Fic: Looking for a spark (RPF, Nick Jonas/his hand, Nick/Selena, NC-17)
Title: Looking for a spark
Fandom: Jonas Brothers RPF
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Nick/his imagination, some Nick/Selena
Warnings: impregnation kink, a 16-year-old masturbating
Summary: Nick likes thinking about knocking girls up. He likes it a whole lot.
Notes: I started writing this for a kink meme prompt about a million years ago because I think it is a stupidly hot idea. It, uh, has no plot or coherent structure, as you might expect from something originally written for a kink meme. Title and cut-text from Peter Gabriel, "I Have the Touch." Unbetaed, 2057 words.
Nick looks at the glob of come caught between his thumb and forefinger and thinks, "That could be a baby." It's not a new thought, it's something he's been turning over and over in his mind practically since he hit puberty, but now that there are girls flirting with him all the time, offering to do things with him that make Nick blush, the idea feels more real, heady and powerful. Potent. It wouldn't be hard to knock a girl up. Every spurt of his come has so much potential, and Nick imagines how it would feel to get off inside a girl, to feel her all wet and open around him as he comes, taking every last drop of it. The moment of conception would be like a flint striking, a little spark he could almost feel with a hand low on her belly. He could make that happen, all with the goo stuck between his fingers.
***
Mom's friend Peggy is eight months pregnant with twins, and Nick watches her with carefully hidden fascination as she and Mom visit in the living room. Peggy used to babysit for them before she got married, and Nick remembers her being tall and skinny with long bangs she was always pushing out of her eyes. She must have been in her twenties, but she looked younger, like she might have fit in with Kevin's middle school friends if she hunched over a little and giggled more. And now she’s, well, huge is the only word Nick can think of. Her belly tents out the front of a bright green maternity dress, and her breasts are full and round like ripe fruit, so that the neckline seems to plunge obscenely around them when she leans forward for a sip of her iced tea.
Nick imagines putting his hands on her belly, imagines the skin smooth and drum-taut under his palms, the curve like a whole new world. He’s hard in his jeans just thinking about it, his dick hot and fat against the seam, aching. He can barely hear what they’re saying from the next room, although Mom’s laughing in a kind way, but he can’t stop watching out of the corner of his eye, Peggy’s every movement changed by the gravity of her belly.
What would it be like to touch a girl who looked like that, all round and heavy, and know that the baby inside was yours, that every single person who looked at her would know that you’d fucked her? Nick shifts on his stool at the kitchen counter. His balls feel tight and full, like he’s already closer than he should be, just looking at Peggy. He thinks how it must have been when she first knew, when it was a secret between her and her husband, before her pants got too tight in the waist and everyone could tell. He imagines how it would have felt to stroke the soft skin below her bellybutton and know that his child was growing inside her. He imagines watching her grow, a day at a time, so the change would feel sneakier, less pronounced, and then one day he might wake up and realize she was big, full up with what they’d made together.
His dick twitches uncomfortably and he knows he has to go take care of it before he creams his jeans right there at the kitchen counter. He sneaks off upstairs without saying a word to Peggy, the friendly rhythm of the conversation following him, sending a shock of guilt down his spine. But it can’t stop him from ripping his pants open as soon as his door closes, sinking to his knees on the bed and jerking frantically at his swollen dick. It only takes three strokes before he’s coming, spurting hotly onto the tangle of his bedsheets.
***
Sometimes he thinks about it when he’s with Selena, too. Selena’s mom was their age when Selena was born, and he wonders if Selena thinks about that, if she wonders what it would be like the same way he does.
He has his hands on her waist as they kiss, and she feels so small, delicate in his arms. He strokes his thumbs along her sides, rucking up her shirt until he’s touching bare skin, so soft and smooth under his fingers. She sighs and hitches closer on the couch, throwing one leg over his, almost straddling him. Nick keeps his hands on her waist, knows he can’t go any higher or lower without wandering into unexplored and probably forbidden territory. But he can touch the softness of her belly, the slight give to the skin, and no one has to know what he thinks when he does it, how he imagines her growing with his child, pictures the changing curves of her body. He would sit between her legs with his hands on the tightening skin of her belly, feel every little movement through the sweaty skin of his palms.
