Shave, No Haircut, Two Bits - NC-17
Title: Shave, No Haircut, Two Bits
Rating: NC-17 though waaaaaay lighter than it was supposed to be. If you don't like porn, uh, skip one paragraph.
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the burning desire to see Colin and Bradley actually admit something like this happened.
Notes: Intended as a quick comment one-off to the news that Bradley was finally shaving (have you noticed a lot of my fic revolves around Bradley's beard/complicated plots to get rid of it?), but of course when I try to write porn it is never that simple. Thanks to the tireless hand-holding, direction, and explanations of sex (SUCH A BAFFLING RITUAL, Y'ALL) from hermette this turned into, at the very least, FOREPLAY FOREPLAY FOREPLAY porn.
Also, yes, I do find the title amusing, because I'm eight years old. (Further proof of that? I youtubed all the gross ingrown hair videos on youtube that involved spurting pus. IT WAS AWESOME OKAY.)
Okay," Colin says, holding the trimmer aloft with a slightly manic gleam in his eye, "the beard is going to go."
"I'm not sure about this," Bradley says, shifting from his seat on the toilet. Colin looks sort of like he could be in Sweeney Todd, the modern version. Bradley has flashes of Bradley James, 26, falls to his tragic death in his bathroom, throat slit by electric trimmer. Co-star Colin Morgan was on the scene, cackling.
"Bradley, anyone can use an electric trimmer," Colin scoffs.
"I'm just saying maybe I should shave myself," Bradley tries, but Colin leans forward and blocks him by putting his arm out over Bradley's shoulder, a few inches away.
"Trust me," Colin says, commanding, and Bradley finds himself helplessly nodding. There's nothing he can refuse Colin, not like this, not ever. He isn't really at Colin's mercy like this, the worst Colin can do is give him a nasty nick, but he feels like he is, with Colin's eyes so intent on his face.
"Chin up," Colin whispers, voice husky, and Bradley obeys without question, baring his neck completely to the dull buzz, shivering when Colin stops to scratch at something.
"Ingrown hair," he says quietly, putting down the razor and reaching for a tweezers to pluck it out. Bradley hisses at the slight sting but stays still when Colin takes a bit of tissue and dabs at the dot of blood. "Not bad. At least there wasn't pus."
Bradley snickers, the tense, sensual air in the bathroom completely gone.
"What?" Colin blinks at him. "Sometimes there's puss! Neil had an absolutely gross one on his cheek once, it spurted -"
Bradley tips his head back and howls, which is how he doesn't see Colin before he swoops in and kisses the red, stinging area, lips gentle, beard scratching at the newly-sensitive skin. "Oh," Bradley sighs, tipping his head back further so he can feel the burning scrape of Colin's beard, soothed away by his lips up and down Bradley's neck. "Colin," he says, throat dry. "Col, Jesus."
"Not here right now," Colin mutters into Bradley's skin, intent and refusing to give up. "Mm, you're lovely."
Bradley's never known how to respond to that particular assertion without ducking his head to catch Colin's mouth in a kiss, smoothing his hands across Colin's scratchy beard and burying his fingers in Colin's hair, nipping at Colin's lip until he whines and his arm collapse so he's pressed against Bradley and crushing him into the back of the toilet, half-hard.
"Mustache," Colin pants out nonsensically, ripping his mouth away.
"What?" Bradley mumbles.
"Still have your mustache," Colin says, running his tongue along Bradley's upper lip. "You look like a 70's porn star."
"That's good, right?" Bradley asks, snaking one of his hands around to grab Colin's ass shamelessly, giving it a squeeze. "You like that."
"I am not having sex with you mustached," Colin says firmly swatting away Bradley's hand. "Let go, we're finishing this."
"You're no fun," Bradley grumbles, but he lets Colin start up the buzz of the razor again and sits perfectly still, allowing Colin do short, even strokes that strip his mustache away. His upper lip feels naked, almost cold and goosebumpy without the smattering of hair he's grown so used to.
"There," Colin says softly, turning off the razor and putting it back down on the sink. "you're all done."
"Yeah?" Bradley gets up and looks at himself in the mirror. He's him again, he wasn't sure why he was expecting anything else. "Good job, Morgan, you've got a future as a barber."
"Damn right I do." Colin comes from behind and turns Bradley around gently so all he can see is Colin, running his finger gently across Bradley's upper lip, apparently fascinated. "I missed this upper lip."
