Blow Me (Archie/OMC, NC-17) Part One
anonymous
September 20 2011, 01:21:27 UTC
It's dirty and smells sort of bad in the park bathroom, and David doesn't know why he's here. Except no, that's a lie. He knows exactly why he's here, and it's shameful and it's wrong, but the need inside of him has grown too large and insistent for him to deny any longer. This is the park his mama always told him to avoid, the one his dad tensed up while driving past, and it's the one he's heard rumors about for ages.
"What's wrong with it?" David had asked one day, confused. His mama had given him a look, her lips pursed like she wasn't sure if she really wanted to tell him.
"It's a dirty park," she said, laying her hand carefully on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes. "It's dangerous. Men go there to do ... things. To meet each other and to - be with each other. You understand, mijo?" She had stroked his cheek with her fingers and tapped him gently. He had nodded gravely even though he didn't really get it, and she smiled, kissing him on the forehead. "As long as you never go there, you won't have to worry about it," she
( ... )
Blow Me (Archie/OMC, NC-17) Part Two
anonymous
September 20 2011, 02:34:51 UTC
David is nearly thrown by the wave of arousal that crashes through him, especially the fast hard zing that flutters through him at the word bitch, and he falls forward, sliding his mouth around the head of the man's penis with a moan, getting his first real taste of cock. It's exquisite. He tongues the slit curiously and is rewarded by a deep, heartfelt moan from the other side of wall, and the feel of the man's cock lengthening a little as it stiffens completely in his mouth. It just feels so good to have it in his mouth, David thinks to himself, sucking happily at the head as his hand strokes down the shaft, getting the feel of it, trying to work him up a little bit before he can gag himself on this stranger's dick
( ... )
Blow Me (Archie/OMC, NC-17) Part Three
anonymous
September 20 2011, 02:37:06 UTC
David shudders and pulls back, a strand of saliva connecting his mouth and the man's cock. His own erection is pressing and throbbing against the zipper of his fly, and his underwear is soaked through. He slides a hand down to touch himself.
That's all it takes. He gasps, coming hard as his hips arch up off the ground and he throws his head back, thunking it into the opposite wall. It's like his body is on fire, and his tongue feels thick and coated with semen, his throat is raw and bruised, and every time he swallows he can feel a phantom cock in his mouth.
When he comes to, eyes fluttering open and the pounding in his head receding so he can hear more than the blood roaring in his ears, the other man is already gone, and David is left sprawled in the dirty bathroom panting hard with his jeans soaked with come. It's the best feeling in the world.
definitely not what the OP had in mind, sorry :P, part 1
anonymous
September 21 2011, 01:47:13 UTC
About two seconds after David Cook hit send on that particular post, he rethought it and muttered, "Oh, shit."
It was a valid assessment, considering.
Andy was the first to comment, appearing in the doorway to the back room of the studio where they had been practicing for the tour within half a minute of said post, holding his stupid fucking iPhone and smirking as he said, "Balls deep, Dave? Seriously?"
"Fuck you, Skib, I said eyeballs." It didn't matter, though. Dave knew that that distinction was not going to make much of a difference. He'd definitely never hear the end of this one
( ... )
The house was dark by the time that Dave pulled his car into the garage. He walked in and flipped on the kitchen light, bending down immediately to pet Dublin as he ran over to greet him
( ... )
Her dress has been pushed up, bunched all around her waist. The strap that had been clinging to her left shoulder a bit too tightly throughout the entire movie is sliding down her arm, and the light blue bra she'd been wearing underneath her clothes is lying three feet away on the carpeted floor of Cook's apartment living room. The underwear she has on are sliding down her thighs, her knees bent as she lifts her hips and butt off the couch, trying to help Cook as he runs his big, warm hands down her legs, dragging her panties with them. She wants to slam her legs shut and hide herself from him, and at the same time open them up, and show him everything.
Shyly, she closes her legs, and her eyes.
"Archie," Cook says, his voice deep and all... all growly, and gosh, his voice, just his voice sends this terrible swirling heat down all the way through to her abdomen. She concentrates on not breathing too heavily as Cook's fingernails run back up the backs of her thighs; as he trails his mouth down her still clothed-stomach, the
( ... )
What is Cook even turning her into, some sort of sex monster who can't get enough of it.