He hasn’t seen any pictures of Selena’s mom when she was pregnant, but he can imagine the glow of her skin, the way she must have touched her belly and been scared and excited to meet the baby growing inside her.
Nick squeezes Selena’s waist, kissing her mouth all slow and deep. If she scoots forward a little, she’ll be able to feel how hard he is. He wonders if she knows that, if she’s even aware of what she does to him, how many dirty things he thinks when they’re pressed up close together like this. Maybe she thinks them too, and she doesn’t say them. Just like he doesn’t say them. He pulls back, rests his forehead against hers.
“Is it hard for you to stop?” he asks.
“Kissing you?” says Selena. She rubs her hand up the back of his neck into his hair. “Sometimes.” She settles into his lap and kisses the corner of his mouth. Her jeans stretch tight across her thighs, and Nick can’t help looking down. He wonders if she’s wet, if kissing him turns her on the way it turns him on. He wants to put his fingers down between her legs and feel, slide them up deep like he can’t do with his dick. His ring sits heavy on his finger, but maybe she would let him, just with his fingers. Maybe she would open right up for it, hungry for him. And maybe once he got his fingers into her, she’d beg him to fuck her for real, let him inside her hot, wet cunt, let him come in her the way his dick is straining for. Forget all their promises and just do it.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, his lips slack against hers. “You’ve got that thinking face on.”
Nick’s eyes flick sideways, blush flaring across his cheekbones. “Were your parents married when your mom got pregnant?” he blurts out.
Selena’s brow furrows. “I think so. Why?”
“I just wondered. I mean, your mom was our age. Do you… do you think about that?”
She stiffens a little, like she can tell what he’s asking is dangerous, more dangerous than it seems. “I guess, but it’s not… Our lives are different.”
Nick smiles, nods sharply, making it harmless. “Totally. It’s just weird to think about.”
Nick goes home that night still jittery and turned on like usual, and when he’s finally in his own bed, he can let himself imagine Selena’s belly swelling for him, her breasts all full and heavy in his hands. He comes sloppy and fast, biting down on his fist, his dick so fat and hot in the grip of his trembling fingers. He licks the come from his hand, sucks it off his knuckles, thinking about all that wasted potential, tasting it in the salt of his come. He almost wishes he could stop jerking off altogether, wait until he has a girl ready to take him, ripe for his seed. But the last time he tried that, he just woke up humping the bed in the middle of the night. And that’s no better.
***
Nick’s sure this can’t be normal, looking at girls and having these thoughts. When Joe took him to see Juno, Joe came out talking about the characters and the funny moments and the music, and all Nick could think about was the stretch of Ellen Page’s t-shirts over the curve of her belly. He walked out of the theater hiding his hard-on behind a popcorn bucket, and nothing in the world would have made him talk to Joe about it.
That wasn’t the first time. But it’s an important moment in his mind, a moment when he knew, sharply and clearly, that he was different. When his dad sat him down to give him his sex talk, the script was already pretty much perfected from Kevin and Joe, and Nick remembers “waiting” and “responsibility” and “letting our faith inform our daily lives.” “Children are meant to be born in the context of a loving marriage,” Dad had said. “You have to remember that.” But he hadn’t said anything about the desperate heat that would claw through Nick’s insides every time he saw a pregnant woman on the street.
***
There’s this girl at one of the Administration shows, right up in the front row, and she must be about Nick’s age, but she’s so, so pregnant, her belly swaying distractingly as she dances, her pale yellow t-shirt pulling up a little. Nick’s dick chafes at the inside of his fly the whole show, fat and needy, splotching pre-come on his briefs. He grips the neck of his guitar like it’s the only thing keeping him on stage right now, and if Joe were here, Joe would know something was off, but Nick plays with fierce determination, and afterwards everyone slaps him on the back and tells him how on he was tonight. He smiles graciously and then slips off to strip his dick in the cramped little restroom backstage.
