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brendan_vincentTitle:Something of and Bird Nests & Bearskins
Rating:nc-17
Word Count:1800
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mischief5
Summary: Vincent plans the perfect vacation getaway. Things don't go quite as expected.
Written as a Christmas gift forneevebrody as posted with her permission.
Something of and Bird Nests & Bearskins
Everything was turning into a disaster right in front of him.
Vince groaned. This was meant to be the perfect Christmas getaway, something for just the two of them. Fat chance of that now.
When Bren tossed off that casual confession – my life's kind of messed up – Vince knew there was more to the story. Then he'd met Dean's parents with their forced, oh so politically correct politeness. Ouch. Vince's own smile froze at the edges under their gaze, so it was no wonder Brendan's family obligations created hard, tense lines around Bren's mouth.
Since then, Vince spent a lot of time thinking about getting Brendan away to a cozy cabin in the woods. Somewhere where he could show Bren with actions, not words, just how special and valuable he was. He wanted to lay Bren down on a bearskin rug, get him naked in front of a warm fire, and spend hours easing those lines into laughter.
It was a great idea, if he said so himself. Until Murphy's law took over. If there was anything in his planned getaway that could go wrong, it did.
He should have known it wasn't going to go smoothly when Brendan packed his case files. Then they'd had a flat tire eighty miles from nowhere. The spare was tread bare but by some small mercy, still inflated.
Since this trip was his idea, Vince insisted on changing the tire himself. All he got was a narrow-eyed pout from Brendan for his efforts, and a sprained wrist. He couldn't forget the sprained wrist. Especially after he realized he couldn't shift and had to hand the rest of the driving over to Bren. Who'd put those lug nuts on anyway – the Hulk?
Now he stood in front of a stone fireplace, useless arm in a makeshift sling made from a flannel shirt while Brendan climbed up on the roof to dislodge a bird's nest from the chimney. Oh yes, there was also a serious lack of a bearskin rug to be seen anywhere.
On the bright side, the way the afternoon was going, it probably would have been full of crawly creatures anyway.
Oh, fuck. The grey, overhanging clouds picked now to pour down sheets of icy rain. Now. While Brendan was still up on the roof.
Vince ran his good hand through his hair and sent up a prayer of thanks when the bird nest came tumbling down in pieces to land in the fire pit. At least he could start the fire now. He decided to light a few candles for good measure. The grey afternoon was getting darker, and colder, fast.
The beer would be warm, but good enough to celebrate once Brendan got down off the icy, slate roof – without breaking anything. Vince got moving, getting supplies ready one-handed while keeping an ear on Bren's progress. He smiled in earnest when Bren finally came through the door. He was soaked through and looked miserable but he was all in one piece.
Vince let himself breathe again.
"Damn it, Vince, your mother hen is showing." A quirky smile peeked out. "You need to worry less."
"I – need to worry less? Pot calling the kettle black, old man."
Bren smirked. "Who are you calling old?" He nodded his head toward Vince's swollen wrist. "Looks to me like you have the edge on decrepit."
Vince watched as Brendan shrugged out of his coat and hung it to dry. Water dripped from the ends of his hair threatening to soak his dry shirt. "Get over by the fire."
"Mother – hen–ning. It's almost cute. Did you know you get this little wrinkle in your forehead when you do that?" Bren asked. He came over to stand next to Vince and their shoulders brushed as they stood in front of the fire. "Kinda makes me want to kiss it away."
"Oh, it does, does it?"
"Mmmmm. Remind me to show you later, when my hands don't feel like blocks of ice."
"Oh, Bren," Vince reached out to tuck Brendan's frozen fingers into his one good hand. "This isn't exactly what I pictured for our weekend getaway."
"Figured." Brendan leaned close enough that Vince could feel Bren's soft snort against his cheek. "I noticed a distinct lack of a bearskin rug."
"You knew?"
"Idiot." Brendan said, voice full of soft affection. "Although I admit I’m a little disappointed about the rug – I was entertaining a few fantasies myself on the way here."
