Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2011-09-19 04:49 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2011-09-19 04:49 pm
Entry tags:
Fake News: Beware The Nice Ones
Title: Beware The Nice Ones
Rating: NC-17
Contents: Sex, language, emotional unhealthiness in spades
Characters/pairings: Jon/"Stephen" (background Jon/Tracey and "Stephen"/Lorraine)
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 slice of post-Emmy darkfic.
It's not really surprising that people think Jon's the nice one. He spends every night up next to Colbert (in terms of air time, not bedtime), whose volume knob appears to be permanently turned up to eleven. Whenever Jon starts to get flickers of guilt for making Colbert cry, he reminds himself that Colbert considers it a personal failure if he doesn't make an intern flee in tears at least once a month.
He doesn't understand why Colbert goes for it, and hasn't bothered to ask. Maybe the man recognizes that he needs to be dragged out of his head once in a while; he can't switch it on and off like Jon does during every commute. Or maybe he just gets off on being pushed around. Who the hell knows.
It's also no surprise that Colbert shows up at Jon's hotel room, still in his tux like some kind of life-size doll. Prom Date Ken. Jon takes one look at his face, turns to his wife, and says, "Honey, can you give us some time?"
"Sure." She closes her laptop, flicks the power cord out of its side, and tucks it under her arm. "I'll hit up the bar. You want anything?"
"I'm set. Thanks, babe." He kisses her, partly because he knows Colbert's watching, partly because she is a fantastic woman who deserves better than him and he wants her to know that he's properly grateful.
"Tell me you deserved it," pleads Colbert as soon as they're alone.
"Of course we deserved it," snaps Jon, pushing him up against the wall. "Our show has been fucking poetry this year. You ought to watch some time, get a clue how it's done."
He bites when he kisses, and wonders briefly what Lorraine's going to think when she sees: if she knows or is actively not-knowing, if she's alone in her room with the TV or alone at the bar with a drink, if Tracey will find her and seduce her like she joked about doing that one time. Colbert puts up a token struggle, twisting away and bucking up against him in the same breath. When he's done fighting, Jon drags him by the lapels over to the bed.
"Does she have to watch?" whispers Colbert, under his breath like the statue sitting askew in front of the flatscreen might overhear.
Jon had almost forgotten it was there, but he's not going to get up now just to accommodate Colbert's latest neurosis. "Yeah, she's watching. You put on a good enough performance, I might even let you touch her."
Colbert shivers. "I don't want to. I don't care."
"Sure you don't. Get your pants off."
This much he has to admit: Colbert's in top form. Normally he fucks like a puppy that just learned a new trick, but tonight it's a work of desperate needy art, like he's trying to get at something deep in Jon's soul and it's only incidental that he's reaching for it with his cock. He'd be reaching farther at the end there, but Jon isn't stupid enough to let someone like Colbert inside him without a condom, so the effort doubles back on itself and ends up in the trash for some underpaid employee to haul away in the morning.
Colbert looks marginally less wound up after, which is dandy for him but doesn't help Jon. "You're not finished."
The other man turns sullen as he does up his trousers. "Don't you get enough cocksucking from the Academy?"
Jon jerks his thumb. "You don't like it, door's that way."
He's known the man for years, and he's still surprised at how long it doesn't take before Colbert's hot mouth is on him. God, it's so easy, no threatening and no damn compromising, just brush him off without a second look and he's back and begging.
Jon comes down Colbert's throat with the Emmy gleaming in the corner of his eye, and feels, if not satisfied, empty enough to turn in for the night.
His eyes fall closed, just for a moment, as the weight on the mattress shifts. Then they snap open. "The fuck are you doing?"
Colbert's hand jerks away from his shoulder. "I—"
"Are you trying to cuddle?" says Jon in disbelief to the man half-curled at his side.
There's some unidentifiable shimmer in Colbert's eyes. His lips, sure enough, are plump and flushed as they pout. "I know I can't stay! I wasn't trying to! But we've got some time, right?"
"Sure," says Jon. "We've got time. Before we catch some sleep, before our hungover flights back to New York, before we pull things together and get our shows running again, before you sit behind that desk and get back to telling the country how dirt-poor families should lose their food stamps so you can buy another yacht and men who admit to doing what we just did shouldn't be allowed to work with children, and why the fuck would I want to waste any of that time cuddling with you?"
