Rating: Mature themes and language, no real smut. (that's next chapter.)
Summary: Bored Braig is Bored
He looked up at his friend who had him pinned to the ground, head trapped between his hands, long hair sprawled out over the grass like a tangle of rope.
“Well? What are you going to do with me, now that you've got me?”
“Good damn question.” Braig tapped his pen against his teeth. He was, to put it lightly, bored, and a bored Braig was a dangerous proposition.
Fortunately, he was a bored Braig with a broken ankle, which seriously cut down the kinds of trouble he could get into. It was the slow-healing green stick kind of break too, which meant he [u]could[/u] put weight on it. But he shouldn't. So, bed rest. To keep himself company he was writing stories about his fellow apprentices. Since he was a giant pervert, he was writing about them having sex. So far, Even had had wild kinky sex with both Xehanort and Ansem, and he was considering pairing him up with Ienzo. And possibly Aeulus at the same time. That might be interesting. Though Ienzo seemed to go quite well with Xehanort. Writing him with Aeulus was just way too easy, besides, just size wise the idea kinda made him twitch. Would it even be physically possibly for such a little guy to take such a big guy? Well, maybe if Ienzo topped. The idea made him laugh, and he made a note of it.
But that wasn't what he was working on right now. Oh man, this was going to be good... if he could just get his victims to screw!
Of course, if he knew that he might have some company.
“Anything I want to.” He slid his hands along muscled arms until he gripped the other man by the wrists pinning them up over his head. “Do you know how long I've worked to get you at my mercy like this?” Without waiting for an answer, he claimed a kiss, pressing his tongue inside to taste deeper. Victory was even sweeter than Braig had imagined, and while the muscular form beneath him didn't become pliant, persay, but he did respond- kissing back, legs parting enough for Braig to slip his knee between his thighs. “I would have thought-” he whispered into one of his victim's pointed ears. “That you'd be fighting back.”
“Maybe I've been waiting too;” Dilan responded indigo eyes narrowed and he-
Hell, no one was going to believe this.
Well, not that he ever intended to SHOW anyone this. But as glorious a mental picture as it provided, no one would believe that he'd be able to over power Dilan, tall, graceful and muscled as he was, and make him his, in the most biblical sense. Make him his bitch. See what happened to his composure when someone was riding him hard.
Braig's groin surged at the thought and he groaned, discarding his notebook, and pulling the blankets up over his head. Thinking about his best friend in a position of sexual submission was not going to make his ankle heal any faster.
But then... it wasn't going to make his ankle heal any slower either. Just as his hand had thoughtfully reached his groin there was a short knock and his door opened.
“Braig, are you asleep?”
If it had been anyone else, he would have pretended it was, and for half an instanct, he thought about ignoring that rich cultured voice. Instead he sat up.
“Yeah dude. That's why I'm sitting up and talking to you.”
“Ah. A pity.” Dilan entered the room and closed the door behind him. “I'd brought you some food.”
That made Braig struggle all the way upright.
“Oh fuck yeah. Real food.” He hated crutches, so he'd been only emerging to meals once a day, and existing on whatever someone thought to bring him, because damned if he was asking anyone to bring him food. From the looks of the tray, Dilan had made it himself, and on the list of superlatives that could be applied to the former dragoon, 'excellent cook' still managed to fight it's way to the top. In moments the tray was set on his bed, and he was diving in with great enthusiasm.
“Been busy?” he asked Dilan, not looking up.
“Mmmn more or less. Had to try and take up the slack for you, didn't I?”
“Aw, fuck you.” the smaller man said cheerfully.
He was most of the way through the meal when he realized he didn't know where the note book he'd been scribbling in only minutes before had gone. Assuming it was under the half-tossed aside blankets, he continued until he heard a mild snort of amusement. Slowly he looked up to discover that Dilan had found it, and from the look on his face, was reading the contents. And being amused as all hell.
