Ficlet: Thirty Seconds - Liam/Pryce
Nov. 18th, 2005 03:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritA kind of sequel to Morning Has Broken. Otherwise known as 'F**k it, I give up'. See, this is what happens when I even attempt to contemplate smut, the fingers sieze up and all that's left is slight innuendo. If you squint. Hard. Feh. Anyway, I'm away this weekend and I need to work on labs, so this goes up as is. Thanks do go to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eloise_bright for trying to help me get past the PG mark, it was appreciated :)
Title: Thirty Seconds
Author: lonelybrit
Rating: PG-13… *snarl*
Pairing: Liam/Pryce
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Despite what people like Will tell you, I am a fast thinker. Give me the right question and my thoughts will race like the hound after the rabbit. So if, say, you just happened to have a very dear companion asking something of you, then of course I will bend my brain to the utmost to fulfil his requests. And if said companion’s request happened to concern the silken ties currently restricting his mobility, particularly in the general area of the wrists, well that will add a little extra incentive. If you know what I mean.
“Thirty seconds?” I said calmly, just to check.
Pryce merely gave me a look that confirmed the clock was ticking.
It took two seconds for me to decide on a general course of action, two seconds I was careful not to waste. The skin under Pryce’s jaw was warm and I caught the taste of salt trailing down his throat as my mind decided on my next move.
As I have said before, I am not utterly innocent in the ways of the world. Pryce says I’m well travelled, Will tells me I’m bound for hell.
The next four seconds were a double-pronged move. Not the most imaginative but satisfying never the less. Pryce is a very sensitive creature; the slightest touch at just the right point will crumple him. I pressed a quite fervent kiss on him, after the first second letting one hand move downwards. My fingers brushed lightly over the familiar sweep of the chest, the smooth side and dip of the waist, until my palm could rest against the curve of his hipbone. About two seconds into this and Pryce broke away from me so he could articulate that sound that was a cross between a choke and whimper. All men have a cross to bear and being unfairly ticklish, as I learned early on, was one such cross being borne by Pryce.
I smiled down at him before pressing onwards, letting lips trace a path similar to my fingers. I could feel his heart beating for us both when I tasted that small hollow just below the breastbone. His breathing had become somewhat erratic so I was careful not to give any undue shocks, keeping my touches steady and firm, my progress eased by the slight sheen starting to gather in wake of my first move. It was quite a pleasant sensation, my other hand slowly circling across the firm plane of his chest, my thumbs and forefinger applying just enough pressure to pinch and rub. Another ten seconds down the road and I let my tongue follow the rise of his other hip, Pryce starting to tremble enough for us both.
“Time?” I asked, my breath ghosting over his belly.
It took a few more precious seconds for him to put into words any form of answer.
“About twenty or so, sir.”
Admittedly I hadn’t helped by altering my position just a little, shifting my weight downwards even further.
“Pryce, if you could just spread your legs just a little bit more…”
Pryce uttered a word that no doubt would have drawn a shocked gasp from anyone else. I, however, had a time limit to stick to, and merely smiled before I gave the lightest nip to where my palm had been resting. I kissed and licked and otherwise traced a slightly winding path from hip to lower belly to a point where, despite his clear wish to remain in control, Pryce made a quite strong attempt to break out of my hold.
“Sir-”
His voice abruptly cut off as I finally let my tongue follow that most sensitive route, and I rendered myself quite unable to speak coherently.
“I… sir.”
There was no mistaking the genuine alarm in his tone, and in a heartbeat I had moved upwards and was looking down on his very flushed and damp face. “Pryce, what is it? Should I not-”
Despite his mastery of words, Pryce achieves his most powerful communication through use of the eyes. He has such as to really remind you of the saying about windows to the soul. A light can shine in them that can lift me up to the heavens, in the same way that a cold glint can crush my hopes of him approving of my new smoking jacket. However even that is quite carefully controlled, and it is a rare moment when Pryce’s eyes are simply dark and the look entirely open and beyond words. Yet such a look he graced me with now, and it was enough to reassure me that nothing was so terribly wrong as to warrant the donning of the hair shirt and running of the cold waters.
“The ties, sir,” he said when he had recovered somewhat.
“Ties,” I repeated blankly.
“Yes, sir. They are of very fine quality, remember how you ordered them specially from that tailor-”
I raised the gaze to examine the objects of interest. They were twined very tightly indeed around those slender wrists, the vivid colour of the silk twisted between Pryce’s fingers in a now slightly loosened grasp.
“They are quite pretty.”
“Sir, they are also in danger of sustaining possibly irreversible damage. I doubt the weave was designed to stay true under tension greater than that of mere gravity.”
I took a moment to compose my thoughts.
“You’re worried about damaging ties. You stopped this because you’re worried about ruining some silk?”
He blinked at me as if not quite understanding why this was even an issue. “Good quality craftsmanship should not be treated with disrespect, sir. Particularly ones that bring out the colour of your eyes.”
I mulled this over. “Well, if it means that much to you.” I gave a few sharp tugs and the silk loosened, trailing over his forearms to puddle above our heads.
He put his arms around me as I yet again resettled myself.
“Thank you, sir.”
As I felt the cool brush over the back of my neck, I realised he had kept a hold of one of the restraints. He held either end in each hand, silk pulling taunt, moving downwards so as to pull me close enough as to feel his words tickling my lips.
