Delectable (Bradley/Colin) Oneshot
Jan. 20th, 2010 09:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesI wrote this for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
byaghro as a Christmas gift, even though it was LATE as are all my gifts. So, forgive the holidayishness of it.
Colin stared morosely at the tiny tree that stood on the round table next to the window. It had seemed festive and appropriate when he had purchased it on impulse, but now it seemed rather sad and depressing. It had a grand total of six ornaments, formed of red and green foil and dangling pitifully from bits of wire.
The maudlin Christmas song currently playing on his mp3 wasn’t helping. He had hooked up his mini-speakers and propped the unit on the bedside table so that he could hear the door, should he decide to order room service. Thus far, his lack of appetite had prevented him calling down for sustenance.
He wondered if he should bother going out to purchase a set of twinkle lights for the tree. Perhaps it wouldn’t look quite so pathetic with more cheer. Then again, he was feeling pretty pathetic, himself. He had come to London on impulse, persuaded by the temptation to do a good deed at the holidays. The charitable benefit at the children’s hospital had been worthwhile; he certainly did not regret his attendance, especially when recalling the beaming faces of the kids, but now that it was over and he was alone… Well, he missed everyone. He missed his family and his friends.
He missed Bradley.
He hated to admit it, even in the quiet of his own mind, but it was true. He missed the prat. He missed the way Bradley shoved him with an elbow when he wasn’t hanging on Bradley’s every word. He missed the way Bradley called him “Merlin” in a snide tone, or alternately, “Morgan”. He missed the way Bradley’s expressive face showed his every emotion, especially when he saw Colin and his lips curved in that amazing smile and his eyes seemed to practically glow…
Colin swore and punched the pillow next to him. Damn it, he was not going to spend the night pining for Bradley sodding James! It was stupid to be pining at all! Bradley was his friend, nothing more. He had to stop this stupid nonsensical fantasizing before it cost him Bradley’s friendship.
Thus decided, Colin pushed himself away from the bed, thinking he might walk to the nearest pub and try to drown his misery. He was going home in the morning, where he would be surrounded by family and food, and where he could forget all about Bradley James.
As his feet touched the floor, the song changed. He frowned at the mp3, thinking he had selected only holiday tunes, but he decided to leave it, since the song was one of his favourites. He hunted for his shoes for a moment and then heard a sharp rap at the door.
Colin debated ignoring it. He certainly hadn’t ordered anything, and he was not expecting visitors—most people did not even know he was in town. If anyone did, they were likely to be rabidly obsessed fans, and he was absolutely not going to open the door to them.
The knock sounded again, more loudly this time. He listened carefully and heard no hint of giggling or other adverse activity. Perhaps the hotel management had a message, or the maid was simply dropping off more towels.
Colin sighed and strode to the door. He opened it a crack and peered out.
“You can’t be sleeping already, Colin. It’s barely nine.”
Colin stared at him, not believing his eyes. “Bradley?”
“You were expecting Father Christmas?”
Colin grinned, thinking he would much rather welcome Bradley James than a gift-bearing old saint any day.
“Are you going to let me in, or shall I just stand here while we chat in the hallway?” Bradley’s tone was sardonic and familiar. Colin stepped aside and held the heavy door for him. He noted that Bradley wore his usual black leather jacket and carried the rucksack he used for overnight stays.
“What are you doing here?” Colin asked in bemusement as he let the door fall shut. Bradley tossed the bag onto the bed and turned to smirk at him.
“Listening to Toto, Colin? Really?”
Colin nearly hurried to the mp3 to shut it off, but instead his chin rose reflexively in response to the challenge. “I like it. It’s a classic.”
“Shouldn’t you be listening to Christmas music instead of depressing eighties’ songs?”
“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here,” Colin replied, ignoring the question.
“A little bird told me that you would be in town tonight and I knew you would be all alone, moping. And since I was in the neighbourhood, I thought it would be charitable to drop by. To make sure you eat properly, if nothing else.”
Colin was sceptical. “You were in the neighbourhood? This place is far removed from where you should be on Christmas Eve. Why are you really here?”
Bradley strode forward and gripped Colin’s shoulders tightly with both hands as he smiled brilliantly. “Yours is not to ask why, Colin! Yours is merely to bask in the glory of my presence. Now, where shall we eat? I know without asking that you probably haven’t eaten more than a handful of birdseed since breakfast.”
Colin sighed as though heavily put-upon, even though Bradley’s words were true enough. All of them. The sheer force of Bradley’s presence seemed to fill the room with a warm glow. Even the sad tree seemed somehow more festive and cheerful. As usual, Bradley’s smile was infectious.
“I might be somewhat hungry,” Colin allowed.
Bradley let go of his shoulder with one hand only to clap him sharply in the same spot. “I knew it. I suppose you want curry? Come along. Don’t forget your room key.”
Bradley marched to the door and opened it, waiting while Colin hurried to snatch up his room key and jacket before joining the impatient blond. His eyes slid over the knapsack on the bed, wondering vaguely if Bradley planned to spend the night, because the room had only the single bed. Colin decided not to think about it.
They left the hotel and joined the crowds walking the streets. People were either out enjoying the festive air or doing last minute gift shopping—most likely the latter, judging by the frantic pace of most of them. Bradley led him straight to a tiny Thai restaurant tucked away on a side street. By the location, he had obviously known it was there.
The moment the smell hit his nostrils, Colin realized he was starving. The place was surprisingly busy, considering it was Christmas Eve. They found a tiny table and sat down after placing their orders at the counter. Before they could even make small talk, their number was called and Bradley fetched their plates.
Colin dug into his vegetable curry, rolling his eyes blissfully at the flavour. Bradley nibbled at his own food, hardly seeming to be hungry.
“So, why are you here?” Colin asked again after tucking away most of his meal. He had surreptitiously eyed Bradley as they ate. The black jacket had been slung over the back of Bradley’s chair, leaving him clad in a bright blue t-shirt and jeans. Colin loved that particular shade on him, although he could not remember ever admitting it aloud.
