przed

A massively late birthday pressie for the ever lovely

ancastar...

Title: Completely Undone
Author: P.R. Zed
Fandom: Pros
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Note: An expansion of the drabble Undone. This one's a drabble times six.

It's been a good night--a nice meal at our favourite restaurant, a few pints afterwards at his local--and it's looking to be better still now that I'm here in his flat.

He slings his jacket--the black leather one that shows his arse so nicely--onto the hatstand and leans against the wall, wearing too tight jeans and a shirt open three buttons more than is decent. My fingers itch and burn just looking at him, thumbs hooked in his belt, one booted foot crossed over the other, a satisfied smirk lurking at the corners of that lush mouth.

Am I going to let him get away with it, looking like a debauched angel? Fucked if I am.

I take one step, then another, moving close and closer still, until there's only room for breath between us, breath and heat. I raise a hand, running my thumb across his bottom lip. That wipes the smirk off his face. His lips part slightly, and I can see his tongue, pink against the white of that chipped front tooth. I want to taste him now, taste the treacle of his dessert and the bitter of his pint. Taste him. But anticipation is its own pleasure, so I stop myself from leaning forward, from taking his mouth with mine.

Instead I trail my fingers down his cheek, down his throat, down his chest, concentrating on the silk of his skin. I stop when I reach the first restraining button, grasping the soft cotton of his shirt with one finger, pulling the fabric away from his skin. I look up, taking pleasure in his obvious arousal, his pupils blown out till only black shows, his chest heaving with the effort of remaining still, his head tipped back against the wall so I can clearly see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows and swallows again.

I could take him now; I want desperately to take him now. My skin is alive with awareness of him; my own breathing comes fast and loud in my ears. But I won't give in to the temptation. Not yet. I've started this game and I'll play it out to the end.

I put one hand above his head, the wall cool against the heat of my palm, and lean in further, letting my cheek almost brush against his, letting my breath stir the curls at the base of his skull. The other hand I trail down one arm, letting the fingertips skim his sleeve. The pressure is enough that he should feel the fabric stir against his skin, but no more.

His eyes close, his head tips back still further, and he moans, the sound emerging from deep in the back of his throat.

"Bodie," he grumbles, but I put a finger on his lips before he can say more.

"Shhh," I breathe into his ear. I feel his lips purse against the tip of my finger, but he doesn't speak again. His eyes open and I see a need in them as great as my own. Not long now. Not long for either of us.

I trail the finger at his lips back down his body, his chin, his throat, his chest, letting it linger at the waistband of his jeans. It hovers there as we both hover, poised on the edge of a precipice we badly want to fall from.

"Go on, then," he says, breaking the silence between us. His voice is rough and low and it razes the last of my resolve.

I put my hand on his belt buckle and pull.