[FIC] RPF: biting my tongue
... I wrote this a week ago and completely forgot to post.
Also, looking at my journal- wow, have I been inspired lately. I blame school. I blame everything on school.
biting my tongue
Characters/Pairing: Kit Harrington/Emilia Clarke/Richard Madden, Sean Bean, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau
Rating: PG-13
Words: 748
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: Richard’s hands on his hips and Emilia’s tongue in his mouth. Kit doesn’t know whether to blame Sean or to thank him. Written for this prompt on the RPF comment ficathon.
Kit blamed Sean. Everything that happens on the set and off of it was Sean's fault, one way or another - it was the hazard of playing the main character, because everything eventually led back to him. Like now. It was Sean who first said a teasing word to Lena, and there she was now, grabbing Emilia in the middle of the bar and kissing her hard in the midst of hoots of cheers.
Richard was hiding his face behind a glass of dark beer while Kit was trying very hard not to stare at how beautiful Emilia's lips look when they are wet and red and swollen from kissing. He's gotten over his adolescent boners, he told himself, but when Sean’s hands came down on his and Richard’s shoulders, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"G'on then, lads," Sean murmured, his Northern brogue so strong that Kit could barely understand him. "Go take what ya want so badly. Only time ya can blame it on drink, aye? I can almost see ya salivatin' from over there."
Richard looked at him. Kit's tongue darted out of his mouth, licking against the bottom one, and he knew that Richard's eyes were fixated upon his mouth. He could hear Sean's dark, amused chuckle right against his ear. That was the only warning before Richard and he were stumbling forward together, tripping over the table and nearly dropping their glasses. Kit took a long, long draught of beer, and wiped at his mouth.
There must be a part of him that was still coordinated, because somehow he found Emilia's hand. He kissed the back of it, tasting salt and sweetness. Slowly, he lowered the hand and lifted his eyes, finding Emilia's- and he was taking a step forward. He was no Jon Snow, no eighteen-year-old virgin. Kit reminded himself of that as he steadied his hands on Emilia's jaw before he kissed her softly. Just the press of their lips together, chaste- but Emilia only laughed against his mouth before she dug her fingers into his curls and crashed their mouths together, her tongue darting into his mouth. Kit only gasped, nearly flailing backwards, but Emilia was steady on her feet, holding onto him, and Kit could swear that she was trying to devour him through his mouth alone.
His back hit something; a solid, warm body right against his shoulderblades. There was a pair of hands on his hips, hands that he knew, though they were usually slapping his back rather than holding him like this. Kit's head spun, just a little bit. It might be the lack of air.
Then Emilia was pulling away suddenly, leaving Kit bereft and leaning forward- but not for long, because one of the hands on his hips had migrated to his jaw, turning his head, and Richard was kissing him. Richard. Robb Stark, his best mate on the set, his onscreen brother and fuck, if Emilia was a fire swallowing him up, then Richard was an explorer, his tongue swiping against Kit's lips, teeth and palate, over and over, as if he was going to draw a fully detailed map of Kit's mouth later.
Kit could barely breathe when he finally pulled back, trying to stumble forward, but Emilia was in front of him, her soft breasts against his chest and god, Kit might not be a teenager, but he might as well hand in his adulthood membership card at the rate of what the two of them were doing to him.
"Told ya," he heard Sean's voice, as if from afar. "Now pay oop, ya wankers."
"The honouable Ned Stark cheating. What has the world come to?" Nikolaj's voice.
"I ain't Ned, sisterfucker," Sean insulted amiably right back, but that was the last Kit caught of the conversation, because Emilia's hair was tickling against his neck, and her breath was warm on his ear. Richard's small smile was almost blinding, and Kit had the distinct idea that everyone in the bar knew what was going on except for him.
"So," Emilia said, her tone almost conversatonal. "Is Richard a better kisser than I am, Kit?"
Kit couldn't breathe. Much less answer questions.
"I think ye 'ave to find out yeself, lass," Richard said, his voice laden heavily with his Scottish accent. Then he was leaning forward, his chest pressed fully against Kit's back as he leaned in to kiss Emilia.
