(no subject)
Title: prove you'll unlock
Fandom: Sirens
Pairings: Rachid/Ashley
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1388
Summary: Sometimes, Ashley just needs to get out of his head for a while; Rachid is more than happy to oblige.
AN: This is entirely for flareupwithlove and entirely her fault. We both love Sirens unashamedly. There is, like, no character building in this. It's just porn >.> Title from "In Our Blood" by Horse Feathers.
There are things you tend to say when you're alone.
There are tones you tend to take when young hearts are broke.
Let me be that thorn, thistle, or key.
Let me prove you'll unlock just for me.
If you asked him, even if you gave him time to think about it, he wouldn’t really know why he’s here. Maybe not thinking about it is the way to go. He’s always been able to turn off his brain during sex - it’s something of a God-given talent. Since he was a kid, he’s been able to focus on the physical, to fall into sensation, to just be his body for a while and forget all about his brain. It’s possible that it’s the best thing about him.
And maybe this is different, and maybe it’s just more of the same.
He’s not nearly drunk enough for this.
It’s easier to get out of t-shirt and jeans than it would have been to get out of his uniform (can’t believe that thought occurs to him) because than uniform? Is fucking terrible. He tugs at buttons. His fingers graze the outline of a hardening cock through denim. He can feel his own pulse between his legs. It’s a familiar feeling and, in its way, comforting - to be thinking with his cock.
“How do you want it, then?” asks Rachid, more than a little drunk himself, grinning as Ashley cradles his face and drags him down for another kiss.
“Because, you know, you never told me how you like it.”
And he doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to.
He bites Rachid’s lip before he pulls back for breath.
Rachid’s built bigger than Ashley and his hand feels broad and warm when it comes down heavy against the seat of Ashley’s jeans, hard enough to rock his hips forward, pressing him close. He bites his lip over a grin and swallows.
“Perfect.”
They’re fumbling each other out of clothes as Rachid backs him towards the bedroom. Clever fucker’s only be in the flat once or twice but he definitely knows where he’s going.
“Sure you don’t want to objectify me?” he asks, grinning down at Ashley as Ashley’s shoving his boxers down and curling his fingers around his cock, jerking with a practised roll of his wrist. He watches Rachid’s breath catch, watches his head fall back on his neck as his breath catches. There’s a certain sense of triumph there, yeah, but, in the end, there’s also the knowledge that he’s had a hell of a lot of practise. He ought to be good at this by now.
“Not this time,” he says.
There’s a first time for everything.
The necessary is always to hand because you just never know when you might need a good honest uncomplicated fuck.
Which is not what this is. But who’s counting?
“You must have done it with girls,” he says, sprawling on his face on the bed and surprised when Rachid takes hold of his hips and drags him up onto his hands and knees. He looks back over his shoulder. “I don’t believe you haven’t done this with girls.”
“Oh, I’ve done this with girls,” says Rachid, already rubbing a slick finger down the crack of Ashley’s arse. His hips twitch in answer. Oh fuck, yes.
Ashley lets his head drop as Rachid works that finger into him with such ease that it’s obvious he’s done this before. Ashley isn’t complaining. He stays still, though, doesn’t moan or squirm or push back. He might have ended up here easily enough but, fuck it, some of it Rachid’s going to have to work for.
At least for now. He’s making no promises for later.
In fact, it’s easy to have resolve until he’s pushing that second finger inside and Ashley’s cock is so hard it almost hurts and then Rachid presses a kiss right beside his spine.
“Oh, shit.”
Since he was a kid, it’s been his favourite thing, his favourite thing, better than fucking, sometimes, this feeling of being completely vulnerable and wanted at the same time with someone’s fingers buried deep inside him. He draws in a deep breath. He rocks forward on his hands and knees and then he pushes back and fucks himself on Rachid’s fingers.
“That’s dirty,” murmurs Rachid, but there’s this note of wonder in his voice that Ashley’s pretty sure he likes.
“Just fuck the fuck up,” he mumbles against a bitten lip, head down as he rocks, still not squirming. “And fuck me.”
Fingers still deep inside him, Ashley shifts his centre of balance so that his head is against the pillow and he can reach with one hand to curl his fingers around his cock, jerking quickly. He groans against the pillow but the sound stutters when Rachid slaps his arse again, harder than before, palm warm against bare skin.
“What the fuck was that for?” he asks, but he knows, or his body does, because his hand drops back to the bed and he pushes himself up again.
“Wait,” says Rachid, and then he’s pulling his fingers free and Ashley’s listening to the tell-tale sounds of him opening a condom and rolling it on.
Pretty sure that there’s a handprint on his arse, Ashley does as he’s told for once. He waits.
The blunt head of Rachid’s cock nudges against him and Ashley bites his lip and shoves down his dignity, squirming back against it.
