Fic: And They Thought Sixty Four Was Optimistic
Title: And They Thought Sixty Four Was Optimistic
Pairing: Shatnoy
Rating: Hard R/mildly NC-17. ohgod.
Disclaimer: Hell, I hope this isn't happening. IT IS NOT HAPPENING, RIGHT NOW.
Notes/Warnings: Written for this prompt at the kinkmeme. Yes. The one with the viagra. And combined with an earlier prompt for present-day Shatnoy porn, the result was this. So my warning is simply: OLDMANSEX. Please do not read anyway and go 'ew' if you can't take it. This is also definitely the number one sappiest fic I have ever written.
I actually responded to the prompt anonymously because I didn't want to own up to it last night, but I seem to have become more shameless (if not any less messed up in the head) overnight.
"As 78th birthday presents go," Bill said thoughtfully, "this one's got to be pretty high up there. I'd have thought." He smacked Leonard's shoulder with the flat of his hand. "Huh, Len?"
"Mmmmmph," said Leonard non-committally, with uncharacteristic brevity. Ordinarily, Bill might have expected a certain degree of elaboration, but Leonard's mouth was so fully engaged that, frankly, 'mmmmph' was quite an achievement at the moment, so he let it go at that.
"I wish you'd grow your hair," he mused, rubbing idly at the shorn fuzz on Leonard's head. It feathered slightly over his forehead and at the nape of his neck, but it was nowhere long enough to take hold of, and Bill missed threading his fingers into it, pulling Leonard down onto him as he thrust into his mouth. Come to think of it, maybe that was why Leonard kept it short these days, to protect himself against possible asphyxiation.
"Mmmph," said Leonard again, in a tone which Bill knew well to mean 'shut the hell up, Shatner.' So, for the moment, he obliged and fell silent, except for the little breathy sounds he couldn't hold in when Leonard did that thing with his tongue, the thing he'd always been amazing at. Bill had still never managed to drag out of him exactly where he'd learned it.
"Mmmm," Bill breathed, at length, the heel of his hand working reflexively against the base of Leonard's skull. "God, Len. Still got it, baby." He took a deep, steadying breath, and trailed his fingers down the line of Leonard's jaw, marking a smooth line from his ear to the corner of the saliva-slick, familiar mouth. "Why don't you come up here, already, and fuck me?"
The wet obscene sound Leonard's mouth made as it disentangled itself from Bill's cock was something Bill had never gotten tired of. Somehow, he didn't think he ever would. The same went for the sight of Leonard rising from between his thighs, and that look on his face that somehow never quite lost its hint of shamefaced schoolboy triumph.
"You don't get fucked with a hip like yours, Bill," Leonard told him matter-of-factly, as he settled himself astride Bill's hips. "What the hell would we do if I broke you?"
Bill smiled up at him, a slow, lazy smile. "Well, what would you suggest?"
"I'm gonna make love to you, you schmuck," Leonard retorted. "If that's okay with you."
And God, Bill couldn't quite believe the twitch he still got when he heard words like those coming out of Leonard's mouth, the wicked clever mouth he'd loved since before man reached the moon. It was partly the little blue pills, of course, but Bill wouldn't say mostly, not with Leonard reaching between his thighs and Leonard's profile exactly the same, to his eyes, as it always was, and Leonard's every motion saying I still love you best. He canted his hips upwards - not as easy now as it once was, and doubtless far less pretty, but this was Leonard, and for Leonard, he'd do anything. "Say it," he hissed.
Leonard smiled at him, fingers still working with the ease of long, long practice. "What if I don't want to?"
"What if - ?" Bill rolled his eyes and bit back a whimper. "Len, it's my birthday. Would you just fucking say it?"
And from the look in Leonard's eyes, it was perfectly clear to Bill that he was being teased, which was so old a trick that it was almost new again. Leonard rearranged himself on all fours over Bill, carefully, carefully, gripping Bill's shoulders for support. Bill drew in a breath.