"Mmm." Bradley catches Colin's wandering thumb in his mouth, sucking it in and swirling around the pad of it, watching closely as his pupils blow, and then he lets it go with a faint pop.
"Fuck," Colin says, then pulls Bradley in, his wet thumb resting in the hollow under Bradley's ear sucking at his upper lip frantically. There isn't any space left between their chests, Bradley's bare and cold in preparation for the shave and Colin's separated only by the thin undershirt of Bradley's he'd stolen to wear. Bradley's always gotten a high off his significant others wearing his clothes, girls with their shapely legs peeking out of his button-ups, a few fit guys taking a t-shirt with a wink, but when Colin does it... no, scratch that. When Colin does anything, the action becomes sexier than Bradley knew it had any right to be. When Colin steals a pair of his boxers or his shirt it makes his entire body burn with the need to feel him in it, to slip his hands under to span his shoulder blades and to run his fingers down the knobs in his spine.
"Bed," Colin breathes out against Bradley's mouth, pushing him uselessly towards the doorway, because he doesn't seem to be able to walk and kiss at the same time. "Bed, Christ, you look, you're so..."
Bradley just grunts. He can't speak when he's turned-on like Colin can, when words suddenly seem to spew from his mouth in delicious, filthy combinations. Instead,he tries to follow Colin's instructions, because God, he wants Colin under him, wants to slip him out of those baggy jeans and see everything, but Colin whines indecisively, hooking his thigh over Bradley's hip and tugging them snug together so Bradley groans.
"Make up your mind, Morgan," he says without any real heat, and Colin laughs and places Bradley's hand so it's holding his leg up the way he likes it before returning his ministrations to the newly bared skin. He licks at it, nips it, rubs his stubble against it until Bradley's over-sensitized and gasping into the coarse hair, pressing blind, scratchy kisses anywhere he can reach. It's not fair, not fair that Colin can do this to him, make him so needy and scrape him so raw. Shamelessly, he lets his fingers run under the waistband of Colin's boxers, teasing at the dip in his lower back. Like magic Colin gasps into his mouth, and his other leg comes up so he's clenched around Bradley at the waist, pulling himself up to hang on and all Bradley can think is dear God, yes. He wants Colin wrapped around him all day, all night, all the time. He never wants them to be any farther apart than they are now, with Colin clinging to him like he's a tree while Bradley backs out of the bathroom and teeters towards the bed, too caught up to even open his eyes and keep from bumping into things. Colin giggles every time he does, bubbly and delighted.
"You're so bad at this," Colin whispers when Bradley backs into the dresser for a third time.
"You try doing this," Bradley mutters. "Harder than it looks."
"Mmm," Colin says dreamily, rubbing his scratchy cheek along where Bradley's neck meets his shoulder and then kisses along it. "But you know how much I love it when you carry me."
Bradley groans and manages to stumble to the bed while Colin kisses along his shoulder and dumps him in the bed so he can yank off Colin's jeans and boxers (he stole a pair of Bradley's too, which is just... wow) while Colin struggles out of Bradley's old shirt, twisting in an impossibly beautiful arc. "God," Bradley breathes, reverent, and leans forward, but Colin catches his hips.
"No, no," his eyes are bright. "We're doing it my way." Slowly he leans forward and kisses around Bradley's bellybutton, his long, careful hands slipping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down. "Step out of those." Colin's voice is low, throaty, and Bradley obeys without a second thought, and then pounces. He loves when Colin's in a mood like this, playful and laughing under him, limbs flailing and gripping everywhere. He can't stop kissing Bradley either, rubbing against his newly bare cheeks and sucking on his upper lip.
"What's up with you?" he asks, pressing a kiss to Colin's bobbing Adam's apple.
"Dunno, like you clean-shaven, I guess," Colin says.
"You liked the beard, sometimes," Bradley points out.
"At first, but then it just got out of hand," Colin sighs, combing Bradley's hair back. "Like your hair, you really need a trim."
"Oh, good," Bradley snorts. "Let's spend today just insulting my physical appearance. That'll be fun. I always wanted to be sleeping with someone who sounded exactly like my mother."
"I'm not complaining at all about your physical appearance," Colin says, rubbing his hands in slow, appreciative circles across Bradley's back that are driving him a little mad. "I'm very appreciative right now that you ate all your veggies."
