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piecesofalice May. 20th, 2009 02:21 am)
piecesofalice May. 20th, 2009 02:21 am)Heaven help me, for the way I am.
TITLE: "I love your precious heart."
FANDOM: Hannah Montana, Jackson/Lilly
RATING: R (Australia) or NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Disney, don't sue my ass. All you'd get is a fine collection of High School Musical tumblers.
"I love your precious heart."
HM-verse,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tweendom_anon prompted, 19th May 2009
---
NOTES: This was born from a) this prompt at thetweendom_anon kink meme and b) writer's block eating MY SOUL. And semi-c): if there was one more request for Demi/Selena filled, I was going to kick a puppy. I do not have a puppy, however, so think about poor Harvey, memers.*
I didn't post it there anon because, mainly, this isn't really porn. It's a bit smutty, with some sex happenin', but for some reason it turned into The Great Jackson/Lilly Melodrama (Now In Limo Format!), thus posting it with my name attached. Plus, I love Jackson/Lilly. Yeah, it's got a weird tinge to it because of my main man J.Earles' Amazing Contracted Age, but people? They're characters. And I rather enjoyed "He Ain't a Hottie, He's My Brother" and consider the end to be the biggest cop-out since...well, several TV shows used the "it's a dream!" excuse.
...and I just defended writing Hannah Montana smut. My name is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
piecesofalice, and I have a problem. A ~sexy~ problem
---
Dedicated to Anonymous Prompt Maker. May you love this, despite the lack of porn.
---
I was standing
You were there
"Never Tear Us Apart", INXS
---
They both knew they'd drunk too much - she's got her hands around his neck, her lipstick a little smeared and they're both breathing too heavy to be healthy.
He'd found her backstage, the crowd's polite, sated clapping reaching their ears via the close-circuit monitors that surrounded the press room. There, in front of a billion cameras and hounding reporters, was his baby sister - a shining dust-collector in her hand, a smile on her face that was coloured by M.A.C. and their father, back to the right, watching on with something called pride.
Hannah! Hannah! What are your plans for the new album?
Hannah! What's with you and the Jonas Brother?
His baby sister's best friend was watching, too, her face closed as she swigged the Moet with a ferocity he'd not seen in a long time. It wasn't jealousy, he knew - he'd known her too long to know that - but a shade too close to pity and Jackson felt his heart contract a little.
"She's okay."
Lilly turned, surprised. "Yeah. I know. I just..." She trailed off, and drank more, finished again and grabbed another.
"Nothing like a real life?"
"Yup."
"Yeah. But she's okay."
"I know."
He knew. She knew. And now, in the backseat of a limo his sister/her best friend paid for with too-much-fame, they both kissed each other like tomorrow was the end of days.
--
She feels like everything that's right with the world, and he sighs as her hands begin to pull off his bow tie. See, they're both playing as mutton dressed as lamb; she is almost glowing in a pink dress with these big-ass flower things and a slit up the leg that should be illegal. He's in a monkey suit he hadn't worn since prom, which seems like forever ago, now his entire world seemed to consist of phone calls home and cramming for exams at a college he wasn't entirely sure he should be at.
Because he thinks about her almost everyday, when he's making out with a sorority sister at a kegger as a part of some weird initiation, when he's waking up later, half-naked next to said sorority sister and a hangover the size of Texas. He thinks about her when he's talking to Miley on the phone and she's talking about Lilly-and-Oliver like it's one word, and it kills him in a way he'd rather not mention.
Because she's just has to send him ridiculous jokes by Twitter at two AM when she knows he's freaking out about a lit test (@jacksonthegreat what is a slug? / @lillyfofilly i dunno you tell me / @jacksonthegreat a homeless snail!!! lol :DDDD), because she's the first with a crinkly face and a bag of chips when his family does something odd, regardless of whether she's a part of it or not.
Because she's soft lines and wavy hair, because - she seems to see him, in the only way he could ever see himself.
"Oliver -" he tries to say against her mouth, and she pushes herself almost on top of him.
"Jackson," she whispers, and he closes his eyes.
"Forget him. Please."
