Assorted Comment-fic Fills
Title: Apéritif
Fandom: Jurassic Park III
Characters: Alan Grant/Billy Brennan
Rating: T
Word Count: 299
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: Any, any, inadvertent food porn--Character A does not realize the way they eat Food X does things to Character B.
Summary: Alan is inadvertently turned on while watching Billy eat. No, really, that's it.
"Sometimes it doesn't feel like it was real," Billy says over sushi one day. His fingers grip the chopsticks precisely, so his palm hangs loose over it but his fingers grip the the wood with a white-knuckled intensity. He reaches over and snags a cucumber slice off of Alan's plate and pops it in his mouth. His lower lip glistens, slick with vinaigrette, and Alan's mouth goes dry when Billy swipes the tip of his tongue over it.
"You ever dream about it?" Billy asks him, when the silence starts to stretch.
Alan shrugs. He bites down on his chopsticks, and a fish egg bursts in his mouth. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.
A student stops by their table then to ask a question about the final; Alan doesn't miss the way Billy's face still lights up when someone calls him 'Doctor', and the traitorous part of his lizard brain he's tried fruitlessly to shut down wonders if anyone's ever called Billy that in bed.
Goddamn it.
Billy's quiet for a few minutes after the undergrad leaves. He focuses on tucking away the last of his dragon roll instead: he grabs the bite with his chopsticks and eyes it from underneath long lashes; his lips part obscenely to accommodate its width, and he shuts his eyes and moans when he swallows it down.
Alan grabs his glass and gulps down a mouthful of tea. "We should-go. Get back. Office hours."
Billy's eyebrow arches, and he makes a show of looking at his watch before he flips open the small menu sitting by his plate.
"But, Dr. Grant," Billy says. He licks his lips again, nibbles on the bottom one. "We haven't even had dessert. I've heard their creme brulee's amazing."
It's all Alan can do not to groan.
Title: Sweet Little Lies
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Evan Lorne/David Parrish
Word Count: 302
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: Stargate Atlantis, Lorne/Parrish, (Pre-DADT Repeal) It gets harder everytime to deny he's in love.
Summary: It gets harder, every time, to tell himself he's not in love.
The funny thing is, it's Parrish who lies out loud. Parrish, who has nothing to risk, save a crude joke or two, as he's been out for years among his colleagues.
"I'm glad we can keep things uncomplicated," he tells Lorne in the shower one day as he lathers Evan's back. "There's just too much work here to think of a relationship."
Evan makes a noise of agreement and doesn't point out that they're in his shower but David is using his own hypoallergenic soap, which has had its own place in the caddy for two months.
His heart hurts, though, just a bit. It twinges. He knows it's selfish of him to keep David to himself when it won't ever go beyond that-when it can't ever go beyond that, because Evan and David both share a passion for their work and Atlantis that they can't give up any more than they can stop breathing.
And they both know what that means.
So Evan just murmurs 'mmhmm' and leans into the spray from the showerhead.
And later, when he's got the flu and David brings him chicken soup, orange juice, and a precious disc of the last Cowboys/Washington game, Evan just says 'thanks, buddy' like that's all this is, like David didn't spend his afternoon off using up all his favors to make Evan feel less miserable.
And two months after that, when David's sister has a brain aneurysm and dies in her library at only thirty-two, Evan says "I'm sorry, man" and doesn't offer to go to the funeral with David after David cries into his shoulder for half an hour.
His heart does a little more than twinge, then, but he shoves the feeling back as far as he can and takes a walk around Atlantis when David leaves.
Title: Warm Touch
Fandom: The Eagle
Characters: Marcus Flavius Aquilus/Esca Mac Cunoval
Rating: PG
Word Count: 379
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: The Eagle, Marcus/Esca, Marcus watches Esca's hands as he massages his injured leg
Summary: Esca massages Marcus' aching leg. Short fluff.
Nights in the forest are cold, and it makes the muscles in his leg twist and curl and ache, and sometimes it hurts so much he curls up underneath his blanket and can't sleep for the pain.
One night, when he's grinding his teeth together and taking short, sharp breaths, Esca turns over across the fire and looks at him.
"You're awake," Esca says. "Does it hurt?"
Marcus exhales and flops onto his back. The stars stare down on him, steady, from high above the treeline. His breath mists in the air above him and clouds his vision for a moment.
"I am fine," he says, but Esca is already moving.
He kneels by Marcus' feet and pats his thighs until Marcus sets his leg in Esca's lap with a sigh.
Esca settles himself and places his hands on Marcus' leg, just above the angle. He curls his fingers around the flesh, kneading and working the muscle so the pain peaks before it begins to subside.
Marcus looks up at the stars above for a moment, but when Esca doesn't speak, he looks back down. Esca's full attention is on his work; long, bony fingers press in and out, pause as his thumbs rub firmly over a tough knot, carefully massaging the pale, hairy skin.
"You're quite good," Marcus mutters, lacking anything else to say.
Esca 'hmmm's and, surprisingly, doesn't say anything biting in response. He shifts underneath Marcus' leg; the muscles of his thighs ripple under Marcus as he twitches. He digs in hard, suddenly, and Marcus gasps-first in surprise at the sharp flare of pain, then letting it out with a moan as relief spreads through his aching muscles.
He fixes his eyes on Esca's hands again, watching the smooth skin of Esca's palms as they curl and uncurl around him, nimble fingers dancing as they finish off the work, soothing and caressing, almost, now the hard work is done.
Esca merely sets Marcus' leg aside when he's done and walks back over to his own side of the fire without a word. Soon enough his breaths steady and deepen.
Marcus lays still under his blanket, and he stares at the twinkling lights above him and sees pale, bony hands and doesn't sleep for quite some time.