"Oh god, we are a pair." Vince grinned in sheer relief.
~~~
They went to work unpacking and getting an early supper on the table. Brendan was right by his side, giving him an extra hand when he needed and occasionally when he didn't. He rolled his eyes more than once at that – with a hip check or two added in for good measure. As Vince watched the tension bleed away from Brendan's shoulders and his smiles turn easy, he knew the sprained wrist was worth it.
Full of hot soup, warm beer, and toast burnt over the open fire, Vince sat back and watched Brendan. No reason, he just liked watching the man. He was beautiful, even more so bathed in the glow of the firelight. A satisfying hum of possession rocked through him, and he lowered his eyes so that Bren wouldn't see it in his gaze.
Unless he missed his guess, by the way Bren was arranging the sleeping bags in front of the fireplace, not to mention every pillow in the place, Brendan had his own ideas of taking possession. God damn, how did he get so lucky?
"C'mere." Brendan's voice was deep, rough, and went straight to Vince's hindbrain. He found couldn't slide to his knees down in front of him fast enough.
"Bren, god. I…"
"Let me. Just – let me do this, Vince." Brendan reached out and carefully removed the makeshift sling. Then he started on Vince's buttons.
"You could do that faster." Vince got a rise of an eyebrow for his suggestion but Brendan didn't unbutton his shirt one bit faster. Vince groaned.
"I want to take my time with you, I want –" Brendan put his hand on Vince's jean's covered cock. "– I want this, all of it. And I want – well, trust me, you'll like it."
His shirt fell open, finally. Brendan leaned down, pulled one of Vince's nipples into his mouth, and gave it a teasing graze with his teeth. Vince felt helpless to do anything but tangle his one good hand in Brendan's hair, hold him close, and hope he'd do it again. Harder.
"Wanna get my mouth all over you, don't wanna stop until the sun comes up." Bren pulled one of his agenty moves on him and Vince found himself flat on his back while Brendan made short work of pulling his jeans off.
"Wow. I keep forgetting how good you are at that. Whew, viva la NSA training. Um, okay, that didn't come out as sexy as I meant it to."
"You think my training is – hot?"
Vince nodded. That's all he could manage with the way Brendan's hand was playing with his cock. But oh, his body had other ideas, very definite ideas, and Vince's hips jerked up, trying to get more friction. More Brendan. More anything. "Ngguhh."
When Brendan said he wanted to put his mouth all over him, he wasn't kidding. Spread eagle and naked, Vince shook under Bren's focused attention. His backbone had the consistency of mud while his cock strained straight up, hard and begging.
Brendan, the bastard was sucking on his ankles instead.
"Bren…oh god, Bren…I can't…" Dear heaven, was that his voice sounding so wreaked and gasping?
Brendan sat back on his heels – which was all kinds of wrong because he stopped and all kinds of right because he was finally taking his clothes off.
"Turn over."
"Wha? No, no, no." Vince reached out. "No turning over, I want –"
Brendan shushed him with a kiss. "I promise I'll give you what you need."
Brendan looked like a fucking god in bronze colored shadows and golden light. Vince would have given him anything in that moment. With a groan, and Bren's guiding hand at his hip, he turned over.
"Spread your legs for me."
"Oh sweet, Jesus."
Bren chuckled, low and decidedly wicked. Vince could feel Bren's warm breath against his ass and his cock jumped, leaving a wet smear on the fabric under him. He was going to die. He was going to die, right here, splayed out on a sleeping bag in an old cabin in the woods. The coroner's report would read – Death by tongue. He just knew it.
"You're thinking too much. I must be doing something wrong."
Vince could hear the damn smile in Brendan's voice. "Damn it, Dean. Bren. Fuck – please."
"Oh, trust me. I'm planning on it."
Vince let his forehead rest on the floor and moaned as Brendan fucking Dean pulled his ass cheeks apart and licked him straight across his asshole. When Brendan's tongue worked all the way in, he almost strangled himself in the bedding trying to spread his legs wider and arch back to hump Bren's face at the same time.
