Fic: Fire: NC17
Title: Fire
Fandom: The Fast and the Furious
Pairing: Brian/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mutual Masturbation
Words: 1035
Disclaimer: Suffice to say, they are not mine. No money, no malice, and I return them unharmed when I’m done.
Summary: It was the little things about Brian that got to Dom.
Notes: For prompt #27 Fire over at story_lottery. My iccle table is here. Also for fanfic100 prompt #52 Fire for which my big table is here. I feel like this is lacking something. Maybe it’s pace - took me too long to write it, really - or intensity. I don’t know, just something. Still, having said that, it’s finally written, and I’m not adjusting it anymore or it'll really drive me insane. Feedback, comments, criticism etc... most welcome as always.
It was the little things about Brian that got to Dom.
Little things, that would go un-noticed by anyone who wasn’t really paying any attention, kept him awake at night: the way that the light caught Brian’s hair, the way he’d rub his thighs when he got nervous. How his skin tanned too well, and how his sweat glistened against it: making Brian look like he was painted with a fine sheen of gold.
How he’d stick his tongue out, just a little, and rest it on the side of his mouth when he was concentrating really hard on something, or thinking about saying something but wasn’t quite sure how to put it. That little bit of pink tongue was more than enough to keep Dom awake for more than a night. And when it didn’t keep him awake, it gave him dreams. Dreams that left him covered in sweat, shaking and stuck to his sheets like he was a horny teenager as he imagined what that sweet tongue would feel like in his mouth, on his body.
Brian was also a lot neater than Dom had imagined him to be. He almost always cleaned up after himself - and always cleaned up after Dom cooked. The cook didn’t clean. That was his rule. But watching Brian’s hands move in the soapy water, all lathered up as he fingered each piece of cutlery or crockery almost sent Dom insane, because the thought of Brian’s hands on his body made him instantly hard.
So now, sitting here, watching Brian stroking his own cock with those wonderful hands, and seeing that pink tongue sweeping out over his lips every now and again, Dom was surprised that he hadn’t already come in his sweatpants.
They’d been watching porn - some cheap-as-shit pay-per-view channel in the motel room - and drinking tequila. The combination of the alcohol, and having Brian sitting so close to him had made Dom hard, so he’d adjusted his crotch, only to find Brian eyeing him for a second, before the blond had unzipped his jeans, shimmied them over his hips, and shoved his hand between his legs. Dom was sure his eyes had bugged out of his head, but he shrugged, and Brian had carried on, pulled his cock free from the last of the denim and just started to stroke, as if it was a perfectly normal thing for him to get his dick out with another guy sitting next to him.
Dom realised he should say something, ask Brian what the fuck he thought he was doing, ask himself what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed back a shot of tequila, then put his hand down into his pants, and did the same thing.
He tried to shut Brian out, focus on the action on the TV, but it wasn’t working. Dom was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and he was too confined, the material of his sweats just getting in the way of his hand-action, and the sweet moans and gasps coming from Brian weren’t helping.
“Take them off, Dom.”
Dom’s head snapped up, and he found Brian looking right back at him, and Dom knew those eyes were egging him on in silent dare to join him properly, to take a risk, and they burned through his body like wildfire. So Dom raised his hips off the sofa, pulled his sweats down and off, and clasped his hand over his cock in a vise-like grip.
Brian moaned, and Dom couldn’t help himself from letting out a whispered ‘fuck’ when Brian twisted round to face him - all pretence over porn watching long gone - and started stroking again.
He couldn’t stop his tongue from licking his lips as he echoed Brian’s movements; couldn’t help but revel in the feel of Brian’s eyes on him as he thrust upwards, into the down-stroke.
Dom’s eyes raked over Brian’s flesh and he watched as those tantalising hands worked their magic; heard the soft slick sound beneath the fingers; gasped a hitching breath as Brian swept his thumb over and around the head of his cock, and spread the glistening pre-cum over it; moaned as Brian raised his hand to his lips, and fingers sank into the sweet warm wetness of Brian’s mouth before returning south.
Then they were stroking in unison; thrusts erratic and staggered.
All too soon, Dom came; a moan that sounded a lot like Brian’s name pulled from his throat, and it was almost like an out-of-body experience as he felt himself lurch forward shakily, saw the thick, white ropes of his release leave his body and land on Brian’s hands, on his cock.
Brian’s voice washed over him and the intensity of what he’d just done - what they were doing, hit him like a sledgehammer. Something had shifted, and after all this time - after five years of pent up sexual tension, it all came down to this, and he realised with an inward wince of surprise, that they should have done this and more, so long ago.
“Fuck, Dom. I need...”
Those words snapped Dom from his reverie, and he fought for control. The control he needed to not just take Brian there and then; the control to help Brian finish what they’d started.
“Yes, Bri, come on, come for me. Show me. Oh fuck, yes...”
His eyes swept over Brian again, taking in the sight of the man with awe as Brian used Dom’s own orgasm to bring himself off. As those hands continued with their task, Dom groaned as Brian headed straight to the edge and threw himself over it; his whole body tensing and pulsing as their eyes locked.
It was only then that Dom found the blatant need to reach out and touch too overwhelming. His hand snaked out and over twitching flesh, and he entwined his fingers with Brian’s, still holding his gaze. He watched as Brian’s chest heaved, felt the air as his hand was raised to sweet lips; burned under the heat of Brian’s tongue as skin was licked clean.
And somewhere, between ember-like stares and shuddery breaths, Dom could’ve sworn that Brian was glowing.
