Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
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OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: The Galloways
Shirts
----------------------
Today had been one of those difficult days.
It was late July in New York City, which meant that temperatures that were already in the 90’s rose ever higher. The whole city seemed to vibrate with heat; there were too many people crammed into too small of a space and it seemed like even the buildings were sweating.
This meant that long-sleeved shirts weren’t really an option, not if you didn’t want to pass out on the subway because it felt like every part of you was screaming for air. So today Elliot had to wear one of the short-sleeved golf shirts to work instead of one of the button up ones. It wasn’t that he really cared about covering up his arms, the scars and healing injection sites were what they were and the fact that they were all healing and slowly fading filled him with a sense of pride. It was like proof that he wasn’t who he used to be and he didn’t mind that being out in the open.
However, it was obvious that the person he used to be hadn’t really been the greatest guy, and that kind of thing made some people uncomfortable. Elliot could be showing some middle-aged professor from the Religious Studies department how to play the PowerPoint presentation on her laptop on the new projectors and her eyes would keep sliding down to the purple marks on his inner left elbow and the longer scars down his inner forearm. And it was like he could hear her wondering how long ago he had last used and why his scars were so long, even though she was nodding and asking reasonable questions about using the remote controls. Eventually, she would notice that he had noticed where her eyes were sitting and then she would feel really uncomfortable because if you were all enlightened and liberal and politically correct you weren’t supposed to notice that the tech support guy used to have a habit. And if you did you really weren’t supposed to stare.
Elliot hated making people uncomfortable.
But 100 degrees when it was barely noon meant things were only going to get worse. After balancing the dangers of heat exhaustion with how much he hated making people uncomfortable, Elliot went with the golf shirt. Besides, if he kind of held his arm just so against his side it almost looked natural plus you could barely see anything. Up until his last call of the day it worked beautifully, nobody was staring at him and he could make jokes with the people he helped out because he liked making jokes, and not because they felt really uncomfortable.
His last call of the day was this professor in the Law department who was spitting mad when he called. The computer in his office had done something, he shouted, and he had lost three hours of valuable work and someone had better get their ass up there to fix it. Elliot didn’t really mind the shouting and swearing; it was really hot outside and he figured everybody felt like shit. Besides, shouting and swearing was basically his older brother’s favourite way of communicating so dealing with that wasn’t really weird for him.
What was weird that the calm way Elliot reacted to things only seemed to make the Law professor angrier. He had done what he could, but the only thing that seemed to be recoverable were a few garbled paragraphs on a word document and it seemed that wasn’t really good enough. Elliot even showed the guy what he could do to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen again and agreed with him every time he said computers were shitty. He didn’t react when the guy, who was getting progressively red in the face, told Elliot that he was an idiot for not being able to make the computer do what he wanted it to do. In fact, he kind of agreed because he was probably pretty stupid compared to this guy. The law professor had a PhD and all, and he knew you had to be pretty smart to earn one of those. Anyway, it didn’t really matter what this guy thought because Elliot knew that the things people thought weren’t always the things that were true.
The only thing that did hurt was when the law professor told him to get out of his office, and tell those idiots down at tech support to send someone competent next time and not some stupid stoner junkie.
Elliot didn’t have a problem with admitting that he was an addict. He was an addict, and he knew now that didn’t mean he was a lot of other things because addicts weren’t this group of people that were all the same. But it hurt all the same because when someone called you a junkie when you weren’t expecting it, it felt like a sucker punch to the stomach. It really sucked because you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself… Well you could, but that would be lying and Elliot wasn’t really big on lying. You couldn’t hold out a defense like it wasn’t your fault that you made your decisions, you just had to admit that you fucked up and that was the end of it. Some law professor with a corner office didn’t care that you were clean and sober for almost two years, or that you promised not to do it again because it made your family feel broken. What he cared about was that you hadn’t done the job he wanted you to do, and because he thought you weren’t as good and smart as he was that meant it was okay to use the word junkie to hurt you.
His therapist would have talked it out with him and helped bring Elliot to these conclusions, but it was Thursday and he wouldn’t be going to therapy until Tuesday. So instead Elliot felt his head begin to buzz with shame as he clocked out and headed home; feeling like everyone on the subway was staring at his arm. It was when he caught himself scratching at the old injection sites, allowing his nails to dig in while he thought about the release that came with breaking skin with something cold and metal that Elliot realized he needed to reach out even if it wasn’t Tuesday.
Hands shaking with something that felt like anticipation and fear at the way he had so easily slipped back to that mindset, he would first text his older sister. Because he didn’t tell her what had happened or how he was feeling she replied she would be home late. Even though he knew when he had to reach out he was still uncomfortable asking his siblings to drop everything for him. Not that was what he asked, but that’s what they did when he said he needed them. However, he knew today was Ashley’s day off and his older brother would definitely be home.
Elliot asked Ashley if he would come to the gym with him as he was letting himself into the apartment, and he was grateful that his brother pretended that he didn’t see him shaking and instead complained about the heat and did his best to look begrudging when he agreed to go. Elliot wore a tank top to the gym because he knew that no one cared what his arms looked like there.
When he had first been looking for ways to cope with not only his cravings but also his compulsive need to self-harm, exercise had called to him almost immediately. It was good because it made your muscles ache in a good way, and if you were doing it right you had to concentrate and that didn’t make it easy for other thoughts to come in.
And then he had found the best gym on the planet. It was three blocks from Ashley’s place and there was this faded sign above the door that said ‘Mikey’s Place’. The gym itself was a well lit basement room filled with really old exercise equipment and run by this old Italian guy who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day and could still tie Elliot into a pretzel if he wanted to. The first time Elliot was there ‘Mikey’ had explained with a thick accent only made worse from all of the smokes that Mikey wasn’t even really his name, but new signs cost a lot of money and no one could say his name anyway. He also told him that he had things like medicine balls, pommel horses and heavy ropes tied to the walls because treadmills were machines, and machines always were breaking.
When Mikey had first laid eyes on the state of Elliot’s arms he had done nothing but nod sagely and clap him on the back so hard he almost lost his footing. “You a good man who cut that stuff out now,” The gigantic hulk of an Italian senior citizen had explained, “And instead I’m gonna make you real strong. So then if somebody come see you with a needle you punch them in the face.” The best part was he had been true to his word, and Elliot found himself putting on muscle in a way that made him feel less like a junkie and more like an athlete.
Mikey would greet them as they walked down the stairs, taking some time to berate Ashley for not coming in for over two weeks before setting them on the kind of workout that would pull the stress right out of Elliot. His older redheaded brother complained the entire time because he really hated putting that much effort into anything at 6 P.M. on one of the hottest days of the year, but Elliot knew that he secretly liked how much he had toned up because it meant so many more people were interested in him when he went out.
His head felt clearer after, the buzzing of shame was almost entirely gone as he slowly walked back to the apartment with Ashley, gym bags slung over their shoulders. The dark-hared young man was willing to talk about his day then, and he asked his brother not to tell their older sister about it. After all, Georgia was still working towards tenure and tearing apart a professor from the law department would probably work against her.
Later, when they watched the news before going to bed, Elliot was pleased to hear that the weather guy expected it to be cooler tomorrow. That probably meant that he could get away with a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and that (if nothing else) was a reason to smile.
Shirts
----------------------
Today had been one of those difficult days.
It was late July in New York City, which meant that temperatures that were already in the 90’s rose ever higher. The whole city seemed to vibrate with heat; there were too many people crammed into too small of a space and it seemed like even the buildings were sweating.
This meant that long-sleeved shirts weren’t really an option, not if you didn’t want to pass out on the subway because it felt like every part of you was screaming for air. So today Elliot had to wear one of the short-sleeved golf shirts to work instead of one of the button up ones. It wasn’t that he really cared about covering up his arms, the scars and healing injection sites were what they were and the fact that they were all healing and slowly fading filled him with a sense of pride. It was like proof that he wasn’t who he used to be and he didn’t mind that being out in the open.
However, it was obvious that the person he used to be hadn’t really been the greatest guy, and that kind of thing made some people uncomfortable. Elliot could be showing some middle-aged professor from the Religious Studies department how to play the PowerPoint presentation on her laptop on the new projectors and her eyes would keep sliding down to the purple marks on his inner left elbow and the longer scars down his inner forearm. And it was like he could hear her wondering how long ago he had last used and why his scars were so long, even though she was nodding and asking reasonable questions about using the remote controls. Eventually, she would notice that he had noticed where her eyes were sitting and then she would feel really uncomfortable because if you were all enlightened and liberal and politically correct you weren’t supposed to notice that the tech support guy used to have a habit. And if you did you really weren’t supposed to stare.
Elliot hated making people uncomfortable.
But 100 degrees when it was barely noon meant things were only going to get worse. After balancing the dangers of heat exhaustion with how much he hated making people uncomfortable, Elliot went with the golf shirt. Besides, if he kind of held his arm just so against his side it almost looked natural plus you could barely see anything. Up until his last call of the day it worked beautifully, nobody was staring at him and he could make jokes with the people he helped out because he liked making jokes, and not because they felt really uncomfortable.
His last call of the day was this professor in the Law department who was spitting mad when he called. The computer in his office had done something, he shouted, and he had lost three hours of valuable work and someone had better get their ass up there to fix it. Elliot didn’t really mind the shouting and swearing; it was really hot outside and he figured everybody felt like shit. Besides, shouting and swearing was basically his older brother’s favourite way of communicating so dealing with that wasn’t really weird for him.
What was weird that the calm way Elliot reacted to things only seemed to make the Law professor angrier. He had done what he could, but the only thing that seemed to be recoverable were a few garbled paragraphs on a word document and it seemed that wasn’t really good enough. Elliot even showed the guy what he could do to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen again and agreed with him every time he said computers were shitty. He didn’t react when the guy, who was getting progressively red in the face, told Elliot that he was an idiot for not being able to make the computer do what he wanted it to do. In fact, he kind of agreed because he was probably pretty stupid compared to this guy. The law professor had a PhD and all, and he knew you had to be pretty smart to earn one of those. Anyway, it didn’t really matter what this guy thought because Elliot knew that the things people thought weren’t always the things that were true.
The only thing that did hurt was when the law professor told him to get out of his office, and tell those idiots down at tech support to send someone competent next time and not some stupid stoner junkie.
Elliot didn’t have a problem with admitting that he was an addict. He was an addict, and he knew now that didn’t mean he was a lot of other things because addicts weren’t this group of people that were all the same. But it hurt all the same because when someone called you a junkie when you weren’t expecting it, it felt like a sucker punch to the stomach. It really sucked because you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself… Well you could, but that would be lying and Elliot wasn’t really big on lying. You couldn’t hold out a defense like it wasn’t your fault that you made your decisions, you just had to admit that you fucked up and that was the end of it. Some law professor with a corner office didn’t care that you were clean and sober for almost two years, or that you promised not to do it again because it made your family feel broken. What he cared about was that you hadn’t done the job he wanted you to do, and because he thought you weren’t as good and smart as he was that meant it was okay to use the word junkie to hurt you.
His therapist would have talked it out with him and helped bring Elliot to these conclusions, but it was Thursday and he wouldn’t be going to therapy until Tuesday. So instead Elliot felt his head begin to buzz with shame as he clocked out and headed home; feeling like everyone on the subway was staring at his arm. It was when he caught himself scratching at the old injection sites, allowing his nails to dig in while he thought about the release that came with breaking skin with something cold and metal that Elliot realized he needed to reach out even if it wasn’t Tuesday.
Hands shaking with something that felt like anticipation and fear at the way he had so easily slipped back to that mindset, he would first text his older sister. Because he didn’t tell her what had happened or how he was feeling she replied she would be home late. Even though he knew when he had to reach out he was still uncomfortable asking his siblings to drop everything for him. Not that was what he asked, but that’s what they did when he said he needed them. However, he knew today was Ashley’s day off and his older brother would definitely be home.
Elliot asked Ashley if he would come to the gym with him as he was letting himself into the apartment, and he was grateful that his brother pretended that he didn’t see him shaking and instead complained about the heat and did his best to look begrudging when he agreed to go. Elliot wore a tank top to the gym because he knew that no one cared what his arms looked like there.
When he had first been looking for ways to cope with not only his cravings but also his compulsive need to self-harm, exercise had called to him almost immediately. It was good because it made your muscles ache in a good way, and if you were doing it right you had to concentrate and that didn’t make it easy for other thoughts to come in.
And then he had found the best gym on the planet. It was three blocks from Ashley’s place and there was this faded sign above the door that said ‘Mikey’s Place’. The gym itself was a well lit basement room filled with really old exercise equipment and run by this old Italian guy who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day and could still tie Elliot into a pretzel if he wanted to. The first time Elliot was there ‘Mikey’ had explained with a thick accent only made worse from all of the smokes that Mikey wasn’t even really his name, but new signs cost a lot of money and no one could say his name anyway. He also told him that he had things like medicine balls, pommel horses and heavy ropes tied to the walls because treadmills were machines, and machines always were breaking.
When Mikey had first laid eyes on the state of Elliot’s arms he had done nothing but nod sagely and clap him on the back so hard he almost lost his footing. “You a good man who cut that stuff out now,” The gigantic hulk of an Italian senior citizen had explained, “And instead I’m gonna make you real strong. So then if somebody come see you with a needle you punch them in the face.” The best part was he had been true to his word, and Elliot found himself putting on muscle in a way that made him feel less like a junkie and more like an athlete.
Mikey would greet them as they walked down the stairs, taking some time to berate Ashley for not coming in for over two weeks before setting them on the kind of workout that would pull the stress right out of Elliot. His older redheaded brother complained the entire time because he really hated putting that much effort into anything at 6 P.M. on one of the hottest days of the year, but Elliot knew that he secretly liked how much he had toned up because it meant so many more people were interested in him when he went out.
His head felt clearer after, the buzzing of shame was almost entirely gone as he slowly walked back to the apartment with Ashley, gym bags slung over their shoulders. The dark-hared young man was willing to talk about his day then, and he asked his brother not to tell their older sister about it. After all, Georgia was still working towards tenure and tearing apart a professor from the law department would probably work against her.
Later, when they watched the news before going to bed, Elliot was pleased to hear that the weather guy expected it to be cooler tomorrow. That probably meant that he could get away with a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and that (if nothing else) was a reason to smile.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Laundry (for Juno rofl :x)
----------
It was one of the last few days before spring break, and it wasn’t the first time they had been together. But it was one of the best because it was on the fourth floor and everyone else was at lunch so they could be a little loud, if they wanted to. There was a supply closet at the end of the hall that no one ever locked, and they had tested the sound on it earlier in the year by shutting Brady in it while Jon listened to him talking at various distances away. Brady had been a little reluctant at first, after all there was hardly a way to explain what they were doing if they were caught, but Jon said he was the louder one and it was better safe than sorry.
One of the things Jon really liked about his boyfriend, besides the fact that he was so noisy about things he enjoyed, was that he pretended it annoyed him when Jon manhandled him. He was a few inches taller so it was a little embarrassing to be picked up so easily, but his complaints stopped when their clothes started coming off. And besides, the only way to really fuck in a supply closet was against the only part of the wall without shelves so they made do.
As light as Brady was, it was still a little tiring holding him in place, even with his long legs wrapped around Jon’s thrusting hips for support. And he was not able to concentrate as much on the task at hand when he got as close as he was. Which was why he ended up dropping Brady a little when he announced he was about to cum, and Brady ended up grabbing one of the shelves violently for support.
Something crashed off of the shelf and instantly the small space was filled with the sharp, stinging smell of bleach. Keeping his grip on his boyfriend, Jon would turn his head, grey eyes attempting to assess the damage as his thrusts slowed. He was brought quite violently back into the moment when Brady grabbed his dark hair hard, and pulled his head so he faced him again.
“I swear to God, Jon, if you stop right now I’m going to fucking smack you,” the blonde hissed out with a roll of his hips to remind the other exactly what they were skipping lunch for. And because Jon was Brady’s as much as Brady was his, he had no choice but to comply.
The bleach stung in his nostrils as he came, sucking in air desperately so he could moan his release into the blonde’s neck. They found after, as they tried to compose themselves that Jon’s pants and boxers were soaked, so Brady had to run to his dorm to get another pair while his boyfriend huddled in the closet, hoping to God no one came to see what the smell was about.
He dressed in the hallway so not to risk getting the other pair wet as well, and as the bell rang the young lovers ran down the steps, barely able to contain their giggling. They didn’t stop until they were behind the science building, as secluded an area as one could get on campus, and only then did they realize that they had forgotten Jon’s other pair of boxers in the supply closet. The giggling turned into full out laughter, and for the first time Jon was relived that he didn’t have a fussy mother who wrote his name on every article of clothing he owned.
Years later, when they had left boarding school far behind and they lived in an apartment together, Jon would take over the laundry duties. He no longer could really remember the supply closet incident, but it certainly had made its impression on him. Without fail, adding a cap of bleach to their whites would get him horny, and his boyfriend (now fiancé) soon learned that laundry would be followed by a fuck. Despite being older, Jon would still get grumpy if he couldn’t act on his urges.
Brady asked Jon about it once, as they laid still tangled and sweating on the living room floor and Jon was surprised to find that he didn’t have an immediate answer for the blonde. It hadn’t even been something he really noticed, and after considering it he’d shrug it off with a lazy smile before telling him the same thing he always had.
“I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Laundry (for Juno rofl :x)
----------
It was one of the last few days before spring break, and it wasn’t the first time they had been together. But it was one of the best because it was on the fourth floor and everyone else was at lunch so they could be a little loud, if they wanted to. There was a supply closet at the end of the hall that no one ever locked, and they had tested the sound on it earlier in the year by shutting Brady in it while Jon listened to him talking at various distances away. Brady had been a little reluctant at first, after all there was hardly a way to explain what they were doing if they were caught, but Jon said he was the louder one and it was better safe than sorry.
One of the things Jon really liked about his boyfriend, besides the fact that he was so noisy about things he enjoyed, was that he pretended it annoyed him when Jon manhandled him. He was a few inches taller so it was a little embarrassing to be picked up so easily, but his complaints stopped when their clothes started coming off. And besides, the only way to really fuck in a supply closet was against the only part of the wall without shelves so they made do.
As light as Brady was, it was still a little tiring holding him in place, even with his long legs wrapped around Jon’s thrusting hips for support. And he was not able to concentrate as much on the task at hand when he got as close as he was. Which was why he ended up dropping Brady a little when he announced he was about to cum, and Brady ended up grabbing one of the shelves violently for support.
Something crashed off of the shelf and instantly the small space was filled with the sharp, stinging smell of bleach. Keeping his grip on his boyfriend, Jon would turn his head, grey eyes attempting to assess the damage as his thrusts slowed. He was brought quite violently back into the moment when Brady grabbed his dark hair hard, and pulled his head so he faced him again.
“I swear to God, Jon, if you stop right now I’m going to fucking smack you,” the blonde hissed out with a roll of his hips to remind the other exactly what they were skipping lunch for. And because Jon was Brady’s as much as Brady was his, he had no choice but to comply.
The bleach stung in his nostrils as he came, sucking in air desperately so he could moan his release into the blonde’s neck. They found after, as they tried to compose themselves that Jon’s pants and boxers were soaked, so Brady had to run to his dorm to get another pair while his boyfriend huddled in the closet, hoping to God no one came to see what the smell was about.
He dressed in the hallway so not to risk getting the other pair wet as well, and as the bell rang the young lovers ran down the steps, barely able to contain their giggling. They didn’t stop until they were behind the science building, as secluded an area as one could get on campus, and only then did they realize that they had forgotten Jon’s other pair of boxers in the supply closet. The giggling turned into full out laughter, and for the first time Jon was relived that he didn’t have a fussy mother who wrote his name on every article of clothing he owned.
Years later, when they had left boarding school far behind and they lived in an apartment together, Jon would take over the laundry duties. He no longer could really remember the supply closet incident, but it certainly had made its impression on him. Without fail, adding a cap of bleach to their whites would get him horny, and his boyfriend (now fiancé) soon learned that laundry would be followed by a fuck. Despite being older, Jon would still get grumpy if he couldn’t act on his urges.
Brady asked Jon about it once, as they laid still tangled and sweating on the living room floor and Jon was surprised to find that he didn’t have an immediate answer for the blonde. It hadn’t even been something he really noticed, and after considering it he’d shrug it off with a lazy smile before telling him the same thing he always had.
“I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
J
Juno
Guest
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
D: ...this is so sweet and hot and kedwekdedkjnejd <3;
Idc if you don't want feedback. I'll praise your work and you can't stop me. >;[
D: ...this is so sweet and hot and kedwekdedkjnejd <3;
Idc if you don't want feedback. I'll praise your work and you can't stop me. >;[
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
It's true I tried to stop you from posting and I couldn't D:
BUT I AIN'T EVEN MAD
It's true I tried to stop you from posting and I couldn't D:
BUT I AIN'T EVEN MAD
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Halloween
I am so addicted to this pairing it's STUPID.
----------
Jon had meant to ask Brady to come home with him about a week before he actually did. On the last weekend of every month, the students at their boarding school were allowed to take the train home, if they lived nearby. And because Friday was Halloween, everyone was either going home or going home with a friend. They had only been together for about a month and a half at that time, and because they were so young it had been love from the first day. And it was a big step, asking your boyfriend to come home with you for a weekend and meet your family, so Jon had really wanted to do it right.
But he was sixteen, so every time he got Brady alone his mind had sort of blanked and before he could really get into control of the situation they would be quite occupied with other things. It was Thursday now, though, and the train left almost right after classes tomorrow. So if he wanted Brady to come home with him (he really did) then he’d have to tell him now.
Jon’s dorm mate was Sam, and because he and Sam were best friends Sam didn’t mind going down to the common rooms or whatever every once in a while so they could have some alone time. But only sometimes, because relationships at the all-boys school were strictly prohibited and Jon and Brady were doing their best to keep what they had a secret. Not that the teachers could stop you from liking someone, but there were certain rules about conduct and behavior and you weren’t supposed to kiss, much less fuck, in every empty room there was and they were doing plenty of both.
So when Sam left the room what Jon meant to do was take Brady’s hand, kiss him softly and then tell him how honoured he would be if Brady accompanied him home that weekend. Which sounded really stupid in his head, because nobody talked like that (even the kids at Vanderbilt with the really, really old money), but this thing with Brady was serious and he wanted to treat it with the kind of adult decorum you read about in old novels.
When he kissed Brady, the blonde made this little noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh and that threw all of his plans out of the window. It was one of those really great sounds to hear; it sent jolts of electricity from his belly to his groin and suddenly the most important thing in the world became making him do it again. Before he knew what was happening, one of his hands was tangled in the blonde’s long hair, and the other was pulling at his grey blazer while his mouth continued its hungry assault on his boyfriend’s lips.
No one actually liked the school uniforms, but Jon really hated them. Especially because they put a blazer, sweater vest, tie, and a button up shirt between he and his boyfriends skin; and when he got really excited removing the tie without strangling the poor blonde became a bit of a difficulty. But Brady knew this about him, so while Jon pulled down the blazer he reached up with one free hand to loosen the tie. Jon apologizing a hundred times because he pulled on the wrong end really killed the mood.
Soon he was straddling the taller boy on the floor (because even though the bed is only a foot away that’s too far for them) and attempting to tug off his own clothing. In the month and a half since they started doing this he had gotten no more graceful at this part, so his head got stuck when he attempted to pull of the sweater vest, dress shirt and tie all at once. He pretended that he didn’t hear Brady giggle somewhere beneath him as he got it all sorted out. He’d resume kissing the blonde in a dignity-at-all-times sort of way and it seemed that his boyfriend forgot the shirt thing quickly enough.
Things progressed at a rapid pace after that, and the next time he was fully aware of his actions he was holding a naked and sweat covered Brady against his own well-bitten body as they each tried to catch their breath. Through the blissful haze that came post-orgasm, Jon remembered that there was something he had meant to ask Brady. Something important.
He frowned to himself a little as he attempted to remember, and the blushed when it hit him all at once. He felt a little sleazy then, like he couldn’t have waited five minutes to ask him about coming home before he put his cock up his boyfriend’s ass, but then Brady made another little noise of contentment and he remembered that self-control when it came to the blonde was impossible.
“So, uh, what are your plans for this weekend?” Although Jon winced a little at the look Brady gave him, he felt that he deserved it. He knew damn well that Brady didn’t make weekend plans. “I just mean that, if you wanted to, I would really like it if you came home with me. We go on Friday after classes and then we take the train back on Sunday night, and Ned already said it would be alright…” He hasn’t known his lover long enough to tell if the surprised look on his face is a good or a bad thing, so Jon blushes a little before continuing. “Robb is going to be having a Halloween party, so you should come because it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
He doesn’t miss the way that Brady’s nose wrinkles when he hears the word ‘party’. “I don’t have a costume or anything.”
It’s a lame defense, and Jon cuts through it immediately. “So? Neither do I. Look, we’ll just wear our uniforms and say we’re characters from the Dead Poets Society. Please come.”
He’s not sure if Brady was going to say yes anyway or if it’s that puppy-dog look he knows he can make but his boyfriend agrees and Jon’s so happy that he thinks his heart might burst. “You’re going to love it,” he promises as they finally untangle and he helps the skinny blonde find his clothing, his excitement closer to that if a six year old child than that of a sixteen year old man, “You’ll sleep in my room and you’ll finally meet everyone.”
-----
The train ride is just over an hour long, and they take a cab at the station. As they drive through progressively fancier neighborhoods Jon gets more and more embarrassed, but he tries not to show it. The Stark Family Estate has a gate, and Jon has to ask for the taxi to be buzzed in. It’s embarrassing because it’s not even his money, it’s Stark money and he just lives there. His nerves about the size of the house melt away when they step through the door and they can hear arguing in the kitchen.
It’s Sansa and Robb so he tells Brady to just drop his bag by the door and follow him. Sansa is thirteen and Robb is sixteen like him, and they both have red hair, blue eyes, and expressions of total fury on their faces. Robb is just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but Sansa is wearing this black cat costume which Jon will later describe as ‘inappropriate’, even though it really wasn’t that bad. A smaller girl with blue eyes and brown hair in a proper pirate costume is sitting on the counter giggling and nibbling on a sandwich, which she promptly drops when she catches sight of Jon.
Robb and Sansa are forced to stop their fighting when she squeals out Jon’s name, and the grey-eyed young man catches her easily when she takes a run at him. He swings her around for a bit before putting her down, and smiles when she informs him that Sansa is being stupid. This earns them a volley of shrieking from Sansa, and the following din continues until Robb banging on a pot cuts it off. It is only then that Jon notices that poor Brady has been hanging back in the doorway, and he feels bad that he didn’t better prepare him for the Stark household.
It seems that Sansa wants to go to Robb’s party instead of out with the little kids (being referred to as a little kid earns Robb a kick from Arya) and Robb isn’t letting her near Theon with alcohol for ten more years, at least. Jon agrees and Sansa screams that he doesn’t know anything and he barely counts anyway and then goes running off. From anyone else it would have bothered him, but Sansa was Sansa and he remembered what it was like to be ‘not old enough’.
-----
She does end up going with the ‘little kids’, but by that time they’re all out by the pool house and her departure goes unnoticed. There are tons of people there, like there always is; and Jon spends half of his time looking for Brady, who is uncomfortable around the crowd and keeps slipping away. He realizes after his fifth drink that the blonde really doesn’t want to be there but hadn’t said anything because he knew that Jon was enjoying himself.
He feels bad that he made Brady come, and they slip off together when Theon announces it’s time for keg stands. They can hear Thriller playing even up in Jon’s room, and he tries to apologize until the blonde kisses him and tells him it’s okay. It’s still Thriller when they lay down on his bed together, but by the time their shirts are off it’s turned into the Monster Mash. Normally they have to be fast, so their lovemaking takes on a sense of urgency. But Jon’s door has a proper lock and they have all weekend, so it’s two songs into the Rocky Horror soundtrack before the rest of their clothes are gone.
