Oz/Devon fic: The Taste of You
Another fic for year_of_oz. This is for the Oz/Anyone ficathon.
Title: The Taste of You
Author: Moosesal
Pairing: Oz/Devon
Written for: RabidX
Request: 2 things wanted: Smut and smiles; not wanted: Willow
Rating: R
Beta: Thanks to silvertedy and aimeelicious, the fabulous beta girls.
I look up and see that Devon is smiling at me across the stage and feel my own lips tug into a lopsided grin. Devon does that to me. Makes me smile.
There’s never any pressure with him. Not cuz I’m smarter than he is -- even though I am. Not that I mean to be or that I really think of myself that way. Stuff just stays with me. I read something or hear something and it just gets stored on a shelf in my mind, and then it’s there to access whenever I need it.
Devon’s brain isn’t like that, but we get along anyway. I hesitate to describe him as vacuous, but there’s not really much going on there. And that’s the beauty of Devon. Well, that and the way he moves his hips on stage. He practically floats to the music, lost in the song and the crowd and the energy. For Devon it’s all about pleasure and that’s what draws me in.
With Devon it’s pure hedonism. Wanting, taking, enjoying. He licks his lips with a grin and I lick mine in return, tasting ginger ale and I can’t help but smile wider.
Ginger ale -- that’s all Devon will drink when we’ve got a gig. It started as a way to settle his stomach; he’d get nervous before a show. Of course, the girls loved him and the nerves quickly went away. Devon was born to work an audience. But he still drinks the ginger ale; he likes the sugar high.
Before the show tonight he kissed me and pressed me up against the wall of the dressing room, rocking his hips like he does with the mic. “Break a leg,” he whispered in my ear before sucking hard and fast at my neck. Heat rushed through my body at the touch of his lips and then he was gone, heading for the stage. I stood there gasping for breath, blood buzzing at the surface of my skin, vibrating with want and need, knowing what awaited me after our set.
He’s been grinning at me off and on all night -- between leers at the girls in the audience, of course. He can’t neglect our fans. After all, most of them are girls who have been, currently are, or hope to become Devon’s flavor of the week. I used to get jealous of them until I realized that all they were getting from him were a couple kisses during the break -- just enough to make them feel special in front of their friends. And just enough to keep them coming back.
So I stay over in my corner of the stage, picking out chords, feeling the groove of the music, waiting for my turn. As we wrap up the last song before our break, he turns and winks before dropping down to the dance floor and slinking away.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. All those smiles remind me of our very first kiss when we’d both been shy and nervous and kept hiding behind laughter and smiles. When he’d finally pressed his mouth to mine the laughter had faded. Ever since then we’ve had something special. Not special in that “spend our lives together” way. Like I said, Devon’s a little empty and there’s someone else I dream of in a “happily ever after” sense. But when it comes to pleasure? We fit. Perfection.
So here I am sitting in the dressing room reminding myself of all of this while Devon’s out there working the fans, doing whatever with his girl of the moment. Except suddenly Devon isn’t out there anymore, he’s slipped into the room and is now standing before me, bending down for a kiss. He tastes sweet -- ginger ale and something new -- strawberry lip gloss. I lick the artificial flavors away until there’s only him.
He drops between my legs and his hands go straight to my pants. I find myself unbuttoned and unzipped in seconds. My head falls back against the chair when he bends to take me into his mouth. He works me over with lips, tongue, teeth, until I’m panting and begging for release. This is what I exactly what I wanted, what I was waiting for, anticipating all through our set. Devon raises up so he’s sucking just the head and starts jacking me hard into his mouth and an hour after I wanted it, but before I’m really ready, my cock twitches and I’m exploding between those smiling lips.
Fuck. My legs are shaking, my breath coming hard and fast, and then I hear a tap on the door. The stage manager’s calling five minutes. I’m not sure I can stand in five minutes, much less go on stage and play. I can’t even remember what the first song of our second set is supposed to be. Hell, I can’t even remember the name of our band.
But Devon smiles at me and rubs my thighs as he leans in to kiss me soft and slow. And this time there’s no ginger ale or strawberry lip gloss. I taste myself on his lips and everything comes rushing back. I’m ready.
We get out there on the stage and there are more smiles and winks. He works his hips like before, making love to the mic stand; as I lick my lips and think about tasting Devon after the show, my own hips rock in anticipation.
