A/N: This is a mixture of three challenges. Not my first slash, but my first one posted. Be nice. No slash flames. go to Mutie. Net/ ficlets for more. Review please. Song belongs to Rooney. Yay, I'm posting. Review, puhlease.
"This was so because I watched all day The Never-Ending Story with Atrayu," John crooned from the couch. He sat slumped down, one foot on the coffee table. Bobby sat relaxed next to him, one arm slung over the arm rest.
"Shut up," Bobby commanded weakly, his attention on the TV, where The Never-Ending Story played. He extended his arm in what was intended to be a strike inflicted on John's shoulder, but let it rest there lazily instead. John glanced at Bobby's hand and back at the TV.
"You are way too interested in this Bastion kid," John commented, earning him Bobby's hand flicked against the side of his head. John sighed, letting his read roll to the side. He was getting bored.
"What time is it? How long is this movie?" John asked impatiently. "I can think of things I'd rather be doing right now."
"What?" Bobby asked, giving John a modicum of his attention.
"Sleeping. Rogue. Peeing. LeBeau. You," John laughed. "That rhymed."
"You want top or bottom?" Bobby asked, sitting up now, his eyes still on the TV.
"I don't care," Bobby pulled John's shirt at the shoulder where his hand lay.
"Hey, don't stretch this shirt!" John sat up and moved nearer to Bobby. Bobby pulled him closer.
"Don't complain, alright. Just shut up so I can still hear what's going on," he said, finally dragging his eyes away from the TV.
"You shut up, ice prick," John said defiantly. Bobby grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward until their mouths met.
"I want top," Bobby stated.
"Take it," John pressed his mouth against Bobby's again. He leaned back and let Bobby crawl on top of him, his hand holding down John's shoulders.
"I'm not going anywhere, Drake," John said, commenting on Bobby's hands and pulling away from the kiss.
"No, you're not," Bobby devoured his mouth again, pushing his tongue against John's lips until John opened his mouth to his. John's hands trailed up Bobby's side, sliding his shirt up and stroking his abs, sending a shudder through Bobby, who moaned into his mouth.
"We should do this upstairs," Bobby noted, his breath caught in his throat.
"You wanna stop?" John asked, laughing when Bobby answered by pulling shirt over his head.
"No, never mind," Bobby answered him, picking up the remote control and increasing the volume. He placed his hands back on John's shoulders, holding him down again. He lowered his mouth to John's ear and whispered, "No screaming my name, 'dyce."
John snorted and pushed Bobby before he could stop him. He landed on his back on the floor, where John quickly straddled him, grinning broadly. He grinded his hardness into Bobby's groin, evoking from him a moan and leaned down a couple of inches from Bobby's face.
"Keep it down, Drake," he teased, smirking, "... the noise that is."
Bobby grinned and raised his head to reach John's mouth and pulled him down again. Bobby still had on his boxers, but John was still wearing his shirt and pajamas pants. Bobby groped him to see if he was wearing boxers under the pants, running his hands along and in John pants.
"I'm not," John stated. "Commando."
Bobby grinned. "I'm supposed to be on top." He put his hands on John's chest and pushed; John obeyed, sitting up and sitting on the couch after Bobby motioned for him to. He sat back, his forearms resting beside him on the couch, his head against the backrest. Bobby rose to his knees and grasped the sides of John's pants.
"Bottom's good," John said, distractedly, when he figured out what Bobby was about to do to him. He raised his hips and let Bobby slip his pants from under him and push them to his feet. John's breath shallowed as he felt his body temperature rise and Bobby's drop. He swallowed and grinned at Bobby, who was already grinning back, his fingers resting on his thighs, teasing him.
"Laced in spit and sweat," John sang. "Do it, Bobby. You lace me with spit. I'll handle the sweat."
John slipped his hands into Bobby's hair as Bobby laughed and bent down and slid his mouth down John's hard hot—
"What movie are you—?" Scott stopped talking mid-sentence, staring at the scene that was taking place before him.
John cursed and gasped from the feeling of Bobby's icy lips wrapped around him and the sound of Scott's voice and from the shock of having actually been caught. Bobby disengaged himself from John and John yanked his hands from Bobby's hair as Bobby stood up and backed away, only to hit the table and almost fall over. John yanked his pants back up and threw Bobby his shirt. He yanked it on, and they both stared at Scott wide-eyed. Scott cleared his throat.
"You two need to go upstairs. You know the rules about... P.D.A., "he stated, still in shock from what he had just seen. John grabbed a hand full of Bobby's shirt and yanked him past Scott out the lounge. He ran to their room, pulling Bobby behind him and pushed Bobby on his bed, where he fell down next to him.
"P.D.A.? I didn't know that qualified as P.D.A. He went easy on us," John proclaimed. He turned to Bobby, who had not said a word. "Don't worry. Scott's not gonna freak out the next time you suck up to him."
John laughed at himself at the double meaning. Bobby rolled on top of him, his hands on John's shoulders once again. "Yeah. He's not like that. He knew anyway. I told him."
"You did what?" John asked, amused, he wriggled beneath Bobby. "Next time we'll use the dining room. No one ever goes down there at night."
"Or in the rec. room," Bobby added. "Under the pool table. Or on it."
"Tomorrow's good for me," John answered, arching his neck at the feel of Bobby's tongue. "You're good at sucking, Drake."
Bobby moved his mouth from John's neck to his lips, where he placed a seemingly innocent soft kiss. He looked down into John's eyes. "It's cause you taste so good, Johnny."