Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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ely_jan wrote an RPS drabble for rattle_n_sound this afternoon. And I stole it.

*is eval*

Fucker by ely_jan

In a minute
Christian Kane/David Boreanaz

Watching from across the room, David imagines he can actually see the heat coming off Chris. Like those wavy lines in the air when David drove through the desert to get to Vegas. The shimmer of an oasis where you knew there wouldn’t be any relief. None whatsoever. That was Chris. Right now. In Dave’s house, perched on the end of Dave’s couch, pretending to listen to the blather and chatter of one of Jamie’s friends from her bunny days.

David laughed at the joke he’d heard at least twenty times in the last four months, from the producer of the show he was committed to, the character that was that damn vampire all over again. Only this time he got to work in the sunshine and carry a gun. And he didn’t get fined for playing 36 rounds on the weekends and showing up on Monday morning with a tan.

A small hand pulled on one of his fingers and David didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see his son standing by his knee. He swung the small blonde boy into his arms and made some polite excuses.

“Have to go find Jamie. Have to go find the nanny. Try the Brie, have another drink. Enjoy yourself, I’ll be right back.” Blah, blah, blah. Anything to get away from these people he couldn’t stand when he was getting paid to talk to them and why the fuck did he invite them to his house?

A glance across the room and the look in those blue eyes when they met his physically hurt. If looks could kill … David thought, a smile curving his lips as he took Jaden out of the room. If that meant anything at all, he’d be bent over the nearest piece of furniture right this fucking second and Chris would be fucking him dry. Making him bleed. Making him beg. Wouldn’t matter if they were alone or not.

David dropped his son off with the nanny and missed the party by a doorway, heading for the kitchen. He grabbed a cold bottle out of the fridge and did a line of coke off the counter. Leaning his head back as the rush hit him. Blood pumping through his veins, fuck the nutritionist. Beer and coke and pot and whiskey had always been his weekend diet. Always would be.

People stood outside, smoke curled from the barbecue. Leftover heat from steaks and burgers and hotdogs. Music blared from speakers David had hung himself, methodically checking and rechecking the placement for the best sound. Had to be able to hear the game on Sunday afternoons, no matter what was going on, who was going down, right? David grabbed a bag of trash and headed out to the garage, good enough excuse to get the fuck away from this crowd.

His hand on the doorknob, just as he opened it, he was pushed through. Stumbling into the cool dark, dropping the black bag and falling into his Mustang. David turned around, laughing.

“Dumbass. Don’t make me dent my car.”

Chris stood there. Outlined by the bright sunshine, slowly stepping in and closing the door behind him. David watched him carefully. Rattlesnake. Scorpion. Bite you as soon as kiss you. Hit you as soon as fuck you. Oh, fuck yeah. He knew Kane and David knew he was

Muted sounds of laughter and conversations, music and water splashing and David wondered which one of his wife’s friends *lovers* had jumped in the pool first. But he didn’t give it much thought, it was too important to keep his eyes on the man that stood in front of him right now. Long hair pulled back, blue eyes crackling with lust and rage, the smell of nicotine and cologne and alcohol coming off him was intoxicating.

“Chris …” David whispered.

“Shut the fuck up, Dave.” Chris growled and David laughed again.

Coke and whiskey and beer making him not give a shit. Making him hard. His hand went directly to the crotch of Chris’ jeans. Fingers massaging the cock he could feel straining through the denim.

“Little big man.” David licked his lips. Taunting. Teasing with a name he hadn’t called Chris since the first year they’d worked together and Chris had shown up on the set every fucking day wearing boots and flannel and that fucking cowboy hat. Indian, my ass. David’s fingers squeezed harder and he watched as Chris’ lips parted. As his tongue slipped out and there was a glimpse of his white teeth biting down.

“Want me?” David leaned forward, speaking, breathing, lips caressing Chris’ cheek, his jaw, his neck.

“No.” Another low growl. Husky voice, rocks under the tires of a truck.

“Liar.” David licked the lobe of Chris’ ear. A quick taste, sweat and jalapenos on his tongue. His fingers moved up to the waistband of Chris’ jeans, slipping inside. David grabbed Chris’ hand, pulled it to his own groin, palm over callused fingers, pressing them over the soft khaki of his pants.


David’s mouth was so close to Chris’ they were breathing the same air. Sharing oxygen, hands popping buttons, pulling zippers. Wrapping fingers around cocks at the same time and still they didn’t kiss. Neither one of them would break. Daring the other to ask first. Stripping sensitive skin back, blue eyes burning into brown. Dilated. Bloodshot. Blushes crawling up necks to faces as the heat built between them. Brick upon brick upon brick. David could feel the flames licking his skin. Lava in his balls, steam clouding his vision.

“Then fuck me, Kane.”


*la la la*
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