25 June 2010 @ 02:58 pm
Title: Drabbles
Author: [livejournal.com profile] paraboobizarre
Pairing(s): Bill/Tom (mostly ;)
Rating: PG - R
Disclaimer: not mine, never happened.
Warnings: none whatsoever
Summary: four drabbles, all of them more or less concerned with sex
Author's notes: I haven't written anything in a long time, so I'm pretty psyched about these haha


There's some things he never tells Tom. They're kissing, slow, lazy, the kind of kisses that go nowhere, eventually stop on their own. It's movement that makes Bill crack one eye open, seeing Tom's hand slide stealthily down his belly, between his legs cupping the bulge there, barely visible under his big shirts. Watching Tom's fingers flex, slowly rubbing himself, pushing his hips up just slightly, Bill's own arousal spikes, makes his heartbeat thrum in his ears. Eventually Tom's hand sneaks down the front of his pants, starting into an unhurried rhythm. If Bill doesn't say anything Tom won't stop...


Condensation slicks down the oily shining wall and he watches Bill's fingernails dig into it, so hard the knuckles turn white. He feels the thumping of the bass in his sternum, Bill's throat contracting under his lips, swallowing hard, trying to keep quiet. Everything around him is hot loud screaming drumming howling harder faster and he drags down the zipper of Bill's jeans, slipping his hand inside, smiling against the shudder it elicits. Closing his eyes the world starts to fall away, bit by bit, until Bill's ragged breathing echoes in his head, loud louder, till it all spills over.


In his room there's a closet with mirrored doors and they're good for more than just checking his appearance. Watching Tom in moments like these, when Bill has his legs bent up against his ribcage, Tom's hands holding them in place, kissing, licking, sucking down from his balls to his ass. When he turns his head, Bill can see them both in the mirrors; Tom lying belly down, gently rolling his hips against the sheets, a soft moan every now and then. Tom's cock trapped between the sheets and his belly, tip wet. Bill lick his lips, stifles a moan.


He can't sleep alone all that well. Maybe it's because the bed's bigger when he's alone but it's the same when he's alone in the bunk bed, so who is he kidding here really? Maybe it's because it's so strangely quiet without the soft cadence of someone else's breathing right next to him. Maybe the way the sheets never grow quiet as warm when it's just himself and when he turns, his toes sliding over a cold spot, it disturbs his slumber. Maybe it's the not being able to warm his back against Georg's at night, that's spoiling Tom's sleep.
Current Mood: accomplished
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