ptahrrific: Jon and Stephen, "Believe in the me who believes in you" (fake news)
Erin Ptah ([personal profile] ptahrrific) wrote2013-09-21 09:30 pm

Fake News | Jon/"Stephen" | NC-17 | Embarrassing Noises

Title: Embarrassing Noises
Rating: NC-17
Cast: Jon/"Stephen"
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. Characters belong to the Report. Names of real people are used in a fictitious context, and all dialogue, actions, and content are products of the author's imagination only.

A coda to Silent (the AU where Jon is deaf), which I've been meaning to write ever since I finished the story proper. Jon and Stephen's first time. (And it only took them a decade of best friendship to get there.)

As before, ASL is in italics, voiced speech is in quotation marks. Mirrored on the AO3.




(2009.)

It wasn't like Stephen had never been with Jon at this bar before. They'd even been here alone, not as part of a staff party or some other larger gathering, and Stephen wouldn't be surprised if some of the staff had assumed they'd been secretly dating for years now. It wasn't like people could overhear their conversations, so there was nothing stopping them from assuming the worst. (And by worst, Stephen meant sexiest.)

But this time everything was different. This time, the outing really was a date. Their first real one since, earlier in the week, Jon had finally caught on to Stephen's long-standing desire to kiss him, and responded in earnest. This time they were both dressed a little fancier than usual — Jon was actually wearing a fitted T-shirt, so you knew he was serious.

This time, too, Jon took the opportunity to sign a couple of terribly scandalous things over his burger and cheesy fries.

He started slow and subtle. Understandable, when for years Stephen's knee-jerk reaction had been to shut down any discussion that he realized was related to sex (especially when it came to work; The Daily Show with Stephen Colbert was a family show, dammit). Stephen didn't even realize it now, until the point when Jon raised his eyebrows and signed, You know I'm talking about your ass, right?

Wow. Oh. Well then.

If it's too soon.... added Jon, trailing off so that his hands hung placatingly in the air.

I'll allow it, signed Stephen primly, trying to hang on to his dignity even though he was probably bright red and definitely half-hard.

Jon broke into the most endearingly shy smirk. Just wanted to check in.

Oh, god, Stephen was getting laid tonight, wasn't he? He was getting laid tonight by Jon.

Assuming he didn't pass out in his seat from overheating first.


***


By unspoken agreement they both cleared the rest of their plates in a hurry, and didn't ask for dessert before calling for the check.

Stephen picked it up, because Jon had gotten it last month, because they had decided long ago that it wasn't worth the math to figure out how to split it every time. He tapped the pen against his bottom lip in a profoundly distracting way before he finally signed the thing.

Jon's dick helpfully tallied another point in favor of jumping the man ASAP.

His brain countered with the usual list of insecurities, plus a couple of brand-new ones based on the fact that this was Stephen. They'd had a comfortable relationship for years with Jon in the "best friend/unaware, unrequited crush" zone. Now that they were feeling out an entirely new dynamic, how many fresh ways were there to screw it up?

They pulled on well-padded coats against the cold January night. Stephen's was paired with a hat and Jon's with a scarf; no gloves, because those made it too hard to talk. As they stepped out onto the street corner to hail a cab, Stephen tapped Jon's shoulder to get his attention and asked, Your place or mine?

Trying to be cool, like it was no bigger deal than any of the times they'd crashed at each other's homes for platonic reasons, Jon replied, My apartment's closest.

(Technically their city apartments were in the same building, but Jon's was closer to the ground.)


***


Stephen gave the taxi driver their address, and tried to calculate if they could get away with making out in the back seat. They hadn't formally broken their new status to the public yet, but they weren't trying to keep it secret either, and certainly everyone on their staff had heard about it by now.

While he was still deciding, Jon slipped an iPad out of an inside coat pocket.

Okay, so they were going to talk for a while longer instead. Stephen could live with that. Either that, or Jon wanted to play Angry Birds, in which case Stephen was just going to be cross.

Sure enough, Jon fired up the basic word-processing app, the one they used to type to each other when they were too close for Instant Messenger. Stephen leaned on his shoulder and watched his fingers fly over the virtual keyboard, lit from underneath by the soft blue glow of the screen.

Don't want to get ahead of myself here, but I'm thinking it won't be long until our hands are going to be too busy to talk much, so...what's the plan? How far are we going? How much are you okay with?


He slid the tablet in Stephen's direction.

Now Stephen was just confused. He understood haggling over who was going to give the first blowjob, but the way this was phrased made it seem like Jon thought there was a possibility of not getting laid tonight at all, and since when had that been on the table?

