The flu seems to inspire me.
Jan. 12th, 2009 02:59 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kitsunesan.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
thedailyshow_rpsTitle: Distractions, Part 17/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kitsunesan
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight D/s, a little dirty talk, anger, and angst. Not all combined. XD
Word Count: 4099
Summary: For once, Jon and Stephen have differing opinions about what is and isn't funny.
Notes: I actually wasn't planning on writing smut again so soon, but it actually served to further the plot, so I indulged. This chapter is dedicated tosnarkcasm for helping me with a particularly difficult line and drawing me a lovely picture. <3
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
No matter how much you love your job, it’s the way of the universe that the first day back after a vacation invariably sucks. Even with a week’s worth of news to sift through and poke fun at, the meeting still seemed to drag, and no one really had the energy necessary to perk it up. As lunch loomed on the horizon, Jon knew he needed a pick-me-up and he had a completely irresponsible and insane idea of what might do the trick. He’d already been playing with his phone, opening and closing and futzing with it, so he flipped it open again and tossed off a message to Stephen while pretending to listen to whatever it was Wyatt was saying.
“bring that gorgeous ass of yours over during lunch, i wanna do unspeakable things to it.”
So much for discreet. Not like anyone else was going to be seeing it, so there was no real reason to bother with discretion. He was in no mood for it anyway. He spent the last hour before the break flipping his phone open and closed with thinly veiled impatience, barely able to contain the mildly ironic ‘oh thank Christ’ that wanted to slip out when Stephen finally texted back that he’d be there. As soon as the clock hit twelve he quickly dismissed everyone and bolted back to his office, pacing around restlessly until the door opened and Stephen walked in, careful as he always was since they were walked in on to lock the door behind him. Jon’s arms were around him the second the lock was in place, pressing his face against Stephen’s chest.
“Thank God you’re here; if I had to read one more article about Plaxico Burress I was going to stab myself in the leg with a ball point pen.”
Stephen buried his face in Jon’s hair. “Yeesh. Bad day I take it?”
“Not so bad I guess, I’m just still in vacation mode and not in the right headspace for work.” Jon released Stephen a little and led him over to the desk. “C’mere, there’s something I wanna show you.” Stephen shrugged and went along with it, though he was slightly confused and even a little apprehensive, something about the way Jon was acting was making him nervous. “Can I at least take my coat off first?”
“No, I need it for something?”
“Wha-?” Stephen started to ask, but before he had time to finish the question he found himself pushed face down on Jon’s desk with his arms wrenched up behind his back. Less than two seconds later they were twisted up in his jacket and Jon’s weight was bearing down on him, keeping him pinned. “Jon what the fuck?”
“I have all this nervous energy I need to work off. Plus you’re always pinning me down, it’s time for a little payback. Don’t act so surprised, I said I wanted to do unspeakable things to you.”
“I thought you were just flirting!”
“Nope. Now, are you going to be good, or am I going to have to find something to actually tie you up with?”
“Jon, we’re in your office, it’s noon, and we both have a show to do tonight. This is neither the time nor the place to be doing this!”
“See, I already thought about that. You know me, I’m a thinker. That’s why I have this ready.” Still leaning on Stephen with one arm, Jon reached into the top left drawer of the desk and fished something out, Stephen couldn’t see what yet. Then…. “Jon! Okay, if this is some kind of joke you’re taking it too far, I tap out, you win, whatever, just- mmmph!” It was much harder to keep insisting that this really shouldn’t be happening when a tie, the crossword puzzle tie specifically, was stuffed between his protesting lips and tied behind his head. “Joh! Thih ihn’t funny!”
“I’m not laughing,” Jon chuckled. “Okay, so maybe I am a little, but I’m also totally serious. Now, I know you’re gagged, but that tie isn’t exactly made to muffle sound, and I know how loud you get, so as much as I’m going to miss hearing those noises, you’re probably gonna want to keep it down. Especially if anyone saw you come in here.” Stephen thought of his walk through the building and all the people he said hi to, several of whom had given him suggestive looks, and paled. Some time between Sunday evening and now, Jon had lost his mind completely, that was the only possible explanation for this insanity. He was still trying to object through the silk between his teeth but Jon was ignoring his protests, working his khakis open and shoving them and his boxers down his thighs. “Well,” Jon purred, “it seems not all of you is totally opposed to this idea.” He wasn’t opposed at all, really, and that was the worst thing. Stephen would’ve sworn he hadn’t always been this depraved, but something about Jon brought his inner pervert right to the surface, evidenced only further by the fact that his only real complaint at the moment was that he couldn’t spread his legs any further with his pants around his knees the way they were.
