Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Seth took his time to take off his trousers leg by leg, Stefon gazed on eagerly, ever hungry for the host's skin on his tongue. If Mr Meyers allowed it - even if he didn't - Stefon would sink his uneven little teeth into his delicate shoulder blades, maybe take a nip or two at his chest. The thought was so filthy; Stefon began to work a sweat just thinking about it, and that hardness between his legs was getting hard to control.

Of course, this hadn't been the first time a fantasy involving Seth crossed his mind. Hell, he never imagined seeing Seth without that gross amount of gel living in his hair, leaving the glossy, subtly graying mop vulnerable and Stefon's own to pull and completely mess up beyond belief. That being said, he was rather confused at why the image never came to be. Either way, seeing it in real life beats anything.

"Uh, Stefon?" The now half naked Seth asked.

"Yesyesyes?"

He climbed onto the bed, facing the weirdo. "Are you going to take your clothes off or is this a new sex thing you picked up from a club?"

"No- Well, yes, I once hooked up with this flower banshee from this club, Hangoosh, and--"

"I'm going to regret this," interrupted Seth, drawing circles on Stefon's chest with his finger, "but what's a flower banshee?"

"It's that thing where a screamo twink who's like, really loud in bed puts opium poppies in surprise parts of his body for you to find, and on a side note, Seth Meyers," Stefon began to go into a whisper, angling Seth's head up to make eye contact, "he let me unwrap him like a little present."

Seth cluelessly kneeled in front of Stefon with his hands on his thighs, his boner straining awkwardly in the black underwear, and both of them raising their eyebrows for different reasons.

After seconds of silence, Stefon broke, "Mmh, god, my clothes, Seth Meyers, take them! I'm hinting at you to ravish me!"

"Ohhh, right!"

Stefon rolled his mascara laced eyes and sat upright as Seth beckoned to lift up the calamitous Ed Hardy shirt, which no other 2008 club kid could pull of like that, "Aw, you're totally an adorable idiot sometimes. It's kind of a turn on."

Seth pulled the green/black/orange/whatever-the-hell-color top off Stefon's head, messing with his cut in the process.
"Pfft, tell me something I don't know."

"Okaaaaay," Stefon shuffled forward, still on his knees, until the younger guy's crotch slotted in next to his own, drawing out a quick groan from the very bottom of his throat. "You're like, really hard for me right now."

"Nghhhh... You just had to say that?"

"Hmm. Wanna tell me what to say? I'm open to constructive criticism..." Stefon tenderly grabbed Seth's hips and grinded up against him through his skinny (since WHEN did skinny mean skin-tight anyway?) jeans just a little more, resisting direct contact until they were both hard out of their minds.

Seth was left swallowing a desperate groan. "Oh-- oh god, Stefon, n- no, just speak your mind, baby."

Stefon giggled at the stupid pet name, when an idea from earlier came to mind. "Alright, Sethy. Let's tell each other a secret little secret, 'kay? I'll go first: I jerk off to your cute generic accent every morning at three a.m.--"

. "Oddly specific."

"...and I pretend it's your hand."

Chapter Text

Seth's mouth dropped open at the words and he let out an incoherent whisper, his head tilting back in the space behind him. And above all he was trying not to topple onto Stefon.

"What's that, Meyers? Do you have a secret?"

"Just, every fucking thing you say. It's hard not to imagine you like that in the first place, and now... that."

Like that was a secret in the first place. Stefon's face had a mischievous twist to it as he separated his knees, laying back on the pillow with his upper body propped up on his elbows, his arms carrying more of his body than they physically should.

Maybe black wasn't the most practical colour for bedsheets right now, Seth thought. I'll just be careful tonight, it's fine.

"Oh gosh, Seth Meyers. Is this the part where you get worked up, and you make me like, all docile?"

Seth gave his signature hopeless glare.
"Please repeat that? Slowly. And in English."

Stefon reached for the elastic of Seth's underwear, his short, manicured black nails dragging over the crotch but making precariously sure not to touch the package just underneath them. "Are you going to fuck me out of my mind?"

"You're too much, Stefon,” he breathed.
Seth made the hands let go of his boxers, and lowered himself with his hands on either side of Stefon's body. He cupped the sides of Stefon's face and kissed him deeply. It lasted 10 seconds before it broke, with Seth smirking; “And, uh, hands off me for now.”

While being practically straddled was fun enough, Seth’s reluctance to any hand contact frustrated Stefon. Who knew the Illinois boy could be such a damn tease? Everything had been fair so far. Both of them had their shirts discarded, fair. They both had a desperate stiffness in their underwear, fair.

But Seth - the sick bitch had the gall to make a mockery of his inability to be a full-time top. A power bottom at least. Not that Seth paid mind to terminology. He probably just wanted the experience, and by God, was Stefon willing to unerasably brand the experience into both of their minds.

And, technically, this is more than partially his fault. He did make reference to that encounter with the flower banshee who was, coincidentally, in the same spot as Stefon is now.

He snapped back to the now when the zip slid down the fly of his jeans.

Seth smiled up at him, “Getting impatient there, huh? You don't mind me giving you head, right?”

