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Title: Breakfast in Bed (1/2)
Authors: wicked_jade
Summary: Andrew hates the way he always wakes up in bed alone. James finds a way to make it up to him.
Genre: Erotica....oh who am I kidding, it's porn!
Characters: Norrington, Gillette
Pairings: Gillington
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: 100% pure fluffy, slashy smut.
Disclaimer: PotC and it's characters, including Norrington, do not belong to me. James and Andrew belong to each other.
Comments are love. *sets out fresh Commodore Cupcakes*
Author's Note: I started writing this a month ago, as a birthday present for mrs_norrington. Obviously, I missed my deadline. So now it's a Bon Voyage present. Good luck with your internship, and have fun in England!! *hugs*
Breakfast in Bed Part Two
Authors: wicked_jade
Summary: Andrew hates the way he always wakes up in bed alone. James finds a way to make it up to him.
Genre: Erotica....oh who am I kidding, it's porn!
Characters: Norrington, Gillette
Pairings: Gillington
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: 100% pure fluffy, slashy smut.
Disclaimer: PotC and it's characters, including Norrington, do not belong to me. James and Andrew belong to each other.
Comments are love. *sets out fresh Commodore Cupcakes*
Author's Note: I started writing this a month ago, as a birthday present for mrs_norrington. Obviously, I missed my deadline. So now it's a Bon Voyage present. Good luck with your internship, and have fun in England!! *hugs*
There were certain, irrefutable facts of life that you just had to learn to live with when James Norrington was your lover. Andrew Gillette would know – after all, he had intimate knowledge of James and his quirks. He had even gone so far as to make a list of the Commodore’s irritating habits one miserably hot afternoon while sitting at the desk in his office. He had been bored out of his mind as Lieutenant Groves prattled on about the new barmaid at the Silver Stag and the merits of Rosie Delancy’s breasts, and his mind couldn’t help but wander. And as usual, it had wandered straight to James.
Though he listed his grievances in no particular order, the first item on the extensive list was James’s untidiness. There was no other way of putting it; behind closed doors, the usually impeccable, spotless Commodore was something of a slob. The Commodore’s home was in a perpetual state of disarray, which Andrew found to be both infuriating and oddly endearing. On more than one occasion he had tripped over James’s discarded shoes while on his way to the chamber pot in the middle of the night. The third time that happened, he had cursed a blue streak before chucking the offending items at their dozing owner. It was impossible to find anything amidst the chaotic jumble of his study, though James insisted that he had a system. And no matter how neat Andrew kept his own things, James’s clothes somehow always wound up usurping his side of the wardrobe. (When James could even be fussed to hang his clothes up, that was.) But no matter how much it irritated him, Andrew could never stay angry with James for long, not when he would come home after a long day at the Fort to find James curled up on the sofa in his study with his nose stuck in a book, surrounded by a haphazard clutter of papers, trinkets, and discarded bits of uniform, looking perfectly at home. Somehow, however inexplicably, James managed to find tranquility in the sea of chaos. In those quiet moments, Andrew knew that was exactly where James belonged, and he knew that his place would always be right there at his side – even if he had to burrow through piles of clutter to get there.
More worrying than annoying was the Commodore’s work ethic. James worked far too much, slept too little, and too often he brought his work home with him. It was commonplace for Andrew to wake in the middle of the night, only to find James at the desk in his study, slumped in his chair and rubbing bleary, bloodshot eyes as he tried to decipher another of Teddy Groves’ illegible reports. On those nights, there was always a distant, haunted look in Norrington’s eyes that worried Andrew, but he did what he could to make sure James was never alone. Andrew would pour him another whisky and rub his neck and shoulders until the tension ebbed away, offering silent support until James would finally put down his quill, blow out the lone, guttering candle, and curl up next to him on the sofa. He would tuck Jamie close against his heart, stroking back his soft, dark hair like a parent comforting a frightened child. They never spoke much on those nights, but sometimes Andrew would hum one of the soothing lullabies Mrs. Jones, his Welsh governess, had sung to him as a child. He knew James didn’t understand the words, but in the end it really didn’t matter. Sometimes James would drift off to sleep in his arms, but there were other nights when he would just lay there until dawn, awake but quiet, silently accepting the comfort offered. Andrew knew he was the only one who could keep Jamie’s shadows at bay for him, a fact which gave him an immense sense of pride even as it broke his heart. Thankfully, those nights were slowly becoming a little less frequent as time passed.
