fic: along his neck
Title: along his neck
Rating: PG-13
Genre(s): romance
Word Count: 585
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Bradley / Colin
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and this never happened, etc.
Summary: Bradley visits Colin in his trailer. They have ten minutes. Written for cherrybina's necking fest; something small and light. Originally posted here.
Colin is lounging in a chair, eyes trained on a thick novel, when his trailer door opens. He smiles as Bradley enters with a flourish, all flushed cheeks and wind-swept hair, dressed in Arthur's red jacket and tight-fitting trousers.
"Done already?" Colin asks.
"The scene where Arthur's being chased? Yeah." Bradley nods and slumps down beside Colin. "I have to re-shoot the balcony scene with Tony in ten minutes, though. Thought you'd be gone by now."
Colin shakes his head. "Katie's still getting changed. I've another twenty minutes."
"Ah. Well." Bradley grins, and Colin knows that look. He purposefully turns back to his book, pretending to focus on the text as Bradley's lips settle by his ear.
"Bradley," Colin admonishes, but it's half-hearted, and his tone wavers as Bradley's tongue licks along his jaw.
"Yes, Colin?" Bradley murmurs, and Colin hates him; that possessive, wanting growl at the back of Bradley's throat that has his trousers tightening, his mouth running dry.
"I'm trying to read, Bradley," Colin maintains calmly, and flicks to the next page. He hasn't absorbed a single word.
"You can read tonight," Bradley insists, and oh - he's sucking at Colin's neck, and Colin did not just incline his head sideways for easier leverage--
"As if," Colin snorts, and then the mental images of the past few months are surfacing in his mind - every kiss, every touch of every night. Bugger.
"Okay, I lie," Bradley laughs against Colin's collarbone - and when had Bradley pushed his shirt down? "I'll keep you up all night. As usual." Before Colin can protest, Bradley resumes kissing his neck, licking his way fervently along the expanse of pale skin, and shit I'm fucked, Colin thinks. Again.
"Damn you, Bradley," Colin gasps as his book falls shut. He doesn't even remember to bookmark his place. He'll reprimand Bradley for distracting him later, the prat (he's always had such a fetish for Colin's neck). Instead, Colin's eyes roll into the back of his head as his mouth parts with the quietest of moans. "Shit, I--"
Bradley actually chuckles into Colin's neck, as though Colin's easy or something ridiculous like that. But maybe Colin is, because then he's being pushed down, and Bradley's wrapped over him, lavishing his neck with such attention.
Suddenly, Colin yelps, and he glares at Bradley indignantly. "Did you just bite me?"
Bradley's eyes are laughing again, and he brushes their noses together, intimate and tender. His warmth and affection never fails to make Colin nervous and secretly joyful, his heart pounding so hard in his chest, he's sure Bradley must feel it too. "So what if I did, Col?" Bradley teases, "Would you bite back?"
Colin gives Bradley's stomach a half-hearted shove as he pouts, but then they're giggling together, like boys, like they always do, and Bradley's kissing him, wet and soft and needy. He's wrapped like a warm blanket around Colin, and Colin could fall asleep like this, in his arms.
Until Bradley draws away with one last peck to the corner of Colin's mouth, straightens his jacket, and walks straight out of the trailer.
"I'll see you at mine tonight," are his last words. "Don't be late, Morgan." And then he's gone, twinkling eyes, crooked smile and all.
"Bastard!" Colin mutters under his breath, still lying there, breathless and trousers horrifyingly, frustratingly tight. There's a rather glaring red mark forming along his neck; it burns dark against his skin.
The Make-Up girls are going to kill him. Again.
"That bastard!"
Rating: PG-13
Genre(s): romance
Word Count: 585
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Bradley / Colin
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and this never happened, etc.
Summary: Bradley visits Colin in his trailer. They have ten minutes. Written for cherrybina's necking fest; something small and light. Originally posted here.
Colin is lounging in a chair, eyes trained on a thick novel, when his trailer door opens. He smiles as Bradley enters with a flourish, all flushed cheeks and wind-swept hair, dressed in Arthur's red jacket and tight-fitting trousers.
"Done already?" Colin asks.
"The scene where Arthur's being chased? Yeah." Bradley nods and slumps down beside Colin. "I have to re-shoot the balcony scene with Tony in ten minutes, though. Thought you'd be gone by now."
Colin shakes his head. "Katie's still getting changed. I've another twenty minutes."
"Ah. Well." Bradley grins, and Colin knows that look. He purposefully turns back to his book, pretending to focus on the text as Bradley's lips settle by his ear.
"Bradley," Colin admonishes, but it's half-hearted, and his tone wavers as Bradley's tongue licks along his jaw.
"Yes, Colin?" Bradley murmurs, and Colin hates him; that possessive, wanting growl at the back of Bradley's throat that has his trousers tightening, his mouth running dry.
"I'm trying to read, Bradley," Colin maintains calmly, and flicks to the next page. He hasn't absorbed a single word.
"You can read tonight," Bradley insists, and oh - he's sucking at Colin's neck, and Colin did not just incline his head sideways for easier leverage--
"As if," Colin snorts, and then the mental images of the past few months are surfacing in his mind - every kiss, every touch of every night. Bugger.
"Okay, I lie," Bradley laughs against Colin's collarbone - and when had Bradley pushed his shirt down? "I'll keep you up all night. As usual." Before Colin can protest, Bradley resumes kissing his neck, licking his way fervently along the expanse of pale skin, and shit I'm fucked, Colin thinks. Again.
"Damn you, Bradley," Colin gasps as his book falls shut. He doesn't even remember to bookmark his place. He'll reprimand Bradley for distracting him later, the prat (he's always had such a fetish for Colin's neck). Instead, Colin's eyes roll into the back of his head as his mouth parts with the quietest of moans. "Shit, I--"
Bradley actually chuckles into Colin's neck, as though Colin's easy or something ridiculous like that. But maybe Colin is, because then he's being pushed down, and Bradley's wrapped over him, lavishing his neck with such attention.
Suddenly, Colin yelps, and he glares at Bradley indignantly. "Did you just bite me?"
Bradley's eyes are laughing again, and he brushes their noses together, intimate and tender. His warmth and affection never fails to make Colin nervous and secretly joyful, his heart pounding so hard in his chest, he's sure Bradley must feel it too. "So what if I did, Col?" Bradley teases, "Would you bite back?"
Colin gives Bradley's stomach a half-hearted shove as he pouts, but then they're giggling together, like boys, like they always do, and Bradley's kissing him, wet and soft and needy. He's wrapped like a warm blanket around Colin, and Colin could fall asleep like this, in his arms.
Until Bradley draws away with one last peck to the corner of Colin's mouth, straightens his jacket, and walks straight out of the trailer.
"I'll see you at mine tonight," are his last words. "Don't be late, Morgan." And then he's gone, twinkling eyes, crooked smile and all.
"Bastard!" Colin mutters under his breath, still lying there, breathless and trousers horrifyingly, frustratingly tight. There's a rather glaring red mark forming along his neck; it burns dark against his skin.
The Make-Up girls are going to kill him. Again.
"That bastard!"