set the mood prelude
Dan/Nate. R. 917 words.
Set in some ambiguous time frame.
Summary: You know when we make out on the fire escape I get vertigo.
Note: Originally posted here. Summer fic in the dead of winter, for whatever reason.
Early August, post-sunset. It's cooler on the fire escape than anywhere else in the apartment, but that's not saying much. The air's got the certain heaviness, damp and full, as though you could reach out and grab a handful of it. It's hot enough to be stifling, each rare breeze feeling hard-earned, but Nate is mellow and stoned and he doesn't mind it.
It should be cooler now that it's dark out but it's not, and anyway they've been out here since late afternoon. There was beer earlier but that's gone and there were popsicles earlier still, only the sticks remaining in a tiny puddle of melted fruit-adjacent syrup.
Dan doesn't take the heat as well as Nate for whatever reason. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin. His curls are frizzing amusingly, one or two sticking to his neck, and he keeps pushing his hair off his forehead impatiently, thin wrist against his temple. He's got a tank top on, bare shoulder pressed snugly to Nate's t-shirted one, collarbones exposed. Nate likes that Dan has been bitching about the heat all day but he's still pressed against Nate's side, hasn't even seemed to consider moving.
Nate taps his knuckles lightly against the back of Dan's hand and Dan dutifully raises the joint for Nate to take a drag. Instead Nate kisses Dan's wrist, lips on its sharply protruding bone.
Dan smiles slightly. "Don't," he says, "It's too hot."
Undeterred, Nate tilts to put his mouth on Dan's bicep, moving up over his shoulder, Dan's skin salty and moist with sweat. Dan is already going a little red like he tends to when he's turned on, and Nate thinks maybe the weed is making him easier because usually it takes a lot more teasing. Nate licks sweat from Dan's neck and takes Dan's earlobe in his teeth, skims a hand over Dan's thigh and then presses down. There's a sharp intake of breath and the joint drops from Dan's fingers, falls down onto the street below.
Nate peers after it, pouting. "Oh man," he says. "That was the last of it."
"This is why you shouldn't grope me at such a great height," Dan says. "You know when we make out on the fire escape I get vertigo."
Nate laughs, because he couldn't even begin to know what Dan's talking about half the time, and then wraps a hand around the back of Dan's neck to pull him into a proper kiss. He curls his fingers tightly in Dan's damp hair and tugs, feels Dan moan and takes advantage of it to urge his mouth open a little more.
Nate smiles, hand moving back to the front of Dan's jeans. "How're you feeling?" he says, teasing a little.
Dan trails kisses down Nate's throat, distracted and messy, hips shifting as he tries to press into Nate's hand. "Dizzy," he says. "You should probably kiss me some more."
"If you think it'll help," Nate says, all grins. He kisses Dan open and wet, porn star kisses him, and finally gets Dan's jeans open, slides his hand inside. But almost immediately he interrupts himself, puts his palm to Dan's mouth and demands, "Lick."
Dan does the job admirably, dark eyes hazy and half-lidded like Nate likes. His lips move along Nate's skin in that tender way of his, careful deliberate tracing over the lines of Nate's palm until Nate starts to get a little flushed himself. So he wraps his hand around Dan again and starts to stroke, covers Dan's mouth with his so he can swallow every low-throated moan.
Dan is hot enough to the touch to be fever-flushed. He leans back into Nate more than before, shoulder blade pressed to Nate's chest; his head tips back onto Nate's shoulder, lips parting. Nate kisses the side of Dan's nose and uses his free hand to tilt Dan's head back even further so he can kiss Dan's reddened mouth. Dan is breathless in his arms, boneless, easy and malleable and slick with sweat.
Dan's fingers search for purchase on Nate's leg but instead land with beautiful precision on his dick, which makes them both laugh a little, though Dan is hardly paying attention enough to do more than some slow absent rubbing. "C'mon," Nate mumbles, "Make yourself useful."
Dan chuckles, pressing a kiss to Nate's cheek in apology. "Bad angle. Here." He extricates himself from Nate, unfairly, then pushes Nate back against the brick wall of the building a little rougher than strictly necessary.
"Ow," Nate complains, rubbing the back of his head and giving Dan a pathetic big-eyed look. Dan more than makes up for it by throwing a leg over Nate's and settling into his lap, knees tucked up close to Nate's hips because of the tight fit of the fire escape.
From there it spirals rapidly: trading careless poorly-aimed kisses as both of them together work to get Nate's pants open; the torturous relief of sliding against each other, so many hands slipping over each other, so many mouths drawing wet kisses. It's so hot out and only getting hotter, the breathless gasping into each other's mouth, the airless air. Dan goes first, closer to the edge for longer, and the slickness of it helps Nate along. Dan presses his hands to Nate's cheeks, sticky and messy and kind gross but Nate doesn't mind. Dan kisses him firmly, focused intently on it, and Nate shudders, opens his mouth to kiss back.
