Category: Real Person Fic
Pairing: Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt
Length: <1k words
Chapter Notes: Warnings peeps! Here be angst! ha! I wrote angst! I dont like writing angst. it depresses me. but there you go. Also, if Jumon doesnt float your boat, then its pretty easy to replace Simon with a sexy bloke of your choice. Except Noel. Not been betaed, so any mistakes are mine. Inspired by convo with raynor, ya cheeky vixen.
Julian knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. He knew that tonight was a one off, a quick release of tension. Hell, its not as if it was the most comfortable place for a hand job; pressed up against a wall in an alleyway, cold winter air nipping at exposed skin. It shouldn’t be sexy. It shouldn’t be exciting. It shouldn’t be anything other than stress relief.
His train of thought was quickly derailed as soft lips pressed against his throat, and the hard scrape of teeth as Simons head dipped down. He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around the warm flesh in his hand, feeling the other jut his hips forward.
“Yes…” Julian let his head fall back against the wall, wincing as his head hit the rough bricks.
Don’t enjoy it too much. Don’t let it mean anything. His own rules of one night stands.
“Julian…” A soft gasp, Simons mouth open against Julian’s collar, warm breath ghosting over his neck. Julian let one hand slide up over Simons back, fingernails scratching on the rough material, through the short hair on the back of his neck. Simon arched into him, pressing himself against Julian. The zipper on Simons opened jeans pressed against Julian’s own partially exposed thigh.
Julian bit his lip, curling his fingers through short bleached hair, and slid his other hand round Simons hip. A moan at the loss of contact, before he cupped his hand around Simons buttock and yanked him forward. Heat and friction and more, more, oh god…
“Yes, yes…” Simon set the pace, his fingers gripping tight onto the material of Julian’s shirt, and moving, thrusting, forcing Julian into a fast rhythm. He kept his eyes closed, head back, biting his lip to stop the moans. Focused on the heat pressed against his crotch, the feel of another man rubbing against him, hard bites against his throat and skin sore from stubble. Focused on the memories of Noel, writhing and sweaty and willing. On the feel of pressing into him, onto him, tasting and stroking and it was so right, so perfect…
“Julian, I…” Simons gasp against his throat and he dug his fingers in a little harder, pressed him closer, and oh, so close, so close…
Don’t say their name. Don’t kiss them. Don’t make a connection.
“Please.” Simon raised his head, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, pressing close to Julian’s jaw. Licking his lips, Julian gazed upwards, stars and streetlights blurring as he felt himself tense, his movements more erratic, breath gasping out in quiet moans. He watched in a daze as his breath turned white in the air, feeling kisses pressed messily against his jaw, moving up, closer…
Don’t let it be anything other than sex.
He repeated it in his head, even as Simons hand slid around the back of his head, pulling him down.
“I’m close.” Whispers fading in the darkness, breaking his brief fantasy. Simons voice was low, rough with need, and Julian tensed, groaning deep his throat. “Close.” A hasty kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth, and he tensed and came. Simon’s moan barely registered, his vision fading to white, head thrown back painfully against the brick wall.
Simons fingers were digging painfully into the back of his neck. Harsh panting breath against his throat and warm sticky heat between his legs. He grimaced slightly, pushing at Simons shoulders. Simon took the hint, backing up and looking up at him with a sly grin. They cleaned up quickly, using whatever material they had on them. Julian wasn’t sure his scarf would ever be the same.
“So…” Simon looked a little uncomfortable, one hand still playing with his belt.
“Yeah. I’m gonna… I need to get back.” He gestured vaguely at the entrance of the alley, conveniently hidden behind two large bins. Simon nodded, his hands in his jeans pockets.
“Hey, we could…”
“No.” Julian glanced down, making sure he was presentable. “We couldn’t.” He smiled, hopefully reassuringly, and walked out of the alley. He didn’t look back, just kept walking. Past the bar he’d met Simon in. Past smug looking bouncers, staggering shrieking teenagers waving their alcopops. He ignored the whoops of the drunken stag night, their out-of-tune singing ringing in his head. The dark pressed in on him.
He only wanted one thing now. He wanted Noel. The one thing he couldn’t have. Not anymore. He wanted to forget the feel of Simon pressing against him, lips so tantalisingly close to his own. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Noel left. Hadn’t wanted to, until tonight.
People had told him to move on. Get on with his life, find someone new. He’d never felt the need to. Never wanted anything with anyone else that had been so perfect with Noel. They were a part of each other lives, they belonged together.
He couldn’t let go of Noel. The memory of him, the feel of him, the way they fit perfectly together.
But that was all over. That had been made perfectly clear to him. He fought it down, but images of Noel, tear streaked face and bloodshot eyes, made him stop, breath hitching. The screaming accusations, sarcasm laden insults, slamming doors as he stormed through the house… Julian bit his lip, eyes stinging, and he rubbed at them roughly.
It was all over now. He was alone.
He took a deep breath, ran one hand through his hair, and set off on the long walk back to an empty house.