Fic roundup
Jul. 1st, 2006 01:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
under_hatchesComplicated, Russell/ Alan, 1.060 words.
Complicated
He wasn’t sure what drew him to Russell; it sure wasn’t sex, and he wouldn’t call it a crush. Maybe it was his voice, the way it curved around some words and dropped at others. Alan hoped it wasn’t sex, because that would be impossible to explain.
Alan knew that pondering all this while sitting next to Russell was A Bad Idea. But they talked and laughed and Alan had noticed the soft timbre in Russell’s voice earlier, the scratches that made him clear his throat a lot and reach for yet another beer after a day of recording.
They both were tired, Alan could feel it in his bones and suddenly felt a little old and very wistful. He stared into the dusk, the sun long settled somewhere out of sight. The land seemed to make him more thoughtful, the warmth of it, the easiness. The lack of hardness and harshness and gushing wind that made you want to cling to things. It was easy to let be here, easy to let go and try and see. He leaned a bit to the left, towards Russell. So easy to let go. They both grew quiet then, and the air cooled around them on the porch.
The silence was comfortable, so Alan did not say a word when Russell placed a warm hand on Alan’s neck, rubbing circles with his thumb. He settled on a content sound, a mmm that left things open for interpretation. Because even though this was nice, he didn’t want to say so just yet. Mostly because he might end up saying something stupid.
That didn’t exclude doing stupid things, but Alan suddenly had the feeling that Russell waited for him to do something, like in that song of his. Alan could feel his brain kicking into another gear, and while he still somehow thought about the song, trying to remember the lyrics and wondering about how true it was, his body was already moving and when things cleared up a little again, he was lying half on top of Russell, who had wrapped his arms around Alan’s middle and was looking at him a little fondly and a little surprised. It seemed to be the good kind of surprised, like when you found something you had been looking for in the spot you had been looking in all along even though it wasn’t there the first time you tried. And Alan thought, Well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? But for some reason it did. Russell felt good and solid, just like Alan had expected him to be. Alan sneaked one hand under Russell’s shirt, shifting his weight a little or trying to. Somehow he was coherent enough to think about how small this friggin 2-seater was.
Russell exhaled in a small huff, like he had been holding his breath, and Alan realised he had somehow, when?, climbed onto the other man for real. He was not exactly straddling Russell, but he was close. He got sheepish then, mostly about how their bodies touched and tried to pull back his hand. Russell looked at him then, and slid one hand into Alan’s hair. Alan moved his hand over Russell’s side, along the ribs, the smooth muscles there, sliding around and towards Russell’s shoulder until his hand was trapped under Russell. No need to pull back really, as Russell was now combing through Alan’s hair.
And Russell still smiled, a little sweetly this time, looking at Alan. Alan thought about a way how he could get his other hand under Russell’s shirt too without crushing Russell under him. He did straddle Russell then, wedging his left knee between the back of the 2-seater and Russell’s warm body, and placing his right foot on the ground. Alan shifted around, finally sliding his free hand over Russell’s skin. Russell pulled him closer, strong hands on Alan’s back, and Alan made a purring noise. He leaned in further then, encouraged by the comfort of the whole… thing, and pressed his face into Russell’s neck.
He lay there, cuddled close, trying to make sense of it all. It was harder to think with Russell’s breath hot on his own neck, and the slight scratch of stubbles on his cheek. Alan rubbed his face against Russell’s, and Russell gave a short laugh. When Alan turned his head a little to look at Russell, they almost bumped noses. Alan looked down his nose at Russell’s lips, and then back to Russell’s eyes. Russell licked his lips then. The impossibility of it all made Alan grin. Russell lost his smile then, growing serious. All business now, Alan thought and wondered if he looked the same. Alan moved his hand up Russell’s shoulder, curving around the top of it, holding on. Russell licked his lips again.
There should be butterflies, he thought, not just this urge to do something stupid like kiss the man. Alan leaned in some more, not even an inch more, and they bumped noses. Just when Alan wanted to laugh at it, at the mere silliness of lying on a tiny wanna-be couch after sunset with someone he had considered a really good friend just minutes ago, their lips met.
It was impossible to tell who kissed whom, so Alan closed his eyes and just kissed Russell. It was nice and strange and, God, yes. Alan didn’t care about the lack of butterflies, because this was enough sensation.
