Warnings: episode fic, kissing, heavy petting, brief discussion of sexuality, some angst
Summary: set during episode 8x02, after the gun range scene but before Bones talks to Sweets. A follow up to Bad Idea.
A/N: hopefully this'll help unblock the muse for the main fic. @leatafandom have some more of this mess 😅
Squares Filled: Makeout session (@mfbingo )
Lance opened the door on the second urgent knock, stepping back to let Booth in, surprised to see the man at his apartment so soon after Dr. Brennan's return.
"Booth, are you alright?"
"No, you know what, Sweets, I'm not alright." Booth turned to face the young psychologist as they stood in the center of the small living room. "It wasn't just Bones making breakfast, and losing those three months with her and Christine, that has been pushing a wedge between me and her, and making me so damn angry. It's us, too. It's that night, and that kiss, and these feelings that just won't stop, won't let things be the way they were before."
Booth slumped down on the couch and Sweets carefully sat down beside him, eyeing him warily.
"It's been two months since that night, and you haven't wanted to talk about it in all this time. Do you want to, now? Can you confront what happened between us?"
"I-I don't know. I've already gone through the whole panic thing, y'know? Years ago. It's still hard for me to accept that this is what I am, that these feelings are a part of me and it doesn't make me a bad person. I've faced that. This is…this is different. This isn't just me liking a guy, this is me having deep feelings for someone else when I'm already in a relationship with someone I love, and not wanting to have to choose."
"Oh-kay, so that's a yes on the confrontation. Booth, you need to tell her this. Yes, Dr. Brennan ran off with your daughter, and left you in the dark for three months, but it was for justifiable reasons, and she deserves to know what happened. Especially if you aren't in an open relationship. If you don't, you're just going to keep being angry with yourself over it, and in turn, with Dr. Brennan."
"I know, I know, and I want to tell her, I just don't know how. And I don't know where it goes from there. I can't just push those feelings for you back down into that box I'd locked them up in before. God, I just want to be selfish for once, you know? I want you, and her, and I want there to be an us. I don't want to have to choose again."
"Would it help you if I explained it all to her?"
"No, no, it's gotta come from me. I owe her that."
"Okay, well, do you want me to at least be there with you when you tell her? Help…guide the conversation?" Sweets felt a compelling urge to take Booth's hand in his, wanting to comfort the older agent, but was unsure how welcome the gesture would be. "Look, Booth, I know you're worried about how Dr. Brennan will react, but I don't think there'll be a problem. You know she's always been open to the idea of polyamory, both in her own sexual practices and in her study of anthropology."
"I know. And that's part of the problem. I gave her such hell for that, when she was seeing two guys at the same time, and we were just partners then. How's that gonna look now that we're a family? We share a daughter, we live together. This is so much more than someone just playing the field."
"She loves you, Booth. She'll understand."
"How? I barely understand it myself. It took years for me to accept this part of myself, and even then, I still fought to keep my feelings pushed down." Booth shifted to face Sweets, a look of pained longing in his eyes. "I know I shouldn't do this, but I can't wait any longer…"
Before Sweets could question him, Booth leaned forward and pressed his lips to the unsuspecting psychologist's, his hand coming up to cup the side of his face as he pushed him back against the couch cushions. Blinking away his surprise, Sweets responded to the kiss, letting his eyes flutter shut. His lips parted to Booth's tongue as it traced tentatively along the bottom lip, seeking entrance.
Sweets raised his arms to encircle the broad expanse of Booth's back, fingers clutching at his suit jacket as the kiss deepened. Despite all the conflicting, confusing thoughts and emotions swirling around inside his head and in his heart, he eagerly welcomed the tongue that slid over his own. In the two months since that first kiss, Sweets had kept ruminating on how it had felt to finally have Booth's mouth on his. For years he had repressed feelings for the older man, knowing he and Dr. Brennan were meant for each other, and heavily doubting Booth would ever feel attraction towards another man, let alone for that attraction to supersede his obvious love for the forensic anthropologist. He had felt no small amount of guilt about enjoying the kiss so much, but had reveled in it nevertheless.