"Leonard - "
Bill marked the path of that eyebrow, quirking upwards in the old gesture, and took hold of Leonard's waist in readiness.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain," said Leonard coolly, with just a hint of a smirk. And fuck, if that didn't still make Bill hot and cold all over, shocking him like static.
"Permission - unf - granted," he breathed, and pulled Leonard into him.
They were gentler with each other now, their movements slowed by age and aching joints and Bill's hip and the fact that the whole thing had to wait until the pills had been procured; but really, Bill thought, as he ran his mouth damply up the curve of Leonard's neck, there was something about the slowness that made the whole thing sweeter; made it infinite and deep. The possibility of being caught out at this was now so remote as to be, frankly, laughable: because, as Leonard had said, what newspaper would print this, if it leaked? Who'd believe it? And who, even if they could be convinced, would be cruel enough to say much more than Jesus, guys, congratulations to you both? They'd never fuck against a wall again; they'd never rut all dark and sticky on the floor of someone's trailer. They'd never do it clandestinely in a broom closet, or fast and furious out in the windy dark. Nowadays, they made love, in bed, like any other couple of forty-three years' standing. Bill somehow failed to see what part of that represented anything but advancement.
When Leonard came inside him, it still felt like a sunburst pulling Bill inside of it, warming him through. When Bill came, Leonard still gentled him, stroked his hair, kissed his face and told him he loved him. But now they said always, and knew what always meant; and forever wasn't a dirty word any longer. Bill's hands were shaking as he pulled Leonard close against him, cradling his head on his chest, over his heart.
Forever might mean five years now, or ten. It might mean thirty, the way things were these days. But it had Leonard in it, Bill's forever: it had the two of them together like this, a couple of soft old men who couldn't give each other up. Old men who'd been through everything together, who knew each other inside and out and still couldn't let themselves drift apart. All things considered, Bill was pretty sure he liked it that way.
His fingers slid to Leonard's face, finding the meld points. Leonard's hand drifted up, moved by nothing more than habit, to echo the gesture against Bill's cheek.
"Love you," Bill said. Leonard smiled, and pressed a kiss to Bill's chest.
"You big sap," he said. And then, "I love you, too."
Pairing: Shatnoy
Rating: Hard R/mildly NC-17. ohgod.
Disclaimer: Hell, I hope this isn't happening. IT IS NOT HAPPENING, RIGHT NOW.
Notes/Warnings: Written for this prompt at the kinkmeme. Yes. The one with the viagra. And combined with an earlier prompt for present-day Shatnoy porn, the result was this. So my warning is simply: OLDMANSEX. Please do not read anyway and go 'ew' if you can't take it. This is also definitely the number one sappiest fic I have ever written.
I actually responded to the prompt anonymously because I didn't want to own up to it last night, but I seem to have become more shameless (if not any less messed up in the head) overnight.
"As 78th birthday presents go," Bill said thoughtfully, "this one's got to be pretty high up there. I'd have thought." He smacked Leonard's shoulder with the flat of his hand. "Huh, Len?"
"Mmmmmph," said Leonard non-committally, with uncharacteristic brevity. Ordinarily, Bill might have expected a certain degree of elaboration, but Leonard's mouth was so fully engaged that, frankly, 'mmmmph' was quite an achievement at the moment, so he let it go at that.
"I wish you'd grow your hair," he mused, rubbing idly at the shorn fuzz on Leonard's head. It feathered slightly over his forehead and at the nape of his neck, but it was nowhere long enough to take hold of, and Bill missed threading his fingers into it, pulling Leonard down onto him as he thrust into his mouth. Come to think of it, maybe that was why Leonard kept it short these days, to protect himself against possible asphyxiation.
"Mmmph," said Leonard again, in a tone which Bill knew well to mean 'shut the hell up, Shatner.' So, for the moment, he obliged and fell silent, except for the little breathy sounds he couldn't hold in when Leonard did that thing with his tongue, the thing he'd always been amazing at. Bill had still never managed to drag out of him exactly where he'd learned it.
