FIC: useless Bakery AU porn/fluff snippet
Jan. 17th, 2012 01:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luciazephyrSo a little while ago, some asshole called Mefista went on the Dresden Files TV Tropes page and deleted all the slash fic recs. I had a bit of a fit, flipped some tables, reverted the page, et cetera. Also happened to tell Grene that in retaliation, I was gonna write some gay porn.
Aaaaand then I did. And it was terrible, but Grene said I should post it. So here it is.
Fic: Completely self-indulgent Bakery AU porn
NSFW due to sex, sliiiight kink, because John likes Harry's aprons. Takes place after Stars and Scones Bakery and Coffee Shop concludes.
Let it never, ever be said that John doesn't love Ivy. Let it never be said, whispered, insinuated-- let the thought never cross a person's mind. Because John does love Ivy, gave up a profitable and fulfilling life in the New York mafia for her without regrets.
But, John also loves Harry, with equal fervor, though obviously not in the same way. With that in mind, every once in a while, John likes to be in Harry's company without his daughter. Adult time, as it were.
He's never done anything to enforce this and has never had to. Ivy's always signed up for extracurricular activities. Usually, there is at least one day out of every week that has Kincaid driving Ivy to a university or musical event. Often, John goes along as well.
Unless, of course, Ivy's day away coincides with Harry's day off.
Then, John takes ruthless advantage.
If "ruthless advantage" can mean "sitting in the living room with a tumbler half-full of scotch, watching Harry."
John's offered to learn to cook several times now. He understands that Harry bakes for a living and feeds so many people every day, and it'd be reasonable for him to not want to do the same thing at home. But Harry's refused John's offer every time, preferring to instead putter around the kitchen while John languishes in his armchair.
John is not inclined to complain about being allowed to watch Harry in his element, especially not on the days Harry wears his apron. He always has a plan for days like this, to keep Harry in bed for hours, make up for all the instances when they don't have time or can't risk waking Ivy. Inevitably, John's pornographic plans derail, and the evenings fill with warm, quiet moments like this.
"Hour until dinner," Harry announces. John opens his eyes without realizing he closed them. "Refill?"
His drink is just ice now. "Yes, thank you." Harry takes the glass and moves away to pour some more scotch in it. As he does, John watches him appreciatively, all lean lines and surety in his steps.
"If you like 'em so much, you can have one," Harry says, handing John his drink.
John blinks. "Hm?"
"The apron. You're always staring."
John smiles and reaches out before Harry steps away, catching the hem of his apron. "I prefer them on you," he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.
"What? Is... is this a thing for you? Like your thing about my hands?"
"You have very nice hands," John replies, slightly defensive.
"Thanks?" Harry laughs softly. "I'm trying to figure out if you're a little liquored up or if you're just in a sharing mood."
"Does it make a difference which?"
"Sure. Let's me know if I'm going to be taking advantage of you tonight, or if I need to ply you with more alcohol first," he drawls, tone teasing.
"Mm." That's a nice thought. John sips some of his drink before setting it aside and using his hold on Harry's apron to pull him in. Harry stumbles closer, but not close enough. John tugs, insistent, until Harry's knee plants on the chair and he's nearly on John's lap. "That's quite devious of you, Mr. Dresden." His hand settles on Harry's hip, steadying him.
"Well, learned from the best." He waits the requisite time to make his punchline work: "Ivy's a great teacher."
John doesn't even laugh; it'd only encourage Harry's worst jokes. Harry sulks, but finishes climbing into the chair with John. It's a large chair, and thankfully so, given how the extra space helps accommodate Harry's long legs. It's not exactly comfortable to have a long, lanky baker perched on his lap, but it's not to bad. Cozy, at least.
He still has one hand wrapped around his tumbler. On a whim, he puts the glass gently to Harry's mouth and tips it until a little flows in. From here, he can watch the Adam's apple bob in Harry's neck as he swallows. Drawing his thumb across Harry's lip, smoothing the slickness away stirs something deep in his gut.
