Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-04-09 10:08 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-04-09 10:08 am
Fake News (FPF) | Illustration Needed | NC-17 | Jon/"Stephen"
Title: Illustration Needed
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/“Stephen”
Content: D/s; bondage; cross-dressing.
Summary: Jon shows Stephen something important.
Word Count: 1,340
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: Needverse, obviously. References this drabble and was partially inspired by this picture. (Site is NSFW and had a habit of turning my brain to goo.) Thanks for the beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hiddenxplaces.
It’d been a week since Jon had discovered his shameful secret, and so far, the other shoe hadn’t dropped. Stephen wasn’t fooled, though; Jon might be an overly-permissive liberal, and sure, he might have semi-reluctantly stepped up to humor his other...needs, but he knew this was probably too much. After all, how couldn’t it be? Dressing in women’s clothes—what was wrong with him? He should’ve burned them years ago, but of course not—he’d been too weak. Now he was going to pay for that weakness: he'd been ordered to stay in the living room and not move, and shortly after Jon disappeared into their room, he’d heard noise and movement that sounded like he was rummaging through their closet and dressers. It’d set him on edge. Was this it?
“Stephen,” Jon called suddenly from the bedroom, and Stephen tensed further. “Come here, please.”
He did as he was told, but walked slowly, dreading what he’d find. When he finally made it to the bedroom and opened the door, his heart all but dropped out of his chest, sure his fears had come true: Jon was almost done emptying out one of his top dresser drawers. “J—Jon?” he asked.
“Just clearing a space,” Jon told him, setting a pair of black lacy panties on the bed. He put two other similar types of underwear, plus a pair of stockings, in the newly cleared-out drawer. “You don’t have much, but we can get you more. I found them buried in the back of the closet.”
Stephen blinked. “Jon?” he repeated, this time in confusion.
Jon didn’t comment on it. “Get undressed. Then put those on.” He indicated the underwear sitting on the bed.
This did nothing to alleviate his confusion, but Stephen did as Jon said, slowly divesting himself of his clothing, folding it neatly after he was done and setting it on the bed. He picked up the panties, swallowed slightly, and put them on as Jon watched him carefully. “Get on the bed and lay on your side,” Jon said. “Face the mirror on the dresser and put your hands behind your back.”
Stephen nodded, quickly obeying. He let out a sharp breath as he watched Jon kneel onto the bed, grabbing the tie he’d been wearing from where it was sitting with his other clothes, using it to bind his wrists behind him. He kissed Stephen deeply, getting off the bed and walking around, climbing back on so that he was behind him. Trailing a hand along Stephen’s chest and stomach, he let it make its way down to the growing bulge in the semi-transparent panties, and said, “Look in the mirror, Stephen.”
Stephen did so. He could see the outline of his erection through the fabric, noticed that his face was as red as he thought it was. He also saw the way Jon was touching him, looking at him, entranced, focused...attracted. “You’re gorgeous, Stephen,” Jon told him, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. He leaned down, kissing him again, and Stephen groaned into it, rocking his hips roughly against Jon’s.
“God, Jon,” he panted, crying out softly in frustration when Jon moved off of him after kissing him. “Please, fuck me,” he begged, watching as Jon left the bed.
“Not just yet. Get up,” he said, and Stephen scrambled to obey. “Off the bed,” Jon added, and Stephen did that as well, looking at him expectantly. “Bend over the side. Face the mirror.”
Stephen groaned, eagerly doing as he was told. He briefly kept his head lifted so he could see into the mirror, watching as Jon stood behind him. Moaning softly, he closed his eyes and dropped his head, only to start when he felt Jon smack his ass. “Keep your head up,” he said. “Watch.”
Stephen nodded, looking in the mirror as Jon got out a condom and their bottle of lube from the nightstand, then undid his own pants, pushing them and his boxers down. His angle wasn’t perfect, so he felt rather than saw as Jon carefully lowered the panties, leaving his ass bare but not releasing his cock. He resisted the urge to close his eyes when he felt one slicked-up finger enter him, groaning as he pushed back against it. Another finger followed, and then a third, stretching him, preparing him, teasing him, driving him wild. “Please, more,” he gasped, rubbing his straining erection against the bed.
The fingers left him, and he could see Jon’s face in the mirror as he slipped on the condom and slicked up his cock; his eyes closed just slightly, and there was a slight look of pleasure that didn’t compare to the one he saw as soon as Jon pressed inside him, swiftly, in one fluid motion. He set a languid but forceful pace, keeping his thrusts slow but deliberate. “Oh fuck,” Stephen groaned loudly, torn between which sensation he loved more: the way Jon felt inside him, or the way the lace rubbed against his cock as Jon pushed him roughly into the bed. “More,” he whimpered. “Faster.”
