Lewis Ficlet: Summer Wine
Aug. 11th, 2018 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Summer Wine
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Lewis
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Word count: 498
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: James’ mouth is sticky from berry juice and wine, stretching almost obscenely around the slightly drunken vowels as he talks about… something.
Author notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lewis_challenge Summer Challenge 2018. The prompt was Summer Wine
Robbie can’t stop staring. James’ mouth is sticky from berry juice and wine, stretching almost obscenely around the slightly drunken vowels as he talks about… something. Could be Odysseus, could be the latest case, could be the price of milk for all Robbie knows. He lost his ability to pay attention to the words leaving his partner’s lips about two glasses ago. It’s not good except in all the ways it’s bloody brilliant, seeing James draped over the sun-lounger in Robbie’s back garden, loose-limbed and heavy with the heat and alcohol.
Oxford, along with the rest of the country, is enjoying a prolonged heat wave. Hathaway had shown up earlier, begging for access to Robbie’s garden. His flat was unbearable and the public parks were, well, full of the public. They’d had a long week and Robbie could see how thinly worn his sergeant was, knew without being told that having to share space with picnicking families and amorous teenagers might just push him over the edge. James had offered a big box of strawberries and a bottle of pink as a bribe and Robbie had shooed him into the garden without a word, tossing a tube of sun cream after him.
That has been several hours ago, James’ bottle followed by another Robbie had unearthed from the fridge. The strawberries are all but gone, their sweetness lingering at the corner of his mouth, visibly clinging to James’ lips in a way that’s driving Robbie to distraction.
James reaches for his glass, taking a sip and leaning back down with a contented sigh. Despite rigorous application of sun lotion – and hadn’t that been a special kind of torture to watch – his skin is flushed pink, the hollow of his throat and inside of his elbows damp with sweat. He’s wearing cargo shorts in deference to the weather and the sun makes the light dusting of hair on his legs look pale golden and impossibly soft to the touch.
Robbie wants to put his hands all over him, every patch of skin on show, every hidden one too. And not just his hands either.
He’s certain the thought is clear on his face, that he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. Robbie finds that he doesn’t.
James chooses that moment to roll his head lazily in Robbie’s direction. “It’s getting late,” he says, eyes flicking briefly to the sun that is getting low on the horizon, the shadows slowly lengthening.
“Aye,” Robbie agrees, his voice coming out rougher than he expected. “Could make dinner in a bit?” he suggests. “I’ve got some salmon in the fridge. Been meaning to test out the barbecue.”
‘Stay,’ he implores silently.
James blinks at him, and then again, his gaze clearing as it catches Robbie’s. Catches, and holds.
There’s an understanding dawning there, one that’s been a long time coming, all slow heat and promise.
“Alright,” James says, his lips curving into a smile as sweet as the berries staining them.
***
Title: Summer Wine
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Lewis
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Word count: 498
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: James’ mouth is sticky from berry juice and wine, stretching almost obscenely around the slightly drunken vowels as he talks about… something.
Author notes: Written for
lewis_challenge Summer Challenge 2018. The prompt was Summer Wine Robbie can’t stop staring. James’ mouth is sticky from berry juice and wine, stretching almost obscenely around the slightly drunken vowels as he talks about… something. Could be Odysseus, could be the latest case, could be the price of milk for all Robbie knows. He lost his ability to pay attention to the words leaving his partner’s lips about two glasses ago. It’s not good except in all the ways it’s bloody brilliant, seeing James draped over the sun-lounger in Robbie’s back garden, loose-limbed and heavy with the heat and alcohol.
Oxford, along with the rest of the country, is enjoying a prolonged heat wave. Hathaway had shown up earlier, begging for access to Robbie’s garden. His flat was unbearable and the public parks were, well, full of the public. They’d had a long week and Robbie could see how thinly worn his sergeant was, knew without being told that having to share space with picnicking families and amorous teenagers might just push him over the edge. James had offered a big box of strawberries and a bottle of pink as a bribe and Robbie had shooed him into the garden without a word, tossing a tube of sun cream after him.
That has been several hours ago, James’ bottle followed by another Robbie had unearthed from the fridge. The strawberries are all but gone, their sweetness lingering at the corner of his mouth, visibly clinging to James’ lips in a way that’s driving Robbie to distraction.
James reaches for his glass, taking a sip and leaning back down with a contented sigh. Despite rigorous application of sun lotion – and hadn’t that been a special kind of torture to watch – his skin is flushed pink, the hollow of his throat and inside of his elbows damp with sweat. He’s wearing cargo shorts in deference to the weather and the sun makes the light dusting of hair on his legs look pale golden and impossibly soft to the touch.
Robbie wants to put his hands all over him, every patch of skin on show, every hidden one too. And not just his hands either.
He’s certain the thought is clear on his face, that he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. Robbie finds that he doesn’t.
James chooses that moment to roll his head lazily in Robbie’s direction. “It’s getting late,” he says, eyes flicking briefly to the sun that is getting low on the horizon, the shadows slowly lengthening.
“Aye,” Robbie agrees, his voice coming out rougher than he expected. “Could make dinner in a bit?” he suggests. “I’ve got some salmon in the fridge. Been meaning to test out the barbecue.”
‘Stay,’ he implores silently.
James blinks at him, and then again, his gaze clearing as it catches Robbie’s. Catches, and holds.
There’s an understanding dawning there, one that’s been a long time coming, all slow heat and promise.
“Alright,” James says, his lips curving into a smile as sweet as the berries staining them.
***
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on 2018-08-13 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
on 2018-08-13 03:01 pm (UTC)