Jon draped himself over Stephen’s back, lips at his left ear, barely brushing against it as he spoke. “God you’re so hot like this, you have no idea. I want nothing more than to fuck you right now, but I’m not going to.” His hand curled around Stephen’s cock, working over it hard but slow. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Bent over my desk while I drive into you hard, like this,” he thrust his clothed hips against Stephen’s bare ass, “bruising your hips against the edge of it.” Much to the horror of his inner prude, that tiny little voice of sanity that still existed somewhere in there under all the depravity, Stephen found himself nodding enthusiastically, barely fighting back the pleading moans building in his throat as Jon kept talking, kept telling him all the filthy and wonderful things he wanted to do to Stephen but wouldn’t, not now anyway, fist still wrapped around his already painfully hard erection and Stephen thought he just might bruise his hips against the desk after all, the way he was trying to thrust forward into it. Jon gripped his jaw, pushing two fingers into his mouth past the tie. “Here, stifle some of those moans by sucking on these. And do a good job of it, ‘cause they’re going inside you and I don’t have any lube.”
It was a welcome distraction, even if it made breathing that much harder (and maybe there was something to auto-erotic asphyxia after all), and Stephen threw himself whole-heartedly into the task of sucking wetly on Jon’s fingers, his own hands opening and closing fruitlessly, bound up as they were. That was some of what was making it so hard to stay quiet, having nothing to grab on to as a way to re-route some of the tension. Having something to suck on helped, until the fingers were withdrawn and it was that much harder in their absence. After a few seconds of fruitless internal struggle, Stephen gave up and started biting down hard on the tie. If it got teeth marks in it, well, that was Jon’s fault for using it as a prop in his freaky sex games.
He’d expected a light touch; even with the show of dominance and force up to this point Jon had always been gentle with him to the point where sometimes he wanted to scream in frustration, so it didn’t register right away that the loud smack and sudden sting had been Jon slapping his ass. By the time it did get through and Stephen was trying to find a way to articulate that as much as he’d actually enjoyed that maybe it was a little louder than they wanted to be right now, two fingers were breaching him roughly and he bit down on his lip to stifle a cry, heedless of the slight coppery taste that told him he’d drawn blood. He was shaking, paralyzed between the equally powerful desires to push forward into one hand and back against the other, trembling in the end between the two and letting Jon do what he would. Which was speeding things along, apparently, fingers twisting and searching inside him to find that spot that ended his indecision and had him jerking back against that touch. Momentarily forgetting the need for quiet Stephen moaned Jon’s name, scratching at the fabric of his jacket and pressing his forehead against the desk.
“Easy, don’t hurt yourself,” the lips at his ear murmured, the words followed with a swipe of tongue. “You close?” Stephen nodded, turning his head to try and catch Jon’s eye and pleading silently for release. “Good.” With a parting nip to Stephen’s earlobe, Jon’s hands stopped what they were doing and found their way to Stephen’s hips and he turned him around, sinking to his knees and swallowing his cock. He’d gotten pretty good at that, could take it nearly to the hilt without choking, even when Stephen bucked forward and his eyes briefly teared up. He teased a hand up the inside of Stephen’s leg, fingers trailing over his balls and behind to enter him again, more gently this time but no less insistently, working in tandem with mouth and lips and tongue to send Stephen hurtling over the edge into orgasm, gritting his teeth around the tie and clenching his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms.
Jon rode it out until Stephen was sagging back against the desk, barely able to keep his balance with his arms and legs twisted up in his clothes the way they were. “Damn you look sexy like that,” he smiled, helping Stephen detangle from his coat and guiding him down into the chair. It was then that he noticed the cut on Stephen’s lip and frowned, loosening the tie until it slipped down around Stephen’s neck and smoothing his thumb over the hurt. “Oh Stephen, I’m sorry.” He bent down and pressed a tender kiss to Stephen’s lower lip.
“Don’ be sorry,” Stephen panted, still chasing his frustratingly evasive breath, “that was…awesome.” There had to be a better word, but that one would do in the mean time. He leaned back against the chair and let his eyes fall closed, a satisfied smile on his face. Jon brushed his fingers through Stephen’s hair, enjoying the quiet moment in the wake of the steamy sex, his own unattended arousal barely registering. “I’m glad you enjoyed that. I know I did.”
“Hmmm. C’mere.” Stephen pulled Jon down onto his lap and claimed his lips for a languorous kiss. “Thank you, that was just what I needed.” And there were several other ways he could say thank you as well, the only problem was choosing which one to go with right now. Although, given their surroundings, there was one that seemed particularly appealing. He stood up, lips brushing over the back of Jon’s neck as his hands traveled downward, flicking open the button of Jon’s jeans. “Stephen, I wanted to do that for you, you don’t have to-”
“Shut up, I wanna have some fun too. Now,” he pushed Jon’s jeans down his hips, “get your ass in that chair.” Jon obeyed, sitting down and watching with hitching breath as Stephen got to his knees. And he had to have been in this business for too long, because when faced with that breathtaking image the first thought that came to his head was a wildly inappropriate Clintonian association. Stephen’s tongue peeked out from between swollen lips, flicking over the head of Jon’s cock as his hand closed around it. Jon watched, transfixed, as Stephen’s lips closed around him, sliding down to meet his hand and drawing back again, the picture he made even more erotic than the feel of what he was doing. Jon buried his hands in Stephen’s hair, murmuring endearments and wondering how the hell he got this lucky. It didn’t take long before he was spilling down Stephen’s throat, fingers tightening in silky locks and Stephen’s name on his lips. Stephen sat back on his heels, wearing a self-satisfied smile, and as an afterthought, turned the tie around and wiped his mouth with the back of it before untying it and placing it back on Jon’s desk. “I think we might’ve just destroyed that tie.”
