Challenge Fic: Red Sky at Night (R)
May. 22nd, 2010 05:19 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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brendan_vincenttitle: Red Sky at Night
author: neevebrody
rating: Hard R
word count: ~970
beta: the always wonderful,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mischief5
flashfic challenge prompt: Storm
summary: It quickened his breath and rattled his heart against the bars of his ribcage. An emotional tantrum designed to drag Vince deeper and deeper to a place he never wanted to escape from.
It was a day like countless others before it. Brendan had called early and said not to wait dinner, his voice crackling with agitation. The ghost of it had lingered, humming quietly in Vincent's ear all evening. When Brendan's key finally hit the lock, Vince sighed an inward prayer of relief and thanks. There was a little something extra in the slam of the door and the footsteps across the foyer were quick and determined.
He looked up from his contracts text. No 'Hello.' No 'Honey, I'm home.' And any time the kitchen was the first order of business was a fair indication that Brendan's day had sucked.
He closed the book carefully – fearing it might crumble and blow away it was so dry – and set it aside. Cocking his head, he listened for the refrigerator door, the tinkle of glass, the metallic plop and spin on the counter. Then nothing. No chair pulled out, no rummaging for food and no more footsteps. Sucked balls.
When he pushed through the swinging door, Brendan was right where Vince expected he'd be. He'd loosened his tie, but still had his jacket on. White knuckles gripped the roll of the countertop while the other hand held a beer to his lips, and the body language screamed 'don't fucking touch me.'
Vince grinned. Such a rough, hard shell, but what a soft lean. To Vince, it was the carrot to the horse, the color red to the bull. It was an invitation. Arms spread apart, legs not crossed, and the way Brendan's eyes fixed on everything in the room but Vince spelled 'come and get me' in capital letters. This, despite the fact that Brendan didn't have a clue how his own body communicated.
"Rough day?" Vince asked, taking a beer from the fridge. Asking was a nicety. His answer was there in his lover's eyes. The cool, grey-green, overcast sky, the rumble of furrowed brows, and the slight flush to the face - the depth of the hue usually determined the severity of the blow to come. It was not unlike reading a sky. Vince glanced once more at those hips. Come and get me.
Setting his unopened beer on the counter, he leaned in close. Brendan turned his head and took a long pull.
"Have it your way," Vince whispered, then dipped to nuzzle at Brendan's collar; the sexy-spiced scent seemed to swirl with the man's heat like gathering clouds. The skin there was hot and salty, and all it took to make that beer bottle hit the countertop was a few well-placed nips and a little nosing of Brendan's earlobe.
"Think your day was bad… I've been studying contracts all afternoon," he purred, the words curved with the same rhythm as if he was describing how he wanted to fuck Brendan into the mattress. Saying them, Vince toyed with a very erect, cloth-covered nipple. Pulling it, rolling it until Brendan followed, putting their bodies no more than a breath apart.
Vince edged his knee between Brendan's legs, spreading them slightly. "How about you make it all better, hmm? Nobody can do it like you, Bren…"
The ridge of Brendan's cock brushed against him, but Vince avoided the obvious, letting his hand slide instead to the curve of Brendan's ass, just above where it joined his thigh, squeezing just hard enough to finally free that hand from the counter.
Brendan wound it into Vincent's hair and pulled his head back. Steady pressure, just hard enough to sting when Vince resisted. How many times had he seen Brendan this way? How many times had he needed to quell the troubled waters? Giving in, he let Brendan have him. Mouth hot, lips hard and unyielding, seemingly with a single purpose – to drink from Vince until he'd had enough. And he let Brendan think it was his own idea, his own desire. Christ, it was so hard to tell anymore where Brendan ended and he began. Together, they were more than connected. A perfect circle completely filled.
Vince had learned just how far he could go and just how hard he could push to get to the prize - that delicious arc over which Brendan broke gracefully and just went for it. That primal nexus where the ebb and flow of desire changed, threw off its mask, and bared its soul.
He ended the kiss and turned his head, offering the strip of flesh that Brendan claimed greedily. "Fuck, yeah, make it better…" Near breathless, their hands filled with one another, Brendan's soft growl as he sucked hard and ground his hips harder sent a charge – like heat lightning – up, down, and through Vince.
Brendan was sure to figure it out one day – if he hadn't already – and what if he did? Vince was only the catalyst, a willing one. And now, a far different storm consumed the man in his arms, the transformation alive in the air around them as he fought to free Brendan from his jacket. It quickened his breath and rattled his heart against the bars of his ribcage. An emotional tantrum designed to drag Vince deeper and deeper to a place he never wanted to escape from.
He leaned back and ran his thumb across Brendan's kiss-bruised lower lip, their foreheads slick with sweat, his own mouth hovering, aching for more. "God… do it… fix me, baby." This was his Brendan, flushed red and wanting, breath hard and impatient, unable to wait another minute to get Vince inside him, any way he could.