Dan/Nate. R. 917 words.
Set in some ambiguous time frame.
Summary: You know when we make out on the fire escape I get vertigo.
Note: Originally posted here. Summer fic in the dead of winter, for whatever reason.
Early August, post-sunset. It's cooler on the fire escape than anywhere else in the apartment, but that's not saying much. The air's got the certain heaviness, damp and full, as though you could reach out and grab a handful of it. It's hot enough to be stifling, each rare breeze feeling hard-earned, but Nate is mellow and stoned and he doesn't mind it.
It should be cooler now that it's dark out but it's not, and anyway they've been out here since late afternoon. There was beer earlier but that's gone and there were popsicles earlier still, only the sticks remaining in a tiny puddle of melted fruit-adjacent syrup.
Dan doesn't take the heat as well as Nate for whatever reason. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin. His curls are frizzing amusingly, one or two sticking to his neck, and he keeps pushing his hair off his forehead impatiently, thin wrist against his temple. He's got a tank top on, bare shoulder pressed snugly to Nate's t-shirted one, collarbones exposed. Nate likes that Dan has been bitching about the heat all day but he's still pressed against Nate's side, hasn't even seemed to consider moving.
Nate taps his knuckles lightly against the back of Dan's hand and Dan dutifully raises the joint for Nate to take a drag. Instead Nate kisses Dan's wrist, lips on its sharply protruding bone.
Dan smiles slightly. "Don't," he says, "It's too hot."
Undeterred, Nate tilts to put his mouth on Dan's bicep, moving up over his shoulder, Dan's skin salty and moist with sweat. Dan is already going a little red like he tends to when he's turned on, and Nate thinks maybe the weed is making him easier because usually it takes a lot more teasing. Nate licks sweat from Dan's neck and takes Dan's earlobe in his teeth, skims a hand over Dan's thigh and then presses down. There's a sharp intake of breath and the joint drops from Dan's fingers, falls down onto the street below.
Nate peers after it, pouting. "Oh man," he says. "That was the last of it."
"This is why you shouldn't grope me at such a great height," Dan says. "You know when we make out on the fire escape I get vertigo."
Nate laughs, because he couldn't even begin to know what Dan's talking about half the time, and then wraps a hand around the back of Dan's neck to pull him into a proper kiss. He curls his fingers tightly in Dan's damp hair and tugs, feels Dan moan and takes advantage of it to urge his mouth open a little more.
Nate smiles, hand moving back to the front of Dan's jeans. "How're you feeling?" he says, teasing a little.
Dan trails kisses down Nate's throat, distracted and messy, hips shifting as he tries to press into Nate's hand. "Dizzy," he says. "You should probably kiss me some more."
"If you think it'll help," Nate says, all grins. He kisses Dan open and wet, porn star kisses him, and finally gets Dan's jeans open, slides his hand inside. But almost immediately he interrupts himself, puts his palm to Dan's mouth and demands, "Lick."
Dan does the job admirably, dark eyes hazy and half-lidded like Nate likes. His lips move along Nate's skin in that tender way of his, careful deliberate tracing over the lines of Nate's palm until Nate starts to get a little flushed himself. So he wraps his hand around Dan again and starts to stroke, covers Dan's mouth with his so he can swallow every low-throated moan.
Dan is hot enough to the touch to be fever-flushed. He leans back into Nate more than before, shoulder blade pressed to Nate's chest; his head tips back onto Nate's shoulder, lips parting. Nate kisses the side of Dan's nose and uses his free hand to tilt Dan's head back even further so he can kiss Dan's reddened mouth. Dan is breathless in his arms, boneless, easy and malleable and slick with sweat.
Dan's fingers search for purchase on Nate's leg but instead land with beautiful precision on his dick, which makes them both laugh a little, though Dan is hardly paying attention enough to do more than some slow absent rubbing. "C'mon," Nate mumbles, "Make yourself useful."
Dan chuckles, pressing a kiss to Nate's cheek in apology. "Bad angle. Here." He extricates himself from Nate, unfairly, then pushes Nate back against the brick wall of the building a little rougher than strictly necessary.
"Ow," Nate complains, rubbing the back of his head and giving Dan a pathetic big-eyed look. Dan more than makes up for it by throwing a leg over Nate's and settling into his lap, knees tucked up close to Nate's hips because of the tight fit of the fire escape.
From there it spirals rapidly: trading careless poorly-aimed kisses as both of them together work to get Nate's pants open; the torturous relief of sliding against each other, so many hands slipping over each other, so many mouths drawing wet kisses. It's so hot out and only getting hotter, the breathless gasping into each other's mouth, the airless air. Dan goes first, closer to the edge for longer, and the slickness of it helps Nate along. Dan presses his hands to Nate's cheeks, sticky and messy and kind gross but Nate doesn't mind. Dan kisses him firmly, focused intently on it, and Nate shudders, opens his mouth to kiss back.