October 24th, 2005
::So, it's a quick little AU-fic with Jake and...Cillian Murphy in a performing arts high school together. I'm thinking of it becoming a series with
more pornan actual plot.
::If you don't know who Cillian Murphy is, then, well, Google Image Search him. He was in 28 Days Later, Batman Begins, Red Eye, and the upcoming Breakfast On Pluto, where he will in fact be playing a transvestite. He is wonderful to the millionth degree, and only Jake deserves him.
::I originally wrote this to be a Harry/Draco birthday present for a friend, but I've decided I like the Jake/Cillian much more.
::I use Jake's name as Jake Sellards in this, beacuse someone calling him "Mr. Shears" seemed kinda odd. So...Jake Sellards.
::Yes, Anderson Cooper has a brief role. And yes, Keith Olbermann is mentioned. I've got to squeeze in those other fandoms somewhere!
::As of now, my writing is currently being controlled not by my head, but by my pants. I lay all blame on them.
Anderson Cooper, weary after a long day of resolving students' bickering, looked down his nose at the two anger-flushed boys in front of him. "I'm very dissapointed in the both of you. As seniors, this childish brawling is beneath you and, quite frankly, I expected better from you." Cillian Murphy, the taller and more agressive of the two boys, sneered at his teacher. Jake Sellards, the smaller boy with the peircing blue eyes, shot his contemporary a death look, struggling with the urge to hit him. Cooper cleared his throat and glared pointedly at the acerbic pair. "You will both receive detention on Friday night; report to Proffesor Olbermann directly after dinner."
"Yes Professor," Jake muttered, trying for an air of repentance. One of them had to, and Cillian had apparently decided on his usual strategy of looking as disagreeable as possible.
"Very well." Professor Cooper said after a moment's silence. "You're dismissed, but if this happens again there will be very severe consequences indeed."
Jake couldn't get out of there fast enough. He made his way quickly towards the courtyard, face hot and more grateful than ever for the concealing nature of the George School uniforms. Instead of walking into the gardens and searching for his friends, however, he turned sharply to the right and ducked into an unused classroom. There were no lights or chalkboards here, no TVs or computers or PA systems. The room was instead dark, tiny, and round, cluttered with ancient furniture that had long since been removed from use. Mostly, it was a random, chaotic collection of legless tables, stained upholstery and rotting armchairs with their springs showing. But all alone in one corner, a faded ottoman had been dragged next to a broken-armed sofa and covered with a dust sheet, creating a small oasis of calm. A zig-zagging path had been cleared between the piled furniture, the stones of the floor worn shiny and free from dust. Jake made his way carefully among the deceased chairs and tables, dodging carefully around some of the wobblier-looking piles, and flung himself down onto the ottoman, a familiar asylum he frequently sought out to think or cry or, in that rare occaision, jack off.
Oh God. Jake cradled his head in his hands, acutely conscious of his own arousal. That was too close - far too close... He looked up as Cillian, dishevelled and furious-looking, entered the room. Oh, fuck...
Without a word to the singer in front of him, Cillian dragged the warped wooden door shut and turned to face Jake. The scowl on his face was impressive, Jake thought, even by the actor's usual standards. Okay, Jake, you're not going to be intimidated. This is Cillian. He can not scare you.
"That," Cillian announced in his 'feel my wrath' voice, "was a very bad idea, Sellards."
Jake folded his muscular arms indignantly. "Oh, like you weren't involved."
"You were the one who accosted me," Cillian pointed out in a whiny voice, as though he were being entirely reasonable.
"You didn't seem averse to being accosted." Jake narrowed his eyes as Cillian slunk through the roomful of debris, shaking his curly brown hair and stopping mere feet in front of him. "I mean, you could have said not to, you know. You could have stopped it."
Cillian shrugged fluidly, the motion rippling through his body and pulling his sweater taut against the planes of his chest, and Jake swallowed hard. "I thought you said Cooper never used that room. How was I to know he was still prowling around?" Cillian scowled. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if this got out?"
I'd have lost you for good. "Plenty. But remember, it could have been worse. He could have walked in five minutes later."