"Please," she cries, a minute later, his finger pushing into her, and she can't keep her hips from moving, even with Cook helping to hold them down. "Please." He just pushes in another finger and she almost cries, her heavy breaths and whimpers mixing in with Cook's own deep breathing. The thing that's been building up, the more, please, just a little more, it's almost there, please, seems to just--snap, and her entire body just spazzes out a few moments later, her toes curling and her legs ram-rod hard as her hips try to lift off the couch. She really is crying now, with the long, deep, exhausted moan that rolls out of her mouth, before she collapses back down on the couch, nimble as a rock
( ... )
"Mm," Cook says, after a moment, "I could stay like this all night."
She can barely breathe, and realizes with an odd sort of detachment that the movie's mainscreen menu is back on the television, playing on repeat. Dori is singing and Marvin is telling them to push play. Cook is still lying on top of her, both of them not entirely naked and sticky, but just enough that she can't even contemplate moving to turn it off.
"Good," she finally agrees, "because I can't move."
"I know," Cook says, and she can practically feel his grin against her chest, "I'm good."
"Dork," she says, affectionately, and then closes her eyes. Yeah, she's never moving ever again.
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It's like a fountain, Jeremy.
A fountain of hearts in a sea of migraines.
...
Pretend that makes sense.
Ugh.
♥
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okay i gotta go fill some of these or prompt or something *____* love this fandom
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"What's wrong with it?" David had asked one day, confused. His mama had given him a look, her lips pursed like she wasn't sure if she really wanted to tell him.
"It's a dirty park," she said, laying her hand carefully on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes. "It's dangerous. Men go there to do ... things. To meet each other and to - be with each other. You understand, mijo?" She had stroked his cheek with her fingers and tapped him gently. He had nodded gravely even though he didn't really get it, and she smiled, kissing him on the forehead. "As long as you never go there, you won't have to worry about it," she ( ... )
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That's all it takes. He gasps, coming hard as his hips arch up off the ground and he throws his head back, thunking it into the opposite wall. It's like his body is on fire, and his tongue feels thick and coated with semen, his throat is raw and bruised, and every time he swallows he can feel a phantom cock in his mouth.
When he comes to, eyes fluttering open and the pounding in his head receding so he can hear more than the blood roaring in his ears, the other man is already gone, and David is left sprawled in the dirty bathroom panting hard with his jeans soaked with come. It's the best feeling in the world.
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It was a valid assessment, considering.
Andy was the first to comment, appearing in the doorway to the back room of the studio where they had been practicing for the tour within half a minute of said post, holding his stupid fucking iPhone and smirking as he said, "Balls deep, Dave? Seriously?"
"Fuck you, Skib, I said eyeballs." It didn't matter, though. Dave knew that that distinction was not going to make much of a difference. He'd definitely never hear the end of this one ( ... )
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Cook eats Archie out for the first time.
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Shyly, she closes her legs, and her eyes.
"Archie," Cook says, his voice deep and all... all growly, and gosh, his voice, just his voice sends this terrible swirling heat down all the way through to her abdomen. She concentrates on not breathing too heavily as Cook's fingernails run back up the backs of her thighs; as he trails his mouth down her still clothed-stomach, the ( ... )
Reply
"Please," she cries, a minute later, his finger pushing into her, and she can't keep her hips from moving, even with Cook helping to hold them down. "Please." He just pushes in another finger and she almost cries, her heavy breaths and whimpers mixing in with Cook's own deep breathing. The thing that's been building up, the more, please, just a little more, it's almost there, please, seems to just--snap, and her entire body just spazzes out a few moments later, her toes curling and her legs ram-rod hard as her hips try to lift off the couch. She really is crying now, with the long, deep, exhausted moan that rolls out of her mouth, before she collapses back down on the couch, nimble as a rock ( ... )
Reply
She can barely breathe, and realizes with an odd sort of detachment that the movie's mainscreen menu is back on the television, playing on repeat. Dori is singing and Marvin is telling them to push play. Cook is still lying on top of her, both of them not entirely naked and sticky, but just enough that she can't even contemplate moving to turn it off.
"Good," she finally agrees, "because I can't move."
"I know," Cook says, and she can practically feel his grin against her chest, "I'm good."
"Dork," she says, affectionately, and then closes her eyes. Yeah, she's never moving ever again.
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