britin1729 (britin1729) wrote in _love_qaf_fic, @ 2010-03-04 23:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: britin1729 |
Something You've Found
Title: Something You've Found
Disclaimer: I don't own QAF
Pairing: Brian/Justin.
Rating: NC-17 (It's a good thing this fandom doesn't mind porn)
Warnings: Unsafe sex
Summary: Brian and Justin and strawberry ice-cream.
A/N: For alsonotbad (I'm pretty sure I wrote this for your b-day last year. I remember trying to throw in every one of your kinks I could.) ;)
Only problem is, when you step out of the bathroom after your shower, clad only in a towel slung around your waist, he's already eating it. Large, heaping spoonfuls, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick it off his silverware. The best part? He's completely and totally naked. The sight of it goes straight to your dick.
He pretends not to notice you, but you know he does. He has to. But still, he keeps on licking that fucking spoon. He wraps his lips around it and sucks off the last traces of ice cream before dipping the spoon back into the container and coming up with more. For a long moment, you can only stare.
Then, (and you're certain beyond a doubt that he knows you're watching now), with the carton propped against his bare chest, his free hand slides over his stomach down to stroke his own cock. You're getting hard just watching him, and suddenly the towel around your waist feels far too constricting. It ends up on the floor, and you end up across the room, on top of him. You take the carton from him and drape yourself over his chest, his skin still cold where the ice cream was.
He grins at you and warns you not to make a mess, or you'll both have to take another shower tonight. This sounds like a rather appealing idea, in your opinion, so you take the spoon right out of his hand, dip it into the ice cream, and “accidentally” drip it all over his chest. He hisses as the chill stings him, but you replace the cold with your mouth, warm and wet, licking it right off his skin.
You remember the last time you did this, back at the loft, in the very chair you're sitting in now. It's one of your favorite memories of all time, and even though so much has changed since then, so much has stayed the same. Sure, you're in your shared apartment now instead of the loft, in New York instead of the Pitts. But you find it doesn't really matter how much has changed since then, because he still looks so fucking hot and beautiful and arousing with ice cream splattered over his face and chest. He's still the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life, and you still love him more than anything in the world.
You feed him a spoonful of ice cream, teasing him with it by pulling it away when he tries to take it into his mouth. You finally let him have it, and then his finger is at your mouth, covered in the sweet, cold treat. You lick it off happily, and he goes back for more, running his finger across your lips this time before allowing you to wrap your tongue around it. The ring on his finger glints in the light, so close to your face, and you admire how beautiful it looks before he pulls his hand away.
He's playing with you now, dipping his finger in ice cream before running it down your chest, around your nipples and down your sides. You feed him another bite, but end up dripping it all over his face. You take the time to smear it around— er, clean it up— with your kisses, savoring the mingled flavors of strawberry and him.
You dip lower, trailing ice cream along his chest and stomach before running over it with your tongue. His hands find your ass, groping and pulling you closer to him. You nearly cry out when he pushes the tip of an ice cream coated finger just inside you.
You're slumped over him, licking and sucking at his strawberry-coated skin. He's wet and sticky and he's definitely going to need another shower after this. So are you, for that matter, and the idea only excites you more.
He moans when you grind yourself against him, his head falling back against the headrest. You dip your fingers back into the ice cream, smearing it down over his stomach and the little trail of hairs that you love to kiss, and wrap your hand around his cock. He groans again, his grip on your ass tightening.
You shift on top of him, sliding lower until your face is level with his lap. He knows what's coming, and his sticky strawberry flavored fingers find your hair when you run your tongue along his dick, licking up any traces of ice cream you might have left. Thinking that this is even better than the time the two of you tried flavored condoms, you run your tongue all over him, savoring his taste. You decide that since it's mainly your fault his cock is covered in ice cream in the first place, it really should be your responsibility to clean him up, so you wrap your lips around him and suck.
