Fic: Smoke Stack Heroes (1/2)
He woke up sprawled across a ranging plateau of warm skin and chilly hardwood flooring. Finding himself hopelessly tangled amidst a fleshy puzzle of randomly strewn limbs and shredded fabric. - …Good lord.
And for a long moment he decided to simply breathe. Trying to tell himself that no, his right cheek wasn’t all but kissing the tangy skin of someone’s left thigh. And that no, the subtle rise and fall of someone’s chest snuggled up along the curve of his back wasn’t at all soothing.
His body twitched reflexively as the mound of skin surrounding him shifted, tipping gracelessly as his face remained firmly buried in the crux of his forearm. Hissing delicately as someone’s fingers dug into the meat of his thigh, their grip relaxing a few moments later as the sound of a soft snore floated up from somewhere underneath him.
But he didn’t even look up. Blindly taking stock of himself and his situation as his mind struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Gradually pulling himself out of the strange, blasted fog that seemed to be dampening his every thought and reflex. He ran a hand across his face, palm tingling at the heady rasp of stubble strewn skin. Willing himself back to awareness.
..Christ.
His lids flickered, groaning as he propped himself up on his forearms. Hand hanging low between his shoulders as his muscles screamed. He hissed through his teeth, sucking in a discomforted breath as he shifted in place; all too aware of the pulling burn and unexplainable exhaustion that had taken up residence in his muscles. Everything hurt. - Hell, muscles he didn’t even know he’d had in the first place burned and ached.
Bloody fuck. - He felt like he’d got broadsided by a lorry.
The skin around his knuckles pulled taunt as he clenched them into sudden fists. Forcing himself to focus as an arrow of pain lanced up his neck. He willed the abused muscles to relax as he tried to assess the damage, rolling it carefully from side to side until he was convinced that no serious trauma had taken place. - Just sore then..
But as if to negate this his neck throbbed. Pulsing and tingling from the base of his throat all the way up to his jugular until inexplicably sticky fingers reached up to investigate. He felt it gingerly, fingers running down the length of the sensitive skin as his fingers probed two particularly painful spots, the skin swollen and raised to the touch.
But it wasn’t until his hands came back flaked and smeared with partially dried blood that he suddenly became concerned. Forcing his aching eyes open just in time to take in the dusty, crimson shower of rust red flakes that fluttered through the air in his wake. Dislodged by his curious hands and left to free fall into open space as his head shot up in alarm. - Had he been bitten by some creature? Attacked?
Bloody hell. - What in god’s name had happened?!
Determined to get to the bottom of it he let fingers spider blindly across the hardwood. Head aching fiercely as he was forced to rely on touch alone, still too woozy to keep his eyes from ghosting closed as he continued his explorations - Christ his head hurt..
His hand startled backwards as the tips met with unfamiliar skin, all rough hewn arches and hard muscle. Curious.. But after a long moment he decided to prioritize. Forcing himself to simply catalogue the sensations as they came rather than face what his every sense was all but screaming as he attempted to gather himself. - Stiff upper lip and all that.
He cast his other hand outwards, feeling along the edge of what felt like the upset end of the media stand as his hands soaked up the blessed chill of the warped metal legs. - An unnatural heat clinging to his skin as he fought in vain to shake off the siren call of sleep that was still trying to wrap around his brain like a blanket. Promising things, sensual things; memories and images melded together with shadow if he would only just relax…
But his cautious explorations were abruptly cut short when his fingers curled around the edges of a thick, buckle and fabric type contraption. What on earth?! - He slit his eyes, trying to avoid the glare as he attempted to work out what the blasted thing actually was and why in god’s name it was currently sullying up his floor.
Recognition dawned a few embarrassingly long seconds later, as he blinked repeatedly. Attempting to bring the object into focus as he canted his head to the side. It was a thigh holster, a bloody thigh holster. He let the blasted thing hang off the curl of his index finger thoughtlessly, half undeniably intrigued and half disdainful. Not entirely sure if he should be either relieved or worried about the noted absence of the firearm itself.
He let his head fall back into the cradle of his arms, grunting with effort as he tossed the dodgy thing off to the side. Eyes tightly shut against the overhead glare as he breathed languidly. The air felt thick, close. Clingy and smouldering as it hushed down his parched throat. - He swallowed hard. Something felt off, almost as if he’d been-…
His tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips. Coming back tinged with the remnants of dried sweat and a certain flavour he found he couldn’t quite place. It was something earthy; rangy with musk and tart against his tongue. He heaved a sigh. Knowing it would continue to irritate him for the rest of the day if he couldn’t place it. He swore it tasted familiar…
He sighed, moving to massage his aching temples only to stop in mid motion. Finding the effort to do even that appeared to be beyond him. - Bollocks. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear that he had the world’s worst hangover.
