of david henrie and disney dance parties
Title: Of David Henrie and Disney dance parties
Author: RaeLouise
Rating: NC:17
Pairing: Joe Jonas/David Henrie
Disclaimer: Owning them? I can only dream. Cut text belongs to Hardcore Superstar.
Warnings: PWP smut
Summary: Written for Joe/David Henrie=, against a wall at jbkinkmeme.
Every so often, Disney throws dance parties. They hire out the top clubs, though the bars serve nothing but bottles of icy mineral water and soda, and all the kids, whether they’re twelve or twenty, group together beneath the strobe lighting to dance along to instructional songs in unison. They slide to the left and they laugh out loud, sip their diet cokes and jump to the right. The parties are delightfully wholesome and watched over by security guards and personal assistants, even the odd parent [should the Jonas’ be attending, usually]. The girl’s necklines never dip down to reveal lacy bras, or even worse, too much flesh, and the boys never pass around flasks of Jim Beam or hustle outside to smoke a secret blunt. They never fall together in large groups, with wandering hands, to crash the nearest take out with an attack of the munchies once the DJ’s spun the last Top 40 track.
At least, for the most part. One time Nick and Miley made out during a ballad with a techno beat and the heaving dance floor, full of teens idols with perfectly coiffed hair and bleached grins, erupted into an over enthusiastic applause that made the youngest Jonas’ cheeks burn. Other than that, there’s only copious amounts of awkward flirting and lively chatter.
At first, Joe finds reasons to excuse himself from David’s company. Though, when David’s not up beside him, dancing along to whatever [most probably awful] music is blasting, Joe can’t help but watch out for him. Breathing hard, he mumbles that he needs another Sprite, Nick looks lonely as he busts some less than awesome moves, the soda runs right through him like water- where’s the bathroom again? But eventually he relents- falls against him as they take a seat together at one of the leather booths lit with red bulbs. Joe inhales hard- the foreign scent of soured alcohol and clinging smoke so exciting he shudders. David is built sturdily, more of a man than Joe, and Joe knows that he smokes substances more dangerous than tobacco, has seen him vomit once or twice from taking it too far with a bottle of Russian vodka, beers atop that. Joe kind of feels awed around David a lot, especially when the shocking clarity of his eyes catches him off guard, the flicker of his tongue across his smirk. Joe’s been known to think about how dangerous David is when he’s beating himself off, of that Biblical tattoo inked over his muscle forcing him over the edge.
“Fancy some fresh air?” David asks after about ten minutes of almost awkward silence, tugging at the trigger of his blue plastic lighter and making Joe literally shriek as the flame sparks up indoors.
“Uh…”
“No uhs, Joseph.” David laughs, smooth as butter, as his fingers curl around Joe’s bicep. He guides Joe towards the exit and elbows him so that he’ll wave off a frowning Big Rob before they push through the heavy doors and into the refreshing wash of cool night air.
The minute they’re outside David lights up two cigarettes and going pink, anticipating much embarrassing coughing, Joe takes the one he’s offered and works hard on making it look like he’s sucking as hungrily as David at the smoke. David watches Joe, watches him fake it and imagines his fingers knotted in Joe’s straight ironed hair- goes as far as to imagine those lush lips stretched taught around his cock.
“You dance pretty good, you know? Like, it’s a bit awkward at times, when you’re thinking too hard but then,” David swallows hard and carelessly flicks ash against the club’s brick wall- “sometimes it’s like you forget and your hips… You’re like a snake. But you wouldn’t dance with me.”
Joe shrugs, mumbles a bumbled apology, goes coy and ducks towards his own chest. Eyes cast downwards he watches as the inch of ash that’s collected at the tip of his own Marlboro falls against the toe of his silvery sneaker. He knows he’s blushing, smiling like a fool. His cheeks ache.
“Come here.”
