Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 04:53 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 04:53 pm
Fake News (FPF) | Needing More | NC-17 | Jon/"Stephen"
Title: Needing More
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s; bondage; blindfolding; orgasm control.
Summary: Stephen needs more. Jon (eventually) delivers.
Word Count: 1,565
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: Thank you for the beta, Kelly.
It was entirely possible that Jon Stewart was a diabolical mastermind in disguise.
At least, that was what Stephen was currently theorizing. How else could he have come up with this sort of revenge? Stephen’s hands were handcuffed to the headboard, he was blindfolded, and while the vibrator Jon had pressed inside of him was only set on low, it was driving him crazy. The vibrations were just enough to keep him turned on and perpetually frustrated, but not much more than that.
He whimpered, squirming on the bed.
Stephen knew this was payback. He’d been (purposely) teasing Jon the entire day, in hopes of provoking a more...aggressive reaction when they finally got home. He loved Jon, and appreciated in his own way how much the man did for him, but he still wasn’t as rough with him as Stephen occasionally wanted. Sometimes, after a long day at work, Stephen just wanted to be marched into their apartment, bent roughly over the couch or table or whatever available object, and taken.
Jon had tried this a couple times, with varying degrees of success. The problem rested solely with that fact that he was just too nice. He didn’t want to risk hurting Stephen in any way.
Well, the last one was true, anyway. Stephen was going to reconsider the nice attribute, especially if Jon kept up this torture for much longer. “Jon,” he groaned, panting as his hips thrust upward involuntarily. He was seeking friction, stimulation, anything, but all his cock met was air.
“Yes, Stephen?”
Goddamn that man for sounding so calm and collected when Stephen was half out of his mind with desire. “I need—please—” he begged.
“You need what?”
“Release.”
“You’ll get that eventually. First we have a few things to talk about.”
Oh god, Stephen thought. That tone alone was turning him on further. Jon had perfected that tone relatively early on in their relationship; it signified dominance and authority and control and the very first time Stephen had heard it a shiver had run down his spine. That reaction hadn’t waned.
Stephen wasn’t completely unaware, after all. He knew Jon, and he knew that this sort of attitude wasn’t something that came naturally for him. Stephen knew that Jon was doing this for him, to make him happy, and that knowledge alone was thrilling. When it became apparent, as their relationship progressed, that Jon was having as much fun with it as he was, the effect was downright dizzying.
Stephen jerked suddenly when he felt a hand on his chest, slowly sliding down to his stomach. “Oh, Jon, please touch me.”
“You know why this is happening, don’t you?” Jon asked in that same calm tone.
“I—” Every nerve in his body was screaming, and his brain was almost entirely focused on the feather-light touches Jon was trailing down his stomach.
“Answer me, Stephen, if you want me to touch you.”
“I was—oh—I was teasing you,” he managed in between pants. The hand moved lower, and Stephen squirmed. “Oh god, Jon, please.” He moaned when the hand very lightly brushed his erection, whimpering in protest when it moved away a couple seconds later. The touches continued along his inner thighs.
“And why were you teasing me?” Jon asked.
Stephen gasped when he felt the hand near his entrance, crying out when the vibrator was turned up a level. “Jon—god—I need—”
“Answer the question, Stephen.”
Oh god. Was it possible to die of sexual frustration and extreme arousal? If it was, Stephen was sure he was getting close. “I wanted—oh fuck—wanted to—turn you on. So you—” He broke off, moaning loudly when he felt Jon’s hand wrap around his cock.
“So I’d what?”
“So you’d—do something. To me.” Stephen panted and jerked his hips helplessly as Jon started stroking him ever-so-slowly. It was maddening.
“You were trying to manipulate me?” Jon asked.
“Yes,” Stephen said, though it sounded a lot like a moan.
“And why shouldn’t you do that?” Jon asked.
Stephen swallowed, trying to think with Jon’s hand starting to move faster over his cock. “I—it’s bad?”
“Why is it bad?”
“Oh—oh—Christ, Jon.” Stephen groaned in frustration when Jon removed his hand.
“Well?” Jon asked.
“Because—because you’re in charge,” Stephen said, squirming desperately on the bed. “Please, Jon,” he begged. “I—”
“Very good, Stephen,” Jon said approvingly. “And what are you supposed to do if you want something?”
“Ask you.” Stephen felt Jon’s hand on his stomach again.
“Good. Now what do you have to say?”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Stephen choked out, hips lifting.
