(Fic) FN - Equipment 2
Story 02: New Toys
Summary: In which Peter and Charley display the proper, and not so proper, use of the standard tools of a vampire hunter. Peter/Charley
Word Count: 1845
Rating: T for language, sexual content, and adult themes.
Disclaimer: Fright Night and all characters therein © Tom Holland/Craig Gillespie
Author's Note: Started as an errant comment fill over at frightnight2011 and then continued when it wouldn't leave me alone and ended up distracting me from other fills that I should have been working on. Written especially for hiddentimelord and snackerjack after they requested more "sexy motorcycle makeouts." Please forgive any mistakes regarding the motorcycle, I know nothing about motorcycles. But that isn't really the focus here anyways, is it? :3
"...Oh my god, I love you."
"Aw, Charley, that's so sweet!" he could hear the shit-eating grin in Peter's voice and felt his stomach drop out. Surely he hadn't just said that aloud? "I love you too!" the magician squealed, throwing his arms around him.
All poor Charley could do was flush to his toes and splutter incoherently. Sometimes, he really wished he could keep his mouth shut. He really hadn't intended to say anything, but when Peter presented him, not with a brand new motorbike, but with every part and tool he would possibly need to fix his own beloved-but-battered piece of junk, the words just slipped out. And he promptly found himself with an armful of cackling, sarcastic, half-drunk magician.
And then, Peter kissed him, full on the mouth (again!). And (this time) Charley kissed him back. And maybe his tongue slipped out a bit, just for a taste (melon and cloves and...)
But he really didn't mean to do it.
(Except he maybe kinda did.)
And then, Peter pulled away with a look of sheer triumph on his face, and there was humour there, and mild pleasure. The magician grinned and ruffled his hair. "You're too cute, kiddo. Enjoy your new toys." And he sauntered away, lighting up a cigarette on his way out.
Charley still wasn't sure exactly what just happened.
---
A few hours later found Peter wandering back into the garage. The cigarette had been replaced with a glass of midori, and (oh, no) he looked bored. “How’s it coming?” he asked, taking a sip.
Charley’s hand slipped and he banged his knuckles against the motor, hard. He gasped in pain and snatched his hand back, swearing as he tried to shake it off.
“That good, eh?” Peter said sardonically. Charley shot him a dirty look. “Maybe I can help?”
“No!” Charley said quickly, knowing that ‘help’ would likely entail distraction, and/or probably would end up destroying the little progress he’d made so far. “No, it’s okay, I got it. Just… sit, or something.”
Peter shrugged, looking mildly disappointed. “’Kay… well, just let me know, alright?” He drained his glass and set it on the floor, then swung his leg over the motorcycle and settled down on the seat, resting his hands on the handle bars.
Charley reared back and tried to protest. “Wha - no, Peter, I didn’t mean on the motorcycle!”
“Well where else am I supposed to sit? It’s not like you have any fucking chairs laying about,” Peter sniffed and looked down his nose at Charley where he was sitting on the floor.
Charley sighed and rolled his eyes. “Peter, come on, I’m trying to work here!”
“It’s fine! Look, I’m not in the way.” Peter slid his foot back so that Charley had clear access to the motor. “You’ve been working for hours anyways. Aren’t you bored yet?”
Charley shook his head and resolved himself to ignoring Peter. “Nope.” He turned his attention back to the part he was working on. He almost had it done; hopefully the motorbike would run perfectly once it was finished.
Peter, thankfully, fell silent, and just sat, slumped over the handlebars of the motor bike with his head resting on his elbow. He watched Charley work, humming something to himself quietly.
After ten minutes or so, Charley sat back on his heels and sighed. “Hope that got it this time,” he murmured, wiping the back of his wrist over his forehead.
“Shall I give it a go, then?” Peter asked, sitting upright and reaching a hand towards the key where it was stuck in the ignition.
“Yeah, just rev the engine a little,” Charley said, pointing at the handlebar where the accelerator control was. “I just want to hear how it sounds. It was making this god-awful choking sound earlier, but I think -”
As he spoke, Peter dutifully turned the key and twisted the handlebar a bit, and the teen stopped mid-sentence while the engine roared and spluttered like a sick lion cub. Charley’s face fell. “Dammit! I could’ve sworn… what’s wrong with you?” He leaned forward, eyeing the motor as close as he could.