This second kiss was wholly different, and he regretted that their first had been tinged with the bitter taste of whiskey and sadness. This one was unadulterated by the pain of abandonment, purely driven by longing and need, and it was glorious. His first true taste of Seeley Booth. Booth's free hand wound around his waist and pulled him closer, their chests pressed together as the kiss continued on. Sweets let out a soft moan of arousal, the sound smothered by Booth's eager tongue as it explored his mouth.
Thrusting his hips up, he felt a hardness matching his own growing erection pressing into his thigh. The knowledge that the older agent was just as affected by their making out as he was pulled a deep groan from his lips. He broke the kiss, slightly breathless, and let his head loll against the back of the couch as he relished the feeling of Booth's body pressed against his. Another groan sounded from his throat as Booth trailed a line of kisses along his jaw and down the column of his neck.
"Oh, God, Booth…we shouldn't…fuck, we can't do this. Not now."
"I know…," Booth grunted out between nips to the skin along the curve of his shoulder, his hand pulling Sweets' collar aside to bare undiscovered flesh. "Just…want you, Sweets…wanted you for so long. Feels right."
"It-it does, but, ahh, it shouldn't be like this. Brennan…she needs to know, needs to be okay with us, be included. It's not fair to her."
Booth smothered a defeated groan against Sweets' collarbone before pulling away.
"No, I know, you're right. Look, I'm sorry for getting carried away like that."
Sweets slid to the side, putting some much needed space between them and adjusting himself. It was taking all his strength not to pull Booth back to him and finish what they started, damn the consequences.
"Don't be, it wasn't unwelcomed, just…ill-timed. We both have others we need to consider before we just go jumping into things. I need to reevaluate things with Daisy, you have to tell Dr. B how you feel. Until then, whatever this is between us, can't go any further than it already has."
"I'll talk to her when she gets home tonight." Booth stood up from the couch, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "Thanks for this, though, and for not being too heavy with the psychobabble. I just…I've wanted to kiss you again since I walked out of your bedroom that morning, and I needed to get that out of my system."
Sweets stared up at him with an understanding grin.
"Go home, Booth. Tell her. And when the two of you are ready, just give me a call."
He watched as Booth walked out the door, wondering how long it would be until that call was made.
So many people see Glimmer and Bow as being super innocent and like, barely doing more than kissing for the longest time, and not even considering sex until marriage. Meanwhile, I would not be at all surprised if they got it on basically as soon as they had an hour of privacy following the events of the finale. I mean, there is a shot of Glimmer when Bow leaves to jam the signal following the love confession where her expression gives me the impression she might have certain...things on her mind for what she wants to do if they get through the following events.
(Bringing this back up for the @arcana-echoes prompt: Freebies)
A year before his famous drunken proposal to Nadia, Lucio pops the question, sober, younger, a lot less desperate, and a lot more ill-advised.
Relationship: Lucio x Sybilla
Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, food
*
“Lillie-“
Finger-combing through the freshly dyed streaks of bright blue in her shiny silver hair, reclining lazily on one side of the Count’s bed, Sybilla hummed noncommittally, reaching into his bedside cabinet for the silver bottle of fine whiskey that he’d always kept stocked for her.
“D’you wanna get married?”
Her first instinct was to laugh, and she did, picking up the bottle in one hand and flicking a velvet cushion at him with the other. “Does good sex turn you into the marrying sort?” She teased, uncorking the whiskey and pouring it into a tall crystal glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Your Excellency.”
“Ugh.” Lucio rolled over, to lay a hand on her bare waist. She could feel his eyes trail up her spine, and hear the whine in his voice as he inched even closer. “Don’t call me that.” He grumbled. “And think about it.”
There was far too little humor in his tone for her comfort.
