RP LOG with seeuincourt | Inked Revelations
Tom was now sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with Stuart, looking at his fiancé in amusement. He'd gotten Stuart out of his clothes on the pretext of him being far more comfortable that way, and now he could see the bandages applied to his arse and near his groin. He was pretty sure Stuart hadn't been shot there otherwise he would very much have been in hospital, which only led Tom to believe the copper really had gotten drunk and decided on a couple of tattoos. He shifted to move down so he was right in line with Stuart's lower body and kissed at his arse near the bandage, and then just above where the other bandage was as he looked up at the Scotsman. "What am I going to do with you, hm? You do realise if either of these say anything about Gee's breasts, or loving haggis, I'll be taking you to get them removed, don't you?"
He'd gone to rescue his lover from Adam Larson's apartment, the Liverpuddlian detective playing host to Stuart, Gee, and Euan after their bender. Gee and Euan had been passed out on the floor with the Irishman's hand up his girlfriend's shirt, and his head on her chest, while Stuart was still on the sofa just like he'd mentioned in a brief online conversation. Tom wasn't going to hold it against them after they'd had a hard day, especially not when he knew exactly what case they were working on. He really was amused now than anything, and rubbed Stuart's thigh affectionately.
Stuart stood in front of his fiancé with his lips pulled to the side, wishing his head would stop feeling like someone was stabbing him through the eyeballs with a large fork. He was a mess, without a doubt. He had been even more of a mess before Tom stripped his clothes off. Clothes Stuart would likely not wear again. There had been buttons lost and his shirt had been half tucked in with the other half hanging out of his pants that were sans belt. He had no idea where his belt was, and the tie he had been wearing loosely around his neck wasn't the tie he went to work in. And he had no recollection of the previous night at all beyond agreeing to get a beer with his colleagues. He couldn't even be sure what pub they went to, and now he had two dressings in not very subtle places and he was almost crapping himself to discover what was under there.
Still, beyond all that, Tom was still touching him like that and the fact he was sitting his with his mouth level to Stuart's dick had said appendage more than standing at attention, despite the hangover. He couldn't help it. Tom could be standing there dressed like a chicken and Stuart would still be ready for to a roll between the sheets. It never took much. "I've decided they're nay tattoos, they're just... um... burns, or something. Aye."
Tom chuckled low in his throat and kept rubbing at Stuart's thigh as he pulled him closer, his eyes darkening at the sight of Stuart's erection. His own dick twitched in response, and it wasn't going to take much before Tom was just has hard as his fiancé. He kissed the tip of Stuart's cock before his hand shifted to wrap around that, his touch teasing and gentle. "Either way I think it might be wise if I keep a close eye on them..."
Stuart really wanted more than thigh rubbing, but they both knew the suspense of what was under those dressings would be too much of a distraction. He was already counting the days until he could get his cast off, he really didn't want to discover he had just been talked into getting ink of the Irish flag or something. In fact, if it was the Irish flag, he would cry... and go out to smack a conveniently placed Irishman in revenge. He bounced up on his toes a little, anxious about what he could be marked with. "Okay, what are we starting with? Which one? I can do this. It cannae be so bad, aye?"
Tom shook his head, his tongue running over his lips as he let out a growl laced with lust. He definitely wanted to wrap his lips around Stuart's cock, but it was true that the curiosity of what was under the bandages had been eating away at him since he found out Stuart may have gotten himself tattoos. He kissed at Stuart's stomach as he reached around to peel off the bandage on his arse, the action answering Stuart's question while Tom tried to get his arousal under control. He pulled back reluctantly so Stuart could turn around. "Let's see that arse, Evans."
"I dinnae want to!" Stuart squeaked and pressed a hand over his face. His erection was waning, to say the least. He whimpered a little and rubbed his head. "I cannae believe I got my arse oot for a tattooist. That's something I should remember because, you know, I wouldnae have done it sober! Fecking bastards. They coulda told me it was a stupid idea..." But he soon turned, reluctantly, and braced himself for the worst. "If it's Irish, I'm killing him. Hard. Painfully. With something large and blunt."
