First Monday ficlet, caps, poll

[trinityofone]

First Monday the show keeps getting worse and worse; Joe Flanigan's role in it, however, just gets better and better and better. siriaeve posted a review in screencaps of Julian Lodge's most recently posted antics; I adore John Sheppard, but The Flan has forever earned my devotion for giving the world this character as well. I love his pretentious little bowtied self! So does Siria, and as we have this—AND OUR HETEROSEXUALITY—in common, I wrote her some Julian!fic.

Julian Lodge Is Not Gay

Getting your dick sucked by a man didn’t make you gay. Julian knew this. A quick blowjob in an alley or in a dirty bathroom stall, fucking into an anonymous mouth while you closed your eyes and your fingers scrambled against the brick or the tile—that was just a way to relieve tension, reduce stress. It was worth it; anything that made him better at his job was worth it.

But it didn’t make him gay. Men were easier than women, that was all. They didn’t need to be romanced. The queers—the real ones, the ones on their knees—they sucked dick because they liked it. If you did the courteous thing—and that didn’t make you gay either, because it was just that, simple courtesy; if you did the courteous thing and jerked them off after, or let them rub off hard and fast against your thigh—well, that was all they needed to make them happy.

And Julian himself was happy enough with the whole arrangement. After all, a mouth was a mouth, and in the course of his work he’d gotten his hands dirty with far fouler things. What was another man’s come, splattering across the legs of the pair of trousers that just that morning he’d had carefully pressed? Or his quick, clever hands (he’d gotten where he was, head clerk, because he had always been the most efficient) quick and clever to another purpose, moving slickly up the shaft. Or a mouth on his neck, starched shirt collar shoved carelessly aside, licking and sucking and biting at the hollow of his throat. The scrape of stubble against the inside of his thigh.

It didn’t make him gay.

(Not like—not like that one time, drunk, head spinning. He’d taken the man back to his apartment and sunk to his knees on the hardwood floor, just inside the front door. He could remember gripping the man’s strong thighs and mouthing his cock through the fabric of his pants. He’d wanted— and then he’d had it, free of all restraint, kissing up the side from hilt to tip, then sucking it slowly into his mouth, nearly sobbing from relief and rock hard, dick straining against his fly, thrusting his hips in time with those of the man whose cock he was sucking—oh God, the cock he was sucking—and it was so good, so good; and thank God the man came, came right in Julian’s mouth, and he swallowed it all down, thank God: because otherwise Julian might have asked him to fuck him.)

It wasn’t like that. Julian wasn’t...like that.

His back ached from standing straight all day.

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There needs to be more fic about Julian! For example, I want to write the story where he opens up about his gayness a bit and goes to work for the Log Cabin Republicans and is mostly very disheartened and discouraged, except for when he's having sex with his hot boyfriend who looks like David Hewlett. Um, and eventually he gives it up and becomes a Democrat, because this story is a fantasy, okay? A fantasy with bowties. Work with me here. But! Who should Julian's hot sex-giving boyfriend be?

[Poll #728623]

ETA: OMG! notpoetry wrote me Julian/Josh! My life is joyful now! *happy sigh*

Comments

[zoerayne]

Man, repression shouldn't be that hot! *g*

I can't wait to see who else you slash Julian with.