mm...kisses
This is the first set of the kissing ficlets I asked for. I had hoped to have them all done tonight but I got derailed by headache, so the rest will be forthcoming tomorrow. However, the first six are done, and I present to you the following;
For henchgirl, Abby/Rodney.
It was somewhere after the second drink and somewhere before their clothes came off, and Rodney will never admit it, but he's not certain of the specifics. He remembers stumbling through the door of his hotel room, Abby's fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt, his hands fumbling with her chain-link belt. They made it to the bed somehow, and fell down on it, and that's when his memory goes--well, not hazy, exactly, but not as crystal clear and precise as it normally is.
He remembers that she tasted like coffee and sugar, that her lips were soft and her lipstick was waxy. He remembers that the studs of her collar dug into his skin, leaving imprints that lasted until the morning. They kissed for what seemed like hours, breaking apart only to get clothes and boots and shoes out of the way, and later he had to wash his face twice to get all the makeup off his skin.
The sex was amazing, and if he's ever in the Milky Way galaxy on leave again and ends up in DC he'll probably try and look her up. But mostly, what he remembers is the taste of coffee and sugar.
For cala_jane, Joshua/Stephen.
Joshua wakes up slowly, yawning and snuggling down under the covers. It's early; the apartment's still dark and quiet, and next to him, Stephen's fast asleep, burrowed under the blankets so that only the top of his head peeks out. It must be really early, then; Stephen rises with the sun, every day, and for Joshua to be awake while Stephen's still asleep is unusual.
He kisses Stephen's hair, smiling as Stephen murmurs and curls into him. He strokes Stephen's back, watching Stephen half-wake up, stretching and yawning, poking his head out of the blankets. "Morning," Joshua says softly.
"Mmm." Stephen rubs his cheek against Joshua's throat, almost like he's scent-marking him. His skin's faintly scratchy with the night's stubble--not much, but a little--and he looks up, blinking. "Morning."
Joshua grins and leans down to kiss him. It's slow and soft and he loves the way Stephen just melts into it, pliant and warm against him.
"Love you," Stephen murmurs, leaning up for another kiss.
For raynedanser and crimsonquills, Gibbs/Tony.
Three a.m. and they've just just finished processing a crime scene that started at seven in the evening. Tony's exhausted; they all are, and all he wants to do is go home and sleep for the few miserly hours he's got before he has to come back to work.
He fumbles his keys getting into his car and for a moment just leans against the door, closing his eyes. He hears the sound of car doors slam and engines start as Ziva and McGee drive off, leaving him alone in the parking garage. And then there are footsteps, walking toward him, and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.
"Hey, Boss," he says dully.
Gibbs squeezes his shoulder. "You okay to drive home, DiNozzo?"
"Sure," Tony says, managing to stand up straight and look at Gibbs. "I'll be fine."
"You did a good job out there tonight," Gibbs says.
"Thanks." He's standing a little too close and he still hasn't taken his hand off Tony's shoulder and no one else would even notice, but Tony feels it keen as a knife, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the want that runs through him every time they do this.
"Gibbs--" Tony starts, not sure what he's going to follow it with, but it doesn't matter. Gibbs' mouth covers his, and he tastes like coffee and cinnamon and Tony closes his eyes and leans into him, too tired to move away, too weak to resist, and he's exhausted and he wants this and he can't have it and when Gibbs finally pulls away Tony can only blink his eyes open and look at him numbly.
"Come home with me," Gibbs says.
Tony nods.
For sandersyager, Warrick/Stephen.
Their couch is absurd, but it's the most comfortable couch Stephen's ever owned. And it's perfect for nights like this, where Warrick sprawls out on it and he lies down with his head in Warrick's lap, the bowl of popcorn on his stomach, and they're watching some random movie on the giant TV. Stephen reaches up to feed Warrick a piece of popcorn and Warrick nibbles on his fingers, making Stephen laugh.
"Eat the popcorn, not me," he says, tossing a piece of popcorn at Warrick's nose.
"You taste better," Warrick says, catching Stephen's hand and kissing his palm before sucking Stephen's index finger into his mouth.
"Warrick..." Stephen fumbles the popcorn over to the coffee table and pulls himself up into a sitting position, half on top of Warrick, his free arm around Warrick's neck. Warrick releases his finger slowly and his arms tighten around Stephen as their mouths meet in a kiss that tastes of popcorn and coffee and the soda Warrick was drinking.
They never do finish watching the movie.
For sorchasilver, Mal/Simon.