Tom was laughing again, but it stopped as he looked down at the tattoo now facing him and his eyebrows drew together. "Well, fuck. This is definitely Fitzpatrick's doing. You'll be glad to know it's not exactly Irish, but it's still his handiwork. It's a Scottish flag, and written underneath it is 'I fell in love with an English lawyer and all my arse got was this tattoo'. Cute. Real fucking cute."
Stuart started to laugh and strained to try and see over his shoulder. "Haha, funny. Nay, really. What is it. Tell me what it is, I cannae see my own arse, nay matter how talented I am," he said, completely oblivious to that fact that Tom wasn't joking at all.
Tom stood up behind Stuart and put his hands on his lover's hips to guide him to the full length mirror so Stuart could see better for himself that the lawyer really wasn't joking. "What makes you think I'm joking? This is definitely Euan's grubby little Irish paw prints. I'm going to spike that hairy leprechaun's Guinness the next time I see him."
"You could try, but he used to be a crack addict. Nay sure there is anything you could spike him with that will affect him-- holy fucking hell! That bastard!" Stuart shrieked when his eyes landed on the reflection of his butt cheek in the mirror. He automatically tried to rub it off, his brain deciding it might be a fake, but he cursed loudly in pain when he realised it was very much not a fake. He stopped, though, glancing at Tom. "... kinda has a point though. I did fall in love with an English lawyer."
"But your arse didn't just get a lousy tattoo," Tom mumbled as he glared at Stuart's reflection. He cleared his throat as he met Stuart's gaze, his expression softening a little. "You also need to not rub the ink, it's still healing. I'll redress it for you so it stays clean. Makes me more than a little concerned about what I'm going to find near your dick, though. If Euan's fucked with that particular area of you I, spiking his drink will be the least of his worries. Former crack addict, or not, I will rip him to pieces."
"HEY! It doesnae say lousy! It doesnae. Look!" Stuart tried to point at his own arse, succeeding, albeit awkwardly. He tilted his head, looking at it. For some reason, he really liked that it had the Scottish flag there, and it was strangely feeling like it was some sort of way of Euan showing his acceptance of him. "I kinda like it. He's just pulling the piss, but... I dinnae know, it's not bastardly pulling the piss like he has been rolling with. And to be fair, I did get drunk with him, so my own fault." In saying that, he did look slightly petrified when Tom focused in on the next dressing.
Tom rest one hand on Stuart's hip as he brushed his lips against his, trying to distract both of them as he peeled away the other dressing. The flare of anger started to fade and when he pulled back, he gave a slight nod. "If you like it, I won't kill him. And no, I guess it doesn't say lousy." Tom glanced down at the second tattoo, and this time a rush of air left his lungs as he just stared at it. "Stuart..."
Stuart just slapped his hands over his face with a moan. "Oh what? I dinnae want to know if it's horrible. Just cover it up and take me somewhere to get rid of it, even if it'll hurt like fuck because there is really nay a lot of flesh there. Or there is, but it's fecking sensitive. Thank hell I was pished when this happened. Oh god, what have I done?" he fretted, still hiding behind his hands.
Tom reached up to take Stuart's hands away from his face. "It's not horrible. Trust me. It's... It's not horrible. It's the best thing I've ever seen," he revealed in a hushed tone. "And now I just want to suck your cock even more." His lips captured Stuart's in a heated kiss as he nearly pushed the detective back against mirror. The tattoo was Tom's name and the date of their wedding, and it was beyond a turn on for the lawyer. Just when he was sure nothing could ever improve that area of Stuart's body, he goes and gets a tattoo like that.
With a quick, confused glance at Tom, Stuart swallowed and braved a look down at his groin where the tattoo was. It was in a position that it would probably show if he wore low cut jeans or boxers, and for a moment, he just gaped at it. But he soon broke into a grin and pointed at it. "Okay, this isnae Fitzpatrick's doing, aye? This is me. All me. And you," he added, turning to see Tom's face again. He caught his hand and linked there fingers, going back for another look. "How awesome is my pished taste, huh?"
