Ficlets: The Forsaken and Without a Trace
Two fics for two very specific people. They're both kind of silly and possibly not that in character, but I hope they amuse the lovely women who inspired them.
Fic the first is for writingpathways, because she was kind about the appalling haiku I wrote her last night. In return I promised her fic, and she asked for this a few weeks ago, so this is what I wrote. Actually she only asked for one specific word, not the cheesy Valentine's Day theme. Rated PG13 for innuendo and a big fat tease. Though someday I am going to explore this territory with these two; I expect when I do, it'll be a little darker than this flufftastic mess, however.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't even a real holiday; it was just one of those commercial deals the greeting card companies made up so you'd spend money on stuff that got thrown away in a week. Like Grandparents' Day.
So it wasn't like he was expecting anything. He wasn't even thinking about it, and if he did it was only for a second when someone at work got a delivery of flowers or an ugly white and red teddy bear and a bunch of cheap chocolates from their boyfriend. It was a chick holiday. No big deal at all.
It didn't surprise him when he let himself into their place and found everything exactly the way he'd left it. Same dishes in the sink, same light bulb burned out in the entry, same boyfriend parked on their couch, boots up on the coffee table. Sean shook his head and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, flipping through the mail Nick had tossed on the counter as he headed back to the living room.
"Hey," Nick said, glancing up when Sean stopped next to the couch. "You're late."
"What else is new." Sean frowned at the reminder of how much time he'd been spending at work; he knew Nick wasn't complaining, and there was a time when he would still be at work right now, cutting trailers long after everyone else had gone home. Now that he had something - someone - to go home to, though, it didn't seem as important to prove that he could work harder and longer than the rest of the grunts in the office.
It had taken him a lot of sweet-talking to get his job back, though, and he knew he had to keep putting in long hours until his boss quit threatening to change his mind and fire him. Then again, that might never happen, and watching the nearly constant stream of flowers and candy come through the office today reminded him in a weird way of what he was missing at home.
Not that it seemed to matter to Nick that he'd come home, because he was still staring at the TV, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He'd barely glanced at Sean since he came in, and he didn't look up when Sean tossed the mail - junk and a couple bills - on the coffee table. "I'm gonna take a shower."
"Cool," Nick said without looking away from the TV. "You hungry?"
"Whatever," Sean answered, suddenly a lot more tired than he'd been a few minutes ago. And it wasn't that anything was wrong, exactly, but some days he wondered if they'd already fallen into one of those routines that would end in lots of shouting and slammed doors. Or worse, one day he'd come home and Nick just wouldn't be there anymore. They hadn't exactly met under the most normal circumstances, after all, and adjusting to life after Nick's Forsaken was…well, weird.
He forced his legs to carry him down the hall, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. When he reached the bedroom he paused, hands frozen on the center button. It took him a few seconds to realize what was different, but when he spotted it he crossed the room in three long strides. "What the…?"
"Baby, you want pizza or Chinese?" Nick called from the hallway, and a second later he appeared in the doorway, holding two menus and smirking as Sean picked up the handcuffs from the center of the bed. They were padded in what he guessed was red velvet, and Sean ran a thumb unconsciously across the soft fabric.
"What is this?" he asked, glancing from the handcuffs to the bottle of champagne sitting on the dresser next to... "Jesus," Sean murmured as he dropped the handcuffs and picked up a jar of chocolate body paint.
"I figured you've never been tied up," Nick said, closer now and Sean shivered when he felt hot breath on his neck. "It's a rush, you're gonna love it."
Sean wasn't at all sure Nick was right, but there was a part of him that really, really wanted to try it. Then there was the body paint, and the thought of Nick licking that off him…a shiver ran down his spine and his fingers tightened convulsively around the jar.
"I never really figured you for the Valentine's Day type."
"It's Valentine's Day?" Nick murmured against his neck, and Sean let out an embarrassingly breathy laugh. "You've been working your ass off at that job of yours, I figured you could use a little distraction."
