Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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ficlet for a friend

Another Not for Profit Venture by Snow
David Boreanaz/James Marsters
These are not real people.
This never happened.

When had it first happened? That first long stare, the first lingering touch, the first smile that meant more than hello.

And now David couldn’t go through a day without thinking of James. Didn’t let a week go past without calling him. Even if it was just a Hey, where are you? How’s the kid? Didja see the game last night? and nothing more. Not a word said about how much he missed seeing that smile every day. Missed the warmth of those blue eyes and hearing the laughter that seemed to wash him clean when he was full of doubt or anger.

It had been months since they worked together. Weeks since they’d seen each other. And David kept looking at his watch, at his calendar, trying to make the next fifty or so days pass, by sheer will power alone. And it would be the end of October. And he would be in London. With James.

They were like kids longing for Christmas when they talked about it. Their voices overlapping in their excitement and David would have to reach down and adjust his cock in his pants. Getting hard just thinking of being with him again. The pause in conversation never escaped James and David would hear the deeper inflection in his tone.

“Touching yourself, aren’t you? Thinking of me. Thinking of my mouth on yours. My lips. My tongue, sliding down your neck . . . tasting the skin of your chest. My hands on your dick, pulling. Hard. Yeah. You’re touching yourself right now. Aren’t you?”

“Fuck James. Don’t do this to me.”

David would sigh and lean up against the counter in his kitchen, recline further back in the leather seat of his car, close the door to his home office and lie down on the couch. Unbutton his jeans, unzip his slacks, loosen the tie on his sweats. Because he knew James was not going to stop. Knew that he was going to lick his lips, lower his voice and tell David just what he was going to do to him come the end of October. And they were in their hotel, alone. Finally, blissfully, alone together.

And there wasn’t a damn thing David could do about it, short of hanging up. Which he would never do. Although there had been a couple times he’d dropped his phone, lost from a suddenly sweaty palm, fingers clutching at nothing as he came, James’ voice vibrating in his ear, his phantom touch warm and rough on David’s wet cock.

But when had this friendship become an obsession? When had David found himself more than wanting James? Knowing that he was addicted to him. Pushing James back into his trailer on the set as James answered his knock at the door. Not even pausing to see if he was alone before pulling him close and kissing him. Tasting the inside of his mouth with his tongue, teeth knocking together, his hands holding James’ head still, then ripping his shirt off. And James would slide out of his grasp, laugh at David, at his eagerness, at his need. His hands on the crotch of David’s pants, stroking him through the material, just to watch him shudder and pant, then James would be down on his knees sucking David’s cock into his mouth, licking up the salty precome and ignoring David’s fingers tangling in his hair. He’d bring David to a quivering halt, let the bigger man push him down to the floor. Help David remove his pants, shaking as David bit his nipples and David would pay any amount of money to hear those gruff moans again.

Right this moment.

Those low sounds that James made when David slowly, slowly pushed inside of him. Slick with lube and gasping at the hot, tight, clenched feeling. See the hard line of his jaw when James was completely filled. Kiss the hissing breath that came from between his lips when David pulled almost all the way back out, then the nod. The Yes, I’m ready. Do it now, look in James’ eyes. And the deep, whispered words David would hear when he wrapped his hand around James’ cock.

Words that had no meaning, made no sense. Words that David understood without questioning the how or the why. Because he spoke the same language as his world would become small, would center entirely on James beneath him, on the heat of him, the taste of his sweat and the way it felt to be inside of him, to possess him. To rock back and forth above him, in him, fingers scrabbling on chests and arms and backs. Breath becoming ragged and fast and lips bitten and sucked and kissed. To come in hard, demanding thrusts inside of him and feeling the hot, sudden splash of James coming on his chest, in his hand. See the smile that came after. Hear the laughter in James’ voice as he asked if David had even thought to lock the door.

And Fuck, he needed James.
He missed him.
The sex. The laughter. The conversations. The silence. The friendship.


::soft kisses and groping fingers::
Tags: david boreanaz, fic, rps
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