Even so, cradling the cool glass in her hand, she kept her voice light. “D’you want another party that badly?” She threw a sly glance over her shoulder. “You’d think-“
“I can hold another party whenever I fucking want.” He snapped. “I’m serious.”
Sybilla took a long, steadying sip of whiskey, letting the burn wash through the trepidation in her chest. Then, slowly, she turned around. “You’re serious.”
Lucio had propped himself up on his elbow, claw-less golden fingers still gently stroking her waist. She looked into his inexplicably guarded silver eyes, took in his slight frown, the absence of the lazy smile that she’d grown accustomed to seeing on these occasions, and frowned. “Lucio-“
“You don’t have to.” He drew his hand away, and plopped back down to the mattress, on to his back. “It’s just a thought. It’d be fun, y’know.”
“It’d be fun.” She echoed, deadpan.
Lucio sat up, crossing his legs beneath the covers and leaning back against the headboard, silver eyes sweeping over her as she stared at him. “Uh-huh.” From a silver platter laid at the foot of his bed, he picked up a slice of rich chocolate cake. “You can live at the Palace. It’s taken care of, so you won’t have the hassle of keeping a house- and you won’t have to wear yourself out on the road.” When Sybilla stayed silent, still incredulous, he added, with a grin, “I can name you Countess, if you want.”
Sybilla let out a breath, and a short, nervous laugh, her throat closing around her anxious, fluttering heart. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She leaned towards him to take a bite from the slice of chocolate cake. When he wiped away a smear of chocolate from the corner of her lips, she met his eyes with a small smile.
“It’s sweet of you to worry, but-“ she pulled away, “I like the road. You know I do.” He nodded, sweeping strands of her hair away from his face. “And besides,” She glanced at the curtained windows, as though she was looking through them to Vesuvia beyond, drenched in broad, sunny daylight. “Your city needs a real Countess. Or a Viscount.”
“I’m a real Count.” He scowled at her, pouring out a glass of red wine.
“Someone who knows their way around Court and politics” She went on, pointedly. “Or at least, someone who can get through it without gagging, you know?”
“Ew. Why?” Lucio made a face, rolling his eyes. “I hate ‘em too. And I’m doing fine.”
“You’ll have to do less of it with a partner in all of this who doesn’t.” She reminded him, tossing back her drink and pushing herself up off the bed. “I can’t help you there.”
To her surprise, he caught her hand just as she moved away from the bed. “You help me plenty, anyway.” His tone was still the same- grounded and bordering on grouchy, but she averted her gaze anyway, afraid of what she’d find if she took the chance to meet his eyes. “It’s-“ She cast around, schooling her voice back into the cordial teasing that she liked to default into. “I cast sigils and shield- spells for you, Lucio. I’m your abjurer. I can’t help you run a city.”
Lucio let her go, watching her slip back into her clothes, the semi-precious chips on her high-waisted pants matching the buttons of her silk shirt, lilac printed with tiny white flowers. Tossing a chocolate coated almond into his mouth, he scoffed. “I’m doing fine with the city. I don’t need help.”
Neither inclined to agree nor to disagree, Sybilla hummed as she ran an ivory comb through her hair, teasing out the blue-dyed strands to the front. “Maybe not, but they’ll expect me to.” She argued. “Why should I go to all that trouble just for a title and a room at the Palace that I already have, anyway?” She pinned on her brand new, ruby-studded hair ornament. Behind her, she heard a rustle of sheets as Lucio rolled out of bed.
“Never mind.” He sounded odd, and she busied herself with buttoning up her shirt in a futile attempt to cover up the pink and purple hickeys splotching her pale skin in a trail beginning from her throat. Lucio began to buckle the sharp armor pieces back on to his arm, and the clang of metal on metal would have drowned out his words had it not been for the brassiness of his voice. “Figured you like being here, so-“
She caught his gaze from the vanity’s mirror, feline green eyes softening. “I do like being here.”
