Bad girls doing bad things.

Fic: Five Times Meme: Food Smut

2009-08-23T06:02:54Z

Five Times demon_kynx Tried To Squick Themselves And One Time They Actually Did.
Part Two: Food Smut

Title: A Recipe for Libertinism: A Taste of Debauchery
Author: demon_kynx (a collaboration of judas_denied, jynxx and kit84)
Pairing(s):Shannon/Tim
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Food Smut, D/s, undertones of S&M, unintentional mindfuckery, rimming, object insertion, orgasm denial (sorta)
Disclaimer: Not ours, now there's a damn shame. Made it all up.
Word Count: 22,100 in 3 posts

Part Two, Part Three

AN: Part of the five things meme weekend at Kynxpirations. Between the three of us we have very few squicks/things we can't write/won't write. We decided to explore these. Cookies for anyone that figures out what actually made us recoil in disgust.

A Recipe for Libertinism:
A Taste of Debauchery

It's Jared's fault. Tim's sex life is going to be in tatters by the end of tonight and it's Jared's fucking fault. He's been more than happy with his sex life up 'til now thank you very fucking much, before Jared decided it needed changing. Spicing up. Something a little more adventurous than light bondage and dirty talk. Tim got off on having his wrists tied while Shannon sucked him off and he thought Shannon did, too, but apparently it wasn't enough.

The bitch of it is though, Tim's sex life is not Jared's business, not even a little bit. Neither is Shannon's, which pretty much is the extent of Tim's sex life, too. It doesn't matter what he—or anyone else—calls it, Tim is fucking fine with the way Shannon fucks him. He'd thought Shannon was fine with it, too, but now the niggling doubt is starting to creep in like spider monkeys at the edge of his consciousness. They chatter and bite at his self esteem and fling poo at his self confidence and it makes Tim feel about as sexually experienced as a ten year old virgin living in a monastery. It doesn't help either that he has half and idea exactly what Jared's thinking every time he looks at Tim and he fucking hates that.

Jared had given Shannon a book entitled 101 Ways to Spice Up Your Sex Life. It had pictures, too, which is probably why Shannon had actually bothered to read it rather than just feigning interest long enough to be polite. Then suddenly he had ideas, things they could try and Tim felt like a failure and a prude because… because he liked what they had already and didn't have any overwhelming urge to change it just because Jared thought they were boring and stuck in a rut. That Jared knew enough to assume they were stuck in a rut meant that Shannon had been talking to him about them being stuck in a rut and Tim hated that he still went to Jared first, why couldn't Shannon talk to him?

Apparently, Shannon agreed with Jared’s side of the argument; an argument that yet again, Tim thought Jared had no fucking business even being a part of in the first place. In fact he hadn't even known there was an argument until Jared got involved in it. Which was three different kinds of unsettling and induced a multitude of insecurities in Tim; insecurities to go along with the spider monkeys of self doubt. Like, maybe Shannon had said something to Jared to prompt him to think that the book was the ideal gift. Maybe Shannon really did think that fucking Tim was boring and yeah, it was a downward spiral from there that only got worse. What else did Shannon think was boring?

It did absolutely nothing for his confidence, so the numerous times when Shannon suggested they try something—whatever it was that had caught his fancy—it had been that much harder to agree to it. He'd managed to hold Shannon off for the most part, palm him off with excuses and distract him from The Book. It couldn't last though, he shouldn't have been foolish enough to think that it could either, but it's only now that he's remembering that. Shannon is nothing if not tenacious once he's gotten an idea in his head and for whatever reason—whether to somehow compete with Jared's ever varied kink-filled relationships or just because Tim really is that shit in bed—The Book is occupying his thoughts. Whenever he relaxes, gets comfortable and starts to let himself think that Shannon's forgotten about it the topic comes up again.

Still, Tim definitely hadn't expected it to come to a head like this. Hadn't thought he'd be half asleep in Shannon's bed with said owner of the bed practically hopping from foot to foot whilst holding a can of squirty cream, a banana and a chocolate covered ice cream bar on a stick, asking if he wants to be made into a banana split. Fuck, it almost sounds funny in his head and it would be fucking hysterical if it was happening to someone else, on TV maybe, or You Tube or just fucking anyone that wasn't him.

Only Shannon's picking the chocolate off of the ice cream with his teeth and staring down at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Tim doesn't have one to give other than 'no' or 'do we have to?' But Shannon hasn't ever brought stuff into the bedroom like this without asking first and Tim has no idea how to turn him away without making Shannon's eyes sad. Shannon won't show it or at least he'll try to hide it, but Tim will know it's there and that's somehow worse. Wouldn't it be better not to have to make up for something by just fucking doing it? How hard could it be?

Shannon's about halfway done with the chocolate shell and Tim eyes the banana with doubt. There's next to no way he can get out of this, not now that Shannon's gone and brought everything in here and he doesn't really have a reason to anyway. Self consciousness isn't really an excuse and he doesn't want to air these thoughts because he's sick of being the young and inexperienced one in this relationship. Not that he's either of those things really, but again, it's something that plays on his mind and feeds the spider monkeys, he thinks that right now they're probably eating bananas.

Ice cream—which is all it's going to be with Shannon still nibbling at the chocolate—and cream he can deal with. The banana though, well, the size and shape isn't all that intimidating but the blackened, scratchy end of it is just fucking no.

"The banana's coming nowhere near me though," he mumbles, feeling his face flushing just a little.

It's almost worth it, just for the heated smirk Shannon gives him as he re-juggles everything to drop the fruit at the foot of the bed. The cover's pulled down, baring him completely and Tim sort of wishes he wasn't naked. Not because he's worried about the way he looks, no, that's one of the few things he's not paranoid as fuck about, but even just his underwear would be an extra barrier between him and whatever Shannon's got in mind next. It'd mean he could delay a little longer and that would be… that would be real good right now. It occurs to him that the bananna might even have been a ruse, something Shannon knew he'd definitely refuse and say yes to the other stuff.

Shannon throws the can of cream down, but is careful with the ice cream as he crawls onto the bed, half over Tim and propped up on one elbow. Tim's waiting for the cold ice cream to hit his chest but it doesn't. Instead, Shannon leans down and kisses him softly. "Don't look so worried. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"Uh-huh," he's still dubious about that bit, "And messy as fuck. Shouldn't we put something down on the—"

Shannon's lips cover his again, harder this time, losing the rest of his sentence in a muffled sound. Ok, so messy it is and Tim resolves not to help one fucking bit with the laundry. He arches-rolls onto his side, meeting Shannon's mouth like for like and he's just pushing one leg between Shannon's when he's forced forward. Cold ice cream at the bottom of his back making him shudder and mewl into Shannon's mouth, pushing himself closer if only to get away.

There's nowhere for him to go though, closer to Shannon just makes him chuckle and slide the ice cream lower, skimming over the curve of Tim's ass and… oh a whole world of no.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me?" Tim asks, the question coming out half yelped as Shannon presses the ice cream closer and he can feel cold, thick rivulets of it starting to run down the crack of his ass.

“Nope,” Shannon says back and smirks again, dirty and sort of mischievous like a kid with a new toy. A slingshot maybe, something fucking troublesome to Tim's mind anyway.

Tim shivers and tries to fight down the urge to shove Shannon away and run. He’s not entirely sure where this is going, but he has a pretty good idea and something twists in his belly, one part revulsion and the other part helpless curiosity. The former he thinks is spot on as far as feelings on this topic should go, the latter he kind of wishes would go the fuck away. He doesn't want to be turned on, but it's Shannon so he's already at a total disadvantage in that department.

He jumps when Shannon presses the melting mess between his ass cheeks and holds him tightly around the waist to keep him still. Tim realizes he’s shaking and it’s not just because of the cold of the ice cream against him melting into places it should never, ever be. His face flushes hot with the blood of his embarrassment for acting like this, for being such a fucking pansy assed girl about it. He presses a kiss to Shannon’s shoulder as a way to distract himself and hide his red face. Shannon just makes a soothing, murmuring sound that lets Tim know he’s aware anyway, aware and not going to take no for an answer.

Tim tells himself that he can do this, that it’s not that bad and there are undeniable stirrings of arousal beneath the swirling clouds of doubt and worry about what, exactly, Shannon intends to do to him. Bracing himself and steeling his resolve, Tim pulls back from Shannon just enough to roll onto his belly. Spreading his legs wide, he feels the bed sink as Shannon resituates himself between his parted thighs with a contented hum. Tim shudders again as Shannon presses the ice cream between his ass cheeks once more and turns his head to the side.

His eyes go wide when he sees the cucumber lying on the nightstand. He hadn’t noticed that before and figures in a bleating sheep way that Shannon sat it down because his hands were full.

“What’s that for?” Tim says, voice coming out a tight whisper as he nods toward the thick, green length of the cucumber, unable to tear his gaze away.

“What do you think it’s for?” Shannon asks, leaning over him to whisper in his ear as he slides the ice cream which is just about entirely de-semi-solidified up and down his ass crack, circling it over his hole. Tim makes a strangled sound, part reluctant pleasure, part dismay at himself for reacting in such a way and shakes his head.

“Making a salad for later?” Tim asks, unable to keep the hopeful note out of the question.

Shannon’s chuckle is low as he runs his tongue around the curve of Tim’s ear and he can’t help the soft moan that pulls from his throat when Shannon grasps his earring in his teeth and tugs gently. “I don’t think we’ll want to eat that when we’re done with it,” Shannon answers when he lets go of the stainless steel ring. His voice is low and husky, amused in a non-cruel way as he says, “We can still make a salad with other ingredients later though if you want.”

Tim shakes his head and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Now that he’s committed himself to going through with this, he intends to suck it up and hope for the best, thinking maybe if he can relax enough he’ll even like it. The trepidation lingers, however, and he can’t take his eyes off the cucumber, it’s thicker than Shannon’s cock or the banana, yet Shannon fully intends to fuck him with it, of that Tim no longer has any doubt. Tim also thinks he won’t have any desire to eat any sort of vegetable for a long goddamned time after tonight.

“No, I… just… no,” Tim manages to get out then gasps and jerks as Shannon presses two fingers covered in sticky, gloopy, melted ice cream inside of him at once. It's just enough to work as lubricant, but not enough to take away the burn completely. “

Oh,” Tim moans, surprised by the movement, but definitely okay with the way Shannon curves his fingers inside of him with the ease of long practice, hitting his prostate dead on. Cold ice cream, warm fingers and pressure in just the right place happens to be the right combination to make him forget his hang-ups it seems.

He arches into the sensation and moans-gasps-shivers when Shannon adds a third finger. He can hear the thick squelching sound the ice cream makes as Shannon works his fingers inside of him with skin prickling slowness. Pleasure is a low, muted hum just under the surface of Tim’s skin and for just a little bit, he forgets all about the cucumber as he closes his eyes and bucks his hips helplessly against the sensations.

Shannon pulls his fingers free and then he's yanking Tim's hips until he's face down-ass up. As the remaining ice cream is dragged between his cheeks and slowly pushed inside of him, Tim knows there's enough still left to fully hide the stick holding it together. The ice cream isn't as cold as it could be but Tim's breath whines out of his mouth because it's still cold enough to be jarring compared to the heat of his body.

The thick mess makes more of those squelching sounds as Shannon pushes it back inside of him and Tim shudders all over, already feeling liquid ice cream trickling out of him and soaking into the sheets underneath him. Pleasure is there, right there and directly on top of it is a mix of disgust and humiliation as he feels the ice cream melting inside him. He moans as Shannon pulls it back out of him and presses his face into the pillow, stiffening when he finally feels the uncomfortable scrape of the stick.

Shannon is in the process of pushing it back inside of him when Tim raises his head and says, “No… stick, Shannon, stop.”

“Sorry,” Shannon whispers back, his voice low, husky, semi-distracted and Tim knows it’s because he’s staring at his ice cream covered ass, watching the creamy vanilla confection leaking out his hole. He takes the now useless ice cream stick away though and Tim almost winces when he hears it hit the far wall without falling to the floor afterward.

It was just in his ass and now it’s stuck to the bedroom wall and he just knows if they forget to move it later that anyone who sees it will just know where it has been. Without the distraction of Shannon doing pleasant things to him, all of Tim’s doubts and insecurities are starting to come back and he’s already begun a list in his head of all the reasons why this is a bad idea. He’s made it to number three when Shannon licks him there. He was so wrapped up in his fretting that he forgot to pay attention to Shannon and…

“Oh my god,” Tim gasps out, shivering with pleasure even as he thinks, This is so dirty, nasty, wrong, good. He arches his back even more, moaning low in the back of his throat as Shannon’s tongue circles, licks, strokes across his sensitive flesh. This has never happened before, but right now all Tim can think about is how that’s a damn shame because this is awesome.

Each of his hang ups seem to be slipping through his fingers with every press-flick-circle of Shannon's tongue and hell no, Tim has no idea why they've never done this before. His hips flex up, bowing his back almost painfully as he tries to get closer, get more because he knows Shannon's teasing, keeping him teetering on the brink between wanting and getting. Just enough to think he's going to and then pulling back only to do it again.

Then Shannon presses his tongue inside of him and any kind of logical though grinds to a jarring halt. Tim’s mouth falls open in an O of surprised pleasure as he works his tongue in his ass, twisting it and flexing it. With a whining cry of pleasure, Tim fists his hands in the sheets and mindlessly presses his ass back against Shannon’s face. He feels Shannon’s calloused fingers biting into his hips, digging against the curving bone hard enough to bruise as he holds him steady. Dimly Tim is aware of a slurping sound, but gives it no thought because just then Shannon lets go of one of his hips to press his thumb inside of Tim alongside his tongue.

Tim moans and shudders, hips rocking gently even as he feels the ice cream sliding like sugary come down the backs of his thighs. It tickles as it drips lower but the annoyance is offset by Shannon's tongue sliding right along beside his thumb. He drops his head onto the cover, staring down the length of his own body and watches the straining muscles in Shannon's chest, what he can see of it from between his spread legs anyway. Shannon's pressing close, stubble scratching Tim's skin and it's messy as hell, but not because of the ice cream. Shannon’s lips are covering his hole, licking and sucking; eating him out so thoroughly that Tim's sure there can't be any ice cream left.

Tim has to close his eyes when he feels Shannon swallow. Fuck, it's dirty enough just feeling without needing a full visual—or aural as the case may be. He spreads his legs further and moans needily because Shannon's mouth follows the downward motion of his hips, not letting up for a second. Pressing closer it seems like, fingers and warm tongue inside him and making him whimper because he can't even suck in enough breath to moan properly. Every time he thinks he might be able to, Shannon does something that drives even the thought of fucking breathing out of his mind.

There's a sloppy wet sound as Shannon pulls back, suction lost and Tim tilts his hips, wanting more and only getting Shannon's thumb sinking a little deeper. The melted ice cream on his thighs prickles as it dries under Shannon's hot breath, sticking to his skin. It's the sort of thing he wants to wash off his skin right away, except this time he can’t, he has to stay where he is.

“Please,” Tim says and hates himself for the way his voice breaks on the word but the tension—in the room and his own body—is tangible and bordering on painful.

He's uncomfortable enough as it is without Shannon holding out on him and teasing. He doesn't have to wait long after that though, as Shannon cleans the last of the ice cream from his skin with kitten licks and long wet stripes up his thighs.

“Jerk yourself off, I wanna watch your hand on your cock,” Shannon tells him, gently grazing his teeth over the curve of Tim’s left ass cheek before nipping just hard enough to make Tim jump at the tiny jolt of pain.

Tim can't deny that voice anything, it’s husky, dripping sex and promise. Turning his face into the cover to hide the way he knows his cheeks are reddening even now, Tim wraps his fingers around his cock, knowing that Shannon's eyes are following the movement, watching precome leak between his fingers.

He's so close that his own hand feels almost as good as Shannon's would and each stroke makes him shudder on the inside where it can't be seen. Tim prefers it that way, he can feel Shannon's clammy breath on the inside of his thighs so he knows that Shannon's close enough to see every single flinch and tightening of muscle that he can't control. Then Shannon’s hand is gently pushing at his hip and it has Tim making a breathless, questioning noise. He feels wired, lit up and heavy with lust, his cock aching just shy of painfully with the want to come and he's so lost in the sensation's that he barely feels Shannon crawling over him. Or maybe he's so hyper-aware of everything that he can't even begin to process it until he's forced to.