It’s a simple, soft spoken command but Joe feels it like a fist around his heart, a rough palm up against his dark denim crotch. He worries his bottom lip, toes gone inwards like a child, but when he feels David’s finger beneath his chin his gaze snaps up and before he can murmur anything at all, David’s lips are crushing against his own and he’s dropping his unwanted cigarette to curl his arms tightly around David’s broad back. David who feels so solid up against him; David who tastes of sin which will send Joe to Hell. David who has a Bible passage on his arm but seems to be on ‘BFF’ terms with Satan himself. Oh, the oxymoron is a turn on.
Once David has inhaled all of Joe’s oxygen, left him dizzy and swollen lipped, tongue tired from the tousle for dominance, he grips Joe’s cheek hard, palm flush to his jaw line. His eyes go dark, as if someone turned off a lamp, and he growls-
“I’m gonna fuck you Joe Jonas- but you knew that, right?”
Joe decides to agree to disguise his complete naivety and David kisses him again, letting his hands roam all over. Down to squeeze Joe’s generous ass, up to tug Joe’s dark hair from it’s very roots. He finds Joe’s most sensitive spot, the hollow above his hip bone much more quickly than anyone else before him [though to be fair, that number’s not huge] and has Joe moaning like his life depends on just letting go, belly up for David Henrie and his thick fingers and tainted breath, the ghost of his teeth, the suckling on his lower lip.
“Come with me,” He growls against Joe’s throat, already mottled with hickeys and slick spit. It’s hardly as if Joe has a choice once David’s hand is a cuff around his wrist and he’s being dragged into the alley towards the back of the bar anyway, past trashcans and over shards of shattered glass, the sleek shadow of a hurried cat, “This is where I was drinking before.”
Joe nods briefly, but thankfully, David doesn’t produce anything Joe has to turn down. He just turns Joe until his belly is flat against the brick wall and curls his large hands around Joe’s tapered waist. Taking control. Joe’s breath comes out in hot little puffs against the wall, the brick rubbing his cheek raw, but he doesn’t pull away from the sting- especially as David begins to rut up against him, muttering dirty dirty things into his ear. He cries out loud and long, strangled from more, as his own cock springs to life.
“Let’s hope you Mama doesn’t come looking,” David grunts, his own fingers slipping as he fumbles, far too rushed. Joe’s jeans are as tight as a second skin, and it takes some effort to drag them down to Joe’s knees, followed by his little black briefs- the pink piping glowing neon in the heavy blue darkness, partially lit by a stuttering streetlamp, “Or Nicholas,” David lets himself savour Joe’s little brother’s name as he unbuckles his belt and wriggle free form his jeans, his loose grey boxers following. Both boys moan as their erections hit the frigid air.
Joe hears David spit and it’s obscene but his breath hitches, his cock twitches against his belly, and he groans for what’s approaching. David presses ever closer as he fingers meet Joe’s puckered entrance and he slicks it, barely stretches it, with his soaked fingers, before he spits again and then rubs his palm over himself and whispers Joe’s name huskily, the tell-tale catch of a smoker at the back of his throat.
“You ready?” He grunts, though the head of his cock is already nestled between Joe’s ass cheeks. Joe just nods, clumsy and desperate, legs spreading as he braces himself against the wall. Pressed so close he can almost hear the music within- something Kelly Clarkson he thinks, before David pushes deeper and all of his thought fade to a distant buzz.
David is big as he fills Joe, such a solid scorching heat deep within him, and Joe’s jaw goes slack as he breaks out into a thick sweat and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s incoherent but loud even before David’s started to move, and then when he does, at a teasingly slow pace until Joe’s adjusted, Joe scrapes his nails against the brick and works back against the beautiful boy behind him.
