![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
harborshoreTitle: Close Your Eyes, Close the Door
Rating: R
Pairing: Gerard/Lyn-Z
Disclaimer: None of this is true.
Summary: Lyn-Z steals the handcuffs from the Desolation Row video shoot.
Warnings: (fairly mild) D/s, handcuffs
Word Count: 1500
Author's Notes: Thanks and ♥ to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
enhendi for beta reading and being right all the time, and to nokomis305 for writing most of the first girl!oral scene and for being a darling. The title is from Bob Dylan's "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight."
As they leave the video shoot, Lindsey wraps one hand around his right wrist and doesn't let go when they get in the cab together.
Gerard's face is a little sore, still, and he feels along his jaw.
"Do you think it'll bruise?" he asks, glancing at her. She smiles a little and tightens her grip, but doesn't answer.
He knows that look, though, and he wants suddenly, his throat tightening.
She leans in close, speaking softly. "I wanted to keep you in those cuffs, you know?" She keeps talking softly, sharply, all the way home, thumbnail scraping gently over the marks on his wrist, and Gerard closes his eyes.
When he walks into the living room after stashing his bag in the study, she’s sitting on the couch, the handcuffs from the video shoot next to her. He didn’t see her swipe them.
"Come here," she says, smiling, and Gerard goes. She doesn’t touch him, not yet.
"On your knees," she says, and he folds himself down awkwardly, looks up at her, still quiet. He knows not to talk, not until she tells him he can. Her hand’s in his hair, combing through the worst of the tangles, and he bites his lip, breathing harder at the feel of her nails scraping along his scalp. She tightens her grip, making him wince and shiver, before she lets go.
"Turn around, sweetheart," she says, and he shuffles around so she’s sitting behind him, one leg on either side of his shoulders.
Her hands slide along his arms. She pushes him forward, pulls his shoulders behind him, and he hears the click of the cuffs closing.
"You liked that today, didn’t you?" One of her hands slides back up to tighten in his hair, and he nods, licks his lips.
"Yeah, " he says. She’s thumbing along his jaw with her other hand, over the side of his face that got slammed into the car. He can feel his breathing speed up, wants to close his eyes and fall back into her; wants her to get him up and slam him into the table, keep him there.
He leans against her - he has to - and she tugs at his hair, says, "Come on, turn around, sweetheart," and turns him in the cradle of her legs. She leans back a little, not even bothering to pull her skirt up, and says, "Lick."
Gerard noses the soft material of her skirt out of the way and Christ, she’s not wearing any underwear, of course she isn’t, and he strains forward, the skirt blocking his view of her face as he licks the way he knows she likes, Lindsey guiding his head where she wants him.
It’s uncomfortable, his chin mashed against the couch, but she pulls him back just when the muscles in his neck start burning. She hauls him up - he starts to say something about her being careful, but then he's stumbling forward and she's slamming his face against the table just like, just like—
She leans in against his arms, pushes him down against the table, and reaches around and palms him. "That's what I thought."
She sounds delighted, voice gone darker. He closes his eyes now, he can't help it; narrows his world down to her weight over his arms, the strain in his shoulders, her smell, her body against his.
"I liked it too," she says, "I watched him slam you into that car, and I liked it, Gee, I wanted to push you up against the wall in front of everyone, keep you there, hold you there, then get you on your knees; you're so fucking pretty on your knees."
He's whimpering, can't help that either, even though he knows not to, but the way she sounds is impossibly hot - leaning into him, biting at his jaw, his throat; he has to make noise, has to move underneath her.
"Stay still," she whispers, leaning down a little heavier. "I don't mind if you make noise just this once, but I put you here and you're going to stay still like you did today, no fighting it." His hips hitch a little, and she laughs again. "Just for that, I'll go slow."
And she does, thumbing open the button on his jeans so so, slowly, fingers touching so lightly. He wants to move into it, wants to move against the table, wants, wants, wants, but he focuses, breathing shakily, and holds himself still as she traces his dick through his underwear and laughs against his shoulder.
"I wish I had taken off your shirt," she says, "I want to bite down your arms, mark you up a little - oh, sweetheart, sometime you’re going to spend a day naked again, yeah, when all your friends aren’t in town. A day naked, on your knees, watching while I paint, because you’ll wait, you’ll wait until I want you again."
He nods blindly, wanting that, wanting the way she looks at him and the way she doesn’t look at him while he’s waiting, wanting the way they turn up the heat in the house when they do this; it makes her walk around in tank tops and shorts, and he can see the tattoo on her thigh, the one he always wants to lick.
He wants the way she makes him stay still, but he has that right now too, and he feels naked, even with all his clothes on. Feels like she can see straight through his skin.
"Please," he says, "Please, I can’t, please—"
She shudders a little and slides her hand around to push his jeans and his underwear down to his thighs. She presses her hand over his mouth, and he licks over the pads of her fingers and the warm curve of her palm. She puts it back on his dick, moving faster now, long hard pulls that make him shake and moan; she keeps whispering, scraping her teeth over his throat, along his shoulder, and he won’t be able to hold off much longer, but he has to, she has to say or he can’t, she has to tell him—
"It’s okay, sweetheart," she says, "it’s okay, you can come," and she twists her hand and he does, shuddering as she keeps touching him, smearing the come over his skin. It’s messy but he likes that, likes that she messes him up and then puts him back together.