The lights are off, but Jon’s curtains are open and the moonlight combined with the lights form Robb’s party is giving Brady’s pale skin this glow. For the first time he has the chance to really look at his boyfriend naked, and how beautiful he is kind of surprises Jon. He’s always known the blonde was good looking, but he didn’t realize he was this perfect, and Jon takes his time exploring his body with inquisitive fingers and a soft tongue while Tim Curry croons Sweet Transvestite before belting out I Can Make You A Man. It’s Touch Me before Brady is begging him for more in a voice that’s close to tears, and Eddie before he gives in.
They go slower than they ever have before, and the music fades in Jon’s ears as Brady’s whimpers and moans become the focus of his attention. They move in tandem and it is perfect, everything feels so good that it’s like sex was something invented just for them. Brady wants Jon to cum with him, but the dark-haired teen hushes the blonde, watching his boyfriend orgasm is one of his favourite things.
The way that Brady arches and sobs out his release proves to be too much for him, however, and everything goes white and quiet in Jon’s mind as his own orgasm rips through him. Highway to Hell is cutting through the night by the time he comes back to himself, and as he realizes that his body is shaking as he cradles the blonde close to his chest.
Neither of them says anything for a while, as if words would break the moment. Eventually, Jon pulls away from Brady so he can use the bathroom, and when he’s washing his hands he realizes that he was going to sleep in the same bed as his boyfriend that night. That brings a massive smile to his face, even after he returns to the bed. He whines a little when Brady leaves him to do his own little nighttime ritual, but before long his skeletal blonde is back in his arms.
“Love you,” Jon’s voice is soft and dreamy, and sleep will take him soon. “Love you always.”
Halloween
I am so addicted to this pairing it's STUPID.
----------
Jon had meant to ask Brady to come home with him about a week before he actually did. On the last weekend of every month, the students at their boarding school were allowed to take the train home, if they lived nearby. And because Friday was Halloween, everyone was either going home or going home with a friend. They had only been together for about a month and a half at that time, and because they were so young it had been love from the first day. And it was a big step, asking your boyfriend to come home with you for a weekend and meet your family, so Jon had really wanted to do it right.
But he was sixteen, so every time he got Brady alone his mind had sort of blanked and before he could really get into control of the situation they would be quite occupied with other things. It was Thursday now, though, and the train left almost right after classes tomorrow. So if he wanted Brady to come home with him (he really did) then he’d have to tell him now.
Jon’s dorm mate was Sam, and because he and Sam were best friends Sam didn’t mind going down to the common rooms or whatever every once in a while so they could have some alone time. But only sometimes, because relationships at the all-boys school were strictly prohibited and Jon and Brady were doing their best to keep what they had a secret. Not that the teachers could stop you from liking someone, but there were certain rules about conduct and behavior and you weren’t supposed to kiss, much less fuck, in every empty room there was and they were doing plenty of both.
So when Sam left the room what Jon meant to do was take Brady’s hand, kiss him softly and then tell him how honoured he would be if Brady accompanied him home that weekend. Which sounded really stupid in his head, because nobody talked like that (even the kids at Vanderbilt with the really, really old money), but this thing with Brady was serious and he wanted to treat it with the kind of adult decorum you read about in old novels.
When he kissed Brady, the blonde made this little noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh and that threw all of his plans out of the window. It was one of those really great sounds to hear; it sent jolts of electricity from his belly to his groin and suddenly the most important thing in the world became making him do it again. Before he knew what was happening, one of his hands was tangled in the blonde’s long hair, and the other was pulling at his grey blazer while his mouth continued its hungry assault on his boyfriend’s lips.
No one actually liked the school uniforms, but Jon really hated them. Especially because they put a blazer, sweater vest, tie, and a button up shirt between he and his boyfriends skin; and when he got really excited removing the tie without strangling the poor blonde became a bit of a difficulty. But Brady knew this about him, so while Jon pulled down the blazer he reached up with one free hand to loosen the tie. Jon apologizing a hundred times because he pulled on the wrong end really killed the mood.
Soon he was straddling the taller boy on the floor (because even though the bed is only a foot away that’s too far for them) and attempting to tug off his own clothing. In the month and a half since they started doing this he had gotten no more graceful at this part, so his head got stuck when he attempted to pull of the sweater vest, dress shirt and tie all at once. He pretended that he didn’t hear Brady giggle somewhere beneath him as he got it all sorted out. He’d resume kissing the blonde in a dignity-at-all-times sort of way and it seemed that his boyfriend forgot the shirt thing quickly enough.
Things progressed at a rapid pace after that, and the next time he was fully aware of his actions he was holding a naked and sweat covered Brady against his own well-bitten body as they each tried to catch their breath. Through the blissful haze that came post-orgasm, Jon remembered that there was something he had meant to ask Brady. Something important.
He frowned to himself a little as he attempted to remember, and the blushed when it hit him all at once. He felt a little sleazy then, like he couldn’t have waited five minutes to ask him about coming home before he put his cock up his boyfriend’s ass, but then Brady made another little noise of contentment and he remembered that self-control when it came to the blonde was impossible.
“So, uh, what are your plans for this weekend?” Although Jon winced a little at the look Brady gave him, he felt that he deserved it. He knew damn well that Brady didn’t make weekend plans. “I just mean that, if you wanted to, I would really like it if you came home with me. We go on Friday after classes and then we take the train back on Sunday night, and Ned already said it would be alright…” He hasn’t known his lover long enough to tell if the surprised look on his face is a good or a bad thing, so Jon blushes a little before continuing. “Robb is going to be having a Halloween party, so you should come because it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
He doesn’t miss the way that Brady’s nose wrinkles when he hears the word ‘party’. “I don’t have a costume or anything.”
It’s a lame defense, and Jon cuts through it immediately. “So? Neither do I. Look, we’ll just wear our uniforms and say we’re characters from the Dead Poets Society. Please come.”
He’s not sure if Brady was going to say yes anyway or if it’s that puppy-dog look he knows he can make but his boyfriend agrees and Jon’s so happy that he thinks his heart might burst. “You’re going to love it,” he promises as they finally untangle and he helps the skinny blonde find his clothing, his excitement closer to that if a six year old child than that of a sixteen year old man, “You’ll sleep in my room and you’ll finally meet everyone.”
-----
The train ride is just over an hour long, and they take a cab at the station. As they drive through progressively fancier neighborhoods Jon gets more and more embarrassed, but he tries not to show it. The Stark Family Estate has a gate, and Jon has to ask for the taxi to be buzzed in. It’s embarrassing because it’s not even his money, it’s Stark money and he just lives there. His nerves about the size of the house melt away when they step through the door and they can hear arguing in the kitchen.
It’s Sansa and Robb so he tells Brady to just drop his bag by the door and follow him. Sansa is thirteen and Robb is sixteen like him, and they both have red hair, blue eyes, and expressions of total fury on their faces. Robb is just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but Sansa is wearing this black cat costume which Jon will later describe as ‘inappropriate’, even though it really wasn’t that bad. A smaller girl with blue eyes and brown hair in a proper pirate costume is sitting on the counter giggling and nibbling on a sandwich, which she promptly drops when she catches sight of Jon.
Robb and Sansa are forced to stop their fighting when she squeals out Jon’s name, and the grey-eyed young man catches her easily when she takes a run at him. He swings her around for a bit before putting her down, and smiles when she informs him that Sansa is being stupid. This earns them a volley of shrieking from Sansa, and the following din continues until Robb banging on a pot cuts it off. It is only then that Jon notices that poor Brady has been hanging back in the doorway, and he feels bad that he didn’t better prepare him for the Stark household.
It seems that Sansa wants to go to Robb’s party instead of out with the little kids (being referred to as a little kid earns Robb a kick from Arya) and Robb isn’t letting her near Theon with alcohol for ten more years, at least. Jon agrees and Sansa screams that he doesn’t know anything and he barely counts anyway and then goes running off. From anyone else it would have bothered him, but Sansa was Sansa and he remembered what it was like to be ‘not old enough’.
-----
She does end up going with the ‘little kids’, but by that time they’re all out by the pool house and her departure goes unnoticed. There are tons of people there, like there always is; and Jon spends half of his time looking for Brady, who is uncomfortable around the crowd and keeps slipping away. He realizes after his fifth drink that the blonde really doesn’t want to be there but hadn’t said anything because he knew that Jon was enjoying himself.
He feels bad that he made Brady come, and they slip off together when Theon announces it’s time for keg stands. They can hear Thriller playing even up in Jon’s room, and he tries to apologize until the blonde kisses him and tells him it’s okay. It’s still Thriller when they lay down on his bed together, but by the time their shirts are off it’s turned into the Monster Mash. Normally they have to be fast, so their lovemaking takes on a sense of urgency. But Jon’s door has a proper lock and they have all weekend, so it’s two songs into the Rocky Horror soundtrack before the rest of their clothes are gone.
The lights are off, but Jon’s curtains are open and the moonlight combined with the lights form Robb’s party is giving Brady’s pale skin this glow. For the first time he has the chance to really look at his boyfriend naked, and how beautiful he is kind of surprises Jon. He’s always known the blonde was good looking, but he didn’t realize he was this perfect, and Jon takes his time exploring his body with inquisitive fingers and a soft tongue while Tim Curry croons Sweet Transvestite before belting out I Can Make You A Man. It’s Touch Me before Brady is begging him for more in a voice that’s close to tears, and Eddie before he gives in.
They go slower than they ever have before, and the music fades in Jon’s ears as Brady’s whimpers and moans become the focus of his attention. They move in tandem and it is perfect, everything feels so good that it’s like sex was something invented just for them. Brady wants Jon to cum with him, but the dark-haired teen hushes the blonde, watching his boyfriend orgasm is one of his favourite things.
The way that Brady arches and sobs out his release proves to be too much for him, however, and everything goes white and quiet in Jon’s mind as his own orgasm rips through him. Highway to Hell is cutting through the night by the time he comes back to himself, and as he realizes that his body is shaking as he cradles the blonde close to his chest.
Neither of them says anything for a while, as if words would break the moment. Eventually, Jon pulls away from Brady so he can use the bathroom, and when he’s washing his hands he realizes that he was going to sleep in the same bed as his boyfriend that night. That brings a massive smile to his face, even after he returns to the bed. He whines a little when Brady leaves him to do his own little nighttime ritual, but before long his skeletal blonde is back in his arms.
“Love you,” Jon’s voice is soft and dreamy, and sleep will take him soon. “Love you always.”
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Better Than His Own Hair
(pure smut/fluff.
Old but I want to gather all this in the same place.)
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Robb Stark was hideously bored. Theon had gone off to the whorehouse and with his mother on some kind of warpath about the King and a fraction of his court arriving soon he didn’t dare sneak out as well. Sure, he knew how to get out without being seen but it wasn’t worth the blowup if he was caught. There had already been a terrific row when Arya had torn her new dress, and Robb fancied staying out of it as much as he could.
Besides, he thought to himself as he slipped out of his room, There were other ways to enjoy one’s self in the castle. Resisting the urge to giggle like an idiot, sneaking around had always amused him terribly; Robb would slip into the room down the hall from his, locking the door firmly behind him. Quiet as a mouse, he would shed the simple long tunic he wore at night and crawl into the bed shoved against the wall.
Jon would be long asleep; the bastard was a little bit boring with that way that he always went to bed when he was told. No matter, Robb knew how to wake him. Pressing his naked form to Jon’s slightly smaller one, he would begin to nibble on Jon’s ear before being rewarded with an elbow to the chest. Quite forgetting himself, the eldest Stark boy would howl out his amusement.
“Get out of it Robb you bloody,” Jon would pause when he realized Robb was naked, “Presumptuous ass.”
“It isn’t being presumptuous if you always give in Jon,” The blue-eyed boy would state as he ignored the other’s elbows and moved to sit squarely on the bastard’s hips. He pulled off Jon’s tunic as he moved, as amused as he always was by his lack of resistance. Ignoring the way Jon scowled up at him in favour of examining his lovely chest, Robb would smile as appreciatively as he always did. “Gods, you’re lovely,” he would mumble before leaning in to take the bastard’s full lips in his own. Robb adored the way it felt to kiss Jon, he was as yielding as any girl, but at the same him every part of his body was so strong and thoroughly masculine.
Before long, the expert way he moved his lips and tongue had the poor bastard panting and squirming beneath him, just the way that Robb liked him best. With a cheeky grin, the Stark boy would move his head back, cock twitching at the sight of a rope of saliva breaking between their mouths as he moved away. Settling back on Jon’s thighs to admire his handiwork (surely a blushing bastard counted as a work of art), Robb would stare for so long that Jon would admonish him not to be such a fucking tease.
“As you wish,” Grinning like the cat that got the cream, the auburn-haired young man would tangle a hand in Jon’s thick, dark curls and pull the boy’s mouth towards his waiting dick. Shifting back on the bed so Jon could kneel between his spread legs, Robb would wonder if it was possible to enjoy the boy’s petulant look more than he enjoyed the feel of his thick lips on his cock. No, he thought to himself, moaning loudly when Jon finally took him into his mouth, nothing was quite as good as this.
His hand would remain in Jon’s hair; he enjoyed that small feeling of control he got from setting the pace. Using his other hand to prop himself up on the bed, he would enjoy watching Jon swallow every damned inch of him. “Fucking fantastic,” Robb groaned, pushing his hips up, “So fucking good.” Marveling at the fact that Jon was a Gods be damned fucking natural at sucking cock, he would quickly settle into a pace that suited him and then be quick on his way to cumming.
He finished in Jon’s mouth tonight, the feeling of the bastard swallowing it was enough to make his eyes roll back with pleasure. Entire body humming with that pleasant buzz that accompanied an orgasm, Robb would look down at the bastard lazily before grinning. “Thanks, Snow. Have a good night, eh?” He moved as if he was going to get out of bed, and was already stifling laughter when Jon shouted at him and wrestled him to the thick fur rug beside the bed. Before long they were both biting their bottom lips to hold back their laughter as they panted and held one another.
There were, of course, a million things wrong with what they were doing, but neither boy liked to dwell on it. It was so good when they were together, so simple and entirely uncomplicated. Jon loved Robb, Robb loved Jon, and there was nothing more to it. Didn’t have to be.
Smiling, Robb would indicate that Jon should take a seat on the edge of his bed before crawling in an almost catlike manner between the bastard’s legs. Jon was always achingly hard for him, and the blue-eyed boy smiled as Snow shuddered in that familiar way while he used his mouth on him. He started with his tongue, getting the boy fully wet before swallowing him whole. Robb knew it wouldn’t take long, the bastard always bloody lost control with him.
Always.
Right as usual, the Stark boy would gurgle happily as he swallowed Jon’s seed, taking great care to suck out every drop after. As he stood, he would notice the boy’s back was flat on the bed; arms sprawled out as he panted helplessly. Fucking perfect. Robb was already hard again, Gods bless his teenage years. Pushing Jon further up onto the bed, he would growl in the boy’s ear that it was his turn again, and resist the urge to chuckle when Jon whined a little about it.
He arranged Snow on his back like he wanted him, placing a pillow under the boy’s hips for proper leverage. After spitting on his cock, which was still wet from the bastard’s earlier ministrations, Robb would wrap Jon’s legs around his hips as he gently guided himself into Jon’s arse. It was tight and heavenly as it ever was, and Jon would writhe and moan appreciatively when Robb shifted his hips so his cock would rub against that spot in the bastard that made him cry with every thrust.
Their lovemaking was slow and languid up until the end, when Stark begged Snow to cum with him, moving his hips faster and wrapping one slightly calloused hand around the other’s cock. They were kissing when they both erupted soon after, each boy swallowing the other’s moans.
They took their time cleaning up, stopping every so often to simply cuddle, touching one another like old lovers did. Robb hated to leave Jon, and he knew the bastard hated to watch him go, but there was nothing to be done about that. After a peek into the hallway he would slip out, soon collapsing in his own bed.
-----
The next day was as busy of the rest of them, and none of the older boys were excited to hear they’d be made presentable for the King’s arrival. Still, Robb had to admit he loved the way Jon looked at him when he asked why his mother was so dead set on them getting pretty for the King. Theon interrupted with something about the Queen, which made him comment on the right royal prick of a prince that was coming.
“Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick.” But Robb’s mind wasn’t on Theon, it was on the way that Jon watched Tommy stroke his jaw, checking if the Stark boy’s face was smooth. Smiling, Robb would stand, nudging Jon to take his seat.
“Go on, Tommy. Shear him good.” Robb smiled knowingly, “He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.”
Better Than His Own Hair
(pure smut/fluff.
Old but I want to gather all this in the same place.)
----------
Robb Stark was hideously bored. Theon had gone off to the whorehouse and with his mother on some kind of warpath about the King and a fraction of his court arriving soon he didn’t dare sneak out as well. Sure, he knew how to get out without being seen but it wasn’t worth the blowup if he was caught. There had already been a terrific row when Arya had torn her new dress, and Robb fancied staying out of it as much as he could.
Besides, he thought to himself as he slipped out of his room, There were other ways to enjoy one’s self in the castle. Resisting the urge to giggle like an idiot, sneaking around had always amused him terribly; Robb would slip into the room down the hall from his, locking the door firmly behind him. Quiet as a mouse, he would shed the simple long tunic he wore at night and crawl into the bed shoved against the wall.
Jon would be long asleep; the bastard was a little bit boring with that way that he always went to bed when he was told. No matter, Robb knew how to wake him. Pressing his naked form to Jon’s slightly smaller one, he would begin to nibble on Jon’s ear before being rewarded with an elbow to the chest. Quite forgetting himself, the eldest Stark boy would howl out his amusement.
“Get out of it Robb you bloody,” Jon would pause when he realized Robb was naked, “Presumptuous ass.”
“It isn’t being presumptuous if you always give in Jon,” The blue-eyed boy would state as he ignored the other’s elbows and moved to sit squarely on the bastard’s hips. He pulled off Jon’s tunic as he moved, as amused as he always was by his lack of resistance. Ignoring the way Jon scowled up at him in favour of examining his lovely chest, Robb would smile as appreciatively as he always did. “Gods, you’re lovely,” he would mumble before leaning in to take the bastard’s full lips in his own. Robb adored the way it felt to kiss Jon, he was as yielding as any girl, but at the same him every part of his body was so strong and thoroughly masculine.
Before long, the expert way he moved his lips and tongue had the poor bastard panting and squirming beneath him, just the way that Robb liked him best. With a cheeky grin, the Stark boy would move his head back, cock twitching at the sight of a rope of saliva breaking between their mouths as he moved away. Settling back on Jon’s thighs to admire his handiwork (surely a blushing bastard counted as a work of art), Robb would stare for so long that Jon would admonish him not to be such a fucking tease.
“As you wish,” Grinning like the cat that got the cream, the auburn-haired young man would tangle a hand in Jon’s thick, dark curls and pull the boy’s mouth towards his waiting dick. Shifting back on the bed so Jon could kneel between his spread legs, Robb would wonder if it was possible to enjoy the boy’s petulant look more than he enjoyed the feel of his thick lips on his cock. No, he thought to himself, moaning loudly when Jon finally took him into his mouth, nothing was quite as good as this.
His hand would remain in Jon’s hair; he enjoyed that small feeling of control he got from setting the pace. Using his other hand to prop himself up on the bed, he would enjoy watching Jon swallow every damned inch of him. “Fucking fantastic,” Robb groaned, pushing his hips up, “So fucking good.” Marveling at the fact that Jon was a Gods be damned fucking natural at sucking cock, he would quickly settle into a pace that suited him and then be quick on his way to cumming.
He finished in Jon’s mouth tonight, the feeling of the bastard swallowing it was enough to make his eyes roll back with pleasure. Entire body humming with that pleasant buzz that accompanied an orgasm, Robb would look down at the bastard lazily before grinning. “Thanks, Snow. Have a good night, eh?” He moved as if he was going to get out of bed, and was already stifling laughter when Jon shouted at him and wrestled him to the thick fur rug beside the bed. Before long they were both biting their bottom lips to hold back their laughter as they panted and held one another.
There were, of course, a million things wrong with what they were doing, but neither boy liked to dwell on it. It was so good when they were together, so simple and entirely uncomplicated. Jon loved Robb, Robb loved Jon, and there was nothing more to it. Didn’t have to be.
Smiling, Robb would indicate that Jon should take a seat on the edge of his bed before crawling in an almost catlike manner between the bastard’s legs. Jon was always achingly hard for him, and the blue-eyed boy smiled as Snow shuddered in that familiar way while he used his mouth on him. He started with his tongue, getting the boy fully wet before swallowing him whole. Robb knew it wouldn’t take long, the bastard always bloody lost control with him.
Always.
Right as usual, the Stark boy would gurgle happily as he swallowed Jon’s seed, taking great care to suck out every drop after. As he stood, he would notice the boy’s back was flat on the bed; arms sprawled out as he panted helplessly. Fucking perfect. Robb was already hard again, Gods bless his teenage years. Pushing Jon further up onto the bed, he would growl in the boy’s ear that it was his turn again, and resist the urge to chuckle when Jon whined a little about it.
He arranged Snow on his back like he wanted him, placing a pillow under the boy’s hips for proper leverage. After spitting on his cock, which was still wet from the bastard’s earlier ministrations, Robb would wrap Jon’s legs around his hips as he gently guided himself into Jon’s arse. It was tight and heavenly as it ever was, and Jon would writhe and moan appreciatively when Robb shifted his hips so his cock would rub against that spot in the bastard that made him cry with every thrust.
Their lovemaking was slow and languid up until the end, when Stark begged Snow to cum with him, moving his hips faster and wrapping one slightly calloused hand around the other’s cock. They were kissing when they both erupted soon after, each boy swallowing the other’s moans.
They took their time cleaning up, stopping every so often to simply cuddle, touching one another like old lovers did. Robb hated to leave Jon, and he knew the bastard hated to watch him go, but there was nothing to be done about that. After a peek into the hallway he would slip out, soon collapsing in his own bed.
-----
The next day was as busy of the rest of them, and none of the older boys were excited to hear they’d be made presentable for the King’s arrival. Still, Robb had to admit he loved the way Jon looked at him when he asked why his mother was so dead set on them getting pretty for the King. Theon interrupted with something about the Queen, which made him comment on the right royal prick of a prince that was coming.
“Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick.” But Robb’s mind wasn’t on Theon, it was on the way that Jon watched Tommy stroke his jaw, checking if the Stark boy’s face was smooth. Smiling, Robb would stand, nudging Jon to take his seat.
“Go on, Tommy. Shear him good.” Robb smiled knowingly, “He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.”
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
A few of the one word prompts I'm working on.
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Anticipation
They’re under one of the counters in the biology lab and Brady is teasing him. All the lights are off so he can barely see his boyfriend’s pale face and blonde hair moving around his crotch, but Jon can feel it every time his small tongue flicks around the underside of his cock.
The slightly older teen is writhing with anticipation, the building is empty but they still must be careful, and careful means quiet. The knuckles of his right hand are crammed into his mouth, and he bites back not only his moans but also demands for Brady just to suck him already. He might like to act like the dominant one, but his lover knows how to make him squirm.
He’s not allowed to ask for more because Brady said tonight was about the build up, and Jon’s devoted the last new months to making sure the blonde always gets what he wants.
Bail
In his third year of Law School, Jon attends a protest against the actions of the IMF outside of the UN building. He is young and idealistic, and totally unsurprised when it turns violent. Because he stands instead of running, he is arrested and taken to the precinct. Because his father is Ned Stark, the bail hearing is fast, but it’s Brady that he calls.
Brady comes even though he is angry. Not because Jon went even though Brady told him it would end poorly, but because Jon doesn’t know (and refuses to understand) what it’s like to watch a riot unfold on TV and know that the person you love is in the middle of it. Brady is quiet in the cab; he sits with his arms crossed and lips pursed to keep from biting Jon’s head off in front of the cabbie.
Forgiveness is usually instant with Brady, but this time he won’t even look at Jon for a day and a half. They both know that if the blonde catches sight of Jon’s grey eyes he’ll fold, so Brady spends a lot of time out of the apartment and Jon spends a lot of time trying to get within his line of sight.
Blue
The new kid, the tall blonde one year under him, is being bullied. Jon knows this because he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular until he started putting on muscle, and he catches some of the guys in his grade beating on him during free time. It’s none of his business, but Jon’s the type to get involved so he punches one of them in the face and shouts at them until all three of the bullies clear off.
The kid is huddled on the ground and he clearly doesn’t enjoy it when Jon touches him, but he doesn’t care because he wants so see how bad it was. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t exactly hear his answer because the next thing he knows he’s looking into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. Jon bites his lip and nods like he’s been listening so the guy doesn’t think he’s stupid or something. Later that night they’re all he can see when he closes his eyes, and he wants to kick himself for not getting the blonde’s name.
Doubt
The September that Brady first enters university is the year that Jon first has any worries about their relationship. They’ve been each other’s entire world for two years, and he’s realized that he wants to marry him. This terrifies him, so instead of talking it out with his boyfriend he tells Brady he thinks they should spend some time apart.
He can actually see Brady’s heart break so he starts to cry and tries to explain. They’re so young, he tells him, and he just really wants to gain some perspective on the situation. For two months he pours himself into school and becomes increasingly exasperated as the ache in his heart worsens instead of heals.
Jon sees him again for the first time in late November, at a mutual friend’s party. He’s able to think to himself that’s it’s unusual because he knows Brady isn’t that found of parties but when some other guy pushes the blonde up against a wall and kisses him all he can see is red. Without even stopping to think, he grabs the guy and punches him hard enough to break the skin of his knuckles on the guy’s teeth.
Lost
For their first wedding anniversary, Robb lends them his hunting cabin out in the country. It’s completely isolated, and Jon has visions of Brady naked on a bearskin rug. Because he’s thinking of this instead of paying attention to the road signs, they completely miss their turn-off and it’s totally dark before they both realize this.
The country is impossible for him to navigate, and Brady can’t figure out where they are on the map because there hasn’t been a road sign for the last twenty minutes of driving. They pass a gas station, but Jon is too stubborn to stop and ask for help.
When they finally reach the cabin, it’s almost midnight and both men are tired and pissed off. As he steps out of the car, he notices how bright and beautiful the stars are and suddenly everything starts to melt away. He’s married to the most perfect man he’s ever met and they have a cabin to themselves for four days. They make up outside on the grass beside the car.
A few of the one word prompts I'm working on.
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Anticipation
They’re under one of the counters in the biology lab and Brady is teasing him. All the lights are off so he can barely see his boyfriend’s pale face and blonde hair moving around his crotch, but Jon can feel it every time his small tongue flicks around the underside of his cock.
The slightly older teen is writhing with anticipation, the building is empty but they still must be careful, and careful means quiet. The knuckles of his right hand are crammed into his mouth, and he bites back not only his moans but also demands for Brady just to suck him already. He might like to act like the dominant one, but his lover knows how to make him squirm.
He’s not allowed to ask for more because Brady said tonight was about the build up, and Jon’s devoted the last new months to making sure the blonde always gets what he wants.
Bail
In his third year of Law School, Jon attends a protest against the actions of the IMF outside of the UN building. He is young and idealistic, and totally unsurprised when it turns violent. Because he stands instead of running, he is arrested and taken to the precinct. Because his father is Ned Stark, the bail hearing is fast, but it’s Brady that he calls.
Brady comes even though he is angry. Not because Jon went even though Brady told him it would end poorly, but because Jon doesn’t know (and refuses to understand) what it’s like to watch a riot unfold on TV and know that the person you love is in the middle of it. Brady is quiet in the cab; he sits with his arms crossed and lips pursed to keep from biting Jon’s head off in front of the cabbie.
Forgiveness is usually instant with Brady, but this time he won’t even look at Jon for a day and a half. They both know that if the blonde catches sight of Jon’s grey eyes he’ll fold, so Brady spends a lot of time out of the apartment and Jon spends a lot of time trying to get within his line of sight.
