Fic: Another Sky (4/11)
Another Sky (4/11)
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Nathan Barley
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1398, this chapter (4815 so far)
Warnings: references to Greek mythology and Star Wars mythology and IT'S RATED NC-17 SO YOU CAN PROBABLY GUESS WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN
Disclaimer: I own a Cadbury trifle. It's delicious. I don't own these lads, much to my infinite sorrow.
Author's Notes: This chapter requires no introduction, because I've run out of interesting things to say.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
That was it, then. It was official. Dan and Jones were going to be parents to a little boy or girl, presently gestating in the tummy of a nice Welsh supermodel.
Celebrations carried on into the evening, many beers were had by all (save for those among them who were drinking for two) and at some reasonable hour, Claire moaned that she had to be up in the morning and the lads said their thanks and goodnights and headed home.
“So it’s happening,” said Dan, a little blurry-eyed, his arm slung over Jones’ shoulders.
“It’s happening,” smiled Jones. “We’re going to be a well brilliant family.”
“Feel like celebrating?” asked Dan, quirking an eyebrow at his partner.
They crashed through the front door, stumbled across and into the kitchen; jackets were thrown off and landed half on kitchen chairs, then slumped to the floor. No matter. Any preparations for their impending new arrival would wait until morning.
The force of their combined weight slamming into the refrigerator sent it, in turn, slamming into the wall. The whole house seemed to shake with the force of them, like the thrumming vibrations of a speaker turned up loud enough. Jones felt it in his skin; Dan humming contentedly into his neck, Dan’s hand tangled in his hair, the beginnings of a swell in Dan’s jeans grinding into his leg. Jones let out a quiet protest as Dan moved away slightly, to rest his cane against the kitchen counter, but then he was back, hands trailing over Jones’ body as he descended.
Dan’s arms curled around Jones’ waist, and held tightly to him, allowing his fingertips to wander lightly under the hem of his shirt, kissing his waistband, snuggling in.
“Jones, you are fucking gorgeous,” he grinned in a low voice, before unzipping him with his teeth.
Jones was wearing his fluorescent green glow-in-the-dark pants that night, Dan observed as he eased them carefully over Jones’ hips. They really did make Jones look quite ridiculous with the lights off, but in the laundry pile in the corner of their bedroom at night, they merely added to the visual cacophony that was the House of Jones, and Dan had long learned to filter through the House’s visual noise.
Dan smiled at Jones, Jones smiled at Dan, and Dan ran the tip of his tongue over Jones’ length before curling his lips around him. Jones gasped at the sudden tidal wave of feeling, the buzz that spread out from his core and made him dizzy with love. He was trying desperately not to let his legs give out from under him while grabbing ineffectually at handfuls of Dan’s shirt when Dan, suddenly and without warning, stopped.
“Babe?” asked Jones, puzzled.
“Fuck, sorry,” Dan pulled back, wincing.
“You all right, Dan?” asked Jones, with heartbreaking concern.
“No, no, it’s just - ah, fuck,” said Dan, grimacing as he tried to stand, “my leg’s gone to sleep.”
“Oh, love,” said Jones, tucking himself back in and helping Dan to his feet. “Let’s go someplace a little more comfy.”
“Wait, wait, stop, I can’t move,” shouted Dan, standing as still as possible.
“But if you get the circulation going, it’ll - ”
“Fuck, ow! No, not moving,” Dan cringed.
Jones giggled.
“This is less funny than you think it is,” replied Dan.
“It is a bit funny, though,” said Jones.
“Yeah, it is a bit funny,” Dan conceded. “Okay, okay, I think we can do it now, I’m going to try and move.”
Dan took one step, leaning into Jones.
“Yeah, nope,” he concluded, with a sharp intake of breath and a small whimper.
A moment passed in stillness before leaning into each other folded into an embrace.
“Fuck’s sake,” said Dan, “still not moving.”
“All right,” said Jones, placing a small kiss to Dan’s neck.
And then another.
And another, and another, and it was around the next another that they both stopped counting.
“Right,” said Dan, blushing. “Bed.”
And he took a painful step forward.
And then another.
And another, and another, and a few more anothers, until they reached their bed.
It was there that they tumbled down into the soft mattress, rolling and collapsing into one another. It turned out that the room was dark enough that Jones’ pants luminesced slightly. He giggled.
“Forgot I had my electric pants on!” he blushed.
“This mean you’ve got a light sabre for a cock?” asked Dan.
“Nah, same old cock,” shrugged Jones. “That’d be well fun though, yeah? We could get them out and have light sabre battles, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.”
Jones continued making whooshy light sabre noises until Dan removed the electric pants altogether. Jones was mildly sad that they, in fact, made no whooshy sound effects themselves. He mused that it would have been proper top to be able to sample the noise electric pants make in a future musical venture.
