Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 05:09 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 05:09 am
Fake News (FPF) | Four Times Jon Needed To Punish Stephen | NC-17 | Jon/"Stephen"
Title: Four Times Jon Needed To Punish Stephen (And One Time He Rewarded Him)
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s; orgasm/arousal control.
Summary: Sometimes, Stephen needs to be punished. Sometimes he doesn't.
Word Count: 2,135
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: The title jumped into my head, and then my brain decided that fic should follow. I think the plot bunnies are just mocking me now. On a side note, coming up with punishments for c!Stephen? Incredibly fun. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
Stephen frowned as he sat down at the breakfast table. “Where’s my paper?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the copy of The New York Times sitting on the table.
“Right there,” Jon said, putting a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Stephen. He set his own plate on the table as well before sitting down.
“Jon, this is The New York Times,” Stephen said, voice dripping in disdain. “I don’t read this. You know that.”
Jon took a bite of his food. “You remember the fit you threw last night?”
Stephen’s eyes widened. Jon wouldn’t—he couldn’t. “I told you I was sorry!”
“Sorry isn’t always enough, Stephen,” Jon said calmly, taking a sip of his orange juice. “Read the paper. Front to back. You’re not leaving the table until you’re finished.”
“But—but—Jon,” Stephen whined, giving him a full pout.
Jon looked like he wavered a little, but he held Stephen’s gaze. “Read the paper.”
Stephen sulked, taking his time eating his breakfast. Jon had long since finished his, taking his plate to the sink. “Remember, Stephen. You have to read the entire paper. I will ask you about it later.”
“Fine,” Stephen snapped, and Jon raised an eyebrow at him.
“You want to read tomorrow’s paper too?” he asked curiously.
“No!” Stephen said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’ll read it, I will.”
He did eventually read it, though it took the better part of the day. He had to take a lot of breaks in order to pout and sulk and generally feel indignant about being made to read this trash in the first place.
Jon walked into the kitchen to start making dinner when Stephen shuddered, standing up from the table. “There,” he said. “I read the whole thing. It was awful, Jon. Please don’t make me do it again?” He gave Jon a wide-eyed look.
Jon pulled him close. “You understand why you had to, though, right?”
Stephen sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
“Good. Now what do you want for dinner?”
“Ravioli?” Stephen asked hopefully.
“Ravioli it is,” Jon declared, and Stephen beamed.
*
Stephen stopped talking when he saw the look on Jon’s face. He knew that look—it meant Jon wasn’t happy with him. But why? All they did was go to a movie—and sure, he’d gotten a phone call in the middle of it, but he hadn’t talked that long. Twenty, thirty minutes tops.
“What, Jon?” he asked.
Jon just looked at him. “I can’t believe you acted that rudely, Stephen. Other people were trying to enjoy that movie, and you were talking on your phone.”
“But—not for long!” Stephen protested. “And I wasn’t loud!”
Jon raised an eyebrow at that. “You weren’t loud? They could hear you in the back of the theater.”
“I didn’t talk that long!”
“Stephen, you were on the phone for nearly an hour!”
Stephen winced. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
“I figured.” He gave Stephen a look. “Well?”
“Well what? It was an important call! I had to take it!”
“Why didn’t you leave the theater, then?”
“I didn’t want to miss the movie!”
Jon just shook his head. “Give it to me,” he said eventually, holding out his hand.
“Wha—what?”
“Give me your phone.”
“But—Jon—”
“Give me your phone, Stephen. I mean it.”
Stephen gulped. He knew better than to argue with Jon when he used that tone, and quickly dug his beloved iPhone out of his pocket, handing it over to Jon. “This is mine for the next few days,” Jon said. “If you need to use it, you have to ask, and I have to approve of the reason. You’ll be allowed thirty minutes each day.”
Stephen’s jaw dropped. “Jon!”
“I can make it a week.”
Stephen pouted, crossing his arms. “Fine.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
*
Stephen frowned when he turned to the only channel he trusted for news—the fair and balanced channel. The only thing that had appeared on the screen was a prompt for a combination. He tried again, and then again, but the prompt came up every time. That was weird.
“Jon, something’s wrong with the TV!” Stephen called. “I can’t get Fox News!”
“Nothing’s wrong with the TV, Stephen,” Jon told him, walking into the living room. “I locked it.”
Stephen blinked. “What? Why?”
Jon just sent him a look.
“I told you I didn’t mean to break the lamp!”