“’Course you do.” Lucio agreed, easily. But she did not miss the way that the tension in his shoulders seemed to lift, instantly.
All at once, her words felt heavy in her mouth, as though pulling a weight that they weren’t meant to hold. As her heart picked up it’s pace again, she brushed a coat of fuschia gloss over her lips. “Which is why,” she said, finally, slipping into their shared, native tongue, always at odds with this city, Lucio’s city of eternal summers. “I don’t want to change anything about it.”
Lucio clasped on his golden claws, one by one. “What’ll change?” He switched languages too, opening and closing his palm. “We’ll still be the same.”
Sybilla stepped into her tall, heeled boots with a wince. “I mean,” she clicked on her bright yellow earrings, “Being here is fun. I get solid work, I make good coin, I get-“
“You get me,” he added on, matter-of-factly.
She laughed, nodding. “And you, sure.” She folded up a silk handkerchief, and daubed perfume on to the insides of her wrists. Lucio pulled his blood-red jacket back on, and swept his golden hair back with an easy, self-satisfied grin.
“I don’t want to ruin it with contracts and paperwork and titles and obligations and ugh-“ She grimaced, flinching away from the word. “And responsibilities.”
Lucio barked out a laugh. “Right.”
It hung in the air, softly, too close to the bubble of warmth and wanting in Sybilla’s heart. At any other time, she would have welcomed it. But now, it knocked at thin ice, and she wanted to draw back the thick black lines that seperated this- easy friendship and hazy nights, cozy, sunlit carefree rendezvous in his bedchambers, from anything else.
And so, she did.
“You should be careful, you know, dishing out these proposals.” She said briskly, pulling on her gloves. “What if you find someone you- you know- love?”
Lucio snorted. “I don’t dish ‘em out, gorgeous.” He pulled her velvet hat down from the hat-stand, coming up behind her to place it on her head. With a gentle finger, she brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.
“And what does it matter if I do?” He slipped a tiny, ornate tin into her pocket. The chocolate almonds, she realized. For when she’d inevitably get bored and peckish at Court.
Her stomach swooped with an emotion that she couldn’t ever bring herself to name.
And then he shrugged, stepping away. “I’ll just marry ‘em too.”
“In that case,” Caught between leaning in and pulling back, Sybilla masked the conflict with another teasing smile. More distance. “When you do get married, however many times you do,” she arched an eyebrow. “I’ll expect a special invitation. And a handsome commission.”
Lucio puffed up, offering her his arm. “And you’ll get it.” He promised her. “ Only the best. I’ve never skimped out your payment.”
Rolling her eyes, she took his arm, mollified and relieved.
As they walked down the hallway, shutting the chamber’s door behind them, Sybilla attempted to stamp out the lingering question in time with the sound of their high heels tapping against the polished marble floor.
What brought this on?
She wondered if he’d expected her to ask.
He didn’t seem unsettled at all, laughing and poking fun at the more obnoxious members of his Court, his touch firm against her, even the metal warm with alchemy.
For a brief moment, she considered trying to muster up the courage to ask, and then the courage to look up and search his face, before it grated at something far too heavy beneath her skin, for far too long.
By the time they passed the wide oak doors into his Court, hours after the appointed time, lined-up aristocrats sweating in their frock coats and silk robes, their eyes narrowing, as always, when they landed on her, Sybilla had already let it go.
She muffled a yawn with the back of her hand, already bored out of her mind as she settled down on the plush velvet cushioned chair.
And then, letting Lucio pour her a drink, she began to count the minutes, wondering how much of Court she had to get through before she could pull him back into his bedchambers with a reasonably clear conscience.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
If it’s half of what he feels, a touch could erupt them in an instant, a lit match to a tinderbox. She stays silent. Her movements reflect the dance, and he wonders if she thinks a detail ever escapes his gaze. Arms unfolded now, his fingers signal something universal. “Come.” (Perhaps this is what you’ve been terrified of—how she breathes life into you, and holds you up to the light.) ❦❦❦❦❦❦❦ Sasuke and Sakura make a decision. Sakura aims to draw out the enemy. Naruto moves in.
