fic: merlin rpf
slowly at your own speed bradley james/angel coulby, pg, 853 words
This will probably get lost in the sea of boyslash but oh well. I wrote this for mylittlepwny ages ago and thought I'd post it. Really people, they are adorable.
She opens the door after two knocks, hair down and messed about her head, and he holds out the chocolate like a bouquet of roses.
He pads across the hotel room corridor in his bare feet sometime past midnight. Colin had fallen asleep on him and french television wasn't enough to keep him entertained through his sugar high after gobbling down half a Toblerone bar he had probably paid too much for from the mini bar. And really, he's just visiting her to share the chocolate and take the piss out of her, because he's bored stupid. There's no undying reason like being curious to see if she's still awake or what she sleeps in or anything of the sort.
She opens the door after two knocks, hair down and messed about her head, and he holds out the chocolate like a bouquet of roses. She rolls her eyes before smiling and stepping back to let him inside. He notes her big t-shirt and bare legs combo before she hides the long, lean limbs inside a pair of pajama bottoms.
--
"I can't believe you brought this over here." She speaks into the chocolate bar like it's a microphone before taking another bite. "It's too late for so much sugar." She says around the mouthful of sweet, holding her hand close to her mouth to be polite.
He throws himself on the bed next to her, making it bounce so she wobbles slightly. "Hush now, sugar is good for you. It makes you silly." He leans towards her, smiling wide and wiggling his eyebrows before he grabs the remote from under her, where it's caught between her stomach and the bedspread. He ignores the fact that his knuckles accidentally brush her side where her shirt's ridden up a bit and changes the tv station while the skin of his hand continues to tingle.
"You don't need any help being silly, Bradley." She sits up, placing her legs Indian style in front of her before snatching the remote out of his hand. And she's teasing him, like they do all the time, but he wonders if that's all she thinks of him as. Her silly ham of a co-star and it worries him more than it should.
"What kind of rubbish shows are these, anyway? The french are strange." He says, folding his arms and looking cross.
--
Two hours later, they're both still awake and giggling manically over some odd french comedy. Her loud, cackle of a laugh overpowers the sound of his own and everytime she squirms next to him on the bed her socked feet kick at his own bare ones. He marvels at her and how such a swan like waif can take up so much space. When the show is finished, he wipes the tears from his eyes and sighs.
"Is there any chocolate left?" He looks around the room, his nostrils almost flaring like he's a puppy searching for food.
"You're a pig." She grabs the rest of the foil covered bar from her nightstand and waves it in his face. "This what you're looking for?"
She squeals when he throws himself on top of her, trying to reach for the sweet, his one hand gripping her hip and the other grabbing for her hands.
"Come on!" He puffs through his heavy breathing, eyes twinkling and face turned up in a smirk. "Give daddy some sugar!"
She cackles again, a sound he's actually grown to like, practically crave, and she closes her eyes, giving him the advantage to hold her arms down at the wrists and pull the chocolate from her grip.
He bites into it dramatically, and holds it up over his head like a prize. "Victory is sweet!"
She rolls her eyes but she's smiling up at him, and he's suddenly all too aware of their position and how her chest is heaving from being out of breath. "You have chocolate on your mouth, you prat."
"Oh." He lets go of her wrists to wipe it off but she reaches behind his neck and pulls him down towards her before he can.
He stares down at her through his eyelashes, noting the darkening of her eyes as her grip on his neck tightens and she slides her tongue across his bottom lip before licking at the chocolate in the corner of his mouth. All he can do is stare down at her while she smacks her lips and grins, his stomach curling in a not unpleasant way and his mouth going dry.
"Oh."
Just as quickly, a blush rises in her cheeks and she stares anywhere but his eyes. "You were never going to do that."
And she's probably right, he's always been too bloody chicken to make the first move. So he turns it into a joke, wants to ease her mind, let her know he's happy she did it. More than happy, really, ecstatic. "What, get the chocolate off my face? I'm not a slob, Angel."
And she's laughing again just like he wanted when he catches her off guard with a kiss, a real kiss. His lips crushed against hers, tongue already finding her own when he drops the candy to the floor to run his fingers into her messy head of hair. He doesn't care to lose the sweet, noting how Angel is more delicious than expensive hotel chocolate anyhow.
