Geena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2012-02-20 11:35 am
geena) wrote in rainbowfic2012-02-20 11:35 am
Red 10, Lust 25, Rainbow 8, Alice Blue 23
Author: geena and Kelly
Color: Red 10. red light district, Lust 25. quickie, Rainbow 8. bathhouse [for Kelly] and Alice Blue 23. it would be so nice if something made sense for a change [for Geena]
Supplies and Styles: Interactive Art; Brush (duende); Acrylic ("I need your blood."); Oils (dressing up); Stain ("You get fifteen democrats in a room, and you get twenty opinions." - Senator Patrick Leahy); Feathers (all the kitchen appliances have been unplugged); Chalk
Rating: NC-17 (for sex)
Word Count: 1,567
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Democratic Resolution.
Summary: Michael and Johnny celebrate the passing of the marriage equality act in New York.
Notes: This take place June 24, 2011 and is definitely canon.
***
Trust Michael to pick See Men for the night of the vote. Not that Johnny is complaining; the bar almost strays into strip club territory with how the servers and bartenders are dressed, except without touching. Usually.
He has Michael, who's nursing a vodka tonic, half on his lap. Michael has decided to do that, with Johnny's permission, and Johnny has an arm around him, hand resting low on one hip while the other is wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
See Men is unusually quiet; they've brought in a couple of extra TVs, all set to broadcast the fucking debate and vote. It seems like no assholes have ventured in to ruin things, since every conservative, homophobic prick who says they'll vote no is met with only booing, no approval. Good thing; he doesn’t want to deal with that shit, not here and not tonight.
"Any second now," Michael whispers into Johnny's ear, leaning back in his embrace.
"Soon," Johnny agrees. He quickly rubs a hand over Michael's forearm, repeating, "It'll be soon."
Squirming, Michael murmurs, "If they vote against…"
"Shh!"
Moments later, the vote is taken; Johnny mentally counts each aye vote. By the fifteenth, he realizes Michael is also counting, but aloud and getting a little louder with each. He's not the only one, either; at least half the guys are also counting. The second they hit a majority, everyone falls silent before the bar erupts. Michael twists on his lap, and Johnny kisses him, hard and deep. When Michael pulls away, Johnny's grinning.
"Gotta be some a the best money I ever donated," he mutters.
Michael stares at him before demanding, "What?!"
Johnny shrugs, almost uncomfortable. "Donated ta a bunch a their campaign funds. Not that big a deal."
"You didn't tell me…" Michael manages over the din around them. Searching Johnny's expression, a long beat passes before he adds, "How—how much?"
Johnny grins. "Somewhere 'round eight hundred, I think."
"Eight—oh my god, eight hundred thousand?" Michael jumps at Johnny, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. "Fuck, that's—"
Johnny laughs and kisses Michael again. "This is fuckin' important," he points out.
"Yeah, but—that much?"
"Babe, think 'bout what your card limit is." Johnny slides a hand down Michael's back to grab his ass. "Can afford it. S’worth it. Now c'mon, watch Cuomo sign the fuckin' thing."
Michael settles down quickly enough, and together they join the rest of the bar as they silently watch the official signing.
"Oh my God," Johnny breathes, the crowd around them erupting into cheers.
"We did it!" Michael cries out, throwing himself at Johnny.
They sure as fuck did.
Johnny holds Michael tight, kissing him deeply. When they break apart, he grins. "Wanna go home, babe? Lena's at Letta's…"
"God yes." Michael rolls his hips against Johnny's. "Can we fuck everywhere?"
"Yeah, babe. We can." Johnny kisses him again. "C'mon, let's go."
The car's parked only a few blocks away, but with the crowds and the way they keep stopping one another to spontaneously make out, it takes them nearly a half-hour to get to the car.
All around them, they can still hear cheering.
"I can't believe it," Michael mutters once they're finally on their way home. "I mean, about fucking time, but I never thought I'd get to—" He cuts himself off—neither of them need to say any more.
As they reach their neighborhood, Johnny tells him, "Can't wait ta peel those pants off a ya."
"Uh-huh," Michael murmurs. Johnny glances over; he looks dazed, and Johnny smirks. "I want you."
"That's a real fuckin' shock," Johnny says, grinning. He reaches over, dropping a hand high on Michael's thigh, as he brings the car to a stop and hits the buttons for the gate and the garage. "Soon."
"Soon, soon, soon," Michael complains as they pull into the garage and exit the car. "It's always 'soon' with you."
Johnny raises an eyebrow, shooting a glance over the car roof. "Could be never, if ya like."
Michael grins, joining him at the door. "I take back any and all whining."
"Very smart." Johnny unlocks the door leading into the house, grabs Michael by the shoulders, and spins him into the wall, pinning him for a deep kiss. "Tol' ya it'd be soon," he says, grinning.