And it's the way she says "please", in a voice that runs electricity down his spine, that finally makes him wrap his arm around her waist and kiss her like the man she needed him to be.
--
The privacy screen's up, and there's several missed calls on both of their cells - still on silent from the awards show - from sister/best friends and fathers asking where the hell they are. Where the hell they are, really, is halfway between this is a bad idea and finallyfinallyfinally, the limo circling LA's highways at the request of the passengers and the driver not giving a shit as long as he's paid.
Both wonder about the inevitability of tomorrow morning's "oh my Lord, how much did I drink?", and Jackson knows he's a helluva lot more sober than her, so he wonders if she's here just because she's blind drunk and it's giving her the courage to act out some deep-seeded big brother fetish.
But she bites his lip when he questions her, yanking his bow tie free, finally, and he takes it from her and watches as she begins to unravel the bow holding her dress up at the neck.
He's man enough to admit it - he almost comes at the sight of her naked chest, it's so damn beautiful.
She takes his hands and makes him touch her. Slowly, guiding his hands across her collarbone and along her shoulders, stopping at the slight mound of her breast and he gets a sick thrill at seeing her eyes flicker out of focus because it's him that made her react that way.
He breaks from her and pulls back, the bow tie slithering through his fingers and her breathing the only sound he can hear. "I don't want you to know," he smirks, and her eyes widen. "I don't want you to see."
The black silk of the bow tie goes over her eyes, and they both know the narrow strip isn't going to do much. But it's the thought, the mere suggestion of anything either of them had fantasied that makes it more than enough, and when he's finished fastening the ends he trails his fingers down her bare back like snakes and she almost whimpers with want.
His jacket's off, now, top button undone and leading into several more. His hands, his fingers that Miley often teased couldn't play a damn thing, ran across Lilly's skin now with the deftness - the goddamn skill - of a fucking maestro. Back pushing against his chest, she's his and for once, Jackson allows himself to feel the smug satisfaction of knowing that, yes Virginia, there is something he can do pretty damn well.
By the time his hands push down past her pantyhose and underwear, by the time she's holding his knee and pushing against his fingers and saying his name a ferocity he was pretty pleased to have caused, they know there's no way back because the road's too far walked.
--
Foreplay's a game, and Lilly was good at sports. By the time she's crawled on top of him, her thighs either side of him and the motion of the limo speeding wherever, Jackson feels like he's running a marathon that's nowhere near finished.
He's keeping up, her stamina both enviable and mindblowingly hot, and she's creating friction by mastering the pace they both have to keep and it's all he can do to remember what the hell is own name is.
She's clenching around him, muscles and energy, and he's using his hands the best way he knows how as the heat seems to rise from them both. Faster, faster; his head's banging against the door and he's worried about hers cracking the ceiling when it's all he can do not to jump out of his own skin when he finally comes. She's still at the pace, her face plastered with the self-assured smirk of a Number One Winner, when he uses the energy he does have left to help her finish and it's like snapping the tape to a crowd of applause.
He can feel her heart beating against his chest, her breath heavy against his neck. Heavy-handed, after-sex emotions aren't exactly the major part of his repartee, so he musters all he can offer in a silent but meaningful kiss.
Because she is everything he thought she'd be - even without the half-assed teenage fantasy elements - and the sound of the outside crashing in rises him a little to turn to her, face to face, and say as much as he could without sounding like a douchebag.
"This is all I ever wanted." She stares at him, and he panics. "Y'know, if I were gonna think about you -"
Her smile is as large as Miley's when she collected that stupid award. The award that unknowingly set off a fairly bizarre chain of events that lead to where they were at this very moment.
And as he smiles back, wrapping her up in his arms, he knew they were both as sober as they were ever going to be.
---
Fin.
---
If there is a Hell and I go there because of this, please don't sit me in the Lilly/Oliver section. Because, yo. That shit is like kissing your brother.
*walks away, eating a sandwich*
* Note: I really wouldn't kick Harvey. Even after he peed in my room again. DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD WRITE ANOTHER RPS PROMPT, MEME.
TITLE: "I love your precious heart."
FANDOM: Hannah Montana, Jackson/Lilly
RATING: R (Australia) or NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Disney, don't sue my ass. All you'd get is a fine collection of High School Musical tumblers.