Bradley sat back abruptly and stared at him in what seemed to be shock, so much so that it had to be a put-on. “Why, Colin Morgan. Where did you get my shirt?”
Colin started as the realization hit him. Oh god, he had completely forgotten. He felt a blush creep from his neck up and over his face, damning him more than any words ever could, although denial was pointless. He was well and truly caught.
“I...” He tried, anyway, but no ready explanation came to mind. Colin had found the shirt in his room a few weeks ago. He vaguely remembered Bradley following him from his room to Colin’s with a clean shirt in hand, haranguing him about an inconsistency with the script. Colin had refused to watch—mostly—as Bradley had removed his soiled shirt and tossed it haphazardly onto a chair in Colin’s room before dragging the clean shirt over his head.
Colin had later scooped up the shirt without thinking and stuffed it into his bag, not even noticing it for several days. By then, Bradley had gone, called away on some project or another, and Colin had simply held onto the shirt, intending to give it back when next he saw him. He also vowed not to wash it, figuring it served the pillock right for leaving his clothes lying around.
It was a good plan, entirely ruined by the fact that Colin had missed Bradley. By the third day he had taken to moping about with the shirt in hand. Finally, he had pulled the shirt on. It smelled faintly of Bradley’s cologne and more strongly of Bradley, himself. It had been very comforting and slightly disturbing. Disturbing because it made him realize that he was pining for Bradley, and that the reasoning behind said pining might be somewhat less than platonic.
Colin held off from actually sleeping in the shirt, and even managed to toss it into the wash, eventually. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to wear it this evening. Pining, his inner voice answered. He glared at Bradley to silence it.
“You stole my shirt,” Bradley said indignantly.
“I did not!”
Bradley gave him a patented look of pretentious disbelief and Colin pouted and looked away, knowing he was beaten.
“Well, I didn’t steal it. You left it in my room and then departed. What did you want me to do? Put it in the post?”
“I see. You just ran out of clean clothes.”
Colin nearly fainted with relief. Of course. It was so obvious. He nearly beamed at Bradley while nodding like a bobble-head doll. “Yes! That is it. Ran out of clothes. Desperate, you know.” He felt his equilibrium shift back into place with his overstressed words.
Bradley looked sceptical, but thankfully only took another bite of his curry and then pushed his plate aside. “I believe I’m stuffed. Finished, Colin?”
He nodded and tossed his napkin aside before fishing for his wallet, but Bradley had already leaped to his feet and rushed to the counter to pay. Colin rolled his eyes and walked to the door, making a mental note that he would have to beat the prat to the cheque next time.
They walked back to the hotel in silence while a thousand questions batted themselves silly in Colin’s brain. Questions that threatened to spill forth in a rush, held back only by sheer terror. As their destination drew nearer and nearer, Colin finally asked, “So. What will you do, now?”
“What will I do now?” Bradley repeated in the incredulous tone that only he could manage.
Colin felt his lips go thin as he nodded.
“Well, I planned to go back to the hotel with you and watch cheesy holiday programmes while eating stupidly expensive room service desserts and running up your hotel bill by drinking all of the tiny bottles of alcohol in the mini fridge. What did you plan to do?”
Colin grinned. “The same, actually.” He was almost relieved at the thought of spending time with Bradley engaged in an activity they had performed dozens of times before. How many films had they watched while lounging on one hotel bed or another? Still, beneath the relief was a coil of tension, because it seemed different this time. Why? Because it was Christmas? Or because he still had no clear knowledge of why Bradley was there?
Colin let them into the room and Bradley practically launched himself at the room service menu and then chattered merrily at whomever answered the phone, ordering a stupid amount of sweets. Colin sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and flipped lazily through the channels, searching out the cheesiest of holiday offerings. Miracle on 34th Street was partially over, but Natalie Wood’s face was irresistible.
Bradley dropped the heavy receiver back onto the ancient phone with a clang and sprawled back onto the white pillows in a pose of exhaustion. He held it for only a moment before grinning at Colin and springing back up. Colin was often in awe of his energy.
“Right, then,” said Bradley. “Sugar procured, sappy film located, time for drinks.” He sauntered across the room and yanked open the tiny fridge nestled beneath the writing desk. In the same motion, he hefted the insulated brown ice bucket and chucked it at Colin, who miraculously caught it before it bounced off his skull. “Fetch ice, Morgan.”
Colin obediently padded down the hall in his stocking feet and waited patiently while the ice machine chugged out a spray of meagre cubes with a noise like glaciers grinding over rocky sediment, and with much the same speed.
By the time Colin returned, Bradley was sprawled once more across the bed, on the side nearest the window, drink in hand. He waved it expectantly at Colin, who walked over and dropped a couple of cubes into the murky-looking liquid.
“What did you make?” Colin asked dubiously and turned to replace the ice bucket on the desk before adding cubes to his own drink and sniffing at it suspiciously.
“A Long Island Iced Tea,” replied Bradley airily.
“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Colin repeated. “And where, exactly, did you learn to make a Long Island Iced Tea?”
“In New York, of course. Which is, apparently, right next to Long Island. I am well-travelled, you know. A man of the world.” Bradley nodded solemnly after his speech and Colin would have chuckled, except that he had chosen to take a drink of his Long Island Iced Tea instead and then spent the next five minutes coughing and wishing he could remove the taste from his tormented taste buds. And lungs.
“Are you sure it’s supposed to taste like this?” Colin asked when he could speak again.
“Of course. Five different alcohols. Except I think one of them is supposed to be some sort of orange liqueur and we had none, so I substituted some Guinness.”
Colin took another tentative sip and then chuckled. Only Bradley. “You substituted Guinness for orange liqueur?”
“I suppose you have a better idea?” Bradley cocked a brow at him and Colin tried desperately to look away before he could acknowledge that the expression was purely adorable. He failed miserably, of course, because he had already noted it a thousand times before.
“You could try not making Long Island Iced Tea?” Colin suggested.
“Not an option.” Bradley patted the bed next to him. “Now get over here and watch this with me. It’s Christmas Eve and we will be festive and merry.”
