(no subject)
“ A Diversion (Welcome Home) ”
Deadly Premonition. York, Zach. York/Zach, mentions of York/Emily and Zach/Emily.
PG-13. Spoiled like a pampered dog. ~900 words.
Zach discovers that the bedroom is a horrible place to work so long as York is there with him.
Author's note: This is pure unadulterated schmoop. Readers are advised to brush their teeth afterward.
Thanks to signalbeam, with whom I had a very helpful writerly conversation with (resulting in her...not wanting to play the game due to the sad ending...oops?), and freebacon, as always, for giving this a read over and enabling me in general.
Zach was supposed to be working on a report. The problem was that he had relocated to the bedroom, having found that the chair at his desk had not made him any less aware of the aches and pains left over from his last mission. While the mattress was far more comfortable than the chair, it also held host to York, who presently had both of Zach's hands pinned to the mattress and was occupying his time with the series of slow kisses he'd been dying to give ever since Zach made the mistake of bringing his work in the bedroom.
If he really wanted things done, he wouldn't have taken his laptop to where York would be waiting with all sorts of distractions. Still, he would've liked to have gotten a little bit of his work done, at least improved upon the few unsatisfying sentences he had ground out, stared at, and hated, leaving him wide open for this assault. But it was too late to stop what had started; he was beyond the point of return, he knew, as one of York's hands slid into his hair, while York parted Zach's lips with his tongue, sliding it inside his mouth, dissipating the remnants of his resolve.
After several moments, Zach was suddenly aware that he could breathe. York had broken the kiss, mouth moving down along his jaw to the spot in the crook of his neck that York knew drove Zach crazy, robbing him of the luxury of wearing any piece of clothing that would reveal that spot to the public. There were many such spots on his skin. York's bedroom habits were...particular, and, by his own admission, different from how they were with Emily. Zach knew every sordid detail about York, that he liked to bite and be bitten. Emily didn't. York wondered if she ever would be open to the idea, and Zach wasn't sure if York wanted her to. Whatever he couldn't do with Emily, he did with Zach-and Zach rarely complained. His biggest concern was that he didn't bite back enough. Despite that, York kept sleeping with him.
Would that happen tonight? He wasn't feeling up to it, but if York wanted to get off, he didn't see the harm in helping him out. Yet, as exciting as Zach had found sex to be, there was something satisfyingly pleasant about the simple act of kissing. York was far more expressive when he was kissing Zach than when he was making love to him, maybe because sex, to York, was an idea that needed to be executed with the proper planning and filmed flawlessly on the first take. But, while the desire to kiss may have been premeditated, it was never something that required a pitch. He did it because he wanted to. Needed to. It was one of the few times York let himself be. He hid parts of himself even around people he knew best and loved, but he couldn't when he kissed, because he did so on impulse, because it was a part of himself he had kept bottled up inside, too vast and complex to be contained in one of his romantic ideas. It was about as raw as York got, and it was intoxicating to Zach.
He winced as York finished off his work with a sharp bite, trailing kisses back up Zach's neck, chin, and to his lips again-and up, to Zach's nose, and to his forehead, and back to his lips, quickly, before he rested his nose against Zach's, letting out a contented sigh. “I missed you,” he mumbled.
“I know.”
Zach tilted his head up just enough to press his lips against York's. York returned the kiss, briefly, before shifting his body over to Zach's side, his head propped up by one arm as he lay the other across Zach's stomach.
“I feel bad for Emily, though,” Zach said, resting his hand over York's, entwining their fingers. “You probably complained to her a lot.”
“I did not.”
“Says you.”
“I didn't--”
Zach lifted his other hand, brushing his fingers against York's lips. He fell silent, knowing Zach was right. He lifted his head from his hand, using it to brush aside the hair Zach had grown to cover his scar. Zach had come to accept, in a tentative way, that York saw beauty in that scar, in the mismatched color of his eyes. He didn't understand it, but he accepted it enough that York was the only person who got to examine it that closely. For now, until he and Emily met again.
York bent down and placed a kiss on Zach's eyebrow, running his fingers through his hair gently. “Go to sleep, Zach,” he said. “You can finish the report tomorrow.”
Zach closed his eyes, a small, lopsided grin forming on his lips. “You're going to rewrite it while I sleep, aren't you.”
“Zach, that is one of the things about criminal investigation I do not miss. I'll leave you to agonize over the words. And the paperwork.”
“Hmmph.” But he was still grinning as he felt the mattress shift, as he heard York switch off the light on the nightstand and close the lid to Zach's laptop, pressing another soft kiss on Zach's forehead before settling to rest at Zach's side.
“Good night, Zach,” he whispered. “I love you very much.”