For Safekeeping
Title: For Safekeeping
Fandom: RPS
Pairings: John Barrowman/Scott Gill
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This story involves real people, but as far as I know none of the events described herein actually happened, although there are references to actual events. I, obviously, don't own either John or Scott.
Summary: Scott will do whatever it takes to keep John safe.
Warnings: Smutty smutty smut. And these are real people folks.
For morbid_sparks, with whom I had the conversation that gave me the idea. Also thanks to my dad (yes, my DAD) for one of the lines. Although he doesn't know I used his comment (which was about JB) for RPS...
For Safekeeping
“You said ‘a slight tumble’,” Scott said, glaring a little at the man curled on their sofa beside him. “That was not ‘a slight tumble’.”
“I walked away,” John said defensively. “A few bumps and bruises, minor injuries. It really wasn’t that bad.” He leaned back slightly. “I’m fine! You know that!”
“Just because you’re okay doesn’t mean that can be called ‘a slight tumble’,” Scott replied. “It could so easily have been a lot worse.”
“But it wasn’t,” John pointed out.
“Nevertheless…” Scott twisted on the sofa, swinging his leg around and straddling John’s lap. “I’m thinking I should just keep you here like this from now on, where you can’t go hurting yourself.”
John shifted slightly underneath him. “I don’t actually try to hurt myself,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Scott said, carding a hand gently through John’s hair, “but you are awfully accident prone lately, and I worry.”
“I’m still here, though,” John murmured. “Accident prone is fine if you’re lucky.”
Scott dropped his head to rest his forehead on John’s. “Depends on your definitions of ‘fine’ and ‘lucky’.”
“I’m still here,” John repeated, bunching the back of Scott’s polo-shirt in his hands. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Damn,” Scott smirked. “And here I thought I had a chance to escape.”
John pouted theatrically, and Scott couldn’t help but swoop down to kiss the pout off his face.
“Oh, you know I wouldn’t have you any other way, even if you can be an idiot,” Scott whispered. “Just maybe try a little bit harder to stay safe from now on, for my sanity?”
“What sanity would that be, then?” John asked, a wide-eyed innocent look on his face.
Scott poked at John’s belly. “Oi!”
John’s fingers tightened on Scott’s shirt and pulled him closer. “I’ll try,” he promised fervently. Scott shifted to settle more comfortably on John’s lap. “As long as you keep wriggling like that, I’ll do anything you say,” John grinned.
Scott’s eyebrows lifted speculatively. “Anything?”
John hesitated for just a moment. Scott deliberately squirmed against him again, and John hummed in appreciation. “Anything,” he half-moaned in confirmation, his head dropping back against the back of the sofa.
With his head tilted that way, he was at just the perfect angle to receive the slow-burning kiss Scott leant over to press into his lips.
He wriggled again, feeling John instinctively roll his hips underneath him, feeling the familiar pressure of John’s cock hardening against his own through four layers of denim and cotton.
“Well, first,” he pulled back to whisper heatedly, “this needs to go.” He tugged lightly on the shoulder of John’s T-shirt, an age-softened, very faded affair that hadn’t been worn out of the house in years, but was much loved by them both, not least because it had been purchased on their first trip away together, all those years ago.
Without hesitation, John untangled his fingers and brought his arms above his head, letting Scott peel him easily out of the soft material, shivering slightly as his partner smoothed palms over his bared chest and brushed over taut nipples.
“What about this?” he asked softly, fingertips teasing at the sensitive skin of Scott’s stomach, just under the hem of his polo-neck. Scott ground down harder, his own cock thickening rapidly, as John’s knowledgeable fingers tickled in just the right way.
“Oh, I think that can go too,” he breathed, tearing it over his head swiftly.
Despite the months and the years and the familiarity of sharing a bed at least three-hundred nights of the year for over the last decade - sometimes, no matter how they tried, it just wasn’t possible for them to share more - that first press of naked flesh to naked flesh never failed to take Scott’s breath away, just for a moment; judging by the catch in John’s breath as he fell forward into him, he felt the same.
