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Fandom: Graceland
Characters: Mike Warren, Johnny Tuturro, Charlie Lopez
Pairing: Johnny/Mike
Rating: R/NC-17
Word count: c.900
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
***
“C’mon, upstairs,” Johnny says, manhandling Mike across the room, laughing a little at Mike tugging determinedly at his shirt. “Unless you want Lauren to walk in on this.”
“Good thing I’m not a local girl,” Mike smirks. They climb the stairs as best they can while they’re still attached to each other, and he finally triumphs over the shirt. Johnny can’t help laughing again when Mike trips over the shirt he’s just dropped on the stairs, because it’s always like this – sometimes Mike’s an above competent agent who deserved his near-perfect scores on his practicals, and sometimes he’s an awkward rookie who’s only just out of the academy and is green as hell, despite how good his gun control is.
Five minutes ago, he’d been kissing Johnny as soon as he walked through the door, and now he’s blushing and flustered because of a little stumble. Johnny just steadies him and kisses him again, and then they’re racing up the stairs, shirt left forgotten on the floor.
“Shower,” Mike says breathlessly, and gives Johnny a playful shove when he groans. “You’ve been out surfing for two hours, I don’t think you want sand in your bed.”
“How many times have we done it in the shower, bro?”
“It’s not my fault you’re always out surfing.” Mike grins. “Mostly I’m in it for the fantastic water pressure.”
It’s Johnny that gives Mike a little push this time, into the bathroom, and Mike stumbles again but is too busy stripping off his clothes to care. Johnny only has to kick off his shorts, so while Mike’s still struggling with his jeans, he turns the water onto a temperature he knows they both like and pulls Mike under the spray. Mike’s touches are so much more confident than the first time they’d done this – he’s never said, but Johnny’s pretty sure Mike hadn’t had much more experience with this as he’d had in the field, no matter how much theory work he’d done. He’d been a little clumsy and a little nervous, but like always, determined and eager to learn.
And oh, Mike Warren is a fast learner.
“You still taste like saltwater,” Mike mutters, kissing along Johnny’s jaw.
“Hey, you’re the one that jumped on me as soon as I walked in,” Johnny says, then groans as Mike wraps a hand around his cock.
Mike smirks against Johnny’s mouth. “How was the surf today? Better than this?”
“I don’t know, right now it’s about even. You gotta work for it, man.” Johnny lets his head drop back to rest against the tiled wall, shutting his eyes against the water, thrusting slowly into Mike’s grip. He grins when Mike huffs a little, kisses him quick and dirty, then drops to his knees. “That’s more like it.”
Johnny’s fingers thread through Mike’s hair, but Mike really is a fast learner, so his grip tightens when Mike does that thing with his tongue, but he doesn’t need to guide him. He’s still running on adrenaline from his surf, and between that and the way Mike already knows exactly what he likes, it doesn’t take long until his head is spinning and Mike is letting him come all over his mouth. Johnny moans too loudly, forgetting for a moment that there are probably other people in the house by now, and he drags Mike back up, turning them around and pressing Mike up against the wall and kisses him, one hand still buried in his hair.
Stifling his noises into Johnny’s neck, Mike tries to keep as quiet as he can with Johnny jerking him off hard and fast, but he can’t control his low whimpers. Johnny loves how worked up Mike gets from sucking his cock, from being pushed to the ground and told how good he is, and soon enough Mike’s hips are bucking and he’s coming between them, biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
“Fuck,” Mike says, almost reverently, still leaning against him. Johnny hums in agreement, until Mike’s caught his breath, then a bar of soap is being shoved into his hands and Mike’s stepping out of the shower.
“Hey, where you going?”
Mike turns and grins at him before he goes, towel around his waist and clothes in his arms. “I already had a shower today.”
When Johnny’s made sure there’s no more traces of seawater on him for Mike to complain about, he find Mike lounging on his bed, wearing only his briefs, hair damp. Mike’s room is still mostly Donnie’s room, and Mike’s too wary of Lauren and what she might do to him to go back there right after sex. Johnny flops down next to him and kisses him again, slow and lazy, not bothering to get dressed yet, but then there’s a yell from outside.
“Johnny, why the hell is all your stuff lying around?”
It’s Charlie, and when she bangs on the door, Johnny calls, “Come in!”
“What? What, no, don’t—” Mike scrambles for a sheet and smacks Johnny on the chest, but it’s too late, and when the door opens there’s a shirt being thrown at his head while Johnny snickers.
Charlie just looks between the two of them on Johnny’s bed for a second, then raises an eyebrow, her mouth curving slowly into a smile. “You could at least clean up after yourself, Mike.”
Mike groans and pulls the sheet over his head.
“There are no secrets at Graceland,” Charlies calls teasingly over her shoulder as she walks out, the sound of Johnny’s laughs following her.