Blue
The new kid, the tall blonde one year under him, is being bullied. Jon knows this because he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular until he started putting on muscle, and he catches some of the guys in his grade beating on him during free time. It’s none of his business, but Jon’s the type to get involved so he punches one of them in the face and shouts at them until all three of the bullies clear off.
The kid is huddled on the ground and he clearly doesn’t enjoy it when Jon touches him, but he doesn’t care because he wants so see how bad it was. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t exactly hear his answer because the next thing he knows he’s looking into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. Jon bites his lip and nods like he’s been listening so the guy doesn’t think he’s stupid or something. Later that night they’re all he can see when he closes his eyes, and he wants to kick himself for not getting the blonde’s name.
Doubt
The September that Brady first enters university is the year that Jon first has any worries about their relationship. They’ve been each other’s entire world for two years, and he’s realized that he wants to marry him. This terrifies him, so instead of talking it out with his boyfriend he tells Brady he thinks they should spend some time apart.
He can actually see Brady’s heart break so he starts to cry and tries to explain. They’re so young, he tells him, and he just really wants to gain some perspective on the situation. For two months he pours himself into school and becomes increasingly exasperated as the ache in his heart worsens instead of heals.
Jon sees him again for the first time in late November, at a mutual friend’s party. He’s able to think to himself that’s it’s unusual because he knows Brady isn’t that found of parties but when some other guy pushes the blonde up against a wall and kisses him all he can see is red. Without even stopping to think, he grabs the guy and punches him hard enough to break the skin of his knuckles on the guy’s teeth.
Lost
For their first wedding anniversary, Robb lends them his hunting cabin out in the country. It’s completely isolated, and Jon has visions of Brady naked on a bearskin rug. Because he’s thinking of this instead of paying attention to the road signs, they completely miss their turn-off and it’s totally dark before they both realize this.
The country is impossible for him to navigate, and Brady can’t figure out where they are on the map because there hasn’t been a road sign for the last twenty minutes of driving. They pass a gas station, but Jon is too stubborn to stop and ask for help.
When they finally reach the cabin, it’s almost midnight and both men are tired and pissed off. As he steps out of the car, he notices how bright and beautiful the stars are and suddenly everything starts to melt away. He’s married to the most perfect man he’s ever met and they have a cabin to themselves for four days. They make up outside on the grass beside the car.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Jon deals with Julie
(NOT-QUITE-SMUT FOR JUNO. .__________________________.)
----------
Ever since Evanna had turned fourteen, Jon had been aware that her friends were hitting on him. At first it was cute; they blushed and giggled and still wore Disney pajamas to the sleepovers they had almost every Friday night. But as the years progressed, their pants got tighter, their tops smaller, and they had learned that bending over in front of Jon in short shorts could usually make him blush. His husband was aware before he was that it was becoming harder for the almost-forty lawyer to laugh it all off, but the really odd thing (to Jon) was that Brady didn’t mind. At all. In fact, the blonde seemed to find it ten kinds of hilarious.
The attention both confused and delighted Jon, he would never cheat on Brady, but these were exactly the kinds of girls who had evaded him in high school. They were pretty, flirty and popular; and he’d always had that fantasy about fuckingRobb’s the prom king’s girlfriend. But that would be wrong, wouldn’t it? He would have eviscerated any man his age that came on to his sweet little Evanna, and he didn’t enjoy being a hypocrite.
So he wouldn’t do anything.
During one of the sleepovers, he stood in the kitchen reading the paper, and listening to the shrieking and laughter of the girls in the living room. Brady was in his study working, and the dogs were probably in the living room begging for popcorn from Evanna and the bitties. It was such a lovely picture of his life that it brought a smile to his face, and he did not immediately notice Julie walk into the kitchen.
Julie was something of a double-whammy to Jon, not only was her hair that pretty shade of red he’d always loved, but her eyes were big, green and she had learned how to use them to bring men to their knees. He pretended not to notice she was dressed in something he could politely describe as lacey underwear and a bra with an under hanging bit of silk, and he mentally chastised himself for allowing his eyes to trace her delicate curves.
“Hey, Mr. Snow. I just need to make some more popcorn.”
“You can call me Jon, Julie. You know that.” He knew that the bitties called him Mr. Snow just so he’d tell them to call them Jon, and he also knew that she was pretending not to notice the popcorn maker on the counter on purpose, so she could bend over to look through the bottom cupboards. Well, there wasn’t any harm in looking so he’d catch a nice eye-full before informing her of this particular fact.
He also knew that she knew how the damn machine worked, so he’d roll his eyes gently when she asked for his assistance before leaning in to show her. Again.
What he wasn’t expecting was the way she pushed her barely-panty-covered ass against the front of his jeans and held it there, moving it slightly as he added the popcorn into the machine for her.
What she wasn’t expecting was the quick way he had her wrists pinned to the counter on either side of her body, and her hips pushed against the counter’s edge with his own body holding them in place. What she had forgotten was that Jon was adept at thinking on his feet.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Julie?”
“Mr. Snow, I-“
He cut her off with an expert roll of his hips that had her biting back a moan. “Yes or no, you naughty girl. Are you trying to seduce me?”
“I… Yes.”
Smiling to himself, Jon would release one of her wrists momentarily to brush her red hair from the side of her face, revealing one of her ears and part of her delicate neck to him. After taking a firm grip of her wrist again, he’d lean into speak lowly into that ear, full lips almost brushing the lobe with every word.
“How old are you, Julie?” She began to stutter out a muddled response, and he quickly shut her up with another well-placed roll of his hips that would have had her squirming if he didn’t have her trapped so firmly between his body and the counter before repeating his question.
“I-I’m sixteen.”
“Julie, I’m over twice your age. I’ve been fucking for longer than you’ve been alive, and I assure you I know,” Jon’s head moved as he spoke, his lips brushing from her ear, to her neck, and then to her shoulder where an expert movement of his nose caused the thin strap of her top to fall down her bicep, “Every trick in the book.” After placing a teasingly fleeting kiss to that small expanse of skin his mouth would move back up to her ear. “I’ll admit that you’re a very,” another roll of his hips to punctuate his point, “Very lovely girl, but what on earth made you think that you could seduce me?”
The redheaded teen was attempting to formulate an answer when Jon shushed her by using one foot to have her spread her young legs. He again released one of her wrists, his strong hand moving around the front of her leg to trace up the soft inside of her thigh. His fingers stopped where he felt the lace of her panties begin, and he languidly stroked the edge of them, again smiling to himself when he felt her finally begin to tremble in his grasp.
“You see, Julie, even though I shy away flirting back with you girls the fact of the matter is I could have each and every one of you if I wanted. Or the whole lot of you at once.” He nuzzled into her ear before continuing, “If I told you to, you’d be down on your knees in front of me, wouldn’t you Julie? And because I’m not one of your young boyfriends I wouldn’t finish in your pretty little mouth. I’d fuck you on the counter, on the table, on the floor… I’d fuck your tight pussy until you went bloody cross-eyed but I’d still have you begging me for more. Hell, I’d bet that I could even get you to beg me to fuck your ass. Couldn’t I, Julie?”
He’d rock against her gently, his fingers continuing to stroke the tops of her thighs but never quite moving to the territory between them, until she shook her head yes desperately, biting her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood as she did her best to contain her whimpers. “So let’s stop this silly little business of you trying to seduce me, shall we?”
With that he’d release her, smirking to himself as he watched her clutch the counter for support after he moved away. Poor Julie looked quite disheveled, but he was as composed as ever. Which was one of the main advantages of getting older. He’d tut at her as she turned to face him, nodding his head towards the bowl on the counter.
“The popcorn is finished, Julie. Run along now.” He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from smacking her firmly on the ass as she scurried past him, chuckling softly at her little squeak. It was only then that he noticed his husband standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking completely amused.
“And what was that all about?”
“Nothing,” Jon replied, picking his paper up from the counter and shaking it out, his look of innocence marred by the smirk that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Just teasing the bitties.”
Jon deals with Julie
(NOT-QUITE-SMUT FOR JUNO. .__________________________.)
----------
Ever since Evanna had turned fourteen, Jon had been aware that her friends were hitting on him. At first it was cute; they blushed and giggled and still wore Disney pajamas to the sleepovers they had almost every Friday night. But as the years progressed, their pants got tighter, their tops smaller, and they had learned that bending over in front of Jon in short shorts could usually make him blush. His husband was aware before he was that it was becoming harder for the almost-forty lawyer to laugh it all off, but the really odd thing (to Jon) was that Brady didn’t mind. At all. In fact, the blonde seemed to find it ten kinds of hilarious.
The attention both confused and delighted Jon, he would never cheat on Brady, but these were exactly the kinds of girls who had evaded him in high school. They were pretty, flirty and popular; and he’d always had that fantasy about fucking
So he wouldn’t do anything.
During one of the sleepovers, he stood in the kitchen reading the paper, and listening to the shrieking and laughter of the girls in the living room. Brady was in his study working, and the dogs were probably in the living room begging for popcorn from Evanna and the bitties. It was such a lovely picture of his life that it brought a smile to his face, and he did not immediately notice Julie walk into the kitchen.
Julie was something of a double-whammy to Jon, not only was her hair that pretty shade of red he’d always loved, but her eyes were big, green and she had learned how to use them to bring men to their knees. He pretended not to notice she was dressed in something he could politely describe as lacey underwear and a bra with an under hanging bit of silk, and he mentally chastised himself for allowing his eyes to trace her delicate curves.
“Hey, Mr. Snow. I just need to make some more popcorn.”
“You can call me Jon, Julie. You know that.” He knew that the bitties called him Mr. Snow just so he’d tell them to call them Jon, and he also knew that she was pretending not to notice the popcorn maker on the counter on purpose, so she could bend over to look through the bottom cupboards. Well, there wasn’t any harm in looking so he’d catch a nice eye-full before informing her of this particular fact.
He also knew that she knew how the damn machine worked, so he’d roll his eyes gently when she asked for his assistance before leaning in to show her. Again.
What he wasn’t expecting was the way she pushed her barely-panty-covered ass against the front of his jeans and held it there, moving it slightly as he added the popcorn into the machine for her.
What she wasn’t expecting was the quick way he had her wrists pinned to the counter on either side of her body, and her hips pushed against the counter’s edge with his own body holding them in place. What she had forgotten was that Jon was adept at thinking on his feet.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Julie?”
“Mr. Snow, I-“
He cut her off with an expert roll of his hips that had her biting back a moan. “Yes or no, you naughty girl. Are you trying to seduce me?”
“I… Yes.”
Smiling to himself, Jon would release one of her wrists momentarily to brush her red hair from the side of her face, revealing one of her ears and part of her delicate neck to him. After taking a firm grip of her wrist again, he’d lean into speak lowly into that ear, full lips almost brushing the lobe with every word.
“How old are you, Julie?” She began to stutter out a muddled response, and he quickly shut her up with another well-placed roll of his hips that would have had her squirming if he didn’t have her trapped so firmly between his body and the counter before repeating his question.
“I-I’m sixteen.”
“Julie, I’m over twice your age. I’ve been fucking for longer than you’ve been alive, and I assure you I know,” Jon’s head moved as he spoke, his lips brushing from her ear, to her neck, and then to her shoulder where an expert movement of his nose caused the thin strap of her top to fall down her bicep, “Every trick in the book.” After placing a teasingly fleeting kiss to that small expanse of skin his mouth would move back up to her ear. “I’ll admit that you’re a very,” another roll of his hips to punctuate his point, “Very lovely girl, but what on earth made you think that you could seduce me?”
The redheaded teen was attempting to formulate an answer when Jon shushed her by using one foot to have her spread her young legs. He again released one of her wrists, his strong hand moving around the front of her leg to trace up the soft inside of her thigh. His fingers stopped where he felt the lace of her panties begin, and he languidly stroked the edge of them, again smiling to himself when he felt her finally begin to tremble in his grasp.
“You see, Julie, even though I shy away flirting back with you girls the fact of the matter is I could have each and every one of you if I wanted. Or the whole lot of you at once.” He nuzzled into her ear before continuing, “If I told you to, you’d be down on your knees in front of me, wouldn’t you Julie? And because I’m not one of your young boyfriends I wouldn’t finish in your pretty little mouth. I’d fuck you on the counter, on the table, on the floor… I’d fuck your tight pussy until you went bloody cross-eyed but I’d still have you begging me for more. Hell, I’d bet that I could even get you to beg me to fuck your ass. Couldn’t I, Julie?”
He’d rock against her gently, his fingers continuing to stroke the tops of her thighs but never quite moving to the territory between them, until she shook her head yes desperately, biting her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood as she did her best to contain her whimpers. “So let’s stop this silly little business of you trying to seduce me, shall we?”
With that he’d release her, smirking to himself as he watched her clutch the counter for support after he moved away. Poor Julie looked quite disheveled, but he was as composed as ever. Which was one of the main advantages of getting older. He’d tut at her as she turned to face him, nodding his head towards the bowl on the counter.
“The popcorn is finished, Julie. Run along now.” He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from smacking her firmly on the ass as she scurried past him, chuckling softly at her little squeak. It was only then that he noticed his husband standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking completely amused.
“And what was that all about?”
“Nothing,” Jon replied, picking his paper up from the counter and shaking it out, his look of innocence marred by the smirk that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Just teasing the bitties.”
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Witness Tampering
(this pairing is like so much crack I can't-)
----------
It was Jon’s first case after being made ADA, and it should have been open and shut. Or at least it should have been, but the defense attorney was one of those rock-star lawyer bitches and he had his client recanting and remaking her confession so many times that key pieces of evidence were being called into question. And Jon was eighty percent sure that if he had to sit in an interview room with the suspect and her lawyer one more time he was going to kill one of them. Or both of them. Or possibly himself.
There was, however a possible solution. The DA had suggested he bring in one of the Truth Wizards who did work for the NYPD. Jon personally didn’t believe any of it at the time, but he had seen the kid in court before, and he knew juries loved it. And besides, he was at the point where he’d call in someone who claimed he was literally a wizard if it meant closing the case and getting his conviction.
He would admit that it did impress him that the skinny blonde had the suspect sobbing out a full confession in under an hour, despite the squawking her lawyer was doing, and that she was willing to sign it. And most importantly, hadn’t recanted. It was sheer luck that got them a quick trial date after that though, and now came the preparation.
Because it wouldn’t be the kid’s first time in court (Jon supposed that he should stop calling Mr. Fitzgerald that because in reality the blonde was only three years younger than himself and twenty-three was hardly a child) Jon knew that he didn’t have to hold his hand. What he did know was the other lawyer liked to fling shit, and the most cursory look into Fitzgerald’s background revealed plenty of shit to fling. Plus, he knew from their witness list that they were planning to call someone in who was going to attempt to discredit the whole truth-wizard-micro-expression thing.
Jon wasn’t going to pout about it, that was pretty fucking pointless and besides it wasn’t like whining about the kid’s life was going to make anything any better. So instead he asked him to stop by his office for trial prep, with the intention of throwing some of it at him to see how he handled it. He almost felt bad about what he was going to do because the kid looked so fucking young, and he walked with that damn cane, but his critical mind told him that instinct to be soft on him would only work in their own favour.
After explaining that he was going to be playing the role of the defense attorney during a cross examination, the dark-haired man would simply dive into it. It was kind of worrying that you stopped feeling sorry for the blonde the second he opened his smart mouth, but that too could work in their favour if they played it right. He liked that nothing he threw at the kid verbally shook him, and that he didn’t flinch when his body language got angrier, and more into the blonde’s private space.
Jon wasn’t sure who started it, but one second he was calling the kid a fucking liar with their faces only inches apart, and the next he was kissing him like he was a drowning man and his lips were a life raft. One hand was pulling rather roughly at Brady’s long blonde hair, but he guessed that was fair because the kid was yanking on his tie like it was a fucking bell-pull.
The rational part of his brain that wanted to be elected DA in the next twenty years was screaming at him because what the fuck was he doing; but the larger, hornier part of his mind was reminding him he hadn’t got laid since leaving Ygritte a year ago (and really, someone having the name Ygritte should have been fair warning, but no, he’d put up with her ‘you know nothing’ shit for six months) and rubbing one our under his desk at lunch was simply not going to cut it anymore.
When they finally broke for air Jon had pretty much decided they were going to fuck and deal with the moral and legal ramifications of that later. Then Brady asked him if he thought that the defense attorney was going to try this particular tactic and that settled it in his mind.
He told the blonde to shut the fuck up, and then picked him up and used his back to push all of his papers, pens and shit off of their neat little piles on his desk and onto the floor. Part of him felt bad about it because that had been pretty rude, but on the other hand the kid seemed into it and because his cock was now hard enough to cut glass it was extremely imperative that they fuck.
The way that he pulled off Brady’s shirt and flung it to the side knocked his computer over, but at that point he was beyond caring. He was all teeth and tongue and hands, and the blonde was tearing at his shirt. Jon obliged him by ripping it off (and that was fifty bucks down the damn drain because he wasn’t going to sew those buttons back on, much less crawl around his office floor to find them) before moving to straddle his thin form on the desk. Their bodies moved constantly as they kissed, and it was almost more like they were fighting than they were fucking.
They ended up in the expensive office chair he had bought himself as a reward for making ADA, and the sound it made as the kid rode him like he was a fucking thoroughbred told him that they had probably snapped one of the springs. Whatever, he had gotten the condom on without breaking it and that was the kind of miracle that deserved a new chair, right?
Brady entranced him. He was blonde, thin, smart and so fucking perfect. He was missing a finger, walking with a limp, quite the asshole and completely fucking damaged. He couldn’t pull his stormy grey eyes from the kid’s blue ones and he felt bad about the bruises his fingers were leaving on the blonde’s boney hips. Not bad enough to remove them, of course.
Jon wished he would have been able to last a lot longer, but fucking someone who looked like Brady in his office with his pants still around his ankles was the kind of thing letters-to-gay-penthouse were made of, so he was soon taking control of Brady’s movements, guiding his impossibly tight ass up and down his cock while his own hips rolled with much more intensity.
“Close,” he finally managed to groan out, “Real fucking close. You?”
He was glad the blonde nodded because moments after that his orgasm was tearing through him and he wouldn’t have been able to stop it. The feeling of Brady’s cum hitting his bare chest just added to the whole fucking best-he’d-ever-had thing, and it was some time before he came back down to earth.
The blonde was slumped forwards on him, not like he could of gone anywhere with the grip Jon had on his hips anyway, and he was aware that he needed to pull out immediately. The way Brady’s flesh was twitching around him was torture. Really amazing torture that you’d get as a reward for excellent behaviour, but torture nonetheless.
He’d help Brady clean up using his ruined dress shirt, because even though he used him to clean off his desk Jon still liked to think of himself as a gentleman. His office looked like a war zone, but he was pretty sure his computer wasn’t broken, and that was really the only important thing.
“I think you’ll do fine on the stand,” he was refusing to feel awkward about this because even though it could be considered witness tampering he wouldn’t take it back for anything, “Just make sure to be at the courthouse Tuesday by 9 A.M.” Jon frowned a little when he realized he’d have to wear his gym shirt home, and then shrugged before tossing the poor dress shirt into the trashcan.
He won the case, thanks in no small part to Brady’s work on the stand, so Jon insisted taking him out afterwards. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but for the first time in a long time he thought he’d like to find out.
Witness Tampering
(this pairing is like so much crack I can't-)
----------
It was Jon’s first case after being made ADA, and it should have been open and shut. Or at least it should have been, but the defense attorney was one of those rock-star lawyer bitches and he had his client recanting and remaking her confession so many times that key pieces of evidence were being called into question. And Jon was eighty percent sure that if he had to sit in an interview room with the suspect and her lawyer one more time he was going to kill one of them. Or both of them. Or possibly himself.
There was, however a possible solution. The DA had suggested he bring in one of the Truth Wizards who did work for the NYPD. Jon personally didn’t believe any of it at the time, but he had seen the kid in court before, and he knew juries loved it. And besides, he was at the point where he’d call in someone who claimed he was literally a wizard if it meant closing the case and getting his conviction.
He would admit that it did impress him that the skinny blonde had the suspect sobbing out a full confession in under an hour, despite the squawking her lawyer was doing, and that she was willing to sign it. And most importantly, hadn’t recanted. It was sheer luck that got them a quick trial date after that though, and now came the preparation.
Because it wouldn’t be the kid’s first time in court (Jon supposed that he should stop calling Mr. Fitzgerald that because in reality the blonde was only three years younger than himself and twenty-three was hardly a child) Jon knew that he didn’t have to hold his hand. What he did know was the other lawyer liked to fling shit, and the most cursory look into Fitzgerald’s background revealed plenty of shit to fling. Plus, he knew from their witness list that they were planning to call someone in who was going to attempt to discredit the whole truth-wizard-micro-expression thing.
Jon wasn’t going to pout about it, that was pretty fucking pointless and besides it wasn’t like whining about the kid’s life was going to make anything any better. So instead he asked him to stop by his office for trial prep, with the intention of throwing some of it at him to see how he handled it. He almost felt bad about what he was going to do because the kid looked so fucking young, and he walked with that damn cane, but his critical mind told him that instinct to be soft on him would only work in their own favour.
After explaining that he was going to be playing the role of the defense attorney during a cross examination, the dark-haired man would simply dive into it. It was kind of worrying that you stopped feeling sorry for the blonde the second he opened his smart mouth, but that too could work in their favour if they played it right. He liked that nothing he threw at the kid verbally shook him, and that he didn’t flinch when his body language got angrier, and more into the blonde’s private space.
Jon wasn’t sure who started it, but one second he was calling the kid a fucking liar with their faces only inches apart, and the next he was kissing him like he was a drowning man and his lips were a life raft. One hand was pulling rather roughly at Brady’s long blonde hair, but he guessed that was fair because the kid was yanking on his tie like it was a fucking bell-pull.
The rational part of his brain that wanted to be elected DA in the next twenty years was screaming at him because what the fuck was he doing; but the larger, hornier part of his mind was reminding him he hadn’t got laid since leaving Ygritte a year ago (and really, someone having the name Ygritte should have been fair warning, but no, he’d put up with her ‘you know nothing’ shit for six months) and rubbing one our under his desk at lunch was simply not going to cut it anymore.
When they finally broke for air Jon had pretty much decided they were going to fuck and deal with the moral and legal ramifications of that later. Then Brady asked him if he thought that the defense attorney was going to try this particular tactic and that settled it in his mind.
He told the blonde to shut the fuck up, and then picked him up and used his back to push all of his papers, pens and shit off of their neat little piles on his desk and onto the floor. Part of him felt bad about it because that had been pretty rude, but on the other hand the kid seemed into it and because his cock was now hard enough to cut glass it was extremely imperative that they fuck.
The way that he pulled off Brady’s shirt and flung it to the side knocked his computer over, but at that point he was beyond caring. He was all teeth and tongue and hands, and the blonde was tearing at his shirt. Jon obliged him by ripping it off (and that was fifty bucks down the damn drain because he wasn’t going to sew those buttons back on, much less crawl around his office floor to find them) before moving to straddle his thin form on the desk. Their bodies moved constantly as they kissed, and it was almost more like they were fighting than they were fucking.
They ended up in the expensive office chair he had bought himself as a reward for making ADA, and the sound it made as the kid rode him like he was a fucking thoroughbred told him that they had probably snapped one of the springs. Whatever, he had gotten the condom on without breaking it and that was the kind of miracle that deserved a new chair, right?
Brady entranced him. He was blonde, thin, smart and so fucking perfect. He was missing a finger, walking with a limp, quite the asshole and completely fucking damaged. He couldn’t pull his stormy grey eyes from the kid’s blue ones and he felt bad about the bruises his fingers were leaving on the blonde’s boney hips. Not bad enough to remove them, of course.
Jon wished he would have been able to last a lot longer, but fucking someone who looked like Brady in his office with his pants still around his ankles was the kind of thing letters-to-gay-penthouse were made of, so he was soon taking control of Brady’s movements, guiding his impossibly tight ass up and down his cock while his own hips rolled with much more intensity.
“Close,” he finally managed to groan out, “Real fucking close. You?”
He was glad the blonde nodded because moments after that his orgasm was tearing through him and he wouldn’t have been able to stop it. The feeling of Brady’s cum hitting his bare chest just added to the whole fucking best-he’d-ever-had thing, and it was some time before he came back down to earth.
The blonde was slumped forwards on him, not like he could of gone anywhere with the grip Jon had on his hips anyway, and he was aware that he needed to pull out immediately. The way Brady’s flesh was twitching around him was torture. Really amazing torture that you’d get as a reward for excellent behaviour, but torture nonetheless.
He’d help Brady clean up using his ruined dress shirt, because even though he used him to clean off his desk Jon still liked to think of himself as a gentleman. His office looked like a war zone, but he was pretty sure his computer wasn’t broken, and that was really the only important thing.
“I think you’ll do fine on the stand,” he was refusing to feel awkward about this because even though it could be considered witness tampering he wouldn’t take it back for anything, “Just make sure to be at the courthouse Tuesday by 9 A.M.” Jon frowned a little when he realized he’d have to wear his gym shirt home, and then shrugged before tossing the poor dress shirt into the trashcan.
He won the case, thanks in no small part to Brady’s work on the stand, so Jon insisted taking him out afterwards. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but for the first time in a long time he thought he’d like to find out.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Her husband had died two years ago. It hadn't been anyone's fault; the doctors had told her it was a heart attack. Some genetic thing. A freak occurrence. That only made it harder, honestly. There wasn't anyone to blame, there was nowhere to direct any of her pain.
But she had got through it, in the end. She had gotten through the funeral, the meetings with the lawyers. The family gatherings where everyone treated her like glass. She had survived friends slowly flaking away, the ones that she'd never had anything in common with in the first place. Her husband's friends, the married couples that they did things like cooking classes with.
The first few months had been the hardest; and she didn't really remember them much. After the funeral things had blurred together; and what disturbed her was not that she lost time, but that she didn't care that the time was lost. Eventually, she became aware of the fact that if she did not return to work she would be evicted from the apartment. This was something she struggled with for a while, she didn't really care but his things were here. This had been their home and it would be wrong to leave it.
So she went back. Her performance suffered, but she guessed she was lucky because she didn't lose it in spite of that. After the first year it seemed that she was functioning again, she was able to do every day things like buy groceries without breaking down or feeling lost.
Eventually, she stopped thinking of him every waking moment. She stopped crying for him, and for her own loss. Slowly, she lost the urge to call him on a bad day. Or after a good one. At some point she was able to change their home phone's answering message, and to erase his number from her cell. She packed up a few of his things, and though she kept the boxes in the spare room it looked less like him in their home, and more like her.
The only thing she couldn't do was cum. She hated that she cared, it felt so selfish and stupid and petty, but she did. It mattered. Every time she tried to do it herself all she could think of was him, and then she couldn't. Her hands became his hands, moving on her like he used to. And even though he was better with her body than she had ever been, the memories of him only made her feel so impossibly alone.
One year and six months after her husband's death she did something she had never told anyone about. Unable to stand it anymore, she had gone to a bar. She hadn't ever had a one night stand before, but why not? Other people did it. So could she.
The guy was good looking, she guessed. Not as good as her husband had been, but good enough. He didn't really matter anyway, he was just a means to an end. It wasn't until they got to his house that she realized that she wasn't going to be able to use him like she wanted to. It felt like cheating, and no matter how many times she told herself that the slimy feeling didn't go away. So she told him she was going to the bathroom, and instead walked out the door and went home.
Another six months passed until she had the urge to try again. It was a few days after the anniversary of his death, and she was doing the dishes. There wasn't one thing that made her want to, just a sudden feeling that she had to. It was time.
She dried off her hands and slipped one under the waistband of her pants, clutching the edge of the sink with the other. As her fingers traced her folds the feeling of him began to wash over her again. His hand exploring her, the familiar soft stroking movements...