They kissed lazily, and when they stopped, both stopped. Neither pulled away. They lay like this for a moment, until Russell shifted a bit. It was getting cold anyway, Alan thought.
“Want another beer,” Russell asked. Alan nodded against Russell’s chest. He tried to get up, but he had about zilch room to move on the 2-seater.
“Mate, you’re getting heavy.”
“Yeah, I know,” Alan said, pointedly, and just pushed himself off Russell’s chest. It earned him an oomph that made him grin. They both got up, staggering a little after having been squeezed against each other for so long. Alan stretched until his back didn’t feel numb anymore. Russell hugged him from behind, a good solid warm hug that seemed some sort of unsentimental thanks. They shared a smile and after a moment of consideration, Alan gave Russell a small kiss that carried the same message. And Russell understood perfectly.
***
~*~
Alpha Male, Russell/ Alan, too many words (1.576 words, too be exact), too many italics, and pron omg.
Notes: This is what happens when I ponder the wrong topic for too long; also, it's what happens when I can't decide on sub/ dom structures. These two are delicious to play with as I find out what I need to know while they figure things out too. So basically, it's all playing by ear. As much as I hate to admit it: I may take them out to play more often just because of it. Probably horribly ooc, or maybe it's just me being shy about the whole pron thing. Or maybe my Alan is just different when he's with my Russ. And guess what? I like this explanation best!
On their way into the room where they had set up the recording equipment earlier, they bumped into each other. An accident, really. Just the usual “I’m going through this door first” alpha male thing. Alan bumped with his arse against the frame and back into Russell, who sort of hauled him into the room and slammed the door shut. They stared at each other for a moment, more of a glare really, and suddenly Alan was all over Russell. It was literally all over the place, ungraceful and unplanned, and Alan had no idea what he was doing. But something had set off a spark and Alan felt wired. The movement made Russell lose his balance, and they went smack into the wall, the impact pressing the air out of Russell. Alan started to laugh then, this whole shoving one another into a wall thing too ridiculous to him, but Russell still glared. When Alan backed off, his breath coming in short hiccups now because of the laughter, Russell grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against the wall instead. Alan could not even catch his breath as Russell was on him immediately, kissing him. It was making Alan light headed as he went from amused to terribly interested in a flash. Interested, yeah, like that's the right word for it, Alan thought. But being pinned between Russell and a wall was, well, interesting, at least. Alan was quick to admit that the kissing was friggen hot. And this wasn’t entirely new either, not in concept, just in delivery. Alan remembered the porch, more flash-backed then remembered, but this was like the porch squared, it was like the porch had been a peck on the cheek, while this was… yeah.
With one hand in Russell’s hair, Alan tore with his other hand at Russell’s shirt as if pulling him away, holding on and shoving at the same time as if he couldn’t decide. They kissed then, long and hard, and Alan briefly thought that he had never ever kissed anyone like that before. It was needy and wet and pure fucking want. It wasn’t to prove anything, it wasn’t any of that joyful kissing, none of that careful kissy kissy I-think-I-might-be-in-love-with-you either. This was tongues and teeth with the occasional grope and bite and lick. And Alan was putting in his good share, giving as much as he was taking, and at one point he sucked at Russell’s neck, vaguely thinking Shite, this is going to leave a mark.
Russell broke away first, breathing in as if he was almost gasping for air, and Alan shoved him off, hard. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this (oh he did want it, and he wanted it badly) it was just that he couldn’t think like this, with Russell all over him or him all over Russell.
“What the fuck was that?” Alan managed and Russell only grinned.
“No, really,” Alan said, trying to catch his breath, and took a half step into the room. Russell shrugged and took a step towards him.
“Oh, no no,” Alan raised his hands.
He wanted to think about it very desperately, wanted to analyse it and give it a name and then put it away for later use, but instead Russell grabbed him again, and then he and Russell sort of fell onto the couch and were kissing again. Russell pulled Alan half on top of him, cupping his arse. For that alone Alan wanted to manhandle Russell in all kinds of ways, but instead he just rubbed against Russell. Alan nipped at the soft skin at Russell’s neck, right where the angry red mark was. They both stopped then, sharing a grin as if suddenly surprised of finding oneselves on the couch. Alan kissed Russell gently then, almost apologetic, and Russell pulled him close.
