@missflora I have Question again :p,does Stanford latte art on coffee in csas au.
(I decided to answer with mini!fic, hope you don’t mind)
“Ya know, this is some bullshit.”
Ford finishes setting down the last cup and looks at his brother with a puzzled expression, “What is?”
“This,” Stan waves to the cups, “Nine times outta ten, I burn myself on that goddamn wand - meanwhile, here you are - makin’ hearts and shit with it.”
“...I mean, I don’t make the art with the steam wand, Stanley, I make it with-!”
“I don’t give a shit!” he grouses, “First art on paper, now this - an’ yer a genius to boot. It’s like - what can’t you do?”
“Lots,” Fidds promises as he snatches up one of the cups and takes a sip, “Mmm, though I’ll admit this is pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Susan grabs herself one as well, “Pretty too! Look at this little heart!”
She turns her cup to Fidds with a happy grin and he kisses her cheek, “Well wouldja look at that - you got two hearts in your hand. The one in the cup and the one in me.”
She bats at his arm and he laughs. She takes a sip, hums, and then adds, “He’s right though, Stan. There’s a lot your brother can’t do. If you think this is impressive, you should step into my kitchen. I promise you, I can do things with icing that’ll make all of this look like finger paintings.”
“She’s not lying,” Shandra confirms and she wrinkles her nose at all the cups, “What did you even make all these for, Stanford?”
“Practice,” he scratches behind one ear, “Uh, and-and maybe for...well,” he drags out the ‘L’ on the end of the last word and, as if perfectly timed, Preston walks in, “Greetings, all!”
He unwraps a scarf from around his neck and shudders, “It’s surprisingly chilly out there! Reminds me of winters up at the ancestral home in Gravity F-oh my!”
Preston peers down at the drinks Ford made, “What a splendid display! Who made all of these.”
Stan rolls his eyes, “One guess.”
Ford ducks his head, looking shy as he adjusts his glasses, “Well, last week when you took Stanley and I out to that restaurant and you ordered that espresso at the end and when it came with the art you-you sort of lamented how they-they didn’t do anything floral, so...”
He holds out a cup that appears to have a frothy foam fern in the center. Preston takes it and looks appropriately touched, “Fordsy...this-this is...”
“Should’ve given him this one,” Stan grabs a cup and holds it up, “Looks like a dick.”
“Stanley!” Ford cries in alarm and Stan just snickers, “I mean, ‘s clear you wanna give him tha-!”
“Stop,” Shandra scolds, smacking one of his shoulders, “Don’t act like you don’t either. I see this for what it is now - another Pines twins competition.”
Both Stan and Ford start arguing, words running over top of one another, but Shandra is not to be swayed, shaking her head, “Nuh-uh, nope, no, no, no - I know you two and now this alllllll makes sense. Preston’s been taking you both to fancy places and you both have been doing your best to prove you’re better than anything he can take you to.”
“Wait, is that why you were wanting me to play with you last week?” Fidds asks and Susan suddenly nods, “Yeah - wasn’t that the week you all went and saw Hozier in concert? That was...what? On a Sunday and then that following Friday...”
“Look, that guy stole my look, alright?” Stan argues, “If anybody’s gonna be some Bog Prince of whatever, it’s gonna be me. Had the long hair before he did and I wear better clothes and if it also just so happens I’m better at playing the guitar...”
Shandra just points a finger into his chest, “So you had to prove you were better than he was, because Preston was the one who took you to see him. And now here is Ford doing the same thing! You’re both showing off for him!”
“Gentlemen, is this true?” Preston asks with some surprise but Shandra just turns her keen eyes on him, “Oh, as if you’re not just eating this up! You tried to prove to Ford once that you were better than Stanley! It only just so happened that he ended up being an idiot for you...Stan, too, no less...”
The last is added with a little smirk, no rancor intended as she sighs, “Can’t believe all the lovestruck dopes I’ve surrounded myself with. A couple and a throuple...Jesus...”
Now Preston joins in with Stan and Ford, all three’s words falling over one another as they argue the term ‘throuple’, but Shandra pays it little heed, grabbing the cup that Stan said looked like a dick (she’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be some kind of hat) and takes a hearty sip.
What can’t Ford do? Please. He has limits. Just like Stan. Just like Preston. They all have their limts. Shandra’s? It’s probably knowing too damn much for her own good and she just grins as she drains the cup.