Jon seemed determined to keep his pace slow, even as Stephen watched the way his face contorted as he struggled with his own control. His hands were on Stephen’s hips, clenching tightly, and Stephen moaned at another hard thrust, hoping there’d be marks afterward. “Please, Jon, oh, please,” he begged, squirming against the bed after another powerful thrust. He was rewarded with a slight quickening of pace, the thrusts coming faster, and then even faster than that, and Stephen watched in the mirror as the last of Jon’s restraint melted away, leaving Jon to fuck him hard and fast. He cried out loudly, panting and whimpering as he was fucked, never forgetting about the lace panties still containing his erection, teasing him desperately as they rubbed against him.
“No, Stephen. Not yet,” Jon told him suddenly, and Stephen didn’t have to ask what he meant. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, not sure how long he’d be able to hold out, not with the way Jon was fucking him, both of them vocalizing with every thrust now, moans and whimpers and groans filling their ears. He was close, so close, but he didn’t have permission, and he balanced on the edge of his release, sheer willpower keeping him from falling over.
“Please, Jon, let me come—I need to come,” he whimpered again, and Jon gave an especially hard thrust.
“Now, Stephen,” he said, and Stephen let out a strangled cry, not needing to be told twice. One last thrust and he was coming harshly, orgasm charging through him as he shut his eyes tightly again, moaning loudly as he rode it out.
Slowly but surely, he floated back to Earth, breathing still rapid as he opened his eyes. The second he did, he saw the expression on Jon’s face change, recognizing it instantly; he’d seen it many times before. Three thrusts later and Jon was coming too, finishing hard, face screwing up in pleasure.
Stephen panted happily as Jon pulled out and disposed of the condom. He pulled up Stephen’s panties but left his wrists tied, saying, breathlessly, “Get into bed.” Stephen nodded and moved, letting Jon get into bed first before curling around him, resting his head on his chest.
“They’re sticky,” he complained absently, indicating the underwear he was wearing.
“I’ll let you take them off in a second,” Jon said, stroking Stephen’s hair. “We’ll wash them on Friday. You can wear one of your other pairs tomorrow.”
Stephen looked up at Jon suddenly. “Tomorrow?”
Jon smirked. “Yes, Stephen. Tomorrow.”
When no less than three people—Bobby, Allison, and Tad—asked him why he was squirming so much in his seat the next day, Stephen snapped at them and told them to mind their own business. It wasn’t like he could stop the tiny frisson of pleasure that ran up his spine every time the lace rubbed against him just right.
Not that he wanted to.
Fandom: Fake News (FPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/“Stephen”
Content: D/s; bondage; cross-dressing.
Summary: Jon shows Stephen something important.
Word Count: 1,340
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: Needverse, obviously. References this drabble and was partially inspired by this picture. (Site is NSFW and had a habit of turning my brain to goo.) Thanks for the beta,
hiddenxplaces.It’d been a week since Jon had discovered his shameful secret, and so far, the other shoe hadn’t dropped. Stephen wasn’t fooled, though; Jon might be an overly-permissive liberal, and sure, he might have semi-reluctantly stepped up to humor his other...needs, but he knew this was probably too much. After all, how couldn’t it be? Dressing in women’s clothes—what was wrong with him? He should’ve burned them years ago, but of course not—he’d been too weak. Now he was going to pay for that weakness: he'd been ordered to stay in the living room and not move, and shortly after Jon disappeared into their room, he’d heard noise and movement that sounded like he was rummaging through their closet and dressers. It’d set him on edge. Was this it?
“Stephen,” Jon called suddenly from the bedroom, and Stephen tensed further. “Come here, please.”
He did as he was told, but walked slowly, dreading what he’d find. When he finally made it to the bedroom and opened the door, his heart all but dropped out of his chest, sure his fears had come true: Jon was almost done emptying out one of his top dresser drawers. “J—Jon?” he asked.
“Just clearing a space,” Jon told him, setting a pair of black lacy panties on the bed. He put two other similar types of underwear, plus a pair of stockings, in the newly cleared-out drawer. “You don’t have much, but we can get you more. I found them buried in the back of the closet.”
Stephen blinked. “Jon?” he repeated, this time in confusion.
Jon didn’t comment on it. “Get undressed. Then put those on.” He indicated the underwear sitting on the bed.
This did nothing to alleviate his confusion, but Stephen did as Jon said, slowly divesting himself of his clothing, folding it neatly after he was done and setting it on the bed. He picked up the panties, swallowed slightly, and put them on as Jon watched him carefully. “Get on the bed and lay on your side,” Jon said. “Face the mirror on the dresser and put your hands behind your back.”