The End
Title: The Taste of You
Author: Moosesal
Pairing: Oz/Devon
Written for: RabidX
Request: 2 things wanted: Smut and smiles; not wanted: Willow
Rating: R
Beta: Thanks to silvertedy and aimeelicious, the fabulous beta girls.
I look up and see that Devon is smiling at me across the stage and feel my own lips tug into a lopsided grin. Devon does that to me. Makes me smile.
There’s never any pressure with him. Not cuz I’m smarter than he is -- even though I am. Not that I mean to be or that I really think of myself that way. Stuff just stays with me. I read something or hear something and it just gets stored on a shelf in my mind, and then it’s there to access whenever I need it.
Devon’s brain isn’t like that, but we get along anyway. I hesitate to describe him as vacuous, but there’s not really much going on there. And that’s the beauty of Devon. Well, that and the way he moves his hips on stage. He practically floats to the music, lost in the song and the crowd and the energy. For Devon it’s all about pleasure and that’s what draws me in.
With Devon it’s pure hedonism. Wanting, taking, enjoying. He licks his lips with a grin and I lick mine in return, tasting ginger ale and I can’t help but smile wider.
Ginger ale -- that’s all Devon will drink when we’ve got a gig. It started as a way to settle his stomach; he’d get nervous before a show. Of course, the girls loved him and the nerves quickly went away. Devon was born to work an audience. But he still drinks the ginger ale; he likes the sugar high.
Before the show tonight he kissed me and pressed me up against the wall of the dressing room, rocking his hips like he does with the mic. “Break a leg,” he whispered in my ear before sucking hard and fast at my neck. Heat rushed through my body at the touch of his lips and then he was gone, heading for the stage. I stood there gasping for breath, blood buzzing at the surface of my skin, vibrating with want and need, knowing what awaited me after our set.
He’s been grinning at me off and on all night -- between leers at the girls in the audience, of course. He can’t neglect our fans. After all, most of them are girls who have been, currently are, or hope to become Devon’s flavor of the week. I used to get jealous of them until I realized that all they were getting from him were a couple kisses during the break -- just enough to make them feel special in front of their friends. And just enough to keep them coming back.
So I stay over in my corner of the stage, picking out chords, feeling the groove of the music, waiting for my turn. As we wrap up the last song before our break, he turns and winks before dropping down to the dance floor and slinking away.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. All those smiles remind me of our very first kiss when we’d both been shy and nervous and kept hiding behind laughter and smiles. When he’d finally pressed his mouth to mine the laughter had faded. Ever since then we’ve had something special. Not special in that “spend our lives together” way. Like I said, Devon’s a little empty and there’s someone else I dream of in a “happily ever after” sense. But when it comes to pleasure? We fit. Perfection.
So here I am sitting in the dressing room reminding myself of all of this while Devon’s out there working the fans, doing whatever with his girl of the moment. Except suddenly Devon isn’t out there anymore, he’s slipped into the room and is now standing before me, bending down for a kiss. He tastes sweet -- ginger ale and something new -- strawberry lip gloss. I lick the artificial flavors away until there’s only him.
He drops between my legs and his hands go straight to my pants. I find myself unbuttoned and unzipped in seconds. My head falls back against the chair when he bends to take me into his mouth. He works me over with lips, tongue, teeth, until I’m panting and begging for release. This is what I exactly what I wanted, what I was waiting for, anticipating all through our set. Devon raises up so he’s sucking just the head and starts jacking me hard into his mouth and an hour after I wanted it, but before I’m really ready, my cock twitches and I’m exploding between those smiling lips.
Fuck. My legs are shaking, my breath coming hard and fast, and then I hear a tap on the door. The stage manager’s calling five minutes. I’m not sure I can stand in five minutes, much less go on stage and play. I can’t even remember what the first song of our second set is supposed to be. Hell, I can’t even remember the name of our band.
But Devon smiles at me and rubs my thighs as he leans in to kiss me soft and slow. And this time there’s no ginger ale or strawberry lip gloss. I taste myself on his lips and everything comes rushing back. I’m ready.
We get out there on the stage and there are more smiles and winks. He works his hips like before, making love to the mic stand; as I lick my lips and think about tasting Devon after the show, my own hips rock in anticipation.
The End