“Look at you - all slutty and shit,” says Rachid, and Ashley can tell that he’s smiling. Ashley’s smiling too, tight and breathless against that bitten lip and he doesn’t care if he’s needy or slutty or crawling out of his skin: sometimes, he just wants to get fucked and he knows, he knows that Rachid wants to fuck him.
So what are they waiting for?
“Just shut up and fuck me, would you?” he says and Rachid slaps his arse again but he also starts to ease inside and Ashley’s breath catches in the back of his throat, hips stuttering and it feels fucking great.
“You like this?” asks Rachid, still pushing until he’s buried in Ashley to the hilt, fucking balls deep. Ashley nods, which gets him another slap. He’s pretty sure this his arse have got to be all but glowing at this point, but he doesn’t care, not when Rachid starts to move, fucking him with long strokes, hard enough to rock him forwards on his hands and knees.
“You feel fucking huge,” he groans.
He feels Rachid laugh more than hears it.
He lets himself melt down until he’s aware of nothing but sensation, the press of Rachid’s cock inside him, the heat of Rachid’s thighs against the back of his, Rachid’s hand broad and warm in the small of his back, fingers splayed across his spine. He’s sweating and he can feel his hair clinging across his forehead. He can feel his heartbeat in his cock. It’s something to get lost in for a while. It’s the best thing he’s ever learned how to do.
Fuck saving lives. Sometimes, he just wants to get out of his skin.
They don’t speak anymore - no sound in the bedroom at all except for the noise of skin on skin. With his weight caught on one hand, he reaches back and curls his fingers around his cock. He jerks himself in time with the rhythm that Rachid’s fucking him with and it isn’t long before he feels it all unravelling, coming lose and then he’s coming so hard into his own fist and this is the only time all day that he’s felt at ease.
By the time Rachid comes inside him, he’s got his forehead pressed against the pillow and he’s still and quiet.
Rachid pulls out of him and Ashley sprawls out on his belly in his rumpled bed, rubbing one hand back over his hair. He needs to sleep but, more than that, he needs a shower.
In the doorway, he glances back over his shoulder. Rachid’s sprawled naked on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. And, yes, he takes a moment to appreciate it.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, leaning one bare shoulder against the door-frame. “But you can…you know. Stay. If you want.”
Rachid lifts that arm and looks at him, smirking.
“You see that? You’re growing as a person.”
“Fuck you.”
But he’s smiling as he turns on the shower, leaves the door ajar. He’s oddly at peace with not having his bed to himself tonight.
Fandom: Sirens
Pairings: Rachid/Ashley
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1388
Summary: Sometimes, Ashley just needs to get out of his head for a while; Rachid is more than happy to oblige.
AN: This is entirely for flareupwithlove and entirely her fault. We both love Sirens unashamedly. There is, like, no character building in this. It's just porn >.> Title from "In Our Blood" by Horse Feathers.
There are things you tend to say when you're alone.
There are tones you tend to take when young hearts are broke.
Let me be that thorn, thistle, or key.
Let me prove you'll unlock just for me.
If you asked him, even if you gave him time to think about it, he wouldn’t really know why he’s here. Maybe not thinking about it is the way to go. He’s always been able to turn off his brain during sex - it’s something of a God-given talent. Since he was a kid, he’s been able to focus on the physical, to fall into sensation, to just be his body for a while and forget all about his brain. It’s possible that it’s the best thing about him.
And maybe this is different, and maybe it’s just more of the same.
He’s not nearly drunk enough for this.
It’s easier to get out of t-shirt and jeans than it would have been to get out of his uniform (can’t believe that thought occurs to him) because than uniform? Is fucking terrible. He tugs at buttons. His fingers graze the outline of a hardening cock through denim. He can feel his own pulse between his legs. It’s a familiar feeling and, in its way, comforting - to be thinking with his cock.
“How do you want it, then?” asks Rachid, more than a little drunk himself, grinning as Ashley cradles his face and drags him down for another kiss.
“Because, you know, you never told me how you like it.”
And he doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to.
He bites Rachid’s lip before he pulls back for breath.
Rachid’s built bigger than Ashley and his hand feels broad and warm when it comes down heavy against the seat of Ashley’s jeans, hard enough to rock his hips forward, pressing him close. He bites his lip over a grin and swallows.
“Perfect.”
They’re fumbling each other out of clothes as Rachid backs him towards the bedroom. Clever fucker’s only be in the flat once or twice but he definitely knows where he’s going.
“Sure you don’t want to objectify me?” he asks, grinning down at Ashley as Ashley’s shoving his boxers down and curling his fingers around his cock, jerking with a practised roll of his wrist. He watches Rachid’s breath catch, watches his head fall back on his neck as his breath catches. There’s a certain sense of triumph there, yeah, but, in the end, there’s also the knowledge that he’s had a hell of a lot of practise. He ought to be good at this by now.
“Not this time,” he says.