“Turn over, I want to see your face,” Shannon whispers against the back of Tim’s ear and he flushes anew when he smells vanilla ice cream on his breath; vanilla ice cream that Shannon just ate out of his ass.

“Christ,” Tim says softly as it hits home again just how gross this really is, but the pleasure is undeniable. He doesn’t want to like all of this as much as he’s come to realize he does, but the fact remains: he’s so fucking turned on that his cock just brushing the sheets as he turns is enough to make him moan softly.

Once he’s on his back, he looks up at Shannon who’s gotten off the bed and is standing there looking down at him. His eyes gleam in the dim light, almost feral, but lacking the animal night shine to make them just that. Still, the expression on Shannon’s face brings to mind the thought of a large predator that has just run down its favorite prey. Tim half feels like it, too, nervous and jittery like he's staring up at sharp teeth from between clawed paws. They're doing this Shannon's way, always were going to and now Tim's mostly out of his mind with want and not even trying to argue.

Leaning down, Shannon breathes against Tim’s mouth, but he doesn’t kiss him. It’s like he instinctively knows that doing that right now is too soon, that the knowledge of where his tongue has been may be enough to break Tim’s resolve and have him putting a stop to the whole thing. So Tim breathes in the smell of vanilla from Shannon's mouth and bites back a whine as he waits for… he doesn't know exactly what, but definitely something.

When Shannon speaks, fingers running lightly down Tim’s sweaty ribcage, he can’t help but shiver at the cool, whispery way he says, “Spread your legs and lift them. Open yourself up for me.”

Swallowing, Tim does as he’s told, figuring it’s better to just act at this juncture instead of questioning and raising more doubts and fears. Hooking his hands behind his knees, Tim breathes shallowly in the awkward position, focusing on Shannon’s shoulders as he turns to get back on the bed. Not long after Shannon is settled, he hears the cap on the lube snap open and he knows that it’s not his cock Shannon’s slicking with it. The realization hits him like a slap in the face and suddenly he knows why Shannon was standing beside the bed and didn’t just move to the side.

“Christ,” Tim says again, more emphatically as his abdominal muscles tighten in anticipatory nervousness. He licks his lips and swallows, the sound audible in the quiet room when he realizes he’s not as put out as he would’ve been forty five minutes ago, It's not so much Christ-no as it is Christ-now. It still scares him though. He knows he wasn’t exaggerating—over endowing if you will—the fact that the cucumber is huge.

A squirt of cold lube against his ass makes Tim jerk and then moan as Shannon works it inside of his body with slow twists of three fingers. It burns to be stretched this way, this much all at once and Tim mewls when Shannon slowly spreads all three fingers inside of him. It’s pleasant in a way too, though; to be so exposed. As he blinks a drop of sweat out of his eye, it occurs to Tim that he trusts Shannon; totally and completely trusts him because never in a million years can he even think of one other person he would let do this to him. There is absolutely no one he would let bring him to humiliating—but still surprisingly wanted—pleasure with food and their tongue up his ass. Anyone else and he'd have said no first and not cared whether he was a disappointment or not. Making Shannon happy means more to him than staying inside his comfort zone.

Shannon pulling his fingers free still makes Tim tense once again because he knows what’s next. Sitting up on his knees better, Shannon licks and nips at Tim’s fingers that are digging into the insides of his knees he’s gripping them so hard. Turning his head from side to side, Shannon kisses them all in turn and starts planting small kisses wherever he can reach as he keeps his eyes trained on Tim’s face. Tim looks back up until he feels the thick, slippery, cool length of the fat cucumber being pressed inside of him and then he closes—squeezes shut—his eyes.

His breath whines out in a slightly pained gasp and Shannon shushes him gently and says, “Relax, you’re too tense. I know you can do this, though. Shh… shh… it’ll be ok.”

Tim makes a concerted effort to will his body to relax; to take it and he gasps when he feels the end of the cucumber slide inside of him. Shannon goes slow, filling him with it inch by inch. Tim’s running with sweat, panting out whimpering breaths at the alien sensation of the vegetable—fruit? not like it's fucking important right now—being inside of him. Its shape is phallic, but that’s where the similarities end, the cucumber is harder, unyielding as it slides in and he can feel the refrigerated coolness of it seeping into his hot muscles.

Shannon starts to slowly turn it as he continues to push—corkscrew now—it in. By the time he’s inserted as much of the cucumber as he’s willing to, Tim’s making soft keening sounds in the back of his throat and shaking in earnest. Every twist and slide of the thick cucumber inside of him strokes and presses his prostate. It’s too big not to and Tim feels like he’s coming apart.

He manages to crack his eyes open and Shannon is right there, looking down at him with such unabashed hunger and desire that the sight alone rips another moan from his throat. “Put your legs down now,” Shannon tells him and Tim just nods jerkily and does just that, feet not quite flat on the bed, but knees bent slightly. The shift of position makes the cucumber press even more firmly against his prostate and Tim arches his back in pleasure that is close to being agonizing as he nearly screams and the tendons in his neck bunch out while he tries to contain himself.

“I… I can’t,” he gasps, head thrashing from side to side on the pillow that is damp from his sweat. “It’s too much… Shannon, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can,” Shannon says calmly as he looks down between Tim’s spread thighs. “I know you can. You should see yourself like this, shaking and turned on so much, thick green cock in your ass…”

Shannon licks his lips and rocks his hand against the cucumber, not really thrusting with it, just sliding it in short, small strokes and Tim shudders again, arching so hard his shoulders come up off the bed.

“Oh my god,” he babbles, fingers twisting in the sheets as he desperately searches for a way to anchor himself.

There's nothing though, the pressure so high inside of him is as inflexible as the cucumber itself. There’s no getting away, no coming down or grounding himself until Shannon dictates. He could stop it. Tell Shannon no, to stop and Shannon would, too, if he thought Tim really wanted him to. There's enough painful pleasure in the sensation though to drive the words completely out of his mind and Tim's not even sure he misses them.

Shannon rocks his hand again and Tim lets out of one those screaming, raspy moans. He’s convinced in his half-mad with pleasure way that he really is going to come apart, that he’s going to shatter right here in this bed. He doesn’t give a damn, either; not about shattering like fine porcelain into a billion glittering shards, nor about the fact it’s a fucking cucumber doing this to him. Later, he will care, assuming he survives, but right now he doesn’t. Fuck no he doesn’t.

Shannon’s hot lips pressing to any exposed skin he can reach act as a counter to the coolness of the cucumber and the mix of sensations has insectile, biting, scratching needle thin waves of pleasure jumping through Tim. When Shannon starts to fuck him with it in earnest, Tim screams and his face flushes as he realizes how loud he’s being, but then even that shred of lucidity is obliterated as Shannon thrusts it back inside of him and he stops—or maybe he just can’t at the moment—thinking so fucking much.

He can hear Shannon’s breathing, deep and even, hitching every now and then. Tim can feel his intent and focus on his body like a series of slaps interspersed with soothing licks. Shannon’s eyes are on him and he’s so close he can feel his breath washing over his thighs. The awareness of Shannon’s intent gaze seems to spike his pleasure even higher, he remembers the heat in Shannon’s usually deceptively mild gaze, the expression on his face that of a hungry wolf as he’d looked upon Tim’s strung out, shaking body. Moaning in the back of his throat, Tim can’t help himself as he begins to rock back against the thrusts of the cucumber, hips jerking and bucking as he mindlessly chases the sensations all with the knowledge that Shannon’s looking at him like he’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

He shivers and cries out at the nearly overwhelming sensations that are engulfing him, sucking his lip into his mouth and biting so hard he tastes blood when Shannon says, “If we had a mirror, you could watch, too. Watch how I twist my wrist and make you shudder.” He stops talking to do just that and Tim feels his skin twitching and muscles jittering as he tilts his head back to gulp in ragged lungful after ragged lungful of air that scours his raw throat like Brillo pads. He really doesn't think he could watch this, but the idea of a mirror isn't a turn-off in general.

It's almost too intense, too big and too far inside of him. He can feel even the smallest movement and shift of it, the downward press right before Shannon pulls it nearly all the way out only to thrust forward again. Half the sounds out of his mouth are nothing but needy moans, Tim can't even form a word let alone a sentence. Not that he wants to say anything, fuck, Shannon, too big, please, too much, are the only things running through his head on repeat and beating against his skull in time with his pulse.

It's not so much the pain of it, it hardly even hurts aside from being stretched a lot wider than he’s accustomed to being, but that’s a pleasant kind of hurt to Tim. It’s just fucking big and all consuming to his senses. There's only one natural conclusion and Tim doesn't have enough of a grasp on himself to hold back, hold himself together or make this last longer. He's riding high on the pleasure Shannon's forcing through his body and it only takes one soft graze of Shannon's lips along the length of his cock for him to know there's no going back. No way to stave off the inevitable.

His jaw goes slack for half a second with surprise at the force of his orgasm slamming into him like a giant’s swatting hand and then he screams. His body tenses in waves as Shannon's hot mouth engulfs his balls with a muffled hum of contentment and Tim screams again, the sound raw and ragged at that rush of pleasure clambering over the still breaking waves of the first one. It's a new, almost odd sensation, coming with Shannon's mouth there, but he's so far past caring and it's not odd enough to stop his orgasm from tingling-shuddering-fucking consuming him from the inside out. Come splatters and drips onto his clenching stomach and Shannon twists the cucumber almost viciously, drawing out the way he's coming apart at the seams.

Tim keeps his eyes scrunched closed as he whines and shakes through the last of it, the muscles in his legs, stomach, arms—fucking everywhere—still spasming out of his control. Shannon's mouth leaves him with a feather light kiss but the cucumber takes longer. As Shannon slowly slides it out of his ass, Tim breathes heavily and fists his hands in the bed sheets, biting his lip and whimper-moaning at the feel of it as inch by inch it’s taken away. Every muscle in his body feels lax, fucked out completely and the lubricated drag of the cucumber still manages to feel good.

Shannon's pulling it out as slowly—slower maybe—as he pushed it inside the first time. Without the near blinding pleasure obliterating his senses, he feels every goddamn inch of it and it’s seemingly never ending. Tim misses the weight and pressure even though it's not gone, not completely. Mortification is setting in, Shannon is pulling a fucking cucumber out of his ass and Tim can't even begin to imagine the picture he's presenting. He doesn't want to either and he shudders when it's finally pulled free, leaving him vaguely uncomfortable with the not quite so pleasant aftereffects of how far he's been stretched.

When Shannon nips at the crease of his thigh, pressing one hand to his hip again, signaling wordlessly for Tim to turn over, all he can do is make a pitiful whining sound in the back of his throat that would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so strung out, Jell-O shaky and elastic-boned at the moment.

“I—,” can’t, Tim starts to say, but then he cracks his eyes open and sees Shannon looming over him.

“You can,” Shannon assures him with that same calm tone that doesn’t really brook much argument. “On your side.”

Tim just nods weakly and musters up the energy to roll over like Shannon told him to after he moves back, face bleeding from his vision like a lively shadow. The thought almost makes Tim laugh, but then Shannon curls against his back and he feels his hard cock against his ass. His ass that’s still sticky-slick with lube because Shannon used so much for the cucumber. He’s wet, Tim thinks suddenly, wet like a girl because of all the fucking lube.

It’s not all that sticky, it’s still slick and that’s all there is to it. He also still feels that strange, unfamiliar emptiness at not being so thoroughly filled any longer. It’s a disconcerting feeling, but he wants to have something else inside of him because he’s too… too… he really doesn’t want to think about that and damns himself six ways to Sunday when the do-not-want thought actually makes a little heat curl soft as a cat’s tongue in the pit of his belly.

Shannon’s kissing the backs of his shoulders and intermittently licking away the sweat with sounds that are almost lapping noises. Goose bumps prickle along his skin at the mix of sensations, Shannon’s smooth lips, his soft, slightly rough tongue, the promise of pain in his not so gently, but still on the other side of the line, scraping teeth. Then he gasps out a moan when Shannon bites down on the back of his neck, curls his fingers into his hip and thrusts into him with one quick movement.

“Shannon, I’m not ready… I can’t come again,” Tim says as little fireflies of pleasure flicker to life in his belly anyway and his cock makes a valiant effort at perking back up, but it remains limp.

“You can in a little bit though,” Shannon says after letting go of his neck. “We’ve got time and I’m a very patient man.”

Tim moan-whimpers at Shannon’s words and knows them to be absolutely true. Shannon has the patience of a stalking cat when it comes to getting what he wants and his stubborn tenacity only adds to it. Jared sometimes calls Shannon a plodder, but Tim’s pretty fucking sure—and always has been—that Shannon is good and goddamned aware of how to go about getting his way without the necessity of a screaming bitch fit. Tonight is actually a prime fucking example of that.

Shannon licks across the indents left by his teeth and Tim’s breath hitches because he knows there’ll be bruises—visible, right there for everyone to see bruises—tomorrow, black-red-purplish blue marking his neck like a brand. Shannon thrusts inside of him slow and deep, a steady, maddening pace that has Tim’s breath catching and more pleasure biting at him even though he’s still not hard yet, but he’s getting closer. It's right there, beneath the surface and out of his grasp at the moment, but the knowledge that Shannon really will fuck him until he gets there is tangible, it's cold hard fucking fact. Shannon can, and he will. Shannon’s pace is driving, but slow, liquid and he nips Tim’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood up beneath the surface of his skin, red and dark before running his tongue over the abused patch of flesh.

Tim jerks a little bit and whines, another of those ‘it would be embarrassing any other time’ sounds as he feel his muscles starting to retighten themselves in little almost-cramping waves. Almost cramping, but not quite. There is the absolute guarantee of pain in the sensation and Tim knows, too, if the cucumber had been a little bigger, he’d be miserable right now. Instead, this is almost pleasant, like the ache in a person’s body after a good workout, a slight pain, but also a low, muscle deep hum of pleasure as well.

Shannon gasps and chuckles low and heated against the spit wet skin of Tim’s neck. “I can feel you tightening up for me again. It’s why I wanted you on your side, did you know that? You’re so fucked out and loose right now that it’d be hard to feel anything otherwise,” he says, nuzzling the fine hairs at the back of Tim’s head. He nips Tim’s ear, tugging at his earring again and lets it go to say, “This… I love this… you wet and slippery around my cock, muscles shivering as they tighten up again, clamping down on me before letting go.”

Tim’s stomach flips at Shannon’s words, a mix of thrilled delight because he’s turned Shannon on this fucking much and there’s the sinking, shameful feeling of being no better than a used up whore. His muscles do that rolling, near-cramping thing again clenching out of his control even if he wanted to stop them and Shannon moans against the back of his neck, hips still rocking slowly, his cock barely sliding inside of him with the movements. It’s just enough for Tim to feel and let the slight sensations fan under his skin, sparking pleasure like stone to flint.

“Yeah, like that,” Shannon says when Tim’s muscles shiver once more, gripping tightly for a beat longer before relaxing again and it pulls a whimper from Tim’s throat as well. His cock is half hard now and Shannon thrusts into him twice in quick succession, making a slick, wet, sloppy sound as his cock slides in Tim’s still stretched ass. It makes him cringe even as he moans at the slamming thrusts. “Can you hear that? Hear me sliding around inside of you like that? Goddamn,” Shannon moans.

“Yes,” Tim says despite himself, his voice small and hushed.

“Good,” Shannon says, the word coming out like a low snarl and Tim can feel the pleased smile and edge of possession in his voice. “I want you to feel all of it, want you to hear my cock slipping in and out of your wet ass while I make you come.”

Tim can only swallow and close his eyes while Shannon keeps with his slow, teasing pace, pulling soft whimpers from his throat. He whispers random words like, “loose”, “wet, so fucking smooth inside you” and “mine” under his breath from time to time. There’s a part of Tim that loves hearing Shannon talk like this and it’s because he knows Shannon’s so fucking horny his brain to mouth filter is officially broken for the time being. Shannon’s dirty talking is never like something out of a porno, everything he says are his honest fucking thoughts no matter how crude or tactless and Tim likes that, loves it even. Except in some ways he doesn’t, especially not right now with Shannon still talking to him like he’s nothing more than a warm place to put it.