“You’re a cuddler, right? A big solid softie,” Alan said. Russell looked at him as if he was insulted.
“No, really, I noticed as soon as we were in here.” Which was a lie, technically, but it was oh so good to tease him. And it worked, Russell threw him off, off the fucking couch, flipped him over and pinned him to the floor.
“Oomph,” Alan said. “Ow, you bastard.”
“You never shut up, do you,” Russell growled into Alan’s ear. And that, yeah, that went straight to his dick.
Alan tried to wriggle free, using more force than he had thought he had too, but Russell was serious about this. Alan ended up on his back, with Russell above him. Legs spread, so Russell was actually between his fucking legs, and Alan needed a moment to comprehend this. They stared at each other, all heat and intent again. Fuck it, Alan thought and grabbed Russell, pulling him down instead of shoving him away. He flicked his tongue over Russell’s mouth, pushing it past his lips. He had always liked French kissing, tongue against tongue, but this, this felt fantastic. He lifted his hips, thrusting against Russell who moaned into the kiss. There was no need to hide anything now, as Alan could feel Russell’s hard on against his thigh. He felt a little smug about it, and Russell seemed to notice. Alan reached between them, placing his hand against the bulge in Russell’s jeans. Russell didn’t pull away, but Alan could have sworn Russell had looked sheepish for a moment there. Alan started tonguing Russell’s mouth now, flicking his tongue in and out in synch with purposeful strokes of his hand. When he was sure that Russell wasn’t paying attention anymore, Alan wrapped his legs around Russell’s middle, not exactly a subtle invitation. He was rewarded with a moan and a push, and Alan thought about how far he could go.
“Open that damn jeans of yours,” he said. He didn’t sound half as commanding as he would have liked, it was more of a request, really. But Russell complied, he didn’t even hesitate, just reached down awkwardly and undid his buttons one by one. Alan sat up halfway and slid a hand into Russell’s pants. Russell leaned back and sat down onto his heels. He was strangely half kneeling now, pulling Alan along until Alan was almost up in his lap. Some part of Alan’s brain registered that they were on the floor, which maybe wasn’t as comfortable as, say, any part of furniture in the room, but hey. He couldn’t bring himself to care, especially not since the bed was rooms away from this one. And it was nice somehow, Russell’s moans and gasps came hot against his neck, and there was friction. They both fell into a gentle rocking motion, until Russell bucked into Alan’s hand. Alan decided that he liked that a lot; not the control, but the look on Russell’s face with his eyes closed and mouth open just so. The way he tipped his head back, lost in the sensation, and then Alan’s sudden unexpected revelation: I’m doing this to him. Suddenly Russell had a hand in Alan’s hair and was pulling hard. He gave a sharp yank that made Alan yelp. He could feel Russell’s knuckles rub against his scalp, a brute gesture with a definite meaning that didn’t escape Alan even in this blissful blur of want. It wasn’t a subtle shift in power, this was more of a shove off a cliff. Alan let out a strangled sound. His thoughts were running so fast they started to stumble over each other. Russell’s grip on him paired with the sweet hot friction of rubbing rocking thrusting against Russell’s thigh, and with one hand deliciously trapped between them, curled around Russell’s erection, while holding himself up with the other, was too much really. The sudden shift of dynamics between them sent him reeling, unexpectedly, and he came. Panting, he leaned in to kiss Russell’s exposed neck, and as if Russell had waited for him to go first, Russell came hot in Alan’s hand.
Alan shifted off Russell long enough so he could sit down, jeans still open and thoroughly spoilt. He tried not to think about his own jeans, and with realisation embarrassment crept in; he hadn’t quite dry humped anyone since fucking high school. Russell stretched his legs carefully, glancing at Alan with a disbelieving grin. Alan almost pounced him then, but ended up straddling his lap again. This time it was less purposeful, but more comfortable, and Alan nuzzled Russell’s neck. He inspected the reddened skin and nodded satisfied. It would leave a mark. He leaned back again and grinned.
“What are you so happy about?” Russell grinned too, looking sated and sleepy. Very sleepy, now that Alan paid attention.
