Fudge Ripple #14; Marmalade #5
Author: Regret
Rating: 18
Story: Radial: Unravel
Challenge: Fudge Ripple #14 - Urgency; Marmalade #5 - Sneakers
Word Count: 200
Summary: Alex gets his way after all - but not as quickly as Milos would like.
Notes: Follows directly after Zipper / A Helping Hand. Supposed to be a Pocky, but I couldn't make it fit *cough* so I challenged myself to try to fit it into 200 words instead (breadstick? sounds inappropriate...). And I wouldn't have written it at all until 1306 commented and this suddenly lodged in my head. [I can't absolve myself of responsibility, can I? *grins*]
Milos, propping his forehead against his forearm, leaning against the wall-which offered precious little protection from the plaster-turned only long enough to mutter, “hurry up...”
“Not rushing.” Alex shifted, leaned forward, used the hand Milos pressed to the wall as a support and dug his fingers between the alfa’s.
“Hurry up...” he reiterated in an unsteady voice, spine concave, hips pushed back to meet the short, rough thrusts that threatened to throw off his tenuous balance. He didn't know what felt odder: Alex’s hand clasped over his, or that his other was erratically jerking him off. “We’re... gonna be late...”
“I know.”
“I hate you...”
“I know.” He could hear the smirk.
***
“Sorry we’re late...” His cheeks burned under their boss’s disapproving stare. Behind him he knew Alex was grinning; it didn’t help.
“I’m glad you could finally join us,” he folded his arms, fixing the alfa with a glare that only intensified his embarrassment, “but next time, please make an effort.”
Milos stared at the floor, a view which also encompassed a shirt borrowed from Alex, bike leathers and tattered sneakers. “Sorry, I had to hurry. Won’t happen again...”
Alex’s snort said more than words ever could.
Rating: 18
Story: Radial: Unravel
Challenge: Fudge Ripple #14 - Urgency; Marmalade #5 - Sneakers
Word Count: 200
Summary: Alex gets his way after all - but not as quickly as Milos would like.
Notes: Follows directly after Zipper / A Helping Hand. Supposed to be a Pocky, but I couldn't make it fit *cough* so I challenged myself to try to fit it into 200 words instead (breadstick? sounds inappropriate...). And I wouldn't have written it at all until 1306 commented and this suddenly lodged in my head. [I can't absolve myself of responsibility, can I? *grins*]
Milos, propping his forehead against his forearm, leaning against the wall-which offered precious little protection from the plaster-turned only long enough to mutter, “hurry up...”
“Not rushing.” Alex shifted, leaned forward, used the hand Milos pressed to the wall as a support and dug his fingers between the alfa’s.
“Hurry up...” he reiterated in an unsteady voice, spine concave, hips pushed back to meet the short, rough thrusts that threatened to throw off his tenuous balance. He didn't know what felt odder: Alex’s hand clasped over his, or that his other was erratically jerking him off. “We’re... gonna be late...”
“I know.”
“I hate you...”
“I know.” He could hear the smirk.
***
“Sorry we’re late...” His cheeks burned under their boss’s disapproving stare. Behind him he knew Alex was grinning; it didn’t help.
“I’m glad you could finally join us,” he folded his arms, fixing the alfa with a glare that only intensified his embarrassment, “but next time, please make an effort.”
Milos stared at the floor, a view which also encompassed a shirt borrowed from Alex, bike leathers and tattered sneakers. “Sorry, I had to hurry. Won’t happen again...”
Alex’s snort said more than words ever could.