"And Weetabix," Bradley says seriously. "Every morning, a bowl of Weetabix."
"Bradley," Colin says with an air of great solemnity, "I would never forget your Weetabix."
"That's right," Bradley says, untangling Colin's arms from around him and smoothing then down to the bed so he can pin them there. Colin flexes against him as a test. He can get free, if he wants to, but he won't. "See? Weetabix."
"Of course," Colin nods. "Nothing to do with that shirtless scene you've got coming up when we go back to filming, or the working out you've been doing to prepare for it."
"Of course not," Bradley says loftily. "I'd never be that vain."
"Of course," Colin agrees, leaning up to kiss him lazily until Bradley forgets to hold Colin's wrists down and just tangles their fingers together above their heads, Colin stretched taut and arching against him like a bowstring. His body's so different from Bradley's in every way for being made of the same things and parts - the way it works and the way it moves is still foreign and exciting, like learning a new language, only far more interesting than it ever was in school. If more subjects in school were taught using Colin Morgan or about him, Bradley might have found it in himself somewhere to pay better attention.
"I love you like this, you know," Colin says softly, tracing a path down Bradley's cheek with the tip of his nose, gently intimate.
"Shaved?" Bradley asks. "In shape?"
"Naked," Colin corrects. "Naked and mine."
"Fuck, Col," Bradley laughs, too happy to do anything else, freeing his hand so he can cradle Colin to him, fitting his hands at the dip of his spine. "You know I am."
"I-" is all Colin's allowed to get out before Bradley's devouring him and what he knows Colin's going to say. He doesn't need to hear it, Colin's body's telling him, hands flying everywhere, brushing and smoothing over Bradley cheeks. His fingers keep getting caught in between their mouths and tongues, leaving wet trails when they go back to his face. Bradley reaches to catch one of those hands by the wrist, feeling Colin's pulse beating wildly. "What?" Colin asks.
"Touch me," Bradley grinds out. "Somewhere. Anywhere."
Colin smiles, smirks more like, eyes growing lidded. "Here?" He asks, stroking down one arm, leaving stripes of wetness. "Here?" He strokes down Bradley's spine but stops short of his arse. "Here?" He licks his fingertips and circles wide around a nipple.
"Bastard," Bradley chokes out. "You know... you know..."
"Yeah," Colin brings his now-dry fingers up and runs them along Bradley's smooth cheek. "Help me here."
Obligingly Bradley turns and parts his lips so Colin can slip his fingers in and out, getting them good and slick before he reaches down and brings their cocks together, stroking smooth and easy. Bradley feels a groan rip out of his throat and Colin laughs, delighted.
"Been hard since -" Bradley manages. God, he doesn't even know. Probably halfway at least since Colin manhandled him into the bathroom and started up the trimmer.
"I know, sweetheart," Colin leans up to run his nose under Bradley's eye and then presses a tiny kiss there. His strokes are unhurried but he knows how to do that twist, how to make Bradley's breath catch so every time Bradley's sure that this stroke's going to be the one that makes him come. But Colin keeps milking his pleasure out longer, making little breathy ah, ah, ah noises that means he's in the same place as Bradley, stuttering on the edge.
"Colin," Bradley breathes, threading his fingers through Colin's hair and kissing him because he doesn't know what to say, but he does know how to kiss Colin like he beyond loves him, like saying "I love you" isn't enough for this feeling of teetering on the edge of giving himself over completely. The kiss makes Colin moan and finish one final pull and Bradley's coming, his vision whiting out and unable to breathe from feeling so good. Dimly he hears Colin come with shiver and small yelp, feels Colin's clean hand come up and brush against his cheek and tangle in Bradley's hair.
"Fuck," Bradley chokes out when he can breathe. Colin just makes a squeaking noise. He's always limp and completely useless after sex, so Bradley rolls off and and grabs a tissue to wipe them off, save the fingers that he licks clean until Colin practically purrs in contentment.
"That was good," Colin's accent is so thick from pleasure that Bradley has to puzzle through what he's saying while Colin rolls over and nuzzles into Bradley's neck. "You're good."
"Love," Bradley whispers, pulling Colin close and kissing the tip of his ear.
"Yeah." Colin rests his cheek more comfortably against Bradley's shoulder, his stubble a scraping reminder.
"Can't wait to shave you," Bradley says.