"I love your precious heart."
HM-verse,
tweendom_anon prompted, 19th May 2009---
NOTES: This was born from a) this prompt at the
tweendom_anon kink meme and b) writer's block eating MY SOUL. And semi-c): if there was one more request for Demi/Selena filled, I was going to kick a puppy. I do not have a puppy, however, so think about poor Harvey, memers.*I didn't post it there anon because, mainly, this isn't really porn. It's a bit smutty, with some sex happenin', but for some reason it turned into The Great Jackson/Lilly Melodrama (Now In Limo Format!), thus posting it with my name attached. Plus, I love Jackson/Lilly. Yeah, it's got a weird tinge to it because of my main man J.Earles' Amazing Contracted Age, but people? They're characters. And I rather enjoyed "He Ain't a Hottie, He's My Brother" and consider the end to be the biggest cop-out since...well, several TV shows used the "it's a dream!" excuse.
...and I just defended writing Hannah Montana smut. My name is
piecesofalice, and I have a problem. ---
Dedicated to Anonymous Prompt Maker. May you love this, despite the lack of porn.
---
I was standing
You were there
"Never Tear Us Apart", INXS
---
They both knew they'd drunk too much - she's got her hands around his neck, her lipstick a little smeared and they're both breathing too heavy to be healthy.
He'd found her backstage, the crowd's polite, sated clapping reaching their ears via the close-circuit monitors that surrounded the press room. There, in front of a billion cameras and hounding reporters, was his baby sister - a shining dust-collector in her hand, a smile on her face that was coloured by M.A.C. and their father, back to the right, watching on with something called pride.
Hannah! Hannah! What are your plans for the new album?
Hannah! What's with you and the Jonas Brother?
His baby sister's best friend was watching, too, her face closed as she swigged the Moet with a ferocity he'd not seen in a long time. It wasn't jealousy, he knew - he'd known her too long to know that - but a shade too close to pity and Jackson felt his heart contract a little.
"She's okay."
Lilly turned, surprised. "Yeah. I know. I just..." She trailed off, and drank more, finished again and grabbed another.
"Nothing like a real life?"
"Yup."
"Yeah. But she's okay."
"I know."
He knew. She knew. And now, in the backseat of a limo his sister/her best friend paid for with too-much-fame, they both kissed each other like tomorrow was the end of days.
--
She feels like everything that's right with the world, and he sighs as her hands begin to pull off his bow tie. See, they're both playing as mutton dressed as lamb; she is almost glowing in a pink dress with these big-ass flower things and a slit up the leg that should be illegal. He's in a monkey suit he hadn't worn since prom, which seems like forever ago, now his entire world seemed to consist of phone calls home and cramming for exams at a college he wasn't entirely sure he should be at.
Because he thinks about her almost everyday, when he's making out with a sorority sister at a kegger as a part of some weird initiation, when he's waking up later, half-naked next to said sorority sister and a hangover the size of Texas. He thinks about her when he's talking to Miley on the phone and she's talking about Lilly-and-Oliver like it's one word, and it kills him in a way he'd rather not mention.
Because she's just has to send him ridiculous jokes by Twitter at two AM when she knows he's freaking out about a lit test (@jacksonthegreat what is a slug? / @lillyfofilly i dunno you tell me / @jacksonthegreat a homeless snail!!! lol :DDDD), because she's the first with a crinkly face and a bag of chips when his family does something odd, regardless of whether she's a part of it or not.
Because she's soft lines and wavy hair, because - she seems to see him, in the only way he could ever see himself.
"Oliver -" he tries to say against her mouth, and she pushes herself almost on top of him.
"Jackson," she whispers, and he closes his eyes.
"Forget him. Please."
And it's the way she says "please", in a voice that runs electricity down his spine, that finally makes him wrap his arm around her waist and kiss her like the man she needed him to be.
--
The privacy screen's up, and there's several missed calls on both of their cells - still on silent from the awards show - from sister/best friends and fathers asking where the hell they are. Where the hell they are, really, is halfway between this is a bad idea and finallyfinallyfinally, the limo circling LA's highways at the request of the passengers and the driver not giving a shit as long as he's paid.
