Part Five!
Hello again. I'm back bearing part five. I really didn't expect this to go on for so long; endless thanks to those who have expressed interest in my little series.
Links to the pieces:
Part One: A Moment of Audacity
Part Two: More Questions Than Answers
Part Three: Two Flats
Part Four: Match of Wits
Title: Hands
Author:
bellesreves
Characters: Posner, Lockwood, Dakin, Irwin
Rating: PG-13, I suppose. Dakin's calmed down enough not be dropping swear words every three seconds.
Summary: Dakin admits defeat. Sort of. And Lockwood explains himself. Sort of.
Words: ~1300
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and am not making money by writing about them.
Irwin stared expectantly down into Dakin’s flushed face. Witticism failed the man on bottom as Irwin shifted his thin hips to take the pressure off of his bad knee. Dakin’s mind refused to settle down. Instead, it flowed into the muscles of his stomach, which were pulled taut between the points of Irwin’s weight. He felt the carpet fibers imprinting themselves on the backs of his hands, Irwin’s dry cool fingers clasping his wrists, his clothing encasing him, growing uncomfortably warm. His voice came unhooked from his lips as he took in the delicate roundness of Irwin’s eyes, the thin line of his jaw, the sliver of skin visible where the top button of his shirt had come undone in the scuffle.
Dakin was certain a day and a half had passed since Irwin had spoken, and the playful challenge still hung in the air. Irwin’s free hand was on the carpet. Dakin’s skin ached; he wanted the hand clutching at him again, wanted it to pull at his jeans, to press into his chest.
His body was begging him, pleading for his ego to duck down and let the glorious physical sensations overwhelm him, but Dakin resisted. He wasn’t going to let it be that easy, not yet. He might as well accept his defeat without sacrificing his signature cockiness. Dakin collected himself for final shot at shocking Irwin into making that pale-faced, wide-eyed stare.
“I could suck you off,” he said at last, his voice soft.
Irwin released Dakin’s hands as though they had seared his skin. Dakin looked pleased, careful not to let his face betray the spurt of eager warmth rocketing up from his toes to his cheeks.
“An admission of defeat would suffice,” said Irwin without losing the conqueror’s grin, though his voice seemed a little closed off.
He’d missed the point. “That is my admission of defeat,” Dakin declared with a half-smile. His arms stayed stretched above his head as though he forgot he could use them again.
“I know it is,” said Irwin. He sighed, which was not the response Dakin had been seeking. His stomach deflated against Dakin’s, and even that increased contact made Dakin’s brain unfocus.
Reining himself back in, Dakin let bemusement chip away at his expression. “What do you want, then? Why’ve you got me pinned like this if that’s not what you wanted?”
Irwin shook his head. “Recall that you were the initiator of the first attack and that it was ungentlemanly, as it came from behind.”
Dakin scoffed. “You didn’t do all that for a lesson in manners.”
Irwin nodded stubbornly.
Dakin’s jaw fell open indignantly. “You kissed me!” he exclaimed.
“If you remember, you also did that before I did,” Irwin answered, one eyebrow raised in a fairly good imitation of Dakin’s usual expression.
“But-”
“I was playing the game, Stuart,” Irwin insisted. “Which you started.”
“And you won,” Dakin said. “So let me-”
“No!” Irwin winced and looked away. “I don’t want you to do… that… just because you lost the wrestling match. It isn’t…” he groped for words, “…what I want,” he finished lamely.
“Foreskins of Christ and monks wiping up with scraps of fabric, but you can’t say the words ‘suck me off’?” Dakin inquired incredulously. “Wouldn’t’ve expected prudishness of Tom Irwin.” He gave Irwin a moment to speak, but as Irwin seemed to be studying the carpet beneath his fingers, Dakin went on. “Let me suck you off.” He swiveled his head, forced himself into Irwin’s direct line of sight. He put his hands at Irwin’s lower back and started to tug his shirt untucked.