Characters: Mike Warren, Johnny Tuturro, Charlie Lopez
Pairing: Johnny/Mike
Rating: R/NC-17
Word count: c.900
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
***
“C’mon, upstairs,” Johnny says, manhandling Mike across the room, laughing a little at Mike tugging determinedly at his shirt. “Unless you want Lauren to walk in on this.”
“Good thing I’m not a local girl,” Mike smirks. They climb the stairs as best they can while they’re still attached to each other, and he finally triumphs over the shirt. Johnny can’t help laughing again when Mike trips over the shirt he’s just dropped on the stairs, because it’s always like this – sometimes Mike’s an above competent agent who deserved his near-perfect scores on his practicals, and sometimes he’s an awkward rookie who’s only just out of the academy and is green as hell, despite how good his gun control is.
Five minutes ago, he’d been kissing Johnny as soon as he walked through the door, and now he’s blushing and flustered because of a little stumble. Johnny just steadies him and kisses him again, and then they’re racing up the stairs, shirt left forgotten on the floor.
“Shower,” Mike says breathlessly, and gives Johnny a playful shove when he groans. “You’ve been out surfing for two hours, I don’t think you want sand in your bed.”
“How many times have we done it in the shower, bro?”
“It’s not my fault you’re always out surfing.” Mike grins. “Mostly I’m in it for the fantastic water pressure.”
It’s Johnny that gives Mike a little push this time, into the bathroom, and Mike stumbles again but is too busy stripping off his clothes to care. Johnny only has to kick off his shorts, so while Mike’s still struggling with his jeans, he turns the water onto a temperature he knows they both like and pulls Mike under the spray. Mike’s touches are so much more confident than the first time they’d done this – he’s never said, but Johnny’s pretty sure Mike hadn’t had much more experience with this as he’d had in the field, no matter how much theory work he’d done. He’d been a little clumsy and a little nervous, but like always, determined and eager to learn.
And oh, Mike Warren is a fast learner.
“You still taste like saltwater,” Mike mutters, kissing along Johnny’s jaw.
“Hey, you’re the one that jumped on me as soon as I walked in,” Johnny says, then groans as Mike wraps a hand around his cock.
Mike smirks against Johnny’s mouth. “How was the surf today? Better than this?”
“I don’t know, right now it’s about even. You gotta work for it, man.” Johnny lets his head drop back to rest against the tiled wall, shutting his eyes against the water, thrusting slowly into Mike’s grip. He grins when Mike huffs a little, kisses him quick and dirty, then drops to his knees. “That’s more like it.”
Johnny’s fingers thread through Mike’s hair, but Mike really is a fast learner, so his grip tightens when Mike does that thing with his tongue, but he doesn’t need to guide him. He’s still running on adrenaline from his surf, and between that and the way Mike already knows exactly what he likes, it doesn’t take long until his head is spinning and Mike is letting him come all over his mouth. Johnny moans too loudly, forgetting for a moment that there are probably other people in the house by now, and he drags Mike back up, turning them around and pressing Mike up against the wall and kisses him, one hand still buried in his hair.
Stifling his noises into Johnny’s neck, Mike tries to keep as quiet as he can with Johnny jerking him off hard and fast, but he can’t control his low whimpers. Johnny loves how worked up Mike gets from sucking his cock, from being pushed to the ground and told how good he is, and soon enough Mike’s hips are bucking and he’s coming between them, biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
“Fuck,” Mike says, almost reverently, still leaning against him. Johnny hums in agreement, until Mike’s caught his breath, then a bar of soap is being shoved into his hands and Mike’s stepping out of the shower.
“Hey, where you going?”
Mike turns and grins at him before he goes, towel around his waist and clothes in his arms. “I already had a shower today.”
When Johnny’s made sure there’s no more traces of seawater on him for Mike to complain about, he find Mike lounging on his bed, wearing only his briefs, hair damp. Mike’s room is still mostly Donnie’s room, and Mike’s too wary of Lauren and what she might do to him to go back there right after sex. Johnny flops down next to him and kisses him again, slow and lazy, not bothering to get dressed yet, but then there’s a yell from outside.
“Johnny, why the hell is all your stuff lying around?”
It’s Charlie, and when she bangs on the door, Johnny calls, “Come in!”
“What? What, no, don’t—” Mike scrambles for a sheet and smacks Johnny on the chest, but it’s too late, and when the door opens there’s a shirt being thrown at his head while Johnny snickers.
Charlie just looks between the two of them on Johnny’s bed for a second, then raises an eyebrow, her mouth curving slowly into a smile. “You could at least clean up after yourself, Mike.”
Mike groans and pulls the sheet over his head.
“There are no secrets at Graceland,” Charlies calls teasingly over her shoulder as she walks out, the sound of Johnny’s laughs following her.