Colin did as bid and soon Bradley’s head was resting against his shoulder as they laughed at poor little Susan and her disbelieving mother. Colin was glad that he already knew the story by heart, because the scent of Bradley’s hair was quite distracting, as was the hand that rested, palm up, on Colin’s thigh. Colin had slung a comradely arm around Bradley’s shoulders and his knuckles rested against the edge of Bradley’s hip while his thumb flicked idly over the rough edge of Bradley’s leather belt.
During commercial breaks, Bradley would get up and refill their plastic cups with his terrifying concoction before returning to his cosy position on the bed. By the time the film was over, they were more than half tanked and Colin’s thumb had moved up just enough to brush over Bradley’s abdomen with each repetitious flick over the belt.
Bradley’s head had fallen farther down upon Colin’s chest and his hair bunched firmly against Colin’s chin, making drinking nearly impossible until Colin had wisely requested a couple of the stirring straws that lay near the coffee maker.
Bradley slapped Colin’s knee with his hand when the picture ended. “There! See, Colin! There is a Santa Claus.”
Colin was beginning to think there was, especially when Bradley’s hand stayed where it was, wrapped around Colin’s knee. The credits rolled while a voice extolled the virtues of shopping at Tesco. Colin figured he should reach for the remote, but he would have to dislodge Bradley from his comfortable position.
“Your tree is pathetic, Colin.”
He glanced at the tiny tree and could only agree. “It was the best I could do on short notice.”
“It’s barely large enough for me to put your gift under.”
It took a moment for Colin’s alcohol-soaked brain to process the words, but then he choked out, “Gift?”
“It’s Christmas. Surely you didn’t think I would forget to get you something.”
“Of course not. Um… my gift for you is back home. I meant to give it to you at the interview, but you…”
“Weren’t there. Yes.” Bradley’s flight had been delayed, ending in the complete cancellation of his appearance and an even longer period during which Colin (pined) didn’t see him.
It wasn’t much, anyway. A new hoodie and a few CDs that he knew Bradley would hate, which was part of the fun. Well, Bradley would love the hoodie, of course, just not the CDs.
“Do you want your gift?” Bradley asked and his hand seemed to burn through the material of Colin’s jeans. Alarmingly, Colin felt something stir between his legs, fuelled by the alcohol and Bradley’s touch and the maddeningly pleasant smell of Bradley’s hair against his face. He wanted to say that having Bradley here with him, on Christmas Eve, was gift enough, but he choked it back, knowing it would sound foolish and sappy.
“Of course I do,” he said instead.
Bradley nodded and then levered himself up. Colin reluctantly let go and watched as Bradley staggered slightly on his way to the knapsack—which he had tossed haphazardly on the chair after it had fallen off the bed. He rooted for a moment and then pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny red paper and a white ribbon.
Bradley returned to the bed and sat on the edge, looking suddenly discomfited. His blond hair was mussed from leaning against Colin. He wanted to reach out and smooth it down. Bradley cleared his throat.
“It’s not much; just a trinket. But when I saw it I thought of you, and… “
Colin smiled. It wasn’t rare that Bradley babbled, since he seemed to be a never-ending fountain of words most of the time, but it was unusual to see a blush tinting his cheeks. Colin suspected it was the drink, but then Bradley thrust the package at him and sat cross-legged, obviously awaiting his response.
Colin set his drink aside and took the box. He plucked the ribbon off and then tore gently at the wrapping. He considered opening it slowly and methodically, but Bradley’s impatient attitude made him want to hurry. He ripped the paper away and then opened the plain white box.
His breath caught in his throat as he lifted the gift from the velvet lining. He stared at it and then ran his fingertips lightly over the ridges, awed. Did Bradley understand the significance? He swallowed and tried to speak as he met Bradley’s eyes.
“Do you like it?” Bradley asked, sounding somewhat breathless.
Colin nodded. “Very much.” He held it out to Bradley. “Will you fasten it for me?”
Bradley beamed and Colin’s heart rolled over slowly. Oh god, he was lost, so absolutely lost. Bradley had given him a bracelet with a fucking Celtic love knot on it. Symbol of eternal love.
He can’t know. He can’t possibly know, Colin thought dismally as he handed the bracelet to him and then held out his arm.
Bradley fumbled with the clasp, fingers brushing against Colin’s arm and an adorable scowl of concentration settling over his features.
“There!” Bradley said in satisfaction.
Colin admired the bit of leather and metal. It was lovely, he had to admit. No, not lovely. Manly and attractive. That was better.
“I love it,” he said and meant it. He doubted he would ever take it off again.
Bradley grinned like a cat before a bowl of flaked salmon. “So. Where’s mine?” He sat cross legged on the bed and practically bounced in place.
Colin blinked at him. “I already told you. Your gift is at home. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”
Bradley tsked. “Not good enough, Colin. I gave you something, you are supposed to reciprocate.”
Colin prevented himself from stammering, barely, and mentally flitted through everything in his meagre possession. He had brought only one bag along, with barely a change of clothing. He had nothing to give to Bradley, and finally threw him an irritated glare. “Stop being a prat. You’ll just have to wait.”
“Now, Colin, you know I am not good at waiting. You will just have to find something to give me, yeah? And…” Bradley launched himself forward, shoving Colin backward against the pillows and nearly causing him to knock his head against the wooden headboard. “I think I will torture you until you do.”
Colin stared into Bradley’s face, inches from his own, and couldn’t help but laugh, even though the feel of Bradley’s body sprawled over his was its own form of torture.
“Colin, I haven’t even started tickling you, yet.”
“Oh, is that what you plan to do?” Colin chuckled. “How very mature.”
“I will show you mature, Morgan,” Bradley said with a wicked grin and then he dug his fingers into Colin’s ribs.
Colin laughed again, not because he was ticklish, because, really, he was only ticklish in a couple of places and Bradley James certainly did not know about those, but because Bradley was completely mad.
“I knew you were ticklish,” Bradley said smugly and moved his hands lower to squeeze them into Colin’s sides. Colin grabbed his wrists.
