Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 06:29 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-03 06:29 pm
Fake News (FPF) | You Only Need To Ask | NC-17 | Jon/"Stephen"
Title: You Only Need To Ask
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s-style relationship.
Summary: Stephen asks for something.
Word Count: 1,272
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, Abigail.
There were certain things that Stephen had to ask about.
It was part of their rules, something that they’d established early on in the relationship. He didn’t have to ask about everything, of course; Jon, for instance, freely admitted that Stephen had much better fashion sense than he did and really didn’t think he should have a say in exactly what Stephen wore. He did refuse to let Stephen wear suits when it wasn’t strictly necessary, and Stephen always had to ask if he was allowed to put on boxers on any given day, but for the most part, that sort of thing was left up to Stephen.
For other things, however, Stephen definitely had to ask. If he wanted a particular dinner, or for them to eat out, he had to see if it was okay; if he wanted to have a third cup of coffee (Jon had limited him to two cups a day), he had to ask for an exception; if he was too tired to do the dishes one evening, he had to make sure Jon approved; if it was a colder night and he wanted to wear pajamas, he needed Jon’s permission; and the list continued. Some of the things he had to ask for were small and mostly insignificant, only serving to remind him who was in charge, and some were more important, because as much as Stephen might think it necessary, Jon still insisted it was impractical for him to fly to Chicago every time he wanted pizza.
There was one thing on the list, however, that Stephen didn’t understand: Jon insisted that he ask whenever he wanted to give him a blow job. Stephen knew he was good at giving them, and he knew that Jon enjoyed it when he did it, and yet he still made him ask. He even sometimes turned him down.
It had the effect of turning it into, for lack of a better word, a treat. Stephen honestly liked being able to blow Jon, to please him, and so whenever he was allowed he always tried to make it extra special. Tonight, however, he was especially determined to do so. Stephen figured that after today—an especially trying day—he deserved it.
Stephen crawled into bed, clad only in his boxers—he had no intention of asking to wear pajamas tonight—and immediately curled up next to Jon. He ran his hand down his chest, kissing him softly, and then asked, “Can I blow you tonight?”
Jon smiled a slightly bashful smile that meant he was going to say yes. “All right,” he replied, and Stephen beamed, kissing Jon more purposefully. Jon’s hand slid into his hair, pulling him closer, and eventually he ended up straddling him as they kissed.
Stephen gasped as Jon rubbed at his hips, and steadily started grinding against him. When Jon’s hand went to slide between them, Stephen stopped it and said, “I want to take care of you first, if that’s okay.”
Jon smiled again and kissed him before nodding, and Stephen couldn’t help but smile back. He went back to kissing Jon again, trailing said kisses down along his jawline, throat, and lower. Stephen took his time on Jon’s chest, paying attention to each nipple in turn, only encouraged by the sounds Jon was making.
He eventually passed Jon’s stomach as he moved along his body, and once he was face to face with Jon’s crotch, he started to remove his boxers. Licking his lips at the sight of Jon’s erection, he let his tongue dart tentatively along the shaft, purposely teasing.
“Mmm, Stephen,” Jon moaned softly, and Stephen felt Jon’s hands tangling into his hair. He loved that feeling.
Taking the head into his mouth, Stephen looked up at Jon, feeling triumphant when he gasped. He licked—still teasing—and started just the slightest bit of suction.
“Fuck,” Jon groaned, hips lifting just a little. “Feels good.”
Stephen promptly took more of Jon’s length into his mouth, increasing the intensity of the suction. His hand went to Jon’s balls, fondling him as he worked him with his mouth, and was rewarded with a tighter grip in his hair.
“God, yes, that’s good,” Jon moaned, a little more loudly than last time.
Stephen would have beamed but his mouth was already occupied, so instead he simply upped the ante, deep-throating Jon all the way. The suction increased, and then he started humming.
“Oh fuck,” Jon cried out, hips lifting more urgently now. Stephen made no attempt to stop them, perfectly willing to let Jon fuck his mouth. The way Jon was obviously trying to keep his thrusts slow enough so that he wouldn’t hurt him just turned him on a little more.
