FIC: House of Cards [Blackadder Goes Forth]
TITLE: House of Cards
FANDOM: Blackadder
CHARACTERS: George Colthurst St. Barleigh, Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett
PROMPT: #039. Taste
WORD COUNT: 994
RATING: R
SUMMARY: A moment of weakness, and it all came down like a house of cards.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Close to smut, but no cigar. Le sigh. Melchett's POV, third-person limited, I believe.
***
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
As if he didn't know.
Melchett's eyes narrowed as he took in George's arrival, all blue eyes and innocence. He was holding his cap in his hands, his uniform looking pressed and neat. The earnest look, the proud stance of a noble Tommy...
This wasn't working. Being confronted by the reality of George's presence alone in his office was supposed to stop him in his tracks, not egg him on. It was bad enough that he'd seen George in the trenches a few days previous while on business to speak with Blackadder, but now... to still wonder if those lips tasted as delicious as he remembered them--
No. He was doing it again. And dash it, George was starting to look concerned. "Should I come back some other--"
Melchett shook his head. "No." He stood up from his desk.
There was only one thing for it then.
George stood at ease, waiting for an explanation as to why his presence was required. Instead, his eyes widened when Melchett not only stood, but moved close to him.
"I'm warning you now," Melchett growled, his lips neither smiling nor snarling. "If you're not out that door in three seconds, I won't be accountable for my actions."
George blinked, momentary surprise yielding to something very close to true fear. "Sir, please, it-- I-I-I-I didn't mean-"
His lips were parted, and it was the perfect opportunity to strike. Melchett's hands grabbed George's shoulders and pushed him backwards until George's back made contact with the wall audibly. George himself still protesting, looking more nervous than before, must not have seen it coming.
Melchett kissed him.
It was fast, surprisingly so. George made some sort of noise against Melchett's lips, but Melchett was too busy deepening the kiss to pay any mind. Tilting his head to one side, Melchett licked along teeth and tongue, tasting the less-than-palatable fare George must have eaten for dinner, but underneath of that...
He needed air. He was still susceptible to George's charms, and if he didn't stop now, he was going to embarrass himself.
When he pulled back, he opened his eyes in time to see George move forward, lips parted, not wanting the kiss to stop.
Blue eyes stared up at him, shining with a stupid sort of impossible hope, thin lips parted as if to say something, but hanging open instead, making George look more like an idiot than usual.
It was that innocent face, bewildered but hopeful, that shook Melchett out of his daze. "Get out."
George blinked, and it was like seeing it all over again, the way that George's hope flickered once in his eyes -- as though trying to see if Melchett were lying -- before finally winking out of existence. "Sir--"
"Did you not hear me the first time?" Melchett snarled. "Get. Out."
George swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he spoke. "I can't."
"And why is that?" Melchett sneered. "Forgot how to work your legs, have you?"
George shook his head slowly. "You've..." His tongue slipped out, licking his lips unconsciously. "You've got me pinned to the wall."
Melchett growled. The little minx was doing it deliberately.
George stared at him before licking his lips again, and Melchett couldn't take it a second time.
Lips crashed against each other, Melchett's tongue immediately barging in and taking up residence in George's mouth before pulling back, realizing mid-kiss that he'd lost control again.
George moved forward this time, whimpering audibly, lips parted in silent protest, and one kiss dissolved into two, dissolved into more. When George's chapped lips pressed against his, Melchett changed tack, taking George's errant bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it, tasting George and himself all mixed together in a weird sort of way that almost worked somehow. He could hear George whimpering, a short sound that urged him forward, pressing himself flush against George, his unbearably-restrictive trousers shoved against George, against a need that answered his own.
Melchett couldn't stop. The kisses soon weren't enough, and he found himself biting along a pale jaw, a hint of five o'clock shadow rasping against his tongue, foreign and familiar at the same time. The skin under his lips tasted... exotic, unclean, and almost deliciously forbidden.
The trail down the jaw continued down George's neck, licking at the skin before nibbling on it a little harder than necessary, receiving a breathless gasp for his efforts. George turned his head away slowly, but if he was unconsciously offering more of himself or turning away in shame, Melchett couldn't have said or even bother to care about.
Somehow, George's hands had gotten free, because they were holding him now, holding on as if he were going to be thrown into the ocean if he didn't. When Melchett discovered a sensitive spot near where the neck met the shoulder, George groaned out loud.
"Oh, Anthony..."
It was like a slap in the face and a bucket of ice-water all mixed together. Melchett tore himself away from George's neck, turning away as fast as he could until he was facing his desk, breathing heavily. "Get out."
He could almost feel the stare aimed at his back. "But--"
"Now, Lieutenant."
Melchett made the mistake of turning back.
George stared at him, shock and a wide-eyed sadness warring with each other on his face, in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips kiss-stung, and Melchett could almost see where he'd been sucking the skin, the pale skin already beginning to bruise. And lower still...
George swallowed once and saluted a bit too quickly for protocol's standards before practically fleeing.
In some dark corner of his mind where rational thought still prevailed, Melchett couldn't blame him.
He sat back down at his desk with a heavy sigh, his fingers brushing against his lips.
Damn you, George, he thought bitterly, staring at a map of the surrounding area without seeing it. Damn you.
