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17 February 2011 @ 04:56 pm
All This, and Heaven Too  
Title: All This, and Heaven Too

Pairing: Josef/Mick

Rating: Low Level NC17

Warnings: Vague hints of Sadomasochism

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: A snapshot, Mick and Josef on Valentine's Day. Moonlightaholics Champagne Challenge #126 response (keep it short - write a fic under 700 words).

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They don’t talk of love, but still Josef remembers the little things; like the way Mick taps his feet to the beat of a cool jazz track, or the way he likes his whiskey mixed with just a hint of blood. Roses too, long stemmed the colour of blood, with thorns sharp enough to prick a lover’s soul.

Josef always sends roses on Valentine’s Day. Mick knows not to make a big deal of it. They arrive without fanfare; Josef’s mouth twitches as he pretends to ask who they’re from.

“As if you didn’t know,” Mick teases, and Josef’s mouth twitches a little more, his expression slowly breaking into an unabashed grin.

Alright, you got me.

It’s been twelve years since Beth’s death – ten since they got together. Comfort had become intimacy; intimacy had become something else.

“All this, and heaven too,” Josef remarks with his usual aplomb as they lie together at the end of the day, and Mick has to admit he can’t remember the last time anyone made him come that hard.

“What can I say, I’m talented,” Josef responds with false modesty, as he inspects his fingernails. Already he’s moving back down Mick’s body, teasing him with that impish smile.

Mick arches up as Josef hits the mark, and it’s all he can do to keep from clawing a hole through the mattress, as Josef begins to work him over with his fingers and tongue.

“Oh, Jesus.”

And then it’s all ‘please god’ and ‘fuck yes’ and Mick’s hand is gripping the top of Josef’s skull; hips thrusting, and oh Jesus yeah, more and faster and Mick’s coming apart at the seams.

Josef comes back up when Mick’s finished, presses his mouth against Mick’s own, let’s Mick taste himself on his tongue. And then he’s placing his lips against Mick’s ear, smiling at the way Mick groans when he hears his words, whispering filth - a promise of things to come.

And they don’t talk of love, but still Josef remembers the little things; like the way Mick likes to be fucked hard and fast, shoved face down on the bed; or the way he curses and shouts when he comes. Roses too, long stemmed the colour of blood, with thorns sharp enough to prick a lover’s soul.

And they’ve got all this, and heaven too.