Tumble
by cmshaw
cmshaw@cmshaw.slashcity.net
10 February 2002

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.

Summary: Turnbull falls down. Kowalski picks him up.

Warnings: NC-17 m/m slash, at a hurt/comfort angle.

Notes: This is a cleaner version of the snippet posted to my livejournal on 6 February 2002.

Gratitude: The original idea was Thermidor's, and she nagged me until I wrote it.


"Welcome to my home."

"Okay," I said, "nice place," and I started looking for places to put my companion down, because damn but he was heavy.

"Thank you," he replied. "I like to think that the colors of the prints on the south wall--"

"Actually it's a dump," I interrupted. "Come on, let's sit you down."

"Oh. That way." He pointed toward the doorway of what must be the bedroom, since I could see a fridge through the other door and he probably didn't have one of those in the bedroom. Although only probably. We limped in that direction. "I realize it's not terribly posh," he said stiffly, "but these accommodations are quite comfortable and have a number of amenities which I enjoy. Ouch."

"Careful of the door," I said, a little too late.

"For example, I had to leave my last apartment when they ceased to allow pets," he said, and knelt down to pet a big mean-looking black cat who appeared under his feet. Actually, he got as far as bending his knees halfway, at which point I yanked him back up because he was about to pitch head-first into the cat. "Ah. Thank you."

"Thought Fraser said you left 'cause it had too much space," I said, grunting as I helped him sit down on the edge of what was really a pretty huge bed for a single guy.

He smiled thinly, like it really hurt to bend even that far. "I'm sure that was just his little joke," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "Look, get your uniform off and let me check your ribs again, okay? I can't believe you didn't break anything."

"I did break a railing on the banister," he said, and unbuttoned the tunic.

"I just about broke the Ice Queen's head," I muttered. He lowered his suspenders and pulled his shirt off, and I ran my hands up and down his chest, trying not to hit the bruises too hard. "Bitch was going to make you go back to work."

He winced away, although I could tell he was trying not to. "I was not in fact incapacitated," he said.

"Fucking incapacitated," I said. Nice chest on this guy, but boy was it going to hurt in the morning. These bruises were coming up purple already. "Hello! You fell down a flight of stairs because she didn't let you fetch a goddamned ladder to stand on. She could be in deep shit if you were really hurt."

"The--" he started.

"No," I said, and poked him in the nose. "Shut up. Take off your pants; I wanna check that knee."

"Thank you, but I'm quite sure it's fine," he said.

I growled. "Pants. Off. I'm not leaving until I see that knee."

He hesitated long enough to make me think about reaching out and yanking his pants down myself, but you don't just do that to a guy, so I made myself wait. First he took off his boots. Then his socks. Then, finally, the pants came down. I put one hand on his thigh and one down on his calf and pulled the leg straight. "That hurt?" I asked.

"Not particularly," he said, which seemed to be the truth.

I twisted and prodded. "This? How about this? No? Okay, you're good."

He swallowed. "Thank you," he choked out, and I looked up, worried. My hands were still on his leg and I patted his thigh absently --

"Oh," I said to the big obvious outline of his cock in his shorts. "I, uh. I, uh." I have no idea what to say to that thing. "I, uh, didn't know you were gay."

He wiggled backwards on the bed. "Yes, well, thank you for your assistance, and I do apologize for disrupting your luncheon plans, and I'm sure I'll be quite all right n...oh dear God."

I tightened my hand around his cock. "I think I can make you feel better," I said, and I leaned forward to kiss him. I had to get a little aggressive with my tongue, but he thumped backwards onto the bed. I hitched myself up next to him, still with one hand down his shorts, and grinned. Except for the bruise pattern he was a really good-looking man. I yanked his shorts down, because once the pants are off it's okay to do that to a guy. Really, really good-looking man. My mouth watered, so I bent down and sucked the head of his cock in.

"Oh!" he said. He reached down to grab my shoulder. "Ow!" he said, and let go again, flopping his arm out to the side. I wrapped both fists around his cock and sucked on it as hard as I could, and he said "Oh!" again.

I lifted my head. "You just lie there," I said. "You've had a rough day."

"Yes," he said. Not that I'm sure he heard me, but as long as he held still I'd be happy.

The tip of his cock was poking barely out of the foreskin. I worked my hands up and down to watch it push farther out, and then I bent over again and swallowed the whole damn thing. Or the first half of it, anyway. It was thick and hot on the back of my tongue and I opened wide, working my jaw back and forth to feel it sliding around and banging against the back of my mouth. I closed my lips around it and pulled off slowly, then worked more spit into my mouth and moved down again.

His hips trembled but remained obligingly still underneath me. I set myself to sucking him slowly and with relish, drawing out each shudder and teasing my tongue into all the sweetest places. I held his cock up against his belly and mouthed the tender skin of his balls. I licked the head and I licked the shaft and I licked his bellybutton while I jacked him off with rough twists of my hand. When he whimpered and shivered and came, he came into my mouth, all thick and salty and hot like the skin of the cock still resting on my tongue.

I let go of him and stood up with a sigh. He was a sight to see sprawled out like that, naked and spent. Wounded and vulnerable and trusting. He smiled at me.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you."

I kissed his mouth gently. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you around, okay?"

He blinked sleepily at me. "Okay," he said, and his eyes slid closed. I let myself out the front door and trotted off back to work.



(obEFF)

End.

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