FIClet: Nine Concentric Circles (8/9)
FIClet: Nine Concentric Circles (8/9)
Pairing: Andrew Garfield/Jesse Eisenberg
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not true, no profit made.
The eighth circle is having Andrew, almost.
They have by now nearly perfected the art of drunkenly stumbling into a cab, which of course means that Andrew has perfected it, and Jesse allows himself to be dragged along and clumsily aspires.
Jesse leans back, a yellow cab this time, New York this time, and his address shouted out even though Andrew's hotel is closer. He tries to stay upright as Andrew drapes himself against him, arm around his shoulder, arm around his waist, invasive and sloppy and fidgety. Which is fine, for a while, absolutely fine until Andrew presses his face into the side of Jesse's neck and honest to God moans, and Jesse feels like something is lighting up white hot in him.
And then Andrew's lips are against his ear, his breath hot and moist, his voice so low and gravelly that it wouldn't drown out the rumble of traffic if it wasn't so ridiculously close that Jesse can feel it vibrating around his entire body.
"I want to touch you so fucking much, Jesse."
Jesse's eyes panic-flick towards the mirror to check if the driver is looking (he isn't) and when Andrew's tongue sweeps once across the shell of his ear, shockingly real and unequivocal, he yelps like a deranged eight-year-old girl. "You are touching me, Andrew, you touch me all the time."
"No, Jesse, I want to touch you," and with breathtaking speed Andrew's hand moves from his waist to the juncture of his thighs, fingers squeezing him through worn denim.
"Fuck, Andrew - you - " Jesse grabs Andrew's wrist and if for a moment he ends up pressing Andrew's hand down rather than away then that is because of the swaying of the car. "You - no - we're - we can't - "
"Yes, we can. Fuck me. Right here in the car." Andrew winds his hand out of his grasp and puts it right back where it was and rubs down and bites Jesse's neck at the same time, really fucking bites it, and everything in Jesse just gives for a second and he can see them doing it, like this, flushed and entwined on the back seat, and then he can feel it, too, Andrew tight and hot around his cock, and he can taste the sweat and the stickiness, and he wants it more than anything.
The car stops too harshly at a red light, two blocks away from his apartment, and Jesse shouts, "This'll do, actually, thank you, great!" and practically throws his money towards the front of the cab.
The eighth circle is being half a block away already before realising that Andrew is not following him.