Fic: Shut Up
Jun. 22nd, 2011 12:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Shut Up
Summary: How to fix your boyfriend in one easy step.
Fandom: Debitage (Original)
Word Count: 943
Rating/Contents: NC-17, speech restrictions
Pairing: Greg/Anthony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the silence square on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo card. So I have this verse I started for NaNo years ago about anthropologists with super powers. For the purposes of this story, all you have to know is that Anthony and Greg are, in fact, anthropologists, which is fairly obvious.
Anthony Gann, Greg has already learned, fucks like a drama queen.
Anthony, who worries about playing his Dvořák too loudly after eleven o'clock. Anthony, who sneaks around the apartment like a ninja if he even thinks Greg might be working. Anthony screams like a banshee when he's fucking, loud enough that neighbors have knocked on walls and screamed obsenities.
The first time, Greg feels like a fucking rock star, like he's going for the gold in the Sex Olympics or something. The second time, he thinks he must be pretty awesome at this; the third time he knows it just isn't that great- good, but not as good as Anthony's making it out to be.
It's not hot, not after that, because that's how long it takes for Greg to realize that it just isn't Anthony. A couple more times and it's almost dealbreaker bad; it's a separation between the two of them, a disconnect between who Anthony is and who he thinks he should be, and it's driving Greg crazy.
It's too bad Greg has already realized that he's wildly in love with this stuffy, uptight, nerdy, screaming ethnographer. He's already screwed, and it's far too late to turn back now.
So they're in bed one night, and Greg has just done scandalous things to Anthony with his lips and tongue, all of which Anthony moaned through like his life depended on it. Greg lowers himself carefully onto Anthony's dick, and Anthony screams like somebody just put a vice grip around his balls. Suddenly and completely fed up, Greg reaches down and does something he should have done a long time ago; he slaps his hand right over Anthony's mouth.
Anthony looks up, raising an eyebrow at him, and Greg looks down, shocked at what he's just done. "I don't want you to make another noise until we're done here," he finds himself saying, as he takes his hand away from Anthony's mouth.
"I don't see what that's supposed to accomplish," Anthony says, looking at him disapprovingly. "You're not supposed to be quiet."
"And I'm telling you I want you to be," Greg says, trying to spin it. "Do it for me, okay?"
Anthony purses his lips, looking pretty unhappy for a guy who's balls deep into somebody's ass. "If you insist."
"Oh, I do," he replies, working his hips a little to get this headed back in the right direction. Anthony immediately looks like he's going to say something, but he stops himself, frowning. He sighs, putting his hand to his face and biting down on his fingers.
Greg has the sudden urge to see him in a gag, and that makes him rock against him harder.
As Greg rides him, Anthony's face is all twisted up with the effort of not speaking, and Greg thinks he's really screwed this one up. Then, finally, he sees it pass over Anthony's features; a realization, he thinks, or a capitulation one. Anthony takes his hand out of his mouth and drops it back against the pillow, and Greg knows a relieved look when he sees one.
"That's it," Greg says, as Anthony starts to thrust up into him, tentatively, now that all his attention's not elsewhere. "Give it to me." Anthony looks like he's got a reply for that, so Greg puts his hand over his mouth again, keeping it there this time, even when Anthony licks his palm out of sheer contrariness. He's doing this for Anthony, he knows he is, but if he's getting off a little on having Anthony under his control, then who's it hurting?
He stops bothering to think about it after that, because Anthony's really getting into it now, his hips working up to meet Greg's thrusts. The only sound in the room is their bodies working together, obscene and glorious, slapping together without any pretense or propriety.
Anthony doesn't scream bloody murder when he comes; he just gets this look on his face and groans softly against Greg's palm. Greg's so glad he didn't miss it, but he's got more pressing concerns. He takes his hand away from Anthony's mouth, using it to jerk himself off quickly and messily, the only kind of mess he knows Anthony approves of.
Anthony pulls him down when it's over, kissing him. "I don't rightly know what that was about."
"You don't have to pretend to be a porn star," Greg says, skipping the prologue, as he kisses Anthony's fingers. "I don't want to fuck somebody else." He holds up an accusing finger. "And don't you dare say anything about cultural expectations or I swear to god I'll hit you in the dick."
Anthony snorts. "You're too interested in my dick to want to harm it."
"I am interested in your cock," Greg tells him, "and the dick it's attached to, too." Anthony smacks him in the stomach. "You can be you, okay?" he says. "I don't care if you're quiet or loud or if you sing in Klingon. I just want you."
"You should be very glad I don't know any Klingon," Anthony says, reaching for his glasses. "Though I know some lovely Ilongot for such an occasion."
"Jesus," Greg says, looking to the ceiling for support, "save me from cultural anthropology."
Anthony hits him again, but they fall together laughing.
