Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-05-14 11:20 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-05-14 11:20 pm
Fake News (RPF) | The Sound Of His Voice | NC-17 | George/Jon
Title: The Sound Of His Voice
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: George/Jon
Warning: D/s; orgasm control.
Summary: Porn.
Word Count: 707
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: Originally written for the kink meme. Feel free to ignore my obsessive need to archive everything.
George’s voice is low, like melted chocolate dripping slowly over fresh strawberries, warm and rich and going straight to Jon’s cock.
“Don’t touch yourself,” he says, voice soft and delicious but firm, subtly conveying the order in a way that makes Jon shiver. He’s aching, but he nods, not even considering the notion that he might disobey. George smiles in response, and this simply turns him on further.
The man’s been putting on a show for him, making him watch but not letting him get off, and while it’s maddening Jon can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away; he watches the hand George has wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking expertly, the way his face contorts in pleasure. Coupled with the soft moans he’s letting out, it’s intoxicating, even with his own cock demanding attention.
He groans when George stops, locking eyes with him; suddenly, he moves, and he’s over Jon, pinning his arms up over his head, kissing him hard enough to make him dizzy. Jon’s fists clench and he arches upward toward George, begging urgently, unable to stop the words pouring out of his mouth. “Please, George, please, now, I need—” he pants, repeatedly, like a mantra, hoping George will listen.
George pulls away just slightly then, grabbing for the bottle on the nightstand, and Jon moans when he feels a finger inside him, then two, then three, stretching him, preparing him, pressing against that spot and making him cry out—“Jesus Christ!”
George’s chuckle is as infuriatingly arousing as his voice, Jon finds out, and he reaches to pull him down in order to kiss him again. George concedes, but presses Jon’s hands above his head for a second time. “These stay here,” he tells him, meeting his eyes. “Don’t make me tie you up.”
Jon doesn’t have much time to think about that threat—or is it a promise?—because the next thing he knows he feels George’s cock pressing inside him, swiftly, with one quick thrust. He moans and pushes back against it, body humming at the feel. “Fuck,” he gasps, and George thrusts—slowly, at first, and Jon growls, a sound deep in the back of his throat. “Faster,” he moans, voice laden with frustration.
“Remember, Jon,” George says gently, voice as calm and firm as it’s always been, but tinged with something else, something desperate. “I haven’t given you permission to come.”
Jon whimpers at that, shuddering in pleasure—half because of the words and half because George took the opportunity to speed up his thrusts, his movements becoming more and more powerful. He moves with George, determined to keep his hands above his head, and trying not to think about how George hasn’t touched his cock yet. He grips onto the headboard to steady himself, crying out loud when George’s angle shifts, each hard thrust hitting exactly right. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he yells, knowing he’s close, knowing he’s teetering dangerously on the edge and trying to balance, doing whatever he can to keep from falling over.
George gives him a warning look, one that clearly says, Not yet, and Jon curses again, letting his head fall back as he tries to think of unsexy images. It’s not easy when he feels like this, like he’s about to explode, and then—George’s breathing changes noticeably, there’s another hard thrust, then another; next, a low moan, George’s breath is hot and heavy on his ear, and Jon feels George finishing, practically experiences the orgasm tearing through him, and he shakes, voice breaking with unrelenting need, “George!”
And then there’s a hand on his cock, finally, and George is nodding, the gesture barely perceptible; it hardly takes four strokes—George knows just how to touch him—before Jon is groaning into George’s neck, fingernails digging into his palms as he comes hard, harder than he has in months, and he rides the wave of pleasure to the end, the slight stinging in his hands eventually dragging him back down to Earth.
“Jesus Christ,” Jon pants, trying to catch his breath, and George just chuckles again. The sound envelopes Jon, almost like a blanket, or a hug, and he grins back, stretching lazily. He’s damned if he doesn’t love that voice.
Fandom: Fake News (RPF)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: George/Jon
Warning: D/s; orgasm control.
