NCIS Porn Battle Fic: Best Laid Plans
Jun. 8th, 2009 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielAfter much posting-fail this morning, porn!
Best Laid Plans. Tim/Tony. NCIS. NC-17. 1016 words. Follows Double Oh from the last porn battle.
These are totally my go-to writing guys. Look at them! Aww.
Best Laid Plans
“Change in plans, Tony,” Tim says, the door to the suite latching behind him with a distinct snick.
Tony’s mouth slides into an easy smirk. “Oh, yeah?” he challenges. He’s been waiting all evening to get Tim back up to their rooms, spent time dropping innuendo into conversations and caressing every phallic object he got his hands on; he’s pretty sure he’s got Tim right where he wants him. “What’re you gonna—”
Suddenly he’s pressed into the wall, Tim heavy against his back. Tony’s heart thumps in his chest and he shivers at the way Tim’s hot breath ghosts across his neck. “Hey, I thought we had an agreement, McGee,” he says, voice wavering slightly.
Tony feels teeth against the skin behind his ear, the moist heat of Tim’s mouth as he says, “I didn’t agree to anything, Tony.” Tim’s hands slide down Tony’s arms, slip around his wrists, moving Tony’s hands until they’re shoulder height. “Don’t move these,” he says, pressing so close Tony can feel the hot length of Tim’s cock through the layers of clothing between them.
Automatically bracing his hands against the wall, fingers spread over the cream and gold wallpaper, Tony struggles with his composure. Apparently he’s pushed Tim into some new territory where Tim’s in charge and Tony’s along for the ride, Tim’s to be used.
He’s more than okay with that.
“What’s the plan now?” he asks, the wall cool beneath his cheek.
“You’ll see,” Tim says, and then his hands are on his waist, pushing past the jacket of his tuxedo out of the way to find the fastening of his trousers. Tony bites back a whimper as Tim’s fingers tease him through the fabric before getting his pants open and slipping inside.
“You don’t have seniority here, Tony,” Tim says. Tony can feel him grinning against his neck as he works his hand slowly around the head of Tony’s cock. “You don’t always get to call the shots.”
He removes his hand then. Tony would complain about the loss of contact, but before he can say anything, Tim slides Tony’s slacks down his hips, letting them slide down Tony’s legs. “Don’t move,” Tim says, pressing fully against him before moving away.
Behind him, Tony can hear Tim enter the bathroom and rummage through his overnight bag. Tony leans his forehead against the wall and takes a few deep breaths, shifting his legs until his pants slide the rest of the way down, shackling his ankles.
“I thought I told you not to move,” Tim says, startling Tony. Tim’s right behind him again and either he’s getting better at being sneaky or Tony’s just that into this not to be paying attention.
“Sorry,” he says, though he’s not really. “I promise I won’t move if you just get on with it.” He gives Tim his best inviting look over his shoulder. Tim’s removed his jacket and cummerbund, rolled his sleeves up, and, God, he looks good, sweet and dangerous and Tony’s.
Tim doesn’t move, though, and Tony can see this look in his eye, this glint of hot appreciation and he shudders under his gaze, feels his cheeks heat up and knows that he’s blushing. He wants to squirm, to turn around and lean back, cock his hip and take some control, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans his head against the wall again and asks, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Just admiring the view.”
“It’s a good one, I know,” Tony says, smirking and showing off just a little, clenching the muscles of his ass. “Admire all you want. But you’ll enjoy it more up close and personal.”
“Mmm,” Tim practically purrs as he steps closer, rubbing against him. “You think so?” There’s the sound of a bottle being opened and closed.
“I know so,” Tony says, gasping as cool, slick fingers slide between his legs.
Tony breathes in sharply through his nose and relaxes, Tim’s fingers slipping easily inside him, making Tony arch against him.
Tony’s ready before long and he’s wondering if Tim’s going to make him beg for this when Tim’s hand disappears. Tony can hear the soft sounds of buttons and zippers being undone, fabric pushed out of the way and then Tim’s pressing inside him.
It’s slow and careful at first, like Tim hasn’t gotten used to doing this yet and isn’t sure how much he can take or how fast he can take it. So Tony pushes back against him, forces Tim to go faster, harder, and Tim’s arms are around him, hips pushing into his; not thinking, just doing.
Tim groans and rests his forehead against the back of Tony’s neck, his right arm wrapped tight across Tony’s chest as his left hand drops to Tony’s cock.
Tony shudders against him, groaning as Tim angles his hips and catches Tony just there, moving and thrusting and driving Tony crazy. It’s all too much, Tim’s hand on his cock, Tim’s cock in his ass, his teeth and breath and lips on Tony’s skin and Tony’s coming, moaning and lost between Tim and the wall.
Tim thrusts inside him again and again and then he’s coming too, Tony’s name on his lips.
They slump together against the wall, catching their breath. Tony can’t move because of Tim and Tony knows Tim can’t move because his knees always go a bit Jello-like after sex. Tony enjoys watching Tim stagger around like he’s drunk; he thinks it’s hilarious, but even more Tony likes that he played a significant part in making Tim’s knees give-out.
When their breathing has mostly evened out, Tim stirs against his back, carefully peeling himself away. Tony sighs at the loss of contact, the feel of Tim’s spent cock slipping from him.
“You okay?” Tim asks. His hands are on Tony’s hips, maneuvering him until Tony’s turned around, back against the wall.
Tony grins at Tim’s flushed, sweaty face. “I’m peachy,” he says, reaching out and pulling Tim against him. Tim huffs and sighs against Tony’s mouth before Tony pulls away. “But you’re taking care of the dry-cleaning.”
