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mokuyoubiONE MORE TO GO. FEWER THAN 24 HOURS LEFT, OMG!!!
Title: I Can’t Wait for You to Shut Me Up
Author: Mokuyoubi
Pairing: Jack Hodgins/Vincent Nigel Murray
Rating: NC-17
Kink: breathplay
WC: 675
Summary: There’s really only one good way to get Vincent to shut the hell up.
AN: I mostly made these statistics up, because it was surprisingly difficult to find this sort of information on the interwebs. Google, I am disappointed in you. Still, I tried to make them up in an educated sort of way…
Title from Mindless Self Indulgence song “Shut Me Up.”
Vincent really looks hotter on his knees. While this could probably be said of a great many people, Jack feels that it’s particularly pertinent where Vincent is concerned. Even with all his irreverence and slightly goofy behaviour, Vincent still has that whole proper Englishman air about him and seeing him on his knees, clothing rumpled, hair mussed. Well, it’s seriously fucking hot. Also, it usually means he’s quiet, which is a big turn on where Vincent is concerned.
Jack presses a thumb against Vincent’s mouth and Vincent parts his lips obligingly, mumbling, “Did you know that nearly thirty percent of women will never perform fellatio in their lifetime?”
“Vincent,” Jack says and grabs Vincent by the tie, gives a tug, “Shut up.” He nudges against Vincent’s lips with his dick and Vincent obligingly sucks him in.
They’ve got maybe five minutes before someone notices they’re gone, and another two or three before Cam pokes her head in to make sure they’re not trying to blow something up. Not really enough time for any reciprocal action, but Jack knows all of Vincent’s little kinks, and luckily enough, they work for him, too. He can get them both off without ever touching Vincent’s dick.
“Hold you hands in your lap,” Jack says, proud at how even he sounds even with the thing Vincent’s doing to his dick with his tongue. “No jacking off.”
Vincent looks up at Jack from under his lashes and puts one hand and then the other behind his back, then waits, lips loose around Jack’s cock. Jack wraps the tie around his fist and pulls enough to make it uncomfortably tight. Vincent fights to swallow. Jack knows from experience what that feels like.
Jack sinks his free hand into Vincent’s hair and squeezes tight before thrusting forward. The first few strokes are always a little rough, while Vincent adjusts. He gags a couple of times before his throat relaxes enough to take Jack all the way. Jack buries himself all the way, balls against Vincent’s chin and pulls on the tie, then just holds like that, waiting.
Vincent’s eyelashes are dark against the curve of his cheekbone and he’s shaking just a little, tremors that Jack can feel in all the places they touch. Jack finally pulls back and Vincent draws in a deep breath through his nose, and sucks hard on Jack’s cock, like he’s begging. He moves his head against Jack’s grip on his hair, trying to get more.
They establish a rhythm like that, Jack fucking Vincent’s mouth, shoving down his throat and cutting off Vincent’s air and waiting, watching the tiny tics in Vincent’s face to know when to pull back. Vincent follows Jack’s instruction, doesn’t even try to undo his slacks, but his hips work in tiny little circles, pressing up against his open palm.
Each time Jack thrusts back in, Vincent lasts for a shorter and shorter period of time before he needs Jack to pull back, let Vincent draw a shuddering, desperate breath. It probably says something about how twisted Jack is, feeling Vincent’s mouth grow slack around him and getting even more turned on by it. Of course, it probably says something about how fucked up Vincent is that he’s getting off on this even more than Jack is.
Jack knows the minute Vincent comes, wriggling in place, panting around Jack’s cock, cheeks flushed bright red in an otherwise pale, pale face. Vincent tongues lethargically at Jack’s cock, and he lets out a jagged, breathless moan that tingles along Jack’s cock.
After Vincent’s gotten off, he’s all loose and content, and looks so soft and young. Jack loves fucking him like that, wherever he can, his mouth or his ass, could do it like that for hours. But they don’t have hours, and Cam will be seriously pissed off if she accidentally walks in on this, so Jack lets go, stops trying to hold on and just fucks Vincent’s throat, loves the way it clenches around the head of his cock, and stays deep while he comes.
Jack sags against the table, still out of the line of sight of the cameras, and just sits there for a minute, dick hanging out, catching his breath. Vincent looks up at him, dabbing primly at his mouth, trying very hard not to smile.
“On average, erotic asphyxiation is the cause of death in roughly 350 cases per annum, for men between the ages of nineteen and thirty-five,” Vincent rattles off.
