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This has just been running around in my head lately. It is not necessarily an Oz flashback or anything, just a little slash-y goodness.
Title: Pink Floyd and Alleyways
Pairing: Oz/Devon
Warnings/Rating: R (violence, language, blow jobs)
Thanks: Ms. Kate, I appreciate the read, the feedback and the continuing inspiration.
Devon was fucking sure that he could make Oz do it. Not that Oz did things he didn’t want to do per se, but Devon was the kind of guy whose powers of persuasion were strong. And this time it would finally work.
Rolling his eyes and looking down over Oz’s red spiky hair, Devon retorted, “Dude, let it go. You know there is no way I am going to give up on this one.”
Standing inches apart in the alley behind the Bronze, Oz finally looked up at him. His face was bruised and a little bloody. This only made Devon smile broader. “Are you a fucking girl or something? Won’t hit me back?” Devon laughed in his face. Under his laugh, he could feel himself getting more pissed. Fight Club had it right - he felt really alive. Really...real.
“That’s me, Nancy Drew, Girl Wonder,” Oz slurred through his puffy lips, his hands still hanging slack at his sides.
All Devon wanted was for him to react, get talked into something, but unlike everyone else around him, Oz never did. Devon looked around for the rest of the band, but they seemed to have taken off. Devon was glad because their newest member, Mark, was doing the whole looking-but-not-looking thing in his direction through the whole gig. Fuck someone in the ass once and they follow you around like a puppy dog, Devon thought. Probably wished he was the one Devon was punching the shit out of. Trev and Dallas were most likely wondering when he was going to fuck them again, too.
Devon was so tired of people who gave it up easy. It barely took more than a look and they were on their knees, begging to suck him off.
Turning his attention back to Oz, he said, “You think I won’t keep doing it, Oz? I’m not going to give up until you hit me.” He shoved Oz up against the wall. Oz’s head bounced off the brick a little, sounding like a ripe melon. Devon grabbed his throat in his hands and made Oz look again. Their bodies pressed together, Devon felt himself getting hard- hard because Oz was something he wanted but couldn’t have. Desperation wasn’t something Devon was used to feeling.
“I hate you, you asshole,” Devon hissed, two inches from Oz’s face. Didn’t matter that they had been friends for 15 years or that they used to share comic books, if Oz didn’t do something, Devon swore to himself that he was going to keep hitting him. He couldn’t take it anymore.
Devon punched him once more in the stomach. He snorted as he imagined how Oz was going to explain that to that geeky mouse he was dating.
Oz started coughing and little drops of blood splattered on Devon’s t-shirt. “Is this how you imagined it, Devon?” Oz managed. “I kind of saw it in the back of the van, some candles, Best of Pink Floyd on the stereo.”
“Imagined what?” Devon looked directly into Oz’s eyes and for the first time that night, the smile melted from his face. “What are you talking about?” Squeezing Oz’s neck tighter, Devon felt his own muscles tense.
It was Oz’s turn to let a smile play over his lips, “I could go on about a river called Denial, but I think the humor would be lost on you right now.” Devon’s face scrunched with even more confusion than usual. What was Oz getting at?
And then it dawned on him and he let go of Oz. Pushing himself away, Devon realized that Oz wanted him too. And more than that, it wasn’t that Devon couldn’t have him - he just couldn’t have Oz the same way he had everyone else- at his beck and call, his rules. No, Oz had to have him instead.
Devon warred with himself for about 30 seconds, watching Oz leaning against the wall, bloody and bruised, but somehow still calm and relaxed. Fuck, Devon thought, if he wanted to see Oz react, he was going to have to do it.
Sliding to his knees, he looked up into Oz’s eyes for the first time. Devon reached up and started unbuckling Oz’s belt. So this is how it felt to all those people who had sucked him off, wobbling on their knees, over the years. It was easy to see who had the power, who was the one that demanded adoration. Slipping Oz’s jeans and boxers down over his hips, Devon inhaled deeply, smelling the smell that was Oz - like boy and rockstar sweat and something cinnamon-y. Never having the slightest urge to go down on girl nor boy before, Devon was surprised, now that he was actually down here, at how bad he wanted to stick Oz’s dick in his mouth. Make it hard and slick, wet with his spit. Licking the tip of it gingerly and rubbing up and down with his hand, he felt Oz relax into him and start to harden. Oz’s hand drifted down to Devon’s hair, touching lightly, softly, but adding pressure as Devon began to pick up speed. Mouth moving up and down, Devon moaned loudly, not caring. He was fucking turned on. He couldn’t believe that it was because he was going down on a dude. Not just any dude, either. Oz.
Face kind of serene and relaxed, Devon noticed upon glancing up, Oz lay back against the wall, gazing back down at him. Grabbing the base of Oz’s cock, Devon’s grin started to come back a little. Slurping and sucking, he could taste the salty pre-cum coming from the tip. Slowly bucking his hips to start pushing his dick deeper, Oz closed his eyes. Devon gagged a little, but he had no intention of stopping now. Moving faster and holding the base, the tension built. All he wanted was for Oz to cum in his mouth. React for him.
Only seconds later, Oz let go with a slight exhalation of breath and Devon got his first mouthful of cum. He knew the texture on his fingertips but in his mouth, it was clumpy and strong tasting. Swallowing every drop, Devon felt a twinge of triumph. Oz pulled his pants up and buckled them. He extended a hand to Devon to help him up.
Devon took his hand and wiped off the knees of his own pants. They stood in silence for a minute. Then Devon said, “See you for practice tomorrow, dude.”
Oz nodded and patted Devon on the shoulder, in their regular friendly way. They walked down the alley towards the van together. “Do you really think Pink Floyd is sex music? That is just fucked up, Oz.”
