*sadface*

[harborshore]

What is today, seriously. I woke up to my stomach going, no, when you thought you'd managed to travel without getting fucked up, guess what, you were WRONG. And then I find out Brian Schechter left the music business? Not on, universe. Kitty's exam had better go brilliantly, is all I'm saying.

I'm currently on her couch contemplating a lot of Bob/Brian AUs because honestly, they're always going to be my favorite non-canon pairing (my favorite canon one is Chantal/Jimmy, but that's a little scary to contemplate right now, given that they apparently both read fic, wtf). You're all asleep, or I'd tell you to come play with me. Stupid time difference.

Anyway, love, love, you guys exist and my view here is fairly spectacular, so.

Comments

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

"Come on," Brian says quietly, "Come on, we only, fuck, ten minutes," even though he hates having to rush Bob (Bob sort of likes it, the need to go fast, to let Brian pull and push until he's gotten off and then, Bob knows, Brian'll spend a couple of hours figuring out exactly what he's going to do to Bob when he gets home). But the meeting has to start at four or no one will ever get to go home today.

Brian hits his head on the door when Bob finally, finally moves his mouth to where Brian's been wanting it ever since Bob pushed him up against the door.

[wasoncedelight.livejournal.com]

Bob's knees are already starting to ache, the back of his throat tight as he breathes carefully through his nose and slicks down an inch, two. Brian makes a low, appreciative noise, his fingers snagging in a knot in Bob's hair.

Bob won't even need ten whole minutes; he can do this in five flat. A year's worth of quickies in Bob's classroom and Brian's office (and the janitor's closet, that one time) has taught him a thing or two about the whens and wheres and hows of making Brian come hard and fast. Bob backs off a bit, runs his tongue under and along the crown of Brian's dick. Brian's hips jerk reflexively, and Bob grins, glancing up at Brian's face.

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

"Asshole," Brian breathes, but can't suppress a grin of his own. Sometimes he can't believe he's this fucking lucky, that he gets this, gets Bob on his knees in the office and he gets to come home to him, too, and he gets handjobs in broom closets and coffee in the morning and shit, he gets to see Bob unguarded, turned on, so goddamn beautiful.

When Bob starts to slide down again, Brian can't keep his hands from tightening in Bob's hair. Nothing should feel this good, it's impossible. Tight hot wet mouth, perfect, perfect.