"Yeah," Colin tips his head up and grins wide and hungry. "That's gonna be good."
Rating: NC-17 though waaaaaay lighter than it was supposed to be. If you don't like porn, uh, skip one paragraph.
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the burning desire to see Colin and Bradley actually admit something like this happened.
Notes: Intended as a quick comment one-off to the news that Bradley was finally shaving (have you noticed a lot of my fic revolves around Bradley's beard/complicated plots to get rid of it?), but of course when I try to write porn it is never that simple. Thanks to the tireless hand-holding, direction, and explanations of sex (SUCH A BAFFLING RITUAL, Y'ALL) from hermette this turned into, at the very least, FOREPLAY FOREPLAY FOREPLAY porn.
Also, yes, I do find the title amusing, because I'm eight years old. (Further proof of that? I youtubed all the gross ingrown hair videos on youtube that involved spurting pus. IT WAS AWESOME OKAY.)
Okay," Colin says, holding the trimmer aloft with a slightly manic gleam in his eye, "the beard is going to go."
"I'm not sure about this," Bradley says, shifting from his seat on the toilet. Colin looks sort of like he could be in Sweeney Todd, the modern version. Bradley has flashes of Bradley James, 26, falls to his tragic death in his bathroom, throat slit by electric trimmer. Co-star Colin Morgan was on the scene, cackling.
"Bradley, anyone can use an electric trimmer," Colin scoffs.
"I'm just saying maybe I should shave myself," Bradley tries, but Colin leans forward and blocks him by putting his arm out over Bradley's shoulder, a few inches away.
"Trust me," Colin says, commanding, and Bradley finds himself helplessly nodding. There's nothing he can refuse Colin, not like this, not ever. He isn't really at Colin's mercy like this, the worst Colin can do is give him a nasty nick, but he feels like he is, with Colin's eyes so intent on his face.
"Chin up," Colin whispers, voice husky, and Bradley obeys without question, baring his neck completely to the dull buzz, shivering when Colin stops to scratch at something.
"Ingrown hair," he says quietly, putting down the razor and reaching for a tweezers to pluck it out. Bradley hisses at the slight sting but stays still when Colin takes a bit of tissue and dabs at the dot of blood. "Not bad. At least there wasn't pus."
Bradley snickers, the tense, sensual air in the bathroom completely gone.
"What?" Colin blinks at him. "Sometimes there's puss! Neil had an absolutely gross one on his cheek once, it spurted -"
Bradley tips his head back and howls, which is how he doesn't see Colin before he swoops in and kisses the red, stinging area, lips gentle, beard scratching at the newly-sensitive skin. "Oh," Bradley sighs, tipping his head back further so he can feel the burning scrape of Colin's beard, soothed away by his lips up and down Bradley's neck. "Colin," he says, throat dry. "Col, Jesus."
"Not here right now," Colin mutters into Bradley's skin, intent and refusing to give up. "Mm, you're lovely."
Bradley's never known how to respond to that particular assertion without ducking his head to catch Colin's mouth in a kiss, smoothing his hands across Colin's scratchy beard and burying his fingers in Colin's hair, nipping at Colin's lip until he whines and his arm collapse so he's pressed against Bradley and crushing him into the back of the toilet, half-hard.
"Mustache," Colin pants out nonsensically, ripping his mouth away.
"What?" Bradley mumbles.
"Still have your mustache," Colin says, running his tongue along Bradley's upper lip. "You look like a 70's porn star."
"That's good, right?" Bradley asks, snaking one of his hands around to grab Colin's ass shamelessly, giving it a squeeze. "You like that."
"I am not having sex with you mustached," Colin says firmly swatting away Bradley's hand. "Let go, we're finishing this."
"You're no fun," Bradley grumbles, but he lets Colin start up the buzz of the razor again and sits perfectly still, allowing Colin do short, even strokes that strip his mustache away. His upper lip feels naked, almost cold and goosebumpy without the smattering of hair he's grown so used to.
"There," Colin says softly, turning off the razor and putting it back down on the sink. "you're all done."
"Yeah?" Bradley gets up and looks at himself in the mirror. He's him again, he wasn't sure why he was expecting anything else. "Good job, Morgan, you've got a future as a barber."
"Damn right I do." Colin comes from behind and turns Bradley around gently so all he can see is Colin, running his finger gently across Bradley's upper lip, apparently fascinated. "I missed this upper lip."
