Hey there, Pennyroyal here. Here is the final part of what I'm guessing has
become a trilogy. Ah, "The Perks of..." Trilogy.
This is dedicated to Inquisitive, because once you asked for a sequel, ideas just started popping into my head. Hope ya' like it.
Pairing: Specs and Dutchy of course!
Summary: Specs and Dutchy return to casa de Dutchy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! NOTHING!
Rating:PG-13 to R
**********************************
The Perks of Being an Artist
**********************************
When the red convertible pulled into the two-way driveway, the boy in the passengers seat had to take off his glasses and use his shirt to wipe them. Once they returned to his face, he repeated the process. "X-ray vision, my ass. Perks...more like downfalls of glasses." He muttered, but Dutchy could still hear him.
"I think we may have taken a wrong turn. You said we were going to your house." Specs pointed an accusing finger at Dutchy. "This is a mansion!"
The blond rolled his eyes. "Specsy, darling, stop exaggerating."
But, once he looked at his new house, he couldn't help but feel like he had to reassess it. It wasn't a mansion...was it? Leave it to the guy he felt most comfortable around to make him feel uncomfortable.
"Come on, I'll show you the inside. It's much prettier. And you can meet my mother. Brilliant woman, my mum." He winked, and pulled Specs up the walkway and into his house/mansion.
Specs didn't even feel stupid when he gasped loudly. It was beautiful. White marble floors, an iron shoe rack (It was more the principle of the matter that shocked Specs), and a large gold-framed portrait of Dutchy and his parents. Not to mention the large, golden chandelier that hung above there heads. And this was only the foyer! The picture was what held his attention though. It was odd, because Dutchy didn't look anything like his parents. They both had dark hair, and neither wore glasses. That, and they were both very tan.
"Oh my god," Specs said in a scandalized tone, "you're not a real blond!"
Dutchy laughed out loud. Specs hadn't shown this side of himself yet, and Dutchy found himself liking it. He had to remind himself that this was still their first date. Geez, he had never had a first date spend the night. He never had any date spend the night! What would his mother say? What would Specs say?
He figured it would be something along the lines of "My god, you must think I'm a man-whore!"
"No, Specsy, I'm a natural blond. And I'm not a whore, so don't you say it!" He waggled a finger in Specs face, lightly tapping on his glasses.
"Dutchy, is that you? Close the door, you're letting in a draft." A youngish woman appeared then, whom Specs automatically recognized as the woman in the portrait. She was, in short, dazzling. With tan skin (tanner than the picture), and wavy black hair that was piled on her head in a haphazard ponytail, she looked...nothing like her son.
"It's colder than a witches tit out there, it is." She shivered, which was understandable with the thin cotton shirt she wore. Then she noticed Specs. "Well hello, you must be the boy with glasses. You're...Damn! Why can't I remember your name?"
Specs guessed it to be the martini in her hand, which was half empty. "People call me Specs, and you must be Dutchy's mom. Hi!"
Dutchy's mom leaned over towards Dutchy, and in a loud whisper, said, "He's a smart one, sweetie, I like him."
"I know, mom, me too. We're gonna go up to my room, now."
"Okay, hon. You two have fun. And keep it PG-thirteen!" She warned.
With a quick grin and an affirmative nod, Dutchy was dragging his companion up the large staircase and into his room, which was a good thirty feet down the hall. If he thought the mere entrance of the house was grand, Specs was sorely put in his place now. Prints from all types of art periods and artists adorned the walls. The only ones Specs recognized were Dali and Van Gogh, which seriously made him regret not taking art classes in his beginning years of high school.
Even the pillows and bedspreads were decorated by famous artworks by Roy Lichten-something-or-other. Specs severely hoped Dutchy wouldn't want to discuss art with him.
"My god, you really love art. And...your mom doesn't even care that you're gay!?"
Dutchy nodded wisely. "Yes, and there are many perks to being an artist. One of them is my homosexuality, in fact. There were many gay artists. Michelangelo was my favorite. Mom thinks it helps my artist creativity to be open about my sexuality."