“You didn’t apologize, you hid it from me, and then you lied about it,” Jon said. “All because you were angry that the grocery store didn’t have your ice cream flavor. That’s called a tantrum, Stephen. You’re forty-four, not four.”
“But I need to watch Fox News, Jon! I need to stay current!”
“There are other news stations,” Jon said, settling into the chair with his crossword puzzle.
Stephen’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean—I can’t watch—CNN? Or worse, MSNBC? I can’t watch those!”
“I think you’re going to have to.”
“I’ll buy you a new lamp, Jon! I swear!”
“That’s not the point, and you know it.”
“This isn’t fair!” Stephen was in full-on sulk mode, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground.
“It’s perfectly fair.”
“How long?” he asked.
“A week.”
“A whole week? That’s forever!”
“Stephen.”
Stephen sighed, flopping back on the couch. “Fine,” he said, flipping the channel to—he winced—MSNBC. “This may kill me, you know,” he said dramatically.
Jon rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances, Stephen.”
*
Stephen squirmed in his seat. He couldn’t concentrate, not on his show, on his anger, or on the writer currently talking (though that was nothing new; he rarely listened to what the writers said). And it was all Jon’s fault.
He’d gotten this idea, one day. Jon had said he’d been acting impatient. He said he needed to learn his lesson. Stephen guessed that he might sort of have a little bit of a point, but still. This was evil.
Jon had gotten online and he’d found this...this...thing. This plug. It vibrated and had a wireless remote control. And he made Stephen wear it all day today.
It was driving him crazy.
Jon had been making excuses to be around the TCR studio, and he had the remote. The plug by itself was distracting—it tended to press just against his prostate when he shifted in certain ways—but bearable. But Jon would turn it on, and that was—oh god.
He’d just hit the button for the medium setting. Stephen bit his lip so he didn’t let out a whimper, meeting Jon’s eyes. Jon simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Stephen tried not to groan audibly.
That had to be the worst (best?) part, the way he didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate it at all. In fact, the way Jon was controlling his reactions was so...so...hot. It was driving Stephen insane, how Jon could so effortlessly drag this arousal out of him. He was helpless in the matter, and he loved it.
Part of him still didn’t understand why he liked it when Jon took control like this, but the rest of him was too busy being incredibly turned on to worry about it.
“You okay, Stephen?” asked Allison suddenly. “You look a little flushed. Coming down with a fever, maybe?”
“No,” Stephen choked out. “I’m—I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Y—yes,” Stephen squeaked, because Jon had just hit the button for the high setting. Ohgodohgodohgod...
Allison shot him a strange look, and Stephen barely registered it. He’d been half-erect since Jon had pressed the plug inside of him that morning, but his cock was throbbing insistently now, demanding attention. He needed something.
He gave Jon a pleading look; Jon, seemingly casual, smirked at him. And while he did turn off the vibrator, Stephen was still desperately turned on. The meeting couldn’t be over soon enough for his liking.
It did eventually end, though it seemed like ages. Stephen escaped to his office as soon as he could, sitting down at his desk and pressing his forehead against the cool wood.
He wanted so badly to be able to touch himself, but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He vaguely heard the door opening, sitting upright when the vibrating started again at full blast. “Oh god, Jon,” he said looking at him, eyes wide. “I need—please—”
Jon nodded, shutting and locking the office door behind him. “Touch yourself, Stephen,” he said, voice low.
Stephen groaned, hand moving to his fly in seconds flat. He shifted in his seat, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough so he could wrap his hand around his cock, stroking quickly and moaning loudly. “Ohh—oh, god,” he gasped, eyes falling shut. He moved his hand faster, and that combined with the vibrating plug inside him was getting him close to the edge incredibly quickly. Just a little longer and he’d be there—
“Stop.”
Stephen whimpered, but listened, stilling his hand. “Jon,” he moaned, eyes opening. “I’m so—”
Jon moved toward him, kneeling down in front of Stephen’s chair. He leaned in, pinning Stephen’s hips down as he took his cock into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Oh god.” Stephen leaned back, eyes falling shut again. Jon’s mouth around him felt so good, hot and wet and just right, but it was so teasing. “Please, Jon, please—”
The suction increased, and Stephen bit his hand to keep from crying out too loudly. He wriggled as best he could, groaning at the combined sensations of the plug shifting and vibrating inside him and the feeling of Jon’s mouth wrapped around his cock. He wasn’t going to last long. “Jon—I’m—close!”