"Mmm." Bradley catches Colin's wandering thumb in his mouth, sucking it in and swirling around the pad of it, watching closely as his pupils blow, and then he lets it go with a faint pop.
"Fuck," Colin says, then pulls Bradley in, his wet thumb resting in the hollow under Bradley's ear sucking at his upper lip frantically. There isn't any space left between their chests, Bradley's bare and cold in preparation for the shave and Colin's separated only by the thin undershirt of Bradley's he'd stolen to wear. Bradley's always gotten a high off his significant others wearing his clothes, girls with their shapely legs peeking out of his button-ups, a few fit guys taking a t-shirt with a wink, but when Colin does it... no, scratch that. When Colin does anything, the action becomes sexier than Bradley knew it had any right to be. When Colin steals a pair of his boxers or his shirt it makes his entire body burn with the need to feel him in it, to slip his hands under to span his shoulder blades and to run his fingers down the knobs in his spine.
"Bed," Colin breathes out against Bradley's mouth, pushing him uselessly towards the doorway, because he doesn't seem to be able to walk and kiss at the same time. "Bed, Christ, you look, you're so..."
Bradley just grunts. He can't speak when he's turned-on like Colin can, when words suddenly seem to spew from his mouth in delicious, filthy combinations. Instead,he tries to follow Colin's instructions, because God, he wants Colin under him, wants to slip him out of those baggy jeans and see everything, but Colin whines indecisively, hooking his thigh over Bradley's hip and tugging them snug together so Bradley groans.
"Make up your mind, Morgan," he says without any real heat, and Colin laughs and places Bradley's hand so it's holding his leg up the way he likes it before returning his ministrations to the newly bared skin. He licks at it, nips it, rubs his stubble against it until Bradley's over-sensitized and gasping into the coarse hair, pressing blind, scratchy kisses anywhere he can reach. It's not fair, not fair that Colin can do this to him, make him so needy and scrape him so raw. Shamelessly, he lets his fingers run under the waistband of Colin's boxers, teasing at the dip in his lower back. Like magic Colin gasps into his mouth, and his other leg comes up so he's clenched around Bradley at the waist, pulling himself up to hang on and all Bradley can think is dear God, yes. He wants Colin wrapped around him all day, all night, all the time. He never wants them to be any farther apart than they are now, with Colin clinging to him like he's a tree while Bradley backs out of the bathroom and teeters towards the bed, too caught up to even open his eyes and keep from bumping into things. Colin giggles every time he does, bubbly and delighted.
"You're so bad at this," Colin whispers when Bradley backs into the dresser for a third time.
"You try doing this," Bradley mutters. "Harder than it looks."
"Mmm," Colin says dreamily, rubbing his scratchy cheek along where Bradley's neck meets his shoulder and then kisses along it. "But you know how much I love it when you carry me."
Bradley groans and manages to stumble to the bed while Colin kisses along his shoulder and dumps him in the bed so he can yank off Colin's jeans and boxers (he stole a pair of Bradley's too, which is just... wow) while Colin struggles out of Bradley's old shirt, twisting in an impossibly beautiful arc. "God," Bradley breathes, reverent, and leans forward, but Colin catches his hips.
"No, no," his eyes are bright. "We're doing it my way." Slowly he leans forward and kisses around Bradley's bellybutton, his long, careful hands slipping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down. "Step out of those." Colin's voice is low, throaty, and Bradley obeys without a second thought, and then pounces. He loves when Colin's in a mood like this, playful and laughing under him, limbs flailing and gripping everywhere. He can't stop kissing Bradley either, rubbing against his newly bare cheeks and sucking on his upper lip.
"What's up with you?" he asks, pressing a kiss to Colin's bobbing Adam's apple.
"Dunno, like you clean-shaven, I guess," Colin says.
"You liked the beard, sometimes," Bradley points out.
"At first, but then it just got out of hand," Colin sighs, combing Bradley's hair back. "Like your hair, you really need a trim."
"Oh, good," Bradley snorts. "Let's spend today just insulting my physical appearance. That'll be fun. I always wanted to be sleeping with someone who sounded exactly like my mother."
"I'm not complaining at all about your physical appearance," Colin says, rubbing his hands in slow, appreciative circles across Bradley's back that are driving him a little mad. "I'm very appreciative right now that you ate all your veggies."
