You Look Good In My Shirt
Title: You Look Good In My Shirt
Author: domino43
Pairing: Cobbler (Conan/Jeff Goldblum)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Conan wears Jeff's shirt.
Disclaimer: If you don't like slash, don't read. I don't own Conan or JBlum. Also, the ending kind of blows because I couldn't find a natural end.
A soft smile played across Jeff's face as he watched Conan take his jacket off. He'd been gone already when Conan had gotten dressed for work, so this was the first time he saw what the other man had worn. He felt almost voyeuristic watching Conan go off to the kitchen to get his nightly glass of red wine. He watched how Conan's body moved under the shirt, his shirt, how it followed the slope of his shoulders and over his back. It was a little big on him, Jeff's build a little more filled out, but it still fit him nicely.
When he came back out to join Jeff on the couch he had the sleeves pushed up, the cuffs clinging snugly to his forearms. Jeff's eyes followed the line of his arm back up to his shoulder and down to where the fabric draped ever so slightly across his chest. His gaze was broken by Conan sitting.
Conan had noticed Jeff's eyes stalking him almost as soon as he'd walked in the door. He had felt his burning gaze on his back as he went to the kitchen and when he came back out. Jeff's eyes only left him when he'd sat down. He watched out the corner of his eye as Jeff crossed his legs and draped the hand with his wineglass in it over his knee.
"So. How was your day?" Jeff asked as he swirled the wine in his glass. Conan finally looked up at his face. He knew the Jeff was just making small talk, getting it out of the way.
"It was good. And yours?"
"My day was good." They just looked at each other for a moment before turning toward the TV and settling into a comfortable silence.
**********
Half full wine glasses sat on the island counter. When they'd brought the dinner dishes to the sink, Jeff's eyes were drawn to the way his shirt hung on Conan's body. When Conan had dropped his plate into the sink with a soft thud, Jeff grabbed Conan by the shirt and pulled him back toward him, resting his hand on Conan's lower back. He gently guided Conan closer to him, his hand creeping slowly up his back.
Was this what Conan felt when he ran his hands over Jeff while wearing this shirt? Jeff wondered. Could Conan feel the definition of his back muscles the same way he felt Conan's? Did the fabric feel the same to him as it did to Jeff? He could feel the heat eminating from Conan and pondered how it felt for Conan when he was the one touching.
He found his other hand sliding behind Conan's neck to draw him in. Their lips met in a soft kiss, Jeff's mind still musing the strange, yet delightful, sensations of a simple switch of clothing produced in him.
Conan grasped Jeff's shirt; long, thin fingers tangled in the fabric as he lost himself in the kiss. When they broke the kiss, Jeff caressed Conan's face with his own. Warm breath playing across sensitive skin where nose, lips and eyelashes had just left. Jeff took Conan's shallow breaths as a signal to go on. His hands slid under Conan's shirt, sliding up his ribcage as he lifted the shirt. Conan's fingers reluctantly left Jeff's shirt to raise his arms so the other man could slip the shirt over his head. As soon as his arms were free he reached for Jeff's buttons, fingers working furiously. Jeff's hands worked just as furiously at Conan's pants as Conan slid the shirt from his shoulders. Conan quickly unhooked Jeff's belt, yanking it out of the belt loops with a flourish.
The two were so in the moment that even the crash of the wineglasses Conan had hit with the belt didn't faze them. Jeff turned Conan around and ran his hands up his back, carefully bending him over the island. The marble was cool against Conan's flushed skin. He rested his forehead on the countertop, his hot, moist breath condensing on the surface. He drew in a sharp breath as Jeff entered him.
Jeff's fingers splayed across Conan's hips as he gripped him and rocked him in time with his own thrusts. Conan lifted himself onto his hands, back arched and pushed back into Jeff eagerly. Each of Jeff's thrusts was met with matched vigor. Wanton grunts and lustful moans punctuated the rapid breathing that filled the air. Jeff gripped Conan's hips tighter, a half dozen more quick, deep pumps ending with a low guttural groan as he emptied himself deep within the other. Conan purred with satisfaction at the warmth that spread through him. He was content to stay a while in the afterglow, Jeff's breath cooling the slick skin of his back just below where his head rested. But Jeff had other plans.
Jeff slipped from Conan, spinning him around to face him. He captured Conan's mouth with his as his hand snaked between their bodies and began working him over. Their lips parted and Jeff lowered himself to his knees.
Conan's head fell back when he was sheathed in Jeff's warm mouth. Jeff worked him slowly, his hand stroking Conan's length in tandem with his mouth. It didn't take much to get him back teetering on the edge. His hands tangled in Jeff's hair and started pumping. Steadying himself with his hands on Conan's thighs, Jeff took him as deep as he could. He could barely keep up with the hot streams hitting the back of his throat. A few rivulets leaked from his lips as Conan filled his mouth.
Releasing his grip on Jeff's head, Conan dropped his head forward, trying to catch his breath. What had elicited that reaction from Jeff? They were just going about their day normally when he'd practically attacked Conan. He looked at Jeff as he stood and licked the corners of his mouth clean. "Where did that come from?"
