Should Have Known Better (With A Boy Like You) - PG-13
Title: Should Have Known Better (With A Boy Like You)
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Wall-Slamming 101 for Dummies with Bradley James and Colin Morgan: Do's, Do Not's, and Common Pitfalls.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bradley, Colin, the Beatles, or anything that comes from Great Britain, period.
Notes: Written for i_claudia's Wall-Slamming Fest, with help from hermette. Utterly devoid of sex because a) it's me and b) you try writing sex when this is on loop in your head the entire time:
Bradley is winding down from a particularly spectacular orgasm and settling into a haze of smugly wallowing in the fact that he just made Colin Morgan come, a lot, rather loudly, when Colin rolls over and sort of nuzzles into Bradley, like a cat asking for attention. Bradley is obliging by stroking down Colin's spine when Colin goes, "Bradley, have you ever wanted to, you know, slam me into something?"
"Um," Bradley tries puzzling out to see if Colin's words make sense the longer he thinks about them. They don't. "No?"
"Really?"
"I'm not abusive," Bradley says defensively. "I mean, I know I can get grabby sometimes. Is this about the bruising, because I can - "
"No, no," Colin soothes. "I just mean, I was thinking, and I thought it could be, you know, hot." He squirms, turning a delicate shade of pink that makes it impossible for Bradley not to lean up and kiss him, cradling his precious, lovely head and everything that's wonderful and mysterious inside of it.
"We can try it," he says.
"Really?" Colin's eyes light up.
"You haven't led me wrong before, right?" Bradley says, brushing his fingers across one of Colin's sharp, fey cheekbones. "I trust you." He means I love you, and by the way Colin's eyes go soft and he kisses Bradley, he understands what Bradley's trying to say.
- - -
To say the slamming goes poorly is a gross understatement. Colin's too wiry and slight to properly slam all of Bradley's bulk, especially since Bradley's been training himself to have so long to have proper balance for sports. Besides, Colin's not really putting his heart into it. It's clear he wants to be slamming Bradley, but he wants even more not to hurt him. When Colin pushes him, Bradley doesn't move or stumble unless he anticipates and fakes it. And Colin's no idiot, he knows that Bradley's indulging him, and if he's not looking all dejected because Bradley pretended that Colin was suddenly oh-so-strong, he's dejected because he isn't nearly strong enough.
Colin's got this one pair of jeans that actually kind of fit around his arse that drive Bradley fucking crazy, so when he puts them on, Bradley, as ordered, slams Colin against the wall and thinks fuck, this is going to be so good. He's going to get Colin's fit little arse out of those trousers and he's going to fuck him against the wall until he's straining and flushed and begging for it, and...
"Ow!" Colin yelps rubbing the back of his head. "Bradley that really hurt."
"It wasn't good?" Bradley asks.
"No!" Colin's rubbing the back of his head. His eyes look a little watery, like the time he broke his toe running up a hill. "I think I'm going to have a lump, fuck."
"It didn't turn you on?" Bradley asks desperately. Maybe Colin's into pain? Some people are.
"Bradley, do I look turned on?" Colin snaps. "Get me some ice, would you?"
"Right, right," Bradley says, and marks it down in his record book. Colin Morgan was, for the first time in his entire life, wrong about trying something when it comes to sex.
Strange things happen every day.
- - -
The problem with Colin is that he's always right, so he takes it very personally when he's wrong, getting all mopey and listless. If he were more like Bradley, he'd be used to being wrong all the time.
"So the wall-slamming didn't go as well as you'd hoped, it's still okay," Bradley says consolingly, watching the C-shape of Colin's miserable not-in-the-mood-so-stop-kissing-my-neck-Bradley back. "I still-" love you "-want to have sex with you, and stuff."
"It looks sexy when they do it in the movies," Colin mutters finally. Bradley lets out a whuffling laugh and kisses the knob of Colin's shoulder where his collarbone sticks out.
"I know," he says.
