You're No Angel
Title: You're No Angel
Author: Amanda, who goes by the aliasapodiopsys
Pairing: Flykat (Matt Flyzik/Jack Barakat)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He’s in a slightly pissy mood because Jack keeps cornering him and pressing his lips to that point of his jaw right below his ear and Jack knows that it’s his weak point but he’s clearly just horny and wants Matt to get him off but he’s busy dammit, he needs to call hotels and make arrangements and make sure Alex doesn’t put a fork in a toaster because he’s bored. He can’t spend every waking minute making sure that Jack is getting off, especially when he’s promised himself that the Lebanese man has seduced him for the last time.
Disclaimer: um yeah i do own this i am their pimp and they work for me~ title belongs to Underscore's album, cut belongs to their song Falling For You.
A/N: so i haven't posted anything in a while but i've kind of been in a weird place and incapable of writing anything. an anon asked for this on tumblr like, three weeks ago or something and i finally got it done, so.
tumblr is here, br0.
come sexually harras my message box. it's into that kind of thing~
Matt has told Jack exactly why they shouldn't be doing this. He's explained the logistics of why it won't work out, used the argument that they work together, done everything short of making a pie chart.
He won't listen.
So Matt has told himself that he is never going to let himself be seduced by Jack Barakat again.
(It's probably not a good thing that he told himself this while he was naked in Jack's bunk, panting softly because Jack just fucked him really well.)
He's in a slightly pissy mood because Jack keeps cornering him and pressing his lips to that point of his jaw right below his ear and Jack knows that it's his weak point but he's clearly just horny and wants Matt to get him off but he's busy dammit, he needs to call hotels and make arrangements and make sure Alex doesn't put a fork in a toaster because he's bored. He can't spend every waking minute making sure that Jack is getting off, especially when he's promised himself that the Lebanese man has seduced him for the last time.
Jack makes this frustrated noise, hitting Matt in the arm (it doesn't hurt) and going to find Zack or Rian most likely to whine at them about Matt. Whatever, he doesn't have time for that, he needs to call the venue and make sure they're ready for them to get there and start setting up because they'll be there in like, half an hour.
-
An hour, a dead GPs and a map later they're at the venue, and Matt is about to tear his hair out because Jack has decided to come bother him and they're running close to being forty five minutes behind schedule and one of the guitars is missing and Jack keeps coming up behind him and pressing his hips into his ass and he can feel that the other man is hard, it's kind of hard to ignore and he's trying to work.
"Goddammit, aren't there other people you can go bother? Go bother Alex for fucksakes, I'm stressed enough as it is," Matt says finally, spinning around, and he actually does look pretty stressed out.
"Sex will make you relax," Jack says mildly, this stupid, shit-eating grin on his face and Matt is this close to hitting him.
About eight emotions pan out over his face before he grabs Jack's hair, tugging his head back and pulling him over to a door. He pulls it open and shoves him inside, flicking on a light switch and slamming the door closed. "You won't know the meaning of stress until you have to deal with sheep, Alex's likelihood of getting killed because he's bored, Zack being weird about working out, and candles and calling hotels and venues and sorting out meet and greets and a horny Lebanese man on top of that," he growls, hand still tight in Jack's hair.
"So... does that mean I get sex?" Jack asks hopefully, and Matt swears, shoving him up against the door of the utility closet he hid them in.
It smells like bleach.
"You will get whatever I want to give you," Matt says, and he sounds dangerous and really hot, his lips moving fast and his lipring glinting in the small amount of light coming in through the window up by the ceiling. Matt pauses and wets his lips with his tongue; Jack mirrors the movement without even thinking about it and then they're kissing, deep and messy, teeth clicking and biting at each other’s lips, each one fighting for dominance.
It's Matt who wins, pinning Jack to the door with his hands above his head. He bites hard at Jack's lip, swiping his tongue over it and he tastes the metallic tang of blood, and okay, Jack's gonna have a swollen lip later, sorry.
Their hands sweep under clothes, trailing up chests and undoing belts until they're both shirtless and pressed up against each other and panting.
