Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:00 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:00 am
Fake News (RPF) | Just Like A Pill | NC-17 | Brian/Jon
Title: Just Like A Pill
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Jon
Warning: Bondage.
Summary: Brian can’t escape just how much Jon affects him.
Word Count: 2,557
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: Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
“You actually went for it—the innuendo. I am impressed, Mr. Williams. Very impressed.” Jon is in the doorway of the makeshift green-slash-dressing room, leaning casually against the frame. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking a very knowing smirk. Brian equal parts loves and hates that smirk, damnably irresistible as it is.
“What can I say, Jonathan? You bring out the flirt in me.” Jon brings out the everything in him, though, so this is hardly unusual. Jon makes him playful, light-hearted, fun, and so many other adjectives that his old friends would laugh uproariously over if they heard applied to him.
Jon giggles. He’s the only man in the world Brian knows who can get away with a giggle, and he’s not entirely sure that’s fair. “Our audience loves you, you know.”
“I assume they’re taking their cues from their fearless leader,” Brian replies.
“You news anchors,” Jon chides, and Brian can feel them slipping into their banter like it’s a pair of old sneakers—comfortable, reassuring, all too easy. “So overconfident.”
“It happens when you’re part of the real news world, Jon,” Brian says, smirking. “If you ever get tired of heckling from the back of the classroom, you should try it out.”
Jon snorts, which says it all: unlikely. “And if you ever get tired of being so straight-laced, Mr. Overachiever, you should join the dark side. We—”
“If you say ‘We have cookies,’ we’re done here.”
“We have...round sugary pastries that go great with milk? Oh, and beer.”
“You spend way too much time on the internet.”
“The perils of insomnia, my friend. Don’t knock it. It’s half the reason I watch all that cable news.”
“So you then can knock us. I see how it goes.”
“This is why you’re not just another pretty face.”
Jon finally walks into the room, closing the door behind him. The rational part of Brian’s mind wants to protest this, because nothing sensible ever happens between them when they’re alone together, but Jon Stewart does not inspire sense or rationality, and so the instinct goes ignored. Anyway, the rest of his mind is already busy imagining taking the loosened tie around Jon’s neck and securing it around his wrists. Jon always forgets, at some point, when he’s bound, and seeing the re-realization in his eyes is nothing short of intoxicating.
He’s starting to feel like Jon should come with a warning label: caution, possible severe side-effects. May cause dizziness, confusion, and wild personality changes. Do not mix with alcohol. Consult a doctor if symptoms persist after one week.
“I’m beginning to suspect wizardry here, Mr. Leibowitz.”
Jon grins. “You know how I know when you’re turned on? You start using my Jewish name. It’s strangely hot.”
“We can’t all be as subtle as you, Jon. Blatantly propositioning a guest directly after an interview is frankly a technique I’ve never tried before.”
“You should really give it a shot. I’m sure plenty of your interview subjects totally want to jump you.”
“I think this may be what those in the psychological industry call ‘projecting’.”
Jon smirks at that. “Now, don’t be so modest. I’m not the only one who finds your charm irresistible.”
“No, I will not have a threesome with you and Colbert,” he says, and is rewarded by Jon’s ridiculous giggle again.
“That’s where you draw the line, really?” he asks, still giggling. “Fucking me, that’s all well and good, but two guys? Oh no. You’re much too prim and proper for that.” He grins widely at him. “Don’t worry, Brian. Stephen only has eyes for Anderson Cooper.”
“He does seem the type to go after the pretty ones.”
“Dude, you just called Anderson Cooper pretty. You are so much gayer than you give yourself credit for.”
“Excellent,” he says dryly. “I was worried for a second there. I wouldn’t want to stand out around here.”
“Nah, you fit in just fine. You remember that one time you were on the show—right before you took over as NBC’s nightly anchor?”
“It’s hard to forget any interview with you, Jon, but especially one that involved talk of being embedded in someone’s vagina.”
Jon grins. “So you remember what I said—about you probably being better at my job than I am. I totally meant that, you know.”
“I think you also said something about me snapping one day during a broadcast.”
“It will happen, my friend. You can only hold in mockery and derision for so long.”
“That’s why I come on your show, Jon; it enables me to unleash it.”
Jon’s smirk turns into a smile—an unreadable smile, at that, which worries Brian, because Jon is a lot of things to him, but inscrutable is not one of them. “You surprised me in that interview, you know,” he says.
