Business as Usual (Common Law Fanfic)

Title: Business as Usual

Fandom: Common Law

Pairing: Travis/Wes

Rating: PG-13, some language and that’s about it.

Word Count: 1,799

Warnings: Language, fangirling by the therapy group

Cheer Squad: skyesurfer12. I honestly don’t know what else to say.

Spoilers: None that I can think of offhand, but you now officially know that I’m a dork of epic proportions. (This still fits, so I’m leaving it)

Hate mail: asphaltcowgrrl@aol.com

Author’s Note: All because of this prompt here.  And believe it or not, no audio inspiration either.

Here you have it, the final installment of this crazy ride.  It all comes out in the wash eventually, right? 

--

Dr. Ryan stood back and watched the couples enter. Two by two, they made their way around the circle of chairs and found their usual spots, settling in and waiting. As per procedure, neither Travis nor Wes had arrived, but that didn’t much surprise the doctor. At this point in her relationship with the detectives, she expected nothing less.

The moment the detectives finally strolled into the therapy room – at exactly two and a half minutes till – Dr. Ryan knew that something had changed between them. Despite being trained to notice such things, she’s relatively certain that it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to perceive the difference in her favorite couple today. Interesting. I wonder what’s transpired while they’ve been away?

Wes slowed as they approached the circle, allowing Travis to pass by and take his seat. Once his partner was securely ensconced in his familiar spot, Wes eased past and lowered himself down into his. He angled his chair away from Travis, creating the illusion of space between them, but the nearness of his right knee to Travis’ left hints at the truth.

Something’s definitely brought them closer, even if Wes is silently trying to deny it.

“Oh my god, you two,” a voice chirped, startling Dr. Ryan out of her reverie. “Did you hear about that crazy guy with the love potions? Doctor Love Something? How weird was he?” Dakota earned a grim look from Wes for bringing up the subject so soon.

Dr. Ryan was almost certain that there was a slight tinge of pink highlighting Travis’ round cheeks after Dakota’s enthusiastic request, but she couldn’t be positive at this distance. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought. Both boys pointedly ignored the questioning looks from the rest of the group and busied themselves with settling into the hard, plastic chairs that came standard with the room. It was time to call their bluff.

“Wes,” she began, drawing his attention back to her. “Travis, I thought I remembered hearing Captain Sutton telling me that you two were the ones responsible for bringing this man into custody. Am I wrong?” She knew she wasn’t, she’d only just gotten off the phone with the Captain minutes before the session had started to fill. He’d been concerned that there might have been lingering after effects of the aphrodisiac potion, even though both detectives denied having been exposed in any way. “They’ve been all over the board lately, Doctor, and frankly, I’m concerned. One minute they’re at each other’s throats, the next, they’re like a newly married couple, laughing and hanging onto each other. It’s a bit disconcerting.” Indeed.

The two detectives looked at one another, searching for an answer written on the other’s face. Not finding what they were looking for with their partner, they turned to face Dr. Ryan. Wes’ mouth opened, but Travis’ voice emerged.

“Yeah, right, that’s right, Doctor Ryan. We did bag the crazy man.”

“And?”

“He was a fraud,” Wes supplied, looking away.

“A fraud,” she parroted.

“Right,” Wes agreed, still avoiding meeting the doctor’s penetrating gaze.

“What Wes means is, it didn’t work. Right ba—buddy?”

This time she was certain Travis’ cheeks held a tinge of pink. And so did Wes’, now that she looked more closely. I wonder what all the embarrassment’s about? The suddenly guilty expression plastered across Travis’ face, however, intrigued her more than anything. What had he been about to say before he changed his mind at the end? “Is there something you’d like to share with the group, gentlemen?”

“No,” Wes shouted, almost too emphatically.

“Yes,” Travis chimed in at the same moment.

“So, which is it?”

Wes frowned at Dakota and her penchant for always being the first one to open her mouth demanding details. Damn woman. He’d suddenly gained a new level of sympathy for her husband. He decided to ignore her and concentrate on the real issue – Travis. “What the hell do you mean ‘yes’?”

“What the hell do you mean by ‘no’, Wes? I mean really. What am I supp—“

“I don’t know, maybe keep it to yourself for a change?”

“Boys?” Dr. Ryan wouldn’t normally interrupt, but she had a feeling this ‘discussion’ just might erupt into violence if not kept in check.

They ignored her. Travis locked his gaze onto Wes’, staring into his fiery blue eyes and not looking away. “Damn you, Wes, we have got to talk about this because it’s not gonna go away!”

“Well,” he growled, “if you hadn’t decided to take a fucking bath in the stuff –“

“And I was supposed to know that it was going to work?”

“Hah,” Rozelle cheered. “I knew he was lying.” She elbowed her husband knowingly.

“You could have used less than the entire bottle, Travis.”

“I don’t remember hearing you complain much, Wes.”

“I’m suddenly remembering why I don’t like you,” he snarled.

