Drabble: Freckles
Who: Mark and Ric
Where: Any really.
Prompt: Freckles
Rating: PG
Word total: 1,278
Warnings: None at all. Unless an unhealthy obsession with freckles should be classed as a warning?
__
Julio doesn’t know when it happened, or quite how it happened but sometime between Russia and Washington he’s developed a thing for Mark’s freckles. And when he says thing, he doesn’t mean anything as simple as an appreciation of or a dislike of them, oh no. What he means by a thing is that he’s got a full blow on obsession with them.
At first he starts noticing the dots scattered across Mark’s face, more often in that moment when they fall back and collapse onto his bed laughing and joking after they’ve caused trouble or they’ve just about exhausted themselves behind locked doors, Phe lurking out in the corridor and humming to herself as the waves of sated contentedness wash over her. Ric is most aware of them when Mark’s cheeks are flushed pink and he’s grinning like an idiot, when the corner of his eyes wrinkle, causing the freckles there to bunch up. And then there’s this smattering against the side of his nose that trail off into the arch beneath his eyebrow like someone splattered him with a paintbrush by accident.
His obsession grows from there.
He finds himself exploring, tracing them with his eyes and on occasion his fingertips. He’ll watch as Mark strips out of his clothes and Ric will discover more that have been encouraged by the sun or have started to fade from where they've been covered up by clothing.
He develops favourites; ones that he likes to seek out with his lips and claim as his own. He absolutely does not nickname his favourites either... but it is tempting.
The problem is that Mark never really stays still long enough for Ric to be able to count them, so when there are those rare occasions when he’s willing to sit still for long enough, Ric finds himself engrossed in mapping out the freckles across Mark’s skin. Tongue trailing over pale skin and lathing at the freckles which are faintly dotted across his clavicle, pressing kisses to the dots that decorate the dip in his hips and lead in a tempting route downwards. Usually though his lover gets quickly bored with the slow pace and drags Ric back up so they are face to face, kissing his Mexican till they’re both gasping for air and the urge to count freckles is pushed to the back of his mind.
Once the team is disbanded and the boys take their extended holiday around the world, Julio finds himself snapping pictures whenever he can; close-ups, candid photos, images where they’ve got their cheeks squished together and both of them gazing into the lens. Frustratingly, unlike the rest of the world, Mark doesn’t need to sleep so Julio does get the chance to snap a photo of his lover as he sleeps or wakes, rubbing sleep from his eyes and the bed sheet sliding down his body to pool in his lap as he sits up. But really Julio doesn’t mind as Mark seems content to let his lover snap away, lens close enough to frame those freckles and immortalise them on camera forever.
But still Mark doesn’t complain, grumble or comment on the freckle obsession his lover has developed and just appeases Julio and his quirks. Anyway, it’s not like he can judge the guy seeing as Julio puts up with his addiction to ‘I Love Lucy’ reruns and constant cupboard raiding to find the bag of M&Ms or jelly beans that he knows were hidden earlier.
It’s late evening, the sun is setting and they’re digesting the last of their food, earlier they’d gorged on BBQ with Mama V, helping her wash up before she heads off up to her room to relax for the evening. They finally wander out to the garden, sprawling on the loungers and kicking their feet up by the pool. Ric has managed to pin Mark down for more than five minutes, for once the time manipulating mutant has had to admit defeat, stomach stuffed full and it’s leaving him feeling suitably lethargic. Enjoying the night sky Mark can feel Julio trailing his fingers across his exposed skin, words softly being mumbled as he does so.
“Ciento catorce. Ciento quince. Ciento dieciséis. Ciento diecisiete. Ciento diecio--”
“Julio, ¿qué estás haciendo?”
There’s a moment of silence, a pregnant pause as Julio stops what he is doing, though his warm lips are still pressed to the curve of Mark’s hip. The words are muffled as Julio refuses to bring his gaze up to meet Mark’s, instead it rests somewhere around Mark’s belly button. “Nada.”
“No me mientas. ¿Qué estás diciendo?”
“Estoy cansado, ¿y tú?” He starts to pull away, sitting up so he’s no longer laying flushing with Mark’s body, straddling his hips and avoiding eye contact as he stretches and executes a rather obviously fake yawn. It’s a fruitless gesture as before Julio can get anywhere, let alone blink, he finds himself pinned back to the lounger and beneath Mark.
