"Whenever Anyone Accuses Me Of Being Quiet I Scream In Their Fucking Ear!"

♥Cause Nothing's Better Than Some Smut To Start Your Saturday Morning♥

“And then, like, in the trailer it’s not really clear if the woman holding the gun is her or her daughter, but it wouldn’t make sense if it were her daughter but a lot of forums online are making predictions that she follows in her mother’s footsteps to kill Nazis or whatever after they murdered her dad, and I swear I always cry at these types of films but I’m so excited to see it because it’s getting a lot of Oscar buzz too…”

John took his hand off of Keith’s mouth and let him catch his breath. He eased Keith off of him, and silently motioned to him to get on his hands and knees in front of him. John peeled the nasty condom off and stroked himself to his finish, biting on his knuckle to keep himself quiet. Keith arched his back and wiggled his ass in the air. John struggled to keep his breathing steady, and he had to cover his own mouth as he came all over Keith’s ass and watched it dribble down his back.

Outside, Pete wouldn’t shut up, and for once they were grateful. John and Keith both gave a goofy thumbs-up to the camera, joking with their future audience with the pride of pulling off such a risky stunt. Keith stood up and waddled over to stop the recording. Naked and sticky, he crawled back into John’s arms and kissed him, suddenly desperate and needy. John held him close and stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around him to keep Keith warm.

The first moment Pete stopped talking enough to fit a sentence in, John called out to him. “That sounds great, Pete. I’m really excited to see the movie with you. I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Oh, okay,” Pete said simply. “See you in a bit.”

John and Keith waited until he heard Pete go all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen for a snack before they both burst into laughter of triumph and relief.

Don't Save Me Cause I Don't Need It
Rated: M
Pairing: Townswistle

“What would I look like if I grew a massive beard?” Pete thought aloud. He searched through his knapsack and pulled out a joint and a box of matches.

“Right now? You would look like an infant with a ferret on his face,” I teased.

“No, but like, what about when I’m older and I’m a rugged rock star?” he asked me seriously.

I thought about it for a bit, trying to picture how he might look. “It might balance out your face a bit? Maybe draw some attention away from your nose?”

Pete held the joint between his lips and punched me in the side. “Fuck off.”

I laughed. “Come on, I’ll be there at your side every day anyways, I’ll shave it off in your sleep if it looks that bad.”

Pete gave me a tender look. “Are you saying you’ll be my loyal, slutty groupie when I’m big and famous?”

“What? No! I’m going to play guitar and sing in a band and you’ll just be in the background playing a supporting instrument, wishing you were me.”

“’Slutty groupie John misbehaves during a gig and gets punished’,” Pete announced. “I can see it already.”

“You wish!” I took the unlit joint from his lips and held it in my mouth. “Gimme a light.”

“You’re awfully bossy for my most loyal fan,” Pete struck a match and leaned in, lighting the tip of the joint. He watched me closely as I took in as much smoke as I could. I held it in for a few seconds like he told me, and blew it out slowly with more coughing. I handed it back over to Pete.

“I think I’ll try for a nice, manly mustache,” I pondered, leaning back against the pillows. I noticed Pete kept looking, especially where my shirt rose up and showed a bit of my belly.