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waldos_writingsThis is my ICAW ficathon assignment: The particulars
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misty4me
She wanted: Pairing: Carson/other - specifically a non-main character male, OOC so you can make Carson's squeeze exactly who you think Carson would hook up with if not limited to Rodney, Ronon, John, Radek.
What she wanted to see in her story: Sex...up to you how much or how detailed Carson not in love but in lust...
What she did not want to see in her story: mpreg, BDSM, potty kink, whiny Carson, momma's boy Carson.
Author's remark: I'm *fairly sure I hit on all accounts. Apologies if something isn't quite what you expected.
Standard Headers:
Title: Build a Bridge
Author:smallwaldo
Words: 2632
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: No Man's Land/Misbegotten
Pairings: Beckett/Sheppard and Beckett/Grodin
Notes: This story is AR. Take everything from canon except... Peter Grodin lived past Siege II and was around at the beginning of the third season.
Summary: “This is officially your one and only chance to cry in your glasses over him. Then, you have to move on.”
If someone you love hurts you cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
Anonymous
Carson didn’t turn at the sound of the balcony door opening. He’d been out there for a while and had lost his thoughts in the sunset and the rolling waves.
He felt the gentle brush of an arm against his as his new companion joined him at the rail. Habitually, he assumed it was John, but almost immediately he knew it was not and would not be again any time soon.
He turned to look and see who had joined him. “Oh, Peter, hello.”
“Hello yourself,” Peter responded. “I came out to see if you were okay. You seemed kind of… distracted at dinner. In fact, you’ve been kind of distracted for almost a week.”
Carson looked back at the waves. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, but it seemed like the thing to do. “It’s nothing you’ve done, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Peter shifted so that he pressed his shoulder just a tad more heavily against Carson’s shoulder. “No, I hadn’t figured it was. Is everything okay between you and Colonel Sheppard?”
Carson couldn’t control the involuntary flinch. He stared hard at the setting sun, hoping that he could blame the brightness reflected off the water for the shine in his eyes. His throat closed up and he realized he couldn’t say anything even if he’d known what the right words would be.
He heard Peter sigh. “I see. An argument?”
Carson shook his head. “Actually, no.” He smiled ruefully, “Actually we seemed to agree on…” he trailed off before taking a deep breath and finishing quickly, “We seemed to agree on the fact that we disagreed on everything.”
Peter suddenly realized that this wasn’t just a lovers spat. “You’ve broken up then?”
Carson nodded, his eyes back on the horizon.
They stood watching the sun slip lower and lower for a long time. Neither speaking, Peter simply standing by and offering his silent support.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Three days later Peter noticed that Carson was no closer to getting out of his funk than he had been that night on the balcony.
Being the one in charge of the paperwork gave him access to everyone’s schedules (and a deep understanding that they were almost never followed), so he checked to see when Carson was going off duty and made sure that his replacement had arrived a good hour before then.
As was typical of Atlantis, just before Peter was scheduled to go off duty, there was an emergency. An off-world team was late checking in and not answering their radios. It was almost two hours after Peter’s scheduled shift change when they finally contacted Major Lorne and Doctor Parish and discovered that the natives had insisted that any technology they couldn’t understand be left outside the village during trade negotiations. That had included their radios and their watches.
Peter relaxed as Elizabeth told them ‘no harm, no foul’ and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they came through the gate fifteen minutes later with the signed treaty.
Once things were once again calm and under control in the gate room, Peter handed over his station to Chuck and made a bee-line for the infirmary. He suspected he’d find Carson there, even as late as it was.
He was right.
“Come on,” Peter said, grabbing his elbow and dragging him away from his microscope.
“Where? What’s wrong?”
“You’re still working, is what’s wrong. There are no patients in the infirmary and you went on over twelve hours ago.”
Carson sighed and fixed Peter with a look of both appreciation and annoyance. “Thank you for your concern, Peter, but really, I need to get this done.” He turned back to his Petri dish.