Suddenly, Stephen felt the vibrating stop, and a moment later, Jon removed the vibrator entirely. When he dropped a kiss on Stephen’s lips, Stephen’s entire body started humming even more madly in anticipation. “Are you—”
“Be patient, Stephen,” Jon told him, and Stephen felt him get off the bed.
His imagination took over at this point, since he couldn’t see what Jon was doing. He imagined he was stripping, slowly, carefully, because, after all, what did Jon care that Stephen was about to explode. Then, when he heard a quiet gasp, Stephen writhed excitedly at the image that brought forth: Jon, eyes closed and cock in hand, stroking himself softly. “Oh,” Stephen moaned. “I want—Jon—need you.”
“What do you want me to do to you, Stephen?” Jon asked quietly, the bed dipping as he climbed back into it. Stephen was being straddled a moment later, and reflexively, he thrust his hips upwards. He moaned loudly at the sensation of friction, barely able to think. “Stephen,” Jon said, once again using that tone that drove Stephen wild, “I asked you a question.”
“Oh god,” Stephen panted. “Anything, Jon. Any—anything you want. Just please, please let me come!”
And then he felt fingers pressing against his entrance, careful, stretching, preparing. When Jon’s cock pushed inside of him, Stephen cried out loudly. “Jon!”
“Feels good, Stephen,” Jon said, voice sounding choked. Stephen purposely clenched around him, groaning and feeling slightly smug when Jon let out a soft noise.
“Please, move!” Stephen begged, shifting impatiently on the bed. “I need—”
“You’ll come when I let you,” Jon told him, starting to thrust at an almost unbearably slow pace.
Stephen groaned in frustration, jerking back to meet Jon’s thrusts. “Oh god,” he gasped. “Oh god.”
“Fuck,” Jon moaned, and his thrusts increased in speed.
Stephen cried out, eyes squeezing shut for a second. All that teasing followed by this—he was just so close. “More,” he called out, writhing under Jon. “Please, harder. Faster!” Jon actually complied this time, causing Stephen to whimper helplessly in arousal. “So close, Jon,” he gasped. “So close.”
Jon’s thrusts got even harder, and soon he was pounding Stephen into the mattress. “Stephen,” Jon moaned.
“Touch me!” Stephen yelled, wanting so badly to be able to come. “Please!”
All of a sudden, Stephen could see again; Jon had removed the blindfold. He didn’t have much time to wonder why, because in the next second Jon’s hand wrapped around his cock and his mind went blank, focusing on nothing except how good everything felt. Jon was fucking him—harder than he ever had before—and that hand was stroking his cock perfectly in tandem with his thrusts. Stephen stared directly into Jon’s deep blue eyes, which conveyed so much passion and love that he almost couldn’t comprehend it all. It was unbearable pleasure, assaulting his senses, and before he knew it: “Jon, I’m—“
“Come for me, Stephen.”
Oh god. He screamed loudly as he came, shouting out a mix of Jon’s name, a few expletives, and gibberish that probably couldn’t actually be classified as words. He rode out his orgasm as Jon continued thrusting into him. Jon came shortly after, grasping his hip as he grunted Stephen’s name into his neck.
They both panted heavily as Jon pulled out. He collapsed next to Stephen for a minute before grabbing the keys from the side table and releasing Stephen’s hands.
Stephen curled around Jon the moment he was able, resting his head in the crook of his neck. “I think,” he breathed, “that my brain melted.”
Jon chuckled breathlessly beside him, kissing his head affectionately. “As long as I can make you feel like it did, I’m happy.”
Stephen peered up at Jon, asking curiously, “Why’d you take the blindfold off at the end?”
“I like looking into your eyes,” Jon told him, smiling and kissing him on the lips this time. “They’re expressive.”
“Yours are too,” Stephen said, smiling back. He rested his head on Jon’s chest again. “You think we’ll get a call from the neighbors again?”
“Probably,” Jon said, and Stephen could hear his grin. “You’re loud.”
Stephen flushed. “Your fault,” he murmured into Jon’s chest.
“I know,” Jon said, rubbing his back absently. “Maybe next time I’ll gag you,” he added thoughtfully.
Stephen’s eyes shot open at that, and he looked up at Jon. “What?”
“Night, Stephen,” Jon said, amused. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Stephen replied automatically, mind still on the possibility of gags. He narrowed his eyes at Jon, watching him close his eyes to go to sleep.
There was no maybe about it anymore: Jon Stewart was definitely a diabolical mastermind.