Simon drops down the ladder into Mal's quarters and shuts the door. "You're late," Mal says, looking up from the ledger he's got spread out on the table in front of him. "Thought you'd be here half an hour ago."
"It, ah, took me a while to get River settled for the night," Simon says. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had concrete plans." He links his hands behind his back, feeling unsettled and nervous for no reason. This is ridiculous. He and Mal have been doing this for nearly two months now, and still, every time he comes here, he feels out of place.
Mal gets up. "No need to get prissy," he says mildly. "I understand your sister takes some settling down. She all set for the night, now?" He crosses over to Simon.
Simon nods. "Yes, I think so. I've got the monitor Kaylee wired, so if anything goes wrong, I'll know."
"Good." Mal studies Simon for a long moment. "Looks like River ain't the only one needs settling down tonight," he murmurs.
"Mal--" Simon's on the verge of saying not now, not tonight, when Mal wraps a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him. Hard, rough, it's a claim more than a kiss, teeth and tongue and the only thing Simon can do is submit.
"Whose are you?" Mal asks softly, his hand tight around Simon's neck.
Simon shudders and closes his eyes. "Yours," he whispers.
For kalliekat, Abby/Tony.
When Gibbs is away, the subs do play, as Abby put it once. He doesn't really put a restriction on what they can or can't do with each other while he's not around; he prefers it if they don't sleep together, but he won't punish them if they do.
Mostly, they don't. They're both aware enough of Gibbs' preferences to respect them, and it's not like he's gone often enough or for that long for it to really bug either one of them. Besides, when Gibbs is out of town, usually Tony is as well, so it doesn't matter.
But this time, Gibbs is in San Diego, won't be back until Monday, and Tony and Abby have the house to themselves. They sprawl on the couch eating ice cream and drinking soda and engage in a who-can-belch-louder contest, which Abby wins easily.
"C'mere," Tony says, laughing. He hooks his arm around Abby's shoulders and kisses her soundly. It's a sticky kiss from the ice cream and soda and her spoon lands on his chest, making him yelp with cold, and then she starts giggling into his mouth. Tony vows war and rolls her over, tickling her mercilessly, and it's not until she slips a spoonful of ice cream down his back that he stops.
Their second kiss is breathless, stickier, and they're both laughing as they leave the ice cream to melt and Tony chases Abby upstairs.
For henchgirl, Abby/Rodney.
It was somewhere after the second drink and somewhere before their clothes came off, and Rodney will never admit it, but he's not certain of the specifics. He remembers stumbling through the door of his hotel room, Abby's fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt, his hands fumbling with her chain-link belt. They made it to the bed somehow, and fell down on it, and that's when his memory goes--well, not hazy, exactly, but not as crystal clear and precise as it normally is.
He remembers that she tasted like coffee and sugar, that her lips were soft and her lipstick was waxy. He remembers that the studs of her collar dug into his skin, leaving imprints that lasted until the morning. They kissed for what seemed like hours, breaking apart only to get clothes and boots and shoes out of the way, and later he had to wash his face twice to get all the makeup off his skin.
The sex was amazing, and if he's ever in the Milky Way galaxy on leave again and ends up in DC he'll probably try and look her up. But mostly, what he remembers is the taste of coffee and sugar.
For cala_jane, Joshua/Stephen.
Joshua wakes up slowly, yawning and snuggling down under the covers. It's early; the apartment's still dark and quiet, and next to him, Stephen's fast asleep, burrowed under the blankets so that only the top of his head peeks out. It must be really early, then; Stephen rises with the sun, every day, and for Joshua to be awake while Stephen's still asleep is unusual.
He kisses Stephen's hair, smiling as Stephen murmurs and curls into him. He strokes Stephen's back, watching Stephen half-wake up, stretching and yawning, poking his head out of the blankets. "Morning," Joshua says softly.
"Mmm." Stephen rubs his cheek against Joshua's throat, almost like he's scent-marking him. His skin's faintly scratchy with the night's stubble--not much, but a little--and he looks up, blinking. "Morning."
Joshua grins and leans down to kiss him. It's slow and soft and he loves the way Stephen just melts into it, pliant and warm against him.
"Love you," Stephen murmurs, leaning up for another kiss.
For raynedanser and crimsonquills, Gibbs/Tony.
Three a.m. and they've just just finished processing a crime scene that started at seven in the evening. Tony's exhausted; they all are, and all he wants to do is go home and sleep for the few miserly hours he's got before he has to come back to work.