“Or what?”
“Or what what?” Carson asked back.
“What happens if this doesn’t get done tonight? Will someone die? Will something blow up the lab? What if you leave it for the morning?” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, and held his ground.
“Well… no, of course not, but…” Carson frowned at him. After a long minute he finally said, “I have nothing to go home to, so I might as well do something useful.”
Peter reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said softly.
Carson looked at the current round of tests and realized he actually could leave everything just as it was until morning. He saved his data and tossed his lab jacket over the back of his chair. He wasn’t ready to admit it, but it was nice that someone had noticed that he’d been a little depressed lately. It was only getting worse the longer no one seemed to notice or care about the change in his demeanor.
***~~~***~~~***
Peter led them to his quarters and motioned Carson to the small sofa near the window. He went into the small kitchenette and came back with two tumblers of something dark amber.
“Scotch?” Carson asked.
“Irish whiskey.” Peter corrected.
Carson shrugged. “Better than that crap produced in Kentucky.”
Peter smiled and dropped onto the sofa next to him. He raised his glass to Carson’s. “This is officially your one and only chance to cry in your glasses over him. Then, you have to move on.”
Carson couldn’t help but smile at the gravity with which Peter made the proclamation. “I’m sure you didn’t bring me down here to hear me whine.”
Peter shifted around, making himself comfortable. “Of course I did. You’ve been moping for a week. You clearly need to talk to someone about this.”
Carson shook his head sadly. He knew Peter was right, but it seemed so useless. He’d never been one to gripe about unfortunate events in his life, but he knew he wasn’t shaking this one off. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. We suddenly realized that we didn’t have nearly so much in common as we’d thought. I’m here to save lives; he’s here to take them. I don’t know why we ever thought it would work in the first place.” Carson took a healthy swallow of the liquor.
“You knew what your respective careers entailed when you got together. What changed?” Peter pressed.
“Nothing changed so much as what we’d thought wouldn’t matter… started to matter.” He took a second drink, just as the first one had time to start loosening his tongue. “I guess it started with the retro-virused Wraith. He kept after me to do the research to make them human and then the second I did, he killed them. I couldn’t make him understand…” he trailed off, staring into his glass. After a few seconds he tossed back the last of it.
He was staring at the ground when Peter got up to fetch the bottle and was still staring at it when Peter’s fingers brushed over his to take his glass and fill it again. Peter’s hand was warm on his back when he whispered, “I’m sorry. I know he was very important to you.”
“We’re trying to be as amicable as possible about the whole thing. It’s not like we hate each other’s bloody guts or anything, but it’s hard seeing him almost every day.” Carson took another sip. “How do you go back to being ‘just friends’ when you know what someone looks like naked?”
Peter cracked a grin. “For you it shouldn’t be so hard. You know what we all look like naked.”
Carson laughed, realizing he hadn’t for a long time. It felt strange and good and he realized that he missed being happy. And that he had been coveting his misery. Peter was right. It was time to get this out and be done with it and move on.
In theory it was a great idea. Practical application was turning into a bit of a problem. “Not like that, I don’t. And in a great many cases, I’m very, very glad not to know what people look like when they’re…” Carson blushed. He blamed it on the drink. And possibly the thermostat in Peter’s quarters being on the fritz. “Anyway… it’s hard,” he finished soberly.
Peter quietly took his hand and squeezed it.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Over the next few weeks, Peter made it his personal business to get Carson out of his funk. He made sure he left the lab to eat (and didn’t go back unless it really was a matter of life and death) and that he got out and enjoyed as much of a ‘social life’ as Atlantis had to offer.
He hadn’t set out to woo and seduce the other man, but as they left Movie Club about three weeks after John and Carson had ended it, Peter found himself inviting Carson over for a nightcap.
“I got Guinness on the last Daedalus run,” Peter said holding up two bottles.
“Lovely,” Carson said, collapsing onto the sofa. He’d been spending quite a bit of time in Peter’s quarters lately and had gotten quite comfortable there.
