mprov fic: Forbidden
Oct. 7th, 2002 05:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mickeymChasezcest. if you don't know what that is, then it's best you don't click the cutaway. JC/Tyler.
Written via aim with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jchalo.
By Kim G. and Halo
© October 2002
He has the key here somewhere... or was it the lock he can't find? One of them... JC swears under his breath, then again, louder, when he realizes he's trying to open his door with a key that probably goes to Joey's house. Or is it Chris'? Or hell, maybe it's the LA house. Too fuckin' many keys on the key ring, obviously. He tries again. And again.
How many damn keys could he possibly have that don't fit that damn door? He tries again, and sighs in relief when the door opens...until he realizes he's still holding his key ring, and there's no key in the door.
And Tyler's standing there in a pair of jean shorts, looking red-eyed and rumpled, grinning at him. JC giggles and claps his hand over his mouth, managing to drop the keys altogether. Tyler looks at him, down at the ground, then back up before giggling, too. "Dude. You're wasted."
JC laughs harder. Tyler's eyes are so dilated, he's surprised he can see anything. Not that JC can talk, but. He nods happily. "You too! You're stoned, man. Stoooooned."
"I am." Tyler manages the serious voice for two words, then loses it entirely in a fit of giggles. JC raises one hand and knocks it against Tyler's forehead.
"Knock knock."
"Um. Who's there?"
"You?"
"Huh?" Tyler looked confused. "I'm here? I thought you were here?"
"Dude, I'm always here. It's my house."
"But I live here, too."
"Oh. Yeah. Right. Then you're here." JC frowned. "But I'm here, too."
"No you're not. You're out there. I'm in here."
"Oh, whatever, man. I'm wasted, I'm sleepy, and I'm cold. Lemme in."
Tyler grins at him. "What's the password?"
"Um. Knock knock?"
"Sounds good!" He moves aside and JC grins and walks in. Hoo, yah. The house smells like pot.
"Dude." He stops suddenly and Tyler, two paces behind him, walks into him with a soft oof. "It reeks in here." He turns round, and Tyler grins at him sheepishly.
"I could light a....thingy." He waves his hand about, indicating anything from a campfire to a matchstick. "A...what are they called? Incest?"
JC grabs his hand. "Incense, moron."
"Oh, yeah." Tyler grins, and lifts JC's hand to his mouth, licks his palm slowly. "That's it." He reaches out to touch the pendant around JC's neck, runs a finger along the surface of it, holds it between his fingertips and feels the warmth of it from where it's been resting against JC's throat. "This bring you luck?" he asks, and JC nods. "Good," murmurs Tyler, and leans forward, presses his lips against it. "For luck, man."
JC smiles then, eyes crinkled. "Goober." And he ducks his head forward and kisses Tyler, lips grazing the soft skin under his jaw. "For, uh...something. Yeah." He looks at Tyler, blinking, thinking, ok, what the hell did I just do that for?
And Tyler stares at him for a moment, then grins back, wide, happy, and oh-so-stoned smile spread across his face. Kisses JC back, catches the edge of his mouth, JC's lips parting slightly at the touch. "For something. For...you. Yeah, 'cos I love you, man. And--yeah."
JC touches the corner of his mouth with a finger, and smiles. "Me too, man. And..." - he reaches over and touches Tyler's mouth too, and slips a finger between his lips- "…and I love you too, because y'know. Brothers." He frowns a little then, because hello, Tyler's his brother, and hell, he has his finger in his brother's mouth, but it's warm, and wet, and...Tyler appears to be sucking on it. Ok, yeah. Tyler's sucking on his finger. And he might kinda like it. A lot.
JC closes his eyes and concentrates on the way Tyler's mouth feels on his finger. Warm. Wet. Gentle suction. And it's making him tingle all over, just that gentle sucking, nothing more, except--oh. Tyler's holding his hand now, sort of...has his hand on JC's wrist, holding him there. Holding him steady. And JC shivers, because, yes--brother. But it feels so good. He hasn't been touched by anyone who loves him... by anyone, really...in a long, long time.
