Trainspotting
Title: In the bathroom
Author: duckgirlie
Rating: R,
Fandom: Trainspotting
Pairing: Renton/Sick boy
Feedback: Much appreiciated, good or bad.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For the contrelamontre frustrated lust challenge; done in about half an hour, though an hour once you add in all the time I was staring at the screen.
Summary: Sick boy is too damned alluring.
Simon was a wanker. Complete wanker. Complete fucking wanker. Wanker.
Repeating the word over and over in his head didn’t make him feel any better. Neither did picturing him with a knife in his forehead. Neither did picturing him on his knees. Well, to be fair, that helped a little.
What did help was doing speed in the club toilets with Spud. And sitting for what seemed like hours on the hard bench seats. Listening to Begbie shite on about his latest macho exploits, and watching Tommy’s eyes widen while he tried and decipher the truth. And watching Spud slowly sliding off his seat into a human puddle on the sticky floor.
And not watching Simon on the dancefloor.
Defiantly not watching Simon dancing, pressed against the girl.
And defiantly NOT watching Simon’s face as the girl’s hand obviously dipped beneath his waistband and Simon’s eyes roll back in his head, a mixture of lust, E and alcohol.
Watching the smile flit across Simon’s face, he felt his jeans tighten, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Before long, he was to far to cope, and excused himself, walking awkwardly to the toilets. He locked himself in a cubicle, hurriedly undoing his fly and shoving his hand down his boxers.
First touch, he let out a long moan, stopping short as he heard someone else stumble into the next cubicle. He held his breath, withdrawing his hand.
Until he heard Simon’s voice on the other side of the wall.
Heard Simon persuading the girl onto her knees. Heard Simon wave her concerns away.
And as he felt Simon press against the thin wall, he slid his hand back into his trousers, and moved his hand in time with Simon’s groans.
Definatly not helping.
Author: duckgirlie
Rating: R,
Fandom: Trainspotting
Pairing: Renton/Sick boy
Feedback: Much appreiciated, good or bad.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For the contrelamontre frustrated lust challenge; done in about half an hour, though an hour once you add in all the time I was staring at the screen.
Summary: Sick boy is too damned alluring.
Simon was a wanker. Complete wanker. Complete fucking wanker. Wanker.
Repeating the word over and over in his head didn’t make him feel any better. Neither did picturing him with a knife in his forehead. Neither did picturing him on his knees. Well, to be fair, that helped a little.
What did help was doing speed in the club toilets with Spud. And sitting for what seemed like hours on the hard bench seats. Listening to Begbie shite on about his latest macho exploits, and watching Tommy’s eyes widen while he tried and decipher the truth. And watching Spud slowly sliding off his seat into a human puddle on the sticky floor.
And not watching Simon on the dancefloor.
Defiantly not watching Simon dancing, pressed against the girl.
And defiantly NOT watching Simon’s face as the girl’s hand obviously dipped beneath his waistband and Simon’s eyes roll back in his head, a mixture of lust, E and alcohol.
Watching the smile flit across Simon’s face, he felt his jeans tighten, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Before long, he was to far to cope, and excused himself, walking awkwardly to the toilets. He locked himself in a cubicle, hurriedly undoing his fly and shoving his hand down his boxers.
First touch, he let out a long moan, stopping short as he heard someone else stumble into the next cubicle. He held his breath, withdrawing his hand.
Until he heard Simon’s voice on the other side of the wall.
Heard Simon persuading the girl onto her knees. Heard Simon wave her concerns away.
And as he felt Simon press against the thin wall, he slid his hand back into his trousers, and moved his hand in time with Simon’s groans.
Definatly not helping.