Damn time manipulating mutant.
“Julio," Marks' tone of voice has taken on a teasing lilt, not helped by the fact that he's smirking down at Julio and keeping him firmly trapped between his body and the lounger. "¿Adónde vas?”
Pursing his lips Julio huffs, exhaling heavily through his nose before the frown lines marring his forehead smooth out a little. “Countingyourfreckles.” The words are rushed out, a breathless jumble as Julio’s gaze darts around, avoiding Mark’s.
“Say what now?” Mark’s grip flexes on Ric’s wrists and eases the pressure for a moment; his grip isn’t strong enough to leave bruises but the skin beneath his finger tips flushes from pale white to tan as he wriggles them.
“I said,” Ric grounds out through gritted teeth. “I was counting your freckles.”
“What is it with you and my freckles huh?”
Ric sort of shrugs, but the gesture is mostly muted by having Mark sprawled across the top of him, instead it just results in them sliding a little further down the lounger. “I’ll stop if you want me to?”
They both know that Ric won’t. That he’s tried before, but no matter what he keeps coming back to those freckles. The Mexican sounds particularly sulky and put out by the entire situation. It’s not something that they’ve acknowledged or discussed before, but then again this is the first time, in a long time, that they’ve been stuck in one place with no intention of moving on anywhere else. It’s both nerve-wracking and exhilarating, this process of learning about each other in an entirely new setting with the knowledge that they could well be here for the long haul.
And if not? Well hell, they’ve had one hell of a ride.
Mark smirks, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Julios' and not relenting until his lover huffs out a soft laugh. Forcing Ric to turn his head so his left cheek is towards Mark, he presses a light kiss to the soft skin, teeth barely nipping at the two moles on the curve of plush, and soft muscle.
“No,” he murmurs against his lovers cheek, lips trailing across stubble towards where he can eventually sink his teeth into Ric’s deltoids, claiming the inked skin where Ric’s tattoo sprawls outwards across his shoulder and down his arm. Ric hisses at the sharp sting of teeth, quickly soothed by a warm tongue and a gentle sucking motion.
It’s pretty obvious to Ric then that Mark might well have an obsession or two of his own.
Where: Any really.
Prompt: Freckles
Rating: PG
Word total: 1,278
Warnings: None at all. Unless an unhealthy obsession with freckles should be classed as a warning?
__
Julio doesn’t know when it happened, or quite how it happened but sometime between Russia and Washington he’s developed a thing for Mark’s freckles. And when he says thing, he doesn’t mean anything as simple as an appreciation of or a dislike of them, oh no. What he means by a thing is that he’s got a full blow on obsession with them.
At first he starts noticing the dots scattered across Mark’s face, more often in that moment when they fall back and collapse onto his bed laughing and joking after they’ve caused trouble or they’ve just about exhausted themselves behind locked doors, Phe lurking out in the corridor and humming to herself as the waves of sated contentedness wash over her. Ric is most aware of them when Mark’s cheeks are flushed pink and he’s grinning like an idiot, when the corner of his eyes wrinkle, causing the freckles there to bunch up. And then there’s this smattering against the side of his nose that trail off into the arch beneath his eyebrow like someone splattered him with a paintbrush by accident.
His obsession grows from there.
He finds himself exploring, tracing them with his eyes and on occasion his fingertips. He’ll watch as Mark strips out of his clothes and Ric will discover more that have been encouraged by the sun or have started to fade from where they've been covered up by clothing.
He develops favourites; ones that he likes to seek out with his lips and claim as his own. He absolutely does not nickname his favourites either... but it is tempting.
The problem is that Mark never really stays still long enough for Ric to be able to count them, so when there are those rare occasions when he’s willing to sit still for long enough, Ric finds himself engrossed in mapping out the freckles across Mark’s skin. Tongue trailing over pale skin and lathing at the freckles which are faintly dotted across his clavicle, pressing kisses to the dots that decorate the dip in his hips and lead in a tempting route downwards. Usually though his lover gets quickly bored with the slow pace and drags Ric back up so they are face to face, kissing his Mexican till they’re both gasping for air and the urge to count freckles is pushed to the back of his mind.