This whole experience turned him on, but especially the way Jon’s face was contorted in pleasure, and the way he was crying out. His humming just got stronger, and one of his fingers pressed just against Jon’s entrance. “Fuck, that’s—oh god, close,” Jon groaned, grip even tighter in Stephen’s hair. It hurt just the slightest bit, just a little sting, and he loved it. Looking up and meeting Jon’s eyes, he could see how close the man was to coming. Just a little more suction, a little more humming, and just the tiniest bit of pressure against Jon’s prostate—“Fuck, Stephen!” Jon shouted, coming hard as his orgasm ran through him. He held onto Stephen’s hair as he rode it out, and Stephen made sure to swallow it all.
“God, you’re good at that,” Jon panted, pulling him up. He kissed him, wrapping his arms around him. “Now let me take care of you.”
Stephen gasped as Jon’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him expertly. “You—you like it when I—oh god—do that, right?” he managed to ask.
“Mm-hmm,” Jon said, twisting his hand just so. Stephen moaned, hips thrusting into his hand.
“So—oh yes, just like that—why—fuck—why do I have to—to ask?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, remember?” Jon sped up his hand.
“Fuck, yes, but—oh god,” Stephen moaned, giving up on thinking for the time being. It was too hard to concentrate when Jon’s hand was doing that to his cock. “Feels good. Fuck.”
Jon slid his thumb over the head of Stephen’s cock, smirking. “Like that?”
Stephen’s eyes fell shut, and he buried his face into Jon’s neck. “Yes,” he mumbled, “Don’t—fuck—don’t stop, please.”
Jon kissed the top of his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
Stephen shuddered as Jon worked him, groaning and moaning nonstop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped. “That’s—oh god—I’m—fuck, close, so close.” He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible as Jon’s strokes became unbearable. “That’s—ohh, Jon!” He came harshly, orgasm wrung out of him. “Fuck,” he panted.”Good.” He peered up at Jon, content and sated. “Thanks.”
Jon chuckled. “No need for that,” he said, kissing Stephen sweetly.
“I didn’t mean for the—” Stephen stopped, flushing. “You take good care of me, Jon. You know that, right?”
Jon smiled. “I like to think so.”
“You do,” Stephen said firmly. “So...thanks. And thanks for letting me take care of you sometimes, too, even if it’s only that. It’s really hot.”
Pulling Stephen closer, Jon just laughed. Stephen smiled, glancing up at him again. “One more question,” he said, and Jon raised an eyebrow in what was clearly anticipation. “In a few minutes, do you think you could fuck me?”
Jon grinned wickedly at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/”Stephen”
Content: D/s-style relationship.
Summary: Stephen asks for something.
Word Count: 1,272
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, Abigail.
There were certain things that Stephen had to ask about.
It was part of their rules, something that they’d established early on in the relationship. He didn’t have to ask about everything, of course; Jon, for instance, freely admitted that Stephen had much better fashion sense than he did and really didn’t think he should have a say in exactly what Stephen wore. He did refuse to let Stephen wear suits when it wasn’t strictly necessary, and Stephen always had to ask if he was allowed to put on boxers on any given day, but for the most part, that sort of thing was left up to Stephen.
For other things, however, Stephen definitely had to ask. If he wanted a particular dinner, or for them to eat out, he had to see if it was okay; if he wanted to have a third cup of coffee (Jon had limited him to two cups a day), he had to ask for an exception; if he was too tired to do the dishes one evening, he had to make sure Jon approved; if it was a colder night and he wanted to wear pajamas, he needed Jon’s permission; and the list continued. Some of the things he had to ask for were small and mostly insignificant, only serving to remind him who was in charge, and some were more important, because as much as Stephen might think it necessary, Jon still insisted it was impractical for him to fly to Chicago every time he wanted pizza.
There was one thing on the list, however, that Stephen didn’t understand: Jon insisted that he ask whenever he wanted to give him a blow job. Stephen knew he was good at giving them, and he knew that Jon enjoyed it when he did it, and yet he still made him ask. He even sometimes turned him down.
It had the effect of turning it into, for lack of a better word, a treat. Stephen honestly liked being able to blow Jon, to please him, and so whenever he was allowed he always tried to make it extra special. Tonight, however, he was especially determined to do so. Stephen figured that after today—an especially trying day—he deserved it.
Stephen crawled into bed, clad only in his boxers—he had no intention of asking to wear pajamas tonight—and immediately curled up next to Jon. He ran his hand down his chest, kissing him softly, and then asked, “Can I blow you tonight?”
Jon smiled a slightly bashful smile that meant he was going to say yes. “All right,” he replied, and Stephen beamed, kissing Jon more purposefully. Jon’s hand slid into his hair, pulling him closer, and eventually he ended up straddling him as they kissed.
