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empy.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2002-12-04 10:57 am
empy.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2002-12-04 10:57 am
FIC: "Honeytrap", MC/SB, NC-17
Title: Honeytrap
Author: Empy (archer@friction.net)
Pairing: Marton Csokas/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: This most certainly never happened. I made all of it up.
Archive: BTF and Reprobate, all others please ask.
Notes: Just a quick PWP, mostly to see if I could write Marton.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
azrhiaz, alisalohv and ios_pillow_book, offered as atonement -- I'm sorry about the RPG.
Fordarkie for pulling beta duty.
(And because they all rock and I love them for it.)
Honeytrap
**
The house was half-dark and half-abandoned, the few people left being out on the porch. Music filtered through the door and walls; a low thudding noise that might have been the bass beat or people jumping up and down on the worn planks of the porch.
"We should go out and join the others." Marton's voice was low and lazy.
"Why?"
"Because we've been sitting here like fat couch potatoes for an hour."
Sean chuckled. "You're the fat one, then. Me, you can practically use my ribs for a xylophone. All that running in the wild, see." The laughter coloured his voice a shade richer, and something gave a little twinge inside Marton. He schooled his face into a wide smile as Sean drew his shirt up, exposing a pale side. Without being wholly aware of what he was doing, Marton stretched his hand out.
Sean's skin was soft, and immediately under it was hard muscle, the contrast quaint and very enjoyable. Flattening his palm against Sean's side, Marton slid his hand down, completely ignoring the polite and alarmed voice in the back of his mind that suggested right now would be a good time to stop what he was doing. He felt Sean settle his hand on top of his, but as he looked up, Sean's expression was neither shocked nor disdained. A slight push, and Sean leaned to the side, settling to lie back against the armrest of the couch. Marton, still amazed that he was doing what he was doing, leaned in, supporting himself on one arm as he lay his palm flat on Sean's now-bare stomach.
Marton's fingers raked and pressed to take in all the textures, and Sean arched up at the touch, giving a sound that sounded curiously like a mew, like he was some bizarre cat wanting to be petted. So little and yet Sean's reaction was so strong, and every hair on the gold trail leading down Sean's abdomen seemed to whisper against Marton's skin in a different way, sending overjoyed synapses dancing through his nerves.
The fingers that had meant to tickle curled up again, the knuckles sliding over ripped muscle, and Sean twisted again, mumbling something softly, and Marton looked up at his face, transfixed by the mask of shadows the light cast. Sean gave a semi-smile, baring even, white teeth, and something stirred inside Marton. Something atavistic perhaps, something that wanted to feel the sharp bite of the incisors.
Leaning close, face to face now, he could smell the sweetness of the honeyed tea they had both drunk. He laid one hand on each side of Sean's face, feeling the shadow of a beard prickling his palms. Sean arched up into a more comfortable position, and then his arms came up around Marton's neck, pulling him down and close and finally into a warm kiss. Tang of spice and of tea and of Sean himself, maddeningly soft lips slightly parted, and Marton let his tongue slide into the warm cavern of Sean's mouth, tasting and not getting enough.
The couch pillows formed a landslide, and both Sean and Marton almost fell, almost, and in their attempt to get back on the couch they twined limbs together. Their mouths came apart, and Sean's face was stunned and happy and sultry at the same time, his mouth slightly open, the swollen lips gleaming.
Green eyes met Marton's hazel, and the shade had deepened to sage, bringing out the glimmer in them, something like lust. The strong legs Sean had wrapped around Marton's waist and leg brought him close, and there was no mistaking the hot bulge that pressed against his groin, and he held on, not wanting to let go just yet.
The scents of arousal, of skin and of cinnamon-laced tea all blended into a heady mixture that Marton found himself not being able to get enough of. He didn't have a care for the rest of the house, not a thought to the fact that someone might well decide to come tromping into the living room and interrupt them. His hands, sliding in under Sean's sweater, found more warm skin and the hard nipples into which the centre of warmth seemed to have settled. More soft gasps from Sean, and then long, spindly fingers threaded through Marton's hair, and even the slight tug at this scalp felt good.
More soft kisses, almost chaste now; little-boy kisses clumsily planted on his mouth, chin and nose. Sean nibbled a path along Marton's jaw, and suddenly dipped the tip of his tongue into the shell of Marton's ear, the sensation so shockingly erotic, an imitation of an act far more intimate.
