Beetroot Fics

Archive of The Bloody Beetroots fic written by fic anon. Feel free to post prompts, requests, or anything really. Obligatory disclaimer: I, the author of the fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

[beetsfic]

First time (part two)

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Requested: Tommy and Bob’s first time trying to have some steamy sex

“I don’t think either of us should drive right now,” Tommy stated, staring at the car with keys held loosely in his hand and Bob agreed. “So what should we do?” Tommy thought for a minute then brightened up. “There’s a motel within walking distance, we can drive home in the morning,” and they set off down the street. They found the motel with little difficulty and opened the doors. The lady at the counter looked up with a bored expression, then back down at her crossword, saying “One night’s €50 for a single, €75 for a double.” They began rummaging in their pockets searching for money, and eventually they spread out their finds on the counter. Two euro then four then six; a creased and folded scrap of blue that turned out to be a twenty euro note, three torn but still useable five euro notes and a slightly wrinkled and odd smelling ten euro note. Tommy wrinkled his nose as he handed it over, and the lady behind the counter mirrored his expression. “Your change and your room key,” she slid them across towards Tommy, “Checkout’s at 11. Enjoy your stay.”

Up a rickety staircase and along a well worn threadbare carpet and they arrived at a plain wooden door with a number plate screwed in. “This is it, I guess,” Bob inserted the key and opened the door. “This is cosy,” he commented, turning on the light and looking at the single bed, chair and table that adorned the room. Tommy sat down on the bed, springs creaking under his weight and he kicked his shoes off. “My bed,” he announced and lay down with a thump, wrapping the thin blanket around him. Bob sat down near the curve of Tommy’s hip, huffed and pushed against the small of Tommy’s back. “So where am I going to sleep?” Tommy feigned a loud snore and proceeded to wrap himself further in the blanket. “Move,” a steely note crept into Bob’s voice, “or I’ll make you move.”

After some time during which Bob poked Tommy in the ribs, Tommy retaliating by licking Bob’s cheek and the two of them falling off the bed with a thump that shook the chair where it stood, they both ended up back on the bed slightly out of breath. Tommy, after some pushing, was flat on his side up against the wall. Bob, after pushing most of Tommy out of the way had gotten the better end of the deal, mostly lying flat although still dangerously close to falling off the bed. The triumphant look on Bob’s flushed face made something in Tommy warm and twist uncomfortably and as he watched the tip of a pink tongue poke out and moisten his lips, the feeling intensified. Tommy grimaced, chalking it up to age and alcohol wreaking havoc on his stomach, and he reached up to turn off the light. A quiet click, and then darkness, the sound of breathing abnormally loud in the small room.

Bob pressed an arm over his eyes and he tried to get to sleep. It wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bed with anyone before, but then again, none of those people had had messy curls that spilled all over the pillow, getting into his nose and threatening to make him sneeze. Nor did they have that scent, pleasantly spicy cologne layered with sweat and musk layered with the bitter, sour smell of alcohol long past drunk, that kept reminding Bob of exactly who he was sharing a bed with. A stray curl managed to worm its way across Bob’s cheek, tickling slightly, and as his eyes closed, wrapped in the scent of Tommy, the last thought that crossed his mind was that as far as smells went, Tommy’s was one of the better ones.

Unbeknownst to Bob, Tommy was having the exact same sleeping problems, but for completely different reasons. Pressed against the wall, his shirt had ridden up to expose his back and the wallpaper near the bed had peeled; so that whenever he moved, even slightly, the rasp of paper on skin would jerk Tommy awake. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he was yet again startled into wakefulness by that damned sensation. He eyed Bob’s side of the bed, gloriously wallpaper free, just a few centimetres away, taunting him, and he made his decision. Keeping his eyes to Bob‘s face for any change in expression Tommy slowly rolled away from the wall, a small sigh escaping his lips as his back and the wallpaper parted. He kept rolling, until he was putting the slightest bit of weight onto Bob’s side. Was that an eyelid flicker? Tommy stilled, holding his breath, then let it out in a puff as Bob merely yawned a bit, then settled deeper into his slumber. A bit more weight onto Bob, shifting beneath the blanket trying to find a comfortable position, and Tommy ended up half on Bob, an arm on Bob’s chest, his leg hooked around Bob’s leg. He let his head fall onto his arm and he yawned. Usually he was the one being held instead of the one holding, but this, this was nice. Tommy buried his head further into the pillow and sighed contentedly. He’d deal with this whole scenario tomorrow, right now he was just happy to be away from the wallpaper and he fell asleep quickly, lips curved up into a tiny smile.

[beetsfic]

Where is the second part of 'Firs Time'???? Man, a really wanna read it!

I'm so sorry, but I haven't the time to update as of yet. It's on it's way to being done though, please continue to be patient!

[beetsfic]

Notes/ Breakfast/ Disney

Three ficlets.

Prompt: Note

Rating: G

Warnings: slice-of-life, bromance

The notes started off as a kind of joke. Tommy had been walking past Bob’s house in the morning, feeling particularly mischievous and he decided to write Bob a quick letter. Needless to say Bob wasn’t impressed with ‘CAZZO -T’ scrawled on the back of a receipt and he decided to pay Tommy back in full, making the trip over to his house and putting a pineapple in his letterbox. Tommy had laughed when he read the note attached with a rubber band, ‘Go stick this somewhere –B’ and later that night he shared the pineapple with Phra. Soon Bob and Tommy were checking their letterboxes with some trepidation trying to anticipate what the other would be placing in them, Tommy pulling out women’s lingerie still in its packaging and Bob finding instant coffee sachets that were immediately sent back to Tommy. It quickly became a game between them, alternating between freaking out the other person and actually providing them with something useful. On Tommy’s birthday he had found a book that he’d been coveting for a while with a note reading ‘The detective is the murderer –B’ sticky-taped to the cover. The note had been viciously ripped up and sent back to Bob along with a carton of long-life milk. The game carried over onto tour with them where they began to team up and leave notes for people to find; Phra finding one tucked securely in his beard which read ‘Santa –TBB’ and Steve finding twenty notes in his right shoe with ‘Nice socks – TBB’.