Their mouths gravitated together, muted moans and whimpers escaping as their tongues tangled and explored and licked into each other’s mouths in a long-practised dance of passion and emotion. Fingers stroked over shoulders, backs, arms, seeking out well-known pleasure spots, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. They writhed against each other, delicious friction at all points of contact ratcheting up their arousal, notch by notch, sending all the blood to their hardening erections.
Almost in unison, their hands drifted to the waistbands of each other’s jeans, fingers fumbling only slightly as they unbuttoned and unzipped, pulled burdensome denim out of the way and manipulated underwear so the heated lengths of their cocks could finally, finally clash.
John broke the kiss with a blissful groan as Scott’s hand wrapped around them both, stroking once, twice. His head dropped to Scott’s shoulder and he worried the skin there gently between his teeth.
His thumbs hooked into the back of Scott’s jeans, and he tried to wriggle them down and over his partner’s hips, to no avail.
“Up,” he mumbled against Scott’s neck, adding a lick while he was there because it was just too tempting not to.
It wasn’t the most graceful of procedures, as neither wanted to lose an inch or a second of skin contact unnecessarily, but eventually, with a lot of squirming and wriggling and writhing, the last vestiges of clothing were discarded, thrown to the floor without a further thought.
The kiss now was less smooth and controlled, more desperate and wet, frantic and sloppy. They ground together wildly, but the friction just wasn’t enough, not this time.
“Dammit,” John muttered breathlessly as his hands gripped Scott’s arse, tips of his fingers just slipping into the crack between the cheeks. “Lube’s in the bedroom.”
Scott glanced around them, then reached over to grab a small plastic tub from the end table, hoping the reason it had been left out instead of being returned to the bathroom wasn’t that it was empty. He twisted the lid off and looked inside - success.
“This’ll do,” he said, scooping out a liberal dollop with two fingers.
John looked down to read the side of the tub as Scott breached his own body with his slick fingers, his eyes falling closed for a moment. “Intensive moisturiser,” he read. “Okay.”
He coated several fingers of his own, using them to slick up his cock where it leaked against his stomach. He had to bite his lip as the pleasure hit him when he stroked his thumb over the tip.
Scott used his free hand and his thighs to urge John to slide a little lower on the sofa, a little more horizontal. Shuffling forward on his knees, he grasped John’s cock behind his back, giving it a quick squeeze, which wrought a groan from John’s throat, before lining himself up.
They locked eyes as he slowly lowered himself, a thousand things being said, for the thousandth time, without a single word being uttered aloud.
The first few thrusts were slow, easy, barely more than a slight undulation of their bodies against each other, but neither of them had the patience or the control for it to remain that way; they were too hot, too close.
John gripped Scott’s hips, guiding and supporting him as the pace grew faster, more frantic. Their groans echoed around the room, interspersed with barely coherent words and attempts at sentences.
Scott knew he was getting close, and sped up the movements of his hand on his cock, shifting the angle of his body just slightly until… just there. He knew John was close too, recognised that particular expression on his face, could feel his fingers beginning to tighten on his hips.
He bent down a little, fixed his lips over his partner’s just in time to capture his cry of ecstasy as he plummeted over the edge, his cock swelling and erupting inside Scott. Seconds later, Scott cried out himself, his climax splattering over John’s belly as his fist tightened and he sank into John’s arms.
It was several minutes before either of them came back to themselves enough to move. A few more before either of them actually felt the inclination to do so.
“If that’s how you plan to keep me here, I’m not complaining,” John mumbled, sated, as Scott sat up a little.
“If an abundance of sex on our sofa is what it takes to keep you safe,” Scott replied, “then I’m seriously considering it.”
He levered himself off John, starting to slide to sit beside him on the sofa but catching his foot in a sofa cushion and crashing to the floor.
John sat up and looked down in concern at where Scott was sitting on the floor, rubbing his elbow and glaring at the coffee table.