Series Warnings: human au, fluff, angst, Dom/sub, submissive!Angel, smut, bondage…more to be added as series progresses
Chapter Summary: Will asks a necessary question, and Liam makes another decision.
Series Summary: Liam Devlin, hardworking investor and businessman, receives an unexpected awakening in the form of William Pratt, the unassuming bookstore owner he met online.
A/N: Since it's human au, I figured this chapter was necessary to get done before the smut.
William was half disappointed when Liam promptly pulled into the parking space beside him. The other half appreciated the brunette's eager obedience. Liam stepped out of the black '59 Corvette and joined him where leaned against the trunk of the Viper.
"You know, I thought about driving around the block a couple times, just to start racking up that punishment."
"And yet, here you are, right on schedule. Pity." William smirked and shook his head, pleased Liam hadn't gotten spooked on the drive over from the cafe and done a runner. "What made you change your mind, pet?"
"Didn't wanna waste time better spent with you." A sly look crossed Liam's face. "I'm sure I'll wind up earning a punishment at some point, anyway, so don't be too disappointed."
"Oh? Plan on disobeying me, do you?"
"Hmm, that's for you to find out the hard way", Liam teased with a wink.
Will scoffed and pulled Liam to him, gripping his chin in hand.
"Cheeky boy."
"Gonna spank it out of me?"
Liam tilted his head and captured William's thumb between his lips, sliding his mouth down the digit, sucking at it briefly before pulling back with a wet pop.
"Not tonight, Angel", Will groaned, releasing his face and taking his hand, leading him towards the building. "Got somethin' so much better in mind. 'Sides, I kinda like your cheek."
"So, you live in your bookshop?" Liam ducked his head as soon as he said it, heat rising to his cheeks. "I, uh, didn't mean that in a bad way, just curious."
"S'alright, pet. Yeah, live in the apartment upstairs." William unlocked the shop door and led Liam into the darkened shop towards the stairs. "It's big enough for now, and while the books that come through make a pretty penny, there can be buyer droughts. Having just the one set of bills helps me not dry out all my savings during the slow months. I’d rather be able to spend more on experiences than money, anyway. Sorry if you were expecting somethin’ swankier."
“Oh, God, Will, that’s not what I meant, at all! I don’t like to spend all that much on unnecessary stuff, either.” They quickly reached the top of the stairs and crossed the small landing to the door. Unlocking it, Will held it open for Liam as he continued trying to explain. "I really just wasn't expecting it."
"Liam, luv, I'm just yanking your chain."
"Oh. Jeez, rude much? And,” Liam gave him a wry smirk, “didn't you already do that, not even ten minutes ago?"
William barked out a laugh and led Liam into the apartment, flicking on the light. It was a nice place, nearly as large as the bookstore below, with an open layout from the entry through to the kitchen, and four doors running down along one wall. The furniture was tastefully simple, two off-white couches, an armchair, and a cherry wood coffee table made up the bulk of the living room, with a matching desk and chair set up in a corner. Dark gray wall-to-wall carpet led from the door to the dining room, which had a hardwood flooring to match the four-person dining table. Chrome and steel appliances made up the kitchen; the countertops and island were a gray, speckled marble.
"Have a seat, pet." Will waved Liam over to the couches and headed into the kitchen. "Beer? Or would you prefer something harder?"
Liam settled into the larger of the sofas and turned to look at William.
"Oh, I'd definitely prefer something harder, but he's in the kitchen getting me a beer."
"Christ, you are going to keep me on my toes, aren't you?"
Grabbing a couple beers from the fridge, he returned, handing Liam a beer and sitting down in the armchair. Liam looked at him quizzically, pointedly looking at the empty space beside him and back at Will.
