FICLETS! Holiday: Day Twenty-Six
For lokei
Lee/Helo
Lee lies back, inhaling the sharp, bitter scent of oil. The Viper looms over him, the only altar where he’ll ever worship. He reaches up and rubs the smooth underbelly, stroking the surface like a lover. He closes his eyes, letting his body feel the metal, the rivets, the hard scarring from too many battles lost and won.
“You need to get frakked.”
“Frak you.”
“I’m not on the market.” Helo squats down and looks at Lee. “Seriously though, buddy. You’re getting off on fixing your Viper. If that’s not a sign that someone needs to get frakked, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not getting off on it.”
“You’re getting more action from the Viper than you’ve seen in ages. Pretty sure that’s a punishable offense in the fleet, Major.”
“You’re not funny.” Lee continues feeling along the seam of the Viper. “There’s something wrong with the bird.”
“Yeah. She’s got her pilot rubbing her in all the wrong places.” Helo slides under the Viper with him, stretching out beside Lee. “They like it better when you’re inside ‘em.”
“That radiation melted your brain, didn’t it?”
“Only some of it.”
Lee casts a quick glance at him. “You’re going to get your uniform all dirty.”
“Yeah, well. I grew up dirty. Don’t imagine the feeling’s changed much.” Helo traces the same seam that Lee’s hands are stroking. “Feels wrong?”
“Wrong. Off. Something.” Lee closes his eyes as Helo’s hand covers his, fingers threading through Lee’s against the metal skin of the ship. “Yeah.”
“So far so good.” Helo tilts his body, pressing against Lee as he leans in, letting their hands slide further up the bird. Lee buries a sound in his throat as Helo’s body grinds against his in a low roll of hard skin and pressure, as his fingers find the small opening in the seam where the metal is gaped, jagged and rough. “Found your problem, Major.”
Lee nods. “I need to get frakked?”
“Nah. Your bird’s bleeding air.” He bends his head down and his voice is hot and low against Lee’s ear. “You need help with that?”
“The bird?”
“No,” Helo laughs softly, the thick chuckle full of promise. “Getting frakked.”
For inlovewithnight
Reed/Victor
Victor Von Doom is not a man who likes to be made a fool of in any capacity, and as he sees it, there is nothing more to what Reed Richards is doing than making him look like a fool. Reed comes across with his goofy, nerdish charm bumbling his way through life while everyone else around him scratches and scrambles and fights to survive.
It incenses Victor that he works hard, studies hard, does everything just as he’s supposed to and that bastard, Richards, beats him to the answer every time. Not only that, but without even trying, Reed manages to get better grades, get all the best projects and, from what Victor can see from his view in the lab, has bedded Sue Storm as well.
Anger burns inside Victor as Reed kisses Sue goodbye, his stupid shy act in full force as he practically walks into the door. Victor watches, seething, as Reed dons his coat and unpacks his research, moving over to the workstation next to where Victor’s things are already spread out across the counter surface.
It takes only as long as it takes Reed to sort through his papers before the plan is in Victor’s mind. It’s one small moment of humility and then he can destroy Richards easily. Weaknesses are easy to find in men like Reed. Victor moves over to him, sliding his hand along Reed’s shoulder. It’s amusing to startle him, to see the strange uncertainty on his face.
“Can you help me for a moment?”
Reed’s eager to help, an overzealous puppy bounding over on too-long legs, scrambling between stools and tables, beakers and Bunsen burners. Victor’s surprised Reed doesn’t piss himself with the excitement, looking over Victor’s notes. Reed makes his own notations in the margins and the anger in Victor grows, fired by his own oversights and Reed’s careless spotting of them.
He grabs Reed and turns him, taking his mouth in a bruising kiss, biting at Reed’s lips until he can taste the bitter tang of blood beneath the skin. He groans and digs his nails into Reed’s head, breaking the skin and tugging the short, dark hair.
Reed groans, his body jerking, though Victor can’t tell if it’s in disgust or desire, and not caring either way. He undoes Reed’s belt, tugging hard enough to break the leather. Reed groans again, the sound thready as Victor’s hand slides inside Reed’s slacks, an iron grip around Reed’s cock. It’s hard and Victor can’t help but laugh, sinking his teeth into Reed’s lower lip and pulling it hard before he releases him and shoves Reed against the lab table, sprawled and stunned and easy for the taking.
