Tweet Inspired Quincho
Untitled Quincho Tweet Fic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers. This is a Lie. I've never met Zach Quinto or John Cho and if I owned them they would be having a lot more fun.
Inspired by this tweet
Getting ready to leave to shoot harold and kumar 3. In other words, tanning salon and facials like crazy.
The tweet gets a million responses. Some of them make John laugh. Others have him searching the Urban Dictionary then grimacing as untold unimagined sexual acts are disguised in innocuous names like the 'Reverse Priest.' Zach doesn't respond. In a strange way that's the only response John needs. He's married and Zach might as well be married to Chris but they have their places in each others' lives. John might love Zach in a deeply demented (kinda like brothers but we fuck) way but the thought of waking up every day to the high strung slightly insecure incredibly verbose Zachary John Quinto is not something John can imagine. Though the sex is incredible.
Zach's a talker. John figured that out even before they decided to get naked. John's own imagined version of Zach's sexual history is that Zach probably had sex with a girl first though he desperately wanted to have sex with a boy. John's torn between Zach's first being a musical theater geekete with a 2 octave range or some pretty cheerleading princess, the female equivalent of John's imagined Chris Pine in high school. In John's mind, it was probably furtive coupling with a desperate to please Zach constantly seeking reassurance from a girl who didn't know any better.
Zach still seeks assurance. Even when John has Zach cock down his throat and can't make any sounds but guttural moans and choking sounds.
"You like that." Zach's voice desperately breathy still rings in John's brain. The long fingers threaded through John's too long hair tugging and guiding, but John doesn't mind taking direction. Holding his phone, two thousand miles away from New York, John's hard from the memory of Zach. The phantom scent of him and taste of his skin. John's mouth waters a little. Cock sucking's a bad habit but John can't imagine finding a 12 step program for it.
His phone buzzes in his hand. The email envelope appears on the display and John clicks on it.
"Direct message from Zachary Quinto."
John smiles and follows the link.
"facials?"
John smiles and hits the reply
"Are you allergic to capitalization?
It's another moment before a new direct message pops up
"maybe. more curious about facials. who might be administering them."
John laughs and check to make sure no one's around. He's sitting in salon in West Hollywood waiting for Inga. He gets some polite stares but this place is used to celebrities and John still considers himself B-list.
"I think Inga doesn't have the right equipment." John pauses and smiles at a horrible thought then thumbs in more a message. "anymore."
"ha. ha. right kind of protein might be good for your skin"
John rolls his eyes. He's had more than one guy want to come on his face and use that as a rational.
"What blissed out twink told you that?"
It's a moment before the reply comes back and John has to cover his mouth to stiffle the belly laugh that wants to escape.
"Anton."
It's not a bad image. Zach's thick red cock jerking in Anton's hands sending a spray of semen over Anton's milky cheek and red lips.
"Anton's not hygienic enough to be considered a twink. Though he'd look good."
John stops. Twitter accounts can be hacked. It's not like he's Paris or Lindsey but he's had his share of crazed Star Trek and Harold and Kumar fans. He doesn't need tweet sex with one of his co stars brandished across the internet. JJ would keel haul them and then recast, maybe not Zach but John's a little more expendable. This can be played off as guys jacking around.
He sends the last message but decides it can't go further. Zach apparently comes to his senses because the only thing that comes across on the next direct message is
"true."
"when are you coming back to NYC."
John's knees twinge a little remembering the hardwood floor of Zach's New York apartment. The sunlight breaking through the shear white curtains. Zach's espresso machine and the scent of coffee that permeates everything even Zach's sheets.
They aren't in love. John's not even sure it counts a 'friends with benefits' but right now he wants to be in New York. He wants to walk with Zach in Central Park then tease him in the back of a yellow cab, until they can barely wait until they are inside Zach's fourth story walk up. John wants his knees to hit the wood floor hard and breathe in Zach's scent through too thin denim. John's hand curls around his phone like it should curl around Zach's hip as he licks the thick treasure trail of dark curls. Zach's a weeper, leaking heavy pre ejaculate that tastes like bleach and almonds. John can imagine the weight of Zach's cock on his tongue and the desperate rasp of Zach's voice as he wants John's mouth.
"Please."
"Mr. Cho?"
Inga's as blonde and as Nordic as her name suggests and the accent breaks John out of his memory. He has to think about ice and baseball before he can get up and follow her back to the treatment area. He's able to thumb in one more direct twitter message before she asks him to turn off his phone.
