britin1729 (britin1729) wrote in _love_qaf_fic, @ 2010-03-01 22:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: britin1729 |
Temperatures Rising
Title: Temperatures Rising
Disclaimer: I don't own QAF
Pairing: Brian/Justin.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: One good thing about it always being winter in Pittsburgh (apparently) is the creative ways the boys find to keep warm. ;)
It's three forty-seven AM when I decide I'm moving to the Bahamas. Or Hawaii. Or somewhere where there's not a blanket of snow on the ground outside, an unacceptable lack of heat inside, and a duvet that suddenly feels far too thin.
I peek over to the other side of the bed at Brian, who's snoring quietly, his mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool trickling out of the side of his mouth. Oh yeah. My Prince Charming.
I roll my eyes and sigh loudly, tugging at his blankets. I wait. He doesn't stir.
I sigh louder, glancing over at him as though hoping to wake him with the intensity of my glare alone.
When he continues to lie there uselessly, I roll my eyes and kick his leg, careful not to let my foot slip out from beneath the blankets.
He gives a tiny little grunt in his sleep, closes his mouth, and keeps on snoring.
Finally, I'm forced to accept the fact that the man is not going to wake up, and that I'm going to have to remove my ass from the relative warmth of the bed to go turn up the damn thermostat myself. Brian can usually be persuaded to do such things, when you know how to ask him the right way. And when you know how to give a spectacular blow job. But he's sleeping soundly and I'm cold and I desperately want the heat on now.
Huffing out my loudest sigh yet, I get up and throw my blankets over on top of Brian. A small interruption in the pattern of his otherwise steady snoring is the only indication that most of the blankets landed on his head. I should probably take them off. Make sure he doesn't suffocate or something.
I decide to fix the thermostat first.
Several curses and two stubbed toes later, I'm back in bed, waiting impatiently for the loft to begin warming up. It's really all Brian's fault that this is even a problem. He's the one that keeps the loft so damn cold. I sometimes wonder if it's because we're fucking before we go to sleep so often that he prefers to keep it cool so we don't get overheated.
I snatch my blankets back from Brian's side of the bed, pulling them tight around me. I almost don't even catch, in the near-darkness, the slivers of hazel that blink at me.
“You're awake,” he says, startling me a little.
I snort. “Your powers of observation astound me, Brian, really.”
He rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore my comment. “Why are you awake? Do you know what time it is?”
“Believe it or not, I did learn to tell time in, oh...the second grade or so.”
His eyebrow creeps up his forehead, apparently taking in my rather irritable mood. I sigh, trying to burrow deeper into my blankets, still not content with the lack of heat in the place.
“It's like, thirty fucking degrees in here,” I explain. “I was just turning up the thermostat.”
He nods, his eyes never leaving me. “You know...” he begins with this silky, sexy tone to his voice that can only mean one thing, “there are...other ways to keep warm. You didn't have to get out of bed to turn up the heat.”
“Well, I was planning on making you do it, but you wouldn't wake up.”
“Oh, is that why you threw the blankets over my head?” he asks innocently. I glare at him; the fucker was probably awake the whole damn time. Well, I guess I probably deserved that. “Anyway, the point is, there's no need to waste money on the heating bill when there are so many other perfectly good —solutions— available to us.”
I try, but can't fight the smirk that tugs at my lips.
“So, Sunshine,” he whispers, his voice dark and sexy and I can already tell where this is going, and know that by the end, I'll have bypassed warm and gone straight for hot, hot, hot. He's rolling closer, his body pressing itself against mine; it's warm and hard and already, I'm starting to feel the heat in every part of my body. “Need a hand with the heating?”
A gasp is my only response as his hand closes around my dick beneath the sweatpants I'd pulled on earlier because it was just so fucking cold out. “Yeah,” I finally manage to croak back. I'm rewarded with a light squeeze.
“Roll over.”
I don't hesitate to do as I'm told, rolling over onto my stomach. The blankets are gone in no time, leaving me lying in front of him in a T-shirt and sweatpants while he sits up on his knees, staring down at me.
“Cold?” he asks, running a gentle hand down my back, from my shoulders to the swell of my ass.
“A little,” I lie. I'm not, really. Not now. Not with him, like this, so close and knowing what's coming...it makes me hot. So hot.
I barely have time to register what he's doing before my shirt's being pulled off, over my head and over the side of the bed. My pants are soon to follow, yanked around my ankles along with my underwear, and tossed to the side. The cool air on my bare skin makes me shiver.
The sensation is gone almost before it hits, however; he's spreading himself across my body, the heat of his own keeping me warm, shielding me from the chill of the loft.
“Still need me to warm you up?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I answer at once.
“What do you think I should do to you?” he asks, nibbling at my ear, his hands crawling down over my sides. “Maybe...I should suck you off? Take you down my throat until all you feel is how hot it is, how warm and wet my mouth is on you?”
“Oh, God....” I mutter as he presses his hardening cock into the crack of my ass, his breath fluttering across the back of my neck. He rocks into me, giving a soft grunt of appreciation for the friction he's creating for himself. I push my ass back against him, encouraging this. I reach back a hand and scratch at whatever skin I manage to reach, trying to pull him in, closer, deeper.