Pairing(s): Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Fordwest), Stanley Pines/Ford Pines (Stancest), Stanley Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestan), Stanley Pines/Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestanwich)
Warning: Language, Sex, First Time, supernatural elements
Summary: Set within the Coffee Stains and Cigarettes AU, Preston and Ford go on an adventure, aka, the sexual awakening of Preston Northwest.
Notes: I really hate this stories summary description, but honestly could not think of anything better…at least right now. Don’t be surprised if I update/change it.
Preview:
“Now don’t get mad…” Ford starts and Preston arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, “Why would I be mad?”
He asks it in the way that indicates he’s never once been cross with Ford. Which is laughable. Ford knows better. While it’s true that, despite their past, wherein Ford was the target of Preston’s bullying, the two of them have gotten along companionably, they have had their disagreements. Nothing to the level Preston has had with Stanley, but they’ve certainly gotten under one another’s skin.
It’s rare these days, but it’s happened, and Ford feels like it might happen now as he winces, “Well, I mean, in order to-to make this work, I…well, I kind of had to contact your boss…”
“Bruce?” Preston lets slip, then corrects himself with a short cough, “I-I mean, Mr. Kincaid?”
Anonymous prompt request: Fordwest with “let me go”
Maybe not as good as the first time I wrote it (*side-eyes shitty tumblr app on android), but still pleased overall. Another excuse to be horny on main. Warnings for light bondage, language, and public (kinda/not really) sexiness…
“Let me go,” Preston murmurs unconvincingly against Ford’s lips.
“Hrm, I think not,” Ford returns in a soft purr as he kisses Preston again, his tongue plunging deeply into the other man’s mouth. The sweater normally knotted about Preston’s shoulders is currently being used to keep Preston’s arms bound back behind his office chair.
At first, Ford had been worried Preston wouldn’t be into this idea, as well as worried that the position might be too restrictive or painful. But once assured that everything was perfectly fine and suitable, he’d begun to have real fun, crawling upon Preston’s lap, his legs spread on either side of him. His hands cup each side of his face, fingertips trailing through his dark hair, mussing it, even as the pads of his thumbs play along his cheekbones.
Preston, for his part, answers Ford’s questing tongue with his own, a muted moan escaping him as heat flushes throughout every vein in his body. He’s supposed to be working. This is his job. He’s in his office. But with the knowledge that the door is locked and Ford is on him, practically riding him, well…
And as if to punctuate that fact, Ford grinds his hips down, moving in a lurid display that accentuates the feeling of his plush ass against Preston’s rapidly growing erection. Another sound, this one a heartier groan, escapes Preston mid-kiss and his arms strain against his bonds. Suddenly he feels Ford smiling against his mouth and, with the thought that two can play this game, Preston cants his hips upwards. Hard.
The mimic of the sexual act catches Ford off guard and he whimpers, his grip in Preston’s hair tightening, and now it’s Preston’s turn to smile. He draws back enough to huff against his mouth, “Thought you were with your brother today…”
“He’s working,” Ford returns softly, their lips still touching, his eyes glazed with lust, “Thought you knew…”
“Mmm, and you couldn’t do this with him, I take it?”
“Hard to do in front of a bunch of contractors…”
“I see.”
“…besides, wanna do this with you.”
Preston’s heart flutters at the declaration, “Really?”
Ford nods and they haven’t really ever stopped kissing, working the words in between, “Love you too, remember?”
“I do,” he returns passionately, breathlessly, their lips parting enough so that he can nose his way over to the left side of Ford’s neck, licking and sucking there, making Ford’s head knock back, a sound of pure pleasure escaping him at the action, “But I like hearing you say it. Seeing you demonstrate it…”
Ford’s hips move again, rising and falling in their own display, another recreation and Christ, Preston’s pants are growing tight. He suddenly hates his khakis more than he’s ever hated anything. He draws away from Ford’s neck, falling back against his chair and his palms are sweating, wrists fighting against what holds them back.
Again, Ford can feel the struggle, and again he seems beyond pleased. Chuckling darkly as he croons, “Problem?”
“Wretch,” Preston returns smartly and breathes in through his nose, “You are making me into a stereotype, dear. I’ve never thought of myself as the Christian Grey type, yet here I am.”
