.
Sidney groans; a little helplessly, a little laughing, a lot giving in. He slides his hands to settle at Jordan’s hips, one going further, teasing along the crack of his ass. Jordan growls and thrusts harder, and when Sidney works one finger inside of him, to the knuckle, he sinks his teeth into the flesh of his teammate’s jaw. Sidney’s fingers are slicked only by sweat but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to withdraw in order to find the bottle of lube. He likes it this way, Jordan’s mouth working over his neck, his fingers deep inside of Jordan eliciting sharp moans and gasping whimpers and hands clawing at his shoulders. He likes the rough slide of skin against skin, rasping enough to provide pleasurable friction; harsh enough to provide a little thrill of pain.
Jordan’s legs are trembling on either side of him as the younger man rocks back onto his fingers, and Sidney feels the building heat fast rushing through his bloodstream. Jordan pants against his neck and he sucks in air with the desperation of a drowning man, friction and heat and the little noises of ecstasy Jordan is making enough to drive him crazy, and completely over the edge. He comes again between them with a hoarse shout, shoving his fingers deep and hard, causing Jordan to throw back his head and scream his orgasm to the world, sweat glistening on his skin, little trickles trailing down his sides. He collapses atop of Sidney, a heavy weight, and whimpers a bit when Sidney withdraws his fingers.
“ ‘Shouldn’t be doing this’ my fucking ass,” Jordan mumbles against his shoulder, still demanding, still grasping for control even as he lies limp and well-fucked across Sidney’s body. “If you tell me you didn’t want that I’ll punch you across the nose, Crosby.”
The darkness is comforting; a blanketing black of sleepy night. Sidney’s lips turn up a bit at the underlying, endearing hint of fear in Jordan’s voice, the fear of him leaving, and he strokes his fingers through sweaty blond hair.
“I want it,” he admits to the darkness of the room. “I want you.”
“Damn right,” Jordan mutters, burying his nose in the crook of neck-and-shoulder, exhaling a breath he apparently hadn’t known he had been holding. Sidney continues running his fingers across the younger man’s flesh, gently soothing, silently contemplating. Reveling in a burn that has nothing to do with cameras or videos or voice recorders, but everything to do with a young man with piercing blue eyes and a shock of blond hair; with the unquestioning acceptance he receives from him when he is forced to deal with autographs-interviews-pictures-television shoots.
The night wraps around him and Jordan wraps around him and there, away from the bright flashes of camera clicks and media attention, Sidney finds soothing slumber.
And, peace.
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Except he knows all too well this particular set of hands. This mouth, this tongue, this husky voice. This body, with its curves and flat panes; its scars and smoothness. And even as the darkness assists him in pretending it also strips him of the lies he tells himself, and he can’t pretend that this isn’t exactly what he wants.
“More,” he gasps, arching his back and pushing up with his hips, chanting. “More-more-more…”
Lush lips wrap around his cock, a devilishly talented tongue curling around his shaft. Sidney moans and sighs; reaches down half-consciously to plunge his fingers into soft hair he knows is blond but the lack of lighting bleaches into white. He rocks his hips up and that heated mouth pulls away, only to return at the base of his dick, tongue dragging a burning line from balls-to-tip, lapping at the head like a lollipop. The allegory, with its faint implication of innocence, has his eyes rolling into the back of his head; has him coming with a keening cry. That greedy mouth swallows all he has to give and more, licking at his softening cock, cleaning him of any semen that may have dribbled out from between pale-pink lips.
As he lays there staring at the nearly-black ceiling, coming down from his high and panting for breath, kisses are placed below his bellybutton, against his chest, against his neck, until they reach his mouth. With what energy he has left he returns the searching kiss, tasting himself within it.
“Shouldn’t be here, Jordan,” he murmurs. “Shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Try saying that when I’ve got my lips wrapped around your cock, and I’ll believe you mean it,” Jordan whispers back, hot against his ear. Sidney shivers at the tone, at the words, and cups his hand around the back of Jordan’s neck, drawing him closer, pressing their lips together once more. Jordan controls the kiss, tangling their tongues together, his hand creeping up to curl around Sidney’s shoulder. He rocks his hips, methodically, sliding their cocks against each other until Sidney’s growing impossibly hard again.
Sidney groans; a little helplessly, a little laughing, a lot giving in. He slides his hands to settle at Jordan’s hips, one going further, teasing along the crack of his ass. Jordan growls and thrusts harder, and when Sidney works one finger inside of him, to the knuckle, he sinks his teeth into the flesh of his teammate’s jaw. Sidney’s fingers are slicked only by sweat but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to withdraw in order to find the bottle of lube. He likes it this way, Jordan’s mouth working over his neck, his fingers deep inside of Jordan eliciting sharp moans and gasping whimpers and hands clawing at his shoulders. He likes the rough slide of skin against skin, rasping enough to provide pleasurable friction; harsh enough to provide a little thrill of pain.
Jordan’s legs are trembling on either side of him as the younger man rocks back onto his fingers, and Sidney feels the building heat fast rushing through his bloodstream. Jordan pants against his neck and he sucks in air with the desperation of a drowning man, friction and heat and the little noises of ecstasy Jordan is making enough to drive him crazy, and completely over the edge. He comes again between them with a hoarse shout, shoving his fingers deep and hard, causing Jordan to throw back his head and scream his orgasm to the world, sweat glistening on his skin, little trickles trailing down his sides. He collapses atop of Sidney, a heavy weight, and whimpers a bit when Sidney withdraws his fingers.
“ ‘Shouldn’t be doing this’ my fucking ass,” Jordan mumbles against his shoulder, still demanding, still grasping for control even as he lies limp and well-fucked across Sidney’s body. “If you tell me you didn’t want that I’ll punch you across the nose, Crosby.”
The darkness is comforting; a blanketing black of sleepy night. Sidney’s lips turn up a bit at the underlying, endearing hint of fear in Jordan’s voice, the fear of him leaving, and he strokes his fingers through sweaty blond hair.
“I want it,” he admits to the darkness of the room. “I want you.”
“Damn right,” Jordan mutters, burying his nose in the crook of neck-and-shoulder, exhaling a breath he apparently hadn’t known he had been holding. Sidney continues running his fingers across the younger man’s flesh, gently soothing, silently contemplating. Reveling in a burn that has nothing to do with cameras or videos or voice recorders, but everything to do with a young man with piercing blue eyes and a shock of blond hair; with the unquestioning acceptance he receives from him when he is forced to deal with autographs-interviews-pictures-television shoots.
The night wraps around him and Jordan wraps around him and there, away from the bright flashes of camera clicks and media attention, Sidney finds soothing slumber.
And, peace.
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