Which brought Andrew to another irritating fact of life in the Norrington household: on those nights when he did sleep, James Norrington hogged the covers. Even in the sweltering heat of the Caribbean summer, the man felt some instinctive need to cocoon himself in the sheets. No matter how hard Andrew fought for his fair share, he was inevitably laid bare by morning, exposed to the first rays of sunlight and the cool sea breeze that drifted through the windows that James always left wide open. Since James wrapped himself up in the sheets, Andrew retaliated by wrapping himself around James. Not that there was much choice in that matter either; James didn’t lie on the bed, he sprawled across it, a tangle of long limbs and wrinkled sheets splayed every which way. It was either snuggle up against James’s side or find himself tottering precariously at the very edge of the bed, and Andrew knew which he preferred. Cuddling with James wasn’t exactly a hardship, but it was the principle of the thing. And yes, James did snore, dammit, no matter how many petulant denials or excuses the man made. Admittedly, it was a soft sort of snore, but it was a snore nonetheless. But in the end, Andrew decided that the disturbance of his sleep was a small price to pay for those all too rare moments when James was sprawled out and snuffling by his side, lost in a deep, peaceful slumber that was untouched by nightmares and memories.
Another little-known fact about James Norrington was that while he had an insatiable appetite for sex, sex also gave him something of a sweet-tooth. It never failed to make Andrew laugh when he would wake up from a post-coital doze to find James propped against he headboard, snacking on the spoils of his latest late-night raid on Mr. Yates perfectly ordered cupboards. He usually stopped laughing right around the time that he realized James had once again left crumbs in the bed. Still, he didn’t complain too much as long as the Commodore shared the plunder. And considering how often James forgot to eat, he would’ve happily buggered James three times a day if it resulted in the skinny git actually eating three square meals for once.
But for all of the minor annoyances, all of their conflicting quirks, all of their demons, and the perpetual need for secrecy, their life together was a happy one. Andrew’s only real complaint was that he always woke up alone. It was a small thing, and one he thought probably shouldn’t bother him half as much as it did. But it did bother him. He didn’t think it was too much to ask, really. Just one morning he would like to wake up warm and drowsy, with his head still pillowed on James’s chest, enjoying the rare treat of watching his lover sleep for awhile before waking him with the sort of slow, lazy kiss that would lead a long, languid fuck, leaving them both sated and smiling for the rest of the day. They had been together almost a year, and by Andrew’s calculations that had happened exactly twice.
Even on the nights he slept, James was always up at dawn, if not before. If there was no pressing business at Fort Charles, he usually had the courtesy to sneak silently out of bed and let Andrew wake at a more civilized hour. By the time Gillette did drag his arse out of bed, James was always already dressed and downstairs having breakfast. (Which usually consisted of guzzling ridiculous amounts of coffee and picking half-heartedly at some toast, at least until a yawning Andrew would arrive and force him to eat something. This last part was easily managed by threatening to withhold mid-afternoon desk buggery.) And while that was all delightfully domestic, there was nothing romantic about it. There was so little romance in their dangerous lives that Andrew couldn’t help craving it from time to time. Not that he ever voiced his complaint to James – life was too good, and anyway, he was holding out hope that someday the dense man would figure it out on his own.
Andrew had rather hoped that someday would be today, so when he awoke he didn’t even bother muffling his sigh of frustration. He could immediately sense that James was gone, but he reached across the bed anyway and wound up groping a handful of rumpled sheets instead of a handful of James’s perfectly pert arse. The room was quiet, but for the soft sound of Mr. Yates, James’s old friend and steward, cheerily singing downstairs in the kitchen. The sheets were still so warm, and before he knew it Andrew found himself shifting over to James’s side of the bed and snuggling into the James-sized indentation left behind in the mattress. He buried his face in James’s pillow, breathing deep his familiar, comforting scent of coffee, scotch, and spiced apples while pretending he really had his face pressed against Jamie’s oh so lickable neck. But no matter how James-like it smelled, the pillow was a poor Norrington substitute, and this time Andrew did muffle his groan of dissatisfaction in its feathery depths. This one morning he had wanted to wake up in his lover’s arms, or at least be allowed to have a decent lie-in. And now he wouldn’t even be able to do that, because the bed smelled too much like James, like intoxicating, musky sex and goddammit to hell how was he supposed to go back to sleep when he was already this fucking aroused! If Jamie was still downstairs he was going to shove the early-bird bastard over the breakfast table and…
“Good morning,” said a low, sultry voice from the vicinity of the doorway.