Peter opened both bottles and handed him one. Before he’d even thought about it, he was grasping the hand that Carson held out for the bottle. “Carson…” He thought briefly about changing his mind, about chickening out, but plowed on. “I was thinking… maybe you’d like to stay tonight.”
Carson looked up at him, surprised, to say the least.
Peter wasn’t sure what to make of the silence, so he quickly said, “I’m sorry, I know it hasn’t been that long since you and Colonel Sheppard –“
Carson squeezed Peter’s hand back. “I think staying here tonight – with you - is a lovely idea.”
Peter found himself unaccountably more nervous now that Carson had accepted than he’d been when he asked. “Oh. Good. Yes. Good.”
Carson laughed which caused Peter to laugh and all at once the tension was broken. Peter put an arm around Carson’s shoulders and smiled into his beer bottle.
Peter had gotten a highlights reel of the World Cup along with his beer, so they watched it while they finished their drinks. They were still commiserating over the fact that they doubted that the U.K. would put together a winning team in their lifetime as Peter led them into the bedroom.
They left the lights off; the ambient city and moonlight sufficient for their purposes. Peter pulled Carson in and kissed him, one hand wrapped around Carson’s lower back the other across his shoulders, keeping full-body contact.
Carson’s eyes fluttered closed as Peter held him and kissed him. He realized quite suddenly that he and John had been drifting apart long before the retro-virus incident. He couldn’t remember the last time John had held him that close and kissed him with that much passion. When Peter broke away, Carson’s head was spinning.
“You okay?” Peter asked, smiling.
“Aye. A little… overwhelmed, perhaps.”
Peter moved to strip Carson and himself of their shirts and then pulled him back in. “If you’re already overwhelmed where are you going to be when things get really interesting?” Peter teased as he tugged Carson onto the bed, laying on his back and arranging Carson on top of him.
“I’m not sure,” Carson answered, “But something tells me that I’ll be pretty damned happy to be there.” He leaned in to kiss and suck at Peter’s neck. It had been almost a month since he’d had any kind of sex that wasn’t with his own hand and he hadn’t realized it, but he’d become attention starved.
Peter’s hands slid into Carson’s pants, fumbling with the elastic on his boxers before sliding under those too and massaging Carson’s arse as Carson moved down to suck and tug on Peter’s left nipple.
“Oh, oh yes, Carson, that’s… that’s very nice.” Peter found himself bucking into Carson’s hips as he grew harder and harder. Finding more will-power than he’d been sure he’d possessed at that point, he gently pushed on Carson’s shoulders. “Wait, wait.”
Carson’s head snapped up, an almost comical look of concern in his eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”
“We need to get the rest of these clothes out of the way,” Peter said with a grin and a quick kiss on Carson’s lips.
“Oh. Oh, yes. Brilliant idea.”
They instinctively knew things would go faster if they just dealt with their own clothes, so they separated briefly as they kicked off shoes and pushed pants and shorts onto the floor, socks following.
Peter lay on his side on top of the blankets and waited for Carson to join him. Once again, he pulled him in for a kiss and a skin to skin hug.
Carson’s eyes rolled back as Peter’s hands slid up and down, over his back and arse, never still, always bringing him higher and higher. He giggled briefly as he pondered a new definition of ‘contact high’.
“What are you laughing at?” Peter mumbled into his neck cheerfully.
Carson pushed on Peter’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back and laying over him again. “Nothing. Just enjoying this.”
“Mmmm, me too,” Peter gasped as Carson pinched his nipple between two fingers and licked it as it hardened. “Oh, yes…”
Peter lay back and let Carson explore his chest with his mouth and hands, only flinching when Carson’s fingers brushed against his ribs, tickling him, causing them both to laugh. After a while, in order to reach better, Carson straddled Peter’s hips and began exploring his right side with the same intensity and curiousity.
