Starting Out

Author: Lou

*~*     *~*     *~*

Turning his face into Rob's lap, Tim shivered as careful fingers danced over his sore backside.

"Do you remember how we started all this? Hmm?"

"God, shut up."

"No?" mused Rob, "Well thankfully I am not so far down the path to senility. I'd bollocked for something or other and once you stopped pouting –No! It's true!-you pretty much shagged me through the mattress. It is picking up on subtle hints like that really make a man a Top."

Tim grinned.

"I daren't say a cross word to you for a month after for fear I'd be molested mid-rant."

"Shurrup."

*~*     *~*     *~*

No Fix

Author: Lou

*~*     *~*     *~*

"I don't want you to fix me. I don't NEED fixing. I have good and bad points just like you. You won't make me remember not to panic at my workload by spanking me any more than it'd make you stop snoring."

"So why do you want it?" Rob asked.

Looking away, Tim took a deep breath, his hands braced on his hips. A long moment passed as he thought how best to say those most blush- and heat –inducing words. Clearing his throat he wrapped his arms across his mid-section.

"I want to know you can be bigger than me."

*~*     *~*     *~*

Better Now

Author: Lou

*~*     *~*     *~*

Tim took three small steps, walking his feet in toward the side of the bed as he slowly stood upright with a grace he truly did not know he possessed. Pressing his teeth hard against each other, his breath rushed through his nose as he tried to acclimatise to the heat of his backside. Jesus!

Behind him, Rob unwound the leather belt from around his hand and neatly dropped it onto the laundry pile, kicking a damp towel over it. He'd retrieve it later.

"Better now?" Rob asked.

Tim stared at the far wall for a long moment before he turned to face his partner. Arms hung loosely by his side as he pressed his nails into his palms, face flushed and quite obviously in some pain, he cleared the hair from his eyes with a quick toss of his head and gave Rob the most open, honest look he'd managed all week, though his voice was strained.

"Yes."

Rob let out a breath he had only been half aware of holding and stepped into Tim, his hands coming up to frame this most beloved of faces. Placing a gentle kiss on the trembling lips, Rob wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, holding tight as Tim clung to him in a bruising hug that Rob silently accepted as fair due given the pain he'd just inflicted.

A shiver ran through the man and then Rob felt Tim search for his mouth with his own as he sought to transform the energy that buzzed between them into something more, something different. Glancing over Tim's shoulder, Rob eyed the distance to the bed and carefully tipped him backwards; tumbling them both onto the somewhat rumpled sheets.


The End

*~*     *~*     *~*

A Challenge Story

Author: Lou

Written for the Tea Room March 2010 Challenge 

*~*   *~*    *~*

Tim frowned.

"Does this smell right to you?"

Rob sniffed the proffered carton, his face contorting at the curdled milk.

"Congratulations, you made yoghurt', he said drily, and resigned himself to black coffee. His partner took another deep sniff and Rob shook his head. Tim was trusting in very many things, but dairy was not one of them.

Setting the milk on the counter, Tim braced a tanned arm on fridge and leant down to survey its hidden depths. Rob rocked back on his chair slightly and grinned at the view; Tim's jeans pulled nicely tight as he prodded at some mysterious Tupperware container on the lower shelf.

Facing the evidence of one too many evenings happily distracted by anything but shopping, Tim gave in to the inevitable.

"We need to shop."

The legs of the chair clattered back onto the tile and Rob groaned. "But it's Saturday!"

"Yeah? So?"

"There'll be kids everywhere!"

Tim smiled. "It's okay, honey, they're relatively harmless unless provoked."

"Easy for you to say: you're a teacher."

"And you're my Top; stop whining. Come on", he coaxed, dragging Rob from his seat, "On your feet and into battle. I'm driving."

"Pest."

Tim waggled his bum and laughed as Rob made ready use of the target and landed a playful slap across one cheek and dug his fingers into Tim's ribs, causing the man the screech and pull free, dashing out the door.

