milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Charlie is a little hungover, which should explain the pot of coffee, big glass of water and pancakes.

The secretive little smile can be explained by how he got the hangover.

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He shrugs and settles in Charlie's arms.

"You a fighter, Charlie?"

Now it's just idle conversation.

"Had to defend myself somehow." He makes a fist and does an ineffectual punch in the air.

The fist is pulled back and kissed on each and every knuckle.

"Yeah."

He's never learned how to defend himself. He's strong and he's fast and he's graceful...but he doesn't know a damn thing about how to keep his ass from being beat. He's getting a little better, considering his profession, but he's still pretty pathetic at it.

"Gonna be my big strong man and defend my honor, baby?"

Grin.

"Yes I am," Charlie says proudly. "You've got a working-class Manc looking after you now. Nobody'll mess with you."

"As long as it's you, I oughta be just fine."

A grin and a kiss and a hand run over Charlie's arm.

Charlie flexes his arm and grins at him. "This arm is yours."

Charlie's bicep is kissed with utmost reverence before a tongue is flicked at the underside of Charlie's arm.

Charlie Does Not squeal like a little girl.

So very, very ticklish.

No, he squeals like a Charlie.

And Darien eats it up. And by that, we mean he begins to tickle Charlie mercilessly.

"Ack! No--Darien--please--don't--" He tries to fend him off but it's hard when you're laughing so hard you can't breathe.

Tickle tickle tickle...and a lick up the exposed side of Charlie's neck.

Charlie grabs Darien's hands and wraps his own around them. "Can't--breathe--" He gives him a mock-glare. "Let me catch my breath."

He looks down at the restricted hands and smiles at Charlie slow before lifting them up and up and above his head, streeeeeeeeeetching up until a slice of hip and abdomen shows above the line of his pants. Then he wiggles just a little as he makes a miniscule nod to his hands.

"Now this? Is an idea."

Charlie raises an eyebrow, gives the lovely strip of skin a speculative look, and squirms down to run his tongue over it, still holding up Darien's hands as high as he can.

The muscles flex and tense, spasming against his tongue as Darien murmurs some sort of meaningless protest. His hips roll gently and he doesn't try to move his hands from Charlie's hold.

Mm, that's a response we like.

Charlie's mouth moves higher, up Darien's abdomen.

Public? What?

...it doesn't really matter because Quicksilver flows over them both a moment later as his arousal sets his heart beating and his blood flowing. He looks down at Charlie, breathing hard.

"Baby? Baby...room? Mmmm...want you to fuck me."

Charlie flicks in tongue in Darien's navel and mutters, "Yeah," as he slides out of the booth.

Slides? Hell, he's practically shoved. He's certainly dragged, up the steps and down a hall or two before their door is opened, their room is increased by one Charlie and one Darien, and the door is closed.

And locked.

And soundproofed with a towel under the door.

continued (http://qsilver-lab-rat.livejournal.com/8685.html)

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