master fic list!
In other news, have an excerpt from the in-progress Next One With The Porn, under the cut. We all remember James promised, a while ago, to do something, or rather to wear something, all day, right?
“You’re already—you do like this idea, don’t you? Walking around, wearing this for me, being mine, in public?”
“Yes, sir.”
“…really?”
James’s expression suggested honest startlement at his own reply. “I didn’t mean to—I just—that just came out, I swear!”
“Hmm.” Michael studied him for a minute, the two of them standing close together in the crisp morning air, the edges of sunlight peeking inquisitively around the gap in the curtains. He hadn’t quite expected that first answer, either.
He thought maybe he understood, though. The memories, from earlier that week, suggested themselves as an explanation: James giving him orders, wrist cuffs and fingertips and that voice like silk over steel. Himself listening. Obeying. Amazing, yes. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if James offered. But that wasn’t what James needed from him, not really.
Reassertion, then. For both of them. That hadn’t been exactly why he’d reminded James of his promise today, but it suddenly made perfect sense regardless. Of course they needed this.
James hadn’t moved. Not even to go find his shoes. The advancing sun crept up and made dancing golden highlights in all that curling hair.
Michael put out one hand. Ran a finger along one cheek, touching soft skin and familiar freckles. James shut his eyes, briefly, in the sunlight, at the touch. Breathed in, quietly, just once.
“You would do anything I asked, right now, wouldn’t you? If I asked you to get on your knees, still dressed, with this—” He slid the other hand under worn denim, across smooth curves. Found the end of the vibrator, hidden from view. Nudged, slightly. Heard the answering gasp. “—still inside you, and I told you to suck my cock, here, right before we leave?”
The ocean-water eyes widened, all glittering blue and anticipatory black in the morning light, and not expressing any sort of objection in the least. “Yes, sir.”
“I want that, too.” He eyed the clock. Inwardly swore. No time.
And as badly as he was tempted to say “fuck the schedule” and let them both be late, they did have to be professional. Which meant he had to get James to come back, a little, enough to remember that they were about to be on camera, anyway.
Even though he himself wanted to rip off all those just-assembled clothes and pounce on James right there.