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I wanted to do a nice domestic drabble to lube my fingers up (hah) for more writing. So here is a small and fairly un-edited Jensard fic. It's a bit rough, I'm trying to be faster with writing. Has a dog in it.
Felicia was too old and well-mannered to bark at Adam’s knock, but she did hop off Frank’s couch and stump her way up to the door, her small puff of tail wagging slowly.
“That’ll be him,” he told her, and she obligingly moved out of his way while he undid each lock and opened the door.
Adam stood there on the threshold, wearing a shirt – a real, honest-to-God buttoned shirt – smart slacks, and if it wasn’t for the six-pack of beer, could look as though they were going out to a high-end restaurant. The smile was all for him, and it clutched at something in his chest (as well as other parts), until Adam glanced downwards at Felicia sniffing his shoes.
“Hey,” Adam crouched down and offered her his augmented knuckles, voice that high purr reserved for animals and children, “hey, sweetheart. Are you a nice dog? I bet you are.”
Felicia examined Adam’s hand and gave it an experimental lick, but pulled back and sniffed again at the metal.
He closed the door and picked up the abandoned beer. “I guess I’ll put these in the fridge. Adam? Yes?”
“What? Oh.” Adam looked up from rubbing behind Felicia’s ears with both of his hands, her lamb-like fur curling in his fingers, “Oh, yeah, thanks.”
Adam’s baby-talk praise followed him out to the kitchen. He rolled his eyes at the dishes, but took out two clean glasses anyway, filled them with some pre-chilled beer and shoved the new beer to the back of the fridge. Hmm. Between the half-eaten takeout boxes and almost-empty soda bottles, it could really do with a clean.
“She’s a good dog.” Adam stood there in the doorway of the kitchen, Felicia hot on his heels and gazing up in canine worship. “How long do you have her for?”
“Well, Mrs Sherridan’s on her cruise for another three weeks. Bahamas. And yeah, Felicia’s a good dog – quiet too, which is important. I don’t think I could have coped with a six-month old Rottweiler, but I doubt Mrs Sherridan could either – she’s seventy-three.” He passed Adam one of the beers, and lingered on the way that lean throat bobbed when Adam swallowed. A sip of his own, and under the cold white LED lights, green and yellow eyes followed his movements. Ah, that was how the night would end. Good.
He cleared his throat to say something flirtatious, but Felicia chose that moment to flop down in front of Adam and carefully roll over to expose her stomach.
Adam made an un-Adamish coo of delight and crouched back down, rubbing and tickling. “Are you happy I’m here, sweetheart? Wish I could take you home with me, I’ve missed having a dog…”
He sidled round to Adam’s shoulder, lay his palm against the exposed back of neck that peeked under the shirt. “I am also happy you’re here, Adam.”
The grin up at him was all lecherous intent. “Glad to hear it. You be a good boy and you can get your belly rubbed later too. Gotta roll over first, though. Then you get your treat.”
He snorted to hide the threatening smile. “Uh…huh. Would you like to drag that exhausted metaphor out even further, Adam? Something to do with collars, leashes… toys?”
“Ooh. Your new dad’s a dirty man, Felicia.” Adam stood and took another sip of beer, the foam clinging to the hair on his upper lip, but kept their eyes locked. A beat of comfortable silence, and then Adam swerved Felicia – still lying on the floor and begging with her eyes for more scratches – and steered him with a lazy confidence by the hip until his ass hit the edge of the kitchen counter. A thigh found its way between his legs and pressed until he parted them further. Hands bracketed him there, and the delight of playing prisoner kept him from thinking – until Adam kissed him.
Far from the ferocious, heat-filled joining he expected, Adam kissed slowly, thoroughly, like it was the first time all over again. Something sincere, something honest. He inhaled through his nose and let the tension in his body go, slowly, like sinking into a cold lake. His arms came up around Adam’s shoulders and held them together, contained in the moment.
When they broke apart after a while, everything had blurred, and the taste of Adam and beer was a delicacy to be savoured on his tongue.
Hot breath blew against his neck in a sigh. Beard hairs rasped against the hollow of his shoulder and he shivered. Adam’s lips moved from his throat to his ear. “You promised me a movie night.”
“Later, I –”
“Hmm, now, Frank. I know there won’t be a later if we get to it.” The thigh between his legs pressed again and an absurd, wordless plea came from his mouth. “It’s real easy to get you in bed, and real hard to get you to leave. I’m not complaining too much – but I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week, and I want to drag it out as much as we can.”
“You’re… not helping the - the situation…”
The pressure eased. He took in a deep breath and threw a glare at Adam, who deflected it with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, baby – later’s gonna be worth the wait. Promise.”
Before he could say anything else, Adam’s head cocked downwards. Felicia, tired of waiting for them to stop their canoodling and notice her, had hopped onto her back legs, front paws against Adam’s slacks. Adam hauled her up into his arms, and the juxtaposition of a large man with metal limbs holding an elderly Bichon Frisé (who was making a frantic attempt to lick his face) was… certainly something. “You want to watch a movie with us, sweetheart? You do, don’t you?”
He straightened himself as much as he could – even if he didn’t look it, he felt thoroughly dishevelled – and, for one blazing and heartless moment, silently cursed the concept of cruises.
They moved from the kitchen to the living room, Adam still holding Felicia, and settled on the couch. To his relief, Adam set Felicia to one side instead of in the middle. He took his rightful place – pressed thigh-to-thigh with Adam – and fiddled with the remote with one hand. The other hand stole to the back of Adam’s neck again, and his fingers found and rubbed tense cords of muscle. “All right, what are we watching?”
“Nothing scary. Nothing – ah, down a bit – nothing with robots. And nothing where the dog dies. Pirates?”
“Pirates it is.”
Halfway through, against the rousing score and vast oceanscape shots, a solid weight and pointed feet moved on his leg. Felicia draped herself over both of their laps, pausing only to stare up at him and twitch her tail. He gave her a reassuring ear rub while Adam’s fingers stroked over her back. She flopped down and sighed, her chin resting on his thigh. She really was a good dog.
Adam’s arm looped itself over his shoulder. He relaxed, cheek against the warmth of Adam’s chest, and gave his own slightly-doggish sigh of contentment as the movie soared above waves and clouds and tropical islands.