The tour season finished and soon they were both flying back to Italy. It didn’t stop on the flight home, Bob sliding an air sickness bag across the two fold-out tables with a pen attached instead of turning his head to talk. It also kept them entertained for the majority of the flight playing Hangman and noughts and crosses until the entire bag was completely covered in scribbles. Once home, the weather prevented any personal note deliveries, instead them both having to relying on the district postman. The days flew by and before either of them knew it, Christmas was only a few sleeps away. The exchange of notes had all but dried up with each of them being busy with preparations, yet each one received was thoroughly read and a carefully thought out reply written out. Eventually Christmas Eve rolled around and the streets were covered in a thin layer of frost that cracked underfoot. Tommy had finally finished his decorating and was relaxing in front of the heater with the book that Bob had given him. The clock’s steady ticking and the low hum of the heater began lulling Tommy to sleep and his eyelids began to slowly shut, so he jerked awake when there was a sudden knock at the door. He got to his feet slightly unsteady and opened the door, half expecting some complete stranger at the door, and was greeted with the sight of a snow covered Bob holding a placard. Tommy leaned against the doorframe grinning, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. Bob flipped over the placard and Tommy had to laugh at Bob’s messy scrawl across it. “Merry Christmas,” he mouthed as he read, then looked back up at Bob still standing patiently, cheeks pink with the cold. Tommy smiled, then spread his arms wide “Idiot, come in before you freeze.” Bob grinned and ripped up the placard, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Prompt: Breakfast

Rating: PG

Warning: slice-of-life, slight swearing

Breakfast has always been something of an informal occasion for the both of them. Being on tour constantly means that there’s sometimes precious little time to eat in the morning and sometimes they even eat in the cars on the way to the shows, unwrapped snacks balanced across knees, holding flimsy Styrofoam cups with some sort of hot liquid in it; and even off tour, Bob’s busy with his other projects and Tommy sleeps in until lunch time. So when Tommy suggests that they meet up for breakfast, Bob almost has a heart attack from the surprise but readily agrees, setting his alarm for 7 AM the next morning.

Even so, Bob arrives at Tommy’s house later than expected, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck providing some protection from the cold as well as some much desired anonymity, covering his unique tattoo. Rubbing his hands together to get some circulation back into his fingers, Bob breathes into his cupped hands before ringing the door bell. In response there’s a sound of something being dropped and Tommy’s ‘Fuck!’ is audible even through the door, then the door’s being opened and Tommy’s head pops out. “I’ll just be a minute…” he trails off and looks helplessly at Bob who shrugs and pushes the door open anyway. He stands in the entry hall and has to suppress a laugh; Tommy’s wearing a blue and white chequered apron covered in flour-y fingerprints and there’s a smudge of batter on his cheek, probably from where he’s absent-mindedly wiped his face in concentration. “I brought some coffee?” he says, and shakes the bulging pocket of his jacket for emphasis. “Sounds good, you know where the machine is,” Tommy goes back into the kitchen and there’s the sound of water on porcelain and scrubbing. Bob follows, carelessly draping his scarf over a chair and kicking off his shoes into a corner.

Tommy’s back is to Bob, but he can see the food spread out on the table. Pancakes, thick and fluffy, are stacked high on a plate and there’s a small bowl of fresh berries next to them. A tub of honey sits next to it with a small pat of butter on a plate by its side. A bottle of orange juice is in the middle of the table next to a bottle of milk that Bob eyes with disdain. He turns to face Tommy who’s drying his hands on a tea towel, Bob remembers getting him a pack for Christmas a few years back and he smiles seeing them being put to good use. Tommy sees his smile, and feels the corners of his lips twitch in response, “Let’s eat?”

They stuff themselves on the pancakes until Bob is sure he’ll have to loosen his belt then he remembers about the coffee still sitting in his jacket pocket. He looks at it longingly but can’t seem to find the energy to move, body not used to so much food in the morning. Tommy senses his plight and with a roll of his eyes, gets up to make coffee. The bitter smell of the coffee beans being brewed soon permeates the air and Bob inhales deeply, the smell invigorating him. A mug of deep, dark brew is placed in front of him and Bob wraps his hands around it, mouth already watering in anticipation. He hears the sound of the milk being poured and then the clink-clink of a spoon swirling around in the mug, spreading the creamy liquid throughout the coffee and he grimaces at the thought of putting milk in his own drink. “Salute, Bob.” Tommy’s raises his mug and Bob mirrors the motion, “Salute, Tommy”, and the mugs clink, a wordless promise of more breakfasts to come.

Prompt: Disney

Rating: PG

Warnings: Suggested relationship, slice-of-life, a kiss

They were babysitting one of Bob’s friend’s kids and she got overexcited, running around the house screaming and Tommy’s chasing only made it worse, adding high pitched giggles to the noise. Bob massaged his temples feeling the beginnings of a headache, the squeals and Tommy’s playful growling getting to him so when she ran past him again screaming about dinosaurs, he grabbed her around the middle and swung her onto the couch. Tommy soon joined him, panting slightly and grinned at Bob. “You’re such a party pooper,” he said, and swung himself over the back of the couch to land next to the kid with a thump. “A what now?” Bob looked puzzled and waited for an explanation. “It’s something I picked up in London,” Tommy replied with a smile and leaned down to look at the child, who was watching both of them with wide eyes. “I’m bored,” she announced and she squirmed towards the front of the couch as if to start running again. “No, no, no,” Bob ran around to the front of the couch and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down. “So what should we do?” Tommy asked her while she tugged his curls gently, watching them spring back into position.