Specs scowled. "Oh no, don't even start with those damn perks. It's almost..." he peered at his watch "eleven p.m. I want to kiss you, and watch a movie, and fall asleep."
Dutchy pouted. "You...you don't want to know the perks of being an artist?" He took off his glasses and dapped at his eye with the corner of his shirt. "How can I date a man who doesn't share my interests?"
Hands flew into the air, as Specs cried, "Fine! Fine, pull me down to your level. But I want you to know; I think you're a very evil boy. Very evil. From the...depths...of...hell...what are you doing?"
His mother had always taught him to ask what was going on when someone begin to undress him, unless he gave the okay foir the undressing in the first place. But then, his mother had been drunk at the time. At the moment though, that drunken information seemed very helpful, as Dutchy pulled off his shirt.
"I'm trying to show you one of the perks!"
"Rape is one of the perks?" His shirt on the floor, it seemed like Dutchy was going for his pants next. "Is Rape an art form?"
Dutchy laughed. "No, silly." He leaned close as if to tell a secret. Specs, in all of his half-naked glory, loved secrets. "You see, one of the perks is nude models." With that, he pressed a kiss to Specs' nose.
Specs blushed like mad. Racetrack hadn't even seen him naked, and they had dated for three months! Thinking of Race made him sad, though. He was with Dutchy, and they were having a fun-filled first date. So caught up in his thoughts of his ex, he hadn't even noticed that Dutchy wasn't even touching him anymore. The blond was standing back, his hands rested on his slim, leather-clad hips.
"Specsy, you gonna tell me what's got you frowning like that? You know I was only kidding, right?" He moved one hand to Specs face, gently running it over smooth cheeks.
"I was just wondering what's taking you so long with my pants." Specs stated boldly.
"Nice try, cutie. How 'bout that movie you wanted to watch? We got lots. What's your favorite?"
Specs threw himself onto the queen sized art-decorated bed. He tapped his chin, staring at Dutchy. With a languid "hmmm" he stretched out his body, and began to play with the hem of his pants lazily. "Now what is my favorite movie?"
Dutchy stared at the boy on his bed, his mouth open. "Pinch me, I'm dreamin'."
The undeniably sexy boy on the bed threw him a flirtatious wink. "Pinch you where, lover boy?" He popped the button of his jeans and began to toy with the zipper. Along with the obvious lust in his voice, it was tinged with amusement, so Dutchy laughed.
"So, you don't have a favorite movie, huh? I got a video camera, if you want to make a favorite movie." That caught Specs attention. He sat up with a squeak, and blurted, "American History X. That's my favorite."
He shot Dutchy a dirty glance. "There's no winning with you, is there?"
Dutchy inspected his movie cases, and pulled out 'American History X.' "Nope" he said. "It's one of the perks of being an artist. Unlimited creativity, and the ability to win at everything except sports."
Specs looked at him skeptically. "Sounds like a downfall, to me. I love sports. Well, sports that don't harm my glasses."
"Ah, another perk of being an artist. Glasses do not matter!" He popped the movie into the VCR and pulled off his pants—leaving him in his insidiously tight shirt and boxer-briefs—before joining Specs in his bed. "Man, I love this movie too. You've got good taste." He murmured in Specs curly hair.
Specs shuddered in delight. "Hey, you, don't distract me from this movie too!" He turned bright red as Dutchy began to tease him.
"Well, just in case, I suggest you go to the bathroom before the previews are over. It the door on the right, right next to my room." As Specs got up in embarrassment, Dutchy gave him a light smack on his ass.
When he returned, he was left in only his boxers, his jeans clutched in one hand. "I...no funny business, Dutchy!"
Dutchy only threw him a sweet smile, and patted the spot on the bed next to him. Specs settled himself in daintily, aligning his body in front of Dutchy's. Dutchy draped an arm over his waist, running his fingers over the hem of his underwear.
"Well," he whispered, "maybe a teensy bit of funny business." That one sentence was all it took to have Dutchy's hand inside his boxers. "CHRIST!" he all but screamed, and finished lamely, "...your hands are freezing."