Harry tips his head away. "Hey. Down boy. Not before we have dinner, anyway."
"I have no idea what you mean," John murmurs, letting his thumb drag along Harry's skin, following the line of his neck down.
Harry's having none of it, sadly. He stays in the chair with John for a while, nudging away his hands when they get too friendly. It lasts until the timer in the kitchen rings and he slides away to get back to the kitchen.
John doesn't sulk, but it's a near thing. He goes back to nursing his drink until it's time to eat.
After, though. After, John does the dishes while Harry fields a call from Ivy as she checks in. After, John gets one more drink and returns to his chair.
Harry watches him for a moment, smile plying over his lips. "Is that an invitation?"
John blinks and hums a question, "Hm?"
Harry points. "You're rubbing your thigh."
He hadn't realized he'd been doing that. It was an absent gesture of sorts. But it has caught Harry's attention, and John doesn't mind. "That depends. Will you accept it?"
The idea of playing coy crosses Harry's mind; John sees it. The baker discards it though, instead helping himself to John's lap and settling in there.
John curls an arm around Harry's waist, hooking two fingers in the cord holding his apron in place. With his free arm, he sips, like having a full grown man sprawled over him is a common occurrence. Harry snatches the glass from him, drains it, and sets it safely aside before kissing the taste from John's mouth.
For a while, it's simply Harry kissing John. And it is definitely Harry doing the kissing. John goes boneless, lying back in the chair and allowing Harry to do as he wishes. What he wishes is to kiss John in every conceivable manner. Slow, then hard, then something in between. Lingering on John's lower lip, then delving his tongue deep inside. Soft, then biting, with John's lip caught between Harry's teeth.
Harry has always been experimental: with flavors, with his own boundaries, with figuring out exactly what he wants. He's nothing if not thorough, and eventually settles on the right kind of kiss for this evening; it's sharp and a little mean, coaxing John to react only to nip at him when he finally does.
Normally, Harry taking the reins was fine, and John had restraint to spare for him. Normally, though, John did not have so many drinks in him. Instead of sitting still and letting Harry puzzle out what exactly he wanted tonight-- always a complicated prospect-- John puts the seat back, so it curves like a bowl, holding them in. Harry's crushed against him, startled from the transition, and John pulls him down until they're laying together. Harry's feet hang off the foot rest by some measure, but otherwise he seems unperturbed.
"We could go to bed," Harry murmurs. "More room."
"Yes, we could," John replies easily, even if the idea doesn't appeal to him. Taking this to the bedroom means Harry will disrobe, and John's not looking for that.
"Blankets," Harry points out. "Pillows. A surface I can actually stretch out on." Here he wiggles his feet where they hang off the chair. "The toy drawer."
John laughs. The toy drawer is dramatic. It just holds basic supplies. Once, it had a pair of handcuffs Murphy gave Harry as an only-sort-of-a-gag gift. John enjoyed them being used on him, but when Harry wanted to try it the other way, it'd gone badly. Every few weeks, John finds another of the broken links from the chain around the bedroom.
Since then, the toy drawer has been just a potential toy drawer. John's sure that will someday change, but knows better than to rush it.
But there is something that might be all right. Harry's still open to more extemporized play, and John doesn't think he'll mind this.
John kisses Harry for a while, getting adventurous with his hands, enjoying it when Harry finally lets him. Eventually, he shifts so Harry is the one sprawled over the chair, then stands, leaving him there.
Harry sags back, panting quietly for a second. "So. Bedroom?"
"Another idea, if you're willing," John says, reaching down and sliding his hands slowly up Harry's legs. He watches Harry's face as he does, ready to abort if need be. That's doesn't appear necessary; Harry's face flushes and he doesn't show any sign of complaint as John gets to the zip, loosens the jeans, and pulls them off, dragging Harry's boxers along.
