mickeym

So, I a thought, and then another one, and the next thing I know, my brain has JC spread over Chris' lap, legs open wide...and yeah. It was a lovely visual. So, this is kind of wanking-voyeur-exhibitionistic type fic, with a GSF-ish flavor. Sort of. *shrugs helplessly* I'm not really sure how to classify it, either, without giving it away. It's sorta Chris/JC, and it's JC/? -- because if I say who the ? is, it'll spoil it :-) You read and decide. And let me know if you guessed or not ;-)

(Inspired by the LOVELY rimming fic Lickshots)

Soft cotton presses against your face, covering your eyes, blocking all light.

Chris is a solid weight behind you, the warmth of his chest pressed against your back, the rough scritch of denim rubbing against your naked skin. He shifts you so your legs are draped over his before he spreads them wider, and instantly you feel open, exposed. It takes every ounce of your control not to moan, because you know there are eyes on you – three pairs of them, to be precise.

You're naked before your friends, spread wide open, nothing hidden from view. Chris' hand sweeps slowly down your neck, over your chest, down your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you can almost *feel* the eyes watching you following that hand. Seeing every bit of you, watching the way you move into the touches, the way your body shows your arousal.

You wiggle slightly on Chris' lap, can feel the hard heat of his erection pressing against your back. He's not unaffected by this, though he's not—on display like you are.

You're the one they all want to see, touch, feel.

Everyone wants to touch you; only the four other men in this room get to.

That thought makes you bite your lip, cutting off another small moan. You're here for your friends' pleasure, knowing they'll get off seeing yours. You shiver and lean further back against Chris, shifting again so your legs splay open wider.

Hedonist. Exhibitionist.

You love it. You love being blindfolded, being spread and displayed, being touched without knowing who's touching, who's doing what.

"Slut," Chris whispers in your ear, breath tickling slightly. His hands are warm against your sides, fingers rubbing gently just beneath your ribcage. You want those touches everywhere and arch upward, enough to press harder against him. He laughs and kisses your neck, breathes the word again, his voice rough and amused all at once. "Slut."

"Mmmm." You are. Oh, not in a sleep-with-anyone-and-everyone sort of way, but in the way you're like a cat, arching into a petting hand. In the way you're aroused by the stroke-and-glide of soft cotton or slick silk over your skin. In the way heat spreading through you from a good coffee will make you shiver and grow hard. In the way warm sun and cool water make your muscles tense and clench, contracting like sex.

Eyes on you make you hard and hot, make you bite your lips until they're sore and swollen, until Chris licks them, wetting and soothing them. Your dick swells, hardens, and you want to touch, to make yourself come while they watch, but you won't. Their pleasure is yours and yours is theirs, and you don't do anything they don't choreograph.

"You ready?" Chris speaks softly, lips and tongue brushing over your neck. Licking. He's not speaking to you, though; the words are directed to one of the other three. No one answers, not verbally. Someone's nodding their head, you're sure, but no one will say anything.

No one ever does, except Chris. His is the only voice you ever hear when you're like this, when you do this.

"Raise your arms, C," Chris' voice is right in your ear now, breath warm, moist, licking into you, tendrils snaking outward to grab your senses. You raise your arms and lock them around Chris' neck, groaning softly when he rubs warm fingers over your nipples. You vibrate with the sensation, body thrumming hotly. Your dick aches, wanting a touch. Wanting something.

Heat settles in front of you, then on you, when warm hands slide over your thighs, spreading them a little more. You shift, tongue licking out, wetting your lips. Your mouth is caught in a hot kiss, open and slick, the other tongue stroking over yours, over your gums and teeth, swallowing you down whole.

"Mmm, so pretty…." Chris licks your neck again, and you're caught in between hot and hotter, wet and wetter, two tongues teasing you. "Go on," he hisses softly, and you shudder, knowing he's encouraging – whoever. The pressure of the kiss increases before breaking, and you sigh softly when it's over, wanting more of that mouth.

Wet heat slithers downward when he licks over your jaw, across your neck, and then nothing but sound as he kisses Chris, the slick sound of their mouths and tongues meeting echoing in your ear. You hear the soft whispers of clothing rustling, of zippers being released, of flesh-on-flesh, and it layers over the sound of kissing in your ear, of the sensation of warm hands stroking over your skin.