“Nothing much,” Alan said, “In for a nap?”
Russell nodded, and let himself be helped up by Alan, who then followed Russell into the Master bedroom. He tried not to look around much. For some reason he had the impression that he shouldn’t really be here. They kicked off their clothes, parts of it anyway. Alan could not part with his boxers and not even the shirt he wore. He slipped under the covers quickly, as if Russell might decide against it, or as if maybe he himself could think of a reason better not to. The sheets were cool, and Alan could not even think about what had just happened; he fell asleep as soon as both of them lay stretched out.
***
~*~
Ficlet: Mornings in France, Russell/ Alan
Notes: Light, domestic, and with a late breakfast. That's how I like my mornings.
He hadn’t expected France to be so light. It was full of sun over wine yards, and apple orchards. Even in fall, it was still warm. The occasional rain showers dried quickly, only leaving muddy spots on the dirt track leading to the house he had rented. He had an ear for the language too, enjoying the unfamiliar words.
Sometimes he bugged Alan about this, but Alan hardly ever took the bait. Good-naturedly, he poked gentle fun at Russell, mostly about pronounciation, though his own was off, too. Most of the time, Alan smiled quirkily, and left it at that.
In the mornings, it took Alan longer to wake up, and at night he listened into the darkness. It wasn’t jet lag, more like a shift in his day that allowed him to start later, with breakfast at 10 instead of 8. He jogged to the bakery (boulangerie) and bought fresh bread and croissants, feeling not entirely at ease with his order and the subsequent “merci, au revoir.” He got tongue tied, being bilingual only in theory, with the French being different here. Russell nodded at that, having read about the evolution of languages and being able to quote Chomsky.
One morning, Russell showed Alan how to make coffee with a ceramic filter, standing behind him and counting the spoons of grounded beans aloud. Being almost at the same height, Russell’s lips were close enough to brush Alan’s ear, and each number was accompanied by a warm breath against Alan’s neck. Maybe it was Russell’s voice, low and close to a chuckle, or the way Russell reached around him to spoon the coffee into the filter, but Alan thought he’d never forget. The coffee was good too, even though they had bought the wrong milk (cream instead of semi-skimmed) earlier.
Complicated
He wasn’t sure what drew him to Russell; it sure wasn’t sex, and he wouldn’t call it a crush. Maybe it was his voice, the way it curved around some words and dropped at others. Alan hoped it wasn’t sex, because that would be impossible to explain.
Alan knew that pondering all this while sitting next to Russell was A Bad Idea. But they talked and laughed and Alan had noticed the soft timbre in Russell’s voice earlier, the scratches that made him clear his throat a lot and reach for yet another beer after a day of recording.
They both were tired, Alan could feel it in his bones and suddenly felt a little old and very wistful. He stared into the dusk, the sun long settled somewhere out of sight. The land seemed to make him more thoughtful, the warmth of it, the easiness. The lack of hardness and harshness and gushing wind that made you want to cling to things. It was easy to let be here, easy to let go and try and see. He leaned a bit to the left, towards Russell. So easy to let go. They both grew quiet then, and the air cooled around them on the porch.
The silence was comfortable, so Alan did not say a word when Russell placed a warm hand on Alan’s neck, rubbing circles with his thumb. He settled on a content sound, a mmm that left things open for interpretation. Because even though this was nice, he didn’t want to say so just yet. Mostly because he might end up saying something stupid.
That didn’t exclude doing stupid things, but Alan suddenly had the feeling that Russell waited for him to do something, like in that song of his. Alan could feel his brain kicking into another gear, and while he still somehow thought about the song, trying to remember the lyrics and wondering about how true it was, his body was already moving and when things cleared up a little again, he was lying half on top of Russell, who had wrapped his arms around Alan’s middle and was looking at him a little fondly and a little surprised. It seemed to be the good kind of surprised, like when you found something you had been looking for in the spot you had been looking in all along even though it wasn’t there the first time you tried. And Alan thought, Well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? But for some reason it did. Russell felt good and solid, just like Alan had expected him to be. Alan sneaked one hand under Russell’s shirt, shifting his weight a little or trying to. Somehow he was coherent enough to think about how small this friggin 2-seater was.