Both wonder about the inevitability of tomorrow morning's "oh my Lord, how much did I drink?", and Jackson knows he's a helluva lot more sober than her, so he wonders if she's here just because she's blind drunk and it's giving her the courage to act out some deep-seeded big brother fetish.
But she bites his lip when he questions her, yanking his bow tie free, finally, and he takes it from her and watches as she begins to unravel the bow holding her dress up at the neck.
He's man enough to admit it - he almost comes at the sight of her naked chest, it's so damn beautiful.
She takes his hands and makes him touch her. Slowly, guiding his hands across her collarbone and along her shoulders, stopping at the slight mound of her breast and he gets a sick thrill at seeing her eyes flicker out of focus because it's him that made her react that way.
He breaks from her and pulls back, the bow tie slithering through his fingers and her breathing the only sound he can hear. "I don't want you to know," he smirks, and her eyes widen. "I don't want you to see."
The black silk of the bow tie goes over her eyes, and they both know the narrow strip isn't going to do much. But it's the thought, the mere suggestion of anything either of them had fantasied that makes it more than enough, and when he's finished fastening the ends he trails his fingers down her bare back like snakes and she almost whimpers with want.
His jacket's off, now, top button undone and leading into several more. His hands, his fingers that Miley often teased couldn't play a damn thing, ran across Lilly's skin now with the deftness - the goddamn skill - of a fucking maestro. Back pushing against his chest, she's his and for once, Jackson allows himself to feel the smug satisfaction of knowing that, yes Virginia, there is something he can do pretty damn well.
By the time his hands push down past her pantyhose and underwear, by the time she's holding his knee and pushing against his fingers and saying his name a ferocity he was pretty pleased to have caused, they know there's no way back because the road's too far walked.
--
Foreplay's a game, and Lilly was good at sports. By the time she's crawled on top of him, her thighs either side of him and the motion of the limo speeding wherever, Jackson feels like he's running a marathon that's nowhere near finished.
He's keeping up, her stamina both enviable and mindblowingly hot, and she's creating friction by mastering the pace they both have to keep and it's all he can do to remember what the hell is own name is.
She's clenching around him, muscles and energy, and he's using his hands the best way he knows how as the heat seems to rise from them both. Faster, faster; his head's banging against the door and he's worried about hers cracking the ceiling when it's all he can do not to jump out of his own skin when he finally comes. She's still at the pace, her face plastered with the self-assured smirk of a Number One Winner, when he uses the energy he does have left to help her finish and it's like snapping the tape to a crowd of applause.
He can feel her heart beating against his chest, her breath heavy against his neck. Heavy-handed, after-sex emotions aren't exactly the major part of his repartee, so he musters all he can offer in a silent but meaningful kiss.
Because she is everything he thought she'd be - even without the half-assed teenage fantasy elements - and the sound of the outside crashing in rises him a little to turn to her, face to face, and say as much as he could without sounding like a douchebag.
"This is all I ever wanted." She stares at him, and he panics. "Y'know, if I were gonna think about you -"
Her smile is as large as Miley's when she collected that stupid award. The award that unknowingly set off a fairly bizarre chain of events that lead to where they were at this very moment.
And as he smiles back, wrapping her up in his arms, he knew they were both as sober as they were ever going to be.
---
Fin.
---
If there is a Hell and I go there because of this, please don't sit me in the Lilly/Oliver section. Because, yo. That shit is like kissing your brother.
*walks away, eating a sandwich*
* Note: I really wouldn't kick Harvey. Even after he peed in my room again. DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD WRITE ANOTHER RPS PROMPT, MEME.
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*goes to work* ~I am inspired~
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Um... just wanted to comment on that. And I would love to read this Jackson/Lilly but Miley doesn't know fic. :D
So thank you for doing such a wonderful job filling the only good thing about that show, which also makes me feel like a pervy mom, but I'm okay with that.
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If you're a pervy mom, I don't want to think what the hell I am - I swear, I only watch the show because of Jackson and Lilly most of the time! They're a smart, logical pairing, so I solumnly swear to write some more (if the kink meme doesn't eat my brain).