"I want -" Jack starts, and Matt shakes his head, cutting him off with a look.
"Blow me," he says, pushing on his shoulders until he's on his knees looking up at the older man. He isn't usually this way, the other times they've fooled around (he isn't a push over, not by far, but he's never quite taken control, not quite like this) and Jack finds it insanely hot.
He sits up on his heels, the balls of his feet planted against the ground as he tugs his jeans down to his thighs, leaning forward to mouth at the front of Matt's boxers. He's pitching a tent, and he isn't just stressed apparently, but he's sexually frustrated too, and that would explain why he's being extra bitchy at everyone.
Matt lets out a breath of hot air, switching their positions so he’s standing leaned up against the door with Jack still on his knees in front of him. Jack continues to mouth at the front of his boxers until the fabric is wet and Matt's breathing is ragged and they've been in that closet for long enough to people to start wondering where they are. "Don't tease," the black haired man says, fingers twitching by his side.
Jack gets Matt's boxers down to join his jeans around his knees, his cock curving up towards his stomach. It disappears inch by inch into Jack's mouth, his fingers rubbing circles onto the inside of Matt's thighs. He closes his lips around him, going about halfway down, his hands braced on his thighs.
He pulls off his dick, wiping his chin with the back of his hand because blowjobs get pretty messy no matter how you do it. He smirks up at Matt, his own pants completely undone to relieve at least a little of the pressure.
"Don't tease," Matt repeats, his hand curving over the back of Jack's skull and curling tight into brown hair, pushing him down towards his cock again. He bites his lip, looking up at Matt from under his eyelashes, his breath hot as he licks a stripe from the base to the tip.
What wouldn't fit in his mouth, Jack has his hand around, his head bobbing, his ears picking up every noise that tumbled out of Matt's mouth.
Matt wants to push him down further, wants more of the hot wet tight. "Faster, more," he orders, his voice a low sexual growl, and God, Jack could almost get off on listening to him talk like that alone. His hands tighten in Jack's dark hair, head rolling back against the door as Jack continues to bob over his cock, drawing back to suck at the tip, tongue rubbing the sensitive spot under the crown.
"Fuck, Jack, god, your mouth," he moans, and Jack can't say anything in response, just moans around his dick that sends vibrations through Matt, the muscles in his back tightening with the effort of not bucking into Jack's mouth and choking him.
He moans again, one hand moving down from his hair to his shoulder, gripping tightly at the material of his shirt. He feels the tip of his tongue running light up the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein, just these light, barely there touches. It's just the tip of his tongue; he's practically a trained cocktease. "Fuck," Matt gasps, not enough oxygen getting through to his lungs. He wouldn't mind getting fucked right now, actually, but they don't have the time, he's vaguely aware of the fact that his phone was vibrating in his pocket a few minutes ago.
"C’mon, Jack. Fuck, please," Matt moans, fingers tugging at his hair, and Jack relaxes his jaw as he goes back down inch by inch, and it's almost like he's savoring it. Matt looks down, sees his Jack's lips stretched around his cock, Jack's hand inside his own pants, fisting himself quickly. He's so fucking close, his knees are weak and his moans are going up in pitch; Jack thinks sometimes that maybe he should have stayed as the vocalist for Underscore. A few more bobs of Jack's head and Matt comes, still in his mouth. Jack keeps his lips closed around the head, catching all of it in his mouth and letting him ride it out.
When Matt starts to go soft again, Jack lets his cock slip out of his mouth, watches Matt sink to his knees so they're kneeling in front of each other.
Jack turns his head to the side, spitting and not swallowing, and Matt's just caught his breath. He takes Jack's face in his hands, kissing him deeply even though he can taste himself on Jack’s lips and tongue. His hand moves down to join Jack's around his cock, their fingers tangling together and working him quickly to his release. His come streaks white over their fingers; Matt wipes his on the outside of his boxers before he tucks himself in and pulls them up again.
"We really need to stop doing this," Matt says softly, turning around and opening the closet door. Light filters through, and Jack thinks that maybe the tour manager looks a little sad. He leaves Jack sitting alone on the floor in the utility closet.
