Title: Mindless Author: Kelandris the Mad Fandom: View Askewniverse, general Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Rating: NC-17 for implied and actual homosexual sex; language. Status: posted 5 October 2004 Archive: The Jay and Silent Bob archive, naturally. Otherwise, drop us a note, then. Here's how: kel@crazysheep.net Feedback: Kelandris Series/Sequels: Just a PWP with a little style, shouldn't sequel. Disclaimers: All parts of my fannish being are enriched by the presence of Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, and all the merry characters at View Askew Productions (including their current master, Miramax,) save for that pesky financial part of my being, which receives no compensation whatsoever for these tawdry little tales. Notes: This was spawned directly from (and slightly cribbed from, as well, how evil!) a Clark/Lex Smallville story by Andariel called "Forum". Summary: Storm season upsets a lot of the rules of roommate cohabitation. Warnings: Homosexual sex, implied homosexual sex, two men kissing each other, lots of self-referential childhood abuse stuph. "Mindless" by Kelandris the Mad The dark-haired man lies in shadow in his bedroom, watching the inside of his eyelids. Normally, it's not such a neat thing, but right now, at five-second intervals, the darkness glows silver, and that silver leaks through his lids to flash across his eyes. Lightning storm in Highlands. Always spectacular. He opens his eyes just as another fork of lightning strikes, and his vision is briefly dazzled by white-silver and blue. He blinks away the sparkling haze, and then freezes. He'd heard a whimper. He'd heard a whimper from-- His head jerks to the right, and he looks at the closed grey door just as it jerks open and a shivering blond wrapped in a pale sheet stumbles through. His eyes are large, glinting even in the darkness, and he stumbles closer, one hand reaching out towards the bed. "Lunchbox?" he gulps. "C'n I hang in here for a minute?" He nods, knowing Jay probably can't see it, knowing further Jay would already be responding to the assent he didn't see. Sure enough, here he came, scrambling up on the bed. Bob blinked, watching him. He was nearly shaking the bed with the force of his shudders. For a moment, all of Jay's shivering limbs are outlined in light, and he makes some strangled sound, pulling in on himself. His lips are moving but no words are coming out. This is a bad sign, Bob thinks. Last time this happened had been...four years ago. He'd always known Jay had a problem with storms, and he tried not to think too hard about why--if he thought for too hard, he always had to fight the temptation to hop the quickest bus to Metrairie and beat the holy living shit out of Jay's dad, the consummate fuck-up. Castration at that point was always a possibility as well. Best not to consider such things. He sits up in bed, watching Jay, waiting for what he knows is coming. Five, four, three, two... With a yelp, Jay lunges towards him, pressing him down on the bed again as the thunder rolls over the apartment building, sounding exactly like twenty-pound stones rolling down the roof. Instinctively, Bob wraps his arm around Jay, pulling him close, and that earns another whimper. "I'm sorry," he whispers, over and over, and Bob hurts, hearing it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm--" "You don't have to apologize," Bob whispers, into that fall of shining hair. He has to force the words out from his traditional silence, force them over other things he wants to say. It's been a long time since his arms were full of warm shaking boy. With *this* boy in particular. And there's so many words crowding, so many things he wants to say, pressing up against his defenses. It's hard to be strong, when all he wants to do is... ...kiss the boy. Jay's hands are moving now, squeezing his biceps, trailing curled fingertip edges through the dark hair on Bob's chest. Bob inhales slowly, trying to make it sound like normal breathing. Trying desperately not to gasp. Something must have slipped, though, because Jay looks up, flinching when the next lightning strike hits, and Bob looks down, seeing wide, guileless eyes he could fall into and never land. Sometimes he thinks they're blue. Sometimes they're as grey as the sky would be, if they could see it. Right now, though, they're green as beryl stones, heated, intense. "Um," he says. He licks his lips and Bob follows the motion. Bob swallows, raises his eyebrows. Waiting. **Yes, Jay?