I feel his hands close around my wrists, pulling them up and pinning them to the pillow above my head. “Or maybe...you'd like it better if I spanked you? Would you like that, Justin? You want me to spank you until your ass is all hot and pink from my hand on you?”
I give a little whimper, pushing my rapidly hardening cock forward against the mattress. He lets go of my hands, his tongue hot and slick as it licks a path up my back, this time starting from my ass and traveling upwards.
“Yes...fuck, yes....” I moan beneath him. He's leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, stroking and licking and teasing.
“Or maybe, you'd like both? And afterward, you'd want me to fuck you? Shove my cock inside you and fuck you and make you come...it would be so hot, Justin....” He exhales right over my ear, making me shiver, but not from the cold now. Definitely not from the cold. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes...please,” I beg him now, alternating between thrusting forward into the bed and backward into the steady pressure of his cock against me. “God, Brian...do it...”
“Do what?” he taunts me.
“Any of it...all of it...just please....” The last word comes out as more of a whimper than anything as his finger is suddenly pushing into my ass, making me twitch and writhe beneath him.
“Are you cold now, Justin?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “No...God, just fuck me....”
“So I warmed you up?” he clarifies. His finger is withdrawn, only to be shoved in a moment later accompanied by a second one.
“Fuck...God, yes....”
He fucks me slowly with those two fingers, the pleasure just enough to make me crazy for more, but not nearly enough to get me off. I thrust back against his fingers, urging him on, just wanting more of him inside me.
Then suddenly— without warning— his fingers are gone, as is the warm weight on the back of my legs. I feel him throw himself to the bed beside me.
“What the fuck...?” I demand, raising my head and shaking hair out of my eyes to see that he's just lying there, staring at the ceiling as though he didn't just have his fingers up my ass and wasn't about to fuck me senseless. At my question, he turns to look at me and raises an eyebrow, as though honestly surprised by my demand for an answer. If his cock weren't completely hard, too, I'd question my sanity and wonder if all that had really just happened, or if it was some bizarre, astonishingly realistic dream. “Why'd you stop?”
He shrugs. “You said you wanted me to warm you up. I did that.”
I stare at him blankly for several seconds.
“What?” he asks innocently. A look of comprehension dawns on his face. “Oh, did you want me to fuck you or something?”
My mouth is halfway through forming a response when I change my mind. “No,” I decide on the spot. That eyebrow crawls up his forehead again. “I've thought of a better way to keep warm.”
“Oh? And what would that be, Sunshine?”
I grin. “Roll over.”
A smirk spreads across his own face. “Why? I'm not cold.”
Asshole. “So...you're not gonna fuck me,” I clarify.
He shrugs ambiguously.
“And...you're not gonna let me fuck you.”
Again, he just shrugs. Can't he fucking do anything else?
“So...what?” I ask. If he shrugs one more time, I swear I'll kill him.
“What do you mean, what?” he asks instead.
Christ, I hate the man sometimes. There is a time for teasing and a time for sex, and this is most definitely the time for the latter.
He closes his eyes— yes, he actually has the fucking nerve to close them— and just lies there. I don't care how exhausted he is, though; he's gone and gotten me all ready and wanting him, and he is damn well going to do something about it.
An idea strikes me then, watching him feign sleepy disinterest on the other side of the bed. I let my hand trail lazily down to my cock, stroking it leisurely. After a few seconds, I take care to give a good, loud groan.
His eyes open a crack. Ha. Take this, you fucker.
My own eyes slip closed as I continue to stroke myself, my toes curling in the sheets. I can feel his gaze on me, on the hand sliding up and down my dick. I run a finger over my slit, gathering the pre-cum there, and bring it to my mouth, licking my fingers, leaving them warm and wet and then returning the hand to my cock.
I can hear his breathing start to accelerate along with mine, and I wonder if he's jerking off, too. I don't open my eyes, but listen more intently to his every breath, every possible catch or gasp or moan.
I give a theatrical groan of my own and thrust into my hand, when suddenly, I feel the bed move next to me. Next second, I feel him crawl between my legs, his hand closing over mine and pulling it away. I open my eyes, about to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing stopping this, but then his mouth is on me, and he's swallowing me down his throat. I moan and arch up off the bed, and he gently urges my hips back to the mattress. My fingers grip his hair, tugging and sifting and oh my God, he's got one talented fucking tongue....
I spill into his mouth with his name on my lips, and he resurfaces with my cum on his. He darts that skilled tongue of his out to lick at it, which, if I hadn't just had a mind-shattering orgasm, would probably have gotten me hard just by itself.
He drops to the bed next to me, turning to meet me for a kiss as my breathing slowly evens out again. We just lie there for a little while— me, sweaty and exhausted, trying to salvage enough energy to reciprocate— and him lying there beside me with his eyes closed again.
“Hey, Brian?” I ask in my sweetest voice after a few moments, shifting awkwardly on the sheets, still rather sticky with sweat.
“Hmm?”
“It's hot in here— can you go turn down the thermostat?”