"God, don't make me imagine it..." Cillian drawled in his natural Irish accent, eyeing Jake in a way that did absolutely nothing to dispell his lingering arousal.
"Yeah." At this distance, Jake realized he could smell the other boy, a scent compounded of sweat and leather and the lingering musky heat of their earlier encounter in the stairwell. "At least she thought we were fighting," he offered weakly, fixated on the undone top buttons of Cillian's shirt and the flash of pale skin that showed through the gap and wondering if Cillian was as hard beneath those dress pants as he was right now.
"Hmph. But now we have detention, Sellards. On Friday night. With Keith."
Jake shrugged. "Yeah, well, maybe he'll leave us to get on with counting his baseball cards or whatever. And it still could have been worse."
"Cooper found us shoved up against the wall and tearing at each others' clothing. He's a fag himself, he knows perfectly well what we were doing. How could this be worse?"
"No, he didn't. But he could've. He could have realized we were...well..." Jake blushed a little, wondering exactly how to describe it. "He could have walked in while you had your tongue down my throat."
Cillian bit the tip of his tongue and smiled at him, a slow and seductive smile, and moved a few inches closer, rocking onto the balls of his feet. "I suppose you're right. I COULD have had my tongue elsewhere, really."
Oh God. Jake swallowed convulsively, reaching out and running one hand from Cillian's hip down to his knee. "Was that what you were planning? Before we were interrupted?"
Cillian's green eyes held a predatory gleam. He reached out, touching the tip of one finger to the smaller boy's temple and dragging it oh-so-slowly down to his jaw. "I could have been persuaded."
Jake shivered, curling his fingers possessively around the back of Cillian's thigh. "Could you? And how about now?"
Cillian smiled a more gentle, loving smile, slipping the finger underneath Jake's chin and lifting his face up. "Well, that depends - what will you give me if I do?" He leaned down until his lips were a whisper of a breath away from Jake's. Jake closed his eyes, exhaling raggedly, desperate for more of the actor's touch.
"Anything," he whispered. Cillian laughed softly and kissed him, slipping his tongue into Jake's mouth to tease at his own. Jake moaned into Cillian's mouth, parting his lips and clutching at Cillan's shoulders, the highest he could get to. A laugh shuddered through Cillian's lean chest and he climbed onto the ottoman without breaking the kiss, straddling Jake and pushing him down onto his back. Their tongues twined hungrily, and Jake arched upwards, pressing himself against Cillian. Their hips met and ground together, erections pressed hard against each other and rubbing deliciously.
The taller boy pulled away from the kiss, flashing Jake a breathless grin and pressing himself hard against the opposing hips as he buried his face in Jake's throat. Jake wrapped one leg around Cillian's knee and bit hungrily at his ear, sliding one hand down between their bodies to run his fingers over Cillian's straining cock. Too many clothes, he thought muzzily, clutching at the fabric of Cillian's sweater and tugging it vainly upwards. Cillian took the hint, sitting up (hips pressing down across Jake's with an almost unbearable weight and friction) and yanking his sweater off over his head. His shirt buttons were still undone from their earlier encounter, his tie askew.
Jake gasped for breath, the knot of sensation in his groin sending stabs of warmth from his stomach to his knees and making it hard to think. Cillian looked down at him for a moment, clothing askew and hair rumpled, and Jake decided that, in that instant, he had never looked more delicious. He fumbled with the buttons of his own uniform, desperate to feel Cillian's talented hands on his skin, but the Irish boy's weight frustrated his efforts and eventually he gave up and attacked the fastenings of Cillian's suit pants instead. Cillian laughed down at him, arching his hips forward against Jake's quick, fumbling fingers, and shrugged his shirt back off his shoulders. Pale skin, an unbroken expanse from collarbones to narrow waist, and Jake wanted it, wanted it all, wanted so much...