John stands back and admires the view for a moment: Harry's naked from the waist down, legs miles long and carelessly spread, erection hidden under the folds of his apron. It's a lovely, somewhat scandalous sight, having the man halfway to debauched yet just barely decent. John's gaze is so steady, he can tell Harry's surety is failing. This could be over before it starts, but John can almost see Harry muster up some courage.
As usual, it takes the form of a deeply sardonic tone. "You are a strange man."
"Is that a protest?"
Harry snorts and slumps back, snickering to himself. He is very red now from a mix of arousal and embarrassment and good humor. "No, John. It's not a protest. Just... putting my opinion on the record."
"Consider it recorded and notarized." John puts his hands lightly on Harry's bony knees and pushes them a little further apart. Harry just huffs laugh and looks away, biting his lip.
He gets on his knees and settles in between Harry's legs. That, at least, interests Harry, the tent in the paisley green cloth bobbing. John knows an invitation when he sees one and wraps his hand around Harry's cock, stroking once through the fabric.
Harry jolts. "No, no, too rough."
John lets go immediately. "All right." Instead, he ducks his head under, into the shadowy cave created by apron and legs, and without any further foreplay takes Harry's cock in his mouth.
Harry shouts, surprised, and grabs John's head. "Ffffuck, warn a guy."
The idea is so ludicrous. John frees him mouth long enough to say, "Harry, I'm going to suck you off now."
Harry's laughing again, bright and sharp as glass. "Shut up."
"As you wish." John gets back to it.
John makes good on it, partly as gratitude to Harry for indulging him. Harry doesn't understand John's fascination with his hands, his aprons, and the more tactile side of his talents. But he doesn't mind, or at least he doesn't mind how it affects John. That it makes John hard to see Harry in an brightly colored apron of sky blue damask is weird, but Harry's gotten used to it. While he's made cracks about how he is not John's own personal domestic goddess, when John gets appropriately worshipful, he falls silent.
Or, as silent as he can be when John has him deep in his throat. Harry's toes are curled and he can't seem to stop running his fingers through John's hair. He's done it enough that the gel's been worked out, leaving John's hair much softer. Harry buries his fingers in it, holding on. By now, he's taking quick gasps of breath and John can feel his muscles tensing. John wants to see his face, just how he's coming to pieces, but the cloth is in his way and he's enjoying being tucked under Harry's apron.
Harry's probably right-- it is a little weird. But he's happy and Harry sure as hell sounds happy, they're alone, and the rest of the world is miles away, so what does it matter?
John has no one to impress and Harry has no need to hide. It's warm and familiar, and if John could come up with an excuse to keep Harry here, just like this for a week or two, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
When he finally gets Harry to bed, he doesn't want to sleep. He'll wake up to Harry on his way out the door to get to the bakery, Ivy on her way to school, and he'll have his firm to look after. They'll have lunch and dinner together, but Harry will be tired, and will be asleep before eleven. The routine is comfortable and John is aware of what a phenomenally lucky man his is to have it instead of some of the alternatives (cement shoes and a swim in New York harbor come to mind).
But John's always been somewhat greedy. He couldn't have gotten as far as he did without a healthy sense of self-interest. He wants more of this: Harry laying against him, arms bonelessly sprawled, eyes nearly shut, face flushed and mouth curled into a smile as he looks at John.
Harry's voice is coarse with weariness when he asks, "What are you thinking about?"
"Hm." John has the urge to trace Harry's mouth with his thumb. There's nothing stopping him from doing so, so he does. "If letting Ivy have that summer music program for purely selfish reasons makes me a bad father."
"Oh?"
"You could take a week off."
Harry laughs. "And what? Spend it in bed?"
John doesn't see what's so funny about the idea.
"Oh, come on, don't pout." Harry rolls over, tucking in with his head more on John's shoulder than the pillow. "I'll think about it."
