(no subject)
Okay, so I'm new, and I see that this community hasn't been active in awhile, but I'm going to post this here anyway.
This is my first work of slash, by the way. I'm not new to writing fiction, but this is my first attempt at anything remotely erotic in nature. Anyway, it stars Michael and Dirt, and I would give it an "R" rating.
They were just walking, walking down an empty street in an obscure city; by this point, all these cities looked the same to them.
Sam and the rest were at the hotel, vegged out with some beers and pay-per-view. Only the two Michaels had wanted to venture out after that day’s 12 hour flight.
Michael walked with his head bowed down, watching his shoes scuff along the damp pavement. His hands were thrust in his pockets, he didn’t speak. Mike walked beside him, equally silent, but it was a comfortable silence between two friends.
They had reached a streetlamp, and stood still for a moment, bathing in its watery yellow glow. Mike stared at Michael under the light, and Michael gazed back at him, too used to his friend’s antics to be fazed by strange behavior of any sort. Maybe it was the jetlag, or the slightly spooky, ethereal silence of the little European street where they were walking, but Mike suddenly felt possessed by an overwhelming urge to kiss his friend, if only to thank him for providing some much-needed beauty in that bleak hour.
He leaned forward. Michael still didn’t move, he was studying Mike carefully. Ever so gently, he touched Michael’s lips with his own. He drew back a little hastily, anxious to judge his reaction. Michael looked slightly confused, but not at all angry. Mike leaned forward and did it again, gauging the potential in this encounter. This time, he slid his tongue into Michael’s mouth, tasting the softness of his tongue. Michael kissed him back: he, too, was in a strange way that night.
The kiss seemed to go on, progressing just beautifully on its own. Mike grabbed the back of Michael’s head, bringing him closer. Michael, in turn, put his hands on Dirt’s shoulders and pulled his head down, closer to his own. Now they were genuinely “making out,” massaging each other’s tongues, drawing nearer and nearer.
Mike finally drew back, slowly, he was slightly startled at how aroused he was. It was never like this with the groupies, it was the same games, the same taste of mint and vodka. With Michael it was an exquisitely new experience.
“Why’d you stop?” Michael murmured. He, too, was excited and more than a little afraid at the thrill he was getting out of this whole experience. His hands still caressed Mike’s neck, he rubbed his fingers up and down there.
“I don’t know,” Mike said. There was a slight pause, before both dove into each other again.
This time the kiss was full-out passionate, they weren’t playing games any longer. Mike was beginning to stir in his jeans, he pressed closer against Michael and his own hardness.
“We’ve got to get back to the hotel,” Michael said softly when the kiss had ended, as he cupped Mike’s cheek in his hand tenderly.
Mike’s eyes were round and disappointed. Michael was almost four years old than him, and sometimes he felt like Michael was his older brother. But he allowed Michael to lead him back to the hotel, where Michael approached the front desk and asked for a room. He looked back at Mike with a mischievous grin: “Tell the other boys we found some girls.” Mike beamed in response, positively scurrying to tell Sam, Ant, and John that they’d be gone for the night. Then he waited, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe, waiting for Michael, his eyes bright yet his expression sullen beneath the grandeur of his carefully groomed faux-hawk.
Michael appeared, gazing at Mike with such intensity that Mike couldn’t help but wonder why he had never done this before. With the quiet smoothness that was so characteristic of him, Michael led the way to a room up the hall, opened it, and entered without so much as glancing back at Mike. But he knew he was supposed to follow.
Once inside, the door clicking locked behind them, they fell to kissing again until they were on the huge bed, their legs enterwined, hands in each other’s hair.
Dirt was getting hard again, and he climbed on Michael with abandon, tearing his shirt off as he went. Michael smiled up at him, a sly little grin. He wriggled out of his own top, tossing it carelessly to the side before pulling Dirt’s mouth to his again.
