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phineasjonesplease, friends, forgive me this icon. i needed to do it, i just couldn't help myself. but, as you can see, i sadly lack the required skillz. alas.
so, also, there's been this scene in my head for days. will and bran's first time. yeah. can't let it go. so i wrote it down. i'd call it a pwp but it's not even that. it's more like a play-by-play. just writing out what's been in my head. and i'm pretty sure it will never become fic, so i'm just throwing it out here. plotless, angsty, sappy smut.
they're older, like 19. some typical story of dreams and memories and all bringing them back together in later years... yeah. i haven't thought about that part at all. just the sex.
Will has crawled into bran's bed to calm him from a nightmare. Bran is shivering cold, so Will curves up behind him, wrapping one arm around him and placing his hand against Bran's chest. He enjoys it, more than he knows he should, being so close to Bran. He can smell his hair. He closes his eyes and breathes Bran in. And then he realizes that he's been stroking Bran's chest, gently kneading with his fingers. Bran is unnaturally still, clearly trying to pretend that he's asleep or that he hasn't noticed anything.
Will stills himself too, stops his hand. His muscles go rigid. He hopes Bran just stays still like that until he falls asleep and Will can roll away and, in the morning, pretend this all never happened. But Bran suddenly moves. He puts a hand over Will's on his chest. He turns onto his back and looks over his shoulder at Will. It's so quiet in the room, Will can hear every shallow breath Bran takes as they stare at each other silently.
In the darkness of the room, Bran's white hair and skin seem to glow. His eyes are like candlelight. Will could almost cry for the beauty of him. The silence grows between them, stretches out and engulfs them. Will can't bear it. He leans over Bran, leaving his hand where it is, under Bran's, and brushes his lips over Bran's. It's not so much a kiss as a question and he moves away again to await response.
Bran uncurls his fingers from around Will's and reaches for him. He touches his face, runs his thumb along his cheekbone and his fingers over the outside of his ear. Then he holds the back of Will's neck and pulls him forward. Will lets himself be pulled, lets his lips cover Bran's again, lets them press and slide together. Bran's lips are cool and soft but when he opens them, the heat of his breath and his tongue almost startles Will. But he does not stop, doesn't pause, doesn't think even to pull away and breathe.
Bran pushes up suddenly, onto his side. He wraps his arm around Will and brings their bodies together. Will finds it's a whole new feeling, kissing Bran like this, when he can feel him everywhere. Will's eyes are mostly closed but he can see a blur of pale skin, the flutter of a white lash. The only sounds he can hear are the soft wet noises of their mouths and the rustle of the blankets as he and Bran move together - Bran's hand sliding over Will's back, Will's fingers finding the exposed skin of Bran's stomach.
Bran's movements are becoming more urgent and every tug at his clothing, every needy sound he makes, thrills Will and frightens him. He knows he shouldn't be doing this and he never, ever wants to stop. Bran pushes at him, pushes him onto his back and slides over and onto him, pushing Will's legs apart and leaning forward to kiss him again, lightly, timidly, as if this were a time to be wary.
Will needs this, he needs Bran. He can feel him, every part of him, but not enough. He puts his arms around Bran, presses into the small of his back and listens to Bran exhale Will, feels it brush over his ear. Bran moves, hard against Will and he kisses his jaw now, his neck, still whispering, Will, Will. Will pushes his hand up under Bran's shirt, he pushes his hips up to meet Bran's and oh, god, if this could only never stop.
It does stop, of course. With Bran's face in his neck and Will's hands in Bran's hair and both of them trying to make their ragged breathing quiet. Bran doesn't move for minutes. Enough time for Will to wonder which of them will be the first to blame the wee hours of the morning or the vestiges of some suggestive dream for what happened between two best friends who were innocently sharing a bed. It won't be him, he decides, remembering that look on Bran's face, eyes closed, lips parted, just this side of pain. Or, no, the other side of pain. No. He hasn't lied to Bran yet. Not outright. He won't start now.
and... that's all folks. time for me to go to bed.
so, also, there's been this scene in my head for days. will and bran's first time. yeah. can't let it go. so i wrote it down. i'd call it a pwp but it's not even that. it's more like a play-by-play. just writing out what's been in my head. and i'm pretty sure it will never become fic, so i'm just throwing it out here. plotless, angsty, sappy smut.
they're older, like 19. some typical story of dreams and memories and all bringing them back together in later years... yeah. i haven't thought about that part at all. just the sex.