Irwin pushed one of Dakin’s hands away. “I’m not interested,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” Dakin laughed. He locked his ankles behind Irwin’s body. “I felt that. Ran your hands all up and down me, didn’t you?”
Irwin was looking to either side as though frightened of what was happening around his waist.
There didn’t seem to be any hope of deterring Dakin from either sex or a flat-out rejection. Irwin pursed his lips, containing the words until he could organize them. His mouth set into a perfectly straight line.
Dakin reminded himself to listen, having to shake himself out of following every smooth twist of those lips so thin they seemed impossibly fragile.
Irwin opened his mouth, but only half a syllable got out before he closed it again.
“Have you suddenly remembered you’re married?” prodded Dakin. “Missing an important appointment? Overdue on a library book?”
Irwin hesitated. He raised one shoulder up to his earlobe. “It was just a game,” he said throatily.
Dakin raised an eyebrow as if to say, And?
Two fingers drummed on the carpet next to Dakin’s ear. “If we were to…” The corner of Dakin’s mouth twitched. Irwin continued. “Anyway, you’d leave after, and I-I’d probably want you to stay.” Irwin gave another of those self-deprecating snorts. “I’d want to make you a nice breakfast in the morning or something like that.” He wrinkled his nose as if to show Dakin how stupid he knew it sounded.
Dakin forgot to be self-satisfied. His hands flew to the nape of Irwin’s neck before he could draw a new breath. He pulled Irwin to his mouth and covered each of Irwin’s fragile lips with soft strokes of his own.
Posner only stared at the hand on his shoulder bemusedly. Eventually, Lockwood calmed down and stood up straight again. He squeezed Posner’s shoulder and Posner frowned.
“You always laugh at me,” he commented seriously.
Lockwood nodded. “Well, because you’re an idiot, Pos,” he said, matching his friend’s tone. He steered his skinny companion out the bedroom door and into a chair at the dining table. Taking a seat next to Posner, he leaned in confidentially. “I left the chocolate,” he intoned.
Posner pursed his pink lips. “Why?”
Lockwood chuckled. “After I talked to Dakin downstairs, I knew you’d be up here crying over it, and-” He stopped as Posner’s eyes narrowed.
“All right, not crying, then,” Lockwood amended. “But torturing yourself anyway. I thought the chocolate might distract you from it for a few minutes.”
Slowly, Posner accepted this. He put both elbows on the table and crossed his ankles beneath his chair. “That,” he said uncertainly, “was really nice, Jimmy.”
Grinning, Lockwood looked into his lap. “Thought it might make you laugh.”
“Sheer, calculated silliness,” said Posner, his voice distant.
Lockwood looked up. “What?”
“Something I heard Hector say once,” Posner explained, blinking rapidly. “The endings, Gracie Fields, your little tissue bow. To keep us from getting…”
“Yeah,” Lockwood agreed quietly even as Posner’s voice trailed off.
Posner bobbed his head and stared at the table. His shoulders seemed small beneath the smooth creases of his pale blue button-down. Cutler’s pressed against him like a heavy blanket, and he shut his eyes, willing the sensation to pass quickly. Then, something warm and dry fell on his hand and he opened his eyes.
Lockwood’s hand had slipped into the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Posner froze. He watched dumbly, his jaw set at an odd angle and his brow furrowed, as Lockwood’s thumb traced small circles around each of his knuckles in turn.
Lockwood didn’t say anything. The very air around them felt fragile; Posner was afraid to speak. His spine curved gently back against the chair, and then, tentatively, he slid sideways and fell lightly against Lockwood’s shoulder. Lockwood’s thumb kept up its steady massaging circles, moving up and down Posner’s fingers and palm. Lockwood turned his head and rested against the crown of Posner’s head, his lips and nose buried in Posner’s fine blond hair. Posner smelled clean and sweet.