They work out a rhythm between them, Joe learning early on to follow David’s lead- deep and determined as he is. David makes the most of his power with one hand spread over the brick beside Joe and the other tight around Joe’s cock, wringing him as he pounds him. He is rewarded with a desperate kitten keen of utter delight whenever he slams against Joe’s prostate and he takes to biting and suckling at Joe’s sweaty neck to drag more of the purrs from him. Joe’s sweat is even more deliciously forbidden than the alcohol still coating David’s rolling tongue.
Everything picks up an even more desperate pace as David feels a clenching fist in the bottom of his stomach, balls tight as they meet Joe’s flesh audibly. He pushes his forehead into Joe’s hair, slick with sweat but still silky smooth, and the twist to his wrist of the hand around Joe’s cock makes Joe scream. Joe grapples with the brick as his sneaker soles slip. David hooks his fingers around Joe’s quaking hip to keep him in place and Joe becomes an object in his last moments- David just working everything to his advantage, faster, harder, ungainly thrusts, until he’s pulling out hurriedly to hit Joe’s pert ass, the flawless flesh on the back of his thighs, with his release.
“Christ, Joe!” He groans, animalistic up from the core of his chest and Joe responds with a whine as his own come coats David’s hand, the red brick wall, and leaves him shaking, seeking out oxygen awkwardly as though breathing is alien to him, “Christ, Jonas.”
Joe smiles just slightly, shakily, David leaving a ticklish dusting of light kisses beneath Joe’s longer hair before he steps back to wipe off his hand on his own boxers and pull up his pants. He slaps Joe’s ass gently and Joe jumps, realisation hitting him suddenly [like the dull ache in his lower body]. He scrambles to fix himself as best he can before someone finds them there- all spent with their red cheeks and little smiles, the lingering scent of David’s cigarettes. David cups the back of his neck, pushing through his hair and Joe falls in against him again, against his strong side and his dark heat. Even giggling as David’s smirk becomes a kiss against his cheek.
“We should head back inside before they wonder were the funny one went, huh?”
Joe nods, rubbing at his sweaty forehead, pushing his hair inside. He‘s wearing that glowing innocent smile that‘s almost enough to make David‘s heart jump- “And I can totally dance with you now.”
Author: RaeLouise
Rating: NC:17
Pairing: Joe Jonas/David Henrie
Disclaimer: Owning them? I can only dream. Cut text belongs to Hardcore Superstar.
Warnings: PWP smut
Summary: Written for Joe/David Henrie=, against a wall at jbkinkmeme.
Every so often, Disney throws dance parties. They hire out the top clubs, though the bars serve nothing but bottles of icy mineral water and soda, and all the kids, whether they’re twelve or twenty, group together beneath the strobe lighting to dance along to instructional songs in unison. They slide to the left and they laugh out loud, sip their diet cokes and jump to the right. The parties are delightfully wholesome and watched over by security guards and personal assistants, even the odd parent [should the Jonas’ be attending, usually]. The girl’s necklines never dip down to reveal lacy bras, or even worse, too much flesh, and the boys never pass around flasks of Jim Beam or hustle outside to smoke a secret blunt. They never fall together in large groups, with wandering hands, to crash the nearest take out with an attack of the munchies once the DJ’s spun the last Top 40 track.
At least, for the most part. One time Nick and Miley made out during a ballad with a techno beat and the heaving dance floor, full of teens idols with perfectly coiffed hair and bleached grins, erupted into an over enthusiastic applause that made the youngest Jonas’ cheeks burn. Other than that, there’s only copious amounts of awkward flirting and lively chatter.
At first, Joe finds reasons to excuse himself from David’s company. Though, when David’s not up beside him, dancing along to whatever [most probably awful] music is blasting, Joe can’t help but watch out for him. Breathing hard, he mumbles that he needs another Sprite, Nick looks lonely as he busts some less than awesome moves, the soda runs right through him like water- where’s the bathroom again? But eventually he relents- falls against him as they take a seat together at one of the leather booths lit with red bulbs. Joe inhales hard- the foreign scent of soured alcohol and clinging smoke so exciting he shudders. David is built sturdily, more of a man than Joe, and Joe knows that he smokes substances more dangerous than tobacco, has seen him vomit once or twice from taking it too far with a bottle of Russian vodka, beers atop that. Joe kind of feels awed around David a lot, especially when the shocking clarity of his eyes catches him off guard, the flicker of his tongue across his smirk. Joe’s been known to think about how dangerous David is when he’s beating himself off, of that Biblical tattoo inked over his muscle forcing him over the edge.