“Bradley, you dolt, I’m not ticklish. I’m laughing because you’re an idiot.” He smiled as he said it and Bradley stopped attempting to torture him and simply gazed down at him with an expression Colin could not identify. Without thinking, Colin let go of his wrists and reached up to grip his face with both hands. As soon as he did so, he realized the idiotic tenderness of the gesture and scowled to cover it. “You are, you know. An idiot. Why did you come here tonight?” Before Bradley could answer, Colin used his fingers to move Bradley’s jaw and lips, and pitched his voice to a high falsetto as he said, “Because I love you, Colin.”
He laughed again and relaxed his hands, expecting Bradley to say something silly or sarcastic. Instead the silence stretched between them and Colin sobered as he stared into Bradley’s limitless blue eyes.
Colin swallowed hard and whispered, “Why did you come here tonight?”
“Because I love you, Colin,” Bradley replied, but there was no hint of mockery or jest. Colin felt his stare grow wider and wider and then Bradley looked away with a blush tinting his cheeks, growing darker by the moment. He started to push himself away with a groan. “Oh god, I drank too much,” he muttered, but then he stopped moving because Colin’s fingers had tightened on his face, holding him in place.
“Bradley,” Colin whispered. “Bradley, look at me.”
Bradley threw him a pained glance, but then paused and met his gaze fully. Colin leaned up and pulled him into a kiss in the same movement. It was terrifying at first, because Bradley didn’t move and his lips were stiff; Colin thought he might have made a colossal mistake.
And then Bradley kissed him back. His arms curled around Colin’s shoulders and slipped into his hair. His fingers felt brilliant, but they were nothing compared to Bradley’s tongue as it pushed gently past Colin’s lips and inside. Colin lapped at it greedily, almost unable to believe this was real, but the exquisite feel of Bradley’s kiss and the warmth of Bradley’s body were too tangible to deny.
He let go of Bradley’s face in order to wrap his arms around his neck and slide his hands over Bradley’s back. The corded muscles were solid and wonderful.
“Colin,” Bradley murmured, gasping against his lips. His breath was hot and steamy and panted over Colin’s face. “Colin, tell me you’re not drunk and you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not drunk and I know exactly what I’m doing,” Colin said obediently and kissed him again.
They snogged for what seemed hours, and their kisses ranged from breathless nibbles and gentle sucks to molten battles of tongue against tongue as they sought to map every contour. Colin thought he was in heaven, until it suddenly got even better.
Bradley shifted, thankfully moving off of Colin’s leg, which had been rapidly falling numb, and settled himself more firmly between Colin’s legs. They both gasped and stared at each other for a shocked moment, and then Bradley’s lips curved wickedly and he shifted a little more.
Colin groaned aloud as Bradley’s erection ground against his, calling up a whole new level of sensation.
“Oh,” said Colin, unable to process anything more coherent.
“Fewer clothes?” Bradley suggested. Colin had never appreciated his brilliance, but now it was obvious.
“Please, yes.”
Bradley, as it turned out, was not only brilliant, but nimble. He scrambled out of his clothing in record time and then started on Colin’s. Before Colin could quite register the stunning fact that Bradley James is naked and about to crawl back on top of me, it was so.
“Oh,” said Colin again, but with more feeling, since he had lost all ability to speak.
“Much better,” Bradley said and rubbed his now-naked cock over Colin’s, up and back and Colin was suddenly certain that he wasn’t dreaming, because nothing in his dreams had ever felt that good. The certainty was helped along by Bradley staring down at him. Colin could hardly breathe from the combination of delight quivering from his cock through every cell in his body, and the expression on Bradley’s face. He had admired Bradley’s amazingly expressive face thousands of times, visually caressing each line and curve, and basked in the intensity of his gaze.
Normally, the sort of tender heat in Bradley’s eyes was directed at Merlin in the guise of Arthur. Even then, it always warmed his blood, but now… Now it was solely for him, and it was incredible.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Bradley asked and punctuated the question with another leisurely slide of his length over Colin’s.
“Almost as long as I’ve wanted you?” Colin asked, finding his voice and his ability to move. He reached down and touched Bradley’s cock, stroking it once before he wrapped his hand around it. Bradley’s expression became priceless and Colin chuckled at the powerful rush. Bloody hell, to be able to make Bradley look like that; it was humbling, to say the least.
“Well, now, Morgan, that depends.” Bradley’s voice was slightly unsteady and Colin kept his hand moving to keep it that way. “How long might that be?”
“Months,” Colin replied.
“Months,” Bradley rasped and then his hand joined Colin’s, wrapping first around Colin’s hand and then guiding them around both of their erections. Fuck, it was brilliance. Colin couldn’t think at all for a time, he could only succumb to the delicious sensations and wallow in the sight of Bradley, whose eyes had gone wide and dark and whose perfect lips were parted and wet.
Colin pushed his other hand into Bradley’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. Their tongues twined and then they had to part in order to keep from suffocating, because it was getting harder to breathe. Their hands moved faster and Colin could hardly believe how much better wanking was when someone else was doing it with you, especially someone upon whom you had a terrible crush.
“Colin,” Bradley said breathily. “Colin, come with me.”
“Oh god,” Colin managed and then he did. His climax slammed through him, curling his toes and sending him arching into Bradley, tearing at his hair and biting down on a scream.
“Fuck, Colin!” Bradley said and then Colin felt Bradley’s cock pulse against his own and their hot fluid mingled on Colin’s abdomen. He forced his eyes open so that he could watch the expression on Bradley’s face as shudders rocked through him.
“That was…” Colin stopped himself, unable to find words.
“Better than the fantasies,” Bradley added.
Colin laughed as Bradley collapsed atop him like a dead weight and tucked his arms in close to Colin’s sides. Colin held him tenderly, trying not to feel like a romantic sap, and failing. Bradley’s lips teased his neck as they lay in silence and Colin’s fingers traced gentle patterns over Bradley’s skin.
“You do know that this wasn’t my gift,” Bradley said suddenly.
Colin burst into laughter.
