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kinkfestTitle: Partners
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dytabytes
Rating: R
Warnings: Homosexual intercourse. AKA: hot sweaty man sex.
Word count: 800
Prompt: Zombie Powder, Gamma Akutabi/C.T. Smith, partners - "Actually, that's quite a good idea."
Summary: A post-skirmish PWP
AN: For some reason, this scene just popped into my head really, really fast. I've a secret love of Smith, although I'm afraid I might have played him a little too aggressive... your thoughts? Also, sorry for the lame-ass title.
It was always right after a major firefight that Gamma and Smith did this sort of thing. They stood in the middle of a completely wrecked gang hideout, back-to-back and panting slightly.
Gamma fingered the trigger of his gun.
“Think that's all of 'em?”
Smith smiled smoothly, picking his hat up from the floor and brushing dust off of the brim with a finger.
“Well, if there are any left, they'll be unconscious for quite a while.”
Gamma grinned back at Smith.
“Good.”
Then he grabbed Smith by the collar, pulling him up for a rough kiss. Smith's hat fell to the floor again as he let go, fisting the lapels of Gammas's jacket in his hands instead.
Battle lust and adrenaline were powerful aphrodisiacs to both men and they'd long ago made a silent agreement that if there wasn’t anyone else trustworthy around, well... who knew your body better than your partner? Granted, the two of them weren't romantics. After-battle fucking was hard, fast, and desperate, a fulfillment of base needs, not an expression of love. They rarely even bothered finding a bed (too much effort for such a short time, and all you /really/ needed for a good screw was a sturdy wall).
Smith's knee pushed between his partner's legs and he rubbed his thigh up against the other man's erection, groaning. Meanwhile, Gamma leaned forward, breath huffing past Smith's ear before he bit down on his partner's shoulder. His hand slipped around to grab the other man's hips and pull him closer. They ground against each other, contrasting in their actions, bringing the same characteristics to sex what they brought to combat. Gamma snarled and grunted, face buried in Smith's neck as he aggressively clawed his way to climax, fighting for his pleasure every inch of the way. Meanwhile, Smith hummed softly, eyes half-lidded and a small smile on his face as he glided through the motions with a firm elegance of motion. Not one movement was wasted, sex coming as naturally to him as anything else did.
The two were a picture of opposites, rough and smooth, crude and refined, emotion and logic, but even through the differences, there was no denying that these were dangerous, talented men... and they were /good/ at what they did, be it scrapping or be it sex.
When he hit climax, Gamma howled, spasming and clutching at Smith hard enough to leave bruises. Smith winced, but didn't complain instead, waiting for Gamma to finish. After, Gamma collapsed against Smith, as he was wont to do after expending such a huge amount of energy. Smith waited a beat then, after seeing no movement from his partner, he rolled his eyes and slipped a hand down his pants to finish himself off with quick efficiency. With a soft grunt, he came, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes closed. For a moment, the two leaned against each other, panting and waiting for the haze of afterglow to wear off a little. Then, moans in the background signalled that the defeated men lying on the floor were starting to awaken. It was time to go.
Smith lifted his head, blinking blearily and adjusting his eyeglasses. Gamma had started to snore softly.
Sighing, Smith leaned over and grabbed his hat, sticking it smartly on his head. With a small indulgent smile, he eased Gamma into a new position... then grabbed the other man's ankles and sprinted out the door, dragging the other man behind him.
What? He was tired too, and if Gamma couldn't take a little dirt, he had no right to be calling himself Smith's partner.
~
“Fuck.”
Smith was quietly polishing his gun (a morning ritual) when Gamma's expletive cracked through the peaceful silence of the morning. He glanced over at the door through the corner of his eye. Gamma, newly awakened by the dawning sun, was sprawled across the other beds in their run-down hotel room. One arm was flung out to the side and the other draped over his eyes as if to block out the light.
Smith's glasses glinted once in the light, then he smiled, scarily chirpy.
“Good morning, Gamma! I take it you had fun last night!”
Gamma groaned, tilting his head the absolute minimum amount necessary in order to glare at Smith.
“Smith, shut the fuck up. Feels like I got dragged by the ankles over five miles of road.”
Smith just grinned and threw a towel at Gamma, hitting him in the face.
“Go shower. You smell like blood and metal and we have to be checked out by noon.”
“Noon? What's the time now?”
“11:30.”
“Eleve- FUCK!”
And Gamma's up and sprinting towards the shower as if someone had just set fire to his pants as Smith laughs and starts packing his suitcase.