“Fancy some fresh air?” David asks after about ten minutes of almost awkward silence, tugging at the trigger of his blue plastic lighter and making Joe literally shriek as the flame sparks up indoors.
“Uh…”
“No uhs, Joseph.” David laughs, smooth as butter, as his fingers curl around Joe’s bicep. He guides Joe towards the exit and elbows him so that he’ll wave off a frowning Big Rob before they push through the heavy doors and into the refreshing wash of cool night air.
The minute they’re outside David lights up two cigarettes and going pink, anticipating much embarrassing coughing, Joe takes the one he’s offered and works hard on making it look like he’s sucking as hungrily as David at the smoke. David watches Joe, watches him fake it and imagines his fingers knotted in Joe’s straight ironed hair- goes as far as to imagine those lush lips stretched taught around his cock.
“You dance pretty good, you know? Like, it’s a bit awkward at times, when you’re thinking too hard but then,” David swallows hard and carelessly flicks ash against the club’s brick wall- “sometimes it’s like you forget and your hips… You’re like a snake. But you wouldn’t dance with me.”
Joe shrugs, mumbles a bumbled apology, goes coy and ducks towards his own chest. Eyes cast downwards he watches as the inch of ash that’s collected at the tip of his own Marlboro falls against the toe of his silvery sneaker. He knows he’s blushing, smiling like a fool. His cheeks ache.
“Come here.”
It’s a simple, soft spoken command but Joe feels it like a fist around his heart, a rough palm up against his dark denim crotch. He worries his bottom lip, toes gone inwards like a child, but when he feels David’s finger beneath his chin his gaze snaps up and before he can murmur anything at all, David’s lips are crushing against his own and he’s dropping his unwanted cigarette to curl his arms tightly around David’s broad back. David who feels so solid up against him; David who tastes of sin which will send Joe to Hell. David who has a Bible passage on his arm but seems to be on ‘BFF’ terms with Satan himself. Oh, the oxymoron is a turn on.
Once David has inhaled all of Joe’s oxygen, left him dizzy and swollen lipped, tongue tired from the tousle for dominance, he grips Joe’s cheek hard, palm flush to his jaw line. His eyes go dark, as if someone turned off a lamp, and he growls-
“I’m gonna fuck you Joe Jonas- but you knew that, right?”
Joe decides to agree to disguise his complete naivety and David kisses him again, letting his hands roam all over. Down to squeeze Joe’s generous ass, up to tug Joe’s dark hair from it’s very roots. He finds Joe’s most sensitive spot, the hollow above his hip bone much more quickly than anyone else before him [though to be fair, that number’s not huge] and has Joe moaning like his life depends on just letting go, belly up for David Henrie and his thick fingers and tainted breath, the ghost of his teeth, the suckling on his lower lip.
“Come with me,” He growls against Joe’s throat, already mottled with hickeys and slick spit. It’s hardly as if Joe has a choice once David’s hand is a cuff around his wrist and he’s being dragged into the alley towards the back of the bar anyway, past trashcans and over shards of shattered glass, the sleek shadow of a hurried cat, “This is where I was drinking before.”
Joe nods briefly, but thankfully, David doesn’t produce anything Joe has to turn down. He just turns Joe until his belly is flat against the brick wall and curls his large hands around Joe’s tapered waist. Taking control. Joe’s breath comes out in hot little puffs against the wall, the brick rubbing his cheek raw, but he doesn’t pull away from the sting- especially as David begins to rut up against him, muttering dirty dirty things into his ear. He cries out loud and long, strangled from more, as his own cock springs to life.