"Please," you whisper softly, hissing when sharp teeth bite your earlobe and someone licks then sucks to soothe the sting. "Oh, god—"

Heat slides wet and slick down your body, wrapping around your nipples, wetting the hair sprinkled over your chest. Your navel is tongued in lewd, suggestive strokes that make you squirm and gasp, fingers aching to fist into someone's hair. Chris turns your head to an awkward angle and kisses you, wet and sloppy, and you shudder as layer upon layer of sensory input builds within you and around you.

Strong hands spread over your thighs and you mewl in your throat, wanting to feel a mouth, a tongue, anything wet and hot, moving over your cock. You're so hard you ache, blood pounding hotly with each beat of your heart, until you can feel your cock throbbing in time with the pulse echoing in your head.

His tongue drags over the head of your cock, then down its length, making sparks snap inside your brain like blue electricity. Your balls are cupped, licked, nudged aside, and Chris' legs strain beneath yours as he shifts again, spreading you impossibly wide. You whimper, fingers clenching and unclenching as you undulate, but nothing more than moist breath touches your skin. The first touch of a tongue to the tight, puckered muscle behind your balls makes you hiss sharply through your teeth, then moan loudly.

When he tongues you slowly, slipping and sliding back and forth, you shake, body arching and twisting until Chris grips your hips, holding you still, grinding you back against him.

"Feel it, C…I can see him, licking you, I can hear him… hear his tongue touching you…"

"Chris—"

"Feels good, doesn't it, baby?" Chris rocks upward, just a nudge, his cock so hard against you. You want to push backward, but can't move, can only sit there, feeling sweat sliding down your neck, down your back, while -- *someone* -- tongue-fucks you, smooth, wet heat poking and prodding at your hole, coaxing you to relax and contract, a tiny mouth grasping, trying to catch the slick intruder.

"Feels so good," you moan breathlessly, fullbody shivers racing through you. You try and relax, pushing down, out, and groan when the tongue breaches you, sliding inside, pressing you open. You wish you could spread wider, could push down on that hot, wet tongue fucking you. You wish you could take it deeper, could feel it slither all the way through you.

"Want you to come like this," Chris mutters against your mouth, tongue licking your lips. "Don't touch his cock," he says softly to whoever it is kneeling between your spread legs. "Make him come on your tongue, dude."

A soft sound hums through you, low and rough, a growl muted by your skin. You feel it in every inch of you and squirm again, shifting to rock downward as best as you can with no purchase, nothing to hold onto.

"Oh, C," Chris' voice is hoarse, rough. "Christ, you should see yourself, all hot and squirmy. Your cock's wet, you're so turned on. " He slides two fingers across your lips and you lick at them, suck them into your mouth almost desperately. The sharp hiss of a zipper adds another layer to the cloud you're engulfed in, then that tongue, oh, my god, it's so far up inside you, licking at your insides, sliding in and out just like a dick would, just like you're being fucked.

Your brain is on fire, and blue and white sparks snap at your vision, though your eyes are closed tightly against the blindfold. You rock your hips and grunt when they're held fast, when your cheeks are spread wider and the tongue fucking you becomes hard and hot, slicking inside you, then slithering out to lick at the smooth skin between your balls and hole, then over the wet, open hole itself before fucking you again.

You can feel the rhythmic press and shift of Chris behind you, and the soft grunts of the one between your thighs, jacking himself as he fucks you. You fuck your hips upward, then down, trying for some friction against your cock. Close, so close, and then it's nothing but electricity flowing through you, heat sparking and spreading outward like the flashpoint of a fire, consuming you. You hear the low, hoarse growl as your body contracts and relaxes, and the slippery heat of your come landing on your chest and stomach. Damp heat flares behind you as Chris groans and arches, grinds into your back and comes.

The sounds are all around you and you pant through them, body still fevered, blood still pounding harshly in your veins. A soft tongue strokes back up your body, licking and cleaning you, lapping up your spendings.

You're still shaking, body limp now, spread out over Chris' lap. He lets your arms down – unclasping your hands where they'd locked together – and rubs them slowly. You lean back against him and listen to the soft sounds of Chris kissing someone, of tongues licking against each other.

A soft mouth presses against yours as the blindfold is lifted and you blink against the light, as dim as it is. It takes a minute to bring the world into focus, and then it's there, bright and Technicolor, as you take in the green eyes crinkled into a smile.

~finis~