He'll have to work to convince Harry. But, John thinks as he relaxes and settles in to sleep, convincing Harry is always its own reward.
Aaaaand then I did. And it was terrible, but Grene said I should post it. So here it is.
Fic: Completely self-indulgent Bakery AU porn
NSFW due to sex, sliiiight kink, because John likes Harry's aprons. Takes place after Stars and Scones Bakery and Coffee Shop concludes.
Let it never, ever be said that John doesn't love Ivy. Let it never be said, whispered, insinuated-- let the thought never cross a person's mind. Because John does love Ivy, gave up a profitable and fulfilling life in the New York mafia for her without regrets.
But, John also loves Harry, with equal fervor, though obviously not in the same way. With that in mind, every once in a while, John likes to be in Harry's company without his daughter. Adult time, as it were.
He's never done anything to enforce this and has never had to. Ivy's always signed up for extracurricular activities. Usually, there is at least one day out of every week that has Kincaid driving Ivy to a university or musical event. Often, John goes along as well.
Unless, of course, Ivy's day away coincides with Harry's day off.
Then, John takes ruthless advantage.
If "ruthless advantage" can mean "sitting in the living room with a tumbler half-full of scotch, watching Harry."
John's offered to learn to cook several times now. He understands that Harry bakes for a living and feeds so many people every day, and it'd be reasonable for him to not want to do the same thing at home. But Harry's refused John's offer every time, preferring to instead putter around the kitchen while John languishes in his armchair.
John is not inclined to complain about being allowed to watch Harry in his element, especially not on the days Harry wears his apron. He always has a plan for days like this, to keep Harry in bed for hours, make up for all the instances when they don't have time or can't risk waking Ivy. Inevitably, John's pornographic plans derail, and the evenings fill with warm, quiet moments like this.
"Hour until dinner," Harry announces. John opens his eyes without realizing he closed them. "Refill?"
His drink is just ice now. "Yes, thank you." Harry takes the glass and moves away to pour some more scotch in it. As he does, John watches him appreciatively, all lean lines and surety in his steps.
"If you like 'em so much, you can have one," Harry says, handing John his drink.
John blinks. "Hm?"
"The apron. You're always staring."
John smiles and reaches out before Harry steps away, catching the hem of his apron. "I prefer them on you," he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.
"What? Is... is this a thing for you? Like your thing about my hands?"
"You have very nice hands," John replies, slightly defensive.
"Thanks?" Harry laughs softly. "I'm trying to figure out if you're a little liquored up or if you're just in a sharing mood."
"Does it make a difference which?"
"Sure. Let's me know if I'm going to be taking advantage of you tonight, or if I need to ply you with more alcohol first," he drawls, tone teasing.
"Mm." That's a nice thought. John sips some of his drink before setting it aside and using his hold on Harry's apron to pull him in. Harry stumbles closer, but not close enough. John tugs, insistent, until Harry's knee plants on the chair and he's nearly on John's lap. "That's quite devious of you, Mr. Dresden." His hand settles on Harry's hip, steadying him.
"Well, learned from the best." He waits the requisite time to make his punchline work: "Ivy's a great teacher."
John doesn't even laugh; it'd only encourage Harry's worst jokes. Harry sulks, but finishes climbing into the chair with John. It's a large chair, and thankfully so, given how the extra space helps accommodate Harry's long legs. It's not exactly comfortable to have a long, lanky baker perched on his lap, but it's not to bad. Cozy, at least.
He still has one hand wrapped around his tumbler. On a whim, he puts the glass gently to Harry's mouth and tips it until a little flows in. From here, he can watch the Adam's apple bob in Harry's neck as he swallows. Drawing his thumb across Harry's lip, smoothing the slickness away stirs something deep in his gut.
Harry tips his head away. "Hey. Down boy. Not before we have dinner, anyway."
"I have no idea what you mean," John murmurs, letting his thumb drag along Harry's skin, following the line of his neck down.
