Fic-kinda-let : Gravity | Joe/Nick | R
Title : Gravity
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Rating : R
Summary : It's not like Nick didn't see this coming, the epic downfall of Joe Jonas.
Authors notes : aldehyde is to blame for this one. I'm not usually one to do something more on the crackier side, but for her I gave it a shot. It's unbetad really, but I read it over so. I'm impatient and decided to post it and like a bandaid just get it over.
Based on these tweets.
1) http://twitter.com/VictoriaJustice/status/8664018792
2) http://twitter.com/joejonas/status/8665123535
3) http://twitter.com/VictoriaJustice/status/8667576889
4) http://twitter.com/joejonas/status/8667972357
It's not like Nick didn't see this coming, the epic downfall of Joe Jonas. It's been building up since before Nick could even really walk on his own. Joe being Joe, Joe being the crazy - weird, unique individual he is. And lately it's kind of been coming to a breaking point. First the horse, the big awesome but totally freakish stuffed horse currently in their parents front yard, and now this.
The most terrifying, hilariously heart breaking scene Nick's ever seen. One minute he's walking down the hall minding his own business, and the next Journey crawls into his ears and Joe's voice is breaking loose right along the edge of the notes. His breathe is thin though, like he's doing what could possibly be his not-so-secret weekly date with an old tape of Richard Simmons and a sparkly headband even Nick wouldn't wear.
But no, that's just not enough, because when Nick peeks in the cracked open door, expecting to see something a little weird (or you know, completely Joe), he sees something far worse. Joe is there alright, Richard too, and Journey has a supporting role in the whole damn drama. But the real kicker is what Joe is wearing. There's no headband or oddly tight shorts from the 60s. Instead it's a leopard print leotard or really, more like a painted on body suit. Every curve known to man kind is right there, from the round globe of his way too perfect ass to the bulge of his freaking Land Before Time sized cock. It's absurd, so wrong on every level there is, but like a bad car wreck Nick just can't stop staring as Joe high kicks and dances, twisting his hips like the pro that he is.
Nick knows what he should do, that he should just turn around and pretend he hasn't just witnessed the biggest disaster since the eruption of Mount St. Helens. Seriously, though, it's a brother's duty to do the exact opposite, and Nick's always been all about doing his job.
He feels around his pocket, his fingers curving around the cold metal of his cell and God his cock, hard and really pretty obvious inside his tight jeans. It's embarrassing, but all the more reason to make sure he gets something out of this experience. The phone clicks a second later, and Joe's still lost in his own little disco-funk-whatever the hell you want to call it. He's practically pelvic thrusting into mid air, twirling around and falling right into a split that even Nick can feel. But by that point it's just too much, the ridiculous nature of the entire situation, and Nick just can't hold it back anymore.
The warm echo of his laugh hits the air and tears through Joe's private little world. Nick's still got the phone in his hand, and it doesn't really take a genius to figure out what he was doing with it.
"Nick," he stumbles to his feet, sweat falling down the curve of his tanned forehead. "Give me the phone." He's trying to sound serious business or something like that, but he's still recovering from breaking out ballerina style.
"No, man. Imagine ET's face when they get their hands on this," He's really just joking, but Joe apparently isn't finding it funny because next thing Nick knows Joe's lunging towards him like he's suddenly taking his outfit way too seriously.
Nick lands flat on his back, spread out like some kind of lazy snow angel, and Joe's freaking pawing for his phone, legs straddling Nick's thin waist.
They roll on the floor back and forth like a bad tennis match, and Nick doesn't even really know where his phone even is anymore. He's pretty sure he can still feel it clenched in his hand, but honestly he doesn't know what he's holding anymore, his phone or some atomic weapon.
The change in Joe's behavior is so subtle, like a smooth turn, but when he presses his hips down, so rough and feral against Nick's hard cock, Nick knows it's not about the phone anymore.
The leotard is so thin, and Nick can see the wet tip of Joe's cock rubbing against the fabric, soaking through so that when Joe bends his hips and humps hard against Nick he can feel the wetness where his jeans hang low. Their moans mingle, deep and sex laced, and Nick can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach.
He raises himself on his elbows, his body pushing upwards as Joe continues his desperate off tempo thrust downwards, and their mouths meet. The kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and breaths ripped from their lungs.
Joe's fingers are frantic where they pull at Nick's jeans, the button fighting against the rough denim, and when he finally gets it through the loop Joe's face lights up like he just won a Grammy. Everything is rushed, like two thirteen year olds just learning that getting off is the best thing since a slice of bread. It's kind of perfect though, in it's own little flawed way, like Joe's supposed to want Nick so bad he can't possibly slow down, like Nick is supposed to hold onto the leotard for dear life and whisper breathless sweet nothings against Joe's bruised lips.
Nick comes first, his nails digging into the leopard print and his body arching. Joe follows soon after, his thrusts stuttering as the spot coming through his leotard grows.
Nick's still trying to catch his breath, figure out how one thing led to another led to this when he feels Joe's fingers dust across his. He doesn't hold his hand though, doesn't wrap their fingers together in some magical way, just pulls the phone from Nick's grip and deletes the pictures, a satisfactory smile clear on his face.
The click of another picture hits the air, a broken beacon of reality in the room. Joe sets the phone down next to his brother, climbs up like dry humping his brother is pretty much the most natural thing ever.
“Imagine ET's face if they saw this,” he winks, a devilish little grin on his face, and leaves Nick there stunned, staring at a picture of himself completely wrecked - collateral damage in the epic downfall of a one Joe Jonas. But like gravity, like a fast approaching train, it was always inevitable.
Quick pop culture lesson - Richard Simmons : crazy little man who used to do exercise shows. Land Before Time : Cute movie about dinosaurs... yeah, I went there. ET : Entertainment Tonight.