Jack lets his head fall back to thump against the wall and lets out a low chuckle.
Title: I Can’t Wait for You to Shut Me Up
Author: Mokuyoubi
Pairing: Jack Hodgins/Vincent Nigel Murray
Rating: NC-17
Kink: breathplay
WC: 675
Summary: There’s really only one good way to get Vincent to shut the hell up.
AN: I mostly made these statistics up, because it was surprisingly difficult to find this sort of information on the interwebs. Google, I am disappointed in you. Still, I tried to make them up in an educated sort of way…
Title from Mindless Self Indulgence song “Shut Me Up.”
Vincent really looks hotter on his knees. While this could probably be said of a great many people, Jack feels that it’s particularly pertinent where Vincent is concerned. Even with all his irreverence and slightly goofy behaviour, Vincent still has that whole proper Englishman air about him and seeing him on his knees, clothing rumpled, hair mussed. Well, it’s seriously fucking hot. Also, it usually means he’s quiet, which is a big turn on where Vincent is concerned.
Jack presses a thumb against Vincent’s mouth and Vincent parts his lips obligingly, mumbling, “Did you know that nearly thirty percent of women will never perform fellatio in their lifetime?”
“Vincent,” Jack says and grabs Vincent by the tie, gives a tug, “Shut up.” He nudges against Vincent’s lips with his dick and Vincent obligingly sucks him in.
They’ve got maybe five minutes before someone notices they’re gone, and another two or three before Cam pokes her head in to make sure they’re not trying to blow something up. Not really enough time for any reciprocal action, but Jack knows all of Vincent’s little kinks, and luckily enough, they work for him, too. He can get them both off without ever touching Vincent’s dick.
“Hold you hands in your lap,” Jack says, proud at how even he sounds even with the thing Vincent’s doing to his dick with his tongue. “No jacking off.”
Vincent looks up at Jack from under his lashes and puts one hand and then the other behind his back, then waits, lips loose around Jack’s cock. Jack wraps the tie around his fist and pulls enough to make it uncomfortably tight. Vincent fights to swallow. Jack knows from experience what that feels like.
Jack sinks his free hand into Vincent’s hair and squeezes tight before thrusting forward. The first few strokes are always a little rough, while Vincent adjusts. He gags a couple of times before his throat relaxes enough to take Jack all the way. Jack buries himself all the way, balls against Vincent’s chin and pulls on the tie, then just holds like that, waiting.
Vincent’s eyelashes are dark against the curve of his cheekbone and he’s shaking just a little, tremors that Jack can feel in all the places they touch. Jack finally pulls back and Vincent draws in a deep breath through his nose, and sucks hard on Jack’s cock, like he’s begging. He moves his head against Jack’s grip on his hair, trying to get more.
They establish a rhythm like that, Jack fucking Vincent’s mouth, shoving down his throat and cutting off Vincent’s air and waiting, watching the tiny tics in Vincent’s face to know when to pull back. Vincent follows Jack’s instruction, doesn’t even try to undo his slacks, but his hips work in tiny little circles, pressing up against his open palm.
Each time Jack thrusts back in, Vincent lasts for a shorter and shorter period of time before he needs Jack to pull back, let Vincent draw a shuddering, desperate breath. It probably says something about how twisted Jack is, feeling Vincent’s mouth grow slack around him and getting even more turned on by it. Of course, it probably says something about how fucked up Vincent is that he’s getting off on this even more than Jack is.
Jack knows the minute Vincent comes, wriggling in place, panting around Jack’s cock, cheeks flushed bright red in an otherwise pale, pale face. Vincent tongues lethargically at Jack’s cock, and he lets out a jagged, breathless moan that tingles along Jack’s cock.
After Vincent’s gotten off, he’s all loose and content, and looks so soft and young. Jack loves fucking him like that, wherever he can, his mouth or his ass, could do it like that for hours. But they don’t have hours, and Cam will be seriously pissed off if she accidentally walks in on this, so Jack lets go, stops trying to hold on and just fucks Vincent’s throat, loves the way it clenches around the head of his cock, and stays deep while he comes.
Jack sags against the table, still out of the line of sight of the cameras, and just sits there for a minute, dick hanging out, catching his breath. Vincent looks up at him, dabbing primly at his mouth, trying very hard not to smile.
“On average, erotic asphyxiation is the cause of death in roughly 350 cases per annum, for men between the ages of nineteen and thirty-five,” Vincent rattles off.
Jack lets his head fall back to thump against the wall and lets out a low chuckle.