Harry's having none of it, sadly. He stays in the chair with John for a while, nudging away his hands when they get too friendly. It lasts until the timer in the kitchen rings and he slides away to get back to the kitchen.
John doesn't sulk, but it's a near thing. He goes back to nursing his drink until it's time to eat.
After, though. After, John does the dishes while Harry fields a call from Ivy as she checks in. After, John gets one more drink and returns to his chair.
Harry watches him for a moment, smile plying over his lips. "Is that an invitation?"
John blinks and hums a question, "Hm?"
Harry points. "You're rubbing your thigh."
He hadn't realized he'd been doing that. It was an absent gesture of sorts. But it has caught Harry's attention, and John doesn't mind. "That depends. Will you accept it?"
The idea of playing coy crosses Harry's mind; John sees it. The baker discards it though, instead helping himself to John's lap and settling in there.
John curls an arm around Harry's waist, hooking two fingers in the cord holding his apron in place. With his free arm, he sips, like having a full grown man sprawled over him is a common occurrence. Harry snatches the glass from him, drains it, and sets it safely aside before kissing the taste from John's mouth.
For a while, it's simply Harry kissing John. And it is definitely Harry doing the kissing. John goes boneless, lying back in the chair and allowing Harry to do as he wishes. What he wishes is to kiss John in every conceivable manner. Slow, then hard, then something in between. Lingering on John's lower lip, then delving his tongue deep inside. Soft, then biting, with John's lip caught between Harry's teeth.
Harry has always been experimental: with flavors, with his own boundaries, with figuring out exactly what he wants. He's nothing if not thorough, and eventually settles on the right kind of kiss for this evening; it's sharp and a little mean, coaxing John to react only to nip at him when he finally does.
Normally, Harry taking the reins was fine, and John had restraint to spare for him. Normally, though, John did not have so many drinks in him. Instead of sitting still and letting Harry puzzle out what exactly he wanted tonight-- always a complicated prospect-- John puts the seat back, so it curves like a bowl, holding them in. Harry's crushed against him, startled from the transition, and John pulls him down until they're laying together. Harry's feet hang off the foot rest by some measure, but otherwise he seems unperturbed.
"We could go to bed," Harry murmurs. "More room."
"Yes, we could," John replies easily, even if the idea doesn't appeal to him. Taking this to the bedroom means Harry will disrobe, and John's not looking for that.
"Blankets," Harry points out. "Pillows. A surface I can actually stretch out on." Here he wiggles his feet where they hang off the chair. "The toy drawer."
John laughs. The toy drawer is dramatic. It just holds basic supplies. Once, it had a pair of handcuffs Murphy gave Harry as an only-sort-of-a-gag gift. John enjoyed them being used on him, but when Harry wanted to try it the other way, it'd gone badly. Every few weeks, John finds another of the broken links from the chain around the bedroom.
Since then, the toy drawer has been just a potential toy drawer. John's sure that will someday change, but knows better than to rush it.
But there is something that might be all right. Harry's still open to more extemporized play, and John doesn't think he'll mind this.
John kisses Harry for a while, getting adventurous with his hands, enjoying it when Harry finally lets him. Eventually, he shifts so Harry is the one sprawled over the chair, then stands, leaving him there.
Harry sags back, panting quietly for a second. "So. Bedroom?"
"Another idea, if you're willing," John says, reaching down and sliding his hands slowly up Harry's legs. He watches Harry's face as he does, ready to abort if need be. That's doesn't appear necessary; Harry's face flushes and he doesn't show any sign of complaint as John gets to the zip, loosens the jeans, and pulls them off, dragging Harry's boxers along.
John stands back and admires the view for a moment: Harry's naked from the waist down, legs miles long and carelessly spread, erection hidden under the folds of his apron. It's a lovely, somewhat scandalous sight, having the man halfway to debauched yet just barely decent. John's gaze is so steady, he can tell Harry's surety is failing. This could be over before it starts, but John can almost see Harry muster up some courage.