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Rating : R
Summary : It's not like Nick didn't see this coming, the epic downfall of Joe Jonas.
Authors notes : aldehyde is to blame for this one. I'm not usually one to do something more on the crackier side, but for her I gave it a shot. It's unbetad really, but I read it over so. I'm impatient and decided to post it and like a bandaid just get it over.
Based on these tweets.
1) http://twitter.com/VictoriaJustice/status/8664018792
2) http://twitter.com/joejonas/status/8665123535
3) http://twitter.com/VictoriaJustice/status/8667576889
4) http://twitter.com/joejonas/status/8667972357
It's not like Nick didn't see this coming, the epic downfall of Joe Jonas. It's been building up since before Nick could even really walk on his own. Joe being Joe, Joe being the crazy - weird, unique individual he is. And lately it's kind of been coming to a breaking point. First the horse, the big awesome but totally freakish stuffed horse currently in their parents front yard, and now this.
The most terrifying, hilariously heart breaking scene Nick's ever seen. One minute he's walking down the hall minding his own business, and the next Journey crawls into his ears and Joe's voice is breaking loose right along the edge of the notes. His breathe is thin though, like he's doing what could possibly be his not-so-secret weekly date with an old tape of Richard Simmons and a sparkly headband even Nick wouldn't wear.
But no, that's just not enough, because when Nick peeks in the cracked open door, expecting to see something a little weird (or you know, completely Joe), he sees something far worse. Joe is there alright, Richard too, and Journey has a supporting role in the whole damn drama. But the real kicker is what Joe is wearing. There's no headband or oddly tight shorts from the 60s. Instead it's a leopard print leotard or really, more like a painted on body suit. Every curve known to man kind is right there, from the round globe of his way too perfect ass to the bulge of his freaking Land Before Time sized cock. It's absurd, so wrong on every level there is, but like a bad car wreck Nick just can't stop staring as Joe high kicks and dances, twisting his hips like the pro that he is.
Nick knows what he should do, that he should just turn around and pretend he hasn't just witnessed the biggest disaster since the eruption of Mount St. Helens. Seriously, though, it's a brother's duty to do the exact opposite, and Nick's always been all about doing his job.
He feels around his pocket, his fingers curving around the cold metal of his cell and God his cock, hard and really pretty obvious inside his tight jeans. It's embarrassing, but all the more reason to make sure he gets something out of this experience. The phone clicks a second later, and Joe's still lost in his own little disco-funk-whatever the hell you want to call it. He's practically pelvic thrusting into mid air, twirling around and falling right into a split that even Nick can feel. But by that point it's just too much, the ridiculous nature of the entire situation, and Nick just can't hold it back anymore.
The warm echo of his laugh hits the air and tears through Joe's private little world. Nick's still got the phone in his hand, and it doesn't really take a genius to figure out what he was doing with it.
"Nick," he stumbles to his feet, sweat falling down the curve of his tanned forehead. "Give me the phone." He's trying to sound serious business or something like that, but he's still recovering from breaking out ballerina style.
"No, man. Imagine ET's face when they get their hands on this," He's really just joking, but Joe apparently isn't finding it funny because next thing Nick knows Joe's lunging towards him like he's suddenly taking his outfit way too seriously.
Nick lands flat on his back, spread out like some kind of lazy snow angel, and Joe's freaking pawing for his phone, legs straddling Nick's thin waist.
They roll on the floor back and forth like a bad tennis match, and Nick doesn't even really know where his phone even is anymore. He's pretty sure he can still feel it clenched in his hand, but honestly he doesn't know what he's holding anymore, his phone or some atomic weapon.
The change in Joe's behavior is so subtle, like a smooth turn, but when he presses his hips down, so rough and feral against Nick's hard cock, Nick knows it's not about the phone anymore.
The leotard is so thin, and Nick can see the wet tip of Joe's cock rubbing against the fabric, soaking through so that when Joe bends his hips and humps hard against Nick he can feel the wetness where his jeans hang low. Their moans mingle, deep and sex laced, and Nick can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach.
He raises himself on his elbows, his body pushing upwards as Joe continues his desperate off tempo thrust downwards, and their mouths meet. The kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and breaths ripped from their lungs.
Joe's fingers are frantic where they pull at Nick's jeans, the button fighting against the rough denim, and when he finally gets it through the loop Joe's face lights up like he just won a Grammy. Everything is rushed, like two thirteen year olds just learning that getting off is the best thing since a slice of bread. It's kind of perfect though, in it's own little flawed way, like Joe's supposed to want Nick so bad he can't possibly slow down, like Nick is supposed to hold onto the leotard for dear life and whisper breathless sweet nothings against Joe's bruised lips.
Nick comes first, his nails digging into the leopard print and his body arching. Joe follows soon after, his thrusts stuttering as the spot coming through his leotard grows.
Nick's still trying to catch his breath, figure out how one thing led to another led to this when he feels Joe's fingers dust across his. He doesn't hold his hand though, doesn't wrap their fingers together in some magical way, just pulls the phone from Nick's grip and deletes the pictures, a satisfactory smile clear on his face.
The click of another picture hits the air, a broken beacon of reality in the room. Joe sets the phone down next to his brother, climbs up like dry humping his brother is pretty much the most natural thing ever.
“Imagine ET's face if they saw this,” he winks, a devilish little grin on his face, and leaves Nick there stunned, staring at a picture of himself completely wrecked - collateral damage in the epic downfall of a one Joe Jonas. But like gravity, like a fast approaching train, it was always inevitable.
Quick pop culture lesson - Richard Simmons : crazy little man who used to do exercise shows. Land Before Time : Cute movie about dinosaurs... yeah, I went there. ET : Entertainment Tonight.