Most of the fans have given up by the time Nick slips out the stage door, but she’s still there, the girl from the front row, with her big belly and two giggling friends flanking her.
“Ask him,” one of the friends whispers loudly, after he’s signed their posters and smiled for a picture.
“Shut up!” says the pregnant girl. But then she ducks her head, long bangs hanging in her face, and asks, “Could you sign my belly?”
“Um,” says Nick. “I guess.” He holds out his marker, not sure where to put his hands to keep her shirt from sliding.
“No,” she tells him, bolder now that he’s agreed. She pulls her shirt up, over the full curve of her stomach. “Like this.”
Nick’s cheeks heat. He glances away and “um”s again. He wants to touch her, in this dirty scary wrong way, wants to run his hands over her skin and feel her baby’s heartbeat underneath.
His hand shakes as he leans in, pressing the tip of the marker to the skin above the popped out point of her bellybutton. Nick signs quickly, his Ns coming out spiky and weird, the loop of his J hanging low and sloppy on the curve of her belly. “Okay, done,” he says, lips snapping up in an automatic smile. “Thanks for coming out to the show.”
Her friends are taking pictures of her as he walks away, making her pose with her hands framing his signature, fingers spread on her pale, taut skin. Nick has to look away, making himself walk stiffly to the car that will take him to his hotel. He can’t stop thinking about the feel of her under his hand, that brief touch.
Nick adjusts himself in the plush seat of the car. Someday there’ll be a girl who looks like that because of him, all filled up with his child, and his hands won’t shake when he touches her. And he won’t have to feel guilty for all the things he wants to do to her, how hard he gets just looking. She’ll sink down onto his dick, and he’ll cup his hands over her swollen breasts as she rides him. He can see it, practically taste her skin, this nameless, faceless girl. Someday.
~fin~
Fandom: Jonas Brothers RPF
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Nick/his imagination, some Nick/Selena
Warnings: impregnation kink, a 16-year-old masturbating
Summary: Nick likes thinking about knocking girls up. He likes it a whole lot.
Notes: I started writing this for a kink meme prompt about a million years ago because I think it is a stupidly hot idea. It, uh, has no plot or coherent structure, as you might expect from something originally written for a kink meme. Title and cut-text from Peter Gabriel, "I Have the Touch." Unbetaed, 2057 words.
Nick looks at the glob of come caught between his thumb and forefinger and thinks, "That could be a baby." It's not a new thought, it's something he's been turning over and over in his mind practically since he hit puberty, but now that there are girls flirting with him all the time, offering to do things with him that make Nick blush, the idea feels more real, heady and powerful. Potent. It wouldn't be hard to knock a girl up. Every spurt of his come has so much potential, and Nick imagines how it would feel to get off inside a girl, to feel her all wet and open around him as he comes, taking every last drop of it. The moment of conception would be like a flint striking, a little spark he could almost feel with a hand low on her belly. He could make that happen, all with the goo stuck between his fingers.
***
Mom's friend Peggy is eight months pregnant with twins, and Nick watches her with carefully hidden fascination as she and Mom visit in the living room. Peggy used to babysit for them before she got married, and Nick remembers her being tall and skinny with long bangs she was always pushing out of her eyes. She must have been in her twenties, but she looked younger, like she might have fit in with Kevin's middle school friends if she hunched over a little and giggled more. And now she’s, well, huge is the only word Nick can think of. Her belly tents out the front of a bright green maternity dress, and her breasts are full and round like ripe fruit, so that the neckline seems to plunge obscenely around them when she leans forward for a sip of her iced tea.