Fandom: The Fast and the Furious
Pairing: Brian/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mutual Masturbation
Words: 1035
Disclaimer: Suffice to say, they are not mine. No money, no malice, and I return them unharmed when I’m done.
Summary: It was the little things about Brian that got to Dom.
Notes: For prompt #27 Fire over at story_lottery. My iccle table is here. Also for fanfic100 prompt #52 Fire for which my big table is here. I feel like this is lacking something. Maybe it’s pace - took me too long to write it, really - or intensity. I don’t know, just something. Still, having said that, it’s finally written, and I’m not adjusting it anymore or it'll really drive me insane. Feedback, comments, criticism etc... most welcome as always.
It was the little things about Brian that got to Dom.
Little things, that would go un-noticed by anyone who wasn’t really paying any attention, kept him awake at night: the way that the light caught Brian’s hair, the way he’d rub his thighs when he got nervous. How his skin tanned too well, and how his sweat glistened against it: making Brian look like he was painted with a fine sheen of gold.
How he’d stick his tongue out, just a little, and rest it on the side of his mouth when he was concentrating really hard on something, or thinking about saying something but wasn’t quite sure how to put it. That little bit of pink tongue was more than enough to keep Dom awake for more than a night. And when it didn’t keep him awake, it gave him dreams. Dreams that left him covered in sweat, shaking and stuck to his sheets like he was a horny teenager as he imagined what that sweet tongue would feel like in his mouth, on his body.
Brian was also a lot neater than Dom had imagined him to be. He almost always cleaned up after himself - and always cleaned up after Dom cooked. The cook didn’t clean. That was his rule. But watching Brian’s hands move in the soapy water, all lathered up as he fingered each piece of cutlery or crockery almost sent Dom insane, because the thought of Brian’s hands on his body made him instantly hard.
So now, sitting here, watching Brian stroking his own cock with those wonderful hands, and seeing that pink tongue sweeping out over his lips every now and again, Dom was surprised that he hadn’t already come in his sweatpants.
They’d been watching porn - some cheap-as-shit pay-per-view channel in the motel room - and drinking tequila. The combination of the alcohol, and having Brian sitting so close to him had made Dom hard, so he’d adjusted his crotch, only to find Brian eyeing him for a second, before the blond had unzipped his jeans, shimmied them over his hips, and shoved his hand between his legs. Dom was sure his eyes had bugged out of his head, but he shrugged, and Brian had carried on, pulled his cock free from the last of the denim and just started to stroke, as if it was a perfectly normal thing for him to get his dick out with another guy sitting next to him.
Dom realised he should say something, ask Brian what the fuck he thought he was doing, ask himself what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed back a shot of tequila, then put his hand down into his pants, and did the same thing.
He tried to shut Brian out, focus on the action on the TV, but it wasn’t working. Dom was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and he was too confined, the material of his sweats just getting in the way of his hand-action, and the sweet moans and gasps coming from Brian weren’t helping.
“Take them off, Dom.”
Dom’s head snapped up, and he found Brian looking right back at him, and Dom knew those eyes were egging him on in silent dare to join him properly, to take a risk, and they burned through his body like wildfire. So Dom raised his hips off the sofa, pulled his sweats down and off, and clasped his hand over his cock in a vise-like grip.
Brian moaned, and Dom couldn’t help himself from letting out a whispered ‘fuck’ when Brian twisted round to face him - all pretence over porn watching long gone - and started stroking again.
He couldn’t stop his tongue from licking his lips as he echoed Brian’s movements; couldn’t help but revel in the feel of Brian’s eyes on him as he thrust upwards, into the down-stroke.
Dom’s eyes raked over Brian’s flesh and he watched as those tantalising hands worked their magic; heard the soft slick sound beneath the fingers; gasped a hitching breath as Brian swept his thumb over and around the head of his cock, and spread the glistening pre-cum over it; moaned as Brian raised his hand to his lips, and fingers sank into the sweet warm wetness of Brian’s mouth before returning south.
Then they were stroking in unison; thrusts erratic and staggered.
All too soon, Dom came; a moan that sounded a lot like Brian’s name pulled from his throat, and it was almost like an out-of-body experience as he felt himself lurch forward shakily, saw the thick, white ropes of his release leave his body and land on Brian’s hands, on his cock.
Brian’s voice washed over him and the intensity of what he’d just done - what they were doing, hit him like a sledgehammer. Something had shifted, and after all this time - after five years of pent up sexual tension, it all came down to this, and he realised with an inward wince of surprise, that they should have done this and more, so long ago.
“Fuck, Dom. I need...”
Those words snapped Dom from his reverie, and he fought for control. The control he needed to not just take Brian there and then; the control to help Brian finish what they’d started.
“Yes, Bri, come on, come for me. Show me. Oh fuck, yes...”
His eyes swept over Brian again, taking in the sight of the man with awe as Brian used Dom’s own orgasm to bring himself off. As those hands continued with their task, Dom groaned as Brian headed straight to the edge and threw himself over it; his whole body tensing and pulsing as their eyes locked.
It was only then that Dom found the blatant need to reach out and touch too overwhelming. His hand snaked out and over twitching flesh, and he entwined his fingers with Brian’s, still holding his gaze. He watched as Brian’s chest heaved, felt the air as his hand was raised to sweet lips; burned under the heat of Brian’s tongue as skin was licked clean.
And somewhere, between ember-like stares and shuddery breaths, Dom could’ve sworn that Brian was glowing.