Andrew growled into the pillow, not bothering to open his eyes. He knew if he did he would just see the Commodore standing there, so bloody perfect and pristine in his stupid bloody uniform, his body still there but his mind already at the Fort. Not that Andrew really needed James’s mind to be present for what he wanted just then. Still, he didn’t think it was too selfish to want the whole package just this one morning.
“What’s so sodding good about it?” Andrew snapped; his voice was a rough, sleepy growl and he sounded more like an irascible bear aroused too early from hibernation. In full sulk-mode and not caring how childish he seemed, Andrew grabbed his own pillow off the bed and blindly chucked in James’s general direction. He whole-heartedly hoped he had managed to hit James square in his dutifully stern face. Apparently he had miss his mark; it sounded like James was chuckling his arse off, even as he drew James’s pillow back over his head to block out the first golden rays of sun that had sneakily crept over the windowsill.
“An-drew. Wake up, An-drew.” He could hear James sing-songing his name from the doorway. He vaguely wondered if anyone at the Fort would miss James if he went missing. He knew a nice bay where no one would ever find the body. Then again, he could just tie James to the bed and not let him come for hours. Oh, and gag him. A gag was definitely in order. His temper finally boiling over, Andrew threw off the pillow and sat up, a multilingual string of curses ready to fall from his lips with the slightest provocation.
And then he completely forgot the English language, and the four others he spoke fluently along with it. For once, he actually found himself agreeing with his lover about mornings. The morning was suddenly very, very good. Morning had never looked better.
Where he had expected to find Commodore Norrington standing prim and proper in the doorway, he found Jamie. His beautiful, wicked, disheveled Jamie, who he solemnly vowed he would never say a word against ever again – or, at least not for a day or two. Gloriously naked Jamie, leaning against the doorframe with thoroughly debauched grace. His emerald green dressing gown was pooled around his feet and he was wearing nothing but a charmingly smug smile. The casual pose was carelessly seductive; his forearm braced on the doorframe just above his head, his elegant fingers slowly stroking the old, cracked wood and suggestively circling one of the exposed nail heads. The long strands of his hair, as dark and rich as the coffee he thrived on, were loose and still hopelessly tousled from the night before. Andrew felt his fingers twitching restlessly, longing to be tangled in the thick mass of messy waves. He thought he might come without a single touch when Jamie finally met his hungry gaze. Green eyes glimmered dark with desire as he looked up from beneath his long sweep of lashes. Andrew felt his cock twitch when the wet, pink tip of Jamie’s tongue slid over his lower lip in silent promise.
Andrew groaned, his eyes tracing every long, graceful line of Norrington’s body, every curve of muscle, every freckle he couldn’t see from the distance of the bed and every scar he could. Broad, strong shoulders that normally carried the weight of the world were loose and relaxed, and Andrew thought he could spent half the morning just mapping each scar that crisscrossed them with his tongue. And then there were those legs – long, lean and muscled…and did he mention how damn long they were? Because they were not just long, they were damn long, and felt like heaven when James had them wrapped around Andrew’s body. And from his legs it was a short but well-charted journey up to Jamie’s half-hard cock, and the only word Andrew could summon from his dumb-struck mind for that was perfect.
James quirked one eyebrow and it was only then that Andrew noticed that the pillow he had thrown was swinging in a loose grip from Jamie’s left hand. He blinked and swallowed hard, trying to twist his tongue around words, but the treacherous muscle continued to mutiny against him. Apparently his tongue thought it was best suited for twisting around Norrington’s cock instead. Andrew silently agreed with it.
“I would ask if you saw anything you liked, but considering the evidence, that would be a bit redundant,” Jamie deadpanned, his eyes flickering down between Andrew’s uncovered legs. Andrew quickly tugged the covers into his lap, but there was little he could do to hide the furious blush that was coloring his cheeks.
That eyebrow only arched higher as Jamie finally moved from his position, tossing the pillow at Andrew as he crossed to the bed in three long strides. Andrew yelped in surprise and toppled backwards onto the bed as the pillow hit him full in the face. By the time he recovered, pushing himself up onto his elbows, James had crawled up the bed and straddled his hips. Strong hands pushed Andrew back into the mattress as James captured his lips for a slow, hungry kiss that was leisurely in pace and fathomless in passion. Andrew’s lips parted unresistingly, allowing Jamie’s tongue to stroke his own, tasting of coffee, sugar and cinnamon. It was so warm and inviting and the surge of heat from Jamie’s body was almost too much for Andrew to bear. He pushed away the covers with near frantic need, desperate to feel his Jamie’s bare skin sliding against his own. The tangle of bedding was all but forgotten a moment later when suddenly their cocks were rubbing together with such delicious friction and Jamie was greedily swallowing his moan. One of Andrew’s hands automatically went to Norrington’s left hip as the other tangled itself in his hair. He felt like he would fly apart at the seams if he didn’t hold on tight. James had a hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.