“Want to watch a movie?” Bob suggested and she frowned in concentration then nodded enthusiastically. She rolled off the couch and ran to the cabinet, throwing it open and gathering all the DVDs before running back and throwing them all into Tommy’s lap. She clambered back onto the couch and started rummaging through them, before holding aloft ‘Beauty and the Beast’. “This one,” she said with conviction, and settled back into the couch, head resting against Tommy’s side. “Would you mind?” asked Tommy and proffered the DVD out to Bob who sighed, resigned to his role and accepted it, placing it in the DVD player.  

“Popcorn,” a small voice from next to Tommy piped up and Bob groaned inwardly, before getting up and going to the kitchen. He began rummaging in the cupboard looking for the popcorn, squeals of “Belle! Belle!” coming from the living room, providing a taste of Bob had to look forward for one and a half hours. Finding the popcorn, he shoved it in the microwave and set the timer, getting salt and butter ready. Bob cocked his head to one side, a slight smile on his face as he leant against the wall of the kitchen listening to Tommy and her sing ‘Gaston’ at the top of their lungs. He joined them around the scene where Belle refused to meet with the Beast and she immediately dived into the popcorn, coming up with two handfuls before dumping them unceremoniously in her pajama top spread out across her lap, a happy ‘thank you’ directed at no one in particular. Tommy turned to whisper a ‘thank you’ to him as well, pulling Bob down to sit next to him before reaching into the bowl and popping a few into his mouth.

She began to drift off as Belle descended the stairs in her ball gown, tugging at Tommy’s hem to make him lean over so he could hear her. “I’m going to be a princess someday,” she said sleepily, eyes already beginning to close, “And you can be a princess too. I’ll share my castle with you.” Tommy laughed softly and put his arm around her tiny shoulders, hugging her to his side, “Thank you piccola principessa.” With that, she was satisfied and soon gentle snoring was escaping her. Tommy nudged Bob in the side, apparently engrossed in the movie and jerked his head in her direction. “I’ll take her up to her room,” he whispered and picked her up in his arms, princess style before leaving. Bob paused the DVD and stretched, grateful for a slight break in the movie when Tommy came back down, arms now empty. “She’s asleep then?” he asked and Tommy nodded, sitting back down and throwing his arm on the back of the seat. Bob restarted the DVD and they both watched in silence until Bob’s friend returned, pressing into their hands some chocolate, waving away their protests that it was their pleasure to do baby-sit.

They arrived back at Bob’s apartment, both deciding to eat the chocolate on the couch before going to sleep. “So are you going to be my Prince Charming?” Tommy asked with a smile, flecks of chocolate around his lips and Bob laughed before replying, “I always am.” Tommy grinned, wrapping his arms around Bob’s shoulder and fluttering his eyelashes like a melodramatic damsel in distress, “So where’s my kiss?” He puckered his lips, awaiting the kiss, but Bob only rolled his eyes, pushing a piece of chocolate into Tommy’s mouth. “There, you lovesick fool.” Tommy laughed, holding Bob tighter. “That was nice, but it could be better,” and he demonstrated, sharing a chocolate flavoured kiss. Bob hesitated then licked his lips, “Yeah, these are better,” and they spent the remainder of the evening in a chocolate tinted haze. 

[beetsfic]

Couch

Rating: G

Warnings: Slice-of-life

Lately Tommy has been spending more and more time on Bob's couch passed out in a sleepy stupor, one leg thrown over the arm rest with his head resting on a throw pillow, snoring away. The first time he slept over Bob had stacked a pile of magazines, a cup and two ashtrays on his stomach because he, well, could and he awoke that morning to the sound of porcelain dropping on floorboards and Tommy's cursing. Nowadays a blanket replaces the pile of miscellany and Tommy actually has a proper pillow to lie on. Why he doesn't get another bed, Bob reasons that eventually Tommy will get tired of spending the night on his couch and waking up with a sore back and neck. But for now, he's content to wash Tommy's blanket each week, keep an extra set of pajamas in his top drawer next to his own and make sure to brew that little bit extra of coffee each morning (two sugars and full cream milk in a red-and white striped mug for Tommy and black, no sugars for himself in a plain white mug).

The months pass and the couch begins to show its age; threadbare fabric becoming worn in places with the beginnings of wiry stuffing showing through, the springs of the couch no longer silent, they squeak under the slightest burden and eventually Bob comes to the decision that it has to be thrown out before it collapses under its own weight. Tommy helps him throw it out, and they balance it between them as they maneuver the twists and turns of the staircase and soon they find themselves outside at the curb. As soon as it's on the pavement Tommy stretches out his back with a sigh and Bob rests his weight on his knees, panting slightly; then they spend a few minutes, just a few, reminiscing about the couch and all the memories so intimately intwined with it's existence.

The couch soon gets picked up by a passing garbage truck and they watch it go, like an old friend departing on a long journey to places unknown.

Tommy leaves that night and Bob's apartment feels strangely empty. The very next day there's a knock at the door and Bob signs for a large box. He spends the next ten minutes directing the delivery men exactly where it should be placed and, at last, satisfied with the arrangements sends them off with his thanks. He phones Tommy next with a sense of urgency in his voice that makes Tommy speed down narrow streets and arrive at his door in record time. Proudly, Bob shows him the new addition to his main room, a new couch with plastic still wrapped around it. Tommy's unimpressed, he almost ran down a pedestrian for this, but Bob refuses to be disheartened and with a turn of a lever the couch folds out to form a double bed. He stands back a few paces fiddling nervously with his hands and it reminds Tommy of a child seeking approval from their parent and he can't help but smile and nod.