Author: Amanda, who goes by the aliasapodiopsys
Pairing: Flykat (Matt Flyzik/Jack Barakat)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He’s in a slightly pissy mood because Jack keeps cornering him and pressing his lips to that point of his jaw right below his ear and Jack knows that it’s his weak point but he’s clearly just horny and wants Matt to get him off but he’s busy dammit, he needs to call hotels and make arrangements and make sure Alex doesn’t put a fork in a toaster because he’s bored. He can’t spend every waking minute making sure that Jack is getting off, especially when he’s promised himself that the Lebanese man has seduced him for the last time.
Disclaimer: um yeah i do own this i am their pimp and they work for me~ title belongs to Underscore's album, cut belongs to their song Falling For You.
A/N: so i haven't posted anything in a while but i've kind of been in a weird place and incapable of writing anything. an anon asked for this on tumblr like, three weeks ago or something and i finally got it done, so.
tumblr is here, br0.
come sexually harras my message box. it's into that kind of thing~
Matt has told Jack exactly why they shouldn't be doing this. He's explained the logistics of why it won't work out, used the argument that they work together, done everything short of making a pie chart.
He won't listen.
So Matt has told himself that he is never going to let himself be seduced by Jack Barakat again.
(It's probably not a good thing that he told himself this while he was naked in Jack's bunk, panting softly because Jack just fucked him really well.)
He's in a slightly pissy mood because Jack keeps cornering him and pressing his lips to that point of his jaw right below his ear and Jack knows that it's his weak point but he's clearly just horny and wants Matt to get him off but he's busy dammit, he needs to call hotels and make arrangements and make sure Alex doesn't put a fork in a toaster because he's bored. He can't spend every waking minute making sure that Jack is getting off, especially when he's promised himself that the Lebanese man has seduced him for the last time.
Jack makes this frustrated noise, hitting Matt in the arm (it doesn't hurt) and going to find Zack or Rian most likely to whine at them about Matt. Whatever, he doesn't have time for that, he needs to call the venue and make sure they're ready for them to get there and start setting up because they'll be there in like, half an hour.
-
An hour, a dead GPs and a map later they're at the venue, and Matt is about to tear his hair out because Jack has decided to come bother him and they're running close to being forty five minutes behind schedule and one of the guitars is missing and Jack keeps coming up behind him and pressing his hips into his ass and he can feel that the other man is hard, it's kind of hard to ignore and he's trying to work.
"Goddammit, aren't there other people you can go bother? Go bother Alex for fucksakes, I'm stressed enough as it is," Matt says finally, spinning around, and he actually does look pretty stressed out.
"Sex will make you relax," Jack says mildly, this stupid, shit-eating grin on his face and Matt is this close to hitting him.
About eight emotions pan out over his face before he grabs Jack's hair, tugging his head back and pulling him over to a door. He pulls it open and shoves him inside, flicking on a light switch and slamming the door closed. "You won't know the meaning of stress until you have to deal with sheep, Alex's likelihood of getting killed because he's bored, Zack being weird about working out, and candles and calling hotels and venues and sorting out meet and greets and a horny Lebanese man on top of that," he growls, hand still tight in Jack's hair.
"So... does that mean I get sex?" Jack asks hopefully, and Matt swears, shoving him up against the door of the utility closet he hid them in.
It smells like bleach.
"You will get whatever I want to give you," Matt says, and he sounds dangerous and really hot, his lips moving fast and his lipring glinting in the small amount of light coming in through the window up by the ceiling. Matt pauses and wets his lips with his tongue; Jack mirrors the movement without even thinking about it and then they're kissing, deep and messy, teeth clicking and biting at each other’s lips, each one fighting for dominance.
It's Matt who wins, pinning Jack to the door with his hands above his head. He bites hard at Jack's lip, swiping his tongue over it and he tastes the metallic tang of blood, and okay, Jack's gonna have a swollen lip later, sorry.
Their hands sweep under clothes, trailing up chests and undoing belts until they're both shirtless and pressed up against each other and panting.