It was James who finally broke the kiss, his fingers stroking Andrew’s thick auburn hair away from his face as he rested his forehead against his lover’s, closing his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Andrew’s brown eyes fluttered open when he felt Jamie’s nose nuzzle against his own. James brushed a kiss over the tip before he buried his face in the crook of Andrew’s neck. He gasped as Jamie’s mouth latched onto the hollow of his throat in an open-mouthed kiss that was sure to leave a splendid mark.
When James looked up his eyes were sparkling with devilish mischief; they seemed to glow from within, and the smoldering warmth took Drew’s breath away all over again. It was then, in that frozen moment, that the single most pure and dazzling smile Andrew had ever seen lit up his Jamie’s face, and he was sure he must have died and gone to heaven, because surely only and angel could have a smile as sweet as that.
“Jamie?” he breathed, dazed and dazzled, completely spellbound. Out of habit he brushed back a stray tangle of hair that had fallen into Jamie’s vibrant eyes, but other than that he was frozen, waiting for someone to pinch him because he was sure at any moment he was going to wake up and discover this had all been a fantastic dream.
“Happy birthday, Drew.” He could feel the words vibrating against his lips, Jamie’s warm, coffee scented breath ghosting over his cheek. James kissed him again, soft, sweet, twice as loving as he had ever been kissed before, and Andrew never wanted it to end. But like all good things, end it eventually did, and Drew whimpered at the loss. He tried to catch Jamie’s lips again because he was still too speechless to form a coherent thought and he desperately wanted to say thank you somehow. But James was already preoccupied, leaving a colorful, mottled trail of kisses down Andrew’s neck and chest, meandering his way down to his body until he was nestled between Andrew’s legs. He watched as James teasingly stopped just short of his straining cock and kissed his way back up the trail until he was back at Andrew’s parted lips. Drew’s head was spinning, and he laughed breathlessly at Jamie and his little pathway. He reminded him of Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find their way out of the woods. As Jamie’s tongue slid across his lower lip, it felt like they had both found their way home.
“You…you remembered?” Andrew finally panted, not really thinking at all about what he was saying. James’s tongue had traced the trail back down his body and was dipping into his navel, tickling and teasing and making him writhe, and it was all very distracting. He had gasped out the first words that came to mind, and he only stopped to think about them when James paused what he was doing and slowly sat up straight, still straddling Andrew’s hips as he crossed his arms defensively over his bare chest.
“You thought I would forget?” The little crease between his frowning brows was bad enough on its own, but it was the hurt in Jamie’s voice that made Drew wince. “You honestly thought I would forget your birthday?” James sat back; his backside rubbed tauntingly against Andrew’s erection, and a small, vindictive smile curved his lips when his lover whimpered pathetically and made a futile bid at increasing the pressure.
“I…no…it’s not like that Jamie, please…” Andrew choked out, frantic to explain, to recapture the magic of the moment. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…you’re not exactly keen on birthdays, are you? You’ve never been overly fond of celebrating them. I didn’t expect you to make an exception for me.”
“Not my own, no. I’ve never seen much reason to celebrate my own. But you, Mr. Gillette, are not just an exception; you’re exceptional. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m quite taken with you, you idiot, and I rather fancy the idea of celebrating your existence.” Jamie leaned down for another kiss as he grasped Andrew’s wrists and loosely pinned them by his head. “That’s what birthdays are about, right? Celebrating life? And love? And sharing both with the person you care about most in the world.”
Andrew swallowed hard and nodded as James’s lips inched closer to his, watching as the playful glint in those impossibly green eyes was replaced with a solemn glow. Jamie’s voice was little more that a whisper now, warm against his lips. “I wasn’t living until you, Drew. You gave me life again, and love. So much love. You’ve given me so much, and I just want to make today perfect for you. Show you just how grateful I am for the gifts you’ve given me and give something back.”
Andrew twisted one hand free from Jamie’s slackened grip and reached up to caress his cheek. The way James leaned into the touch made his stomach flutter. “Today is already perfect, love.” Another smile, smaller but no less stunning, lit Jamie’s face, and Andrew leaned forward to kiss the upturned corners of his mouth. “As long as you’re here and smiling at me like that, it’s all the thanks I will ever need.”