Shannon’s fingers are splayed out over his belly and Tim feels his fingers slip in the still wet come splattered all over it. “You’re filthy,” Shannon says and his tone of voice suggests he is anything but disgusted.

He drags his fingers through the tacky come on Tim’s belly and breathes against the sweating curve of his shoulder. When he presses his come covered fingertips to Tim’s lips, he doesn’t think about what he’s doing, he just opens his mouth and sucks Shannon’s fingers into his mouth, acquiescing to the unspoken demand without hesitation. He does it because he knows that’s what Shannon wants him to do and Tim has learned more about his eagerness; his desire to please Shannon in one night than he has in months of relatively vanilla sex.

Shannon’s movements grow even slower as he looks over Tim’s shoulder to watch him sucking his own cold come from Shannon’s fingers. “You’re gorgeous,” Shannon says, breath hitching as Tim grazes his teeth over Shannon’s calloused fingers.

Tim can only make a helpless whimpering noise, his head is all over the place in this moment. He feels so torn, absolutely ripped apart by his warring feelings distaste and the want for more, more, more of it; more of anything Shannon can throw his way. He wants Shannon to make him like things, fuck, maybe he even needs it.

“Do you like the way you taste?” Shannon asks him and Tim doesn’t have to look to know that Shannon’s eyes are pinned on his working mouth. “I like the way you taste, all salty-starchy-slightly bitter in my mouth when you come. Is that what you taste, too? Hmm? Is it?”

Shannon’s teeth sink into his arm where it meets his shoulder after he says the last, biting down in a way that is almost like punctuating the interrogative. Tim knows the questions aren’t rhetorical; Shannon wants him to answer them, maybe he even needs to know that Tim's getting off on this just as much as he is, so Tim tries, but the only sounds he can make are crying moans. He manages to nod though, a quick jerk of his head in response to the questions as Shannon moans softly around the flesh in his mouth.

He tries to nod again as he’s running his tongue between Shannon’s fingers, but moans around them loudly instead when his body tightens up again, clenching hard and holding for a long drawn out moment. Shannon gasps and fucks into the tight grip on his cock, pulling a high, whining sound of pleasure from Tim that comes out through his nose more than his mouth because it’s stuffed full of Shannon’s fingers.

When the spasm-cramp releases again, Tim feels pleasure and heat fluttering like mad butterflies under his skin and has to let go of Shannon’s fingers to loose a soft cry. He’s trembling again, exhaustion, the background noise of, “Oh fuck, what am I doing?!” and the pleasure, the slow massaging fingers of pleasure stroking up and down his spine, petting all of his quivering muscles, combine in a way that he’s actually surpassed shivering. He’s fucking shake-trembling now and panting for breath even though the pace itself isn’t strenuous.

He clenches intentionally the next time just to feel that crazed swarm of opium butterflies flying through him with slow, lazy strokes of their wings. When he relaxes, they flood through him again and Shannon bites the side of his neck hard enough to hurt if Tim wasn’t wrapped up in this almost feverish haze of drawn out desire.

After letting go of Tim’s neck with an audible click of his teeth Shannon licks over the spot and Tim thinks distantly that Shannon may’ve actually broken the skin this time. “I fucking love you like this. I love to watch you come apart,” Shannon says against Tim’s sweaty, spitty, sticky skin as he tightens his arm around his waist to jerk him closer. He grinds against Tim’s ass, cock buried deep inside of him and hisses out, “Just for me.”

His breath rasps warm over the side of Tim’s face and he can’t help but gasp at how fiercely possessive Shannon sounds. It's not just the words, it's the inflection of them and the tone of Shannon’s voice that finally makes the self doubting chains fall away and Tim stops his confused, ashamed wondering about why Shannon’s saying some of the things he is.

He's saying them not to make Tim feel bad or because his nearly unconscious ramblings of filthy words imply he thinks Tim's not much better than a two dollar hooker. No, it's because Shannon wants this, Tim writhing with dirty-hot pleasure, near enough to losing his mind in the sensation and intensity of it. Shannon's pushing him further than he ever has before and enjoying every second of Tim's reaction.That’s why he’s saying the things he is and it makes Tim feel so much better, it makes him relax even more and finally give himself over to his feelings of lust and more importantly, he gives himself over to Shannon entirely. He’s shocked at how that little bit of understanding and willingness to simply let go seems to intensify the sensations running through him.

Shannon’s movements are pressing against his prostate in a way that has Tim making more of those keening sounds. His body is tired, but it still wants and the need to come is like a fiery ache in him, but he’s not ready. His exhausted body can’t muster it just yet, but he wants to so fucking bad and he knows with absolute confidence that Shannon will keep his word.

Tim reaches down and takes his cock in his hand, feeling its weight and heat against his palm. One stroke up his shaft has him clenching his teeth and moaning low in his throat and as he makes to stroke again, Shannon’s hand covers his just as he bites his shoulder again. Tim stiffens and cries out at the feel of Shannon squeezing his hand just shy of being too hard. With a truly pathetic sound, he lets Shannon take his hand away as he clamps his teeth down even harder on his shoulder for just a second before releasing him completely.

“Don’t do that,” Shannon murmurs, voice low and surprisingly steady even if it is a little strained with pleasure. “Don’t you dare cheat and help yourself along.”

“What?” Tim asks, confusion tying itself up to the lick of pleasure stroking through him as Shannon fucks him hard and fast for a few strokes. Throwing his head back, Tim twines his fingers around Shannon’s and cries out, breathy, deep cries of pleasure as he slides inside of him almost viciously, making Tim’s muscles quiver and release over and over.

When he slows back down, Tim whines his frustration and pants, trying to catch his breath. “No more of that, understand?” Shannon asks him, voice close to his ear and his breath tickling the fine hairs there.

“Yes,” Tim rasps out, unable—unwilling—to even try and deny that tone of voice. He just rolls his head back into the crook of Shannon’s shoulder and pants as he blinks up at Shannon’s profile just so he can see him for a moment before dropping his head back to the pillow.

“Good,” Shannon whisper-rasps in his ear before moving to lick the streaming sweat from the side of Tim’s neck. “Good,” he repeats between nipping licks. “You’re doing so good.”

Tim sighs at the words of praise, feeling something like accomplished at Shannon’s words. He wonders at that, too, but he can’t hold onto anything resembling linear thought with Shannon fucking him so slow, deep and hard. He can only gasp as Shannon slowly grinds against his ass again, cock pressing right there and making Tim’s cock twitch-throb in time to the feeling. Tim’s body clenching down tight makes Shannon moan low against his shoulder and jerk his hips in quick, short thrusts which finally tip the scale and makes Tim almost scream again. This back and forth—slow, long strokes mixed with fast, hard, shorter strokes—has his eyes closing tightly at the feelings that are like slow strokes of flaming paint brushes one moment and the next they’re the pounding strikes of a hammer in his body.

Shannon slowing his thrusts back down makes Tim cry out his discomfiture, but the sound becomes a low moan as heat prickles under his skin, flaring through him on the wings of those butterflies in his muscles. “Fuck,” he gasps out and he arches when Shannon’s hand wraps around his cock to squeeze lightly in time to his thrusts.

Tim reaches down instinctively to help out and to urge Shannon to not just squeeze gently on the head, but to stroke his whole shaft. When Shannon stops doing even that long enough to bat his hand away with a growled, “No. What did I tell you?” Tim clenches his fingers in the bed sheets and whimpers, remembering what Shannon said and he feels like he’s misbehaved somehow.

“That’s better,” Shannon tells him and circles his fingers around the head of Tim’s cock and resumes his light, rhythmic squeezing again. The sensation makes Tim gasp and his fingers itch to touch, but he knows better now so he lets Shannon do it.

It doesn’t take long before Tim is gasping and rolling his head back against Shannon’s sweaty shoulder. The slow way he’s fucking him, his fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, all of it rolls up together and becomes a maddening sensation. Tim feels like he’s been balancing on the precipice of orgasm forever and there’s just not enough of anything to push his wrung out body over the edge. He needs more sensation, needs to be fucked harder; he needs Shannon to pound into him until all he can feel, taste, smell, see and hear is Shannon.

“Please,” Tim finally gasps out, the word a pleading, pleasure choked whisper. “Please, Shannon.”

“Please what?” Shannon asks and slows down to the point he’s barely moving and it’s enough to make Tim want to fucking cry from the want of more, not less.

“Fuck me,” he gets out, voice desperate and cracking around the words. “Please fuck me, let me come, god please.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Shannon whispers in his ear and Tim shivers at the sound of his voice like that, husky and amused, commanding and still caring. “All you had to do,” Shannon repeats and lets go of Tim’s cock to hold his hip and runs his other arm beneath Tim’s side to hold his waist and draw him close.

“Oh… oh fuck… yes,” Tim manages to get out when Shannon slams his cock into him hard the first time.

The position and closeness of their bodies doesn’t allow much room for long thrusts, Shannon’s practically got him pinned to his body, but there’s enough room for hard thrusts. Shannon’s barely pulling back before he’s slamming his cock back inside of Tim, the movements jarring up his spine and making him scream in earnest. It’s like his pleasure has been dozing up until now and it’s finally awake, roaring through him like the butterflies have become fucking dragons.

Shannon’s fucked him slowly for so long with not much else other than the intermittent rapid thrusts inside of him that Tim’s skin feels like it’s on fire; it’s almost over sensitized and every single bone jarring thrust inside of him reminds Tim of how strong Shannon really is. The pace he’s setting now is almost brutal and Tim can hardly catch his fucking breath because of it. It hitches in his throat when he inhales and his exhalations are raw, pleading screams for harder, faster, now.

Tim’s eyes fly wide open and unseeing when Shannon leans back just a little and slams into him so hard the headboard hits the wall. It’s just then that his muscles do that almost-cramping thing again as well, clamping down hard and long as his body still works to retighten itself, the feeling spreading through him like hot steel wires of pleasure and Tim screams at the suddenness of it. He jerks, unable to help himself and flips his upper half almost completely over as he draws into himself, trying to curl up around the aching knot of ecstasy in his belly. It’s almost as though his body is trying to recoil from the sudden onslaught of pleasure like this even as he presses his hips back against Shannon. Pleasure like this is almost blinding and it effectively wipes every single thought from Tim’s head as he quakes with the slamming thrusts. Clawing at the sheets with his sweaty fingers, Tim makes gasping, moaning sounds mixed with sharp cries as the cramp-spasm holds and rocks wave after wave of pleasure through him.

Behind him, Shannon moans and curves around Tim’s bowed back, kissing his neck and shoulders as he fucks into the slippery, tight heat gripping his cock. It would be easier to move if he leaned away, but this isn’t about easy, this is about making Tim fly apart at the seams.

Tim is quivering and practically sobbing, cries ripping hoarse and raw from his throat with the sensations pummeling him down into dust and his cock hurts it’s so hard. He tries to talk, wants to tell Shannon he’s so fucking close, but all that comes out is, “Please, oh… oh… oh… Shannon… I want… I think I’m gonna…”

“Shh,” Shannon whispers to Tim hearing the desperation in his voice, the almost fear at being overwhelmed by such intense feelings. “You’re ok, you’re ok, I promise.”

Tim makes some muffled, moaning sound and gasps as tremors run through his body, huge muscle shaking tremors as his orgasm builds like a hurricane inside of him. “I…,” feel like I’m going to die he starts to say and then Shannon’s arms are around him, holding him close as his hips snap with his vicious, rough thrusts and the cramp still holds.

“You’re gonna come for me,” Shannon whispers into Tim’s ear, nuzzling his temple. “That’s what you’re going to do, right? Yes, it is right, I know it. Come on, Tim, come for me.”

Tim opens his mouth to tell Shannon that he will and then the cramp releases in slow bands of decreasing pressure and every relaxing band sends a swarm of dragon butterflies through him, flapping their stained glass velvet wings and breathing fire. All Tim can do then is stiffen and throw his head back and scream when his orgasm bleeds through him on a slow river that becomes a tidal rush. It rips through him like a scythe, violent and crushing him with the pleasure raking through his body from the top of his head all the way to his feet. He’s never experienced anything like it, but he’s living it right now and he can do nothing more than scream and wrap his fingers around Shannon’s in a bone-grinding grip when he takes his hand.

“Fuck!” Shannon snarls then moans and snaps his hips a couple more times, eyes tracing over every tautly drawn line of Tim’s orgasming body.

His own orgasm hits him like a fist and he’s coming not long after Tim, all of his pent up desire from the entire session flooding him. He holds Tim close, listening to his screams tapering off into shocked, pleasured cries and moans as Shannon’s come splashes inside of him, burning him up from the inside and setting off another chain reaction of lightning crashing pleasure.

After he comes, Tim can only lay there and listen to his heart pounding in his ears, blood rushing through his head like the roar of ocean surf breaking on a beach. His eyes are open, but he’s not really seeing anything aside from the images in his mind. His imagination is showing him what he must’ve looked like with Shannon fucking him with the cucumber and how he must look right now, still hunched over with Shannon’s warm come and softening cock still in his lube-slippery ass.

The come starts to slowly trickle out of him and Tim is dimly aware of whimpering softly when Shannon pulls out of him. He can feel everything, almost as though the slightest touch becomes a wallop and the come oozing out of him now is more like a river flowing and leaving him empty. He feels everything, but he’s not aware of anything, not really because it’s all too much and his head feels like it’s wrapped in a thick, cottony blanket as he tries to make sense of the whole night.

Part Two

Fic: Five Times Meme: Food Smut 2/3

2009-08-23T05:45:00Z

Tim has never felt as raw, split open wide and left on display as he does right now. Shannon’s warmth moving from his back is a far away sensation and the loss makes Tim feel bereft, he wants it back, he thinks, “Come back, hold me”. He feels like a total dipshit for even thinking something like that and actually saying it’s not even an option. Shit, he doesn’t really even remember if he can talk anyway, but he knows his voice will be nothing but a whispery rasp should the ability ever return to him. There’s noise in the room, Shannon’s talking to him, but he sounds far away and Tim can’t make out the words, just the comforting rumble of Shannon’s soft voice that always makes him sound like he’s got a secret he isn’t going to tell.

Confusion is a living beast in Tim’s mind, the way he liked everything Shannon did, the way he submitted to him without a second thought and how it all felt right doing so. He doesn’t even feel like himself, he feels like an observer in his own lax, come covered body. Tim doesn’t do this shit… except he just did and he slid into the role as easily as he would his favorite blue jeans. He rolls over onto his back and it feels like he’s floating in a dream as he stares blindly up at the ceiling and tries to get lost inside of himself because this is too overwhelming for him to deal with right now.

The enormity of it is crushing him and Tim just wants to hide for a little while to lick his wounds and let them heal. He wants to maybe crawl inside a cave and secret himself away from Shannon’s whiskey eyes that he thinks are staring down at him worriedly, but maybe he’s seeing things. After tonight, it’s a total possibility and Tim reckons there are far worse things and people to hallucinate than Shannon. He wants to touch Shannon’s face, let his fingertips rasp over the stubble on his jaw, but his arm feels too heavy and besides, like he thought, Shannon may not really be there anyway.

Maybe real-maybe not Shannon blinks and his mouth is moving which Tim recognizes as talking and he can hear the words falling out of his mouth, soft and fuzzy, pattering around him like silk-wrapped cinder blocks. He tries to focus, he really does, but all he can manage to catch is his name, just, “Tim… Tim…” and nothing more. At least he still knows his name and he reasons that’s good at least then he swears he feels cold ice cream deep inside of him and shivers. It’s then that he realizes in his own vague way that he’s still shaking, he hasn’t stopped shaking for what feels like hours and now he’s wracked with tremors, like every muscle in his body is having its own petit mal seizure.

“Tim! Fuck… did you have a stroke?” Shannon’s voice booms in Tim’s head loud enough to make him blink. He can hear him now and that’s good he supposes… good in a bad way because if he can hear Shannon then that means he’ll be able to hear his own thoughts again, too.

Shannon rakes his fingers through his hair and then gently shakes Tim’s shoulder. Tim’s head lolls like a rag doll’s and he can hear Shannon, make out what he’s saying now, but actual speech is still eluding him. There’s even a part of him that doesn’t want to answer, he’s afraid of how he’ll sound, fucking terrified that Shannon will be able to hear how broken he is right now.