“The fact that I have sense of humor surprises many, it seems.”
“Can you blame us? You project this air of total togetherness and yes, I am using this word non-ironically, gravitas, that it’s almost impossible to reconcile that with you making innuendo about us doing unspeakable things to each other.”
“So when we’re actually doing said unspeakable things to each other—”
“Well, I’m generally not thinking very much then, I have to admit.”
Brian smirks. “Good,” he says, and takes the opportunity to pull Jon closer. He kisses him deeply, because even though he’s always the one who feels a little off-balance during these encounters, and he’s always the one who doubts them sometimes, and he’s always the one who feels totally and inexplicably caught under Jon’s spell, he’s also always the one who makes the first move, who takes charge when they’re together, who pushes things further. He’s not sure he’d have it any other way.
“The hotel isn’t far,” Jon breaks away to murmur, pressing his hips against Brian’s and attaching his lips to his neck. They’re both already hard, because talking—bantering, playfully teasing each other—is their foreplay and always has been, cultivating the tension between them until it’s so thick you wouldn’t even be able to cut it with a knife. Maybe a high-powered saw. Though Brian has to admit that the way Jon is kissing his neck certainly isn’t hurting matters one bit. Nor is the way his hands are steadily rubbing his hips.
“I suggest we get going, then,” Brian replies, stilling Jon’s hands and pushing him against the wall. He kisses him passionately, intensely, gripping that loosened tie around his neck and grinding a leg against his erection. Jon moans helplessly into the kiss, hands grabby, and Brian can’t help but feel triumphant. Making Jon helpless is much more erotic than it has any right to be.
“Fuck,” Jon breathes once they break apart. “We need to go now,” he says firmly. “Unless you want to fuck me over that couch?”
“This isn’t even a real green room,” Brian says, giving him a look. “It’s not even yours. Hotel room.”
“Fine,” Jon says, and attempts a pout that fails utterly when he starts giggling. Brian tries very hard to hold in his laughter, and mostly succeeds. “But us leaving requires that you let me go.”
“So it does,” Brian allows, and steps back, letting Jon free. Brian looks away, because the sight of Jon leaning against the wall and panting just slightly as he tries to compose himself is in no way conducive to his own ability to calm down. He heads to the door, saying without looking over his shoulder, “You coming? And don’t even think about turning that into a pun.”
He practically hears Jon’s grin as he replies, “Right behind you.”
The trip to the hotel is uneventful, thankfully. They don’t run into too many staff members and none of them seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary, though Brian is never sure what they’re thinking. They could know everything for all he’s aware, but it doesn’t worry him too much. Whether or not they like him, Jon’s employees tend toward intense loyalty. It’s entirely unsurprising.
This is always the point where he begins to doubt, though, where he thinks just a little too much and wonders if he really ought to put a stop to this. When they’re sparring, touching, kissing—he’s far too enthralled in their game to think very much. But now, as they make their way into the elevator and Jon presses the button for his floor, now is the time his mind starts telling him to flee, that this is ludicrous.
It is ludicrous, this hold that Jon has over him, the way he’s totally unable to resist him. It’s downright absurd. That never seems to change anything, however, and by the time his mind is almost to the point of convincing him to put things to an end, they’re entering Jon’s hotel room and Jon is pulling him toward the bed.
“Time to stop thinking,” Jon says, smirking that smirk that Brian loves and hates at the same time.
“You’re so smug, aren’t you, Jon?” Brian says, and they undress almost fluidly, though he doesn’t let Jon take off that loosened tie. By the time they reach the bed they’re down to their boxers, and Brian pushes Jon lightly, so he lands on the bed.
Jon grins when Brian takes his tie, looping it around the headboard and then securing his wrists above his head. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?” he asks as Brian makes sure the knots are tight enough so that he can’t get free.
“If I say no, will it stop you from making a perverted comment about knot-tying and why we really learned it?”
“Perverted? Such a harsh word from a man who has me tied down.” Jon smirks unrepentantly.
“And such smug words from a man who currently is tied down,” Brian says, taking his time in pulling off Jon’s boxers. He lets the fabric rub against his erection, brushing it with his hands, every touch purposely feather-light and teasing.
“I always knew you were a sadist, Williams,” Jon pants, hips thrusting forward.
