Random Misplaced Comment!Ficlets from the Kinkmeme
Three very small fics written in a prompt-filling frenzy the other night.
Mini Fics from the Kinkmeme
There was just something about De that made him, frankly, better than other men. Wiser, kinder, sweeter. More loyal, and more sincere. In his less sentimental moments, Bill wished he could be more like DeForest. At other times - when De had driven his co-stars home for the third night in a row; when De had asked him over for Sunday dinner as a standing invitation after Gloria left him - he accepted as a simple truth the fact that he wished De could have been his brother, father, uncle, lover. He wished that De could always have been there for him, as he was now.
The thing about De that most amazed him, if he was honest, was something that only became clear to him when they all knew each other well enough for home visits in the evenings, and weekends spent outside in the sun together. The way De looked at Carolyn - that smile that crinkled his eyes - gripped something deep inside of Bill and twisted it, every time. He had failed at this. Leonard was steadily floundering. And yet, to De, it was all so easy, loving this woman he had married, making her happy. Letting her make him happy, as naturally as breathing.
People would call him pathetic, if they knew. It was dumb to admire a man for being married, as much as he admired De. But the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice when she was near - these were real things, good things, more than acting or money or business successes. This was love, man, and De won at that, and wasn't that the most important thing in the world?
God, thought Bill appreciatively, as Carolyn handed him a drink, but they were amazing.
2.
"You know what Spock would say about this," Zach laughed, leaning back into the circle of Leonard's arm. Leonard smiled, and threaded his fingers through Zach's.
"I'd be interested to hear your opinion," he said, mildly.
Zach half-twisted around on the couch to look at him, grin halfway to a laugh on his face. "Well, forgive me for being obvious, but surely we'd get a resounding 'most illogical!' - wouldn't you say?"
For a moment, Leonard was silent, considering. "Well. From your Spock, probably. From my Spock - latest, that is - maybe not. I mean, there are purposes at work, here, aren't there? It's freezing in here: now we're warmer. I'm proud of you: I want you to know it. And so on." Leonard's face crinkled into a most unSpocklike grin. "Quite logical, in fact."
Zach didn't know what to say to that without embarrassing himself horribly, so he only rearranged himself with his back to Leonard's front, and squeezed his hand back. When he felt he could trust himself to speak again - God, he would never get over having Leonard Nimoy say he was proud of him - he said, "I think I like bjillion-year-old Spock better."
"So do I, Zach," said Leonard, in a voice rich with amusement. "So do I."
3.
"Fuck."
Leonard's mind feels, somehow, strangely void, every little impression drifting across it magnified: Bill's fingers, scrabbling for purchase on the hood of the Buick; his breathy little whimpers, poorly repressed; the sound of rain drumming on metal. The feel of it, cold on the nape of his neck. He murmurs Bill's name and curls his fingers around Bill's hipbone, anchoring him there, holding them together.
"Shit," says Bill, in a voice that's breaking, as Leonard pushes into him. "Oh God, Leonard. That's it. That's it, baby. You're so fucking good at this, you - Len - "
Bill talks. Leonard found it a little weird, the first time, it was so unexpected; but really, after a year of this, he can't remember why it ever struck him as strange. It is, after all, such a typically Bill thing to do. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it: Bill flush against the hood of his monstrous car, submissive - his hair drenched dark with rainwater and his skin salt-clean under Leonard's mouth - his hips moving reflexively - and always, this undercurrent of God and fuck and you're so fucking good.
He'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on.
It isn't dark yet, not quite, not quite; but the rain is so heavy he can barely see, and they're working by touch and sound and feel. Leonard licks a mark into the back of Bill's neck; slides a hand down the front of his body and takes him in hand, and Bill bucks sharply, arching his neck - "Oh, hell - oh, fuck - "
And Leonard's panting, he can hear it in his ears as if from a long way off, and the rain is cool and clean and smells of pine. "You gonna come?" he breathes, voice sex-roughened against the curve of Bill's ear. "Come on, baby. Come for me."