“Fuck,” Shannon mutters and looks at Tim with eyes made bright with worry that’s becoming fear. “Look… um… I’m gonna go get Jared because I don’t know what to do.”

That clicks and Tim jumps with the sudden rush of panic at Jared coming in there. “Oh hell no you are not!” Tim says, snapping it out like a startled bark from a sleeping dog. The sound of Jared’s name and the idea of someone other than he and Shannon being here at this moment was apparently the magic combination needed to bring Tim back from wherever his mind had pulled him to for safety.

He drops his head back on the pillow like it’s too heavy for him to hold up—and actually right now it kind of is—and tries to pull all of his panicky oh fuck, Jared’s going to see me like this bits back together. “Please don’t, Shannon,” Tim gets out and his voice is just as he thought it would be, whittled down and sandpapered to near nonexistence.

“There you are,” Shannon says, smiling wide and blindingly bright, relief washing over his face. “I was starting to think you’d vacated on me.”

“I kinda did,” Tim says back. “My head just went… poof.” Yeah, ‘poof’ covered it, fritzed out of existence and sent him to another place where he could see but wasn't really a part of.

“You’re here now though, so welcome back,” Shannon says and leans down to press a kiss to Tim’s forehead. “You scared me there for a minute.”

“Sorry,” Tim says, still feeling the ghosted imprint of Shannon’s lips on his sticky skin and the warm, soft feeling that simple gesture has left behind.

He’s never felt like this before, this fucking vulnerable and needy, yes needy. Tim wants to be comforted, just wrapped up, told pretty words of comfort and held tight and it’s an alien feeling, just like so many other things. Sure, he likes to snuggle with Shannon, be held by Shannon, but until now he’s never felt so much like he has to have it and if he doesn’t then he’s going to fracture into splinters of himself. He needs Shannon to anchor him back to reality and he’s damn near in a panic over the thought of Shannon leaving his sight right now. Tim thinks this may very well be the true definition of ‘blow your mind’ because he certainly feels like his has been blown away.

Shannon rolls over and starts rooting around on the floor by his side of the bed and Tim drifts off in his head again while he does. Without Shannon there, Tim finds it really fucking hard to just stay put in his own mind. He jumps a little when Shannon bumps his arm with something cold and smooth and for a moment, Tim wonders if Shannon’s picked the cucumber back up again. Then he hears, “Drink some of this, it’ll help you relax.”

Focusing, Tim turns his head and sees that Shannon’s produced a bottle from some-fucking-where. Smiling a little he says, “Some of Dr. Leto's Cure All for Everything? Shannon grins and nods, shaking the bottle at Tim, trying to prompt him to take it, but he really doesn’t think he’s steady enough to hold onto it, much less drink from it. “Where…” Tim has to stop and lick his lips. “Where did you get that?”

“Was under the bed on my side,” Shannon says and unscrews the cap to take his own swallow.

Tim likes that—my side—because technically both sides of the bed are Shannon's. The whole thing is, but Shannon's carved it up in his head so that there’s his side and Tim's side. It's not a new thing but it's only suddenly become significant and it helps rebuild some of Tim's shattered confidence in them.

Tim vaguely remembers Shannon digging around over there before he spaced out and laughs, the sound a dry, dusty wisp of his usual laugh. “Figures you’d have the shit stashed somewhere in here. You’re such a fucking lush,” he says without heat or accusation.

He doesn’t care if Shannon drinks himself into a stupor everyday, which he doesn’t, but he does drink a lot by socially acceptable standards. Tim has had the unfortunate experience of hearing him and Jared going at it when Shannon comes home at four in the morning, piss drunk and barely able to stand up. He’s just waiting for the day Jared decides to go all out and light into him, too, since he’s usually the one holding Shannon up.

“I know, this is not news,” Shannon says simply and takes another sip. “Besides, alcoholism looks sexy on me.”

Tim can’t really argue with that and laughs a little more as he lets his eyes fall closed. “No, it's not news, but sometimes it needs to be stated out loud for posterity.”

Shannon snickers and gives up on Tim taking the bottle and takes it back for another swallow of his own. “I knew getting you that word a day calendar was a good idea.”

Tim snorts and says, “Fuck you. Anyway, it wasn’t the word a day calendar it was the crossword toilet paper I got that one from.”

Shannon just snickers some more and scoots closer to Tim. Cupping a hand under the back of his neck, stroking over the tendon there that flexes every time he swallows, Shannon watches Tim shaking and trying to keep his voice steady, trying to pretend that he’s not still reeling from the backlash and half in shock. He meets Shannon’s gaze and his eyes still look glazed over, pupils still blown wide and swallowing up the blue-grey of his irises.

“What?” Tim asks, eyes sliding off Shannon’s face as quickly as they landed there. It’s like he thinks if he looks directly at Shannon, he’s going to laugh at him or something and he wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Aside from the fact he would and something like that right about now would fucking destroy something inside of Tim that would be irreparable.

Shannon nuzzling the sweaty hair at his temple as he cups the side of Tim’s face, turning him back to look at him actually makes Tim relax a little. “Can you sit up?” Shannon asks, voice soft with concern as he runs the ball of his thumb over Tim’s cheek bone.

“I doubt it,” Tim answers honestly. Shannon just nods and fidgets around for a better angle to help him lift his head so he can take a swallow of the vodka. His hands shake so badly the vodka sloshes around, threatening to douse him and he’s silently grateful when Shannon reaches out to help him steady the bottle and hold it so Tim can still drink after his fingers slip away because of how badly they’re trembling.

When he’s done, he slumps back onto his pillow with a sigh as the Smirnoff sinks warmly into his bloodstream, leaving him slightly drowsy. He is feeling bit better, just like Shannon had said he would as the alcohol starts to still the worst of the shakes. Shannon settles back down beside him, fingers lightly stroke-caressing the skin on his arm and the side of his neck. Shannon’s close enough to touch if he wants to and he does want to, he wants to roll over and burrow up against Shannon and let him rock him to sleep right now. It’s just that he’s still too boneless to even contemplate moving on his own, let alone actually doing it. Every part of his body aches, muscle deep and almost pleasant. He doesn't think he's ever felt this thoroughly fucked and knows the feeling will probably last for days, too.

The shock of what they did, what he let Shannon do to him is starting to creep in and he can't hold back both that and the nervous paranoia now that Shannon’s dragged him out of his happy place of ‘la-la-la, this didn’t really happen’. He's slowly starting to piece himself back together and that's just as much a part of him as everything else it seems. There are too many thoughts and feelings; emotions jostling for attention, but he can no more pick one to focus on than he can turn back time.

Does he even want that? Tim's not sure anymore. He enjoyed it, got off on the filthiness of it. Came harder than he has in ages, twice even, but doing it again? No, he's very much not sure about that. His gut reaction to the idea of it is the same as ever, no way and no how. Just plain fucking no.

However, there’s another part of him, a new part he realizes with a slight frown of dismay at himself, that isn’t so sure never again is the proper stance to take. It’s a small part of himself, but with every bordering on ashamed flashback he has about the cucumber spreading him wide open enough that he felt empty with its removal or the ice cream cold and sticky melting inside of him… that little piece grows and that scares Tim, it truly does because he wonders how big it’ll become and he’s also pretty sure that it’ll never outgrow his knee jerk reactions of embarrassment and shame at behaving like that; for wanting to be fucked wide open and left spread and slick for Shannon to see.

Tim twitches slightly, resisting the urge to shake his head to try and rid himself of the images his imagination is supplying him with and reaches across to the small table by the bed for his cigarettes needing something to steady his nerves before he can process everything. His hand shakes as he flips open the packet, taps out a smoke and grips a filter between his lips because moving enough to use his other hand is nigh on to impossible. He drops the packet onto the floor gauging where he tosses it to make sure it’s still within easy reach and goes for his lighter.

Shannon's fingertips skitter down the underside of his arm, tickling without meaning to. “At least open the window.”

“You do it, I just had a fucking cucumber in my ass,” he shoots back, voice as sluggish as he feels.

He sparks the lighter and wills his hand to steady as he brings the flame closer. Shannon chuckles, then grunts as he rolls over, sweat-slick body half over Tim's own and presses a kiss to Tim's shoulder. Shannon grumbles as he rolls off the bed presumably to open the window, but Tim really doesn't care about the particulars right now. Shannon's still nearby and that's about as far as he can think on it.

The first gust of clean air smells like summer and freshly cut grass. It offsets the musky scent of sex, sweat and now nicotine in the room. Tim musters the energy to turn over just enough so he can pick up an empty glass from the table and then pushes himself onto his back again, balancing the glass on his chest to use as an ashtray. He closes his eyes and blows out smoke through his nose, ignoring the sting and the way his ass and thighs stick uncomfortably to the bed sheet, reminding him of his earlier aversion to helping with the laundry.

The sounds of Shannon pottering about are almost soothing, they don't so much break his quiet contemplation as they offer background noise for it. He enjoyed it and he can't even lie to himself about that and he thinks he can probably come to terms with that given some time. It's not that that's bothering him so much as what’s next?

“You didn't get all that shit out of the book did you?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows they're the truth. He's looked through the damn thing enough himself to know that much. He certainly didn't notice anything about goddamned cucumbers or eating ice cream like that.

Shannon stops moving around and Tim can feel the weight of his gaze as he says, "Nah. It only mentioned the squirty cream, but it..." There's a pause and Tim cracks open an eyelid long enough to see the wicked grin on Shannon's face as he finishes with, “It inspired me.”

Tim snorts, blowing smoke out of his nose again. Fucking figures. “That's some really fucked up, twisted inspiredness. Book says squirty cream and you get eating ice cream out of my ass and mutant sized cucumbers. That’s real fucking special.”

“Inspiredness isn't a word and thank you, I kinda thought so, too.”

“I know and it wasn't a compliment, asshole.” It comes out more like an endearment than an insult which makes Tim think his mouth is still functioning slightly without the control of his brain. He's not sure what it was, other than twisted and fucked up anyway. That and he really did think ‘inspiredness’ was a word, but he’s definitely not going to tell Shannon that.

Whatever. His words obviously strike a chord and startle a laugh out of Shannon. “Shut up. You liked it.”

Yeah, he did. He can't deny it and he doesn't have a comeback for that, witty or otherwise. As fucking awesome-dirty-hot as it was, he still has no real inclination for anything other than the games they usually play. Just how far Shannon would be willing to take things, how far out his line is compared to Tim's own has been proven to him completely and Tim's even surer now that Shannon will get bored with him eventually. Or if he doesn't, he'll be settling and compromising what he wants because Tim can't give it to him.

He said yes once and he's got no illusions that this will be the last of Shannon's ideas. This hasn't fixed the fractures and cracks in their relationship, hasn't abated his paranoia or neurosis. Tim feels twice as bad even, wondering if Shannon will expect this to be a regular thing or if Tim's inadvertently opened a door that he'd much rather be kept closed and if they're ever gonna have 'normal' sex again. Except maybe he doesn’t mind the scenery on the other side of that door near as much as he’s been telling himself he would. That unwanted thought throws another wrench in the cogs of his attempt at rationalizing. He's spinning too fast and too wide to try and sift through any of what just happened. His own feelings about it more than the fact that he did it have blindsided him completely.

“Fuck,” Tim bites out under his breath and tries to push the thought away. It won’t go though; it’s stuck right in the middle of his head and blinking like a fucking neon sign.

The shower in the en suite starts and Tim’s mind switches track enough—slightly diverts, really, because all of the other shit is still right there as well—for him to think how a shower would be a fucking awesome idea right now if he could trust his legs to get him there. If he can manage to get himself unstuck from the bed anyway. Tim opens his eyes just in time to see Shannon kneel on the end of the bed, crawling closer before lying back down at his side, lips pressed against the bite mark on the curve of his arm.

“Shower? I'll change the sheets then I’ll join you and wash your back,” Shannon says, dark eyes cut up to his face, watching—studying—Tim. The reaction is almost unconscious when he raises a hand to lightly stroke Shannon’s hair, taking comfort in the feel of the soft hair running through his trembling fingers.

Shannon’s words are a suggestion and a promise, Tim can hear it in his voice and he wonders briefly if his ass will feel better or worse for having Shannon fuck him slowly in the shower, but it passes just as quickly because he's actually got to get there before he can even think like that.

“You might need to carry me in there,” Tim says, meaning it to come out stubborn and maybe a little snide, but his voice is soft when he says it. The tone is almost reluctant and when he really thinks about it, he’s half asking if Shannon will should it prove to be necessary.

Tim frowns at the realization and not for the first time that night he wonders just what the fuck is going on in his head because even he doesn’t know. It’s his head and he can’t work a goddamned thing out to where it makes any sense to him. He's not even sure what his mouth is gonna do when he opens it, how the words are gonna come out and he's a constant surprise to himself right now. Shannon doesn't seem surprised though, just amused—bastard—like he was expecting it.

“I can do that, too,” Shannon says, a pleased grin tugging at his lips, half hidden against Tim's arm as he looks up at him. He can see the wary concern in Shannon’s eyes, guarded almost like he's scared to let it out too far out and when he sees that Tim's not even sure why he's sulking so hard, or trying to anyway.

Being carried into the shower certainly isn't the most humiliating experience after everything else. It might have been at one time, but not right now. So when Shannon crawls back to stand at the end of the bed and holds out his hand Tim drops his smoke into the glass, puts it back onto the table and lets Shannon drag-pull him up. He stumbles as his center of balance tilts—Shannon pulling harder and faster than his body was ready to move—but Shannon catches him, arm tightening around his waist.

“You okay?” The concern in Shannon's eyes is released full force and the way Shannon looks at him… fuck. Caring and lust shining just beneath a satisfied gleam and his heart actually skips a beat or maybe it just stops for a few seconds because he's never known that depth of feeling from a just look before.

“Yeah, I'm good. Little shaky is all,” Tim says reassuring Shannon even as he leans heavily on him for extra support. It'd kill him to make Shannon feel guilty and he knows he probably could quite easily.

Physically he really is fine aside from being wrung out, fucked out and damn near in shock from the intensity of the experience; the sensations, the emotions, all of it. Mentally though is something else, his snapping piranhas of self doubt, his uncertainty of where this one time will take them farther down the road and most of all his growing awareness that maybe he’s not as un-okay with that idea as he keeps—stubbornly, maybe even stupidly— trying to tell himself he is.

Shannon just nods, holds him tighter and nips gently at his neck. Tim stretches to let him, tipping his head down and to the side a little to make it easier for Shannon to reach and tries not to think too hard because he's close to giving himself a headache. He gets a little steadier on his feet as they start walking again, but Shannon's hands are on him anyway, just in case.

Tim has to double take at the lighting in the bathroom. He throws Shannon an incredulous glance and wonders if he's seeing things, but no... no this is real. Shannon shrugs and says, “Bulb went out.” He doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest.

Shannon's bathroom is one of his pride and joys, right up there with his kit and his bike. The tub is so big it could probably fit all four of them in it and if that ever becomes a kink he's really gonna start worrying. The idea of Tomo naked is certainly not one he wants to entertain and he thinks Jared would be the bitchiest bottom on the planet, so he’s pretty sure he’s good in regards to it even becoming possible never mind a full blown kink. The tub really is awesome though, it even has a bubble making switch that Tim can never remember the correct name for and the faucets are shiny, shiny chrome and carry a reflection as clearly as the wall length mirror.

One side of the room is washed in the warm glow of a blue Care Bear candle balanced on the edge of the sink. Tim's ashamed all over again that he knows it's Grumpy, but he's sure as shit not telling Shannon that either. A lava lamp with silver glitter and dark purple suspension liquid sits on the floor in the opposite corner and it covers the walls in lazily moving-spinning stars which is... appropriate Tim thinks, though he doubts it was intentional, Shannon's just random as fuck.

The candlelight swallows the stars but they spin out on the other side and the yellow glow hitting the silver-purple glow of the glitter lamp makes Tim think of day and night colliding. It looks like the bright light of day is trying to tear loose from its partition and go free-falling into endless stars and space. As metaphors go he thinks it's pretty damn appropriate but he's sure he couldn't actually use it out loud to describe his feelings, at least not without being accused of being insane or drunk or both.