Vince's world narrowed down to the helpless sensation of Brendan's fingers and tongue exploring, learning, and leaving their mark. The hot-blood rush to his cock as he felt himself opened and readied, slick smooth and – oh god, that had to be three fingers Bren was using in him now.
The relief was staggering when he finally felt the nudge of Brendan's cock spreading him even wider. Vince tried to push back. He wanted to – needed to – impale himself; to feel Brendan's cock deep inside. He didn’t even care if he came; he just needed to be joined in every way possible to this man who was the other half of his heart.
"Easy Vince, I've got you."
He was as good as his word. With one hand tangled in Vince's hair and the heat of his breath against the back of his neck, Brendan fucked into him. Fucked him hard. The snap of his hips gave no mercy and Vincent didn’t want any. It was permission to howl into the night. Leave it to Bren to know he needed this because Vince sure as hell hadn't.
And god damn if he didn't do a little howling when Brendan finally reached around and flicked his thumb over the sweet spot just under the head of his cock.
For one raw moment, he could feel the beat of Brendan's heart buried deep inside him. Then it was over in a white rush that left him shaking against the wild, hot kisses pressed into his shoulder as Bren groaned his name and came.
Warm, sated, and curled together naked in front of the fire, Brendan's head rested against his hip. Vince was tempted to tease Bren over his little sighs of contentment, but to do that, he'd have to stop staring at Bren's pouty, swollen mouth.
Given bird nests and bearskin rugs, Vince admitted his plans had turned out differently than expected. Strangely enough, he'd still gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas.
~*~
Rating:nc-17
Word Count:1800
Beta:
mischief5Summary: Vincent plans the perfect vacation getaway. Things don't go quite as expected.
Written as a Christmas gift for
neevebrody as posted with her permission. Something of and Bird Nests & Bearskins
Everything was turning into a disaster right in front of him.
Vince groaned. This was meant to be the perfect Christmas getaway, something for just the two of them. Fat chance of that now.
When Bren tossed off that casual confession – my life's kind of messed up – Vince knew there was more to the story. Then he'd met Dean's parents with their forced, oh so politically correct politeness. Ouch. Vince's own smile froze at the edges under their gaze, so it was no wonder Brendan's family obligations created hard, tense lines around Bren's mouth.
Since then, Vince spent a lot of time thinking about getting Brendan away to a cozy cabin in the woods. Somewhere where he could show Bren with actions, not words, just how special and valuable he was. He wanted to lay Bren down on a bearskin rug, get him naked in front of a warm fire, and spend hours easing those lines into laughter.
It was a great idea, if he said so himself. Until Murphy's law took over. If there was anything in his planned getaway that could go wrong, it did.
He should have known it wasn't going to go smoothly when Brendan packed his case files. Then they'd had a flat tire eighty miles from nowhere. The spare was tread bare but by some small mercy, still inflated.
Since this trip was his idea, Vince insisted on changing the tire himself. All he got was a narrow-eyed pout from Brendan for his efforts, and a sprained wrist. He couldn't forget the sprained wrist. Especially after he realized he couldn't shift and had to hand the rest of the driving over to Bren. Who'd put those lug nuts on anyway – the Hulk?
Now he stood in front of a stone fireplace, useless arm in a makeshift sling made from a flannel shirt while Brendan climbed up on the roof to dislodge a bird's nest from the chimney. Oh yes, there was also a serious lack of a bearskin rug to be seen anywhere.
On the bright side, the way the afternoon was going, it probably would have been full of crawly creatures anyway.
Oh, fuck. The grey, overhanging clouds picked now to pour down sheets of icy rain. Now. While Brendan was still up on the roof.
Vince ran his good hand through his hair and sent up a prayer of thanks when the bird nest came tumbling down in pieces to land in the fire pit. At least he could start the fire now. He decided to light a few candles for good measure. The grey afternoon was getting darker, and colder, fast.
