faerie_lullaby (faerie_lullaby) wrote in csi_miami, @ 2007-11-15 15:35:00 |
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Current location: | basement |
Current mood: | hungry |
Current music: | deja vu- beyonce |
Fic Post x2
Title: Domestic Bliss
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Speed/Eric/Ryan
Word Count: 342
Warnings: boy kissing, fluff
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer
Summary: Eric loves the domestic life
Eric woke to the sound of water running, coming from god knows where. He stretched sleepily, his hands coming across cold sheets on either side. He sat up, the top sheet falling off, revealing his naked skin to the warm Miami morning. He pulled himself out of bed, locating a pair of boxer (not necessarily his) and yanked them over his hips. Leaning out the bedroom door, the water grew louder and Eric moved towards the sound, determined to find out what was causing it.
As he descended the stairs, his carefully trained ears picked up soft murmuring and the occasional laugh. Based on the directionality, it was coming from the kitchen.
In the doorway, he stopped, a grin overtaking his previous sleepy expression. His lovers were at the sink doing dishes, although they looked like they had just crawled out of a bubble bath. He nearly stopped breathing however, when the two kissed languorously, revelling in the taste of each other. Eric could hear Ryan humming contentedly as his hand came up to stroke the almost permanent scruff found on Speed’s face, and this in turn elicited a low growl from the older man. He watched as Ryan’s smaller frame stood arched between Speed and the sink, watched as Speed started a slow, grinding rhythm, heard as Ryan’s hums became soft moans, listened as his lovers partook of each other. Eric could feel a moan work its way through his chest, a shiver of pleasure coursing through his body, and in return, sent a pulse of heat straight to his groin.
He moved slowly into the small kitchen, grinning when they hadn’t yet noticed him, and pressed himself into Speed’s back, his hands coming down to rest on Ryan’s hips. He rolled his own hips, grinding leisurely into Speed, letting him feel his reaction to the two of them together.
Without a sound, he took them by the hand and led them back to the bedroom.
If this was what you called domestic bliss, then Eric definitely wanted more of it.
Title: Flustered
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Speed/Eric
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer
Summary: Eric knows what buttons to push
The Trace lab was quiet for once, as nearly the entire team was out on call. The only ones who had remained behind was himself, Eric and the lab rats.
He was finishing off a report from their last case, cleaning up and making sure everything was labeled properly when Eric walked through the door.
Speed smiled; Eric had thrown on the jeans he'd worn yesterday, which was okay cause they looked good on him, and one of his t-shirts. Normally he wouldn't've been adverse to Eric wearing his clothes, but ot when they looked better on him.
But maybe that was just him being biased...
He did look quite ravishable. And the looks that were shooting his way weren't helping any, either. Speed shifted on the stool, trying to ignore Eric.
He seemed to realize this, however, and walked around the table to lean over his shoulder as he worked. If there was one thing he hated in the world, it was people reading over his shoulder. He blinked, frowning slightly, but put his best effort into completing his paperwork, eager to get it over with.
It was when his mind picked up on the fact that he could hear Eric breathing softly, in and out, that he began to panic. His thoughts wandered back to last night, and to their very eventful activities; Eric breathing heavily as Speed leaned over him, sweat-slicked skin gliding smoothly over the other...
Speed swallowed hard, sliding out from under Eric and paced the floor rapidly, licking his lips.
"How- why- ugh. Tonight." And with that, Speed left the lab, deciding a stroll in the morgue would cool him down nicely.
Eric's laughter echoed down through the halls, mocking him, telling him that he had succeeded in his task. His buttons were pushed; his job had been done.