Shannon shoves Tim gently in the right direction, effectively breaking him out of his daydreaming. He stumbles a little bit and Shannon’s hands are on him again in a flash, gently guiding him across the big room to the running shower. Tim leans on the wall, using it and Shannon’s careful hands as a brace as he steps over the lip of the bathtub. The stars make shadows on his arm and it catches his attention long enough to try and count them before Shannon's voice reminds him where he is.

“Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back.” Shannon strokes and then pats the curve of Tim's ass before he walks backwards out the room.

Part Three

Fic: Five Times Meme: Food Smut 3/3

2009-08-23T05:03:06Z

Part Two

Tim watches him go and wants to tell him to stay, to forget the damn sheets because they don't need him as much as Tim does and to please not leave him alone feeling like this, but he doesn't. That'd be begging and after what he's just let Shannon do to him begging isn't a path he wants to walk, not right now. He still has some hang ups and one of them is the idea that begging Shannon could be something he’d enjoy and is something that's not so hard to envision himself doing. Begging to be fucked, begging Shannon to let him come, Shannon making him do all of that. He feels ashamed and humiliated at just the thought, but with it is something like knowledge at how freeing and exhilarating it would be and safe as well with Shannon there to put him back together. Tim shakes his head and steps all the way into the shower, trying to quell the roaring storm inside of him because he just can't sort this shit out it doesn't seem like.

His whole body is just so goddamn tired. The water's hot, but not hot enough to burn, the heat just soothes away the worst of the ache in his muscles and he sits down because he’s half afraid he’s going to fall down with the way he’s sway-trembling. Hugging his knees to his chest, Tim rests his chin on top of them and thinks once more about how he could've told Shannon to stop, but he didn't.

He thinks maybe he made Shannon love him a little more by letting it happen and just opening himself wide and reacting without any fucking clue what he was supposed to be doing. That's how he feels, like he was ripped bare and left without a guide, stripped of all knowledge, nothing except Shannon's body and Shannon's voice, no expectations of his own to live up to or even consider.

He liked it; loved the way Shannon made him feel and his stomach twists in want—even though he's sure there's nothing left to give—with the memory of Shannon's voice. He tries to believe Shannon didn't give him a choice but it only lasts a second, he chose to let Shannon do what he wanted and that's the truth of it.

He gave himself over to Shannon's control totally and uncompromisingly. In a way, Shannon gave Tim something by taking it all away and out of his hands, but Tim wonders what he gave Shannon. He knows he gave him more than his body and his submission, he feels like he gave Shannon a part of himself. Like he let Shannon look inside of him and see his innermost secrets that even Tim didn't realize he'd been keeping. He wonders if Shannon already knew those secrets and if he did how long has he known for? It floors him to realize that Shannon quite possibly knows him better than he knows himself and it's scary, wonderful thought.

If he thinks back, it's really always Shannon who makes the choices and Tim's usually happy with that, too. Shannon knows his likes and dislikes inside out and can pick a movie or a restaurant that they'll both enjoy. Tim doesn't have a problem with that at all, he knows Shannon's does it for them and he asks himself if this is really so different. If he admits to himself that Shannon cares enough, knows enough to give him the freedom that he's obviously subconsciously craving, what then? Shannon holds the means to set him free and keep him safe doing it, all he has to do is accept it if he can.

All of those doors he’s been thinking about being open now is a scary thought, but a fear he thinks he may want to conquer and not just for the sake of their relationship. Tonight Tim’s learned in a roundabout way through physical sensation almost entirely that one of those doors he’s been thinking about is a door inside himself. At first he was thinking about them in regards only to Shannon and his apparently never ending vault of kinks and he thinks maybe in a way it was intentional, subconsciously so at least. Now he knows for sure that it’s not just Shannon. In fact he thinks that Shannon’s door—doors, actually, Tim mentally corrects—was maybe always open, it was just that he kept shutting it whenever a thread of light peeked around its edges.

He feels kind of lost sitting alone in the enormous bathtub with only Shannon's rubber ducky for company and he really should tease Shannon for the bath toys and the fucking choice of lighting. It's a prime example though of that exact part of Shannon—the utter randomness that should be childish but just isn't—that's one of the things Tim loves most about him. He should possibly, definitely tell Shannon that sometime.

Tim doesn't hear Shannon return over the noise of the water and his racing-swirling thoughts. He just feels Shannon's fingers dig into his shoulder blades and start working on his muscles. He moans without thinking because he didn't realize how wound tight he still is and the unexpected massage feels fucking amazing, Shannon's hands soothing away the tension he built up, forcing Tim to let it go.

"C'mon, up you come now." Shannon's arms slide under Tim's armpits and he half drags Tim to his feet.

Tim tries to turn to face Shannon, but he stumbles instead, knees buckling and nearly taking him to the floor of the tub. There's not even a hint of soap to slip on it’s just that he's still a fucking mess, wiped out and drained and it has his legs folding under him like a newborn foal.

Shannon catches him and holds him tight. “Easy, you're still shaking,” he murmurs it against Tim's neck, licks his flushed skin and follows the line of his jaw, kissing him gently as he carefully eases him all the way to his feet so that he’s leaning with his back against Shannon’s chest.

Still shaking, yeah he definitely is, Tim realizes with another touch of embarrassment and he’s so sick of feeling ashamed of himself about everything tonight. His stomach feels like he's been doing sit-ups with a medicine ball and his head is spinning so fast he might as well be on a fucking carnival ride. To top it off, Tim notices that he’s still pretty much covered and dripping with come because he hasn't started washing it off and the way he was sitting, hunched over and his back getting most of the spray made it hard for the water to even get to his skin to rinse him clean.

“Fuck... I didn't mean to hurt you, not like that,” Shannon murmurs and presses a kiss to the knot of bone at the top of Tim’s spine. Holding Tim tighter, he presses him close and kisses across his shoulders. Then he lets him go to stroke his sides with long, sweeping motions meant to soothe, making little wordless muttering sounds of comfort as he pets down Tim’s ribs.

“You didn't, I’m not gonna break that easy, just bent a bit is all,” Tim says and sways a little, but Shannon steadies him by wrapping one arm around his waist again while smoothing his other hand over Tim’s ribs up to his wet chest and teasing his right nipple with slow, circular drags of his thumb. Tim feels his breath catch and his skin is so hypersensitive right now that he can feel the skin drawing up, peaking and stiffening beneath the motion of Shannon’s thumb. It’s almost a relaxed kind of pleasure, he feels safe and taken care of like this. He feels loved.

“Sure?” Shannon questions as he rolls Tim’s wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Sucking air in through his teeth, Tim feels his skin prickling with goose bumps and there’s a warm line, a line that feels like it’s just beneath his skin running through his body from his gently pinched nipple to his groin. It’s warmth that spreads, filtering through him and the line grows wider when Shannon draws his hand away a little bit, pulling as he continues rolling.

“Yeah.” Tim turns his head to look at Shannon eyes dropping to the curve of his full bottom lip and tracing it. He knows where Shannon's mouth has been but he wants him now, wants him so, so fucking much that it almost hurts.

He presses their shower wet lips together, loosing a breathy gasp when their lips meet just as the fingers on his nipple pinch just a little harder. Shannon's hand on his waist slip-slides down to his hip, hitching Tim's body in close to his own as Tim licks at the seal of his lips and when Shannon opens his mouth, he licks inside with an eager moan. He didn’t realize until right this moment how much he’d missed the feel of Shannon’s lips against his, Shannon’s tongue running over the roof of his mouth and tasting him like he’s a delicacy. Shannon's cock against the inside of Tim's thigh is hard and despite everything it makes him fall further into the kiss, sucking greedily on Shannon’s tongue in his mouth and letting it sweep away the rest of his uncertainty.

He wants this, wants Shannon to need him so much that he gets hard whenever he touches Tim. He wants to make Shannon happy, do whatever it takes to make Shannon proud of him and even though he's not altogether sure what that means, he trusts Shannon to know. He doesn't want Shannon to have to take advice from Jared about something that's theirs ever again, not if he can help it. He couldn't have reached this place with anyone else; he knows that as sure as he knows his own name. Shannon is the only one who could help him arrive here, just Shannon and to Tim’s frazzled brain, that sounds absolutely right, like that’s the way it’s supposed to be and he wants to hold onto that very much.

Shannon's fingers drift across Tim's chest to his other nipple and pinch sharply, Tim gasps into Shannon's mouth and tries to get closer, get more of Shannon in his mouth and he thinks if he could swallow him whole it still wouldn't be enough, he could never get enough of this, of them, together. The thrill of just being with Shannon is ever tantalizing and never satiated, at least not fully.

Shannon turns Tim around with his hands on Tim's hips and walks them back a few steps before Tim even really realizes they've moved. He breaks the kiss slowly and Tim whines low in the back of his throat because he doesn't want to stop kissing, he tries to follow Shannon's mouth but Shannon stops him with a finger over his lips. He sinks down onto his knees, holding Tim all the time, kisses the head and then the length of Tim's cock, making it jerk in response. Tim leans on Shannon's shoulders, more for balance than anything else, but also because he can't not touch him.

Shannon takes Tim's hands in his and lifts them to his mouth one by one, kissing the palms. “Want you in my lap,” Shannon says against the calloused palm of Tim’s right hand, grazing his teeth over the fleshy part as he cuts his eyes up to look at him.

Tim gets transfixed of the sight of him like that for a moment. The light is weak, but it leaves a warm glow on Shannon’s upturned face and sprinkles of lazily waltzing stars fall over him, spotting him with silver over the distant, but warm amber of candle glow. Then there are Shannon’s eyes, calm and kind, but commanding as he waits for Tim to do as he’s told. There’s no anger or cruelty in his gaze as Tim stares down at him and he stares right back. There’s just patience and assuredness that Tim will do it as soon as it registers properly.

When it does, Tim nods slowly and lowers himself clumsily hoping like fuck he doesn't just collapse. Shannon leans back, spine supported by the molded curves of the bath, legs in front of him. Tim sits carefully, gingerly and Shannon guides his hips over his cock. Tim sinks down as much as he can, but the muscles in his legs don’t support him for long. Shannon’s hands on Tim’s hips, thumbs stroking the dips, steady him when they finally mostly give out, keeping him from taking Shannon’s cock too fast and hurting them both with the impact of his weight like that. He lets Shannon move him down his length until all his weight is resting on Shannon. He doesn’t complain though, he just holds Tim tighter, both of their bodies moving every time Shannon tilts his hips and that's all it can be, there's not enough room for it to be anything more. Because while the tub is huge it’s still not long enough to accommodate Tim’s full, stretched out height comfortably and they both know that.

Tim doesn’t think he could take it even if there were room for maneuverability and he also thinks maybe Shannon knows that, too, knows that Tim needs it this way right now. He needs it to be slow and grounding, their breath mingling because they’re so close together and their skin stick-slipping in the humid air of the shower. He needs to feel close and cared for this time around, not racing for an orgasm out of the sheer desperation to come. He wants it to take time, wants it to pull through him while he looks at Shannon and knows he is looking back at him; wants to know that Shannon’s seeing him because right now he’s not sure he could trust himself to recognize his own face. Shannon knows him though and so long as Tim can see that knowledge in Shannon’s face then he can know himself again as well.

Tim is almost too exhausted to participate as anything more than a willing partner and he’s happy to let Shannon control it and guide his body. He knows how to move him and has him moaning softly, voice scraping and throat raw from screaming earlier so the sounds are soft-rough. When Shannon kisses his aching throat like he’s trying to kiss the hurt away, Tim closes his eyes and swallows at the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Yeah, he definitely does not recognize the person he is right now, semi-broken and aching, pleading to be put back together. Everything is hitting him harder than it would’ve before this night happened. He’d have thought the gesture kind, but not of such a magnitude it makes him have to close his eyes because he almost feels dizzy from it.

“This ok?” Shannon whispers against his mouth before flicking his tongue out to lick the crest of his lips, running his hands down Tim’s outer thighs and helping him slide up his cock a little before steadying him as he drops back down.

Tim sighs, shudders and says, “Yeah.” before doing it again.

He can’t move more than an inch at best, but it’s enough, it’s fucking perfect even, this slow, rocking sex under the pounding spray of the shower and the silver-purple light of the glitter-stars spinning on the walls as behind them the candle makes it look like a soft focus sun is setting. It’s like fucking in outer space during a torrential downpour. Tim’s caught up in the atmosphere of it, the feeling of Shannon’s cock barely moving within him and still making him hard all over again while the microcosm in their bathroom paints them with light and color as they fuck.

He loses himself in the taste of Shannon’s stubbly skin under his lips as he grazes them across his cheek. Tim’s letting himself go all over again and finding it as freeing as he did the first time once he realized it was ok to do so. Tim feels lit up and melted, glowing like hot molten silver in the dark, but it’s all inside of him and he wonders if Shannon can see it anyway. He rocks his hips up again, falling slowly and without much rhythm even with Shannon’s help because he’s still quaking, muscles twitching with only fine tremors now, but it’s still all over and it does nothing to help his balance or grace.

Shannon covers Tim's neck in kisses, sucking and grazing. “Touch yourself,” he breathes into Tim's skin, voice smooth and calm, but still telling, not asking. “I want to watch you.”

Tim moans helplessly at that tone in Shannon’s voice and does what he’s told to do without complaint because he’s getting and giving here and he thinks that’s good, real good. Shannon groans as Tim drags his hand down his chest, grips his cock and slides easily up and down, water and just a touch of soap. Shannon's biting his lip, watching him through half-closed eyes, hands moving slowly, carefully up and down Tim's thighs.

Shannon wraps one arm around Tim’s waist and helps him lean back a little so he can get a better grip. The motion presses Shannon’s cock even harder against Tim’s prostate though, making his hand falter for a moment as throws his head back, his neck drawn so tightly that the tendons stick out as he cries out, the sound rusty and echoing in the room. Pleasure spikes through him like an electrical current and it makes the muscles in his back jump and twitch as it rakes painfully up his spine.

“Easy, easy,” Shannon tells him, pressing his lips to his chest and drawing him back in to take some of the pressure off of Tim’s prostate. “I’ve got you, it’s ok now.”

Shannon cradles the back of his head and threads his fingers through his wet hair, drawing Tim down to look at him. Tim whimpers when he sees the compassion and burning knowledge in Shannon’s eyes that have been made black by the dim lighting. Biting his lip and bowing his head Tim presses his face against the side of Shannon’s neck in silent thanks. It would’ve been too much right now, he can’t handle that level of intensity again so soon and while it had been pretty awesome earlier, he wants this slow burn more now.

Shannon holds him like that, rocking his hips slowly and building the pleasure back to where it was before it’d arced through him like a megaton of electricity. When Tim’s ready, he pulls his head back experimentally and Shannon lets him go. He smiles at him almost shyly, ducking his head a little and watching him from under his lashes. Heat gathers in the pit of his belly when he sees how Shannon’s watching him back, gaze direct and focusing on nothing but Tim.

“Go on then,” Shannon says, watching Tim slide that little inch up his cock. He rocks up inside of Tim as he’s making to do it again and grinds gently. Tim’s mouth falls open on a whispery gasp and Shannon’s smile is quick, wicked, but still somehow warm as he leans in to nip Tim’s bottom lip. “Touch your cock some more for me. That wasn’t nearly enough.”

“Ok,” Tim says, the word more of an exhalation than an actual sound and he takes his cock back in his shaking hand, pulling with a rhythm almost as slow as Shannon is fucking him.

He can feel Shannon’s taut belly against the backs of his knuckles as he slowly slides his hand up and down his shaft and it makes him smile a little against Shannon’s neck as he feels the way the muscles ripple under his flesh.

The slight rocking of Shannon's hips is just enough and almost too much the more the pleasure builds inside of Tim after all he's been through, but with the almost constant light press on his prostate and his own hand doing exactly what he needs makes it almost like they never stopped. Pulls him closer to the familiar ripples just under his skin that he can't quite hold onto long enough, not yet.

They start to grow closer under his skin though and Tim gasps, panting softly as he drops his head to look down at Shannon through the dripping curtain of his hair hanging over the side of his face. Shannon looks back, lets go of one of Tim’s hips to run his fingers through the water streaming down Tim’s cheek. He can barely help the soft whimper falling out his mouth or the way his tongue darts out to lick at Shannon’s thumb when it grazes the corner of his mouth. His muscles flutter as more pleasure ripples under his skin and he can feel his orgasm close-far away, the very distinct promise of it unfolding in layers inside of him.