Once the team is disbanded and the boys take their extended holiday around the world, Julio finds himself snapping pictures whenever he can; close-ups, candid photos, images where they’ve got their cheeks squished together and both of them gazing into the lens. Frustratingly, unlike the rest of the world, Mark doesn’t need to sleep so Julio does get the chance to snap a photo of his lover as he sleeps or wakes, rubbing sleep from his eyes and the bed sheet sliding down his body to pool in his lap as he sits up. But really Julio doesn’t mind as Mark seems content to let his lover snap away, lens close enough to frame those freckles and immortalise them on camera forever.
But still Mark doesn’t complain, grumble or comment on the freckle obsession his lover has developed and just appeases Julio and his quirks. Anyway, it’s not like he can judge the guy seeing as Julio puts up with his addiction to ‘I Love Lucy’ reruns and constant cupboard raiding to find the bag of M&Ms or jelly beans that he knows were hidden earlier.
It’s late evening, the sun is setting and they’re digesting the last of their food, earlier they’d gorged on BBQ with Mama V, helping her wash up before she heads off up to her room to relax for the evening. They finally wander out to the garden, sprawling on the loungers and kicking their feet up by the pool. Ric has managed to pin Mark down for more than five minutes, for once the time manipulating mutant has had to admit defeat, stomach stuffed full and it’s leaving him feeling suitably lethargic. Enjoying the night sky Mark can feel Julio trailing his fingers across his exposed skin, words softly being mumbled as he does so.
“Ciento catorce. Ciento quince. Ciento dieciséis. Ciento diecisiete. Ciento diecio--”
“Julio, ¿qué estás haciendo?”
There’s a moment of silence, a pregnant pause as Julio stops what he is doing, though his warm lips are still pressed to the curve of Mark’s hip. The words are muffled as Julio refuses to bring his gaze up to meet Mark’s, instead it rests somewhere around Mark’s belly button. “Nada.”
“No me mientas. ¿Qué estás diciendo?”
“Estoy cansado, ¿y tú?” He starts to pull away, sitting up so he’s no longer laying flushing with Mark’s body, straddling his hips and avoiding eye contact as he stretches and executes a rather obviously fake yawn. It’s a fruitless gesture as before Julio can get anywhere, let alone blink, he finds himself pinned back to the lounger and beneath Mark.
Damn time manipulating mutant.
“Julio," Marks' tone of voice has taken on a teasing lilt, not helped by the fact that he's smirking down at Julio and keeping him firmly trapped between his body and the lounger. "¿Adónde vas?”
Pursing his lips Julio huffs, exhaling heavily through his nose before the frown lines marring his forehead smooth out a little. “Countingyourfreckles.” The words are rushed out, a breathless jumble as Julio’s gaze darts around, avoiding Mark’s.
“Say what now?” Mark’s grip flexes on Ric’s wrists and eases the pressure for a moment; his grip isn’t strong enough to leave bruises but the skin beneath his finger tips flushes from pale white to tan as he wriggles them.
“I said,” Ric grounds out through gritted teeth. “I was counting your freckles.”
“What is it with you and my freckles huh?”
Ric sort of shrugs, but the gesture is mostly muted by having Mark sprawled across the top of him, instead it just results in them sliding a little further down the lounger. “I’ll stop if you want me to?”
They both know that Ric won’t. That he’s tried before, but no matter what he keeps coming back to those freckles. The Mexican sounds particularly sulky and put out by the entire situation. It’s not something that they’ve acknowledged or discussed before, but then again this is the first time, in a long time, that they’ve been stuck in one place with no intention of moving on anywhere else. It’s both nerve-wracking and exhilarating, this process of learning about each other in an entirely new setting with the knowledge that they could well be here for the long haul.
And if not? Well hell, they’ve had one hell of a ride.
Mark smirks, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Julios' and not relenting until his lover huffs out a soft laugh. Forcing Ric to turn his head so his left cheek is towards Mark, he presses a light kiss to the soft skin, teeth barely nipping at the two moles on the curve of plush, and soft muscle.
“No,” he murmurs against his lovers cheek, lips trailing across stubble towards where he can eventually sink his teeth into Ric’s deltoids, claiming the inked skin where Ric’s tattoo sprawls outwards across his shoulder and down his arm. Ric hisses at the sharp sting of teeth, quickly soothed by a warm tongue and a gentle sucking motion.
It’s pretty obvious to Ric then that Mark might well have an obsession or two of his own.