[fic] fair isn't the fun part
Fandom: The Almighty Johnsons
Characters: Anders Johnson, Mike Johnson
Pairing: Anders/Mike
Rating: NC-17
Word count: c.800
Warnings: Incest.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
A/N: For the trope bingo prompt: "strip poker".
***
Mike likes to win, but he loves the game. It’s the build up that he loves the best, playing the game and all the while knowing that it’s only a matter of time until he gets exactly what he wants. He’s already revelling in the feeling as he watches Anders deal out the first hand, because Mike’s wearing jeans and nothing else, but soon enough Anders is going to be the one naked in front of him.
“It’s hardly fair,” Mike had said and smirked, gesturing towards Anders, still in his suit from work.
Anders had just grinned at him from where he was sprawled on the bed and waved the pack of cards in his direction. “Fair isn’t the fun part, Mike.”
It’s no surprise that Mike gets royal flushes every hand, but it’s never boring, because Anders doesn’t take his eyes off Mike. He looks him right in the eye as he kicks off his shoes, shrugs off his jacket, slides off his tie; slow, teasing, full of promise, and for this, Mike can be patient.
More often than not they’re frantic and rough, but Anders knows that Mike likes this, watching him strip off one piece of clothing at a time. It’s all part of the game, and the powers of a god are heady and addictive. Anders fools around with girls all the time, one night stands that are all sex and a rush from using his powers, but it’s nothing like this. Giving up his power and letting Mike play at a game that he’ll always win; it’s something he’ll do only for Mike. The game was Anders’ idea, but it’s Mike’s speciality -- Anders’ powers don’t work on him, and he’s the one in control tonight.
They’re playing by Mike’s rules, and though Anders is trying to draw this out, the pace is still too slow for him. Patience has never been his strong point, and he’s driven by the thought of Mike’s skin finally on his. Anders slides his hand into his own trousers, and shakes his head when Mike raises an accusatory eyebrow at him.
“You’re not allowed to touch me until you’ve won the game. You never said anything about me.” Anders licks his lips and grins when Mike’s eyes flicker between his mouth and his hand, torn between which movement to follow.
“Tease,” Mike growls, and lays out his next winning hand.
Anders shoves his trousers down, throwing them onto the floor when they’re off, leaving him in only his undershirt and briefs, and deals out the next hand as fast as he can. He leans back onto the pillows when it’s done, letting his legs fall open and palming himself through his underwear. Rolling his hips up into the pressure, he groans, exaggerated for Mike’s benefit, but it has the desired effect.
Mike wants to pin Anders down, to kiss that smug look off his face and fuck him until he screams. But for now he just watches him hungrily, waiting through the long minutes for the inevitable, until he finally has Anders where he wants him. Anders can tease all he wants, but Mike will win. He just has to wait. It’s still frustrating, watching Anders from across the bed, pushing up his undershirt but kicking his briefs off first, biting his lip as he jerks himself off slowly, and all the while, Mike can only watch.
As soon as Mike wins the last round, he’s sweeping the cards off the bed while Anders is pulling off his undershirt, and then they’re kissing roughly, hands finally on each other. It’s an awkward tangle as Mike grabs the lube off the bedside table, and Anders snorts out a laugh, but it turns into a moan when Mike presses him down into the mattress. He’s been hard for too long, and he bucks up against Mike, desperate for more. When Mike pulls away to tug off his own jeans, glad that it’s all he was wearing, Anders’ hand goes back to his own cock, and he whines loudly when Mike pulls it away again.
“That’s enough of that,” Mike tells him, and kisses him again, hard. His fingers leave a slick path across Anders’ hip, down his thigh, and it’s hard to control himself, but he makes himself go slow, sliding just one finger in and crooking until Anders is thrusting down onto it.
“Fuck,” Anders gasps, and when Mike adds another finger but won’t speed up, he scrapes his teeth across Mike’s shoulder. Anders likes to bite, and Mike lets him. Even though he’ll be unbearably smug with the marks he leaves, right now he’s the one writhing underneath Mike, spreading his legs and fucking himself on his fingers.
Mike grins into the curve of Anders’ neck and doesn’t change his pace as he slides in another finger, just bites down before whispering in his ear.