Wes rubbed that sweet spot between his neck and collarbone with the tips of his fingers, attempting to work out the sudden ache in his muscles. Dr. Ryan’s gaze fixed on the movement, watching Wes’ reaction to the situation intently. She was about to redirect their argument when a flash of purplish skin caught her attention and held it fast. “Wes, are you okay?”

“No,” he seethed, waving his hands at the group. “I am not okay. My partner’s an id—“

“Wes, that’s not what I meant. Your neck,” she pointed at his barely exposed flesh with a fingertip, “looks like its bruised.” She tapped her own neck in the same area.

The entire group watched as Wes’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly. His fingers flew back to the spot and his heart stopped. He’d forgotten about his partner’s fascination with that spot on his neck. And his fondness for biting him right there. Silently, he cursed Travis and his luscious lips.

“That’s not a bruise,” Rozelle sang happily.

“Nope,” her husband, Clyde, interjected helpfully, leaning over to get a better view. “Looks like a hickey to me.”

“Now wait a minute,” Wes protested, struggling to stand and face his accusers. “It’s not –“

“But it is,” Travis muttered from his seat.

Wes stared down at his partner, speechless. Well, he’d done it this time. Now, there’d be no end to this session.

“I’m sorry, Travis,” Dr. Ryan spoke up. “What was that you just said?”

Travis looked at Wes in advanced apology. Wes stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Shoulders slumping, Travis looked back in the direction of the doctor and sighed. “I said that it is a hickey. I gave it to him, I should know.” He felt more than saw Wes’ shoulders stiffen at the confession, he knew better than to go there, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t hide it any longer. Damn Wes anyway.

“Wes, is this true?” His lips formed a thin, tight line and he faced the wall, staring past the rest of the group members like they didn’t exist. Dr. Ryan smiled. Despite his efforts to appear uninterested, Wes was belying his real emotional state to anyone with two eyes. Wes is afraid of admitting the truth. “Wes?”

He swallowed, fighting the enormous lump that had found its way into his throat. Despite himself, he felt the urge to open up, to be told it was okay to feel this way again, to gain appreciation for having finally moved the fuck on. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, okay? Yes.”

The sound of thunderous approval echoing around him almost knocked him from his seat. Wes looked each of the grinning, leering faces in shock, at first, and then slowly, their enthusiasm took over. Travis beamed at him from the chair to his right and all the tension eased from his body. Leaning into his partner’s side, Wes breathed, “I’m sorry, Trav, I…”

“…am a prick? Yeah, I know, but it’s all good.” He slanted in closer to Wes and mock-snapped at his ear. “That prickiness of yours has its uses.”

He tried to be pissed, but it just wasn’t possible, not with all the commotion going on just feet from his face. Not to mention Travis’ warm, sweet breath on his neck. “Just for the record,” Wes shouted above the cacophony of voices, “I’m still not completely okay with this!”

“That’s okay,” Dakota assured him, “because we are.”

“Right,” agreed Mrs. Dumont. “Maybe you two will start being nicer to each other now?”

“Not a chance,” Wes growled, only half-teasingly.

“Yeah, Mrs. D, trust me – you don’t want Mitchell to be too nice, it ruins the fun."

Dr. Ryan sat back and watched the celebration. It was obvious Wes was telling the truth, he really wasn’t completely okay with this, but he was more okay with it than he would have been a week ago. Progress can be a beautiful thing to behold. “Okay folks, let’s get back on task. Our topic for today is…”

***

Dr. Ryan watched as the boys filed out of her office, the last two to leave, for once. Wes hip checked Travis, almost knocking him into the door frame. “What are you thinking about for dinner? My treat this time.”

“Reallly,” Travis drawled. “In that case…”

“But none of those food trucks, okay? I mean, gross. Who knows when they last washed their hands. I don’t even want to think about the last time they washed their utensils.”

“You are so high strung, man. You need to let loose once in awhile.”

Wes looks down the length of his partner’s body, appraisingly, and then back up, until meeting his dreamy gaze. A smile twitched at the corner of the blonde’s mouth, a tinge of color blemishing his pale skin. “Haven’t I let go enough for one week? Can we maybe try this, say, next Thursday?”

Travis’ face broke into a smile of epic proportions. “Yeah, I guess you have let go a bit more than usual lately, huh baby?”

“Can you please not call me that in public. Please?”

“If you insist, baby. Whoops, I meant, honey.”

“Travis,” Wes begged, his voice filtering down the hallway.

“Okay then, no baby, no honey, what about sweetie? Pumpkin? Cutie Pot Pie? No? But Wes…”

Dr. Ryan covered her mouth with one hand, listening to the echo of their banter as it faded out. Obviously, her couple’s therapy sessions were going to be a bit more interesting from now on. What on earth am I going to tell their captain? That one of his best detectives bathed in a love potion and then seduced his partner? Who’d ever believe that?

But then, this was Travis Marks she was talking about.