“You’re nothing like him. He’s a lousy character. Obsessive, controlling-”
“Not hearing much different, to be honest.”
“Oh, you’re different,” Ford promises and he really hasn’t stopped moving, undulating against Preston, and he’s panting now and Preston whines his name because if this keeps up…
What is it with the Pines twins and getting him worked up at his location of employment? First there was the heated affair with Stanley in this building’s elevator and now Stanford here in his office. Soon no place will be safe. Everywhere he goes will be a reminder of what he has waiting at home for him. Two brothers who love nothing more than to bring him to the pinnacle of ecstasy.
There’s softer things too, of course. Love, companionship, a sense of family. Nice, simple things that make his life stable and worth living. Things that are not entangled in hormones and primal carnality. But, to be fair, it seems to be that that they bring to his work. Not lunch dates and friendly visits, no, it’s this.
He’s not certain what it is about his work that makes the Pines brothers so…amorous, but apparently it’s an infliction neither can fight. Not that he has much room to talk. He does allow these things to happen. His heaving breathing has joined alongside Ford’s and his forehead is coated in a fine sheen of sweat as he starts answering Ford’s actions with his own, thrusting upwards and god, yes, he feels rather…rather close…
The phone rings.
The shrill sound of it makes Preston freeze, blood going cold. Ford stops as well, but while he has a look of momentary alarm, it drops, becoming something…truly wicked. Coy even, as he kisses Preston deeply again before drawing back to say wetly against his mouth, “It’s just the phone…they can’t see us…”
“They can’t-?” Preston foolishly starts and then Ford, the absolute devil, bends back enough to click the speaker on. The phone comes to life, a voice ringing out, “Mr. Northwest?”
The wide eyed look Preston shoots Ford must be terribly comical, because Ford slaps both hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter, and he just looks so goddamned pleased with himself. He’s still on Preston’s lap. Preston’s hands are tied behind his back. Preston…Preston is aroused. His dick at full mast and a voice he doesn’t recognize is talking to him from his phone’s speaker!
“Mr. Northwest, are you there?”
The sheer audacity! The-the gall! The look Preston now gives Ford would whither most people. Ford? Ford just falls forward, burying his face into the right side of Preston’s neck and the smile Preston feels there, the smile right against his skin. The little minx! The scapegrace! The-!
“I think we may have a bad connection…”
“No,” Preston manages awkwardly, even though, honestly, he should just let the call die, he finds himself answering, “I’m-I’m here…”
“Oh! Good! Okay, well, this is Mark Barnett? From accounting? I just wanted to let you know those invoices are complete and headed your way via e-mail. You told us in the last meeting that you wanted to be notified the moment they were on their way, so”
“Ah, yes, yes, I-I remember…” Preston manages and he’s being licked. Ford is licking him. The silky point of Ford’s tongue trails along one corded side of Preston’s neck and rises to his earlobe. An earlobe that disappears into the hot cavern of Ford’s mouth. Teeth gently scrap the tender flesh as Preston sighs dreamily, “Th-thank you for-ahh-for getting-getting back to muh-me as-as I requested.”
The last word comes out extremely shaky and broken because now, not only is Ford sucking his earlobe, but he’s moving again. Jesus, the feel of him. He’s rubbing and pushing, shifting himself downwards, and Preston’s been inside Ford before. He knows what it’s like to be buried deep within him and even with their clothes separating them, this is too much, too much of a reminder.
Preston mouths ‘fuck’, the muscles in his throat twisting, wrists pulling so hard against the sweater he worries he’ll somehow tear the fabric and he wants this all to be over, to be different. He wants the bonds gone, he wants their clothes gone, he wants Ford face down on his desk and for his hands to be grabbing fistfuls of his curved, full hips as he empties himself in-!
“Are you alright, sir?”
Preston knows he sounds strangled even as, thankfully, Ford pauses, as if curious to hear what will happen next, “Pardon?”
“You sound…strange…”
“Do-uh-do I?”
“Yes. Sort of…throaty…”
While it’s a relief Ford is no longer trying to bring him to the brink, it’s just as vexing to know that Ford’s body is now shaking, trembling, from glee. Preston swallows a lot of air before returning primly, “Yes, I, ah, I’m afraid I might be coming down with something.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Northwest! I hope you get better soon.”