In a matter of seconds Mike was rock hard, his pants were painfully tight. He stood up, off the bed, to pull them off, when Michael dove forward and tore open the buttons, pushing the girls’-issue pants over his skinny hips until he was face-to-face with the familiar grey-and-red Calvin Kleins, with a not-so-familiar bulge inside. Teasingly, almost mockingly, Michael rubbed his hand over Mike’s cock, smiling up at him with that little half-grin dozens of press photographers had come to know over the past few months. Mike was writhing in torment, his face was filled with such plaintive desire that Michael didn’t have the heart to disappoint. Carefully, he pulled down Mike’s underwear, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath before lowering his mouth to caress Mike’s head with his tongue. Mike let out a low moan, and raked his fingers through Michael’s hair, pressing him further down his shaft.
Michael was inexperienced, yet his hesitation, his awkwardness, was that much more of a turn-on for Mike. He felt like he was in high school all over again, getting head from some sweet virgin girl, feeling on top of the world. Michael played him, rolling his tongue all up and down until Mike was close. Mike was again struck by the distinct realization of how wonderfully different this was from his normal exploits, he didn’t even need for Michael to take him all the way in his mouth for him to get off. With girls, it took longer and frankly, was getting boring. Mike reached down and held Michael’s head close as he finished, and Michael swallowed him, carefully, neatly his tongue lapping all of Mike’s length. .
Michael sat back on his heels when he was done, not quite believing this had just happened. He moved slowly back to the bed, where Mike joined him. They lay for awhile, with Michael’s head tucked under Mike’s chin, their arms around one another, trembling.
Mike’s whole body was humming. He stroked Michael’s soft hair, and kissed him on the ear. He wanted to kiss Michael again, but he didn’t know what Michael was feeling. He hoped it wasn’t regret.
Daringly, he inclined his head and gave Michael a deep, soft kiss. Michael responded, moving his body closer, kissing him back hungrily. “Do you feel like a shower after that?” he asked Mike. Mike grinned, that lovely boyish grin.
“Sure,” he said-he’d do practically anything for Michael now.
To be continued, if it's desired...
This is my first work of slash, by the way. I'm not new to writing fiction, but this is my first attempt at anything remotely erotic in nature. Anyway, it stars Michael and Dirt, and I would give it an "R" rating.
They were just walking, walking down an empty street in an obscure city; by this point, all these cities looked the same to them.
Sam and the rest were at the hotel, vegged out with some beers and pay-per-view. Only the two Michaels had wanted to venture out after that day’s 12 hour flight.
Michael walked with his head bowed down, watching his shoes scuff along the damp pavement. His hands were thrust in his pockets, he didn’t speak. Mike walked beside him, equally silent, but it was a comfortable silence between two friends.
They had reached a streetlamp, and stood still for a moment, bathing in its watery yellow glow. Mike stared at Michael under the light, and Michael gazed back at him, too used to his friend’s antics to be fazed by strange behavior of any sort. Maybe it was the jetlag, or the slightly spooky, ethereal silence of the little European street where they were walking, but Mike suddenly felt possessed by an overwhelming urge to kiss his friend, if only to thank him for providing some much-needed beauty in that bleak hour.
He leaned forward. Michael still didn’t move, he was studying Mike carefully. Ever so gently, he touched Michael’s lips with his own. He drew back a little hastily, anxious to judge his reaction. Michael looked slightly confused, but not at all angry. Mike leaned forward and did it again, gauging the potential in this encounter. This time, he slid his tongue into Michael’s mouth, tasting the softness of his tongue. Michael kissed him back: he, too, was in a strange way that night.
The kiss seemed to go on, progressing just beautifully on its own. Mike grabbed the back of Michael’s head, bringing him closer. Michael, in turn, put his hands on Dirt’s shoulders and pulled his head down, closer to his own. Now they were genuinely “making out,” massaging each other’s tongues, drawing nearer and nearer.