Making sure not to move his cock away from Seth’s hand, Stefon sat up and gave his elbows a moment of relief.

“Christ, Meyers, you ask too many questions,” he started, grabbing a fistful of Seth’s hair and yanking him face-to-face. “Suck Stefon off. Now.”

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Seth pressed his mouth to Stefon’s throbbing head in a delicate kiss, before taking him into his mouth. It was hot and wet enough in there to make him lose his eccentric little mind.

“OH HOLY CHLOË SEVIGNY!”

Yep, he's lost it.

Seth spluttered and pulled away, “I'm sorry, what?”

“Just… oh, just suck already!” he panted, pulling at Seth’s curls again.

“You're way too hard to please, you taste good, though,” he grinned. He went back to the shaft; dragging his tongue up and down, sucking on the pulsating sides, anything to get Stefon to break even further.

Stefon, giving out generous whimpers and encouragements by the second, slipped his hips forward to get further down the host's throat, pushing himself back and making Seth gag just a little. He took some pleasure from this force. He bit his lower lip numb, holding Seth’s head in place by his hair.

Stefon slowly but certainly not gently fucked his mouth over, until Seth decided he’d had his run.
His mouth left Stefon's cock looking tortured, leaking with precome, near purple to the base.

… holy fuck. Seth thought, I did that?

Stefon's expression was worse by a mile; his downturned eyebrows slanting up, his thick eyelashes fluttering nervously, and what probably got Seth most was his panting, drooling, abso-fucking-lutely kissable mouth.

And that's exactly what that thought lead to. He grabbed the back of Stefon's neck, bringing them mouth to mouth, for good. He ran his right hand through his silky hair, with the styling frayed. With his left, Seth attempted to pull down his boxers to no success - the spotlight was on the kiss.

Stefon pulled away to look the man in the eyes, his crazed eyes concentrating on what was in front of him, around him.

“Wh- Why’d you stop?”

“Why did you stop?”

“I asked first, Seth Meyers. I don't answer if you don't.”

“You were close, right?”

Peering down at his leaking head, Stefon muttered, “Close as I was to getting that ketamine dealer to come to my coke dealer's funeral before cops arrived.”

“What?”

“Yep, yep, pretty close.”

“You looked gorgeous, all desperate and ecstatic. You got to make the moment last, right?”

Stefon lit up, “Oh! Did you just quote Simon and Garfunkel?”

“...uh, sure. Point is,” he took Stefon by the shoulder. “I want you. To be inside of you, and have you come with me inside you. Ya know?”

Trying to see past the hopeless romanticism and spreading Seth’s thighs apart, Stefon urged, “Stefon Jr isn't going anywhere, so we might as well fuck it out.”

They traded spaces, this activity was better suited to Seth on the pillows anyway.

Maintaining the fiery eye contact with Seth, he shuffled forward. Seth peered down at his boxers, straining roughly, and nodded at Stefon.

He slid the boxers down Seth’s hairless legs and gasped at the sight underneath them. He gave the smile of a lifetime, eyes larger than those of a ritalin addict (well, considering he does use it every now and then, it's not untrue).

“Holy Marsha P. Johnson. You're huge.”

“Meh, I don't like to brag.” Seth reached for the supplies ; stretching the condom over himself and rubbing himself with coconut-cinnamon scented lube (chosen by yours truly).
“Take a seat, Stefon.”

Stefon whimpered at the image, closer to the peak with every word from that dork’s mouth.
With his back now turned to Seth, he angled himself exactly above the cock. He was hesitant for some reason, but for no reason, really. It was when Seth kissed behind his ear that he lost control and slid onto the length, inhaling with a suppressed moan. Seth whisper-groaned Stefon's name, urging him to ride.

A few minutes had passed, and their fading desperations returned. Stefon's hips rolled in unpredictable directions to get every part of his entrance in the game, fucking himself hard, and Seth was all for it. He himself couldn't keep quiet for long - though compared to Stefon yelling out obscenities like it's his job, Seth can't form a word that isn't slurred beyond comprehension.

They wanted this to last longer than nature would let it, that's for sure.

“God, Stefon,” Seth panted, hands firm on Stefon’s waist. “So close--uh… so fucking close.”

Stefon slammed his head back and cried to the moon, the feeling of Seth’s cock pulsing against his prostate encouraging his climax. “Seth, oh fuck, Seth-“ he stuttered.

“Come with me, baby, please,” Seth’s voice broke as he cried, thrusting into Stefon through his orgasm.

Stefon came with an adorable cry of his lover’s full name, feeling such a level of ecstasy he was sure he wasn't sober.

They shuddered in unison, coming down from the high with Stefon, blissful and blown away, resting his head on Seth’s heaving chest and Seth’s hands around the other man's waist.

Fuck what I imagined earlier, Stefon thought to himself. Seth Meyers’ chest is too comfy to wreck.

“You totally did amazing, Seth,” he muttered, his breathing slowing down as he fell half asleep. “Love ya.”

“Love you too, weirdo. And can I ask you something?”

“Mmhm?”

“Is Stefon Jr. your dick?”