They spend the night together rewatching old movies and eventually Tommy's eyes begin to shut. They make a bed up for Tommy with fresh linen spread out and tucked beneath cushions in tight hospital corners and Bob retrieves Tommy's pillow from his room. Before Bob even turns off the lights, he's already dozed off under the blankets and that night they both sleep deep, dreamless sleeps.

[beetsfic]

First time (part one)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Kissing, badly written fic

Requested: Tommy and Bob's first time trying to have some steamy sex.

It had started at a party at a friend’s apartment. The vodka and beer had flowed freely, leading to shots. One after another was downed and as Bob slammed down his fourth glass on the bench top, a cheer reverberated around the room. As the night carried on, people began leaving and eventually Tommy put an unsteady arm around Bob’s waist, saying they had to get some sleep. “C’mon you drunkard,” Tommy said as he led an equally unsteady Bob down the apartment’s corridors to the lift. Bob giggled and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, burying his face into his collarbone. “I want to stay out,” he slurred and tightened his grip. “I think you’ve stayed out enough, and you’re choking me,” Tommy began untangling himself from Bob’s arms and put a hand on the wall to steady both him and Bob.  

“But I’m Bob Rifo,” Bob pleaded, drawing out the last syllable. Tommy rolled his eyes in response and continued pulling him towards the lift. Feet unsteady, soon Tommy was supporting most of Bob’s weight and he sighed, mentally calculating they’d only made it about 5 metres down from the apartment door. “For someone so skinny, you weight a ton,” he grumbled and Bob pushed against Tommy’s shoulder half heartedly, “Carry me.” They stopped and Tommy looked at Bob, “Seriously?” Bob nodded and grinned broadly like a child that had discovered a new toy. Tommy sighed again, massaged his temples one-handedly and shook his head. Bob’s expression turned grumpy and he sat down heavily on the floor, causing Tommy to topple over, landing heavily on Bob and winding him.

“This is nice,” Bob commented with one arm outstretched above his head, the other thrown across Tommy’s back. Tommy groaned and lifted his head to look at Bob then let it fall with a slight thump on the floor. Bob laughed as the room span above him and he balled his fist in Tommy’s shirt. He pulled the shirt up, revealing Tommy’s back and Bob failed to notice the shudder that went through Tommy. He pulled it up further until it was eye-level and rubbed his face in the material. “So soft,” he said in wonder and looked at Tommy in amazement, “Have you felt it?” Tommy chuckled and gently pulled his shirt away. “I think we should get home now.” Bob proceeded to rub his face into Tommy’s shoulder, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like teddy bear. Tommy stood up, his patience just about gone, pulled Bob to his feet and started the trek to the lift once more.

As the door slid open, they stumbled into the lift, and Bob slumped against the wall. “I don’t feel so good,” he admitted and Tommy chuckled wearily. The lecture could wait until tomorrow morning; he decided and threw a friendly arm around Bob’s shoulder, drawing him closer. “It’s okay Bobbie,” he murmured and absentmindedly began rubbing slow circles on Bob’s shoulder. Bob groaned in enjoyment, leaning into the touch and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed and he exhaled slowly. Suddenly the lift slowly shuddered into action and they both froze, becoming acutely aware of the situation and Tommy’s movements ceased. He could feel Bob’s breath, warm on his skin and Bob could feel the heat from Tommy’s palm even through the layers of cloth. They both began looking anywhere but the other person, yet neither made an attempt to move away and eventually their eyes met. The silence stretched between them and Bob swallowed. He never noticed how thick Tommy’s eyelashes were before or how vivid his eyes were, deep brown illuminated even in the dim light.

He slowly wet his lips with his tongue and his eyes drifted down to Tommy’s mouth. His lips were slightly pursed and he watched as they slowly curved into a smile. He unconsciously began moving closer until he could feel the body heat emanating from Tommy and his eyes flicked up to Tommy who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Bob hesitated and Tommy moved. It was the merest brushing of lip on lip, but it sent what felt like electricity coursing through Bob’s system. They had kissed each other on the cheek as a greeting before but this was a different experience entirely, and they pulled away in shock. Bob leaned in, and their lips met again gently at first, then more forcefully as they both became overwhelmed with the sensations. Tongues slid over each other and someone moaned into the kiss, the sound muffled by lips moving against each other. Bob turned to face Tommy, lips not parting once and Tommy’s hands clutched at Bob’s shirt, pulling him up for leverage. A ding from the lift brought them both to their senses and they leapt away from each other; Tommy wiping his mouth, cheeks and lips reddened, and Bob straightening his own shirt. Bob cleared his throat, completely sobered up and he failed to meet Tommy’s gaze. “We should get going,” Tommy said, and Bob muttered a response, resolutely refusing to look at Tommy. Tommy bit his lip and frowned, but didn’t comment and they walked out of the lift in silence.

[beetsfic]

Car troubles

Rating: PG

Warnings: Swearing, badly written fic, weird humour

They’re both pressed tightly against each other in the car, lying horizontally on the backseat. Bob’s feet are pressed against the car window and roof and Tommy’s half falling off the seat but neither of them cares about the discomfort, both focused on the heat that’s slowly spreading between them from wherever they’re touching. Bob’s jeans are constricting and he’s struggling to get them off over his shoes. Tommy laughs at his attempts, “This is why you don’t wear skinny jeans,” and gestures at his own straight leg jeans which are off within a few seconds. There’s an annoyed noise that sounds vaguely like ‘fuckyou’ from Bob’s direction and he swears as he kicks the window in an attempt to bring his jeans to his ankles.