As he leaned down to suck on Peter’s neck, Peter felt their erections brush together. They both gasped in unison and Carson rocked back and then forward again to recreate the feeling. Peter grasped his arse as Carson continued to rock back and forth against him. Carson knew by the way Peter’s fingers dug into him almost painfully and his face screwed up that it was, quite literally, all over but the shouting.
Carson waited but it never came. Peter did – in short, quiet little pants and muffled groans - but unlike John, he didn’t shout to the rafters. Carson had to admit, he did kind of like knowing they weren’t waking the neighbors or starting any rumors. And there was just something much more intimate in the quiet understated way Peter came. It fit the man, Carson decided.
He was so lost in thoughts that for a second he barely registered the way Peter had brought up his knees so Carson could lean back on them as Peter stroked him quite expertly until he couldn’t think any more.
When the world came back to him, he was draped over Peter’s chest and they were both very sticky.
Peter brushed Carson’s hair off his forehead and kissed him gently. “That was very nice,” he whispered.
“Aye,” Carson answered, not having the strength for much more.
Peter wiggled out from under him gently. “Let me get a cloth.”
“Mmmm…” Carson shifted onto his side, so he wouldn’t get the sheets sticky, but otherwise didn’t move. He listened as the tap came on and then went off. A few seconds later it went on and then off again and shortly after that, Peter was curling around him, washing his chest and belly for him.
“You falling asleep?” Peter asked as he stood to take the cloth back into the bathroom.
“Sorry,” Carson said trying to pull himself up and awake.
Peter came back in and pulled the blankets out from under them both, and then pulled them back up around them, his arms around Carson’s waist. “No, I meant that as a good thing. I did ask you to stay tonight, and I meant exactly that.”
Carson shimmied down to rest his head on the pillow next to Peter’s. “Oh good. Because I don’t think I have the energy to leave,” Carson said with a smile and a small kiss.
Peter kissed him back. “Good.”
Written for:
misty4meShe wanted: Pairing: Carson/other - specifically a non-main character male, OOC so you can make Carson's squeeze exactly who you think Carson would hook up with if not limited to Rodney, Ronon, John, Radek.
What she wanted to see in her story: Sex...up to you how much or how detailed Carson not in love but in lust...
What she did not want to see in her story: mpreg, BDSM, potty kink, whiny Carson, momma's boy Carson.
Author's remark: I'm *fairly sure I hit on all accounts. Apologies if something isn't quite what you expected.
Standard Headers:
Title: Build a Bridge
Author:
smallwaldoWords: 2632
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: No Man's Land/Misbegotten
Pairings: Beckett/Sheppard and Beckett/Grodin
Notes: This story is AR. Take everything from canon except... Peter Grodin lived past Siege II and was around at the beginning of the third season.
Summary: “This is officially your one and only chance to cry in your glasses over him. Then, you have to move on.”
If someone you love hurts you cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
Anonymous
Carson didn’t turn at the sound of the balcony door opening. He’d been out there for a while and had lost his thoughts in the sunset and the rolling waves.
He felt the gentle brush of an arm against his as his new companion joined him at the rail. Habitually, he assumed it was John, but almost immediately he knew it was not and would not be again any time soon.
He turned to look and see who had joined him. “Oh, Peter, hello.”
“Hello yourself,” Peter responded. “I came out to see if you were okay. You seemed kind of… distracted at dinner. In fact, you’ve been kind of distracted for almost a week.”
Carson looked back at the waves. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, but it seemed like the thing to do. “It’s nothing you’ve done, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Peter shifted so that he pressed his shoulder just a tad more heavily against Carson’s shoulder. “No, I hadn’t figured it was. Is everything okay between you and Colonel Sheppard?”
Carson couldn’t control the involuntary flinch. He stared hard at the setting sun, hoping that he could blame the brightness reflected off the water for the shine in his eyes. His throat closed up and he realized he couldn’t say anything even if he’d known what the right words would be.
He heard Peter sigh. “I see. An argument?”