"You're definitely not a liar." Michael squirms under his grip, and then Johnny realizes Michael's adjusting his dick.
"Could jus' get your jeans off," he observes.
Rolling his hips against Johnny's, Michael gasps, "O-okay. We can, uh, do that."
Johnny gives a breathy chuckle, nipping at Michael's earlobe before slipping a hand between then to grasp his zipper. "Love ya."
"Oh, Jesus, love you too."
Johnny lowers Michael's zipper, one tooth at a time until Michael's practically bucking against his hand. Then he pushes Michael's pants down, which is a little work because Michael wears them so tight, and glances down. "Dunno how ya can wear boxer briefs, babe."
"Because you're hung like a donkey." Michael kicks off his jeans and kisses Johnny's throat.
"Pretty sure that's not a complaint," Johnny says.
"Fuck no," Michael gasps, reaching over to squeeze Johnny through his jeans.
"Hey now."
"Fuck me?" Michael's hips jerk. "Please?"
"Christ," Johnny breathes, reaching into his underwear.
He strokes Michael once his dick is free, light and fast, enough to get Michael shoving into his hand and saying, "Come on, Johnny, you're teasing me."
"Sure am, but this’s teasin' me, too," he points out. He snakes one hand under Michael's shirt and across his stomach while unfastening his own jeans with the other. There's plenty they can use as lube in the kitchen; he's not about to go upstairs and into their bedroom just to fuck when they can do it right here.
"Oh—oh god," Michael moans, arching his back. His hands cling to Johnny's shoulders as he moves, panting, "Fuck, just—oh god—fuck me."
"Yeah, jus’ hold on a—" With great difficulty, Johnny tears himself away, turning to search the kitchen counters for something suitable. "What, uh, what happened ta the olive oil?"
"I don't know." Michael groans behind him. "Just…find something."
Johnny searches cabinets until he finds it where it doesn't belong, then says, "Agains’ the counter." Easiest place for Michael to support himself in the kitchen.
It takes Michael no time to drape himself over a counter, thrusting his ass out and spreading his legs. "Come on, Johnny…"
"Fuckin' Christ," Johnny groans, fisting his cock a few times before pressing against Michael. "Fuckin’ love when ya need it."
"I do, oh god, I do."
Johnny pours oil over his fingers, slipping his hand between them to gently tease Michael. "Ya sure?"
"I am," Michael pants. "I do, just…I want you." He rolls his hips, pressing back against Johnny's fingers.
"God, Michael. Soon."
"More soon?"
"You're so fuckin’ impatient." Johnny leans over, growling into Michael's ear as he works him open. "Makes me want ta teach ya some patience, ya know that?"
"Whatever you want, just later, please."
Pinning Michael down with one hand, Johnny pulls his fingers free and hisses, "Ready?"
"A-always."
“Good boy.” He thrusts into Michael, ripping a strangled cry from him, and then Johnny stills to give Michael a second. He bites just below Michael’s shoulder blade before asking, “Ya good?” and lightly smacking Michael’s ass.
“I—god, yes, come on, please move, please, Johnny.”
“Think I can do that.” He grips Michael’s hips, tight enough he might leave bruises, and starts moving his hips, hard and fast. It's harsh and just this side of painful, and just the way they like it.
"Fuck!" Michael cries out, rocking back. "Fuck, so good."
Johnny groans and tosses his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as he slams into Michael.
He’s not sure how long he can last, not with the way Michael was on him at the bar and everything else, including that he’s pretty sure Michael wanted to give him road head, so he slides one hand from Michael’s hip to his dick, demanding, “Gonna come fast?”
It seems like that takes a moment for Michael to process. “I—yeah, Johnny, if—”
“Ya can.” He strokes Michael gracelessly, rough and fast, as he keeps thrusting into him. His own balls feel tight, and that familiar build, almost overload, in pleasure might overtake him no matter how hard he tries to hold back.
"Oh fucking Christ, oh god, right there," Michael babbles, twisting and grinding into Johnny's hand. "Right—right there, just like—fuck!" He arches, muscles tense and taut, coming hard.
"Oh sweet fuck," Johnny groans, slamming into Michael all the harder. He loves to watch his boy like this, see his features contorted in orgasm. There's no way he can last. "J-Jes—fuck, Michael!"
Michael’s still gone, trying to catch his breath, when Johnny slams deep into him one last time, hissing a curse and squeezing the hand still on Michael’s hip. It’s another moment before he can bring himself to pull out of Michael, and after he does, asks, “Ya okay?”
“Mm.” That, and the way Michael’s half melted against the counter, tell Johnny plenty. “Can we do it again?”
Johnny laughs. “Had somethin’ I was going do, didn’ I?”
“I—you what?”