“If by ‘destroyed’ you mean ‘made it better’. I just hope those stains don’t show up on camera.”
Stephen chuckled, getting to his feet with a quiet groan. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this,” he half-joked, rubbing his back.
“I certainly hope not. Here, let me do that.” Jon stood up, batting Stephen’s hands away from his khakis and doing them up himself, hitching his own jeans up after. “Whoops,” he winced, glancing at the clock, “I’m afraid I’ve made you late. If anyone asks, we were working out the script for tonight’s toss. Not like they’ll believe it, but maybe we’ll at least get points for trying.”
“Got it.” Smiling, Stephen snagged another kiss and slid back into his coat. “I should be going then. You be good. I’ll see you later tonight via the miracle of fiber-optics.”
“I’ll be good,” Jon crossed his fingers behind his back and tried not to snicker. “See you later tonight.” He watched Stephen leave, then sat back down, lifting the tie and surveying the damage. It was half soaked, but otherwise seemed to be in pretty good shape. Perfect. Spreading it out on his desk to dry, Jon got back to his feet and headed back out to the conference room, whistling.
*
The cameras started rolling, the music faded out, and Jon gave his intro. “Hey everybody, welcome to the Daily Show! My name is Jon Stewart! Now, I see that many of you are staring at my tie.” He puffed out his chest, running a hand down the article of clothing in question. “Stylish, no? I promise we’ll talk about that later in the show but for now let’s talk about what we’ve got for you today.” He slid right back into the script and the show went off without a hitch. Anne Hathaway was a good guest, and if he was honest with himself, he got an amused little thrill at hearing that he was apparently some kind of teen heartthrob. He’d have to tease Stephen with that knowledge later. Anne left the stage, and during the commercial break, the connection between the studios was set up and Stephen’s face popped up on the screen.
Stephen nearly choked when the connection came through. Jon was wearing the tie. The tie that, unless he’d gone out and gotten it dry cleaned before dress rehearsal, which he doubted, was soaked in his saliva and traces of Jon’s come. He’d said he was going to wear it, but Stephen hadn’t taken him seriously, especially not after that afternoon’s activities. He had that glint in his eyes that Stephen usually found unbearably sexy but right now made his stomach sink, and he had a good feeling that the script they’d worked on was going right out the window. He was right.
“Before we go, let’s check in with our good friend Stephen Colbert at the Colbert Report! Now, ladies and gentlemen, I promised I’d talk about this tie. It was a birthday gift from Stephen, actually, isn’t that thoughtful? As most of you probably know, I love crossword puzzles, and I was so moved when I opened this that I was speechless. Not like Stephen, he’s never at a loss for words. I imagine I’d have to gag him to stop the flow, isn’t that right Stephen?” Jon fingered the tie, an insufferably smug grin smeared on his face. Stephen’s heart was pounding, and all he kept thinking was don’t break character don’t break character don’t break character, shit, what the hell do I say to that?
“Pfft, like that would stop me,” he waved a hand. “Tell you what Jon, for Christmas, I’ll package some of my wit and put it under your tree. Oh wait! You don’t believe in Christmas. Sorry, guess you’ll have to wait for your birthday next year.”
“Well thank you Stephen, it’s the thought that counts. You know, I tried to call you today at lunch, but I didn’t get an answer. I guess you must’ve been tied up. What were you doing anyway?”
This can’t be happening, I must be dreaming, it’s got to be the Ambien. Fuck, I’m even starting to panic in character! Well, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. God forgive me, I am going to kill him. “Same as usual Jon, I was basking in the glory of my own reflection while getting a shiatsu massage from three tiny Asian women. Gotta stay limber.” He stretched his arms up over his head, rolling his shoulders. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“It is indeed. Anyway, that’s our show! Tune in tomorrow night, our guest is Calvin Trillin. Now here it is- your moment of Zen.”
*
Jon was in his dressing room, half way out of his suit pants when the door slammed open and Stephen stormed in like a hurricane. “Well,” Jon grinned, “this is a surprise, I didn’t expect-”
“Surprise? You wanna talk to me about surprises? What the fuck, Jon, what were you thinking?”
“What, what’d I do?”
“You ambushed me on air!”
“Jesus, Stephen, calm down! I was just teasing you. It’s improv, that’s what you do best.”
“There’s a world of fucking difference between improv and the shit you just pulled. I was totally unprepared for that. It was unfair, it was mean-spirited, and I- I just can’t believe you would do that!” Stephen was pacing around the room, gesturing wildly, and Jon had never seen him this angry. It was unsettling, and he rubbed at his forehead. “It was only a joke, for fuck’s sake!”