Best Laid Plans. Tim/Tony. NCIS. NC-17. 1016 words. Follows Double Oh from the last porn battle.
These are totally my go-to writing guys. Look at them! Aww.
Best Laid Plans
“Change in plans, Tony,” Tim says, the door to the suite latching behind him with a distinct snick.
Tony’s mouth slides into an easy smirk. “Oh, yeah?” he challenges. He’s been waiting all evening to get Tim back up to their rooms, spent time dropping innuendo into conversations and caressing every phallic object he got his hands on; he’s pretty sure he’s got Tim right where he wants him. “What’re you gonna—”
Suddenly he’s pressed into the wall, Tim heavy against his back. Tony’s heart thumps in his chest and he shivers at the way Tim’s hot breath ghosts across his neck. “Hey, I thought we had an agreement, McGee,” he says, voice wavering slightly.
Tony feels teeth against the skin behind his ear, the moist heat of Tim’s mouth as he says, “I didn’t agree to anything, Tony.” Tim’s hands slide down Tony’s arms, slip around his wrists, moving Tony’s hands until they’re shoulder height. “Don’t move these,” he says, pressing so close Tony can feel the hot length of Tim’s cock through the layers of clothing between them.
Automatically bracing his hands against the wall, fingers spread over the cream and gold wallpaper, Tony struggles with his composure. Apparently he’s pushed Tim into some new territory where Tim’s in charge and Tony’s along for the ride, Tim’s to be used.
He’s more than okay with that.
“What’s the plan now?” he asks, the wall cool beneath his cheek.
“You’ll see,” Tim says, and then his hands are on his waist, pushing past the jacket of his tuxedo out of the way to find the fastening of his trousers. Tony bites back a whimper as Tim’s fingers tease him through the fabric before getting his pants open and slipping inside.
“You don’t have seniority here, Tony,” Tim says. Tony can feel him grinning against his neck as he works his hand slowly around the head of Tony’s cock. “You don’t always get to call the shots.”
He removes his hand then. Tony would complain about the loss of contact, but before he can say anything, Tim slides Tony’s slacks down his hips, letting them slide down Tony’s legs. “Don’t move,” Tim says, pressing fully against him before moving away.
Behind him, Tony can hear Tim enter the bathroom and rummage through his overnight bag. Tony leans his forehead against the wall and takes a few deep breaths, shifting his legs until his pants slide the rest of the way down, shackling his ankles.
“I thought I told you not to move,” Tim says, startling Tony. Tim’s right behind him again and either he’s getting better at being sneaky or Tony’s just that into this not to be paying attention.
“Sorry,” he says, though he’s not really. “I promise I won’t move if you just get on with it.” He gives Tim his best inviting look over his shoulder. Tim’s removed his jacket and cummerbund, rolled his sleeves up, and, God, he looks good, sweet and dangerous and Tony’s.
Tim doesn’t move, though, and Tony can see this look in his eye, this glint of hot appreciation and he shudders under his gaze, feels his cheeks heat up and knows that he’s blushing. He wants to squirm, to turn around and lean back, cock his hip and take some control, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans his head against the wall again and asks, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Just admiring the view.”
“It’s a good one, I know,” Tony says, smirking and showing off just a little, clenching the muscles of his ass. “Admire all you want. But you’ll enjoy it more up close and personal.”
“Mmm,” Tim practically purrs as he steps closer, rubbing against him. “You think so?” There’s the sound of a bottle being opened and closed.
“I know so,” Tony says, gasping as cool, slick fingers slide between his legs.
Tony breathes in sharply through his nose and relaxes, Tim’s fingers slipping easily inside him, making Tony arch against him.
Tony’s ready before long and he’s wondering if Tim’s going to make him beg for this when Tim’s hand disappears. Tony can hear the soft sounds of buttons and zippers being undone, fabric pushed out of the way and then Tim’s pressing inside him.
It’s slow and careful at first, like Tim hasn’t gotten used to doing this yet and isn’t sure how much he can take or how fast he can take it. So Tony pushes back against him, forces Tim to go faster, harder, and Tim’s arms are around him, hips pushing into his; not thinking, just doing.
Tim groans and rests his forehead against the back of Tony’s neck, his right arm wrapped tight across Tony’s chest as his left hand drops to Tony’s cock.
Tony shudders against him, groaning as Tim angles his hips and catches Tony just there, moving and thrusting and driving Tony crazy. It’s all too much, Tim’s hand on his cock, Tim’s cock in his ass, his teeth and breath and lips on Tony’s skin and Tony’s coming, moaning and lost between Tim and the wall.
Tim thrusts inside him again and again and then he’s coming too, Tony’s name on his lips.
They slump together against the wall, catching their breath. Tony can’t move because of Tim and Tony knows Tim can’t move because his knees always go a bit Jello-like after sex. Tony enjoys watching Tim stagger around like he’s drunk; he thinks it’s hilarious, but even more Tony likes that he played a significant part in making Tim’s knees give-out.
When their breathing has mostly evened out, Tim stirs against his back, carefully peeling himself away. Tony sighs at the loss of contact, the feel of Tim’s spent cock slipping from him.
“You okay?” Tim asks. His hands are on Tony’s hips, maneuvering him until Tony’s turned around, back against the wall.
Tony grins at Tim’s flushed, sweaty face. “I’m peachy,” he says, reaching out and pulling Tim against him. Tim huffs and sighs against Tony’s mouth before Tony pulls away. “But you’re taking care of the dry-cleaning.”