The guarantee of it, the undeniable itch of it creeping up his back makes Tim’s breath hitch over and over as he tries to keep moving slowly up and down. It’s that beating tattoo of so close, soonsoonsoon that has Tim instinctively wanting to speed it along, to push himself over the edge so he can wallow in the pleasure he knows will pound through him as soon as he can get to it.

This feeling is different from before, this is all natural reaction and not brain splintering want, god please, I want. Maybe if he wasn’t so worn out, half out of his head with exhaustion and the overflow of everything in his mind, Tim would know placing his hands on Shannon’s shoulders and starting to lift himself farther up with faster strokes was a bad idea.

As it is, he doesn’t realize it until pleasure flares through him so hard and fast it truly is painful. It’s bad pain, the kind of pain that doesn’t know if it should feel good or not and it makes the brain short circuit just a little bit with the way the body’s response is confusing it so much. His breath catches in his throat before he starts sucking in sharp, rapid breaths and keeps moving, pleasure-but-not twisting inside of him like a writhing, rolling nest of vipers. Tim wants to stop, wants to slow down, but his own fucking body won’t let him now that he’s given into its insistence that he move faster, get his reward of orgasm for waiting as long as he did.

As he starts shaking violently all over again, Tim knows it was a bad idea and he doesn’t realize it, but all of the straining cries coming out of his mouth are not the sound of someone in ecstasy, but the sounds of someone being tortured and pulled apart by it. His fingers clench in Shannon’s shoulders as the snakes in his belly strike at him over and over again with their sharp razor-needle teeth, tiny slices that fill him up with the venom of his pleasure receptors being pushed too far and going haywire.

His calves and thighs are burning and threatening to cramp on him as it feels like a million nettles being ground into his legs. His stomach muscles spasm so hard it makes him choke on his own breath as they lock and quiver, pulling him taut and making him throw his head back with the pain rocking through him. When he comes it will feel like broken glass sliding through his body and he doesn’t want that… this is not what he wanted, but he’s so out of it that he’s lost control of himself completely.

His arms are shaking, blunt nails scratching raw places on Shannon’s shoulders as he tries to slow down, needles under his skin jabbing in and twisting as Tim loses his grip on reality, on himself. His world becomes one bright glaring orb of confused pleasure battering through his body like a storm brigade and he’s screaming now, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know that this has only lasted about eight seconds because it feels like a fucking eternity and he’s still moving, all of those pit vipers of impending orgasm shredding through his body that’s being pushed well past its breaking point of exertion in his wrung out state.

Then there are strong arms wrapping around him, dragging him down hard and fast before holding tight to still his jerking movements. Tim whines through his teeth and tries to move, but Shannon is too strong, he’s holding him hard enough that it’s almost suffocating and crushing, but Tim can’t catch his fucking breath anyway and his muscles feel like they’re tying themselves into loose knots that won’t quite hold so they slip free and try to coil up again.

“Be still,” Shannon’s voice close to his ear cuts through the static roar in Tim’s head as he presses Tim closer. Using one hand to pinch his chin, Shannon says, “Open your eyes and look at me.”

When he does Shannon is a blur, but he’s there and Tim feels like he’s been pinned down in another way as he looks into his eyes made hard with fear flickering in them like heat lightning in a thunderhead. “Just me, nothing else, you hear?” Shannon asks and Tim nods, feeling Shannon’s fingers digging into his jaw his grip is so firm—not hurting, but not letting go anytime soon, either.

Shannon holds him tight until the tension bleeds from Tim's body and the shaking turns to shivering. He keeps holding him tight with one arm and uses the other to stroke and soothe and pet. Kissing Tim softly he swallows the near rasping sounds coming from Tim's throat because it's so raw from screaming he can't breathe without hurting.

“Shannon, I need to come, please,” he says when Shannon pulls back to lock gazes with him again. Tim doesn't even recognize his own voice, it's sobbing and broken and it has to belong to someone else because he doesn't sound like that.

“I know, I know, hush now and let me help, don't fight it.”

Tim whimpers and he thinks he might be crying but the shower's still running so it could be that and in the end he really doesn't care. He's been fucked to within an inch of his life and if he can even walk tomorrow it'll be a miracle.

“Gonna start this again, slow like, and I'm gonna make you come. Ok?”

“Ok,” Tim says and wraps his rubbery feeling arms around Shannon’s neck. Pressing his forehead to Shannon’s, Tim keeps his their gazes locked. Shannon’s face is even blurrier this close, but this is about knowing he’s there and that he’s going to take care of him and trusting him enough to let him. It works, too, he can see the care in Shannon’s eyes even like this and it makes Tim unwind just a little bit more.

He can do that, he thinks he can anyway, he doesn't want to go back to the razor sharp place where everything hurts and Shannon always does what he says he's going to do so Tim believes him. He's so fucking close he can feel it vibrating just under his skin but he's scared now, too, it can't hurt like that again. Shannon's still talking and Tim's not sure what he's saying, but it sounds nice. Shannon's making it feel good again with his hands and his voice and Tim shudders as he feels the vibration catch and burrow deeper. Further and further until it meets Shannon's cock sliding slowly, so fucking slowly, inside of him.

Tim holds his breath when the two things meet and the teeth are still there, but they're blunt now; gnawing rather than biting, the sharp, raking, pain-pleasure muffled so that it's bearable. He relaxes into the relief he's feeling and breathes out as his orgasm finally throbs and burns, turned down low but no less mind-melting because it’s slow and warm, taffy thick strings sliding through his aching muscles like a massage and he falls into the feeling.

Shannon pulls him through it, manages to get his hand around Tim's cock and twist his wrist, dragging out the aftershocks. He bites down on Shannon's shoulder with what he thinks is the last of his strength and Shannon keeps stroking, keeps petting and talking him through it. Telling him how it's gonna be ok and how good he is and how much he—they—deserve this together. That it's just for them, only them and Tim is his to take care of and he will.

“Told ya, didn't I? Told you I'd keep you safe, all you had to do was believe me,” Shannon whispers to him, voice smooth and soft, the words like a loving hand petting through Tim’s churning mind and slowing the tornado inside of him that’s still spinning, spinning, spinning.

He wants to say, “I know you did, thank you, thank you, I was so scared of the hurt that I couldn’t stop. I always believed you though, I swear.” Tim can't answer with more than a groan though because he's still throbbing on the inside, body pulsing in time with his heart right down to his fingertips.

The damn lamp is still casting stars across the walls and Tim can see them everywhere and all around them like a visual metaphor. He forgets where he is, forgets who he is, forgets everything except Shannon holding him and fucking him through his orgasm. It’s still straining through him, walking across his frayed nerves with slow, stroking licks of pleasure that feels like it will never end; pleasure that feels like it will be throbbing through him for months, years, forever.

His head falls back, mouth open and he lets Shannon guide his hips through the rock-grind-stroke thing he has going on with careful pressure and attentiveness to Tim’s state. When Shannon comes inside of him with a soft groan, the thick warmth is almost soothing and any other time he would think that was weird at the least and a totally fucked up thing to think at the most. Right now all it does is pull soft, throaty moans from him as he leans forward to press his cheek against Shannon’s and rub as he pants, trying like hell to catch his rasping breath.

Gradually Shannon slows even more until he’s completely still and brings his arms up to wrap them around Tim’s shaking shoulders to draw him even closer. “Just breathe,” he murmurs against the side of Tim’s neck and then kisses over the pulse pounding there.

Tim wonders if perhaps Shannon can feel his heart beating, it certainly seems like he should be able to with the way his blood is rushing through his veins and maybe he could lick Tim's heart just by sticking out his tongue. He's not sure if that's a good thought or just weird-gross. He sort of wants to ask Shannon, ask if he can and what does it taste like but he can't think of a way to form the question in a way that won't make him sound half-crazy.

Shannon's stubble grazes more than a little against his skin, grounds him with the prickly sensation which isn't wholly uncomfortable it's just Shannon and he kisses him again.

Tim's still shaking but he's nowhere near as distressed as he was. Tim's body is going lax against Shannon and he has no doubt that if Shannon were to let him go, he would list to the side more and more until he just fell over.

Tim is about two steps away from passing out, giving into the exhaustion settling over him like a lead blanket and calling it a night for about three days when Shannon’s voice cuts into his fuzzy thoughts. “I need you stay with me just a little longer,” he says against Tim’s shivering skin. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Tim says after taking a few seconds for the question to sink in. That one little word causes pain like fire in his aching throat, but for Shannon he will do anything he asks of him right now.

Tim has never felt so owned by anyone as he does by Shannon in this moment. The idea of being owned brings with it feelings of comfort and safety, the unspoken promise of always being taken care of when he’s feeling like this. It wipes away any fear Tim would have of being left alone to sort himself out in this state because he knows that Shannon will be right there with him every step of the way. Feeling owned should make him feel outraged and wanting to fight against it, not give up until he breaks free and with anyone else, he would. He’d throw such a massive shit fit about it that even Jared would be taking notes for later use. With Shannon all it brings is the wash of calm and peace that’s Zen-like in its thoroughness.

“Good, that’s real good,” Shannon says and nuzzles Tim’s neck before sliding his hands down to Tim’s hips again. “Need to move you so I can clean you up. Here, raise yourself up a little.”

Tim makes little discontented sounds at having to move as he slips and slides his unsteady way to pushing himself up onto his knees. Shannon’s cock slips out of him with a lewd noise that makes Tim bite his lip a little. However, Shannon is gently maneuvering him over to the side, practically hefting him in his arms because his shaking legs are barely holding any of his weight, so he has to focus on that, not the sound of Shannon’s cock pulling out his ass and really… he doesn’t much give a damn anymore and that’s the real shocking part. Or it would be shocking if Tim was lucid enough to manage anything like shock or surprise.

Shannon moves away from him and Tim is hit again with that feeling of near-abandonment, that want to reach out and drag Shannon right up against him, but he knows he’s not far and he’s coming back. Instead he lets his head fall forward until his chin is resting on his chest and feels the now cold spray of the shower pelting against his overheated skin in a way that right now is almost hypnotic.

Tim isn’t aware of how close he is to completely falling asleep until he feels a soft, soapy washcloth stroke against his ankle and it startles him so that he jerks, making his sore muscles sing with pain that had settled into a dull ache.

“Easy,” Shannon’s calm voice says when Tim gasps at the sudden shock of all his strained muscles throbbing at once. He presses a kiss to Tim’s knee as he soaps his calf and Tim licks his lips, tasting water and the faint taste of Shannon.

“Fucking hurts,” he croaks out and tries to rub his neck, but he can hardly even lift his arms, so he makes an unhappy sound and drops his hand back the couple of inches he managed to raise it.

“I know, baby, I know,” Shannon murmurs, voice near his waist and Tim wonders when the fuck he moved that close. “You’ll be ok though and I’m here, I’m gonna help you. We’re almost done with the shower and then you can sleep.”

“Thank you,” Tim says and he’s not sure just what it is he’s thanking Shannon for, but it’s for more than the promise of bed, he knows that much at least. He sure as fuck doesn’t want to think about it anymore right now though and really, he just isn’t fucking capable of it in any way, shape or form.

Shannon’s laugh is deep and pleased as he soaps Tim’s chest and stomach. Leaning forward he whispers, “Same to you.” in Tim’s ear and runs the cloth over the curve of his shoulder, massaging gently. Tim moans his gratitude and lets Shannon finish washing him, wondering briefly how the fuck he’s going to get out of the tub and thinks that this time Shannon damn well may have to carry him for real.

When they’re both clean again, Shannon half drags, half carries Tim back to his feet and walks him to the edge of the tub. “Hold onto me,” Shannon tells him and Tim manages to get a grip on Shannon’s wet bicep. Stepping out of the tub with Tim still hanging on is a little tricky, but Shannon manages and when he’s out, he turns to face Tim who’s swaying like a tree caught in a high breeze. “Brace both hands on my shoulders and then step out.”

Tim manages a nod and makes his slow, stiff way out of the tub as well. When both feet are on the floor, he sort of sway-tilts into Shannon and feels his arms come around him. In the end, Shannon does damn near carry him. The best attempt at walking Tim can swing is a heavy, stumble-scuff of his feet and he lets Shannon do all the rest because he just can't do anymore than that.

Sitting him on the foot of the bed on the comforter so he doesn’t get the sheets wet, Shannon goes back for a towel and does a cursory blotting of Tim’s body, getting most of the moisture absorbed, but leaving his skin damp and chilled because Shannon keeps his bedroom cold enough to swing meat in even if Jared does constantly bitch about energy conservation.

“There, done,” Shannon says and helps Tim lie down and scoot up in the bed until Shannon can pull the covers over him before going around to his side of the bed.

“Haven’t been tucked in since I was a kid,” Tim says with a little smile as his body seems to melt into the mattress under his back. “It’s nice,” he finishes and wiggles just little, snuggling himself down into the warm blankets that are fresh enough he can still smell fabric conditioner and not a hint of vanilla anywhere.

“Yeah?” Shannon says then Tim hears him flicking a lighter and knows he’s stolen one of his cigarettes. Now that the thought is in his head, Tim realizes he really wants one of his own, but he’s too goddamned exhausted to even think about rolling over and getting one.

“Thought you quit,” he says, sighing contentedly when he feels the warm press of Shannon’s chest against his arm. Wiggling a little more, Tim presses as close to him as he can get, finally getting that extra little piece of comfort he’s been craving all night.

Stroking over Tim’s eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose, Shannon chuffs out a smoky laugh. “I did, but I quit drinking that one time, too. We see how well that worked out.”

Tim grins and lightly licks Shannon’s fingertip as it drifts down to trace the curve of his mouth before moving and being replaced by the filter of the cigarette. Opening his mouth happily, Tim lets Shannon hold the cigarette while he takes a much needed drag.

“Speaking of, how about a night cap?” Shannon asks when he takes the cigarette away and watches Tim exhale blissfully.

“Mm… you’re gonna turn me into an alcoholic,” he says, tiredness making the words come out sounding melty and slurred.

“Nah, you’re doing just fine on your own,” Shannon says, amusement clear in his voice as he leans back to his night table just enough to snag the bottle.

“Fuck off,” Tim rasps out and wants to smile, but that’s also too much like work at the moment. He’s drifting slowly into sleep and it’s a little surprising that he’s still even conscious as much as he is, he’d thought he would pass out the second his head hit the pillow, but instead he’s listening to Shannon unscrewing the cap on the vodka and turning it up to take a swallow. With a sigh and a mental eye roll, he says, “Lift me up, you fucker.”

Shannon giggles a little bit and Tim knows he’s shaking his head with amusement then his arm is sliding under Tim’s neck, picking his head up and the mouth of the bottle is pressed against his lips. He can hear Shannon breathing through his nose and recognizes the puffing sound as him holding the cigarette in his mouth and trying to breathe out in such a way smoke doesn’t get in his eyes. Tim only takes a tiny sip of the vodka, but it trickles through him like tiny hands rubbing him and wiping away some of the ache that’s still thrumming deep inside of him.

“Better?” Shannon asks and Tim nods, starting to drift off in earnest at last, exhaustion and just that tiny bit of vodka giving him a much sought after send off to the land of Nod.

“’Mere,” he manages to get out, not quite willing even like he is now to flat out say, ‘hold me’, but Shannon gets the message anyway, putting out his cigarette and setting the vodka aside to scoot down in the bed and wrap his arms around Tim. Slowly like he’s moving through molasses, Tim manages—with Shannon’s assistance—to roll over onto his side and burrow his face against Shannon’s chest.

That's what finally sends him all the way into sleep, quieting the voices of insecurity and anxiety enough that he can drift off. Being pressed against and breathing in Shannon like this, shower-clean, but not so much that Tim can't still smell the smoke, alcohol and aftershave that cling to him always.

Shannon’s are arms tight—comforting—around him, holding him like he's wanted, like he's exactly where Shannon wants him to be which is good because this is exactly where Tim wants to be. With his last shred of conscious awareness, Tim thinks Shannon's random ass is actually humming a lullaby, it rumbles in his chest and drifts into Tim by osmosis or some fucking thing. That's good, too, though. Not so much with the conventionalism, but it works just fine for Tim, better than fine even, fucking perfect.