Marton's hands roamed down Sean's back, sliding into the gap between waistband and back, cupping the firm buttocks, and he loved the whimper that escaped Sean as he stroked the indent at the base of the spine, loved every little inarticulate sound and every movement of that strong, lithe body under his. Mouths met and melded, and Marton was dimly aware of the buttons of his shirt being undone.
His eyes closed, he concentrated on scent, touch and hearing, on the soft almost-growls that vibrated in Sean's throat, and suddenly, senselessly, there was the mental image of Viggo, his icy grey eyes intent. Opening his eyes, Marton stared down at Sean again, and loved everything he saw. The gorgeous man, hot and horny and willing, writhing like he was in heat, his eyes hazy and alluring, mouth bruised with kisses.
Marton's fingers grasped the hem of Sean's thin sweater, peeling it upward. Pinning the older man down under him, Marton took his sweet time exploring just how sensitive Sean was. As he latched onto a pink nipple, Sean arched up, giving a low moan. Smiling against the pale skin, Marton trailed lower, running his fingers along the waistband of Sean's jeans before nimbly undoing the buttons. Pausing for a moment, he shrugged his own, now unbuttoned, shirt off his shoulders. He returned his attention to Sean, and found that he might have to re-evaluate his stand on the unattractiveness of sweater removal, as Sean gracefully divested himself of his black shirt, letting it slide to the floor.
The shirt was soon joined by Sean's jeans and boxers.
Marton pressed a light kiss to a whorl just under Sean's navel, then wrapped his fingers slowly around Sean's cock. As Marton's tongue traced the curves of the glans, Sean let loose a long string of curses. Leaning forward, Marton let his mouth replace his fingers. The long-fingered hands on his shoulders squeezed hard enough to bruise, and his own groin ached more and more for each lustful moan from Sean.
Slowing down, he finally stopped, then raised himself up on his arms. Looking down at Sean, who was half-incoherent with arousal, he decided standing up was one of the hardest things he had had to do. He yanked his own jeans off impatiently, cursing the fact that he had decided on a tighter pair.
Freed of restrictive clothing, he pressed close to Sean, kissing him deeply. A slight gasp escaped him at the sensation of their erections sliding together, and he nipped at Sean's full lower lip. Sean reciprocated, wrapping his legs around Marton's waist. Beginning to rock his hips, Marton trailed kisses along Sean's jaw, then up to his ear. Tracing the lines, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive shell, delighting in the full-body twitch that followed.
As the rhythm increased, he snaked one arm under and around Sean's back, tightening his hold.
His fingers sliding over the arches of Sean's ribs, Marton reached down, briefly stroking Sean's cock before moving further down, tracing the perineum with one finger.
Smiling, Marton pressed his index finger to Sean's mouth, and Sean took the hint gracefully and quickly, his lips parting. Amazing that something so simple could feel so wickedly good, Marton reflected as Sean sucked on his finger, warm tongue tracing the length of the digit.
Withdrawing his finger, Marton gathered up the drops already leaking from Sean's cock, slicking his fingers further. Sean gave a shaky smile that opened into a groan as Marton stroked down the length of his shaft, down into the snug cleft between Sean's legs.
As the first joint of his finger passed the tight ring of muscle, Sean's head jerked back, his eyes wild. Marton continued his ministrations, stroking in further until he brushed the prostate, and inciting a growl from Sean. Repeating the procedure, now with two fingers, he found his breath growing ragged as Sean grasped his hips to draw him close, bringing more skin into contact. A tangle of limbs, now, arms and legs wrapped together, hands stroking and holding, and everything was spinning a bit too fast for both of them.
Marton ratcheted his head around, desperately looking for something, anything to use. There were an indeterminate amount of empty mugs, earthenware and plastic, on the couch table. Apparently, they had jarred it at some point, and now a few mugs were overturned, along with a jar of honey. The honey had spilled out over the dark surface of the table, a pool gleaming mellow in the soft light of the lamps. He drew his fingers through it, feeling it yield and stick, and as he lifted his hand, it slid down along his fingers in a most satisfactory way. Sean shifted under him, giving a soft sigh as he apparently caught the idea of what Marton was going to do.
Briefly reaching up to touch his honey-slick fingers to Sean's mouth, he gave a long groan as Sean caught his wrist, holding his hand still as he lapped the honey off. Sean's green eyes seemed to pick up shades of yellow, turning a dangerous, predatory shade, and as Marton scooped his fingers through the spilled honey one more time, Sean settled back, spreading his legs wider.