Tommy rolls off Bob onto the floor wedged between the middle and the seat, and he starts laughing so hard the car starts shaking. Bob’s sweating with the exertion of removing his jeans and with a final tug that rocks the car, they’re off and flung unceremoniously in the direction of the boot. He reaches out a hand to Tommy whose laughter’s died down to giggles. “Maybe you should remove your boxers first,” he says which starts him laughing again and earns him a kick in the side from Bob. “Okay, I’m coming,” he begins to get up but stops. Bob raises himself to a kneeling position on one end of the seat and he looks at Tommy with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m stuck,” and Bob starts laughing, collapsing forward onto the seat. Tommy looks up at him grumpily from the floor, “It’s not funny.” Bob looks down at him and replies, “Yes it is,” and starts laughing harder, holding his sides. Eventually the laughter subsides and he grabs Tommy’s free arm and tugs. “You really are stuck,” he comments. “No, really,” Tommy’s response is sarcastic and Bob can feel the laughter bubbling up in his throat but controls himself. “One, two, three,” he pulls hard and Tommy lets out a yelp of pain which turns into one of triumph as he feels himself freeing. “It’s working!”

Bob braces himself, half crouched on the seat and gives it his all into one, final tug. With an almighty roar he pulls and pulls and Tommy is almost free and Bob straightens up and slams his head into the car roof. Dazed, he drops to the seat and falls onto his stomach. Tommy slides back down into the crevice and lands with a slight thump. “Bob, I’m stuck again.” Bob groans and rolls over.

  Eventually with some careful tugging and pulling, Tommy’s freed and they’re both sitting on the seat utterly exhausted. Bob’s head lolls onto Tommy’s shoulder and he groans before admitting, “I don’t even feel like sex any more.” Tommy laughs briefly, but it’s born of exhaustion and he slouches, “Me neither.”

  Tommy’s jeans are easily found and he slides them on with little difficulty while Bob looks on with some annoyance.  “Where’re your jeans?” and the search begins. During the midst of this, there’s a ‘beep’ noise and the doors lock making them freeze. Tommy looks at Bob with a panic in his eyes, “I thought they weren’t going to be back for another hour!” Bob shrugs in response and the search becomes more frantic. The minutes tick past and eventually the pressure gets to Tommy. “Forget the pants and run!” Bob shakes his head fervently, “I’m not leaving without my jeans.”

  There’s echoing footsteps approaching the car and Tommy can’t take it any more, grabbing Bob’s arm and unlocking the door from the inside. He pushes the door open and the alarm goes off with a shrill beeping noise. Tommy hears a cry of surprise from the other side of the car but he doesn’t care, forcibly dragging Bob from the car and running the short distance from the car park to the apartments. Edward stares at the receding figures, an eyebrow raised. “Was that...” 

“I don’t want to think about that.” Battle sounds like he’s trying not to choke and as he looks at his car he lets out an almost imperceptible sob. Edward walks around the car and notices something tucked away in the boot. He opens it and hold up the jeans. It’s a bit much for Battle who burries his head in his hands and groans which starts Eddie laughing. “Looks like they had fu-“

 “DON’T.” He’s interrupted by Battle who’s holding out a trembling hand. “Nothing. Happened.” Eddie puts his head to one side and grins, “I’m just saying.” Battle looks at Edward with murder in his eyes. “Nothing. Happened.” Edward looks at the direction Tommy and Bob ran off and an idea springs to mind. “Hey Battle...”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

[beetsfic]

Birthday present

Special two-fer for the price of one.

Rating: NC-17 (very NSFW, especially the second story)

Pairing: Beetroots

Warnings: PWP

Tommy thrust into the older man, making him arch against Tommy's chest. Sweat dripped down between them as his movements increased in pace. "Oh fuck," he heard Bob whisper before he reached a hand behind Tommy's head and pulled him into a kiss. Tongues danced with each other and Tommy heard a moan. "Bob, Bob, Bob." The name rolled off his lips like a prayer.

"I'm so close," Bob panted against Tommy's ear, making him shudder. Tommy could only swallow and nod. Grasping Bob by the hips, he redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with a low moan. Burying his face against the crook of Bob's neck; Tommy bit and licked and sucked the skin there, marking him (mine and no one elses) "Tommy." One hand entangled in Tommy's hair and the other gripping his shoulder, Bob came. The hand in Tommy's hair pulled (you're mine, no one else can do this to me) and Tommy followed suit. They lay together for a moment then Tommy pulled out slowly, relishing the sensations of Bob shuddering beneath him. "That...was good." Bob said, cheeks still flushed, sweat dripping a slow line down his shoulder. Eyes on Bob's face, Tommy leant across and kissed the droplet away and inwardly grinned when Bob’s eyes flickered shut. He ran a hand through Tommy's curls and pulled him up for a kiss. "You taste like sweat." Bob murmured against Tommy's lips when they parted. "Funny, you didn't complain before." Tommy replied with a tired smile. “You didn't give me a chance to." They both laughed and Tommy wrapped his arms around the smaller man "Happy birthday to me."

Pairing: Beetroots

Warnings: PWP, badly written fic

Slick fingers insert slowly, circling the entrance, teasing Bob. Bite marks are left on his shoulder tattoo, replaced with lips and tongue. The other hand moves up to his piercing, starts rubbing gently. Fingers replaced with lips tugging the bar gently, hot breath washes across skin.