He typed a reply, quick and to the point:

I would definitely be okay with mind-blowing orgasms but I am open to negotiation


Jon sat back with a start. Stephen peered at his face in the banded light of passing streetlamps, trying to figure out what was going on. Why the hesitation? Wasn't exuberant gay sex supposed to be a cornerstone of Obama's America?

Shaking himself a little, Jon took Stephen's chin in hand and angled him down for a brief kiss before explaining.

In theory that sounds great!

In practice

I'm nervous, ok? I've never done it with a


Stephen's vision went fuzzy. Of course. Obama supporter or not, Jon hadn't actually had gay sex before. What if, when they got to the moment of truth, Jon realized he just couldn't get past Stephen's lack of a vagina? What if he could in theory, but in practice Stephen screwed something up and ruined Jon's interest in cock forever?

A quiet tap on the leg got his attention. Stephen pulled himself together and focused enough to read the rest of Jon's thought.

hearing person before. What if I make embarrassing noises?


Oh.

Even without being able to hear them, Jon was aware that he made plenty of sounds, by instinct or reflex. Sighs, coughs, the most adorable giggles, the occasional yelp (never mind that Stephen always swore his stunts were going to be perfectly safe, and had only sent anyone to the hospital that one time). Most regular Daily Show viewers would have heard all the common ones over the course of his interviews.

Now, if Stephen played his cards right, he was on track to be the only person in the world who knew what Jon sounded like during sex. Those mental images were making his head go blurry in a whole new way.

well that would just tell me I'm doing something right now wouldn't it

anyway it'll probably all even out. the faces I make during sex are sometimes less than 100% dignified.

p.s. if I do something wrong just smack me, that'll fix it




(A) Are you serious, and if so (B) how hard?




how hard can you hit?



***


They stayed in Jon's front hallway long enough to hang up coats and kick off their boots. Then Stephen hauled Jon in by the scarf, with a bravado that faltered just before their still-cold lips met, and ended up kissing him on the cheek instead.

Jon wasn't the only one nervously feeling out new boundaries.

He nuzzled Stephen's neck in appreciation before giving him a gentle push backward to sign, Can I get you anything? You want a hot drink?

To his surprise, Stephen glowered at him.

What did I do?

Stephen's hands flew through the air. Stop teasing me with innuendo. It's not fair. If you want me to blow you, just say so.

I was actually thinking instant cocoa,
signed Jon, then got brave and added, But there's plenty of cock available if you want it.

Stephen caught his breath, eyes glazing over.

Grinning, Jon unwound the scarf from his neck and looped it over Stephen's, using it to pull him straight through the kitchen toward the master bedroom. Stephen went happily along with it, brimming with adoration, like obeying Jon's directives was all he wanted to do in life, like he wasn't going to come in to work on Monday and absolutely refuse to budge when Jon wanted a graphic to be blue but Stephen insisted it had to be green.

The mattress hit the back of Jon's knees. He bounced to a seat on the edge of it, where Stephen caught up with him, kissed him full on the mouth this time, and sank in one fluid motion to crouch between Jon's legs. Brown eyes looked expectantly up at him; a tongue darted across rapidly-warming lips.

Jon's heart was pounding against his ribs. Give a guy some foreplay first, he signed.

Stephen smiled, let his eyes flutter closed, and breathed a hot puff of air across the tent in Jon's pants.

Jon — moaned. Or something. He couldn't always identify the exact sound, but he knew when his own vocal cords were working.

Stephen surged up to paint kisses all over his face, and kept it up as they clambered the rest of the way onto the bed, only pausing long enough to let them both get their shirts off and stash Stephen's glasses on the nearest windowsill. There was a fair amount of grinding like teenagers thrown in too. Once Jon was flat on his back, Stephen set in to nuzzling and mouthing his way down Jon's chest, with so much enthusiasm that he was probably going to give himself rug burn.

And then he just stayed there, with Jon slowly rocking a still-trapped erection against his stomach, until Jon smacked him lightly on the cheek — Stephen's bright-eyed attention was back on his face in an instant — and signed a muddled Condoms are in the bottom drawer.

Stephen rolled off of him to get one; Jon sat up on his elbows and took the opportunity to check out Stephen's ass some more. Not like he hadn't noticed it in the past, but the ability to stop and appreciate it, that was new. Instead of letting Stephen go back to where he'd left off, Jon caught him by a couple of fingers under his waistband and tugged him into a position sitting sidelong on the edge of the bed: angled to face Jon, but close enough that Jon could get eager hands around his backside.