When she felt tears on her face she tore herself away from those thoughts. He was dead. This wasn't his hand, it was hers. To prove it she moved faster than he ever did, allowing her nails to rake over the sensitive flesh, the pain keeping her in the present. Soon her hips were rocking like they did with him, so she stopped that too. Made herself hold still. He was gone and this was her. Her hands on her body. Her voice in her head. The sound of her breathing. She was alone. She was killing her last memories of him.
It felt like years, but she finally was able to push herself over the edge. Her knees buckled because it was good but goddamn did it ever hurt, and on the way to the ground her chin hit the edge of the sink. She tasted blood in her mouth, and at first she was afraid to pull her hand away from her body. She was sure that she would find the rush of fluid had been blood, and when she looked at her fingers they would be bright red.
After a few moments, the pleasure/pain stopped and she summoned the courage to look. Sucking on her tongue to swallow the blood from where she had bit it, she would slowly pull her hand out of her pants and then examine it critically. There wasn't any blood.
She was so relieved that she cried, and after that she was able to let go of that part of him too.
"Who would ever want to get close to another person if they knew how hard the letting-go part was? In your heart they only die a little at a time, don’t they? Like a plant when you go away on a trip and forget to ask a neighbor to poke in once in awhile with the old watering-can and it’s so SAD."
Stephen King (Lisey’s Story)
Her husband had died two years ago. It hadn't been anyone's fault; the doctors had told her it was a heart attack. Some genetic thing. A freak occurrence. That only made it harder, honestly. There wasn't anyone to blame, there was nowhere to direct any of her pain.
But she had got through it, in the end. She had gotten through the funeral, the meetings with the lawyers. The family gatherings where everyone treated her like glass. She had survived friends slowly flaking away, the ones that she'd never had anything in common with in the first place. Her husband's friends, the married couples that they did things like cooking classes with.
The first few months had been the hardest; and she didn't really remember them much. After the funeral things had blurred together; and what disturbed her was not that she lost time, but that she didn't care that the time was lost. Eventually, she became aware of the fact that if she did not return to work she would be evicted from the apartment. This was something she struggled with for a while, she didn't really care but his things were here. This had been their home and it would be wrong to leave it.
So she went back. Her performance suffered, but she guessed she was lucky because she didn't lose it in spite of that. After the first year it seemed that she was functioning again, she was able to do every day things like buy groceries without breaking down or feeling lost.
Eventually, she stopped thinking of him every waking moment. She stopped crying for him, and for her own loss. Slowly, she lost the urge to call him on a bad day. Or after a good one. At some point she was able to change their home phone's answering message, and to erase his number from her cell. She packed up a few of his things, and though she kept the boxes in the spare room it looked less like him in their home, and more like her.
The only thing she couldn't do was cum. She hated that she cared, it felt so selfish and stupid and petty, but she did. It mattered. Every time she tried to do it herself all she could think of was him, and then she couldn't. Her hands became his hands, moving on her like he used to. And even though he was better with her body than she had ever been, the memories of him only made her feel so impossibly alone.
One year and six months after her husband's death she did something she had never told anyone about. Unable to stand it anymore, she had gone to a bar. She hadn't ever had a one night stand before, but why not? Other people did it. So could she.
The guy was good looking, she guessed. Not as good as her husband had been, but good enough. He didn't really matter anyway, he was just a means to an end. It wasn't until they got to his house that she realized that she wasn't going to be able to use him like she wanted to. It felt like cheating, and no matter how many times she told herself that the slimy feeling didn't go away. So she told him she was going to the bathroom, and instead walked out the door and went home.
Another six months passed until she had the urge to try again. It was a few days after the anniversary of his death, and she was doing the dishes. There wasn't one thing that made her want to, just a sudden feeling that she had to. It was time.
She dried off her hands and slipped one under the waistband of her pants, clutching the edge of the sink with the other. As her fingers traced her folds the feeling of him began to wash over her again. His hand exploring her, the familiar soft stroking movements...
When she felt tears on her face she tore herself away from those thoughts. He was dead. This wasn't his hand, it was hers. To prove it she moved faster than he ever did, allowing her nails to rake over the sensitive flesh, the pain keeping her in the present. Soon her hips were rocking like they did with him, so she stopped that too. Made herself hold still. He was gone and this was her. Her hands on her body. Her voice in her head. The sound of her breathing. She was alone. She was killing her last memories of him.
It felt like years, but she finally was able to push herself over the edge. Her knees buckled because it was good but goddamn did it ever hurt, and on the way to the ground her chin hit the edge of the sink. She tasted blood in her mouth, and at first she was afraid to pull her hand away from her body. She was sure that she would find the rush of fluid had been blood, and when she looked at her fingers they would be bright red.
After a few moments, the pleasure/pain stopped and she summoned the courage to look. Sucking on her tongue to swallow the blood from where she had bit it, she would slowly pull her hand out of her pants and then examine it critically. There wasn't any blood.
She was so relieved that she cried, and after that she was able to let go of that part of him too.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Family
(For Juno. I don't really like this one BUT THERE YOU HAVE IT)
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It is early March, spring was on the way and Jon was feeling rather complacent. He was closing in on fifty, and though he still harbored fantasies of running for DA in the next ten years he is slowing down. What really surprises him is that he doesn’t mind it; things are good and peaceful. He has been married for about twenty years, and his daughter (technically his step daughter though he never thinks of her this way) is married and two weeks ago she had a child of her own. He is now a grandfather.
The thought makes him smile as he prepares a late supper for his husband and himself, banishing Ghost (the white Irish Wolfhound he bought when Evanna moved out, taking her dogs with her) to the living room. Jon can hear his husband moving around in the study above the kitchen, and this also makes him smile. The smell of dinner will lure him out soon enough, and Jon is slicing tomatoes when Evanna walks in through the living room.
It bothers him that he didn’t hear her come in, but not half as much as it bothers him that she’s crying. He does not overreact immediately; his poor baby is tired from being up with a brand-new baby and it might just be something small. But when she falls into his arms sobbing he knows it is serious, and he sits her down in one of the table chairs, completely unsurprised to find Brady already hovering in the doorway. His husband seems concerned but unsurprised, and that bothers him as well; Jon learned long ago that Brady is not the type to share but in situations like this he really wishes he did.
His heart stops and turns to ice when Evanna explains that she and Toby are going to be divorced. They had seemed tense at Christmas and after Fallon's birth, but he had thought it was stress from the baby, just normal jitters. It beats again, slowly and painfully when she explains that Toby is gay, and he has come out of the closet.
Jon realizes that Brady knew a second before the blonde says it, and his ears start ringing loudly as his husband begins to explain. Not only did he know that Toby was gay, but it also seems that he knew Toby was in love with Jon.
The last part is too much for him, and something within the older man snaps. He wants to hit Brady very badly, not for keeping it from him, but for keeping it from Evanna and letting her get hurt. Jon will not hit him; he knows it is not only cowardly but also counterproductive to lash out in anger and he has not done so since he was twenty. There is, however, so much rage in him that something must be done.
The table is large, modern and heavy; and it serves as a perfect focal point for his anger. The sound it makes when it lands on its side combined with the sound of the plates and glasses and things sitting on it is enough to silence the house. He rose as he overturned it, and Jon now stands panting with his face entirely red.
“How could you?” Jon’s voice is loud and angry, but it wavers with the breaking of his heart. “How could you know and not tell me? Not tell her?”
Evanna says ‘daddy’ but he ignores her, he is so furious and hurt that the only thing that makes sense is hurting someone else, and Toby is not there. “I knew when I married you that you didn’t… You didn’t trust me enough to tell me everything. I knew that it was like you didn’t live in the same fucking universe as everyone else, but this… How could you? How could you hurt her like this? Why are you so fucking cold?”
He slams his fists into his thighs and it’s only then that he realizes that he is crying. Brady is trying to talk again but Jon doesn’t want to hear it, he knows that his husband’s words have the ability not only to calm him down but also make Jon forgive him, and he doesn’t want to. Not right now.
Instead he shouts at the blonde to shut the fuck up, and he pulls his daughter out of the chair, grabbing his coat, wallet, and car keys as he leads her to the garage. If she protests he does not listen, he wants to be out of the house and his (misguided) protective instincts tell him not to leave Evanna with the genius.
He punches the wheel once in the car when he realizes he has forgotten his cellphone, but not again. Jon does not want to deploy the airbags and besides, it just means that Brady will have a harder time contacting him. Evanna is crying again, and he hushes her before backing out of the garage. He takes her to her mother’s house, despite any differences he may have had with her over the years he knows that she will keep not only Toby but also Brady away when she hears what has happened. Jon doesn’t want any of them near her; he wants to protect her, to punish them. Besides, Evanna says that she was watching Fallon while she came to their place.
As they drive, he explains that he will not handle the divorce, but his friend Pyp will, free of charge. He will, however, see in the morning what he can do about having it expedited through the usual six-month period of separation. Jon doesn’t drive away until Evanna is inside Cynthia’s house, and it is only then that he feels lost.
He winds up at a hotel and spends the rest of the night in the bar, drinking until he is cut off. It is childish but he is angry, and the hotel’s gym is closed for the night.
The next day he charges his assistant with the awkward task of going to his home and picking up a few things. Satin prays that Brady is not home; so of course he is. The blonde refuses to let the younger man take the dog; and Jon wonders if Brady is punishing him or just wants the company. He tells himself he doesn’t care, and for four days he pours himself into work. His only case is a long way off, so he occupies himself by doing the work legal aides are usually tasked with.
He refuses to see Brady when he comes on the fifth day, even though Satin mentions that he’s wearing the nicest blazer he owns and he’s also combed his hair. Normally this is a cue to let his husband barge into his office anyway and for Satin to take a long lunch, but this time is different. Brady is sent away with a sad and helpless shrug from the dark-haired assistant, and Jon later sends him out for a bottle of scotch.
The next week he has lunch with Evanna, and even he can see that she is concerned by the fact that he has let his salt and pepper stubble grow into a beard, but he pretends he doesn’t. She brings up her father once, but he ignores it, and they make plans to start meeting with the divorce lawyers in a week. Evanna mentions that she’d like it if he was living at home by then, but he again pretends not to have heard and instead coos over baby Fallon.
A few days later, exactly a week after he came the first time, Brady shows up again. The blonde is obviously tired but not only is he wearing a dress shirt but it seems he’s even had a haircut. Satin tries to impress this fact onto Jon (who understands the significance of it) but the older man only fixes his assistant with a cold stare, telling him again he doesn’t care.
But he does, and as he listens to Satin send Brady away, Jon cries for the first time since he left home.
He begins drinking shortly after, and he is tipsy, but not drunk, at the end of the day. He heads to the hotel and checks out some time after midnight, and he pays the cab driver to drive him around for a while. When they finally stop in front of his house, Jon notices that the lights are off. Which is good because it means his husband is either asleep or not there, and he isn’t sure which one he’d prefer.
Ghost is noisy when Jon walks in, but he soon hushes the giant dog. He finds that he is relieved when he opens the door of their bedroom to see Brady’s thin form curled up in their bed. He drops his bags and goes to him, pulling the covers off so he can lay with his head on Brady’s chest. They both know he knows his husband is not asleep, and he doesn’t pull away when he feels his thin arms wrap shakily around his still-broad shoulders.
“I thought you might leave me today. After I sent you away the second time.” He can feel the cool hardness of both Brady’s wedding and engagement rings press on his back, and that comforts him. The blonde starts to say something and Jon silences him by pressing a hand firmly over his mouth. They lay like that for a while, and he is almost lulled to sleep by the sound of his husband’s heart beating.
Finally he moves his hand away. “Don’t say anything tonight. Please.” For once it seems that his husband will respect his wishes, and he is quiet as Jon pushes up his nightshirt to reveal a thin stomach covered with goose bumps. He kisses his way up Brady’s body, pulling both his and the other man’s clothing off as he goes. Jon kisses every part of his face but his lips, and soon gently rolls the blonde onto his front.
He isn’t sure what he’s doing but he is fairly certain he’s drunk, but that doesn’t matter. He needs the familiar rhythm of their lovemaking, like that will repair what has broken between them. Without thinking, he almost pushes into Brady dry, that bitter part of him still wanting to hurt the man. He doesn’t, in the end, instead reaching for the bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand. It wouldn’t take away his own hurt, he knows, and the satisfaction would have been fleeting.
Brady is as tight as ever, he makes only a few small noises of discomfort when Jon fucks him, and they are soon moving together. The dark-haired older man knows that he is close before Brady is, so he does something he hasn’t before. He wants Brady to cum before he does, as if that would break the blonde. So he glides one of his hands up the blonde’s body, pushing until he can rub one of his over-sensitive nipples gently.
Brady reacts violently, squirming hard before orgasming with what sounds like a strangled sob. Jon finishes soon after, and though he pulls out, he lays with his arms wrapped tightly around the blonde. He cries quietly into Brady’s long hair until he sleeps, and he sleeps like the dead.
In the morning they talk as Jon fixes them breakfast, surprised that the entire kitchen hasn’t gone to shit while he was gone. He apologizes before his husband does, not only for the things he said but also for refusing to see him, and for using him the way he did the night before. They hold one another as the food cooks, and Jon fights back tears of relief when Brady assures him that he will not leave him.
It takes time, but eventually they get back to where they should be.
Family
(For Juno. I don't really like this one BUT THERE YOU HAVE IT)
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It is early March, spring was on the way and Jon was feeling rather complacent. He was closing in on fifty, and though he still harbored fantasies of running for DA in the next ten years he is slowing down. What really surprises him is that he doesn’t mind it; things are good and peaceful. He has been married for about twenty years, and his daughter (technically his step daughter though he never thinks of her this way) is married and two weeks ago she had a child of her own. He is now a grandfather.
The thought makes him smile as he prepares a late supper for his husband and himself, banishing Ghost (the white Irish Wolfhound he bought when Evanna moved out, taking her dogs with her) to the living room. Jon can hear his husband moving around in the study above the kitchen, and this also makes him smile. The smell of dinner will lure him out soon enough, and Jon is slicing tomatoes when Evanna walks in through the living room.
It bothers him that he didn’t hear her come in, but not half as much as it bothers him that she’s crying. He does not overreact immediately; his poor baby is tired from being up with a brand-new baby and it might just be something small. But when she falls into his arms sobbing he knows it is serious, and he sits her down in one of the table chairs, completely unsurprised to find Brady already hovering in the doorway. His husband seems concerned but unsurprised, and that bothers him as well; Jon learned long ago that Brady is not the type to share but in situations like this he really wishes he did.
His heart stops and turns to ice when Evanna explains that she and Toby are going to be divorced. They had seemed tense at Christmas and after Fallon's birth, but he had thought it was stress from the baby, just normal jitters. It beats again, slowly and painfully when she explains that Toby is gay, and he has come out of the closet.
Jon realizes that Brady knew a second before the blonde says it, and his ears start ringing loudly as his husband begins to explain. Not only did he know that Toby was gay, but it also seems that he knew Toby was in love with Jon.
The last part is too much for him, and something within the older man snaps. He wants to hit Brady very badly, not for keeping it from him, but for keeping it from Evanna and letting her get hurt. Jon will not hit him; he knows it is not only cowardly but also counterproductive to lash out in anger and he has not done so since he was twenty. There is, however, so much rage in him that something must be done.
The table is large, modern and heavy; and it serves as a perfect focal point for his anger. The sound it makes when it lands on its side combined with the sound of the plates and glasses and things sitting on it is enough to silence the house. He rose as he overturned it, and Jon now stands panting with his face entirely red.
“How could you?” Jon’s voice is loud and angry, but it wavers with the breaking of his heart. “How could you know and not tell me? Not tell her?”
Evanna says ‘daddy’ but he ignores her, he is so furious and hurt that the only thing that makes sense is hurting someone else, and Toby is not there. “I knew when I married you that you didn’t… You didn’t trust me enough to tell me everything. I knew that it was like you didn’t live in the same fucking universe as everyone else, but this… How could you? How could you hurt her like this? Why are you so fucking cold?”
He slams his fists into his thighs and it’s only then that he realizes that he is crying. Brady is trying to talk again but Jon doesn’t want to hear it, he knows that his husband’s words have the ability not only to calm him down but also make Jon forgive him, and he doesn’t want to. Not right now.
Instead he shouts at the blonde to shut the fuck up, and he pulls his daughter out of the chair, grabbing his coat, wallet, and car keys as he leads her to the garage. If she protests he does not listen, he wants to be out of the house and his (misguided) protective instincts tell him not to leave Evanna with the genius.
He punches the wheel once in the car when he realizes he has forgotten his cellphone, but not again. Jon does not want to deploy the airbags and besides, it just means that Brady will have a harder time contacting him. Evanna is crying again, and he hushes her before backing out of the garage. He takes her to her mother’s house, despite any differences he may have had with her over the years he knows that she will keep not only Toby but also Brady away when she hears what has happened. Jon doesn’t want any of them near her; he wants to protect her, to punish them. Besides, Evanna says that she was watching Fallon while she came to their place.
As they drive, he explains that he will not handle the divorce, but his friend Pyp will, free of charge. He will, however, see in the morning what he can do about having it expedited through the usual six-month period of separation. Jon doesn’t drive away until Evanna is inside Cynthia’s house, and it is only then that he feels lost.
He winds up at a hotel and spends the rest of the night in the bar, drinking until he is cut off. It is childish but he is angry, and the hotel’s gym is closed for the night.
The next day he charges his assistant with the awkward task of going to his home and picking up a few things. Satin prays that Brady is not home; so of course he is. The blonde refuses to let the younger man take the dog; and Jon wonders if Brady is punishing him or just wants the company. He tells himself he doesn’t care, and for four days he pours himself into work. His only case is a long way off, so he occupies himself by doing the work legal aides are usually tasked with.
He refuses to see Brady when he comes on the fifth day, even though Satin mentions that he’s wearing the nicest blazer he owns and he’s also combed his hair. Normally this is a cue to let his husband barge into his office anyway and for Satin to take a long lunch, but this time is different. Brady is sent away with a sad and helpless shrug from the dark-haired assistant, and Jon later sends him out for a bottle of scotch.
The next week he has lunch with Evanna, and even he can see that she is concerned by the fact that he has let his salt and pepper stubble grow into a beard, but he pretends he doesn’t. She brings up her father once, but he ignores it, and they make plans to start meeting with the divorce lawyers in a week. Evanna mentions that she’d like it if he was living at home by then, but he again pretends not to have heard and instead coos over baby Fallon.
A few days later, exactly a week after he came the first time, Brady shows up again. The blonde is obviously tired but not only is he wearing a dress shirt but it seems he’s even had a haircut. Satin tries to impress this fact onto Jon (who understands the significance of it) but the older man only fixes his assistant with a cold stare, telling him again he doesn’t care.
But he does, and as he listens to Satin send Brady away, Jon cries for the first time since he left home.
He begins drinking shortly after, and he is tipsy, but not drunk, at the end of the day. He heads to the hotel and checks out some time after midnight, and he pays the cab driver to drive him around for a while. When they finally stop in front of his house, Jon notices that the lights are off. Which is good because it means his husband is either asleep or not there, and he isn’t sure which one he’d prefer.
Ghost is noisy when Jon walks in, but he soon hushes the giant dog. He finds that he is relieved when he opens the door of their bedroom to see Brady’s thin form curled up in their bed. He drops his bags and goes to him, pulling the covers off so he can lay with his head on Brady’s chest. They both know he knows his husband is not asleep, and he doesn’t pull away when he feels his thin arms wrap shakily around his still-broad shoulders.
“I thought you might leave me today. After I sent you away the second time.” He can feel the cool hardness of both Brady’s wedding and engagement rings press on his back, and that comforts him. The blonde starts to say something and Jon silences him by pressing a hand firmly over his mouth. They lay like that for a while, and he is almost lulled to sleep by the sound of his husband’s heart beating.
Finally he moves his hand away. “Don’t say anything tonight. Please.” For once it seems that his husband will respect his wishes, and he is quiet as Jon pushes up his nightshirt to reveal a thin stomach covered with goose bumps. He kisses his way up Brady’s body, pulling both his and the other man’s clothing off as he goes. Jon kisses every part of his face but his lips, and soon gently rolls the blonde onto his front.
He isn’t sure what he’s doing but he is fairly certain he’s drunk, but that doesn’t matter. He needs the familiar rhythm of their lovemaking, like that will repair what has broken between them. Without thinking, he almost pushes into Brady dry, that bitter part of him still wanting to hurt the man. He doesn’t, in the end, instead reaching for the bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand. It wouldn’t take away his own hurt, he knows, and the satisfaction would have been fleeting.
Brady is as tight as ever, he makes only a few small noises of discomfort when Jon fucks him, and they are soon moving together. The dark-haired older man knows that he is close before Brady is, so he does something he hasn’t before. He wants Brady to cum before he does, as if that would break the blonde. So he glides one of his hands up the blonde’s body, pushing until he can rub one of his over-sensitive nipples gently.
Brady reacts violently, squirming hard before orgasming with what sounds like a strangled sob. Jon finishes soon after, and though he pulls out, he lays with his arms wrapped tightly around the blonde. He cries quietly into Brady’s long hair until he sleeps, and he sleeps like the dead.
In the morning they talk as Jon fixes them breakfast, surprised that the entire kitchen hasn’t gone to shit while he was gone. He apologizes before his husband does, not only for the things he said but also for refusing to see him, and for using him the way he did the night before. They hold one another as the food cooks, and Jon fights back tears of relief when Brady assures him that he will not leave him.
It takes time, but eventually they get back to where they should be.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Shove
(short and sweet~ part of a larger arc I don't feel like finishing :x)
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They have their wedding in the fall. It is perhaps a little cliché, but it fits for them. They have a ceremony outdoors in the late afternoon, and it is just cool enough for them not to be uncomfortable in their tuxes. Brady wears black because it looks good against his pale skin and light hair, and Jon loves it on him. Jon almost wears white because he figures someone is supposed to, but he hates how the white tux looks on him so instead he goes with a light gray that matches his eyes.
They write their own vows, and Jon cries as he places the ring on Brady’s finger. Brady doesn’t, but he wasn’t expecting him to. The blonde’s emotional stability is part of the reason he fell in love with him in the first place.
The reception is packed; not only is every member of Jon’s extended family there, but so are Brady’s, and the litany of friends they have amassed over the years. When it comes time for the cake, Jon insists upon the tradition of feeding one another the first pieces. Brady is surprisingly reserved and neat, but Jon takes a particular pleasure in shoving a good-sized piece in his husband’s mouth. Brady is annoyed, but he hides it well, and the evening ends on a high note.
Their honeymoon will be a week in Hawaii, but the plane doesn’t leave until the next morning, so their first night as a married couple is one of the hotel’s rooms. As Jon is undressing Brady decides to take his revenge for the cake thing earlier.
Jon feels his lover come up behind him, and he can only smile when he feels Brady’s long fingers tangle in his thick dark hair. He doesn’t resist when the blonde pulls him to his knees, and he’s all to happy to open wide for Brady’s cock. Giving oral has always been a particular pleasure of his, and it is perhaps not exactly the kind of punishment Brady had meant to give him.
Before this, everything had always been hurried with them. Brady likes it hard and fast, and Jon has never been able to stop himself from giving in to this before. But they are married now, and he wants to enjoy what he has. He still lets Brady finish quickly the first time; but after he swallows, Jon pulls Brady gently down to his knees in front of him.
“That was lovely, darling, but now I’m going to enjoy the rest of you.” And, true to his word, Jon takes his time enjoying the rest of his husband’s body, and refuses to be hurried.
Shove
(short and sweet~ part of a larger arc I don't feel like finishing :x)
----------
They have their wedding in the fall. It is perhaps a little cliché, but it fits for them. They have a ceremony outdoors in the late afternoon, and it is just cool enough for them not to be uncomfortable in their tuxes. Brady wears black because it looks good against his pale skin and light hair, and Jon loves it on him. Jon almost wears white because he figures someone is supposed to, but he hates how the white tux looks on him so instead he goes with a light gray that matches his eyes.
They write their own vows, and Jon cries as he places the ring on Brady’s finger. Brady doesn’t, but he wasn’t expecting him to. The blonde’s emotional stability is part of the reason he fell in love with him in the first place.
The reception is packed; not only is every member of Jon’s extended family there, but so are Brady’s, and the litany of friends they have amassed over the years. When it comes time for the cake, Jon insists upon the tradition of feeding one another the first pieces. Brady is surprisingly reserved and neat, but Jon takes a particular pleasure in shoving a good-sized piece in his husband’s mouth. Brady is annoyed, but he hides it well, and the evening ends on a high note.
Their honeymoon will be a week in Hawaii, but the plane doesn’t leave until the next morning, so their first night as a married couple is one of the hotel’s rooms. As Jon is undressing Brady decides to take his revenge for the cake thing earlier.
Jon feels his lover come up behind him, and he can only smile when he feels Brady’s long fingers tangle in his thick dark hair. He doesn’t resist when the blonde pulls him to his knees, and he’s all to happy to open wide for Brady’s cock. Giving oral has always been a particular pleasure of his, and it is perhaps not exactly the kind of punishment Brady had meant to give him.
Before this, everything had always been hurried with them. Brady likes it hard and fast, and Jon has never been able to stop himself from giving in to this before. But they are married now, and he wants to enjoy what he has. He still lets Brady finish quickly the first time; but after he swallows, Jon pulls Brady gently down to his knees in front of him.
“That was lovely, darling, but now I’m going to enjoy the rest of you.” And, true to his word, Jon takes his time enjoying the rest of his husband’s body, and refuses to be hurried.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Guilt
(highly self-indulgent and recommended to no-one :x )
----------
Jane is sick when her grandmother dies in January, but she doesn’t want to admit it yet. In February she will find out exactly how sick from a blood test, but at the time she blames her depression. Her father calls to tell her that her grandmother has died when she is getting ready for class, but she doesn’t cry then because it doesn’t feel real.
Instead of going to class, she decides to run errands, and she is embarrassed to find the song Runaway by Kanye West has her sobbing so hard she has to pull over on the road. It is then that she begins grieving, and the guilt that will define her for the next few months sets in.
Jane’s father’s mother was in the hospital for three weeks after January fourth, she fell out of bed and broke her hip, and also suffered a massive heart attack. She survived, but her condition was so bad that no surgery could be performed, and instead the family was told that they were waiting for her to die.
She is not told this about her grandmother until after she goes to the hospital. Her grandmother is incoherent and unsure of whom Jane is, and the experience frightens her deeply. When Jane was seventeen she had cancer, and she blames her deep seated fears of the hospital on this, rather than admit that seeing one of the strongest women in her life so weak reminds her that her own body is slowly shutting down, and she can not bring herself to go again. Jane cannot admit this to anyone, so she tries to deal with the guilt on her own.
Before her parent’s divorce, her mother would have dealt with packing up her grandmother’s house and with the memorial service. But the divorce was not friendly, and now her father’s family (who are known for their stoicism) must stumble through these highly emotional events unguided.
The memorial service is hard for Jane. She agreed to write the eulogy but didn’t realize that it would be so difficult to hear it read aloud. She cried hard during the reading, and harder when he father asked her why she was crying.
That moment shapes the coming weeks for her. Everyone was sad, but no one was grieving openly, and Jane finds fitting in with her family difficult. Her guilt takes over as they pack up her grandmother’s house, and she allows her anxiety to take over and ends up fishing a few documents and photographs out of the garbage, which she keeps in a box in her closet.
Jane ends up with quite a few boxes because she feels too guilty to decline many of the items. Months later, she will wonder exactly what she is supposed to do with two boxes filled with glass vases; but at the time she will take whatever she can get because she almost feels like holding on to these things will make up for how she went to the hospital only once. She thinks that her father’s family is angry with her for not taking a few of the items, and she will not be able to speak to them again until June.
She ends up withdrawing from school after seeing a counselor in April. A combination of many things about her is responsible for this, but Jane places the blame mostly on her guilt. It is amplified by the realization that she has no good excuse (nor would she feel right offering one), and by the fact that she is fond of indulging the part of herself responsible for her low self-esteem.