“Uhm...” a range of excuses rushed through his head starting with 'it's not mine' which would be really stupid, considering it was in his handwriting, and ending with 'I was bored'. They were followed kind of swiftly by 'ho shit has he gotten to the last story yet?'
“I seriously doubt Even is that flexible,” Dilan said, looking up with a evil smile.
“Ah shut up, it's artistic license.” He was going to be cool about it, that was great.
“There's an awful lot of that in here.” he raised the note book slightly “I particularly like your obsession with Aeleus's body hair. By the way, did you check to see if Ienzo's carpet matches his drapes, or is this speculation?”
“That's sick, Dil.” They stared at each other, and burst out laughing. He shook his head tossing the braid his hair was trapped in during his bed rest over his shoulder. “Dude, communal showers. So I looked. Not a big deal. Actually, a pretty damn big deal for a guy his size, but that's neither here nor there.”
“No, it's here, and there.” he tapped the notebook and leaned forward, braids slipping over his shoulder as he did, giving another one of those devilish, fierce grins. “You know, most of this stuff is written by underage girls... it does not say much for your sex life.”
“What sex life? I haven't gotten laid in months.”
“Yes, that's about what it says about it.” He opened the note book again.
“Hey c'mon, man, you've had your laughs, give it back.”
“But I'm not finished with this story yet. And it looks like there are more.” Dilan raised an eyebrow elegantly. “Surely you have enough pride in your work to let me read it?”
“Not unless you get me drunk first.” he shook his head and held out his hand. “Give.”
“Aw, but they're about to finish...”
“Which- argh, never mind.” he lay back and covered his head with his pillow, somewhat hoping to smother himself. This was so not how he was hoping to broach the subject that he liked Dilan somewhat more than just as a friend.
To his surprise, he felt the note book flop onto his chest, and he raised the pillow.
“If it means that much to you, I won't.” Sitting up again, he looked at his friend in shock. “Just understand, you've condemned me to hours of unfulfilled curiosity as to what in the world you could have written that would make you blush.”
“I'm not blushing.”
“Then you must have developed a fever to go with your broken bone.” He leaned over and touched the back of his hand to Braig's forehead. “Well, with a decent degree of accuracy, you're not feverish, so you must be blushing.”
“Aw bite me.” he swatted the hand away. Dilan stepped back out of range easily folding his arms behind his back and grinning. It took a minute, but he got himself under control.
“Braig?” Dilan sat carefully on the edge of the bed while he threw his slash-book into the nightstand.
“You know those hackney'd plots in those stories never work. If someone wants something, they should be direct.”
“Like how?” The abstract quickly became less so; Dilan kissed him. Dilan had, Braig decided a long time ago, incredibly sexy lips. Hell, he'd decided that before he'd realized that he might like him a lot more than just as a friend. They were good lips and a very impatient talented tongue. All of which added up to him being an astoundingly good kisser, and he was not going to waste a good first kiss on being to damn shocked to kiss back. Because dammnit, he wanted to be the forceful one, to declare his desires, to press them on the other man- Dilan's sudden swoop had kept him from that, but he wasn't going to give up just yet. Even if he was being straddled and pinned to the bed, which was probably a good thing, because if he moved his ankle too much, he was probably going to do more damage to it. Several minutes later, they pulled apart, and Braig grinned up at Dilan, pulling his hand along the smooth length of one braid.
“So... I've been meaning to mention, Dilan, you're too godamn hot for words. You wanna hook up some time?” Dilan smirked down at his smaller friend.
“You're so blunt.”
“I could be worse.” they kissed again, teeth hard and appealing and nipping at lips eagerly.
Braig wondered if Dilan had been thinking about this as long as he had, as he struggled with the fastenings on his shirt. They writhed against each other until their bare chests pressed together, and they had to pull back for another breath.
“You've talked me into it.” Dilan growled. Encouraged, Braig hauled the larger man down for another kiss, hand ghosting down his chest.
Agonizingly, Dilan pulled back.