"And sometimes I think you think I'm a girl, you treat me so delicately," Colin goes on. "I won't break if you're a little rough."
I know you're not a girl, Bradley thinks. I'm coddling you because I'm so in love with you I'm willing to cause you bodily harm because I think you want it, you arse. And then he feels bad, because how's Colin supposed to know that if Bradley's too much of a coward to tell him?
"If it makes you feel better," he says out loud, bracingly, "your track record is still really good with kinky stuff. You'll get a good idea for the next thing. How about dirty talk? We can try dirty talk. I hope you're not into spanking, though, because clearly pain isn't our style. And I think that roleplay would be kind of weird considering our professions, but I'm willing..."
"...shut up or I'm getting you a ball gag," Colin cuts in, turning off the lamp. Bradley spoons behind him hopefully, which Colin presses back into with a content little sigh, so he isn't serious. Probably.
"I don't think I'd enjoy a ball gag," Bradley whispers after five minutes of silence, just in case. "My jaw would get tired."
"It should be plenty strong from all the talking you do," Colin mutters sleepily, lifting the hand Bradley has resting splayed over his heart to brush a kiss into the palm. Bradley takes it for what Colin really means, which is that he doesn't have to worry about the ball gag, plus a heavy side of I love you too, you gigantic, useless moron.
- - -
Bradley has just gotten out of the shower, one towel wrapped around his waist, another drying off his hair, when Colin says, "stop." Probably about using the two towels. Colin hates it when Bradley uses two towels and then makes the washing more difficult.
"Sorry," Bradley sighs, giving his hair one last wring out before dropping the towel in the hamper. "Look, I'm sorry, it's a bad habit, I know, I'll wash that one..."
"Shut up, Bradley," Colin says. His voice sounds tight and kind of weird, and he's frozen with his t-shirt hanging off his wrists, wearing only his jeans that are clinging for dear life onto his boxers and skinny hips. Purposefully, he shakes is t-shirt off and stalks forward, and Bradley thinks oh god, what did I do to make him mad?
"I know I finished the milk without telling you or writing it on the list!" He says desperately, backing up until he hits a wall. "I was going to grab some after filming tomorrow, I swear." Colin keeps advancing until he's right up against Bradley, and a skinny arm shoots out next to Bradley's head, boxing him in. His face is blank, eyes glittery, and Bradley dimly thinks if weren't so confused and wet, he might be really, really turned on right about now.
"I don't care about the milk," Colin says, voice husky. It's weird, Bradley usually forgets Colin's taller than him, since Colin slouches so terribly, but when Colin's watching him like this, Bradley remembers. He also remembers that Colin's eyes are so, so blue and that underneath all his mushy, unmanly feelings there's this aching, clawing want that never goes away.
"Yeah?" Bradley asks hoarsely, lips nearly brushing Colin's as he leans in closer and closer.
Colin reaches down and with a flick of one of his long, elegant fingers makes Bradley's towel pool at his feet. Bradley would be shivering with cold if Colin's body wasn't practically blanketing him against the wall.
"Yeah," Colin says, and then kisses him, or more like, attacks him hungrily with his mouth. Bradley's completely at his mercy, pinned and only able to scrabble and grab at Colin and shove his hands down Colin's trousers and pants but not get them off. It's filthy and delicious and kind of brilliant.
Hm, Bradley thinks, groaning against Colin's mouth, walls. And then he doesn't think very much at all.
- - -
"So," Bradley says when they're sticky and quite satisfied and sprawled on the bed. "Looming."
"Eh?" Colin cracks an eye open.
"Works a good deal better than slamming, don't you think?"
Colin grins, wide and wickedly satisfied, and Bradley feels so fond and proud he just could burst. Instead, he pokes one of Colin's dimples.
"Prat," Colin says, squirming away.
"Told you you'd get the next one right." Bradley pokes the dimple again, for emphasis. "You're more than just a pretty face, you know." (I love you.)