"Well, what do you expect?" He wrapped his fingers around Specs cock, smiling brightly when Specs let out a moan. "I haven't exactly been toasting them in front of the fire. A little bit of friction should warm them right up, if you catch my drift."
Specs shivered, moaning again as Dutchy's hand began an up and down rhythm, and lips attached to the side of his neck before sucking suggestively. "Yeah...I...catch your...drift."
"I love the beginning of this movie." Dutchy said, dropping random kisses on the back of Specs neck. "Not many movies start with sex."
"D-definitely." He found it increasingly hard to speak as Dutchy's hand went faster over his erection. It felt so good...He couldn't last much longer. Just thinking of the way Dutchy's fingers felt, the way Dutchy's tongue lapped at the hickey once he had dropped a substantial amount of sloppy kisses around it. It was, in short, heaven. Albeit, it was a messy heaven. But hey, nobody's perfect.
He bit his own hand to stop his cry from escaping as he came. He turned in Dutchy's arms, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's lips. "That felt really, really good."
Dutchy quickly retrieved a towel and cleaned off Specs. "Well, yeah," he said casually, though his heart was beating a mile a minute, "it's one of the perks of being an artist."
He straddled Specs hips, lowering his lips towards the boy beneath him. "We" kiss "can" kiss "do" kiss "the" kiss "most" kiss "amazing" kiss "things" kiss "with" kiss "our" kiss "hands."
Spec's was breathing harshly, gazing up at Dutchy through half-lidded eyes. He began to trail his own hand down Dutchy's front, earning a quirked eyebrow and a saucy grin, which he returned. "So, what are the perks of having me as a boyfriend?"
The blond laughed. "Keep moving that hand down, and I'll add some more perks to the list."
So Specs moved his hand as much as needed.
And it turned out to be a very long list indeed.
P.S.-They lived happily and smuttily ever after.
~Fin~
So, there you have it. A little fluff, a little humor, and a little smut—a perfect combination!
I hope this was to everyone's liking.
Have a nice day, and review, review, review!
R-E-V-I-E-W
This is dedicated to Inquisitive, because once you asked for a sequel, ideas just started popping into my head. Hope ya' like it.
Pairing: Specs and Dutchy of course!
Summary: Specs and Dutchy return to casa de Dutchy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! NOTHING!
Rating:PG-13 to R
**********************************
The Perks of Being an Artist
**********************************
When the red convertible pulled into the two-way driveway, the boy in the passengers seat had to take off his glasses and use his shirt to wipe them. Once they returned to his face, he repeated the process. "X-ray vision, my ass. Perks...more like downfalls of glasses." He muttered, but Dutchy could still hear him.
"I think we may have taken a wrong turn. You said we were going to your house." Specs pointed an accusing finger at Dutchy. "This is a mansion!"
The blond rolled his eyes. "Specsy, darling, stop exaggerating."
But, once he looked at his new house, he couldn't help but feel like he had to reassess it. It wasn't a mansion...was it? Leave it to the guy he felt most comfortable around to make him feel uncomfortable.
"Come on, I'll show you the inside. It's much prettier. And you can meet my mother. Brilliant woman, my mum." He winked, and pulled Specs up the walkway and into his house/mansion.
Specs didn't even feel stupid when he gasped loudly. It was beautiful. White marble floors, an iron shoe rack (It was more the principle of the matter that shocked Specs), and a large gold-framed portrait of Dutchy and his parents. Not to mention the large, golden chandelier that hung above there heads. And this was only the foyer! The picture was what held his attention though. It was odd, because Dutchy didn't look anything like his parents. They both had dark hair, and neither wore glasses. That, and they were both very tan.
"Oh my god," Specs said in a scandalized tone, "you're not a real blond!"
Dutchy laughed out loud. Specs hadn't shown this side of himself yet, and Dutchy found himself liking it. He had to remind himself that this was still their first date. Geez, he had never had a first date spend the night. He never had any date spend the night! What would his mother say? What would Specs say?