"Soon."
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers. This is a Lie. I've never met Zach Quinto or John Cho and if I owned them they would be having a lot more fun.
Inspired by this tweet
Getting ready to leave to shoot harold and kumar 3. In other words, tanning salon and facials like crazy.
The tweet gets a million responses. Some of them make John laugh. Others have him searching the Urban Dictionary then grimacing as untold unimagined sexual acts are disguised in innocuous names like the 'Reverse Priest.' Zach doesn't respond. In a strange way that's the only response John needs. He's married and Zach might as well be married to Chris but they have their places in each others' lives. John might love Zach in a deeply demented (kinda like brothers but we fuck) way but the thought of waking up every day to the high strung slightly insecure incredibly verbose Zachary John Quinto is not something John can imagine. Though the sex is incredible.
Zach's a talker. John figured that out even before they decided to get naked. John's own imagined version of Zach's sexual history is that Zach probably had sex with a girl first though he desperately wanted to have sex with a boy. John's torn between Zach's first being a musical theater geekete with a 2 octave range or some pretty cheerleading princess, the female equivalent of John's imagined Chris Pine in high school. In John's mind, it was probably furtive coupling with a desperate to please Zach constantly seeking reassurance from a girl who didn't know any better.
Zach still seeks assurance. Even when John has Zach cock down his throat and can't make any sounds but guttural moans and choking sounds.
"You like that." Zach's voice desperately breathy still rings in John's brain. The long fingers threaded through John's too long hair tugging and guiding, but John doesn't mind taking direction. Holding his phone, two thousand miles away from New York, John's hard from the memory of Zach. The phantom scent of him and taste of his skin. John's mouth waters a little. Cock sucking's a bad habit but John can't imagine finding a 12 step program for it.
His phone buzzes in his hand. The email envelope appears on the display and John clicks on it.
"Direct message from Zachary Quinto."
John smiles and follows the link.
"facials?"
John smiles and hits the reply
"Are you allergic to capitalization?
It's another moment before a new direct message pops up
"maybe. more curious about facials. who might be administering them."
John laughs and check to make sure no one's around. He's sitting in salon in West Hollywood waiting for Inga. He gets some polite stares but this place is used to celebrities and John still considers himself B-list.
"I think Inga doesn't have the right equipment." John pauses and smiles at a horrible thought then thumbs in more a message. "anymore."
"ha. ha. right kind of protein might be good for your skin"
John rolls his eyes. He's had more than one guy want to come on his face and use that as a rational.
"What blissed out twink told you that?"
It's a moment before the reply comes back and John has to cover his mouth to stiffle the belly laugh that wants to escape.
"Anton."
It's not a bad image. Zach's thick red cock jerking in Anton's hands sending a spray of semen over Anton's milky cheek and red lips.
"Anton's not hygienic enough to be considered a twink. Though he'd look good."
John stops. Twitter accounts can be hacked. It's not like he's Paris or Lindsey but he's had his share of crazed Star Trek and Harold and Kumar fans. He doesn't need tweet sex with one of his co stars brandished across the internet. JJ would keel haul them and then recast, maybe not Zach but John's a little more expendable. This can be played off as guys jacking around.
He sends the last message but decides it can't go further. Zach apparently comes to his senses because the only thing that comes across on the next direct message is
"true."
"when are you coming back to NYC."
John's knees twinge a little remembering the hardwood floor of Zach's New York apartment. The sunlight breaking through the shear white curtains. Zach's espresso machine and the scent of coffee that permeates everything even Zach's sheets.
They aren't in love. John's not even sure it counts a 'friends with benefits' but right now he wants to be in New York. He wants to walk with Zach in Central Park then tease him in the back of a yellow cab, until they can barely wait until they are inside Zach's fourth story walk up. John wants his knees to hit the wood floor hard and breathe in Zach's scent through too thin denim. John's hand curls around his phone like it should curl around Zach's hip as he licks the thick treasure trail of dark curls. Zach's a weeper, leaking heavy pre ejaculate that tastes like bleach and almonds. John can imagine the weight of Zach's cock on his tongue and the desperate rasp of Zach's voice as he wants John's mouth.
"Please."
"Mr. Cho?"
Inga's as blonde and as Nordic as her name suggests and the accent breaks John out of his memory. He has to think about ice and baseball before he can get up and follow her back to the treatment area. He's able to thumb in one more direct twitter message before she asks him to turn off his phone.
"Soon."