He's moaning and thrusting his hips up into your face, and you just keep licking and sucking and loving those noises he makes. His grip on your hair is almost painfully tight, and after a while, he pushes lightly on your shoulder. You recognize the familiar sign, backing off and sitting up. He's waiting with another spoonful of ice cream, and you bite down on the spoon when he suddenly reaches down between you and takes your dick into his hand. You moan and fall against him, licking at the sticky trails you left on his skin as he jerks you off, biting down on his shoulder when it starts becoming more than you can take.
When finally you're severely testing your boundaries, you push his hand away and force yourself to sit up of your own volition instead of letting his chest support you. He's got a packet of lube from wherever the fuck he stashes them around the place, and coats his own cock before his fingers find your ass, pushing inside and working you open.
Your eyes meet his for a split second before he leans forward and kisses you, his tongue darting out to lick at your lips, tasting of him and the ice-cream. You kiss him back, and suddenly there's another spoonful of ice cream in the mix. It melts inside your mouths as your tongues mingle, and when his hands grab your ass again, pulling you into him, you know you're both ready.
You keep your eyes on his as you raise yourself up over him slightly. He helps hold you, and hold his dick, and then you're coming back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He cries out and throws his head back against the headrest; you gasp and dig your nails into his arms.
Even after all this time, you have to take a moment to just feel him, bare inside you, just him and you and no latex. It must be hitting him all over again too, because his fingers are digging into you, his eyes closed, holding you right where he wants you.
You tease him, clenching your ass around his cock, which makes his face screw up in pleasure. You grin and lift yourself up again before slamming back down on top of him. You feel the golden band on his finger pressing into your skin now as he helps you establish a rhythm, and soon you're riding him, one hand braced against his thigh, the other against his sticky chest. The ice cream carton lays, completely forgotten, on the floor next to you.
He's kissing you again, his tongue sweeping inside your mouth, and suddenly you're desperate to take as much of him inside you as possible. He's pulling himself in deeper, his bare cock sliding in and out of you. Even after all the things you've done together, this, right here, is what you love the most. It's what gets you harder than you could ever have imagined, it's what makes you come faster than anything ever has. Feeling him inside you, this passion that never fades...everyday you marvel over how much this means to you, how much you love this and him. It means more than the rings on your fingers, it means more than the occasions that he tells you he loves you. Anyone, even Brian, can give you the words. But that he loves you enough to give you this, and everything that comes along with it...it's all the proof you'll ever need. He reminds you what you are to him, every single fucking day.
You're both close now, and you close your eyes when he rakes his fingernails along your ass and thighs, even as you do the same to his arms. You come with his name on your lips and his hands in your hair as he pulls you back to him for a final kiss. You clench around him and he comes with you, inside you. You can feel him, warm and wet and you fucking love it.
You curl up on him, huddled against his chest, sticky as it is. He runs his fingers lovingly through your hair, and you can feel the ice cream drying between the strands. You both need a shower, but as much as the idea entices you, you don't really feel like moving much right now. So you stay curled against him, just as he stays buried inside of you. You love that he doesn't really have to go anymore. He can stay as long as you both please, though that becomes a problem, usually, when you never want him to leave.
He rubs your back, pressing his lips to the top of your head, then your ear, then your cheek. You carefully run your fingers up and down his arms, soothingly his skin where you left little pinks streaks with your nails. He catches your hand, however, and traps it against his chest, running his finger along the ring on yours, and you wait while he looks for whatever it is he's trying to find.
Whatever it is, it must be there, because he smiles softly, and covers your hand with his left one. You admire the two bands, and it touches you more deeply than it has in a while that he never returned them. Never gave up. You sometimes think that you may have taught him how to love someone, but he's the one who taught you what that meant.
Love, as you discovered, is something you can bend the hell out of, but never quite break. Something that falls apart, but always goes back together again. It survives the test of time, lives through lies, defies denial, and comes out the other side, strong and true. It's raw. Often painful. The exact opposite of comfortable and safe. But once you're in, there's no turning back.
Love, as he taught you, isn't something spoken. It's something you feel, every day, something you just know. Something that...once you find it...is worth everything.
And as he presses his lips to your skin and sighs your name, as you rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his heartbeat, as you close your eyes and relish the sensation of him still inside you....you know it's something you've found.