rockabillyboy | (no subject)

(no subject)

He's been worrying for weeks, now. He's known Poison for long enough to be able to see it coming: the crash that's inevitable. He's been texting with Kavinsky, knows that Poison's been unpredictable and fractious during recording sessions. They haven't argued, not exactly, but he's ebe intensely aware of just how easily they could be arguing, almost all of the time.

So Jack drives to the studio, and he gets Kavinsky to buzz him up.

"Come on," he says, through the mic into the studio. "I'm taking you to lunch."

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Jack leans into the kiss, still straddling Poison's hips. "Doesn't mean you'll always be doing better," he points out, smudging their lips together. "And that's okay, baby. It's okay."

Poison pushes his fingers into Jack's hair, stroking across his scalp and down his neck, holding him. He pulls him close so he can bump their foreheads together.

"Still got it in my head that the best option is running," he confesses. "There's just no where to fucking go here so it's all in my head." He flashes a grin, weak but there. Then he gives Jack a kiss.

"I'll try not to shake you off again. I know-- I know you're good for me. I see you."

Jack nods and then, very deliberately shifts his position so that he can roll his hips down against Poison's, grinding against him through two pairs of jeans. "Let me get your out of head for a little while, baby."

Poison shivers and his hands drop to grip Jack's hip and his thigh. "Yeah? I mean, you did kind of lure me up here with illicit promises and all. Or... you heavily insinuated them."

He realizes that Jack never actually promised anything, just let Poison's imagination run wild. Clever.

"I think it's unfair to insinuate that I lured you to our own bedroom," says Jack, rolling his eyes, but there's the deliberate move of his hips again, grinding down against his husband.

Poison lets his head fall back, his smile bright. "You totally lured me. I was gonna suggest milkshakes or something, then there was all this... talk. Of doing things at home."

His hands slide so he can work loose the button and fly on Jack's jeans as their hips meet. His breath catches and he tries to focus on what he's doing, at least enough to actually get Jack's pants open.

"Milkshakes," huffs Jack, rolling his eyes and grinning as he keeps up the slow and deliberate movement of his hips as Poison gets his jeans open. "I think I want you to fuck me, baby."

"We gotta get a little more naked for that." He laughs, but it comes out a little strained when Jack grinds against him again. "Should stay like this and make you do all the work since you handcuffed me to the bed."

Poison pushes his hands under Jack's shirt, trying to work it higher, trying to get it off.

"You want me to ride you, baby?" says Jack, grinning, as he arches, peeling off his shirt and tossing it to one side. "Just want to lie back and be lazy and watch?"

"Yeah," he breathes, another grin lighting up his face. "I think I earned it, huh? That was practically surprise therapy."

He slides his hands down Jack's chest and his side, feeling the way the muscles move under his skin. He's so fucking beautiful, and Poison can't help the way he stares up at him.

"Oh, yeah, I think you've definitely earned a floorshow," says Jack, grinning. He preens a little under the feel of Poison's hands on him, arching his back a little as he rocks his hips. "You want to watch me get myself ready too?"

Poison bites his lip, then he nods. "Yeah," he breathes. "I want the whole show, baby. You know how much I like looking at you."

He's a little obsessed with it, maybe, but Jack'as usually pretty gloriously accommodating about it. He wets his lips and he's kind of painfully hard, but he can wait a little longer. He can manage some patience, he's pretty sure.

Maybe.

His hands slide over Jack's thighs and he squeezes before he forces himself to let go. Jack can't strip if Poison's holding on.

Jack stands up, his feet on either side of Poison's hips and unbuckles his belt, starts to work his jeans down around his hips. Underneath, he's wearing snug red boxer-briefs. He steps out of his jeans and discards them.

"Fuck, baby."

He stares up, a little hypnotized as Jack works his jeans off. Poison can't help but grin at the vivid color underneath. "Red looks good on you, baby. Shit, c'mere."

He makes grabby hands at Jack; he doesn't want to just haul him down, that sounds like a good way to get a knee in any number of unfortunate places.

Jack goes down easily, onto his knees, leaning forward to take a deep, hungry kiss as he works his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and starts to push them down.

Poison moans against Jack's mouth and grabs at his thighs again - he tries to pull Jack higher all while moving down beneath him. Seeing the outline of Jack's cock beneath the red fabric has him aching to taste him.

"Gonna suck your cock a little while you get ready, beautiful. Maybe I'll even help you with that, too. You got me all worked up."

He wants everything, every part of Jack, all at once. He'll have to make due with having just two hands and a mouth.

"You've got no self control at all," says Jack, squirming as he peels himself out of his underwear, letting his cock spring free. He leans across Poison, his cock dangerously close to his husband's face, as he grabs some lube.

"None," he breathes as Jack gets closer. It's easy, so fucking easy, to guide Jack's cock right into his mouth. He moans quietly at the feel of him, sinks down as far as he can on the first bob of his head.

Poison pops off him with a slick, wicked grin. "Fuck, you look too damn good, Jack." He strokes him as he talks, looking up at him to enjoy the view.

Poison's mouth slides over the head of his cock, hot and wet, and Jack's breath leaves him in a sob. He can't help the hitch of his hips. He rocks forward and then Poison's pulling back, grinning up at him. Jack uncaps the lube and squirts some onto his fingers to reach back and rub them down the cleft of his ass, over his hole.

"You look so fucking good, Jack. Fuck, I love you." The feeling's overwhelming and Poison just stares for a minute, knowing exactly what Jack's doing when his hips move like that. He wets his lips and guides Jack's cock back into his mouth. He gives him more attention this time, lingers as he moves his head.

One hand teases around Jack's hip just to feel what he's doing back there, to encourage him. To touch him everywhere.

Poison's mouth feels about as close to perfect as it's possible to be. Jack's hips hitch forward, sliding the length of his cock against his husband's tongue as he starts to work his fingers into himself, starts to open himself up.

Jack feels amazing. Poison sometimes worries he's still dead or something, and if this is an afterlife he's okay with that. Because he has Jack, and he's everything he needs and wants, and he never knew it.

He moans quietly when he feels Jack stretching himself, keeping his fingers nearby but trying not to interfere. He wants to. He wants all of him. When it feels easier, he slides one of his own fingers in along side Jack's, giving him a little more. Poison pops off him with a breathless sound.

"Holy shit, baby," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against Jack's thigh for a second, like he's overwhelmed. He is, a little. "How you feeling?"

It feels super filthy, somehow, when Poison presses his finger in alongside Jack's own, and Jack groans softly, rocking forward, his free hand tousling into Poison's hair. "Could probably take another, baby."

"Fuck yes," he breathes, grinning against Jack's skin as he carefully pushes a second finger in. "Love it when you're all full up, baby. You take it so fucking good."

"All for you," he says, and means it, squirming his hips a little, pushing back onto their fingers. He's a little breathless, his cheeks flushed with hectic colour. "Feels so good."