Fic: Melting (R, Nick/Phil)
Title: Melting
Character(s)/Pairings: Nick Fury/Phil Coulson
Rating: R
Content Issues: bondage, wax play, sub space
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. Marvel does. I'm just playing with their toys.
Author Note: Written for my character table for
avengers_tables, prompt: control.
He let his eye slip closed and slowly let his breath and all the tension leak from him. He felt a hand slide gently down his arms and a warm smile crossed his face. “Good?”
Nick tested the binding at his wrists. Tight enough that, baring an emergency, he’d have to work to get out of them, but not so tight to be uncomfortable. It was perfect, as always. “Good.”
“Are you going to behave yourself if I don’t tie your ankles down?” Phil smirked but it was a serious question. Nick knew he’d been too angry, too edgy for days and part of that was because he hadn’t gotten a chance in far too long to just let go.
“I don’t know…” He sighed, trying to form a clear and honest answer but Phil smiled and kissed him.
His hands moved up the inside of Nick’s thighs, sending a shiver up his spine. He nipped at Nick’s throat, driving a moan past his lips. “Don’t think you can control yourself?”
“Not tonight.” His cheeks burned as he admitted it but he opened his eye and met Phil’s. This was always the hard part of the deal; letting the persona he had in so many parts of his life go. Letting someone else take over. He didn’t want to have to control himself. He wanted Phil to take care of that this time. There’d been enough control in his life in the last few weeks and he wanted-needed-to let go and not worry about superhero hissy fits and jumped up WSC members or even just keeping his body from reacting to what Phil would do for him. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
Phil’s smile shifted to something warmer. He understood. It wasn’t surprising. They’d been at this long enough to be able to read each other and they both knew the signs that it was time to make sure they had a night alone. He’d done the same for Phil god only knew how many times. “Okay.” He leaned in, kissing Nick’s lips softly and slowly deepening it. “I got you. You’re safe.” He whispered the words into the kiss, just like he always did. “Anything goes sideways, you tell me.”
Nick nodded, sinking back into the mattress. “Yes.”
The feel of Phil’s hands moving over his skin, rubbing slow circles over his thighs and stomach and chest, working small amounts of oil into his skin; it was hypnotic. It took a second to register that Phil had spoken. “Safeword?”
Nick grinned up at him. “Chicago.”
“Smart ass.” Phil smacked his thigh and rolled his eyes. He held himself over Nick, kissing his lips slowly and deeply even as he reached for the first candle on the bedside table.
Phil pulled back and before Nick could register the loss of body heat, the wax hit his skin. He hissed softly. It was far from any kind of painful temperature-they may or may not get there that night-but the first few drops were always a jolt; as if his skin forgot what it was going to feel like in between those moments. He couldn’t quite stop the moan when Phil’s finger traced through the wax before it cooled.
Phil’s voice came a few seconds later. “It’s a good color on you.” Before Nick could answer, the heat of the wax dripped onto his stomach.
He looked down, watching the electric blew drips solidify on his skin, and he gave up pulling at the ropes on his wrist and moaned at each shock of sensation. “It’d look good with a little red.” He couldn’t quite stop the smart ass part of his brain from chiming in.
Phil laughed and reached for the nightstand again. “You might be right. Let’s see…” Nick cried out as the red wax touched his chest and dribbled down toward the blue on his stomach. “Yeah, that’s beautiful.”
Nick couldn’t be sure if Phil meant the colors of the wax or him and as his mind slid into the quiet space it always went to when they did this, he found it really didn’t matter. He probably could have come up with some poetic bullshit about canvases and creation and beauty and being part for that for Phil. But he was beyond that point-if he ever really got to that point anyway-and simply acknowledged the beauty of the situation to himself as he moaned and twitched and gave it all up to be what Phil wanted in that moment.
When it was all over he could appreciate the trust and the mutual rewards involved. He could remember why it was that Phil was the only person he let see him like this. He knew why Phil was the one he could let it all go with because Phil could pick it all back up again without letting any of it bleed over.
But in that moment it was just heat and pain and pleasure and there was no real need to think about it. Phil had the reigns. Phil had control and knowing that was enough to give Nick a little freedom.