Carson shook his head. “Actually, no.” He smiled ruefully, “Actually we seemed to agree on…” he trailed off before taking a deep breath and finishing quickly, “We seemed to agree on the fact that we disagreed on everything.”
Peter suddenly realized that this wasn’t just a lovers spat. “You’ve broken up then?”
Carson nodded, his eyes back on the horizon.
They stood watching the sun slip lower and lower for a long time. Neither speaking, Peter simply standing by and offering his silent support.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Three days later Peter noticed that Carson was no closer to getting out of his funk than he had been that night on the balcony.
Being the one in charge of the paperwork gave him access to everyone’s schedules (and a deep understanding that they were almost never followed), so he checked to see when Carson was going off duty and made sure that his replacement had arrived a good hour before then.
As was typical of Atlantis, just before Peter was scheduled to go off duty, there was an emergency. An off-world team was late checking in and not answering their radios. It was almost two hours after Peter’s scheduled shift change when they finally contacted Major Lorne and Doctor Parish and discovered that the natives had insisted that any technology they couldn’t understand be left outside the village during trade negotiations. That had included their radios and their watches.
Peter relaxed as Elizabeth told them ‘no harm, no foul’ and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they came through the gate fifteen minutes later with the signed treaty.
Once things were once again calm and under control in the gate room, Peter handed over his station to Chuck and made a bee-line for the infirmary. He suspected he’d find Carson there, even as late as it was.
He was right.
“Come on,” Peter said, grabbing his elbow and dragging him away from his microscope.
“Where? What’s wrong?”
“You’re still working, is what’s wrong. There are no patients in the infirmary and you went on over twelve hours ago.”
Carson sighed and fixed Peter with a look of both appreciation and annoyance. “Thank you for your concern, Peter, but really, I need to get this done.” He turned back to his Petri dish.
“Or what?”
“Or what what?” Carson asked back.
“What happens if this doesn’t get done tonight? Will someone die? Will something blow up the lab? What if you leave it for the morning?” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, and held his ground.
“Well… no, of course not, but…” Carson frowned at him. After a long minute he finally said, “I have nothing to go home to, so I might as well do something useful.”
Peter reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said softly.
Carson looked at the current round of tests and realized he actually could leave everything just as it was until morning. He saved his data and tossed his lab jacket over the back of his chair. He wasn’t ready to admit it, but it was nice that someone had noticed that he’d been a little depressed lately. It was only getting worse the longer no one seemed to notice or care about the change in his demeanor.
***~~~***~~~***
Peter led them to his quarters and motioned Carson to the small sofa near the window. He went into the small kitchenette and came back with two tumblers of something dark amber.
“Scotch?” Carson asked.
“Irish whiskey.” Peter corrected.
Carson shrugged. “Better than that crap produced in Kentucky.”
Peter smiled and dropped onto the sofa next to him. He raised his glass to Carson’s. “This is officially your one and only chance to cry in your glasses over him. Then, you have to move on.”
Carson couldn’t help but smile at the gravity with which Peter made the proclamation. “I’m sure you didn’t bring me down here to hear me whine.”
Peter shifted around, making himself comfortable. “Of course I did. You’ve been moping for a week. You clearly need to talk to someone about this.”
Carson shook his head sadly. He knew Peter was right, but it seemed so useless. He’d never been one to gripe about unfortunate events in his life, but he knew he wasn’t shaking this one off. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. We suddenly realized that we didn’t have nearly so much in common as we’d thought. I’m here to save lives; he’s here to take them. I don’t know why we ever thought it would work in the first place.” Carson took a healthy swallow of the liquor.
“You knew what your respective careers entailed when you got together. What changed?” Peter pressed.
“Nothing changed so much as what we’d thought wouldn’t matter… started to matter.” He took a second drink, just as the first one had time to start loosening his tongue. “I guess it started with the retro-virused Wraith. He kept after me to do the research to make them human and then the second I did, he killed them. I couldn’t make him understand…” he trailed off, staring into his glass. After a few seconds he tossed back the last of it.
