Joe/Nick, kissing kink, rated R
I've filled another prompt! (This time from the jbkinkmeme .)
Prompt: Joe/anyone - Kissing as kink. Intense makeout sessions get him all worked up.
(It's Joe/Nick. That is, incest. Warning.)
When Joe was fourteen - just a few weeks before or after their dad started talking seriously about packing up and touring, Nick couldn’t keep that whole year in relative sequential order…
Well, when Joe was just old enough, and Nick was way too young to get it, Joe came home from school later than usual, with a goofy-distracted grin. Nick gave him a curious look and nearly asked about it, but Joe shook his head quickly and pointed at their mom.
And Nick knew how to keep a secret, especially if it was for Joe.
So that night, after the whole family had gone to sleep, Joe slid into Nick’s bed and whispered, “Hey, Nicky.”
Nick bit the inside of his lips. He wanted to know what was changed about Joe, why he was in such a weird, vacant mood all day. He wanted Joe to tell him all on his own, though. Thinking loud enough for telepathy made his head hurt most days.
Joe held his breath for a second, and then confided: “Katie Skelly from my science group and me kissed.”
Nick made a face.
Joe laughed. “Okay, okay. Eleven. I get it. But, no, man, it’s-it’s great.”
The way Nick remembers it now, five years later, that night stretched on forever. Joe just talked about how shaky his hands got when he cupped her chin, how soft her lips were and how he could feel them slipping over his, how he felt like he was sinking into her as they relaxed and drew closer together.
Nick mostly made gross-out faces, but he didn’t interrupt. He understood, in an abstract way, that Joe didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. And that Nick didn’t want Joe to look for anyone else.
“Kissing,” Joe said, towards the end, tasting the word, remembering. “Kissing kissing kissing.”
-----
The only thing that Joe asked, when their father suggested the rings, was, “Does kissing count?”
Nick bit his lip, thinking over all of the nights of Joe explaining his theories and careful studies of techniques. At the stern eyebrow from their dad, he couldn’t keep from laughing.
Joe whacked their knees together and turned bright red. And it wasn’t really funny, no.
-----
In the third week of Crisis Alert: The Camilla Incident, Joe woke Nick up by rolling into him.
“What I’m going to miss the most,” Joe rasped miserably.
“Joe, whatever it is, dwelling won’t help. I promise.” Nick knocked their foreheads together. “Especially at four in the morning.”
Joe fell guiltily quiet.
Nick sighed and said, “Alright, alright. It’s okay. Get it out.”
“She got it,” Joe breathed immediately. “About-about me, and. Kissing.” Joe had a certain way of saying it, thick and flowing like it had color and weight. “I mean. She really understood.”
“I understand,” Nick offered, not really daring to breathe.
“You listen, but you don’t really get it.” Joe corrected. He had a talent for weird, off-balance cruelty. He was just so sincere, sometimes. Nick could hear how grateful Joe was for him, and it killed him.
Nick didn’t say, maybe I could get it, or have you heard the way you talk about it?
Joe hummed. “She only asked once, you know. She said. She said that if I want to, I mean, you know… She said it would be okay. She wouldn’t ever tell anyone. She’d sign whatever-whatever fucking waivers--“
“Joe,” Nick scolded.
Joe clung to him and made himself stop laughing. He finally said, “And I had to explain that I didn’t, I don’t really want to, because I really, really like kissing. And, and she just smiled and said that as long as I was happy with it--”
Nick held him close. Closer.
------
What it came down to - or, how Nick rationalized it - was proximity. Pressing in and licking deep and focusing all of your being on this one act, battling back and forth. Like a conversation, or undeniable evidence that you just wanted to spend as much time together, as much time touching, as possible. The soreness in your jaw after a while. The way that the energy level could roll like hills, from uncontrollably frantic to unbearably thorough.
At some point in between hearing about Joe’s first kisses and now, Nick started to want… what? to see the appeal it held for Joe? Nick and his girlfriends progressed from kissing to making out to rubbing like a runaway train, mindlessly looking for, well, orgasm. While, for Joe, it was never about the end result.
Somewhere along the line, the wanting turned into wanting Joe. And somewhere after that, it turned into assuming that it would happen one day, if only for his own sanity.