He thinks that maybe he should say something- say anything really- but all he can manage to do is murmur "feels nice" and then he slides his finger from between Tyler's lips and replaces it with his mouth. And his head is telling him it's wrong, he shouldn't be doing this- but his body is craving to be touched. His skin, his hair, his hand where Tyler is touching him, and now, his mouth on Tyler's lips, warm and wet, and...safe.
It's odd, really, in the part of his brain that's still stoned and not freaking out, that Tyler tastes so...normal. He might've thought, if he'd bothered to think about how his brother's mouth might taste, that Tyler would taste...different. Exotic. Unusual. Or maybe he does, and JC's just stoned enough not to be able to notice. Or possibly needs to taste more.
Because more would be such a good thing. Taste, touch, all things he hasn't had much of, and here in the safety of his own home, with someone he doesn't have to pretend with, ever.
Safe. Loved. Warm.
"Tyler--" He whispers it against Tyler's mouth, breathes the word onto soft, slightly chapped skin, and feels the movement when Tyler opens his mouth to respond. Then it's a slow, gentle pressure that increases until JC feels giddy from sensation instead of the pot in his system.
"We should--I mean--um." Ok. He's not sure what he means. He doesn't have the words to start to describe what's in his head right now, and even if he did, he's not sure he'd want to use them, to stop this. Whatever this is. He starts to pull his head away, and then Tyler's hands are on his face, holding him there, fingertips warm against his skin, holding him close, and he can feel Tyler's lips moving against his.
"It's ok," Tyler whispers, and then there's the slide of his tongue past JC's lips, and JC closes his eyes against the pure rush of sensation. "It's really ok," Tyler says again, and all JC can do is nod, because yeah, it's ok, it's all okay, and he thinks that surely anything that feels this good can't be wrong. And when he feels Tyler's tongue lick the roof of his mouth, he stops thinking at all.
It takes a moment for JC to realize Tyler does taste exotic. He tastes like something dark, sweet and forbidden, which is exactly what he is.
The fingers on his face are warm and smell slightly of nicotine and pot; JC wonders idly, briefly, who Tyler smoked up with -- if with anyone. Maybe it was just a joint upstairs in his room. Or out by the pool. Maybe there's one left laying around somewhere, and the thought of sharing one, of pressing their mouths together and sharing the smoke makes his belly curl up tight with anticipation, with excitement, with a heady feeling he can't put a name to.
He breaks the kiss with a soft moan and nuzzles the hand closest to his mouth, brushes his mouth over Tyler's fingers, licking at the tips, a rough/gentle swipe of his tongue, feeling his brother's shivers ripple from Tyler into himself.
"Hey," JC smiles, and meets Tyler's eyes as he kisses his fingertips, softly, gently. Tyler doesn't look away as he trails his other hand along JC's shoulders, across his chest, traces his collarbone, the skin warm and soft where he touches.
"Hey yourself," Tyler murmurs, his hand moving lower, and JC can feel the heat from it through his t-shirt. JC realizes he's hard, has been for some time, and now he's aware of it, it's all he can think about, especially as Tyler's fingertips ghost across his belly. He draws in his breath, goosebumps prickling his skin, and covers Tyler's mouth with his again, sucking and biting at his lower lip, needing, wanting to taste more of him.
Tyler's fingers edging up under the hem of his t-shirt make sparks flash behind his eyelids; JC swears he can see red, white, purple, vibrant, brilliant colors that speak of heat and passion, and excitement tinged with darkness. Warmth strokes over his belly and it's all he can do not to break this kiss to cry out, because just that soft touch makes him ache all over; makes his body throb and his cock pulse.
He growls low in his throat and bites at Tyler's lips, smiles a bit when Tyler bites back, teeth snapping at JC's lips, tugging and pulling on delicate flesh. He groans when the hand flat against his stomach presses, pushes, urges him backward, and he's surprised at the softness at his back--oh. The couch.
It's not entirely comfortable; he's sprawled at an odd angle, but then there's a warm, heavy weight pressing against him, and holy fuck, Tyler's just as hard as he is, rubbing hesitantly against JC's leg, and he doesn't worry about how comfortable he is or isn't. JC threads his fingers through Tyler's hair -- dark, heavy silk slip-sliding over his fingers -- and pulls him closer, hunger rising fast within him. He whispers sounds into Tyler's mouth, feeling them echo inside his.
