FIC: Quiet - 1/1, NFL RPS, PG, BR/MH
Title: Quiet
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
Summary: They make their own fireworks.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: Lazy Hazy Summer Daze #12 for arami who feeds the love for this pairing. :)
A shift, a sigh. "How's that?"
"Oh, yeah..."
"Good." Another shift, tiny, barely a ripple. "Better?"
"Fuck yes. Do that again... oh..."
"Yeah, thought you'd like that." A chuckle, low and wicked, ripples across bare skin, eliciting a shudder.
"Tease." Another shudder, harder, accompanied by a soft gasp.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." More soft laughter, mouthed along a stubbled jaw.
"Fuck you."
"That what you want?" Shift, twist, reversing positions until they're pressed so tight not even air can creep between them.
"Maybe." A slow smile, eyebrow arched, wicked glint in clear blue eyes. "Think you're up to it?"
"Now I'm insulted."
"It's okay if you're not."
"When am I ever not?"
"Well, there was that time in Costa Rica..."
"Shut up, that wasn't my fault. That was --"
"Still blaming it on Brady?"
"Well..."
"Right now? You sure this is where you want to go?"
Muffled laughter against a shoulder as a wide palm glides over a bare scalp. "Asshole."
"Yeah, but you love me."
"I do..." Fingers trace curves, planes, glide along sweat-slick muscles. Easy as that a change in the mood.
"Fireworks were last night..."
"Not like these."
"Now who's the tease?"
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
Summary: They make their own fireworks.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: Lazy Hazy Summer Daze #12 for arami who feeds the love for this pairing. :)
A shift, a sigh. "How's that?"
"Oh, yeah..."
"Good." Another shift, tiny, barely a ripple. "Better?"
"Fuck yes. Do that again... oh..."
"Yeah, thought you'd like that." A chuckle, low and wicked, ripples across bare skin, eliciting a shudder.
"Tease." Another shudder, harder, accompanied by a soft gasp.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." More soft laughter, mouthed along a stubbled jaw.
"Fuck you."
"That what you want?" Shift, twist, reversing positions until they're pressed so tight not even air can creep between them.
"Maybe." A slow smile, eyebrow arched, wicked glint in clear blue eyes. "Think you're up to it?"
"Now I'm insulted."
"It's okay if you're not."
"When am I ever not?"
"Well, there was that time in Costa Rica..."
"Shut up, that wasn't my fault. That was --"
"Still blaming it on Brady?"
"Well..."
"Right now? You sure this is where you want to go?"
Muffled laughter against a shoulder as a wide palm glides over a bare scalp. "Asshole."
"Yeah, but you love me."
"I do..." Fingers trace curves, planes, glide along sweat-slick muscles. Easy as that a change in the mood.
"Fireworks were last night..."
"Not like these."
"Now who's the tease?"