"Mmmm," Bill breathed, at length, the heel of his hand working reflexively against the base of Leonard's skull. "God, Len. Still got it, baby." He took a deep, steadying breath, and trailed his fingers down the line of Leonard's jaw, marking a smooth line from his ear to the corner of the saliva-slick, familiar mouth. "Why don't you come up here, already, and fuck me?"
The wet obscene sound Leonard's mouth made as it disentangled itself from Bill's cock was something Bill had never gotten tired of. Somehow, he didn't think he ever would. The same went for the sight of Leonard rising from between his thighs, and that look on his face that somehow never quite lost its hint of shamefaced schoolboy triumph.
"You don't get fucked with a hip like yours, Bill," Leonard told him matter-of-factly, as he settled himself astride Bill's hips. "What the hell would we do if I broke you?"
Bill smiled up at him, a slow, lazy smile. "Well, what would you suggest?"
"I'm gonna make love to you, you schmuck," Leonard retorted. "If that's okay with you."
And God, Bill couldn't quite believe the twitch he still got when he heard words like those coming out of Leonard's mouth, the wicked clever mouth he'd loved since before man reached the moon. It was partly the little blue pills, of course, but Bill wouldn't say mostly, not with Leonard reaching between his thighs and Leonard's profile exactly the same, to his eyes, as it always was, and Leonard's every motion saying I still love you best. He canted his hips upwards - not as easy now as it once was, and doubtless far less pretty, but this was Leonard, and for Leonard, he'd do anything. "Say it," he hissed.
Leonard smiled at him, fingers still working with the ease of long, long practice. "What if I don't want to?"
"What if - ?" Bill rolled his eyes and bit back a whimper. "Len, it's my birthday. Would you just fucking say it?"
And from the look in Leonard's eyes, it was perfectly clear to Bill that he was being teased, which was so old a trick that it was almost new again. Leonard rearranged himself on all fours over Bill, carefully, carefully, gripping Bill's shoulders for support. Bill drew in a breath.
"Leonard - "
Bill marked the path of that eyebrow, quirking upwards in the old gesture, and took hold of Leonard's waist in readiness.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain," said Leonard coolly, with just a hint of a smirk. And fuck, if that didn't still make Bill hot and cold all over, shocking him like static.
"Permission - unf - granted," he breathed, and pulled Leonard into him.
They were gentler with each other now, their movements slowed by age and aching joints and Bill's hip and the fact that the whole thing had to wait until the pills had been procured; but really, Bill thought, as he ran his mouth damply up the curve of Leonard's neck, there was something about the slowness that made the whole thing sweeter; made it infinite and deep. The possibility of being caught out at this was now so remote as to be, frankly, laughable: because, as Leonard had said, what newspaper would print this, if it leaked? Who'd believe it? And who, even if they could be convinced, would be cruel enough to say much more than Jesus, guys, congratulations to you both? They'd never fuck against a wall again; they'd never rut all dark and sticky on the floor of someone's trailer. They'd never do it clandestinely in a broom closet, or fast and furious out in the windy dark. Nowadays, they made love, in bed, like any other couple of forty-three years' standing. Bill somehow failed to see what part of that represented anything but advancement.
When Leonard came inside him, it still felt like a sunburst pulling Bill inside of it, warming him through. When Bill came, Leonard still gentled him, stroked his hair, kissed his face and told him he loved him. But now they said always, and knew what always meant; and forever wasn't a dirty word any longer. Bill's hands were shaking as he pulled Leonard close against him, cradling his head on his chest, over his heart.
Forever might mean five years now, or ten. It might mean thirty, the way things were these days. But it had Leonard in it, Bill's forever: it had the two of them together like this, a couple of soft old men who couldn't give each other up. Old men who'd been through everything together, who knew each other inside and out and still couldn't let themselves drift apart. All things considered, Bill was pretty sure he liked it that way.
His fingers slid to Leonard's face, finding the meld points. Leonard's hand drifted up, moved by nothing more than habit, to echo the gesture against Bill's cheek.
"Love you," Bill said. Leonard smiled, and pressed a kiss to Bill's chest.
"You big sap," he said. And then, "I love you, too."