The strangled sound Bill makes as his body clenches wipes everything else from Leonard's mind.
**
Mini Fics from the Kinkmeme
There was just something about De that made him, frankly, better than other men. Wiser, kinder, sweeter. More loyal, and more sincere. In his less sentimental moments, Bill wished he could be more like DeForest. At other times - when De had driven his co-stars home for the third night in a row; when De had asked him over for Sunday dinner as a standing invitation after Gloria left him - he accepted as a simple truth the fact that he wished De could have been his brother, father, uncle, lover. He wished that De could always have been there for him, as he was now.
The thing about De that most amazed him, if he was honest, was something that only became clear to him when they all knew each other well enough for home visits in the evenings, and weekends spent outside in the sun together. The way De looked at Carolyn - that smile that crinkled his eyes - gripped something deep inside of Bill and twisted it, every time. He had failed at this. Leonard was steadily floundering. And yet, to De, it was all so easy, loving this woman he had married, making her happy. Letting her make him happy, as naturally as breathing.
People would call him pathetic, if they knew. It was dumb to admire a man for being married, as much as he admired De. But the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice when she was near - these were real things, good things, more than acting or money or business successes. This was love, man, and De won at that, and wasn't that the most important thing in the world?
God, thought Bill appreciatively, as Carolyn handed him a drink, but they were amazing.
2.
"You know what Spock would say about this," Zach laughed, leaning back into the circle of Leonard's arm. Leonard smiled, and threaded his fingers through Zach's.
"I'd be interested to hear your opinion," he said, mildly.
Zach half-twisted around on the couch to look at him, grin halfway to a laugh on his face. "Well, forgive me for being obvious, but surely we'd get a resounding 'most illogical!' - wouldn't you say?"
For a moment, Leonard was silent, considering. "Well. From your Spock, probably. From my Spock - latest, that is - maybe not. I mean, there are purposes at work, here, aren't there? It's freezing in here: now we're warmer. I'm proud of you: I want you to know it. And so on." Leonard's face crinkled into a most unSpocklike grin. "Quite logical, in fact."
Zach didn't know what to say to that without embarrassing himself horribly, so he only rearranged himself with his back to Leonard's front, and squeezed his hand back. When he felt he could trust himself to speak again - God, he would never get over having Leonard Nimoy say he was proud of him - he said, "I think I like bjillion-year-old Spock better."
"So do I, Zach," said Leonard, in a voice rich with amusement. "So do I."
3.
"Fuck."
Leonard's mind feels, somehow, strangely void, every little impression drifting across it magnified: Bill's fingers, scrabbling for purchase on the hood of the Buick; his breathy little whimpers, poorly repressed; the sound of rain drumming on metal. The feel of it, cold on the nape of his neck. He murmurs Bill's name and curls his fingers around Bill's hipbone, anchoring him there, holding them together.
"Shit," says Bill, in a voice that's breaking, as Leonard pushes into him. "Oh God, Leonard. That's it. That's it, baby. You're so fucking good at this, you - Len - "
Bill talks. Leonard found it a little weird, the first time, it was so unexpected; but really, after a year of this, he can't remember why it ever struck him as strange. It is, after all, such a typically Bill thing to do. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it: Bill flush against the hood of his monstrous car, submissive - his hair drenched dark with rainwater and his skin salt-clean under Leonard's mouth - his hips moving reflexively - and always, this undercurrent of God and fuck and you're so fucking good.
He'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on.
It isn't dark yet, not quite, not quite; but the rain is so heavy he can barely see, and they're working by touch and sound and feel. Leonard licks a mark into the back of Bill's neck; slides a hand down the front of his body and takes him in hand, and Bill bucks sharply, arching his neck - "Oh, hell - oh, fuck - "
And Leonard's panting, he can hear it in his ears as if from a long way off, and the rain is cool and clean and smells of pine. "You gonna come?" he breathes, voice sex-roughened against the curve of Bill's ear. "Come on, baby. Come for me."
The strangled sound Bill makes as his body clenches wipes everything else from Leonard's mind.
**