“We'll both have more fun if we wait until your ankle is healed.” he was having trouble catching his breath and his pupils were dilated. His tongue ran along the edge of his mouth then back inside.
“Fuck that- make outs are totally palliative therapy.”
That earned a few more breath stealing kisses-though perhaps being nearly crushed by someone who had a good foot of height and not- inconsiderable muscle mass had something to do with that. He couldn't bring himself to care though, hooking his arm around Dilan's neck and keeping him in place, bracing with his uninjured foot to rock himself against the other man slightly, without conscious thought.
“Right.” Dilan's breath puffed out. “You're just thinking about kissing.”
Braig grinned haphazardly. “I guess that's just a hazard of you being so sexy.” He nuzzled along the sideburn bedecked line of Dilan's cheek. “You been giving me hard ons for months, you know.”
“Only that long?”
“Yeah, well I'd been ignorin' it since we had to work together. Reached critical mass when we went to the beach.”
“You've seen me naked and wet, Braig, why did that make a difference?”
“You were flirting with someone else.”
“what?” he drew back, crossing his arms over his chest, still straddling Braig's upper thighs. “I didn't-”
“Okay, what do you call that muscle head shit you and Aeleus got into with those other guys then?”
“... It wasn't flirting.”
“Well, good.” He still had a hold of handfuls of braids and he gave a firm tug, trying to drag him back down so he could reach those lips again. Grinning, Dilan pulled back against the yank, enjoying the sensation of the firm pressure on his scalp- but he gave in as Braig wrapped the braids he had hold of around his hand and pulled harder. Besides, the kisses were very good.
Things seemed to be moving on to a very pleasant and at this point foregone conclusion, when a stroke of a large warm hand down over his hip made Braig stop and pause for a moment.
“Maybe we should wait until my ankle is better.”
“What, now you want to wait?” Dilan looked quite put out, almost feral, arms framing the other man's head.
“I don't want to...” He sighed. “Look, Dil, it's just... I've never bottomed... “
Dilan raised an eyebrow, then leaned down, close, almost growling. “Who said anything about you bottoming?”
Braig's jaw dropped a little.
“Let me put it another way; fuck me.” He dipped down and gave another teasing nipping kiss, leaving the smaller man breathless. “What? Are you waiting for me to say 'please'?”
“Just a little surprised.”
“Hey, if I wanted to dip in something I'd get a girl.” He licked his lips and then, slowly licked Braig's for him as well. The smaller man moaned, and mashed their lips together franticly not bothering for a moment to get any more skilled than just contact, his hand fishing along Dilan's back before firmly taking hold of his ass, and using it to yank him even closer. Braids slid along his face as Dilan worked a hand between them searching for the drawstring of Braig's sleep pants, and the waiting hot lump that was pushing them out of shape.
That was, of course when Ansem came in to check on Braig. And he did not buy Braig's theory about makeouts being palliative therapy.
Dilan was rather summarily banished from the room to get back to his work. Braig just counted himself lucky that Ansem felt the embarrassment was as good as a lecture about it.
At last, Ansem had a look at his healing ankle and cheerfully told him it was coming along well, and he would probably be up (and causing mischief) in about a week- as long as he took it easy.
Braig relaxed back into his pillows lifting his ankle- which he could feel he'd put strain on during the makeout, onto a pillow before fishing in his nightstand and retrieving his note book. Somehow, finishing that story with Dilan had a very big appeal. Now... where was he? Ah yes the dashing hero was about to claim his prize... Braig's eyes slid over the last few line's he'd written then skidded to a halt at finding a change of ink- and handwriting.
Dilan's handwriting, to be precise.
“I guess this means you're interested in me, too. I'm going to take my chance- so you'd better fuck as well as you write about it.”
Braig could almost hear the husky growl of his friend's voice in his ear. Braig processed through several thoughts. First, Dilan had read his slash and thought it was good. Second, he had read the slash that involved him, and didn't mind. Third, he had clearly been thinking about this for a while. Braig glared at his ankle.
“Heal FASTER!” he demanded.