Jon started humming around him, and that was it. Eyes squeezed shut tight, Stephen came, muffling his shout into his hand. Jon swallowed it all, and Stephen vaguely felt him turn off the vibrator. “Oh my god,” he breathed, and Jon smirked at him, standing up. Stephen shifted in his chair, pulling up his pants and boxers, zipping and buttoning himself up.
“Think you’ll be okay for the rest of the day?” he asked.
Stephen nodded. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “Do you want me to…?” he trailed off, looking down at Jon’s crotch.
“I can wait ‘til we get home tonight,” Jon said, kissing him quickly.
“Do I have to keep this, uh—”
“I told you. The whole day.”
“Okay.” Stephen had a feeling that on tonight’s show, he’d have a frustrated edge to his anger. He supposed that would work.
Jon looked at him curiously. “What do you think of this so far?”
Stephen swallowed. “I like it a lot,” he said quietly. “I like the reminder that you’re—you’re there. You’re in control. That I’m...yours.”
Jon nodded at this answer, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he appeared to pull himself out of it, glancing at the clock. “Looks like it’s almost time for rehearsal. I have to go.”
“Okay, Jon,” Stephen said, and Jon kissed him again before leaving.
*
“Hey, Stephen, can you come here, please?” Jon called from the living room. Stephen walked out of the bedroom, confused.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked, sitting down on the couch next to Jon.
Jon chuckled. “No. I have something for you,” he said. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to wear it, but I was thinking about what you said, about liking a reminder and, well—” He handed over the box. It was clearly a jewelry case, though far too large to hold a ring or cufflinks, and not big enough for any sort of necklace.
Stephen took the box, opening it and letting out a quiet gasp when he saw what it was: a thin, silver bracelet with J&S elegantly engraved on it. He looked over at Jon, who was fidgeting nervously on the couch.
“What do you think? Do you like it? I mean, like I said, it’s up to you if—”
“I love it,” Stephen said, and quickly slipped it on. He admired how it looked next to his WristStrong bracelet. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, leaning in and kissing him.
Jon smiled at him, kissing back. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
He pulled Jon close, wrapping his arms around him as they kissed softly. Resting his head on Jon’s chest, he said, very quietly, “I’m glad I have you.”
Stephen didn’t say things like that often. He knew he could be difficult, and he still didn’t understand why Jon would even bother with him sometimes, but he was happy he did.
When Jon just looked at him, smiled, and said, “I love you,” Stephen couldn’t help but cling tighter, return the sentiment, and vaguely wonder how he got so lucky.
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s; orgasm/arousal control.
Summary: Sometimes, Stephen needs to be punished. Sometimes he doesn't.
Word Count: 2,135
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: The title jumped into my head, and then my brain decided that fic should follow. I think the plot bunnies are just mocking me now. On a side note, coming up with punishments for c!Stephen? Incredibly fun. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
Stephen frowned as he sat down at the breakfast table. “Where’s my paper?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the copy of The New York Times sitting on the table.
“Right there,” Jon said, putting a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Stephen. He set his own plate on the table as well before sitting down.
“Jon, this is The New York Times,” Stephen said, voice dripping in disdain. “I don’t read this. You know that.”
Jon took a bite of his food. “You remember the fit you threw last night?”
Stephen’s eyes widened. Jon wouldn’t—he couldn’t. “I told you I was sorry!”
“Sorry isn’t always enough, Stephen,” Jon said calmly, taking a sip of his orange juice. “Read the paper. Front to back. You’re not leaving the table until you’re finished.”
“But—but—Jon,” Stephen whined, giving him a full pout.
Jon looked like he wavered a little, but he held Stephen’s gaze. “Read the paper.”
Stephen sulked, taking his time eating his breakfast. Jon had long since finished his, taking his plate to the sink. “Remember, Stephen. You have to read the entire paper. I will ask you about it later.”
“Fine,” Stephen snapped, and Jon raised an eyebrow at him.
“You want to read tomorrow’s paper too?” he asked curiously.
“No!” Stephen said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’ll read it, I will.”
He did eventually read it, though it took the better part of the day. He had to take a lot of breaks in order to pout and sulk and generally feel indignant about being made to read this trash in the first place.
Jon walked into the kitchen to start making dinner when Stephen shuddered, standing up from the table. “There,” he said. “I read the whole thing. It was awful, Jon. Please don’t make me do it again?” He gave Jon a wide-eyed look.
Jon pulled him close. “You understand why you had to, though, right?”
Stephen sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
“Good. Now what do you want for dinner?”
“Ravioli?” Stephen asked hopefully.
“Ravioli it is,” Jon declared, and Stephen beamed.