He fumbles his keys getting into his car and for a moment just leans against the door, closing his eyes. He hears the sound of car doors slam and engines start as Ziva and McGee drive off, leaving him alone in the parking garage. And then there are footsteps, walking toward him, and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.
"Hey, Boss," he says dully.
Gibbs squeezes his shoulder. "You okay to drive home, DiNozzo?"
"Sure," Tony says, managing to stand up straight and look at Gibbs. "I'll be fine."
"You did a good job out there tonight," Gibbs says.
"Thanks." He's standing a little too close and he still hasn't taken his hand off Tony's shoulder and no one else would even notice, but Tony feels it keen as a knife, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the want that runs through him every time they do this.
"Gibbs--" Tony starts, not sure what he's going to follow it with, but it doesn't matter. Gibbs' mouth covers his, and he tastes like coffee and cinnamon and Tony closes his eyes and leans into him, too tired to move away, too weak to resist, and he's exhausted and he wants this and he can't have it and when Gibbs finally pulls away Tony can only blink his eyes open and look at him numbly.
"Come home with me," Gibbs says.
Tony nods.
For sandersyager, Warrick/Stephen.
Their couch is absurd, but it's the most comfortable couch Stephen's ever owned. And it's perfect for nights like this, where Warrick sprawls out on it and he lies down with his head in Warrick's lap, the bowl of popcorn on his stomach, and they're watching some random movie on the giant TV. Stephen reaches up to feed Warrick a piece of popcorn and Warrick nibbles on his fingers, making Stephen laugh.
"Eat the popcorn, not me," he says, tossing a piece of popcorn at Warrick's nose.
"You taste better," Warrick says, catching Stephen's hand and kissing his palm before sucking Stephen's index finger into his mouth.
"Warrick..." Stephen fumbles the popcorn over to the coffee table and pulls himself up into a sitting position, half on top of Warrick, his free arm around Warrick's neck. Warrick releases his finger slowly and his arms tighten around Stephen as their mouths meet in a kiss that tastes of popcorn and coffee and the soda Warrick was drinking.
They never do finish watching the movie.
For sorchasilver, Mal/Simon.
Simon drops down the ladder into Mal's quarters and shuts the door. "You're late," Mal says, looking up from the ledger he's got spread out on the table in front of him. "Thought you'd be here half an hour ago."
"It, ah, took me a while to get River settled for the night," Simon says. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had concrete plans." He links his hands behind his back, feeling unsettled and nervous for no reason. This is ridiculous. He and Mal have been doing this for nearly two months now, and still, every time he comes here, he feels out of place.
Mal gets up. "No need to get prissy," he says mildly. "I understand your sister takes some settling down. She all set for the night, now?" He crosses over to Simon.
Simon nods. "Yes, I think so. I've got the monitor Kaylee wired, so if anything goes wrong, I'll know."
"Good." Mal studies Simon for a long moment. "Looks like River ain't the only one needs settling down tonight," he murmurs.
"Mal--" Simon's on the verge of saying not now, not tonight, when Mal wraps a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him. Hard, rough, it's a claim more than a kiss, teeth and tongue and the only thing Simon can do is submit.
"Whose are you?" Mal asks softly, his hand tight around Simon's neck.
Simon shudders and closes his eyes. "Yours," he whispers.
For kalliekat, Abby/Tony.
When Gibbs is away, the subs do play, as Abby put it once. He doesn't really put a restriction on what they can or can't do with each other while he's not around; he prefers it if they don't sleep together, but he won't punish them if they do.
Mostly, they don't. They're both aware enough of Gibbs' preferences to respect them, and it's not like he's gone often enough or for that long for it to really bug either one of them. Besides, when Gibbs is out of town, usually Tony is as well, so it doesn't matter.
But this time, Gibbs is in San Diego, won't be back until Monday, and Tony and Abby have the house to themselves. They sprawl on the couch eating ice cream and drinking soda and engage in a who-can-belch-louder contest, which Abby wins easily.
"C'mere," Tony says, laughing. He hooks his arm around Abby's shoulders and kisses her soundly. It's a sticky kiss from the ice cream and soda and her spoon lands on his chest, making him yelp with cold, and then she starts giggling into his mouth. Tony vows war and rolls her over, tickling her mercilessly, and it's not until she slips a spoonful of ice cream down his back that he stops.
Their second kiss is breathless, stickier, and they're both laughing as they leave the ice cream to melt and Tony chases Abby upstairs.