He was staring at the ground when Peter got up to fetch the bottle and was still staring at it when Peter’s fingers brushed over his to take his glass and fill it again. Peter’s hand was warm on his back when he whispered, “I’m sorry. I know he was very important to you.”
“We’re trying to be as amicable as possible about the whole thing. It’s not like we hate each other’s bloody guts or anything, but it’s hard seeing him almost every day.” Carson took another sip. “How do you go back to being ‘just friends’ when you know what someone looks like naked?”
Peter cracked a grin. “For you it shouldn’t be so hard. You know what we all look like naked.”
Carson laughed, realizing he hadn’t for a long time. It felt strange and good and he realized that he missed being happy. And that he had been coveting his misery. Peter was right. It was time to get this out and be done with it and move on.
In theory it was a great idea. Practical application was turning into a bit of a problem. “Not like that, I don’t. And in a great many cases, I’m very, very glad not to know what people look like when they’re…” Carson blushed. He blamed it on the drink. And possibly the thermostat in Peter’s quarters being on the fritz. “Anyway… it’s hard,” he finished soberly.
Peter quietly took his hand and squeezed it.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Over the next few weeks, Peter made it his personal business to get Carson out of his funk. He made sure he left the lab to eat (and didn’t go back unless it really was a matter of life and death) and that he got out and enjoyed as much of a ‘social life’ as Atlantis had to offer.
He hadn’t set out to woo and seduce the other man, but as they left Movie Club about three weeks after John and Carson had ended it, Peter found himself inviting Carson over for a nightcap.
“I got Guinness on the last Daedalus run,” Peter said holding up two bottles.
“Lovely,” Carson said, collapsing onto the sofa. He’d been spending quite a bit of time in Peter’s quarters lately and had gotten quite comfortable there.
Peter opened both bottles and handed him one. Before he’d even thought about it, he was grasping the hand that Carson held out for the bottle. “Carson…” He thought briefly about changing his mind, about chickening out, but plowed on. “I was thinking… maybe you’d like to stay tonight.”
Carson looked up at him, surprised, to say the least.
Peter wasn’t sure what to make of the silence, so he quickly said, “I’m sorry, I know it hasn’t been that long since you and Colonel Sheppard –“
Carson squeezed Peter’s hand back. “I think staying here tonight – with you - is a lovely idea.”
Peter found himself unaccountably more nervous now that Carson had accepted than he’d been when he asked. “Oh. Good. Yes. Good.”
Carson laughed which caused Peter to laugh and all at once the tension was broken. Peter put an arm around Carson’s shoulders and smiled into his beer bottle.
Peter had gotten a highlights reel of the World Cup along with his beer, so they watched it while they finished their drinks. They were still commiserating over the fact that they doubted that the U.K. would put together a winning team in their lifetime as Peter led them into the bedroom.
They left the lights off; the ambient city and moonlight sufficient for their purposes. Peter pulled Carson in and kissed him, one hand wrapped around Carson’s lower back the other across his shoulders, keeping full-body contact.
Carson’s eyes fluttered closed as Peter held him and kissed him. He realized quite suddenly that he and John had been drifting apart long before the retro-virus incident. He couldn’t remember the last time John had held him that close and kissed him with that much passion. When Peter broke away, Carson’s head was spinning.
“You okay?” Peter asked, smiling.
“Aye. A little… overwhelmed, perhaps.”
Peter moved to strip Carson and himself of their shirts and then pulled him back in. “If you’re already overwhelmed where are you going to be when things get really interesting?” Peter teased as he tugged Carson onto the bed, laying on his back and arranging Carson on top of him.
“I’m not sure,” Carson answered, “But something tells me that I’ll be pretty damned happy to be there.” He leaned in to kiss and suck at Peter’s neck. It had been almost a month since he’d had any kind of sex that wasn’t with his own hand and he hadn’t realized it, but he’d become attention starved.