Their breathing fell into the same slow tempo. The only movement in the room was in Lockwood’s fingers.
part six...
Links to the pieces:
Part One: A Moment of Audacity
Part Two: More Questions Than Answers
Part Three: Two Flats
Part Four: Match of Wits
Title: Hands
Author:
bellesreves
Characters: Posner, Lockwood, Dakin, Irwin
Rating: PG-13, I suppose. Dakin's calmed down enough not be dropping swear words every three seconds.
Summary: Dakin admits defeat. Sort of. And Lockwood explains himself. Sort of.
Words: ~1300
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and am not making money by writing about them.
Irwin stared expectantly down into Dakin’s flushed face. Witticism failed the man on bottom as Irwin shifted his thin hips to take the pressure off of his bad knee. Dakin’s mind refused to settle down. Instead, it flowed into the muscles of his stomach, which were pulled taut between the points of Irwin’s weight. He felt the carpet fibers imprinting themselves on the backs of his hands, Irwin’s dry cool fingers clasping his wrists, his clothing encasing him, growing uncomfortably warm. His voice came unhooked from his lips as he took in the delicate roundness of Irwin’s eyes, the thin line of his jaw, the sliver of skin visible where the top button of his shirt had come undone in the scuffle.
Dakin was certain a day and a half had passed since Irwin had spoken, and the playful challenge still hung in the air. Irwin’s free hand was on the carpet. Dakin’s skin ached; he wanted the hand clutching at him again, wanted it to pull at his jeans, to press into his chest.
His body was begging him, pleading for his ego to duck down and let the glorious physical sensations overwhelm him, but Dakin resisted. He wasn’t going to let it be that easy, not yet. He might as well accept his defeat without sacrificing his signature cockiness. Dakin collected himself for final shot at shocking Irwin into making that pale-faced, wide-eyed stare.
“I could suck you off,” he said at last, his voice soft.
Irwin released Dakin’s hands as though they had seared his skin. Dakin looked pleased, careful not to let his face betray the spurt of eager warmth rocketing up from his toes to his cheeks.
“An admission of defeat would suffice,” said Irwin without losing the conqueror’s grin, though his voice seemed a little closed off.
He’d missed the point. “That is my admission of defeat,” Dakin declared with a half-smile. His arms stayed stretched above his head as though he forgot he could use them again.
“I know it is,” said Irwin. He sighed, which was not the response Dakin had been seeking. His stomach deflated against Dakin’s, and even that increased contact made Dakin’s brain unfocus.
Reining himself back in, Dakin let bemusement chip away at his expression. “What do you want, then? Why’ve you got me pinned like this if that’s not what you wanted?”
Irwin shook his head. “Recall that you were the initiator of the first attack and that it was ungentlemanly, as it came from behind.”
Dakin scoffed. “You didn’t do all that for a lesson in manners.”
Irwin nodded stubbornly.
Dakin’s jaw fell open indignantly. “You kissed me!” he exclaimed.
“If you remember, you also did that before I did,” Irwin answered, one eyebrow raised in a fairly good imitation of Dakin’s usual expression.
“But-”
“I was playing the game, Stuart,” Irwin insisted. “Which you started.”
“And you won,” Dakin said. “So let me-”
“No!” Irwin winced and looked away. “I don’t want you to do… that… just because you lost the wrestling match. It isn’t…” he groped for words, “…what I want,” he finished lamely.
“Foreskins of Christ and monks wiping up with scraps of fabric, but you can’t say the words ‘suck me off’?” Dakin inquired incredulously. “Wouldn’t’ve expected prudishness of Tom Irwin.” He gave Irwin a moment to speak, but as Irwin seemed to be studying the carpet beneath his fingers, Dakin went on. “Let me suck you off.” He swiveled his head, forced himself into Irwin’s direct line of sight. He put his hands at Irwin’s lower back and started to tug his shirt untucked.
