Fic: The Chocolate Tasters Club
Mar. 11th, 2006 02:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparklebutchTitle: The Chocolate Tasters Club
Fandoms: Buffy, Highlander
Summary: ...In which men are covered in chocolate, and other men lick them, per![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ceruleancat's request.
Note: Three separate bits. Thanksfledge for title and name.
---------------------------------
In his dream, he was sticky and cold and a thousand little warm wet tongues were lapping at him.
He woke up to find it to be partly true. He was indeed sticky - covered in chocolate sauce that looked as if it was sprayed on - and he was lapped at by two warm wet tongues. And his backside was freezing.
"An explanation, please?"
Ethan lifts his head. "Oh, morning, Ripper." He returns to licking.
"Stop this instance and tell me what the hell is going on."
"Aw, don't be such a spoilsport, Rupert."
He lets his head drop back on the hard floors. "Methos. Haven't seen you in a while."
There is a sound in response that starts as an affirmative hum but disintegrates into a gurgle as Methos engulfs chocolate-covered flesh in his mouth.
"How did you lot move me to the floor without waking me, and why?"
"Magic. Mmm." That was Ethan, and he has a spot of chocolate on the tip of his nose.
"...And why?"
"Chocolate." Ethan isn't usually a man of few words, but he seems intent on busying his mouth with other endeavours at the moment.
Giles tries to think of a snappy comeback, but he did just wake up. And he is being licked and sucked and nibbled at by two men who are indescribably good at this sort of activity.
"Ngghh."
It may not be a witty retort, but under the circumstances, Giles feels it is entirely adequate. He runs a finger on his chest and brings it to his mouth, before surrendering completely to the manipulations of his two favourite guilty pleasures.
[end]
---------------------------------
Methos stretches, very lightly, careful not to crack the fine coating of chocolate that covers his entire body. He stands, statuesque, in the middle of the room on a small marble pedestal, and tries not to move too much.
"You're a work of art, Matthews."
He smiles, very, very carefully. The hardest part is to resist the urge to lick his lips.
"I only have a few tiny bare patches left. I'll go get another can of this stuff. Don't you move."
Wasn't going to, Methos thinks. Gail, the artist, disappears through the half-open door.
A moment later, someone returns. It's not Gail.
Ethan. Methos just barely stops himself from saying it out loud. In fear and trepidation.
The other man circles him, eyes travelling up and down and following the curves and the paths where the chocolate dripped, forming layers.
He steps closer.
"No." Methos tries to say it with as few muscle movements as possible, while still retaining a semblance of stern, must-be-obeyed authority.
There is a tiny patch of bronzed skin on his shoulder, where the chocolate isn't quite covering everything. Ethan targets that spot, touches it first with a fingertip and then with his tongue.
Methos whimpers. He's not sure if it's resignation or arousal. Bastard doesn't stop where the chocolate starts, instead licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat and to his ear.
...When Gail returns, the small can of chocolate falls from her hand, spattering the floor. Ethan rises swiftly from his kneeling position, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn't seem apologetic in the least.
Methos looks at her, helpless.
"I didn't move," he finally says.
[end]
---------------------------------
"I really ought to spank you."
Giles looks around at the mess, and cringes. Ethan just grins wide and proud. Methos chuckles. Wesley's the only one who has the sense and decency to look even mildly embarrassed at the situation they were all caught in.
"In the library. In my library!"
There will be hell to pay if even a drop of chocolate went anywhere near the books, the precious, rare, often irreplaceable books. All kinds of fascinating, painful hell. Lucky for them all, he can only spot the sweet sticky remains on the floor, and some on the table. And of course, on Ethan's body, and the other men's faces.
"You should all know better. You are all - most definitely old enough to know better, at least."
Methos is amused, of course; Ethan seems a touch offended. Wesley seems much younger than his years, as is often the case, especially when he's reprimanded.
"Whose idea was that?"
He really isn't sure which is the main culprit. Most likely it isn't Wes, but the other two stand equal chances of being at fault. One thing is clear, he isn't going to get a response any time soon. Ethan licks his own lips thoughtfully.
"And why, in the name of all that isn't holy, did you not wait for me?!"