Peter’s hands slid into Carson’s pants, fumbling with the elastic on his boxers before sliding under those too and massaging Carson’s arse as Carson moved down to suck and tug on Peter’s left nipple.
“Oh, oh yes, Carson, that’s… that’s very nice.” Peter found himself bucking into Carson’s hips as he grew harder and harder. Finding more will-power than he’d been sure he’d possessed at that point, he gently pushed on Carson’s shoulders. “Wait, wait.”
Carson’s head snapped up, an almost comical look of concern in his eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”
“We need to get the rest of these clothes out of the way,” Peter said with a grin and a quick kiss on Carson’s lips.
“Oh. Oh, yes. Brilliant idea.”
They instinctively knew things would go faster if they just dealt with their own clothes, so they separated briefly as they kicked off shoes and pushed pants and shorts onto the floor, socks following.
Peter lay on his side on top of the blankets and waited for Carson to join him. Once again, he pulled him in for a kiss and a skin to skin hug.
Carson’s eyes rolled back as Peter’s hands slid up and down, over his back and arse, never still, always bringing him higher and higher. He giggled briefly as he pondered a new definition of ‘contact high’.
“What are you laughing at?” Peter mumbled into his neck cheerfully.
Carson pushed on Peter’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back and laying over him again. “Nothing. Just enjoying this.”
“Mmmm, me too,” Peter gasped as Carson pinched his nipple between two fingers and licked it as it hardened. “Oh, yes…”
Peter lay back and let Carson explore his chest with his mouth and hands, only flinching when Carson’s fingers brushed against his ribs, tickling him, causing them both to laugh. After a while, in order to reach better, Carson straddled Peter’s hips and began exploring his right side with the same intensity and curiousity.
As he leaned down to suck on Peter’s neck, Peter felt their erections brush together. They both gasped in unison and Carson rocked back and then forward again to recreate the feeling. Peter grasped his arse as Carson continued to rock back and forth against him. Carson knew by the way Peter’s fingers dug into him almost painfully and his face screwed up that it was, quite literally, all over but the shouting.
Carson waited but it never came. Peter did – in short, quiet little pants and muffled groans - but unlike John, he didn’t shout to the rafters. Carson had to admit, he did kind of like knowing they weren’t waking the neighbors or starting any rumors. And there was just something much more intimate in the quiet understated way Peter came. It fit the man, Carson decided.
He was so lost in thoughts that for a second he barely registered the way Peter had brought up his knees so Carson could lean back on them as Peter stroked him quite expertly until he couldn’t think any more.
When the world came back to him, he was draped over Peter’s chest and they were both very sticky.
Peter brushed Carson’s hair off his forehead and kissed him gently. “That was very nice,” he whispered.
“Aye,” Carson answered, not having the strength for much more.
Peter wiggled out from under him gently. “Let me get a cloth.”
“Mmmm…” Carson shifted onto his side, so he wouldn’t get the sheets sticky, but otherwise didn’t move. He listened as the tap came on and then went off. A few seconds later it went on and then off again and shortly after that, Peter was curling around him, washing his chest and belly for him.
“You falling asleep?” Peter asked as he stood to take the cloth back into the bathroom.
“Sorry,” Carson said trying to pull himself up and awake.
Peter came back in and pulled the blankets out from under them both, and then pulled them back up around them, his arms around Carson’s waist. “No, I meant that as a good thing. I did ask you to stay tonight, and I meant exactly that.”
Carson shimmied down to rest his head on the pillow next to Peter’s. “Oh good. Because I don’t think I have the energy to leave,” Carson said with a smile and a small kiss.
Peter kissed him back. “Good.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-01 12:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-01 12:07 am (UTC)Um... sure.
Glad you liked it.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-01 03:04 am (UTC)Such a shame they blew the man up.
This was lovely, thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-01 03:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-04 09:32 pm (UTC)