“Yes, thank you and thank you again for your hard work. Goodbye.” He doesn’t need to look at Ford for his lover to take the hint, the last word spoken with such steely authority that Ford obeys, bending back to click the speaker off and conclude the call.
Laughter ripples out of Stanford even as Preston’s voice rises, “You absolute monster!”
If anything this just makes Ford laugh harder, his arms wrapping around himself, and it’s amazing he hasn’t fallen back to roll around on the floor. He’s close to hysterical at what just transpired and Preston glares at him, “Just wait until we get home!”
Ford wipes away some tears, “Ahahaha-ha-ha-ho-home?”
Preston makes a sound of assent, “When I tell your brother…”
“Oh? You’re not going to get your own revenge?”
“I will,” Preston promises, “But your brother? He’s the master of this sort of thing, is he not? And with my help? Why…just imagine…”
Ford gulps and it’s clear that he hadn’t given that thought. His two lovers…plotting against him…
He tries a contrite look, but currently it doesn’t sit well with him at all, “C’mon, Pres, I was just playing around…”
“And so shall I,” he intones ominously, “And so shall he…”
“Pres…”
“And so,” Preston edges up and sneaks in a kiss, “Shall we…”
Pairing(s): Stanley Pines/Ford Pines (Stancest), Stanley Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestan), Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Fordwest), Stanley Pines/Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestanwich)
Summary: Set within the Coffee Stains and Cigarettes AU, we take a peek into the far flung future - wherein Stan brings back a portal-lost Ford…only to discover he’s even more lost than he ever feared.
Notes: FINALLY finished this chapter. It’s been collecting dust in my drafts for a bit as I did those prompts and other things. Just needed to be closed out and I finally did that this past week! Now to address the three hundred other things I need to do...
Preview:
Dipper Pines has never considered himself a light sleeper, but even a deep one would be awoken by the sound of…well, someone falling all over themselves in the dark. A mixture of thumpings, thuddings, and a sharp, hissed curse that slices right through his slumbering state, having him bolting upright with an alarmed cry and okay, yes, the cry is a lot higher in pitch than he would like.
But again, there’s someone in the room! Someone who is not him, nor Mabel, and the cry must have been even louder (and embarrassingly shriller) than even he thought, because he hears the sound of heavy footsteps beating up the stairs, the attic bedroom door bursting open to flood the room with golden light.
Grunkle Stan looks breathless and just as alarmed as Dipper feels, “Hey-! Kid! What-!”
Dipper has his blanket pulled up to his chin, his eyes wide with fright as he gestures over to where the sounds came from. Grunkle Stan clicks on the room’s lights and both he and Dipper bear witness to the sight of a very undignified Mr. Northwest, crumpled up on the floor, practically hanging upside down from the tiny triangle window.
Grunkle Stan rolls his eyes.
Hard.
Dipper has a very different reaction, voice colored with confusion, “Mister…Northwest?”
Pairing(s): Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Fordwest), Stanley Pines/Ford Pines (Stancest), Stanley Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestan), Stanley Pines/Ford Pines/Preston Northwest (Prestanwich)
Warning: Language, Sex, First Time, supernatural elements
Summary: Set within the Coffee Stains and Cigarettes AU, Preston and Ford go on an adventure, aka, the sexual awakening of Preston Northwest.
Notes: I really hate this stories summary description, but honestly could not think of anything better...at least right now. Don’t be surprised if I update/change it.
Preview:
“And you’re sure you’re completely packed?”
“I dunno. I mean, I probably wasn’t the first three hundred times ya asked me, so you might as well go ahead and go for three hundred and one. Maybe even two!”
“Stanley…” Ford’s voice comes out stern and long suffering, yet Preston can’t help chuckling at it, even as he turns the page of his newspaper. He’s caught between reading an article about the new overpass going up near the 405 and knowing for a fact that Stanley is going to be a big part of that. Hence the packing. He fidgets slightly where he sits, thinking of how Stanley will be gone on this job for well over a week.
An entire week…
True, it’s nothing like when he left for months back before…well, everything. Everything that happened, everything that changed. But still, the last time Stanley Pines was away from his brother for a lengthy period, it did not go over well. Ford was a wreck without his twin and while Preston had been there to offer his support and friendship, it…it hadn’t been enough.
