:D (crazyjedi) wrote in damnyouwentz,

Ah, I'm an hour late!

Sorry, stupid school kept butting into my fic time. For schulyer, who asked for Tyson/Nick. Sorry for the lack of porn, but I'm trying to write you some Panic!GSF, so i hope that'll make up for it.


    “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Nick said eloquently, with half a jam doughnut sticking half out of his mouth. Tyson had always wondered how Nick was able to do this without looking like an idiot, but he had finally just put it on the list of Things That Nick Is Able To Do And Still Look Sexy.

      Sometimes he thought the length of the list (548 and counting) was more of a reflection on himself than Nick.

     “And we have no gas,” Nick said, voice surprisingly calm. Despite the List, Tyson was under no illusions that Nick wasn’t a drama queen some (most) of the time. The fact that he wasn’t ranting or trying to cause Tyson physical harm (because, of course, it had been him who had forgotten to fill up the tank) was a blessing -one Tyson put down to drowsiness and that Tyson had not woken him up until he had called a tow truck (he learned quickly).


     “Ding ding ding, give the man a dollar,” Tyson droned, and Nick let out a small chuckle, rubbing his hand over his eyes. His hair was beyond mussed, from sleeping in the passenger seat since Tulsa, and Tyson couldn’t resist the urge to smooth it back from his forehead.  Nick smiled a tiny grin, just a quirk of the lips, and leaned into Tyson’s hand, so that his cheek was resting against the palm, the heat of his skin seeping into Tyson. There was a little powdered sugar on Nick’s bottom lip and Tyson leaned in and licked it away, pulling back just a little so his forehead was leaning against Nick’s.

     “So, since we’re here and all, and the tower won’t be here for another hour or two…”

      Tyson let himself trail off, and he rearranged his features into the puppy-dog (lecherous) look that he knew got Nick every time. It was how he got him to pay for dinner, do his laundry- although Nick usually did that anyway, since Tyson left to his own devices with laundry equipment usually did more harm than good- and even was the reason that they were in the middle of nowhere, just the two of them traveling and playing music. If Nick was asked why they started the band, he’d most likely give a different reason, but that was fine because Tyson knew the truth.

      Nick rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest when Tyson slid a hand up his thigh and pulled him closer, into easy groping distance.

      “Hey baby, come here often?” Tyson purred into Nick’s ear, his hand moving up Nick’s thigh to the button of his jeans.

       Nick rolled his eyes. “What are we in, some kind of cheesy fifties movie? Should I be wearing a poodle skirt?”

       “Well, we did just get back from that sock hop.” Tyson had the jeans unbuttoned, and was now going for the zipper, dragging it down slowly. “I’ll give you my pin and you can watch me play basketball.”

     “I won’t let you get past second base,” Nick said, voice breathy, but he lifted his hips to let Tyson pull his jeans down roughly to his knees.

      Tyson tsked.

      “My, no underwear. What would your mother say, Nickolas?” He ran a finger along Nick’s hipbone, feeling the jut of the bone there, before replacing his fingers with his mouth, but avoiding Nick’s cock, which was growing harder.

     “She’d tell you to stop playing games and suck me off already, Ty.”

     “Huh, whatever happened to not letting me get past second base?” Tyson said, giving a long, lazy lick to Nick’s hipbone, adding a little bit of a bite at the end. Nick drew in a sharp breath, and jerked his hips up.

     “Fuck, Ty, don’t tease.”

      Nick’s voice was strained, and he wrapped his fingers in Tyson’s hair and tugged him roughly to the area that needed his attention.

      “I bet you sweet-talk all the boys like that,” Tyson said wryly, but did as he was told, taking Nick’s cock into his mouth.


            If Nick was asked why he left his band to teach Tyson how to play bass so they could start their own band and travel around together in a shitty van that always was running out of gas, he’d probably spout some politically correct answer about how he knew he had to write music with Tyson, how they were best friends, but they both knew that Tyson’s blowjobs hadn’t made it any harder to make the choice.




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