“Better,” Brian says approvingly, noting the hint of desperation in Jon’s tone, and wraps his hand around Jon’s cock. He starts working him slowly, enjoying the noises and string of desperate curses that Jon lets out.
“Brian,” he gasps, thrusting into his hand, “fuck me!”
He smirks, removing his hand in order to get up so he can take off his own boxers. He knows Jon is watching him, but he doesn’t allow himself to meet his eyes; they’ll give away too much just yet. When he climbs back onto the bed, situating himself over Jon, he’s caught off guard when the man under him suddenly grinds up against him.
“Jon,” he gasps, and reflexively pins his hips down. “Impatient, tonight?” he manages.
“Fuck, yes,” Jon moans, and this is the moment that Brian loves: Jon, in his desperation, visibly forgets his hands are tied and wants to move them, to touch. Brian can see the frustration in his eyes when he realizes he can’t, and he grins, leaning down to kiss him heatedly.
“Frustrated?”
“If I weren’t so turned on right now,” Jon starts, voice breathy, “I would really hate you.”
Brian just laughs, reaching over to grab the lotion sitting on the side table. “Flatterer,” he says, and slicks up his fingers. Jon’s surely-witty retort is cut off by a groan once Brian presses a finger inside him.
“Oh,” he moans. “More.”
The first finger is quickly followed by a second, as Brian stretches him carefully but urgently. Once he adds a third, Jon is moaning loudly and continuously.
“Fuck me already,” he demands, voice heady with desire and desperation. “Please.”
He only draws out the preparation a few more seconds before removing his fingers and spreading the lotion liberally over his cock. Once he positions Jon, and pushes inside of him, all he can think is, God, how does this always feel so good?
“Good god,” Jon groans loudly, squirming under him. “Fucking move,” he gasps.
“You’re always such a bossy bottom,” Brian chokes out, starting to thrust slowly. He wants to tease, but this feels so good he doesn’t think he’s going to be able for much longer.
“Fuck,” Jon pants. “You’re always such a goddamn tease,” he returns, and manages to clench around him. That sends Brian’s control on vacation to Hawaii, and his thrusts increase in speed.
“Oh, god, so tight,” Brian gasps, his thrusts getting harder as they get faster, and Jon has passed the panting and grunting stage and is now crying out loudly.
“Yes, fuck, like that,” he yells, voice breaking in pleasure, and it only serves to drive Brian wild.
His hand slides between them, wrapping around Jon’s cock as he strokes him in tandem with his thrusts. “You feel—so—so—amazing,” he gasps.
Brian watches as Jon’s eyes squeeze shut, his moans loud and every bit encouraging. He’s babbling, just a little, and he loves hearing it: “Oh, fuck, god—yes, that’s it, oh fuck, your cock—I fuck, yes, hard, fast, please, don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop—fuck, close, so good.”
He can feel his orgasm approaching, continues speeding up his strokes and his thrusts, calling out Jon’s name and say, “Fuck, Jon, almost there—come on.”
Jon lets out a loud cry as he comes, a mix of a curse word and what might be Brian’s name. Brian thrusts into him once, twice, three times more, his orgasm charging through him just a moment later, and it’s all he can do to not collapse on Jon after he rides it out.
He rolls over, settling next to Jon and catching his breath for a second, before turning to untie Jon’s hands. Jon’s eyes are closed and he’s panting so heavily that it appears he doesn’t even notice for a few seconds; once he does, Brian watches him open his eyes and inspect his wrists, rolling them for good measure. “You are too good at this,” Jon says through a yawn, and Brian can’t help but chuckle.
“Didn’t you also say that to me in that one interview?” he asks.
Jon giggles drowsily. “I think so. Little did I know how true that statement was—applied to a whole host of activities.”
“Well, you know now,” Brian says, yawning himself. “That’s all I can ask for.”
“Good thing I was able to corrupt you. I shudder to think of all your potential for filth going to waste.”
“That would have certainly been a tragedy.”
“Admit it: this is way more fun than you ever expected you’d have.”
Brian smiles, but doesn’t reply. It’s true, of course, because that is the effect that Jon has on him, that strange ability to get him to say and do ridiculous things that he would have never under any other circumstances considered. He could tell Jon this, but it’d be pointless and redundant; the man already knows. It’s what makes him so smug.
“Night, Brian,” Jon murmurs, and Brian returns the sentiment.