Stephen nodded, quickly obeying. He let out a sharp breath as he watched Jon kneel onto the bed, grabbing the tie he’d been wearing from where it was sitting with his other clothes, using it to bind his wrists behind him. He kissed Stephen deeply, getting off the bed and walking around, climbing back on so that he was behind him. Trailing a hand along Stephen’s chest and stomach, he let it make its way down to the growing bulge in the semi-transparent panties, and said, “Look in the mirror, Stephen.”
Stephen did so. He could see the outline of his erection through the fabric, noticed that his face was as red as he thought it was. He also saw the way Jon was touching him, looking at him, entranced, focused...attracted. “You’re gorgeous, Stephen,” Jon told him, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. He leaned down, kissing him again, and Stephen groaned into it, rocking his hips roughly against Jon’s.
“God, Jon,” he panted, crying out softly in frustration when Jon moved off of him after kissing him. “Please, fuck me,” he begged, watching as Jon left the bed.
“Not just yet. Get up,” he said, and Stephen scrambled to obey. “Off the bed,” Jon added, and Stephen did that as well, looking at him expectantly. “Bend over the side. Face the mirror.”
Stephen groaned, eagerly doing as he was told. He briefly kept his head lifted so he could see into the mirror, watching as Jon stood behind him. Moaning softly, he closed his eyes and dropped his head, only to start when he felt Jon smack his ass. “Keep your head up,” he said. “Watch.”
Stephen nodded, looking in the mirror as Jon got out a condom and their bottle of lube from the nightstand, then undid his own pants, pushing them and his boxers down. His angle wasn’t perfect, so he felt rather than saw as Jon carefully lowered the panties, leaving his ass bare but not releasing his cock. He resisted the urge to close his eyes when he felt one slicked-up finger enter him, groaning as he pushed back against it. Another finger followed, and then a third, stretching him, preparing him, teasing him, driving him wild. “Please, more,” he gasped, rubbing his straining erection against the bed.
The fingers left him, and he could see Jon’s face in the mirror as he slipped on the condom and slicked up his cock; his eyes closed just slightly, and there was a slight look of pleasure that didn’t compare to the one he saw as soon as Jon pressed inside him, swiftly, in one fluid motion. He set a languid but forceful pace, keeping his thrusts slow but deliberate. “Oh fuck,” Stephen groaned loudly, torn between which sensation he loved more: the way Jon felt inside him, or the way the lace rubbed against his cock as Jon pushed him roughly into the bed. “More,” he whimpered. “Faster.”
Jon seemed determined to keep his pace slow, even as Stephen watched the way his face contorted as he struggled with his own control. His hands were on Stephen’s hips, clenching tightly, and Stephen moaned at another hard thrust, hoping there’d be marks afterward. “Please, Jon, oh, please,” he begged, squirming against the bed after another powerful thrust. He was rewarded with a slight quickening of pace, the thrusts coming faster, and then even faster than that, and Stephen watched in the mirror as the last of Jon’s restraint melted away, leaving Jon to fuck him hard and fast. He cried out loudly, panting and whimpering as he was fucked, never forgetting about the lace panties still containing his erection, teasing him desperately as they rubbed against him.
“No, Stephen. Not yet,” Jon told him suddenly, and Stephen didn’t have to ask what he meant. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, not sure how long he’d be able to hold out, not with the way Jon was fucking him, both of them vocalizing with every thrust now, moans and whimpers and groans filling their ears. He was close, so close, but he didn’t have permission, and he balanced on the edge of his release, sheer willpower keeping him from falling over.
“Please, Jon, let me come—I need to come,” he whimpered again, and Jon gave an especially hard thrust.
“Now, Stephen,” he said, and Stephen let out a strangled cry, not needing to be told twice. One last thrust and he was coming harshly, orgasm charging through him as he shut his eyes tightly again, moaning loudly as he rode it out.
Slowly but surely, he floated back to Earth, breathing still rapid as he opened his eyes. The second he did, he saw the expression on Jon’s face change, recognizing it instantly; he’d seen it many times before. Three thrusts later and Jon was coming too, finishing hard, face screwing up in pleasure.
Stephen panted happily as Jon pulled out and disposed of the condom. He pulled up Stephen’s panties but left his wrists tied, saying, breathlessly, “Get into bed.” Stephen nodded and moved, letting Jon get into bed first before curling around him, resting his head on his chest.
“They’re sticky,” he complained absently, indicating the underwear he was wearing.
“I’ll let you take them off in a second,” Jon said, stroking Stephen’s hair. “We’ll wash them on Friday. You can wear one of your other pairs tomorrow.”
Stephen looked up at Jon suddenly. “Tomorrow?”
Jon smirked. “Yes, Stephen. Tomorrow.”
When no less than three people—Bobby, Allison, and Tad—asked him why he was squirming so much in his seat the next day, Stephen snapped at them and told them to mind their own business. It wasn’t like he could stop the tiny frisson of pleasure that ran up his spine every time the lace rubbed against him just right.
Not that he wanted to.