By that time, what was causing her illness has been discovered and the physical symptoms are being treated with a change in medication. The significant thing is for the first time in Jane’s life she is the one motivating herself to get better; the push is not coming from her friends and family.
Her mental healing is not going as well, and she finds the oddest things are tearing open old wounds. Jane despises her own fragility, and she begins to carefully set up walls to conceal it from the people in her life. Eventually, she will piece this part of herself back together as well, but it will take time.
Guilt
(highly self-indulgent and recommended to no-one :x )
----------
Jane is sick when her grandmother dies in January, but she doesn’t want to admit it yet. In February she will find out exactly how sick from a blood test, but at the time she blames her depression. Her father calls to tell her that her grandmother has died when she is getting ready for class, but she doesn’t cry then because it doesn’t feel real.
Instead of going to class, she decides to run errands, and she is embarrassed to find the song Runaway by Kanye West has her sobbing so hard she has to pull over on the road. It is then that she begins grieving, and the guilt that will define her for the next few months sets in.
Jane’s father’s mother was in the hospital for three weeks after January fourth, she fell out of bed and broke her hip, and also suffered a massive heart attack. She survived, but her condition was so bad that no surgery could be performed, and instead the family was told that they were waiting for her to die.
She is not told this about her grandmother until after she goes to the hospital. Her grandmother is incoherent and unsure of whom Jane is, and the experience frightens her deeply. When Jane was seventeen she had cancer, and she blames her deep seated fears of the hospital on this, rather than admit that seeing one of the strongest women in her life so weak reminds her that her own body is slowly shutting down, and she can not bring herself to go again. Jane cannot admit this to anyone, so she tries to deal with the guilt on her own.
Before her parent’s divorce, her mother would have dealt with packing up her grandmother’s house and with the memorial service. But the divorce was not friendly, and now her father’s family (who are known for their stoicism) must stumble through these highly emotional events unguided.
The memorial service is hard for Jane. She agreed to write the eulogy but didn’t realize that it would be so difficult to hear it read aloud. She cried hard during the reading, and harder when he father asked her why she was crying.
That moment shapes the coming weeks for her. Everyone was sad, but no one was grieving openly, and Jane finds fitting in with her family difficult. Her guilt takes over as they pack up her grandmother’s house, and she allows her anxiety to take over and ends up fishing a few documents and photographs out of the garbage, which she keeps in a box in her closet.
Jane ends up with quite a few boxes because she feels too guilty to decline many of the items. Months later, she will wonder exactly what she is supposed to do with two boxes filled with glass vases; but at the time she will take whatever she can get because she almost feels like holding on to these things will make up for how she went to the hospital only once. She thinks that her father’s family is angry with her for not taking a few of the items, and she will not be able to speak to them again until June.
She ends up withdrawing from school after seeing a counselor in April. A combination of many things about her is responsible for this, but Jane places the blame mostly on her guilt. It is amplified by the realization that she has no good excuse (nor would she feel right offering one), and by the fact that she is fond of indulging the part of herself responsible for her low self-esteem.
By that time, what was causing her illness has been discovered and the physical symptoms are being treated with a change in medication. The significant thing is for the first time in Jane’s life she is the one motivating herself to get better; the push is not coming from her friends and family.
Her mental healing is not going as well, and she finds the oddest things are tearing open old wounds. Jane despises her own fragility, and she begins to carefully set up walls to conceal it from the people in her life. Eventually, she will piece this part of herself back together as well, but it will take time.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Confession (AU Jon/Satin)
----------
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.”
Jon said nothing; he didn’t have to because he recognized the voice. You weren’t supposed to remember, but he did. The man said he was nineteen, and he claimed to work as a whore in town. For three months, he had been coming to confess every Friday evening, when the church was emptiest and Jon held private confessions. At first the young priest had tried to help the young man, asked him to come in for counseling and tried to assign penance that would help him. After a month, it had become clear that wasn’t why Satin came.
He began to tell Jon a story about a young priest he was attracted to, a young priest with dark, curly hair and grey eyes. Satin spoke about coming to mass only to watch the priest, and how he fantasized, even when he was with a client, about what it would be like to make love to him. At first Jon had tried to stop Satin from speaking about it, but the young man was persistent and soon he could do nothing but sit and listen, and try to stop his body from responding.
“I continue to sell my body to make my living… But it’s easier now that I can think of him,” Satin’s voice was smooth and wicked, but with that faux varnish of innocence that could almost make you love him. “When they hit me, or they’re rough, I can just close my eyes and think of Father Snow, and how different he would be. He’s such a passionate man in mass, but I think he’d be very tender.” He paused, and Jon could almost hear the smile that played along the whore’s lips, “Do you think he’d be tender, Father?”
Jon said nothing, balling his fists on his robe and trying to ignore the way that sweat was running down his back even though it was late November and the church ran cold. “… I guess you’re not supposed to think about that sort of thing, are you? I wonder, though. I wonder if Father Snow thinks about me. That’s wicked, isn’t it? But I know he’s seen me. When he gave mass last Sunday I felt his eyes fall on me when he held up the bread and I could tell, there was this faint glimmer of recognition…”
His neck felt tight, and unthinking, Jon reached up to tug at the white collar, the piece of cloth that was meant to remind him he was no longer part of the secular world. Satin was a good six years younger than he, and the young man should not have been able to twist him this way. But he did, and even worse, he knew what he did to Jon and seemed to enjoy it too. God help him.
“I thought about going to him after the mass.” Satin was speaking again, and Jon could do nothing but listen. “After everyone else had gone while he put away the tools of his trade. He’d take me on the altar, as tenderly as good man can-“ The whore’s narration was broken by the sound of a lighter flicking, and soon the confessional was filled with the inexplicably comforting smell of cigarette smoke. This too was something Jon had begged him not to do, but had eventually given up resisting. At least this vice calmed his nerves a little. “Right in front of God, while Jesus watched us from that cross he hangs on up high.”
Then sound of Satin exhaling loudly, and then Jon would be able to see the cigarette smoke drift through the wooden lattice that divided the rooms of the confessional, curling towards him like Satin’s voice often did when he was alone. “We’d make love facing one another, and I’d watch his doubt slowly fade from those perfect grey eyes, and be replaced by the passion he has when he speaks about God’s love.”
The other man was never more explicit with him than that, but the images of what he described came as they always did. Jon could see them on the altar, see the way the heavy cloth that sat on it bunched up under the other’s back as they moved as one. He could almost feel what Satin’s skin would be like against his arms as they held one another, and the pain of the man’s nails scraping into his back. God help them both.
Satin’s thin, pale fingers would curl through the holes of the lattice, and Jon’s eyes would be drawn to the chipped and torn black polish on the nails. “And we’d both know that God didn’t mind because God loves sinners… And Father Snow is holy enough to know how to save us both.” There was the sound of something rustling, and Jon knew that the other man was putting out his cigarette. He didn’t know how the whore did it, but he’d never found a single butt or burn in the confessional.
This was usually where Satin asked for penance, and Jon stuttered as he attempted to assign rosaries and readings. But there was only silence this time, a full five minutes of it before Satin’s fingers disappeared and there was the sound of the heavy velvet curtain being drawn back. The priest thought that perhaps he had been spared, and he sat back in his seat almost panting as he tried to collect himself.
The young priest’s relief was broken with surprise and fear when the curtain on his side of the confessional drew open, and Satin stood before him. He felt his heart might hammer out of his chest as he got his first close-up look at the one who had been torturing him so elegantly for the past three months, and his lips parted uselessly as Satin drew the curtain closed behind him.
“You… You can’t be in here.” Desperate protests from a man who already knew what was going to happen.
“Shhh…” He was more beautiful than Jon had thought another man could be, a thin face framed by messy dark hair that curled loosely to his shoulders. Satin’s blue eyes were cold and piercing, but they filled with a sort of softness when they traced over Jon’s body. The whore’s lips were as thick as his own, and Jon couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to them when the young man spoke.
“I’ve sinned so terribly Father, the only way for you to save me is to lay your hands upon me,” with that he was straddling the priest, and Jon would later be ashamed to admit he was shaking. “So then, see if you can drive my demons out.”
There was no time to respond, no opportunity to resist. Satin pressed his lips to Jon’s and the holy man was lost. The calm that followed in his heart reminded him of when he prayed alone in the gardens, and before long he was kissing back the best he was able. The priest’s lips would be gentle and unsure, and he would be all too willing to let the whore guide him. He was able to do little more than whimper desperately when Satin’s hips moved down into his, and Jon’s hands flew not to push the young man away, but to tug on his pants and beg for more.
Satin kept the kissing slow, even though Jon attempted to rush it with his need, trying to take more and more. Eventually, the priest would be able to move his lips the way that the other man wanted him to, and only then would he be rewarded with the feeling of Satin’s hot tongue sliding into his desperate mouth. Their tongues danced, twisting and stroking until Jon thought he would not be able to stand it anymore. Devotion and lust outweighed the doubt in his storm-grey eyes when Satin slid away from him, hands reaching for the man but not attempting to stop his movements.
“And now, I eat of the body.” He had Jon’s robes up and slacks down around his knees with a few quick and obviously practiced movements, and the priest shuddered with anticipation when the other took his hard length in his soft hands. The man’s mouth was smooth and soft, and he had some insight into where Satin had gotten his name before he was able to think nothing at all.
Instinct guided his hands to Satin’s hair, but he was too shy to pull roughly… Like he wanted to. The young man was teasing him again, but the torture was so sweet Jon would have borne it for an eternity. It seemed that would not be his fate, however, because before he could release in the way that his body was begging him to Satin’s warm mouth was gone, and replaced by the cool air of the church.
The priest moaned as loudly as he dared, eyes searching helplessly for the whore’s. No explanation was given, but there was again the sound of plastic crinkling and then the feel of something being rolled down the length of his cock. It’s a condom, the priest’s mind told him, thoughts barely able to make their way through the cloud of lust that occupied him. Jon knew what was coming then, and he almost hated the way he wished for it instead of resisting it.
Greedily, he watched the young man pull down his own pants to the knees, and Jon would have to bite the back of his hand to keep from crying out when Satin settled in his lap and pushed his body back on to Jon’s. It was good, better than he thought it would be, and his arms wrapped tightly around the other’s chest when he laid his back along Jon’s body.
The sharp tug Satin gave his hair only excited him more, and soon their lips pressed together again as the whore began to move his hips, rising and falling ever so slightly along Jon’s length. His mouth greedily swallowed every sound of pleasure the priest made, and his other hand reached for one of the holy man’s, guiding it down to his own stiff cock.
What followed was the kind of ecstasy Jon had thought would only be possible in heaven. He didn’t know how long they were lost in one another, and the priest was only vaguely aware of the feeling of Satin’s cum spilling in his hand soon after his own orgasm. They held each other tightly for a while after that, Jon’s arms tight around Satin’s chest, and Satin’s wrapped more languidly around Jon’s neck as they continued to kiss softly.
Every inch the younger man moved away from him after that was torture, because it allowed his shame and doubt to creep back in, and the priest would panic slightly as he tried to think of the best way to clear a confessional of the smell of cigarette smoke and sex.
Jon’s mind cleared again as Satin kissed him one last time after pulling his pants up. “Thank-you, Father Snow.” His voice was soft, teasing, and almost shy, and the priest knew it would haunt him until the day he died. The young man would stop after he parted the curtain again, smiling back at the man who sat still panting and trying to compose himself. “I’ll see you Sunday, at mass.”
Confession (AU Jon/Satin)
----------
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.”
Jon said nothing; he didn’t have to because he recognized the voice. You weren’t supposed to remember, but he did. The man said he was nineteen, and he claimed to work as a whore in town. For three months, he had been coming to confess every Friday evening, when the church was emptiest and Jon held private confessions. At first the young priest had tried to help the young man, asked him to come in for counseling and tried to assign penance that would help him. After a month, it had become clear that wasn’t why Satin came.
He began to tell Jon a story about a young priest he was attracted to, a young priest with dark, curly hair and grey eyes. Satin spoke about coming to mass only to watch the priest, and how he fantasized, even when he was with a client, about what it would be like to make love to him. At first Jon had tried to stop Satin from speaking about it, but the young man was persistent and soon he could do nothing but sit and listen, and try to stop his body from responding.
“I continue to sell my body to make my living… But it’s easier now that I can think of him,” Satin’s voice was smooth and wicked, but with that faux varnish of innocence that could almost make you love him. “When they hit me, or they’re rough, I can just close my eyes and think of Father Snow, and how different he would be. He’s such a passionate man in mass, but I think he’d be very tender.” He paused, and Jon could almost hear the smile that played along the whore’s lips, “Do you think he’d be tender, Father?”
Jon said nothing, balling his fists on his robe and trying to ignore the way that sweat was running down his back even though it was late November and the church ran cold. “… I guess you’re not supposed to think about that sort of thing, are you? I wonder, though. I wonder if Father Snow thinks about me. That’s wicked, isn’t it? But I know he’s seen me. When he gave mass last Sunday I felt his eyes fall on me when he held up the bread and I could tell, there was this faint glimmer of recognition…”
His neck felt tight, and unthinking, Jon reached up to tug at the white collar, the piece of cloth that was meant to remind him he was no longer part of the secular world. Satin was a good six years younger than he, and the young man should not have been able to twist him this way. But he did, and even worse, he knew what he did to Jon and seemed to enjoy it too. God help him.
“I thought about going to him after the mass.” Satin was speaking again, and Jon could do nothing but listen. “After everyone else had gone while he put away the tools of his trade. He’d take me on the altar, as tenderly as good man can-“ The whore’s narration was broken by the sound of a lighter flicking, and soon the confessional was filled with the inexplicably comforting smell of cigarette smoke. This too was something Jon had begged him not to do, but had eventually given up resisting. At least this vice calmed his nerves a little. “Right in front of God, while Jesus watched us from that cross he hangs on up high.”
Then sound of Satin exhaling loudly, and then Jon would be able to see the cigarette smoke drift through the wooden lattice that divided the rooms of the confessional, curling towards him like Satin’s voice often did when he was alone. “We’d make love facing one another, and I’d watch his doubt slowly fade from those perfect grey eyes, and be replaced by the passion he has when he speaks about God’s love.”
The other man was never more explicit with him than that, but the images of what he described came as they always did. Jon could see them on the altar, see the way the heavy cloth that sat on it bunched up under the other’s back as they moved as one. He could almost feel what Satin’s skin would be like against his arms as they held one another, and the pain of the man’s nails scraping into his back. God help them both.
Satin’s thin, pale fingers would curl through the holes of the lattice, and Jon’s eyes would be drawn to the chipped and torn black polish on the nails. “And we’d both know that God didn’t mind because God loves sinners… And Father Snow is holy enough to know how to save us both.” There was the sound of something rustling, and Jon knew that the other man was putting out his cigarette. He didn’t know how the whore did it, but he’d never found a single butt or burn in the confessional.
This was usually where Satin asked for penance, and Jon stuttered as he attempted to assign rosaries and readings. But there was only silence this time, a full five minutes of it before Satin’s fingers disappeared and there was the sound of the heavy velvet curtain being drawn back. The priest thought that perhaps he had been spared, and he sat back in his seat almost panting as he tried to collect himself.
The young priest’s relief was broken with surprise and fear when the curtain on his side of the confessional drew open, and Satin stood before him. He felt his heart might hammer out of his chest as he got his first close-up look at the one who had been torturing him so elegantly for the past three months, and his lips parted uselessly as Satin drew the curtain closed behind him.
“You… You can’t be in here.” Desperate protests from a man who already knew what was going to happen.
“Shhh…” He was more beautiful than Jon had thought another man could be, a thin face framed by messy dark hair that curled loosely to his shoulders. Satin’s blue eyes were cold and piercing, but they filled with a sort of softness when they traced over Jon’s body. The whore’s lips were as thick as his own, and Jon couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to them when the young man spoke.
“I’ve sinned so terribly Father, the only way for you to save me is to lay your hands upon me,” with that he was straddling the priest, and Jon would later be ashamed to admit he was shaking. “So then, see if you can drive my demons out.”
There was no time to respond, no opportunity to resist. Satin pressed his lips to Jon’s and the holy man was lost. The calm that followed in his heart reminded him of when he prayed alone in the gardens, and before long he was kissing back the best he was able. The priest’s lips would be gentle and unsure, and he would be all too willing to let the whore guide him. He was able to do little more than whimper desperately when Satin’s hips moved down into his, and Jon’s hands flew not to push the young man away, but to tug on his pants and beg for more.
Satin kept the kissing slow, even though Jon attempted to rush it with his need, trying to take more and more. Eventually, the priest would be able to move his lips the way that the other man wanted him to, and only then would he be rewarded with the feeling of Satin’s hot tongue sliding into his desperate mouth. Their tongues danced, twisting and stroking until Jon thought he would not be able to stand it anymore. Devotion and lust outweighed the doubt in his storm-grey eyes when Satin slid away from him, hands reaching for the man but not attempting to stop his movements.
“And now, I eat of the body.” He had Jon’s robes up and slacks down around his knees with a few quick and obviously practiced movements, and the priest shuddered with anticipation when the other took his hard length in his soft hands. The man’s mouth was smooth and soft, and he had some insight into where Satin had gotten his name before he was able to think nothing at all.
Instinct guided his hands to Satin’s hair, but he was too shy to pull roughly… Like he wanted to. The young man was teasing him again, but the torture was so sweet Jon would have borne it for an eternity. It seemed that would not be his fate, however, because before he could release in the way that his body was begging him to Satin’s warm mouth was gone, and replaced by the cool air of the church.
The priest moaned as loudly as he dared, eyes searching helplessly for the whore’s. No explanation was given, but there was again the sound of plastic crinkling and then the feel of something being rolled down the length of his cock. It’s a condom, the priest’s mind told him, thoughts barely able to make their way through the cloud of lust that occupied him. Jon knew what was coming then, and he almost hated the way he wished for it instead of resisting it.
Greedily, he watched the young man pull down his own pants to the knees, and Jon would have to bite the back of his hand to keep from crying out when Satin settled in his lap and pushed his body back on to Jon’s. It was good, better than he thought it would be, and his arms wrapped tightly around the other’s chest when he laid his back along Jon’s body.
The sharp tug Satin gave his hair only excited him more, and soon their lips pressed together again as the whore began to move his hips, rising and falling ever so slightly along Jon’s length. His mouth greedily swallowed every sound of pleasure the priest made, and his other hand reached for one of the holy man’s, guiding it down to his own stiff cock.
What followed was the kind of ecstasy Jon had thought would only be possible in heaven. He didn’t know how long they were lost in one another, and the priest was only vaguely aware of the feeling of Satin’s cum spilling in his hand soon after his own orgasm. They held each other tightly for a while after that, Jon’s arms tight around Satin’s chest, and Satin’s wrapped more languidly around Jon’s neck as they continued to kiss softly.
Every inch the younger man moved away from him after that was torture, because it allowed his shame and doubt to creep back in, and the priest would panic slightly as he tried to think of the best way to clear a confessional of the smell of cigarette smoke and sex.
Jon’s mind cleared again as Satin kissed him one last time after pulling his pants up. “Thank-you, Father Snow.” His voice was soft, teasing, and almost shy, and the priest knew it would haunt him until the day he died. The young man would stop after he parted the curtain again, smiling back at the man who sat still panting and trying to compose himself. “I’ll see you Sunday, at mass.”
J
Juno
Guest
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Belated review rite but Jon/Satin 4lyfe. 8D
lol Sorry Brady. >_>; But yanno Satin and Jon were made for each other. D: After Robb/Jon. :B Durp.
WELL WRITTEN BRO.
Belated review rite but Jon/Satin 4lyfe. 8D
lol Sorry Brady. >_>; But yanno Satin and Jon were made for each other. D: After Robb/Jon. :B Durp.
WELL WRITTEN BRO.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Part one of some Jatin for Juno.
----------
The weather was miserable. Summer had finally turned to fall, and the change of the seasons brought a good deal of rain. Then again, in San Francisco, that was hardly unusual. However, that didn’t make the weather any less miserable for Jon, and on days like this he really started to miss New York.
But he couldn’t have stayed, there was too much guilt and pain after Ned died and Robb had asked him to take a position in Stark’s legal department. He wanted to very badly, and that was the problem. He had already been working for the DA’s office for a year when his father died, and he couldn’t move to the private sector after that. It was obvious to him that his calling was to prosecute, to serve what he saw as the greater good.
So he took the job that was clear across the country; away from the Starks, the Lannisters, and the oppressive memory of Ned’s legacy and Catelyn’s disapproving stare. It was away from his family and friends too, and that was where the only real regret came in. San Francisco was lonely for Jon, even though he did make friends with some of the other ADAs in the office. He ended up getting a dog, some gigantic white mutt that followed him home after jogging one morning and never made a sound that Jon found himself getting particularly fond of.
There was a plus side, however. He had only been in the new city for a year and he was already moving up the chain, the DA had seen fit to give him his own legal assistant, to help with the legwork on his cases. This was his last interview after a week of them, though Jon didn’t see this one ending that well.
The kid claimed to be twenty-two, but Jon thought he was a good deal younger. It wasn’t his eyes; they were dark and filled with experience that made him look older than Jon. The dark-haired youth was thin and tall, and his hair actually curled in ringlets (which Jon could only assume was natural) that framed a surprisingly pretty face. He had his name listed only as ‘Satin’, and he wore dark jeans and a button-up shirt that had obviously seen better days. And to top it all off, a cursory background check had revealed that Satin had never been to college, much less graduated as a legal assistant.
But the kid was trying, and Jon didn’t have it in him to throw him out on the street. For the first time in his life he was seeing the people that were not part of the society he grew up in. Five years ago Satin would have been a one-dimensional person to Jon, just a hooker from Polk Street trying to pull some scam. And if he ever saw him again he wouldn’t have really seen him, Satin would have just blended into the streets like the other lost people used to.
It was his pride that impressed Jon the most; he held his chin high and never shied away from making eye contact. He stayed calm and his voice never wavered, even when it was clear that he didn’t know how to answer Jon’s questions. Snow couldn’t give him the job in the end, but he couldn’t just let him walk out either. Collecting strays was a passion of his, and something about Satin called to him.
And where would he go if Jon just let him walk away? Would the kid keep trying to get out of the life or would he just go back to Polk Street to pick up a habit, or worse, a pimp? Ned Stark’s bastard always had trouble with the concept of people surviving without his help or interference.
Jon didn’t miss the flash of distrust in the kid’s eyes when he invited him to dinner, and he shrugged off his decline of the invitation with a soft smile. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the diner that’s two blocks south from here from five to say… Seven?”
Satin didn’t show up until seven-thirty. He approached Jon warily, like a dog that had been kicked too many times. He knew that he was being sized up, so the lawyer did his best to appear completely non-threatening.
“I thought you said you were only staying until seven.”
Jon shrugged, “Service is always slow here.” He wouldn’t say that he would have waited all night if he had to; the point was not to spook the kid. He also managed to resist the urge to order him something more substantial than the grilled cheese, and to keep his mouth shut while Satin ate. When he finished, Jon would do his best to coax some more information out of him.
“Satin, why did you apply for that job?”
“You’ve already asked me that.” His tone was calm and almost cold, and Jon knew he was being assessed once more.
“I know, but I’m not asking you as an interviewer now.”
“What are you asking me as, then?”
He would consider this for a few moments before answering with a shrug. “A concerned citizen, I guess.”
It was Satin’s turn to consider things before answering. “Why does anyone apply for a job? I need a job; I looked in the classifieds and saw that one. It looked like something I could do, so I applied.”
“I see.”
They were both quiet then; Jon sipping at his coffee while Satin traced the bottom of his own glass with one well-chewed fingernail.
“I can’t give you the legal assistant job,” his tone was entirely apologetic, “But I do want to help. Where are you living now?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not. I live near Pacific Heights,” Jon ignored Satin’s eye roll (Pacific Heights was a neighborhood known for its affluence), “And I’ve been thinking of getting a… Live in assistant.” That was a lie, but if he talked his boss into giving him a raise instead of an assistant he could probably swing it. He knew how it sounded the second he said it, but he also knew that trying to explain himself would just make it sound worse.
Satin did not respond immediately, and instead chose to study Jon through narrowed eyes. He knew that the kid was trying to figure out what his angle was, but the dark-haired young lawyer didn’t really have an answer for him. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to accomplish.
------
It took a few weeks, but eventually the kid settled on the futon in his spare room. Things were going well, Satin took care of the house and dog during the day, and Jon could usually count on him to have something to eat ready when he came home. The other man also took care of the other meaningless tasks that Jon hated, like grocery shopping and going to the dry cleaners. All in all, it meant he had more time to spend at the office, and that had been the point.
Eventually he fond out more about Satin, like that the kid was barely twenty instead of twenty-two, and that he hadn’t finished high school. He had run away from his parents’ house when he was sixteen, though he refused to talk about where that had been or why he had left. The only other things he refused to discuss were his real name (he had been Satin since leaving home, and he had told Jon he could guess where he had gotten it from, which made the older man blush), and any of the specifics about why he wanted to stop whoring.
And in return, Jon did his best to answer every question Satin asked him. He told him about growing up as Ned Stark’s bastard, and in his brother Robb’s shadow. They talked about law school, and why he had decided to move out to the West Coast when Ned died.
That evening, they had talked about getting Satin his GED, and Jon was relieved to notice that some of the distrust that the younger man had used to show when Jon tried to help him was leaving. It seemed he was accepting that Jon just wanted to help, and nothing else, or so Snow thought. The lawyer also that he was successfully hiding his attraction to the other man. It didn’t bother him that he was attracted to a man (especially one as pretty as Satin), he had known for a while that he preferred men. That just wasn’t what he wanted from the kid, sex for room and board. Satin had wanted out of that life, and in Jon’s mind having a relationship with him could only be that sort of relationship.
He had gone to bed early, he had to be in court in the morning. Jon had been at the point that was half way between asleep and awake when he heard his door creak open. Bleary with sleep, he rolled over to face the door, surprised to see Satin standing there naked. Doing his best to ignore that, Jon would attempt to focus his eyes on the younger man’s.
“Hey, did you need something?”
“No.” With that, the younger man was crawling into Jon’s bed, moving under the covers and pressing his lanky body to the lawyer’s. Satin pulled his arms around his body, and before Jon could think to protest they were kissing. It was only when he felt the younger man pulling at his pajama pants that he had the presence of mind to put a stop to it.
He pulled his hands down to Satin’s, grasping them firmly before pulling them away. “Satin, no.” Jon regretted his tone the moment he heard it, it was entirely condescending, he sounded as if he were scolding the dog.
The younger man froze, and then pulled away completely and left the room quickly. Jon couldn’t read his expression, but he could take a guess at Satin’s feelings about the manner when he heard him storm out of the house a few minutes later.
Sighing when Ghost trotted into his room to see what all the fuss had been about, Jon would hold out a hand for the mutt to lick. “You still like me, don’t you?” Ghost’s only response would be to huff once before jumping up on Jon’s bed to sleep.
Part one of some Jatin for Juno.
----------
The weather was miserable. Summer had finally turned to fall, and the change of the seasons brought a good deal of rain. Then again, in San Francisco, that was hardly unusual. However, that didn’t make the weather any less miserable for Jon, and on days like this he really started to miss New York.
But he couldn’t have stayed, there was too much guilt and pain after Ned died and Robb had asked him to take a position in Stark’s legal department. He wanted to very badly, and that was the problem. He had already been working for the DA’s office for a year when his father died, and he couldn’t move to the private sector after that. It was obvious to him that his calling was to prosecute, to serve what he saw as the greater good.
So he took the job that was clear across the country; away from the Starks, the Lannisters, and the oppressive memory of Ned’s legacy and Catelyn’s disapproving stare. It was away from his family and friends too, and that was where the only real regret came in. San Francisco was lonely for Jon, even though he did make friends with some of the other ADAs in the office. He ended up getting a dog, some gigantic white mutt that followed him home after jogging one morning and never made a sound that Jon found himself getting particularly fond of.
