Coffee: Cocaine
Jun. 8th, 2009 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hidethekeyTitle: Coffee: Cocaine
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Ryan
POV: Third-Jon Centric
Summary: Based off of the Coffee ‘verse written bymyheartradio who was looking for some smut for the fic. This one’s Jon/Ryan. It’s based in the time when they were both really messed up on cocaine.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic, I don’t own Starbucks and I also do not own this plot. I’m just playing withmyheartradio ‘s ‘verse here.
Author Notes: For those who requested Coffee smut, and definitely formyheartradio. Also, thank you to Panic At The Disco merely for existing, being so hot and being so utterly slashable. Also, THANK YOU to my best bud, cousin and awesome beta lampshadesrrad Enjoy:)
Link:myheartradio’s Coffee If you’re reading this, and you haven’t read that, you really really should.
Here are my former Coffee installments:
Perfection
Pieces
Jon’s lips are against Ryan’s like a flash of lightning. He feels hands all over his body, touching, pulling at clothing, rubbing. He grins and moves his own hands to Jon’s body. It seems to be taking less and less time for the cocaine to start taking effect and whenever they did it at home and not in a public place, they always wound up fucking. Ryan isn’t complaining though, he always enjoys the fucking. He rids Jon of his shirt rather easily then pulls his own off. He doesn’t know where their clothes land but at this point nothing matters but getting off. Ryan had thought sex was good before but sex on cocaine is far, far better.
Ryan has no control over his body, his hands are shaking like he’s going through a caffeine withdrawal and his mind is moving faster than it ever has. Millions of thoughts fly through his head. They’re all gone before he can even discern one from another. His heart is pumping so quickly that he thinks it might just give up under all this pressure. He doesn’t even care if that happens because if it does, at least then he’ll be dead and he won’t be so fucked up on drugs, so fucked up on Jon.
He dips his hands below Jon’s waistband, taking perverse pleasure in the feeling of his skin. It’s a little rough but at the same time it’s smooth, supple. Ryan is distracted. He brings his mouth down and presses it against a particularly engrossing patch of skin. Jon moans and Ryan’s tongue darts out to lick over it. Jon tastes salty, sweaty, like maybe he hasn’t showered recently enough. That doesn’t matter though, because Ryan hasn’t either. All that has been on his mind is his next high and just being with Jon.
Ryan struggles with Jon’s button. His hands just don’t want to cooperate. He feels Jon’s fingers against his, helping him. Jon’s jeans are joining their shirts on the mess that’s on their living room floor after that. Ryan’s own jeans make their way there as well, soon after. Ryan’s mouth hit Jon’s body somewhere though his mind didn’t really register exactly where at all. All he knows is that Jon is making these incredible noises that are setting his body on fire and he just wants to get more and more hot.
He finally does register that his mouth is on Jon’s shoulder and Jon’s pulling down at his underwear. This sounds like a good idea to his muddled mind and he tugs them off himself then moves his fingers to Jon’s only to find out that Jon’s boxers have already hit the floor. He grins up at him and tries to remember when the two of them wound up getting flipped over. When his brain refuses to supply the information, he just shrugs it off and attaches his mouth to Jon’s.
Jon’s tongue is something of a wonder. It rubs against Ryan’s in such a way that Ryan thinks he never wants their mouths to separate. Ryan thinks that he could literally die at this very moment and be a happy man. Jon’s just so beautiful, stretched out on top of him, grinding their cocks together and tonguing inside his mouth. Ryan moans, and it’s loud, even to his ears.
Jon’s hands are traveling now. They’re going down, down, down. One of them grips Ryan’s hip. It holds on so tightly that Ryan thinks he’s going to bruise. Well at least the thought registers momentarily but then flitters away to be replaced by a hundred new ones. Somehow Jon’s fingers have gotten slick. Ryan doesn’t remember this part, but he’s really not remembering anything right now. Then Jon’s fingers are inside him, and moving around and making him cry out and… Ryan feels like it’s been years since Jon’s hands were on his hips and he just wants to get on with this, before he loses all form on concentration.