"Before we get to the fun, I wanted to go over a few ground rules. We'll discuss everything in depth tomorrow, consider tonight a trial run, yeah?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." Liam took a swig of the beer and set the bottle down, giving William his full attention. "I want this, Will, whatever it takes."
"Glad to hear it, pet. First, until I say otherwise, I'm not Will anymore. When you address me, it's either Master, Master Spike, or simply Spike." Will held up a finger, stilting Liam's question. "I'll explain the Spike thing some other time. Now, you obviously like when I call you pet, and luv, would it be okay if I call you Angel, too? Just when I'm in control. I prefer having a standard nickname I can use so my subs know when they're doing well, Liam would be used as a warning or admonishment."
"Um, yeah…yes, I think I'd like that.” Liam looked away briefly, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “I liked it, earlier, when you called me your angel. More than pet, even."
"Good. Second, I'll accept, hell, I'll expect brattiness, up to a point. But never in public. Got it?"
"Got it. I understand, completely. I expected the same of my subs."
“Third, if, in the morning, we both decide we want to do this full time, I’ll schedule us both for a set of tests, the whole work-up. Tonight, and until we get the all-clear, condoms are mandatory, even for oral. It’s nothing against you, mind, I require all my subs to test for STDs regularly.”
“Trust me, I would’ve brought it up if you hadn’t. You really can’t be too careful. Did you want me to use your doctor, or…?”
“If you don’t mind. Just for the first set. Then, you can schedule them with your own. Those are the basics for now, but I do have a couple of questions.”
Liam picked up his beer and took a long pull, steeling himself for what he figured was coming.
“Go for it.”
“Startin’ with the easy one, would you like to choose a safeword?” Will leaned back in his chair, watching Liam decide. “We can skip that bit for now, if you’d like to think on it, pet. We can use the color system for tonight.”
“Yeah, I-I’ll get back to you on that one. Sorry, just a little weird, you know? Shoe on the other foot, and all that.”
“It’s okay. But this question, I will need an answer to, before we do anything tonight. Liam, have you ever bottomed before?”
Liam drained the rest of his beer and looked away.
“Pet, answer me.”
“No, never. I’ve always topped, even before I got into all this.”
William nodded thoughtfully, and stood swiftly from the chair, crossing over to sit next to Liam. He took the bottle from him and set it aside, taking both of Liam’s hands in his.
“Look at me. Liam, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Liam turned to face Will, a worried look in his eyes as he met his steady, blue gaze.
“It’s okay that you’ve never bottomed, luv. It’s okay if you never do. If you don’t want to, if you’re not ready, you don’t have to.” Will let go of one of Liam’s hands to cup his face, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “Liam, I won’t push you to do something you truly don’t want. There’s plenty of other ways to have fun, as I’m sure you know.”
Liam’s worry cleared from his eyes and he leaned into William’s touch. With the hand Will still held, he tugged the blonde closer, still staring intently into those mesmerizing blue eyes. He felt a level of trust for this man that he hadn't felt with any of his previous partners since…well, in a very long time. His mind made up, he leaned forward and crushed his lips to William's in a heated kiss, the residual dom in him temporarily surging up as he urged Will back against the cushions.
William gasped at the urgency of the kiss, not even thinking to resist as Liam took a little of the control back. The brunette needed this, and with his cock still aching for attention, he was more than willing to allow the concession as he was maneuvered along the length of the couch. Liam deepened the kiss, his tongue mapping out Will’s mouth as he stretched out on top of him, his legs parting to settle on either side of the blonde’s.
Slipping a hand between them, Liam stroked his fingers over Will’s trapped cock, moaning into the kiss as a surprisingly intense jolt of desire ran through him at the thought of that long shaft pushing into him. Good to know his body and mind were in agreement about the choice he was about to make. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he kneeled up, looming over the wide-eyed, panting blonde.