Fic: Five Times Meme: Necrophilia

2009-07-12T23:38:14Z

Title: Five Times demon_kynx Tried To Squick Themselves And One Time They Actually Did.
Part One: Necrophilia

Authors: demon_kynx: A collaboration of judas_denied, jynnxx and kit84
Fandom(s): 30 Seconds to Mars
Pairing(s): Shannon/Constance, Jared/Constance, and implied Shannon/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not ours (which is a damn shame) and this Very Much Did Not Happen. Nor do we wish it to happen. Ever. ~~Except maybe the Shannon/Jared bit because erm...yeah, hot~~
Warnings: Angst. Darkish themes. Heterosexual Incestuous Necrophilia

Heterosexuality: refers to sexual behavior and attraction to people of the opposite sex, or to a heterosexual orientation
Incest: refers to any sexual activity between closely related persons (often within the immediate family) that is illegal or socially taboo
Necrophilia: sexual attraction to corpses.

Please consider yourself warned.

Word Count: 2,635
AN: Part of the five things meme weekend at Kynxpirations. Between the three of us we have very few squicks/things we can't write/won't write. We decided to explore these. Cookies for anyone that figures out what actually made us recoil in disgust.

Five Times demon_kynx Tried To Squick Themselves And One Time They Actually Did.
Part One: Necrophilia

Jared stood in the doorway, attention caught up in the rise and fall; grind and thrust of Shannon's hips. Watched his body bow, muscles taut as he chased pleasure in the body beneath him. Sweat glistened on Shannon's skin, catching the dim light from the hallway landing behind Jared and he wanted to step closer, close enough to bend down to lick the perspiration from his skin, taste him, fucking swallow him down and make Shannon part of him forever.

He couldn't interrupt though, hardly even wanted to because this was Shannon's time. It was private and not for sharing, so Jared could do nothing but stay where he was, heart shattering in his chest as he watched Shannon's fingers thread clumsily through long blonde hair. Shannon moved his hand to stroke a waxen cheek and Jared’s throat tightened to see some of those same blonde strands caught between his fingers, waving in the breeze stirred up by the ceiling fan that sent an earthy smell spiked with a sick-sweet rose odor through the room, mixing with the odor of sex-sweat. The scents, intermingled but still defined, should have made his stomach roll in nausea, should have gotten stuck in his throat until he choked on the thickness of them, yet they didn't. He just breathed them in and held them deep in his lungs.

Quiet sobs—choked more than not—shook through Shannon, leaving his body trembling, but Jared barely heard anything above the pounding in his head and Shannon's heavy breathing. Muscles moved, flexing beneath Shannon's skin and Jared followed a bead of sweat zigzagging down his back with a stop-start motion until it pooled at the bottom of his spine. The thrusting of his hips sped up and Jared knew he was close, knew exactly how it felt, too, having Shannon lost in pleasure above him and each movement making the bed scrape forward.

"Mama..." Shannon's voice cracked on the word like his heart was breaking all over again even as he shuddered through his orgasm.

There was no holding back the tears now as Shannon curled forward, shoulders heaving on each sob, voice thick as he whispered the same word over and over. Jared moved into the room, his steps hesitant because he wasn't sure if this was still private time. Even it was, he couldn't stand and just fucking watch as Shannon cried himself hoarse. Not if he could move closer, crouch down and slide his arm over Shannon's waist in an attempt at comforting him.

If he could have, he would have tried to rock Shannon, soothe him with a repetitive rhythm. As it was, he pressed his cheek to Shannon's shoulder and tried to think of even one comforting word. Something consoling, something to make it all better. There was nothing though and there never would be, either.

"Shhh, I know, I know." He turned his face inwards, sweat and the tears Jared was only now aware of shedding mingling and feeling almost sticky between them. Jared pressed a harsh kiss to Shannon's skin and repeated himself until Shannon stopped shaking quite so much and the coarse sobs had quieted.

Shannon pushed himself upright, twisting around until his hands were on Jared, clinging to the back of his neck and bicep. Jared blinked away the wetness in his eyes as he looked up at Shannon, watery trails on his cheeks and eyes bloodshot. He rose up, straining to meet Shannon's lips halfway in an open mouthed kiss that tasted like salt and despair. It didn't last half as long as Jared wanted it to before Shannon pulled back, thumbs sliding over Jared's cheeks to wipe away his own tears.

"Time to say goodbye, Jared."

He nodded at Shannon's soft words, needing and wanting this closure but desperately wishing it wasn't necessary, wishing it could be last week again, when... before... Jared swallowed thickly, not able to finish the thought. He couldn't help but glance behind Shannon. Constance Leto. Beloved Mother, cherished daughter., the words from her grave marker flashed through his mind. He could feel his lips tremble and more tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them spill just yet, even though he wanted to. He knew though that if he totally gave in and just let himself collapse the way his trembling legs were telling him to then he’d never get to finish what they had started.

Shannon stood up, fingers trailing over Jared's shoulder before tugging gently at his shirt. He stretched his arms above his head and let Shannon pull it off. He unbuttoned his own jeans, let them fall down his narrow hips and pool at his ankles before he stepped out of them. He was dimly aware of Shannon picking them up and folding them, but it didn't matter, he was pretty sure he'd never wear them again anyway. As covered in dirt as they were, he knew he wouldn't be able to put them in the laundry to get them clean either, that'd be like trying to cover this up, wipe away any evidence of it having happened and Jared didn't want that. Tonight, well, he wanted tonight, needed to know that he'd have something other than his memories.

Jared settled on his side, staring down at Constance on the bed. Her body anyway, because she wasn't in there anymore, no matter how much Jared wanted her to be. His hand faltered, hovering over her slightly parted lips. Shook faintly as he brushed a smudge of grave dirt that they must have missed earlier away with his thumb. Shannon's tears—they had to be his—spotted her cheeks, making it look like she was crying, too. Jared sniffed hard, the bunged up feeling in his nose shifting, abating for just a second before it came back. He had always hated to see her cry.

He brushed those away too; some part of him amazed at how soft her skin still felt. Cold though, so fucking cold. Dead and lifeless.

"Still so beautiful though," he mumbled out loud, mostly to himself but Shannon answered him anyway,

"Always."

He didn't look away as he nodded, still memorizing her features, the faded brown of her lashes resting against her cheeks, the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth giving away her age if he stared long enough. Small imperfections that had been covered up by the way her smile had lit up her face, by movement and emotion but couldn't be hidden now. Didn't matter really, Shannon was right; she would always be beautiful to Jared, to both of them.

He knew Shannon was still in the room, knew that he'd stay there, too, that he was as unable to leave as Jared had been earlier. It didn't bother him. They'd always been close, the three of them and this felt right. The thoughts and half admitted desire had always been there, he and Shannon had just never gotten around to doing anything about them and then it was too late by far.

Jared took his time, fingers trailing over Constance's features, following the line of her jaw, down her neck, shoulder, arm and threading his fingers through hers. Beneath the death-sagging of her skin he knew that her eyes were still the same blue as his own and her bottom lip was still the full curve of Shannon’s; looking at her was like looking at a prototype of themselves. There were little bits and pieces of them in her face, the shape of her hands and fingers, all of it was right there. Her little pieces had been what made Jared and Shannon whole and that would never change.

He squeezed her hand lightly, hating that there was no answering squeeze in return—yes, I'm here, not going anywhere. Only she did go. Went away to where Jared wasn't ready to follow. He pulled her hand up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in turn. "I fucking love you," Jared whispered, I miss you, I need you, come back to us all going unsaid, but resounding loudly just the same.

Shannon's hand on his arm surprised him; Jared hadn't seen or noticed him moving. A kiss to his forehead and, "She loved you, too. Both of us. We'll always have that. Always have tonight too."

He wanted to say I know. You don't need to tell me that, dumbass, but the truth of it was, it was exactly what he needed to hear.

"I don't wanna say goodbye," his lips were wrinkled and cracked when he licked them and dried out with the salt of his tears, "I don't wanna have to."

He gripped Shannon's wrist, never letting go of Constance's hand for a second, squeezed it tight enough that he felt her knuckles scraping against each other in his grip, near breaking point. There was a warning crunch that made him ease his grip for fear of doing real damage.

"Shannon, we could keep her here. With us. We don't really have to give her back, do we?" Jared asked, hope sparking in his mind and temporarily easing the bleakness that he swore was chewing him up into a million, billion meaty splinters. It wouldn't be perfect and it could never be right while she wasn't alive, unable to wrap her arms around his waist, but she'd be with them. Right there where Jared could visit her anytime he wanted and hold her hand, stroke her face, anything so long as she wasn't buried deep in the ground. The box, as nice a one as Shannon had picked out, was still just a box and wouldn't offer much protection from the worms and bugs and... and Constance hated bugs.

Jared searched Shannon's features desperately for affirmation; for a, Yes, we'll do that. Be a family again, forever, but all he got in response was Shannon's expression falling, a different kind of sadness staring down at Jared. One that he couldn't even begin to name much less describe or find reason for.

"We can't do that Jared. We have to say goodbye and take her back ok? I know it hurts, I don't wanna have to... put her back but she won't... she'll..." Shannon swallowed, unable to meet Jared's eyes for a second and when he spoke again, Jared knew it wasn't what he was originally going to say, "She wouldn't want us to grieve forever."

"Please, Shannon? Just... just for longer than tonight?"

Shannon shook his head again and there was no more room for argument. The tiny part of Jared that held firm beneath the grief, mostly unbroken, wondered if there ever had been. It wasn't often that Shannon put his foot down and decided something for the both of them, but there was no budging him when he did. No room for but ifs or justifications.

"Say goodbye, I know you want to. I'm right here if you need me, ok?"

He nodded, reluctantly letting go of Shannon's wrist as he pulled away, before turning back to Constance. She'd always be beautiful and her stoic, lax expression was overlaid in his mind’s eye by memories—a thousand or more of them—of her laughing, smiling at something they'd said, frowning at him because he'd fucked up again, angry on their behalf because another director or music exec had tried to fuck them over. But always, she’d been so fucking alive, so vibrant.

He—they—should feel bad for doing this now, that they had never dared when she was alive, had been too afraid of rejection to show her how much she meant to them, but Jared could not find that emotion in himself, not truthfully. He could pretend maybe, but he had no one to hide from here. They needed this, needed the closure, a way to say goodbye and let her know how they felt; had always felt. This way, this way had meaning, a fucking lot more than sad and pretty words, flowers that would wither and die, wooden boxes and cold marble markers. A real goodbye, not impersonal and could be fucking anyone's funeral.

Yeah, they needed this. Just like Jared needed Shannon always and forever and Shannon needed him right back.

He leaned over to press his lips to Constance's, butterfly kisses over her open mouth and felt his own breath curling back on him. Not hers, it would never be hers again. Love you, need you, want you repeated like a chant in his mind, words running together until they were barely distinguishable from each other.

Jared didn't let go of her hand as he rolled over her, pushing closer and settling between her spread thighs. So cold, so very fucking cold and stiff, so immovable now where she had always been in motion before, a whirlwind, dancing dervish of a woman, but it didn’t matter. Mom, Mama, Mother, no of course it didn't matter, he'd always love her more than he could ever love anyone except Shannon.

He rested his forehead against hers, hands clutching bare skin to hold her close as he pushed inside slowly. Barely even moving, feeling her cold body opening under him with the gradual movement. She wasn’t as cold as she should have been, not nearly and he wondered how she'd felt around Shannon, certainly not this slick and almost warm. It didn't matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was her responding to him, that even dead she wanted him, her body accepting him, he knew better. It was Shannon's come making her seem slick, easing the way and he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. In a lot of ways it was a swirling, chaotic mix of both at the same time. Then Jared thought that maybe this way was better because he had both Constance and Shannon around him, accepting him and pulling him in.

Say goodbye, Shannon had said and that's exactly what it felt like. Coming home, coming full circle. It was fucking poetic in the most heartbreaking way he could think of.

Yeah, they'd always been close, closer than they maybe should have been but not nearly enough by far. Jared liked Shannon fucking him, it was the only time he didn't feel as broken as he was, having Shannon inside him and completing him. This though, this was the last piece of the jigsaw. It soothed more fractures than it created in his mind and even maybe his soul.

Jared settled deep inside her, hips pressed tightly against hers and Shannon's come between them, fucking connecting them. It was beautiful, perfect, tragic and fucked up, but still fucking beautiful. This was where he was meant to be, should have been all his life and he wished so hard it hurt that Constance was alive to see it; to feel it with him.

The Day is Past and Gone Part One

2008-03-30T02:07:38Z

Title: The Day is Past and Gone
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Shannon/Jared, with a little Jared/Tomo
Author: demon_kynx - Collaboration of judas_denied, jynnxx and kit84
Warnings: language, sex, past violence, character death (not main)
Word Count: 4340
Disclaimer: All lies. We know they’re not doing it. We just think it’d be hot if they did.

The Day is Past and Gone

Doesn't think—can't think. Just feel and react.

One hand—fingers dig in above his hips, urging him closer, harder. He wants it. Closeness. The slap of his hips meeting ass as he chases pleasure. Moans-growls-breath hitches.

Lets himself go, gives in slightly to the creature that lives inside of him, is him. Channels the heat and animal inside, wanting the edge it gives. Fleeting thought crosses his mind that this is dangerous. But Tomo knows what he is, what he can be. That train of thought is derailed before it's fully formed. He can't think of why it ever mattered. Not when he's here—pounding into Tomo, yanking his hips back to meet his own.

Reason and logic are lost. Thoughts and instinct are crossing. Conflicting wants and needs are fucking with his mind until he doesn't know which way is up. Right, wrong, morality or what Tomo wants doesn’t enter into it.

Jared wants.

Tomo's willing. Eager. Hands pulling, stroking and scratching. Body pliable, encouraging, pushing back against him and Jared takes.

The stubborn control over the other part of himself—the baser, instinctive part—is wavering. Being ground away with every flex of his hips, chipped and shattered like the fragile glass it is by the body beneath him until the wall he's built up is crashing down around his feet. There's nothing left between him and it.

Rules have changed. Snapped so subtly and suddenly it's blindsided him. Animalistic instincts rush through his mind, wiping out human thoughts and restraints in their wake. He pushes back mentally, struggling for control, but it's far too late. Far too powerful and alive to be merely suppressed. He's got no chance of stopping it. He's too caught up in the now to realize why it's happened or why Tomo's voice changes as his lips stumble over Jared's name.

Doesn't matter—he hasn’t said no, not biting or fighting to get away. Not that it would help. Jared growls softly, frustration at himself mostly. There's something missing, something he wants, doesn't know what, can't chase the feeling far enough to reach conclusion.

Grunts and squeaks, mice like springs. Jared hears this in the blackness beneath his eyelids. But then he opens them and sees Tomo beneath him and Jared's palm cups the underside of his jaw, with no thought of why. Flexes his fingers and leans down to smell fear-want-sweat. He licks, then nips and finally bites. Tastes. Salt, warmth, prey.

Teases himself. Doesn't break the paper-thin skin. Not time. Too soon.

Tomo makes a sound and pulls against Jared's grip but Jared just snarls and yanks him back. Not done yet. No.

He smells pain and wonders at that, then there's a sick snap-crunch and Tomo goes stiff beneath Jared for a split second, then he falls from his hands and knees, twitching. Tomo's moving weird and Jared isn't so sure he likes that. In fact, a quick shake of the head and he knows: wrong move. He knows, too, he should've been more careful, should've minded what he was doing with such a fragile prey-mate-not sure. Instinct and human logic are warring.

There is blood-smell in the air and something is itching in the back of Jared's mind that is growing frantic. He says, “Oh, no, no, no.” and then whines low in his throat as the room seems to somehow get more dim. Like a haze of mist coming between his mind and reality, pushing back the part of him that can't deal with this, hiding it away and protecting it.

The wolf shoves forward, taking advantage of the panic and chaos inside Jared's breaking mind. It's been watching, waiting for this opportunity. It licks it's muzzle at the thought of blood as Jared's mind flips like a coin.

Heads or tails. One last ditch effort, trying to stop himself falling over the edge of humanity. The mental coin lands wolf-side up, slamming down too hard and too fast for his body to keep up.