Breathing shallowly, clenching his teeth, Marton reached down to coat his erection with the honey. The strange friction, slick and slow, paired with the look in Sean's eyes was spinning him into a deep, dark part of his mind, and his hips lifted of their own volition.
Shifting clumsily on the too-soft couch, he settled into the comfortable space between Sean's thighs, bracing himself. The slide was slow, slick-sticky, and for a second he was afraid it just wouldn't work out. Sean's eyes were tightly closed, and his breathing was shallow and rapid, hitching as Marton pushed the last inch.
It felt insane. If he moved, he would die. Letting a long breath hiss from between his teeth, Marton leaned in, settling one hand on Sean's shoulder. Sean, his eyes open and dark with lust, lifted his head slightly, just enough to let their mouths meet.
Sean's tongue lapped at his lips, teasing, and Marton leaned closer, rocking his hips. Encouraged by the long moan issuing from Sean, he shifted again, angling the thrust slightly upward, closing his eyes at the sensation. Heat. Friction.
"Too... damned slow," Sean managed, his hands sliding down Marton's back to draw him closer.
Eager and, it seemed to him, desperate to comply, Marton increased the pace, crushing his mouth to Sean's, tasting each moan. He wouldn't last long, he knew that, but he would go insane if he tried prolonging it. Sliding his tongue along the ticklish ridge on the roof of Sean's mouth, he wrapped his fingers around Sean's cock, clenching ever so slightly. His efforts were rewarded with Sean's eyes almost rolling back in his head.
The climax building, they clung together, desperate in their attempts to get closer. Sean was writhing as if he couldn't get enough, almost whimpering, and to Marton's ears, the sound was unbelievably erotic. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he bucked his hips, craving more of the delicious friction surrounding his cock. Faster and harder and just -- deeper. Then only the world stopping around them, exploding. Sean's back arched high, and Marton threw his head back, seeing blackness and stars.
Riding the orgasm out, Marton buried his head in the crook between Sean's neck and shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of Sean's skin mingling with the rich mixture of sex and honey.
As the tremors subsided, he kissed Sean, deep and slow and sweet, smiling at the look of the older man. Absolute debauchery.
"We should get up before someone walks in on us," Marton noted, feeling very reluctant to move at all. "I don't think I can explain this away."
Sean gave the slow, wicked smile that seemed to be his alone and had Marton fighting a shiver.
"We'll just say it was a honeytrap."
[END]
Author: Empy (archer@friction.net)
Pairing: Marton Csokas/Sean Bean
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: This most certainly never happened. I made all of it up.
Archive: BTF and Reprobate, all others please ask.
Notes: Just a quick PWP, mostly to see if I could write Marton.
For
azrhiaz, alisalohv and ios_pillow_book, offered as atonement -- I'm sorry about the RPG. For
darkie for pulling beta duty. (And because they all rock and I love them for it.)
Honeytrap
**
The house was half-dark and half-abandoned, the few people left being out on the porch. Music filtered through the door and walls; a low thudding noise that might have been the bass beat or people jumping up and down on the worn planks of the porch.
"We should go out and join the others." Marton's voice was low and lazy.
"Why?"
"Because we've been sitting here like fat couch potatoes for an hour."
Sean chuckled. "You're the fat one, then. Me, you can practically use my ribs for a xylophone. All that running in the wild, see." The laughter coloured his voice a shade richer, and something gave a little twinge inside Marton. He schooled his face into a wide smile as Sean drew his shirt up, exposing a pale side. Without being wholly aware of what he was doing, Marton stretched his hand out.
Sean's skin was soft, and immediately under it was hard muscle, the contrast quaint and very enjoyable. Flattening his palm against Sean's side, Marton slid his hand down, completely ignoring the polite and alarmed voice in the back of his mind that suggested right now would be a good time to stop what he was doing. He felt Sean settle his hand on top of his, but as he looked up, Sean's expression was neither shocked nor disdained. A slight push, and Sean leaned to the side, settling to lie back against the armrest of the couch. Marton, still amazed that he was doing what he was doing, leaned in, supporting himself on one arm as he lay his palm flat on Sean's now-bare stomach.
Marton's fingers raked and pressed to take in all the textures, and Sean arched up at the touch, giving a sound that sounded curiously like a mew, like he was some bizarre cat wanting to be petted. So little and yet Sean's reaction was so strong, and every hair on the gold trail leading down Sean's abdomen seemed to whisper against Marton's skin in a different way, sending overjoyed synapses dancing through his nerves.
