07/28/2007: "Real Genius Fic: Things to Show You (Mitch/Chris; NC-17)"

Title: Things to Show You
Pairing: Mitch/Chris
Rating: NC-17, I guess
Words: About 800
Summary: Mitch is good at almost everything he tries. Futurefic.

Mitch is used to being good at almost everything he tries. The only exceptions are things that require coordination, balance, and physical skills.

So, when it turns out that he's great at sucking cock – especially when he's awkwardly balanced in a small, stuffy closet – he's about as surprised as Chris. Years ago, Jordan had said he should try this out. "It's your lips, you know that? And my old roommate said that making it is great for keeping yourself from getting brain-fried, though I'm not so sure about that, it didn't work for her, and it makes me a little hyper, maybe you noticed; you know what I was thinking about, just now, while your hand was inside my shirt? No? Anyway, I saw the way you used to look at Chris last year, you always kind of licked your lips a little, you know that? I don't blame you, he's pretty cool, and I think you'd be great at blowjobs."

I just want you to take off your shirt, he'd wanted to say, but he couldn't, because the thought of Chris – "Jordan, I –"

But she had already been tucking her shirt back in, waving her hand at him. "I've just had a great idea! Gotta go, thanks!" And she'd run off before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. She brought him a new sweater in the morning, and never mentioned blowjobs again, and he'd been so, so glad.

He's not fifteen anymore, and he's done school, and he doesn't get tongue-tied when he thinks about blowjobs and Chris (but he still gets sweaters from Jordan, and miscellaneous gadgets and toys, all arriving in crumpled packages with hasty, scrawled notes). Chris runs a research lab at Darlington these days, and they're trying to woo Mitch with offers of his own projects.

And even with all the money Chris is pulling in, he's still wearing cheap, thin t-shirts, and he still owes Mitch ten dollars. The thought makes Mitch smile, because by now with interest, it's probably closer to fifty.

"I think you should come and work for me," Chris says, his voice barely wavering. "We make a great team. Think of the bonuses we'd get, with every project."

Mitch rolls his eyes, tightening his mouth.

"Your hair gets worse and worse, you know that? You need better style." Chris' fingers push through his hair lightly, fingertips briefly digging into Mitch's scalp.

Mitch hums slightly, sliding his mouth down, down, holding Chris' hips tight in his hands.

"And don't even get me started on that blazer, it's hideous, I thought I told you –"

Sometimes Chris just doesn't know when to stop talking. Mitch presses his fingers hard, and he knows Chris will have small bruises on his hips, later. But it's enough to shut him up, his hand resting on the back of Mitch's neck.

Chris isn't talking anymore, but he is making breathy little noises, and low, urgent groans, especially when Mitch pulls back a little, circling his tongue around the head of Chris' cock; he loves this, loves the way his mouth is stretched out, and his jaw is starting to twinge, slightly. Chris tastes warm and like he's been working for hours, thinking, planning, and heckling the people who work around him.

The image is too hot – Chris and his shirt stretched too tightly, his hair messy, his mouth pinched with frustration, and later, wide with laughter. Mitch slides one hand down, away from Chris, and inside his own pants. He cups his cock, squeezing, groaning.

He can always tell when Chris is almost there – his fingers twitch, blunt nails scratching lightly against Mitch's neck – and it always makes him grin a little, as best he can with his mouth full. He slides back down, slowly, his tongue pressing up, against the weight in his mouth.

And when Chris comes, hips twitching and hands clenching, Mitch swallows, humping his own hand. He looks up, finds Chris watching him, mouth slack, and that makes it even better.

"So," Chris says, when he catches his breath. His cheeks are flushed, and his smile is a little wild. "You want a tour around the lab? I'm assuming that's why you stopped by and couldn't wait until we met up later." He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it messier and oddly flat. "Oh, and by the way? I didn't think it was possible, but I think you're getting even better at that."

Mitch grins, wiping at his mouth, ignoring the cooling stickiness in his pants. He stands, leaning close, kissing Chris quickly, but not so quickly that Chris doesn't get a chance to lick across Mitch's lower lip, once, twice. And then he steps back, waving his hand in the direction of the door. "You can show me around. But Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure I want the job. Not yet. I think I want to get a PhD, first."

Chris rolls his eyes. "You kids and your focus on 'qualifications'." But he's grinning, wide and easy. "School, school, school. Bet you won't have the toys we have here, at your school." He grabs Mitch by the arm, pulling him out of the tiny closet and into the hall. "Come on, college boy. I've got things to show you."

End.




