Efficiency - Heroes - The Haitian/Bennet
Title: Efficiency
Pairing: The Haitian/Bennet
Word Count: 238
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for a_to_z_prompts.
Summary: As a partner, The Haitian is a distraction worse than Claude ever was.
The Haitian's head is smooth to the touch and slightly cold. There is no stubble there to prick a travelling hand. Bennet's palm returns again and again, threading through non-existent hair as the Haitian keeps him effortlessly - and willingly - pinned against the door of his office.
They don't kiss: instead the Haitian places a hand on the side of Bennet's face and stares into his eyes, dark and warm. They are so close that they share air. The Haitian's breathing is not nearly as scattered as Bennet's. Self-control. Bennet can feel the spine-tingling stirrings of fear, terrifying and erotic: he knows that with one thought the Haitian could erase everything that he is. Every memory. Every touch from another person's hands.
At times like this, he sometimes thinks he wouldn't mind.
Not a single item of clothing has been shed and the most obscene place that his hand has roamed to was the top of the Haitian's head. There are other things he should be thinking of right now instead of the so-close tease of the Haitian's lips. There is work waiting to be completed. This is a time-wasting distraction, ruining their efficiency rates.
The Haitian rests a hand on Bennet's upper arm through his work shirt and Bennet's eyes shiver closed behind his glasses. He decides he can't make himself care: Thompson wouldn't have given him such a sensual partner if he hadn't anticipated a few hours being lost along the way.
Pairing: The Haitian/Bennet
Word Count: 238
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for a_to_z_prompts.
Summary: As a partner, The Haitian is a distraction worse than Claude ever was.
The Haitian's head is smooth to the touch and slightly cold. There is no stubble there to prick a travelling hand. Bennet's palm returns again and again, threading through non-existent hair as the Haitian keeps him effortlessly - and willingly - pinned against the door of his office.
They don't kiss: instead the Haitian places a hand on the side of Bennet's face and stares into his eyes, dark and warm. They are so close that they share air. The Haitian's breathing is not nearly as scattered as Bennet's. Self-control. Bennet can feel the spine-tingling stirrings of fear, terrifying and erotic: he knows that with one thought the Haitian could erase everything that he is. Every memory. Every touch from another person's hands.
At times like this, he sometimes thinks he wouldn't mind.
Not a single item of clothing has been shed and the most obscene place that his hand has roamed to was the top of the Haitian's head. There are other things he should be thinking of right now instead of the so-close tease of the Haitian's lips. There is work waiting to be completed. This is a time-wasting distraction, ruining their efficiency rates.
The Haitian rests a hand on Bennet's upper arm through his work shirt and Bennet's eyes shiver closed behind his glasses. He decides he can't make himself care: Thompson wouldn't have given him such a sensual partner if he hadn't anticipated a few hours being lost along the way.