The beer would be warm, but good enough to celebrate once Brendan got down off the icy, slate roof – without breaking anything. Vince got moving, getting supplies ready one-handed while keeping an ear on Bren's progress. He smiled in earnest when Bren finally came through the door. He was soaked through and looked miserable but he was all in one piece.
Vince let himself breathe again.
"Damn it, Vince, your mother hen is showing." A quirky smile peeked out. "You need to worry less."
"I – need to worry less? Pot calling the kettle black, old man."
Bren smirked. "Who are you calling old?" He nodded his head toward Vince's swollen wrist. "Looks to me like you have the edge on decrepit."
Vince watched as Brendan shrugged out of his coat and hung it to dry. Water dripped from the ends of his hair threatening to soak his dry shirt. "Get over by the fire."
"Mother – hen–ning. It's almost cute. Did you know you get this little wrinkle in your forehead when you do that?" Bren asked. He came over to stand next to Vince and their shoulders brushed as they stood in front of the fire. "Kinda makes me want to kiss it away."
"Oh, it does, does it?"
"Mmmmm. Remind me to show you later, when my hands don't feel like blocks of ice."
"Oh, Bren," Vince reached out to tuck Brendan's frozen fingers into his one good hand. "This isn't exactly what I pictured for our weekend getaway."
"Figured." Brendan leaned close enough that Vince could feel Bren's soft snort against his cheek. "I noticed a distinct lack of a bearskin rug."
"You knew?"
"Idiot." Brendan said, voice full of soft affection. "Although I admit I’m a little disappointed about the rug – I was entertaining a few fantasies myself on the way here."
"Oh god, we are a pair." Vince grinned in sheer relief.
~~~
They went to work unpacking and getting an early supper on the table. Brendan was right by his side, giving him an extra hand when he needed and occasionally when he didn't. He rolled his eyes more than once at that – with a hip check or two added in for good measure. As Vince watched the tension bleed away from Brendan's shoulders and his smiles turn easy, he knew the sprained wrist was worth it.
Full of hot soup, warm beer, and toast burnt over the open fire, Vince sat back and watched Brendan. No reason, he just liked watching the man. He was beautiful, even more so bathed in the glow of the firelight. A satisfying hum of possession rocked through him, and he lowered his eyes so that Bren wouldn't see it in his gaze.
Unless he missed his guess, by the way Bren was arranging the sleeping bags in front of the fireplace, not to mention every pillow in the place, Brendan had his own ideas of taking possession. God damn, how did he get so lucky?
"C'mere." Brendan's voice was deep, rough, and went straight to Vince's hindbrain. He found couldn't slide to his knees down in front of him fast enough.
"Bren, god. I…"
"Let me. Just – let me do this, Vince." Brendan reached out and carefully removed the makeshift sling. Then he started on Vince's buttons.
"You could do that faster." Vince got a rise of an eyebrow for his suggestion but Brendan didn't unbutton his shirt one bit faster. Vince groaned.
"I want to take my time with you, I want –" Brendan put his hand on Vince's jean's covered cock. "– I want this, all of it. And I want – well, trust me, you'll like it."
His shirt fell open, finally. Brendan leaned down, pulled one of Vince's nipples into his mouth, and gave it a teasing graze with his teeth. Vince felt helpless to do anything but tangle his one good hand in Brendan's hair, hold him close, and hope he'd do it again. Harder.
"Wanna get my mouth all over you, don't wanna stop until the sun comes up." Bren pulled one of his agenty moves on him and Vince found himself flat on his back while Brendan made short work of pulling his jeans off.
"Wow. I keep forgetting how good you are at that. Whew, viva la NSA training. Um, okay, that didn't come out as sexy as I meant it to."
"You think my training is – hot?"
Vince nodded. That's all he could manage with the way Brendan's hand was playing with his cock. But oh, his body had other ideas, very definite ideas, and Vince's hips jerked up, trying to get more friction. More Brendan. More anything. "Ngguhh."