"Always was pretty fucking awesome," Tom replied as he kissed at Stuart's cheek. He was smiling now, all the curiosity at wanting to see the tattoos ebbing as it was replaced by the joy of knowing that pretty soon their marriage date would be a reality. This was the man he was going to marry. "I love you, Stuart. And there's maybe a tiny part of me all manly and arrogant at knowing your now permanently marked as mine."
Stuart turned around so he was facing Tom, and he couldn't hide the cheeky glean in his eyes. "You like that, huh? If I had known that, I would've done it a lot sooner. Maybe nay sober, because I have a feeling it hurt like all bollocks, but still. Only eight weeks away, you know. You're nay getting cold feet? An urge to run away very fast in the opposite direction? From me and my four Best Men?"
Tom nodded, his tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth as his hand snaked down between them and wrapped around Stuart's cock like it had been a little while earlier. Only this time he gave it a firmer stroke. "Fuck yeah. I'd get something matching, but I don't want to steal your tattoo thunder. I'd much rather just express my constant appreciation. No cold feet. Well, there was a little moment of them but I talked to Ethan about it all. I'm having four too, so you don't get to intimidate me with your brothers. Just Ethan will be my first Best Man. What about you? Any cold feet?"
Stuart grabbed Tom's arm with his good hand so his legs didn't give out just from the power of the arousal that burst through him. Any thoughts of weddings or Best Men became just a little bit hard with Tom's hand wrapped so securely around his cock. "Oh hell, dinnae stop," he growled and caught Tom's lips in a hungry kiss. Hangover the fuck. He still had the energy for his fiancé. The kiss broke and Stuart cleared his throat breathlessly. "Who else are you having? Oh, um... nay cold feet. Just nerves when I think aboot it."
Tom's smile turned a little wicked as he pulled Stuart back towards the bed. "Like I'm going to stop, love." Even as they moved, Tom still managed to take Stuart's weight and keep his hand moving on his cock. His fiance was never going to fail to get him aroused, and even if Stuart had been feeling fragile before, Tom just had to have him now. "Ethan, Sophie, Liam, Jess. It's going to be interesting seeing the last two in the same room long enough to be part of it. I'm just hoping they realise it's my day and not theirs and that I will play the selfish groom card."
"Liam?" Stuart paused, even though they were now on the bed and looked up at Tom. "Selfish groom card is awesome, and I've already pulled it a few times, but I get the feeling you made this choice before certain recent events?" he asked and his hand snaked around Tom's waist. "But it's okay. We can think about this later. We've got a hell of a lot to think about and arrange. Can I pass that off onto four Best Men? Think I'd get away with it, aye?"
Tom's eyes widened with realisation before he gave an unsure nod. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck... Shit. I didn't even--how could I not think?" His head fell back against the bed for a moment before he found his mojo again, pushing the Best Men issue to the side for the moment as he sucked on Stuart's collarbone and rolled his hips forward in search of friction. "Yes, I think you can. And if you can't then I'll just hire a wedding planner. I'm sure Ethan knows someone."
"Liam's going to be okay... but talk to him about it. He might appreciate the involvement in your wedding..." Stuart murmured and then dipped his head to the side when he felt Tom's mouth there. "Wedding planner sounds good... more fucking time for us..." he agreed. He wanted to grab Tom, climb on top of him and ride him, but he also had absolutely no protests to just accepting Tom's gratitude over the tattoo. No protests at all.
Tom moved them so that he was on top. There would be plenty of time for Stuart to still climb on top of him and ride him. Tom's own erection wasn't in any danger of disappearing soon and he kissed his way down Stuart's body, stopping to suck and bite on his nipples before sliding his tongue down towards his six pack as he grunted his agreement. A wedding planner was definitely on the cards now, and Tom would pay whatever it took for them to just get it done in a couple of months. He was tempted to kiss the tattoo, but he wasn't going to risk Stuart getting an infection. "Really is fucking hot," he murmured just before he took Stuart's cock into his mouth as his hand gripped his thigh.