“Feels pretty good to me,” Peter said in a sort of dreamy voice. His face looked sort of dreamy too, when Charley looked up at him sharply. He frowned bemusedly. Peter turned his head down to face him and grinned lasciviously. He spread his legs a little wider, wiggling his hips and settling himself more firmly on the motorcycle seat.
Charley blinked. He looked at Peter. He looked at the motorcycle, vibrating with the running motor. Peter revved the engine again and let out a dirty little moan.
“Dude!” Charley yelped and jumped to his feet, annoyed (but also trying not to laugh). “Get the hell off my bike, you pervert!”
Peter laughed and turned the engine off, obediently climbing off and patting Charley on the cheek. “You need a break, Charley,” he said, grinning.
Charley stared into Peter’s warm, mahogany eyes and shook his head. “You are completely ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”
“Oh, only sometimes?” Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Suppose I’ll have to fix that.”
Before Charley could make his own comeback, Peter took a step forward, gripped his upper arms and pulled him into a searing kiss. He squeaked slightly, flinching just a bit from the sudden movement, before relaxing. This time, despite the surprise of the spontaneous kissing, he was more than prepared to kiss back.
His hands came up to settle on Peter’s waist, and he pushed himself up on tiptoes, deepening what was already a damn good kiss. Peter made a soft sound in his throat, and didn’t that just send chills up and down Charley’s spine?
He pulled back briefly for air, and opened his eyes halfway, hoping to see what Peter was thinking; the man’s face was an open book.
Peter’s mouth was curled into a catlike smile, and he was watching Charley affectionately. Charley felt himself flushing, and leaned back in, wanting another kiss, but still a little hesitant.
Peter wrenched himself away, leaving Charley standing forlornly by the bike. “Come find me when you’re done playing!” he called over his shoulder.
Charley wanted very badly to kick his toolbox in frustration, but restrained himself. Instead, he took Peter’s favorite venting route and swore vividly.
---
Charley buried himself in his repair work. He was NOT going to let Peter distract him. Nope, not him. Unlike certain spoiled Vegas showmen, Charley had an attention span longer than that of a goldfish. He didn’t have to go looking for Peter.
He also didn’t have too long to wait this time before Peter, once again, grew bored. Only a half hour had passed this time before the magician meandered back into the garage. Unfortunately, Charley was so busy concentrating hard on his bike and pointedly not going to look for Peter that he lost track of everything else going on around him.
“Charley! Almost forgot!”
The cheery shout startled Charley into knocking into the precariously balanced motorcycle, and he flinched as it started to fall. The anticipated crash never came, though, and Charley looked up to see strong, elegant hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars.
“Whoa, careful there, Charley!” Peter said, flashing him a toothy grin. “Thought you were trying to fix her up, not trash what’s left.”
Charley shot him a glare. “Don’t scare me like that, you ass.”
Peter laughed. “Me? Scary? Charley, do you or do you not hunt vampires on a nightly basis?”
Charley turned his attention back to the transmission he was working on. He was not going to stare at the man’s mouth. He wasn’t. He wasn’t, really. “With you clinging to me like a baby sloth,” he sniffed.
Peter shrugged, pooching out his lip. “Worse things to be compared to, I suppose.”
“You said you forgot something?” Charley asked mildly, glancing up at him (that mouth, dear god, that mouth…).
Peter smacked his fist into his palm. “Yes! Right!” His face froze, his eyebrows raised as his gaze flicked over the ceiling. “…I forget what it was. But it’ll come to me!”
Charley shook his head, partly to clear his head of the Peter’s-mouth-related fantasy it was threatening to wander off into, and partly at Peter himself. “Hand me that, would you?” he asked, his voice fond.
Peter crouched down and picked up the tool pointed out to him, offering it to Charley. The teen grabbed it without looking, but when Peter didn’t let go, he tilted his head back to meet the older man’s gaze. “What?” he said suspiciously.