Stretching tentatively he wriggled in place, body tingling with sudden awareness as a wayward gust of recycled air filtered across the arching plane of his naked back. Making the downy hairs on the back of his neck rise as he ran a tired hand through his hair, trying his best to comb it over to one side as he- Hold on…Naked?
He chanced a look behind him and promptly regretted it. His worst fears realized as his eyes followed the lithe jut of his right hip, lancing down the subtle curve of his buttocks all the way down to lean thighs and sparsely haired calves. - He arched an indignant brow as he took it all in, words failing him as he completed his inspection not once, but twice.
He was completely starkers. Arse naked from chest to toes save for one of his best Italian silk ties which was inexplicably fastened to his left ankle. The trailing ends knotted and stretched, mussing up the expensive silken threads beyond all hope of repair. - He sighed rather impotently at that. Pinching the bridge of his nose even as he nudged an elbow, one that notably did not belong to him mind you, out from underneath his chest he struggled to find a more comfortable position. Deciding that for the time being, he really didn’t want to know.
And while he was pretty sure he should probably be getting more concerned about this whole naked-and-not-alone-in-his-own-flat debacle. He found that for the moment he simply didn’t have the energy to care. - Besides, by all accounts he figured he was taking the whole thing rather well. Either that or he was still too spaced to care. Given the shirty circumstances it was rather hard to tell.
But before he could do much more then that; the ranging plateau of flesh that was curled around, underneath, and hell, even on top of him shifted. And a low, almost indiscernible groan rushed in to fill the silence.
“Oh good..” he muttered. Mouth feeling like the god damned Sahara as he tried to summon up enough spit to adequately loosen his tongue. “I was beginning to think that it was only me that felt that way. Misery loves company and all that,” he snapped lightly, barely managing to mute a yelp of surprise when he was suddenly sent lurching sideways as the mound of flesh surrounding him abruptly shifted.
There was a long, rather pregnant pause as his words echoed out in the surrounding room. Sticking to the sudden silence as not one but two sets of bleary, yet undeniably satisfied pairs of eyes pulled themselves out from underneath the same sweat slicked tangle of wayward limbs to stare back at him.
He blinked. - Well… At least no one could ever accuse him of doing anything halfway.
A/N: The second and final part will be on its way shortly, this story got a lot longer then I’d anticipated! - Hope you enjoyed!
"Sex-appeal is the keynote of our whole civilization." - Henri Bergson.
On to Part II
And for a long moment he decided to simply breathe. Trying to tell himself that no, his right cheek wasn’t all but kissing the tangy skin of someone’s left thigh. And that no, the subtle rise and fall of someone’s chest snuggled up along the curve of his back wasn’t at all soothing.
His body twitched reflexively as the mound of skin surrounding him shifted, tipping gracelessly as his face remained firmly buried in the crux of his forearm. Hissing delicately as someone’s fingers dug into the meat of his thigh, their grip relaxing a few moments later as the sound of a soft snore floated up from somewhere underneath him.
But he didn’t even look up. Blindly taking stock of himself and his situation as his mind struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Gradually pulling himself out of the strange, blasted fog that seemed to be dampening his every thought and reflex. He ran a hand across his face, palm tingling at the heady rasp of stubble strewn skin. Willing himself back to awareness.
..Christ.
His lids flickered, groaning as he propped himself up on his forearms. Hand hanging low between his shoulders as his muscles screamed. He hissed through his teeth, sucking in a discomforted breath as he shifted in place; all too aware of the pulling burn and unexplainable exhaustion that had taken up residence in his muscles. Everything hurt. - Hell, muscles he didn’t even know he’d had in the first place burned and ached.
Bloody fuck. - He felt like he’d got broadsided by a lorry.
The skin around his knuckles pulled taunt as he clenched them into sudden fists. Forcing himself to focus as an arrow of pain lanced up his neck. He willed the abused muscles to relax as he tried to assess the damage, rolling it carefully from side to side until he was convinced that no serious trauma had taken place. - Just sore then..
But as if to negate this his neck throbbed. Pulsing and tingling from the base of his throat all the way up to his jugular until inexplicably sticky fingers reached up to investigate. He felt it gingerly, fingers running down the length of the sensitive skin as his fingers probed two particularly painful spots, the skin swollen and raised to the touch.
But it wasn’t until his hands came back flaked and smeared with partially dried blood that he suddenly became concerned. Forcing his aching eyes open just in time to take in the dusty, crimson shower of rust red flakes that fluttered through the air in his wake. Dislodged by his curious hands and left to free fall into open space as his head shot up in alarm. - Had he been bitten by some creature? Attacked?
Bloody hell. - What in god’s name had happened?!