And somewhere after that-
-----
“Nick,” breathed Joe, his arms loose and possessive around his brother’s waist. He didn’t pull them flush together; he left just enough space to make it clear that this wasn’t about that.
Nick leaned his hands into the crosshatched uneven hotel wall, just above Joe’s shoulders, just brushing his wrists against Joe’s collar as he inhaled. As the rhythm sped up.
Nick had no idea how long they’d been like this. Leaning almost-together like this, accidentally bumping noses as Nick kissed Joe as slowly as he knew how. His shoulders ached from pushing and pulling himself, tightly reined in, pure want radiating from them like a supernova. Every part of Nick’s mouth felt tender and used, too-sensitive. And he’d never particularly liked kissing before.
Joe was totally out of his mind, moaning and shifting in his jeans, hands roaming all over Nick, owning him. He threw himself at this like he was trying to climb inside Nick, body and mind, and he couldn’t seem to gasp in enough air, to stop the way his thumb pressed and ran under Nick’s jaw, over his pulse. He settled in and kept going, letting Nick take control, utterly responsive.
Nick was stunned at how much power that really gave him over Joe.
So Nick finally moved one hand - he hadn’t touched Joe in years, it felt like, in whole lifetimes - and he took the hair at the base of Joe’s neck, stepped closer - almost too close - tugged until Joe sunk down and let Nick tilt his head back, hold him still. Nick wandered if he could actually die from the buzzing under his skin from Joe’s trapped, eager whimpers.
Nick traced the arc of Joe’s neck, his collarbone, with light fingertips, and then tongued everywhere in Joe that he could reach, strong and full of how much he wanted everything Joe could give him.
Joe - Nick’s big brother Joe, who had been practically insensible for half an hour with pleasure - crushed their bodies together and came.
Nick let him freeze up, pulled back until just their open mouths rested together, then their foreheads. His chest was too tight. He couldn’t, he couldn’t-
He left Joe propped up bonelessly against the wall and rolled to lean next to him. He got his pants open and got himself off in a few strokes, completely wrung out.
After (after their breathing evened out and they crawled out of their gross clothes and fell all over each other in bed), Joe curled into Nick and shrank a little, until Nick hauled him into a lazy, life-affirming hug.
Joe said, “Nick,” and Nick said,
“Kissing.”
Prompt: Joe/anyone - Kissing as kink. Intense makeout sessions get him all worked up.
(It's Joe/Nick. That is, incest. Warning.)
When Joe was fourteen - just a few weeks before or after their dad started talking seriously about packing up and touring, Nick couldn’t keep that whole year in relative sequential order…
Well, when Joe was just old enough, and Nick was way too young to get it, Joe came home from school later than usual, with a goofy-distracted grin. Nick gave him a curious look and nearly asked about it, but Joe shook his head quickly and pointed at their mom.
And Nick knew how to keep a secret, especially if it was for Joe.
So that night, after the whole family had gone to sleep, Joe slid into Nick’s bed and whispered, “Hey, Nicky.”
Nick bit the inside of his lips. He wanted to know what was changed about Joe, why he was in such a weird, vacant mood all day. He wanted Joe to tell him all on his own, though. Thinking loud enough for telepathy made his head hurt most days.
Joe held his breath for a second, and then confided: “Katie Skelly from my science group and me kissed.”
Nick made a face.
Joe laughed. “Okay, okay. Eleven. I get it. But, no, man, it’s-it’s great.”
The way Nick remembers it now, five years later, that night stretched on forever. Joe just talked about how shaky his hands got when he cupped her chin, how soft her lips were and how he could feel them slipping over his, how he felt like he was sinking into her as they relaxed and drew closer together.
Nick mostly made gross-out faces, but he didn’t interrupt. He understood, in an abstract way, that Joe didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. And that Nick didn’t want Joe to look for anyone else.
“Kissing,” Joe said, towards the end, tasting the word, remembering. “Kissing kissing kissing.”
-----
The only thing that Joe asked, when their father suggested the rings, was, “Does kissing count?”
Nick bit his lip, thinking over all of the nights of Joe explaining his theories and careful studies of techniques. At the stern eyebrow from their dad, he couldn’t keep from laughing.
Joe whacked their knees together and turned bright red. And it wasn’t really funny, no.
-----
In the third week of Crisis Alert: The Camilla Incident, Joe woke Nick up by rolling into him.