When Brendan said he wanted to put his mouth all over him, he wasn't kidding. Spread eagle and naked, Vince shook under Bren's focused attention. His backbone had the consistency of mud while his cock strained straight up, hard and begging.
Brendan, the bastard was sucking on his ankles instead.
"Bren…oh god, Bren…I can't…" Dear heaven, was that his voice sounding so wreaked and gasping?
Brendan sat back on his heels – which was all kinds of wrong because he stopped and all kinds of right because he was finally taking his clothes off.
"Turn over."
"Wha? No, no, no." Vince reached out. "No turning over, I want –"
Brendan shushed him with a kiss. "I promise I'll give you what you need."
Brendan looked like a fucking god in bronze colored shadows and golden light. Vince would have given him anything in that moment. With a groan, and Bren's guiding hand at his hip, he turned over.
"Spread your legs for me."
"Oh sweet, Jesus."
Bren chuckled, low and decidedly wicked. Vince could feel Bren's warm breath against his ass and his cock jumped, leaving a wet smear on the fabric under him. He was going to die. He was going to die, right here, splayed out on a sleeping bag in an old cabin in the woods. The coroner's report would read – Death by tongue. He just knew it.
"You're thinking too much. I must be doing something wrong."
Vince could hear the damn smile in Brendan's voice. "Damn it, Dean. Bren. Fuck – please."
"Oh, trust me. I'm planning on it."
Vince let his forehead rest on the floor and moaned as Brendan fucking Dean pulled his ass cheeks apart and licked him straight across his asshole. When Brendan's tongue worked all the way in, he almost strangled himself in the bedding trying to spread his legs wider and arch back to hump Bren's face at the same time.
Vince's world narrowed down to the helpless sensation of Brendan's fingers and tongue exploring, learning, and leaving their mark. The hot-blood rush to his cock as he felt himself opened and readied, slick smooth and – oh god, that had to be three fingers Bren was using in him now.
The relief was staggering when he finally felt the nudge of Brendan's cock spreading him even wider. Vince tried to push back. He wanted to – needed to – impale himself; to feel Brendan's cock deep inside. He didn’t even care if he came; he just needed to be joined in every way possible to this man who was the other half of his heart.
"Easy Vince, I've got you."
He was as good as his word. With one hand tangled in Vince's hair and the heat of his breath against the back of his neck, Brendan fucked into him. Fucked him hard. The snap of his hips gave no mercy and Vincent didn’t want any. It was permission to howl into the night. Leave it to Bren to know he needed this because Vince sure as hell hadn't.
And god damn if he didn't do a little howling when Brendan finally reached around and flicked his thumb over the sweet spot just under the head of his cock.
For one raw moment, he could feel the beat of Brendan's heart buried deep inside him. Then it was over in a white rush that left him shaking against the wild, hot kisses pressed into his shoulder as Bren groaned his name and came.
Warm, sated, and curled together naked in front of the fire, Brendan's head rested against his hip. Vince was tempted to tease Bren over his little sighs of contentment, but to do that, he'd have to stop staring at Bren's pouty, swollen mouth.
Given bird nests and bearskin rugs, Vince admitted his plans had turned out differently than expected. Strangely enough, he'd still gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 01:19 am (UTC)Whew! *fans self* Delicious!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 05:23 am (UTC)::giggle::
But, yowza! Hot... and sweet!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 12:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-01 10:28 pm (UTC)The relief was staggering when he finally felt the nudge of Brendan's cock spreading him even wider. Vince tried to push back. He wanted to – needed to – impale himself; to feel Brendan's cock deep inside. He didn’t even care if he came; he just needed to be joined in every way possible to this man who was the other half of his heart.
Yep, just that right there. Thank you for the story, sweetie. And thank you for loving them as much as I do. ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-01-01 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 09:04 pm (UTC)nuh-grrr was exactly what I was aiming for ;)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-01 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-02 12:35 am (UTC)