Victor sinks to his knees and tugs Reed’s trousers out of the way, shoving them down to mid-thigh. Reed’s skin is pale and covered with dark hair, rough on his thighs and soft surrounding his cock. Victor threads his fingers through it, tugging hard and eliciting a sharp cry before he takes Reed into his mouth.
He sucks Reed off the same way he does everything - quickly, efficiently and with the least amount of personal effort to get the best job possible. Reed comes quickly, making Victor reevaluate whether or not he’s actually fucked Sue, his whole body convulsing with the act.
When he stands, he sees that Reed’s involuntary responses caused him to knock over a test tube stand, spilling iodine and hydrochloric acid across the stacks of papers. Once again, everything has gone wrong - for him, but right, as always, for Reed. Reed’s horrified and apologetic, offering to help recreate the data, putting in extra time, doing everything he can to help.
Victor silences him with a look, sending Reed back across the lab with his tail between his legs and leaving Victor with the determination that he will never be on his knees again.
For sasha_b
Arthur
There are allowances made after his marriage that Arthur thinks are not unlike the ones he made for his knights. There are strange prayers offered up to Gods in which he does not believe, and there are rituals he does not understand. He views them all the way a benevolent father views his children’s games with a slight smile and a rueful shake of his head.
But he does not stop or challenge them, does not even mention them to his wife or Merlin as they discuss their Gods and beliefs, as they describe the wind’s howl as though it is a creature worthy of respect and not the whim of hot and cold air stirred up in a storm. He sees the hand of God where they see myth and legend, creatures and ghosts.
There are moments, though, that he sees the same things they speak of, when he sees faces in the wind and hears voices in the roar of the thunder, dark eyes from the darkness though no one is there. He suffers through them until he is alone and can find solace in the small chapel. God holds less wonder for him now, and more respect. He knows that men choose their own path, as he has done. He has chosen and it is not the way he has been taught to follow.
He did not learn that from priests and popes. He learned that from the men who proved more deserving of his faith. He stands at his altar and lights candles for each of them, more fallen than still survive. His table is nearly empty of the faces he once knew, now populated with eager men determined to forge a new land in his name. He whispers the names of his knights as the candles come to life and offers up a prayer - to God, to Gods - asking for peace, for forgiveness.
For hope.
Lee/Helo
Lee lies back, inhaling the sharp, bitter scent of oil. The Viper looms over him, the only altar where he’ll ever worship. He reaches up and rubs the smooth underbelly, stroking the surface like a lover. He closes his eyes, letting his body feel the metal, the rivets, the hard scarring from too many battles lost and won.
“You need to get frakked.”
“Frak you.”
“I’m not on the market.” Helo squats down and looks at Lee. “Seriously though, buddy. You’re getting off on fixing your Viper. If that’s not a sign that someone needs to get frakked, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not getting off on it.”
“You’re getting more action from the Viper than you’ve seen in ages. Pretty sure that’s a punishable offense in the fleet, Major.”
“You’re not funny.” Lee continues feeling along the seam of the Viper. “There’s something wrong with the bird.”
“Yeah. She’s got her pilot rubbing her in all the wrong places.” Helo slides under the Viper with him, stretching out beside Lee. “They like it better when you’re inside ‘em.”
“That radiation melted your brain, didn’t it?”
“Only some of it.”
Lee casts a quick glance at him. “You’re going to get your uniform all dirty.”
“Yeah, well. I grew up dirty. Don’t imagine the feeling’s changed much.” Helo traces the same seam that Lee’s hands are stroking. “Feels wrong?”
“Wrong. Off. Something.” Lee closes his eyes as Helo’s hand covers his, fingers threading through Lee’s against the metal skin of the ship. “Yeah.”
“So far so good.” Helo tilts his body, pressing against Lee as he leans in, letting their hands slide further up the bird. Lee buries a sound in his throat as Helo’s body grinds against his in a low roll of hard skin and pressure, as his fingers find the small opening in the seam where the metal is gaped, jagged and rough. “Found your problem, Major.”
Lee nods. “I need to get frakked?”
“Nah. Your bird’s bleeding air.” He bends his head down and his voice is hot and low against Lee’s ear. “You need help with that?”
“The bird?”
“No,” Helo laughs softly, the thick chuckle full of promise. “Getting frakked.”
