fifteendozentimes | Sexy Strat Man: An Ian Crawford Free-For-All Fic Fest

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Sexy Strat Man: An Ian Crawford Free-For-All Fic Fest

Commment with prompts, requests, ideas, pictures, or vague dream-memories!

Fill other people's prompts! Or just post whatever the heck you want, unprompted!

All fics must have Ian as a central character. Obviously. Anything goes, otherwise: AUs, crossovers, the crackiest crack, whatever!

Other forms of media are HIGHLY ENCOURAGED. Art, manips, fanmixes, recs, vids, picspams, interpretive dance.

This fest is being simulcast on Dreamwidth and Livejournal. Feel free to play in either or both!

Have fun and spread the love!

PROMPTS
(prompt list covers prompts from both DW and LJ)
unfilled prompts | fills |

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Re: this gif, I want fic all about how Ian gets off on watching Brendon and Dallon on stage, and then maybe he and Spencer bond over their shared voyeurism (you KNOW Spencer just loves watching them all from behind his kit) and then with THIS in mind he puts on a show when Brendon's on his side of the stage, and then....sex!

(This is all stolen from

fifteendozentimes's tumblr pretty much)

I kind of played fast and loose with the prompt and then copped out of writing the porn GO ME.

~

It's good when Brendon touches him on stage - Ian felt a little guilty, at first, about how good he found it, until the third time he felt the press of Brendon's half-mast boner while Brendon crooned "goodnight" - smacks his ass just hard enough to be a tease, pets his hair and his face (Ian wonders, with increasing frequency the longer tour lasts and the more frustrated he gets, what would happen if he turned his head just a little, sucked Brendon's fingers into his mouth...), but it's better when he touches Dallon.

This feeling, the way Ian's dick perks up when Brendon goes on his toes to kiss Dallon's cheek, the hot swoop in his gut when Brendon presses a sweaty kiss to Dallon’s neck, the yes, more of that flooding the back of his mind when Brendon goes down on his knees in front of Dallon’s guitar, that’s new. Or maybe it was always there, maybe Ian was always kind of a creep and none of his other bands gave him a chance to realize it.

“You could be a little less obvious, dude,” Spencer had said, when Ian had been watching Brendon’s throat work while he chugged from a water bottle post-show.

“Uh,” Ian stammered, because, okay, he isn’t subtle, but he kind of hadn’t expected to get caught. “I was just - like - “

“I didn’t say don’t look,” Spencer said, and Ian wasn’t entirely sure that was a wink (as opposed to a, like, there-is-sweaty-hair-in-my-eye twitch) but he was totally willing to pretend it was so the situation would be maybe a little less awkward. “I said don’t be so obvious. Not that Brendon would mind, really,” he said; Ian thought about asking him to clarify, but he was halfway to the shower before the thought processed.

That had been two weeks ago, before Brendon stepped it up even more, before Ian leaned back against Brendon’s bare chest and Dallon didn’t put Brendon down until he absolutely had to, before Spencer cornered Ian before he even had a chance to fix the shirt still hanging off his shoulders and buttoned at his wrists and invited Ian to his and Brendon’s room, intent - or maybe that was Ian’s wishful thinking - clear in his eyes.

Spencer isn’t being subtle at all, now, his eyes roaming over Brendon and Dallon so intently Ian wouldn’t be surprised if they could feel it. Although they look a little too involved in feeling each other to feel the heat of Spencer’s gaze.

Spencer lets Ian strip down to his underwear - harder than it should be, since Ian can’t take his eyes off the way Brendon’s hips are rolling against Dallon’s, unless it’s to look at Dallon’s fingers tangled in Brendon’s hair or their sloppy kiss or the long lean lines of Spencer on the other bed - before grabbing his wrist and tugging him down to sit on Spencer’s lap, thighs spread wide across Spencer’s.

He gives Ian just one instruction while one hand slides down past Ian’s waistband and the other finds its way to Ian’s tight nipples, his breath hot against Ian’s ear.

“Watch,” he says; Ian does.