And now Sean felt guilty for what he'd been thinking just a few minutes ago, but he let Nick pull him closer anyway. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, mouth still pressed against the skin just below his ear and then two menus appeared in his vision.
"So, pizza or Chinese? What's your pleasure?"
"You really expect me to think about food now?" Sean asked, and when Nick laughed against his skin he was glad Nick's arms were still holding him up.
"Gotta keep your strength up," Nick answered, pressing one last kiss to Sean's neck before he let go. "Shower first, then dinner," he added, reaching around Sean and pulling the jar of body paint out of his grip, "and then dessert."
Part of Sean wanted to insist that they skip right to the dessert part, but Nick was already pushing him toward the bathroom, and if his plan involved them showering together, Sean wasn't about to complain.
~
Fic the second is for the lovely and talented nekosmuse, who commented randomly last night that Martin looks really hot in purple. Which made me think of this fic, so I wrote it. It's set during "The Stranger", but continuity doesn't really enter into it, because I already deleted the episode and I'm not about to go doing research for a pornlet anyway. It does spoil the ending, though. Rated NC17 for tie porn.
"Stop fidgeting."
"I'm not fidgeting," Martin said as he reached up to fidget with his tie again.
"Jesus, Martin," Danny said, reaching out to catch his fingers in a firm grip, and he sounded annoyed, but he was grinning. "You've been messing with that tie since we got to work. It's fine."
He knew Danny was right. It was just a tie, after all, and the color didn't matter. Chances were no one had even noticed it; at least Martin hadn't caught anyone looking at him funny yet. But that didn't help him stop thinking about it, and when he caught himself reaching up to tug at it again he rolled his eyes and clenched his fingers into a tight fist.
All he could do was hope for a break in the case that would distract him enough to stop thinking about it.
~
The break came a couple hours later, and when they found their missing soccer mom alive and well and with her son, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached up to tug his tie off.
"Don't."
The word was whispered low, but he'd know that voice anywhere and a shiver ran down his spine as he let go of his tie. Again.
He never should have agreed to wear it. He shouldn't have let Danny annoy him into the stupid argument in the first place, and he still didn't really see how wearing a purple tie proved that he was secure in his masculinity. He didn't think the color made him look any less manly; he didn't, he just didn't like it. Danny had refused to believe that, though, and when he dared Martin…well, there was no backing down from that.
There hadn't been a time limit on the dare, though, and Martin wasn't sure why Danny wanted him to leave the tie on even after the case was closed. It had been a long day and they were all tired, and all he really wanted to do was peel off all his clothes and fall into the nearest bed. Which happened to be Danny's, so if keeping the tie on got Martin into Danny's bed, so be it.
He managed to leave it alone during the subway ride across town, and he didn't fidget with it on the way down Danny's street. He even resisted the urge to loosen it when they reached Danny's apartment, but as soon as they got inside his fingers were at his neck again, tugging the silk away from his collar.
"You're hopeless," Danny said, and Martin looked over to catch Danny watching him, grin reaching all the way up to those dark eyes of his. He stared for a second longer, then he started moving forward and before he could react Martin found himself backed up against the door. "Hot, but hopeless."
The words were murmured against his mouth, and Martin couldn't argue because Danny was kissing him, and it was hard to focus on anything when Danny was kissing him. Hard to remember his own name, really, so Martin did the only thing he could: he held on and kissed Danny back.
Expert hands worked the buttons on his shirt open, warm and smooth against his skin as Danny's fingers slid down his chest to his waistband. Martin's zipper was next, followed by the button at the top of his pants, fabric pushed aside until a perfect line was exposed from his neck to his groin.
He was still wearing the tie, though, and when he reached up to tug it off Danny's hand shot out to stop him. "Leave. It," he repeated, punctuating each word with a hard kiss to Martin's mouth before he dropped to his knees and…God, Martin was never going to get used to that.