** is one of about ten meanings to that gesture. Jay shrugs, scooting up on the bed. Now he's biting his lips, and Bob suddenly wants to be the teeth coming gently down into that soft flesh. Now it's Bob's turn to shiver, and Jay seems to catch that too. One of the hands moves down to his belly, and Bob freezes. **Jay, don't--** he thinks, but he can't say it. Of course he can't say it. He can't say anything, it seems. He can think, though, His thoughts rotate through his skull, blended with thick fear. **The kid is fucking sixteen, for Christ's sake. He's scared. He doesn't need this. He doesn't even know what he's doing. I don't want to go to jail. I don't--** One thin, cool, long-fingered hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers. Now there are words. "Jay--" Bob says, sounding strangled. Jay looks up. Looks haunted. He trembles and his eyes fill with liquid silver, even as his fingers wrap around Bob's half-hard cock, twitching in his unfamiliar grasp. "Chase away the storm for me, Bob," Jay whispers. His hand starts to stroke a pattern over Bob's flesh and it takes everything Bob has not to cry out. "Gimme somethin' else to think about, hey?" "Urr," Bob says, and wants to dive under the bed in shame. Oh, yeah, *that'll* tell him. Charter member of MENSA for how many fucking years now, and he gets the fantasy boy in bed with him, and his big statement for turning him away is 'Urr'?? Fuck. No wonder he's been 'Silent Bob' all his life. No wonder he-- **Fuck--** Jay had left the loose circle of his arms, moving towards Bob's midsection, slowly sliding down the briefs while Bob's trying to summon up protests. **Sixteen, remember. Orange jumpsuits if *anyone* catches you. Let alone the damage to the rep. For both of us. Let alone what my father and his *mafiya* would say. There's no reason this can't wait for--** Jay's moving between Bob's legs now, moving them apart, and he's watching his briefs sail away, briefly outlined in silver light before they hit the ground. Five. Four. Three. Two-- **CRASH!** and Jay jumps, as predicted, but Jay also squeezes down, *hard*, on Bob's dick, and that's *not* expected, and Bob arches into the air, whimpering. "Did I--?" "No," he gasps, watching Jay. "No. Just--" "What?" "You shouldn't--" "Fuck that." And his head drops, drops to Bob's waist, drops level with Bob's cock. He looks at it. "Motherfucker," he whispers. "Hidin' this from me. Three fuckin' years we been together. You never said." **Never said--what?** Too late, though. Too late to ask. Too late for anything, as Jay swallows him, inch by slow inch. His mind strips all its gears, he can feel it. He can nearly smell the smoke from the metal locking up, and he doesn't care. Every sense has been suborned into touch, and it's all centered around Jay's warm, wet mouth, Jay's nimble tongue. **Oh, God--** Jay pulls back, licking his lips. "Man, I'm gonna need practice for this shit. Fucker. So fuckin' *huge*, dude--" "What--" "Shut up." Right. Right. Okay. He can do that. He can just lie here and be licked and feel his hands twitch and clench on the sheet beneath him. He can lie here, opening his legs wider, feeling like a complete idiot, as *well* as a child molester, because he no longer bothers to lie to himself--if Jay had offered this at thirteen, when he first met the kid...he'd have done it. Fuck, yes. But he'd been so concerned with eroding some of Jay's many splintery defenses, and he didn't think Jay was into guys, let alone guys his *size*, and he hadn't really wanted to go to jail for statutory, thank you *very* much, and-- --and, God, Jay was trying to deep-throat him, and making these urgent, compelling sounds that vibrated across the skin, and Bob nearly came right then, pulling back from it with a hairs' breadth of control. He nearly lost it, right then. Fuck, Jay was good at this. Fuck. Jay knew how to *do* this. Bob blinked, poleaxed, and wondering why that was such a stunner. He'd met him on the street, pulled him back to the apartment, taught him all he knew about the deal, as opposed to the game. It wasn't like he hadn't known. Okay. Okay. He'd known, but somehow, he thought Jay'd been a chicken, not a toy. Thought he'd been the plaything of