He wriggled backwards, yanking his sweater out from beneath him and pulling it over his head, then returning to the enticing bulge in Cillian's . Jake skimmed his fingertips over the tented fabric and smiled as Cillian inhaled on a gasp and pushed himself forward into Jake's hand. Haste making his fingers stumble, Jake tugged on buttons and zips and pushed his hands inside the waistband of Cillian's boxers, desperately needing to touch. Cillian's cock was hard in his hands, begging for attention, and as Jake wrapped his fingers about the length of it and stroked hard, Cillian tipped his head back with a shuddering moan, hands falling limply away from Jake's shoulders. Jake grinned, freeing one hand to tug Cillian's trousers down his hips.
Cillian pulled out of his grasp, kicked out of his remaining clothes and stretched himself beside Jake on the ottoman, winding one arm around his waist and pulling him into a long, slow kiss. His other hand reached for Jake's trouser fly and efficiently undid buttons, shucking Jake out of his clothes as quickly as he could. Jake was about to protest at the loss of contact, but then Cillian wriggled closer and pressed himself against Jake and suddenly Jake forgot whatever he had been going to say and could only push back against Cillian's hips, their cocks rubbing together and sending delicious sparks wandering through him. Oh God, yes, yes, he thought incoherently, clutching Cillian tight against him and sucking on a patch of skin in the hollow of his throat; their legs were tangled together, skin against skin and Jake moaned against Cillian's throat, feeling the shudder as Cillian echoed him.
"Oh God," Cillian panted in Jake's ear, arching against him. "I can't wait, Jake, fuck me..." He wrapped one leg around Jake's thigh, rolling onto his back and pulling Jake atop him. They were pressed so tightly against each other now that it was almost painful; Jake bit at Cillian's throat, leaving a blotchy red mark, then sought his mouth again blindly. Cillian pushed up against him, legs invitingly parted and lips open to Jake's seeking tongue. Jake licked slowly along the roof of Cillian's mouth, eliciting a gasp and a shudder and the tightening of Cillian's arms around him.
"Are you sure?" Jake pulled away long enough to ask. "I thought you wanted to..."
"I can't wait," Cillian whispered hoarsely, eyes dazed and almost black with lust, sending shivers through Jake's bones. "I need you inside me now - the rest can wait..." Jake leaned down to kiss him again, lingeringly, their tongues meeting hungrily, then disentangled himself with some difficulty from the cage of limbs Cillian had wound around him. Cillian made a sound of bewildered protest and Jake shushed him, reaching for a cracked jar that sat on the shelf above them. After some fumbling - the picture Cillian made, sprawled naked on the ottoman with his hair mussed and falling into his eyes and his erect cock weeping for attention, was very distracting - he extracted a small glass bottle and shoved the jar carelessly back where it belonged.
Cillian made a small whimpering noise, his cock twitching, as Jake crawled back to kneel over him, pulling the stopper from the bottle with his teeth and drizzling the oil liberally over his fingers. He reached down carefully, probing, and Cillian lifted his hips eagerly with a tiny little gasp as Jake slipped one finger slowly inside him.
"Yes?" Jake moved the finger slowly, bending forward to lick hotly at Cillian's right nipple.
"God yes!" Cillian panted, arching and twisting his hips. Jake withdrew the finger briefly, then added another, stretching carefully and pressing fleetingly just there so that Cillian bucked up from the dustcloth with a curse and almost snatched the oil bottle from Jake's hand. Jake had just slipped the third slick finger inside Cillian when he felt wet, oily hands close about him, stroking raggedly up and down and coating his erection with the faintly scented stuff. Cillian laughed breathlessly at his gasp, pushing down onto Jake's fingers and tightening his hands with a slight squishing noise. Jake twisted his fingers and saw Cillian's eyes briefly cross.
"Now," Cillian demanded raggedly, clutching at Jake's shoulders with slippery fingers and lifting his hips sharply, cock bobbing eagerly.
"Pushy," Jake muttered, sliding his fingers out and grasping Cillian's hips, positioning himself. Cillian's laugh turned into a moan as Jake pushed inside, and Jake echoed him, encased in tight pulsing heat that turned his bones to water.