"Christ. Fuck. Thank god I didnae get my nipples pierced instead," Stuart hissed, pushing his head back against the pillow with a groan. He pushed his hand into Tom's hair, loosely gripping the strands to encourage his husband-to-be with that glorious mouth. Best stupid drunken mistake ever, as far as Stuart was concerned. There had been a lot of sex lately, but this was something else. There was the hungry growl to the edge of Tom's voice and it drove Stuart wild. Maybe it wasn't soon enough for cold feet, but right now, there was absolutely nothing cold about them.
Word Count | 2,720
He'd gone to rescue his lover from Adam Larson's apartment, the Liverpuddlian detective playing host to Stuart, Gee, and Euan after their bender. Gee and Euan had been passed out on the floor with the Irishman's hand up his girlfriend's shirt, and his head on her chest, while Stuart was still on the sofa just like he'd mentioned in a brief online conversation. Tom wasn't going to hold it against them after they'd had a hard day, especially not when he knew exactly what case they were working on. He really was amused now than anything, and rubbed Stuart's thigh affectionately.
Stuart stood in front of his fiancé with his lips pulled to the side, wishing his head would stop feeling like someone was stabbing him through the eyeballs with a large fork. He was a mess, without a doubt. He had been even more of a mess before Tom stripped his clothes off. Clothes Stuart would likely not wear again. There had been buttons lost and his shirt had been half tucked in with the other half hanging out of his pants that were sans belt. He had no idea where his belt was, and the tie he had been wearing loosely around his neck wasn't the tie he went to work in. And he had no recollection of the previous night at all beyond agreeing to get a beer with his colleagues. He couldn't even be sure what pub they went to, and now he had two dressings in not very subtle places and he was almost crapping himself to discover what was under there.
Still, beyond all that, Tom was still touching him like that and the fact he was sitting his with his mouth level to Stuart's dick had said appendage more than standing at attention, despite the hangover. He couldn't help it. Tom could be standing there dressed like a chicken and Stuart would still be ready for to a roll between the sheets. It never took much. "I've decided they're nay tattoos, they're just... um... burns, or something. Aye."
Tom chuckled low in his throat and kept rubbing at Stuart's thigh as he pulled him closer, his eyes darkening at the sight of Stuart's erection. His own dick twitched in response, and it wasn't going to take much before Tom was just has hard as his fiancé. He kissed the tip of Stuart's cock before his hand shifted to wrap around that, his touch teasing and gentle. "Either way I think it might be wise if I keep a close eye on them..."
Stuart really wanted more than thigh rubbing, but they both knew the suspense of what was under those dressings would be too much of a distraction. He was already counting the days until he could get his cast off, he really didn't want to discover he had just been talked into getting ink of the Irish flag or something. In fact, if it was the Irish flag, he would cry... and go out to smack a conveniently placed Irishman in revenge. He bounced up on his toes a little, anxious about what he could be marked with. "Okay, what are we starting with? Which one? I can do this. It cannae be so bad, aye?"
Tom shook his head, his tongue running over his lips as he let out a growl laced with lust. He definitely wanted to wrap his lips around Stuart's cock, but it was true that the curiosity of what was under the bandages had been eating away at him since he found out Stuart may have gotten himself tattoos. He kissed at Stuart's stomach as he reached around to peel off the bandage on his arse, the action answering Stuart's question while Tom tried to get his arousal under control. He pulled back reluctantly so Stuart could turn around. "Let's see that arse, Evans."
"I dinnae want to!" Stuart squeaked and pressed a hand over his face. His erection was waning, to say the least. He whimpered a little and rubbed his head. "I cannae believe I got my arse oot for a tattooist. That's something I should remember because, you know, I wouldnae have done it sober! Fecking bastards. They coulda told me it was a stupid idea..." But he soon turned, reluctantly, and braced himself for the worst. "If it's Irish, I'm killing him. Hard. Painfully. With something large and blunt."
Tom was laughing again, but it stopped as he looked down at the tattoo now facing him and his eyebrows drew together. "Well, fuck. This is definitely Fitzpatrick's doing. You'll be glad to know it's not exactly Irish, but it's still his handiwork. It's a Scottish flag, and written underneath it is 'I fell in love with an English lawyer and all my arse got was this tattoo'. Cute. Real fucking cute."
