your little blackbird (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} countrygirl_fic) wrote,@ 2007-03-16 16:46:00 |
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| Current mood: | devious |
| Current music: | "up periscope" || drake bell |
| Entry tags: | challenge, d/j, drake&josh, tradition |
St. Patrick's Day Challenge/Series 3
Title: tradition
Rating: nc-17 and if I have to tell you why, I'm not sure you should be reading this...
Pairing: Drake/Josh
Disclaimer: No...just...no...now stop asking...
Summary: There are days when Josh thinks Drake's a mother fucking genius, too.
A/N: So, my thoughts are "It's Saturday somewhere, right?". Oh, and I couldn't help myself. This is dedicated to everyone who read/reviewed the first two, and convinced me that the third, and final had to be posted early.
tradition
Drake plays by his own rules. Everyone knows that. The only reason he took to wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day when he was young is because, well, getting pinched hurts. Like a bitch.
He wonders briefly if the spot Josh pinched earlier is red or bruised. He can’t imagine it would be, what with all the blood that Josh is bringing to the surface at his hips. Oh, and the rush to his aching erection. Yeah, there shouldn’t be a mark.
Josh laps once more at a hip bone, tongue flat against Drake’s soft skin, before he looks up at him, brows knitted, eyes curious. “Does this really count? You know, as wearing green?”
Drake sighs heavily, chuckles a bit, and thinks that Josh is the only human being who would ever, ever ask a question like that at a time like this. “Far as I can tell, the rules state that there must be green somewhere on your body. And, last time I checked, that’s still my body.” With that, and a cocked eyebrow, Drake reaches down and pinches his brother. Hard. With his thighs, which, in all the excitement, ended up on either side of Josh’s body.
Josh glares at him steadily. Drake can’t help but roll his hips, trapped underneath Josh’s chest.
“Oh, that is it!” Josh exclaims, dragging himself up Drake’s body. “You are such a smug little tease.”
Drake just smiles innocently before attaching his lips to Josh’s neck. His reward is a hard, sharp gasp. And a thrust of Josh’s hips against his own.
Even as Josh reaches for the button of his own jeans, Drake stops him, shakes his head breathlessly, and pulls Josh that much closer.
They find an easy rhythm, even through layers of clothing, denim rasping against denim, Drake’s fingers curled around Josh’s strong shoulders, Josh only barely holding himself up, Drake’s legs pulled tight around him.
The pleasure builds fast, and they come crashing down faster. Panting over each other’s skin, Josh collapsed atop his brother, Drake’s fingers softly stroking the back of his neck.
Once he’s confident enough to speak, Josh leans up to look Drake in the eye. “I like my prize,” he grins.
“Me too,” Drake smirks, voice still breathy and hoarse. “But now, I think we need a shower.”
Josh doesn’t miss the slight, suggestive raise of eyebrows. And he thinks that Drake should be declared a mother fucking genius some days, too.
“So, come Easter,” Josh begins, dragging himself off the couch. “Where are you gonna hide the eggs?”
Drake thinks, that, maybe, tradition may not be a bad thing.