“That’s it exactly! It was just a joke to you! That wasn’t like the innuendo and the standard gay jokes, we do that for the audience. You took our personal life and used it like that to throw me off-balance, like that’s all it is, fodder for your personal amusement. Like it doesn’t matter!”
Jon’s eyebrow furrowed and he took a step towards Stephen, wincing openly when Stephen stepped away. “Okay, I think we’re talking about something different here. Come on, tell me what’s really wrong. I want to fix this.”
“It’s just- maybe it’s not the same for you, but I can’t- this kills me, Jon, being with you, but not being able to be with you, and to have it flaunted in my face like that, that we have this secret life and it would be so easy to just put an end to all that, for God’s sake we have our own public forum, only we can’t, we have to hide, and I keep forgetting why and it’s so damned hard.” His voice broke and he turned away, shoulders shaking. “I just...I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”
Oh my God, I am the world’s biggest asshole. It had been almost ten years now that they’d known each other, and in all that time Jon had never seen Stephen cry. Stephen had seen him cry; hell, the whole country had, he’d done it on cable television, but that hadn’t been the only time. Stephen had always been his shoulder, and Jon had always offered to do the same for him but he’d never been taken up on it. And now, not only to see him like this but to have been the cause of it…. He crossed the room without thinking, arms circling around Stephen’s waist despite his attempts at pushing Jon away and of all the times to be short, this had to have been the worst, when all he wanted to do was hold Stephen against his chest and make this all better. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m such a jerk, I wasn’t thinking. Please, please don’t, Stephen, listen to me. Every time I walk into my apartment alone, all I can think about is how I wish you were there with me. There’s not a second I’m not with you that I don’t feel your absence. Hey.” He reached up and laid his hands on Stephen’s cheeks, brushing the tears away with his thumbs and trying not to fall apart himself at the broken look on Stephen’s face. “Never, ever, not even for a second, doubt how much I love you, or how important this is to me. Okay?” Stephen nodded mutely and sniffled, which was as impossibly adorable as it was heartbreakingly sad. Jon led him over to the couch and sat down, drawing Stephen onto his lap for once (well, the height difference made it difficult so it was more like Stephen half laid across his lap) and curling up around him, letting him get it out of his system. Finally, Stephen wiped at his eyes, staring pointedly at the back of his hand and avoiding Jon’s gaze.
“Sorry I yelled at you.”
“Oh my God Stephen, if I ever deserved to be yelled at for anything, that was definitely it. My complete insensitivity is baffling, it’s a miracle I have any friends at all.”
“You’re not insensitive. You just have a knack for hitting sore points, I think. And that,” voice dropping to a whisper, Stephen picked at his sleeve, “that was a big one.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it before?” Jon noticed the nervous fidgeting and took Stephen’s hand in his to calm it.
“I just… Don’t take this the wrong way, you’ve never done anything to make me doubt you, but I wonder sometimes if….”
“If what, if I love you as much as you love me?”
“It sounds so childish when you put it that way.” Stephen tried to hide his face but Jon wouldn’t let him, tilting his chin up so their eyes met.
“Not at all. Do you have any idea how scared I am that you’re going to come to your senses one of these days, realize that I’m a flabby old putz and wonder what the hell you were ever doing with me in the first place?”
“Okay, first of all, knock it off with the ‘old’. You’ve only got a year and a half on me, so if you’re old, then I am too. Second of all, you’re not flabby. And third of all, well, you are a putz. But you’re my putz.” He smiled, and sappy as it was, Jon couldn’t help but think that it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Stephen’s whole face lit up when he smiled, and it was such a relief to see.
“I got an estimate on my place, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“My apartment. I got an estimate on it. Not that I need the money, but having an idea of what it’s worth can’t hurt.”
Stephen looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I was thinking, if I rented a place in your building, I wouldn’t even have to move into it. I could just keep my extra stuff there and maybe…stay with you. That way we could avoid the whole stupid doorman thing. Cause if I lived there, it wouldn’t be suspicious.”
“But…you love your place.”
“I can think of something I’d love more. No more of this sneaking around bullshit, no more waking up alone. I do love that place, but it’s too empty without you in it.”
Stephen laughed, drawing Jon’s face down to his and kissing him senseless. “What’d I do to deserve you?”
“My thoughts exactly. Now, I’m going to put some pants on, and you’re coming home with me tonight, doormen and secrecy be damned. Then tomorrow I’m gonna start looking for a new apartment.” Jon gently urged Stephen to stand and got to his feet, changing back into his street clothes.
“Are you really sure? That’s an awfully big deal, and your apartment is rent-controlled, and….”
“Couldn’t be surer. You, Stephen Colbert, are all I need. Doesn’t matter where.” Speechless, Stephen just kissed him, putting all his love and gratitude into that small press of lips. Jon ruffled his hair and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Part One| Part Two| Part Three| Part Four| Part Five| Part Six| Part Seven| Part Eight| Part Nine| Part Ten| Part Eleven| Part Twelve| Part Thirteen| Part Fourteen| Part Fifteen| Part Sixteen|
Author:
kitsunesanPairing: Jon/Stephen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight D/s, a little dirty talk, anger, and angst. Not all combined. XD
Word Count: 4099
Summary: For once, Jon and Stephen have differing opinions about what is and isn't funny.