For a curious moment Jon wonders if Colbert's actually going to tell him off. Maybe say something about how he's in high demand, both Jimmy Fallon and Anderson Cooper are staking claims his valuable best-friendship, he doesn't need to lie here and take it while his best frenemy says these things, never mind that they're completely true.
It passes. Colbert hauls himself off of the bed, grabs his jacket from where it got tossed over the wall-mounted lamp, and stalks off without saying goodbye.
Jon studies a fleck of paint on the ceiling and wonders, idly, what it would be like if Colbert really changed this time. Either to rethink his furious disdain for most Americans, including the person he pretended not to be, or to revoke the sex until Jon started showing the faintest gram of respect for him after. But Jon knows him too well. Colbert hates too deeply, and wants this too much.
He'll be back.
Rating: NC-17
Contents: Sex, language, emotional unhealthiness in spades
Characters/pairings: Jon/"Stephen" (background Jon/Tracey and "Stephen"/Lorraine)
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 slice of post-Emmy darkfic.
It's not really surprising that people think Jon's the nice one. He spends every night up next to Colbert (in terms of air time, not bedtime), whose volume knob appears to be permanently turned up to eleven. Whenever Jon starts to get flickers of guilt for making Colbert cry, he reminds himself that Colbert considers it a personal failure if he doesn't make an intern flee in tears at least once a month.
He doesn't understand why Colbert goes for it, and hasn't bothered to ask. Maybe the man recognizes that he needs to be dragged out of his head once in a while; he can't switch it on and off like Jon does during every commute. Or maybe he just gets off on being pushed around. Who the hell knows.
It's also no surprise that Colbert shows up at Jon's hotel room, still in his tux like some kind of life-size doll. Prom Date Ken. Jon takes one look at his face, turns to his wife, and says, "Honey, can you give us some time?"
"Sure." She closes her laptop, flicks the power cord out of its side, and tucks it under her arm. "I'll hit up the bar. You want anything?"
"I'm set. Thanks, babe." He kisses her, partly because he knows Colbert's watching, partly because she is a fantastic woman who deserves better than him and he wants her to know that he's properly grateful.
"Tell me you deserved it," pleads Colbert as soon as they're alone.
"Of course we deserved it," snaps Jon, pushing him up against the wall. "Our show has been fucking poetry this year. You ought to watch some time, get a clue how it's done."
He bites when he kisses, and wonders briefly what Lorraine's going to think when she sees: if she knows or is actively not-knowing, if she's alone in her room with the TV or alone at the bar with a drink, if Tracey will find her and seduce her like she joked about doing that one time. Colbert puts up a token struggle, twisting away and bucking up against him in the same breath. When he's done fighting, Jon drags him by the lapels over to the bed.
"Does she have to watch?" whispers Colbert, under his breath like the statue sitting askew in front of the flatscreen might overhear.
Jon had almost forgotten it was there, but he's not going to get up now just to accommodate Colbert's latest neurosis. "Yeah, she's watching. You put on a good enough performance, I might even let you touch her."
Colbert shivers. "I don't want to. I don't care."
"Sure you don't. Get your pants off."
This much he has to admit: Colbert's in top form. Normally he fucks like a puppy that just learned a new trick, but tonight it's a work of desperate needy art, like he's trying to get at something deep in Jon's soul and it's only incidental that he's reaching for it with his cock. He'd be reaching farther at the end there, but Jon isn't stupid enough to let someone like Colbert inside him without a condom, so the effort doubles back on itself and ends up in the trash for some underpaid employee to haul away in the morning.
Colbert looks marginally less wound up after, which is dandy for him but doesn't help Jon. "You're not finished."
The other man turns sullen as he does up his trousers. "Don't you get enough cocksucking from the Academy?"
Jon jerks his thumb. "You don't like it, door's that way."
He's known the man for years, and he's still surprised at how long it doesn't take before Colbert's hot mouth is on him. God, it's so easy, no threatening and no damn compromising, just brush him off without a second look and he's back and begging.
Jon comes down Colbert's throat with the Emmy gleaming in the corner of his eye, and feels, if not satisfied, empty enough to turn in for the night.
His eyes fall closed, just for a moment, as the weight on the mattress shifts. Then they snap open. "The fuck are you doing?"
Colbert's hand jerks away from his shoulder. "I—"
"Are you trying to cuddle?" says Jon in disbelief to the man half-curled at his side.