Russell exhaled in a small huff, like he had been holding his breath, and Alan realised he had somehow, when?, climbed onto the other man for real. He was not exactly straddling Russell, but he was close. He got sheepish then, mostly about how their bodies touched and tried to pull back his hand. Russell looked at him then, and slid one hand into Alan’s hair. Alan moved his hand over Russell’s side, along the ribs, the smooth muscles there, sliding around and towards Russell’s shoulder until his hand was trapped under Russell. No need to pull back really, as Russell was now combing through Alan’s hair.
And Russell still smiled, a little sweetly this time, looking at Alan. Alan thought about a way how he could get his other hand under Russell’s shirt too without crushing Russell under him. He did straddle Russell then, wedging his left knee between the back of the 2-seater and Russell’s warm body, and placing his right foot on the ground. Alan shifted around, finally sliding his free hand over Russell’s skin. Russell pulled him closer, strong hands on Alan’s back, and Alan made a purring noise. He leaned in further then, encouraged by the comfort of the whole… thing, and pressed his face into Russell’s neck.
He lay there, cuddled close, trying to make sense of it all. It was harder to think with Russell’s breath hot on his own neck, and the slight scratch of stubbles on his cheek. Alan rubbed his face against Russell’s, and Russell gave a short laugh. When Alan turned his head a little to look at Russell, they almost bumped noses. Alan looked down his nose at Russell’s lips, and then back to Russell’s eyes. Russell licked his lips then. The impossibility of it all made Alan grin. Russell lost his smile then, growing serious. All business now, Alan thought and wondered if he looked the same. Alan moved his hand up Russell’s shoulder, curving around the top of it, holding on. Russell licked his lips again.
There should be butterflies, he thought, not just this urge to do something stupid like kiss the man. Alan leaned in some more, not even an inch more, and they bumped noses. Just when Alan wanted to laugh at it, at the mere silliness of lying on a tiny wanna-be couch after sunset with someone he had considered a really good friend just minutes ago, their lips met.
It was impossible to tell who kissed whom, so Alan closed his eyes and just kissed Russell. It was nice and strange and, God, yes. Alan didn’t care about the lack of butterflies, because this was enough sensation.
They kissed lazily, and when they stopped, both stopped. Neither pulled away. They lay like this for a moment, until Russell shifted a bit. It was getting cold anyway, Alan thought.
“Want another beer,” Russell asked. Alan nodded against Russell’s chest. He tried to get up, but he had about zilch room to move on the 2-seater.
“Mate, you’re getting heavy.”
“Yeah, I know,” Alan said, pointedly, and just pushed himself off Russell’s chest. It earned him an oomph that made him grin. They both got up, staggering a little after having been squeezed against each other for so long. Alan stretched until his back didn’t feel numb anymore. Russell hugged him from behind, a good solid warm hug that seemed some sort of unsentimental thanks. They shared a smile and after a moment of consideration, Alan gave Russell a small kiss that carried the same message. And Russell understood perfectly.
***
~*~
Alpha Male, Russell/ Alan, too many words (1.576 words, too be exact), too many italics, and pron omg.
Notes: This is what happens when I ponder the wrong topic for too long; also, it's what happens when I can't decide on sub/ dom structures. These two are delicious to play with as I find out what I need to know while they figure things out too. So basically, it's all playing by ear. As much as I hate to admit it: I may take them out to play more often just because of it. Probably horribly ooc, or maybe it's just me being shy about the whole pron thing. Or maybe my Alan is just different when he's with my Russ. And guess what? I like this explanation best!
On their way into the room where they had set up the recording equipment earlier, they bumped into each other. An accident, really. Just the usual “I’m going through this door first” alpha male thing. Alan bumped with his arse against the frame and back into Russell, who sort of hauled him into the room and slammed the door shut. They stared at each other for a moment, more of a glare really, and suddenly Alan was all over Russell. It was literally all over the place, ungraceful and unplanned, and Alan had no idea what he was doing. But something had set off a spark and Alan felt wired. The movement made Russell lose his balance, and they went smack into the wall, the impact pressing the air out of Russell. Alan started to laugh then, this whole shoving one another into a wall thing too ridiculous to him, but Russell still glared. When Alan backed off, his breath coming in short hiccups now because of the laughter, Russell grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against the wall instead. Alan could not even catch his breath as Russell was on him immediately, kissing him. It was making Alan light headed as he went from amused to terribly interested in a flash. Interested, yeah, like that's the right word for it, Alan thought. But being pinned between Russell and a wall was, well, interesting, at least. Alan was quick to admit that the kissing was friggen hot. And this wasn’t entirely new either, not in concept, just in delivery. Alan remembered the porch, more flash-backed then remembered, but this was like the porch squared, it was like the porch had been a peck on the cheek, while this was… yeah.