Rob shook his head as the cat made use of his warm and newly vacated chair, and
snatched the green bags from the back of the pantry door as he pocketed his
wallet. Scratching the grizzled tabby, he murmured, "You've got the right idea,
mate."

Looking over the roof of the car, Tim stuck his lip out in a comical pout at Rob's reluctance to face the Saturday masses, followed by a bark of laughter at the gesture directed his way. Rob tossed the shopping bags through to the back seat and jumped in as Tim put the car into reverse.

A sudden sickening crunch of metal dragging on concrete had Tim hitting the brakes in a panic. Rob pulled on the handbrake as his partner leapt from the driver's seat and rushed to the rear of the car. Rob saw his face pale and realised why as he caught sight of the brightly coloured plastic and metal twisted under the bumper bar, and the dislocated spokes of the small wheel.

Rob dropped to his knees, blood pounding in his head as he anticipated a small broken form. Searching under the car with hands and eyes, he felt a wave of almost sickening relief when it became clear there was no child. Sitting back on one heel, he tried to catch his breath. Jesus. His next thought turned to his partner who was gasping.

"Love, love it's okay. It's okay, just a trike. Some kid's left his fucking trike in the drive."

He stood on all too shaky legs and reached out an arm to reassure Tim that all was well as the man bent at the waist and vomited onto the warm concrete at his feet. Rob encircled him with his arms and steered him away from both the mess and the ruined toy, before pulling him down onto the lawn and into his lap.

"It's okay, it's okay. I've got you. Shh. I've got you."

Tim curled into Rob's body and his voice cracked as he sobbed, "I could have killed someone's kid! Rob? I could have-"

Rob hugged him fiercely and rocked back and forth, not giving a damn for the neighbours who had gathered on verandas and behind twitching curtains as the all too rare drama unfolded in the street. "Shh, you didn't. No one is hurt. Tim, look at me", he said ducking his head and raising Tim's chin so he could look at the pain-filled eyes of the man he loved, "No one is hurt. Breathe for me, honey."

Continuing to cradle to trembling and distraught man, Rob glanced at the trike again. Turning away, Mrs McNeely caught his eye as she leant over the fence, anxiety overcoming a natural reluctance to intrude. "Pet?"

Not wanting to think about anyone but Tim, Rob waved a hand and reassured her as he gathered Tim's long legs and braced himself to heft the man into his arms. Making his way slowly up the lawn with his burden clinging tightly around his neck; Rob left his neighbour tuttering her concern and best wishes.


The End

Take It!

Title: Take It!
Author: Lou
Characters: Rob and Tim
Author's Note: Written for the Tea Room's Three-minute Fiction Challenge: Laughing and Crying

~*~*~

"Piss off!"

"Tim!"

The back door slammed, only to be flung open seconds later by Rob. Everything, everything, was going wrong today and he was just so fed up. Dammit!

Slamming his way through the house, Tim stumbled over and kicked at boxes of books listing drunkenly and gathering dust in the passage way, awaiting donation to the op shop and never seeming to make it. Growling and adding this to his seething hate of the day thus far, the man let loose a stream of invective. The more pissed off he became the calmer Rob got until he just wanted to scream. And did, the sound bouncing back at him from the walls of their bedroom. Hearing Rob behind him, Tim rounded on the man.

"I hate-"

"Enough!" Rob barked. "Not another word!"

"Fine!" he yelled, fumbling at his belt and ripping it through the loops. Thrusting it into Rob's hand, he let out a howl of frustration as the other man simply held up his palms refusing to rise to the bait or take the course Tim had laid out and was intent on steering them both along in his fury. "Take it!"

"No."

"I said take it! You know you want to! I'm a shit and a disappointment and a crap boyfriend. You're supposed to be in charge, show me you've got some bloody balls and just do it!"

"Stop!"

