The Broken Vase

Author's NOTE: All of my Jesse/Simon works are sequels, in a sense, to "The First Tryst," which doesn't REALLY introduce them much better (sorry), but has a blurb explaining at the beginning.

This is another story of Jesse and Simon, this one more simple. Just a simple scene starting on the couch...oneshot. Thanks for reading!


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THE BROKEN VASE
An original oneshot story
by lordoberon


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Jesse's POV
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One moment we were sitting on the couch. The next, I looked over at him, and his eyelashes were down on his cheek; coyly he looked away from me. Coy. Then, he was turning around towards me and his fingers sunk into my hair and the pouch of coins at his belt dug into my stomach as he leant down and kissed me.

His fingers dug frantically at my hair, twisting curls around dark fingers and massaging my scalp and tracing ears, with a soft sigh into my mouth. Tongue licked softly at my lips and then I responded, pushing forward, upward, arching into his body and wrapping my arms around him to pull him down on top of me. Our mouths sunk together and his tongue was a hot soft flash in my mouth, languid one moment and hurried the next. A low moan came from a throat - his or mine? - and I was sliding my hand beneath his coat, sliding the sleeves from his arm and tossing the thing to the floor. His knees squeezed at me and I gasped at the sensation, those thighs hot against mine, so hot.

A growl came from Simon's throat and he was unbuttoning my shirt, one two three and it was done, and the rustle of it was soft against my skin and then his fingers were on my chest, relishing, touching slow and soft. My mouth moved down to press against his jaw. Stubble dark and rough against my tongue, and then my teeth scraped over his neck; he let out a soft sigh, and then clutched at me as my teeth and tongue wove a strange trail down his neck. His skin was sweet, peaches and lemon and the dark taste of magic...I shivered at that taste, bitter and sweet all at once. He moaned loudly and the air was crisp with magic. It sent a heat flooding through my body and diving southward.

All of a sudden Simon was pulling me up. I was shoved backward, my head thunking against the mirror, the mahogany table squeaking against my belt as he grabbed me and pulled me to sit and lean against the wall. The table was shaky beneath all our weight, and in my flailing to get a good grip on something the vase of flowers was hit and fell to the floor. Crash. The glass spilled everywhere and the water dripped lazily, and the flowers lay like crushed virgins white against the carpet.

I pulled one leg up bent so that my knee touched my chest; the table was small, half a circle in shape, and really fit only one person on it; and the other leg of mine was sprawled out somewhere beyond. Simon was ensconced between my legs, crotch pushed against me as he leaned in again. I moaned at the soft wet lick of his tongue against a nipple, groaning in frustration as he continued the slow ministrations. My hand went, unbidded, to rest at his side, and I stroked slowly, feeling the soft skin and creeping my touch back towards his shoulder blades.

Rough fingers brushed at one nipple and white teeth nibbled at another, and I was arching against him, breathless. The skin of his back was soft, smooth skin perfect against my fingers. A scar ran, jagged, from one end to the other, rough and scaly and ridged. I brushed fingers against it and he shivered, taking my lower lip between his teeth and biting.

A grunt came as my hands crept lower to his ass, fondling and groping the softness, testing the hard muscle, relishing the exquisite firmness and youthful curves. A choked, stuttering sound broke past Simon's lips when my hand dove inward, fingers just barely touching swollen balls through the thin trousers. Then I removed the hand, and Simon grabbed it. Lifting my hands up so my arms were raised in the air, he thrust against me, and we both moaned at the friction of bodies against bodies. I could feel the heat and tightness of his groin against mine, erection long and wide, the head jerking at my thigh and then shoved against my cock.

I couldn't help myself; my hands crept there again, brushing over his thighs and playing with his belt. He cursed and swore, whimpering as my fingers teased a soft hint of touch, stroking up his length, before abandoning that. "Jesse...why...why are you doing this?"

A little laugh came from me, but I was stopped short when his hands flicked at the button of my trousers. My belt took time to get through the loops, especially with Simon's trembling fingers. "Why...are YOU doing this? Why take time to indulge in...erotic fantasy?"

He had no answer, or else he was too occupied with the belt. Two loops left.

"I'll tell you why I do, Simon. It is because I deserve it. I've worked hard...I've restrained myself. So have you. We need to vent out our passion somehow...if I didn't get down your pants soon, fuck, I would have gone crazy! That's the fucking truth, forget the poetry passion shit, I want you and want you NOW and I'm going to take you on your knees if I have to."

The belt was gone and he was shoving trousers off of me. Fingers wrapped around my cock and a mouth licked slow, languid licks against the head. Words left and I was a sputtering mess, swearing low under my breath and thrusting up to that wet heat.

Then that mouth was lower, sucking in the balls. Sweat coated me and I shivered as it dried, groaning as his tongue moved in small swirls over sensitive skin. Suddenly that tongue thrust in, deeper, and I whimpered at the implication. His hands moved, skillful and slow over the length, precum dripped against thumb and he licked it off with a smile. Then that tongue probed again, and as he reached the spot I yelled. Erection straight as an arrow and the blood in me pounded faster and my hands were in his hair, pushing him down more against me. He sucked again and I was sobbing my pleasure, senseless, delighted, screaming, "Simon, oh, god, Simon...I-I can't...Oh, ohhh, PLEASE!"

He stopped, and I watched in a daze as he licked his lips. Smirking at me, he said, "If you promise to give yourself to me when I ask, anytime, anywhere, just once, I'll do it."

I nodded, cowed like a dog, and just whispered, "Yes. Yes, anything. Just do it. Please..."

A soft, hot mouth engulfed my cock in sweet wetness, and I was gone. Tongue stroked my skin and mouth worked to swallow more of me. Then I was pounding into him, thrusting wildly and the table shook and my body shook and then it was over. He pulled back, away, and I leant back against the cool glass of the mirror, sighing in contentment.

Later I slid my trousers back on, and collapsed to lie on the couch. Simon returned from wherever he had gone, with a cup of wine for us each. Smiling, he sat down on the couch arm, saying, "What was that about fucking me on my knees?"

I chuckled. "Another time, Simon. Soon."

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Author's NOTE: Thanks for reading! :D Reviews much appreciated!