[Shorties: 11 other fandoms] Valentine Day 4-14
Warning: R, Shorties. Unbeta-ed
Disclaimer: all characters (belonged to each other) them selves and/or someone else.
Day 4. Numb3rs [ Don x Charlie ] - Math
Warning: Incest
He counts the probability of Don coming back (alive). The chances are: he can die (leave) a thousand time.
The percentage of survival is less than 14.7%. Or so.
He breaks them down (to years, months, weeks and days to the hours and the minutes and the seconds).
Sometimes (most of the time), this drives him crazy.
But he will turn back to his backboard and calculate, and re-calculate, until his fingertips are white with chalk dust and aching, and red and raw.
He knows, always knows, there's a possibility (A minus B equal n, the factor, known and unknown), Don might (die) leave.
Survival can be measure in time, but outside influence is the x that can change the y(why) = n - x = (A - B) - X. Don is always a variable and he's one of the factor. Everything else is irrelevant until he makes it into his equation.
He breaks. And starts again.
He counts: every mission, every cases, every day.
Sometimes (most of the times), it is his way to cope. He's waiting. All his life. It's his way of saying; 'I love you. Please come back safe'.
And Don, thank the Gods, always do. And kisses him and holds him. Don's own way of loving him.
Every time.
Day 5. Supernatural [ Dean x Sam ] - Sin
Warning: Incest
He thinks he can taste sin on the other's skin, or the remembrance of blood and darkness.
He cares for his little brother, love him even, so much (too much).
He dreams nightmares/memories/anger that plague their minds and taint their bodies and souls.
He kisses his little brother, dirtily (not brotherly or remotely chaste).
... and was kissed in return (nonono, love, don't. Not like that. Like this, and this and oh yes). He's learning.
He touches not without shame.
... and he holds with all his love.
And he loves deeply.
Nothing can (will) change between them. They are alive. No death and rebirth and all the shit.
Not Heaven, nor Hell, or anything in between.
Not even the Angel by his side.
Because Dean knows, he will always come back to Sam.
It is his benediction.
Day 6. 30 Seconds to Mars [ Shannon x Jared ] - Age
Warning: Incest
They shares a bottle of beer and a pack of cigarette. One that they light at dawn, on the roof, when everything is silent up in the mountain, and their parents are asleep still down bellow.
He kisses his big brother then and there, sharing the ashes and smokes and the bitter taste sweet lips of the forbidden fruit.
He is fifteen. And illegal in every way.
His music is his drug and his brother is his whole world, better than any lover and closer than a friend.
He can feel the thumb, thumb of the drum under his feet. On the stage. And the vibration of the music sings underneath his skin. He can almost hear his brother breathe (harsh and pump up, full of adrenalin).
His hands itch (for bare, sweaty skin) around the microphone.
He is twenty one. And it's touch and go with the life he's living in.
They play this game again.
For him, the girls are beautiful, and soft and saccharine. One girl kisses like ripe peaches and cream and the other like cherries, and another like summer dew and another and another.
The boys, in the other hand, are hot, and dark chocolate, bitter fucks and sweet, sweet releases in between the sets and stages performances. Never ending affairs in the shadow, secrets unlike THEIR Secret.
The music is always good. The movies are okay. The fans, his army, are amazing.
The pictures in his eyes are moving in Technicolor fast, and faster.
He is thirty seven. He ain't heartbroken when they left. When he is left with nothing but his brother and his music.
He dreams.
Even with red and black ink in his nightmares, etches on the canvas. Like a painter, he writes his own script.
And creates.
But the greatest pictures of all, are always the ones his big brother take of him. (Lenses glint with studio lights. The camera is clicking, loving every inch of his nude body, follow by looks from chocolate eyes and hands and lips on him, in him, around him).
He is almost forty when he pulls Shannon into his room and onto his bed.
Day 7. White Collar [ Peter x Neil ] - White
Lazy Saturday night in June's (Neil's room) is bad idea from the start. But Peter's tired and need to wind down from their current case.
Neil's almost asleep then and there at his office and he, like a good partner, drag the poor boy home.
And here they are, thinks Peter. The room smells paint but still homey (in an expensive way).
Neil then flops onto the bed with eyes closed and looked dead to the world.
Peter shakes his head fondly and takes Neil's shoes and socks off, then tugs the navy blazer and hang it by the door.