--
This will probably get lost in the sea of boyslash but oh well. I wrote this for mylittlepwny ages ago and thought I'd post it. Really people, they are adorable.
She opens the door after two knocks, hair down and messed about her head, and he holds out the chocolate like a bouquet of roses.
He pads across the hotel room corridor in his bare feet sometime past midnight. Colin had fallen asleep on him and french television wasn't enough to keep him entertained through his sugar high after gobbling down half a Toblerone bar he had probably paid too much for from the mini bar. And really, he's just visiting her to share the chocolate and take the piss out of her, because he's bored stupid. There's no undying reason like being curious to see if she's still awake or what she sleeps in or anything of the sort.
She opens the door after two knocks, hair down and messed about her head, and he holds out the chocolate like a bouquet of roses. She rolls her eyes before smiling and stepping back to let him inside. He notes her big t-shirt and bare legs combo before she hides the long, lean limbs inside a pair of pajama bottoms.
--
"I can't believe you brought this over here." She speaks into the chocolate bar like it's a microphone before taking another bite. "It's too late for so much sugar." She says around the mouthful of sweet, holding her hand close to her mouth to be polite.
He throws himself on the bed next to her, making it bounce so she wobbles slightly. "Hush now, sugar is good for you. It makes you silly." He leans towards her, smiling wide and wiggling his eyebrows before he grabs the remote from under her, where it's caught between her stomach and the bedspread. He ignores the fact that his knuckles accidentally brush her side where her shirt's ridden up a bit and changes the tv station while the skin of his hand continues to tingle.
"You don't need any help being silly, Bradley." She sits up, placing her legs Indian style in front of her before snatching the remote out of his hand. And she's teasing him, like they do all the time, but he wonders if that's all she thinks of him as. Her silly ham of a co-star and it worries him more than it should.
"What kind of rubbish shows are these, anyway? The french are strange." He says, folding his arms and looking cross.
--
Two hours later, they're both still awake and giggling manically over some odd french comedy. Her loud, cackle of a laugh overpowers the sound of his own and everytime she squirms next to him on the bed her socked feet kick at his own bare ones. He marvels at her and how such a swan like waif can take up so much space. When the show is finished, he wipes the tears from his eyes and sighs.
"Is there any chocolate left?" He looks around the room, his nostrils almost flaring like he's a puppy searching for food.
"You're a pig." She grabs the rest of the foil covered bar from her nightstand and waves it in his face. "This what you're looking for?"
She squeals when he throws himself on top of her, trying to reach for the sweet, his one hand gripping her hip and the other grabbing for her hands.
"Come on!" He puffs through his heavy breathing, eyes twinkling and face turned up in a smirk. "Give daddy some sugar!"
She cackles again, a sound he's actually grown to like, practically crave, and she closes her eyes, giving him the advantage to hold her arms down at the wrists and pull the chocolate from her grip.
He bites into it dramatically, and holds it up over his head like a prize. "Victory is sweet!"
She rolls her eyes but she's smiling up at him, and he's suddenly all too aware of their position and how her chest is heaving from being out of breath. "You have chocolate on your mouth, you prat."
"Oh." He lets go of her wrists to wipe it off but she reaches behind his neck and pulls him down towards her before he can.
He stares down at her through his eyelashes, noting the darkening of her eyes as her grip on his neck tightens and she slides her tongue across his bottom lip before licking at the chocolate in the corner of his mouth. All he can do is stare down at her while she smacks her lips and grins, his stomach curling in a not unpleasant way and his mouth going dry.
"Oh."
Just as quickly, a blush rises in her cheeks and she stares anywhere but his eyes. "You were never going to do that."
And she's probably right, he's always been too bloody chicken to make the first move. So he turns it into a joke, wants to ease her mind, let her know he's happy she did it. More than happy, really, ecstatic. "What, get the chocolate off my face? I'm not a slob, Angel."
And she's laughing again just like he wanted when he catches her off guard with a kiss, a real kiss. His lips crushed against hers, tongue already finding her own when he drops the candy to the floor to run his fingers into her messy head of hair. He doesn't care to lose the sweet, noting how Angel is more delicious than expensive hotel chocolate anyhow.
--