And Stephen loved him for it.
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s; bondage; blindfolding; orgasm control.
Summary: Stephen needs more. Jon (eventually) delivers.
Word Count: 1,565
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: Thank you for the beta, Kelly.
It was entirely possible that Jon Stewart was a diabolical mastermind in disguise.
At least, that was what Stephen was currently theorizing. How else could he have come up with this sort of revenge? Stephen’s hands were handcuffed to the headboard, he was blindfolded, and while the vibrator Jon had pressed inside of him was only set on low, it was driving him crazy. The vibrations were just enough to keep him turned on and perpetually frustrated, but not much more than that.
He whimpered, squirming on the bed.
Stephen knew this was payback. He’d been (purposely) teasing Jon the entire day, in hopes of provoking a more...aggressive reaction when they finally got home. He loved Jon, and appreciated in his own way how much the man did for him, but he still wasn’t as rough with him as Stephen occasionally wanted. Sometimes, after a long day at work, Stephen just wanted to be marched into their apartment, bent roughly over the couch or table or whatever available object, and taken.
Jon had tried this a couple times, with varying degrees of success. The problem rested solely with that fact that he was just too nice. He didn’t want to risk hurting Stephen in any way.
Well, the last one was true, anyway. Stephen was going to reconsider the nice attribute, especially if Jon kept up this torture for much longer. “Jon,” he groaned, panting as his hips thrust upward involuntarily. He was seeking friction, stimulation, anything, but all his cock met was air.
“Yes, Stephen?”
Goddamn that man for sounding so calm and collected when Stephen was half out of his mind with desire. “I need—please—” he begged.
“You need what?”
“Release.”
“You’ll get that eventually. First we have a few things to talk about.”
Oh god, Stephen thought. That tone alone was turning him on further. Jon had perfected that tone relatively early on in their relationship; it signified dominance and authority and control and the very first time Stephen had heard it a shiver had run down his spine. That reaction hadn’t waned.
Stephen wasn’t completely unaware, after all. He knew Jon, and he knew that this sort of attitude wasn’t something that came naturally for him. Stephen knew that Jon was doing this for him, to make him happy, and that knowledge alone was thrilling. When it became apparent, as their relationship progressed, that Jon was having as much fun with it as he was, the effect was downright dizzying.
Stephen jerked suddenly when he felt a hand on his chest, slowly sliding down to his stomach. “Oh, Jon, please touch me.”
“You know why this is happening, don’t you?” Jon asked in that same calm tone.
“I—” Every nerve in his body was screaming, and his brain was almost entirely focused on the feather-light touches Jon was trailing down his stomach.
“Answer me, Stephen, if you want me to touch you.”
“I was—oh—I was teasing you,” he managed in between pants. The hand moved lower, and Stephen squirmed. “Oh god, Jon, please.” He moaned when the hand very lightly brushed his erection, whimpering in protest when it moved away a couple seconds later. The touches continued along his inner thighs.
“And why were you teasing me?” Jon asked.
Stephen gasped when he felt the hand near his entrance, crying out when the vibrator was turned up a level. “Jon—god—I need—”
“Answer the question, Stephen.”
Oh god. Was it possible to die of sexual frustration and extreme arousal? If it was, Stephen was sure he was getting close. “I wanted—oh fuck—wanted to—turn you on. So you—” He broke off, moaning loudly when he felt Jon’s hand wrap around his cock.
“So I’d what?”
“So you’d—do something. To me.” Stephen panted and jerked his hips helplessly as Jon started stroking him ever-so-slowly. It was maddening.
“You were trying to manipulate me?” Jon asked.
“Yes,” Stephen said, though it sounded a lot like a moan.
“And why shouldn’t you do that?” Jon asked.
Stephen swallowed, trying to think with Jon’s hand starting to move faster over his cock. “I—it’s bad?”
“Why is it bad?”
“Oh—oh—Christ, Jon.” Stephen groaned in frustration when Jon removed his hand.
“Well?” Jon asked.
“Because—because you’re in charge,” Stephen said, squirming desperately on the bed. “Please, Jon,” he begged. “I—”
“Very good, Stephen,” Jon said approvingly. “And what are you supposed to do if you want something?”
“Ask you.” Stephen felt Jon’s hand on his stomach again.
“Good. Now what do you have to say?”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Stephen choked out, hips lifting.