[end]
Fandoms: Buffy, Highlander
Summary: ...In which men are covered in chocolate, and other men lick them, per
ceruleancat's request.Note: Three separate bits. Thanks
fledge for title and name.---------------------------------
In his dream, he was sticky and cold and a thousand little warm wet tongues were lapping at him.
He woke up to find it to be partly true. He was indeed sticky - covered in chocolate sauce that looked as if it was sprayed on - and he was lapped at by two warm wet tongues. And his backside was freezing.
"An explanation, please?"
Ethan lifts his head. "Oh, morning, Ripper." He returns to licking.
"Stop this instance and tell me what the hell is going on."
"Aw, don't be such a spoilsport, Rupert."
He lets his head drop back on the hard floors. "Methos. Haven't seen you in a while."
There is a sound in response that starts as an affirmative hum but disintegrates into a gurgle as Methos engulfs chocolate-covered flesh in his mouth.
"How did you lot move me to the floor without waking me, and why?"
"Magic. Mmm." That was Ethan, and he has a spot of chocolate on the tip of his nose.
"...And why?"
"Chocolate." Ethan isn't usually a man of few words, but he seems intent on busying his mouth with other endeavours at the moment.
Giles tries to think of a snappy comeback, but he did just wake up. And he is being licked and sucked and nibbled at by two men who are indescribably good at this sort of activity.
"Ngghh."
It may not be a witty retort, but under the circumstances, Giles feels it is entirely adequate. He runs a finger on his chest and brings it to his mouth, before surrendering completely to the manipulations of his two favourite guilty pleasures.
[end]
---------------------------------
Methos stretches, very lightly, careful not to crack the fine coating of chocolate that covers his entire body. He stands, statuesque, in the middle of the room on a small marble pedestal, and tries not to move too much.
"You're a work of art, Matthews."
He smiles, very, very carefully. The hardest part is to resist the urge to lick his lips.
"I only have a few tiny bare patches left. I'll go get another can of this stuff. Don't you move."
Wasn't going to, Methos thinks. Gail, the artist, disappears through the half-open door.
A moment later, someone returns. It's not Gail.
Ethan. Methos just barely stops himself from saying it out loud. In fear and trepidation.
The other man circles him, eyes travelling up and down and following the curves and the paths where the chocolate dripped, forming layers.
He steps closer.
"No." Methos tries to say it with as few muscle movements as possible, while still retaining a semblance of stern, must-be-obeyed authority.
There is a tiny patch of bronzed skin on his shoulder, where the chocolate isn't quite covering everything. Ethan targets that spot, touches it first with a fingertip and then with his tongue.
Methos whimpers. He's not sure if it's resignation or arousal. Bastard doesn't stop where the chocolate starts, instead licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat and to his ear.
...When Gail returns, the small can of chocolate falls from her hand, spattering the floor. Ethan rises swiftly from his kneeling position, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn't seem apologetic in the least.
Methos looks at her, helpless.
"I didn't move," he finally says.
[end]
---------------------------------
"I really ought to spank you."
Giles looks around at the mess, and cringes. Ethan just grins wide and proud. Methos chuckles. Wesley's the only one who has the sense and decency to look even mildly embarrassed at the situation they were all caught in.
"In the library. In my library!"
There will be hell to pay if even a drop of chocolate went anywhere near the books, the precious, rare, often irreplaceable books. All kinds of fascinating, painful hell. Lucky for them all, he can only spot the sweet sticky remains on the floor, and some on the table. And of course, on Ethan's body, and the other men's faces.
"You should all know better. You are all - most definitely old enough to know better, at least."
Methos is amused, of course; Ethan seems a touch offended. Wesley seems much younger than his years, as is often the case, especially when he's reprimanded.
"Whose idea was that?"
He really isn't sure which is the main culprit. Most likely it isn't Wes, but the other two stand equal chances of being at fault. One thing is clear, he isn't going to get a response any time soon. Ethan licks his own lips thoughtfully.
"And why, in the name of all that isn't holy, did you not wait for me?!"
[end]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-11 02:31 am (UTC)I think I love the statue best, the details about the bronze patch of skin, the feeling of not being able to move.
But they're all wonderful!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-11 11:28 am (UTC)