“Somethin’ ‘bout ya an’ patience…”
"Oh." Michael ducks his head into his arms and mumbles, "Damn it."
***
geena and KellyColor: Red 10. red light district, Lust 25. quickie, Rainbow 8. bathhouse [for Kelly] and Alice Blue 23. it would be so nice if something made sense for a change [for Geena]
Supplies and Styles: Interactive Art; Brush (duende); Acrylic ("I need your blood."); Oils (dressing up); Stain ("You get fifteen democrats in a room, and you get twenty opinions." - Senator Patrick Leahy); Feathers (all the kitchen appliances have been unplugged); Chalk
Rating: NC-17 (for sex)
Word Count: 1,567
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Democratic Resolution.
Summary: Michael and Johnny celebrate the passing of the marriage equality act in New York.
Notes: This take place June 24, 2011 and is definitely canon.
***
Trust Michael to pick See Men for the night of the vote. Not that Johnny is complaining; the bar almost strays into strip club territory with how the servers and bartenders are dressed, except without touching. Usually.
He has Michael, who's nursing a vodka tonic, half on his lap. Michael has decided to do that, with Johnny's permission, and Johnny has an arm around him, hand resting low on one hip while the other is wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
See Men is unusually quiet; they've brought in a couple of extra TVs, all set to broadcast the fucking debate and vote. It seems like no assholes have ventured in to ruin things, since every conservative, homophobic prick who says they'll vote no is met with only booing, no approval. Good thing; he doesn’t want to deal with that shit, not here and not tonight.
"Any second now," Michael whispers into Johnny's ear, leaning back in his embrace.
"Soon," Johnny agrees. He quickly rubs a hand over Michael's forearm, repeating, "It'll be soon."
Squirming, Michael murmurs, "If they vote against…"
"Shh!"
Moments later, the vote is taken; Johnny mentally counts each aye vote. By the fifteenth, he realizes Michael is also counting, but aloud and getting a little louder with each. He's not the only one, either; at least half the guys are also counting. The second they hit a majority, everyone falls silent before the bar erupts. Michael twists on his lap, and Johnny kisses him, hard and deep. When Michael pulls away, Johnny's grinning.
"Gotta be some a the best money I ever donated," he mutters.
Michael stares at him before demanding, "What?!"
Johnny shrugs, almost uncomfortable. "Donated ta a bunch a their campaign funds. Not that big a deal."
"You didn't tell me…" Michael manages over the din around them. Searching Johnny's expression, a long beat passes before he adds, "How—how much?"
Johnny grins. "Somewhere 'round eight hundred, I think."
"Eight—oh my god, eight hundred thousand?" Michael jumps at Johnny, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. "Fuck, that's—"
Johnny laughs and kisses Michael again. "This is fuckin' important," he points out.
"Yeah, but—that much?"
"Babe, think 'bout what your card limit is." Johnny slides a hand down Michael's back to grab his ass. "Can afford it. S’worth it. Now c'mon, watch Cuomo sign the fuckin' thing."
Michael settles down quickly enough, and together they join the rest of the bar as they silently watch the official signing.
"Oh my God," Johnny breathes, the crowd around them erupting into cheers.
"We did it!" Michael cries out, throwing himself at Johnny.
They sure as fuck did.
Johnny holds Michael tight, kissing him deeply. When they break apart, he grins. "Wanna go home, babe? Lena's at Letta's…"
"God yes." Michael rolls his hips against Johnny's. "Can we fuck everywhere?"
"Yeah, babe. We can." Johnny kisses him again. "C'mon, let's go."
The car's parked only a few blocks away, but with the crowds and the way they keep stopping one another to spontaneously make out, it takes them nearly a half-hour to get to the car.
All around them, they can still hear cheering.
"I can't believe it," Michael mutters once they're finally on their way home. "I mean, about fucking time, but I never thought I'd get to—" He cuts himself off—neither of them need to say any more.
As they reach their neighborhood, Johnny tells him, "Can't wait ta peel those pants off a ya."
"Uh-huh," Michael murmurs. Johnny glances over; he looks dazed, and Johnny smirks. "I want you."
"That's a real fuckin' shock," Johnny says, grinning. He reaches over, dropping a hand high on Michael's thigh, as he brings the car to a stop and hits the buttons for the gate and the garage. "Soon."
"Soon, soon, soon," Michael complains as they pull into the garage and exit the car. "It's always 'soon' with you."
Johnny raises an eyebrow, shooting a glance over the car roof. "Could be never, if ya like."
Michael grins, joining him at the door. "I take back any and all whining."
"Very smart." Johnny unlocks the door leading into the house, grabs Michael by the shoulders, and spins him into the wall, pinning him for a deep kiss. "Tol' ya it'd be soon," he says, grinning.
"You're definitely not a liar." Michael squirms under his grip, and then Johnny realizes Michael's adjusting his dick.