“What was that you were saying about ‘safe’?”
fin
Comments and concrit welcomed - Comments = <3
Fandom: RPS
Pairings: John Barrowman/Scott Gill
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This story involves real people, but as far as I know none of the events described herein actually happened, although there are references to actual events. I, obviously, don't own either John or Scott.
Summary: Scott will do whatever it takes to keep John safe.
Warnings: Smutty smutty smut. And these are real people folks.
For morbid_sparks, with whom I had the conversation that gave me the idea. Also thanks to my dad (yes, my DAD) for one of the lines. Although he doesn't know I used his comment (which was about JB) for RPS...
For Safekeeping
“You said ‘a slight tumble’,” Scott said, glaring a little at the man curled on their sofa beside him. “That was not ‘a slight tumble’.”
“I walked away,” John said defensively. “A few bumps and bruises, minor injuries. It really wasn’t that bad.” He leaned back slightly. “I’m fine! You know that!”
“Just because you’re okay doesn’t mean that can be called ‘a slight tumble’,” Scott replied. “It could so easily have been a lot worse.”
“But it wasn’t,” John pointed out.
“Nevertheless…” Scott twisted on the sofa, swinging his leg around and straddling John’s lap. “I’m thinking I should just keep you here like this from now on, where you can’t go hurting yourself.”
John shifted slightly underneath him. “I don’t actually try to hurt myself,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Scott said, carding a hand gently through John’s hair, “but you are awfully accident prone lately, and I worry.”
“I’m still here, though,” John murmured. “Accident prone is fine if you’re lucky.”
Scott dropped his head to rest his forehead on John’s. “Depends on your definitions of ‘fine’ and ‘lucky’.”
“I’m still here,” John repeated, bunching the back of Scott’s polo-shirt in his hands. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Damn,” Scott smirked. “And here I thought I had a chance to escape.”
John pouted theatrically, and Scott couldn’t help but swoop down to kiss the pout off his face.
“Oh, you know I wouldn’t have you any other way, even if you can be an idiot,” Scott whispered. “Just maybe try a little bit harder to stay safe from now on, for my sanity?”
“What sanity would that be, then?” John asked, a wide-eyed innocent look on his face.
Scott poked at John’s belly. “Oi!”
John’s fingers tightened on Scott’s shirt and pulled him closer. “I’ll try,” he promised fervently. Scott shifted to settle more comfortably on John’s lap. “As long as you keep wriggling like that, I’ll do anything you say,” John grinned.
Scott’s eyebrows lifted speculatively. “Anything?”
John hesitated for just a moment. Scott deliberately squirmed against him again, and John hummed in appreciation. “Anything,” he half-moaned in confirmation, his head dropping back against the back of the sofa.
With his head tilted that way, he was at just the perfect angle to receive the slow-burning kiss Scott leant over to press into his lips.
He wriggled again, feeling John instinctively roll his hips underneath him, feeling the familiar pressure of John’s cock hardening against his own through four layers of denim and cotton.
“Well, first,” he pulled back to whisper heatedly, “this needs to go.” He tugged lightly on the shoulder of John’s T-shirt, an age-softened, very faded affair that hadn’t been worn out of the house in years, but was much loved by them both, not least because it had been purchased on their first trip away together, all those years ago.
Without hesitation, John untangled his fingers and brought his arms above his head, letting Scott peel him easily out of the soft material, shivering slightly as his partner smoothed palms over his bared chest and brushed over taut nipples.
“What about this?” he asked softly, fingertips teasing at the sensitive skin of Scott’s stomach, just under the hem of his polo-neck. Scott ground down harder, his own cock thickening rapidly, as John’s knowledgeable fingers tickled in just the right way.
“Oh, I think that can go too,” he breathed, tearing it over his head swiftly.
Despite the months and the years and the familiarity of sharing a bed at least three-hundred nights of the year for over the last decade - sometimes, no matter how they tried, it just wasn’t possible for them to share more - that first press of naked flesh to naked flesh never failed to take Scott’s breath away, just for a moment; judging by the catch in John’s breath as he fell forward into him, he felt the same.