There was a plus side, however. He had only been in the new city for a year and he was already moving up the chain, the DA had seen fit to give him his own legal assistant, to help with the legwork on his cases. This was his last interview after a week of them, though Jon didn’t see this one ending that well.
The kid claimed to be twenty-two, but Jon thought he was a good deal younger. It wasn’t his eyes; they were dark and filled with experience that made him look older than Jon. The dark-haired youth was thin and tall, and his hair actually curled in ringlets (which Jon could only assume was natural) that framed a surprisingly pretty face. He had his name listed only as ‘Satin’, and he wore dark jeans and a button-up shirt that had obviously seen better days. And to top it all off, a cursory background check had revealed that Satin had never been to college, much less graduated as a legal assistant.
But the kid was trying, and Jon didn’t have it in him to throw him out on the street. For the first time in his life he was seeing the people that were not part of the society he grew up in. Five years ago Satin would have been a one-dimensional person to Jon, just a hooker from Polk Street trying to pull some scam. And if he ever saw him again he wouldn’t have really seen him, Satin would have just blended into the streets like the other lost people used to.
It was his pride that impressed Jon the most; he held his chin high and never shied away from making eye contact. He stayed calm and his voice never wavered, even when it was clear that he didn’t know how to answer Jon’s questions. Snow couldn’t give him the job in the end, but he couldn’t just let him walk out either. Collecting strays was a passion of his, and something about Satin called to him.
And where would he go if Jon just let him walk away? Would the kid keep trying to get out of the life or would he just go back to Polk Street to pick up a habit, or worse, a pimp? Ned Stark’s bastard always had trouble with the concept of people surviving without his help or interference.
Jon didn’t miss the flash of distrust in the kid’s eyes when he invited him to dinner, and he shrugged off his decline of the invitation with a soft smile. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the diner that’s two blocks south from here from five to say… Seven?”
Satin didn’t show up until seven-thirty. He approached Jon warily, like a dog that had been kicked too many times. He knew that he was being sized up, so the lawyer did his best to appear completely non-threatening.
“I thought you said you were only staying until seven.”
Jon shrugged, “Service is always slow here.” He wouldn’t say that he would have waited all night if he had to; the point was not to spook the kid. He also managed to resist the urge to order him something more substantial than the grilled cheese, and to keep his mouth shut while Satin ate. When he finished, Jon would do his best to coax some more information out of him.
“Satin, why did you apply for that job?”
“You’ve already asked me that.” His tone was calm and almost cold, and Jon knew he was being assessed once more.
“I know, but I’m not asking you as an interviewer now.”
“What are you asking me as, then?”
He would consider this for a few moments before answering with a shrug. “A concerned citizen, I guess.”
It was Satin’s turn to consider things before answering. “Why does anyone apply for a job? I need a job; I looked in the classifieds and saw that one. It looked like something I could do, so I applied.”
“I see.”
They were both quiet then; Jon sipping at his coffee while Satin traced the bottom of his own glass with one well-chewed fingernail.
“I can’t give you the legal assistant job,” his tone was entirely apologetic, “But I do want to help. Where are you living now?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not. I live near Pacific Heights,” Jon ignored Satin’s eye roll (Pacific Heights was a neighborhood known for its affluence), “And I’ve been thinking of getting a… Live in assistant.” That was a lie, but if he talked his boss into giving him a raise instead of an assistant he could probably swing it. He knew how it sounded the second he said it, but he also knew that trying to explain himself would just make it sound worse.
Satin did not respond immediately, and instead chose to study Jon through narrowed eyes. He knew that the kid was trying to figure out what his angle was, but the dark-haired young lawyer didn’t really have an answer for him. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to accomplish.
------
It took a few weeks, but eventually the kid settled on the futon in his spare room. Things were going well, Satin took care of the house and dog during the day, and Jon could usually count on him to have something to eat ready when he came home. The other man also took care of the other meaningless tasks that Jon hated, like grocery shopping and going to the dry cleaners. All in all, it meant he had more time to spend at the office, and that had been the point.
Eventually he fond out more about Satin, like that the kid was barely twenty instead of twenty-two, and that he hadn’t finished high school. He had run away from his parents’ house when he was sixteen, though he refused to talk about where that had been or why he had left. The only other things he refused to discuss were his real name (he had been Satin since leaving home, and he had told Jon he could guess where he had gotten it from, which made the older man blush), and any of the specifics about why he wanted to stop whoring.
And in return, Jon did his best to answer every question Satin asked him. He told him about growing up as Ned Stark’s bastard, and in his brother Robb’s shadow. They talked about law school, and why he had decided to move out to the West Coast when Ned died.
That evening, they had talked about getting Satin his GED, and Jon was relieved to notice that some of the distrust that the younger man had used to show when Jon tried to help him was leaving. It seemed he was accepting that Jon just wanted to help, and nothing else, or so Snow thought. The lawyer also that he was successfully hiding his attraction to the other man. It didn’t bother him that he was attracted to a man (especially one as pretty as Satin), he had known for a while that he preferred men. That just wasn’t what he wanted from the kid, sex for room and board. Satin had wanted out of that life, and in Jon’s mind having a relationship with him could only be that sort of relationship.
He had gone to bed early, he had to be in court in the morning. Jon had been at the point that was half way between asleep and awake when he heard his door creak open. Bleary with sleep, he rolled over to face the door, surprised to see Satin standing there naked. Doing his best to ignore that, Jon would attempt to focus his eyes on the younger man’s.
“Hey, did you need something?”
“No.” With that, the younger man was crawling into Jon’s bed, moving under the covers and pressing his lanky body to the lawyer’s. Satin pulled his arms around his body, and before Jon could think to protest they were kissing. It was only when he felt the younger man pulling at his pajama pants that he had the presence of mind to put a stop to it.
He pulled his hands down to Satin’s, grasping them firmly before pulling them away. “Satin, no.” Jon regretted his tone the moment he heard it, it was entirely condescending, he sounded as if he were scolding the dog.
The younger man froze, and then pulled away completely and left the room quickly. Jon couldn’t read his expression, but he could take a guess at Satin’s feelings about the manner when he heard him storm out of the house a few minutes later.
Sighing when Ghost trotted into his room to see what all the fuss had been about, Jon would hold out a hand for the mutt to lick. “You still like me, don’t you?” Ghost’s only response would be to huff once before jumping up on Jon’s bed to sleep.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Part two (of three-ish) of some Jatin. For Juno.
----------
Jon didn’t know if Satin came back home during the day over the following few days, the next time he saw him was the evening three days after the incident. He was there when Jon got home from the office, sullenly poking at pasta in the kitchen. They greeted each other as if nothing had happened, Jon didn’t really want to talk about it and he certainly didn’t want to know where the boy had gone. He had a sneaking suspicion that particular piece of information would make his skin crawl.
They continued in that stasis for a few days, tiptoeing around one another and pretending there was nothing to say. Jon didn’t mind that either, he had grown up not talking about anything in a family that didn’t talk about anything, and he found the repression oddly comforting.
It was Satin who broke it, of course. The younger man came to sit on the couch with him while he was watching the eleven o’clock news. He was quiet and still for the top two stories, but when they moved on to sports Satin moved to straddle Jon in one fluid movement, grabbing his dark hair quite firmly before kissing him. The younger man was more insistent than he had been several nights ago, his kisses were passionate and rough, and he moved his hips in Jon’s lap in a purposeful way that had the grey-eyed older man grasping at the other's hips.
He told himself that he wanted to pull away but couldn’t, Satin was pushing him quite firmly into the back of the couch and there was nowhere for him to pull to. It wasn’t until the younger man moved back slightly so he could shove his hands up Jon’s plain black shirt that he told himself it was time to get a handle on the situation. Trying to ignore the way that Satin’s fingers and jagged nails ran up his abdomen, Jon would move his hands to the black-haired young man’s shoulders, pushing him back enough so he could speak.
“Satin, stop. I don’t want to-hngh-“ The dark haired young man cut him off with a vicious pinch to one of Jon’s nipples that had him bucking his hips involuntarily.
“Yes you do, Snow.”
But he remained strong, and kept his arms on the other’s thin shoulders. “No, I mean, you don’t want to-“
“Yes I do.” Again Satin managed to cut Jon off, this time emphasizing his point with a well-practiced roll of his hips that had the older man painfully and achingly aware that they were both very aroused.
“Gods damn you Satin, listen to me.” His voice was hoarse enough for him to be embarrassed about it, but he couldn’t let that bother him. This was so important. “We can’t. We can’t. You’re trying to get out of… I pay you to help me, and you don’t want to do that again.” It was funny how he lost his ability to form competent sentences when he was hard.
He had been expecting a negative reaction, after all the last time he had rejected Satin the other man had left his house for days… But he hadn’t expected this. The normally calm man went from zero to furious in a few seconds, his dark eyes narrowing to slits as he pulled his hands out from under Jon’s shirt.
“You… Insensitive… Asshole!” Every word was punctuated with a slam of Satin’s fists to Jon’s shoulders, and Jon could do nothing but stare up at the younger man helplessly. “What, because I used to turn tricks I can’t want to fuck someone I like? Do you know how insulting that is? I’m not some helpless… Fucking… Boy you have to save. I… Am not… Fucking… Damaged.”
Satin finished with a final furious smack before standing, and stomping off to his room. Jon thought he was being spared, and he was still trying to compose himself when Satin stormed back in, something clutched in his right hand and dark eyes flashing dangerously.
“It’s about money? Fine- Here-“ Satin had been holding folded bills, and he angrily shoved them into Jon’s hand. “Money. Now we’re even. Now you can look at me like a person and not some kind of project.” His normally pale skin was flushed with anger, and his dark eyes were glassy with tears. “Now look at me.” It was with great effort that Jon brought his eyes to meet Satin’s, but once they made contact he did not advert them.
-----
The first few months of their relationship did not go smoothly. They lived together, and that did place a strain on things. But in the end it did not break them, their personalities were simply too compatible. Jon wanted the acceptance and the intimacy; he wanted these things as desperately as Satin wanted the respect, and the opportunity to be viewed as an equal rather than someone to be pitied or scorned.
And they both wanted the love. It grew between them easily, despite the fact that the ease with which it came confused (and frightened) them both. But it fit, they fit, and neither man saw any sense in attempting to fight it once they had worked out the specifics of their relationship. Jon helped Satin find a different job as a receptionist, and soon they settled into a comfortable routine.
At first they often slept apart, it was a good three months before Satin started staying in Jon’s bed when they had finished, and another before he started to move his own things into Jon’s bedroom, and it became their bedroom.
Part two (of three-ish) of some Jatin. For Juno.
----------
Jon didn’t know if Satin came back home during the day over the following few days, the next time he saw him was the evening three days after the incident. He was there when Jon got home from the office, sullenly poking at pasta in the kitchen. They greeted each other as if nothing had happened, Jon didn’t really want to talk about it and he certainly didn’t want to know where the boy had gone. He had a sneaking suspicion that particular piece of information would make his skin crawl.
They continued in that stasis for a few days, tiptoeing around one another and pretending there was nothing to say. Jon didn’t mind that either, he had grown up not talking about anything in a family that didn’t talk about anything, and he found the repression oddly comforting.
It was Satin who broke it, of course. The younger man came to sit on the couch with him while he was watching the eleven o’clock news. He was quiet and still for the top two stories, but when they moved on to sports Satin moved to straddle Jon in one fluid movement, grabbing his dark hair quite firmly before kissing him. The younger man was more insistent than he had been several nights ago, his kisses were passionate and rough, and he moved his hips in Jon’s lap in a purposeful way that had the grey-eyed older man grasping at the other's hips.
He told himself that he wanted to pull away but couldn’t, Satin was pushing him quite firmly into the back of the couch and there was nowhere for him to pull to. It wasn’t until the younger man moved back slightly so he could shove his hands up Jon’s plain black shirt that he told himself it was time to get a handle on the situation. Trying to ignore the way that Satin’s fingers and jagged nails ran up his abdomen, Jon would move his hands to the black-haired young man’s shoulders, pushing him back enough so he could speak.
“Satin, stop. I don’t want to-hngh-“ The dark haired young man cut him off with a vicious pinch to one of Jon’s nipples that had him bucking his hips involuntarily.
“Yes you do, Snow.”
But he remained strong, and kept his arms on the other’s thin shoulders. “No, I mean, you don’t want to-“
“Yes I do.” Again Satin managed to cut Jon off, this time emphasizing his point with a well-practiced roll of his hips that had the older man painfully and achingly aware that they were both very aroused.
“Gods damn you Satin, listen to me.” His voice was hoarse enough for him to be embarrassed about it, but he couldn’t let that bother him. This was so important. “We can’t. We can’t. You’re trying to get out of… I pay you to help me, and you don’t want to do that again.” It was funny how he lost his ability to form competent sentences when he was hard.
He had been expecting a negative reaction, after all the last time he had rejected Satin the other man had left his house for days… But he hadn’t expected this. The normally calm man went from zero to furious in a few seconds, his dark eyes narrowing to slits as he pulled his hands out from under Jon’s shirt.
“You… Insensitive… Asshole!” Every word was punctuated with a slam of Satin’s fists to Jon’s shoulders, and Jon could do nothing but stare up at the younger man helplessly. “What, because I used to turn tricks I can’t want to fuck someone I like? Do you know how insulting that is? I’m not some helpless… Fucking… Boy you have to save. I… Am not… Fucking… Damaged.”
Satin finished with a final furious smack before standing, and stomping off to his room. Jon thought he was being spared, and he was still trying to compose himself when Satin stormed back in, something clutched in his right hand and dark eyes flashing dangerously.
“It’s about money? Fine- Here-“ Satin had been holding folded bills, and he angrily shoved them into Jon’s hand. “Money. Now we’re even. Now you can look at me like a person and not some kind of project.” His normally pale skin was flushed with anger, and his dark eyes were glassy with tears. “Now look at me.” It was with great effort that Jon brought his eyes to meet Satin’s, but once they made contact he did not advert them.
-----
The first few months of their relationship did not go smoothly. They lived together, and that did place a strain on things. But in the end it did not break them, their personalities were simply too compatible. Jon wanted the acceptance and the intimacy; he wanted these things as desperately as Satin wanted the respect, and the opportunity to be viewed as an equal rather than someone to be pitied or scorned.
And they both wanted the love. It grew between them easily, despite the fact that the ease with which it came confused (and frightened) them both. But it fit, they fit, and neither man saw any sense in attempting to fight it once they had worked out the specifics of their relationship. Jon helped Satin find a different job as a receptionist, and soon they settled into a comfortable routine.
At first they often slept apart, it was a good three months before Satin started staying in Jon’s bed when they had finished, and another before he started to move his own things into Jon’s bedroom, and it became their bedroom.
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Last part (I think) of Jatin. For Juno.
----------
“Oh Gods, Jon, harder-“ They were tangled in the bed sheets, Jon on top with his arms wrapped protectively around Satin, who was dragging his nails in familiar tracks down the lawyer’s back. He wanted to comply with Satin’s demands, but he could not, it was not in his nature. Even when he was passionate Jon was a tender lover who moved slowly and with purpose.
It had surprised him that Satin was his opposite, the younger man was always quite calm and collected, and he had not heard him so much as raise his voice in anger since that argument five months ago. But in bed he was demanding and loud, and knew how to make expert use of his teeth and nails, and how to pull and pinch with his fingers just so. Not that Jon was complaining, not only did it feel unspeakably good, but it left a litany of marks along his previously flawless skin that were exciting in their own right. He couldn’t help but remember how he had gotten each of the bruises, scratches, and bite marks every time he dressed. And he couldn’t help but wonder what his colleagues would think of him if they could see the state of his skin under his expensive suits.
“Harder, fuck me faster- Please-“ His response was to nuzzle lovingly into the younger man’s neck, and that was certainly not enough for Satin, who responded by sharply tugging on Jon’s dark curls, “Gods damn you Snow, are you even listening to me?” He would give a half-hearted squeeze of the younger man’s shoulders in response, barely digging his nails in, which had his lover huffing and rolling out form under him to turn on the light on the nightstand. Because Jon hadn’t finished, he whined a little when the other left him, reaching for him only to have his hands smacked away.
They were both breathing hard, and Satin sat with his arms crossed in front of his thin chest while Jon rested his head on his boyfriend’s knee. The other man’s lightly annoyed expression did not change, even when Jon gave him his best ‘puppy dog’ look.
“Jon, I love you. I love you and I love how you are with me, but you don’t know how to fuck.”
“Yes I do.” His response was automatic, and his tone was slightly hurt, “What do you call what we’ve been doing then?”
“Making love.”
He would consider this quietly for a few moments, nuzzling into Satin’s knee before responding. “Well that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the end goal when you love someone, to make love to them.”
Jon watched Satin roll his dark eyes before reaching out to pet his dark hair affectionately. “Yes, but not every time. It gets boring when it’s the same all of the time, doesn’t it? You can be rough with me, you know. Not only will it not break me, but I like it.”
Jon muttered to himself that it wasn’t the same every time, but shut up when his lover pulled on his hair. “But what if I hurt you?” His voice was low, and betrayed a little of his concern about the matter. He was stronger than his boyfriend, and the thought of actually hurting him was enough to send a chill down his spine.
“Jesus, Jon. Then I’ll tell you to stop. I promise you won’t though, not in a way I don’t like, anyway.”
He considered this quietly for a few moments before giving in. “Fine then, Mr. Sexpert, show me how to fuck.”
With a grin that was about a mile wide, Satin would use his grip on Jon’s hair to yank him upwards, forcing him to crawl upwards on the bed between his long legs. Taking his cock in one hand, the younger man would push his lover’s head downwards with the other, moaning happily when Jon eagerly swallowed him down. His lover only released his hair when he tried to move his hands downwards, so he could stroke himself off while using his mouth on Satin.
In a move that had the younger man grinning and Jon pouting around the cock in his mouth, Satin firmly took hold of Jon’s arms, and then his hands.
“Not a chance, lover.” He’d hold the lawyer’s hands firmly while Jon continued to suck obediently, bobbing his head easily up and down Satin’s firm length. After a few moments, he would move one of Jon’s hands to his balls, and as Jon stroked them he would again feel Satin tangle his fingers in his thick hair. He would allow the other to take control of the way he moved his head then, managing not to gag as his ringlet-haired lover pushed him further and further down.
Soon the pouty look in Jon’s storm-grey eyes was replaced by one of lust, and the lewd sounds of him slurping and whimpering around the other filled the bedroom. It wasn’t long before Satin’s low moans joined the litany of noises, and soon after that his boyfriend was telling him he was going to cum.
“Swallow it,” he cried out, biting his full bottom lip, “Swallow every fucking drop.”
Jon was only too happy to oblige. He’d barely had a moment to catch his breath before Satin was pulling on his hair again, wrapping his thin arms around Jon’s broad shoulders so that they could kiss. Their mouths clashed hungrily, bruising one another as their tongues danced, Jon groaning loudly with need when he tasted the lingering traces of his lover’s cum mix with his saliva. Satin always tasted as sweet as he smelled.
He tried to grind his hips against the younger man’s, but was again denied by a quick movement of one of his boyfriend’s legs. Satin pushed his knee against Jon’s chest, and his foot against the older man’s hips so that he could not move against him, or into him, the way that he wanted too. Jon could feel him smile at the little noises of frustration he made, followed by a low moan when one of his toes brushed delicately against Jon’s aching cock.
They continued to kiss until Jon was desperate, pulling on Satin’s bottom lip with his teeth to signify his need. But his lover continued to tease him, running his jagged nails lightly down Jon’s back and occasionally giving his cock a teasing stroke with his toes. Finally Jon could take no more, and he grabbed roughly at Satin’s curls, yanking his head back.
“That’s enough.” His grey eyes were dark and churning with his want, and the way that Satin bit his bottom lip and dug his nails into Jon’s back when he pulled on his hair hand him understanding exactly what his boyfriend meant about wanting to be fucked. “I want you. Now.”
He moved back to settle on his knees, grabbing his lover’s thin sides firmly so he could roll him onto his front. Pulling Satin’s hips upwards so the other man settled on his knees, Jon would smack his perky ass firmly once before positioning himself behind the younger man. His boyfriend yelped but Jon thought it was fair payback, he always let Satin cum when he wanted to.
There was enough lube left from earlier for him to push in, and he did so quickly, whimpering along with Satin’s moans at the rough treatment. He would tangle one of his hands in the other’s hair to pull him upwards, so his thin back rested along Jon’s strong chest. After wrapping his other arm around Satin’s chest to keep him in place, he would push their bodies forwards enough so he could grasp the headboard for support while he began to thrust in and out of his lover.
When Satin dug his nails into Jon’s arm, he rewarded him with a vicious pinch to the nipple his fingers rested against, smiling when he heard the younger man begin to whimper and beg for more. Leaning in to nip at Satin’s shoulder, Jon would then turn his head to murmur into Satin’s ear.
“Is this what you meant, darling?” He would give a particularly forceful thrust that had his lover gibbering nonsense before continuing, “Is this how you like to be fucked?”
“Oh Gods, Oh Gods Jon, yesss-“ He would interrupt Satin’s words with his own moaning as his lover began to clutch at his cock with his ass, rewarding him by again digging his nails into the younger man’s nipple. “More, don’t stop, please- Oh Gods Jon please-“
Once more, he was only too happy to fulfill his lover’s requests, and Jon continued to use him as roughly as he was able. When he knew he was getting close, Jon would shift so that he could move Satin’s arms to clutch the headboard. He would keep one arm wrapped around the other’s chest, but his other hand would reach down to take hold of Satin’s cock, which was hard and throbbing once more.
“Going to cum,“ He grunted into his lover’s ear, “But not you. Don’t you dare-“
Soon after that, Jon’s orgasm overtook him, and he bit Satin’s shoulder again to muffle his screaming as he filled his lover’s ass. Panting desperately, he would pull out, ignoring Satin’s gibbering pleas to be allowed to do the same. Jon raked his teeth down the younger man’s thin back, grabbing his hips firmly. Without so much as a word, he would part his full cheeks and move his head in to lick roughly at what lay between them.
The taste of his come had him moaning right along with Satin, and Jon would work to swallow every drop his tongue could reach before beginning to bugger the other man with it. He had his lover screaming for release before Jon moved one of his hands to again grasp Satin’s cock firmly. He had barely stroked him once before Jon felt his boyfriend’s hips buck hard and his hot cum filling his hand.
Wiping his hand on the sheets, Jon would tenderly kiss his way back up Satin’s thin back before taking the trembling man into his arms. They laid close together, legs entwined as they kissed slowly. He had been surprised to find a few tears staining his lover’s cheeks, and Jon wiped them away when they broke for air.
“Did I hurt you?” Jon smiled when Satin weakly smacked his back, and then nuzzled into his lover’s neck. “I love you, Satin.”
“I love you too.”
Soon they were both drifting off, and they would sleep peacefully until morning.
Last part (I think) of Jatin. For Juno.
----------
“Oh Gods, Jon, harder-“ They were tangled in the bed sheets, Jon on top with his arms wrapped protectively around Satin, who was dragging his nails in familiar tracks down the lawyer’s back. He wanted to comply with Satin’s demands, but he could not, it was not in his nature. Even when he was passionate Jon was a tender lover who moved slowly and with purpose.
It had surprised him that Satin was his opposite, the younger man was always quite calm and collected, and he had not heard him so much as raise his voice in anger since that argument five months ago. But in bed he was demanding and loud, and knew how to make expert use of his teeth and nails, and how to pull and pinch with his fingers just so. Not that Jon was complaining, not only did it feel unspeakably good, but it left a litany of marks along his previously flawless skin that were exciting in their own right. He couldn’t help but remember how he had gotten each of the bruises, scratches, and bite marks every time he dressed. And he couldn’t help but wonder what his colleagues would think of him if they could see the state of his skin under his expensive suits.
“Harder, fuck me faster- Please-“ His response was to nuzzle lovingly into the younger man’s neck, and that was certainly not enough for Satin, who responded by sharply tugging on Jon’s dark curls, “Gods damn you Snow, are you even listening to me?” He would give a half-hearted squeeze of the younger man’s shoulders in response, barely digging his nails in, which had his lover huffing and rolling out form under him to turn on the light on the nightstand. Because Jon hadn’t finished, he whined a little when the other left him, reaching for him only to have his hands smacked away.
They were both breathing hard, and Satin sat with his arms crossed in front of his thin chest while Jon rested his head on his boyfriend’s knee. The other man’s lightly annoyed expression did not change, even when Jon gave him his best ‘puppy dog’ look.
“Jon, I love you. I love you and I love how you are with me, but you don’t know how to fuck.”
“Yes I do.” His response was automatic, and his tone was slightly hurt, “What do you call what we’ve been doing then?”
“Making love.”
He would consider this quietly for a few moments, nuzzling into Satin’s knee before responding. “Well that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the end goal when you love someone, to make love to them.”
Jon watched Satin roll his dark eyes before reaching out to pet his dark hair affectionately. “Yes, but not every time. It gets boring when it’s the same all of the time, doesn’t it? You can be rough with me, you know. Not only will it not break me, but I like it.”
Jon muttered to himself that it wasn’t the same every time, but shut up when his lover pulled on his hair. “But what if I hurt you?” His voice was low, and betrayed a little of his concern about the matter. He was stronger than his boyfriend, and the thought of actually hurting him was enough to send a chill down his spine.
“Jesus, Jon. Then I’ll tell you to stop. I promise you won’t though, not in a way I don’t like, anyway.”
He considered this quietly for a few moments before giving in. “Fine then, Mr. Sexpert, show me how to fuck.”
With a grin that was about a mile wide, Satin would use his grip on Jon’s hair to yank him upwards, forcing him to crawl upwards on the bed between his long legs. Taking his cock in one hand, the younger man would push his lover’s head downwards with the other, moaning happily when Jon eagerly swallowed him down. His lover only released his hair when he tried to move his hands downwards, so he could stroke himself off while using his mouth on Satin.
In a move that had the younger man grinning and Jon pouting around the cock in his mouth, Satin firmly took hold of Jon’s arms, and then his hands.
“Not a chance, lover.” He’d hold the lawyer’s hands firmly while Jon continued to suck obediently, bobbing his head easily up and down Satin’s firm length. After a few moments, he would move one of Jon’s hands to his balls, and as Jon stroked them he would again feel Satin tangle his fingers in his thick hair. He would allow the other to take control of the way he moved his head then, managing not to gag as his ringlet-haired lover pushed him further and further down.
Soon the pouty look in Jon’s storm-grey eyes was replaced by one of lust, and the lewd sounds of him slurping and whimpering around the other filled the bedroom. It wasn’t long before Satin’s low moans joined the litany of noises, and soon after that his boyfriend was telling him he was going to cum.
“Swallow it,” he cried out, biting his full bottom lip, “Swallow every fucking drop.”
Jon was only too happy to oblige. He’d barely had a moment to catch his breath before Satin was pulling on his hair again, wrapping his thin arms around Jon’s broad shoulders so that they could kiss. Their mouths clashed hungrily, bruising one another as their tongues danced, Jon groaning loudly with need when he tasted the lingering traces of his lover’s cum mix with his saliva. Satin always tasted as sweet as he smelled.
He tried to grind his hips against the younger man’s, but was again denied by a quick movement of one of his boyfriend’s legs. Satin pushed his knee against Jon’s chest, and his foot against the older man’s hips so that he could not move against him, or into him, the way that he wanted too. Jon could feel him smile at the little noises of frustration he made, followed by a low moan when one of his toes brushed delicately against Jon’s aching cock.
They continued to kiss until Jon was desperate, pulling on Satin’s bottom lip with his teeth to signify his need. But his lover continued to tease him, running his jagged nails lightly down Jon’s back and occasionally giving his cock a teasing stroke with his toes. Finally Jon could take no more, and he grabbed roughly at Satin’s curls, yanking his head back.
“That’s enough.” His grey eyes were dark and churning with his want, and the way that Satin bit his bottom lip and dug his nails into Jon’s back when he pulled on his hair hand him understanding exactly what his boyfriend meant about wanting to be fucked. “I want you. Now.”
