...in which Farf writes anonymous gay sex as Sanrio-cute

i don't have a title yet

Pairing: Michael Donfield/some guy
Rating: NC-17
Based on a silly idea shatfat had. There is absolutely no trace of Anton Vladeck in this story; sorry! I do have another D/V story finished but it's in beta.

For those who need porn in the middle of the day, here's this

Michael Donfield really liked ice cream.

The best ice cream he'd ever had was in a little shop a block away from where he'd grown up, where he'd had a cone on every birthday until he left for college. He still missed it, sometimes. But luckily he'd managed to find a good ice cream parlor in all the other cities he'd lived in--including his current location, New York City.

There were several good ones, but none as charming as this one. It was an outdoor cafe with a fabulous view of Central Park. In the middle of the summer, the park was a lush, green wave that threatened quite joyfully to flood the entire urban area with its healthy foliage. Michael sat lazily in his chair, visually drinking in the sun-dappled leaves and lazily moving shadows on the sidewalk as he savored his first taste of ice cream.

Butter pecan--one of his favorites. Anne had once described the color of a purse of hers to the woman at a lost-and-found window as "you know, the color of those ice cream flavors children never order." Michael would have argued, if pointless arguing was in his nature--he'd always loved the unashamedly rich taste, even as a young boy. But it was easier not to argue with Anne... eventually, she realized what she'd gotten herself into and left on her own, and Michael considered himself all the luckier for hardly ever arguing with her directly.

The ice cream melted in his mouth and Anne drifted out of his thoughts. She was replaced by the beauty of the park and the ever-entertaining search for masculine eye-candy. He was as discerning in his search for Prince Charming as he was in his quest for the perfect ice-cream cone. The man must be well-groomed. To be well-groomed implied success, and success implied, at least for most, brains. Michael needed brains, mainly because he had them himself.

He took another slurp of his ice cream and realized he was being watched. Or rather, inspected. The man at the next table over had definitely shifted in his seat with Michael's second mouthful. Michael let his eyes drift over the other man's face casually. Straight hair, light brown. He was older than Michael, a little more macho-looking as well. Michael liked that thought. He brought the cone to his lips again.

His third bite was purposely sensual. As he dragged his lips suggestively over the melting scoop, he kept his gaze on the man one table over. The other man's mouth broke into a smug grin when he realized what Michael was doing. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, showing off his own body.

Michael's tongue slid out of his mouth to tease the ice cream, and the man, a bit more. The man's mouth open slightly and his tongue moved almost imperceptibly.

Oh, what the hell, he was hungry. For sweet food and sweet attention.

Michael engulfed the rest of the scoop with his mouth and quickly finished off the cone. The man at the next table took his wallet out of his jacket pocket and paid his check.

He was over at Michael's table before Michael had finished chomping down the cone. "Excuse me for bothering you, but you seem to really enjoy ice cream."

"Good ice cream," Michael retorted smoothly, sparkling.

"Do you consider this place 'good', then?"

"The best in town," Michael shrugged. "You know someplace better?"

"Perhaps." The man grinned. "Come on. I'll take you there."

Michael had already paid for his cone, so he simply got up and followed the man down the street. He was practically skipping like a little boy from joy at having been picked up--a pretty face was a blessing in this situation! He didn't really care who the man was--he was moderately attractive, seemed polite and clean, and acted like he knew how to take good care of a guy. He supposed there was always the danger of being robbed, but he felt like he could hold his own in a fight. Maybe. If he didn't get too turned on from the contact.

They soon arrived at an elegant but anonymous apartment building. Michael remained mute as he accompanied the man through the hallway, being absolutely clueless as to the man's living situation, marital status, etc. He had no desire to cause anyone else serious problems. He just wanted to have a good time. As it was, they did encounter an old woman and three little kids, but nobody paid the two men any mind.

The man keyed open a door and ushered Michael inside. "Do you drink?" he offered.

"No thanks--a bit too early in the day," Michael explained. "Plus, I intend on having a good time and I want to be there for it."

"Admirable," said the man, smiling. "A lot of men would use the drinking as an excuse for what they do."

Michael just looked at him blankly, full of sugar inside and out. He was not an incredibly complicated individual.

"Don't tell me your name," the man continued. "I don't want to know."

"Well, all right," said Michael.

"You eat an ice cream cone very well," said the man.

"I like ice cream," Michael answered, grinning.

"You must have really enjoyed that cone, from the look on your face back there. Mind if I try some?" He drew closer, loosening his tie.

"Be my guest."

The man placed a reserved kiss on Michael's lips, softening him up a bit. The kiss grew naturally into full-blown open-mouth, and they sucked face for a few seconds. The man pulled back. "That's damn good. Butter pecan?"

"You must be an expert."

"What about you? You an expert at anything?"

"Try me."

The man used one hand to unzip his pants and the other to move Michael's hand into the opening. Michael did as he was urged and wrapped his hand around the man's hard length. "It's beautiful," he commented.

"Can I see yours?"

"Let's go to the sofa."

The man sat down on the sofa with his penis sticking up out of his trousers. He was quick to take out Michael's equipment as well, and his fingers grazed it lazily as he settled back into the cushions to enjoy Michael's attention.

Michael gave the man's cockhead a heavy lick, as if he were still eating ice cream. The man groaned and his eyes closed part-way, like the eyes of a cat being petted all afternoon. Michael ducked down further and let the man's erection fill his mouth again and again as he bobbed his head.

The man's half-hearted handjob was not satisfying enough to deal with the intense arousal Michael was feeling, so Michael augmented it with some manual action of his own. He continued to blow the man with all his might as he jerked himself off, coming all over both their hands as he felt the man release himself into his mouth. He drew back slightly and let it run down his lips.

"You're a filthy little slut," the man commented contentedly from his supine position on the sofa, where Michael's skill had liquefied him.

Michael just sighed happily and fell asleep against the couch cushions for a moment.

When he woke up, the man walked him back to the ice cream parlor, but not before stopping at the pet store to buy him a present for being a good sport. When the man left, Michael knew it was safe to go home without being followed. He picked up one end of the leash and showed his brand-new puppy the way home.

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