Voyeur
Voyeur
adult, 750 words
Tom, girl!Bren/Jon
fits in the About A Girl 'verse
written for the Through Keyholes & Cameras Meme
unbeta'd and untrue
Tom didn't mean to do it. And if anyone had asked, you know, before, he'd have denied any interest in watching other people have sex outside of porn. Bren, yeah, she was hot, and if Jon wasn't clearly infatuated with her he would have made a move in her direction. But good friends didn't cockblock, and they definitely didn't poach.
It wasn't even his fault, not really. He'd stumbled out of the venue, half horny and half drunk, looking for somewhere to be that was away from Carden and William, thinking he'd have a smoke and a beer with Christian or Nick or maybe find a girl; when he'd heard Jon's laugh, he'd turned toward it, thinking that sharing a joint with Jonny would be even better. He'd headed in the direction he thought the sound had come from, aided by the sound of soles on the parking lot's gravel and muffled voices. Tom came around the corner of the Panic kids' bus and was about to call out when he heard a feminine giggle cut off with a moan.
In the dim light, he could see Jon on his knees, hands under Bren's skirt, and he knew he should go back the way he'd come. Then Jon's hands slid down, panties in hand, and Bren balanced herself on his shoulders to step out of them, and Jon surged to his feet, crowding her back against the bus.
"Don't lose them, Walker, I just put them on. I've got a limited supply, and we've got another week before we can do laundry." There was a smile in Bren's voice, though, and Jon tucked them into his back pocket.
"What will you do to get them back?"
Tom knew that if he were a good person, a good friend, he would go back the way he came.
Tom's not a good person.
"I could point out that if you don't, I'll have to go commando an extra day." Jon's head bowed, rested against on the side of the bus above Bren's shoulder. Tom could see Bren's hands working between them, heard the hiss of a zipper. "And in the interest of full disclosure, I'd have to tell you. Or show you."
Jon's breath huffed out, then he turned and buried his nose in her hair before shifting his upper body away from her. "That's no incentive to give 'em back. It'll just make it easier for me to do this."
Jon lifted, shifted, and Bren's skirt was sliding up, up, and Bren's thigh lifted to hook over Jon's hip. Tom couldn't see what Jon did next, but he didn't need to: Bren's head tipped back, and her throaty moan ended when Jon slanted his mouth over hers, then her other leg lifted and Jon hitched her closer, held her up between him and the bus.
Fuck, that was hot. Bren was talking, encouraging, and her hands were moving from Jon's hair to his arms, down to his ass, then back up, pulling him closer, closer. And it's not like Tom hadn't heard them before. But he'd never seen them before, and the glimpses of skin, the flex of muscle when Jon tensed, when Bren arched into him, that was new.
Tom's hand slid below his waistband and into his own jeans, mercifully loose, before he even realized what he was doing. His cock was hard in the circle of his fist, and he matched his rhythm to the one Jon was using instinctively, automatically, speeding up when Bren got more vocal and Jon's movements grew more emphatic, until he was biting his lip to smother a groan when Jon growled, "Bren, fuck, yes."
Tom waited, tense, on the edge, until Jon steadied Bren on her feet and rearranged their clothes, then escorted her onto her bus. Then he closed his eyes and pictured Bren's neck arched, Jon's lips and teeth leaving red marks on the soft skin there, Jon's hips cradled between her thighs. Two, three, four strokes, and Tom came, not bothering to muffle the accompanying groan now that he was alone.
If Tom were a good person, he'd apologize to Jon and Bren. If Tom were a good person, he wouldn't have watched.
Tom's not a good person. He knew he'd jerk off again later to what he'd seen, and given an opportunity - and who was he kidding? Opportunities would probably present themselves again and again in the final weeks of the tour - he'd watch them again.
adult, 750 words
Tom, girl!Bren/Jon
fits in the About A Girl 'verse
written for the Through Keyholes & Cameras Meme
unbeta'd and untrue
Tom didn't mean to do it. And if anyone had asked, you know, before, he'd have denied any interest in watching other people have sex outside of porn. Bren, yeah, she was hot, and if Jon wasn't clearly infatuated with her he would have made a move in her direction. But good friends didn't cockblock, and they definitely didn't poach.
It wasn't even his fault, not really. He'd stumbled out of the venue, half horny and half drunk, looking for somewhere to be that was away from Carden and William, thinking he'd have a smoke and a beer with Christian or Nick or maybe find a girl; when he'd heard Jon's laugh, he'd turned toward it, thinking that sharing a joint with Jonny would be even better. He'd headed in the direction he thought the sound had come from, aided by the sound of soles on the parking lot's gravel and muffled voices. Tom came around the corner of the Panic kids' bus and was about to call out when he heard a feminine giggle cut off with a moan.
In the dim light, he could see Jon on his knees, hands under Bren's skirt, and he knew he should go back the way he'd come. Then Jon's hands slid down, panties in hand, and Bren balanced herself on his shoulders to step out of them, and Jon surged to his feet, crowding her back against the bus.
"Don't lose them, Walker, I just put them on. I've got a limited supply, and we've got another week before we can do laundry." There was a smile in Bren's voice, though, and Jon tucked them into his back pocket.
"What will you do to get them back?"
Tom knew that if he were a good person, a good friend, he would go back the way he came.
Tom's not a good person.
"I could point out that if you don't, I'll have to go commando an extra day." Jon's head bowed, rested against on the side of the bus above Bren's shoulder. Tom could see Bren's hands working between them, heard the hiss of a zipper. "And in the interest of full disclosure, I'd have to tell you. Or show you."
Jon's breath huffed out, then he turned and buried his nose in her hair before shifting his upper body away from her. "That's no incentive to give 'em back. It'll just make it easier for me to do this."
Jon lifted, shifted, and Bren's skirt was sliding up, up, and Bren's thigh lifted to hook over Jon's hip. Tom couldn't see what Jon did next, but he didn't need to: Bren's head tipped back, and her throaty moan ended when Jon slanted his mouth over hers, then her other leg lifted and Jon hitched her closer, held her up between him and the bus.
Fuck, that was hot. Bren was talking, encouraging, and her hands were moving from Jon's hair to his arms, down to his ass, then back up, pulling him closer, closer. And it's not like Tom hadn't heard them before. But he'd never seen them before, and the glimpses of skin, the flex of muscle when Jon tensed, when Bren arched into him, that was new.
Tom's hand slid below his waistband and into his own jeans, mercifully loose, before he even realized what he was doing. His cock was hard in the circle of his fist, and he matched his rhythm to the one Jon was using instinctively, automatically, speeding up when Bren got more vocal and Jon's movements grew more emphatic, until he was biting his lip to smother a groan when Jon growled, "Bren, fuck, yes."
Tom waited, tense, on the edge, until Jon steadied Bren on her feet and rearranged their clothes, then escorted her onto her bus. Then he closed his eyes and pictured Bren's neck arched, Jon's lips and teeth leaving red marks on the soft skin there, Jon's hips cradled between her thighs. Two, three, four strokes, and Tom came, not bothering to muffle the accompanying groan now that he was alone.
If Tom were a good person, he'd apologize to Jon and Bren. If Tom were a good person, he wouldn't have watched.
Tom's not a good person. He knew he'd jerk off again later to what he'd seen, and given an opportunity - and who was he kidding? Opportunities would probably present themselves again and again in the final weeks of the tour - he'd watch them again.