He shakes his head and settles into the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for sleep to come. Jon may make him do crazy things, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s always worth it.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Jon
Warning: Bondage.
Summary: Brian can’t escape just how much Jon affects him.
Word Count: 2,557
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: Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
“You actually went for it—the innuendo. I am impressed, Mr. Williams. Very impressed.” Jon is in the doorway of the makeshift green-slash-dressing room, leaning casually against the frame. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking a very knowing smirk. Brian equal parts loves and hates that smirk, damnably irresistible as it is.
“What can I say, Jonathan? You bring out the flirt in me.” Jon brings out the everything in him, though, so this is hardly unusual. Jon makes him playful, light-hearted, fun, and so many other adjectives that his old friends would laugh uproariously over if they heard applied to him.
Jon giggles. He’s the only man in the world Brian knows who can get away with a giggle, and he’s not entirely sure that’s fair. “Our audience loves you, you know.”
“I assume they’re taking their cues from their fearless leader,” Brian replies.
“You news anchors,” Jon chides, and Brian can feel them slipping into their banter like it’s a pair of old sneakers—comfortable, reassuring, all too easy. “So overconfident.”
“It happens when you’re part of the real news world, Jon,” Brian says, smirking. “If you ever get tired of heckling from the back of the classroom, you should try it out.”
Jon snorts, which says it all: unlikely. “And if you ever get tired of being so straight-laced, Mr. Overachiever, you should join the dark side. We—”
“If you say ‘We have cookies,’ we’re done here.”
“We have...round sugary pastries that go great with milk? Oh, and beer.”
“You spend way too much time on the internet.”
“The perils of insomnia, my friend. Don’t knock it. It’s half the reason I watch all that cable news.”
“So you then can knock us. I see how it goes.”
“This is why you’re not just another pretty face.”
Jon finally walks into the room, closing the door behind him. The rational part of Brian’s mind wants to protest this, because nothing sensible ever happens between them when they’re alone together, but Jon Stewart does not inspire sense or rationality, and so the instinct goes ignored. Anyway, the rest of his mind is already busy imagining taking the loosened tie around Jon’s neck and securing it around his wrists. Jon always forgets, at some point, when he’s bound, and seeing the re-realization in his eyes is nothing short of intoxicating.
He’s starting to feel like Jon should come with a warning label: caution, possible severe side-effects. May cause dizziness, confusion, and wild personality changes. Do not mix with alcohol. Consult a doctor if symptoms persist after one week.
“I’m beginning to suspect wizardry here, Mr. Leibowitz.”
Jon grins. “You know how I know when you’re turned on? You start using my Jewish name. It’s strangely hot.”
“We can’t all be as subtle as you, Jon. Blatantly propositioning a guest directly after an interview is frankly a technique I’ve never tried before.”
“You should really give it a shot. I’m sure plenty of your interview subjects totally want to jump you.”
“I think this may be what those in the psychological industry call ‘projecting’.”
Jon smirks at that. “Now, don’t be so modest. I’m not the only one who finds your charm irresistible.”
“No, I will not have a threesome with you and Colbert,” he says, and is rewarded by Jon’s ridiculous giggle again.
“That’s where you draw the line, really?” he asks, still giggling. “Fucking me, that’s all well and good, but two guys? Oh no. You’re much too prim and proper for that.” He grins widely at him. “Don’t worry, Brian. Stephen only has eyes for Anderson Cooper.”
“He does seem the type to go after the pretty ones.”
“Dude, you just called Anderson Cooper pretty. You are so much gayer than you give yourself credit for.”
“Excellent,” he says dryly. “I was worried for a second there. I wouldn’t want to stand out around here.”
“Nah, you fit in just fine. You remember that one time you were on the show—right before you took over as NBC’s nightly anchor?”
“It’s hard to forget any interview with you, Jon, but especially one that involved talk of being embedded in someone’s vagina.”
Jon grins. “So you remember what I said—about you probably being better at my job than I am. I totally meant that, you know.”
“I think you also said something about me snapping one day during a broadcast.”
“It will happen, my friend. You can only hold in mockery and derision for so long.”
“That’s why I come on your show, Jon; it enables me to unleash it.”
Jon’s smirk turns into a smile—an unreadable smile, at that, which worries Brian, because Jon is a lot of things to him, but inscrutable is not one of them. “You surprised me in that interview, you know,” he says.