"Feels good, Ty..."
"Yeah," Tyler mutters, and JC has no idea if he's agreeing with him or reassuring himself, and then when Tyler thrusts against him again, he really doesn't care because that feels sofuckinggood. His fingers tighten in Tyler's hair and he shifts a little, moves his body so Tyler's thigh slides between his legs, and thrusts up, hissing a breath through clenched teeth as the sweet, sweet friction sends silver sparks spiraling though him, centering in his cock and spreading, pulsing outwards in waves of red and gold.
Tyler's thrusting back down, his body twisting on top of him, biting and sucking at JC's throat, all hesitation gone. "Fuck," he whispers, and moans as JC thrusts up sharply, grinding against his leg. "Fuck Jayce, yeah. Fuck."
And JC thrusts up again and again, bucking under Tyler's body, fingers digging into skin, pulling him closer. Feels him writhing against him, the heat from his skin, the shift of his muscles as the two of them grind against each other, wild-eyed and frantic.
It's almost too much, the waves of pleasure pulsing outward with each beat of his heart. Desire is shaded in rich hues, hunger in darker, deeper ones. And this hunger...it's the darkest, something forbidden, unexpected, unanticipated. These colors are the richest, deep and dark, pools of shadow and light cresting within him.
JC slides his hands down Tyler's back and hooks his fingers into the pockets of his shorts, cupping his ass, feeling the bunch and release of smooth muscle, separated from warm skin by only the barest of boundaries, a single layer of cloth. He wants closer, wants more, wants to be one, to lose himself within the heat and safety and love he feels pouring off Tyler and outward to him. He wants moremoremore, wants it now, needs it so bad he can taste it on his tongue, sweet and heavy over the taste of Tyler that fills his mouth.
Tyler bites him, hard, sucks at the skin at the base of his throat, and JC does a full body shiver, shifts his left leg so it's wrapped over Tyler's, holding him closer. Pressing them tighter together, letting friction carry them as much as actual movement.
It feels so good he's going to die. Or explode. Both, maybe.
"Jesus God," he mutters, arching his head back, body rolling upward automatically. Tyler breathes similar words against his throat, the words like fire where they eat into his skin, hot, humid lasers burning him. Marking him.
He'll have bruises in the morning.
He wants every bruise he can get, and more; wants to hold this hot, frantic, dark feeling close to his chest and nurture it, feel it grow and expand and become...something. Feel it mature. See what it can become.
But for right now--he wants to feel his brother come against him, wants to see his face, taste his sweat, hear his cry, the sounds he makes. JC arches upward, pressing Tyler down against him, sharp, delicious pleasure knifing through him, and he kisses Tyler again, mouths sliding wetly together, lips swollen and red, slick with each other's spit. Wet, messy kisses that taste of so many things he never realized he needed. Or wanted.
He senses it a split-second before he feels it; the way Tyler tenses under his hands, the way his tongue stills in JC's mouth, the way hot, strong hands grip him tighter, crushing them together. Then there's a flood of damp warmth and a long, low groan that makes JC's stomach clench, and he shudders and arches upward, back bowing against the pressure of orgasm, red streaking through his vision as he comes hard, rubbing himself almost viciously against Tyler's leg.
It's impossible to kiss and breathe at the same time, at least, impossible right after coming, and JC is almost -- sort of -- glad when Tyler breaks the kiss to press his forehead against JC's shoulder. They shudder and pant almost in unison, low whimpery/growly noises coming with each breath, filling the air around them.
The whole room sounds and smells like sex, and his brother is a warm, solid, sweat weight against him, and JC can't stop stroking his fingers up and down the groove of Tyler's spine, feeling each bump of vertebrae there.
He's patted or stroked Tyler's back more times than he can recall; they've wrestled, played, smoked up, hung out, goofed off...and never, ever has anything quite like...this happened. Nothing.
The not-stoned part of JC's brain is bigger than it was earlier, but he's still mostly stoned, and so not freaking out. Not yet. Lazily he shifts, feels Tyler shift with him, still draped over him like a living, breathing carpet, and figures the freak-out will come in the morning. For at least one, possibly both of them.