Mike finally drew back, slowly, he was slightly startled at how aroused he was. It was never like this with the groupies, it was the same games, the same taste of mint and vodka. With Michael it was an exquisitely new experience.
“Why’d you stop?” Michael murmured. He, too, was excited and more than a little afraid at the thrill he was getting out of this whole experience. His hands still caressed Mike’s neck, he rubbed his fingers up and down there.
“I don’t know,” Mike said. There was a slight pause, before both dove into each other again.
This time the kiss was full-out passionate, they weren’t playing games any longer. Mike was beginning to stir in his jeans, he pressed closer against Michael and his own hardness.
“We’ve got to get back to the hotel,” Michael said softly when the kiss had ended, as he cupped Mike’s cheek in his hand tenderly.
Mike’s eyes were round and disappointed. Michael was almost four years old than him, and sometimes he felt like Michael was his older brother. But he allowed Michael to lead him back to the hotel, where Michael approached the front desk and asked for a room. He looked back at Mike with a mischievous grin: “Tell the other boys we found some girls.” Mike beamed in response, positively scurrying to tell Sam, Ant, and John that they’d be gone for the night. Then he waited, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe, waiting for Michael, his eyes bright yet his expression sullen beneath the grandeur of his carefully groomed faux-hawk.
Michael appeared, gazing at Mike with such intensity that Mike couldn’t help but wonder why he had never done this before. With the quiet smoothness that was so characteristic of him, Michael led the way to a room up the hall, opened it, and entered without so much as glancing back at Mike. But he knew he was supposed to follow.
Once inside, the door clicking locked behind them, they fell to kissing again until they were on the huge bed, their legs enterwined, hands in each other’s hair.
Dirt was getting hard again, and he climbed on Michael with abandon, tearing his shirt off as he went. Michael smiled up at him, a sly little grin. He wriggled out of his own top, tossing it carelessly to the side before pulling Dirt’s mouth to his again.
In a matter of seconds Mike was rock hard, his pants were painfully tight. He stood up, off the bed, to pull them off, when Michael dove forward and tore open the buttons, pushing the girls’-issue pants over his skinny hips until he was face-to-face with the familiar grey-and-red Calvin Kleins, with a not-so-familiar bulge inside. Teasingly, almost mockingly, Michael rubbed his hand over Mike’s cock, smiling up at him with that little half-grin dozens of press photographers had come to know over the past few months. Mike was writhing in torment, his face was filled with such plaintive desire that Michael didn’t have the heart to disappoint. Carefully, he pulled down Mike’s underwear, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath before lowering his mouth to caress Mike’s head with his tongue. Mike let out a low moan, and raked his fingers through Michael’s hair, pressing him further down his shaft.
Michael was inexperienced, yet his hesitation, his awkwardness, was that much more of a turn-on for Mike. He felt like he was in high school all over again, getting head from some sweet virgin girl, feeling on top of the world. Michael played him, rolling his tongue all up and down until Mike was close. Mike was again struck by the distinct realization of how wonderfully different this was from his normal exploits, he didn’t even need for Michael to take him all the way in his mouth for him to get off. With girls, it took longer and frankly, was getting boring. Mike reached down and held Michael’s head close as he finished, and Michael swallowed him, carefully, neatly his tongue lapping all of Mike’s length. .
Michael sat back on his heels when he was done, not quite believing this had just happened. He moved slowly back to the bed, where Mike joined him. They lay for awhile, with Michael’s head tucked under Mike’s chin, their arms around one another, trembling.
Mike’s whole body was humming. He stroked Michael’s soft hair, and kissed him on the ear. He wanted to kiss Michael again, but he didn’t know what Michael was feeling. He hoped it wasn’t regret.
Daringly, he inclined his head and gave Michael a deep, soft kiss. Michael responded, moving his body closer, kissing him back hungrily. “Do you feel like a shower after that?” he asked Mike. Mike grinned, that lovely boyish grin.
“Sure,” he said-he’d do practically anything for Michael now.
To be continued, if it's desired...