“The fact that I have sense of humor surprises many, it seems.”
“Can you blame us? You project this air of total togetherness and yes, I am using this word non-ironically, gravitas, that it’s almost impossible to reconcile that with you making innuendo about us doing unspeakable things to each other.”
“So when we’re actually doing said unspeakable things to each other—”
“Well, I’m generally not thinking very much then, I have to admit.”
Brian smirks. “Good,” he says, and takes the opportunity to pull Jon closer. He kisses him deeply, because even though he’s always the one who feels a little off-balance during these encounters, and he’s always the one who doubts them sometimes, and he’s always the one who feels totally and inexplicably caught under Jon’s spell, he’s also always the one who makes the first move, who takes charge when they’re together, who pushes things further. He’s not sure he’d have it any other way.
“The hotel isn’t far,” Jon breaks away to murmur, pressing his hips against Brian’s and attaching his lips to his neck. They’re both already hard, because talking—bantering, playfully teasing each other—is their foreplay and always has been, cultivating the tension between them until it’s so thick you wouldn’t even be able to cut it with a knife. Maybe a high-powered saw. Though Brian has to admit that the way Jon is kissing his neck certainly isn’t hurting matters one bit. Nor is the way his hands are steadily rubbing his hips.
“I suggest we get going, then,” Brian replies, stilling Jon’s hands and pushing him against the wall. He kisses him passionately, intensely, gripping that loosened tie around his neck and grinding a leg against his erection. Jon moans helplessly into the kiss, hands grabby, and Brian can’t help but feel triumphant. Making Jon helpless is much more erotic than it has any right to be.
“Fuck,” Jon breathes once they break apart. “We need to go now,” he says firmly. “Unless you want to fuck me over that couch?”
“This isn’t even a real green room,” Brian says, giving him a look. “It’s not even yours. Hotel room.”
“Fine,” Jon says, and attempts a pout that fails utterly when he starts giggling. Brian tries very hard to hold in his laughter, and mostly succeeds. “But us leaving requires that you let me go.”
“So it does,” Brian allows, and steps back, letting Jon free. Brian looks away, because the sight of Jon leaning against the wall and panting just slightly as he tries to compose himself is in no way conducive to his own ability to calm down. He heads to the door, saying without looking over his shoulder, “You coming? And don’t even think about turning that into a pun.”
He practically hears Jon’s grin as he replies, “Right behind you.”
The trip to the hotel is uneventful, thankfully. They don’t run into too many staff members and none of them seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary, though Brian is never sure what they’re thinking. They could know everything for all he’s aware, but it doesn’t worry him too much. Whether or not they like him, Jon’s employees tend toward intense loyalty. It’s entirely unsurprising.
This is always the point where he begins to doubt, though, where he thinks just a little too much and wonders if he really ought to put a stop to this. When they’re sparring, touching, kissing—he’s far too enthralled in their game to think very much. But now, as they make their way into the elevator and Jon presses the button for his floor, now is the time his mind starts telling him to flee, that this is ludicrous.
It is ludicrous, this hold that Jon has over him, the way he’s totally unable to resist him. It’s downright absurd. That never seems to change anything, however, and by the time his mind is almost to the point of convincing him to put things to an end, they’re entering Jon’s hotel room and Jon is pulling him toward the bed.
“Time to stop thinking,” Jon says, smirking that smirk that Brian loves and hates at the same time.
“You’re so smug, aren’t you, Jon?” Brian says, and they undress almost fluidly, though he doesn’t let Jon take off that loosened tie. By the time they reach the bed they’re down to their boxers, and Brian pushes Jon lightly, so he lands on the bed.
Jon grins when Brian takes his tie, looping it around the headboard and then securing his wrists above his head. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?” he asks as Brian makes sure the knots are tight enough so that he can’t get free.
“If I say no, will it stop you from making a perverted comment about knot-tying and why we really learned it?”
“Perverted? Such a harsh word from a man who has me tied down.” Jon smirks unrepentantly.
“And such smug words from a man who currently is tied down,” Brian says, taking his time in pulling off Jon’s boxers. He lets the fabric rub against his erection, brushing it with his hands, every touch purposely feather-light and teasing.
“I always knew you were a sadist, Williams,” Jon pants, hips thrusting forward.
“Better,” Brian says approvingly, noting the hint of desperation in Jon’s tone, and wraps his hand around Jon’s cock. He starts working him slowly, enjoying the noises and string of desperate curses that Jon lets out.