Title: Pink Floyd and Alleyways
Pairing: Oz/Devon
Warnings/Rating: R (violence, language, blow jobs)
Thanks: Ms. Kate, I appreciate the read, the feedback and the continuing inspiration.
Devon was fucking sure that he could make Oz do it. Not that Oz did things he didn’t want to do per se, but Devon was the kind of guy whose powers of persuasion were strong. And this time it would finally work.
Rolling his eyes and looking down over Oz’s red spiky hair, Devon retorted, “Dude, let it go. You know there is no way I am going to give up on this one.”
Standing inches apart in the alley behind the Bronze, Oz finally looked up at him. His face was bruised and a little bloody. This only made Devon smile broader. “Are you a fucking girl or something? Won’t hit me back?” Devon laughed in his face. Under his laugh, he could feel himself getting more pissed. Fight Club had it right - he felt really alive. Really...real.
“That’s me, Nancy Drew, Girl Wonder,” Oz slurred through his puffy lips, his hands still hanging slack at his sides.
All Devon wanted was for him to react, get talked into something, but unlike everyone else around him, Oz never did. Devon looked around for the rest of the band, but they seemed to have taken off. Devon was glad because their newest member, Mark, was doing the whole looking-but-not-looking thing in his direction through the whole gig. Fuck someone in the ass once and they follow you around like a puppy dog, Devon thought. Probably wished he was the one Devon was punching the shit out of. Trev and Dallas were most likely wondering when he was going to fuck them again, too.
Devon was so tired of people who gave it up easy. It barely took more than a look and they were on their knees, begging to suck him off.
Turning his attention back to Oz, he said, “You think I won’t keep doing it, Oz? I’m not going to give up until you hit me.” He shoved Oz up against the wall. Oz’s head bounced off the brick a little, sounding like a ripe melon. Devon grabbed his throat in his hands and made Oz look again. Their bodies pressed together, Devon felt himself getting hard- hard because Oz was something he wanted but couldn’t have. Desperation wasn’t something Devon was used to feeling.
“I hate you, you asshole,” Devon hissed, two inches from Oz’s face. Didn’t matter that they had been friends for 15 years or that they used to share comic books, if Oz didn’t do something, Devon swore to himself that he was going to keep hitting him. He couldn’t take it anymore.
Devon punched him once more in the stomach. He snorted as he imagined how Oz was going to explain that to that geeky mouse he was dating.
Oz started coughing and little drops of blood splattered on Devon’s t-shirt. “Is this how you imagined it, Devon?” Oz managed. “I kind of saw it in the back of the van, some candles, Best of Pink Floyd on the stereo.”
“Imagined what?” Devon looked directly into Oz’s eyes and for the first time that night, the smile melted from his face. “What are you talking about?” Squeezing Oz’s neck tighter, Devon felt his own muscles tense.
It was Oz’s turn to let a smile play over his lips, “I could go on about a river called Denial, but I think the humor would be lost on you right now.” Devon’s face scrunched with even more confusion than usual. What was Oz getting at?
And then it dawned on him and he let go of Oz. Pushing himself away, Devon realized that Oz wanted him too. And more than that, it wasn’t that Devon couldn’t have him - he just couldn’t have Oz the same way he had everyone else- at his beck and call, his rules. No, Oz had to have him instead.
Devon warred with himself for about 30 seconds, watching Oz leaning against the wall, bloody and bruised, but somehow still calm and relaxed. Fuck, Devon thought, if he wanted to see Oz react, he was going to have to do it.
Sliding to his knees, he looked up into Oz’s eyes for the first time. Devon reached up and started unbuckling Oz’s belt. So this is how it felt to all those people who had sucked him off, wobbling on their knees, over the years. It was easy to see who had the power, who was the one that demanded adoration. Slipping Oz’s jeans and boxers down over his hips, Devon inhaled deeply, smelling the smell that was Oz - like boy and rockstar sweat and something cinnamon-y. Never having the slightest urge to go down on girl nor boy before, Devon was surprised, now that he was actually down here, at how bad he wanted to stick Oz’s dick in his mouth. Make it hard and slick, wet with his spit. Licking the tip of it gingerly and rubbing up and down with his hand, he felt Oz relax into him and start to harden. Oz’s hand drifted down to Devon’s hair, touching lightly, softly, but adding pressure as Devon began to pick up speed. Mouth moving up and down, Devon moaned loudly, not caring. He was fucking turned on. He couldn’t believe that it was because he was going down on a dude. Not just any dude, either. Oz.
Face kind of serene and relaxed, Devon noticed upon glancing up, Oz lay back against the wall, gazing back down at him. Grabbing the base of Oz’s cock, Devon’s grin started to come back a little. Slurping and sucking, he could taste the salty pre-cum coming from the tip. Slowly bucking his hips to start pushing his dick deeper, Oz closed his eyes. Devon gagged a little, but he had no intention of stopping now. Moving faster and holding the base, the tension built. All he wanted was for Oz to cum in his mouth. React for him.
Only seconds later, Oz let go with a slight exhalation of breath and Devon got his first mouthful of cum. He knew the texture on his fingertips but in his mouth, it was clumpy and strong tasting. Swallowing every drop, Devon felt a twinge of triumph. Oz pulled his pants up and buckled them. He extended a hand to Devon to help him up.
Devon took his hand and wiped off the knees of his own pants. They stood in silence for a minute. Then Devon said, “See you for practice tomorrow, dude.”
Oz nodded and patted Devon on the shoulder, in their regular friendly way. They walked down the alley towards the van together. “Do you really think Pink Floyd is sex music? That is just fucked up, Oz.”