Stephen stopped talking when he saw the look on Jon’s face. He knew that look—it meant Jon wasn’t happy with him. But why? All they did was go to a movie—and sure, he’d gotten a phone call in the middle of it, but he hadn’t talked that long. Twenty, thirty minutes tops.
“What, Jon?” he asked.
Jon just looked at him. “I can’t believe you acted that rudely, Stephen. Other people were trying to enjoy that movie, and you were talking on your phone.”
“But—not for long!” Stephen protested. “And I wasn’t loud!”
Jon raised an eyebrow at that. “You weren’t loud? They could hear you in the back of the theater.”
“I didn’t talk that long!”
“Stephen, you were on the phone for nearly an hour!”
Stephen winced. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
“I figured.” He gave Stephen a look. “Well?”
“Well what? It was an important call! I had to take it!”
“Why didn’t you leave the theater, then?”
“I didn’t want to miss the movie!”
Jon just shook his head. “Give it to me,” he said eventually, holding out his hand.
“Wha—what?”
“Give me your phone.”
“But—Jon—”
“Give me your phone, Stephen. I mean it.”
Stephen gulped. He knew better than to argue with Jon when he used that tone, and quickly dug his beloved iPhone out of his pocket, handing it over to Jon. “This is mine for the next few days,” Jon said. “If you need to use it, you have to ask, and I have to approve of the reason. You’ll be allowed thirty minutes each day.”
Stephen’s jaw dropped. “Jon!”
“I can make it a week.”
Stephen pouted, crossing his arms. “Fine.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
Stephen frowned when he turned to the only channel he trusted for news—the fair and balanced channel. The only thing that had appeared on the screen was a prompt for a combination. He tried again, and then again, but the prompt came up every time. That was weird.
“Jon, something’s wrong with the TV!” Stephen called. “I can’t get Fox News!”
“Nothing’s wrong with the TV, Stephen,” Jon told him, walking into the living room. “I locked it.”
Stephen blinked. “What? Why?”
Jon just sent him a look.
“I told you I didn’t mean to break the lamp!”
“You didn’t apologize, you hid it from me, and then you lied about it,” Jon said. “All because you were angry that the grocery store didn’t have your ice cream flavor. That’s called a tantrum, Stephen. You’re forty-four, not four.”
“But I need to watch Fox News, Jon! I need to stay current!”
“There are other news stations,” Jon said, settling into the chair with his crossword puzzle.
Stephen’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean—I can’t watch—CNN? Or worse, MSNBC? I can’t watch those!”
“I think you’re going to have to.”
“I’ll buy you a new lamp, Jon! I swear!”
“That’s not the point, and you know it.”
“This isn’t fair!” Stephen was in full-on sulk mode, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground.
“It’s perfectly fair.”
“How long?” he asked.
“A week.”
“A whole week? That’s forever!”
“Stephen.”
Stephen sighed, flopping back on the couch. “Fine,” he said, flipping the channel to—he winced—MSNBC. “This may kill me, you know,” he said dramatically.
Jon rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances, Stephen.”
Stephen squirmed in his seat. He couldn’t concentrate, not on his show, on his anger, or on the writer currently talking (though that was nothing new; he rarely listened to what the writers said). And it was all Jon’s fault.
He’d gotten this idea, one day. Jon had said he’d been acting impatient. He said he needed to learn his lesson. Stephen guessed that he might sort of have a little bit of a point, but still. This was evil.
Jon had gotten online and he’d found this...this...thing. This plug. It vibrated and had a wireless remote control. And he made Stephen wear it all day today.
It was driving him crazy.
Jon had been making excuses to be around the TCR studio, and he had the remote. The plug by itself was distracting—it tended to press just against his prostate when he shifted in certain ways—but bearable. But Jon would turn it on, and that was—oh god.
He’d just hit the button for the medium setting. Stephen bit his lip so he didn’t let out a whimper, meeting Jon’s eyes. Jon simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Stephen tried not to groan audibly.
That had to be the worst (best?) part, the way he didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate it at all. In fact, the way Jon was controlling his reactions was so...so...hot. It was driving Stephen insane, how Jon could so effortlessly drag this arousal out of him. He was helpless in the matter, and he loved it.
Part of him still didn’t understand why he liked it when Jon took control like this, but the rest of him was too busy being incredibly turned on to worry about it.
“You okay, Stephen?” asked Allison suddenly. “You look a little flushed. Coming down with a fever, maybe?”
“No,” Stephen choked out. “I’m—I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Y—yes,” Stephen squeaked, because Jon had just hit the button for the high setting. Ohgodohgodohgod...