Rich Text is still not working. Thanks, LJ. *glares*
byaghro as a Christmas gift, even though it was LATE as are all my gifts. So, forgive the holidayishness of it. Colin stared morosely at the tiny tree that stood on the round table next to the window. It had seemed festive and appropriate when he had purchased it on impulse, but now it seemed rather sad and depressing. It had a grand total of six ornaments, formed of red and green foil and dangling pitifully from bits of wire.
The maudlin Christmas song currently playing on his mp3 wasn’t helping. He had hooked up his mini-speakers and propped the unit on the bedside table so that he could hear the door, should he decide to order room service. Thus far, his lack of appetite had prevented him calling down for sustenance.
He wondered if he should bother going out to purchase a set of twinkle lights for the tree. Perhaps it wouldn’t look quite so pathetic with more cheer. Then again, he was feeling pretty pathetic, himself. He had come to London on impulse, persuaded by the temptation to do a good deed at the holidays. The charitable benefit at the children’s hospital had been worthwhile; he certainly did not regret his attendance, especially when recalling the beaming faces of the kids, but now that it was over and he was alone… Well, he missed everyone. He missed his family and his friends.
He missed Bradley.
He hated to admit it, even in the quiet of his own mind, but it was true. He missed the prat. He missed the way Bradley shoved him with an elbow when he wasn’t hanging on Bradley’s every word. He missed the way Bradley called him “Merlin” in a snide tone, or alternately, “Morgan”. He missed the way Bradley’s expressive face showed his every emotion, especially when he saw Colin and his lips curved in that amazing smile and his eyes seemed to practically glow…
Colin swore and punched the pillow next to him. Damn it, he was not going to spend the night pining for Bradley sodding James! It was stupid to be pining at all! Bradley was his friend, nothing more. He had to stop this stupid nonsensical fantasizing before it cost him Bradley’s friendship.
Thus decided, Colin pushed himself away from the bed, thinking he might walk to the nearest pub and try to drown his misery. He was going home in the morning, where he would be surrounded by family and food, and where he could forget all about Bradley James.
As his feet touched the floor, the song changed. He frowned at the mp3, thinking he had selected only holiday tunes, but he decided to leave it, since the song was one of his favourites. He hunted for his shoes for a moment and then heard a sharp rap at the door.
Colin debated ignoring it. He certainly hadn’t ordered anything, and he was not expecting visitors—most people did not even know he was in town. If anyone did, they were likely to be rabidly obsessed fans, and he was absolutely not going to open the door to them.
The knock sounded again, more loudly this time. He listened carefully and heard no hint of giggling or other adverse activity. Perhaps the hotel management had a message, or the maid was simply dropping off more towels.
Colin sighed and strode to the door. He opened it a crack and peered out.
“You can’t be sleeping already, Colin. It’s barely nine.”
Colin stared at him, not believing his eyes. “Bradley?”
“You were expecting Father Christmas?”
Colin grinned, thinking he would much rather welcome Bradley James than a gift-bearing old saint any day.
“Are you going to let me in, or shall I just stand here while we chat in the hallway?” Bradley’s tone was sardonic and familiar. Colin stepped aside and held the heavy door for him. He noted that Bradley wore his usual black leather jacket and carried the rucksack he used for overnight stays.
“What are you doing here?” Colin asked in bemusement as he let the door fall shut. Bradley tossed the bag onto the bed and turned to smirk at him.
“Listening to Toto, Colin? Really?”
Colin nearly hurried to the mp3 to shut it off, but instead his chin rose reflexively in response to the challenge. “I like it. It’s a classic.”
“Shouldn’t you be listening to Christmas music instead of depressing eighties’ songs?”
“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here,” Colin replied, ignoring the question.
“A little bird told me that you would be in town tonight and I knew you would be all alone, moping. And since I was in the neighbourhood, I thought it would be charitable to drop by. To make sure you eat properly, if nothing else.”
Colin was sceptical. “You were in the neighbourhood? This place is far removed from where you should be on Christmas Eve. Why are you really here?”
Bradley strode forward and gripped Colin’s shoulders tightly with both hands as he smiled brilliantly. “Yours is not to ask why, Colin! Yours is merely to bask in the glory of my presence. Now, where shall we eat? I know without asking that you probably haven’t eaten more than a handful of birdseed since breakfast.”
Colin sighed as though heavily put-upon, even though Bradley’s words were true enough. All of them. The sheer force of Bradley’s presence seemed to fill the room with a warm glow. Even the sad tree seemed somehow more festive and cheerful. As usual, Bradley’s smile was infectious.
“I might be somewhat hungry,” Colin allowed.
Bradley let go of his shoulder with one hand only to clap him sharply in the same spot. “I knew it. I suppose you want curry? Come along. Don’t forget your room key.”
Bradley marched to the door and opened it, waiting while Colin hurried to snatch up his room key and jacket before joining the impatient blond. His eyes slid over the knapsack on the bed, wondering vaguely if Bradley planned to spend the night, because the room had only the single bed. Colin decided not to think about it.
They left the hotel and joined the crowds walking the streets. People were either out enjoying the festive air or doing last minute gift shopping—most likely the latter, judging by the frantic pace of most of them. Bradley led him straight to a tiny Thai restaurant tucked away on a side street. By the location, he had obviously known it was there.
The moment the smell hit his nostrils, Colin realized he was starving. The place was surprisingly busy, considering it was Christmas Eve. They found a tiny table and sat down after placing their orders at the counter. Before they could even make small talk, their number was called and Bradley fetched their plates.
Colin dug into his vegetable curry, rolling his eyes blissfully at the flavour. Bradley nibbled at his own food, hardly seeming to be hungry.
“So, why are you here?” Colin asked again after tucking away most of his meal. He had surreptitiously eyed Bradley as they ate. The black jacket had been slung over the back of Bradley’s chair, leaving him clad in a bright blue t-shirt and jeans. Colin loved that particular shade on him, although he could not remember ever admitting it aloud.