Notes: I actually wasn't planning on writing smut again so soon, but it actually served to further the plot, so I indulged. This chapter is dedicated to
snarkcasm for helping me with a particularly difficult line and drawing me a lovely picture. <3Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
No matter how much you love your job, it’s the way of the universe that the first day back after a vacation invariably sucks. Even with a week’s worth of news to sift through and poke fun at, the meeting still seemed to drag, and no one really had the energy necessary to perk it up. As lunch loomed on the horizon, Jon knew he needed a pick-me-up and he had a completely irresponsible and insane idea of what might do the trick. He’d already been playing with his phone, opening and closing and futzing with it, so he flipped it open again and tossed off a message to Stephen while pretending to listen to whatever it was Wyatt was saying.
“bring that gorgeous ass of yours over during lunch, i wanna do unspeakable things to it.”
So much for discreet. Not like anyone else was going to be seeing it, so there was no real reason to bother with discretion. He was in no mood for it anyway. He spent the last hour before the break flipping his phone open and closed with thinly veiled impatience, barely able to contain the mildly ironic ‘oh thank Christ’ that wanted to slip out when Stephen finally texted back that he’d be there. As soon as the clock hit twelve he quickly dismissed everyone and bolted back to his office, pacing around restlessly until the door opened and Stephen walked in, careful as he always was since they were walked in on to lock the door behind him. Jon’s arms were around him the second the lock was in place, pressing his face against Stephen’s chest.
“Thank God you’re here; if I had to read one more article about Plaxico Burress I was going to stab myself in the leg with a ball point pen.”
Stephen buried his face in Jon’s hair. “Yeesh. Bad day I take it?”
“Not so bad I guess, I’m just still in vacation mode and not in the right headspace for work.” Jon released Stephen a little and led him over to the desk. “C’mere, there’s something I wanna show you.” Stephen shrugged and went along with it, though he was slightly confused and even a little apprehensive, something about the way Jon was acting was making him nervous. “Can I at least take my coat off first?”
“No, I need it for something?”
“Wha-?” Stephen started to ask, but before he had time to finish the question he found himself pushed face down on Jon’s desk with his arms wrenched up behind his back. Less than two seconds later they were twisted up in his jacket and Jon’s weight was bearing down on him, keeping him pinned. “Jon what the fuck?”
“I have all this nervous energy I need to work off. Plus you’re always pinning me down, it’s time for a little payback. Don’t act so surprised, I said I wanted to do unspeakable things to you.”
“I thought you were just flirting!”
“Nope. Now, are you going to be good, or am I going to have to find something to actually tie you up with?”
“Jon, we’re in your office, it’s noon, and we both have a show to do tonight. This is neither the time nor the place to be doing this!”
“See, I already thought about that. You know me, I’m a thinker. That’s why I have this ready.” Still leaning on Stephen with one arm, Jon reached into the top left drawer of the desk and fished something out, Stephen couldn’t see what yet. Then…. “Jon! Okay, if this is some kind of joke you’re taking it too far, I tap out, you win, whatever, just- mmmph!” It was much harder to keep insisting that this really shouldn’t be happening when a tie, the crossword puzzle tie specifically, was stuffed between his protesting lips and tied behind his head. “Joh! Thih ihn’t funny!”
“I’m not laughing,” Jon chuckled. “Okay, so maybe I am a little, but I’m also totally serious. Now, I know you’re gagged, but that tie isn’t exactly made to muffle sound, and I know how loud you get, so as much as I’m going to miss hearing those noises, you’re probably gonna want to keep it down. Especially if anyone saw you come in here.” Stephen thought of his walk through the building and all the people he said hi to, several of whom had given him suggestive looks, and paled. Some time between Sunday evening and now, Jon had lost his mind completely, that was the only possible explanation for this insanity. He was still trying to object through the silk between his teeth but Jon was ignoring his protests, working his khakis open and shoving them and his boxers down his thighs. “Well,” Jon purred, “it seems not all of you is totally opposed to this idea.” He wasn’t opposed at all, really, and that was the worst thing. Stephen would’ve sworn he hadn’t always been this depraved, but something about Jon brought his inner pervert right to the surface, evidenced only further by the fact that his only real complaint at the moment was that he couldn’t spread his legs any further with his pants around his knees the way they were.
