(fic) Cleanliness
Title: Cleanliness
Pairing: Steve Staios / Jason Smith
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it is untrue.
AN's Kennedy gave the prompts; cleanliness, dead cats, tacos of shame. (and the pairing)
The sun rising is only the first cliché of the day.
If cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a fucking good thing I never clean before he gets here. What cliché is next? Peering into the refrigerator I hardly see the breakfast of champions. More like the brunch of the fucking retarded. What to have, what to have? Leftover tacos of shame from last night, cause yeah he was only ever coming over to eat. I didn't need to bother with preparing anything. But then I couldn't pretend that he was here for anything other than what he got.
I poke at the half-eaten desert, the rest of it dripping off him somewhere between here and bed.
It's not the first time: I got vanilla this time instead of chocolate.
"Your breath is gross fucker." I shove him away when he leans over my shoulder and grabs the milk.
"Yeah? Yours smells like you eat dead cats." He licks up my neck from the top of my spine to my hairline. "Make me some coffee," he says into my hair. "Take me back to bed."
Pairing: Steve Staios / Jason Smith
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it is untrue.
AN's Kennedy gave the prompts; cleanliness, dead cats, tacos of shame. (and the pairing)
The sun rising is only the first cliché of the day.
If cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a fucking good thing I never clean before he gets here. What cliché is next? Peering into the refrigerator I hardly see the breakfast of champions. More like the brunch of the fucking retarded. What to have, what to have? Leftover tacos of shame from last night, cause yeah he was only ever coming over to eat. I didn't need to bother with preparing anything. But then I couldn't pretend that he was here for anything other than what he got.
I poke at the half-eaten desert, the rest of it dripping off him somewhere between here and bed.
It's not the first time: I got vanilla this time instead of chocolate.
"Your breath is gross fucker." I shove him away when he leans over my shoulder and grabs the milk.
"Yeah? Yours smells like you eat dead cats." He licks up my neck from the top of my spine to my hairline. "Make me some coffee," he says into my hair. "Take me back to bed."