“STOP interrupting me!” Ford snarls and Preston takes a step back, startled by Ford’s tone. He holds up both hands, voice going soft, “Okay, okay…I’m-I’m sorry.”
He backs out of Ford’s lab and goes upstairs, finding Stan sitting in their kitchen. Stan takes one look at him and sighs, “Let me guess. Sixer?”
Preston just goes to the fridge and shrugs, pulling out a Pitt and popping the tab, “He’s just…irritable today.”
Stan snorts, “He’s been irritable every day for the past two months.”
Scowling he gets to his feet, rolling his head about his shoulders, “It’s that damned portal he’s working on. It’s a garbage idea, ya ask me. We’ve been living here a couple of months now, yeah? Gravity Falls has weirdness. Why go lookin’ for more?”
“It’s his passion,” Preston argues as he takes a few sips of his Pitt before setting the can aside, “It’s not as if we can take it from him.”
“I think we should.”
“Now Stanley…”
“C’,mon, Pres, you tellin’ me you’re fine with this?” Stan waves in the general direction of Ford’s lab and Preston lets out a hefty sigh because, well, he’s not exactly fine with it. Oh sure, it was fine in the beginning. He had no problem financing Ford’s work and his husband had been so happy. He’d seen no reason to interfere. But as time has gone on, Ford’s become…sullen. Withdrawn. So very, very unlike himself.
This recent heated remark sending Preston off hasn’t been the first and, sometimes, he suspect it won’t be the last. But how can he tell Ford ‘no’? After all that Ford has given him. But looking at Stanley now, the worry beneath the stern bravado, he wonders how he can tell Stanley the same. Neither of them deserves a ‘no’ from Preston.
But then Stan’s suddenly looks…sly and Preston swallows thickly because he knows that look. Knows it even as he asks, “What are you thinking?”
“Come on,” Stan gives him a quick, come-hither curl of one finger before turning in the direction of said lab and Preston follows, even as his heart thumps. Why is his heart thumping? They enter the lab and Ford is still laboring over different computers, different printouts. Dancing from one to the other to another and Stan clears his throat loudly.
“PRESTON! I TOLD you! STOP-!”
“Can it, Poindexter,” Stan growls back and Ford turns to him, blinking and confused. Preston stands there, hands toying with one another because he’s not really up for this level of confrontation. Stan, however, veers closer to Ford, obviously more than ready for it, “Me and your other hubby been talkin’ and we agree – you been working too hard.”
Ford and Preston speak at the same time. One saying ‘you have?’ whilst the other says ‘we have?’ and Stan just nods to both, “Yup. You need ta relax. Or, well, not relax – so much as take a break. So, that in mind…”
Stan charges up to Ford like it’s no contest, stepping behind him and easily locking his arms behind his back. Ford lets out a gasp, startled by Stan’s actions and while his hold isn’t painful, it’s tight enough to keep him in place as he cries, “What are you doing? Why-?”
Stan locks eyes with Preston, “Little help, my prince.”
Preston’s eyebrows draw together in confusion but he steps closer. Ford wriggles some in Stan’s grip, but Stan’s always been the stronger twin and Ford is unable to break the hold. To be fair, Ford isn’t struggling very hard, not wanting to hurt his brother even as he continues to voice his disapproval, asking why this is happening and Preston is wondering the same until Stan purrs, “First off, the tie’s gotta go. Right?”
Suddenly Preston gets the idea. He also gets why his thumping heart has moved on to racing. He gulps and then, with a determined nod, he reaches for the knot of Ford’s tie, loosing it, unraveling it from around his neck. Ford, suddenly also sensing the shift in the room’s tone, immediately drops any pretense of a fight, a hefty breath escaping him, “What are you-? Are you two-?”
“Indeed,” Preston murmurs, his voice growing deeper as he starts unbuttoning Ford’s dress shirt and Ford lets out another huff of air, this one shaky, “Preston…”
“Shh, Sixer,” Stan chides in a gruff rumble, “Can’t you see the guy’s working? What was it you said to him earlier?”
“Stop interrupting me,” Preston says, his blue eyes locking with Ford’s brown ones and Ford’s eyes widen, as if he’s just realized how he was a few moments ago, “Oh…Preston, I’m-I’m sor-!”