Will has crawled into bran's bed to calm him from a nightmare. Bran is shivering cold, so Will curves up behind him, wrapping one arm around him and placing his hand against Bran's chest. He enjoys it, more than he knows he should, being so close to Bran. He can smell his hair. He closes his eyes and breathes Bran in. And then he realizes that he's been stroking Bran's chest, gently kneading with his fingers. Bran is unnaturally still, clearly trying to pretend that he's asleep or that he hasn't noticed anything.
Will stills himself too, stops his hand. His muscles go rigid. He hopes Bran just stays still like that until he falls asleep and Will can roll away and, in the morning, pretend this all never happened. But Bran suddenly moves. He puts a hand over Will's on his chest. He turns onto his back and looks over his shoulder at Will. It's so quiet in the room, Will can hear every shallow breath Bran takes as they stare at each other silently.
In the darkness of the room, Bran's white hair and skin seem to glow. His eyes are like candlelight. Will could almost cry for the beauty of him. The silence grows between them, stretches out and engulfs them. Will can't bear it. He leans over Bran, leaving his hand where it is, under Bran's, and brushes his lips over Bran's. It's not so much a kiss as a question and he moves away again to await response.
Bran uncurls his fingers from around Will's and reaches for him. He touches his face, runs his thumb along his cheekbone and his fingers over the outside of his ear. Then he holds the back of Will's neck and pulls him forward. Will lets himself be pulled, lets his lips cover Bran's again, lets them press and slide together. Bran's lips are cool and soft but when he opens them, the heat of his breath and his tongue almost startles Will. But he does not stop, doesn't pause, doesn't think even to pull away and breathe.
Bran pushes up suddenly, onto his side. He wraps his arm around Will and brings their bodies together. Will finds it's a whole new feeling, kissing Bran like this, when he can feel him everywhere. Will's eyes are mostly closed but he can see a blur of pale skin, the flutter of a white lash. The only sounds he can hear are the soft wet noises of their mouths and the rustle of the blankets as he and Bran move together - Bran's hand sliding over Will's back, Will's fingers finding the exposed skin of Bran's stomach.
Bran's movements are becoming more urgent and every tug at his clothing, every needy sound he makes, thrills Will and frightens him. He knows he shouldn't be doing this and he never, ever wants to stop. Bran pushes at him, pushes him onto his back and slides over and onto him, pushing Will's legs apart and leaning forward to kiss him again, lightly, timidly, as if this were a time to be wary.
Will needs this, he needs Bran. He can feel him, every part of him, but not enough. He puts his arms around Bran, presses into the small of his back and listens to Bran exhale Will, feels it brush over his ear. Bran moves, hard against Will and he kisses his jaw now, his neck, still whispering, Will, Will. Will pushes his hand up under Bran's shirt, he pushes his hips up to meet Bran's and oh, god, if this could only never stop.
It does stop, of course. With Bran's face in his neck and Will's hands in Bran's hair and both of them trying to make their ragged breathing quiet. Bran doesn't move for minutes. Enough time for Will to wonder which of them will be the first to blame the wee hours of the morning or the vestiges of some suggestive dream for what happened between two best friends who were innocently sharing a bed. It won't be him, he decides, remembering that look on Bran's face, eyes closed, lips parted, just this side of pain. Or, no, the other side of pain. No. He hasn't lied to Bran yet. Not outright. He won't start now.
and... that's all folks. time for me to go to bed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-17 08:14 am (UTC)and thanks. ;)
oh, and something like this - random and without connection to plot - would one post that to the list?
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-17 12:22 pm (UTC)