Jon draped himself over Stephen’s back, lips at his left ear, barely brushing against it as he spoke. “God you’re so hot like this, you have no idea. I want nothing more than to fuck you right now, but I’m not going to.” His hand curled around Stephen’s cock, working over it hard but slow. “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Bent over my desk while I drive into you hard, like this,” he thrust his clothed hips against Stephen’s bare ass, “bruising your hips against the edge of it.” Much to the horror of his inner prude, that tiny little voice of sanity that still existed somewhere in there under all the depravity, Stephen found himself nodding enthusiastically, barely fighting back the pleading moans building in his throat as Jon kept talking, kept telling him all the filthy and wonderful things he wanted to do to Stephen but wouldn’t, not now anyway, fist still wrapped around his already painfully hard erection and Stephen thought he just might bruise his hips against the desk after all, the way he was trying to thrust forward into it. Jon gripped his jaw, pushing two fingers into his mouth past the tie. “Here, stifle some of those moans by sucking on these. And do a good job of it, ‘cause they’re going inside you and I don’t have any lube.”
It was a welcome distraction, even if it made breathing that much harder (and maybe there was something to auto-erotic asphyxia after all), and Stephen threw himself whole-heartedly into the task of sucking wetly on Jon’s fingers, his own hands opening and closing fruitlessly, bound up as they were. That was some of what was making it so hard to stay quiet, having nothing to grab on to as a way to re-route some of the tension. Having something to suck on helped, until the fingers were withdrawn and it was that much harder in their absence. After a few seconds of fruitless internal struggle, Stephen gave up and started biting down hard on the tie. If it got teeth marks in it, well, that was Jon’s fault for using it as a prop in his freaky sex games.
He’d expected a light touch; even with the show of dominance and force up to this point Jon had always been gentle with him to the point where sometimes he wanted to scream in frustration, so it didn’t register right away that the loud smack and sudden sting had been Jon slapping his ass. By the time it did get through and Stephen was trying to find a way to articulate that as much as he’d actually enjoyed that maybe it was a little louder than they wanted to be right now, two fingers were breaching him roughly and he bit down on his lip to stifle a cry, heedless of the slight coppery taste that told him he’d drawn blood. He was shaking, paralyzed between the equally powerful desires to push forward into one hand and back against the other, trembling in the end between the two and letting Jon do what he would. Which was speeding things along, apparently, fingers twisting and searching inside him to find that spot that ended his indecision and had him jerking back against that touch. Momentarily forgetting the need for quiet Stephen moaned Jon’s name, scratching at the fabric of his jacket and pressing his forehead against the desk.
“Easy, don’t hurt yourself,” the lips at his ear murmured, the words followed with a swipe of tongue. “You close?” Stephen nodded, turning his head to try and catch Jon’s eye and pleading silently for release. “Good.” With a parting nip to Stephen’s earlobe, Jon’s hands stopped what they were doing and found their way to Stephen’s hips and he turned him around, sinking to his knees and swallowing his cock. He’d gotten pretty good at that, could take it nearly to the hilt without choking, even when Stephen bucked forward and his eyes briefly teared up. He teased a hand up the inside of Stephen’s leg, fingers trailing over his balls and behind to enter him again, more gently this time but no less insistently, working in tandem with mouth and lips and tongue to send Stephen hurtling over the edge into orgasm, gritting his teeth around the tie and clenching his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms.
Jon rode it out until Stephen was sagging back against the desk, barely able to keep his balance with his arms and legs twisted up in his clothes the way they were. “Damn you look sexy like that,” he smiled, helping Stephen detangle from his coat and guiding him down into the chair. It was then that he noticed the cut on Stephen’s lip and frowned, loosening the tie until it slipped down around Stephen’s neck and smoothing his thumb over the hurt. “Oh Stephen, I’m sorry.” He bent down and pressed a tender kiss to Stephen’s lower lip.
“Don’ be sorry,” Stephen panted, still chasing his frustratingly evasive breath, “that was…awesome.” There had to be a better word, but that one would do in the mean time. He leaned back against the chair and let his eyes fall closed, a satisfied smile on his face. Jon brushed his fingers through Stephen’s hair, enjoying the quiet moment in the wake of the steamy sex, his own unattended arousal barely registering. “I’m glad you enjoyed that. I know I did.”
“Hmmm. C’mere.” Stephen pulled Jon down onto his lap and claimed his lips for a languorous kiss. “Thank you, that was just what I needed.” And there were several other ways he could say thank you as well, the only problem was choosing which one to go with right now. Although, given their surroundings, there was one that seemed particularly appealing. He stood up, lips brushing over the back of Jon’s neck as his hands traveled downward, flicking open the button of Jon’s jeans. “Stephen, I wanted to do that for you, you don’t have to-”
“Shut up, I wanna have some fun too. Now,” he pushed Jon’s jeans down his hips, “get your ass in that chair.” Jon obeyed, sitting down and watching with hitching breath as Stephen got to his knees. And he had to have been in this business for too long, because when faced with that breathtaking image the first thought that came to his head was a wildly inappropriate Clintonian association. Stephen’s tongue peeked out from between swollen lips, flicking over the head of Jon’s cock as his hand closed around it. Jon watched, transfixed, as Stephen’s lips closed around him, sliding down to meet his hand and drawing back again, the picture he made even more erotic than the feel of what he was doing. Jon buried his hands in Stephen’s hair, murmuring endearments and wondering how the hell he got this lucky. It didn’t take long before he was spilling down Stephen’s throat, fingers tightening in silky locks and Stephen’s name on his lips. Stephen sat back on his heels, wearing a self-satisfied smile, and as an afterthought, turned the tie around and wiped his mouth with the back of it before untying it and placing it back on Jon’s desk. “I think we might’ve just destroyed that tie.”
