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salmon_pinkTitle: Brogue
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Trip/Fitz
Rating: R
Words: 461
Timeline: Ragtag
Notes: Spoilers for the entirety of Agents Of SHIELD Season One. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comicdrabbles, prompt "going in for the kill".
They’re in the cramped motel bathroom, probably only a matter of time before they’re disturbed, and Trip’s determined not to waste this opportunity. He’s been biding his time for too long already, getting a feel for the team and their dynamics, trying to figure out Fitz’s attitude towards him. Now everything’s about to go to hell, and if Trip’s going out he wants this last good memory, this last press of skin-on-skin.
Fitz is trying to hold back his voice, except he’s doing a pretty terrible job of it. Clenching his teeth around these soft little whines and moans, and Trip grins and rocks his hips forward, grinding Fitz against the wall, enjoying the way those bright blue eyes go unfocused when he does.
“Been waiting on you, you know,” he murmurs, watching Fitz’s eyelashes flutter. “Couldn’t figure out your problem, at first. Thought you just didn’t like the way I talk to Simmons.”
Fitz’s gaze slides away from him, because they both know that’s true enough. Fitz is protective of Simmons, and Trip is pretty open in his appreciation of her.
“But I finally realised it’s more than that,” Trip continues, fingers curling under the waistband of Fitz’s underwear, feeling the hot skin of his navel. “Finally realised I wasn’t imagining the way you look at me.”
There’s a flush across Fitz’s face already, but if possible it grows more pronounced the longer Trip talks. And Trip gets it, he does. It’s got to have been hard enough to be such a big brain in such a stubbornly dull world, but Fitz announcing he likes guys probably seemed like a step too far to him. So Fitz plays that one close to his chest, but Trip’s been watching Fitz as intently as Fitz has been watching him. Seeing the way Fitz’s gaze lingered on him in the reflection of the lab doors, the way he’s always hyper-tuned to everything Trip says.
“It wasn’t your imagination, no,” Fitz admits quietly, head falling back against the wall. His voice is more hoarse than usual, brogue more pronounced. Trip loves languages, he’s fluent in several, and there’s something about different accents that just gets to him.
Another roll of his hips, and Fitz curses and clings to him, Trip drinking in that pretty Scottish voice.
“Glad I didn’t wait any longer, then,” he smiles, and Fitz nods, arching up for another kiss Trip is all too happy to give. Getting a hand on Fitz’s ass, bodies dragging together.
Tomorrow they’re going after Garrett and Ward and every other Hydra asshole who gets in their path. But tonight Trip gets that accent and those groans, Fitz sucking eagerly on his tongue, the smell of the bathroom’s mildew lost under the scent of Fitz’s skin.
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Trip/Fitz
Rating: R
Words: 461
Timeline: Ragtag
Notes: Spoilers for the entirety of Agents Of SHIELD Season One. For
comicdrabbles, prompt "going in for the kill".They’re in the cramped motel bathroom, probably only a matter of time before they’re disturbed, and Trip’s determined not to waste this opportunity. He’s been biding his time for too long already, getting a feel for the team and their dynamics, trying to figure out Fitz’s attitude towards him. Now everything’s about to go to hell, and if Trip’s going out he wants this last good memory, this last press of skin-on-skin.
Fitz is trying to hold back his voice, except he’s doing a pretty terrible job of it. Clenching his teeth around these soft little whines and moans, and Trip grins and rocks his hips forward, grinding Fitz against the wall, enjoying the way those bright blue eyes go unfocused when he does.
“Been waiting on you, you know,” he murmurs, watching Fitz’s eyelashes flutter. “Couldn’t figure out your problem, at first. Thought you just didn’t like the way I talk to Simmons.”
Fitz’s gaze slides away from him, because they both know that’s true enough. Fitz is protective of Simmons, and Trip is pretty open in his appreciation of her.
“But I finally realised it’s more than that,” Trip continues, fingers curling under the waistband of Fitz’s underwear, feeling the hot skin of his navel. “Finally realised I wasn’t imagining the way you look at me.”
There’s a flush across Fitz’s face already, but if possible it grows more pronounced the longer Trip talks. And Trip gets it, he does. It’s got to have been hard enough to be such a big brain in such a stubbornly dull world, but Fitz announcing he likes guys probably seemed like a step too far to him. So Fitz plays that one close to his chest, but Trip’s been watching Fitz as intently as Fitz has been watching him. Seeing the way Fitz’s gaze lingered on him in the reflection of the lab doors, the way he’s always hyper-tuned to everything Trip says.
“It wasn’t your imagination, no,” Fitz admits quietly, head falling back against the wall. His voice is more hoarse than usual, brogue more pronounced. Trip loves languages, he’s fluent in several, and there’s something about different accents that just gets to him.
Another roll of his hips, and Fitz curses and clings to him, Trip drinking in that pretty Scottish voice.
“Glad I didn’t wait any longer, then,” he smiles, and Fitz nods, arching up for another kiss Trip is all too happy to give. Getting a hand on Fitz’s ass, bodies dragging together.
Tomorrow they’re going after Garrett and Ward and every other Hydra asshole who gets in their path. But tonight Trip gets that accent and those groans, Fitz sucking eagerly on his tongue, the smell of the bathroom’s mildew lost under the scent of Fitz’s skin.