Peter grinned and put one knee down on the ground, leaning in so that their faces were only an inch or so apart. Charley held himself very still and resisted the urge to look at Peter’s lips so close to his. Peter’s smile widened slightly, making the laugh-lines around his eyes deepen.
“Nothing,” he said, “Nothing really…just…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering over Charley’s face fondly. He brought his free hand up to cradle Charley’s jaw, running one lightly callused thumb over the teen’s cheekbone.
Charley was caught, hypnotized, just waiting for another kiss that he was sure was coming any minute now. The tool slipped out from between their hands as their fingers tangled together, ringing against the cement floor of the garage.
Peter hummed and tilted his head, pulled Charley close and finally, finally, he kissed him. The kiss was light, chaste, and he pulled back after only a moment, staring at Charley with half-lidded eyes.
Charley didn’t wait for a second kiss this time.
“Dammit Peter, will you stop teasing?” he snapped. Then he fisted one hand in Peter’s shirt collar and yanked him down into a full-bodied kiss. He didn’t wait for Peter to take control and didn’t wait for permission. He just slipped his tongue into that taunting mouth, tasting his friend, exploring him, wrestling his tongue into compliance until all Peter could do was allow Charley to dominate him and make (oh god, amazingly hot) pleasured sounds that started deep in his chest and rumbled through his throat.
“Damn you,” Charley said against Peter’s mouth, hardly able to pull himself away long enough to get the words out. “Trying to distract me.” His hand eased its grip on Peter’s shirt, slipping up and around to cradle the back of Peter’s head. Charley’s fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and pulled him in closer, finding a new angle and moaning into it.
Peter kissed him back hungrily, his free hand roaming over Charley’s body like he wasn’t sure where he wanted to touch. Charley shuddered, feeling magician’s fingers first lighting on his hip, then sliding up across his chest, over his shoulder and up his neck and back down to fiddle with the end of his shirt and slip under that cloth barrier. “Are you,” Peter murmured into Charley’s mouth between kisses, “Complaining?” His hand squeezed Charley’s, white-knuckled fingers pressing their palms together tight as they could possibly be.
(Not really, no).
Summary: In which Peter and Charley display the proper, and not so proper, use of the standard tools of a vampire hunter. Peter/Charley
Word Count: 1845
Rating: T for language, sexual content, and adult themes.
Disclaimer: Fright Night and all characters therein © Tom Holland/Craig Gillespie
Author's Note: Started as an errant comment fill over at frightnight2011 and then continued when it wouldn't leave me alone and ended up distracting me from other fills that I should have been working on. Written especially for hiddentimelord and snackerjack after they requested more "sexy motorcycle makeouts." Please forgive any mistakes regarding the motorcycle, I know nothing about motorcycles. But that isn't really the focus here anyways, is it? :3
"...Oh my god, I love you."
"Aw, Charley, that's so sweet!" he could hear the shit-eating grin in Peter's voice and felt his stomach drop out. Surely he hadn't just said that aloud? "I love you too!" the magician squealed, throwing his arms around him.
All poor Charley could do was flush to his toes and splutter incoherently. Sometimes, he really wished he could keep his mouth shut. He really hadn't intended to say anything, but when Peter presented him, not with a brand new motorbike, but with every part and tool he would possibly need to fix his own beloved-but-battered piece of junk, the words just slipped out. And he promptly found himself with an armful of cackling, sarcastic, half-drunk magician.
And then, Peter kissed him, full on the mouth (again!). And (this time) Charley kissed him back. And maybe his tongue slipped out a bit, just for a taste (melon and cloves and...)
But he really didn't mean to do it.
(Except he maybe kinda did.)
And then, Peter pulled away with a look of sheer triumph on his face, and there was humour there, and mild pleasure. The magician grinned and ruffled his hair. "You're too cute, kiddo. Enjoy your new toys." And he sauntered away, lighting up a cigarette on his way out.
Charley still wasn't sure exactly what just happened.
---
A few hours later found Peter wandering back into the garage. The cigarette had been replaced with a glass of midori, and (oh, no) he looked bored. “How’s it coming?” he asked, taking a sip.