"Yeah," Colin grins, tugging Bradley closer and pulling the blankets up. "I know." (I love you too.)
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Wall-Slamming 101 for Dummies with Bradley James and Colin Morgan: Do's, Do Not's, and Common Pitfalls.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bradley, Colin, the Beatles, or anything that comes from Great Britain, period.
Notes: Written for i_claudia's Wall-Slamming Fest, with help from hermette. Utterly devoid of sex because a) it's me and b) you try writing sex when this is on loop in your head the entire time:
Click to viewBradley is winding down from a particularly spectacular orgasm and settling into a haze of smugly wallowing in the fact that he just made Colin Morgan come, a lot, rather loudly, when Colin rolls over and sort of nuzzles into Bradley, like a cat asking for attention. Bradley is obliging by stroking down Colin's spine when Colin goes, "Bradley, have you ever wanted to, you know, slam me into something?"
"Um," Bradley tries puzzling out to see if Colin's words make sense the longer he thinks about them. They don't. "No?"
"Really?"
"I'm not abusive," Bradley says defensively. "I mean, I know I can get grabby sometimes. Is this about the bruising, because I can - "
"No, no," Colin soothes. "I just mean, I was thinking, and I thought it could be, you know, hot." He squirms, turning a delicate shade of pink that makes it impossible for Bradley not to lean up and kiss him, cradling his precious, lovely head and everything that's wonderful and mysterious inside of it.
"We can try it," he says.
"Really?" Colin's eyes light up.
"You haven't led me wrong before, right?" Bradley says, brushing his fingers across one of Colin's sharp, fey cheekbones. "I trust you." He means I love you, and by the way Colin's eyes go soft and he kisses Bradley, he understands what Bradley's trying to say.
- - -
To say the slamming goes poorly is a gross understatement. Colin's too wiry and slight to properly slam all of Bradley's bulk, especially since Bradley's been training himself to have so long to have proper balance for sports. Besides, Colin's not really putting his heart into it. It's clear he wants to be slamming Bradley, but he wants even more not to hurt him. When Colin pushes him, Bradley doesn't move or stumble unless he anticipates and fakes it. And Colin's no idiot, he knows that Bradley's indulging him, and if he's not looking all dejected because Bradley pretended that Colin was suddenly oh-so-strong, he's dejected because he isn't nearly strong enough.
Colin's got this one pair of jeans that actually kind of fit around his arse that drive Bradley fucking crazy, so when he puts them on, Bradley, as ordered, slams Colin against the wall and thinks fuck, this is going to be so good. He's going to get Colin's fit little arse out of those trousers and he's going to fuck him against the wall until he's straining and flushed and begging for it, and...
"Ow!" Colin yelps rubbing the back of his head. "Bradley that really hurt."
"It wasn't good?" Bradley asks.
"No!" Colin's rubbing the back of his head. His eyes look a little watery, like the time he broke his toe running up a hill. "I think I'm going to have a lump, fuck."
"It didn't turn you on?" Bradley asks desperately. Maybe Colin's into pain? Some people are.
"Bradley, do I look turned on?" Colin snaps. "Get me some ice, would you?"
"Right, right," Bradley says, and marks it down in his record book. Colin Morgan was, for the first time in his entire life, wrong about trying something when it comes to sex.
Strange things happen every day.
- - -
The problem with Colin is that he's always right, so he takes it very personally when he's wrong, getting all mopey and listless. If he were more like Bradley, he'd be used to being wrong all the time.
"So the wall-slamming didn't go as well as you'd hoped, it's still okay," Bradley says consolingly, watching the C-shape of Colin's miserable not-in-the-mood-so-stop-kissing-my-neck-Bradley back. "I still-" love you "-want to have sex with you, and stuff."
"It looks sexy when they do it in the movies," Colin mutters finally. Bradley lets out a whuffling laugh and kisses the knob of Colin's shoulder where his collarbone sticks out.
"I know," he says.
"And sometimes I think you think I'm a girl, you treat me so delicately," Colin goes on. "I won't break if you're a little rough."
