InsaneJournal

Hovering Between
Title: Hovering Between
Author: dirtylttlescret
A/N: Gapfiller for 308 for tweedygal's request in qaf_bunnies for a levitation fic based on Justin's dream. Not crack, in case the premise scares you. Unbeta'd. 1,300 words. NC-17



The worst part about the dream was how quickly it blurred after he woke up. Because when Justin was awake, he remembered it like this:

The blanket was tangled around his bare legs, his muscles still full of sleep as he rolled onto his stomach and shoved a pillow over his head to keep the sunlight from cutting into his eyes. It was like the horrible buzzing of a mosquito, finding him no matter what position he slept in: with the comforter over his face, on his back with his arm flung over his eyes, in a ball with his head pressed into the cushions. There was no escape.

He made a mental note to shred the flimsy drapes once he got his next paycheck from the diner and replace them with something thicker than the mesh tops Emmett wore to Babylon. He didn’t give a shit if Daphne’s mom did make them herself; they were ugly and completely impractical for someone trying to sublet somebody’s living room sofa.

Justin kept his eyes shut, his hands wandering down between his legs to coax his morning woody down from its rigid state. The need to piss outweighed his desire to jerk off, even if his fingertips did feel good brushing against his balls as he scratched. The remnants of a dream lay scattered about in his mind, his brain sluggishly trying to work the pieces back together before they slipped away quietly, like sand in a sieve.

Brian had been fucking him, he remembered that much. He also remembered not being able to feel any part of his body except for his arm, which had been all numb and tingly (though that was probably because he had been sleeping on it). They’d been fucking in Rage’s lair, but for some reason Justin knew that it wasn’t really the superhero’s secret hideout they were in, it was Brian’s loft. There was no way to explain why he thought otherwise (especially since Rage’s costume and mask were hanging in the corner), he just did.

He remembered Brian wrapping his arms around him (or maybe it was his legs - all of his limbs just seemed so fluid), and then he started to levitate, pulling them up so that they were hovering over the bed and fucking midair.

It was an incredible sensation, and he silently cursed the cheap and ineffective curtains for letting the sunlight in and wrenching him out of such a hot dream.

Justin yawned and took his hand off his crotch, stumbling towards the bathroom in order to relieve some of the pressure on his bladder. As he kicked up the seat and aimed at the bowl, he wondered which was worse: that he’d developed a superhero worship complex worse than Michael’s, or that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He’d only been up for five minutes, and already he needed a cigarette.

But when Justin was asleep, it happened like this:

“Take your clothes off,” says Brian gently, pulling his shirt and pants off and tossing them in the direction of Rage’s dark uniform hanging in the corner. Justin wants to ask why Brian has it, but he can’t speak which is probably a good thing, since he also wants to ask him when they got back together and he’s sure that will spoil the moment.

It’s too warm in here, so he pulls off his black turtleneck and tosses it on the ground. Brian kicks it away, sending it sliding across the hardwood floor to the other side of the lair, then walks up and attacks Justin’s mouth with a kiss full of hot fury. Justin can feel Brian’s arousal everywhere, concentrated in its fullest in the space between his thighs. It’s like kissing an electrical current.

He’s suddenly very aware that Brian’s naked and he’s still not. Fortunately, Brian seems to think that this is a problem too, because his hands are at the front of Justin’s jeans, slipping inside to grope his semi-hard cock as he undoes the button and zipper. Then his pants are quickly discarded, and Brian leads him to the bed, laying him down and laughing playfully as he kisses down his chest toward his erection.

A hot and wet mouth is on him, but the contact is only fleeting, and Brian continues his way down to his hole, spreading his legs wider as he tongues him. When he moves back up his body, Justin tries to tell him that he prepared for him already, that he doesn’t need lube because he’s so very wet and slick and open, but his tongue won’t move the way he wants it to. It keeps getting stuck in his mouth, like he’s chewing taffy while sucking the sugar out of the gaps in his teeth. Brian just shakes his head and gently puts his fingers over his mouth to reassure him.

“Is it over?” he asks, his eyes open and filled with vulnerability. Justin almost can’t look at them, knowing what kind of pain must be reflected in his own eyes. They had been so needlessly cruel to each other before.

Justin nods.

“Do you still love me?” he asks, and at this point, Justin ought to realize it's just a dream. Brian would never wear his heart on his sleeve like that, never give anyone the chance to rub salt in his hidden wounds. But Justin doesn’t. The sincerity and self doubt in his voice is too distracting, too intimate, too tattered to question.

Justin wants to say yes, to whisper it into his skin, to breathe it into Brian’s body, but with his tongue fixed firmly in his mouth, all he can do is nod back and kiss him passionately.

A bare cock is at his hole, and if the last comment hadn’t awoken him to the fact that this isn’t real, Brian pushing in raw isn’t going to do it either. He’s too caught up in the feel of it all, the wetness in his ass, hot friction making him leak clear from tip of his dick, Brian’s skin pressing against his own.

He feels strong arms twining around his body, finding their way underneath his back and holding his torso close to Brian's.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he says. Justin does and he can feel their bodies rising up off of the bed, floating in midair. “You like that?” Brian asks, raising an eye and smiling with the side of his mouth, his tongue sticking out just a little.

It feels incredible. Gravity pulls at him, calling him back down to the bed, but Brian holds on tight, fucking him slow and hard as they hover in the air. He wonders when Brian learned to levitate, but is distracted by the naked cock pressing repeatedly against his prostate. Justin locks his fingers together behind Brian’s lean and well muscled back, letting his head fall into empty air, hair hanging down, hot blood pounding in his ears.

He wants to hear Brian come first. He doesn’t know why it’s so important, he only knows that he needs to hear his harsh groans of pleasure as he comes deep in his ass. But Brian doesn’t relent. He just keeps fucking him with long smooth thrusts, never getting any closer or further from the edge of orgasm.

“I want to watch you come,” says Brian, looking into his heavily lidded eyes. Justin shakes his head no, trying to explain that he’s waiting for him, but nothing comes out. He’s distracted by a tender kiss and they keep rocking, suspended above the bed, waiting to see who will break first.

Sunlight seeps into the room, filling it with clear bright light, and Justin can’t feel Brian’s dick in his ass anymore. Just a numb tingly sensation in his arm. And he has to piss.