There’s a first time for everything.
The necessary is always to hand because you just never know when you might need a good honest uncomplicated fuck.
Which is not what this is. But who’s counting?
“You must have done it with girls,” he says, sprawling on his face on the bed and surprised when Rachid takes hold of his hips and drags him up onto his hands and knees. He looks back over his shoulder. “I don’t believe you haven’t done this with girls.”
“Oh, I’ve done this with girls,” says Rachid, already rubbing a slick finger down the crack of Ashley’s arse. His hips twitch in answer. Oh fuck, yes.
Ashley lets his head drop as Rachid works that finger into him with such ease that it’s obvious he’s done this before. Ashley isn’t complaining. He stays still, though, doesn’t moan or squirm or push back. He might have ended up here easily enough but, fuck it, some of it Rachid’s going to have to work for.
At least for now. He’s making no promises for later.
In fact, it’s easy to have resolve until he’s pushing that second finger inside and Ashley’s cock is so hard it almost hurts and then Rachid presses a kiss right beside his spine.
“Oh, shit.”
Since he was a kid, it’s been his favourite thing, his favourite thing, better than fucking, sometimes, this feeling of being completely vulnerable and wanted at the same time with someone’s fingers buried deep inside him. He draws in a deep breath. He rocks forward on his hands and knees and then he pushes back and fucks himself on Rachid’s fingers.
“That’s dirty,” murmurs Rachid, but there’s this note of wonder in his voice that Ashley’s pretty sure he likes.
“Just fuck the fuck up,” he mumbles against a bitten lip, head down as he rocks, still not squirming. “And fuck me.”
Fingers still deep inside him, Ashley shifts his centre of balance so that his head is against the pillow and he can reach with one hand to curl his fingers around his cock, jerking quickly. He groans against the pillow but the sound stutters when Rachid slaps his arse again, harder than before, palm warm against bare skin.
“What the fuck was that for?” he asks, but he knows, or his body does, because his hand drops back to the bed and he pushes himself up again.
“Wait,” says Rachid, and then he’s pulling his fingers free and Ashley’s listening to the tell-tale sounds of him opening a condom and rolling it on.
Pretty sure that there’s a handprint on his arse, Ashley does as he’s told for once. He waits.
The blunt head of Rachid’s cock nudges against him and Ashley bites his lip and shoves down his dignity, squirming back against it.
“Look at you - all slutty and shit,” says Rachid, and Ashley can tell that he’s smiling. Ashley’s smiling too, tight and breathless against that bitten lip and he doesn’t care if he’s needy or slutty or crawling out of his skin: sometimes, he just wants to get fucked and he knows, he knows that Rachid wants to fuck him.
So what are they waiting for?
“Just shut up and fuck me, would you?” he says and Rachid slaps his arse again but he also starts to ease inside and Ashley’s breath catches in the back of his throat, hips stuttering and it feels fucking great.
“You like this?” asks Rachid, still pushing until he’s buried in Ashley to the hilt, fucking balls deep. Ashley nods, which gets him another slap. He’s pretty sure this his arse have got to be all but glowing at this point, but he doesn’t care, not when Rachid starts to move, fucking him with long strokes, hard enough to rock him forwards on his hands and knees.
“You feel fucking huge,” he groans.
He feels Rachid laugh more than hears it.
He lets himself melt down until he’s aware of nothing but sensation, the press of Rachid’s cock inside him, the heat of Rachid’s thighs against the back of his, Rachid’s hand broad and warm in the small of his back, fingers splayed across his spine. He’s sweating and he can feel his hair clinging across his forehead. He can feel his heartbeat in his cock. It’s something to get lost in for a while. It’s the best thing he’s ever learned how to do.
Fuck saving lives. Sometimes, he just wants to get out of his skin.
They don’t speak anymore - no sound in the bedroom at all except for the noise of skin on skin. With his weight caught on one hand, he reaches back and curls his fingers around his cock. He jerks himself in time with the rhythm that Rachid’s fucking him with and it isn’t long before he feels it all unravelling, coming lose and then he’s coming so hard into his own fist and this is the only time all day that he’s felt at ease.
By the time Rachid comes inside him, he’s got his forehead pressed against the pillow and he’s still and quiet.
Rachid pulls out of him and Ashley sprawls out on his belly in his rumpled bed, rubbing one hand back over his hair. He needs to sleep but, more than that, he needs a shower.
In the doorway, he glances back over his shoulder. Rachid’s sprawled naked on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. And, yes, he takes a moment to appreciate it.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, leaning one bare shoulder against the door-frame. “But you can…you know. Stay. If you want.”
Rachid lifts that arm and looks at him, smirking.
“You see that? You’re growing as a person.”
“Fuck you.”
But he’s smiling as he turns on the shower, leaves the door ajar. He’s oddly at peace with not having his bed to himself tonight.