Ryan shoots a glare at Jon when his fingers vacate him. Jon gives him a playful shrug and runs his tongue over his cheek which causes Ryan to twitch. He’s noticed that since he started doing cocaine with Jon, he’s a lot twitchier, even during the times that he’s not on it. He reaches for Jon though and pulls him back down on top of him because Jon’s weight makes the twitches go away. Sometimes, when Ryan’s lucky, Jon can even make the cravings go away. Ryan’s lucky he doesn’t have a ton of money, otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d be stoned all the time.
Ryan is pulled away from his thoughts again as Jon enters him. It stings because Jon’s less careful when they’re both high but Ryan ignores that part. He scrapes his fingers down Jon’s back and moves so that Jon’s deeper inside of him. He’s desperate for this; he’s desperate to feel the complete euphoria that Jon gives him. He feels the erratic thrusts from Jon and arches up against him with absolutely no rhythm. The thought that this likely wouldn’t feel good at all if they were sober flits through his mind but again, it’s soon gone, washed away in a sea of silent wonderings.
It doesn’t take either of them long. It never does when they’re not all there. Jon goes first with a few more quick thrusts that lack rhythm. Ryan’s next because Jon seems to remember that he hasn’t gone yet and within two strokes, he’s crying out his pleasure to the high heavens. Ryan gasps against Jon’s shoulder, trying to find the breath he’d lost. He feels incredible. He feels like he can climb mountains, jump off a cliff and fly, or just do anything. He wants to try everything because he knows that nothing can hurt him. He’s invincible.
Even as quick as these feelings appear, they fade into a mess of depression and hatred. Ryan doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He doesn’t know how he got so fucked up, or why he ever even started talking to Jon Walker. This is his fault. His fault! Ryan shoves Jon off of him. He knows instinctively that this is always what happens when he starts coming down but… but he can’t help it. This is still Jon’s fault. Ryan looks at his boyfriend who is still sprawled on the floor with a goofy grin on his face and musters all the venom he possibly can. “I hate you.” He spits the words out like bile. They taste harsh, disgusting, like that one time he and Jon had decided to smoke the coke instead of snorting.
When Jon doesn’t even dignify the statement with a reply, Ryan kicks him then storms off to his bedroom. He slams the door, crawls over to his bed and starts weeping uncontrollably. Everything in his life is just so, so fucked right now and he can’t even see a way to fix it… He wishes sometimes that he’d never even considered talking to Jon Walker.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Ryan
POV: Third-Jon Centric
Summary: Based off of the Coffee ‘verse written by
myheartradio who was looking for some smut for the fic. This one’s Jon/Ryan. It’s based in the time when they were both really messed up on cocaine.Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic, I don’t own Starbucks and I also do not own this plot. I’m just playing with
myheartradio ‘s ‘verse here.Author Notes: For those who requested Coffee smut, and definitely for
myheartradio. Also, thank you to Panic At The Disco merely for existing, being so hot and being so utterly slashable. Also, THANK YOU to my best bud, cousin and awesome beta lampshadesrrad Enjoy:)Link:
myheartradio’s Coffee If you’re reading this, and you haven’t read that, you really really should. Here are my former Coffee installments:
Perfection
Pieces
Jon’s lips are against Ryan’s like a flash of lightning. He feels hands all over his body, touching, pulling at clothing, rubbing. He grins and moves his own hands to Jon’s body. It seems to be taking less and less time for the cocaine to start taking effect and whenever they did it at home and not in a public place, they always wound up fucking. Ryan isn’t complaining though, he always enjoys the fucking. He rids Jon of his shirt rather easily then pulls his own off. He doesn’t know where their clothes land but at this point nothing matters but getting off. Ryan had thought sex was good before but sex on cocaine is far, far better.
Ryan has no control over his body, his hands are shaking like he’s going through a caffeine withdrawal and his mind is moving faster than it ever has. Millions of thoughts fly through his head. They’re all gone before he can even discern one from another. His heart is pumping so quickly that he thinks it might just give up under all this pressure. He doesn’t even care if that happens because if it does, at least then he’ll be dead and he won’t be so fucked up on drugs, so fucked up on Jon.
He dips his hands below Jon’s waistband, taking perverse pleasure in the feeling of his skin. It’s a little rough but at the same time it’s smooth, supple. Ryan is distracted. He brings his mouth down and presses it against a particularly engrossing patch of skin. Jon moans and Ryan’s tongue darts out to lick over it. Jon tastes salty, sweaty, like maybe he hasn’t showered recently enough. That doesn’t matter though, because Ryan hasn’t either. All that has been on his mind is his next high and just being with Jon.