Biting his lip, Peter watches the rise and fall of Neil tones chest, and catches his breath. He's not going to lie. He can feel the shimmering /Want/ and can't (resist) stop touching (accidentally, purposely). He notices Neil looking back and touching him after all.
Neil is...beautiful immaculate. And his tight cloths are more tempting when he lets go all of his shields. Like this, relax and on the edge of content, he looks touchable.
If red riding hood has her red cape, Peter figures, Neil has his white crisp shirt, the one that hug his well toned body so well. Too well, thinks Peter.
He fights the urge to scrap his greedy fingers all over that clean shirt and crunches until it's a mess. Peter wants to feel the heated skin under it and maybe have a taste and a bite.
The urge is so strong tonight, and it takes all his professional being to step back. Peter feels /hunger/, like a wolf presents with his main course on the platter, and knows Neil will let him be devoured.
"Peter?" Neil's husk voice echoes softly and it made Peter shivers pleasantly.
Shit. He hates bedroom voice and bedroom eyes. Neil's blue eyes were peaking from sleepy eyelashes, peering, turns come-hither, with a flick and tilts head. Cute and harmless. The innocent Peter knows Neil is not but loves to pretend.
A slow smile curves the lovely lips, red and wet and open. My, what a sweet mouth you have, little boy.
There and there, Peter doesn't know who's the hunter or the hunted anymore. Not when Peter growls with sudden arousal. And they haven't touch (yet).
"Come to bed, Peter."
He knows this: Neil might won this round, but the Battle is far from over as he takes off his cloths and joins the younger man on the bed.
Day 8. Harry Potter [ Albus Dumbledore x Gellert Grindelwald ] - Ever After
Some days, he thinks, blur like evening lights on the water or like a passing breeze, cool, gentle and warm. It's always summer here. In never ever.
He feels young even when he's an old soul (perhaps, but he is reborn and/or a ghost of the past).
He feels alive and content (when he lost everything like when he's dying again and again).
But, oh now, now the present (like a gift), here, it's always his beloved in his lips. All the glorious pale skin, blue eyes and light blond hair in his hand.
He smiles, lovely, as his beloved magic pulse with him and his.
Afternoon tea should always spends like this (forever and ever), with honey dew and chocolate cake.
And of course, a tin can of lemon drops.
Day 9. Smallville, Superman, Batman, World's Finest [ Bruce Wayne x Lex Luthor x Clark Kent ] - Heroes (& Enemies)
He wants to shoot whoever taught Clark how to kiss dirty. Fuck. Those white pearly teeth should be illegal in several states, but ohhhh, fuck fuck, thankfully they aren't illegal in /his/ State.
Mouth like that should be put in good use, he reckons, but his genius brain shuts down and dances happily, and is being suck down south.
Thank you, Governor, nice to meet you. May I go to /town/ with you?
Goodness. How the bejezzus does Clark do that, and that, with his tongue alone?! Forget gag reflects, alien or not, good, prized ace Reporter isn't made for the world of Alexander (Lex) Luthor. But being friends, like, for twelve years, entitled the former farm boy to take over/change his schedule, and maim him when he's in his distract-I-want-to-take-over-the-world mode (granted, Clark isn't alone in that endeavor).
Which, remind him that the /person/ he wants to shoot (the ONE that taught Clark how to kiss, and suck, and using his tongue/mouth/hands into good use. For the peace of the world, really.), is draping all over /his/ boy(friend), laving the delicate pale neck with suckling smacking noise. Hint of electric blues smirked cockily behind Clark's curly hair. He sees red.
Then Clark makes all those lovely breathless noises, and hums around /his/ cock.
Oh Gods. Maybe he won't shoot Bruce fucking Wayne after all.
Day 10. Dresden's Files [ John Marcone x Harry Dresden ] - Mystery
Dresden always fascinates him. He respects the Wizard, yet puzzles by his lack of ambition. He knows the power of the Man and shivers (excitement, horror, pain, sadness, happiness) by the things he sees in their Soul gaze (and no doubt what the younger man sees in his too).
Dresden dresses like he's just get out from bed, without a brush and/or shower (depends on the day of the week, he guesses). Yet...
Dresden on his silk bed is like a fine dine, and he sees the strong body, tan and smooth and delicious.