He moved back to settle on his knees, grabbing his lover’s thin sides firmly so he could roll him onto his front. Pulling Satin’s hips upwards so the other man settled on his knees, Jon would smack his perky ass firmly once before positioning himself behind the younger man. His boyfriend yelped but Jon thought it was fair payback, he always let Satin cum when he wanted to.
There was enough lube left from earlier for him to push in, and he did so quickly, whimpering along with Satin’s moans at the rough treatment. He would tangle one of his hands in the other’s hair to pull him upwards, so his thin back rested along Jon’s strong chest. After wrapping his other arm around Satin’s chest to keep him in place, he would push their bodies forwards enough so he could grasp the headboard for support while he began to thrust in and out of his lover.
When Satin dug his nails into Jon’s arm, he rewarded him with a vicious pinch to the nipple his fingers rested against, smiling when he heard the younger man begin to whimper and beg for more. Leaning in to nip at Satin’s shoulder, Jon would then turn his head to murmur into Satin’s ear.
“Is this what you meant, darling?” He would give a particularly forceful thrust that had his lover gibbering nonsense before continuing, “Is this how you like to be fucked?”
“Oh Gods, Oh Gods Jon, yesss-“ He would interrupt Satin’s words with his own moaning as his lover began to clutch at his cock with his ass, rewarding him by again digging his nails into the younger man’s nipple. “More, don’t stop, please- Oh Gods Jon please-“
Once more, he was only too happy to fulfill his lover’s requests, and Jon continued to use him as roughly as he was able. When he knew he was getting close, Jon would shift so that he could move Satin’s arms to clutch the headboard. He would keep one arm wrapped around the other’s chest, but his other hand would reach down to take hold of Satin’s cock, which was hard and throbbing once more.
“Going to cum,“ He grunted into his lover’s ear, “But not you. Don’t you dare-“
Soon after that, Jon’s orgasm overtook him, and he bit Satin’s shoulder again to muffle his screaming as he filled his lover’s ass. Panting desperately, he would pull out, ignoring Satin’s gibbering pleas to be allowed to do the same. Jon raked his teeth down the younger man’s thin back, grabbing his hips firmly. Without so much as a word, he would part his full cheeks and move his head in to lick roughly at what lay between them.
The taste of his come had him moaning right along with Satin, and Jon would work to swallow every drop his tongue could reach before beginning to bugger the other man with it. He had his lover screaming for release before Jon moved one of his hands to again grasp Satin’s cock firmly. He had barely stroked him once before Jon felt his boyfriend’s hips buck hard and his hot cum filling his hand.
Wiping his hand on the sheets, Jon would tenderly kiss his way back up Satin’s thin back before taking the trembling man into his arms. They laid close together, legs entwined as they kissed slowly. He had been surprised to find a few tears staining his lover’s cheeks, and Jon wiped them away when they broke for air.
“Did I hurt you?” Jon smiled when Satin weakly smacked his back, and then nuzzled into his lover’s neck. “I love you, Satin.”
“I love you too.”
Soon they were both drifting off, and they would sleep peacefully until morning.
J
Juno
Guest
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
The Truth.
----------
“You were with Detective Conner on the night in question, Detective Chambers?”
“We are – were, we were partners. So yes – yes, I was there.”
“And could you please explain to the court what happened?”
It was the same question she’d been asking herself for the past month. Valerie had been there, and she had seen everything. She knew she was supposed to tell the truth, but she also knew what telling the truth would mean for her partner. Detective Conner. David. David who had taken her under his wing when he didn’t have to, who had shown how to transition from beat cop to detective, and then move from third shield to second. How to talk to a suspect, and how to talk to a victim. The man who had become her best friend because when you worked in the Special Victims Division keeping a lot of friends outside of the thin blue line was hard.
She tried to clear her throat before answering, to clear out the heavy feeling in her chest, but she found her mouth far to dry for that. So instead she opened her mouth to speak, hating the way it felt when her lips peeled apart. “The suspect- the… The victim-“
“Mr. Thompson.”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson,” She wouldn’t let on, but she was grateful for the name. The man had been guilty, that much she knew, but she also knew she wasn’t supposed to call a suspect a suspect when they’d been killed. They became a victim then, whatever crime they might have committed before. “Had been released under his own recognizance so long as he stayed in the custody of his parents until his trial started. That night we saw him slip out of his house-“
“You saw him slip out of his house.”
“I- Yes.”
“Detective Chambers, would you please be so kind to tell the court how it came to be that you had the opportunity to see Mr. Thompson slip out of his house.”
“We were surveilling it.”
“And this surveillance was authorized by your Captain?”
“No.”
“Your Lieutenant then?”
“No.”
“Surely then at least your Sergeant signed off on it?”
Her face flushed, she knew what the lawyer was getting at. “No. We knew- Detective Conner and I- that he would break the terms of his bail, and considering what he had… What he had been accused of, it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him.”
“We decided it would be a good idea? You are saying, then, that you and you partner decided together to follow Adrian Thompson?”
“Yes.”
David had brought it up, and she had agreed. They had been there together, in the end. There was no use in dissecting the details of it. Her simple response had been enough to give the lawyer pause. She knew that they had expected her to throw David under the bus, IAB and the lawyers. They had told her in the interviews that her career was on the line. She’d never move up. She’d never make her first shield. She’d get busted down to traffic.
She didn’t care.
It was funny to feel that way, after making the job her life for the last seven years, but she wouldn’t offer up her partner as a sacrificial lamb. Even with what had happened. The lawyer had said something, and her face again burned brightly when she had to ask him to repeat his question.
“So when you and your partner saw Adrian Thompson leave his house, you both decided not to radio for backup? Or to let dispatch know what was going on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Valerie shrugged. “We didn’t think there would be a problem.”
“You didn’t think there would be a problem?”
“No.”
“So let me get this straight. You and your partner decide to place a suspect under surveillance, illegally by the way as it was never cleared with your superiors, because you are concerned about what he might do if left unsupervised. A man who was accused of was the violent rape and torture of six women. You had reason to believe that he would be armed and dangerous, and yet… You and your partner didn’t think there would be a problem.”
“No.” Again her mouth felt too dry to swallow, and she could feel her face still burning with embarrassment. Mistakes had been made; she wished she could take them back… But she couldn’t. It was done now.
“I see.”
Before, when she was nervous on the stand, Valerie could always look to her partner for support, to David who would smile in that way that reminded her everything would be okay. But she couldn’t now; he sat at the defense table with his face completely blank. She had wanted so badly to talk to him, to ask for guidance. Hell, to ask about anything but she couldn’t. When she had gone to his house his wife, Helen, had told her to leave.
“I just need to speak to him.” Valerie had tears in her eyes, and she had been filled with an overwhelming sense of desperation. She had not seen or heard anything from her partner in two weeks, since the night that the shooting had happened.
“You can’t.” Helen’s face was calm, but traced with sadness. “You know better, Val. The lawyers said…”
She didn’t hear the rest of Helen’s words; her eyes had caught movement in the back of the house. Was that him? She wanted to call out but before she could Helen was closing the front door, and she was left standing alone on the porch in the bitterly cold wind that came with September.
There wasn’t anyone to look to, the only people in the room she recognized were members of David’s family, and a few other cops that she worked with. That David had been working with for the past twenty-five years… And they certainly weren’t there to help or support her. The moment she had confessed that the shooting might not have been good she had become the enemy. And she was worse than a common criminal because she was one of them. She was stepping over the thin blue line.
“So, you saw Mr. Thompson slip out of his home. What happened next?”
“We got out of the car to stop him. My – …Detective Conner identified himself, and before I could identify myself Mr. Thompson ran.”
“He ran, in what direction?”
“North, towards downtown.”
“And how clear a view did you have of him?”
“Pretty clear.” She knew what was coming next, and again looked out into the courtroom for support. There was none.
“And did you see Mr. Thompson wielding any weapon?”
She paused, not wanting to give the answer she knew she must. “No.” Her voice was so quiet the lawyer had to ask her to repeat her response. “No, I didn’t see him with anything.”
“You didn’t see a knife or a gun… Or anything that could be considered a weapon?”
“No, not in his hands.”
“You saw a weapon somewhere else?”
“I- No. No I didn’t. But that was the part of him I saw the most clearly.”
“I see. And what happened next?”
“We pursued the suspect.”
“I see. So you chased after the man who you were watching illegally, even though you saw no weapon on his person?”
“He was breaking the law.” Her face coloured once more, “He wasn’t supposed to be out without one of his parents.”
“How convenient that you were there to catch him.”
“Objection!” It was the first thing the Defense had said during their conversation, and Valerie couldn’t stop her eyes from being drawn to the table that David sat at.
“Withdrawn.” Before the judge had time to respond, the prosecution was withdrawing, but Valerie knew it was pointless. It was one of those things that would stay with the jury, even if they were commanded to forget it. The lawyer would pace for a moment or two before continuing.
“So you pursued him.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
They were getting down to it now. She caught sight of Helen then, and somehow the look on her face was more heartbreaking than David’s blank and detached stare. Helen would have looked as devoid of emotion as her husband if it weren’t for the tears that stained her cheeks. Valerie wondered how much David had told her. The truth? What he wanted to be the truth? Hell, what he thought was the truth? She didn’t even know that, so it was impossible to say. Unbidden, the thoughts of last Christmas came to her, the fifth she had spent with David’s family.
She had been alone for the last five years, after her mother died. She thought David had invited her out of pity, but his family made her feel quite welcome. He had two daughters and a son, and there were always a litany of other relatives around. She would arrive at noon and not leave until well after midnight, helping with both the cooking and the cleanup. It was the least she could do.
It became a tradition, and this year when they opened gifts after dinner Helen had done something quite touching. The woman Valerie thought of as her second mother had given her a small and neatly wrapped package, and had intently watched her open it. Inside was a silver pendant a little larger than a nickel (which was obviously quite old) attached to a new looking silver chain. It depicted Saint Michael with a sword raised above his head fighting a prone form on the ground. It was inscribed with the Saint’s name on the top, the words ‘Protect us’ on the bottom, and her own name on the back.
“It was my mother’s,” Helen explained. She was a cop’s wife from a long line of them, and Valerie didn’t have the words to explain how much the small gift meant to her. “I had them put your name on it, in the mall. I’d like you to have it because you’re family now, Valerie. And if you’re safe, you can watch David’s back out there…”
But she hadn’t been doing that on the night in question, had she? That’s how things got into such a mess… She hadn’t been fast enough. Valerie had worn the necklace today, as if it would somehow help her.
“And then, during the pursuit, I fell behind. I tripped on a curb after about four blocks, and I told Detective Connor to continue his pursuit.”
“How long would you say you were down?”
“I don’t know. Not long, they only got about a block ahead of me when I was running again, and after about the seventh block I saw them go into the alley.”
“The alley leading off of 86th street?”
“Yes. I almost ran past but I head… I heard shouting and I turned.”
“Who was shouting?”
“I’m not sure. All I knew was that I heard it.”
“I see. And what happened next?”
“I could see two people standing at the end of the alley, by the brick wall that ran through it. One was standing, and the other was kneeling with his arms raised. It was Detective Conner and the suspect – Mr. Thompson.”
A ripple of noise went through the courtroom, and the judge called for order. The prosecution, however, was undeterred and Valerie could feel tears forming in her eyes and threatening to spill over.
“And was the suspect holding a gun?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You aren’t sure? You are aware that Detective Conner testified that he was?”
“Yes.”
“Is your eyesight poor?”
“No.”
“How far were they from you?”
“About… About fifteen feet.”
“And yet you couldn’t see if Mr. Thompson was holding a gun, even though his arms were raised?”
“I…”
It was one of her first days as a detective, and she had just been partnered with David. They were sitting in the car, having just interviewed a suspect in his home.
“If… If something is in the grey area, how do you deal with that?”
“There isn’t really a grey area in this job, kid.”
“Sometimes there is. I know the difference between right and wrong but sometimes… Sometimes I wonder.”
Her partner snorted, he had always been a cynical man. “When it gets down to the wire, you’ll always know what to do. You have good instincts, Chambers, cop instincts. Trust yourself.”
Well they were here and she didn’t know. She was always supposed to tell the truth, to protect justice and balance the scales between right and wrong. Valerie knew that Thompson didn’t have a gun; if he did his arms wouldn’t have been raised like that. He was a man who didn’t like to be cornered, and that’s exactly what he had been. It had been Thompson that was shouting, alternating between pleading and screaming for them to fuck off. David had said nothing, and before she could say anything he had fired two shots, and then Thompson had been dead.
Valerie had heard a scream, and at first she had absurdly thought it had come from her own mouth, but when she turned she saw a group of teenage girls standing at the end of the alley. As if in slow motion, they had scattered, and she turned back to David who now stood facing her with a grim look tracing his features. He had said nothing, and they stood in silence as they waited for backup to arrive.
But if she said that it meant David was done. He would loose everything, his job, his pension, and most likely his freedom. It had been murder, and he would do time. She thought that might kill him.
“Detective Chambers, was he or was he not holding a weapon?” The lawyer’s voice was loud and his face triumphant. He knew he had played his trump card. Valerie could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I…” She knew she had to answer but she couldn’t. Her tongue felt hot and heavy in her mouth, some useless appendage that couldn’t work to form the words that must come.
“Detective Chambers, you must answer the question!”
Yes, but how? With the truth, in accordance with the law she had sworn to protect, or with the lie that would protect her partner. A good man had killed a bad one; there would be no victories here for either side.
“Detective Chambers!”
The Truth.
----------
“You were with Detective Conner on the night in question, Detective Chambers?”
“We are – were, we were partners. So yes – yes, I was there.”
“And could you please explain to the court what happened?”
It was the same question she’d been asking herself for the past month. Valerie had been there, and she had seen everything. She knew she was supposed to tell the truth, but she also knew what telling the truth would mean for her partner. Detective Conner. David. David who had taken her under his wing when he didn’t have to, who had shown how to transition from beat cop to detective, and then move from third shield to second. How to talk to a suspect, and how to talk to a victim. The man who had become her best friend because when you worked in the Special Victims Division keeping a lot of friends outside of the thin blue line was hard.
She tried to clear her throat before answering, to clear out the heavy feeling in her chest, but she found her mouth far to dry for that. So instead she opened her mouth to speak, hating the way it felt when her lips peeled apart. “The suspect- the… The victim-“
“Mr. Thompson.”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson,” She wouldn’t let on, but she was grateful for the name. The man had been guilty, that much she knew, but she also knew she wasn’t supposed to call a suspect a suspect when they’d been killed. They became a victim then, whatever crime they might have committed before. “Had been released under his own recognizance so long as he stayed in the custody of his parents until his trial started. That night we saw him slip out of his house-“
“You saw him slip out of his house.”
“I- Yes.”
“Detective Chambers, would you please be so kind to tell the court how it came to be that you had the opportunity to see Mr. Thompson slip out of his house.”
“We were surveilling it.”
“And this surveillance was authorized by your Captain?”
“No.”
“Your Lieutenant then?”
“No.”
“Surely then at least your Sergeant signed off on it?”
Her face flushed, she knew what the lawyer was getting at. “No. We knew- Detective Conner and I- that he would break the terms of his bail, and considering what he had… What he had been accused of, it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him.”
“We decided it would be a good idea? You are saying, then, that you and you partner decided together to follow Adrian Thompson?”
“Yes.”
David had brought it up, and she had agreed. They had been there together, in the end. There was no use in dissecting the details of it. Her simple response had been enough to give the lawyer pause. She knew that they had expected her to throw David under the bus, IAB and the lawyers. They had told her in the interviews that her career was on the line. She’d never move up. She’d never make her first shield. She’d get busted down to traffic.
She didn’t care.
It was funny to feel that way, after making the job her life for the last seven years, but she wouldn’t offer up her partner as a sacrificial lamb. Even with what had happened. The lawyer had said something, and her face again burned brightly when she had to ask him to repeat his question.
“So when you and your partner saw Adrian Thompson leave his house, you both decided not to radio for backup? Or to let dispatch know what was going on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Valerie shrugged. “We didn’t think there would be a problem.”
“You didn’t think there would be a problem?”
“No.”
“So let me get this straight. You and your partner decide to place a suspect under surveillance, illegally by the way as it was never cleared with your superiors, because you are concerned about what he might do if left unsupervised. A man who was accused of was the violent rape and torture of six women. You had reason to believe that he would be armed and dangerous, and yet… You and your partner didn’t think there would be a problem.”
“No.” Again her mouth felt too dry to swallow, and she could feel her face still burning with embarrassment. Mistakes had been made; she wished she could take them back… But she couldn’t. It was done now.
“I see.”
Before, when she was nervous on the stand, Valerie could always look to her partner for support, to David who would smile in that way that reminded her everything would be okay. But she couldn’t now; he sat at the defense table with his face completely blank. She had wanted so badly to talk to him, to ask for guidance. Hell, to ask about anything but she couldn’t. When she had gone to his house his wife, Helen, had told her to leave.
“I just need to speak to him.” Valerie had tears in her eyes, and she had been filled with an overwhelming sense of desperation. She had not seen or heard anything from her partner in two weeks, since the night that the shooting had happened.
“You can’t.” Helen’s face was calm, but traced with sadness. “You know better, Val. The lawyers said…”
She didn’t hear the rest of Helen’s words; her eyes had caught movement in the back of the house. Was that him? She wanted to call out but before she could Helen was closing the front door, and she was left standing alone on the porch in the bitterly cold wind that came with September.
There wasn’t anyone to look to, the only people in the room she recognized were members of David’s family, and a few other cops that she worked with. That David had been working with for the past twenty-five years… And they certainly weren’t there to help or support her. The moment she had confessed that the shooting might not have been good she had become the enemy. And she was worse than a common criminal because she was one of them. She was stepping over the thin blue line.
“So, you saw Mr. Thompson slip out of his home. What happened next?”
“We got out of the car to stop him. My – …Detective Conner identified himself, and before I could identify myself Mr. Thompson ran.”
“He ran, in what direction?”
“North, towards downtown.”
“And how clear a view did you have of him?”
“Pretty clear.” She knew what was coming next, and again looked out into the courtroom for support. There was none.
“And did you see Mr. Thompson wielding any weapon?”
She paused, not wanting to give the answer she knew she must. “No.” Her voice was so quiet the lawyer had to ask her to repeat her response. “No, I didn’t see him with anything.”
“You didn’t see a knife or a gun… Or anything that could be considered a weapon?”
“No, not in his hands.”
“You saw a weapon somewhere else?”
“I- No. No I didn’t. But that was the part of him I saw the most clearly.”
“I see. And what happened next?”
“We pursued the suspect.”
“I see. So you chased after the man who you were watching illegally, even though you saw no weapon on his person?”
“He was breaking the law.” Her face coloured once more, “He wasn’t supposed to be out without one of his parents.”
“How convenient that you were there to catch him.”
“Objection!” It was the first thing the Defense had said during their conversation, and Valerie couldn’t stop her eyes from being drawn to the table that David sat at.
“Withdrawn.” Before the judge had time to respond, the prosecution was withdrawing, but Valerie knew it was pointless. It was one of those things that would stay with the jury, even if they were commanded to forget it. The lawyer would pace for a moment or two before continuing.
“So you pursued him.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
They were getting down to it now. She caught sight of Helen then, and somehow the look on her face was more heartbreaking than David’s blank and detached stare. Helen would have looked as devoid of emotion as her husband if it weren’t for the tears that stained her cheeks. Valerie wondered how much David had told her. The truth? What he wanted to be the truth? Hell, what he thought was the truth? She didn’t even know that, so it was impossible to say. Unbidden, the thoughts of last Christmas came to her, the fifth she had spent with David’s family.
She had been alone for the last five years, after her mother died. She thought David had invited her out of pity, but his family made her feel quite welcome. He had two daughters and a son, and there were always a litany of other relatives around. She would arrive at noon and not leave until well after midnight, helping with both the cooking and the cleanup. It was the least she could do.
It became a tradition, and this year when they opened gifts after dinner Helen had done something quite touching. The woman Valerie thought of as her second mother had given her a small and neatly wrapped package, and had intently watched her open it. Inside was a silver pendant a little larger than a nickel (which was obviously quite old) attached to a new looking silver chain. It depicted Saint Michael with a sword raised above his head fighting a prone form on the ground. It was inscribed with the Saint’s name on the top, the words ‘Protect us’ on the bottom, and her own name on the back.
“It was my mother’s,” Helen explained. She was a cop’s wife from a long line of them, and Valerie didn’t have the words to explain how much the small gift meant to her. “I had them put your name on it, in the mall. I’d like you to have it because you’re family now, Valerie. And if you’re safe, you can watch David’s back out there…”
But she hadn’t been doing that on the night in question, had she? That’s how things got into such a mess… She hadn’t been fast enough. Valerie had worn the necklace today, as if it would somehow help her.
“And then, during the pursuit, I fell behind. I tripped on a curb after about four blocks, and I told Detective Connor to continue his pursuit.”
“How long would you say you were down?”
“I don’t know. Not long, they only got about a block ahead of me when I was running again, and after about the seventh block I saw them go into the alley.”
“The alley leading off of 86th street?”
“Yes. I almost ran past but I head… I heard shouting and I turned.”
“Who was shouting?”
“I’m not sure. All I knew was that I heard it.”
“I see. And what happened next?”
“I could see two people standing at the end of the alley, by the brick wall that ran through it. One was standing, and the other was kneeling with his arms raised. It was Detective Conner and the suspect – Mr. Thompson.”
A ripple of noise went through the courtroom, and the judge called for order. The prosecution, however, was undeterred and Valerie could feel tears forming in her eyes and threatening to spill over.
“And was the suspect holding a gun?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You aren’t sure? You are aware that Detective Conner testified that he was?”
“Yes.”
“Is your eyesight poor?”
“No.”
“How far were they from you?”
“About… About fifteen feet.”
“And yet you couldn’t see if Mr. Thompson was holding a gun, even though his arms were raised?”
“I…”
It was one of her first days as a detective, and she had just been partnered with David. They were sitting in the car, having just interviewed a suspect in his home.
“If… If something is in the grey area, how do you deal with that?”
“There isn’t really a grey area in this job, kid.”
“Sometimes there is. I know the difference between right and wrong but sometimes… Sometimes I wonder.”
Her partner snorted, he had always been a cynical man. “When it gets down to the wire, you’ll always know what to do. You have good instincts, Chambers, cop instincts. Trust yourself.”
Well they were here and she didn’t know. She was always supposed to tell the truth, to protect justice and balance the scales between right and wrong. Valerie knew that Thompson didn’t have a gun; if he did his arms wouldn’t have been raised like that. He was a man who didn’t like to be cornered, and that’s exactly what he had been. It had been Thompson that was shouting, alternating between pleading and screaming for them to fuck off. David had said nothing, and before she could say anything he had fired two shots, and then Thompson had been dead.
Valerie had heard a scream, and at first she had absurdly thought it had come from her own mouth, but when she turned she saw a group of teenage girls standing at the end of the alley. As if in slow motion, they had scattered, and she turned back to David who now stood facing her with a grim look tracing his features. He had said nothing, and they stood in silence as they waited for backup to arrive.
But if she said that it meant David was done. He would loose everything, his job, his pension, and most likely his freedom. It had been murder, and he would do time. She thought that might kill him.
“Detective Chambers, was he or was he not holding a weapon?” The lawyer’s voice was loud and his face triumphant. He knew he had played his trump card. Valerie could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I…” She knew she had to answer but she couldn’t. Her tongue felt hot and heavy in her mouth, some useless appendage that couldn’t work to form the words that must come.
“Detective Chambers, you must answer the question!”
Yes, but how? With the truth, in accordance with the law she had sworn to protect, or with the lie that would protect her partner. A good man had killed a bad one; there would be no victories here for either side.
“Detective Chambers!”
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Smashed Pumpkins
(For Juno :'3)
----------
Jon and Robb are eight when they meet Theon, who is their own age, and Brady is still seven. Because he is a year younger at first Theon treats the blonde like an infant (the fact that Brady still looks like a girl doesn’t help in the least) but he mostly lays off when Jon and Robb are around. Because Brady was their friend first and Theon Greyjoy’s big secret is he just really wants the other kids to like him. Jon suspects this, but he knows that Theon would probably punch his lights out (a term he learned at hockey practice) if he says anything, so instead he keeps quiet and tolerates it. Plus Robb actually likes him, and Robb is his brother and best friend (tied, of course, with Brady) so Jon would do anything for him.
Theon still doesn’t respect Brady when he’s eleven, and Brady is ten, so when Brady says that smashing pumpkins and egging people at Halloween is too mean Theon rolls his eyes and calls him a stupid baby. Jon kind of wants to hit him but Robb steps in (like he so often does) and tells Theon that he thinks it’s a dumb idea. It’s better just to get candy on Halloween, and besides, Ned will kick all of their asses if they get caught.
Jon blushes a little when Robb swears. This is a new thing that Theon brought to the group. It isn’t that they haven’t heard the words before, they have (especially Brady who grew up on what Catelyn calls ‘the wrong side of the tracks’) but they didn’t use them because you just weren’t supposed to. It wasn’t a good reason, but it was the way things were, and they had been content. But along came Theon and everything changed. A part of Jon knew it was just growing up, but he wasn’t a fan of it.
Theon ends up giving in because the unspoken agreement in the group is that Robb is the leader, plus everyone sees the sense in his logic. It is the first year that they are allowed to go out alone as a group (so long as they stay within certain neighborhoods) and they have big plans to go to every house now that they don’t have the babies dragging them down.
Weeks of preparation went into their costumes, including a lively debate about what they should be that resulted in the breaking of one of Catelyn’s vases. After they buried the vase on one of the far corners of the Stark property (Robb had initially wanted to own up to it, but they all knew they’d be grounded for life so it was really the only rational thing to do) they decided to go as characters from Star Wars.
Robb says he’s going to be Han Solo, and even though that’s Jon’s favourite character he agrees because Theon does, and he’d rather they not argue again today. They decide Brady should be Luke even though he’s the tallest because Brady’s blonde and it’ll be the easiest and cheapest costume to make (and the second unspoken agreement in their groups is they never talk about how Brady is a lot poorer than they are). Theon says he should be Darth Vader, because even though Vader is evil he’s also the coolest, and Jon should be Yoda because he’s short. At first Jon’s embarrassed about this, his height is starting to become a sore point, but he relents quickly because everyone knows that Yoda is the best character.
Jon ends up having to use green face paint instead of a mask because some cop came to their school to talk about how masks were dangerous and hard to see out of, and even though Catelyn doesn’t like him that much no child under her care is going to be hit by a car because they can’t see what’s going on around them. On the night of Halloween, Theon hides his mask under his cape and puts it on when they get down the block from the Stark property, and the first thing he does with the Darth Vader voice control is call Jon a pussy for not doing the same.
But it’s all in good fun, and it ends up being a really good night until they get to the dentist’s house. When they get to the end of the driveway to compare what the guy has given them, they find out it is toothbrushes and raisins. Theon is furious not only because that’s really lame, but his toothbrush is pink. He says he’s going to smash one of the pumpkins (Robb agrees to do the other one), and the normally quiet Brady begs them not to.
“It’s really mean, Theon.” His voice is kind of high, and Jon knows that means that he’s upset but trying not to show it. “Some kids probably worked really hard on those pumpkins, and it’s really stupid that you’d smash them, okay?”
“Stop being such a baby, Miller.” Theon uses last names when he’s mad. “You don’t have to come and smash them if you’re gonna fucking cry about it, just go wait on the sidewalk.”
“I’ll wait too.” Jon doesn’t normally break from the group, and he’s glad they can’t see him blushing under his green makeup when everyone turns to look at him. “There’s only two pumpkins anyway, and we don’t want to get caught.” He does his best to sound like he couldn’t care less, and thankfully Theon and Robb seem to buy it.