END
FANDOM: Blackadder
CHARACTERS: George Colthurst St. Barleigh, Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett
PROMPT: #039. Taste
WORD COUNT: 994
RATING: R
SUMMARY: A moment of weakness, and it all came down like a house of cards.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Close to smut, but no cigar. Le sigh. Melchett's POV, third-person limited, I believe.
***
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
As if he didn't know.
Melchett's eyes narrowed as he took in George's arrival, all blue eyes and innocence. He was holding his cap in his hands, his uniform looking pressed and neat. The earnest look, the proud stance of a noble Tommy...
This wasn't working. Being confronted by the reality of George's presence alone in his office was supposed to stop him in his tracks, not egg him on. It was bad enough that he'd seen George in the trenches a few days previous while on business to speak with Blackadder, but now... to still wonder if those lips tasted as delicious as he remembered them--
No. He was doing it again. And dash it, George was starting to look concerned. "Should I come back some other--"
Melchett shook his head. "No." He stood up from his desk.
There was only one thing for it then.
George stood at ease, waiting for an explanation as to why his presence was required. Instead, his eyes widened when Melchett not only stood, but moved close to him.
"I'm warning you now," Melchett growled, his lips neither smiling nor snarling. "If you're not out that door in three seconds, I won't be accountable for my actions."
George blinked, momentary surprise yielding to something very close to true fear. "Sir, please, it-- I-I-I-I didn't mean-"
His lips were parted, and it was the perfect opportunity to strike. Melchett's hands grabbed George's shoulders and pushed him backwards until George's back made contact with the wall audibly. George himself still protesting, looking more nervous than before, must not have seen it coming.
Melchett kissed him.
It was fast, surprisingly so. George made some sort of noise against Melchett's lips, but Melchett was too busy deepening the kiss to pay any mind. Tilting his head to one side, Melchett licked along teeth and tongue, tasting the less-than-palatable fare George must have eaten for dinner, but underneath of that...
He needed air. He was still susceptible to George's charms, and if he didn't stop now, he was going to embarrass himself.
When he pulled back, he opened his eyes in time to see George move forward, lips parted, not wanting the kiss to stop.
Blue eyes stared up at him, shining with a stupid sort of impossible hope, thin lips parted as if to say something, but hanging open instead, making George look more like an idiot than usual.
It was that innocent face, bewildered but hopeful, that shook Melchett out of his daze. "Get out."
George blinked, and it was like seeing it all over again, the way that George's hope flickered once in his eyes -- as though trying to see if Melchett were lying -- before finally winking out of existence. "Sir--"
"Did you not hear me the first time?" Melchett snarled. "Get. Out."
George swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he spoke. "I can't."
"And why is that?" Melchett sneered. "Forgot how to work your legs, have you?"
George shook his head slowly. "You've..." His tongue slipped out, licking his lips unconsciously. "You've got me pinned to the wall."
Melchett growled. The little minx was doing it deliberately.
George stared at him before licking his lips again, and Melchett couldn't take it a second time.
Lips crashed against each other, Melchett's tongue immediately barging in and taking up residence in George's mouth before pulling back, realizing mid-kiss that he'd lost control again.
George moved forward this time, whimpering audibly, lips parted in silent protest, and one kiss dissolved into two, dissolved into more. When George's chapped lips pressed against his, Melchett changed tack, taking George's errant bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it, tasting George and himself all mixed together in a weird sort of way that almost worked somehow. He could hear George whimpering, a short sound that urged him forward, pressing himself flush against George, his unbearably-restrictive trousers shoved against George, against a need that answered his own.
Melchett couldn't stop. The kisses soon weren't enough, and he found himself biting along a pale jaw, a hint of five o'clock shadow rasping against his tongue, foreign and familiar at the same time. The skin under his lips tasted... exotic, unclean, and almost deliciously forbidden.
The trail down the jaw continued down George's neck, licking at the skin before nibbling on it a little harder than necessary, receiving a breathless gasp for his efforts. George turned his head away slowly, but if he was unconsciously offering more of himself or turning away in shame, Melchett couldn't have said or even bother to care about.
Somehow, George's hands had gotten free, because they were holding him now, holding on as if he were going to be thrown into the ocean if he didn't. When Melchett discovered a sensitive spot near where the neck met the shoulder, George groaned out loud.
"Oh, Anthony..."
It was like a slap in the face and a bucket of ice-water all mixed together. Melchett tore himself away from George's neck, turning away as fast as he could until he was facing his desk, breathing heavily. "Get out."
He could almost feel the stare aimed at his back. "But--"
"Now, Lieutenant."
Melchett made the mistake of turning back.
George stared at him, shock and a wide-eyed sadness warring with each other on his face, in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips kiss-stung, and Melchett could almost see where he'd been sucking the skin, the pale skin already beginning to bruise. And lower still...
George swallowed once and saluted a bit too quickly for protocol's standards before practically fleeing.
In some dark corner of his mind where rational thought still prevailed, Melchett couldn't blame him.
He sat back down at his desk with a heavy sigh, his fingers brushing against his lips.
Damn you, George, he thought bitterly, staring at a map of the surrounding area without seeing it. Damn you.
END