“Let’s hope you Mama doesn’t come looking,” David grunts, his own fingers slipping as he fumbles, far too rushed. Joe’s jeans are as tight as a second skin, and it takes some effort to drag them down to Joe’s knees, followed by his little black briefs- the pink piping glowing neon in the heavy blue darkness, partially lit by a stuttering streetlamp, “Or Nicholas,” David lets himself savour Joe’s little brother’s name as he unbuckles his belt and wriggle free form his jeans, his loose grey boxers following. Both boys moan as their erections hit the frigid air.
Joe hears David spit and it’s obscene but his breath hitches, his cock twitches against his belly, and he groans for what’s approaching. David presses ever closer as he fingers meet Joe’s puckered entrance and he slicks it, barely stretches it, with his soaked fingers, before he spits again and then rubs his palm over himself and whispers Joe’s name huskily, the tell-tale catch of a smoker at the back of his throat.
“You ready?” He grunts, though the head of his cock is already nestled between Joe’s ass cheeks. Joe just nods, clumsy and desperate, legs spreading as he braces himself against the wall. Pressed so close he can almost hear the music within- something Kelly Clarkson he thinks, before David pushes deeper and all of his thought fade to a distant buzz.
David is big as he fills Joe, such a solid scorching heat deep within him, and Joe’s jaw goes slack as he breaks out into a thick sweat and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s incoherent but loud even before David’s started to move, and then when he does, at a teasingly slow pace until Joe’s adjusted, Joe scrapes his nails against the brick and works back against the beautiful boy behind him.
They work out a rhythm between them, Joe learning early on to follow David’s lead- deep and determined as he is. David makes the most of his power with one hand spread over the brick beside Joe and the other tight around Joe’s cock, wringing him as he pounds him. He is rewarded with a desperate kitten keen of utter delight whenever he slams against Joe’s prostate and he takes to biting and suckling at Joe’s sweaty neck to drag more of the purrs from him. Joe’s sweat is even more deliciously forbidden than the alcohol still coating David’s rolling tongue.
Everything picks up an even more desperate pace as David feels a clenching fist in the bottom of his stomach, balls tight as they meet Joe’s flesh audibly. He pushes his forehead into Joe’s hair, slick with sweat but still silky smooth, and the twist to his wrist of the hand around Joe’s cock makes Joe scream. Joe grapples with the brick as his sneaker soles slip. David hooks his fingers around Joe’s quaking hip to keep him in place and Joe becomes an object in his last moments- David just working everything to his advantage, faster, harder, ungainly thrusts, until he’s pulling out hurriedly to hit Joe’s pert ass, the flawless flesh on the back of his thighs, with his release.
“Christ, Joe!” He groans, animalistic up from the core of his chest and Joe responds with a whine as his own come coats David’s hand, the red brick wall, and leaves him shaking, seeking out oxygen awkwardly as though breathing is alien to him, “Christ, Jonas.”
Joe smiles just slightly, shakily, David leaving a ticklish dusting of light kisses beneath Joe’s longer hair before he steps back to wipe off his hand on his own boxers and pull up his pants. He slaps Joe’s ass gently and Joe jumps, realisation hitting him suddenly [like the dull ache in his lower body]. He scrambles to fix himself as best he can before someone finds them there- all spent with their red cheeks and little smiles, the lingering scent of David’s cigarettes. David cups the back of his neck, pushing through his hair and Joe falls in against him again, against his strong side and his dark heat. Even giggling as David’s smirk becomes a kiss against his cheek.
“We should head back inside before they wonder were the funny one went, huh?”
Joe nods, rubbing at his sweaty forehead, pushing his hair inside. He‘s wearing that glowing innocent smile that‘s almost enough to make David‘s heart jump- “And I can totally dance with you now.”