From somewhere outside of the whole fucked up situation, Jared realizes, far too late, that he's been wrong to let it have so much freedom and not exert more control over it. Take it out of it's box inside his mind when he wants it and thinking he's controlling by suppressing. Nobody told him. He's created the two separate entities and now he'll pay the consequences. It's the final thought before his consciousness is thrown into the box he'd created to hold the wolf.

Death-smell here now and that's not good. But it's warm, something tells him and Jared is really not in much of a position to argue with that.

Lowers his head and sniffs again and now he wonders 'what next?'. Logical conclusion: you killed it, you eat it. Some ever-distant part of Jared thinks this is very, very wrong. But the wolf knows that food is not to be wasted and winter's coming, so he listens to what it tells him. Really, it makes perfect sense. He thinks. Maybe.

He flicks his tongue out with another low whine and tastes the cool sweat on Tomo's shoulder. There's still a faint red mark where he'd bitten just a few moments before. This is as good of a place to start as any, Jared thinks and hums softly.

The sound turns into a low growl as someone, somewhere—he thinks it is in his head—screams; rough and strangled. But his shoulders pop and saliva fills his mouth as he bites down and the scream can be ignored like this. Pulling his face away with a wet ripping noise, Jared tilts his head back. Beneath the yellow light of the bunk's overhead bulb, Jared's chin is coated in red and anyone that were there to look too closely may swear he's smiling as he begins to chew.

=*|*=

Shannon wakes to whining and shivering beside him sometime in the early morning hours. Jared’s squirming and making unhappy, agitated sounds and he frowns as he rolls over.

“Jared?” he asks and touches his shoulder.

His pale skin twitches beneath his palm and that is about the same time Shannon hears the slobbering, wet noises Jared is also making.

“Shit,” he hisses and reaches out blindly for the pull cord on Jared’s nightstand lamp.

Cold, white light washes the rumpled bed and falls across Jared who is lying face down and nude, chewing away at his right forearm. Blood is leaking onto the pillowcase and Shannon grasps his wrist and tugs.

“Jared,” he says again while still pulling. “Stop it.”

Jared makes another of those distressed sounds and tries to curl up into himself before Shannon molds himself to his back. He noses Jared’s shoulder and licks to soothe, tasting the couple of day’s worth of sweat that has gathered and dried on Jared’s skin. He makes a mental note to wrestle him into the tub and soon before he starts to genuinely stink. Right now, he’s just got a warm, sort of earthy odor to his skin that Shannon actually rather likes.

Nipping him gently, Shannon rocks their bodies in the way he has learned—through trial and error—that will calm Jared even if it will not always totally wake him.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers and Jared’s ear twitches a little.

He stills, then fidgets some more briefly before jerking fully awake with a gasp-growl. Whipping his head around, he stares at Shannon with startled, slightly angry blue eyes before he slumps back to the mattress and turns in Shannon’s arms. Jared licks him and snuffles his hair gently with another low whine. Blood smears on Shannon’s cheek and he pulls back, away from Jared’s grasp so he can have a better look at what he’s done to himself.

The scar tissue on his wrist is ripped open; it’s happened so many times there’s nothing left but scars and the ropey tracks leading to his elbow are covered with not quite broken bite marks. If he was a sculpture he’d be exquisitely detailed, but he’s not.

It’ll take longer to heal and Shannon starts to get up to find something to clean it with. Jared clings to him, fists curled against his chest and hiding his head. Shannon pries him away gently.

“I’m only leaving you for a second; you can watch me the whole time. I need to get a cloth.” He holds both Jared’s wrists in one hand and the blood starts to congeal under his fingertips. Shannon nods his head at the bathroom. “Wash cloth and bandages, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Jared whines from the top of his throat and it sounds more like a puppy than a wolf, but it gives Shannon time to get what he needs.

Jared watches Shannon clean his arm with vague displaced interest, eyes glassy and unfocussed. Shannon talks to him the whole time, nonsense words of comfort, he knows Jared isn’t hearing him, but he will and it’s important he comes back down to the sound of something familiar. Well, it’s important to Shannon anyway.

He ties the bandage and Jared finally starts to communicate in more than sounds.

"I'm... why..." There's still an underlying edge of a whine but it's the first time he's tried to speak since Shannon found him crouched over Tomo's—Tomo. He wants to hug Jared, praise him for doing something as simple as speaking, but Jared looks lost. Scared. And Shannon's afraid that he'll retreat back into himself, run from him if he does.

"You were tearing your wrist in your sleep." Shannon traces the criss-cross of ridges and puckered skin, broken too often to ever heal smoothly.

"I... I don't know who I am," his speech is broken, slow, obviously concentrating on making his vocal cords get used to human sounds again. He touches his throat, as if he's wondering if that's where the noise is coming from.

Shannon bites back the anger, he can't blame Jared for this, can't hate him for losing his humanity. "You're my brother."

"Don't think so, don't feel it." His voice rises, panicked and Shannon slides his leg behind him, holding him to his chest and pins his arms to his sides—as much for comfort as to stop him hurting himself absentmindedly.

"You do feel like it," Shannon says and his voice is still sleep-roughened soft, but he knows Jared can hear him. Jared’s heart is still beating way too fast and Shannon nuzzles the side of his neck, loosens his grip on his arms and presses his palm against his heart. “Here,” Shannon says and he kisses his jawbone just under his ear, “and here.”

Jared starts to sink into the cradle of Shannon's embrace and he leans back on the headboard, legs twining with Shannon’s that are stretched out on either side of him. Nuzzling turns into open mouth kisses on the side of his neck and Jared growls low, a rumble in his chest.

Shannon lifts the freshly wounded wrist to his mouth, kisses gently through the bandage. "Hurts?"

Jared looks towards his wrist, seeming to notice what he's done for the first time.

"Don't... hurt." It's a statement, followed by what Shannon's come to think of a growl of frustration.

"If it doesn't hurt, how about I make you feel good?"

No answer, Jared's eyes close as if he hasn't heard, but he tilts his head back, exposing the pale line of his throat.

Shannon’s cock hardens and Jared wiggles backwards, turns his head and groans against his neck; holds him as close as he can without crushing. He turns Jared’s chin and their gazes lock, memories, impressions, promises; he will always look after Jared and he has to know that.

"Want," Jared states implicitly, voice soft, human sounding and Shannon realizes how much he's missed him. He's not left Jared's side since he found him, but he's not been Jared. There's a subtle but substantial difference.

"What do you want?"

There's silence as Jared frowns, seeming to struggle with such a simple question. There's no doubt in Shannon's mind that Jared knows what he wants, it's just a matter of communicating it. He leans forward, head dipping as he comes closer, looking much like the scared animal that his mind's retreated to.

"Want," a whisper this time, before his tongue flicks out and across Shannon's chin. Shock flows through him, but it wouldn't be the first time he's taken Jared's more wolfish behavior as sexual. He puts up with the licking, with Jared's tongue running across his stubble as he tries to remember the thousand and one things that could mean according to the books on wolf and canine behavior he's been reading.

"What do you want, Jared?" he asks again, pulling his head back out of reach, "Comfort?" he'd suggest more, but he doesn't know, can't figure it out.

"Pack," Jared says. "Want." A lick to the side of his own mouth this time.

"You—we are 'pack'. Family."

"No. Don't...I'm...Not." The words trail off to a growl and his shoulder flinches in agitation.

Fear makes Shannon kiss him. He can see Jared retreating, regressing and it doesn't matter what it takes, he can't let that happen. If Jared wants a pack, Shannon can do that.

One of Jared's arms winds around Shannon's neck—it's side on and awkward but moving would mean losing contact and Shannon's not about to do that.

Shannon urges Jared further around so he's straddling his thighs. Jared cups Shannon's face in his hands—if he was any closer he'd be part of him. Shannon opens his mouth wide and lets Jared bury his tongue in his mouth, deep, deeper. Desperation in his every action. Desperation for what Shannon doesn't know.

He's not sure what to do next, how far to take this. Hasn't really got a clue how to prove to Jared how he's pack, doesn't know what constitutes pack in Jared's screwed up mind. But at this moment, it doesn't matter. Protective instinct outweighs any moral or social qualms he has.

Jared's cock is hot and hard against his stomach, and Jared whines as his hips circle, rubbing himself against Shannon. There's no mistaking what he wants and Shannon doesn't even try.

It crosses his mind to wonder what Jared will think of him when he comes back to himself. If he comes back. There's no surety here. Consequence has no meaning though.

There's lube on the nightstand and he impresses himself that he finds it so easily. He spreads a handful between Jared's ass, stroking his entrance, far too much but better than not enough and Jared quakes—full body shiver at the chill of it. He slides two fingers inside of Jared’s ass and he gasps, the air hissing over his teeth and ending in a humming moan-whine. Scissoring his fingers gently open, Jared rocks against his hand, little urgent sounds in the back of his throat: whimpers, moans and a soft cry when his stroking fingers find his prostate. Jared shudders when Shannon presses against and, having found it, uses his fingers to manipulate it until Jared’s crying out and shaking, the sounds guttural and low, only to rise near a howl if Shannon presses just a fraction harder.

He looks down at Shannon, eyes heavy and breath labored. He leans forward and darts his tongue out, licking a stripe up Shannon’s right cheek, tongue rasping against his unshaven skin. Something about it, the motion so gentle and yet still so urgent, makes Shannon gasp.

“Okay,” Shannon says and withdraws his fingers, pulling a soft sound from Jared’s throat at the withdrawal and he knows that he wants more. Shannon clasps him to his chest again and Jared lifts up on his knees, hovering over Shannon's cock.

He bites his lip, looking down into Shannon's eyes. Even behind the slightly feral look, there's clarity and understanding and it settles the worry that's eating away at his subconscious.

Shannon's hands are in Jared's hair and he tugs him towards his mouth, Jared puts one hand behind him, steadies Shannon's cock and drops his hips.

They swallow each other's groan and Jared inches down while Shannon tries not to flip him over and fuck him through the mattress—it's not about him right now. It's about comfort and understanding and connecting. At least that's what he tells himself as his cock is engulfed in Jared's ass.

He doesn't move until Jared's settled fully in his lap then he rocks gently, bends his knees so his feet are flat on the mattress and uses his thighs and hips to keep his movements steady, constant, reassuring. The way Jared melts into him is more satisfying than any physical pleasure he could ever want.

Jared pulls back from his mouth, rests his forehead on Shannon's and they're breathing the same air, back and forth. They couldn't be any more connected without fusing.

Shannon leans back into the nest of pillows and lets Jared control the speed, he's happy watching, the way Jared twists his lip and chews on it with each slow drag over his prostate. Sweat is beading on his chest and fuck it, Shannon pulls him closer and licks his collar bone, bites softly, gathers what little skin there is between his teeth.

Feels like Jared's been waiting for just that. Shallow-fucking-brain melting-rolling.

"Need you." The words are mostly lost in nonhuman noises but Shannon catches them anyway. He needs to believe that they're there.

Shannon doesn't have to be told twice and Jared's on his back before he has to ask again. Hands on either side of his head, ankles hooked around Shannon's waist and fuck.

"More, more, more." It's a litany falling from Jared's lips like a chant; a prayer for the damned as he keeps tempo with each snap of Shannon's hips. Shannon drags his fingers up Jared's cock while he fucks his ass, desperate need overtaking comfort but there's no complaints so he goes with it.

”Mine. You wanna come for me, don’t you, Jared?” He can't keep his mouth shut. It's a quirk, a habit, it's what he does. The fact that it's Jared he's fucking doesn't change that.

"Yours. Yes," Jared's eyes are almost black with a yellow tinge and Shannon knows it's not his brother, but the wolf, begging for domination. Jared's spine arches, his throat offered and Shannon grazes his teeth up the length of it. His teeth leave pink lines that darken to pale red against Jared’s snowy skin and Shannon licks them one by one the best he can.

"Want you to come when I tell you to," he bites out as he pulls away and pleasure is writhing snakes in his stomach when he says it.

"Hurry." Jared’s hips roll up against his, urging him deeper as Jared's chest reverberates with an animalistic sound, contentment and frustration rolled into one.

Shannon slows right down and Jared whines, a piteous sound causing instant guilt.

Jared lifts his head, rubs his cheek against Shannon's chest and it feels like utter submission. His hips are working on their own, brain stops and instinct takes over. He knows what Jared needs and he wants to give it to him, wants to do that more than anything.

"Nearly there?"

Another cheek rub against his collar bone is the only answer he gets and he takes that as a yes.

Shannon yanks his hair, clings to his lips and knows Jared comes because it's spread between them like secrets left on the bed sheets of naughty children playing doctor. Snap, snap, snap and he's gone, too, lost in an onslaught of warmth and elation that cocoons them both, enveloped and lost in each other.

Shannon moans into Jared’s mouth, tasting his breath and his wildness like cloves and evergreen needles. Jared’s hips work back against his, making one whine and the other groan as their bodies are milked of every last drop of pleasure they can give until the bolts of sensation are just shy of painful. Putting his hand on one of Jared’s hips to stop him, Shannon carefully rests his weight on top of him, feeling his cock as it softens and begins to slip from Jared’s body.

With a sigh that is almost reluctant, Shannon pulls completely out, making Jared jerk and tighten his legs around him for a split second before he relaxes back against the sheets, blinking up at Shannon. His eyes are almost completely blue and Shannon touches the tips of his fingers beneath the left one, runs them in a slow arc that follows the dark circle left by restless sleep. Kissing his mouth once, gently, he flicks his tongue out to meet Jared’s when he licks out to try and kiss Shannon deeper. Rolling onto his side, he pulls Jared close to him and cards his fingers through his hair—hair that has grown even longer since the… accident—and carefully tries to work some of the knots from it.

Shannon lies with Jared’s head against his chest, dozing as he lazily strokes Jared’s hair and across his shoulders. He is not fully asleep yet, however, and when Jared shifts so that his chin is propped on Shannon’s collarbone, he is alert almost at once. Looking down at Jared, the angle is odd and makes his eyes feel a little strained, but he meets his gaze. Blue overlaid with amber that seems to flicker and gutter like a candle flame.

Pushing himself all the way into a sitting position, Jared shifts around until he is half-crouched like a dog would sit on its haunches. Licking his lips, he walls his eyes for a moment and makes a low sound in his throat as he glances back at Shannon. All Shannon can do is wait and be quiet, hear what Jared has to say if there is anything he can get out.

When Jared opens his mouth, he snaps it back closed almost immediately and frowns. Raising one hand, he chews on the side of his finger and resettles his weight a little. Shannon reaches up and pulls Jared’s finger away from his mouth with a murmuring sound of negation and strokes the side of his neck. Jared’s trying so hard and it kind of hurts to watch him do it, but at the same time it gives Shannon a tiny spark of hope that the wolf will one day be gone—mostly anyway—and he can have Jared, all of Jared back for keeps.

Huffing out a breath, Jared leans into his touch and tries to speak again. What comes out is this garbled half human-half animal noise that sounds like sandpaper grating against metal. It’s so alien and strange that Shannon barely keeps himself from flinching, catching himself just as the muscles of his shoulders tense and his body tries to pull away.

Whining turns into a soft snarl that is all wolf and Jared scratches behind his right ear with the tips of his fingers. The way the movement is carried out is all animal, but Shannon still bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. It may look animal, but the tendency is Jared’s because Jared sometimes itched when he was nervous.

“Shh,” Shannon whispers to him and urges Jared down to lay back beside him.

Jared complies with a shivering whine and turns so his cheek rests on Shannon’s shoulder. The minutes tick by and once in a while, Jared fidgets and Shannon can feel his jaws clenching as he tries to speak.

“Cage,” Jared finally manages after about ten minutes. “Opened the door. Cage. Sh-oul-d h’ve…”

He stops and shakes his head, skin sliding across Shannon’s and his long, unruly hair tickling him. Clenching his hands tight in Shannon’s side, Jared growls once, then says in a voice that could almost be construed as a bark with a syllable, “Mate.”

He breathes deeply, winds himself up again and Shannon can feel the tension in his muscles as Jared fights for his mind, for himself and he’s afraid that this time at least, Jared is losing the battle of wills.

“Want. You,” he says and his voice is so ragged the words are nearly unintelligible and Shannon feels his heart sink a little, imagining the guttering glow in his blue eyes swimming back over them to make the blue more like dirty green.