For now, though, it feels so good to hold Tyler like this, to feel his chest rising and falling against JC's own, to smell the sweat and sex on him. To taste it. And because they've done what they've done, gone where they've gone, JC doesn't hesitate to lean in and lick Tyler's neck slowly, a languid swipe of tongue upward, moving just under his jaw, tasting that sweat. It's sweetish, the pot in his system leeching outward, making JC's tongue and lips tingle.
"Ty." He nips at the tender skin just beneath his ear, then bites down on the lobe. "Ty. Tyler. Ty."
"Mmm. Stop sayin' my name, Jayce." Tyler takes a soft, snuffling breath, breathes warm air onto JC. "Wha-?"
"Shower, man. We're rank."
"'m sleepy."
"Shower, then bed." JC giggles; it's like days long past when he'd babysit Tyler and have to practically wrestle him down to get him ready for bed. Except bed then wasn't as much fun as bed now sounds. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeed." He stretches the word out and giggles again, feels the soft chuff of air against his sweaty skin when Tyler giggles too. He licks again, then pets him, hand stroking downward, smoothing over the curve of Tyler's ass. "Sexy."
"Mmm." Tyler wiggles. "Lemme sleep with you?"
"Uhhuh." JC smiles lazily when Tyler shifts up off him, then looms over him, hands planted to either side of JC's head. "Tyler."
"Uhhuh." And when Tyler's mouth meets his again, wet and messy, but slick and so welcomed, JC doesn't want to move. Doesn't care about showers, or beds, or anything but the slippery slide of tongue against tongue, lips and teeth meeting, the sharp-hard click of enamel, the sting of teeth against delicate inner lips. He moans when Tyler pulls back, and reaches for him, but Tyler grins and leans in to whisper. "Shower, man. C'mon. You and me."
And suddenly, the possibilities for the evening loom larger than even a half an hour ago suggested.
~Finis~
Written via aim with
jchalo.By Kim G. and Halo
© October 2002
He has the key here somewhere... or was it the lock he can't find? One of them... JC swears under his breath, then again, louder, when he realizes he's trying to open his door with a key that probably goes to Joey's house. Or is it Chris'? Or hell, maybe it's the LA house. Too fuckin' many keys on the key ring, obviously. He tries again. And again.
How many damn keys could he possibly have that don't fit that damn door? He tries again, and sighs in relief when the door opens...until he realizes he's still holding his key ring, and there's no key in the door.
And Tyler's standing there in a pair of jean shorts, looking red-eyed and rumpled, grinning at him. JC giggles and claps his hand over his mouth, managing to drop the keys altogether. Tyler looks at him, down at the ground, then back up before giggling, too. "Dude. You're wasted."
JC laughs harder. Tyler's eyes are so dilated, he's surprised he can see anything. Not that JC can talk, but. He nods happily. "You too! You're stoned, man. Stoooooned."
"I am." Tyler manages the serious voice for two words, then loses it entirely in a fit of giggles. JC raises one hand and knocks it against Tyler's forehead.
"Knock knock."
"Um. Who's there?"
"You?"
"Huh?" Tyler looked confused. "I'm here? I thought you were here?"
"Dude, I'm always here. It's my house."
"But I live here, too."
"Oh. Yeah. Right. Then you're here." JC frowned. "But I'm here, too."
"No you're not. You're out there. I'm in here."
"Oh, whatever, man. I'm wasted, I'm sleepy, and I'm cold. Lemme in."
Tyler grins at him. "What's the password?"
"Um. Knock knock?"
"Sounds good!" He moves aside and JC grins and walks in. Hoo, yah. The house smells like pot.
"Dude." He stops suddenly and Tyler, two paces behind him, walks into him with a soft oof. "It reeks in here." He turns round, and Tyler grins at him sheepishly.
"I could light a....thingy." He waves his hand about, indicating anything from a campfire to a matchstick. "A...what are they called? Incest?"
JC grabs his hand. "Incense, moron."