Allison shot him a strange look, and Stephen barely registered it. He’d been half-erect since Jon had pressed the plug inside of him that morning, but his cock was throbbing insistently now, demanding attention. He needed something.
He gave Jon a pleading look; Jon, seemingly casual, smirked at him. And while he did turn off the vibrator, Stephen was still desperately turned on. The meeting couldn’t be over soon enough for his liking.
It did eventually end, though it seemed like ages. Stephen escaped to his office as soon as he could, sitting down at his desk and pressing his forehead against the cool wood.
He wanted so badly to be able to touch himself, but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He vaguely heard the door opening, sitting upright when the vibrating started again at full blast. “Oh god, Jon,” he said looking at him, eyes wide. “I need—please—”
Jon nodded, shutting and locking the office door behind him. “Touch yourself, Stephen,” he said, voice low.
Stephen groaned, hand moving to his fly in seconds flat. He shifted in his seat, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough so he could wrap his hand around his cock, stroking quickly and moaning loudly. “Ohh—oh, god,” he gasped, eyes falling shut. He moved his hand faster, and that combined with the vibrating plug inside him was getting him close to the edge incredibly quickly. Just a little longer and he’d be there—
“Stop.”
Stephen whimpered, but listened, stilling his hand. “Jon,” he moaned, eyes opening. “I’m so—”
Jon moved toward him, kneeling down in front of Stephen’s chair. He leaned in, pinning Stephen’s hips down as he took his cock into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Oh god.” Stephen leaned back, eyes falling shut again. Jon’s mouth around him felt so good, hot and wet and just right, but it was so teasing. “Please, Jon, please—”
The suction increased, and Stephen bit his hand to keep from crying out too loudly. He wriggled as best he could, groaning at the combined sensations of the plug shifting and vibrating inside him and the feeling of Jon’s mouth wrapped around his cock. He wasn’t going to last long. “Jon—I’m—close!”
Jon started humming around him, and that was it. Eyes squeezed shut tight, Stephen came, muffling his shout into his hand. Jon swallowed it all, and Stephen vaguely felt him turn off the vibrator. “Oh my god,” he breathed, and Jon smirked at him, standing up. Stephen shifted in his chair, pulling up his pants and boxers, zipping and buttoning himself up.
“Think you’ll be okay for the rest of the day?” he asked.
Stephen nodded. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “Do you want me to…?” he trailed off, looking down at Jon’s crotch.
“I can wait ‘til we get home tonight,” Jon said, kissing him quickly.
“Do I have to keep this, uh—”
“I told you. The whole day.”
“Okay.” Stephen had a feeling that on tonight’s show, he’d have a frustrated edge to his anger. He supposed that would work.
Jon looked at him curiously. “What do you think of this so far?”
Stephen swallowed. “I like it a lot,” he said quietly. “I like the reminder that you’re—you’re there. You’re in control. That I’m...yours.”
Jon nodded at this answer, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he appeared to pull himself out of it, glancing at the clock. “Looks like it’s almost time for rehearsal. I have to go.”
“Okay, Jon,” Stephen said, and Jon kissed him again before leaving.
“Hey, Stephen, can you come here, please?” Jon called from the living room. Stephen walked out of the bedroom, confused.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked, sitting down on the couch next to Jon.
Jon chuckled. “No. I have something for you,” he said. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to wear it, but I was thinking about what you said, about liking a reminder and, well—” He handed over the box. It was clearly a jewelry case, though far too large to hold a ring or cufflinks, and not big enough for any sort of necklace.
Stephen took the box, opening it and letting out a quiet gasp when he saw what it was: a thin, silver bracelet with J&S elegantly engraved on it. He looked over at Jon, who was fidgeting nervously on the couch.
“What do you think? Do you like it? I mean, like I said, it’s up to you if—”
“I love it,” Stephen said, and quickly slipped it on. He admired how it looked next to his WristStrong bracelet. “Thank you, Jon,” he said, leaning in and kissing him.
Jon smiled at him, kissing back. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
He pulled Jon close, wrapping his arms around him as they kissed softly. Resting his head on Jon’s chest, he said, very quietly, “I’m glad I have you.”
Stephen didn’t say things like that often. He knew he could be difficult, and he still didn’t understand why Jon would even bother with him sometimes, but he was happy he did.
When Jon just looked at him, smiled, and said, “I love you,” Stephen couldn’t help but cling tighter, return the sentiment, and vaguely wonder how he got so lucky.