Ryan struggles with Jon’s button. His hands just don’t want to cooperate. He feels Jon’s fingers against his, helping him. Jon’s jeans are joining their shirts on the mess that’s on their living room floor after that. Ryan’s own jeans make their way there as well, soon after. Ryan’s mouth hit Jon’s body somewhere though his mind didn’t really register exactly where at all. All he knows is that Jon is making these incredible noises that are setting his body on fire and he just wants to get more and more hot.
He finally does register that his mouth is on Jon’s shoulder and Jon’s pulling down at his underwear. This sounds like a good idea to his muddled mind and he tugs them off himself then moves his fingers to Jon’s only to find out that Jon’s boxers have already hit the floor. He grins up at him and tries to remember when the two of them wound up getting flipped over. When his brain refuses to supply the information, he just shrugs it off and attaches his mouth to Jon’s.
Jon’s tongue is something of a wonder. It rubs against Ryan’s in such a way that Ryan thinks he never wants their mouths to separate. Ryan thinks that he could literally die at this very moment and be a happy man. Jon’s just so beautiful, stretched out on top of him, grinding their cocks together and tonguing inside his mouth. Ryan moans, and it’s loud, even to his ears.
Jon’s hands are traveling now. They’re going down, down, down. One of them grips Ryan’s hip. It holds on so tightly that Ryan thinks he’s going to bruise. Well at least the thought registers momentarily but then flitters away to be replaced by a hundred new ones. Somehow Jon’s fingers have gotten slick. Ryan doesn’t remember this part, but he’s really not remembering anything right now. Then Jon’s fingers are inside him, and moving around and making him cry out and… Ryan feels like it’s been years since Jon’s hands were on his hips and he just wants to get on with this, before he loses all form on concentration.
Ryan shoots a glare at Jon when his fingers vacate him. Jon gives him a playful shrug and runs his tongue over his cheek which causes Ryan to twitch. He’s noticed that since he started doing cocaine with Jon, he’s a lot twitchier, even during the times that he’s not on it. He reaches for Jon though and pulls him back down on top of him because Jon’s weight makes the twitches go away. Sometimes, when Ryan’s lucky, Jon can even make the cravings go away. Ryan’s lucky he doesn’t have a ton of money, otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d be stoned all the time.
Ryan is pulled away from his thoughts again as Jon enters him. It stings because Jon’s less careful when they’re both high but Ryan ignores that part. He scrapes his fingers down Jon’s back and moves so that Jon’s deeper inside of him. He’s desperate for this; he’s desperate to feel the complete euphoria that Jon gives him. He feels the erratic thrusts from Jon and arches up against him with absolutely no rhythm. The thought that this likely wouldn’t feel good at all if they were sober flits through his mind but again, it’s soon gone, washed away in a sea of silent wonderings.
It doesn’t take either of them long. It never does when they’re not all there. Jon goes first with a few more quick thrusts that lack rhythm. Ryan’s next because Jon seems to remember that he hasn’t gone yet and within two strokes, he’s crying out his pleasure to the high heavens. Ryan gasps against Jon’s shoulder, trying to find the breath he’d lost. He feels incredible. He feels like he can climb mountains, jump off a cliff and fly, or just do anything. He wants to try everything because he knows that nothing can hurt him. He’s invincible.
Even as quick as these feelings appear, they fade into a mess of depression and hatred. Ryan doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He doesn’t know how he got so fucked up, or why he ever even started talking to Jon Walker. This is his fault. His fault! Ryan shoves Jon off of him. He knows instinctively that this is always what happens when he starts coming down but… but he can’t help it. This is still Jon’s fault. Ryan looks at his boyfriend who is still sprawled on the floor with a goofy grin on his face and musters all the venom he possibly can. “I hate you.” He spits the words out like bile. They taste harsh, disgusting, like that one time he and Jon had decided to smoke the coke instead of snorting.
When Jon doesn’t even dignify the statement with a reply, Ryan kicks him then storms off to his bedroom. He slams the door, crawls over to his bed and starts weeping uncontrollably. Everything in his life is just so, so fucked right now and he can’t even see a way to fix it… He wishes sometimes that he’d never even considered talking to Jon Walker.