They all walk down the sidewalk a little bit, but then Theon and Robb cut through a gap in the hedges. Jon and Brady wait dutifully, and it’s then that Jon notices his friend is wiping roughly at his cheeks. If the other two were there they’d all ignore it, but they’re gone so Jon asks him what’s wrong.
“Nothing.” Brady’s immediately defensive, and he looks away from Jon, down the well-lit street.
“I think it’s mean to smash pumpkins too.” Jon’s voice is low, and he purses his lips as he studies the back of Brady’s blonde head. He’s relieved when his friend turns back to face him, and he pulls a stupid face (eyes crossed and tongue stuck out) that usually makes the slightly younger boy laugh.
He only smiles a little, so Jon pulls him into a hug. He wouldn’t have done it if Theon was around, but Theon’s off being a jerk so the others can take what Theon says about their hugging.
“Someone smashed mine.” Brady finally admits during the hug, and Jon tells him he’s sorry when he lets the taller boy go. “I had to beg them to let me have one and I spent two hours on it. And then this morning I woke up and someone took it off the porch and smashed it.”
“That’s bullshit.” They both giggle and blush when Jon says it, and they’re still laughing when Robb and Theon come crashing out of the bushes. They all take off running and they don’t stop until two blocks later.
Smashed Pumpkins
(For Juno :'3)
----------
Jon and Robb are eight when they meet Theon, who is their own age, and Brady is still seven. Because he is a year younger at first Theon treats the blonde like an infant (the fact that Brady still looks like a girl doesn’t help in the least) but he mostly lays off when Jon and Robb are around. Because Brady was their friend first and Theon Greyjoy’s big secret is he just really wants the other kids to like him. Jon suspects this, but he knows that Theon would probably punch his lights out (a term he learned at hockey practice) if he says anything, so instead he keeps quiet and tolerates it. Plus Robb actually likes him, and Robb is his brother and best friend (tied, of course, with Brady) so Jon would do anything for him.
Theon still doesn’t respect Brady when he’s eleven, and Brady is ten, so when Brady says that smashing pumpkins and egging people at Halloween is too mean Theon rolls his eyes and calls him a stupid baby. Jon kind of wants to hit him but Robb steps in (like he so often does) and tells Theon that he thinks it’s a dumb idea. It’s better just to get candy on Halloween, and besides, Ned will kick all of their asses if they get caught.
Jon blushes a little when Robb swears. This is a new thing that Theon brought to the group. It isn’t that they haven’t heard the words before, they have (especially Brady who grew up on what Catelyn calls ‘the wrong side of the tracks’) but they didn’t use them because you just weren’t supposed to. It wasn’t a good reason, but it was the way things were, and they had been content. But along came Theon and everything changed. A part of Jon knew it was just growing up, but he wasn’t a fan of it.
Theon ends up giving in because the unspoken agreement in the group is that Robb is the leader, plus everyone sees the sense in his logic. It is the first year that they are allowed to go out alone as a group (so long as they stay within certain neighborhoods) and they have big plans to go to every house now that they don’t have the babies dragging them down.
Weeks of preparation went into their costumes, including a lively debate about what they should be that resulted in the breaking of one of Catelyn’s vases. After they buried the vase on one of the far corners of the Stark property (Robb had initially wanted to own up to it, but they all knew they’d be grounded for life so it was really the only rational thing to do) they decided to go as characters from Star Wars.
Robb says he’s going to be Han Solo, and even though that’s Jon’s favourite character he agrees because Theon does, and he’d rather they not argue again today. They decide Brady should be Luke even though he’s the tallest because Brady’s blonde and it’ll be the easiest and cheapest costume to make (and the second unspoken agreement in their groups is they never talk about how Brady is a lot poorer than they are). Theon says he should be Darth Vader, because even though Vader is evil he’s also the coolest, and Jon should be Yoda because he’s short. At first Jon’s embarrassed about this, his height is starting to become a sore point, but he relents quickly because everyone knows that Yoda is the best character.
Jon ends up having to use green face paint instead of a mask because some cop came to their school to talk about how masks were dangerous and hard to see out of, and even though Catelyn doesn’t like him that much no child under her care is going to be hit by a car because they can’t see what’s going on around them. On the night of Halloween, Theon hides his mask under his cape and puts it on when they get down the block from the Stark property, and the first thing he does with the Darth Vader voice control is call Jon a pussy for not doing the same.
But it’s all in good fun, and it ends up being a really good night until they get to the dentist’s house. When they get to the end of the driveway to compare what the guy has given them, they find out it is toothbrushes and raisins. Theon is furious not only because that’s really lame, but his toothbrush is pink. He says he’s going to smash one of the pumpkins (Robb agrees to do the other one), and the normally quiet Brady begs them not to.
“It’s really mean, Theon.” His voice is kind of high, and Jon knows that means that he’s upset but trying not to show it. “Some kids probably worked really hard on those pumpkins, and it’s really stupid that you’d smash them, okay?”
“Stop being such a baby, Miller.” Theon uses last names when he’s mad. “You don’t have to come and smash them if you’re gonna fucking cry about it, just go wait on the sidewalk.”
“I’ll wait too.” Jon doesn’t normally break from the group, and he’s glad they can’t see him blushing under his green makeup when everyone turns to look at him. “There’s only two pumpkins anyway, and we don’t want to get caught.” He does his best to sound like he couldn’t care less, and thankfully Theon and Robb seem to buy it.
They all walk down the sidewalk a little bit, but then Theon and Robb cut through a gap in the hedges. Jon and Brady wait dutifully, and it’s then that Jon notices his friend is wiping roughly at his cheeks. If the other two were there they’d all ignore it, but they’re gone so Jon asks him what’s wrong.
“Nothing.” Brady’s immediately defensive, and he looks away from Jon, down the well-lit street.
“I think it’s mean to smash pumpkins too.” Jon’s voice is low, and he purses his lips as he studies the back of Brady’s blonde head. He’s relieved when his friend turns back to face him, and he pulls a stupid face (eyes crossed and tongue stuck out) that usually makes the slightly younger boy laugh.
He only smiles a little, so Jon pulls him into a hug. He wouldn’t have done it if Theon was around, but Theon’s off being a jerk so the others can take what Theon says about their hugging.
“Someone smashed mine.” Brady finally admits during the hug, and Jon tells him he’s sorry when he lets the taller boy go. “I had to beg them to let me have one and I spent two hours on it. And then this morning I woke up and someone took it off the porch and smashed it.”
“That’s bullshit.” They both giggle and blush when Jon says it, and they’re still laughing when Robb and Theon come crashing out of the bushes. They all take off running and they don’t stop until two blocks later.
J
Juno
Guest
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
I LOVE THIS ;O;!!!
ALL THE AWARDS
I LOVE THIS ;O;!!!
ALL THE AWARDS
OP
OP
Snow Danger
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 27, 2010
- Location
- Canada
RE: Lights in the North {Nova's drabble}
Seven Minutes in Heaven
(For u kno hu)
----------
Jon is thirteen when he has his first kiss. For weeks all Theon and Robb have been able to talk about is the first school dance, and he has to go. Brady can’t come because he doesn’t go to their school, and in the end he’s the one who talks Jon into going. They’re sitting on the swings in one of the city’s public parks, and they’ll have to leave soon because it’s getting dark and it always gets cold after dark at the end of summer. Also there are supposedly a lot of drug dealers in the parks at night, but Jon’s never seen one. He’s seen drunk people a few times, but that’s not a big deal. There were always drunk people at the big parties his dad and Catelyn threw and he’s young enough to not see the difference between rich drunk people and poor ones.
Brady asks him why he doesn’t want to go and Jon just shrugs. He knows he’s supposed to like girls, and he thinks they’re okay, but he doesn’t really get the obsession that his other friends have with them. Girls never talk about anything interesting, and he’d really rather be practicing for hockey or listening to Ned’s old records with Brady than putting on some stupid button up shirt and standing in a dark, hot gym with shitty decorations from seven until nine thirty.
“You could come over instead,” Jon’s voice is non-committal but he knows Brady knows him well enough not to buy it. “We could rent Nightmare on Elm Street and Reservoir Dogs from that blockbuster by your house that doesn’t ID.”
“We’ll do that on Saturday. I’ll come over and listen to you tell me all about your new girlfriend.”
Jon rolls his eyes but Brady is insistent. “I bet you do get one. You aren’t that ugly, plus you’re a Stark.”
“ My last name is Snow.”
“Same thing.” Brady kicks his legs a little so his swing moves back and forth. Jon is the last one in their group not to have kissed someone, and he only pretends that it bothers him so they don’t bug him about it.
“I don’t even know who to ask.”
“Don’t ask anyone, then. I bet you twenty bucks that you don’t have to and girls ask you to dance all night anyway.”
Jon blushes but he’s quiet. Brady is usually right about these things, and he scrunches up his face as he considers the situation.
“Robb and Theon are asking girls to go with them before hand.”
“Then ask Robb who you should ask.” Brady pauses, looking thoughtful. “Don’t ask Theon.” He rolls his eyes again because that was pretty obvious, and they spend the rest of the evening planning what they’ll do on Saturday.
When he gets home he knocks on Robb’s door and takes Brady’s advice. Robb seems surprised that Jon is now interested, but he’s also really pleased.
“Catherine Teller.” Jon has to think a moment to remember whom that is, and then he remembers that she’s the brunette that sits a few desks in front of him. They’ve never really talked, but she seems nice so he says he will.
He wants to ask her at their first break, but she’s sitting with her friends and even though he doesn’t really care if she says yes or no he can’t very well go talk to her when she’s surrounded by her friends. So when she leaves the room and lunch he goes out after her, and catches her by her locker.
She’s an inch or so taller than him, but so are most people so that doesn’t bother him either. Catherine is surprised that he asks her, but pleased because the dance was three days away and she didn’t want to go alone. She says yes and writes down her address with a purple gel pen, and he promises to come get her around 5:30. He’s more excited than he thought he’d be, and on the day of the dance he lets Robb talk him into wearing some of Ned’s cologne.
They pick up Catherine last, Ned is driving and Theon, Robb, and their dates are squeezed into the back seat of the SUV so that Jon has to sit beside her in the middle. He’s relieved that Ned tells a lame story about his first dance even though he pretends to be annoyed like Robb is because he had no idea how to make conversation.
Ned promises to pick them up at nine thirty sharp, and then Jon is basically left alone with his date. She’s wearing a pink blouse and a jean skirt, so Jon tells her she looks nice even though he wouldn’t be able to tell one skirt from another one, and that makes her blush. Catherine takes his hand as they walk into the gym, and he wished he’d known she was going to do that because his hand was definitely sweating.
Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to mind because she doesn’t let go until she sees some of her friends. All of the girls are crowded on the far side of the gym, near the DJ booth, and the boys are all lined up along the back. There is a clear divide in the middle, even with the music playing, and Jon is extremely relived. Five songs in, Robb is the first one to drag his date onto the dance floor, and then halfway through everyone follows suit.
It’s the first slow song of the night, and although Robb and Theon hold their dates quite closely Jon stiffly keeps Catherine at an arms length, with one hand on her hip and the other holding one of her hands as they sway back and forth rather pointlessly. When the song is over, they all break apart rather quickly and during the fast songs the girls dance in a large circle while the boys horse around near the back of the gym.
This too is a massive relief because Brady had described the kind of grinding that went on at his public school dances (which they’d started having much earlier) and Jon had been secretly mortified by it. He was having enough problems interacting with girls without one of them rubbing all over his front.
But he did dance dutifully with Catherine for every slow song, and eventually he let her stand much closer to him (though his body didn’t become any less stiff) and by the end of the night they’re swaying as closely as the other couples are. She kisses him during one of the last songs, and it’s so quick he’s not even sure it happened. Because he doesn’t know what else to do, he kisses her back and wishes that his lips were as soft and pliant as hers felt.
True to his word, Ned is waiting outside at nine thirty when they all filter out of the gym, Catherine again holding his sweaty hand rather tightly. They drop her off first, and he kisses her again at the door even though he can hear Theon and Robb whistling from the SUV.
Brady looks impossibly smug when Jon tells him about it the next day, and he does end up ‘dating’ Catherine for three weeks. The kissing gets only slightly less awkward, and they never go any further than that, but he does tell Theon that he’s felt her up to shut him up. Mostly they just sit in her living room and he listens to her talk about her horse, and how she jumps him in horse shows.
Their breakup is public, and Jon cares more about that than the fact that he’s been dumped. In the lunchroom, Catherine’s best friend tells him that he’s being dumped because Henry asked Catherine out and she likes him better. Plus Henry is taller. Jon has no idea what to do, so he blushes quite deeply and shrugs. Robb offers to beat Henry up if Jon wants, but Jon just shakes his head. He tells them that she was boring anyway (which is true) and if Henry wants to listen to her stupid horse stories he can have her. Besides, it’s hard to care about the end of a relationship he didn’t exactly want in the first place.
He doesn’t kiss anyone else until he’s fourteen, and Robb is having his first real boy-girl party. Robb says that it’s Jon’s party too, because they’re brothers, but Jon knows that’s really a technicality. He cares more about girls now, but he knows that no one in the school would come to one of his parties, even if he was the best player on the hockey team. But Robb is popular, so plenty of people came.
At first it was a repeat of their dances, with the girls huddled and giggling in one corner while the guys postured in the other, but Brady came to this one so it’s not entirely stupid. Theon took an empty wine bottle out of the recycling, and he suggests that they play seven minutes in heaven.
The way he explains it is they all sit in a circle boy-girl-boy-girl, and whoever the bottle lands on is the person you have to go into the linen closet with. They’ll time it for seven minutes, and then after you have to tell everyone what you did. Jon thinks that sounds unbelievably stupid but Brady seems excited about it so he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Because Theon loves to torture him with this kind of thing, he suggests that Jon goes first. He can’t very well say no because everyone is looking at him, so he spins the bottle. It lands on Lauren Rosenberg, one of the few Jewish girls at his school. She wears thick glasses and she has braces, and she’s not considered popular because she’d rather read really thick books by long dead authors than go to parties, and she has that really sarcastic sense of humor that she uses to make even Theon look like a fool. Ironically, that’s also why most people like her.
But she’s still not the prettiest girl, so people make these stupid noises when they walk into the closet together. It’s almost completely dark, and as Jon’s eyes adjust to the little light provided by the crack under the door he presses back into the shelves so that he doesn’t accidentally touch her. He can tell she’s got her arms crossed and she’s looking at him critically, and he’s just thankful that she’s one of the people he’s taller than.
“So, are you going to kiss me?” Her voice is low, and it sounds like she couldn’t care less either way. Jon blushes, he doesn’t exactly want to but he knows if he doesn’t he’ll never live it down.
“Do you want me to?” He’s hoping that will fluster her, but it doesn’t. Lauren isn’t the kind of girl to get flustered.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not really my type but you aren’t that bad looking.”
That kind of pisses him off, and he hotly asks her exactly what is her type then. He expects her to say Robb because that’s what all the girls say, or even Theon because she makes fun of him pretty much non-stop.
Instead she shrugs and says she likes smart guys. “And older too. The T.A. in my sister’s Russian Literature class is really hot.”
That shuts him up, and they again stand there in silence. Finally, he grabs her shoulders and leans in to kiss her. But he’s completely uncoordinated off of the ice, and it’s really dark in the closet so he ends up kissing her nose at first.
Lauren just laughs at him and buries her hands in his curly hair, dragging his head down further so they can kiss properly. He can feel her braces through her lips, and he doesn’t completely hate that. Jon’s kisses are sloppy, and she stops him twice to give him a few basic directions.
When Theon pulls open the door after seven minutes, his hands are on her hips and slightly sliding up her black turtleneck, and her hands are still buried in his hair. Jon jumps back so quickly that a few strands of his hair are captured in her hands, and he smacks the back of his head on the shelf behind him. Everyone laughs, but the rest of the game goes smoothly and Jon is secretly glad he doesn’t have to go into the closet again.
He gets her number the next day from Robb, who gets it from Jeyne (a new girl at school he’s really into), and he gives his half brother ten bucks and a Van Halen record not to tell Theon. Lauren doesn’t even recognize who he is at first, and when he explains she sounds really surprised. He asks her out, and she starts laughing, which is extremely embarrassing.
“I told you last night you aren’t my type.”
“And what type do you think I am?” He’s genuinely curious.
“You’re a hockey player.” He can hear her scrunching her nose up through the phone. “Typical meathead jock, you know?”
“I get good grades.” Jon is immediately defensive, which confuses him. It’s not like he wants to be a nerd.
“Yeah, sure. But that’s not what I mean.”
They’re both quiet then, and Jon struggles with exactly how you come back to that kind of thing.
“We can make out at school, if you want. But I’m not going to date you. And you’re not allowed to tell your brother or Theon about it.” He’s more confused than ever, and he tells her whatever and then hangs up the phone.
Jon and Lauren spend grade nine making out in various supply closets and empty classrooms, and he keeps his word and doesn’t tell anyone. Except for Brady, but he tells Brady everything (well, almost everything) so that barely counts. Besides, it’s not like Brady can spread a rumor around their school.
They decide to stop it after grade nine graduation, when Lauren tells him one of her sister’s friends asked her out. He both cares and doesn’t care; he’s going to miss making out with her but she isn’t exactly the kind of girl that his friends would approve of that that’s still the kind of thing that matters.
She looks good at their tenth high school reunion, and completely unsurprised when he shows up with Brady. “I always thought there was something between you two,” and she smiles in that superior way she has, “And I’m glad it worked out.”
Seven Minutes in Heaven
(For u kno hu)
----------
Jon is thirteen when he has his first kiss. For weeks all Theon and Robb have been able to talk about is the first school dance, and he has to go. Brady can’t come because he doesn’t go to their school, and in the end he’s the one who talks Jon into going. They’re sitting on the swings in one of the city’s public parks, and they’ll have to leave soon because it’s getting dark and it always gets cold after dark at the end of summer. Also there are supposedly a lot of drug dealers in the parks at night, but Jon’s never seen one. He’s seen drunk people a few times, but that’s not a big deal. There were always drunk people at the big parties his dad and Catelyn threw and he’s young enough to not see the difference between rich drunk people and poor ones.
Brady asks him why he doesn’t want to go and Jon just shrugs. He knows he’s supposed to like girls, and he thinks they’re okay, but he doesn’t really get the obsession that his other friends have with them. Girls never talk about anything interesting, and he’d really rather be practicing for hockey or listening to Ned’s old records with Brady than putting on some stupid button up shirt and standing in a dark, hot gym with shitty decorations from seven until nine thirty.
“You could come over instead,” Jon’s voice is non-committal but he knows Brady knows him well enough not to buy it. “We could rent Nightmare on Elm Street and Reservoir Dogs from that blockbuster by your house that doesn’t ID.”
“We’ll do that on Saturday. I’ll come over and listen to you tell me all about your new girlfriend.”
Jon rolls his eyes but Brady is insistent. “I bet you do get one. You aren’t that ugly, plus you’re a Stark.”
“ My last name is Snow.”
“Same thing.” Brady kicks his legs a little so his swing moves back and forth. Jon is the last one in their group not to have kissed someone, and he only pretends that it bothers him so they don’t bug him about it.
“I don’t even know who to ask.”
“Don’t ask anyone, then. I bet you twenty bucks that you don’t have to and girls ask you to dance all night anyway.”
Jon blushes but he’s quiet. Brady is usually right about these things, and he scrunches up his face as he considers the situation.
“Robb and Theon are asking girls to go with them before hand.”
“Then ask Robb who you should ask.” Brady pauses, looking thoughtful. “Don’t ask Theon.” He rolls his eyes again because that was pretty obvious, and they spend the rest of the evening planning what they’ll do on Saturday.
When he gets home he knocks on Robb’s door and takes Brady’s advice. Robb seems surprised that Jon is now interested, but he’s also really pleased.
“Catherine Teller.” Jon has to think a moment to remember whom that is, and then he remembers that she’s the brunette that sits a few desks in front of him. They’ve never really talked, but she seems nice so he says he will.
He wants to ask her at their first break, but she’s sitting with her friends and even though he doesn’t really care if she says yes or no he can’t very well go talk to her when she’s surrounded by her friends. So when she leaves the room and lunch he goes out after her, and catches her by her locker.
She’s an inch or so taller than him, but so are most people so that doesn’t bother him either. Catherine is surprised that he asks her, but pleased because the dance was three days away and she didn’t want to go alone. She says yes and writes down her address with a purple gel pen, and he promises to come get her around 5:30. He’s more excited than he thought he’d be, and on the day of the dance he lets Robb talk him into wearing some of Ned’s cologne.
They pick up Catherine last, Ned is driving and Theon, Robb, and their dates are squeezed into the back seat of the SUV so that Jon has to sit beside her in the middle. He’s relieved that Ned tells a lame story about his first dance even though he pretends to be annoyed like Robb is because he had no idea how to make conversation.
Ned promises to pick them up at nine thirty sharp, and then Jon is basically left alone with his date. She’s wearing a pink blouse and a jean skirt, so Jon tells her she looks nice even though he wouldn’t be able to tell one skirt from another one, and that makes her blush. Catherine takes his hand as they walk into the gym, and he wished he’d known she was going to do that because his hand was definitely sweating.
Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to mind because she doesn’t let go until she sees some of her friends. All of the girls are crowded on the far side of the gym, near the DJ booth, and the boys are all lined up along the back. There is a clear divide in the middle, even with the music playing, and Jon is extremely relived. Five songs in, Robb is the first one to drag his date onto the dance floor, and then halfway through everyone follows suit.
It’s the first slow song of the night, and although Robb and Theon hold their dates quite closely Jon stiffly keeps Catherine at an arms length, with one hand on her hip and the other holding one of her hands as they sway back and forth rather pointlessly. When the song is over, they all break apart rather quickly and during the fast songs the girls dance in a large circle while the boys horse around near the back of the gym.
This too is a massive relief because Brady had described the kind of grinding that went on at his public school dances (which they’d started having much earlier) and Jon had been secretly mortified by it. He was having enough problems interacting with girls without one of them rubbing all over his front.
But he did dance dutifully with Catherine for every slow song, and eventually he let her stand much closer to him (though his body didn’t become any less stiff) and by the end of the night they’re swaying as closely as the other couples are. She kisses him during one of the last songs, and it’s so quick he’s not even sure it happened. Because he doesn’t know what else to do, he kisses her back and wishes that his lips were as soft and pliant as hers felt.
True to his word, Ned is waiting outside at nine thirty when they all filter out of the gym, Catherine again holding his sweaty hand rather tightly. They drop her off first, and he kisses her again at the door even though he can hear Theon and Robb whistling from the SUV.
Brady looks impossibly smug when Jon tells him about it the next day, and he does end up ‘dating’ Catherine for three weeks. The kissing gets only slightly less awkward, and they never go any further than that, but he does tell Theon that he’s felt her up to shut him up. Mostly they just sit in her living room and he listens to her talk about her horse, and how she jumps him in horse shows.
Their breakup is public, and Jon cares more about that than the fact that he’s been dumped. In the lunchroom, Catherine’s best friend tells him that he’s being dumped because Henry asked Catherine out and she likes him better. Plus Henry is taller. Jon has no idea what to do, so he blushes quite deeply and shrugs. Robb offers to beat Henry up if Jon wants, but Jon just shakes his head. He tells them that she was boring anyway (which is true) and if Henry wants to listen to her stupid horse stories he can have her. Besides, it’s hard to care about the end of a relationship he didn’t exactly want in the first place.
He doesn’t kiss anyone else until he’s fourteen, and Robb is having his first real boy-girl party. Robb says that it’s Jon’s party too, because they’re brothers, but Jon knows that’s really a technicality. He cares more about girls now, but he knows that no one in the school would come to one of his parties, even if he was the best player on the hockey team. But Robb is popular, so plenty of people came.
At first it was a repeat of their dances, with the girls huddled and giggling in one corner while the guys postured in the other, but Brady came to this one so it’s not entirely stupid. Theon took an empty wine bottle out of the recycling, and he suggests that they play seven minutes in heaven.
The way he explains it is they all sit in a circle boy-girl-boy-girl, and whoever the bottle lands on is the person you have to go into the linen closet with. They’ll time it for seven minutes, and then after you have to tell everyone what you did. Jon thinks that sounds unbelievably stupid but Brady seems excited about it so he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Because Theon loves to torture him with this kind of thing, he suggests that Jon goes first. He can’t very well say no because everyone is looking at him, so he spins the bottle. It lands on Lauren Rosenberg, one of the few Jewish girls at his school. She wears thick glasses and she has braces, and she’s not considered popular because she’d rather read really thick books by long dead authors than go to parties, and she has that really sarcastic sense of humor that she uses to make even Theon look like a fool. Ironically, that’s also why most people like her.
But she’s still not the prettiest girl, so people make these stupid noises when they walk into the closet together. It’s almost completely dark, and as Jon’s eyes adjust to the little light provided by the crack under the door he presses back into the shelves so that he doesn’t accidentally touch her. He can tell she’s got her arms crossed and she’s looking at him critically, and he’s just thankful that she’s one of the people he’s taller than.
“So, are you going to kiss me?” Her voice is low, and it sounds like she couldn’t care less either way. Jon blushes, he doesn’t exactly want to but he knows if he doesn’t he’ll never live it down.
“Do you want me to?” He’s hoping that will fluster her, but it doesn’t. Lauren isn’t the kind of girl to get flustered.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not really my type but you aren’t that bad looking.”
That kind of pisses him off, and he hotly asks her exactly what is her type then. He expects her to say Robb because that’s what all the girls say, or even Theon because she makes fun of him pretty much non-stop.
Instead she shrugs and says she likes smart guys. “And older too. The T.A. in my sister’s Russian Literature class is really hot.”
That shuts him up, and they again stand there in silence. Finally, he grabs her shoulders and leans in to kiss her. But he’s completely uncoordinated off of the ice, and it’s really dark in the closet so he ends up kissing her nose at first.
Lauren just laughs at him and buries her hands in his curly hair, dragging his head down further so they can kiss properly. He can feel her braces through her lips, and he doesn’t completely hate that. Jon’s kisses are sloppy, and she stops him twice to give him a few basic directions.
When Theon pulls open the door after seven minutes, his hands are on her hips and slightly sliding up her black turtleneck, and her hands are still buried in his hair. Jon jumps back so quickly that a few strands of his hair are captured in her hands, and he smacks the back of his head on the shelf behind him. Everyone laughs, but the rest of the game goes smoothly and Jon is secretly glad he doesn’t have to go into the closet again.
He gets her number the next day from Robb, who gets it from Jeyne (a new girl at school he’s really into), and he gives his half brother ten bucks and a Van Halen record not to tell Theon. Lauren doesn’t even recognize who he is at first, and when he explains she sounds really surprised. He asks her out, and she starts laughing, which is extremely embarrassing.
“I told you last night you aren’t my type.”
“And what type do you think I am?” He’s genuinely curious.
“You’re a hockey player.” He can hear her scrunching her nose up through the phone. “Typical meathead jock, you know?”
“I get good grades.” Jon is immediately defensive, which confuses him. It’s not like he wants to be a nerd.
“Yeah, sure. But that’s not what I mean.”
They’re both quiet then, and Jon struggles with exactly how you come back to that kind of thing.
“We can make out at school, if you want. But I’m not going to date you. And you’re not allowed to tell your brother or Theon about it.” He’s more confused than ever, and he tells her whatever and then hangs up the phone.
Jon and Lauren spend grade nine making out in various supply closets and empty classrooms, and he keeps his word and doesn’t tell anyone. Except for Brady, but he tells Brady everything (well, almost everything) so that barely counts. Besides, it’s not like Brady can spread a rumor around their school.
They decide to stop it after grade nine graduation, when Lauren tells him one of her sister’s friends asked her out. He both cares and doesn’t care; he’s going to miss making out with her but she isn’t exactly the kind of girl that his friends would approve of that that’s still the kind of thing that matters.
She looks good at their tenth high school reunion, and completely unsurprised when he shows up with Brady. “I always thought there was something between you two,” and she smiles in that superior way she has, “And I’m glad it worked out.”