The fingers that had meant to tickle curled up again, the knuckles sliding over ripped muscle, and Sean twisted again, mumbling something softly, and Marton looked up at his face, transfixed by the mask of shadows the light cast. Sean gave a semi-smile, baring even, white teeth, and something stirred inside Marton. Something atavistic perhaps, something that wanted to feel the sharp bite of the incisors.
Leaning close, face to face now, he could smell the sweetness of the honeyed tea they had both drunk. He laid one hand on each side of Sean's face, feeling the shadow of a beard prickling his palms. Sean arched up into a more comfortable position, and then his arms came up around Marton's neck, pulling him down and close and finally into a warm kiss. Tang of spice and of tea and of Sean himself, maddeningly soft lips slightly parted, and Marton let his tongue slide into the warm cavern of Sean's mouth, tasting and not getting enough.
The couch pillows formed a landslide, and both Sean and Marton almost fell, almost, and in their attempt to get back on the couch they twined limbs together. Their mouths came apart, and Sean's face was stunned and happy and sultry at the same time, his mouth slightly open, the swollen lips gleaming.
Green eyes met Marton's hazel, and the shade had deepened to sage, bringing out the glimmer in them, something like lust. The strong legs Sean had wrapped around Marton's waist and leg brought him close, and there was no mistaking the hot bulge that pressed against his groin, and he held on, not wanting to let go just yet.
The scents of arousal, of skin and of cinnamon-laced tea all blended into a heady mixture that Marton found himself not being able to get enough of. He didn't have a care for the rest of the house, not a thought to the fact that someone might well decide to come tromping into the living room and interrupt them. His hands, sliding in under Sean's sweater, found more warm skin and the hard nipples into which the centre of warmth seemed to have settled. More soft gasps from Sean, and then long, spindly fingers threaded through Marton's hair, and even the slight tug at this scalp felt good.
More soft kisses, almost chaste now; little-boy kisses clumsily planted on his mouth, chin and nose. Sean nibbled a path along Marton's jaw, and suddenly dipped the tip of his tongue into the shell of Marton's ear, the sensation so shockingly erotic, an imitation of an act far more intimate.
Marton's hands roamed down Sean's back, sliding into the gap between waistband and back, cupping the firm buttocks, and he loved the whimper that escaped Sean as he stroked the indent at the base of the spine, loved every little inarticulate sound and every movement of that strong, lithe body under his. Mouths met and melded, and Marton was dimly aware of the buttons of his shirt being undone.
His eyes closed, he concentrated on scent, touch and hearing, on the soft almost-growls that vibrated in Sean's throat, and suddenly, senselessly, there was the mental image of Viggo, his icy grey eyes intent. Opening his eyes, Marton stared down at Sean again, and loved everything he saw. The gorgeous man, hot and horny and willing, writhing like he was in heat, his eyes hazy and alluring, mouth bruised with kisses.
Marton's fingers grasped the hem of Sean's thin sweater, peeling it upward. Pinning the older man down under him, Marton took his sweet time exploring just how sensitive Sean was. As he latched onto a pink nipple, Sean arched up, giving a low moan. Smiling against the pale skin, Marton trailed lower, running his fingers along the waistband of Sean's jeans before nimbly undoing the buttons. Pausing for a moment, he shrugged his own, now unbuttoned, shirt off his shoulders. He returned his attention to Sean, and found that he might have to re-evaluate his stand on the unattractiveness of sweater removal, as Sean gracefully divested himself of his black shirt, letting it slide to the floor.
The shirt was soon joined by Sean's jeans and boxers.
Marton pressed a light kiss to a whorl just under Sean's navel, then wrapped his fingers slowly around Sean's cock. As Marton's tongue traced the curves of the glans, Sean let loose a long string of curses. Leaning forward, Marton let his mouth replace his fingers. The long-fingered hands on his shoulders squeezed hard enough to bruise, and his own groin ached more and more for each lustful moan from Sean.
Slowing down, he finally stopped, then raised himself up on his arms. Looking down at Sean, who was half-incoherent with arousal, he decided standing up was one of the hardest things he had had to do. He yanked his own jeans off impatiently, cursing the fact that he had decided on a tighter pair.
Freed of restrictive clothing, he pressed close to Sean, kissing him deeply. A slight gasp escaped him at the sensation of their erections sliding together, and he nipped at Sean's full lower lip. Sean reciprocated, wrapping his legs around Marton's waist. Beginning to rock his hips, Marton trailed kisses along Sean's jaw, then up to his ear. Tracing the lines, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive shell, delighting in the full-body twitch that followed.