Rob took hold of Tim by the shoulders and firmly steered him out of their bedroom, giving a stronger push and a single hard whack on his bum when the protesting man braced his bare feet against the floor.

"Out and calm down. Right now!"

Tim turned and tried to push back past Rob, who blocked his path with his arm on the door frame and a look that he very rarely found cause to use. Miserable and furious and too wound up to care, Tim tried once more to goad Rob, though whether to fuel the fight or end it, he could not say. He waved the tightly clenched belt close to Rob's face, causing the other man to blink.

"You know you want to!"

Rob held fast, not bothering to hide his own unhappiness, even as he tried to avoid stoking his partner's. He knew he sounded weary and that that would scare Tim, who so often worried about people getting sick of him, but he could not lie to him.

"No. That's not how I win arguments. And it is not bloody fair if you think it gives you licence to say and do anything you please to me, no matter how hurtful, and then I have to forgive you just because you took a hiding. It doesn't work like that. I have a right to be mad, and you will just have to deal."

With that, Rob shut the door, leaving a shocked and suddenly silent Tim standing in the hallway.

Several minutes later he realised Rob was not about to relent. The door was not locked, and the fact that Rob trusted him enough to leave it so felt both hopeful and damning in light of his behaviour. Holding back tears and rushing shame that threatened to overwhelm now that the heady and blinding beauty of adrenalin was leaving, Tim stalked into the kitchen and paced; fretting now that the yelling was done. Finding no answers looming from the view outside, the cool of the fridge or the quiet tick of the timer on the oven, Tim slumped down onto the chair by the table and cried.

"Fuck", he whispered fiercely, "You are such a prick, Tim Delaney."

Exhausted, Tim sniffed deeply, swallowing the thick mucus in his mouth and tried to control his hitching breathing. He wanted Rob.

This time the books were spared though he made a mental note to actually shift them. Hesitating, he stood, head resting against the cool wood of the door and just listened to the sounds his partner made on the other side as he opened and closed drawers, stripped the bed and generally pottered. Doing what he could to keep occupied until he too was ready to let the day's nastiness go, Tim realised with a flush of guilt.

Bringing his hand up, Tim tentatively tapped his knuckle on the wood panel. "Knock knock."

Rob paused in what he was doing and heard the misery in the other man's quiet words. This was an old game, one they'd often used when Tim was learning how to come down after an explosion and do that hardest of things. It was telling that his partner returned to the tactic now.

"Who's there?"

"Sorry."

"Sorry who?"

"Sorry Rob."

Sighing, Rob opened the door and pulled Tim inside and into a hug. "C'mere you."

R. I. C. E.

Title: R. I. C. E. 

Author: Lou

Characters: Rob and Tim

Author's Note: Sorry to say, the details of school uniform are accurate, save that I was in an
itchy tartan skirt. Still can't stand maroon all these years later....Just a tentative little story, so here goes.

*************

"Rob!"

Dropping my bag by the door, not caring as my class's school work slid out onto the damp tiles, I shouted again, seriously in need of some comforting noises and general fussing. What a shit day. I peeled off my sodden windbreaker, which muffled some of my swearing as it got tangled over my head and arms, before it was flung in the general direction of the coat hooks.

I heard the back door slam and moments later Rob was rushing down the passage way to me. Resisting the urge to draw my injured foot up and look all the more pathetic, I settled on a gentle whimper of dismay. I wasn't that surprised when it was matched by Rob's and was quite happy to abandon the stoic expression I had attempted to pull off whilst hobbling home and gave into his embrace as he helped me to the lounge room and onto the couch, before he dashed into the kitchen.

My fingers were numb and the wet laces were refusing to co-operate and I twisted my mouth in agitation at my stupidity.

Returning armed with supplies, Rob settled on the edge of the coffee table, putting the bandage and ice pack in easy reach. Batting my hands out of the way, he divested me of my shoes and socks, all the while watching my face for signs of pain. Frankly, I would have thought my gasping and twitching would have given the game away. Rob cradled my foot in his lap and began his examination. Carefully manipulating my ankle, he pressed gentle fingers against the swelling and tutted over the emerging bruise colouring my aching foot.