He tastes and licks Dresden's strong jaw, feeling the roughness and smelling the aftershaves he likes so much. He turns the other man around and kiss and caress his spine and feels the power underneath the warm skin sings to him, like he can taste the old language on his tongue. Symbols glow under his touch or his mouth. The scent heavy with sex, magic and blood pulsing in their veins. Because he knows and feels and drown in it.
Everything about Dresden, /Harry/, fascinates him. And Gentleman John Marcone takes pains to know every little secrets of the body underneath him, either be the Man and/or the Wizard.
No matter how long it takes.
Day 11. Code Geass [ Suzaku x Lelouch ] - R(L)oyalty
Suzaku thinks Lelouch eyes are like Amethyst, glittering in the shadows, like the jewels (of the crown). His precious stones. Lelouch is so (too) thin and pale white, laying still on the burgundy duvet. A painting too beautiful and too devastating.
Lelouch marvels how light reflects on Suzaku's emerald eyes, giving a golden hues in early morning. Sleepy mush hair, dazzling mocha skin like bronze greek statue. And he sees the sadness and the happiness radiating in every pores.
/And then: There are skin on skin, sweet bitter kisses worshiping. Devoted fingertips and hands mapping every inch inside out/
The Prince and the Knight.
/Either. Both/
The Betrayer, the Friend, the Lover and the Enemy.
/Together and not/
Day 12. Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn [ Any Guardian/Reborn/Varia x Tsuna ] - Alive
His back hit the bathroom wall in a loud smack, but Tsuna doesn't care in favor of hot, wet mouth devouring him in a possessive, almost desperate kiss.
Their bodies come together, tight and hot, under their rip wet shirts and nothing else, under the cascade of hot shower.
Tsuna gasps and feels his back scraps the tiles, when his partner is too rough, pushing, hard and fast. His eyes mist, unseeing and seeing flickers of blood, bullets and shadows of his men dying, parading (mocking) destruction, smokes and shatter glasses. He clutches the other man and wails, long and raw until his throat dry and hurts.
The older man swallowed every moans and every screams from his mouth as he manhandle Tsuna and pounds into him and mouthing any expose skin, sucking up and teeth sinking, biting his neck.
Tsuna screams (again and again) then and there as the climax hit him without being touch and feels the pulse (after pulse) of the other man inside him.
They hold each other, gasping, kissing, breathing, hearts beating into one. They stand there until the shower becomes cold and rivets of red go down the drain.
Day 13. Eureka [ Nathan x Jack ] - Versus
The thing is, Nathan is stubborn, and fuck, Jack has his moments too (hard head and a temperament to match. They're men with testosterone that sometimes Allison whack them on the back of their head when their argument starts to get hot, bothering and rising their libido). Men! She said. Sex and anger and doing the alpha routine until they fuck each other out.
The thing is, none of them bother by it. They take pleasure edging each other and having the pleasant, shimmering heat, spreading from the tip of their head to their toes, slow and worth it. Sometimes.
Nathan and Jack. They can be rough or sweet or gentle or fast and furious or taking the time to know each other by touch and kiss and joining their body, if not their mind (Nathan may be a Genius, but Jack has this street smart instinct that not necessarily in cahoot, unless Nuclear and/or any environmental and health hazard and the good of human kind threatened).
Nathan and Jack. They make it work.
Day 14. Star Trek [ Spock x James T. Kirk ] - Chocolate
Spock watches, mesmerizes, the melted dark chocolate drizzles down his lover's fingers. And Jim, knowing the sensitivity of fingers to a Vulcan, can't resist dipping his fingers into the chocolate bowl and bring those long digits to his mouth, and sucks, one by one, until they are clean and wet and shiny from saliva.
Jim hears Spock swallows hard. He grins.
Que repeat performance for the good of his audience(s).
Normally, Spock will drag his lover to bed. ASAP. But they are in the MESS hall, and Jim is playing with fire. And Vulcan, though cool (as a cucumber), collected, brilliant, controlled mind, sometimes can get emotionally compromise, especially when it revolves around a creature named James T. Kirk. And for the record, he doesn't share. Not even when everyone in the mess hall with a pulse is staring at his /mate/.
Oh fuck it.
Standing up, the Commander take his Captain's elbow, haul him and drag him out of there in less than 27.25 seconds, to the delight laughter of his T'hy'la.
Doctor McCoy sighs and eats the rest of the dessert, hiding a fond smile behind a bowl of double deluxe, to the antic of his best friends and commanding officers.