  Whimpers and moans, teeth biting lips to keep sound in; no begging (he’s motherfucking Bob Rifo) but when Tommy presses just there, he can’t stop his hands from gripping the sheets, can’t stop his legs trembling, can’t stop his hips from jerking up, can’t stop himself from moaning long and loud. A soft chuckle makes him sit up with difficulty and he whacks Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy’s relishing in the fact that Bob’s slowly coming undone and he smiles, bordering on a smirk. “Say it,” and Bob knows he knows what power he has over him, only him, and he shivers, looking anywhere but those deep brown eyes that are darkened with lust. “..N-No,” he mutters and Tommy just presses that spot again, just a little harder and lights explode behind Bob’s eyes and all he can see is white and he’s arched off the bed and he’s gripping the sheets so tightly he’s sure they’ll rip then he’s collapsing back down. “Say it,” he hears from somewhere in front of him, and that finger is back, pushing and stroking and when he feels lips wrap around him, he almost sobs.

  Tommy pulls away slowly and deliberately and flicks his tongue out to rub it against the slit, slowly running it down the shaft, finding the spot that makes Bob see white again, then he’s sucking Bob hard, making his toes curl and the suction’s gone all too quickly leaving Bob very sweaty and very unsatisfied. Tommy sits up and grins that grin at the panting mess beneath him. “We’re not done yet,” a promise that makes Bob moan inwardly.

  Attention is switched to Bob’s chest, licking a trail up over trembling, sweaty skin, biting at tattoos then continuing up. He’s at the anarchist tattoo and he traces it with a fingertip making Bob shudder and squirm, then his lips barely touching the skin until Bob arches unexpectedly and Tommy gets a faceful of chest. He rubs his nose, chuckling, and leans back down to lick at the tattoo, making sure to hold Bob’s shoulders down. One of his hands is wandering up to Bob’s face, caressing the flushed cheek, running in down his neck past the bobbing Adam’s apple, lingering slightly at the collarbones where the ‘1977’ tattoo stands out against pale skin, and down to Bob’s hip.

  Tommy takes one of Bob’s hands, untangling it from the sheets and shifts his attentions to his fingers, licking at the finger tip, slow caresses on the pad, enjoying the roughness of it against his tongue and the noises Bob’s making. Bob’s other hand is at Tommy’s hip now, fingers digging in and there’ll be bruises tomorrow but right now Tommy could care less. All he wants to hear is that one, little, word, and he places light kisses on Bob’s palm; kisses his wrist, kisses his forearm, his bicep, his shoulder, his collarbone, and Bob’s whole body is trembling now, the underside of his chin, his cheek, his forehead.

  “If you’re going to kiss, do it properly,” Bob’s voice is throaty, like it is after a concert, and it makes heat pool in Tommy’s groin very quickly but he’s not going to hurry, and he’s sure he’s going to hear Bob say it before the night is through. He licks at Bob’s lips and chuckles inwardly as they part, inviting a kiss, but he ignores it to move down Bob’s body again, the skin on skin contact driving them both slowly insane with want.

  Teeth find the bar through Bob’s right nipple and they pull, sending a slow burn throughout Bob’s entire being and he’s stammering Tommy’s name. Teeth are replaced with fingers and they’re teasing him, rubbing in ever decreasing circles around but not quite touching, so, so, close. Bob can barely think straight any more, being teased for so long his mind’s a mess filled with sensations of being touched and wanting to touch and when Tommy flicks the bar, sending pleasure sparking throughout his torso, he snaps; babbling Tommy’s name, hands gripping in sweat-damp curls, forcing his head up for a kiss. He puts everything he has into the kiss, all his frustrations, lust, want, and when they pull apart, it leaves them both a little breathless. They make eye contact and Tommy smirks, cocky in his victory. “Say it.” Every fiber of Bob’s being will regret this tomorrow but right now they’re all screaming yes, yes, yes.

  He swallows, looks off to the right, the left, anywhere but that damn smug face right now, and mutters, “Please.” Tommy’s wondering if he should tease Bob, “Nope.” And Tommy’s never seen him looked so pissed off and he’s opening his mouth to probably shout but Tommy swallows unsaid words with a deep kiss. He moves down Bob’s body once more and in one swift through enters Bob. After being teased for so long, Bob is loose enough for it not to hurt and it doesn’t take long from him to come, already on the brink. Utterly boneless now, Bob relaxes but Tommy’s not done yet, pulling out and rolling Bob onto his stomach. “Wa-wait!” Bob protests but Tommy is too far gone, and he’s thrusting into Bob brutally, hitting that spot again and again, one hand on Bob’s hips, the other on the bed for stability. Bob’s sobbing now, back arched and all he can do is keep moving to match the thrusts and incredulously he’s hard again. Tommy’s moving his hand from Bob’s hip, wrapping it around him, leaning over and whispering, “Come for me ciccio,” and Bob’s gone, Tommy close behind, filling him with molten heat.

  His whole body trembling, Tommy barely keeps from collapsing on top of Bob and with a herculean effort, falls to the side. Bob still hasn’t moved from where he fell, and Tommy wonders for a split second if this is the fabled ‘sex coma’. He rests a hand on the small of his back.  “Bobby?” He feels a twitch beneath his hand, and Tommy idly runs a land lower. That gets a reaction, Bob turning to face him and Tommy decides that annoyed but sexed up is a good expression on Bob. Bob’s face relaxes and he moves closer to Tommy, head resting on his shoulder. “You’re going to kill me one day,” he groans and Tommy chuckles weakly before asking “So only on my birthday and special dates then?” He feels Bob nod on his shoulder and he laughs. Letting his head fall to the side, he spots the clock on the wall and an idea begins to form. “We’ve still got a few hours before we have to get going,” he begins, and Bob hits him with a pillow.