Summary: How to fix your boyfriend in one easy step.
Fandom: Debitage (Original)
Word Count: 943
Rating/Contents: NC-17, speech restrictions
Pairing: Greg/Anthony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the silence square on my
kink_bingo card. So I have this verse I started for NaNo years ago about anthropologists with super powers. For the purposes of this story, all you have to know is that Anthony and Greg are, in fact, anthropologists, which is fairly obvious.Anthony Gann, Greg has already learned, fucks like a drama queen.
Anthony, who worries about playing his Dvořák too loudly after eleven o'clock. Anthony, who sneaks around the apartment like a ninja if he even thinks Greg might be working. Anthony screams like a banshee when he's fucking, loud enough that neighbors have knocked on walls and screamed obsenities.
The first time, Greg feels like a fucking rock star, like he's going for the gold in the Sex Olympics or something. The second time, he thinks he must be pretty awesome at this; the third time he knows it just isn't that great- good, but not as good as Anthony's making it out to be.
It's not hot, not after that, because that's how long it takes for Greg to realize that it just isn't Anthony. A couple more times and it's almost dealbreaker bad; it's a separation between the two of them, a disconnect between who Anthony is and who he thinks he should be, and it's driving Greg crazy.
It's too bad Greg has already realized that he's wildly in love with this stuffy, uptight, nerdy, screaming ethnographer. He's already screwed, and it's far too late to turn back now.
So they're in bed one night, and Greg has just done scandalous things to Anthony with his lips and tongue, all of which Anthony moaned through like his life depended on it. Greg lowers himself carefully onto Anthony's dick, and Anthony screams like somebody just put a vice grip around his balls. Suddenly and completely fed up, Greg reaches down and does something he should have done a long time ago; he slaps his hand right over Anthony's mouth.
Anthony looks up, raising an eyebrow at him, and Greg looks down, shocked at what he's just done. "I don't want you to make another noise until we're done here," he finds himself saying, as he takes his hand away from Anthony's mouth.
"I don't see what that's supposed to accomplish," Anthony says, looking at him disapprovingly. "You're not supposed to be quiet."
"And I'm telling you I want you to be," Greg says, trying to spin it. "Do it for me, okay?"
Anthony purses his lips, looking pretty unhappy for a guy who's balls deep into somebody's ass. "If you insist."
"Oh, I do," he replies, working his hips a little to get this headed back in the right direction. Anthony immediately looks like he's going to say something, but he stops himself, frowning. He sighs, putting his hand to his face and biting down on his fingers.
Greg has the sudden urge to see him in a gag, and that makes him rock against him harder.
As Greg rides him, Anthony's face is all twisted up with the effort of not speaking, and Greg thinks he's really screwed this one up. Then, finally, he sees it pass over Anthony's features; a realization, he thinks, or a capitulation one. Anthony takes his hand out of his mouth and drops it back against the pillow, and Greg knows a relieved look when he sees one.
"That's it," Greg says, as Anthony starts to thrust up into him, tentatively, now that all his attention's not elsewhere. "Give it to me." Anthony looks like he's got a reply for that, so Greg puts his hand over his mouth again, keeping it there this time, even when Anthony licks his palm out of sheer contrariness. He's doing this for Anthony, he knows he is, but if he's getting off a little on having Anthony under his control, then who's it hurting?
He stops bothering to think about it after that, because Anthony's really getting into it now, his hips working up to meet Greg's thrusts. The only sound in the room is their bodies working together, obscene and glorious, slapping together without any pretense or propriety.
Anthony doesn't scream bloody murder when he comes; he just gets this look on his face and groans softly against Greg's palm. Greg's so glad he didn't miss it, but he's got more pressing concerns. He takes his hand away from Anthony's mouth, using it to jerk himself off quickly and messily, the only kind of mess he knows Anthony approves of.
Anthony pulls him down when it's over, kissing him. "I don't rightly know what that was about."
"You don't have to pretend to be a porn star," Greg says, skipping the prologue, as he kisses Anthony's fingers. "I don't want to fuck somebody else." He holds up an accusing finger. "And don't you dare say anything about cultural expectations or I swear to god I'll hit you in the dick."
Anthony snorts. "You're too interested in my dick to want to harm it."
"I am interested in your cock," Greg tells him, "and the dick it's attached to, too." Anthony smacks him in the stomach. "You can be you, okay?" he says. "I don't care if you're quiet or loud or if you sing in Klingon. I just want you."
"You should be very glad I don't know any Klingon," Anthony says, reaching for his glasses. "Though I know some lovely Ilongot for such an occasion."
"Jesus," Greg says, looking to the ceiling for support, "save me from cultural anthropology."
Anthony hits him again, but they fall together laughing.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-08-13 02:44 am (UTC)