"Oh, yeah." Tyler grins, and lifts JC's hand to his mouth, licks his palm slowly. "That's it." He reaches out to touch the pendant around JC's neck, runs a finger along the surface of it, holds it between his fingertips and feels the warmth of it from where it's been resting against JC's throat. "This bring you luck?" he asks, and JC nods. "Good," murmurs Tyler, and leans forward, presses his lips against it. "For luck, man."
JC smiles then, eyes crinkled. "Goober." And he ducks his head forward and kisses Tyler, lips grazing the soft skin under his jaw. "For, uh...something. Yeah." He looks at Tyler, blinking, thinking, ok, what the hell did I just do that for?
And Tyler stares at him for a moment, then grins back, wide, happy, and oh-so-stoned smile spread across his face. Kisses JC back, catches the edge of his mouth, JC's lips parting slightly at the touch. "For something. For...you. Yeah, 'cos I love you, man. And--yeah."
JC touches the corner of his mouth with a finger, and smiles. "Me too, man. And..." - he reaches over and touches Tyler's mouth too, and slips a finger between his lips- "…and I love you too, because y'know. Brothers." He frowns a little then, because hello, Tyler's his brother, and hell, he has his finger in his brother's mouth, but it's warm, and wet, and...Tyler appears to be sucking on it. Ok, yeah. Tyler's sucking on his finger. And he might kinda like it. A lot.
JC closes his eyes and concentrates on the way Tyler's mouth feels on his finger. Warm. Wet. Gentle suction. And it's making him tingle all over, just that gentle sucking, nothing more, except--oh. Tyler's holding his hand now, sort of...has his hand on JC's wrist, holding him there. Holding him steady. And JC shivers, because, yes--brother. But it feels so good. He hasn't been touched by anyone who loves him... by anyone, really...in a long, long time.
He thinks that maybe he should say something- say anything really- but all he can manage to do is murmur "feels nice" and then he slides his finger from between Tyler's lips and replaces it with his mouth. And his head is telling him it's wrong, he shouldn't be doing this- but his body is craving to be touched. His skin, his hair, his hand where Tyler is touching him, and now, his mouth on Tyler's lips, warm and wet, and...safe.
It's odd, really, in the part of his brain that's still stoned and not freaking out, that Tyler tastes so...normal. He might've thought, if he'd bothered to think about how his brother's mouth might taste, that Tyler would taste...different. Exotic. Unusual. Or maybe he does, and JC's just stoned enough not to be able to notice. Or possibly needs to taste more.
Because more would be such a good thing. Taste, touch, all things he hasn't had much of, and here in the safety of his own home, with someone he doesn't have to pretend with, ever.
Safe. Loved. Warm.
"Tyler--" He whispers it against Tyler's mouth, breathes the word onto soft, slightly chapped skin, and feels the movement when Tyler opens his mouth to respond. Then it's a slow, gentle pressure that increases until JC feels giddy from sensation instead of the pot in his system.
"We should--I mean--um." Ok. He's not sure what he means. He doesn't have the words to start to describe what's in his head right now, and even if he did, he's not sure he'd want to use them, to stop this. Whatever this is. He starts to pull his head away, and then Tyler's hands are on his face, holding him there, fingertips warm against his skin, holding him close, and he can feel Tyler's lips moving against his.
"It's ok," Tyler whispers, and then there's the slide of his tongue past JC's lips, and JC closes his eyes against the pure rush of sensation. "It's really ok," Tyler says again, and all JC can do is nod, because yeah, it's ok, it's all okay, and he thinks that surely anything that feels this good can't be wrong. And when he feels Tyler's tongue lick the roof of his mouth, he stops thinking at all.
It takes a moment for JC to realize Tyler does taste exotic. He tastes like something dark, sweet and forbidden, which is exactly what he is.
The fingers on his face are warm and smell slightly of nicotine and pot; JC wonders idly, briefly, who Tyler smoked up with -- if with anyone. Maybe it was just a joint upstairs in his room. Or out by the pool. Maybe there's one left laying around somewhere, and the thought of sharing one, of pressing their mouths together and sharing the smoke makes his belly curl up tight with anticipation, with excitement, with a heady feeling he can't put a name to.