Their mouths gravitated together, muted moans and whimpers escaping as their tongues tangled and explored and licked into each other’s mouths in a long-practised dance of passion and emotion. Fingers stroked over shoulders, backs, arms, seeking out well-known pleasure spots, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. They writhed against each other, delicious friction at all points of contact ratcheting up their arousal, notch by notch, sending all the blood to their hardening erections.
Almost in unison, their hands drifted to the waistbands of each other’s jeans, fingers fumbling only slightly as they unbuttoned and unzipped, pulled burdensome denim out of the way and manipulated underwear so the heated lengths of their cocks could finally, finally clash.
John broke the kiss with a blissful groan as Scott’s hand wrapped around them both, stroking once, twice. His head dropped to Scott’s shoulder and he worried the skin there gently between his teeth.
His thumbs hooked into the back of Scott’s jeans, and he tried to wriggle them down and over his partner’s hips, to no avail.
“Up,” he mumbled against Scott’s neck, adding a lick while he was there because it was just too tempting not to.
It wasn’t the most graceful of procedures, as neither wanted to lose an inch or a second of skin contact unnecessarily, but eventually, with a lot of squirming and wriggling and writhing, the last vestiges of clothing were discarded, thrown to the floor without a further thought.
The kiss now was less smooth and controlled, more desperate and wet, frantic and sloppy. They ground together wildly, but the friction just wasn’t enough, not this time.
“Dammit,” John muttered breathlessly as his hands gripped Scott’s arse, tips of his fingers just slipping into the crack between the cheeks. “Lube’s in the bedroom.”
Scott glanced around them, then reached over to grab a small plastic tub from the end table, hoping the reason it had been left out instead of being returned to the bathroom wasn’t that it was empty. He twisted the lid off and looked inside - success.
“This’ll do,” he said, scooping out a liberal dollop with two fingers.
John looked down to read the side of the tub as Scott breached his own body with his slick fingers, his eyes falling closed for a moment. “Intensive moisturiser,” he read. “Okay.”
He coated several fingers of his own, using them to slick up his cock where it leaked against his stomach. He had to bite his lip as the pleasure hit him when he stroked his thumb over the tip.
Scott used his free hand and his thighs to urge John to slide a little lower on the sofa, a little more horizontal. Shuffling forward on his knees, he grasped John’s cock behind his back, giving it a quick squeeze, which wrought a groan from John’s throat, before lining himself up.
They locked eyes as he slowly lowered himself, a thousand things being said, for the thousandth time, without a single word being uttered aloud.
The first few thrusts were slow, easy, barely more than a slight undulation of their bodies against each other, but neither of them had the patience or the control for it to remain that way; they were too hot, too close.
John gripped Scott’s hips, guiding and supporting him as the pace grew faster, more frantic. Their groans echoed around the room, interspersed with barely coherent words and attempts at sentences.
Scott knew he was getting close, and sped up the movements of his hand on his cock, shifting the angle of his body just slightly until… just there. He knew John was close too, recognised that particular expression on his face, could feel his fingers beginning to tighten on his hips.
He bent down a little, fixed his lips over his partner’s just in time to capture his cry of ecstasy as he plummeted over the edge, his cock swelling and erupting inside Scott. Seconds later, Scott cried out himself, his climax splattering over John’s belly as his fist tightened and he sank into John’s arms.
It was several minutes before either of them came back to themselves enough to move. A few more before either of them actually felt the inclination to do so.
“If that’s how you plan to keep me here, I’m not complaining,” John mumbled, sated, as Scott sat up a little.
“If an abundance of sex on our sofa is what it takes to keep you safe,” Scott replied, “then I’m seriously considering it.”
He levered himself off John, starting to slide to sit beside him on the sofa but catching his foot in a sofa cushion and crashing to the floor.
John sat up and looked down in concern at where Scott was sitting on the floor, rubbing his elbow and glaring at the coffee table.
“What was that you were saying about ‘safe’?”
fin
Comments and concrit welcomed - Comments = <3