older *women*, somehow. Fuck. That part of town--the guys Jay'd been hanging with--fuck. Why hadn't he seen it before? Why-- "Oh--" Sucking now, Jay sucking, Jay sucking *him*, and man, some nights didn't get better than this. Someone could burst in and pull three of his fingernails out and he'd still be riding this wave of physical bliss, he thinks. Oh, yeah. Jay. Jay and his talented, *talented* mouth-- And Jay swirled the tongue in that talented mouth over his cock, over his head, and pulled, pulled and twirled and sucked, sucked so *hard*, Bob came in that instant, spraying hot come into Jay's waiting mouth, Jay humming, Jay nearly laughing, and Bob just dazed, dazed by it all, even the thought of being arrested and being carted off to Joliet for statutory not enough to keep him from wanting more-- Jay pulled back, looking up at Bob from his position between Bob's open legs. Another flash outlined them both, and Bob realized he hadn't swallowed. His lips were closed, but a trickle still emerged, dripping down his chin onto Bob's cooling flesh. What the-- Jay immediately scooted further back, and that shining hair sank between his legs again, Bob feeling Jay's hands lifting his legs higher, wider apart. He didn't care anymore. Whatever Jay wanted. However he wanted it. Yes. Sure. God. He felt Jay's hands slide under his ass, and felt hot breath where he'd never felt anyone breathe before. He gasped, muscles clenching, and heard Jay's low, breathy laughter. And then he felt Jay's tongue again. Oh, God. Oh, God, he was--he was-- "Ahh!" he cried out, bucking forward, feeling Jay pressing into the cleft between his cheeks, his tongue snaking out to lick Bob's hole, open him a little, and now he felt moisture trickle between Jay's lips, moisture oozing into him, still hot from Jay's mouth. And he suddenly knew why Jay hadn't swallowed, and nearly came again right there. Breath left him in shudders, and he felt broken. In a really, really good way, but still. Someone groaned, and for once, he wasn't sure whether it had been him or Jay. Jay pushed his legs farther apart, and he closed his eyes, tossing his head back. For a moment, all he heard was Jay licking, all he felt was Jay's tongue, and then he felt a finger, pushing in just underneath the tongue, pushing deeper, worming its way inside him. "Oh, God," he gasped. "Jay. Jay. Jay. My God. Jay--" "Shh," Jay said, and even that puff of small breath made him twitch. Oh, God. This was too good. This was too much. What was he--oh--two--two--*fingers*-- Jay's head emerged, after one last, sadistic circle of his tongue into Bob's widening hole. He wore an entirely self-satisfied expression, but there was still that open look in his eyes, that want, that waiting. Bob opened his arms, and Jay shuddered, all over, diving into them. Now three fingers, and Bob gasped, twitching, and Jay just smiled. "Yeah. You'd fuckin' *kill* me, that thing," he whispered. "But you don't hafta worry. You're gonna like this." "Like--?" Bob swallowed, stroking Jay's hair. He dropped his head, licking up Bob's neck from his collarbone, licking to his ear. He paused there, barely breathing, teeth gently moving in a line across the lobe. "Me fuckin' you, Bob," he whispered, and Bob arched up, eyes crossing, feeling an impossible fourth finger slide into him when he did, and Jay just looking at him, watching him. Smiling. Fuck. "Jay, I--we--I--" "Ooh, and he's lost the 'bility to form *sentences*, yes! Oh, yeah. Say somethin' smart, Bobby. Wanna hear you try'n talk." "Try and--" He swallowed. Fuck, was Jay trying to get his entire *fist* inside him? How was that possible? "I--" "Oh, yeah. Fuck, yeah. You have *any* fuckin' idea how hot that is? How hot you are, right now?" "Hot?" He was shaking now, shaking all over, trembling in continual little muscle twitches. He could feel Jay's thumb moving around the tight stretched ring, and it hurt, it did hurt, but in a way he wanted it to hurt for a really long time-- "Hot. You. Hot. Right now," Jay repeated. "Fuck, you have no clue, do ya?" And then the thumb popped inside him and he shuddered, his body filling with the next burst of silver-white light. He didn't think he could stop trembling. He didn't think he could speak. He knew he was gasping, and fuck, he didn't want to do that, and... "Oh *God*," he moaned, feeling Jay's hand slide out of him. "God, God, oh Jay, Jay, fuck yes..." "Fuck me," Jay whispered. "Say it." "Oh..." He gasped again, looking up. Suddenly he felt like the younger man here, and the fact that Jay was gently stroking his face didn't exactly help. He tried, he really tried, but he was gasping too much, and Jay finally shook his head, turning away. Freed briefly from the burning green eyes, he blinked, breathing hard. Breathing through it. "Fuck me, Jay," he whispered back. Jay turned, looking at him. Delight and lust warred in his gaze. God, that looked good on him. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Yeah. *Now*. *Please*." "Yeah. Wait--" No waiting. Please, no waiting. Fuck. He'd die, right here, die of want and need and repression and-- "Please," he whispered, watching Jay leave the bed. Going, Jay. Going. Going. Gone. He whimpered, harder than he'd ever been in his life, left to the mercy of the storm and the empty air, and waited, waiting the hardest thing he'd ever done. He watched the door, afraid to blink, almost, and seconds moved like hours. He wanted to touch himself. He couldn't move. He thought of Jay, of Jay sucking him, and couldn't *not* touch himself. He whimpered, as soon as his hands wrapped around himself, throwing his head back, thrusting gently against the enclosure of his thick fingers. "Fuckin' hot, what'd I tell you?" Jay said, and Bob whipped his head around. Jay stood there, dangling a little foil condom packet from two fingers. He was nude, sheened in sweat, and smiling. It was quirky and one-sided, but still there. The cocky attitude lasted until the next strike of lightning, and then he scurried over to the bed, eyes wide. "Shit...shit...*shit*," he said, over and over. Bob pulled him close, tucking his head against his collarbone, murmured nothing that made sense, just carrying the soothing tone through Jay's hair. Finally the trembling stopped, and Jay looked up, leaning on one elbow. He traced a hand, the fingers on it only shaking a little, down one side of Bob's face. "Kinda...got lost, there, for a min...you still--um, interested?" **Is he fucking *kidding*?? My God...** Bob pulled Jay's head up, kissing him, and he guessed later he was the only one who wanted to keep it innocent. Jay dove for him, shoving his tongue down Bob's throat, moaning and bucking against him, murmuring things he only half-caught. Then, before he'd truly caught his breath, Jay broke away, licking trails of wet and heat down his throat, down his chest, licking until he'd sucked down his cock once more, pulling on it. Bob couldn't stop whimpering. Jay pulled off with an obscenely wet slurp and tore the foil packet open with his teeth. Bob's eyes went wide, but he watched, struggling to breathe, as Jay parted his legs, pumping his cock a few times--more for effect, he thought--and then squirted a little lube into the tip. He unrolled it slowly, eyes on Bob the whole time, the other hand fisted loosely around Bob's cock, keeping it happy. There wasn't much on Bob that wasn't reporting in happy; even the little voice of ethics in the backbrain had shut up for the moment. And then Jay was lining up, holding his legs back, pushing forward...Bob's eyes rolled up in his head, as Jay pushed inside. "Oh, *fuck*..." he breathed, shuddering all over, and Jay leaned in, driving home. "Fuck yeah, Bob, *fuck* yeah, fuck, feel so good, feel so fuckin' *good*..." And the best sign of all--Bob opened his eyes, watching the silver light of the next strike play over Jay's face, and he didn't even twitch. Just kept thrusting, kept thrusting, kept...*fuck*...God...*thrusting*...and never cared. Sweet, so sweet, so urgent, and...*inside*... Until Jay opened his eyes, Bob didn't know he'd spoken that bit aloud, and Jay nodded spastically, chest heaving. "Fuck...yeah, Bob, *in* you, baby, in so fuckin' *deep*...God, wanted this so fucking *long*, you don't even fucking *know*...beautiful...so...fucking... *beautiful*... "Can't--can't stand it--" "Can't--?" "Not kissing you," Bob growled, and pulled Jay down against him, capturing his lips again. And the next strike that painted light across their moving limbs went unnoticed. Mindless, the pull and draw, the give and take, the thrust and release. Mindless, and no fear in it. Perfection. END ***************** Kelandris the Mad mindless now and driven mad by the feel of your mouth on mine