"And Weetabix," Bradley says seriously. "Every morning, a bowl of Weetabix."
"Bradley," Colin says with an air of great solemnity, "I would never forget your Weetabix."
"That's right," Bradley says, untangling Colin's arms from around him and smoothing then down to the bed so he can pin them there. Colin flexes against him as a test. He can get free, if he wants to, but he won't. "See? Weetabix."
"Of course," Colin nods. "Nothing to do with that shirtless scene you've got coming up when we go back to filming, or the working out you've been doing to prepare for it."
"Of course not," Bradley says loftily. "I'd never be that vain."
"Of course," Colin agrees, leaning up to kiss him lazily until Bradley forgets to hold Colin's wrists down and just tangles their fingers together above their heads, Colin stretched taut and arching against him like a bowstring. His body's so different from Bradley's in every way for being made of the same things and parts - the way it works and the way it moves is still foreign and exciting, like learning a new language, only far more interesting than it ever was in school. If more subjects in school were taught using Colin Morgan or about him, Bradley might have found it in himself somewhere to pay better attention.
"I love you like this, you know," Colin says softly, tracing a path down Bradley's cheek with the tip of his nose, gently intimate.
"Shaved?" Bradley asks. "In shape?"
"Naked," Colin corrects. "Naked and mine."
"Fuck, Col," Bradley laughs, too happy to do anything else, freeing his hand so he can cradle Colin to him, fitting his hands at the dip of his spine. "You know I am."
"I-" is all Colin's allowed to get out before Bradley's devouring him and what he knows Colin's going to say. He doesn't need to hear it, Colin's body's telling him, hands flying everywhere, brushing and smoothing over Bradley cheeks. His fingers keep getting caught in between their mouths and tongues, leaving wet trails when they go back to his face. Bradley reaches to catch one of those hands by the wrist, feeling Colin's pulse beating wildly. "What?" Colin asks.
"Touch me," Bradley grinds out. "Somewhere. Anywhere."
Colin smiles, smirks more like, eyes growing lidded. "Here?" He asks, stroking down one arm, leaving stripes of wetness. "Here?" He strokes down Bradley's spine but stops short of his arse. "Here?" He licks his fingertips and circles wide around a nipple.
"Bastard," Bradley chokes out. "You know... you know..."
"Yeah," Colin brings his now-dry fingers up and runs them along Bradley's smooth cheek. "Help me here."
Obligingly Bradley turns and parts his lips so Colin can slip his fingers in and out, getting them good and slick before he reaches down and brings their cocks together, stroking smooth and easy. Bradley feels a groan rip out of his throat and Colin laughs, delighted.
"Been hard since -" Bradley manages. God, he doesn't even know. Probably halfway at least since Colin manhandled him into the bathroom and started up the trimmer.
"I know, sweetheart," Colin leans up to run his nose under Bradley's eye and then presses a tiny kiss there. His strokes are unhurried but he knows how to do that twist, how to make Bradley's breath catch so every time Bradley's sure that this stroke's going to be the one that makes him come. But Colin keeps milking his pleasure out longer, making little breathy ah, ah, ah noises that means he's in the same place as Bradley, stuttering on the edge.
"Colin," Bradley breathes, threading his fingers through Colin's hair and kissing him because he doesn't know what to say, but he does know how to kiss Colin like he beyond loves him, like saying "I love you" isn't enough for this feeling of teetering on the edge of giving himself over completely. The kiss makes Colin moan and finish one final pull and Bradley's coming, his vision whiting out and unable to breathe from feeling so good. Dimly he hears Colin come with shiver and small yelp, feels Colin's clean hand come up and brush against his cheek and tangle in Bradley's hair.
"Fuck," Bradley chokes out when he can breathe. Colin just makes a squeaking noise. He's always limp and completely useless after sex, so Bradley rolls off and and grabs a tissue to wipe them off, save the fingers that he licks clean until Colin practically purrs in contentment.
"That was good," Colin's accent is so thick from pleasure that Bradley has to puzzle through what he's saying while Colin rolls over and nuzzles into Bradley's neck. "You're good."
"Love," Bradley whispers, pulling Colin close and kissing the tip of his ear.
"Yeah." Colin rests his cheek more comfortably against Bradley's shoulder, his stubble a scraping reminder.
"Can't wait to shave you," Bradley says.
"Yeah," Colin tips his head up and grins wide and hungry. "That's gonna be good."