For inlovewithnight
Reed/Victor
Victor Von Doom is not a man who likes to be made a fool of in any capacity, and as he sees it, there is nothing more to what Reed Richards is doing than making him look like a fool. Reed comes across with his goofy, nerdish charm bumbling his way through life while everyone else around him scratches and scrambles and fights to survive.
It incenses Victor that he works hard, studies hard, does everything just as he’s supposed to and that bastard, Richards, beats him to the answer every time. Not only that, but without even trying, Reed manages to get better grades, get all the best projects and, from what Victor can see from his view in the lab, has bedded Sue Storm as well.
Anger burns inside Victor as Reed kisses Sue goodbye, his stupid shy act in full force as he practically walks into the door. Victor watches, seething, as Reed dons his coat and unpacks his research, moving over to the workstation next to where Victor’s things are already spread out across the counter surface.
It takes only as long as it takes Reed to sort through his papers before the plan is in Victor’s mind. It’s one small moment of humility and then he can destroy Richards easily. Weaknesses are easy to find in men like Reed. Victor moves over to him, sliding his hand along Reed’s shoulder. It’s amusing to startle him, to see the strange uncertainty on his face.
“Can you help me for a moment?”
Reed’s eager to help, an overzealous puppy bounding over on too-long legs, scrambling between stools and tables, beakers and Bunsen burners. Victor’s surprised Reed doesn’t piss himself with the excitement, looking over Victor’s notes. Reed makes his own notations in the margins and the anger in Victor grows, fired by his own oversights and Reed’s careless spotting of them.
He grabs Reed and turns him, taking his mouth in a bruising kiss, biting at Reed’s lips until he can taste the bitter tang of blood beneath the skin. He groans and digs his nails into Reed’s head, breaking the skin and tugging the short, dark hair.
Reed groans, his body jerking, though Victor can’t tell if it’s in disgust or desire, and not caring either way. He undoes Reed’s belt, tugging hard enough to break the leather. Reed groans again, the sound thready as Victor’s hand slides inside Reed’s slacks, an iron grip around Reed’s cock. It’s hard and Victor can’t help but laugh, sinking his teeth into Reed’s lower lip and pulling it hard before he releases him and shoves Reed against the lab table, sprawled and stunned and easy for the taking.
Victor sinks to his knees and tugs Reed’s trousers out of the way, shoving them down to mid-thigh. Reed’s skin is pale and covered with dark hair, rough on his thighs and soft surrounding his cock. Victor threads his fingers through it, tugging hard and eliciting a sharp cry before he takes Reed into his mouth.
He sucks Reed off the same way he does everything - quickly, efficiently and with the least amount of personal effort to get the best job possible. Reed comes quickly, making Victor reevaluate whether or not he’s actually fucked Sue, his whole body convulsing with the act.
When he stands, he sees that Reed’s involuntary responses caused him to knock over a test tube stand, spilling iodine and hydrochloric acid across the stacks of papers. Once again, everything has gone wrong - for him, but right, as always, for Reed. Reed’s horrified and apologetic, offering to help recreate the data, putting in extra time, doing everything he can to help.
Victor silences him with a look, sending Reed back across the lab with his tail between his legs and leaving Victor with the determination that he will never be on his knees again.
For sasha_b
Arthur
There are allowances made after his marriage that Arthur thinks are not unlike the ones he made for his knights. There are strange prayers offered up to Gods in which he does not believe, and there are rituals he does not understand. He views them all the way a benevolent father views his children’s games with a slight smile and a rueful shake of his head.
But he does not stop or challenge them, does not even mention them to his wife or Merlin as they discuss their Gods and beliefs, as they describe the wind’s howl as though it is a creature worthy of respect and not the whim of hot and cold air stirred up in a storm. He sees the hand of God where they see myth and legend, creatures and ghosts.
There are moments, though, that he sees the same things they speak of, when he sees faces in the wind and hears voices in the roar of the thunder, dark eyes from the darkness though no one is there. He suffers through them until he is alone and can find solace in the small chapel. God holds less wonder for him now, and more respect. He knows that men choose their own path, as he has done. He has chosen and it is not the way he has been taught to follow.
He did not learn that from priests and popes. He learned that from the men who proved more deserving of his faith. He stands at his altar and lights candles for each of them, more fallen than still survive. His table is nearly empty of the faces he once knew, now populated with eager men determined to forge a new land in his name. He whispers the names of his knights as the candles come to life and offers up a prayer - to God, to Gods - asking for peace, for forgiveness.
For hope.