Because Danny was graceful even when he was sucking Martin off, sure of himself and pausing long enough to grin up at Martin before he closed his mouth around the head of Martin's cock and did that thing with his tongue that made Martin slam his head against the door. Hard. And he'd probably wake up with a bump and a headache, but it was worth it. So, so worth it, because Danny looked like he was made for this, on his knees in his expensive suit, heedless of the mass of wrinkles that would inevitably mean a trip to the drycleaner's.
And really, Martin should start paying Danny's dry cleaning bills, because he'd found himself braced against plenty of flat surfaces with Danny on his knees in front of him. But Danny didn't seem to mind; seemed to enjoy it, in fact, enjoyed the high, needy noises Martin made when he was close and the way his fingers clenched and unclenched against the wall, his clothes, Danny's hair…everywhere Martin could reach.
This time his palms were pressed flat against the door behind him, as though that pressure might be enough to keep him from sliding to his knees when Danny did that other thing with his tongue and pressed one finger hard against the tight skin just behind Martin's balls.
He moaned low in his throat, hoping that was close enough to a warning as he came in Danny's mouth. And Danny never seemed to mind that either; he just kept sucking until Martin slumped against the wall, boneless and flushed and still wearing most of his clothes.
Danny, on the other hand, was still wearing all his clothes, and that hardly seemed fair. He stood up, wiping absently at the corner of his mouth with one hand as he reached out and grabbed Martin's tie with the other.
"What is with you and this tie?" Martin asked, voice breathless but he was way beyond caring.
"Looks good on you," Danny answered, still grinning as Martin reached out to start working on Danny's suit. "Makes your cheeks look all rosy."
Martin rolled his eyes, and if he wasn't already flushed from the blow job he knew he'd be blushing. "I'm not wearing it while you fuck me."
"Fair enough," Danny said. He took a step backwards and tugged, dragging Martin off the door by his tie. And Martin knew he should be embarrassed about the fact that he was letting Danny drag him through the apartment, but he was way too turned on to care.
Maybe purple was his color after all.
~
And that's all for now. Work sucked a lot today, mostly because my new supervisor needs to get the fuck over herself, so I'm writing mostly to avoid thinking. I really need to be working on The Thing for The Secret Project, though, so I can't promise more fic any time soon.
Fic the first is for writingpathways, because she was kind about the appalling haiku I wrote her last night. In return I promised her fic, and she asked for this a few weeks ago, so this is what I wrote. Actually she only asked for one specific word, not the cheesy Valentine's Day theme. Rated PG13 for innuendo and a big fat tease. Though someday I am going to explore this territory with these two; I expect when I do, it'll be a little darker than this flufftastic mess, however.
It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't even a real holiday; it was just one of those commercial deals the greeting card companies made up so you'd spend money on stuff that got thrown away in a week. Like Grandparents' Day.
So it wasn't like he was expecting anything. He wasn't even thinking about it, and if he did it was only for a second when someone at work got a delivery of flowers or an ugly white and red teddy bear and a bunch of cheap chocolates from their boyfriend. It was a chick holiday. No big deal at all.
It didn't surprise him when he let himself into their place and found everything exactly the way he'd left it. Same dishes in the sink, same light bulb burned out in the entry, same boyfriend parked on their couch, boots up on the coffee table. Sean shook his head and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, flipping through the mail Nick had tossed on the counter as he headed back to the living room.
"Hey," Nick said, glancing up when Sean stopped next to the couch. "You're late."
"What else is new." Sean frowned at the reminder of how much time he'd been spending at work; he knew Nick wasn't complaining, and there was a time when he would still be at work right now, cutting trailers long after everyone else had gone home. Now that he had something - someone - to go home to, though, it didn't seem as important to prove that he could work harder and longer than the rest of the grunts in the office.
It had taken him a lot of sweet-talking to get his job back, though, and he knew he had to keep putting in long hours until his boss quit threatening to change his mind and fire him. Then again, that might never happen, and watching the nearly constant stream of flowers and candy come through the office today reminded him in a weird way of what he was missing at home.
Not that it seemed to matter to Nick that he'd come home, because he was still staring at the TV, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He'd barely glanced at Sean since he came in, and he didn't look up when Sean tossed the mail - junk and a couple bills - on the coffee table. "I'm gonna take a shower."
