badcompany_muse | [031] Silence
[031] Silence
Co-written with dontdotricks
Flynn leaned over and gave Remy a small poke in the arm with the little umbrella from his cocktail. “Come on, sweet cheeks. You can’t sulk for the whole holiday.” Remy continued to sit there on the sunlounge with his arms crossed staring at the swimming pool, fully clothed in jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. The silent treatment continued. “You’re the only one here not in swimmers. You could use some sun, gorgeous. You’re looking a little on the pasty side. I think Speedos would suit you,” he added deviously, holding up said swimwear item in bright red and letting them dangle off his fingers just a few inches from Remy’s face.
For the last day and a half into their Hawaiian holiday, Flynn had being doing his damnest to get Remy into Speedos. Remy had staged a full on coup in response by refusing to wear anything but jeans, shirt and the leather jacket, despite the raging heat. Maddy refused to take sides, though it was evident she would’ve been pleased if Flynn won this battle. Remy definitely had the arse and package to pull of Speedos, but he wasn’t having a bar of it. In fact, he was having nothing to do with the water - pool or beach - full stop, even though Hawaii had been a mutual choice for their holiday. He’d gone from slightly broody, to slightly snappy, to a lot broody, then a lot snappy, and now moved on to the silent treatment.
The swimwear, however, was nothing but a guise. Truth was, he was feeling strange being out of his comfort zone. He was well-travelled but this was his first tropical holiday. It was also his first tropical holiday with a romantic interest, let alone two of them. It all felt very cosy and domestic, something he was trying to get used to under the veil of being a sulky shit over the Speedos. The holiday had been his idea and he’d gone along wholeheartedly with the Hawaii idea, even if he insisted they fly there Business Class. The question was, was he just scared to enjoy himself? Was he worried it would feel too right?
Remy finally took his eyes off Maddy, who was swimming in the pool and chatting to one of the kids sitting on the edge. She seemed to have a better knack with children than Remy did, even if he had a rugrat shadow back at Xavier’s. Remy had given the boy an old set of leather riding gloves when he left and the boy had been refusing to take them off since. “There is more modesty in a glow in the dark condom, mon ami,” he finally said. “I do not wish to be made sterile by a ridiculous clothing item called ‘Speedos’. There is no way a man could speed anywhere in them without severing his testicles from his body.” He batted them away with another glare at Flynn. “I like my testicles.”
Flynn smirked. “Oh, I like them too, precious,” he agreed. “Are you telling me you’d be more inclined to go naked?”
Remy sniffed and folded his arms but made no offer of a rejection of the notion. “And I don’t wear red,” he added.
“You’re fucking hot when you’re pouting, honey bunch,” Flynn told him, eyes focused on Remy’s lips. He picked up his cocktail glass and took a sip of his Screaming Orgasm. “At least take your shirt off. People are going to start thinking you’re part of the Mafia or some shit. I don’t want our holiday disrupted by our bungalow getting raided for bodies or horses heads.”
Remy frowned. “There are no horses on the resort, chere. That’s just silly.”
Flynn’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen The Godfather,” he said, dumbfounded.
“Isn’t it too soon to meet the family?!” Remy asked, a panic edging his tone.
“Not my Godfather, babycakes. The Godfather.” Flynn shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be so worldly and not even know about The Godfather?”
Remy tilted his head and contemplated Flynn for a moment. “Is that the same as The Knobfather?” he asked.
“The what?!” Flynn cried and then burst out laughing. “Are you talking about a porno, my love? You know the porno better than the original? Oh, I love you. I really do,” he sniggered, shaking his head again as he took another sip. No answer came, though. In fact, he was met with nothing but silence that caused him to look to Remy questioningly. He found the Cajun staring at him, his red eyes wide and his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or worse. “What?” Flynn asked, self-consciously.