As the rhythm increased, he snaked one arm under and around Sean's back, tightening his hold.
His fingers sliding over the arches of Sean's ribs, Marton reached down, briefly stroking Sean's cock before moving further down, tracing the perineum with one finger.
Smiling, Marton pressed his index finger to Sean's mouth, and Sean took the hint gracefully and quickly, his lips parting. Amazing that something so simple could feel so wickedly good, Marton reflected as Sean sucked on his finger, warm tongue tracing the length of the digit.
Withdrawing his finger, Marton gathered up the drops already leaking from Sean's cock, slicking his fingers further. Sean gave a shaky smile that opened into a groan as Marton stroked down the length of his shaft, down into the snug cleft between Sean's legs.
As the first joint of his finger passed the tight ring of muscle, Sean's head jerked back, his eyes wild. Marton continued his ministrations, stroking in further until he brushed the prostate, and inciting a growl from Sean. Repeating the procedure, now with two fingers, he found his breath growing ragged as Sean grasped his hips to draw him close, bringing more skin into contact. A tangle of limbs, now, arms and legs wrapped together, hands stroking and holding, and everything was spinning a bit too fast for both of them.
Marton ratcheted his head around, desperately looking for something, anything to use. There were an indeterminate amount of empty mugs, earthenware and plastic, on the couch table. Apparently, they had jarred it at some point, and now a few mugs were overturned, along with a jar of honey. The honey had spilled out over the dark surface of the table, a pool gleaming mellow in the soft light of the lamps. He drew his fingers through it, feeling it yield and stick, and as he lifted his hand, it slid down along his fingers in a most satisfactory way. Sean shifted under him, giving a soft sigh as he apparently caught the idea of what Marton was going to do.
Briefly reaching up to touch his honey-slick fingers to Sean's mouth, he gave a long groan as Sean caught his wrist, holding his hand still as he lapped the honey off. Sean's green eyes seemed to pick up shades of yellow, turning a dangerous, predatory shade, and as Marton scooped his fingers through the spilled honey one more time, Sean settled back, spreading his legs wider.
Breathing shallowly, clenching his teeth, Marton reached down to coat his erection with the honey. The strange friction, slick and slow, paired with the look in Sean's eyes was spinning him into a deep, dark part of his mind, and his hips lifted of their own volition.
Shifting clumsily on the too-soft couch, he settled into the comfortable space between Sean's thighs, bracing himself. The slide was slow, slick-sticky, and for a second he was afraid it just wouldn't work out. Sean's eyes were tightly closed, and his breathing was shallow and rapid, hitching as Marton pushed the last inch.
It felt insane. If he moved, he would die. Letting a long breath hiss from between his teeth, Marton leaned in, settling one hand on Sean's shoulder. Sean, his eyes open and dark with lust, lifted his head slightly, just enough to let their mouths meet.
Sean's tongue lapped at his lips, teasing, and Marton leaned closer, rocking his hips. Encouraged by the long moan issuing from Sean, he shifted again, angling the thrust slightly upward, closing his eyes at the sensation. Heat. Friction.
"Too... damned slow," Sean managed, his hands sliding down Marton's back to draw him closer.
Eager and, it seemed to him, desperate to comply, Marton increased the pace, crushing his mouth to Sean's, tasting each moan. He wouldn't last long, he knew that, but he would go insane if he tried prolonging it. Sliding his tongue along the ticklish ridge on the roof of Sean's mouth, he wrapped his fingers around Sean's cock, clenching ever so slightly. His efforts were rewarded with Sean's eyes almost rolling back in his head.
The climax building, they clung together, desperate in their attempts to get closer. Sean was writhing as if he couldn't get enough, almost whimpering, and to Marton's ears, the sound was unbelievably erotic. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he bucked his hips, craving more of the delicious friction surrounding his cock. Faster and harder and just -- deeper. Then only the world stopping around them, exploding. Sean's back arched high, and Marton threw his head back, seeing blackness and stars.
Riding the orgasm out, Marton buried his head in the crook between Sean's neck and shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of Sean's skin mingling with the rich mixture of sex and honey.
As the tremors subsided, he kissed Sean, deep and slow and sweet, smiling at the look of the older man. Absolute debauchery.
"We should get up before someone walks in on us," Marton noted, feeling very reluctant to move at all. "I don't think I can explain this away."
Sean gave the slow, wicked smile that seemed to be his alone and had Marton fighting a shiver.
"We'll just say it was a honeytrap."
[END]