He figured it would be something along the lines of "My god, you must think I'm a man-whore!"
"No, Specsy, I'm a natural blond. And I'm not a whore, so don't you say it!" He waggled a finger in Specs face, lightly tapping on his glasses.
"Dutchy, is that you? Close the door, you're letting in a draft." A youngish woman appeared then, whom Specs automatically recognized as the woman in the portrait. She was, in short, dazzling. With tan skin (tanner than the picture), and wavy black hair that was piled on her head in a haphazard ponytail, she looked...nothing like her son.
"It's colder than a witches tit out there, it is." She shivered, which was understandable with the thin cotton shirt she wore. Then she noticed Specs. "Well hello, you must be the boy with glasses. You're...Damn! Why can't I remember your name?"
Specs guessed it to be the martini in her hand, which was half empty. "People call me Specs, and you must be Dutchy's mom. Hi!"
Dutchy's mom leaned over towards Dutchy, and in a loud whisper, said, "He's a smart one, sweetie, I like him."
"I know, mom, me too. We're gonna go up to my room, now."
"Okay, hon. You two have fun. And keep it PG-thirteen!" She warned.
With a quick grin and an affirmative nod, Dutchy was dragging his companion up the large staircase and into his room, which was a good thirty feet down the hall. If he thought the mere entrance of the house was grand, Specs was sorely put in his place now. Prints from all types of art periods and artists adorned the walls. The only ones Specs recognized were Dali and Van Gogh, which seriously made him regret not taking art classes in his beginning years of high school.
Even the pillows and bedspreads were decorated by famous artworks by Roy Lichten-something-or-other. Specs severely hoped Dutchy wouldn't want to discuss art with him.
"My god, you really love art. And...your mom doesn't even care that you're gay!?"
Dutchy nodded wisely. "Yes, and there are many perks to being an artist. One of them is my homosexuality, in fact. There were many gay artists. Michelangelo was my favorite. Mom thinks it helps my artist creativity to be open about my sexuality."
Specs scowled. "Oh no, don't even start with those damn perks. It's almost..." he peered at his watch "eleven p.m. I want to kiss you, and watch a movie, and fall asleep."
Dutchy pouted. "You...you don't want to know the perks of being an artist?" He took off his glasses and dapped at his eye with the corner of his shirt. "How can I date a man who doesn't share my interests?"
Hands flew into the air, as Specs cried, "Fine! Fine, pull me down to your level. But I want you to know; I think you're a very evil boy. Very evil. From the...depths...of...hell...what are you doing?"
His mother had always taught him to ask what was going on when someone begin to undress him, unless he gave the okay foir the undressing in the first place. But then, his mother had been drunk at the time. At the moment though, that drunken information seemed very helpful, as Dutchy pulled off his shirt.
"I'm trying to show you one of the perks!"
"Rape is one of the perks?" His shirt on the floor, it seemed like Dutchy was going for his pants next. "Is Rape an art form?"
Dutchy laughed. "No, silly." He leaned close as if to tell a secret. Specs, in all of his half-naked glory, loved secrets. "You see, one of the perks is nude models." With that, he pressed a kiss to Specs' nose.
Specs blushed like mad. Racetrack hadn't even seen him naked, and they had dated for three months! Thinking of Race made him sad, though. He was with Dutchy, and they were having a fun-filled first date. So caught up in his thoughts of his ex, he hadn't even noticed that Dutchy wasn't even touching him anymore. The blond was standing back, his hands rested on his slim, leather-clad hips.
"Specsy, you gonna tell me what's got you frowning like that? You know I was only kidding, right?" He moved one hand to Specs face, gently running it over smooth cheeks.
"I was just wondering what's taking you so long with my pants." Specs stated boldly.
"Nice try, cutie. How 'bout that movie you wanted to watch? We got lots. What's your favorite?"
Specs threw himself onto the queen sized art-decorated bed. He tapped his chin, staring at Dutchy. With a languid "hmmm" he stretched out his body, and began to play with the hem of his pants lazily. "Now what is my favorite movie?"
