Title: Slow Dance
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: NC-17 for sweet homosexuality. Hopefully smarm-free, but we 
may not be so lucky.
Status: New
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Prequel to "Still the Boy Danced". Should have 
never threatened to do it, eventually I follow through on 
*everything*...
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: Hopefully hot sex in traditional bedroom setting.
Summary: Bob gets some when Jay gets stoned.
Warnings: Another story with no angst. Yes, a *second* Kel story 
with NO ANGST! OH, NOOO! :> Actually, there are slight shreds of 
angst towards the ending. But they can be ignored. :>

"Slow Dance"
by Kelandris


"Stoooned," the boy said, and giggled. He leaned back against the 
pillows on his bed, legs falling open. He giggled again, dragging a 
hand through his long, gold hair and blinked as if blinking took 
serious effort.

His dark-haired companion simply nodded, studiously repacking the 
bong.

"Cooone, Bob" the blond said. Bob simply nodded. The blond snapped 
his fingers and Bob looked up.

"Jay says *now*!"

Bob raised an eyebrow. Jay giggled. Bob watched him for a moment 
more, and then went back to repacking.

Jay scratched his scalp, shaking his head. His hair was everywhere, 
and he tried to comb through it with fingers that weren't quite 
coordinated enough.

"Gimme, Bob."

Bob shook his head.

"Give me the bong, manservant Hecubus!"

**What??**

Jay roared with laughter, and Bob quietly waited for the punch line 
to the joke. Finally he calmed down, leaning half over as he poked a 
finger in the air in Bob's general direction.

"Oh...fuck...hah..." he said, chest still hitching. "You...in that 
motherfuckin' black catsuit...fuck...too funny..."

Then he blinked, leaning forward, lifting a strand of Bob's hair. 
Bob stopped breathing. Jay's fingers, when they dropped the strand, 
grazed the side of Bob's neck, and he did everything he could to 
minimize the shiver that raced through him. Jay just stared at him.

"Wouldn't look bad with black hair," he said softly. "Yeah. You'd 
look fuckin' hhhhot," he breathed.

Bob just blinked. And where was this coming from? He stopped 
breathing again when Jay's nicotine-stained fingers wandered down his 
shirt, pulling up the hem and sliding underneath. His blue eyes were 
so bright when he looked up at Bob.

"Mmm," Jay said, inching forward so he half-lay against Bob, his 
hands moving up Bob's chest.

"You mind?"

**Mind? No, that's not exactly the word...** 

Bob was severely torn, here. Half of him wanted to push Jay away, 
because he knew if he let this go on, it would be years before the 
accusation of his secret fag status--which to date, he admitted, had 
been secret even from himself--to die down. Jay would *never* 
fucking let up. He knew this.

On the other hand, Jay was so beautiful. And now Jay's head was 
moving, and he was pushing Bob's shirt up, and he was...kissing... Bob's...
chest...A tongue laved over a nipple, and Bob gasped.

"Oh, yeah," Jay whispered, and pushed Bob back on the bed. Nimble 
fingers plucked the bong from Bob's stunned ones, and Jay lit the 
cone on fire with more coordination than he should have had. He 
inhaled, his narrow chest expanding, his eyes crossing with the 
effort, until the cone was glowing ash. Then, as carefully as he 
could, he set the bong on the bedstand, tossing the lighter on the 
floor. And he leaned over Bob, pulling open his mouth with a 
mischievous look in his eyes. He leaned in, welding his lips to 
Bob's, and exhaling for what felt like forever.

All Bob could breathe in was Jay and pot smoke, and it was dizzying. 
He felt Jay's hand in his, and clasped his fingers, moaning against 
him. But he was becoming seriously deprived of oxygen, here. About 
the time he would have had to break away for some fresher air, Jay 
left, curling against him, body trembling slightly.

As if it were natural, this kissing, this laying against him, he 
dropped his arm around Jay's narrow shoulders, holding him. And for 
a moment, that was good--he lay on Jay's bed, listening to Jay 
quietly inhale and exhale, feeling the boy radiating warmth against 
him.

Then Jay sat up, pulling off his clothes. Bob felt his eyebrow raise 
again. Jay just giggled, turning to help him undress.

**And what, exactly, are we expecting here?** he thought. But he 
helped Jay tug off his sweats, his t-shirt, and then Jay lay against 
him, skin to skin, and that was very nice. Muscles moved in Jay's 
back, flexed under Bob's exploring hands, and he was just high enough 
that everything was starting to feel good, sliding out on a long, 
humming, golden wave of sensation.

Then Jay leaned over him, brushing his hair across his chest, and Bob 
gasped again. And Jay kissed him. And everything changed.

One kiss dismantled him completely: suddenly he was rock-hard and 
gasping, driving up against Jay's hips, moaning into his mouth. His 
hands clenched down on Jay's shoulders, and he fought the sudden 
impulse to throw him back, kick his legs open, and thrust into him, 
bruisingly hard. He wanted to roar loud enough to crack the bong on 
the end table, wanted to make the boy his, forever and always, amen. 
Oh, fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck, *oh* fuck. 