As usual, it takes the form of a deeply sardonic tone. "You are a strange man."
"Is that a protest?"
Harry snorts and slumps back, snickering to himself. He is very red now from a mix of arousal and embarrassment and good humor. "No, John. It's not a protest. Just... putting my opinion on the record."
"Consider it recorded and notarized." John puts his hands lightly on Harry's bony knees and pushes them a little further apart. Harry just huffs laugh and looks away, biting his lip.
He gets on his knees and settles in between Harry's legs. That, at least, interests Harry, the tent in the paisley green cloth bobbing. John knows an invitation when he sees one and wraps his hand around Harry's cock, stroking once through the fabric.
Harry jolts. "No, no, too rough."
John lets go immediately. "All right." Instead, he ducks his head under, into the shadowy cave created by apron and legs, and without any further foreplay takes Harry's cock in his mouth.
Harry shouts, surprised, and grabs John's head. "Ffffuck, warn a guy."
The idea is so ludicrous. John frees him mouth long enough to say, "Harry, I'm going to suck you off now."
Harry's laughing again, bright and sharp as glass. "Shut up."
"As you wish." John gets back to it.
John makes good on it, partly as gratitude to Harry for indulging him. Harry doesn't understand John's fascination with his hands, his aprons, and the more tactile side of his talents. But he doesn't mind, or at least he doesn't mind how it affects John. That it makes John hard to see Harry in an brightly colored apron of sky blue damask is weird, but Harry's gotten used to it. While he's made cracks about how he is not John's own personal domestic goddess, when John gets appropriately worshipful, he falls silent.
Or, as silent as he can be when John has him deep in his throat. Harry's toes are curled and he can't seem to stop running his fingers through John's hair. He's done it enough that the gel's been worked out, leaving John's hair much softer. Harry buries his fingers in it, holding on. By now, he's taking quick gasps of breath and John can feel his muscles tensing. John wants to see his face, just how he's coming to pieces, but the cloth is in his way and he's enjoying being tucked under Harry's apron.
Harry's probably right-- it is a little weird. But he's happy and Harry sure as hell sounds happy, they're alone, and the rest of the world is miles away, so what does it matter?
John has no one to impress and Harry has no need to hide. It's warm and familiar, and if John could come up with an excuse to keep Harry here, just like this for a week or two, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
When he finally gets Harry to bed, he doesn't want to sleep. He'll wake up to Harry on his way out the door to get to the bakery, Ivy on her way to school, and he'll have his firm to look after. They'll have lunch and dinner together, but Harry will be tired, and will be asleep before eleven. The routine is comfortable and John is aware of what a phenomenally lucky man his is to have it instead of some of the alternatives (cement shoes and a swim in New York harbor come to mind).
But John's always been somewhat greedy. He couldn't have gotten as far as he did without a healthy sense of self-interest. He wants more of this: Harry laying against him, arms bonelessly sprawled, eyes nearly shut, face flushed and mouth curled into a smile as he looks at John.
Harry's voice is coarse with weariness when he asks, "What are you thinking about?"
"Hm." John has the urge to trace Harry's mouth with his thumb. There's nothing stopping him from doing so, so he does. "If letting Ivy have that summer music program for purely selfish reasons makes me a bad father."
"Oh?"
"You could take a week off."
Harry laughs. "And what? Spend it in bed?"
John doesn't see what's so funny about the idea.
"Oh, come on, don't pout." Harry rolls over, tucking in with his head more on John's shoulder than the pillow. "I'll think about it."
He'll have to work to convince Harry. But, John thinks as he relaxes and settles in to sleep, convincing Harry is always its own reward.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-17 09:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-17 11:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-18 02:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-18 07:15 am (UTC)I have faith that John will be able to convince Harry to take at least 2 days off, maybe even 3 consecutively. He's very persuasive ♥.