Spin Cycle

Mar. 12th, 2007 02:15 pm
trashywoman69: Angel TV Series (Default)
[personal profile] trashywoman69
Title: Spin Cycle
Author: Trashy Woman
Pairing: Warrick/Brass
Rating: R
Category is: Humor
Summary: Jim’s in trouble and lovin’ it.
Archive: Absolutely
Feedback: Always appreciated
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. No profit is made from this writi


"Whose fucking socks are these?" Warrick's indignant shout brought his lover halfway down the stairs to their basement as he continued, “Neither of us own gray ones, all mine are white or black ... " As realization dawned, his complaint dribbled off into silence, an angry silence, broken only by the washer starting its work on the first load of their laundry.


Jim could just be heard attempting a discrete escape back up to safety.


"Get down here," Warrick roared, bringing his errant mate to his side, that cheeky grin which had covered many a misdemeanor, much in evidence.


"What’s the problem, Rick?" Jim asked innocently. Butter wouldn't melt in this man's mouth.


"These," Warrick dangled the offending items under his partner's nose, "These are the problem. They're my socks. They were my white socks. What did you do to them?"


Jim's nose wrinkled with the indelicate aroma rising almost visibly from the footwear. He tried a diversionary tactic. "It'll wash out, Rick, don't make such a fuss."


"What will wash out?" The voice was dangerously low, very controlled.

"It's just a little oil." The whining was having the opposite effect from that apparently intended.


Rick felt his blood pressure rising. "And how did it get on my socks?"


"Well, your car leaked it all over the garage floor." Jim seemed to be trying the best form of defense--attack.


"So it's my fault you got oil all over my socks?" There really was no answer to this. Jim glanced round the dimly lit basement, possibly seeking inspiration, as Warrick continued, "What were you doing wearing them anyway?"


"What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, lover." Jim's eyes were large in the gloom, his smile seductive.


Rick summoned sufficient strength to resist the lure. He advanced on his paramour, using his height advantage to it’s fullest, trying to physically dominate the argument as Jim backed away into the table where their laundry was dumped for sorting. "My possessions are only yours when you take good care of them. These socks belong to no one now, they belong in the trash, and you are going to buy the replacements." He flung them in a grand gesture to the deepest recesses of the basement.


“Why were you wearing them in the first place? Warrick asked, all the while glaring down at his lover.


“Um… well, they were in my drawer.” Jim answered smugly.


“And how did they get in your drawer? Who did laundry last?”


Jim looked crestfallen before he answered. “Ah… I did.”


“That’s what I thought.”


Jim decided it was time to change tactics. He picked up the nearest item from the pile of unsorted laundry on the table. It was their bed sheet from last night, liberally covered with the evidence of their passion. Holding it up, he pointed to a convenient, translucent stain. "Remember this one, Rick?" His green-eyed beauty froze in his advance. "This happened when you were uncapping the KY and I bit your balls. Remember? You squeezed the tube so hard it went all over the bed." He paused and Warrick felt himself flush slightly.


"And look at this one, Rick." Jim continued with unrestrained enthusiasm. He lovingly stroked a pale blotch on the dark cotton. "I made this one when you fucked me the first time. It was so slow I was going mad. I thought I was never gonna get there, and you knew it, didn't you? You really love to string me out like that don't you? I could feel every inch of your cock inside me, rubbing, pressing, filling me over and over and over. Then you pushed in so deep I thought you were gonna come out my navel, and then you squeezed my balls. God, that was wonderful." He smiled a wide reminiscent grin.


Rick's mouth went dry. His breathing quickened. The basement suddenly seemed much hotter. He could feel those passionate moments echoing through his body right now. He was on fire, his body singing with desire.


"But this is my favorite stain." Jim declared. "This one wins the gold medal. You remember this one." He waited for an answer, the sheet draped over his arm, raised it to sniff appreciatively at some dark marks. Warrick knew himself, he was securely hooked and being reeled in. He loved it.


"Yeah," Jim drawled. "This one happened when I poured the chocolate sauce onto your stomach. It kept running down into your groin and I had to lick it off you." Jim looked up from under heavy lids, and Rick, the fish, willingly threw himself upon Jim‘s hook.


Jim had turned the tables on his not so irate lover, conveniently backing him up against the washing machine.


"Wanna dirty some more laundry?" Jim murmured into Warrick's neck as they leant against the machine, squeezing together, trying to eliminate all the space between their bodies. "Spin cycle's coming up next ... "


Warrick laughed out loud, grabbing his lover around the waist, spinning him around and heaving him up onto the washing machine, he deposited him there with a plop.


Jim smirked. Fish caught, hook, line and sinker.


As the washing machine began to shake, Jim knew he was in for one hell of a ride!



End
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