Nick imagines putting his hands on her belly, imagines the skin smooth and drum-taut under his palms, the curve like a whole new world. He’s hard in his jeans just thinking about it, his dick hot and fat against the seam, aching. He can barely hear what they’re saying from the next room, although Mom’s laughing in a kind way, but he can’t stop watching out of the corner of his eye, Peggy’s every movement changed by the gravity of her belly.
What would it be like to touch a girl who looked like that, all round and heavy, and know that the baby inside was yours, that every single person who looked at her would know that you’d fucked her? Nick shifts on his stool at the kitchen counter. His balls feel tight and full, like he’s already closer than he should be, just looking at Peggy. He thinks how it must have been when she first knew, when it was a secret between her and her husband, before her pants got too tight in the waist and everyone could tell. He imagines how it would have felt to stroke the soft skin below her bellybutton and know that his child was growing inside her. He imagines watching her grow, a day at a time, so the change would feel sneakier, less pronounced, and then one day he might wake up and realize she was big, full up with what they’d made together.
His dick twitches uncomfortably and he knows he has to go take care of it before he creams his jeans right there at the kitchen counter. He sneaks off upstairs without saying a word to Peggy, the friendly rhythm of the conversation following him, sending a shock of guilt down his spine. But it can’t stop him from ripping his pants open as soon as his door closes, sinking to his knees on the bed and jerking frantically at his swollen dick. It only takes three strokes before he’s coming, spurting hotly onto the tangle of his bedsheets.
***
Sometimes he thinks about it when he’s with Selena, too. Selena’s mom was their age when Selena was born, and he wonders if Selena thinks about that, if she wonders what it would be like the same way he does.
He has his hands on her waist as they kiss, and she feels so small, delicate in his arms. He strokes his thumbs along her sides, rucking up her shirt until he’s touching bare skin, so soft and smooth under his fingers. She sighs and hitches closer on the couch, throwing one leg over his, almost straddling him. Nick keeps his hands on her waist, knows he can’t go any higher or lower without wandering into unexplored and probably forbidden territory. But he can touch the softness of her belly, the slight give to the skin, and no one has to know what he thinks when he does it, how he imagines her growing with his child, pictures the changing curves of her body. He would sit between her legs with his hands on the tightening skin of her belly, feel every little movement through the sweaty skin of his palms.
He hasn’t seen any pictures of Selena’s mom when she was pregnant, but he can imagine the glow of her skin, the way she must have touched her belly and been scared and excited to meet the baby growing inside her.
Nick squeezes Selena’s waist, kissing her mouth all slow and deep. If she scoots forward a little, she’ll be able to feel how hard he is. He wonders if she knows that, if she’s even aware of what she does to him, how many dirty things he thinks when they’re pressed up close together like this. Maybe she thinks them too, and she doesn’t say them. Just like he doesn’t say them. He pulls back, rests his forehead against hers.
“Is it hard for you to stop?” he asks.
“Kissing you?” says Selena. She rubs her hand up the back of his neck into his hair. “Sometimes.” She settles into his lap and kisses the corner of his mouth. Her jeans stretch tight across her thighs, and Nick can’t help looking down. He wonders if she’s wet, if kissing him turns her on the way it turns him on. He wants to put his fingers down between her legs and feel, slide them up deep like he can’t do with his dick. His ring sits heavy on his finger, but maybe she would let him, just with his fingers. Maybe she would open right up for it, hungry for him. And maybe once he got his fingers into her, she’d beg him to fuck her for real, let him inside her hot, wet cunt, let him come in her the way his dick is straining for. Forget all their promises and just do it.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, his lips slack against hers. “You’ve got that thinking face on.”
Nick’s eyes flick sideways, blush flaring across his cheekbones. “Were your parents married when your mom got pregnant?” he blurts out.
Selena’s brow furrows. “I think so. Why?”
“I just wondered. I mean, your mom was our age. Do you… do you think about that?”
She stiffens a little, like she can tell what he’s asking is dangerous, more dangerous than it seems. “I guess, but it’s not… Our lives are different.”