“If by ‘destroyed’ you mean ‘made it better’. I just hope those stains don’t show up on camera.”
Stephen chuckled, getting to his feet with a quiet groan. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this,” he half-joked, rubbing his back.
“I certainly hope not. Here, let me do that.” Jon stood up, batting Stephen’s hands away from his khakis and doing them up himself, hitching his own jeans up after. “Whoops,” he winced, glancing at the clock, “I’m afraid I’ve made you late. If anyone asks, we were working out the script for tonight’s toss. Not like they’ll believe it, but maybe we’ll at least get points for trying.”
“Got it.” Smiling, Stephen snagged another kiss and slid back into his coat. “I should be going then. You be good. I’ll see you later tonight via the miracle of fiber-optics.”
“I’ll be good,” Jon crossed his fingers behind his back and tried not to snicker. “See you later tonight.” He watched Stephen leave, then sat back down, lifting the tie and surveying the damage. It was half soaked, but otherwise seemed to be in pretty good shape. Perfect. Spreading it out on his desk to dry, Jon got back to his feet and headed back out to the conference room, whistling.
*
The cameras started rolling, the music faded out, and Jon gave his intro. “Hey everybody, welcome to the Daily Show! My name is Jon Stewart! Now, I see that many of you are staring at my tie.” He puffed out his chest, running a hand down the article of clothing in question. “Stylish, no? I promise we’ll talk about that later in the show but for now let’s talk about what we’ve got for you today.” He slid right back into the script and the show went off without a hitch. Anne Hathaway was a good guest, and if he was honest with himself, he got an amused little thrill at hearing that he was apparently some kind of teen heartthrob. He’d have to tease Stephen with that knowledge later. Anne left the stage, and during the commercial break, the connection between the studios was set up and Stephen’s face popped up on the screen.
Stephen nearly choked when the connection came through. Jon was wearing the tie. The tie that, unless he’d gone out and gotten it dry cleaned before dress rehearsal, which he doubted, was soaked in his saliva and traces of Jon’s come. He’d said he was going to wear it, but Stephen hadn’t taken him seriously, especially not after that afternoon’s activities. He had that glint in his eyes that Stephen usually found unbearably sexy but right now made his stomach sink, and he had a good feeling that the script they’d worked on was going right out the window. He was right.
“Before we go, let’s check in with our good friend Stephen Colbert at the Colbert Report! Now, ladies and gentlemen, I promised I’d talk about this tie. It was a birthday gift from Stephen, actually, isn’t that thoughtful? As most of you probably know, I love crossword puzzles, and I was so moved when I opened this that I was speechless. Not like Stephen, he’s never at a loss for words. I imagine I’d have to gag him to stop the flow, isn’t that right Stephen?” Jon fingered the tie, an insufferably smug grin smeared on his face. Stephen’s heart was pounding, and all he kept thinking was don’t break character don’t break character don’t break character, shit, what the hell do I say to that?
“Pfft, like that would stop me,” he waved a hand. “Tell you what Jon, for Christmas, I’ll package some of my wit and put it under your tree. Oh wait! You don’t believe in Christmas. Sorry, guess you’ll have to wait for your birthday next year.”
“Well thank you Stephen, it’s the thought that counts. You know, I tried to call you today at lunch, but I didn’t get an answer. I guess you must’ve been tied up. What were you doing anyway?”
This can’t be happening, I must be dreaming, it’s got to be the Ambien. Fuck, I’m even starting to panic in character! Well, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. God forgive me, I am going to kill him. “Same as usual Jon, I was basking in the glory of my own reflection while getting a shiatsu massage from three tiny Asian women. Gotta stay limber.” He stretched his arms up over his head, rolling his shoulders. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“It is indeed. Anyway, that’s our show! Tune in tomorrow night, our guest is Calvin Trillin. Now here it is- your moment of Zen.”
*
Jon was in his dressing room, half way out of his suit pants when the door slammed open and Stephen stormed in like a hurricane. “Well,” Jon grinned, “this is a surprise, I didn’t expect-”
“Surprise? You wanna talk to me about surprises? What the fuck, Jon, what were you thinking?”
“What, what’d I do?”
“You ambushed me on air!”
“Jesus, Stephen, calm down! I was just teasing you. It’s improv, that’s what you do best.”
“There’s a world of fucking difference between improv and the shit you just pulled. I was totally unprepared for that. It was unfair, it was mean-spirited, and I- I just can’t believe you would do that!” Stephen was pacing around the room, gesturing wildly, and Jon had never seen him this angry. It was unsettling, and he rubbed at his forehead. “It was only a joke, for fuck’s sake!”