[beetsfic]

Video phone

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Implied sex, masturbation, public situation, PWP

Bob’s sitting with Steve at a restaurant in L.A, Steve waxing rhapsodic about a new artist that’s he’s signed recently and Bob nodding along, occasionally commenting. He flew out alone for this trip, Tommy declining to follow saying he had enough frequent flier miles to last him a lifetime but still offering to drop him at the airport. Their farewell had been brief, Bob opting out for a red-eye flight and Tommy had yawned widely as he hugged Bob goodbye. “I’ll be back in a few days,” he had told Tommy; but he doubts Tommy remembered that, eyes half closed as he waved.  

Chewing on an olive, he sighs. The nights alone in his hotel room, although productive, have been lonely.  He wonders what Tommy’s doing now, on the other side of the world, and Bob hopes that he’s been sleeping well. A buzz from his iPhone interrupts his daydreaming and he excuses himself, Steve gesturing to ‘go ahead.’ He slides his thumb across the screen to check and chokes, coughing and spluttering. Steve looks up in alarm from his own phone, worry on his face, but Bob’s sliding his phone back into his pocket and his cheeks are tinged with pink.   

Steve’s been around Bob for long enough to realize when something’s up, and something is definitely up, although he doesn’t want to say what. Bob’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat and his eyes are darting around the room. Steve decides to throw him a lifeline. “Tommy?” He asks, and Bob nods curtly. “Ah.” Steve goes back to eating his salad, pausing only to say, “The bathroom’s down the corridor to the left.” A squeaking of chair on tile and hurried footsteps make him smile, and he takes a sip of his drink.  

 Bob locks the cubicle door with a click, and pulls out his phone. He peers under the bottom of the stall, looking for anyone who could potentially hear, but finds none. He hesitates, still uncertain, then replays the video Tommy sent him. “Oh god Tommy,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me.” He unzips his pants and pulls out; already half erect and hisses as hot, wet skin meets cold air. Bob licks his palm, desperate for friction now, and pulls, making sure to play with the head, moving down to the shaft, other hand fondling gently. He imagines its Tommy’s hand down there, rough fingertips and nails providing extra stimulation then his mouth, sucking and teasing him to completion and now it’s his hand fisting back and forth his whole length.

The video’s stopped and he presses play again and watches as video Tommy plays with himself, hands running up his sides, finding all his sensitive areas that make him jerk and squirm. He’s teasing himself, excruciatingly slow until he’s dripping precum and Bob watches as a single glob slides down Tommy’s length. Long fingers are sliding between his legs and when he moans, Bob imagines it’s him doing that to Tommy, he’s the one making Tommy arch and tremble and with a shuddering jerk he realizes that he is the one doing that. Tommy’s imagining him, he’s imagining Bob licking him, running his guitar string calloused fingers down his sides, grasping his hips and pushing in gently at first then faster and faster until a brutal pace is reached, and he comes before he completes the thought.

It feels like an eternity before the trembling stops and he wipes himself off and flushes. Bob puts the phone back into his pocket, zips up and washes his hands thoroughly before going outside to where Steve is waiting, an odd smile on his face. Bob sits down, and resumes eating like nothing’s out of the ordinary and Steve can’t resist teasing him a little. He leans over and whispers, “That was quick.” Bob starts, sending shredded lettuce flying across the table and he plays with his cutlery muttering something unintelligible.

Steve waits until Bob’s finished the rest of his food, and they’re about to leave when Bob’s phone buzzes again. He shrugs apologetically and pulls it out, then puts it away very quickly. Steve sighs and sits back down, “I think I’ll order some coffee.”

[beetsfic]

Kisses

Rating: PG to NC-17

Pairing: Beetroots

Warnings: implied sex, death, badly written fic

Their first kiss is the result of too much drink and it's sloppy, teeth knocking against each other and Bob misses Tommy's lips entirely when he goes in for another kiss, ending up resting his head against Tommy's clothed shoulder. Their second kiss is the morning after kiss, filled with trepidation and questions that are left unsaid but neither of them cares, curled beneath the sheets, toes lazily rubbing against legs and hands slowly running up warm sides, fingers tracing muscle under skin.

Their eleventh kiss is after a particularly insane DJ set. It's fuelled by adrenaline and Bob can feel Tommy's heart thumping from where they're pressed together. The kiss tastes like sweat and vodka and it's the sweetest thing Tommy's ever tasted and the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth kisses follow.

Their forty fifth kiss has both of them wearing their masks, clothed lips meeting clothed lips and through the thin material, Bob can feel the heat emanating from Tommy and it's turning him on more than he's ever want to admit. He grips his forearms for leverage and presses his lips more forcefully against Tommy's, wanting more contact, more heat, more anything. Tommy breathes out and he whispers in Bob's ear, "Leave the masks on tonight." Bob swallows, nods and pulls Tommy in for another kiss.

Their hundred and seventeenth kiss is at a party in a dark corner. Bob's got on an artificial looking pink wig that he found on a table and they've got their masks rolled up just enough to reveal mouth. The kiss is quick and leaves Bob with a tingling feeling in his stomach that makes him smile. Tommy's looking down at him and Bob thinks their hundred and eighteenth kiss will follow, but Tommy's looking at the wig. "I just can't take you seriously right now," he says, and Bob laughs.

