Thread: Que Sera, Sera (random fics)

Random excerpt I never bothered to finish. Yes, I'm aware it starts in the middle. .. The halls of the house are quite wide, he notices for the first time. They're wide and nicely furnished because Catelyn won't have it any other way and the Starks have always had money to spend on such trivialities. He's not a Stark. Not really. But Jon doesn't have time to brood over his parentage because Brady's golden head is coming into view. When he stops in front of him, there's no hugging or kissing. It's a mutual agreement between them to lay low until they're really alone. Jon can get very creative but tonight he just wants some action really bad and Brady doesn't even have to ask because it's not long before they find themselves in a walk in closet, door locked securely behind them. Jon wants a blowjob really bad. For months now he's been wanking hard to the thought of how his boyfriend's mouth fits around him like a perfect little glove. His mouth is hot and accommodating and very good at bringing him to mind-numbing release if he remembers well. He'll fuck him too, this is certain. He'll fuck him all night long and then again in the morning and as many times as he wants after that. Brady isn't the kind to just drop to his knees without a second thought and in spite of how hard he already is, he admires that about him. Brady is a constant reminder that this is the longest relationship he's been in and he intends to keep it for as long as he can. He's only 17 but when he looks into those blue eyes, forever isn't so scary a thought after all. Brady touches his lips to Jon's for a second and whispers out in a voice that Jon has fantasized about on far too many sleepless nights. I missed you, Jonny. Jon swallows and nods. He doesn't feel awkward or tense, well, at least not where it matters. I missed you too. He doesn't even care that Brady called him Jonny. He's too horny to care. There isn't more to be said. Not yet, in any case. They are young and some things take precedent over others, sex being one of them. The blond's lips are like velvet and his touch is as hauntingly gentle as Jon remembers. When Brady works down his torso to his very obvious bulge, Jon's zipping his lips because Catelyn has got impeccable hearing and he doesn't fancy having his little piece of heaven interrupted by the bitter harpy. Brady holds him delicately in his hand but there's nothing delicate about his mouth-work. The guy's pretty messy with the oral and Jon's got to admit, his cock sliding in and out of Blondie's mouth is the most obscene sight he's ever witnessed. The sight of Brady sucking him off is like something out of his more erotic fantasies and that coupled with the sounds of his dutiful slurping has Jon planting his hand firmly against the wall before his knees give in. He almost wants to look away but he has learned quickly that sometimes it just isn't possible. He knows full-well how he tastes after the result of boyish curiosity and often ponders how Brady likes it. If he doesn't, he's kept that to himself and Jon couldn't be anymore grateful. Brady has a habit of making him feel like a real catch. It's love, he realises, not for the first time. Jon loves him too. He can't really help himself. When he comes, it's a muffled sort of groan that doesn't go very far but the indents of teeth on his knuckles do. And pretty soon he's sprawled over a carpeted floor with six inches of circumcised goodness in place. Jon doesn't consider himself a pro at cock sucking so the act in itself is rare but each time he gets a look at his significant other, he's reminded of just why the heck he bothers. Brady is a vision with his flushed cheeks and rosy lips, always semi-parted to let forth sounds that make Jon want to dirty his boxers. When Brady is finished, Jon swallows but doesn't move. He rests his stubbled chin on the boy's naked stomach and begins tracing the tip of his tongue around an adorable belly button. Brady likes it when he doesn't shave. He says the extra hair makes him look sexy but Jon has the nagging suspicion that he just wants to add on the years. People are often fond of reminding him that he looks about 12 years old on a good day. Jon hums a nameless tune and blows gently against the damp skin of his boyfriend's stomach. He can't see it but he knows Brady is smiling in that usual calm manner that far exceeds his years. It's something they have in common, he knows. Boyish and lost one moment and wise and troubled the next. It's in the eyes. They both have expressive eyes. We still up for that dinner date, Jonny? Jon doesn't respond right away. He's too busy doing nothing at all. It's a strange thing for him to be lying in such cramped quarters, sticky and languid but he figures this is the best it'll get for him and he's okay with that. Nay, he loves that. He has come home and right now, home is where he wants to be. So Jon presses a kiss to Brady's stomach and smiles a rare smile. Nah. We're fine where we are.