Remy blinked and then started to make an awkward scramble from the sunlounge. It all came off looking very inelegant, but he soon managed to get up. He waved his hand distractedly in the direction of the beach. “I have to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He was walking as quickly and purposefully away from Flynn as he could manage without even a glance in Maddy’s direction.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] referenced with permission
Word Count | 855
Co-written with dontdotricks
Flynn leaned over and gave Remy a small poke in the arm with the little umbrella from his cocktail. “Come on, sweet cheeks. You can’t sulk for the whole holiday.” Remy continued to sit there on the sunlounge with his arms crossed staring at the swimming pool, fully clothed in jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. The silent treatment continued. “You’re the only one here not in swimmers. You could use some sun, gorgeous. You’re looking a little on the pasty side. I think Speedos would suit you,” he added deviously, holding up said swimwear item in bright red and letting them dangle off his fingers just a few inches from Remy’s face.
For the last day and a half into their Hawaiian holiday, Flynn had being doing his damnest to get Remy into Speedos. Remy had staged a full on coup in response by refusing to wear anything but jeans, shirt and the leather jacket, despite the raging heat. Maddy refused to take sides, though it was evident she would’ve been pleased if Flynn won this battle. Remy definitely had the arse and package to pull of Speedos, but he wasn’t having a bar of it. In fact, he was having nothing to do with the water - pool or beach - full stop, even though Hawaii had been a mutual choice for their holiday. He’d gone from slightly broody, to slightly snappy, to a lot broody, then a lot snappy, and now moved on to the silent treatment.
The swimwear, however, was nothing but a guise. Truth was, he was feeling strange being out of his comfort zone. He was well-travelled but this was his first tropical holiday. It was also his first tropical holiday with a romantic interest, let alone two of them. It all felt very cosy and domestic, something he was trying to get used to under the veil of being a sulky shit over the Speedos. The holiday had been his idea and he’d gone along wholeheartedly with the Hawaii idea, even if he insisted they fly there Business Class. The question was, was he just scared to enjoy himself? Was he worried it would feel too right?
Remy finally took his eyes off Maddy, who was swimming in the pool and chatting to one of the kids sitting on the edge. She seemed to have a better knack with children than Remy did, even if he had a rugrat shadow back at Xavier’s. Remy had given the boy an old set of leather riding gloves when he left and the boy had been refusing to take them off since. “There is more modesty in a glow in the dark condom, mon ami,” he finally said. “I do not wish to be made sterile by a ridiculous clothing item called ‘Speedos’. There is no way a man could speed anywhere in them without severing his testicles from his body.” He batted them away with another glare at Flynn. “I like my testicles.”
Flynn smirked. “Oh, I like them too, precious,” he agreed. “Are you telling me you’d be more inclined to go naked?”
Remy sniffed and folded his arms but made no offer of a rejection of the notion. “And I don’t wear red,” he added.
“You’re fucking hot when you’re pouting, honey bunch,” Flynn told him, eyes focused on Remy’s lips. He picked up his cocktail glass and took a sip of his Screaming Orgasm. “At least take your shirt off. People are going to start thinking you’re part of the Mafia or some shit. I don’t want our holiday disrupted by our bungalow getting raided for bodies or horses heads.”
Remy frowned. “There are no horses on the resort, chere. That’s just silly.”
Flynn’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen The Godfather,” he said, dumbfounded.
“Isn’t it too soon to meet the family?!” Remy asked, a panic edging his tone.
“Not my Godfather, babycakes. The Godfather.” Flynn shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be so worldly and not even know about The Godfather?”
Remy tilted his head and contemplated Flynn for a moment. “Is that the same as The Knobfather?” he asked.
“The what?!” Flynn cried and then burst out laughing. “Are you talking about a porno, my love? You know the porno better than the original? Oh, I love you. I really do,” he sniggered, shaking his head again as he took another sip. No answer came, though. In fact, he was met with nothing but silence that caused him to look to Remy questioningly. He found the Cajun staring at him, his red eyes wide and his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or worse. “What?” Flynn asked, self-consciously.
Remy blinked and then started to make an awkward scramble from the sunlounge. It all came off looking very inelegant, but he soon managed to get up. He waved his hand distractedly in the direction of the beach. “I have to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He was walking as quickly and purposefully away from Flynn as he could manage without even a glance in Maddy’s direction.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] referenced with permission
Word Count | 855