Nick smiles, nods sharply, making it harmless. “Totally. It’s just weird to think about.”
Nick goes home that night still jittery and turned on like usual, and when he’s finally in his own bed, he can let himself imagine Selena’s belly swelling for him, her breasts all full and heavy in his hands. He comes sloppy and fast, biting down on his fist, his dick so fat and hot in the grip of his trembling fingers. He licks the come from his hand, sucks it off his knuckles, thinking about all that wasted potential, tasting it in the salt of his come. He almost wishes he could stop jerking off altogether, wait until he has a girl ready to take him, ripe for his seed. But the last time he tried that, he just woke up humping the bed in the middle of the night. And that’s no better.
***
Nick’s sure this can’t be normal, looking at girls and having these thoughts. When Joe took him to see Juno, Joe came out talking about the characters and the funny moments and the music, and all Nick could think about was the stretch of Ellen Page’s t-shirts over the curve of her belly. He walked out of the theater hiding his hard-on behind a popcorn bucket, and nothing in the world would have made him talk to Joe about it.
That wasn’t the first time. But it’s an important moment in his mind, a moment when he knew, sharply and clearly, that he was different. When his dad sat him down to give him his sex talk, the script was already pretty much perfected from Kevin and Joe, and Nick remembers “waiting” and “responsibility” and “letting our faith inform our daily lives.” “Children are meant to be born in the context of a loving marriage,” Dad had said. “You have to remember that.” But he hadn’t said anything about the desperate heat that would claw through Nick’s insides every time he saw a pregnant woman on the street.
***
There’s this girl at one of the Administration shows, right up in the front row, and she must be about Nick’s age, but she’s so, so pregnant, her belly swaying distractingly as she dances, her pale yellow t-shirt pulling up a little. Nick’s dick chafes at the inside of his fly the whole show, fat and needy, splotching pre-come on his briefs. He grips the neck of his guitar like it’s the only thing keeping him on stage right now, and if Joe were here, Joe would know something was off, but Nick plays with fierce determination, and afterwards everyone slaps him on the back and tells him how on he was tonight. He smiles graciously and then slips off to strip his dick in the cramped little restroom backstage.
Most of the fans have given up by the time Nick slips out the stage door, but she’s still there, the girl from the front row, with her big belly and two giggling friends flanking her.
“Ask him,” one of the friends whispers loudly, after he’s signed their posters and smiled for a picture.
“Shut up!” says the pregnant girl. But then she ducks her head, long bangs hanging in her face, and asks, “Could you sign my belly?”
“Um,” says Nick. “I guess.” He holds out his marker, not sure where to put his hands to keep her shirt from sliding.
“No,” she tells him, bolder now that he’s agreed. She pulls her shirt up, over the full curve of her stomach. “Like this.”
Nick’s cheeks heat. He glances away and “um”s again. He wants to touch her, in this dirty scary wrong way, wants to run his hands over her skin and feel her baby’s heartbeat underneath.
His hand shakes as he leans in, pressing the tip of the marker to the skin above the popped out point of her bellybutton. Nick signs quickly, his Ns coming out spiky and weird, the loop of his J hanging low and sloppy on the curve of her belly. “Okay, done,” he says, lips snapping up in an automatic smile. “Thanks for coming out to the show.”
Her friends are taking pictures of her as he walks away, making her pose with her hands framing his signature, fingers spread on her pale, taut skin. Nick has to look away, making himself walk stiffly to the car that will take him to his hotel. He can’t stop thinking about the feel of her under his hand, that brief touch.
Nick adjusts himself in the plush seat of the car. Someday there’ll be a girl who looks like that because of him, all filled up with his child, and his hands won’t shake when he touches her. And he won’t have to feel guilty for all the things he wants to do to her, how hard he gets just looking. She’ll sink down onto his dick, and he’ll cup his hands over her swollen breasts as she rides him. He can see it, practically taste her skin, this nameless, faceless girl. Someday.
~fin~