"Oh God," they groaned in unison, Cillian lifting his legs and wrapping them around Jake's hips, holding on tightly. Jake remained still for a moment, buried deep inside Cillian and trying to convince his body not to come immediately. Cillian's cock was pressed hard against his stomach, slick with precome, and Cillian's head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut.
"Yes?" Jake gasped, flexing his hips slightly, and Cillian shivered all over, cock stirring and eyelashes flickering gold like candlelight. He nodded jerkily, and Jake withdrew gently before thrusting slickly back in, setting a slow pace that was just enough to keep Cillian from coming on the spot. Cillian shuddered and rocked beneath him, arching into Jake's thrusts and making little mewling sounds of pleasure and desperation. His cock was rock-hard against Jake's stomach now, and Jake groaned and pushed into him harder, drowning in the tightness and friction. Cillian tipped his head way back, body arching, and reached down, muscles clenching around Jake's cock as he stroked urgently at his own. Jake almost passed out, almost lost control completely, but managed to shift his weight, grabbing Cillian's hand and pinning it flat to the cushions.
Cillian made a harsh, desperate sound, and writhed beneath him, arching up hard to meet him. Jake exhaled on a shuddering gasp and bent forward to lick wetly at the sweat-drenched skin of Cillian's throat, tilting his hips and thrusting harder, deeper, so that every long dizzying slide into tight heat hit just there, and Cillian gasped and convulsed beneath him, muddled words pouring from his lips, words like "oh, yes, Jake, God, oh, yes, yes..." and writhed and Jake couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, if McGonagall had walked in on them again, he thrust hard, there, there, oh God, buried himself in Cillian's body and felt the hot wet pulsing against his stomach as Cillian came with a hoarse incoherent cry and spasmed so hard around him that Jake fell after him, losing all thought in the bliss of climax.
They lay glued together with sweat, breathing in ragged gasps and pressing kisses and murmurs into each others' damp skins. After a moment, Cillian laughed breathlessly. "God."
"Yeah," Jake murmured, rolling off Cillian onto his side. He was drenched in sweat and cum and god-knows-what-else, in dire need of a shower, and he couldn't have cared less about teachers or detentions. "What time is it?"
"No idea." Cillian draped one arm across him, pulling him close. Jake kissed his shoulder lightly, admiring the love bites he'd left on that pale throat. He'd have to cover them up before they returned to their respective cliques. "But I think we missed lunch. And 7th period."
"Oh...." Food was the last thing on Jake's mind. "Oh well."
"Yeah." Cillian smirked at him. "You get better every time, Sellards. I'm glad I decided to fuck you instead of kill you."
Jake laughed, wrapping his arms around Cillian's slim form and kissing the corner of his mouth. "Me too," he murmured against the other boy's flushed skin. Cillian flicked out his tongue and teased at Jake's lower lip, then pulled away, examining Jake.
"You're a mess." He dragged one finger through the slick of drying come on Jake's stomach, holding it up to Jake's lips. Jake slid his mouth over it slowly, wrapping his tongue wetly around the finger and watching Cillian's eyes widen. Then he pulled away.
"You're dirty too. Now we really look like we've been in a fight." It was true; Cillian's fair skin was flushed, his mouth swollen and neck bruised. Jake thought he must be in a similar state.
Cillian laughed again. "Only if you ignore the 'naked and covered in come' parts."
"Well, true." Jake smiled slowly and drew a fingernail slowly across Cillian's nipple, watching his breath catch and his eyes glaze. "There's hours yet, though. And no one's going to find us."
"Ever talented at stating the obvious," Cillian murmured with a smirk, but his eyes were wicked as he pulled Jake against him. "What exactly did you have in mind...?"
Current Mood: artistic
Current Music: Sleep Tonight - The Stars
To be honest, I have no idea who Jake Shears is...
But I think I melted, reading this, anyway. *adds to my memories* Brilliant work!
Aw, thanks so much! :D
Jake's the leader singer of the Scissor Sisters and he's adorrrrrable. Like Cillian, but gayer. [Literally. Flaming.]
And your icon. I love it. :)
MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm my brain is dead.