Dutchy stared at the boy on his bed, his mouth open. "Pinch me, I'm dreamin'."
The undeniably sexy boy on the bed threw him a flirtatious wink. "Pinch you where, lover boy?" He popped the button of his jeans and began to toy with the zipper. Along with the obvious lust in his voice, it was tinged with amusement, so Dutchy laughed.
"So, you don't have a favorite movie, huh? I got a video camera, if you want to make a favorite movie." That caught Specs attention. He sat up with a squeak, and blurted, "American History X. That's my favorite."
He shot Dutchy a dirty glance. "There's no winning with you, is there?"
Dutchy inspected his movie cases, and pulled out 'American History X.' "Nope" he said. "It's one of the perks of being an artist. Unlimited creativity, and the ability to win at everything except sports."
Specs looked at him skeptically. "Sounds like a downfall, to me. I love sports. Well, sports that don't harm my glasses."
"Ah, another perk of being an artist. Glasses do not matter!" He popped the movie into the VCR and pulled off his pants—leaving him in his insidiously tight shirt and boxer-briefs—before joining Specs in his bed. "Man, I love this movie too. You've got good taste." He murmured in Specs curly hair.
Specs shuddered in delight. "Hey, you, don't distract me from this movie too!" He turned bright red as Dutchy began to tease him.
"Well, just in case, I suggest you go to the bathroom before the previews are over. It the door on the right, right next to my room." As Specs got up in embarrassment, Dutchy gave him a light smack on his ass.
When he returned, he was left in only his boxers, his jeans clutched in one hand. "I...no funny business, Dutchy!"
Dutchy only threw him a sweet smile, and patted the spot on the bed next to him. Specs settled himself in daintily, aligning his body in front of Dutchy's. Dutchy draped an arm over his waist, running his fingers over the hem of his underwear.
"Well," he whispered, "maybe a teensy bit of funny business." That one sentence was all it took to have Dutchy's hand inside his boxers. "CHRIST!" he all but screamed, and finished lamely, "...your hands are freezing."
"Well, what do you expect?" He wrapped his fingers around Specs cock, smiling brightly when Specs let out a moan. "I haven't exactly been toasting them in front of the fire. A little bit of friction should warm them right up, if you catch my drift."
Specs shivered, moaning again as Dutchy's hand began an up and down rhythm, and lips attached to the side of his neck before sucking suggestively. "Yeah...I...catch your...drift."
"I love the beginning of this movie." Dutchy said, dropping random kisses on the back of Specs neck. "Not many movies start with sex."
"D-definitely." He found it increasingly hard to speak as Dutchy's hand went faster over his erection. It felt so good...He couldn't last much longer. Just thinking of the way Dutchy's fingers felt, the way Dutchy's tongue lapped at the hickey once he had dropped a substantial amount of sloppy kisses around it. It was, in short, heaven. Albeit, it was a messy heaven. But hey, nobody's perfect.
He bit his own hand to stop his cry from escaping as he came. He turned in Dutchy's arms, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's lips. "That felt really, really good."
Dutchy quickly retrieved a towel and cleaned off Specs. "Well, yeah," he said casually, though his heart was beating a mile a minute, "it's one of the perks of being an artist."
He straddled Specs hips, lowering his lips towards the boy beneath him. "We" kiss "can" kiss "do" kiss "the" kiss "most" kiss "amazing" kiss "things" kiss "with" kiss "our" kiss "hands."
Spec's was breathing harshly, gazing up at Dutchy through half-lidded eyes. He began to trail his own hand down Dutchy's front, earning a quirked eyebrow and a saucy grin, which he returned. "So, what are the perks of having me as a boyfriend?"
The blond laughed. "Keep moving that hand down, and I'll add some more perks to the list."
So Specs moved his hand as much as needed.
And it turned out to be a very long list indeed.
P.S.-They lived happily and smuttily ever after.
~Fin~
So, there you have it. A little fluff, a little humor, and a little smut—a perfect combination!
I hope this was to everyone's liking.
Have a nice day, and review, review, review!
R-E-V-I-E-W