Charley’s hand slipped and he banged his knuckles against the motor, hard. He gasped in pain and snatched his hand back, swearing as he tried to shake it off.
“That good, eh?” Peter said sardonically. Charley shot him a dirty look. “Maybe I can help?”
“No!” Charley said quickly, knowing that ‘help’ would likely entail distraction, and/or probably would end up destroying the little progress he’d made so far. “No, it’s okay, I got it. Just… sit, or something.”
Peter shrugged, looking mildly disappointed. “’Kay… well, just let me know, alright?” He drained his glass and set it on the floor, then swung his leg over the motorcycle and settled down on the seat, resting his hands on the handle bars.
Charley reared back and tried to protest. “Wha - no, Peter, I didn’t mean on the motorcycle!”
“Well where else am I supposed to sit? It’s not like you have any fucking chairs laying about,” Peter sniffed and looked down his nose at Charley where he was sitting on the floor.
Charley sighed and rolled his eyes. “Peter, come on, I’m trying to work here!”
“It’s fine! Look, I’m not in the way.” Peter slid his foot back so that Charley had clear access to the motor. “You’ve been working for hours anyways. Aren’t you bored yet?”
Charley shook his head and resolved himself to ignoring Peter. “Nope.” He turned his attention back to the part he was working on. He almost had it done; hopefully the motorbike would run perfectly once it was finished.
Peter, thankfully, fell silent, and just sat, slumped over the handlebars of the motor bike with his head resting on his elbow. He watched Charley work, humming something to himself quietly.
After ten minutes or so, Charley sat back on his heels and sighed. “Hope that got it this time,” he murmured, wiping the back of his wrist over his forehead.
“Shall I give it a go, then?” Peter asked, sitting upright and reaching a hand towards the key where it was stuck in the ignition.
“Yeah, just rev the engine a little,” Charley said, pointing at the handlebar where the accelerator control was. “I just want to hear how it sounds. It was making this god-awful choking sound earlier, but I think -”
As he spoke, Peter dutifully turned the key and twisted the handlebar a bit, and the teen stopped mid-sentence while the engine roared and spluttered like a sick lion cub. Charley’s face fell. “Dammit! I could’ve sworn… what’s wrong with you?” He leaned forward, eyeing the motor as close as he could.
“Feels pretty good to me,” Peter said in a sort of dreamy voice. His face looked sort of dreamy too, when Charley looked up at him sharply. He frowned bemusedly. Peter turned his head down to face him and grinned lasciviously. He spread his legs a little wider, wiggling his hips and settling himself more firmly on the motorcycle seat.
Charley blinked. He looked at Peter. He looked at the motorcycle, vibrating with the running motor. Peter revved the engine again and let out a dirty little moan.
“Dude!” Charley yelped and jumped to his feet, annoyed (but also trying not to laugh). “Get the hell off my bike, you pervert!”
Peter laughed and turned the engine off, obediently climbing off and patting Charley on the cheek. “You need a break, Charley,” he said, grinning.
Charley stared into Peter’s warm, mahogany eyes and shook his head. “You are completely ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”
“Oh, only sometimes?” Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Suppose I’ll have to fix that.”
Before Charley could make his own comeback, Peter took a step forward, gripped his upper arms and pulled him into a searing kiss. He squeaked slightly, flinching just a bit from the sudden movement, before relaxing. This time, despite the surprise of the spontaneous kissing, he was more than prepared to kiss back.
His hands came up to settle on Peter’s waist, and he pushed himself up on tiptoes, deepening what was already a damn good kiss. Peter made a soft sound in his throat, and didn’t that just send chills up and down Charley’s spine?
He pulled back briefly for air, and opened his eyes halfway, hoping to see what Peter was thinking; the man’s face was an open book.
Peter’s mouth was curled into a catlike smile, and he was watching Charley affectionately. Charley felt himself flushing, and leaned back in, wanting another kiss, but still a little hesitant.
Peter wrenched himself away, leaving Charley standing forlornly by the bike. “Come find me when you’re done playing!” he called over his shoulder.
Charley wanted very badly to kick his toolbox in frustration, but restrained himself. Instead, he took Peter’s favorite venting route and swore vividly.