"You just looked really good in my shirt."
Author: domino43
Pairing: Cobbler (Conan/Jeff Goldblum)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Conan wears Jeff's shirt.
Disclaimer: If you don't like slash, don't read. I don't own Conan or JBlum. Also, the ending kind of blows because I couldn't find a natural end.
A soft smile played across Jeff's face as he watched Conan take his jacket off. He'd been gone already when Conan had gotten dressed for work, so this was the first time he saw what the other man had worn. He felt almost voyeuristic watching Conan go off to the kitchen to get his nightly glass of red wine. He watched how Conan's body moved under the shirt, his shirt, how it followed the slope of his shoulders and over his back. It was a little big on him, Jeff's build a little more filled out, but it still fit him nicely.
When he came back out to join Jeff on the couch he had the sleeves pushed up, the cuffs clinging snugly to his forearms. Jeff's eyes followed the line of his arm back up to his shoulder and down to where the fabric draped ever so slightly across his chest. His gaze was broken by Conan sitting.
Conan had noticed Jeff's eyes stalking him almost as soon as he'd walked in the door. He had felt his burning gaze on his back as he went to the kitchen and when he came back out. Jeff's eyes only left him when he'd sat down. He watched out the corner of his eye as Jeff crossed his legs and draped the hand with his wineglass in it over his knee.
"So. How was your day?" Jeff asked as he swirled the wine in his glass. Conan finally looked up at his face. He knew the Jeff was just making small talk, getting it out of the way.
"It was good. And yours?"
"My day was good." They just looked at each other for a moment before turning toward the TV and settling into a comfortable silence.
**********
Half full wine glasses sat on the island counter. When they'd brought the dinner dishes to the sink, Jeff's eyes were drawn to the way his shirt hung on Conan's body. When Conan had dropped his plate into the sink with a soft thud, Jeff grabbed Conan by the shirt and pulled him back toward him, resting his hand on Conan's lower back. He gently guided Conan closer to him, his hand creeping slowly up his back.
Was this what Conan felt when he ran his hands over Jeff while wearing this shirt? Jeff wondered. Could Conan feel the definition of his back muscles the same way he felt Conan's? Did the fabric feel the same to him as it did to Jeff? He could feel the heat eminating from Conan and pondered how it felt for Conan when he was the one touching.
He found his other hand sliding behind Conan's neck to draw him in. Their lips met in a soft kiss, Jeff's mind still musing the strange, yet delightful, sensations of a simple switch of clothing produced in him.
Conan grasped Jeff's shirt; long, thin fingers tangled in the fabric as he lost himself in the kiss. When they broke the kiss, Jeff caressed Conan's face with his own. Warm breath playing across sensitive skin where nose, lips and eyelashes had just left. Jeff took Conan's shallow breaths as a signal to go on. His hands slid under Conan's shirt, sliding up his ribcage as he lifted the shirt. Conan's fingers reluctantly left Jeff's shirt to raise his arms so the other man could slip the shirt over his head. As soon as his arms were free he reached for Jeff's buttons, fingers working furiously. Jeff's hands worked just as furiously at Conan's pants as Conan slid the shirt from his shoulders. Conan quickly unhooked Jeff's belt, yanking it out of the belt loops with a flourish.
The two were so in the moment that even the crash of the wineglasses Conan had hit with the belt didn't faze them. Jeff turned Conan around and ran his hands up his back, carefully bending him over the island. The marble was cool against Conan's flushed skin. He rested his forehead on the countertop, his hot, moist breath condensing on the surface. He drew in a sharp breath as Jeff entered him.
Jeff's fingers splayed across Conan's hips as he gripped him and rocked him in time with his own thrusts. Conan lifted himself onto his hands, back arched and pushed back into Jeff eagerly. Each of Jeff's thrusts was met with matched vigor. Wanton grunts and lustful moans punctuated the rapid breathing that filled the air. Jeff gripped Conan's hips tighter, a half dozen more quick, deep pumps ending with a low guttural groan as he emptied himself deep within the other. Conan purred with satisfaction at the warmth that spread through him. He was content to stay a while in the afterglow, Jeff's breath cooling the slick skin of his back just below where his head rested. But Jeff had other plans.
Jeff slipped from Conan, spinning him around to face him. He captured Conan's mouth with his as his hand snaked between their bodies and began working him over. Their lips parted and Jeff lowered himself to his knees.
Conan's head fell back when he was sheathed in Jeff's warm mouth. Jeff worked him slowly, his hand stroking Conan's length in tandem with his mouth. It didn't take much to get him back teetering on the edge. His hands tangled in Jeff's hair and started pumping. Steadying himself with his hands on Conan's thighs, Jeff took him as deep as he could. He could barely keep up with the hot streams hitting the back of his throat. A few rivulets leaked from his lips as Conan filled his mouth.
Releasing his grip on Jeff's head, Conan dropped his head forward, trying to catch his breath. What had elicited that reaction from Jeff? They were just going about their day normally when he'd practically attacked Conan. He looked at Jeff as he stood and licked the corners of his mouth clean. "Where did that come from?"
"You just looked really good in my shirt."