Author:
dytabytesRating: R
Warnings: Homosexual intercourse. AKA: hot sweaty man sex.
Word count: 800
Prompt: Zombie Powder, Gamma Akutabi/C.T. Smith, partners - "Actually, that's quite a good idea."
Summary: A post-skirmish PWP
AN: For some reason, this scene just popped into my head really, really fast. I've a secret love of Smith, although I'm afraid I might have played him a little too aggressive... your thoughts? Also, sorry for the lame-ass title.
It was always right after a major firefight that Gamma and Smith did this sort of thing. They stood in the middle of a completely wrecked gang hideout, back-to-back and panting slightly.
Gamma fingered the trigger of his gun.
“Think that's all of 'em?”
Smith smiled smoothly, picking his hat up from the floor and brushing dust off of the brim with a finger.
“Well, if there are any left, they'll be unconscious for quite a while.”
Gamma grinned back at Smith.
“Good.”
Then he grabbed Smith by the collar, pulling him up for a rough kiss. Smith's hat fell to the floor again as he let go, fisting the lapels of Gammas's jacket in his hands instead.
Battle lust and adrenaline were powerful aphrodisiacs to both men and they'd long ago made a silent agreement that if there wasn’t anyone else trustworthy around, well... who knew your body better than your partner? Granted, the two of them weren't romantics. After-battle fucking was hard, fast, and desperate, a fulfillment of base needs, not an expression of love. They rarely even bothered finding a bed (too much effort for such a short time, and all you /really/ needed for a good screw was a sturdy wall).
Smith's knee pushed between his partner's legs and he rubbed his thigh up against the other man's erection, groaning. Meanwhile, Gamma leaned forward, breath huffing past Smith's ear before he bit down on his partner's shoulder. His hand slipped around to grab the other man's hips and pull him closer. They ground against each other, contrasting in their actions, bringing the same characteristics to sex what they brought to combat. Gamma snarled and grunted, face buried in Smith's neck as he aggressively clawed his way to climax, fighting for his pleasure every inch of the way. Meanwhile, Smith hummed softly, eyes half-lidded and a small smile on his face as he glided through the motions with a firm elegance of motion. Not one movement was wasted, sex coming as naturally to him as anything else did.
The two were a picture of opposites, rough and smooth, crude and refined, emotion and logic, but even through the differences, there was no denying that these were dangerous, talented men... and they were /good/ at what they did, be it scrapping or be it sex.
When he hit climax, Gamma howled, spasming and clutching at Smith hard enough to leave bruises. Smith winced, but didn't complain instead, waiting for Gamma to finish. After, Gamma collapsed against Smith, as he was wont to do after expending such a huge amount of energy. Smith waited a beat then, after seeing no movement from his partner, he rolled his eyes and slipped a hand down his pants to finish himself off with quick efficiency. With a soft grunt, he came, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes closed. For a moment, the two leaned against each other, panting and waiting for the haze of afterglow to wear off a little. Then, moans in the background signalled that the defeated men lying on the floor were starting to awaken. It was time to go.
Smith lifted his head, blinking blearily and adjusting his eyeglasses. Gamma had started to snore softly.
Sighing, Smith leaned over and grabbed his hat, sticking it smartly on his head. With a small indulgent smile, he eased Gamma into a new position... then grabbed the other man's ankles and sprinted out the door, dragging the other man behind him.
What? He was tired too, and if Gamma couldn't take a little dirt, he had no right to be calling himself Smith's partner.
~
“Fuck.”
Smith was quietly polishing his gun (a morning ritual) when Gamma's expletive cracked through the peaceful silence of the morning. He glanced over at the door through the corner of his eye. Gamma, newly awakened by the dawning sun, was sprawled across the other beds in their run-down hotel room. One arm was flung out to the side and the other draped over his eyes as if to block out the light.
Smith's glasses glinted once in the light, then he smiled, scarily chirpy.
“Good morning, Gamma! I take it you had fun last night!”
Gamma groaned, tilting his head the absolute minimum amount necessary in order to glare at Smith.
“Smith, shut the fuck up. Feels like I got dragged by the ankles over five miles of road.”
Smith just grinned and threw a towel at Gamma, hitting him in the face.
“Go shower. You smell like blood and metal and we have to be checked out by noon.”
“Noon? What's the time now?”
“11:30.”
“Eleve- FUCK!”
And Gamma's up and sprinting towards the shower as if someone had just set fire to his pants as Smith laughs and starts packing his suitcase.
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