With one hand in Russell’s hair, Alan tore with his other hand at Russell’s shirt as if pulling him away, holding on and shoving at the same time as if he couldn’t decide. They kissed then, long and hard, and Alan briefly thought that he had never ever kissed anyone like that before. It was needy and wet and pure fucking want. It wasn’t to prove anything, it wasn’t any of that joyful kissing, none of that careful kissy kissy I-think-I-might-be-in-love-with-you either. This was tongues and teeth with the occasional grope and bite and lick. And Alan was putting in his good share, giving as much as he was taking, and at one point he sucked at Russell’s neck, vaguely thinking Shite, this is going to leave a mark.
Russell broke away first, breathing in as if he was almost gasping for air, and Alan shoved him off, hard. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this (oh he did want it, and he wanted it badly) it was just that he couldn’t think like this, with Russell all over him or him all over Russell.
“What the fuck was that?” Alan managed and Russell only grinned.
“No, really,” Alan said, trying to catch his breath, and took a half step into the room. Russell shrugged and took a step towards him.
“Oh, no no,” Alan raised his hands.
He wanted to think about it very desperately, wanted to analyse it and give it a name and then put it away for later use, but instead Russell grabbed him again, and then he and Russell sort of fell onto the couch and were kissing again. Russell pulled Alan half on top of him, cupping his arse. For that alone Alan wanted to manhandle Russell in all kinds of ways, but instead he just rubbed against Russell. Alan nipped at the soft skin at Russell’s neck, right where the angry red mark was. They both stopped then, sharing a grin as if suddenly surprised of finding oneselves on the couch. Alan kissed Russell gently then, almost apologetic, and Russell pulled him close.
“You’re a cuddler, right? A big solid softie,” Alan said. Russell looked at him as if he was insulted.
“No, really, I noticed as soon as we were in here.” Which was a lie, technically, but it was oh so good to tease him. And it worked, Russell threw him off, off the fucking couch, flipped him over and pinned him to the floor.
“Oomph,” Alan said. “Ow, you bastard.”
“You never shut up, do you,” Russell growled into Alan’s ear. And that, yeah, that went straight to his dick.
Alan tried to wriggle free, using more force than he had thought he had too, but Russell was serious about this. Alan ended up on his back, with Russell above him. Legs spread, so Russell was actually between his fucking legs, and Alan needed a moment to comprehend this. They stared at each other, all heat and intent again. Fuck it, Alan thought and grabbed Russell, pulling him down instead of shoving him away. He flicked his tongue over Russell’s mouth, pushing it past his lips. He had always liked French kissing, tongue against tongue, but this, this felt fantastic. He lifted his hips, thrusting against Russell who moaned into the kiss. There was no need to hide anything now, as Alan could feel Russell’s hard on against his thigh. He felt a little smug about it, and Russell seemed to notice. Alan reached between them, placing his hand against the bulge in Russell’s jeans. Russell didn’t pull away, but Alan could have sworn Russell had looked sheepish for a moment there. Alan started tonguing Russell’s mouth now, flicking his tongue in and out in synch with purposeful strokes of his hand. When he was sure that Russell wasn’t paying attention anymore, Alan wrapped his legs around Russell’s middle, not exactly a subtle invitation. He was rewarded with a moan and a push, and Alan thought about how far he could go.