“Save it, dear,” Preston returns and he takes Ford’s face in his hands, gives him a deep, hot kiss, tongue curling in and out of his mouth perfectly before he hums against his lips, “It’s too late.”
“He’s right,” Stan returns and he edges closer to Ford’s right ear, licks at the back of it and Ford’s head tips back on a wanton noise because, yes, his husbands are very, very right. He needs a break. He needs this. His shirt hangs open, a wide sail pushing back against his white lab coat as Preston tugs it free from the confines of his trousers.
Stan still holds his arms, but it’s clear now that he’s playing something of a sensual bonding agent as he locks eyes with Preston, “What else you think? Gotta get away all the distractions, the hinderances…”
“Hmm, I wonder,” Preston’s tone is warm with sultry mocking, “This belt, perhaps?”
“Oh the belt! It’s awful!”
“I agree,” Preston unhooks Ford’s belt and as he begins easing it through the loops, Ford’s Adam’s apple bobs, eyes rolling into the back of his head because yes, he agrees with them on this as well. He wants to provide his own input, but he just keeps his mouth shut, teeth feasting on his lower lip when Preston’s hands go to the top of his fly, “What about these, Stanley, darling?”
“Those pants? They’re a worse interruption than you are! How can he concentrate with those things on? Not that he should be thinking too hard.”
Preston grins and god, it’s such a gorgeous evil grin, “Oh no, yes – that wouldn’t do at all.”
Ford can barely make out Stan’s face behind him, but he knows for damned sure Stan is mirroring the same, ridiculously attractive expression, “The goal is relaxing him.”
“It is,” Preston undoes the top button, the zipper insanely audible as it goes down, “It really is.”
Ford is a panting, trembling mess. He’s practically eating his own lips to hold back the tide of sounds wanting to escape him. More so as his trousers fall down to his knees. His underwear – a ridiculously bright red color, seem to hold Stan up a moment – arousal giving way to true amusement as he laughs, hot breath ruffling the curls at the base of Ford’s neck, “Where’d you get those panties, Ford?”
“I’ll have you know I purchased them,” Preston returns with some cool.
“Why ain’t I surprised? You got my bro wearin’ some Victor’s Secret kinda shit, huh?”
“Your pair is en route,” is returned to Stan with a wink from Preston and now Stan swallows. A thick gulp. And Ford giggles a little hysterically. Even as his cock twitches beneath the fabric of said red underwear as if to remind him that ‘hey, I’m still here and I’d like attention, please’. Perhaps knowing it, Preston zeroes in, “I should think it best to see you completely unencumbered, dear.”
His long fingers curl beneath the waistband and, as he tugs them down, he slowly lowers himself along with them. They end up puddled alongside his trousers but Preston…Preston rises, mouth enticingly near his erect member. He looks up at Ford, then to Stanley, “What now, darling? Should I? Or would you rather-?”
“Nah,” Stan husks, “I’m in the mood to watch this time, if you don’t mind.”
“I never do,” Preston returns smoothly and, with perfected ease, he takes Ford’s length deep into his mouth. Ford lets out a wail of pure pleasure. Jesus, he was there the first time Preston ever did this. He’d been so shaky then. So unsure of himself.
Now? Now he’s a goddamn pro. He swallows Ford’s whole length with no trouble, one hand rising to cradle his aching balls, to gently roll them along the backs of his knuckles and Ford is not going to last long.
He arches back against Stanley, can feel his brother’s erection digging into his ass, even as Stan whispers into his ear, “You like that, Sixer? Huh? Like how he’s helping you unwind?”
Ford can only answer with a high pitched whine and he’d be embarrassed by how high if he weren’t completely distracted by the tip of Preston’s tongue teasing the weeping slit of his cock, curling around the pearls of precome that escape and tucking them away.
Preston looks up at him through his long, dark eyelashes, a coy, heady air about him even as his free hand has risen to tease along Ford’s inner thighs, the back of his knees and fuck, he knows all the spots that can take Ford apart.
Knows them just as Stan does and Stan’s hold has loosened some as he’s begun kissing the back of Ford’s neck, licking at his hairline, teeth nipping the top knob of his spine and Ford sobs their names, one after the other because he feels his whole body pulsate, his orgasm a hairsbreadth away from crashing down on him.