	Home Archives July 2007 Real Genius Fic: Things to Show You (Mitch/Chris; NC-17) [Previous entry: "Sanctuary Fic"] [Next entry: "Real Genius Fic: How it Happens (Mitch/Chris; PG-13)"] 07/28/2007: "Real Genius Fic: Things to Show You (Mitch/Chris; NC-17)" Title: Things to Show You Pairing: Mitch/Chris Rating: NC-17, I guess Words: About 800 Summary: Mitch is good at almost everything he tries. Futurefic. Mitch is used to being good at almost everything he tries. The only exceptions are things that require coordination, balance, and physical skills. So, when it turns out that he's great at sucking cock – especially when he's awkwardly balanced in a small, stuffy closet – he's about as surprised as Chris. Years ago, Jordan had said he should try this out. "It's your lips, you know that? And my old roommate said that making it is great for keeping yourself from getting brain-fried, though I'm not so sure about that, it didn't work for her, and it makes me a little hyper, maybe you noticed; you know what I was thinking about, just now, while your hand was inside my shirt? No? Anyway, I saw the way you used to look at Chris last year, you always kind of licked your lips a little, you know that? I don't blame you, he's pretty cool, and I think you'd be great at blowjobs." I just want you to take off your shirt, he'd wanted to say, but he couldn't, because the thought of Chris – "Jordan, I –" But she had already been tucking her shirt back in, waving her hand at him. "I've just had a great idea! Gotta go, thanks!" And she'd run off before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. She brought him a new sweater in the morning, and never mentioned blowjobs again, and he'd been so, so glad. He's not fifteen anymore, and he's done school, and he doesn't get tongue-tied when he thinks about blowjobs and Chris (but he still gets sweaters from Jordan, and miscellaneous gadgets and toys, all arriving in crumpled packages with hasty, scrawled notes). Chris runs a research lab at Darlington these days, and they're trying to woo Mitch with offers of his own projects. And even with all the money Chris is pulling in, he's still wearing cheap, thin t-shirts, and he still owes Mitch ten dollars. The thought makes Mitch smile, because by now with interest, it's probably closer to fifty. "I think you should come and work for me," Chris says, his voice barely wavering. "We make a great team. Think of the bonuses we'd get, with every project." Mitch rolls his eyes, tightening his mouth. "Your hair gets worse and worse, you know that? You need better style." Chris' fingers push through his hair lightly, fingertips briefly digging into Mitch's scalp. Mitch hums slightly, sliding his mouth down, down, holding Chris' hips tight in his hands. "And don't even get me started on that blazer, it's hideous, I thought I told you –" Sometimes Chris just doesn't know when to stop talking. Mitch presses his fingers hard, and he knows Chris will have small bruises on his hips, later. But it's enough to shut him up, his hand resting on the back of Mitch's neck. Chris isn't talking anymore, but he is making breathy little noises, and low, urgent groans, especially when Mitch pulls back a little, circling his tongue around the head of Chris' cock; he loves this, loves the way his mouth is stretched out, and his jaw is starting to twinge, slightly. Chris tastes warm and like he's been working for hours, thinking, planning, and heckling the people who work around him. The image is too hot – Chris and his shirt stretched too tightly, his hair messy, his mouth pinched with frustration, and later, wide with laughter. Mitch slides one hand down, away from Chris, and inside his own pants. He cups his cock, squeezing, groaning. He can always tell when Chris is almost there – his fingers twitch, blunt nails scratching lightly against Mitch's neck – and it always makes him grin a little, as best he can with his mouth full. He slides back down, slowly, his tongue pressing up, against the weight in his mouth. And when Chris comes, hips twitching and hands clenching, Mitch swallows, humping his own hand. He looks up, finds Chris watching him, mouth slack, and that makes it even better. "So," Chris says, when he catches his breath. His cheeks are flushed, and his smile is a little wild. "You want a tour around the lab? I'm assuming that's why you stopped by and couldn't wait until we met up later." He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it messier and oddly flat. "Oh, and by the way? I didn't think it was possible, but I think you're getting even better at that." Mitch grins, wiping at his mouth, ignoring the cooling stickiness in his pants. He stands, leaning close, kissing Chris quickly, but not so quickly that Chris doesn't get a chance to lick across Mitch's lower lip, once, twice. And then he steps back, waving his hand in the direction of the door. "You can show me around. But Chris?" "Yeah?" "I'm not sure I want the job. Not yet. I think I want to get a PhD, first." Chris rolls his eyes. "You kids and your focus on 'qualifications'." But he's grinning, wide and easy. "School, school, school. Bet you won't have the toys we have here, at your school." He grabs Mitch by the arm, pulling him out of the tiny closet and into the hall. "Come on, college boy. I've got things to show you." End.