Fandom: Jurassic Park III
Characters: Alan Grant/Billy Brennan
Rating: T
Word Count: 299
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: Any, any, inadvertent food porn--Character A does not realize the way they eat Food X does things to Character B.
Summary: Alan is inadvertently turned on while watching Billy eat. No, really, that's it.
"Sometimes it doesn't feel like it was real," Billy says over sushi one day. His fingers grip the chopsticks precisely, so his palm hangs loose over it but his fingers grip the the wood with a white-knuckled intensity. He reaches over and snags a cucumber slice off of Alan's plate and pops it in his mouth. His lower lip glistens, slick with vinaigrette, and Alan's mouth goes dry when Billy swipes the tip of his tongue over it.
"You ever dream about it?" Billy asks him, when the silence starts to stretch.
Alan shrugs. He bites down on his chopsticks, and a fish egg bursts in his mouth. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.
A student stops by their table then to ask a question about the final; Alan doesn't miss the way Billy's face still lights up when someone calls him 'Doctor', and the traitorous part of his lizard brain he's tried fruitlessly to shut down wonders if anyone's ever called Billy that in bed.
Goddamn it.
Billy's quiet for a few minutes after the undergrad leaves. He focuses on tucking away the last of his dragon roll instead: he grabs the bite with his chopsticks and eyes it from underneath long lashes; his lips part obscenely to accommodate its width, and he shuts his eyes and moans when he swallows it down.
Alan grabs his glass and gulps down a mouthful of tea. "We should-go. Get back. Office hours."
Billy's eyebrow arches, and he makes a show of looking at his watch before he flips open the small menu sitting by his plate.
"But, Dr. Grant," Billy says. He licks his lips again, nibbles on the bottom one. "We haven't even had dessert. I've heard their creme brulee's amazing."
It's all Alan can do not to groan.
Title: Sweet Little Lies
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Evan Lorne/David Parrish
Word Count: 302
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: Stargate Atlantis, Lorne/Parrish, (Pre-DADT Repeal) It gets harder everytime to deny he's in love.
Summary: It gets harder, every time, to tell himself he's not in love.
The funny thing is, it's Parrish who lies out loud. Parrish, who has nothing to risk, save a crude joke or two, as he's been out for years among his colleagues.
"I'm glad we can keep things uncomplicated," he tells Lorne in the shower one day as he lathers Evan's back. "There's just too much work here to think of a relationship."
Evan makes a noise of agreement and doesn't point out that they're in his shower but David is using his own hypoallergenic soap, which has had its own place in the caddy for two months.
His heart hurts, though, just a bit. It twinges. He knows it's selfish of him to keep David to himself when it won't ever go beyond that-when it can't ever go beyond that, because Evan and David both share a passion for their work and Atlantis that they can't give up any more than they can stop breathing.
And they both know what that means.
So Evan just murmurs 'mmhmm' and leans into the spray from the showerhead.
And later, when he's got the flu and David brings him chicken soup, orange juice, and a precious disc of the last Cowboys/Washington game, Evan just says 'thanks, buddy' like that's all this is, like David didn't spend his afternoon off using up all his favors to make Evan feel less miserable.
And two months after that, when David's sister has a brain aneurysm and dies in her library at only thirty-two, Evan says "I'm sorry, man" and doesn't offer to go to the funeral with David after David cries into his shoulder for half an hour.
His heart does a little more than twinge, then, but he shoves the feeling back as far as he can and takes a walk around Atlantis when David leaves.
Title: Warm Touch
Fandom: The Eagle
Characters: Marcus Flavius Aquilus/Esca Mac Cunoval
Rating: PG
Word Count: 379
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt of: The Eagle, Marcus/Esca, Marcus watches Esca's hands as he massages his injured leg
Summary: Esca massages Marcus' aching leg. Short fluff.
Nights in the forest are cold, and it makes the muscles in his leg twist and curl and ache, and sometimes it hurts so much he curls up underneath his blanket and can't sleep for the pain.
One night, when he's grinding his teeth together and taking short, sharp breaths, Esca turns over across the fire and looks at him.
"You're awake," Esca says. "Does it hurt?"
Marcus exhales and flops onto his back. The stars stare down on him, steady, from high above the treeline. His breath mists in the air above him and clouds his vision for a moment.
"I am fine," he says, but Esca is already moving.
He kneels by Marcus' feet and pats his thighs until Marcus sets his leg in Esca's lap with a sigh.
Esca settles himself and places his hands on Marcus' leg, just above the angle. He curls his fingers around the flesh, kneading and working the muscle so the pain peaks before it begins to subside.
Marcus looks up at the stars above for a moment, but when Esca doesn't speak, he looks back down. Esca's full attention is on his work; long, bony fingers press in and out, pause as his thumbs rub firmly over a tough knot, carefully massaging the pale, hairy skin.
"You're quite good," Marcus mutters, lacking anything else to say.
Esca 'hmmm's and, surprisingly, doesn't say anything biting in response. He shifts underneath Marcus' leg; the muscles of his thighs ripple under Marcus as he twitches. He digs in hard, suddenly, and Marcus gasps-first in surprise at the sharp flare of pain, then letting it out with a moan as relief spreads through his aching muscles.
He fixes his eyes on Esca's hands again, watching the smooth skin of Esca's palms as they curl and uncurl around him, nimble fingers dancing as they finish off the work, soothing and caressing, almost, now the hard work is done.
Esca merely sets Marcus' leg aside when he's done and walks back over to his own side of the fire without a word. Soon enough his breaths steady and deepen.
Marcus lays still under his blanket, and he stares at the twinkling lights above him and sees pale, bony hands and doesn't sleep for quite some time.