I know you're not a girl, Bradley thinks. I'm coddling you because I'm so in love with you I'm willing to cause you bodily harm because I think you want it, you arse. And then he feels bad, because how's Colin supposed to know that if Bradley's too much of a coward to tell him?
"If it makes you feel better," he says out loud, bracingly, "your track record is still really good with kinky stuff. You'll get a good idea for the next thing. How about dirty talk? We can try dirty talk. I hope you're not into spanking, though, because clearly pain isn't our style. And I think that roleplay would be kind of weird considering our professions, but I'm willing..."
"...shut up or I'm getting you a ball gag," Colin cuts in, turning off the lamp. Bradley spoons behind him hopefully, which Colin presses back into with a content little sigh, so he isn't serious. Probably.
"I don't think I'd enjoy a ball gag," Bradley whispers after five minutes of silence, just in case. "My jaw would get tired."
"It should be plenty strong from all the talking you do," Colin mutters sleepily, lifting the hand Bradley has resting splayed over his heart to brush a kiss into the palm. Bradley takes it for what Colin really means, which is that he doesn't have to worry about the ball gag, plus a heavy side of I love you too, you gigantic, useless moron.
- - -
Bradley has just gotten out of the shower, one towel wrapped around his waist, another drying off his hair, when Colin says, "stop." Probably about using the two towels. Colin hates it when Bradley uses two towels and then makes the washing more difficult.
"Sorry," Bradley sighs, giving his hair one last wring out before dropping the towel in the hamper. "Look, I'm sorry, it's a bad habit, I know, I'll wash that one..."
"Shut up, Bradley," Colin says. His voice sounds tight and kind of weird, and he's frozen with his t-shirt hanging off his wrists, wearing only his jeans that are clinging for dear life onto his boxers and skinny hips. Purposefully, he shakes is t-shirt off and stalks forward, and Bradley thinks oh god, what did I do to make him mad?
"I know I finished the milk without telling you or writing it on the list!" He says desperately, backing up until he hits a wall. "I was going to grab some after filming tomorrow, I swear." Colin keeps advancing until he's right up against Bradley, and a skinny arm shoots out next to Bradley's head, boxing him in. His face is blank, eyes glittery, and Bradley dimly thinks if weren't so confused and wet, he might be really, really turned on right about now.
"I don't care about the milk," Colin says, voice husky. It's weird, Bradley usually forgets Colin's taller than him, since Colin slouches so terribly, but when Colin's watching him like this, Bradley remembers. He also remembers that Colin's eyes are so, so blue and that underneath all his mushy, unmanly feelings there's this aching, clawing want that never goes away.
"Yeah?" Bradley asks hoarsely, lips nearly brushing Colin's as he leans in closer and closer.
Colin reaches down and with a flick of one of his long, elegant fingers makes Bradley's towel pool at his feet. Bradley would be shivering with cold if Colin's body wasn't practically blanketing him against the wall.
"Yeah," Colin says, and then kisses him, or more like, attacks him hungrily with his mouth. Bradley's completely at his mercy, pinned and only able to scrabble and grab at Colin and shove his hands down Colin's trousers and pants but not get them off. It's filthy and delicious and kind of brilliant.
Hm, Bradley thinks, groaning against Colin's mouth, walls. And then he doesn't think very much at all.
- - -
"So," Bradley says when they're sticky and quite satisfied and sprawled on the bed. "Looming."
"Eh?" Colin cracks an eye open.
"Works a good deal better than slamming, don't you think?"
Colin grins, wide and wickedly satisfied, and Bradley feels so fond and proud he just could burst. Instead, he pokes one of Colin's dimples.
"Prat," Colin says, squirming away.
"Told you you'd get the next one right." Bradley pokes the dimple again, for emphasis. "You're more than just a pretty face, you know." (I love you.)
"Yeah," Colin grins, tugging Bradley closer and pulling the blankets up. "I know." (I love you too.)