“That’s it exactly! It was just a joke to you! That wasn’t like the innuendo and the standard gay jokes, we do that for the audience. You took our personal life and used it like that to throw me off-balance, like that’s all it is, fodder for your personal amusement. Like it doesn’t matter!”
Jon’s eyebrow furrowed and he took a step towards Stephen, wincing openly when Stephen stepped away. “Okay, I think we’re talking about something different here. Come on, tell me what’s really wrong. I want to fix this.”
“It’s just- maybe it’s not the same for you, but I can’t- this kills me, Jon, being with you, but not being able to be with you, and to have it flaunted in my face like that, that we have this secret life and it would be so easy to just put an end to all that, for God’s sake we have our own public forum, only we can’t, we have to hide, and I keep forgetting why and it’s so damned hard.” His voice broke and he turned away, shoulders shaking. “I just...I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”
Oh my God, I am the world’s biggest asshole. It had been almost ten years now that they’d known each other, and in all that time Jon had never seen Stephen cry. Stephen had seen him cry; hell, the whole country had, he’d done it on cable television, but that hadn’t been the only time. Stephen had always been his shoulder, and Jon had always offered to do the same for him but he’d never been taken up on it. And now, not only to see him like this but to have been the cause of it…. He crossed the room without thinking, arms circling around Stephen’s waist despite his attempts at pushing Jon away and of all the times to be short, this had to have been the worst, when all he wanted to do was hold Stephen against his chest and make this all better. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m such a jerk, I wasn’t thinking. Please, please don’t, Stephen, listen to me. Every time I walk into my apartment alone, all I can think about is how I wish you were there with me. There’s not a second I’m not with you that I don’t feel your absence. Hey.” He reached up and laid his hands on Stephen’s cheeks, brushing the tears away with his thumbs and trying not to fall apart himself at the broken look on Stephen’s face. “Never, ever, not even for a second, doubt how much I love you, or how important this is to me. Okay?” Stephen nodded mutely and sniffled, which was as impossibly adorable as it was heartbreakingly sad. Jon led him over to the couch and sat down, drawing Stephen onto his lap for once (well, the height difference made it difficult so it was more like Stephen half laid across his lap) and curling up around him, letting him get it out of his system. Finally, Stephen wiped at his eyes, staring pointedly at the back of his hand and avoiding Jon’s gaze.
“Sorry I yelled at you.”
“Oh my God Stephen, if I ever deserved to be yelled at for anything, that was definitely it. My complete insensitivity is baffling, it’s a miracle I have any friends at all.”
“You’re not insensitive. You just have a knack for hitting sore points, I think. And that,” voice dropping to a whisper, Stephen picked at his sleeve, “that was a big one.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it before?” Jon noticed the nervous fidgeting and took Stephen’s hand in his to calm it.
“I just… Don’t take this the wrong way, you’ve never done anything to make me doubt you, but I wonder sometimes if….”
“If what, if I love you as much as you love me?”
“It sounds so childish when you put it that way.” Stephen tried to hide his face but Jon wouldn’t let him, tilting his chin up so their eyes met.
“Not at all. Do you have any idea how scared I am that you’re going to come to your senses one of these days, realize that I’m a flabby old putz and wonder what the hell you were ever doing with me in the first place?”
“Okay, first of all, knock it off with the ‘old’. You’ve only got a year and a half on me, so if you’re old, then I am too. Second of all, you’re not flabby. And third of all, well, you are a putz. But you’re my putz.” He smiled, and sappy as it was, Jon couldn’t help but think that it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Stephen’s whole face lit up when he smiled, and it was such a relief to see.
“I got an estimate on my place, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“My apartment. I got an estimate on it. Not that I need the money, but having an idea of what it’s worth can’t hurt.”
Stephen looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I was thinking, if I rented a place in your building, I wouldn’t even have to move into it. I could just keep my extra stuff there and maybe…stay with you. That way we could avoid the whole stupid doorman thing. Cause if I lived there, it wouldn’t be suspicious.”
“But…you love your place.”
“I can think of something I’d love more. No more of this sneaking around bullshit, no more waking up alone. I do love that place, but it’s too empty without you in it.”
Stephen laughed, drawing Jon’s face down to his and kissing him senseless. “What’d I do to deserve you?”
“My thoughts exactly. Now, I’m going to put some pants on, and you’re coming home with me tonight, doormen and secrecy be damned. Then tomorrow I’m gonna start looking for a new apartment.” Jon gently urged Stephen to stand and got to his feet, changing back into his street clothes.
“Are you really sure? That’s an awfully big deal, and your apartment is rent-controlled, and….”
“Couldn’t be surer. You, Stephen Colbert, are all I need. Doesn’t matter where.” Speechless, Stephen just kissed him, putting all his love and gratitude into that small press of lips. Jon ruffled his hair and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Part One| Part Two| Part Three| Part Four| Part Five| Part Six| Part Seven| Part Eight| Part Nine| Part Ten| Part Eleven| Part Twelve| Part Thirteen| Part Fourteen| Part Fifteen| Part Sixteen|
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