Irwin pushed one of Dakin’s hands away. “I’m not interested,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” Dakin laughed. He locked his ankles behind Irwin’s body. “I felt that. Ran your hands all up and down me, didn’t you?”
Irwin was looking to either side as though frightened of what was happening around his waist.
There didn’t seem to be any hope of deterring Dakin from either sex or a flat-out rejection. Irwin pursed his lips, containing the words until he could organize them. His mouth set into a perfectly straight line.
Dakin reminded himself to listen, having to shake himself out of following every smooth twist of those lips so thin they seemed impossibly fragile.
Irwin opened his mouth, but only half a syllable got out before he closed it again.
“Have you suddenly remembered you’re married?” prodded Dakin. “Missing an important appointment? Overdue on a library book?”
Irwin hesitated. He raised one shoulder up to his earlobe. “It was just a game,” he said throatily.
Dakin raised an eyebrow as if to say, And?
Two fingers drummed on the carpet next to Dakin’s ear. “If we were to…” The corner of Dakin’s mouth twitched. Irwin continued. “Anyway, you’d leave after, and I-I’d probably want you to stay.” Irwin gave another of those self-deprecating snorts. “I’d want to make you a nice breakfast in the morning or something like that.” He wrinkled his nose as if to show Dakin how stupid he knew it sounded.
Dakin forgot to be self-satisfied. His hands flew to the nape of Irwin’s neck before he could draw a new breath. He pulled Irwin to his mouth and covered each of Irwin’s fragile lips with soft strokes of his own.
Posner only stared at the hand on his shoulder bemusedly. Eventually, Lockwood calmed down and stood up straight again. He squeezed Posner’s shoulder and Posner frowned.
“You always laugh at me,” he commented seriously.
Lockwood nodded. “Well, because you’re an idiot, Pos,” he said, matching his friend’s tone. He steered his skinny companion out the bedroom door and into a chair at the dining table. Taking a seat next to Posner, he leaned in confidentially. “I left the chocolate,” he intoned.
Posner pursed his pink lips. “Why?”
Lockwood chuckled. “After I talked to Dakin downstairs, I knew you’d be up here crying over it, and-” He stopped as Posner’s eyes narrowed.
“All right, not crying, then,” Lockwood amended. “But torturing yourself anyway. I thought the chocolate might distract you from it for a few minutes.”
Slowly, Posner accepted this. He put both elbows on the table and crossed his ankles beneath his chair. “That,” he said uncertainly, “was really nice, Jimmy.”
Grinning, Lockwood looked into his lap. “Thought it might make you laugh.”
“Sheer, calculated silliness,” said Posner, his voice distant.
Lockwood looked up. “What?”
“Something I heard Hector say once,” Posner explained, blinking rapidly. “The endings, Gracie Fields, your little tissue bow. To keep us from getting…”
“Yeah,” Lockwood agreed quietly even as Posner’s voice trailed off.
Posner bobbed his head and stared at the table. His shoulders seemed small beneath the smooth creases of his pale blue button-down. Cutler’s pressed against him like a heavy blanket, and he shut his eyes, willing the sensation to pass quickly. Then, something warm and dry fell on his hand and he opened his eyes.
Lockwood’s hand had slipped into the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Posner froze. He watched dumbly, his jaw set at an odd angle and his brow furrowed, as Lockwood’s thumb traced small circles around each of his knuckles in turn.
Lockwood didn’t say anything. The very air around them felt fragile; Posner was afraid to speak. His spine curved gently back against the chair, and then, tentatively, he slid sideways and fell lightly against Lockwood’s shoulder. Lockwood’s thumb kept up its steady massaging circles, moving up and down Posner’s fingers and palm. Lockwood turned his head and rested against the crown of Posner’s head, his lips and nose buried in Posner’s fine blond hair. Posner smelled clean and sweet.
Their breathing fell into the same slow tempo. The only movement in the room was in Lockwood’s fingers.
part six...