She wipes her hand on his pants and kisses his neck, pulls his pants down and off, and opens the handcuffs, letting him turn around and then sink to the floor with her.
She’s wild-eyed and he’ll fix that, he will, but he needs a minute, needs his head in her lap and her hands in his hair, and she gives it to him, lightly scratching along his scalp with her fingers, humming softly until his breathing has slowed down.
He turns in her lap, looks up at her. "Can I, now?" His voice rasps a little in his throat, and her breath catches when she hears it. "Please," he says, "please, I want to."
"I can wait," she says, but the way she shivers as he moves tells him she really can’t.
He twists to get up on his knees, fingers careful on her bare legs like a question, and she lies back like she’s answering, pulling him down.
"Fuck, Gee," she says, "Come on, come on, fuck—"
He nods against her inner thigh, licking and scraping his teeth against the thin skin, the way she likes it. His shoulders hurt and he thinks they’ll maybe both get carpet burn from this, but he knows she won’t need a lot now, and when she tells him to, he goes down on one elbow so he can twist two fingers into her.
The angle is ridiculous, his wrist strained as fuck; but she’s shaking and pulling at his hair again, thighs opening further, and he licks between his fingers and up over his thumb on her clit.
She curses, arching into his mouth and his hands and fuck, the way she tastes and the noises she makes as she’s coming--his whole face is wet but he really, really doesn’t care.
She pulls him up and kisses him, licking her own taste off his lips and chin.
They’re both grinning into each others’ mouths and Gerard says, "Love you love you," like he always does, and she says, laughing breathlessly, "God, we’re a mess; come on, Gee, let’s clean up," like she never does unless they’re like this. She means, let’s make out in the shower and get dirty again, and her hands in his hair are so gentle now. He says, "Yes, yes, let’s," and they do, clean up and get dirty, and Gerard thinks, today, today, and buries his face in her hair and holds on.
Rating: R
Pairing: Gerard/Lyn-Z
Disclaimer: None of this is true.
Summary: Lyn-Z steals the handcuffs from the Desolation Row video shoot.
Warnings: (fairly mild) D/s, handcuffs
Word Count: 1500
Author's Notes: Thanks and ♥ to
enhendi for beta reading and being right all the time, and to nokomis305 for writing most of the first girl!oral scene and for being a darling. The title is from Bob Dylan's "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight."As they leave the video shoot, Lindsey wraps one hand around his right wrist and doesn't let go when they get in the cab together.
Gerard's face is a little sore, still, and he feels along his jaw.
"Do you think it'll bruise?" he asks, glancing at her. She smiles a little and tightens her grip, but doesn't answer.
He knows that look, though, and he wants suddenly, his throat tightening.
She leans in close, speaking softly. "I wanted to keep you in those cuffs, you know?" She keeps talking softly, sharply, all the way home, thumbnail scraping gently over the marks on his wrist, and Gerard closes his eyes.
When he walks into the living room after stashing his bag in the study, she’s sitting on the couch, the handcuffs from the video shoot next to her. He didn’t see her swipe them.
"Come here," she says, smiling, and Gerard goes. She doesn’t touch him, not yet.
"On your knees," she says, and he folds himself down awkwardly, looks up at her, still quiet. He knows not to talk, not until she tells him he can. Her hand’s in his hair, combing through the worst of the tangles, and he bites his lip, breathing harder at the feel of her nails scraping along his scalp. She tightens her grip, making him wince and shiver, before she lets go.
"Turn around, sweetheart," she says, and he shuffles around so she’s sitting behind him, one leg on either side of his shoulders.
Her hands slide along his arms. She pushes him forward, pulls his shoulders behind him, and he hears the click of the cuffs closing.
"You liked that today, didn’t you?" One of her hands slides back up to tighten in his hair, and he nods, licks his lips.
"Yeah, " he says. She’s thumbing along his jaw with her other hand, over the side of his face that got slammed into the car. He can feel his breathing speed up, wants to close his eyes and fall back into her; wants her to get him up and slam him into the table, keep him there.
He leans against her - he has to - and she tugs at his hair, says, "Come on, turn around, sweetheart," and turns him in the cradle of her legs. She leans back a little, not even bothering to pull her skirt up, and says, "Lick."
Gerard noses the soft material of her skirt out of the way and Christ, she’s not wearing any underwear, of course she isn’t, and he strains forward, the skirt blocking his view of her face as he licks the way he knows she likes, Lindsey guiding his head where she wants him.
It’s uncomfortable, his chin mashed against the couch, but she pulls him back just when the muscles in his neck start burning. She hauls him up - he starts to say something about her being careful, but then he's stumbling forward and she's slamming his face against the table just like, just like—
She leans in against his arms, pushes him down against the table, and reaches around and palms him. "That's what I thought."
She sounds delighted, voice gone darker. He closes his eyes now, he can't help it; narrows his world down to her weight over his arms, the strain in his shoulders, her smell, her body against his.
