might be writing the best clegan smut so far...and these are just the outtakes
It’s different from the way Gale touches Marge, all soft gentle touch. Careful, on the curve of her waist, on the stray lock of hair he brushes from her cheek and the kisses he lays on her lips.
–
Silence. Gale glances over to find John silently unknotting his tie, folding it atop his shirt neatly until he’s left in just his undershirt. Gale can see the poke of his dogtags, neckline framing the hint of chest hair.
“You think I shouldn’t?”
“No, you should. Not gonna find a better one than that.”
“But,” Gale presses.
–
“I dunno,” he mutters finally, turning around to tug his shirt over his head, folding it into perfect neat corners. “Not sure if my heart is in it the way it needs to be.”
A creak of wood shifting, Gale can picture John turning around, resting his big body against the delicate build of the washbasin, forcing it to burden his weight.
“That’s crazy. You dote on that woman, Buck.”
Dogtags jingling as Gale sets his clothes down, he shakes his head. Turns and finds John’s eyes immediately, all the cautious curious attention of them.
–
“Don’t think you wanna say much. Think there’s something you want to do.”
The pain cuts deeper lines into John’s eyebrows and he looks away, swiping a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. Gale sits down on the bed. Slowly leans back until he’s propped on his elbows.
Ignores the heart kicking through his chest.
He might as well have pulled the pin on an explosive and tossed it into the center of the room, the way John goes still. The way the air fills up with tension, John not breathing and Gale breathing too fast. Gale’s a careful man, he made his calculations before he jumped, had been tucking away the ways they’d been dancing around, chipping away at all the small, cowardly bits of himself until he had just enough eroded to make his move.
–
His big body had always been a point of fixation for Gale. Capable and strong, treated uncaringly from the full spectrum of sex to pleasure. He threw it at things and expected it to do it’s job. Big in a way Gale had raced to try to catch, broad in a way Gale would never be
–
“It’s not what I–”
“You’ve done this before?”
“No–”
The jealousy and disbelief tangling across John’s face fades.
“I’ve seen…”
“What’d you see?” John prompts, nuzzling into Gale’s neck again, the hair there curling stiffly from the sweat of the night.
“Wasn’t supposed to.”
“I know.”
“Saw ‘em touchin’ on each other. Like it was a fight but felt good.”
John kisses him again, finally. That same soft suck that squeaks out between their lips and Gale at least lets himself sink into it. He’s jittery from his almost orgasm, clothes too heavy and scratching.
–