Summary: Porn.
Word Count: 707
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: Originally written for the kink meme. Feel free to ignore my obsessive need to archive everything.
George’s voice is low, like melted chocolate dripping slowly over fresh strawberries, warm and rich and going straight to Jon’s cock.
“Don’t touch yourself,” he says, voice soft and delicious but firm, subtly conveying the order in a way that makes Jon shiver. He’s aching, but he nods, not even considering the notion that he might disobey. George smiles in response, and this simply turns him on further.
The man’s been putting on a show for him, making him watch but not letting him get off, and while it’s maddening Jon can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away; he watches the hand George has wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking expertly, the way his face contorts in pleasure. Coupled with the soft moans he’s letting out, it’s intoxicating, even with his own cock demanding attention.
He groans when George stops, locking eyes with him; suddenly, he moves, and he’s over Jon, pinning his arms up over his head, kissing him hard enough to make him dizzy. Jon’s fists clench and he arches upward toward George, begging urgently, unable to stop the words pouring out of his mouth. “Please, George, please, now, I need—” he pants, repeatedly, like a mantra, hoping George will listen.
George pulls away just slightly then, grabbing for the bottle on the nightstand, and Jon moans when he feels a finger inside him, then two, then three, stretching him, preparing him, pressing against that spot and making him cry out—“Jesus Christ!”
George’s chuckle is as infuriatingly arousing as his voice, Jon finds out, and he reaches to pull him down in order to kiss him again. George concedes, but presses Jon’s hands above his head for a second time. “These stay here,” he tells him, meeting his eyes. “Don’t make me tie you up.”
Jon doesn’t have much time to think about that threat—or is it a promise?—because the next thing he knows he feels George’s cock pressing inside him, swiftly, with one quick thrust. He moans and pushes back against it, body humming at the feel. “Fuck,” he gasps, and George thrusts—slowly, at first, and Jon growls, a sound deep in the back of his throat. “Faster,” he moans, voice laden with frustration.
“Remember, Jon,” George says gently, voice as calm and firm as it’s always been, but tinged with something else, something desperate. “I haven’t given you permission to come.”
Jon whimpers at that, shuddering in pleasure—half because of the words and half because George took the opportunity to speed up his thrusts, his movements becoming more and more powerful. He moves with George, determined to keep his hands above his head, and trying not to think about how George hasn’t touched his cock yet. He grips onto the headboard to steady himself, crying out loud when George’s angle shifts, each hard thrust hitting exactly right. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he yells, knowing he’s close, knowing he’s teetering dangerously on the edge and trying to balance, doing whatever he can to keep from falling over.
George gives him a warning look, one that clearly says, Not yet, and Jon curses again, letting his head fall back as he tries to think of unsexy images. It’s not easy when he feels like this, like he’s about to explode, and then—George’s breathing changes noticeably, there’s another hard thrust, then another; next, a low moan, George’s breath is hot and heavy on his ear, and Jon feels George finishing, practically experiences the orgasm tearing through him, and he shakes, voice breaking with unrelenting need, “George!”
And then there’s a hand on his cock, finally, and George is nodding, the gesture barely perceptible; it hardly takes four strokes—George knows just how to touch him—before Jon is groaning into George’s neck, fingernails digging into his palms as he comes hard, harder than he has in months, and he rides the wave of pleasure to the end, the slight stinging in his hands eventually dragging him back down to Earth.
“Jesus Christ,” Jon pants, trying to catch his breath, and George just chuckles again. The sound envelopes Jon, almost like a blanket, or a hug, and he grins back, stretching lazily. He’s damned if he doesn’t love that voice.
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God, yes. I love how George has such complete control, and Jon is willing to turn it all over to him and just go along for the ride. Because you cannot resist the power of the sexy! I also really like the attitude here- that George is challenging Jon, kind of daring him to keep up. And yes. that voice. OM NOM NOM NOM.
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Thank you very much. The George/Jon dynamic is fun. :D