fic: birthday sex
fic: birthday sex
John O'Callaghan/Kennedy Brock, mentions of Jared/Kennedy and Garrett/Kennedy
NC17, 1055
rimming, dirty raunchy sex i will not apologize for
“Shh,” John says, “shh,” thumb against that sweet place that makes Kennedy cry out. His hole is puffy and red from being stuffed full of cock all day and Kennedy keens and spreads his legs wider, cock limp between his thighs.
They’ve been fucking all day and John’s cock feels raw from it, stripped. His thighs ache and the room smells of sweat and spunk and sex but John still wants to tease, pushes his thumb in and lets his nail drag against the red rim of his hole. Kennedy sucks in a breath and presses back, fingers dug into the sheets.
“Please,” Kennedy says and lowers his head until his forehead rests against a pillow. His back is long and John runs the fingers of his free hand down the rigid edges of Kennedy’s spine while he shivers. “John.”
“I know shh I’ve got you,” John tells him and pushes one hand between Kennedy’s legs to run over a smooth, vulnerable, thigh. His knuckles brushes against the head of Kennedy’s cock and Kennedy shifts and tries to pull his legs together but John works a knee between them and says, “let me take care of you,” and Kennedy spreads his thighs again and lets out a shaky sob.
John pulls his thumb back and spreads Kennedy’s cheeks to expose the dusky clench of his asshole and it must hurt now, must be sore from all the cock it’s been fed today and come slides lazily from the soft clench and down the crack to slide over his balls.
“So dirty,” John says because it just isn’t his come. Jared’s had him today and Garrett too and he’s full of their come and his and John leans forward and swipes his tongue over the dusky hole before he glides it down to lick over Kennedy’s balls.
“Fuck, fuck,” Kennedy says and rocks forward but John pulls him back by his hips. “You like this,” he says. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Kennedy mewls and shakes his head and says, “John you can’t,” because he’s shy about this, doesn’t think John should be down there but he secretly likes it, won’t admit it aloud, won’t ask for it, but John will do it because John knows Kennedy, knows him inside in and inside out.
John spreads him wider and dips his thumbs between Kennedy’s cheeks to press his fingernails against the raw rim of his hole. “Like that don’t you?” He breathes hot air over that dark place. “You like it when I eat you out like this, don’t you? Like it when I play with your hole after I’ve fucked you hard, huh?”
Kennedy chokes on a noise but he’ll never say yes so John just leans forward and licks over the puffy red skin of Kennedy’s hole and then back up to lick over the sweat pooling on his lower back.
“Gonna get you all sloppy wet,” John mumbles against his skin, drunk on sex and the way Kennedy melts under his fingers. Another bit of come slides out of Kennedy all sloppy and John says, “got so much come stuff up inside of you,” says, “hush, I said I’ve got you, let it all out for me, it’s okay.” Kennedy clenches up and the back of his neck goes red, his toes curl up, and John licks again, makes a sucking noise against his skin and pushes his tongue in for a moment before he pulls it out and says, “baby, baby, please, lemme see I just want to see. Shh, shh, no one will see but me, it’s okay,” and Kennedy unclenches and whines while come oozes out of him.
John laps at the spunk and Kennedy like a thirsty dog, tongue flat against his skin, fingers spreading him wide, and Kennedy bows and shakes and makes noises into the pillows he’ll never admit to making. He pulls back and breathes hot air over Kennedy before he spits and rubs the salvia in with his thumb.
“So sloppy,” he says and then lapse at him again, works a finger in before he’s licking around the edge of his finger, working it in and out.
“Tell me what you want,” John says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Kennedy doesn’t reply for a long time, just makes keening noises into the sheets and shakes his head back and forth before he finally says, “y-your tongue.”
John smirks and mouths at a pale cheek. “Where do you want it?”
Kennedy sobs. “John please, please don’t make me say it. John, John, it’s my - please don’t make me say it, please I -”
“Shh,” John says for the hundredth time tonight and licks the pale skin right under the curve of Kennedy’s ass to sooth him. He pulls his finger out, nudges Kennedy’s thighs wider with a knee, and then pushes his tongue in, in and in and in until his nose is pressed into the cleft and all he can breath and taste is Kennedy. He wiggles his tongue and feels Kennedy contract around him, the way his insides shift, and feels his cock swell.
“John,” Kennedy babbles and rocks and shifts and rocks, “John, John, John,” like a spiritual chant and John holds him by his thighs and fucks him with his tongue the same way he does with his cock and Kennedy seizes up all sensitive and loose and comes white pearly streaks across his stomach and the linens below him while John fucks him through it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John breathes because Kennedy’s hole is sloppy with salvia and still there’s spunk, all lazy around the edges and on his sac and John gets his cock and slides it between the cleft of his ass, pushes Kennedy’s cheeks together, and rocks hard until he comes too all across Kennedy’s lower back and ass.
Kennedy collapses but John pulls him to his chest, licks into his mouth, says, “You’re going to rest and then Jared’s going to take you again, stuff his cock in your tight little hole and Garrett’s going to stuff his cock down your throat and you’re going to love it.”
All Kennedy can do is struggle in his arms before he relaxes and says, “okay, yeah, okay,” and John hopes this is the best birthday the guitarist has ever had.