Character(s)/Pairings: Nick Fury/Phil Coulson
Rating: R
Content Issues: bondage, wax play, sub space
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. Marvel does. I'm just playing with their toys.
Author Note: Written for my character table for
avengers_tables, prompt: control.
He let his eye slip closed and slowly let his breath and all the tension leak from him. He felt a hand slide gently down his arms and a warm smile crossed his face. “Good?”
Nick tested the binding at his wrists. Tight enough that, baring an emergency, he’d have to work to get out of them, but not so tight to be uncomfortable. It was perfect, as always. “Good.”
“Are you going to behave yourself if I don’t tie your ankles down?” Phil smirked but it was a serious question. Nick knew he’d been too angry, too edgy for days and part of that was because he hadn’t gotten a chance in far too long to just let go.
“I don’t know…” He sighed, trying to form a clear and honest answer but Phil smiled and kissed him.
His hands moved up the inside of Nick’s thighs, sending a shiver up his spine. He nipped at Nick’s throat, driving a moan past his lips. “Don’t think you can control yourself?”
“Not tonight.” His cheeks burned as he admitted it but he opened his eye and met Phil’s. This was always the hard part of the deal; letting the persona he had in so many parts of his life go. Letting someone else take over. He didn’t want to have to control himself. He wanted Phil to take care of that this time. There’d been enough control in his life in the last few weeks and he wanted-needed-to let go and not worry about superhero hissy fits and jumped up WSC members or even just keeping his body from reacting to what Phil would do for him. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
Phil’s smile shifted to something warmer. He understood. It wasn’t surprising. They’d been at this long enough to be able to read each other and they both knew the signs that it was time to make sure they had a night alone. He’d done the same for Phil god only knew how many times. “Okay.” He leaned in, kissing Nick’s lips softly and slowly deepening it. “I got you. You’re safe.” He whispered the words into the kiss, just like he always did. “Anything goes sideways, you tell me.”
Nick nodded, sinking back into the mattress. “Yes.”
The feel of Phil’s hands moving over his skin, rubbing slow circles over his thighs and stomach and chest, working small amounts of oil into his skin; it was hypnotic. It took a second to register that Phil had spoken. “Safeword?”
Nick grinned up at him. “Chicago.”
“Smart ass.” Phil smacked his thigh and rolled his eyes. He held himself over Nick, kissing his lips slowly and deeply even as he reached for the first candle on the bedside table.
Phil pulled back and before Nick could register the loss of body heat, the wax hit his skin. He hissed softly. It was far from any kind of painful temperature-they may or may not get there that night-but the first few drops were always a jolt; as if his skin forgot what it was going to feel like in between those moments. He couldn’t quite stop the moan when Phil’s finger traced through the wax before it cooled.
Phil’s voice came a few seconds later. “It’s a good color on you.” Before Nick could answer, the heat of the wax dripped onto his stomach.
He looked down, watching the electric blew drips solidify on his skin, and he gave up pulling at the ropes on his wrist and moaned at each shock of sensation. “It’d look good with a little red.” He couldn’t quite stop the smart ass part of his brain from chiming in.
Phil laughed and reached for the nightstand again. “You might be right. Let’s see…” Nick cried out as the red wax touched his chest and dribbled down toward the blue on his stomach. “Yeah, that’s beautiful.”
Nick couldn’t be sure if Phil meant the colors of the wax or him and as his mind slid into the quiet space it always went to when they did this, he found it really didn’t matter. He probably could have come up with some poetic bullshit about canvases and creation and beauty and being part for that for Phil. But he was beyond that point-if he ever really got to that point anyway-and simply acknowledged the beauty of the situation to himself as he moaned and twitched and gave it all up to be what Phil wanted in that moment.
When it was all over he could appreciate the trust and the mutual rewards involved. He could remember why it was that Phil was the only person he let see him like this. He knew why Phil was the one he could let it all go with because Phil could pick it all back up again without letting any of it bleed over.
But in that moment it was just heat and pain and pleasure and there was no real need to think about it. Phil had the reigns. Phil had control and knowing that was enough to give Nick a little freedom.