Suddenly, Stephen felt the vibrating stop, and a moment later, Jon removed the vibrator entirely. When he dropped a kiss on Stephen’s lips, Stephen’s entire body started humming even more madly in anticipation. “Are you—”
“Be patient, Stephen,” Jon told him, and Stephen felt him get off the bed.
His imagination took over at this point, since he couldn’t see what Jon was doing. He imagined he was stripping, slowly, carefully, because, after all, what did Jon care that Stephen was about to explode. Then, when he heard a quiet gasp, Stephen writhed excitedly at the image that brought forth: Jon, eyes closed and cock in hand, stroking himself softly. “Oh,” Stephen moaned. “I want—Jon—need you.”
“What do you want me to do to you, Stephen?” Jon asked quietly, the bed dipping as he climbed back into it. Stephen was being straddled a moment later, and reflexively, he thrust his hips upwards. He moaned loudly at the sensation of friction, barely able to think. “Stephen,” Jon said, once again using that tone that drove Stephen wild, “I asked you a question.”
“Oh god,” Stephen panted. “Anything, Jon. Any—anything you want. Just please, please let me come!”
And then he felt fingers pressing against his entrance, careful, stretching, preparing. When Jon’s cock pushed inside of him, Stephen cried out loudly. “Jon!”
“Feels good, Stephen,” Jon said, voice sounding choked. Stephen purposely clenched around him, groaning and feeling slightly smug when Jon let out a soft noise.
“Please, move!” Stephen begged, shifting impatiently on the bed. “I need—”
“You’ll come when I let you,” Jon told him, starting to thrust at an almost unbearably slow pace.
Stephen groaned in frustration, jerking back to meet Jon’s thrusts. “Oh god,” he gasped. “Oh god.”
“Fuck,” Jon moaned, and his thrusts increased in speed.
Stephen cried out, eyes squeezing shut for a second. All that teasing followed by this—he was just so close. “More,” he called out, writhing under Jon. “Please, harder. Faster!” Jon actually complied this time, causing Stephen to whimper helplessly in arousal. “So close, Jon,” he gasped. “So close.”
Jon’s thrusts got even harder, and soon he was pounding Stephen into the mattress. “Stephen,” Jon moaned.
“Touch me!” Stephen yelled, wanting so badly to be able to come. “Please!”
All of a sudden, Stephen could see again; Jon had removed the blindfold. He didn’t have much time to wonder why, because in the next second Jon’s hand wrapped around his cock and his mind went blank, focusing on nothing except how good everything felt. Jon was fucking him—harder than he ever had before—and that hand was stroking his cock perfectly in tandem with his thrusts. Stephen stared directly into Jon’s deep blue eyes, which conveyed so much passion and love that he almost couldn’t comprehend it all. It was unbearable pleasure, assaulting his senses, and before he knew it: “Jon, I’m—“
“Come for me, Stephen.”
Oh god. He screamed loudly as he came, shouting out a mix of Jon’s name, a few expletives, and gibberish that probably couldn’t actually be classified as words. He rode out his orgasm as Jon continued thrusting into him. Jon came shortly after, grasping his hip as he grunted Stephen’s name into his neck.
They both panted heavily as Jon pulled out. He collapsed next to Stephen for a minute before grabbing the keys from the side table and releasing Stephen’s hands.
Stephen curled around Jon the moment he was able, resting his head in the crook of his neck. “I think,” he breathed, “that my brain melted.”
Jon chuckled breathlessly beside him, kissing his head affectionately. “As long as I can make you feel like it did, I’m happy.”
Stephen peered up at Jon, asking curiously, “Why’d you take the blindfold off at the end?”
“I like looking into your eyes,” Jon told him, smiling and kissing him on the lips this time. “They’re expressive.”
“Yours are too,” Stephen said, smiling back. He rested his head on Jon’s chest again. “You think we’ll get a call from the neighbors again?”
“Probably,” Jon said, and Stephen could hear his grin. “You’re loud.”
Stephen flushed. “Your fault,” he murmured into Jon’s chest.
“I know,” Jon said, rubbing his back absently. “Maybe next time I’ll gag you,” he added thoughtfully.
Stephen’s eyes shot open at that, and he looked up at Jon. “What?”
“Night, Stephen,” Jon said, amused. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Stephen replied automatically, mind still on the possibility of gags. He narrowed his eyes at Jon, watching him close his eyes to go to sleep.
There was no maybe about it anymore: Jon Stewart was definitely a diabolical mastermind.
And Stephen loved him for it.