Their two hundred and sixtieth kiss is gentle and they're both basking in the afterglow of a slow, lazy morning, one of the precious few available to them being on tour. Tommy stretches out and as his joints pop and muscles relax, he lets out a low moan. Wrapping an arm around Bob, he pulls him close and places the two hundred and sixty first kiss on his cheek. "I love you," he whispers and waits for a response. The silence makes Tommy's insides squirm and he nudges Bob. "You awake?" A gentle snore is his only response and he laughs quietly.

Their four hundredth and eighty eighth kiss is hard enough to bruise and when it's over, the both of them are left breathless and Tommy watches as a droplet of sweat makes its way down Bob's jaw. Leaning up to lick it off he feels Bob shudder beneath his tongue and he chuckles, which turns to a moan as Bob pulls out slowly. Tommy's left with a strangely empty feeling and he clenches around Bob, trying to maintain that feeling of completeness. Bob moans loudly and they make it to five hundred kisses.

Their seven hundred and fifty first kiss is on a balcony overlooking the canals, glowing orange reflections of the streetlights a contrast to the dark water. They’re standing close together, elbows touching and neither feels cold even with a gentle breeze blowing. Bob shifts his position and takes a sip of his drink, swallowing it before bringing a hand up to Tommy’s shoulder. He grips it and turns towards Tommy to say something, but Tommy’s turned to look at him and their lips meet briefly. They pull apart, surprise evident on their faces even in the dim light, then smile. The seven hundred and fifty second kiss follows.

Their eight hundred and twenty third kiss is at a mutual friend’s wedding. Tommy’s looking particularly fine in a bespoke suit and Bob has an odd fluttering feeling in his stomach whenever they lock eyes. The ceremony is simple, but elegant and it’s a day of celebration that slowly runs over into the night. Tommy’s been whirled away in a swish of satin, the bride requesting a dance and Bob prefers to sit on the sidelines, clapping and laughing with the rest. They leave the wedding near the end, Tommy exhausted from dancing with everyone and he’s removed his suit jacket, slung over one arm. They walk to the car together, when Tommy stops with an unreadable expression on his face. Bob stops to look back and Tommy comments, “We never had a dance, did we?” Bob shakes his head slowly, and Tommy offers a hand out. He takes it, fingers intertwined, and Tommy rests his other hand on Bob’s waist. They dance in the carpark to their own music, audible only to them, and as Tommy dips Bob, he reaches up and pulls him in for a kiss. Not missing a step, they twirl together and eventually separate, foreheads touching. There’s something that Bob wants to say, and he opens his mouth but Tommy silences him with their eight hundred and twenty fourth kiss. They pull apart and Tommy whispers “Always,” and that’s all Bob needs to hear at that moment and they reach a thousand kisses that night.

It's some time in the future now, and Bob's sitting by Tommy's bedside. The steady 'beep-beep' of the heart monitor and the "fsssh" of the breathing equipment are the only signs that Tommy's still alive, but Bob's only focused on him. Tommy's curls are grey now and they're not as thick as they used to be, and the hand that Bob's holding is wrinkled, the skin paper-thin and fingers arthritic. "I always thought I'd be the first to go," he murmurs, and brings Tommy's hand to his face. The fingers Bob's holding twitch, and Tommy opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the light. His eyes are cloudy with age, but they've still got that sparkle which never fails to makes Bob's heart beat quicker. He smiles and Bob can see the shadow of the man he once was. "Hey Bobby," Tommy's voice is soft and Bob has to lean in to hear him, "How're you holding up?" There's a lump in Bob's throat and it's hard to get the words out but he manages, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. "Doing better than you," and Bob laughs but it's hollow and he can't stop the tears from falling any more and he's gripping Tommy's hand hard. Tommy brings his other hand to wipe away Bob's tears.

"Don't cry Bobby, I'm just going ahead a bit earlier." He smiles a sad smile and gently strokes Bob's cheek. "Remember our first kiss?" Bob nods and wipes his eyes. "We were bothdrunk," Tommy's reminiscing and he continues stroking Bob's face, "And you missed my mouth the second time." They laugh quietly, and Tommy leans back on the pillows. "And then you kissed me with that stupid wig on." Bob chuckles, "It looked good on me." Tommy turns to face him and his brow furrows then relaxes. "Yeah, it did." He turns back to look at the ceiling and his eyes close. “Then that kiss at the wedding,” and his eyes open, struggling to focussing on Bob again. Bob nods and they both get lost in the mists of nostalgia, remembering silly events and stupid antics, precious memories faded and blurred. The time passes far too quickly and eventually Tommy closes his eyes for the last time, "Bobby, I'm tired now." Bob can feel Tommy's hand relaxing in his grip and he strokes it with his thumb. "I know." "I'll see you later?" Tommy's voice is almost inaudible now, and Bob smiles even as the tears fall. "Yeah. I'll see you in a while." He leans in for a kiss, their final kiss, and when he pulls away the sustained tone of the heart monitor fills the room.

"Got your lunch?" "Yes Mama," and the child runs out of the door, brown curls bouncing and catching the sunlight. He walks along the path, humming a tune that's been stuck in his head and he greets other children along the way. Spotting a familiar back, he runs towards it and grabs their arm. "Hey! You're the kid who lives in the house three doors down right?" The child looks scared and pushes up his glasses. "I think so." The brown haired child smiles broadly. "It's my first day of school," he announces, and lets go of the other child's arm. The other child looks at him, "I'm in my fifth year," he says quietly. The brown haired child looks at him in surprise, "You're so short!” which earns him a glare and he laughs. "My name's Tommy." He offers out a hand and the shorter child looks at it, then grasps it firmly. "I'm Bobby." They grin at each other then jump when a bell rings in the distance. “Oh no!” Tommy begins running towards the sound but pauses, looking back at Bob, "I'll see you later?" Bob smiles. "Yeah, I'll see you later."