“I win.”
Characters: Anders Johnson, Mike Johnson
Pairing: Anders/Mike
Rating: NC-17
Word count: c.800
Warnings: Incest.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
A/N: For the trope bingo prompt: "strip poker".
***
Mike likes to win, but he loves the game. It’s the build up that he loves the best, playing the game and all the while knowing that it’s only a matter of time until he gets exactly what he wants. He’s already revelling in the feeling as he watches Anders deal out the first hand, because Mike’s wearing jeans and nothing else, but soon enough Anders is going to be the one naked in front of him.
“It’s hardly fair,” Mike had said and smirked, gesturing towards Anders, still in his suit from work.
Anders had just grinned at him from where he was sprawled on the bed and waved the pack of cards in his direction. “Fair isn’t the fun part, Mike.”
It’s no surprise that Mike gets royal flushes every hand, but it’s never boring, because Anders doesn’t take his eyes off Mike. He looks him right in the eye as he kicks off his shoes, shrugs off his jacket, slides off his tie; slow, teasing, full of promise, and for this, Mike can be patient.
More often than not they’re frantic and rough, but Anders knows that Mike likes this, watching him strip off one piece of clothing at a time. It’s all part of the game, and the powers of a god are heady and addictive. Anders fools around with girls all the time, one night stands that are all sex and a rush from using his powers, but it’s nothing like this. Giving up his power and letting Mike play at a game that he’ll always win; it’s something he’ll do only for Mike. The game was Anders’ idea, but it’s Mike’s speciality -- Anders’ powers don’t work on him, and he’s the one in control tonight.
They’re playing by Mike’s rules, and though Anders is trying to draw this out, the pace is still too slow for him. Patience has never been his strong point, and he’s driven by the thought of Mike’s skin finally on his. Anders slides his hand into his own trousers, and shakes his head when Mike raises an accusatory eyebrow at him.
“You’re not allowed to touch me until you’ve won the game. You never said anything about me.” Anders licks his lips and grins when Mike’s eyes flicker between his mouth and his hand, torn between which movement to follow.
“Tease,” Mike growls, and lays out his next winning hand.
Anders shoves his trousers down, throwing them onto the floor when they’re off, leaving him in only his undershirt and briefs, and deals out the next hand as fast as he can. He leans back onto the pillows when it’s done, letting his legs fall open and palming himself through his underwear. Rolling his hips up into the pressure, he groans, exaggerated for Mike’s benefit, but it has the desired effect.
Mike wants to pin Anders down, to kiss that smug look off his face and fuck him until he screams. But for now he just watches him hungrily, waiting through the long minutes for the inevitable, until he finally has Anders where he wants him. Anders can tease all he wants, but Mike will win. He just has to wait. It’s still frustrating, watching Anders from across the bed, pushing up his undershirt but kicking his briefs off first, biting his lip as he jerks himself off slowly, and all the while, Mike can only watch.
As soon as Mike wins the last round, he’s sweeping the cards off the bed while Anders is pulling off his undershirt, and then they’re kissing roughly, hands finally on each other. It’s an awkward tangle as Mike grabs the lube off the bedside table, and Anders snorts out a laugh, but it turns into a moan when Mike presses him down into the mattress. He’s been hard for too long, and he bucks up against Mike, desperate for more. When Mike pulls away to tug off his own jeans, glad that it’s all he was wearing, Anders’ hand goes back to his own cock, and he whines loudly when Mike pulls it away again.
“That’s enough of that,” Mike tells him, and kisses him again, hard. His fingers leave a slick path across Anders’ hip, down his thigh, and it’s hard to control himself, but he makes himself go slow, sliding just one finger in and crooking until Anders is thrusting down onto it.
“Fuck,” Anders gasps, and when Mike adds another finger but won’t speed up, he scrapes his teeth across Mike’s shoulder. Anders likes to bite, and Mike lets him. Even though he’ll be unbearably smug with the marks he leaves, right now he’s the one writhing underneath Mike, spreading his legs and fucking himself on his fingers.
Mike grins into the curve of Anders’ neck and doesn’t change his pace as he slides in another finger, just bites down before whispering in his ear.
“I win.”