James beamed and his previous, infectious good humor reasserted itself. He gave Andrew a brief peck on the lips and a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Oh really? I guess you won’t be wanting your other presents, then?”
“Not so fast, you,” Andrew growled, swatting at James’s arse and pulling the man tight against his chest as he made to pull away. “Other presents, you say? Tell me about these other presents, darling.”
“I thought my smiles were all the reward you could never need,” James pouted, dissolving in a helpless fit of laughter moments later when Andrew launched a tickle attack on his ribs.
“They are, but if you’re offering something more, it’s not like I’m going to kick you out of bed.” Andrew groaned as Jamie distracted him with the clever use of his hips, grinding his arse against Andrew again. For a second time he found his hands pinned above his head, though this time they were held in a firm grip.
“Well that’s good,” Jamie panted, still laughing and trying to catch his breath. “Because my plan definitely involves the bed. It’s a shockingly underutilized piece of furniture in our home, all things considered.”
Our home. That phrase alone meant more to Andrew than words could ever say. Since he was choked up again, Andrew took a moment to consider the truth of Jamie’s statement. They always started out with the intention of making love in the bed, but more often than not they never quite managed to make it that far.
“Bed is good. Maybe we’ll do better using bed as a starting place, rather than a destination. Tell me more?” Andrew requested ever so politely, ending with a whispered “please” as he arched against Jamie’s body, languidly rubbing himself along the cleft of his bottom. His whisper turned into a yelp of surprise a second later when Jamie bounded off the bed like an excitable puppy and rushed to the door.
“What’s gotten into you?” Andrew laughed, admiring the view as Jamie bent to pick up something resting just outside the doorway to their bedroom.
“Nothing….yet,” James grinned over his shoulder before turning around and making his way back to the bed with a small basket in hand. He set it down carefully on the nightstand and slid back into Andrew’s waiting arms. “But I’m hoping you’ll help me rectify that situation. Preferably after breakfast though, I’m starving.” Jamie reached into the basket and started pulling out everything from strawberries and whipped cream and scones with jam to small confections that looked suspiciously like miniature iced birthday cakes.
“Birthday cake for breakfast?” Andrew asked, quirking a formidable eyebrow of his own.
“Why not?” James shrugged in return, gracing Andrew with a boyish smile before he hopped off the bed and out into the hall once more, retrieving a pot of coffee he had left sitting on the hall table.
“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” Andrew sighed in awe, taking a sip from the steaming cup James handed him. Ben Yates really did make the best coffee he’d ever tasted. Andrew paused a moment as he watched James pick through the strawberries, searching for the biggest and juiciest of the lot. “This is what you were doing this morning…why you weren’t in bed when I woke up?”
James nodded absently, nothing short of adorable as he decided on the perfect berry and dipped it in the cream, holding it up to Andrew’s waiting lips. “Mmmhmm. Mind you, Ben already had most of it ready by the time I snuck down to the kitchen, but the coffee took a little longer than anticipated. I tried to rush him and wound up getting a ten minute lecture on why you can’t rush an artist and how good coffee takes time.” If James rolled his eyes any harder, they would pop right out of his head. “The plan was to sneak back upstairs, set all this up, and be back in bed before you woke. Of course, you had to go and ruin my well laid plan by waking up early.”
Andrew obligingly took a bite of the strawberry, eyes closing in rapture as the mixture of juice and cream hit his tongue, pleasurably sweet after the slight bitterness of Ben’s delicious coffee. He could feel the juice dripping down his chin, and he gave James a cross-eyed glare when the man leaned in to lick away every last drop, sucking softly at his chin before pulling away with a playful grin.
“Mmm, good?” James asked before licking his lips and popping the remaining bite of strawberry into his own mouth with an obscene moan.
“Knowing you, you probably deserved Ben’s lecture for all of your whining. Don’t give me that look Jamie Norrington! I’ve seen what a brat you are when deprived of your morning coffee.” Andrew couldn’t help but laugh at the indignant look on James’s face. “And don’t even try to deny that you’re a right monster without it. But if it makes you feel any better, I am sorry I ruined your plans,” he added softly, licking the last of the cream from his lips. “I’ve gotten too used to sleeping with you next to me, and I guess I sensed you were gone. I would have loved waking up in your arms for once. Though that doesn’t make this surprise any less lovely. This easily qualifies as my best birthday ever.”
