baconysoap (baconysoap) wrote in stephen_paul,
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Remembrance, a Stephen/Paul (fake) memoir

Remembrance, a horribly short fic.... I'm gonna warn you... this is my first time writing a Stephen/Paul and it's pretty close to one in the morning here...

Warnings: Mentions of illegal drug use, drinking, etc. 

Rating: PG-13 to R?                                                      Criticism is welcomed/loved/yearned for.


Remembrance

To be honest, Paul can barely remember their first time. Stephen reckons it's because of the oh-so volatile combination of joints, White Russians, Shooters, and God-knows-what in those Suicides that Amy was so gung-ho for. Hell, he doesn't even remember why they were even having such a big party in the first place. 
However, of what little Paul can remember of that night is that it was probably the greatest experience of his life, to date. He'd been to enough parties, had enough inebriated rolls in the ol' hay to know that if you remembered it, mostly, years later, it was pretty damn excellent. He can't remember in a direct...time-line of sorts, but more of sensory snapshots that still seem to linger behind his eyelids, deep within his mind. 
He has visions of Stephen's kiss-swollen mouth begging for just one more kiss. Paul remembers very little of the surroundings, he thinks that maybe they were hazy enough at the time to go unnoticed, but that in every individual mental keepsake, Stephen is always bathed in a nearly ethereal light. Of course, Stephen blows it off as his romantic side bursting through his subconscious, but he doesn't agree. 
How could he when he has barely cognizant memories of how fantastic and sharp Stephen's voice sounded as he whined as Paul's surprisingly uncooperative digits worked in and out of him? It was almost a sound that could be felt through the very nerve endings of his body, even as he reminisced. 
Most exquisite of all, was the very few seconds he has of Stephen's face contorted in that first orgasm. The soft cheeks and lips flushed so red that it almost seemed as though the man was wearing far too much make-up, and the long, feminine, 'lashes fluttering as Stephen fought to keep his eyes open. He can remember Stephen drawing him impossibly close as his own orgasm ripped through his body, stiffening every muscle. 
Quite frequently, when he brings up the topic, Stephen tells him, with an air of pure affection, that it is not so important as the morning
after. The morning, in which, they expressed shared feelings of humor and joy at finally managing to stop being "such girls" and not "be
such perfectionists all the time." To which he always replies, "Oh, baby, you know that's just you, right?" 


So...bad? Good? Horrible grammar/nouns/characterization?
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