qaf fic.
Title: Swallowing Words
Author’s Note: I wrote this while listening to Lover’s Spit on repeat. It doesn’t really have a point, it just is. It starts from where their reunification sex ends, so I’ll just call it a 308-309 gap-filler. I have no idea what it would be rated. PG-13, maybe.
Many thanks to sugardares for being a patient and encouraging beta.
With a whispered caress under his earlobe, breath warm and moist soaking into heated skin, Brian collapses on top of Justin. Head resting on pale chest, damp tips of hair tickling and drawing invisible lines on Justin’s collarbone, marking the spots with unspoken truths that don’t feel like a burden anymore. Their angle is awkward: Justin breathing heavily beneath him, naked back clammy on the varnished beech desk and hands clutching his shoulder blades a little desperately; the left half of his body on top of Justin, right hand still gripping the table’s edge, and he doesn't want to move.
Justin’s legs around his waist keep him locked in place.
The table lamp casts a private spotlight on them, and Brian can’t get enough of the taste of Justin’s skin. The curves below his neck, the tenderness above his armpit, anywhere his mouth can reach. His kisses are hasty; too quick and everywhere on Justin as if he’s uncertain of which spot to focus his attention on, he wants it all, needs it all, and never wants to stop. He moves to the rhythm of Justin’s chest, and listens to the small sounds that will echo in his ears years later when he sits alone on the bed in his loft, windows blurry from light drizzle. And it will be cold then, but it’s warm now.
Justin’s fingers in his hair, on the back of his head are clumsy and, perfect.
Brian, Justin murmurs softly, so softly, and then smiles, smiles in that familiar way, and yet it’s different, full of alleviation. When Brian lifts his hand from the edge to palm his outgrown hair, and buries his nose in the crook of his neck giving it a simple kiss before inhaling deeply, Justin begins to laugh. It’s breathy and it rumbles from somewhere deep within him. Brian moves his head to look into pale blue eyes that are shining black in the dim artificial light like he’s never seen before, and he has to catch his breath because something inside him swells, and it might be his heart.
At that painfully perfect moment, when his heart is three sizes too big - and he thinks his knees will betray him, but Justin is grinning and holding him in place - Brian begins to believe that it is okay to feel it, everything, if only for the night.
And there they are; his weight still heavy on Justin, hand cupping the side of the young man’s face; Justin chuckling and gulping air, breathing funny, fingers pulling Brian’s head closer by his ears.
Brian sobers him up by planting calm, slow, kisses on his chapped, worn, lower lip, below his mouth, gently biting his jaw when he reaches it. Justin’s face is glistening with sweat and shed emotions, a few salty droplets escaping down flushed cheeks, and Brian is sure that he has never before seen anything quite so flawless in his life.
Slowly, unwillingly, Justin becomes aware of the table’s hardness against his skull and spine, and Brian’s back feels like it’s going to be stiff later, and he doesn’t know how long they have been there, but he doesn’t really care, the only thing he truly cares about in that moment, what he recognizes immediately, is the strong sense of familiarity, and he welcomes it, takes it home with him.
Takes him, home.
Author’s Note: I wrote this while listening to Lover’s Spit on repeat. It doesn’t really have a point, it just is. It starts from where their reunification sex ends, so I’ll just call it a 308-309 gap-filler. I have no idea what it would be rated. PG-13, maybe.
Many thanks to sugardares for being a patient and encouraging beta.
With a whispered caress under his earlobe, breath warm and moist soaking into heated skin, Brian collapses on top of Justin. Head resting on pale chest, damp tips of hair tickling and drawing invisible lines on Justin’s collarbone, marking the spots with unspoken truths that don’t feel like a burden anymore. Their angle is awkward: Justin breathing heavily beneath him, naked back clammy on the varnished beech desk and hands clutching his shoulder blades a little desperately; the left half of his body on top of Justin, right hand still gripping the table’s edge, and he doesn't want to move.
Justin’s legs around his waist keep him locked in place.
The table lamp casts a private spotlight on them, and Brian can’t get enough of the taste of Justin’s skin. The curves below his neck, the tenderness above his armpit, anywhere his mouth can reach. His kisses are hasty; too quick and everywhere on Justin as if he’s uncertain of which spot to focus his attention on, he wants it all, needs it all, and never wants to stop. He moves to the rhythm of Justin’s chest, and listens to the small sounds that will echo in his ears years later when he sits alone on the bed in his loft, windows blurry from light drizzle. And it will be cold then, but it’s warm now.
Justin’s fingers in his hair, on the back of his head are clumsy and, perfect.
Brian, Justin murmurs softly, so softly, and then smiles, smiles in that familiar way, and yet it’s different, full of alleviation. When Brian lifts his hand from the edge to palm his outgrown hair, and buries his nose in the crook of his neck giving it a simple kiss before inhaling deeply, Justin begins to laugh. It’s breathy and it rumbles from somewhere deep within him. Brian moves his head to look into pale blue eyes that are shining black in the dim artificial light like he’s never seen before, and he has to catch his breath because something inside him swells, and it might be his heart.
At that painfully perfect moment, when his heart is three sizes too big - and he thinks his knees will betray him, but Justin is grinning and holding him in place - Brian begins to believe that it is okay to feel it, everything, if only for the night.
And there they are; his weight still heavy on Justin, hand cupping the side of the young man’s face; Justin chuckling and gulping air, breathing funny, fingers pulling Brian’s head closer by his ears.
Brian sobers him up by planting calm, slow, kisses on his chapped, worn, lower lip, below his mouth, gently biting his jaw when he reaches it. Justin’s face is glistening with sweat and shed emotions, a few salty droplets escaping down flushed cheeks, and Brian is sure that he has never before seen anything quite so flawless in his life.
Slowly, unwillingly, Justin becomes aware of the table’s hardness against his skull and spine, and Brian’s back feels like it’s going to be stiff later, and he doesn’t know how long they have been there, but he doesn’t really care, the only thing he truly cares about in that moment, what he recognizes immediately, is the strong sense of familiarity, and he welcomes it, takes it home with him.
Takes him, home.