“Really?” James whispered, fidgeting with one of the small cakes. There was a rare note of shy uncertainty in his voice that tugged at Andrew’s heart.
“Really,” Andrew whispered back, tilting James’s chin up so he could let him see the truth in his eyes before closing in for a kiss. It was soft and sweetly tentative, and…happy. Yes, that was it. Andrew had shared countless kisses with James, but they always seemed to be edged with sharp emotions like passion, possessiveness and pain, or haunted by a bittersweet shadow of melancholy. But that kiss, that moment was pure. For the first time in living memory, Jamie wasn’t brooding, he wasn’t dwelling in the past or fretting over the future. He was completely in the moment, and he was simply, happily in love. They both were. His eyes were a clear, jade green and his smile felt like warm rays of sunlight brushing over Andrew’s skin. There was a joy there that Andrew wanted to bask in it, soaking up every last bit of golden warmth Jamie had to offer. And it was all for him. He couldn’t have asked for a better present.
“Um, hullo,” James laughed, waving one of the tiny cakes in front of Andrew’s nose. “Still with me, love?”
Andrew blinked, letting Jamie’s laughter wash over him, its low melody pulling him back from his reverie. “I’ve always been with you. And always will be, whether you like it or not,” he quipped with a cheeky grin, taking a large bite out of the cake James was feeding him. He nipped playfully at Jamie’s fingers, nearly making him drop the pastry. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Ah, ah! Careful!” Jamie warned, dipping one bitten finger into the sugary icing and using it to paint abstract patterns around one of Andrew’s nipples. He tilted his head, momentarily admiring his artwork, before bending his head to lick his canvas clean.
“Jamie,” Andrew sighed under his breath, absentmindedly carding his sugary, sticky fingers through Jamie’s hair. James didn’t seem to mind, and Andrew figured clean up would be half the fun anyway. He was just daydreaming about holding Jamie against him, cradled between his legs during a long, hot bath, when he felt Jamie’s icing coated finger giving the same treatment to his other nipple. “Mmm, what are you doing love? Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with your food?”
James flattened his tongue over Drew’s nipple, giving it a slow, rough swipe. “Told you, I’m starving,” he mumbled. “Besides, I went selectively deaf during that lesson.” He fed Andrew the last of the small cake before he went back to diligently licking his lover clean.
“You know, cake for breakfast really was a fantastic idea,” Drew groaned, pulling James up into a sugared kiss before holding out one of the cakes for Jamie to sample.
“Of course it was. It was my idea, after all,” James said smugly, proceeding to take a bite of the offered treat. But Jamie didn’t just eat the cake. Oh no – he made loud and explicit love to the cake. He made some of the most wanton, shamelessly lewd sounds Andrew had ever heard as he nibbled, licked, and sucked, catching every last crumb and every drop of icing on his wicked tongue. Andrew was instantly hard again just watching him ravish the cake, and his hips bucked involuntarily when, one by one, Jamie sucked each of his sticky fingers into his mouth. The hot sensation of gentle suction, of that talented tongue swirling around each of his fingers in turn, went straight to Drew’s cock, and before he knew it he was tackling Jamie to the bed. They landed in a graceless tangle, inches away from upsetting the bowl of strawberries and cream. Jamie used his long legs for leverage and flipped their positions, rolling them away from their breakfast and once again winding up on top, straddling Andrew’s hips.
“I wasn’t done yet,” said James with a playful growl, dipping another strawberry in cream and taking a sensual bite before bending to kiss his lover.
“Bloody tease,” Andrew groused, swiping his tongue across Jamie’s lips, collecting the last drops of juice that were staining his kiss-swollen mouth an obscene shade of red. He fed Jamie another strawberry, his breath quickening with every swirl of the man’s tongue as it moved to catch the juice trickling down his fingers. Once again, he found himself grinding against his lover, longing to bury himself in his warmth. Somehow, he didn’t think James was going to make it that easy, though.
I'll be rooting for you ^_^
*worships them* Why have I strayed to another person who writes the Torchwood when I could have this?
*sigh* I need to read the other two that you posted and I haven't gotten around to...
I have made a bunch of Torchwood icons though, which reminds me that I need to post them sometime.
And I've got Theo hitting up Jack in the works.
Great! Icon by the way.
I haven't started a x-over yet because the plotbunny sort of morphed into mutant, multi-chapter plotmonster, and I haven't gotten up the energy to tackle it yet. And I've got a couple of unfinished things I need to complete first. But yeah, I feel compelled to write something where my Teddy!muse meets Jack Harkness.
Love that icon too!