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broadwritingTitle: "Retribution"
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: R
Summary: The price of getting your own back.
Feedback: Love it.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Double drabble for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ghani, who asked for Harry/Dom, 'not nice'.
"Here."
Dom catches the towel with an awkward grab and starts to half-heartedly swipe at the sticky-damp streaks of come cooling across his stomach and inner thighs. The disheveled sheets, white with small blue pin-stripes, are stale with a pungent, potent combination of male sweat and hard sex. The low sunlight streaming through the vertical blinds does nothing to hide the broken lamp -- victim of a flailing hand -- and ripped clothing lying carelessly across the floor. More victims.
Dom glances across the room at Harry -- still comfortably nude, all solid muscle and lean danger -- leaning against the bathroom door. "Think you can let yourself out?" Harry asks in a dead-calm voice that's somehow more frightening than the reality of what they'd been doing the last hour. More frightening than remembering how he'd screamed and begged. Dom's wrists still ache with the memory of punishing fingers digging into his vulnerable skin.
"Yeah," Dom shrugs and looks down. Looks away. "Be fucked if we got caught, I reckon."
"Only for you," Harry replies. His eyes are like ice when Dom glances up. "And the next time you fancy getting back at Elijah's infidelities, look elsewhere."
The bathroom door slams on Dom's dying protest.
***
Author: Brenda
Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: R
Summary: The price of getting your own back.
Feedback: Love it.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Double drabble for
ghani, who asked for Harry/Dom, 'not nice'."Here."
Dom catches the towel with an awkward grab and starts to half-heartedly swipe at the sticky-damp streaks of come cooling across his stomach and inner thighs. The disheveled sheets, white with small blue pin-stripes, are stale with a pungent, potent combination of male sweat and hard sex. The low sunlight streaming through the vertical blinds does nothing to hide the broken lamp -- victim of a flailing hand -- and ripped clothing lying carelessly across the floor. More victims.
Dom glances across the room at Harry -- still comfortably nude, all solid muscle and lean danger -- leaning against the bathroom door. "Think you can let yourself out?" Harry asks in a dead-calm voice that's somehow more frightening than the reality of what they'd been doing the last hour. More frightening than remembering how he'd screamed and begged. Dom's wrists still ache with the memory of punishing fingers digging into his vulnerable skin.
"Yeah," Dom shrugs and looks down. Looks away. "Be fucked if we got caught, I reckon."
"Only for you," Harry replies. His eyes are like ice when Dom glances up. "And the next time you fancy getting back at Elijah's infidelities, look elsewhere."
The bathroom door slams on Dom's dying protest.
***