Bradley sat back abruptly and stared at him in what seemed to be shock, so much so that it had to be a put-on. “Why, Colin Morgan. Where did you get my shirt?”
Colin started as the realization hit him. Oh god, he had completely forgotten. He felt a blush creep from his neck up and over his face, damning him more than any words ever could, although denial was pointless. He was well and truly caught.
“I...” He tried, anyway, but no ready explanation came to mind. Colin had found the shirt in his room a few weeks ago. He vaguely remembered Bradley following him from his room to Colin’s with a clean shirt in hand, haranguing him about an inconsistency with the script. Colin had refused to watch—mostly—as Bradley had removed his soiled shirt and tossed it haphazardly onto a chair in Colin’s room before dragging the clean shirt over his head.
Colin had later scooped up the shirt without thinking and stuffed it into his bag, not even noticing it for several days. By then, Bradley had gone, called away on some project or another, and Colin had simply held onto the shirt, intending to give it back when next he saw him. He also vowed not to wash it, figuring it served the pillock right for leaving his clothes lying around.
It was a good plan, entirely ruined by the fact that Colin had missed Bradley. By the third day he had taken to moping about with the shirt in hand. Finally, he had pulled the shirt on. It smelled faintly of Bradley’s cologne and more strongly of Bradley, himself. It had been very comforting and slightly disturbing. Disturbing because it made him realize that he was pining for Bradley, and that the reasoning behind said pining might be somewhat less than platonic.
Colin held off from actually sleeping in the shirt, and even managed to toss it into the wash, eventually. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to wear it this evening. Pining, his inner voice answered. He glared at Bradley to silence it.
“You stole my shirt,” Bradley said indignantly.
“I did not!”
Bradley gave him a patented look of pretentious disbelief and Colin pouted and looked away, knowing he was beaten.
“Well, I didn’t steal it. You left it in my room and then departed. What did you want me to do? Put it in the post?”
“I see. You just ran out of clean clothes.”
Colin nearly fainted with relief. Of course. It was so obvious. He nearly beamed at Bradley while nodding like a bobble-head doll. “Yes! That is it. Ran out of clothes. Desperate, you know.” He felt his equilibrium shift back into place with his overstressed words.
Bradley looked sceptical, but thankfully only took another bite of his curry and then pushed his plate aside. “I believe I’m stuffed. Finished, Colin?”
He nodded and tossed his napkin aside before fishing for his wallet, but Bradley had already leaped to his feet and rushed to the counter to pay. Colin rolled his eyes and walked to the door, making a mental note that he would have to beat the prat to the cheque next time.
They walked back to the hotel in silence while a thousand questions batted themselves silly in Colin’s brain. Questions that threatened to spill forth in a rush, held back only by sheer terror. As their destination drew nearer and nearer, Colin finally asked, “So. What will you do, now?”
“What will I do now?” Bradley repeated in the incredulous tone that only he could manage.
Colin felt his lips go thin as he nodded.
“Well, I planned to go back to the hotel with you and watch cheesy holiday programmes while eating stupidly expensive room service desserts and running up your hotel bill by drinking all of the tiny bottles of alcohol in the mini fridge. What did you plan to do?”
Colin grinned. “The same, actually.” He was almost relieved at the thought of spending time with Bradley engaged in an activity they had performed dozens of times before. How many films had they watched while lounging on one hotel bed or another? Still, beneath the relief was a coil of tension, because it seemed different this time. Why? Because it was Christmas? Or because he still had no clear knowledge of why Bradley was there?
Colin let them into the room and Bradley practically launched himself at the room service menu and then chattered merrily at whomever answered the phone, ordering a stupid amount of sweets. Colin sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and flipped lazily through the channels, searching out the cheesiest of holiday offerings. Miracle on 34th Street was partially over, but Natalie Wood’s face was irresistible.
Bradley dropped the heavy receiver back onto the ancient phone with a clang and sprawled back onto the white pillows in a pose of exhaustion. He held it for only a moment before grinning at Colin and springing back up. Colin was often in awe of his energy.
“Right, then,” said Bradley. “Sugar procured, sappy film located, time for drinks.” He sauntered across the room and yanked open the tiny fridge nestled beneath the writing desk. In the same motion, he hefted the insulated brown ice bucket and chucked it at Colin, who miraculously caught it before it bounced off his skull. “Fetch ice, Morgan.”
Colin obediently padded down the hall in his stocking feet and waited patiently while the ice machine chugged out a spray of meagre cubes with a noise like glaciers grinding over rocky sediment, and with much the same speed.
By the time Colin returned, Bradley was sprawled once more across the bed, on the side nearest the window, drink in hand. He waved it expectantly at Colin, who walked over and dropped a couple of cubes into the murky-looking liquid.
“What did you make?” Colin asked dubiously and turned to replace the ice bucket on the desk before adding cubes to his own drink and sniffing at it suspiciously.
“A Long Island Iced Tea,” replied Bradley airily.
“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Colin repeated. “And where, exactly, did you learn to make a Long Island Iced Tea?”
“In New York, of course. Which is, apparently, right next to Long Island. I am well-travelled, you know. A man of the world.” Bradley nodded solemnly after his speech and Colin would have chuckled, except that he had chosen to take a drink of his Long Island Iced Tea instead and then spent the next five minutes coughing and wishing he could remove the taste from his tormented taste buds. And lungs.
“Are you sure it’s supposed to taste like this?” Colin asked when he could speak again.
“Of course. Five different alcohols. Except I think one of them is supposed to be some sort of orange liqueur and we had none, so I substituted some Guinness.”
Colin took another tentative sip and then chuckled. Only Bradley. “You substituted Guinness for orange liqueur?”
“I suppose you have a better idea?” Bradley cocked a brow at him and Colin tried desperately to look away before he could acknowledge that the expression was purely adorable. He failed miserably, of course, because he had already noted it a thousand times before.
“You could try not making Long Island Iced Tea?” Colin suggested.
“Not an option.” Bradley patted the bed next to him. “Now get over here and watch this with me. It’s Christmas Eve and we will be festive and merry.”
