My Dirty Valentine
My Dirty Valentine
Title: My Dirty Valentine
Author: Serenity Star
Pairing: Jimmy/Brian
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “Didn’t ment- Fuck. Pants. Off. I wanna see.” While over at Jimmy's to watch the game, Brian notices something... unexpected.
Warnings: Very much alive Rev, language, Brian's filthy mouth... And panties.
Author's Note: Still adding the somehow not-previously-added stories. And keeping true to their writing order. From no sex to dirty, kinky porn. Oh how things shift. ;) I'm mostly happy with this. It's a little short, but hey, full of porny goodness! @MisheardLyric totally gets credit for me finishing this. It's been sitting around for a while and she found me on twitter and offered her (truly exceptional) reviewing. It totally inspired me to get back to working on some of my fics that don't have endings yet. Which reminds me; I'm on twitter! @SerenityXStar Feel free to add/message me whenever! Please read and review! More comments and love usually gets me writing more. <3
Disclaimer: Fiction and all that. Pity.
And Jimmy, being Jimmy, felt the need to point this out. Loudly.
Brian of course, couldn’t take this slight without retaliation and he threw a chip at the drummer’s head. Naturally, because Jimmy was an asshole with freaky ninja reflexes, he ducked and the chip missed, sailing over the arm of the couch to land conspicuously on the cream colored carpet.
“Hey! What the fuck.” Jimmy eyed the chip, then turned the full force of his blue-eyed gaze on Brian. “Dude. You’re getting shit all over my floor.”
Brian snorted inelegantly, rolling his eyes. “Whatever man, it’s a chip. Who knew you’d be the one to turn out to be the neat freak, fuck.”
Jimmy glared a moment longer then, with several disgruntled mutters, stretched his lanky form out and over the arm of the couch, reaching down to grab the chip and any crumbs it may have left behind. The stretching made his ridiculously tight pants creep down a couple precious inches. And that’s when Brian noticed.
Blue.
Bright blue.
Bright blue satin.
“…the fuck..”
Jimmy sat back up to find the guitarist staring at his waistline and he blinked once, then smirked, slow and suggestive, absently brushing the rescued chip onto an empty plate.
“Oh yeah. I wore these for you. But you were more interested in watching the game. So I didn’t mention it.”
“Didn’t ment- Fuck. Pants. Off. I wanna see.”
With a shrug, as if he could care less either way, Jimmy stood, stripping off his shirt in one smooth upward tug before his hands fell to his pants. He wanted Brian to have an unimpeded view. Let him see what he’d been ignoring in favor of a losing basketball team.
He popped the button on his jeans, hips swaying from one side to the other to slowly wriggle them down, bending to peel each leg off. Only once he’d tossed them to the side did he straighten again, one long-fingered hand resting on a slightly cocked hip as he stood, unselfconscious; challenging.
Brian’s eyes swept down, a little wide, a little disbelieving. Jimmy didn’t have any tattoos past the ‘N’ in ‘Fiction’ that ran down his sternum. Nothing more until his calves. Just a long expanse of smooth, pale skin. Broken only by a skimpy scrap of lace and satin.
He couldn’t help but stare. Panties. Jimmy was wearing- No, his brain couldn’t even process it. They fit him perfectly, the band settled low on his hips, slick material just barely managing to cover his cock. And when it twitched under the scrutiny, Brian could see even the smallest of movements. Fuck. He looked up, mouth half open, incredulous. Shocked. Turned on. The panties were the same color as Jimmy’s eyes.
“What- I mean, when- But- Why…”
Jimmy grinned, wide and sharp. “Wow. Brian Haner, speechless? That’s one for the record books. What do you think?” He turned slowly in a little circle, hands lifting and spreading slightly in a little ‘ta da!’ gesture.
Brian’s eyes couldn’t help but shift back down to look. They were a bikini cut and somehow they clung just right to Jimmy’s ass, managing to make it look fuller, a gentle rounding when before he would have claimed that Jimmy had no ass to speak of. He swallowed thickly, reaching out a hand once the drummer was facing him again, letting it settle on one hip. He could feel the lace under his fingers, jesusfuck.
“Fuck, Jim, I-“ He trailed off, shaking his head a little, glancing back up.
Blue eyes twinkling, Jimmy slipped forward, that odd grace he often managed to have manifesting as he sank down and slid into Brian’s lap, straddling the guitarist’s thighs. The move stretched the thin material of his panties even further, the satin struggling to remain in place, molded over his cock, already well past half hard.
He leaned in a little, speaking against Brian’s ear while his hands slid up the other man’s sides. “Do you like them?”