“Brian,” he gasps, thrusting into his hand, “fuck me!”
He smirks, removing his hand in order to get up so he can take off his own boxers. He knows Jon is watching him, but he doesn’t allow himself to meet his eyes; they’ll give away too much just yet. When he climbs back onto the bed, situating himself over Jon, he’s caught off guard when the man under him suddenly grinds up against him.
“Jon,” he gasps, and reflexively pins his hips down. “Impatient, tonight?” he manages.
“Fuck, yes,” Jon moans, and this is the moment that Brian loves: Jon, in his desperation, visibly forgets his hands are tied and wants to move them, to touch. Brian can see the frustration in his eyes when he realizes he can’t, and he grins, leaning down to kiss him heatedly.
“Frustrated?”
“If I weren’t so turned on right now,” Jon starts, voice breathy, “I would really hate you.”
Brian just laughs, reaching over to grab the lotion sitting on the side table. “Flatterer,” he says, and slicks up his fingers. Jon’s surely-witty retort is cut off by a groan once Brian presses a finger inside him.
“Oh,” he moans. “More.”
The first finger is quickly followed by a second, as Brian stretches him carefully but urgently. Once he adds a third, Jon is moaning loudly and continuously.
“Fuck me already,” he demands, voice heady with desire and desperation. “Please.”
He only draws out the preparation a few more seconds before removing his fingers and spreading the lotion liberally over his cock. Once he positions Jon, and pushes inside of him, all he can think is, God, how does this always feel so good?
“Good god,” Jon groans loudly, squirming under him. “Fucking move,” he gasps.
“You’re always such a bossy bottom,” Brian chokes out, starting to thrust slowly. He wants to tease, but this feels so good he doesn’t think he’s going to be able for much longer.
“Fuck,” Jon pants. “You’re always such a goddamn tease,” he returns, and manages to clench around him. That sends Brian’s control on vacation to Hawaii, and his thrusts increase in speed.
“Oh, god, so tight,” Brian gasps, his thrusts getting harder as they get faster, and Jon has passed the panting and grunting stage and is now crying out loudly.
“Yes, fuck, like that,” he yells, voice breaking in pleasure, and it only serves to drive Brian wild.
His hand slides between them, wrapping around Jon’s cock as he strokes him in tandem with his thrusts. “You feel—so—so—amazing,” he gasps.
Brian watches as Jon’s eyes squeeze shut, his moans loud and every bit encouraging. He’s babbling, just a little, and he loves hearing it: “Oh, fuck, god—yes, that’s it, oh fuck, your cock—I fuck, yes, hard, fast, please, don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop—fuck, close, so good.”
He can feel his orgasm approaching, continues speeding up his strokes and his thrusts, calling out Jon’s name and say, “Fuck, Jon, almost there—come on.”
Jon lets out a loud cry as he comes, a mix of a curse word and what might be Brian’s name. Brian thrusts into him once, twice, three times more, his orgasm charging through him just a moment later, and it’s all he can do to not collapse on Jon after he rides it out.
He rolls over, settling next to Jon and catching his breath for a second, before turning to untie Jon’s hands. Jon’s eyes are closed and he’s panting so heavily that it appears he doesn’t even notice for a few seconds; once he does, Brian watches him open his eyes and inspect his wrists, rolling them for good measure. “You are too good at this,” Jon says through a yawn, and Brian can’t help but chuckle.
“Didn’t you also say that to me in that one interview?” he asks.
Jon giggles drowsily. “I think so. Little did I know how true that statement was—applied to a whole host of activities.”
“Well, you know now,” Brian says, yawning himself. “That’s all I can ask for.”
“Good thing I was able to corrupt you. I shudder to think of all your potential for filth going to waste.”
“That would have certainly been a tragedy.”
“Admit it: this is way more fun than you ever expected you’d have.”
Brian smiles, but doesn’t reply. It’s true, of course, because that is the effect that Jon has on him, that strange ability to get him to say and do ridiculous things that he would have never under any other circumstances considered. He could tell Jon this, but it’d be pointless and redundant; the man already knows. It’s what makes him so smug.
“Night, Brian,” Jon murmurs, and Brian returns the sentiment.
He shakes his head and settles into the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for sleep to come. Jon may make him do crazy things, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s always worth it.