He breaks the kiss with a soft moan and nuzzles the hand closest to his mouth, brushes his mouth over Tyler's fingers, licking at the tips, a rough/gentle swipe of his tongue, feeling his brother's shivers ripple from Tyler into himself.
"Hey," JC smiles, and meets Tyler's eyes as he kisses his fingertips, softly, gently. Tyler doesn't look away as he trails his other hand along JC's shoulders, across his chest, traces his collarbone, the skin warm and soft where he touches.
"Hey yourself," Tyler murmurs, his hand moving lower, and JC can feel the heat from it through his t-shirt. JC realizes he's hard, has been for some time, and now he's aware of it, it's all he can think about, especially as Tyler's fingertips ghost across his belly. He draws in his breath, goosebumps prickling his skin, and covers Tyler's mouth with his again, sucking and biting at his lower lip, needing, wanting to taste more of him.
Tyler's fingers edging up under the hem of his t-shirt make sparks flash behind his eyelids; JC swears he can see red, white, purple, vibrant, brilliant colors that speak of heat and passion, and excitement tinged with darkness. Warmth strokes over his belly and it's all he can do not to break this kiss to cry out, because just that soft touch makes him ache all over; makes his body throb and his cock pulse.
He growls low in his throat and bites at Tyler's lips, smiles a bit when Tyler bites back, teeth snapping at JC's lips, tugging and pulling on delicate flesh. He groans when the hand flat against his stomach presses, pushes, urges him backward, and he's surprised at the softness at his back--oh. The couch.
It's not entirely comfortable; he's sprawled at an odd angle, but then there's a warm, heavy weight pressing against him, and holy fuck, Tyler's just as hard as he is, rubbing hesitantly against JC's leg, and he doesn't worry about how comfortable he is or isn't. JC threads his fingers through Tyler's hair -- dark, heavy silk slip-sliding over his fingers -- and pulls him closer, hunger rising fast within him. He whispers sounds into Tyler's mouth, feeling them echo inside his.
"Feels good, Ty..."
"Yeah," Tyler mutters, and JC has no idea if he's agreeing with him or reassuring himself, and then when Tyler thrusts against him again, he really doesn't care because that feels sofuckinggood. His fingers tighten in Tyler's hair and he shifts a little, moves his body so Tyler's thigh slides between his legs, and thrusts up, hissing a breath through clenched teeth as the sweet, sweet friction sends silver sparks spiraling though him, centering in his cock and spreading, pulsing outwards in waves of red and gold.
Tyler's thrusting back down, his body twisting on top of him, biting and sucking at JC's throat, all hesitation gone. "Fuck," he whispers, and moans as JC thrusts up sharply, grinding against his leg. "Fuck Jayce, yeah. Fuck."
And JC thrusts up again and again, bucking under Tyler's body, fingers digging into skin, pulling him closer. Feels him writhing against him, the heat from his skin, the shift of his muscles as the two of them grind against each other, wild-eyed and frantic.
It's almost too much, the waves of pleasure pulsing outward with each beat of his heart. Desire is shaded in rich hues, hunger in darker, deeper ones. And this hunger...it's the darkest, something forbidden, unexpected, unanticipated. These colors are the richest, deep and dark, pools of shadow and light cresting within him.
JC slides his hands down Tyler's back and hooks his fingers into the pockets of his shorts, cupping his ass, feeling the bunch and release of smooth muscle, separated from warm skin by only the barest of boundaries, a single layer of cloth. He wants closer, wants more, wants to be one, to lose himself within the heat and safety and love he feels pouring off Tyler and outward to him. He wants moremoremore, wants it now, needs it so bad he can taste it on his tongue, sweet and heavy over the taste of Tyler that fills his mouth.
Tyler bites him, hard, sucks at the skin at the base of his throat, and JC does a full body shiver, shifts his left leg so it's wrapped over Tyler's, holding him closer. Pressing them tighter together, letting friction carry them as much as actual movement.
It feels so good he's going to die. Or explode. Both, maybe.
"Jesus God," he mutters, arching his head back, body rolling upward automatically. Tyler breathes similar words against his throat, the words like fire where they eat into his skin, hot, humid lasers burning him. Marking him.