---
Charley buried himself in his repair work. He was NOT going to let Peter distract him. Nope, not him. Unlike certain spoiled Vegas showmen, Charley had an attention span longer than that of a goldfish. He didn’t have to go looking for Peter.
He also didn’t have too long to wait this time before Peter, once again, grew bored. Only a half hour had passed this time before the magician meandered back into the garage. Unfortunately, Charley was so busy concentrating hard on his bike and pointedly not going to look for Peter that he lost track of everything else going on around him.
“Charley! Almost forgot!”
The cheery shout startled Charley into knocking into the precariously balanced motorcycle, and he flinched as it started to fall. The anticipated crash never came, though, and Charley looked up to see strong, elegant hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars.
“Whoa, careful there, Charley!” Peter said, flashing him a toothy grin. “Thought you were trying to fix her up, not trash what’s left.”
Charley shot him a glare. “Don’t scare me like that, you ass.”
Peter laughed. “Me? Scary? Charley, do you or do you not hunt vampires on a nightly basis?”
Charley turned his attention back to the transmission he was working on. He was not going to stare at the man’s mouth. He wasn’t. He wasn’t, really. “With you clinging to me like a baby sloth,” he sniffed.
Peter shrugged, pooching out his lip. “Worse things to be compared to, I suppose.”
“You said you forgot something?” Charley asked mildly, glancing up at him (that mouth, dear god, that mouth…).
Peter smacked his fist into his palm. “Yes! Right!” His face froze, his eyebrows raised as his gaze flicked over the ceiling. “…I forget what it was. But it’ll come to me!”
Charley shook his head, partly to clear his head of the Peter’s-mouth-related fantasy it was threatening to wander off into, and partly at Peter himself. “Hand me that, would you?” he asked, his voice fond.
Peter crouched down and picked up the tool pointed out to him, offering it to Charley. The teen grabbed it without looking, but when Peter didn’t let go, he tilted his head back to meet the older man’s gaze. “What?” he said suspiciously.
Peter grinned and put one knee down on the ground, leaning in so that their faces were only an inch or so apart. Charley held himself very still and resisted the urge to look at Peter’s lips so close to his. Peter’s smile widened slightly, making the laugh-lines around his eyes deepen.
“Nothing,” he said, “Nothing really…just…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering over Charley’s face fondly. He brought his free hand up to cradle Charley’s jaw, running one lightly callused thumb over the teen’s cheekbone.
Charley was caught, hypnotized, just waiting for another kiss that he was sure was coming any minute now. The tool slipped out from between their hands as their fingers tangled together, ringing against the cement floor of the garage.
Peter hummed and tilted his head, pulled Charley close and finally, finally, he kissed him. The kiss was light, chaste, and he pulled back after only a moment, staring at Charley with half-lidded eyes.
Charley didn’t wait for a second kiss this time.
“Dammit Peter, will you stop teasing?” he snapped. Then he fisted one hand in Peter’s shirt collar and yanked him down into a full-bodied kiss. He didn’t wait for Peter to take control and didn’t wait for permission. He just slipped his tongue into that taunting mouth, tasting his friend, exploring him, wrestling his tongue into compliance until all Peter could do was allow Charley to dominate him and make (oh god, amazingly hot) pleasured sounds that started deep in his chest and rumbled through his throat.
“Damn you,” Charley said against Peter’s mouth, hardly able to pull himself away long enough to get the words out. “Trying to distract me.” His hand eased its grip on Peter’s shirt, slipping up and around to cradle the back of Peter’s head. Charley’s fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and pulled him in closer, finding a new angle and moaning into it.
Peter kissed him back hungrily, his free hand roaming over Charley’s body like he wasn’t sure where he wanted to touch. Charley shuddered, feeling magician’s fingers first lighting on his hip, then sliding up across his chest, over his shoulder and up his neck and back down to fiddle with the end of his shirt and slip under that cloth barrier. “Are you,” Peter murmured into Charley’s mouth between kisses, “Complaining?” His hand squeezed Charley’s, white-knuckled fingers pressing their palms together tight as they could possibly be.
(Not really, no).