"I want -" Jack starts, and Matt shakes his head, cutting him off with a look.
"Blow me," he says, pushing on his shoulders until he's on his knees looking up at the older man. He isn't usually this way, the other times they've fooled around (he isn't a push over, not by far, but he's never quite taken control, not quite like this) and Jack finds it insanely hot.
He sits up on his heels, the balls of his feet planted against the ground as he tugs his jeans down to his thighs, leaning forward to mouth at the front of Matt's boxers. He's pitching a tent, and he isn't just stressed apparently, but he's sexually frustrated too, and that would explain why he's being extra bitchy at everyone.
Matt lets out a breath of hot air, switching their positions so he’s standing leaned up against the door with Jack still on his knees in front of him. Jack continues to mouth at the front of his boxers until the fabric is wet and Matt's breathing is ragged and they've been in that closet for long enough to people to start wondering where they are. "Don't tease," the black haired man says, fingers twitching by his side.
Jack gets Matt's boxers down to join his jeans around his knees, his cock curving up towards his stomach. It disappears inch by inch into Jack's mouth, his fingers rubbing circles onto the inside of Matt's thighs. He closes his lips around him, going about halfway down, his hands braced on his thighs.
He pulls off his dick, wiping his chin with the back of his hand because blowjobs get pretty messy no matter how you do it. He smirks up at Matt, his own pants completely undone to relieve at least a little of the pressure.
"Don't tease," Matt repeats, his hand curving over the back of Jack's skull and curling tight into brown hair, pushing him down towards his cock again. He bites his lip, looking up at Matt from under his eyelashes, his breath hot as he licks a stripe from the base to the tip.
What wouldn't fit in his mouth, Jack has his hand around, his head bobbing, his ears picking up every noise that tumbled out of Matt's mouth.
Matt wants to push him down further, wants more of the hot wet tight. "Faster, more," he orders, his voice a low sexual growl, and God, Jack could almost get off on listening to him talk like that alone. His hands tighten in Jack's dark hair, head rolling back against the door as Jack continues to bob over his cock, drawing back to suck at the tip, tongue rubbing the sensitive spot under the crown.
"Fuck, Jack, god, your mouth," he moans, and Jack can't say anything in response, just moans around his dick that sends vibrations through Matt, the muscles in his back tightening with the effort of not bucking into Jack's mouth and choking him.
He moans again, one hand moving down from his hair to his shoulder, gripping tightly at the material of his shirt. He feels the tip of his tongue running light up the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein, just these light, barely there touches. It's just the tip of his tongue; he's practically a trained cocktease. "Fuck," Matt gasps, not enough oxygen getting through to his lungs. He wouldn't mind getting fucked right now, actually, but they don't have the time, he's vaguely aware of the fact that his phone was vibrating in his pocket a few minutes ago.
"C’mon, Jack. Fuck, please," Matt moans, fingers tugging at his hair, and Jack relaxes his jaw as he goes back down inch by inch, and it's almost like he's savoring it. Matt looks down, sees his Jack's lips stretched around his cock, Jack's hand inside his own pants, fisting himself quickly. He's so fucking close, his knees are weak and his moans are going up in pitch; Jack thinks sometimes that maybe he should have stayed as the vocalist for Underscore. A few more bobs of Jack's head and Matt comes, still in his mouth. Jack keeps his lips closed around the head, catching all of it in his mouth and letting him ride it out.
When Matt starts to go soft again, Jack lets his cock slip out of his mouth, watches Matt sink to his knees so they're kneeling in front of each other.
Jack turns his head to the side, spitting and not swallowing, and Matt's just caught his breath. He takes Jack's face in his hands, kissing him deeply even though he can taste himself on Jack’s lips and tongue. His hand moves down to join Jack's around his cock, their fingers tangling together and working him quickly to his release. His come streaks white over their fingers; Matt wipes his on the outside of his boxers before he tucks himself in and pulls them up again.
"We really need to stop doing this," Matt says softly, turning around and opening the closet door. Light filters through, and Jack thinks that maybe the tour manager looks a little sad. He leaves Jack sitting alone on the floor in the utility closet.