"Cool," Nick said without looking away from the TV. "You hungry?"
"Whatever," Sean answered, suddenly a lot more tired than he'd been a few minutes ago. And it wasn't that anything was wrong, exactly, but some days he wondered if they'd already fallen into one of those routines that would end in lots of shouting and slammed doors. Or worse, one day he'd come home and Nick just wouldn't be there anymore. They hadn't exactly met under the most normal circumstances, after all, and adjusting to life after Nick's Forsaken was…well, weird.
He forced his legs to carry him down the hall, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. When he reached the bedroom he paused, hands frozen on the center button. It took him a few seconds to realize what was different, but when he spotted it he crossed the room in three long strides. "What the…?"
"Baby, you want pizza or Chinese?" Nick called from the hallway, and a second later he appeared in the doorway, holding two menus and smirking as Sean picked up the handcuffs from the center of the bed. They were padded in what he guessed was red velvet, and Sean ran a thumb unconsciously across the soft fabric.
"What is this?" he asked, glancing from the handcuffs to the bottle of champagne sitting on the dresser next to... "Jesus," Sean murmured as he dropped the handcuffs and picked up a jar of chocolate body paint.
"I figured you've never been tied up," Nick said, closer now and Sean shivered when he felt hot breath on his neck. "It's a rush, you're gonna love it."
Sean wasn't at all sure Nick was right, but there was a part of him that really, really wanted to try it. Then there was the body paint, and the thought of Nick licking that off him…a shiver ran down his spine and his fingers tightened convulsively around the jar.
"I never really figured you for the Valentine's Day type."
"It's Valentine's Day?" Nick murmured against his neck, and Sean let out an embarrassingly breathy laugh. "You've been working your ass off at that job of yours, I figured you could use a little distraction."
And now Sean felt guilty for what he'd been thinking just a few minutes ago, but he let Nick pull him closer anyway. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, mouth still pressed against the skin just below his ear and then two menus appeared in his vision.
"So, pizza or Chinese? What's your pleasure?"
"You really expect me to think about food now?" Sean asked, and when Nick laughed against his skin he was glad Nick's arms were still holding him up.
"Gotta keep your strength up," Nick answered, pressing one last kiss to Sean's neck before he let go. "Shower first, then dinner," he added, reaching around Sean and pulling the jar of body paint out of his grip, "and then dessert."
Part of Sean wanted to insist that they skip right to the dessert part, but Nick was already pushing him toward the bathroom, and if his plan involved them showering together, Sean wasn't about to complain.
~
Fic the second is for the lovely and talented nekosmuse, who commented randomly last night that Martin looks really hot in purple. Which made me think of this fic, so I wrote it. It's set during "The Stranger", but continuity doesn't really enter into it, because I already deleted the episode and I'm not about to go doing research for a pornlet anyway. It does spoil the ending, though. Rated NC17 for tie porn.
"Stop fidgeting."
"I'm not fidgeting," Martin said as he reached up to fidget with his tie again.
"Jesus, Martin," Danny said, reaching out to catch his fingers in a firm grip, and he sounded annoyed, but he was grinning. "You've been messing with that tie since we got to work. It's fine."
He knew Danny was right. It was just a tie, after all, and the color didn't matter. Chances were no one had even noticed it; at least Martin hadn't caught anyone looking at him funny yet. But that didn't help him stop thinking about it, and when he caught himself reaching up to tug at it again he rolled his eyes and clenched his fingers into a tight fist.
All he could do was hope for a break in the case that would distract him enough to stop thinking about it.
~
The break came a couple hours later, and when they found their missing soccer mom alive and well and with her son, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached up to tug his tie off.
"Don't."
The word was whispered low, but he'd know that voice anywhere and a shiver ran down his spine as he let go of his tie. Again.