"Well I don't think you've broken anything, but it is going to be sore for a good few days. How'd this happen?"

Yeah, I really would have rathered not elaborate on that and hoped my muttered, "You know" would have sufficed. Rob's pointed look told me the gambit had been wasted.

God, I felt such a twat. Clumsy Tim strikes again. Well, to be fair, Rob never said that. "Slipped on the tram tracks in Robertson Road. It is so wet out there. Have you been in the workshop all day?"

"It happens, never mind. Wait – tram? Where's your car?"

"I lent it to Steve. His wouldn't start and he's too far out for public transport. It's too crap a night to be trying to get home that way."

"That was nice of you. I'll drop you in in the morning, no problem. I'll get you after, too, if needed."

My breath caught in mild shock as he pressed the ice pack to me and I instinctively tried to pull back.

"Shh, you need this. Twenty minutes. R.I.C.E: rest, ice, compression, elevation. You'll have it all, so settle. I'll wrap it after this."

"Price", I murmured distractedly, watching his fingers in their soothing motion up and down my shin.

"Huh?"

"Price. At school, in sport, we were taught P.R.I.C.E. Prayer. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. Prayer came before anything."

Rob snorted and shook his head, "Jeez, your school."

I smiled and sank back into the couch, letting my bum scoot forward, flexing my knee and trusting him enough not to watch what he was doing to my foot.

"Yeah well, it was a tiny school. My P.E. teacher was also my math and Bible Studies teacher."

"I would have liked to see you at school, all trussed up in that uniform. "

I laughed, recalling the unappetising sight of me clad in maroon blazer, grey shorts and tartan tie. Oh yeah, dead sexy.

"I looked like a pimply Angus Young", I said. "Only far less skilled on guitar."

Lifting my leg slightly, he stood up and stuffed a cushion under my foot before heading into the kitchen. I could hear him belatedly kick off his work boots – he never wears them in from the workshop out back, but I guess I did kind of yell- and scratch around in the junk drawer by the phone until he came up with what he was after. I was just relaxing, getting used to the throbbing ache and its accompanying burn from the ice pack when Rob prodded me on the shoulder and held a glass in front of my face.

"Tim. Take these", he said. Lazily I opened my mouth and he grinned as he popped two ibuprofen into my waiting mouth.

"I'm going to make some dinner, you rest. I mean it, you move off that couch and your ankle won't be the only thing aching. Got it? And -" he glared, as I sat forward and reached a hand toward my foot, "Leave that ice on!"

Yes, Boss.

"Rob!"

He popped his head around the door frame, tea towel in hand. "What?"

"I love you."

He shook his head and smiled. "Dinner'll be ready soon. Rest."


The End

Quibble

Title: Quibble

Author: Lou

Characters: Rob and Tim

Tim stilled his hips and tried to hold a straight face as Rob growled at the sudden change in pace.

"Jesus, Tim-"

Braced on his arms, Tim gave in and grinned as he felt Rob's legs tighten around him, heels digging into his backside as he was urged to don't. bloody. stop.

"About that new surfboard..?"

Rob's eyes quickly focussed and he shot an incredulous look at the man. "You want to talk about surfing? Now??"

Tim's lips twitched and he shrugged as well as able in that position, "I like surfing. It's a really good board."

Panting, Rob reached up and clasped the back of Tim's neck, forcing his partner to lower himself. Locked chest to chest, Tim felt Rob suddenly made quite the compelling argument.

"If you dare stop or mention that damn board in the next 10 minutes, I promise I'll leather your cheeky arse."

Well, who could quibble with that?

Moments later, Rob landed a sharp slap on the brat's bum and his body shook with laughter as he recognised the tune Tim was humming. 

Beach Boys medley. Bloody man.