He'll have bruises in the morning.
He wants every bruise he can get, and more; wants to hold this hot, frantic, dark feeling close to his chest and nurture it, feel it grow and expand and become...something. Feel it mature. See what it can become.
But for right now--he wants to feel his brother come against him, wants to see his face, taste his sweat, hear his cry, the sounds he makes. JC arches upward, pressing Tyler down against him, sharp, delicious pleasure knifing through him, and he kisses Tyler again, mouths sliding wetly together, lips swollen and red, slick with each other's spit. Wet, messy kisses that taste of so many things he never realized he needed. Or wanted.
He senses it a split-second before he feels it; the way Tyler tenses under his hands, the way his tongue stills in JC's mouth, the way hot, strong hands grip him tighter, crushing them together. Then there's a flood of damp warmth and a long, low groan that makes JC's stomach clench, and he shudders and arches upward, back bowing against the pressure of orgasm, red streaking through his vision as he comes hard, rubbing himself almost viciously against Tyler's leg.
It's impossible to kiss and breathe at the same time, at least, impossible right after coming, and JC is almost -- sort of -- glad when Tyler breaks the kiss to press his forehead against JC's shoulder. They shudder and pant almost in unison, low whimpery/growly noises coming with each breath, filling the air around them.
The whole room sounds and smells like sex, and his brother is a warm, solid, sweat weight against him, and JC can't stop stroking his fingers up and down the groove of Tyler's spine, feeling each bump of vertebrae there.
He's patted or stroked Tyler's back more times than he can recall; they've wrestled, played, smoked up, hung out, goofed off...and never, ever has anything quite like...this happened. Nothing.
The not-stoned part of JC's brain is bigger than it was earlier, but he's still mostly stoned, and so not freaking out. Not yet. Lazily he shifts, feels Tyler shift with him, still draped over him like a living, breathing carpet, and figures the freak-out will come in the morning. For at least one, possibly both of them.
For now, though, it feels so good to hold Tyler like this, to feel his chest rising and falling against JC's own, to smell the sweat and sex on him. To taste it. And because they've done what they've done, gone where they've gone, JC doesn't hesitate to lean in and lick Tyler's neck slowly, a languid swipe of tongue upward, moving just under his jaw, tasting that sweat. It's sweetish, the pot in his system leeching outward, making JC's tongue and lips tingle.
"Ty." He nips at the tender skin just beneath his ear, then bites down on the lobe. "Ty. Tyler. Ty."
"Mmm. Stop sayin' my name, Jayce." Tyler takes a soft, snuffling breath, breathes warm air onto JC. "Wha-?"
"Shower, man. We're rank."
"'m sleepy."
"Shower, then bed." JC giggles; it's like days long past when he'd babysit Tyler and have to practically wrestle him down to get him ready for bed. Except bed then wasn't as much fun as bed now sounds. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeed." He stretches the word out and giggles again, feels the soft chuff of air against his sweaty skin when Tyler giggles too. He licks again, then pets him, hand stroking downward, smoothing over the curve of Tyler's ass. "Sexy."
"Mmm." Tyler wiggles. "Lemme sleep with you?"
"Uhhuh." JC smiles lazily when Tyler shifts up off him, then looms over him, hands planted to either side of JC's head. "Tyler."
"Uhhuh." And when Tyler's mouth meets his again, wet and messy, but slick and so welcomed, JC doesn't want to move. Doesn't care about showers, or beds, or anything but the slippery slide of tongue against tongue, lips and teeth meeting, the sharp-hard click of enamel, the sting of teeth against delicate inner lips. He moans when Tyler pulls back, and reaches for him, but Tyler grins and leans in to whisper. "Shower, man. C'mon. You and me."
And suddenly, the possibilities for the evening loom larger than even a half an hour ago suggested.
~Finis~
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Date: 2002-10-11 12:27 pm (UTC)I've found a *few* pix of Tyler--most of the websites I found (google search "tyler chasez") wouldn't let me save the pix off them. Bastages. But I have a few; next time you see me or I see you on AIM, hit me up and I'll share :-)
(Gale thinks I should do a "Chasezcest" icon *g*)