"I liked it too," she says, "I watched him slam you into that car, and I liked it, Gee, I wanted to push you up against the wall in front of everyone, keep you there, hold you there, then get you on your knees; you're so fucking pretty on your knees."
He's whimpering, can't help that either, even though he knows not to, but the way she sounds is impossibly hot - leaning into him, biting at his jaw, his throat; he has to make noise, has to move underneath her.
"Stay still," she whispers, leaning down a little heavier. "I don't mind if you make noise just this once, but I put you here and you're going to stay still like you did today, no fighting it." His hips hitch a little, and she laughs again. "Just for that, I'll go slow."
And she does, thumbing open the button on his jeans so so, slowly, fingers touching so lightly. He wants to move into it, wants to move against the table, wants, wants, wants, but he focuses, breathing shakily, and holds himself still as she traces his dick through his underwear and laughs against his shoulder.
"I wish I had taken off your shirt," she says, "I want to bite down your arms, mark you up a little - oh, sweetheart, sometime you’re going to spend a day naked again, yeah, when all your friends aren’t in town. A day naked, on your knees, watching while I paint, because you’ll wait, you’ll wait until I want you again."
He nods blindly, wanting that, wanting the way she looks at him and the way she doesn’t look at him while he’s waiting, wanting the way they turn up the heat in the house when they do this; it makes her walk around in tank tops and shorts, and he can see the tattoo on her thigh, the one he always wants to lick.
He wants the way she makes him stay still, but he has that right now too, and he feels naked, even with all his clothes on. Feels like she can see straight through his skin.
"Please," he says, "Please, I can’t, please—"
She shudders a little and slides her hand around to push his jeans and his underwear down to his thighs. She presses her hand over his mouth, and he licks over the pads of her fingers and the warm curve of her palm. She puts it back on his dick, moving faster now, long hard pulls that make him shake and moan; she keeps whispering, scraping her teeth over his throat, along his shoulder, and he won’t be able to hold off much longer, but he has to, she has to say or he can’t, she has to tell him—
"It’s okay, sweetheart," she says, "it’s okay, you can come," and she twists her hand and he does, shuddering as she keeps touching him, smearing the come over his skin. It’s messy but he likes that, likes that she messes him up and then puts him back together.
She wipes her hand on his pants and kisses his neck, pulls his pants down and off, and opens the handcuffs, letting him turn around and then sink to the floor with her.
She’s wild-eyed and he’ll fix that, he will, but he needs a minute, needs his head in her lap and her hands in his hair, and she gives it to him, lightly scratching along his scalp with her fingers, humming softly until his breathing has slowed down.
He turns in her lap, looks up at her. "Can I, now?" His voice rasps a little in his throat, and her breath catches when she hears it. "Please," he says, "please, I want to."
"I can wait," she says, but the way she shivers as he moves tells him she really can’t.
He twists to get up on his knees, fingers careful on her bare legs like a question, and she lies back like she’s answering, pulling him down.
"Fuck, Gee," she says, "Come on, come on, fuck—"
He nods against her inner thigh, licking and scraping his teeth against the thin skin, the way she likes it. His shoulders hurt and he thinks they’ll maybe both get carpet burn from this, but he knows she won’t need a lot now, and when she tells him to, he goes down on one elbow so he can twist two fingers into her.
The angle is ridiculous, his wrist strained as fuck; but she’s shaking and pulling at his hair again, thighs opening further, and he licks between his fingers and up over his thumb on her clit.
She curses, arching into his mouth and his hands and fuck, the way she tastes and the noises she makes as she’s coming--his whole face is wet but he really, really doesn’t care.
She pulls him up and kisses him, licking her own taste off his lips and chin.
They’re both grinning into each others’ mouths and Gerard says, "Love you love you," like he always does, and she says, laughing breathlessly, "God, we’re a mess; come on, Gee, let’s clean up," like she never does unless they’re like this. She means, let’s make out in the shower and get dirty again, and her hands in his hair are so gentle now. He says, "Yes, yes, let’s," and they do, clean up and get dirty, and Gerard thinks, today, today, and buries his face in her hair and holds on.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 12:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 12:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 12:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 12:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 12:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 01:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 02:13 am (UTC)..I WAS GOING TO STRING SENTENCES TOGETHER BUT I THINK THEY MELTED
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 07:57 am (UTC)NGH, THEY'RE SO HOT TOGETHER.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 04:02 am (UTC)THIS PORNOGRAPHY CONTINUES TO PLEASE ME GREATLY AND I AM SO GLAD I HAVE SUBSCRIBED TO YOUR NEWSLETTER! \o/
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 04:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 04:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 07:30 am (UTC)I think you already know, but I APPROVE SO HARD OF THIS. <3333
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 08:05 am (UTC)I did have some idea, but thank you againnnn.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 04:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-08 06:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-09 07:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-05-04 08:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-27 08:37 am (UTC)HOT STUFF!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-27 06:53 pm (UTC)And ha, it was the first fic I ever posted. I imagine it was probably pretty easy to miss. *grins*