Stuart started to laugh and strained to try and see over his shoulder. "Haha, funny. Nay, really. What is it. Tell me what it is, I cannae see my own arse, nay matter how talented I am," he said, completely oblivious to that fact that Tom wasn't joking at all.
Tom stood up behind Stuart and put his hands on his lover's hips to guide him to the full length mirror so Stuart could see better for himself that the lawyer really wasn't joking. "What makes you think I'm joking? This is definitely Euan's grubby little Irish paw prints. I'm going to spike that hairy leprechaun's Guinness the next time I see him."
"You could try, but he used to be a crack addict. Nay sure there is anything you could spike him with that will affect him-- holy fucking hell! That bastard!" Stuart shrieked when his eyes landed on the reflection of his butt cheek in the mirror. He automatically tried to rub it off, his brain deciding it might be a fake, but he cursed loudly in pain when he realised it was very much not a fake. He stopped, though, glancing at Tom. "... kinda has a point though. I did fall in love with an English lawyer."
"But your arse didn't just get a lousy tattoo," Tom mumbled as he glared at Stuart's reflection. He cleared his throat as he met Stuart's gaze, his expression softening a little. "You also need to not rub the ink, it's still healing. I'll redress it for you so it stays clean. Makes me more than a little concerned about what I'm going to find near your dick, though. If Euan's fucked with that particular area of you I, spiking his drink will be the least of his worries. Former crack addict, or not, I will rip him to pieces."
"HEY! It doesnae say lousy! It doesnae. Look!" Stuart tried to point at his own arse, succeeding, albeit awkwardly. He tilted his head, looking at it. For some reason, he really liked that it had the Scottish flag there, and it was strangely feeling like it was some sort of way of Euan showing his acceptance of him. "I kinda like it. He's just pulling the piss, but... I dinnae know, it's not bastardly pulling the piss like he has been rolling with. And to be fair, I did get drunk with him, so my own fault." In saying that, he did look slightly petrified when Tom focused in on the next dressing.
Tom rest one hand on Stuart's hip as he brushed his lips against his, trying to distract both of them as he peeled away the other dressing. The flare of anger started to fade and when he pulled back, he gave a slight nod. "If you like it, I won't kill him. And no, I guess it doesn't say lousy." Tom glanced down at the second tattoo, and this time a rush of air left his lungs as he just stared at it. "Stuart..."
Stuart just slapped his hands over his face with a moan. "Oh what? I dinnae want to know if it's horrible. Just cover it up and take me somewhere to get rid of it, even if it'll hurt like fuck because there is really nay a lot of flesh there. Or there is, but it's fecking sensitive. Thank hell I was pished when this happened. Oh god, what have I done?" he fretted, still hiding behind his hands.
Tom reached up to take Stuart's hands away from his face. "It's not horrible. Trust me. It's... It's not horrible. It's the best thing I've ever seen," he revealed in a hushed tone. "And now I just want to suck your cock even more." His lips captured Stuart's in a heated kiss as he nearly pushed the detective back against mirror. The tattoo was Tom's name and the date of their wedding, and it was beyond a turn on for the lawyer. Just when he was sure nothing could ever improve that area of Stuart's body, he goes and gets a tattoo like that.
With a quick, confused glance at Tom, Stuart swallowed and braved a look down at his groin where the tattoo was. It was in a position that it would probably show if he wore low cut jeans or boxers, and for a moment, he just gaped at it. But he soon broke into a grin and pointed at it. "Okay, this isnae Fitzpatrick's doing, aye? This is me. All me. And you," he added, turning to see Tom's face again. He caught his hand and linked there fingers, going back for another look. "How awesome is my pished taste, huh?"
"Always was pretty fucking awesome," Tom replied as he kissed at Stuart's cheek. He was smiling now, all the curiosity at wanting to see the tattoos ebbing as it was replaced by the joy of knowing that pretty soon their marriage date would be a reality. This was the man he was going to marry. "I love you, Stuart. And there's maybe a tiny part of me all manly and arrogant at knowing your now permanently marked as mine."