There's some unidentifiable shimmer in Colbert's eyes. His lips, sure enough, are plump and flushed as they pout. "I know I can't stay! I wasn't trying to! But we've got some time, right?"
"Sure," says Jon. "We've got time. Before we catch some sleep, before our hungover flights back to New York, before we pull things together and get our shows running again, before you sit behind that desk and get back to telling the country how dirt-poor families should lose their food stamps so you can buy another yacht and men who admit to doing what we just did shouldn't be allowed to work with children, and why the fuck would I want to waste any of that time cuddling with you?"
For a curious moment Jon wonders if Colbert's actually going to tell him off. Maybe say something about how he's in high demand, both Jimmy Fallon and Anderson Cooper are staking claims his valuable best-friendship, he doesn't need to lie here and take it while his best frenemy says these things, never mind that they're completely true.
It passes. Colbert hauls himself off of the bed, grabs his jacket from where it got tossed over the wall-mounted lamp, and stalks off without saying goodbye.
Jon studies a fleck of paint on the ceiling and wonders, idly, what it would be like if Colbert really changed this time. Either to rethink his furious disdain for most Americans, including the person he pretended not to be, or to revoke the sex until Jon started showing the faintest gram of respect for him after. But Jon knows him too well. Colbert hates too deeply, and wants this too much.
He'll be back.
no subject
"Tell me you deserved it," pleads Colbert as soon as they're alone.
"Of course we deserved it," snaps Jon, pushing him up against the wall. "Our show has been fucking poetry this year. You ought to watch some time, get a clue how it's done."
Is Stephen trying to comfort himself by affirming that he lost fair and square, or is he seeking masochistic pleasure at being beaten professionally?
"Prom Date Ken" - heh. I wonder how much Tracey knows here?
This fic is reverse OTP - every familiar thing we love about this pairing turned on its head. Stephen not seeking (or getting) reassurance, no intimacy as symbolized by the condom, Jon's refusal to cuddle afterwards.
Even who gets fucked subverts the OTP. Often Stephen getting fucked in fics is a sign of someone finally accepting deepest desires and wanting to fulfill them as best as they can. (I don't usually buy into the seme/uke stuff, but c!Stephen being a needy bottom is pretty much fanon.)
Here, Jon just want Stephen to do all the work and not get too close to him while doing it.
no subject
It's a mix of both motives for Stephen, I think. Tracey definitely knows about the sex; what she knows or thinks of the details, I'm not sure. Probably has a dark streak of her own -- she's definitely going to seduce poor Lorraine one of these days.
All the emphasis here is on character traits we usually gloss over or compensate for. Stephen really can't be trusted not to be having unsafe sex elsewhere; Jon is willing to indulge Stephen's masochistic streak, but as an extension of his disdain for Stephen's views, not as a way of taking care of Stephen's needs; Stephen's acting on his attraction toward authority figures who will hurt him, and Jon has no interest in challenging him to change. It doesn't really fit with all the Jon-being-tender-toward-Stephen scenes we get in canon, but maybe in this universe something different happened early on in their acquaintanceship that put it on a completely altered path.
I think needy!bottom!"Stephen" works because he buys into the seme/uke stuff, and the symbolism of it feeds right into his kinks. Here, he's getting used and controlled more than enough to negate any sense of power he might have gotten from topping, so it still works out in the end.
no subject
I think needy!bottom!"Stephen" works because he buys into the seme/uke stuff, and the symbolism of it feeds right into his kinks.
Yep, yep. You have to wonder how much of his preferencing for bottoming is what he enjoys and how much is his rigid views of the way things should be.
I was re-reading State of Grace the other day and there was the scene where they were talking about intercourse and Stephen was all "You toss to me, not the other way around!"
Here, he's getting used and controlled more than enough to negate any sense of power he might have gotten from topping, so it still works out in the end.
Yep, and he had to perform oral sex, which YMMV on, but reads as pretty demeaning to me.
You write good evil!Jon, but I can't read too much of it. :D
no subject
SoG also has the complication that Stephen wants to protect Jon from The Gay, and thinks "well, it's not gay for him if he tops." He hasn't even started sorting out personal preferences there; it's about his sense of obligation first.
With oral, it depends on how it's written...and in this case it's written as demeaning, so. =)
I can't write too much evil!Jon, either XD