"Fuck me. I…I want you to take me. Please, Master Spike, be my first?"
Next Chapter --->
~~~~~
All Things Spike: @leatafanfiction @captain-peroxid3
A/N: written for nekid_spike's Three of a Kind challenge over on LJ. Here's my first attempt at some Spaith sexiness.
"Aw, don't be like that, B. I was only yanking your chain." Faith watched as Buffy stomped off up the stairs and shrugged, turning her head back to look over at Spike. "She still can't take a joke, can she?"
"Give 'er a break, ducks. She's got a lot on her plate, this go 'round. All those mini-Slayers are depending on her, and now you, too, to perform a miracle in getting them trained up enough to survive the apocalypse currently loomin' over us." Spike stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back against the wall, his eyes roving over Faith's relaxed form. The memory of her boasts of prowess years ago left him sorely tempted to test her skills, but for now he was content to look. "Buffy's tough, no denying, but it's no easy task's been set in front of her, and she's gonna need every ounce of help we can give her."
"Came here to fight by her side, didn't I? I'm just sayin', Buff could do with a little fun in her life. All work and no play, makes for a cranky Slayer. 'S why I never let myself get all pent up, one way or another."
"Must've made for quite a few fun brawls in jail, pet, that li'l philosophy of yours. Unless, fighting wasn't the only way you let off steam…?"
Faith smacked his arm reproachfully, giving the slap just enough strength for the vampire to feel its sting, but not anywhere close to hard enough to bruise. Spike flinched back and leered at her, a small jolt of arousal coursing through him at the flush that warmed her already heated scent.
"Oi! What, you saying none of those fillies caught your eye? And don't say you've never even been tempted to try out the other side, I've seen the looks you cast the Slayer's way."
"Would've if I thought any of them were worth it, but it was more fun to break them with fists." She leered back at Spike and leaned in closer to him, her voice lowering to a husky whisper. "None of them could've handled me at a full gallop."
Spike growled softly and met her heated gaze. Maybe he wouldn't have to contend himself with just looking, after all.
"Bet there's few who could, luv. Next time you're feeling a bit pent up, you just lemme know, pet. Been in the mood for a taste of warm champagne myself, lately."
"And what if I told you I was looking to vent a little stress right now?"
"Bloody hell, woman." Spike barely held back the urge to lay her out on the cot that instant as Faith's lips brushed over his earlobe. "I'd tell you to lock the bleeding door and prepare to hold on to your saddle, 'cause this mustang ain’t been broken yet."
( took me much longer to write this than I would have liked, but here you go. Hope I got Barricade right :) )
Blue marbled optics cycled once again, refocusing and staring. Indeed he was staying true on his words to not interfere with their work, but there was an itch, an urge to take action. Still, he waited.
He waited all day. He would wait no more.
Radar had cornered Barricade, out of sight of any others, and he pounced, using his larger frame to his advantage to pin the grounder to the floor. He refused to let his face portray the excitement he got from being able to catch the other off guard like he had, instead hiding it behind his visor and calm, bored expression. The growl he got in response to straddling the darker waist almost broke his facade.
“What are you doing, mech?”
“You’ve been ignoring me all day.”
“Ignoring?” Barricade snorted.
Radar let the corners of his lips twitch, threatening to curl in a wide grin and laughter. He let that bit of his facade fall apart. Truly, hiding his emotions was not his strong suit.
“You are a horrible tease, you know..” It was Barricade’s turn to laugh.
“A tease you say?”
Crossing his arms, Radar let a small pout form on his face. He opened himself up this way, leaving the room for Barricade to change their positions, a move Radar was not expecting. Radar squeaked, wide opticed and briefly stunned. His wings flapped with irritation, but he remained where he was. He had wanted attention all day and now that he was finally getting it, he wasn’t going to complain.
Leaning down, Barricade caught the cables on Radar throat between his denta, biting down and pulling away. Radar shivered, and Barricade soaked up the small whimper.
