|Smut_69 QAF #55 Voyeur
||[Jan. 5th, 2006|11:38 pm]
Kat and Co
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Characters: Brian/Michael, Brian/Justin, Michael/Other
Prompt: 55. Voyeur
Word Count: 585 words
Warnings: m/m sex, voyuer, slight underage stuff
Spoilers: None. It technically is an AU for right before S1.
Summary: Brian watches him.
Disclaimer: Yeah, if they were mine, Ben would be in Tibet, Vic would have lived forever, Debbie would have learned to shut her mouth, Justin would still be with the fiddler and Michael and Brian would be constantly doing the dirty, on screen, in technicolor.
Author’s Notes: So, bouncykeira and myselfhave taken a Smut_69 challenge as our own. We'll be doing Queer as Folk general as our pairing/characters. We will be writing things both collaabortaively and seperately to complete all 69 smut prompts given to us by the community. All work towards this claim will be posted by and to this journal. Specific authors shall be noted in each fic as they are posted.
Recap: Queer as Folk Kinky Table
Brian’s a part of the wall he's leaned up against, his gazed fixed on his best friend. Michael's face is a mask of strained desperate pleasure as the trick takes him from behind. His eyes are closed and he can’t see Brian's eyes follow his body's every move and twitch.
Brian pulls a heady drag off his cigarette as the boy at his feet works his mouth with wet enthusiasm on Brian’s dick. Its just sensation, a little bonus because the pleasure coursing through him is all coming from watching Michael grunt and wriggle on the cock thrusting deeply inside him.
Beautiful, he’s just as fucking beautiful as he’d been since they were fourteen in the pale bluish lights of the Babylon backroom. He loves watching Michael come. He loses himself in the pleasure, goes numb to the rest of the world. Much like when he reads his comic books or gets high, Michael’s world because a bubble of personal fulfillment. Brian’s almost like a leech, living on the vicarious pleasure that his best friend derives from such simple things in life.
He’s been watching Michael for more than a decade and half; in the backrooms, on the dance floor at Babylon, in his peripheral vision, walking beside him, or cozying himself in his arms.
Now Michael’s mouth is open and he’s panting as strives towards his climax and Brian’s had enough. He pushes the boy away because he’s got better places to be, better things to take, to have as his own than the pretty, clearly underage mouth.
He wants to feel that labored breathing in his lips. He wants that tight body under him and around him. Michael’s eyes finally snap open when he claims his mouth in a kiss that’s about more than just friendship. It’s quick and seamless, the way their relationship shifts on its axis from one of friendship and love to one of friendship, love, and sex.
He’s always been good at sex and neither of them have time to take more than two breaths before Brian’s covered in a lubricated condom and so deep inside Michael he’ll never be out. He’s been waiting sixteen years for this and fuck, there’s no goddamn way heaven can be better.
Blue eyes veiled in blond bangs watch them together. He takes in the sight of the taller man pushing the topping trick off the dark haired man and pushes him into far corner. There’s a visible shift in clothing and then the smaller man is being entered, hard and fast as they stand face to face. The bottom cries out the man’s name as one of his legs attempt to pull his partner closer. Brian, he yells as his neck arches taut and his hands fist in his honey colored hair. Brian, oh God, Brian.
Justin works his hand over his dick as the man he didn’t get to finish blowing fucks the slight brunet through the wall, chanting his name with each desperate snap of his hips. Mikey, he pants, Mikey, you’re mine, mine, fuck, you’re mine Mikey.
He shakes as he spills hot and wet into his fist, a fellow patron standing beside him throwing a wink as he too reaches his orgasm at the sight of the two clawing at each other. The pair is still grinding into each other, their bodies heaving, eyes locked, lips brushing as they whisper to each other, foreheads meshed tightly together. They don’t notice his stares and they don’t see him leave.