“Like them? Fuck, Jim…” His words were coarse, all but choked off. Brian swallowed thickly, tipping his head forward to let his forehead rest against Jimmy’s collarbone, fingers playing over his hips, gliding from smooth, bare skin to soft lace and back again. He had to close his eyes for a minute, just breathing. The feel of them was bad enough. He could barely handle the sight.
Jimmy grinned, lips stretching slow and dirty. He had no intention of letting Brian get used to the idea. He kept his voice low, rough, speaking again as he shifted, pressing closer in a grinding roll. He was completely hard now, the satin stretched tight and clinging, obscenely tented over his cock and he could feel the answering hardness in Brian’s pants as he moved.
“I’ve been wearing these all day for you. Do you know how hard it was, just sitting back and watching the game with you when every shift had them rubbing over my dick?” He rolled again, breath hitching just a little. “Fuck, Bri…”
Brian’s hands tightened immediately on the drummer’s hips, though he didn’t try to stop their movements. He couldn’t keep the groan at bay and it came out broken and desperate. He didn’t even know for sure when he’d gotten hard. Probably a millisecond after he’d seen Jimmy naked save for a pair of panties.
The friction was good, too good and he rocked up, eyes blinking open only to fix again on the scrap of blue, fascinated and ridiculously turned on. “You kinky fucker.” His words didn’t carry any judgment, couldn’t given his own state. Brian shifted a hand, fingers ghosting over the trapped length of Jimmy’s cock, feeling the blood hot, hard length and the silky material over it, slipping up to the wet spot forming on the front.
Jimmy hissed, the rolling of his hips broken by a thrust, one of his hands flying up to tangle in the messy hair at the back of the guitarist’s head. “Oh shit, motherfucker…” He moaned, high, the sound getting bitten off as he grit his teeth, rolling a little faster, head tipping back.
“You like it.” Jimmy’s voice was wavery, strained.
“Fuck yeah I do.” He wanted to get his pants open. Wanted Jimmy riding him. Fuck, he practically was anyway, but he couldn’t bring himself to make Jimmy stop long enough to get clothing off. It was worse then when they’d been teenagers. Just a desperate need for friction, rushing blindly towards orgasm without finesse. And all he could do was hold on.
This wasn’t really how he’d planned on things going. He’d been planning on a slow seduction. A little strip-tease maybe. Tugging Brian to his room to make use of the huge bed. Making a day of it. He hadn’t anticipated how turned on the guitarist would get. How turned on he was himself, fuck.
He panted, eyes squeezing shut as he moved, down into Brian’s crotch, up a little into his hand, long, quickening rolls of his hips, slender torso arcing back. He could feel the sweat slicking his skin, the way Brian’s hand remaining on his hip slipped every now and then as he held on. It was nearly unbearable, as oversensitive as everything felt.
Brian’s hand shifted and pressed in harder to the head of his cock and Jimmy’s voice broke on a shout, coming hard and unexpected, eyes snapping wide and shocked. He shuddered with his ragged breaths, grinding down hard, fingers biting against Brian’s skin and hair.
It was enough to bring Brian over. More than enough. The feel of him, the sight, the sound. He was surrounded by Jimmy, more than he could possibly handle, but greedy for every last shred. It was the sight of Jimmy coming in his panties though, the delicate blue material wet and stained that really did him in and he was arching and coming with a cry, hips pressing up into the solid frame of the drummer on top of him.
They collapsed together, Brian back against the couch cushions and Jimmy into Brian, curling a little to rest his head against the guitarist’s shoulder, tucking himself in while he caught his breath and shivered with aftershocks.
Brian immediately wrapped both arms around the other man, keeping him close, burying his nose in the messy strands of his hair. It took him a moment; several minutes more likely, but he finally heaved a sigh, barely bothering to move. Or open his eyes.
“Fucking Christ, Jimmy.”
Jimmy just laughed lightly, the high, half crazy one, both sated and incredibly pleased with himself. He lifted his head, grin wide and eyes shining blue. “Seriously. Who knew you had such a panties kink, you fucking dirty, hot ass bastard.”
With a completely unconvincing scowl, Brian swatted at Jimmy’s practically bare ass. “Who’s the kinky fucker? You got off on me rubbing you through your panties like a dirty little girl.”
Jimmy shuddered. And Brian smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You like the genderfuckery, don’t you?”
Jimmy grumbled softly, without heat, curling back into the guitarist. “Shut up. Bitch.”
“Love you too. Dick.”
That made Jimmy giggle, inexplicably and he shifted to press a light kiss to Brian’s lips before settling himself again. They’d worry about cleaning up later. Right now, he just wanted to relax and be held.
He mumbled softly against Brian’s neck, tucked close and secure. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”