Kit fervently hoped that this wasn't caused by too much alcohol.
End
Also, looking at my journal- wow, have I been inspired lately. I blame school. I blame everything on school.
biting my tongue
Characters/Pairing: Kit Harrington/Emilia Clarke/Richard Madden, Sean Bean, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau
Rating: PG-13
Words: 748
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: Richard’s hands on his hips and Emilia’s tongue in his mouth. Kit doesn’t know whether to blame Sean or to thank him. Written for this prompt on the RPF comment ficathon.
Kit blamed Sean. Everything that happens on the set and off of it was Sean's fault, one way or another - it was the hazard of playing the main character, because everything eventually led back to him. Like now. It was Sean who first said a teasing word to Lena, and there she was now, grabbing Emilia in the middle of the bar and kissing her hard in the midst of hoots of cheers.
Richard was hiding his face behind a glass of dark beer while Kit was trying very hard not to stare at how beautiful Emilia's lips look when they are wet and red and swollen from kissing. He's gotten over his adolescent boners, he told himself, but when Sean’s hands came down on his and Richard’s shoulders, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"G'on then, lads," Sean murmured, his Northern brogue so strong that Kit could barely understand him. "Go take what ya want so badly. Only time ya can blame it on drink, aye? I can almost see ya salivatin' from over there."
Richard looked at him. Kit's tongue darted out of his mouth, licking against the bottom one, and he knew that Richard's eyes were fixated upon his mouth. He could hear Sean's dark, amused chuckle right against his ear. That was the only warning before Richard and he were stumbling forward together, tripping over the table and nearly dropping their glasses. Kit took a long, long draught of beer, and wiped at his mouth.
There must be a part of him that was still coordinated, because somehow he found Emilia's hand. He kissed the back of it, tasting salt and sweetness. Slowly, he lowered the hand and lifted his eyes, finding Emilia's- and he was taking a step forward. He was no Jon Snow, no eighteen-year-old virgin. Kit reminded himself of that as he steadied his hands on Emilia's jaw before he kissed her softly. Just the press of their lips together, chaste- but Emilia only laughed against his mouth before she dug her fingers into his curls and crashed their mouths together, her tongue darting into his mouth. Kit only gasped, nearly flailing backwards, but Emilia was steady on her feet, holding onto him, and Kit could swear that she was trying to devour him through his mouth alone.
His back hit something; a solid, warm body right against his shoulderblades. There was a pair of hands on his hips, hands that he knew, though they were usually slapping his back rather than holding him like this. Kit's head spun, just a little bit. It might be the lack of air.
Then Emilia was pulling away suddenly, leaving Kit bereft and leaning forward- but not for long, because one of the hands on his hips had migrated to his jaw, turning his head, and Richard was kissing him. Richard. Robb Stark, his best mate on the set, his onscreen brother and fuck, if Emilia was a fire swallowing him up, then Richard was an explorer, his tongue swiping against Kit's lips, teeth and palate, over and over, as if he was going to draw a fully detailed map of Kit's mouth later.
Kit could barely breathe when he finally pulled back, trying to stumble forward, but Emilia was in front of him, her soft breasts against his chest and god, Kit might not be a teenager, but he might as well hand in his adulthood membership card at the rate of what the two of them were doing to him.
"Told ya," he heard Sean's voice, as if from afar. "Now pay oop, ya wankers."
"The honouable Ned Stark cheating. What has the world come to?" Nikolaj's voice.
"I ain't Ned, sisterfucker," Sean insulted amiably right back, but that was the last Kit caught of the conversation, because Emilia's hair was tickling against his neck, and her breath was warm on his ear. Richard's small smile was almost blinding, and Kit had the distinct idea that everyone in the bar knew what was going on except for him.
"So," Emilia said, her tone almost conversatonal. "Is Richard a better kisser than I am, Kit?"
Kit couldn't breathe. Much less answer questions.
"I think ye 'ave to find out yeself, lass," Richard said, his voice laden heavily with his Scottish accent. Then he was leaning forward, his chest pressed fully against Kit's back as he leaned in to kiss Emilia.
Kit fervently hoped that this wasn't caused by too much alcohol.
End