How did that old adage go… 'red sky at night, sailor's delight.' Of that, Vincent was certain. He'd read the shift in Brendan's skies too many times not to be. So many times and, if the stars shone on him just right, so many more to come.
author: neevebrody
rating: Hard R
word count: ~970
beta: the always wonderful,
mischief5flashfic challenge prompt: Storm
summary: It quickened his breath and rattled his heart against the bars of his ribcage. An emotional tantrum designed to drag Vince deeper and deeper to a place he never wanted to escape from.
It was a day like countless others before it. Brendan had called early and said not to wait dinner, his voice crackling with agitation. The ghost of it had lingered, humming quietly in Vincent's ear all evening. When Brendan's key finally hit the lock, Vince sighed an inward prayer of relief and thanks. There was a little something extra in the slam of the door and the footsteps across the foyer were quick and determined.
He looked up from his contracts text. No 'Hello.' No 'Honey, I'm home.' And any time the kitchen was the first order of business was a fair indication that Brendan's day had sucked.
He closed the book carefully – fearing it might crumble and blow away it was so dry – and set it aside. Cocking his head, he listened for the refrigerator door, the tinkle of glass, the metallic plop and spin on the counter. Then nothing. No chair pulled out, no rummaging for food and no more footsteps. Sucked balls.
When he pushed through the swinging door, Brendan was right where Vince expected he'd be. He'd loosened his tie, but still had his jacket on. White knuckles gripped the roll of the countertop while the other hand held a beer to his lips, and the body language screamed 'don't fucking touch me.'
Vince grinned. Such a rough, hard shell, but what a soft lean. To Vince, it was the carrot to the horse, the color red to the bull. It was an invitation. Arms spread apart, legs not crossed, and the way Brendan's eyes fixed on everything in the room but Vince spelled 'come and get me' in capital letters. This, despite the fact that Brendan didn't have a clue how his own body communicated.
"Rough day?" Vince asked, taking a beer from the fridge. Asking was a nicety. His answer was there in his lover's eyes. The cool, grey-green, overcast sky, the rumble of furrowed brows, and the slight flush to the face - the depth of the hue usually determined the severity of the blow to come. It was not unlike reading a sky. Vince glanced once more at those hips. Come and get me.
Setting his unopened beer on the counter, he leaned in close. Brendan turned his head and took a long pull.
"Have it your way," Vince whispered, then dipped to nuzzle at Brendan's collar; the sexy-spiced scent seemed to swirl with the man's heat like gathering clouds. The skin there was hot and salty, and all it took to make that beer bottle hit the countertop was a few well-placed nips and a little nosing of Brendan's earlobe.
"Think your day was bad… I've been studying contracts all afternoon," he purred, the words curved with the same rhythm as if he was describing how he wanted to fuck Brendan into the mattress. Saying them, Vince toyed with a very erect, cloth-covered nipple. Pulling it, rolling it until Brendan followed, putting their bodies no more than a breath apart.
Vince edged his knee between Brendan's legs, spreading them slightly. "How about you make it all better, hmm? Nobody can do it like you, Bren…"
The ridge of Brendan's cock brushed against him, but Vince avoided the obvious, letting his hand slide instead to the curve of Brendan's ass, just above where it joined his thigh, squeezing just hard enough to finally free that hand from the counter.
Brendan wound it into Vincent's hair and pulled his head back. Steady pressure, just hard enough to sting when Vince resisted. How many times had he seen Brendan this way? How many times had he needed to quell the troubled waters? Giving in, he let Brendan have him. Mouth hot, lips hard and unyielding, seemingly with a single purpose – to drink from Vince until he'd had enough. And he let Brendan think it was his own idea, his own desire. Christ, it was so hard to tell anymore where Brendan ended and he began. Together, they were more than connected. A perfect circle completely filled.
Vince had learned just how far he could go and just how hard he could push to get to the prize - that delicious arc over which Brendan broke gracefully and just went for it. That primal nexus where the ebb and flow of desire changed, threw off its mask, and bared its soul.
He ended the kiss and turned his head, offering the strip of flesh that Brendan claimed greedily. "Fuck, yeah, make it better…" Near breathless, their hands filled with one another, Brendan's soft growl as he sucked hard and ground his hips harder sent a charge – like heat lightning – up, down, and through Vince.
Brendan was sure to figure it out one day – if he hadn't already – and what if he did? Vince was only the catalyst, a willing one. And now, a far different storm consumed the man in his arms, the transformation alive in the air around them as he fought to free Brendan from his jacket. It quickened his breath and rattled his heart against the bars of his ribcage. An emotional tantrum designed to drag Vince deeper and deeper to a place he never wanted to escape from.
He leaned back and ran his thumb across Brendan's kiss-bruised lower lip, their foreheads slick with sweat, his own mouth hovering, aching for more. "God… do it… fix me, baby." This was his Brendan, flushed red and wanting, breath hard and impatient, unable to wait another minute to get Vince inside him, any way he could.
How did that old adage go… 'red sky at night, sailor's delight.' Of that, Vincent was certain. He'd read the shift in Brendan's skies too many times not to be. So many times and, if the stars shone on him just right, so many more to come.
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