He checked in on Stephen's face with every new move, waiting for a nod before undoing Stephen's pants, pushing them down his hips, caressing soft curves through nothing but thin flannel boxers. Sudden frankness about sex notwithstanding, anything might still push Stephen over the line from "turned on" to "freaked out", and Jon wanted to be warned as early as possible.

So far, so good. Stephen arched back against the touch, one hand digging into the covers as he put most of his weight on that arm to kick the slacks the rest of the way off.

Legs now bare, he braced his sock feet against the carpet and stuck the unopened condom packet between his teeth, freeing both hands to sign a shy, You can fuck me if you want.

Jon sucked in a sharp breath. Hell yeah, he wanted. But right this minute it sounded like way too much work. He shook his head No, and retrieved his hands to add, with a mock-stern face, You promised me a blowjob.


***


So Stephen finally made it back to between Jon's legs, sinking down onto his stomach and cupping Jon's balls while Jon tried to shake off the boxers stubbornly clinging to one heel. He tore open the condom packet with his teeth — ooh, pre-lubed, that simplified a lot of things — and took the measure of Jon's erection — respectable, but not too big for what he wanted to do. Fantastic.

He waited just long enough to get Jon's attention all on him, then used his mouth to unroll the condom over Jon's cock and swallow it down to the hilt all in one stroke.

Jon cried out, a sharp "Ah!" as his back arched.

God, Stephen was awesome at this.

He started working on a rhythm, getting both hands into it, dragging his teeth up the latex and laving his tongue down against Jon from all angles. This would be easier to fine-tune if Jon's hips would start moving, already. They were shaking under Stephen's hands, cock twitching in his mouth, and Jon had some pretty rough panting going on by now, so they really ought to —

Stephen flicked his fingers against the inside of Jon's thigh, drawing Jon's lust-scattered gaze to his face and hands, and said Up and down, c'mon.

One-handed. While humming. Aww yeah.

You sure? asked Jon shakily, panting, openmouthed.

I'm sure, replied Stephen, trusting Jon to recognize the sign even though it was not, strictly speaking, supposed to have dick in the middle of it.

Jon let his head and arms fall back, and fisted his hands in the covers as he started to let himself thrust.

Stephen had been plenty turned on himself this whole time, but it was nothing to what he felt when Jon started seriously fucking his mouth. Every time Jon's cock hit the back of his throat, his own throbbed so hard it was painful. He was moaning in all kinds of desperation, couldn't help it, especially knowing that the vibrations went right through Jon whenever he did....

Jon didn't yell again when he came. (Maybe next time.) What Stephen got instead was a series of grunts and a long, shuddering gasp, and then Jon was down, chest heaving, pelvis rolling only slightly with the aftershocks.

Stephen pulled wetly off of him, pillowed his head on Jon's furry stomach, and got a fist around his own cock as fast as humanly possible. When Jon realized what was going on he tried to tug Stephen back up the mattress — to help — but Stephen was too close for it to matter, too gone to imagine doing anything but finish himself off with Jon's legs wrapped around him, face smushed breathlessly against Jon's skin.


***


It was too cold to stay outside the covers for long afterward, no matter how vigorous the workout. Jon retrieved his underwear and a fluffy bathrobe, and found a matching one to loan Stephen, because there was no way Stephen's legs would hold up long enough to carry him all the way upstairs.

I like my partner to be the big spoon, Stephen informed Jon, when both of them were huddled under the duvet like kids having a sleepover. (The overhead light, as filtered through the fabric and under the cracks, was still bright enough to see by.) But if you don't feel up to it, I'm sure we can work out a compromise.

Jon giggled, half endeared and half relieved. Nothing had changed after all. Stephen was still Stephen, and they were still StephenandJon. Oh, I'm up for it. You roll over, I'll do the rest.

Stephen did. Jon curled around his back, one arm slung over his torso, kissing the nape of his neck when Stephen snuggled up happily against him. Comfortable. Easy.

But wait, no, one thing had changed, something that Jon should probably make sure they were both clear on.

He pulled at Stephen's shoulder to turn him back around, smiled to reassure Stephen nothing was wrong, and said, I love you.

Stephen's worried expression morphed into a smirk. After that performance, you better!

Jon rolled his eyes and bopped Stephen on the side of the head. Stephen stuck out his tongue, unrepentant. Jon kissed him again, because why not.

When they were settling back into the snuggling position, though, Stephen tugged on Jon's wrist and signed over his shoulder, I will L-O-V-E you forever.

Jon pulled away his hands just long enough to stick them outside the blankets and clap off the light, and fell asleep not long after, wrapped around his favorite person in the world.

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