Colin did as bid and soon Bradley’s head was resting against his shoulder as they laughed at poor little Susan and her disbelieving mother. Colin was glad that he already knew the story by heart, because the scent of Bradley’s hair was quite distracting, as was the hand that rested, palm up, on Colin’s thigh. Colin had slung a comradely arm around Bradley’s shoulders and his knuckles rested against the edge of Bradley’s hip while his thumb flicked idly over the rough edge of Bradley’s leather belt.
During commercial breaks, Bradley would get up and refill their plastic cups with his terrifying concoction before returning to his cosy position on the bed. By the time the film was over, they were more than half tanked and Colin’s thumb had moved up just enough to brush over Bradley’s abdomen with each repetitious flick over the belt.
Bradley’s head had fallen farther down upon Colin’s chest and his hair bunched firmly against Colin’s chin, making drinking nearly impossible until Colin had wisely requested a couple of the stirring straws that lay near the coffee maker.
Bradley slapped Colin’s knee with his hand when the picture ended. “There! See, Colin! There is a Santa Claus.”
Colin was beginning to think there was, especially when Bradley’s hand stayed where it was, wrapped around Colin’s knee. The credits rolled while a voice extolled the virtues of shopping at Tesco. Colin figured he should reach for the remote, but he would have to dislodge Bradley from his comfortable position.
“Your tree is pathetic, Colin.”
He glanced at the tiny tree and could only agree. “It was the best I could do on short notice.”
“It’s barely large enough for me to put your gift under.”
It took a moment for Colin’s alcohol-soaked brain to process the words, but then he choked out, “Gift?”
“It’s Christmas. Surely you didn’t think I would forget to get you something.”
“Of course not. Um… my gift for you is back home. I meant to give it to you at the interview, but you…”
“Weren’t there. Yes.” Bradley’s flight had been delayed, ending in the complete cancellation of his appearance and an even longer period during which Colin (pined) didn’t see him.
It wasn’t much, anyway. A new hoodie and a few CDs that he knew Bradley would hate, which was part of the fun. Well, Bradley would love the hoodie, of course, just not the CDs.
“Do you want your gift?” Bradley asked and his hand seemed to burn through the material of Colin’s jeans. Alarmingly, Colin felt something stir between his legs, fuelled by the alcohol and Bradley’s touch and the maddeningly pleasant smell of Bradley’s hair against his face. He wanted to say that having Bradley here with him, on Christmas Eve, was gift enough, but he choked it back, knowing it would sound foolish and sappy.
“Of course I do,” he said instead.
Bradley nodded and then levered himself up. Colin reluctantly let go and watched as Bradley staggered slightly on his way to the knapsack—which he had tossed haphazardly on the chair after it had fallen off the bed. He rooted for a moment and then pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny red paper and a white ribbon.
Bradley returned to the bed and sat on the edge, looking suddenly discomfited. His blond hair was mussed from leaning against Colin. He wanted to reach out and smooth it down. Bradley cleared his throat.
“It’s not much; just a trinket. But when I saw it I thought of you, and… “
Colin smiled. It wasn’t rare that Bradley babbled, since he seemed to be a never-ending fountain of words most of the time, but it was unusual to see a blush tinting his cheeks. Colin suspected it was the drink, but then Bradley thrust the package at him and sat cross-legged, obviously awaiting his response.
Colin set his drink aside and took the box. He plucked the ribbon off and then tore gently at the wrapping. He considered opening it slowly and methodically, but Bradley’s impatient attitude made him want to hurry. He ripped the paper away and then opened the plain white box.
His breath caught in his throat as he lifted the gift from the velvet lining. He stared at it and then ran his fingertips lightly over the ridges, awed. Did Bradley understand the significance? He swallowed and tried to speak as he met Bradley’s eyes.
“Do you like it?” Bradley asked, sounding somewhat breathless.
Colin nodded. “Very much.” He held it out to Bradley. “Will you fasten it for me?”
Bradley beamed and Colin’s heart rolled over slowly. Oh god, he was lost, so absolutely lost. Bradley had given him a bracelet with a fucking Celtic love knot on it. Symbol of eternal love.
He can’t know. He can’t possibly know, Colin thought dismally as he handed the bracelet to him and then held out his arm.
Bradley fumbled with the clasp, fingers brushing against Colin’s arm and an adorable scowl of concentration settling over his features.
“There!” Bradley said in satisfaction.
Colin admired the bit of leather and metal. It was lovely, he had to admit. No, not lovely. Manly and attractive. That was better.
“I love it,” he said and meant it. He doubted he would ever take it off again.
Bradley grinned like a cat before a bowl of flaked salmon. “So. Where’s mine?” He sat cross legged on the bed and practically bounced in place.
Colin blinked at him. “I already told you. Your gift is at home. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”
Bradley tsked. “Not good enough, Colin. I gave you something, you are supposed to reciprocate.”
Colin prevented himself from stammering, barely, and mentally flitted through everything in his meagre possession. He had brought only one bag along, with barely a change of clothing. He had nothing to give to Bradley, and finally threw him an irritated glare. “Stop being a prat. You’ll just have to wait.”
“Now, Colin, you know I am not good at waiting. You will just have to find something to give me, yeah? And…” Bradley launched himself forward, shoving Colin backward against the pillows and nearly causing him to knock his head against the wooden headboard. “I think I will torture you until you do.”
Colin stared into Bradley’s face, inches from his own, and couldn’t help but laugh, even though the feel of Bradley’s body sprawled over his was its own form of torture.
“Colin, I haven’t even started tickling you, yet.”
“Oh, is that what you plan to do?” Colin chuckled. “How very mature.”
“I will show you mature, Morgan,” Bradley said with a wicked grin and then he dug his fingers into Colin’s ribs.
Colin laughed again, not because he was ticklish, because, really, he was only ticklish in a couple of places and Bradley James certainly did not know about those, but because Bradley was completely mad.
“I knew you were ticklish,” Bradley said smugly and moved his hands lower to squeeze them into Colin’s sides. Colin grabbed his wrists.