“What I’m going to miss the most,” Joe rasped miserably.
“Joe, whatever it is, dwelling won’t help. I promise.” Nick knocked their foreheads together. “Especially at four in the morning.”
Joe fell guiltily quiet.
Nick sighed and said, “Alright, alright. It’s okay. Get it out.”
“She got it,” Joe breathed immediately. “About-about me, and. Kissing.” Joe had a certain way of saying it, thick and flowing like it had color and weight. “I mean. She really understood.”
“I understand,” Nick offered, not really daring to breathe.
“You listen, but you don’t really get it.” Joe corrected. He had a talent for weird, off-balance cruelty. He was just so sincere, sometimes. Nick could hear how grateful Joe was for him, and it killed him.
Nick didn’t say, maybe I could get it, or have you heard the way you talk about it?
Joe hummed. “She only asked once, you know. She said. She said that if I want to, I mean, you know… She said it would be okay. She wouldn’t ever tell anyone. She’d sign whatever-whatever fucking waivers--“
“Joe,” Nick scolded.
Joe clung to him and made himself stop laughing. He finally said, “And I had to explain that I didn’t, I don’t really want to, because I really, really like kissing. And, and she just smiled and said that as long as I was happy with it--”
Nick held him close. Closer.
------
What it came down to - or, how Nick rationalized it - was proximity. Pressing in and licking deep and focusing all of your being on this one act, battling back and forth. Like a conversation, or undeniable evidence that you just wanted to spend as much time together, as much time touching, as possible. The soreness in your jaw after a while. The way that the energy level could roll like hills, from uncontrollably frantic to unbearably thorough.
At some point in between hearing about Joe’s first kisses and now, Nick started to want… what? to see the appeal it held for Joe? Nick and his girlfriends progressed from kissing to making out to rubbing like a runaway train, mindlessly looking for, well, orgasm. While, for Joe, it was never about the end result.
Somewhere along the line, the wanting turned into wanting Joe. And somewhere after that, it turned into assuming that it would happen one day, if only for his own sanity.
And somewhere after that-
-----
“Nick,” breathed Joe, his arms loose and possessive around his brother’s waist. He didn’t pull them flush together; he left just enough space to make it clear that this wasn’t about that.
Nick leaned his hands into the crosshatched uneven hotel wall, just above Joe’s shoulders, just brushing his wrists against Joe’s collar as he inhaled. As the rhythm sped up.
Nick had no idea how long they’d been like this. Leaning almost-together like this, accidentally bumping noses as Nick kissed Joe as slowly as he knew how. His shoulders ached from pushing and pulling himself, tightly reined in, pure want radiating from them like a supernova. Every part of Nick’s mouth felt tender and used, too-sensitive. And he’d never particularly liked kissing before.
Joe was totally out of his mind, moaning and shifting in his jeans, hands roaming all over Nick, owning him. He threw himself at this like he was trying to climb inside Nick, body and mind, and he couldn’t seem to gasp in enough air, to stop the way his thumb pressed and ran under Nick’s jaw, over his pulse. He settled in and kept going, letting Nick take control, utterly responsive.
Nick was stunned at how much power that really gave him over Joe.
So Nick finally moved one hand - he hadn’t touched Joe in years, it felt like, in whole lifetimes - and he took the hair at the base of Joe’s neck, stepped closer - almost too close - tugged until Joe sunk down and let Nick tilt his head back, hold him still. Nick wandered if he could actually die from the buzzing under his skin from Joe’s trapped, eager whimpers.
Nick traced the arc of Joe’s neck, his collarbone, with light fingertips, and then tongued everywhere in Joe that he could reach, strong and full of how much he wanted everything Joe could give him.
Joe - Nick’s big brother Joe, who had been practically insensible for half an hour with pleasure - crushed their bodies together and came.
Nick let him freeze up, pulled back until just their open mouths rested together, then their foreheads. His chest was too tight. He couldn’t, he couldn’t-
He left Joe propped up bonelessly against the wall and rolled to lean next to him. He got his pants open and got himself off in a few strokes, completely wrung out.
After (after their breathing evened out and they crawled out of their gross clothes and fell all over each other in bed), Joe curled into Nick and shrank a little, until Nick hauled him into a lazy, life-affirming hug.
Joe said, “Nick,” and Nick said,
“Kissing.”