Determined to get to the bottom of it he let fingers spider blindly across the hardwood. Head aching fiercely as he was forced to rely on touch alone, still too woozy to keep his eyes from ghosting closed as he continued his explorations - Christ his head hurt..
His hand startled backwards as the tips met with unfamiliar skin, all rough hewn arches and hard muscle. Curious.. But after a long moment he decided to prioritize. Forcing himself to simply catalogue the sensations as they came rather than face what his every sense was all but screaming as he attempted to gather himself. - Stiff upper lip and all that.
He cast his other hand outwards, feeling along the edge of what felt like the upset end of the media stand as his hands soaked up the blessed chill of the warped metal legs. - An unnatural heat clinging to his skin as he fought in vain to shake off the siren call of sleep that was still trying to wrap around his brain like a blanket. Promising things, sensual things; memories and images melded together with shadow if he would only just relax…
But his cautious explorations were abruptly cut short when his fingers curled around the edges of a thick, buckle and fabric type contraption. What on earth?! - He slit his eyes, trying to avoid the glare as he attempted to work out what the blasted thing actually was and why in god’s name it was currently sullying up his floor.
Recognition dawned a few embarrassingly long seconds later, as he blinked repeatedly. Attempting to bring the object into focus as he canted his head to the side. It was a thigh holster, a bloody thigh holster. He let the blasted thing hang off the curl of his index finger thoughtlessly, half undeniably intrigued and half disdainful. Not entirely sure if he should be either relieved or worried about the noted absence of the firearm itself.
He let his head fall back into the cradle of his arms, grunting with effort as he tossed the dodgy thing off to the side. Eyes tightly shut against the overhead glare as he breathed languidly. The air felt thick, close. Clingy and smouldering as it hushed down his parched throat. - He swallowed hard. Something felt off, almost as if he’d been-…
His tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips. Coming back tinged with the remnants of dried sweat and a certain flavour he found he couldn’t quite place. It was something earthy; rangy with musk and tart against his tongue. He heaved a sigh. Knowing it would continue to irritate him for the rest of the day if he couldn’t place it. He swore it tasted familiar…
He sighed, moving to massage his aching temples only to stop in mid motion. Finding the effort to do even that appeared to be beyond him. - Bollocks. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear that he had the world’s worst hangover.
Stretching tentatively he wriggled in place, body tingling with sudden awareness as a wayward gust of recycled air filtered across the arching plane of his naked back. Making the downy hairs on the back of his neck rise as he ran a tired hand through his hair, trying his best to comb it over to one side as he- Hold on…Naked?
He chanced a look behind him and promptly regretted it. His worst fears realized as his eyes followed the lithe jut of his right hip, lancing down the subtle curve of his buttocks all the way down to lean thighs and sparsely haired calves. - He arched an indignant brow as he took it all in, words failing him as he completed his inspection not once, but twice.
He was completely starkers. Arse naked from chest to toes save for one of his best Italian silk ties which was inexplicably fastened to his left ankle. The trailing ends knotted and stretched, mussing up the expensive silken threads beyond all hope of repair. - He sighed rather impotently at that. Pinching the bridge of his nose even as he nudged an elbow, one that notably did not belong to him mind you, out from underneath his chest he struggled to find a more comfortable position. Deciding that for the time being, he really didn’t want to know.
And while he was pretty sure he should probably be getting more concerned about this whole naked-and-not-alone-in-his-own-flat debacle. He found that for the moment he simply didn’t have the energy to care. - Besides, by all accounts he figured he was taking the whole thing rather well. Either that or he was still too spaced to care. Given the shirty circumstances it was rather hard to tell.
But before he could do much more then that; the ranging plateau of flesh that was curled around, underneath, and hell, even on top of him shifted. And a low, almost indiscernible groan rushed in to fill the silence.
“Oh good..” he muttered. Mouth feeling like the god damned Sahara as he tried to summon up enough spit to adequately loosen his tongue. “I was beginning to think that it was only me that felt that way. Misery loves company and all that,” he snapped lightly, barely managing to mute a yelp of surprise when he was suddenly sent lurching sideways as the mound of flesh surrounding him abruptly shifted.
There was a long, rather pregnant pause as his words echoed out in the surrounding room. Sticking to the sudden silence as not one but two sets of bleary, yet undeniably satisfied pairs of eyes pulled themselves out from underneath the same sweat slicked tangle of wayward limbs to stare back at him.
He blinked. - Well… At least no one could ever accuse him of doing anything halfway.
A/N: The second and final part will be on its way shortly, this story got a lot longer then I’d anticipated! - Hope you enjoyed!
"Sex-appeal is the keynote of our whole civilization." - Henri Bergson.
On to Part II