All thoughts of light sabres and musical ventures fled his consciousness, however, when he found Dan’s tongue on him again, and he seemed to luminesce from the inside out.
The little lights in the room had excused themselves and shuffled away quietly, and Jones could not see when Dan pulled back from him, so he closed his eyes and saw the sounds around him instead: the rustle of cluttered bric-a-brac on the bedside table, the click of a bottle of lube being uncapped, the sharp intake of breath as the shock of the cold liquid hit Dan’s palm, and the grudgingly accomodating squeak of the old mattress, signaling Dan’s return.
“There you are,” purred Jones. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been here all along,” murmured Dan, his hands and limbs finding Jones again. Jones smiled inwardly.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
Yeah, he thought, he could see why they found each other. This, this right here, was hieros gamos. Most people were apt to forget that Jones was Cambridge-educated. Sometimes, he forgot it himself. And as for why now of all times he would recall a mildly obscure term for the sacred union of opposites from a mythology course he took fuck knows how many years ago - well, they completed each other. Dan completed him.
A kiss and a whisper of anticipation and Dan was in him, once, twice, and Jones arched his hips to meet Dan’s fingers, feeding the electric current rising in his belly. He gasped at the sharpness of it, whimpered at the sudden overwhelming intensity of feeling, and barely breathed out words.
“Get on with it, Babe.”
“Yeah?” asked Dan.
“Yes, for fuck’s sake,” he laughed.
He must have shouted every swear he could think of when Dan pushed into him. It felt like that feeling you get when you’re dancing in a crowded room and the rhythm’s thumping right into you and it’s so loud and so bright and you’re moving and you’re moving until everything else falls away, and you can’t feel your own weight or the ground beneath you, and you’re not sure if you’re standing still or moving at the speed of light, and you’re not constrained by your body anymore, you’re connected to everything and you can see it all and feel it all and it is all so beautiful.
That was what it was like with Dan. That was what it was like that night; where Jones was vaguely aware of his legs wrapped around Dan’s waist and his hips instinctively thrusting up to meet Dan’s movements, drawing him in further. But mostly he was aware of Dan driving into him, Dan squeezing his cock and making him dizzy, Dan’s ragged, pretty breath against his neck, and the little noises Dan made when he did something that must have felt really, really good. Dan’s movements became faster and more erratic then, and Jones could tell Dan was close and the little lights had tiptoed back into the room, or perhaps he was just seeing things. He pulled Dan in as close as he could, beaming.
“Congratulations,” he whispered, and came in a fit of giggles.
Chapter Five
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Nathan Barley
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1398, this chapter (4815 so far)
Warnings: references to Greek mythology and Star Wars mythology and IT'S RATED NC-17 SO YOU CAN PROBABLY GUESS WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN
Disclaimer: I own a Cadbury trifle. It's delicious. I don't own these lads, much to my infinite sorrow.
Author's Notes: This chapter requires no introduction, because I've run out of interesting things to say.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
That was it, then. It was official. Dan and Jones were going to be parents to a little boy or girl, presently gestating in the tummy of a nice Welsh supermodel.
Celebrations carried on into the evening, many beers were had by all (save for those among them who were drinking for two) and at some reasonable hour, Claire moaned that she had to be up in the morning and the lads said their thanks and goodnights and headed home.
“So it’s happening,” said Dan, a little blurry-eyed, his arm slung over Jones’ shoulders.
“It’s happening,” smiled Jones. “We’re going to be a well brilliant family.”
“Feel like celebrating?” asked Dan, quirking an eyebrow at his partner.
They crashed through the front door, stumbled across and into the kitchen; jackets were thrown off and landed half on kitchen chairs, then slumped to the floor. No matter. Any preparations for their impending new arrival would wait until morning.
The force of their combined weight slamming into the refrigerator sent it, in turn, slamming into the wall. The whole house seemed to shake with the force of them, like the thrumming vibrations of a speaker turned up loud enough. Jones felt it in his skin; Dan humming contentedly into his neck, Dan’s hand tangled in his hair, the beginnings of a swell in Dan’s jeans grinding into his leg. Jones let out a quiet protest as Dan moved away slightly, to rest his cane against the kitchen counter, but then he was back, hands trailing over Jones’ body as he descended.
Dan’s arms curled around Jones’ waist, and held tightly to him, allowing his fingertips to wander lightly under the hem of his shirt, kissing his waistband, snuggling in.
“Jones, you are fucking gorgeous,” he grinned in a low voice, before unzipping him with his teeth.
Jones was wearing his fluorescent green glow-in-the-dark pants that night, Dan observed as he eased them carefully over Jones’ hips. They really did make Jones look quite ridiculous with the lights off, but in the laundry pile in the corner of their bedroom at night, they merely added to the visual cacophony that was the House of Jones, and Dan had long learned to filter through the House’s visual noise.