He never should have agreed to wear it. He shouldn't have let Danny annoy him into the stupid argument in the first place, and he still didn't really see how wearing a purple tie proved that he was secure in his masculinity. He didn't think the color made him look any less manly; he didn't, he just didn't like it. Danny had refused to believe that, though, and when he dared Martin…well, there was no backing down from that.
There hadn't been a time limit on the dare, though, and Martin wasn't sure why Danny wanted him to leave the tie on even after the case was closed. It had been a long day and they were all tired, and all he really wanted to do was peel off all his clothes and fall into the nearest bed. Which happened to be Danny's, so if keeping the tie on got Martin into Danny's bed, so be it.
He managed to leave it alone during the subway ride across town, and he didn't fidget with it on the way down Danny's street. He even resisted the urge to loosen it when they reached Danny's apartment, but as soon as they got inside his fingers were at his neck again, tugging the silk away from his collar.
"You're hopeless," Danny said, and Martin looked over to catch Danny watching him, grin reaching all the way up to those dark eyes of his. He stared for a second longer, then he started moving forward and before he could react Martin found himself backed up against the door. "Hot, but hopeless."
The words were murmured against his mouth, and Martin couldn't argue because Danny was kissing him, and it was hard to focus on anything when Danny was kissing him. Hard to remember his own name, really, so Martin did the only thing he could: he held on and kissed Danny back.
Expert hands worked the buttons on his shirt open, warm and smooth against his skin as Danny's fingers slid down his chest to his waistband. Martin's zipper was next, followed by the button at the top of his pants, fabric pushed aside until a perfect line was exposed from his neck to his groin.
He was still wearing the tie, though, and when he reached up to tug it off Danny's hand shot out to stop him. "Leave. It," he repeated, punctuating each word with a hard kiss to Martin's mouth before he dropped to his knees and…God, Martin was never going to get used to that.
Because Danny was graceful even when he was sucking Martin off, sure of himself and pausing long enough to grin up at Martin before he closed his mouth around the head of Martin's cock and did that thing with his tongue that made Martin slam his head against the door. Hard. And he'd probably wake up with a bump and a headache, but it was worth it. So, so worth it, because Danny looked like he was made for this, on his knees in his expensive suit, heedless of the mass of wrinkles that would inevitably mean a trip to the drycleaner's.
And really, Martin should start paying Danny's dry cleaning bills, because he'd found himself braced against plenty of flat surfaces with Danny on his knees in front of him. But Danny didn't seem to mind; seemed to enjoy it, in fact, enjoyed the high, needy noises Martin made when he was close and the way his fingers clenched and unclenched against the wall, his clothes, Danny's hair…everywhere Martin could reach.
This time his palms were pressed flat against the door behind him, as though that pressure might be enough to keep him from sliding to his knees when Danny did that other thing with his tongue and pressed one finger hard against the tight skin just behind Martin's balls.
He moaned low in his throat, hoping that was close enough to a warning as he came in Danny's mouth. And Danny never seemed to mind that either; he just kept sucking until Martin slumped against the wall, boneless and flushed and still wearing most of his clothes.
Danny, on the other hand, was still wearing all his clothes, and that hardly seemed fair. He stood up, wiping absently at the corner of his mouth with one hand as he reached out and grabbed Martin's tie with the other.
"What is with you and this tie?" Martin asked, voice breathless but he was way beyond caring.
"Looks good on you," Danny answered, still grinning as Martin reached out to start working on Danny's suit. "Makes your cheeks look all rosy."
Martin rolled his eyes, and if he wasn't already flushed from the blow job he knew he'd be blushing. "I'm not wearing it while you fuck me."
"Fair enough," Danny said. He took a step backwards and tugged, dragging Martin off the door by his tie. And Martin knew he should be embarrassed about the fact that he was letting Danny drag him through the apartment, but he was way too turned on to care.
Maybe purple was his color after all.
~
And that's all for now. Work sucked a lot today, mostly because my new supervisor needs to get the fuck over herself, so I'm writing mostly to avoid thinking. I really need to be working on The Thing for The Secret Project, though, so I can't promise more fic any time soon.