"Could jus' get your jeans off," he observes.
Rolling his hips against Johnny's, Michael gasps, "O-okay. We can, uh, do that."
Johnny gives a breathy chuckle, nipping at Michael's earlobe before slipping a hand between then to grasp his zipper. "Love ya."
"Oh, Jesus, love you too."
Johnny lowers Michael's zipper, one tooth at a time until Michael's practically bucking against his hand. Then he pushes Michael's pants down, which is a little work because Michael wears them so tight, and glances down. "Dunno how ya can wear boxer briefs, babe."
"Because you're hung like a donkey." Michael kicks off his jeans and kisses Johnny's throat.
"Pretty sure that's not a complaint," Johnny says.
"Fuck no," Michael gasps, reaching over to squeeze Johnny through his jeans.
"Hey now."
"Fuck me?" Michael's hips jerk. "Please?"
"Christ," Johnny breathes, reaching into his underwear.
He strokes Michael once his dick is free, light and fast, enough to get Michael shoving into his hand and saying, "Come on, Johnny, you're teasing me."
"Sure am, but this’s teasin' me, too," he points out. He snakes one hand under Michael's shirt and across his stomach while unfastening his own jeans with the other. There's plenty they can use as lube in the kitchen; he's not about to go upstairs and into their bedroom just to fuck when they can do it right here.
"Oh—oh god," Michael moans, arching his back. His hands cling to Johnny's shoulders as he moves, panting, "Fuck, just—oh god—fuck me."
"Yeah, jus’ hold on a—" With great difficulty, Johnny tears himself away, turning to search the kitchen counters for something suitable. "What, uh, what happened ta the olive oil?"
"I don't know." Michael groans behind him. "Just…find something."
Johnny searches cabinets until he finds it where it doesn't belong, then says, "Agains’ the counter." Easiest place for Michael to support himself in the kitchen.
It takes Michael no time to drape himself over a counter, thrusting his ass out and spreading his legs. "Come on, Johnny…"
"Fuckin' Christ," Johnny groans, fisting his cock a few times before pressing against Michael. "Fuckin’ love when ya need it."
"I do, oh god, I do."
Johnny pours oil over his fingers, slipping his hand between them to gently tease Michael. "Ya sure?"
"I am," Michael pants. "I do, just…I want you." He rolls his hips, pressing back against Johnny's fingers.
"God, Michael. Soon."
"More soon?"
"You're so fuckin’ impatient." Johnny leans over, growling into Michael's ear as he works him open. "Makes me want ta teach ya some patience, ya know that?"
"Whatever you want, just later, please."
Pinning Michael down with one hand, Johnny pulls his fingers free and hisses, "Ready?"
"A-always."
“Good boy.” He thrusts into Michael, ripping a strangled cry from him, and then Johnny stills to give Michael a second. He bites just below Michael’s shoulder blade before asking, “Ya good?” and lightly smacking Michael’s ass.
“I—god, yes, come on, please move, please, Johnny.”
“Think I can do that.” He grips Michael’s hips, tight enough he might leave bruises, and starts moving his hips, hard and fast. It's harsh and just this side of painful, and just the way they like it.
"Fuck!" Michael cries out, rocking back. "Fuck, so good."
Johnny groans and tosses his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as he slams into Michael.
He’s not sure how long he can last, not with the way Michael was on him at the bar and everything else, including that he’s pretty sure Michael wanted to give him road head, so he slides one hand from Michael’s hip to his dick, demanding, “Gonna come fast?”
It seems like that takes a moment for Michael to process. “I—yeah, Johnny, if—”
“Ya can.” He strokes Michael gracelessly, rough and fast, as he keeps thrusting into him. His own balls feel tight, and that familiar build, almost overload, in pleasure might overtake him no matter how hard he tries to hold back.
"Oh fucking Christ, oh god, right there," Michael babbles, twisting and grinding into Johnny's hand. "Right—right there, just like—fuck!" He arches, muscles tense and taut, coming hard.
"Oh sweet fuck," Johnny groans, slamming into Michael all the harder. He loves to watch his boy like this, see his features contorted in orgasm. There's no way he can last. "J-Jes—fuck, Michael!"
Michael’s still gone, trying to catch his breath, when Johnny slams deep into him one last time, hissing a curse and squeezing the hand still on Michael’s hip. It’s another moment before he can bring himself to pull out of Michael, and after he does, asks, “Ya okay?”
“Mm.” That, and the way Michael’s half melted against the counter, tell Johnny plenty. “Can we do it again?”
Johnny laughs. “Had somethin’ I was going do, didn’ I?”
“I—you what?”
“Somethin’ ‘bout ya an’ patience…”
"Oh." Michael ducks his head into his arms and mumbles, "Damn it."
***
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