Multiple fandoms: Pretty boy

Title: Pretty Boy
Author: hell_princessXXs (MeMy Mo)
Summary: Pretty boy
Pairing: House/Chase, John/Paul, Brian/Justin, Blaine/Kurt
Rating: PG-15 (someone has very dirty thought)
Disclaimer: This is my dream. I certainly don’t own them in real life. If I do, no one will ever look at them the same again.

Pretty boy

He wasn’t what House expected.

He is prettier than he looks. Maybe House should hire him to be an ornament. His hair sure is shiny enough if he closed all the blinds and turn off the light. He could even be Mrs. Wilson the third, based on the way Jimmy is staring at him, mouth open and Chinese noodles falling out. Perfect blackmail material. House could hold this over Jimmy’s head forever.

He is more fun than House thought. A puzzle. A very hard one too. It has been too long since House come across a puzzle like this. Not once did the boy (he sure looks like a good Catholic boy. House suddenly feels the rushed of adrenaline as he thinks about spreading him, marred the perfect angel’s skin and… He sure looks flushed now). Not once did Daddy Chase name was mention. The way he hold himself is like a little boy pretending to be an adult. Broken. He have always like broken things.

And the most fun of all, he didn’t even faze when House plays his Game Boy, eats Chinese take-outs, watch General Hospital and interview him at the same time. He seem amused. Oh goody.

As the boy walked out of the door, House certainly appreciated the way he shakes his perfect round ass. Pretty boy, House thought. He should hire him.

…………………………………………..

When Ivan said he has brought a friend, John didn’t expected this. A baby-faced with eyes too big and round, lips too pink and kissable, eyelashes too long, skin too soft and hair too silky. John didn’t expected him to bring a doll.

Paul he said, looked at John intently, His voice soft and inviting and there is something more, more, deeper inside, a tug at his heart.

When the boy started singing, John was blown away. It was like what they call a religious experience. Paul was an angel, who could sing Little Richard. He could sing, he could play. He certain has the look. And John has acted drunk, standing too close to the boy, put his head far too low, breathing that soft smell of shampoo, and let his breath ghosted against the soft skin, enjoying seeing the boys shivered.

He licked his lips. Delicious.

And when Paul left, John watched as his lithe figure disappeared into the dark, all he can think of it’s the image of the pretty boy.

He must has him.

…………………………………………..

Brian was bored. Unlike Queen Emmett thought, getting your dick suck could be very boring, if the said person it’s mediocre at best. He needs something else. He loves Babylon, but the bar scenes and shots and sex and fucking it’s becoming almost a responsibility, something he must do to prove to others he is still himself, because if he doesn’t they would send him to a mental hospital without warning, and Brian doesn’t like that very much.

He still likes to fuck, and he can’t have sex in a fucking hospital. Unless he is fucking the hospital.

He still likes to get high, and you can’t do that either. They would think you’re crazy, but then, if he isn’t, why would he be in a mental hospital.

All in all, Brian is horny, and bored. Bored doesn’t go with horny. He needs something. Something news, something exciting. A new piece of ass, perhaps. The downside of being the King is that you have all the ass on this Liberty Avenue, and when you don’t want to fuck someone twice, it’s kind of hard to find something new.

And that’s when it happened. When he came along.

Under the street lamps, the light fell like a halo around his golden hairs. Those intense blue eyes, they made Brian feels like he is falling deep into the ocean, and there is no way out. The way he leans on the lamp, the way he walks – they aroused him.

That pretty boy is his, and no one else may have him.

…………………………………………..

Blaine is paralyzed. He just see an angel.

Well, technically, he isn’t an angel. If that’s what you should call your rival spy. But Blaine isn’t one to deny the fact that the boy is perfect. Blue, but not quite blue, blend with grey and something in between eyes (not that he spent half an hour staring into those eyes instead of watching the spy, as Wes and David called him), the pink, lushes lips, the porcelain skins, the elegance fingers and the way he walks left Blaine waters. Those pants don’t help Blaine either, they just made him…he doesn’t know.

This is an unknown territory. It scares Blaine.

When he came up to talk to the boy, Blaine dreams away about how he could makes the angel breathless. He dreams about the soft hand moving on his body, as he hold the boy’s hands running through the hallways. He dreams about messing up those silk locks and see the debauched look on the innocence face.

And when Blaine sings, he looks directly into those beautiful eyes, see them lit up like million of stars on the sky and he feels like flying into them. He saw the smile bright and clear.

Pretty boy, Wes latter comment, and Blaine can’t help but agree.

Tagged: brian kinney, britin, fic, house/chase, john/paul, justin taylor, kurt hummel, queer as folk, Ranting, slash, story, writing