“Now, if I’m not much mistaken,” he said quietly, and all I could see was myself in those eyes, “I do believe the next thirty seconds are where I get to improve on some of your suggestions.”
eloise_bright for trying to help me get past the PG mark, it was appreciated :)Title: Thirty Seconds
Author: lonelybrit
Rating: PG-13… *snarl*
Pairing: Liam/Pryce
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Despite what people like Will tell you, I am a fast thinker. Give me the right question and my thoughts will race like the hound after the rabbit. So if, say, you just happened to have a very dear companion asking something of you, then of course I will bend my brain to the utmost to fulfil his requests. And if said companion’s request happened to concern the silken ties currently restricting his mobility, particularly in the general area of the wrists, well that will add a little extra incentive. If you know what I mean.
“Thirty seconds?” I said calmly, just to check.
Pryce merely gave me a look that confirmed the clock was ticking.
It took two seconds for me to decide on a general course of action, two seconds I was careful not to waste. The skin under Pryce’s jaw was warm and I caught the taste of salt trailing down his throat as my mind decided on my next move.
As I have said before, I am not utterly innocent in the ways of the world. Pryce says I’m well travelled, Will tells me I’m bound for hell.
The next four seconds were a double-pronged move. Not the most imaginative but satisfying never the less. Pryce is a very sensitive creature; the slightest touch at just the right point will crumple him. I pressed a quite fervent kiss on him, after the first second letting one hand move downwards. My fingers brushed lightly over the familiar sweep of the chest, the smooth side and dip of the waist, until my palm could rest against the curve of his hipbone. About two seconds into this and Pryce broke away from me so he could articulate that sound that was a cross between a choke and whimper. All men have a cross to bear and being unfairly ticklish, as I learned early on, was one such cross being borne by Pryce.
I smiled down at him before pressing onwards, letting lips trace a path similar to my fingers. I could feel his heart beating for us both when I tasted that small hollow just below the breastbone. His breathing had become somewhat erratic so I was careful not to give any undue shocks, keeping my touches steady and firm, my progress eased by the slight sheen starting to gather in wake of my first move. It was quite a pleasant sensation, my other hand slowly circling across the firm plane of his chest, my thumbs and forefinger applying just enough pressure to pinch and rub. Another ten seconds down the road and I let my tongue follow the rise of his other hip, Pryce starting to tremble enough for us both.
“Time?” I asked, my breath ghosting over his belly.
It took a few more precious seconds for him to put into words any form of answer.
“About twenty or so, sir.”
Admittedly I hadn’t helped by altering my position just a little, shifting my weight downwards even further.
“Pryce, if you could just spread your legs just a little bit more…”
Pryce uttered a word that no doubt would have drawn a shocked gasp from anyone else. I, however, had a time limit to stick to, and merely smiled before I gave the lightest nip to where my palm had been resting. I kissed and licked and otherwise traced a slightly winding path from hip to lower belly to a point where, despite his clear wish to remain in control, Pryce made a quite strong attempt to break out of my hold.
“Sir-”
His voice abruptly cut off as I finally let my tongue follow that most sensitive route, and I rendered myself quite unable to speak coherently.
“I… sir.”
There was no mistaking the genuine alarm in his tone, and in a heartbeat I had moved upwards and was looking down on his very flushed and damp face. “Pryce, what is it? Should I not-”
Despite his mastery of words, Pryce achieves his most powerful communication through use of the eyes. He has such as to really remind you of the saying about windows to the soul. A light can shine in them that can lift me up to the heavens, in the same way that a cold glint can crush my hopes of him approving of my new smoking jacket. However even that is quite carefully controlled, and it is a rare moment when Pryce’s eyes are simply dark and the look entirely open and beyond words. Yet such a look he graced me with now, and it was enough to reassure me that nothing was so terribly wrong as to warrant the donning of the hair shirt and running of the cold waters.
“The ties, sir,” he said when he had recovered somewhat.
“Ties,” I repeated blankly.
“Yes, sir. They are of very fine quality, remember how you ordered them specially from that tailor-”
I raised the gaze to examine the objects of interest. They were twined very tightly indeed around those slender wrists, the vivid colour of the silk twisted between Pryce’s fingers in a now slightly loosened grasp.
“They are quite pretty.”
“Sir, they are also in danger of sustaining possibly irreversible damage. I doubt the weave was designed to stay true under tension greater than that of mere gravity.”
I took a moment to compose my thoughts.
“You’re worried about damaging ties. You stopped this because you’re worried about ruining some silk?”
He blinked at me as if not quite understanding why this was even an issue. “Good quality craftsmanship should not be treated with disrespect, sir. Particularly ones that bring out the colour of your eyes.”
I mulled this over. “Well, if it means that much to you.” I gave a few sharp tugs and the silk loosened, trailing over his forearms to puddle above our heads.
He put his arms around me as I yet again resettled myself.
“Thank you, sir.”
As I felt the cool brush over the back of my neck, I realised he had kept a hold of one of the restraints. He held either end in each hand, silk pulling taunt, moving downwards so as to pull me close enough as to feel his words tickling my lips.
“Now, if I’m not much mistaken,” he said quietly, and all I could see was myself in those eyes, “I do believe the next thirty seconds are where I get to improve on some of your suggestions.”