“Open that damn jeans of yours,” he said. He didn’t sound half as commanding as he would have liked, it was more of a request, really. But Russell complied, he didn’t even hesitate, just reached down awkwardly and undid his buttons one by one. Alan sat up halfway and slid a hand into Russell’s pants. Russell leaned back and sat down onto his heels. He was strangely half kneeling now, pulling Alan along until Alan was almost up in his lap. Some part of Alan’s brain registered that they were on the floor, which maybe wasn’t as comfortable as, say, any part of furniture in the room, but hey. He couldn’t bring himself to care, especially not since the bed was rooms away from this one. And it was nice somehow, Russell’s moans and gasps came hot against his neck, and there was friction. They both fell into a gentle rocking motion, until Russell bucked into Alan’s hand. Alan decided that he liked that a lot; not the control, but the look on Russell’s face with his eyes closed and mouth open just so. The way he tipped his head back, lost in the sensation, and then Alan’s sudden unexpected revelation: I’m doing this to him. Suddenly Russell had a hand in Alan’s hair and was pulling hard. He gave a sharp yank that made Alan yelp. He could feel Russell’s knuckles rub against his scalp, a brute gesture with a definite meaning that didn’t escape Alan even in this blissful blur of want. It wasn’t a subtle shift in power, this was more of a shove off a cliff. Alan let out a strangled sound. His thoughts were running so fast they started to stumble over each other. Russell’s grip on him paired with the sweet hot friction of rubbing rocking thrusting against Russell’s thigh, and with one hand deliciously trapped between them, curled around Russell’s erection, while holding himself up with the other, was too much really. The sudden shift of dynamics between them sent him reeling, unexpectedly, and he came. Panting, he leaned in to kiss Russell’s exposed neck, and as if Russell had waited for him to go first, Russell came hot in Alan’s hand.
Alan shifted off Russell long enough so he could sit down, jeans still open and thoroughly spoilt. He tried not to think about his own jeans, and with realisation embarrassment crept in; he hadn’t quite dry humped anyone since fucking high school. Russell stretched his legs carefully, glancing at Alan with a disbelieving grin. Alan almost pounced him then, but ended up straddling his lap again. This time it was less purposeful, but more comfortable, and Alan nuzzled Russell’s neck. He inspected the reddened skin and nodded satisfied. It would leave a mark. He leaned back again and grinned.
“What are you so happy about?” Russell grinned too, looking sated and sleepy. Very sleepy, now that Alan paid attention.
“Nothing much,” Alan said, “In for a nap?”
Russell nodded, and let himself be helped up by Alan, who then followed Russell into the Master bedroom. He tried not to look around much. For some reason he had the impression that he shouldn’t really be here. They kicked off their clothes, parts of it anyway. Alan could not part with his boxers and not even the shirt he wore. He slipped under the covers quickly, as if Russell might decide against it, or as if maybe he himself could think of a reason better not to. The sheets were cool, and Alan could not even think about what had just happened; he fell asleep as soon as both of them lay stretched out.
***
~*~
Ficlet: Mornings in France, Russell/ Alan
Notes: Light, domestic, and with a late breakfast. That's how I like my mornings.
He hadn’t expected France to be so light. It was full of sun over wine yards, and apple orchards. Even in fall, it was still warm. The occasional rain showers dried quickly, only leaving muddy spots on the dirt track leading to the house he had rented. He had an ear for the language too, enjoying the unfamiliar words.
Sometimes he bugged Alan about this, but Alan hardly ever took the bait. Good-naturedly, he poked gentle fun at Russell, mostly about pronounciation, though his own was off, too. Most of the time, Alan smiled quirkily, and left it at that.
In the mornings, it took Alan longer to wake up, and at night he listened into the darkness. It wasn’t jet lag, more like a shift in his day that allowed him to start later, with breakfast at 10 instead of 8. He jogged to the bakery (boulangerie) and bought fresh bread and croissants, feeling not entirely at ease with his order and the subsequent “merci, au revoir.” He got tongue tied, being bilingual only in theory, with the French being different here. Russell nodded at that, having read about the evolution of languages and being able to quote Chomsky.
One morning, Russell showed Alan how to make coffee with a ceramic filter, standing behind him and counting the spoons of grounded beans aloud. Being almost at the same height, Russell’s lips were close enough to brush Alan’s ear, and each number was accompanied by a warm breath against Alan’s neck. Maybe it was Russell’s voice, low and close to a chuckle, or the way Russell reached around him to spoon the coffee into the filter, but Alan thought he’d never forget. The coffee was good too, even though they had bought the wrong milk (cream instead of semi-skimmed) earlier.