Dan smiled at Jones, Jones smiled at Dan, and Dan ran the tip of his tongue over Jones’ length before curling his lips around him. Jones gasped at the sudden tidal wave of feeling, the buzz that spread out from his core and made him dizzy with love. He was trying desperately not to let his legs give out from under him while grabbing ineffectually at handfuls of Dan’s shirt when Dan, suddenly and without warning, stopped.
“Babe?” asked Jones, puzzled.
“Fuck, sorry,” Dan pulled back, wincing.
“You all right, Dan?” asked Jones, with heartbreaking concern.
“No, no, it’s just - ah, fuck,” said Dan, grimacing as he tried to stand, “my leg’s gone to sleep.”
“Oh, love,” said Jones, tucking himself back in and helping Dan to his feet. “Let’s go someplace a little more comfy.”
“Wait, wait, stop, I can’t move,” shouted Dan, standing as still as possible.
“But if you get the circulation going, it’ll - ”
“Fuck, ow! No, not moving,” Dan cringed.
Jones giggled.
“This is less funny than you think it is,” replied Dan.
“It is a bit funny, though,” said Jones.
“Yeah, it is a bit funny,” Dan conceded. “Okay, okay, I think we can do it now, I’m going to try and move.”
Dan took one step, leaning into Jones.
“Yeah, nope,” he concluded, with a sharp intake of breath and a small whimper.
A moment passed in stillness before leaning into each other folded into an embrace.
“Fuck’s sake,” said Dan, “still not moving.”
“All right,” said Jones, placing a small kiss to Dan’s neck.
And then another.
And another, and another, and it was around the next another that they both stopped counting.
“Right,” said Dan, blushing. “Bed.”
And he took a painful step forward.
And then another.
And another, and another, and a few more anothers, until they reached their bed.
It was there that they tumbled down into the soft mattress, rolling and collapsing into one another. It turned out that the room was dark enough that Jones’ pants luminesced slightly. He giggled.
“Forgot I had my electric pants on!” he blushed.
“This mean you’ve got a light sabre for a cock?” asked Dan.
“Nah, same old cock,” shrugged Jones. “That’d be well fun though, yeah? We could get them out and have light sabre battles, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.”
Jones continued making whooshy light sabre noises until Dan removed the electric pants altogether. Jones was mildly sad that they, in fact, made no whooshy sound effects themselves. He mused that it would have been proper top to be able to sample the noise electric pants make in a future musical venture.
All thoughts of light sabres and musical ventures fled his consciousness, however, when he found Dan’s tongue on him again, and he seemed to luminesce from the inside out.
The little lights in the room had excused themselves and shuffled away quietly, and Jones could not see when Dan pulled back from him, so he closed his eyes and saw the sounds around him instead: the rustle of cluttered bric-a-brac on the bedside table, the click of a bottle of lube being uncapped, the sharp intake of breath as the shock of the cold liquid hit Dan’s palm, and the grudgingly accomodating squeak of the old mattress, signaling Dan’s return.
“There you are,” purred Jones. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been here all along,” murmured Dan, his hands and limbs finding Jones again. Jones smiled inwardly.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
Yeah, he thought, he could see why they found each other. This, this right here, was hieros gamos. Most people were apt to forget that Jones was Cambridge-educated. Sometimes, he forgot it himself. And as for why now of all times he would recall a mildly obscure term for the sacred union of opposites from a mythology course he took fuck knows how many years ago - well, they completed each other. Dan completed him.
A kiss and a whisper of anticipation and Dan was in him, once, twice, and Jones arched his hips to meet Dan’s fingers, feeding the electric current rising in his belly. He gasped at the sharpness of it, whimpered at the sudden overwhelming intensity of feeling, and barely breathed out words.
“Get on with it, Babe.”
“Yeah?” asked Dan.
“Yes, for fuck’s sake,” he laughed.
He must have shouted every swear he could think of when Dan pushed into him. It felt like that feeling you get when you’re dancing in a crowded room and the rhythm’s thumping right into you and it’s so loud and so bright and you’re moving and you’re moving until everything else falls away, and you can’t feel your own weight or the ground beneath you, and you’re not sure if you’re standing still or moving at the speed of light, and you’re not constrained by your body anymore, you’re connected to everything and you can see it all and feel it all and it is all so beautiful.
That was what it was like with Dan. That was what it was like that night; where Jones was vaguely aware of his legs wrapped around Dan’s waist and his hips instinctively thrusting up to meet Dan’s movements, drawing him in further. But mostly he was aware of Dan driving into him, Dan squeezing his cock and making him dizzy, Dan’s ragged, pretty breath against his neck, and the little noises Dan made when he did something that must have felt really, really good. Dan’s movements became faster and more erratic then, and Jones could tell Dan was close and the little lights had tiptoed back into the room, or perhaps he was just seeing things. He pulled Dan in as close as he could, beaming.
“Congratulations,” he whispered, and came in a fit of giggles.
Chapter Five