John O'Callaghan/Kennedy Brock, mentions of Jared/Kennedy and Garrett/Kennedy
NC17, 1055
rimming, dirty raunchy sex i will not apologize for
“Shh,” John says, “shh,” thumb against that sweet place that makes Kennedy cry out. His hole is puffy and red from being stuffed full of cock all day and Kennedy keens and spreads his legs wider, cock limp between his thighs.
They’ve been fucking all day and John’s cock feels raw from it, stripped. His thighs ache and the room smells of sweat and spunk and sex but John still wants to tease, pushes his thumb in and lets his nail drag against the red rim of his hole. Kennedy sucks in a breath and presses back, fingers dug into the sheets.
“Please,” Kennedy says and lowers his head until his forehead rests against a pillow. His back is long and John runs the fingers of his free hand down the rigid edges of Kennedy’s spine while he shivers. “John.”
“I know shh I’ve got you,” John tells him and pushes one hand between Kennedy’s legs to run over a smooth, vulnerable, thigh. His knuckles brushes against the head of Kennedy’s cock and Kennedy shifts and tries to pull his legs together but John works a knee between them and says, “let me take care of you,” and Kennedy spreads his thighs again and lets out a shaky sob.
John pulls his thumb back and spreads Kennedy’s cheeks to expose the dusky clench of his asshole and it must hurt now, must be sore from all the cock it’s been fed today and come slides lazily from the soft clench and down the crack to slide over his balls.
“So dirty,” John says because it just isn’t his come. Jared’s had him today and Garrett too and he’s full of their come and his and John leans forward and swipes his tongue over the dusky hole before he glides it down to lick over Kennedy’s balls.
“Fuck, fuck,” Kennedy says and rocks forward but John pulls him back by his hips. “You like this,” he says. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Kennedy mewls and shakes his head and says, “John you can’t,” because he’s shy about this, doesn’t think John should be down there but he secretly likes it, won’t admit it aloud, won’t ask for it, but John will do it because John knows Kennedy, knows him inside in and inside out.
John spreads him wider and dips his thumbs between Kennedy’s cheeks to press his fingernails against the raw rim of his hole. “Like that don’t you?” He breathes hot air over that dark place. “You like it when I eat you out like this, don’t you? Like it when I play with your hole after I’ve fucked you hard, huh?”
Kennedy chokes on a noise but he’ll never say yes so John just leans forward and licks over the puffy red skin of Kennedy’s hole and then back up to lick over the sweat pooling on his lower back.
“Gonna get you all sloppy wet,” John mumbles against his skin, drunk on sex and the way Kennedy melts under his fingers. Another bit of come slides out of Kennedy all sloppy and John says, “got so much come stuff up inside of you,” says, “hush, I said I’ve got you, let it all out for me, it’s okay.” Kennedy clenches up and the back of his neck goes red, his toes curl up, and John licks again, makes a sucking noise against his skin and pushes his tongue in for a moment before he pulls it out and says, “baby, baby, please, lemme see I just want to see. Shh, shh, no one will see but me, it’s okay,” and Kennedy unclenches and whines while come oozes out of him.
John laps at the spunk and Kennedy like a thirsty dog, tongue flat against his skin, fingers spreading him wide, and Kennedy bows and shakes and makes noises into the pillows he’ll never admit to making. He pulls back and breathes hot air over Kennedy before he spits and rubs the salvia in with his thumb.
“So sloppy,” he says and then lapse at him again, works a finger in before he’s licking around the edge of his finger, working it in and out.
“Tell me what you want,” John says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Kennedy doesn’t reply for a long time, just makes keening noises into the sheets and shakes his head back and forth before he finally says, “y-your tongue.”
John smirks and mouths at a pale cheek. “Where do you want it?”
Kennedy sobs. “John please, please don’t make me say it. John, John, it’s my - please don’t make me say it, please I -”
“Shh,” John says for the hundredth time tonight and licks the pale skin right under the curve of Kennedy’s ass to sooth him. He pulls his finger out, nudges Kennedy’s thighs wider with a knee, and then pushes his tongue in, in and in and in until his nose is pressed into the cleft and all he can breath and taste is Kennedy. He wiggles his tongue and feels Kennedy contract around him, the way his insides shift, and feels his cock swell.
“John,” Kennedy babbles and rocks and shifts and rocks, “John, John, John,” like a spiritual chant and John holds him by his thighs and fucks him with his tongue the same way he does with his cock and Kennedy seizes up all sensitive and loose and comes white pearly streaks across his stomach and the linens below him while John fucks him through it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John breathes because Kennedy’s hole is sloppy with salvia and still there’s spunk, all lazy around the edges and on his sac and John gets his cock and slides it between the cleft of his ass, pushes Kennedy’s cheeks together, and rocks hard until he comes too all across Kennedy’s lower back and ass.
Kennedy collapses but John pulls him to his chest, licks into his mouth, says, “You’re going to rest and then Jared’s going to take you again, stuff his cock in your tight little hole and Garrett’s going to stuff his cock down your throat and you’re going to love it.”
All Kennedy can do is struggle in his arms before he relaxes and says, “okay, yeah, okay,” and John hopes this is the best birthday the guitarist has ever had.