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[just1tearforme.livejournal.com]

Title: Incorrigible
Just1tearforme
NC17, 1354 words
Summary: Some people don't mind being incorrigible.
Notes: I was going to work on Nerd Gone Wild I swear but the boys had other ideas, and personally I think I got the better end of the deal.



Incorrigible

“Give me your hand and I’ll show ya.” He had said with a smirk that said ‘I dare you’ and a wink that was just this side of indecent and a little left of lecherous. And somehow that explained why you had your right hand full of very warm, very male body parts beneath a pleated upper thigh grazing kilt, and your left hand slid between a fishnet shirt and toned chest pinching a nipple to peak. His head is thrown back, lipstick smeared across his mouth and you’re sucking his neck, jaw, anywhere that you can reach as he murmurs unspeakable things mindlessly. Meanwhile your hand is sliding up and down his cock, the first one you’ve ever touched outside of yours but fuck if that matters right now. His hips shift in response to your touch, trying to get you to move faster to give him more of the friction he requires. But you let him go, sliding your hand down, between his legs to grasp his balls, his smooth balls. He shaves, and it feels wonderful, you suddenly decide to follow his lead next time you shower, but tuck that thought away for another time to focus on the matter in hand. You let them roll in your palm caressing the soft skin. He’s breathing hard, panting in your ear, growling at you to “fucking get on with it.” Who are you to not oblige to such a request?

Your hand trails back to his cock, rubbing your palm over the head and spreading the precum. Up and down you slide your fist all seven and some inches of him. You alternately squeeze his cock and slide the pad of your thumb over the head each stroke. Fast, fast, slow. Slow, fast, slow. Every time he starts picking up the rhythm you change the tempo on him. His cock is so slick now, covered in precum, pulsing in your grip. Sharp pricks of pain flare in your arms, his nails biting into your skin, as a plea tumbles from his lips, “Nick” rough, strangled, drawn out. But it’s all you need, that one single word and you’re mashing your mouths together in a messy, violent kiss. Your hand is pumping away, pretense forgotten, swiftly. A few strokes is all it takes, and he’s cumming; body arching against yours, inhaling sharply and literally stealing your breath. Your mouths separate and he leans against you, chest heaving, his cock softening in your fingers. You trail your lips across his jaw to ear, tracing the shell with the very tip of your tongue, nipping the earlobe, and then sucking just below where his ear meets his jaw. This brings forth the most delicious moan and a shudder, so you do it again because hell if it isn’t doing wondrous things for you too. You also find that if you suck on that spot and ghost your fingertips across the sensitive skin just above his hips, not only do you get a moan, and a shudder, but his hips rub against your trapped erection and that does even more for you.

Suddenly, he’s not leaning against your chest anymore. His eyes are sparkling, and he has the most devious look gracing his face. His hands come up and suddenly your back collides with a locker. You were shoved, with more strength than you thought he possessed. Those hands are on you again, pushing the button of your jeans through the buttonhole and pulling down the zip. His fingers stroke you once through the cotton of your boxers before yanking the denims down past your hips. His kisses you roughly, biting at your lips before pressing on your shoulders, forcing you down to your knees. You press your face to his stomach, breathing in the scent of him. He smells like sex, not how it truly smells but how it feels, looks, tastes. You let your tongue trail a wet swathe across his waist, and his hand is gripping your head, pulling it away. “No,” he purrs looking like some debauched angel. You turn your head and press a kiss to the inside of his wrist instead, though you can’t help but feel some sadness at not getting to taste more of him.

He smiles, eyes flashing from beneath a long lashed gaze, and he’s pulling out a condom from god only knows where since his skirt doesn’t seem to have pockets, not as though you were actively looking though. He sinks to the floor, one leg on either side of yours, and winks. You’re not sure how it became very erotic, ripping open the wrapper with his teeth, but it is and if you were a girl you’d be gushing like Niagara Falls right about now. A hissed moan tumbles from you; he’s put the condom in his mouth and is rolling it down your cock, using only his mouth. And by god or whomever if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever had done to you. And you realize you’re going to fuck him, right here and now even though you are in the locker room of CSI and anyone could walk in at anytime; even though you’ve never had sex with a guy before, let alone looked at one in that way either. And he’s raising himself up on his knees, grasping your cock in one hand and… all things holy you’re slipping inside, sinking all the way in. His back is arched, head thrown back, eyes closed and lips parted as half your name is groaned, his hand resting on your chest. You grip his hips in your hands, alternately flexing and tightening your fingers. Fuck if he doesn’t feel so good wrapped around your cock, and fucking hell it’s getting better. He’s begun to move, rising up till you’re almost slipping from him, and then sinking back down with a breathy moan. Your eyelids flutter because… damn that’s amazing.

You’re guiding his hips now, meeting his every thrust with your own. He rides you with abandon, skin slapping against skin, breathing erratic for the both of you. All that matters is that tight passage and muscles rippling against yours as you fuck. There’s a tingling in the soles of your feet and you’re close, every thrust bringing you closer. There’s a need for him to cum too, fall over the edge with you. Your hand slides down his hip, across his thigh and under the kilt. Muscle memory takes over as your hand curls around his cock sliding in a newly learned rhythm, counterpoint to your thrusts. The tingling has crawled up your legs, nestling in the pit of you stomach. You can feel your balls tighten and so close, you’re so close. He is too; you can see it, feel it. You lean forward, in close and do the one thing that will send you both over. “Gre-eg…” you moan long and low. There are lights behind your eyes and his nails digging into your forearms, your teeth sinking into his shoulder stifling a scream.

You lay there, back against the lockers cradled in one another. Heads rest against opposite shoulders, both sets eyes closed as you let your breathing return to normal. Slowly, you pull away from him, lift his chin and kiss him gently.  You smile and he does too with that self-satisfied smirk like the cat that got the canary and the cream too. He rises up on shaky knees and your cock finally slips out of him albeit a bit reluctantly. He strips the condom off, throwing it away. Deftly your cock is cleaned with those lithe fingers, his too, and with great care he’s tucked you back in and zipped you up. You rise to standing, wincing a little as your knee pops. Your hands move to button your jeans but he’s there first doing you up, making you look slightly presentable. He gives you a brief kiss and looks at you with a smile, holding out his hand in invitation. Unhesitatingly you take it and follow him out the door. Who needs straight anyway?