“Bradley, you dolt, I’m not ticklish. I’m laughing because you’re an idiot.” He smiled as he said it and Bradley stopped attempting to torture him and simply gazed down at him with an expression Colin could not identify. Without thinking, Colin let go of his wrists and reached up to grip his face with both hands. As soon as he did so, he realized the idiotic tenderness of the gesture and scowled to cover it. “You are, you know. An idiot. Why did you come here tonight?” Before Bradley could answer, Colin used his fingers to move Bradley’s jaw and lips, and pitched his voice to a high falsetto as he said, “Because I love you, Colin.”
He laughed again and relaxed his hands, expecting Bradley to say something silly or sarcastic. Instead the silence stretched between them and Colin sobered as he stared into Bradley’s limitless blue eyes.
Colin swallowed hard and whispered, “Why did you come here tonight?”
“Because I love you, Colin,” Bradley replied, but there was no hint of mockery or jest. Colin felt his stare grow wider and wider and then Bradley looked away with a blush tinting his cheeks, growing darker by the moment. He started to push himself away with a groan. “Oh god, I drank too much,” he muttered, but then he stopped moving because Colin’s fingers had tightened on his face, holding him in place.
“Bradley,” Colin whispered. “Bradley, look at me.”
Bradley threw him a pained glance, but then paused and met his gaze fully. Colin leaned up and pulled him into a kiss in the same movement. It was terrifying at first, because Bradley didn’t move and his lips were stiff; Colin thought he might have made a colossal mistake.
And then Bradley kissed him back. His arms curled around Colin’s shoulders and slipped into his hair. His fingers felt brilliant, but they were nothing compared to Bradley’s tongue as it pushed gently past Colin’s lips and inside. Colin lapped at it greedily, almost unable to believe this was real, but the exquisite feel of Bradley’s kiss and the warmth of Bradley’s body were too tangible to deny.
He let go of Bradley’s face in order to wrap his arms around his neck and slide his hands over Bradley’s back. The corded muscles were solid and wonderful.
“Colin,” Bradley murmured, gasping against his lips. His breath was hot and steamy and panted over Colin’s face. “Colin, tell me you’re not drunk and you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not drunk and I know exactly what I’m doing,” Colin said obediently and kissed him again.
They snogged for what seemed hours, and their kisses ranged from breathless nibbles and gentle sucks to molten battles of tongue against tongue as they sought to map every contour. Colin thought he was in heaven, until it suddenly got even better.
Bradley shifted, thankfully moving off of Colin’s leg, which had been rapidly falling numb, and settled himself more firmly between Colin’s legs. They both gasped and stared at each other for a shocked moment, and then Bradley’s lips curved wickedly and he shifted a little more.
Colin groaned aloud as Bradley’s erection ground against his, calling up a whole new level of sensation.
“Oh,” said Colin, unable to process anything more coherent.
“Fewer clothes?” Bradley suggested. Colin had never appreciated his brilliance, but now it was obvious.
“Please, yes.”
Bradley, as it turned out, was not only brilliant, but nimble. He scrambled out of his clothing in record time and then started on Colin’s. Before Colin could quite register the stunning fact that Bradley James is naked and about to crawl back on top of me, it was so.
“Oh,” said Colin again, but with more feeling, since he had lost all ability to speak.
“Much better,” Bradley said and rubbed his now-naked cock over Colin’s, up and back and Colin was suddenly certain that he wasn’t dreaming, because nothing in his dreams had ever felt that good. The certainty was helped along by Bradley staring down at him. Colin could hardly breathe from the combination of delight quivering from his cock through every cell in his body, and the expression on Bradley’s face. He had admired Bradley’s amazingly expressive face thousands of times, visually caressing each line and curve, and basked in the intensity of his gaze.
Normally, the sort of tender heat in Bradley’s eyes was directed at Merlin in the guise of Arthur. Even then, it always warmed his blood, but now… Now it was solely for him, and it was incredible.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Bradley asked and punctuated the question with another leisurely slide of his length over Colin’s.
“Almost as long as I’ve wanted you?” Colin asked, finding his voice and his ability to move. He reached down and touched Bradley’s cock, stroking it once before he wrapped his hand around it. Bradley’s expression became priceless and Colin chuckled at the powerful rush. Bloody hell, to be able to make Bradley look like that; it was humbling, to say the least.
“Well, now, Morgan, that depends.” Bradley’s voice was slightly unsteady and Colin kept his hand moving to keep it that way. “How long might that be?”
“Months,” Colin replied.
“Months,” Bradley rasped and then his hand joined Colin’s, wrapping first around Colin’s hand and then guiding them around both of their erections. Fuck, it was brilliance. Colin couldn’t think at all for a time, he could only succumb to the delicious sensations and wallow in the sight of Bradley, whose eyes had gone wide and dark and whose perfect lips were parted and wet.
Colin pushed his other hand into Bradley’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. Their tongues twined and then they had to part in order to keep from suffocating, because it was getting harder to breathe. Their hands moved faster and Colin could hardly believe how much better wanking was when someone else was doing it with you, especially someone upon whom you had a terrible crush.
“Colin,” Bradley said breathily. “Colin, come with me.”
“Oh god,” Colin managed and then he did. His climax slammed through him, curling his toes and sending him arching into Bradley, tearing at his hair and biting down on a scream.
“Fuck, Colin!” Bradley said and then Colin felt Bradley’s cock pulse against his own and their hot fluid mingled on Colin’s abdomen. He forced his eyes open so that he could watch the expression on Bradley’s face as shudders rocked through him.
“That was…” Colin stopped himself, unable to find words.
“Better than the fantasies,” Bradley added.
Colin laughed as Bradley collapsed atop him like a dead weight and tucked his arms in close to Colin’s sides. Colin held him tenderly, trying not to feel like a romantic sap, and failing. Bradley’s lips teased his neck as they lay in silence and Colin’s fingers traced gentle patterns over Bradley’s skin.
“You do know that this wasn’t my gift,” Bradley said suddenly.
Colin burst into laughter.
Rich Text is still not working. Thanks, LJ. *glares*