“Nothing interrupting you now, Stanford. You wanna cum, you just…”
Stan doesn’t get to say anymore. The words, the heat in them, along with the feel of Preston’s pulling mouth, finish Ford off completely. With a full body shudder, Ford comes apart. He spills his seed and Preston drinks it all down, not even noticing that Ford’s arms have broken completely free from Stan’s hold to allow his hands to come forward, all twelve fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard, nails digging at his skull as he erupts.
Coming down, breathing heavily, Ford groans, “Christ…I-I needed that.”
Stan just lets out a sound in agreement and Preston eases back, rubbing at his aching jaw even as he smiles, voice croaky, “Glad to oblige.”
“I…I am sorry, Preston,” Ford manages, still panting, still swimming in afterglow, “Sorry I yelled at you…”
“Hrm, yes, well – I suppose it worked out some. Although you do still owe me,” he gestures to his own unsatisfied erection and then tips his head towards Stan, “Not to mention, Stanley…”
“Yeah, Sixer. Hate ta break it to you, but we ain’t done,” Stan returns cheekily, nudging Ford’s behind with his own desire, “Not by a long shot. So, uh, how’s about you stop interrupting us, huh?”
Ford looks between the two of them and lets out a shaky laugh because yes – the last thing he wants is to interrupt any of this.
if you are still taking prompts : “take it back” with stan/Preston would be nice :)! you are great by the way, love your stuff ^-^
(Thanks so much for the sweet compliment! So, so sorry this prompt promoted angst in me... unless you like angst, in which case, drink up!)
"He... he's gone," Preston breathes. Stan hears him breath. Hears it audibly, hollowly, because his own breath is gone. The air has been sucked from his lungs, the life from his veins, the soul from his body as he stares at the portal.
The portal...
Once a whirlwind mass of violent colors, now nothing. Blank, grey slate wall lies behind it. Useless. Lifeless. Benign. Before...when exploding with light, it had had Ford. Had held him, cradled him close...sucked him in, whisked him away...
"He's gone," Preston dumbly repeats and Stan is on his knees in front of the now dead portal, hearing dimly Preston's repeated, mournful mumbles of 'No' and 'Ford' and the sounds of button bashing, handles clicking, and deep, vicious cursing.
"... can't be! This-this has to work..."
Stan blinks, rises, an undead sentinel.
"He's gone, he's gone. Why isn't this fucking thing-!"
Stan is on his feet, staring still at the portal as his fingers...curl. Fists form, hard and firm. Short, blunt nails biting into his palms, drawing blood, shaking and shaking and shaking...
"...have to-! Need to-! He's...gone."
"Take it back."
The voice is alien.
Stan doesn't recognize it. He doesn't know it. He can't even believe it came from him, but it did. His raw throat still vibrating with the sound of it, the formation of the scorching, hissing words, the demand...
"Take it back," the foreign voice that is Stanley's repeats as he turns and Preston looks at him, his expression the definition of distinguished anguish.
Life slowly floods back in, painful and agonizing, starting in his legs that move. Heavy weights that pump and pull and drag him forward and, despite their heftiness, Stan's momentum is that of a freight train at full speed, thundering and terrifying, and Stan's eyes blur as he charges forward and grabs Preston.
He shakes him and shakes him and shakes him. When he speaks again his booming voice has taken on the edge of a mad hysteria, "Take it back, Northwest! TAKE IT BACK!"
"S-S-Stanley, I-I cuh-cuh-can't-" Preston's voice warbles, breaks. Partially because Stanley is violently accosting him and partially because...
"He's not gone! He's not! Take it back! Take it back! Take it back, you bastard!"
"... Stanley..."
"He was right there!" He bellows, pointing at the empty portal, pointing to the spot where he last saw Ford (last saw Ford) and that washes over him like needles raking over his flesh. Sparking, shocking hurt.
"He's not gone, he's not! So. You. TAKE. IT. BACK!" The last is a wild, whining wail of grief that, perhaps, in another situation, would embarrass Stan.
Embarrass him because of how hopeless it is. How desperate. How pleading and please, please, don't let this be real. Let it be a dream, a nightmare - one he'll wake up from soon.
...take it back...
He's not aware he's weeping openly until he falls again, Preston crumpling alongside him. Both of them buried beneath waves of loss, of despair.