Stephen gasped as Jon rubbed at his hips, and steadily started grinding against him. When Jon’s hand went to slide between them, Stephen stopped it and said, “I want to take care of you first, if that’s okay.”
Jon smiled again and kissed him before nodding, and Stephen couldn’t help but smile back. He went back to kissing Jon again, trailing said kisses down along his jawline, throat, and lower. Stephen took his time on Jon’s chest, paying attention to each nipple in turn, only encouraged by the sounds Jon was making.
He eventually passed Jon’s stomach as he moved along his body, and once he was face to face with Jon’s crotch, he started to remove his boxers. Licking his lips at the sight of Jon’s erection, he let his tongue dart tentatively along the shaft, purposely teasing.
“Mmm, Stephen,” Jon moaned softly, and Stephen felt Jon’s hands tangling into his hair. He loved that feeling.
Taking the head into his mouth, Stephen looked up at Jon, feeling triumphant when he gasped. He licked—still teasing—and started just the slightest bit of suction.
“Fuck,” Jon groaned, hips lifting just a little. “Feels good.”
Stephen promptly took more of Jon’s length into his mouth, increasing the intensity of the suction. His hand went to Jon’s balls, fondling him as he worked him with his mouth, and was rewarded with a tighter grip in his hair.
“God, yes, that’s good,” Jon moaned, a little more loudly than last time.
Stephen would have beamed but his mouth was already occupied, so instead he simply upped the ante, deep-throating Jon all the way. The suction increased, and then he started humming.
“Oh fuck,” Jon cried out, hips lifting more urgently now. Stephen made no attempt to stop them, perfectly willing to let Jon fuck his mouth. The way Jon was obviously trying to keep his thrusts slow enough so that he wouldn’t hurt him just turned him on a little more.
This whole experience turned him on, but especially the way Jon’s face was contorted in pleasure, and the way he was crying out. His humming just got stronger, and one of his fingers pressed just against Jon’s entrance. “Fuck, that’s—oh god, close,” Jon groaned, grip even tighter in Stephen’s hair. It hurt just the slightest bit, just a little sting, and he loved it. Looking up and meeting Jon’s eyes, he could see how close the man was to coming. Just a little more suction, a little more humming, and just the tiniest bit of pressure against Jon’s prostate—“Fuck, Stephen!” Jon shouted, coming hard as his orgasm ran through him. He held onto Stephen’s hair as he rode it out, and Stephen made sure to swallow it all.
“God, you’re good at that,” Jon panted, pulling him up. He kissed him, wrapping his arms around him. “Now let me take care of you.”
Stephen gasped as Jon’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him expertly. “You—you like it when I—oh god—do that, right?” he managed to ask.
“Mm-hmm,” Jon said, twisting his hand just so. Stephen moaned, hips thrusting into his hand.
“So—oh yes, just like that—why—fuck—why do I have to—to ask?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, remember?” Jon sped up his hand.
“Fuck, yes, but—oh god,” Stephen moaned, giving up on thinking for the time being. It was too hard to concentrate when Jon’s hand was doing that to his cock. “Feels good. Fuck.”
Jon slid his thumb over the head of Stephen’s cock, smirking. “Like that?”
Stephen’s eyes fell shut, and he buried his face into Jon’s neck. “Yes,” he mumbled, “Don’t—fuck—don’t stop, please.”
Jon kissed the top of his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
Stephen shuddered as Jon worked him, groaning and moaning nonstop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped. “That’s—oh god—I’m—fuck, close, so close.” He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible as Jon’s strokes became unbearable. “That’s—ohh, Jon!” He came harshly, orgasm wrung out of him. “Fuck,” he panted.”Good.” He peered up at Jon, content and sated. “Thanks.”
Jon chuckled. “No need for that,” he said, kissing Stephen sweetly.
“I didn’t mean for the—” Stephen stopped, flushing. “You take good care of me, Jon. You know that, right?”
Jon smiled. “I like to think so.”
“You do,” Stephen said firmly. “So...thanks. And thanks for letting me take care of you sometimes, too, even if it’s only that. It’s really hot.”
Pulling Stephen closer, Jon just laughed. Stephen smiled, glancing up at him again. “One more question,” he said, and Jon raised an eyebrow in what was clearly anticipation. “In a few minutes, do you think you could fuck me?”
Jon grinned wickedly at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”