Stuart turned around so he was facing Tom, and he couldn't hide the cheeky glean in his eyes. "You like that, huh? If I had known that, I would've done it a lot sooner. Maybe nay sober, because I have a feeling it hurt like all bollocks, but still. Only eight weeks away, you know. You're nay getting cold feet? An urge to run away very fast in the opposite direction? From me and my four Best Men?"
Tom nodded, his tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth as his hand snaked down between them and wrapped around Stuart's cock like it had been a little while earlier. Only this time he gave it a firmer stroke. "Fuck yeah. I'd get something matching, but I don't want to steal your tattoo thunder. I'd much rather just express my constant appreciation. No cold feet. Well, there was a little moment of them but I talked to Ethan about it all. I'm having four too, so you don't get to intimidate me with your brothers. Just Ethan will be my first Best Man. What about you? Any cold feet?"
Stuart grabbed Tom's arm with his good hand so his legs didn't give out just from the power of the arousal that burst through him. Any thoughts of weddings or Best Men became just a little bit hard with Tom's hand wrapped so securely around his cock. "Oh hell, dinnae stop," he growled and caught Tom's lips in a hungry kiss. Hangover the fuck. He still had the energy for his fiancé. The kiss broke and Stuart cleared his throat breathlessly. "Who else are you having? Oh, um... nay cold feet. Just nerves when I think aboot it."
Tom's smile turned a little wicked as he pulled Stuart back towards the bed. "Like I'm going to stop, love." Even as they moved, Tom still managed to take Stuart's weight and keep his hand moving on his cock. His fiance was never going to fail to get him aroused, and even if Stuart had been feeling fragile before, Tom just had to have him now. "Ethan, Sophie, Liam, Jess. It's going to be interesting seeing the last two in the same room long enough to be part of it. I'm just hoping they realise it's my day and not theirs and that I will play the selfish groom card."
"Liam?" Stuart paused, even though they were now on the bed and looked up at Tom. "Selfish groom card is awesome, and I've already pulled it a few times, but I get the feeling you made this choice before certain recent events?" he asked and his hand snaked around Tom's waist. "But it's okay. We can think about this later. We've got a hell of a lot to think about and arrange. Can I pass that off onto four Best Men? Think I'd get away with it, aye?"
Tom's eyes widened with realisation before he gave an unsure nod. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck... Shit. I didn't even--how could I not think?" His head fell back against the bed for a moment before he found his mojo again, pushing the Best Men issue to the side for the moment as he sucked on Stuart's collarbone and rolled his hips forward in search of friction. "Yes, I think you can. And if you can't then I'll just hire a wedding planner. I'm sure Ethan knows someone."
"Liam's going to be okay... but talk to him about it. He might appreciate the involvement in your wedding..." Stuart murmured and then dipped his head to the side when he felt Tom's mouth there. "Wedding planner sounds good... more fucking time for us..." he agreed. He wanted to grab Tom, climb on top of him and ride him, but he also had absolutely no protests to just accepting Tom's gratitude over the tattoo. No protests at all.
Tom moved them so that he was on top. There would be plenty of time for Stuart to still climb on top of him and ride him. Tom's own erection wasn't in any danger of disappearing soon and he kissed his way down Stuart's body, stopping to suck and bite on his nipples before sliding his tongue down towards his six pack as he grunted his agreement. A wedding planner was definitely on the cards now, and Tom would pay whatever it took for them to just get it done in a couple of months. He was tempted to kiss the tattoo, but he wasn't going to risk Stuart getting an infection. "Really is fucking hot," he murmured just before he took Stuart's cock into his mouth as his hand gripped his thigh.
"Christ. Fuck. Thank god I didnae get my nipples pierced instead," Stuart hissed, pushing his head back against the pillow with a groan. He pushed his hand into Tom's hair, loosely gripping the strands to encourage his husband-to-be with that glorious mouth. Best stupid drunken mistake ever, as far as Stuart was concerned. There had been a lot of sex lately, but this was something else. There was the hungry growl to the edge of Tom's voice and it drove Stuart wild. Maybe it wasn't soon enough for cold feet, but right now, there was absolutely nothing cold about them.
Word Count | 2,720