Jay broke off, gasping for air, and grinned dizzily. Bob fought all 
his impulses, and pushed him back gently, kissing along his jawline, 
kissing down his neck and chest, flicking his tongue out in tight 
little swirls and listening to Jay moan. Sweet. Jay arched forward 
against his hands, and then he was between Jay's legs, and he reached 
out, curling his fingers around Jay's straining cock. He brought it 
to his wet lips, rubbing the head against them, then opened them, 
sliding Jay between his lips for the first time ever.

Jay arched under him, gasping, twitching, his breath growing ragged 
and impassioned. 

"Fuck, yeah," he whispered. "Fuck, God, yeah..."

Mmm. Salt and citrus and smoke, warm flesh, pulsing against his 
tongue. This was better than he thought it would be. **Fuck, if Jay 
says anything I'll--I'll--lick him to death, that'll teach him!**

And Jay's hands fluttered against his shoulders, and he was gasping 
again, thrusting up, thrusting against Bob's swirling tongue. Bob 
pulled away, feeling his cock twitch in sympathy, and slid against 
Jay, bringing their hips together, their cocks rubbing against each 
other.

"Fuck man, please, want you to...want you..." Jay was open-mouthed 
and panting, skin sheened with sweat, reaching for him. He captured 
those lips again, kissing the breath from him, kissing him until 
neither man could breathe, holding him tight. Jay moaned in his 
arms, the sound melting his spine.

Bob reached between them, slicking his fingers with the pre-cum they 
were both producing, and then turned Jay to the side.

"What're you gonna...HOLY FUCK!"

Jay's back curved in a parenthetical arch, his eyes wider than they'd 
ever been. Long gold hair flew against Bob's face, and with one 
hand, he patiently pulled the strands aside. The other hand was busy 
pushing into Jay, one slow finger after another, making sure he was 
ready, making sure he was open.

Jay was so tight, and Bob didn't want to hurt him. But he had to 
have him, he had to be inside him, he wanted him too badly. Shudders 
wracked Jay's thin form, and Bob pulled the boy up to lean against 
him. Now he was able to curve one hand around his trembling torso, 
curl his thick fingers around the boy's cock, and at the same time, 
push more fingers into Jay from the rear.

Jay was nearly beyond English at this point. He cursed Bob, but only 
to keep his hands moving; he murmured encouragements nearly as fast 
as the curses. Sweat slicked both of them now, and now Jay had four 
fingers moving, flexing inside him, and cried Bob's name, over and 
over again, head resting against his broad shoulder.

Bob leaned forward, kissing the blond's neck, and then pulled his 
hand out. Jay yelled, arching forward again, and before he could 
relax back, Bob pulled Jay's legs apart, pulling his hips down. One 
leg was on either side of Bob's thighs, and Bob parted his ass 
cheeks, pushing forward, guiding himself in one-handed.

With a muttered curse, Bob pushed inside, feeling the muscles in 
Jay's thighs jump and twitch.

"Fuck Bob don't stop fuck Bob so good fuck Bob fuck Bob want more 
more more--" Jay gasped. 

Bob just nodded, pushing forward, pushing deeper. Inch by slow inch 
he sank into Jay, who gasped and twitched and shuddered against him, 
urging him on, begging for more. The high strained voice Jay was 
using sank into him like a spike, drugging him from muscle on out. 
It pulled at him, making him want to thrust harder, thrust faster, 
and he fought against it, keeping things slow, keeping things 
gentle. He kissed Jay's neck again and felt Jay's long arms curl 
around his head. He pulled Jay's head to the side, kissing him 
again, and swallowing each of the boy's moans.

"Ah... Bob--ah, gonna, gonna...fuck, *yeah!*" Jay said, pulling his lips 
away. Bob thrust a little faster, pacing his stroking of Jay's 
twitching cock in time with the thrusts, and soon, nearly too soon, 
both men came, came at the same moment, star-filled white noise 
sheeting across Bob's vision as he pulsed heat and life and all the 
love he had into Jay.

And slowly, their breathing returned to normal, and soon, Jay was 
asleep in his arms, Bob crashing soon after, listening to the sounds 
Jay made asleep. All the times that Jay had crept into his bed, 
scared of a storm, or freaked after some nightmare, and he'd never 
thought to do this. Why the hell not?

Because, the thought floated back, he would have turned it into 
something else. And he would have blamed you for it. And that would 
have been the end of the friendship.

A few hours later, Bob woke up, the thoughts still spinning in his 
head. He sighed, slowly disentangling himself from the boy, and 
wandered back to his lonely bed. He curled himself around a pillow, 
wanting to go back to Jay's room and curl around him, but...what if 
he'd just been stoned and in an experimental mood? He'd seen the way 
Jay was around girls. Craved them, craved them like some of the 
drugs he'd given up. And given the choice between H and bar sluts, 
he'd shove Jay at the girls any fucking day.

He only hoped Jay wouldn't hate him too much in the morning. And he 
fell back asleep, dreaming the night away on a fall of long blond 
hair.

END
*****
Kelandris the Mad
I want your arms to wrap around me twice (smashmouth)