Maybe she’d just tell him that they were still working out the kinks of their newfound respect for one another? Yes, that just might work.

--

Author’s end note: If you’ve made it this far, congratulations!  And as a bonus, I found this very fitting cartoon this morning:

Let Me Down Easy (Common Law Fanfic)

Title: Let Me Down Easy

Fandom: Common Law

Pairing: Travis/Wes

Rating: PG-13 (talk of sexy things, but no actual smut)

Word Count: 3001.  And yes, that one word makes a difference, darnit!

Warnings: Language, emotions, too much introspection for six pages worth of words

Cookies to: skyesurfer12. Thank you for the return favor.  Again. 

Spoilers: None that I can think of offhand, but you now officially know that I’m a dork of epic proportions.  (This still fits, so I’m leaving it)

Hate mail: asphaltcowgrrl@aol.com

Author’s Note: All because of this prompt here. This chapter’s theme song is courtesy of Billy Currington – Let Me Down Easy. 

Well, this is the end.  Maybe.  My lovely friend up there ^^ gave me a great idea for a therapy session after the fact… or after the sexin’, whichever.  But, I don’t know if I can pull it off or not.  I do know that it will be fun to try at least.  So, watch this space…

--

Let Me Down Easy

Four AM.  He blinked, then rubbed his eyes for good measure.  Yup.  Still four o'clock.  Wes arched his back, loosening the stiffness in his aching muscles. At the height of a most delicious stretch, Wes' shoulder brushed against something hard and warm.

Travis.

It all suddenly came into focus.  Dr. GoodLove's love potion.  The car.  His poor couch.  A headache began building at the back of his head and he didn't know if it was from the imminent love cologne hangover or from the sudden understanding that he'd spent the better part of yesterday sexing his partner.

And liking it.

He didn’t remember much about what happened after they’d vacated the living room and reconnected in his bedroom - Hah! Reconnected. There’s a good word, Wes. Lovely case of denial you have going on - but he was slowly starting to piece it together. Bits and pieces of the night flooded his memory. Kisses in the dark, touches he couldn’t resist, the slide of skin on skin. Amazingly enough, they took turns, teasing and taunting, loving and fucking. Vaguely, Wes recalled an appearance by someone’s handcuffs and, judging by the bruises blossoming around his wrists, he assumed that they had not been his set.

Sighing, Wes sat up and looked around. His hotel room had never been so wrecked. Somebody’s pants were lying across the dresser, Travis’, he surmised in the darkness. His suit jacket was on the floor. The comforter for the bed was MIA and the sheets had been ripped from their nicely tucked corners. Only Travis could come into someone’s life and, in the space of fourteen hours completely and utterly turn it on its head. He had started to realize that he wasn’t nearly as disturbed by this as he should be. And that worried him.

Travis lay on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting across his chest. Wes smiled at how peaceful he looked, body relaxed, chest rising and falling in a steady, unhurried rhythm. It never failed to amaze him how easily the boy was able to let go. To be honest, it made him just a little jealous because it was common knowledge that Wes wasn’t able to relax. Period.

He had a brief urge to wake Travis and start it all over again. To indulge in his body and revel in his scent. But he resisted. So far, the captain hadn’t called, wanting to know why they’d never made their second stop yesterday, but it was undoubtedly on the horizon. And by getting Travis – and himself – going this early, well, it was a possibility that they’d never leave his hotel room. Ever.

Besides, he had no idea if Travis was even interested in more than what had already gone before. Wes had known Travis for a long time and, in all those years, he’d never stayed with a woman for more than a night or two. The thought of being rejected after a couple rounds of sheer passion sent a lump of panic straight into Wes’ chest.

It’s the damn love potion talking, Wes, get a hold of yourself. Right. The eau du amore that Travis had slathered all over himself yesterday. He looked over at Travis again, happily snuggled into the warmth left by his body, and sighed. First order of business: a shower.

Leaving the bed instantly became the hardest thing he’d had to do all week. What if Travis wakes up? Something squeezed his chest tightly, forcing the panic up into his throat, cutting off his ability to breathe. What if he thinks I’ve abandoned him in my own home? His stomach rolled, the nausea simmering and threatening to overcome him. Oh God, what if he knows where I am and decides it’s the perfect time to sneak out without me knowing? Pain radiated across his chest, a sweat breaking out on his skin. What if…

“For the love of Mike, get a fuckin’ grip,” he scolded himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re too loud,” was the sleepy reply from his side. “That’s what’s wrong with you right now.” Travis cracked an eye and looked up at his partner-turned-lover. “Come back down here and keep me warm.”

The simple sound of that voice, heavy with sleep, helped put him at ease. Rushes of anxiety and doubt still flooded his nervous system, but it was lessened knowing Travis was still there, still being Travis. He closed his eyes and forced himself to clamp down on his raging emotions. “I will, but I need a shower first.”

Travis’ eyes were closed again but a smile graced his face. “Took you long enough,” he teased. “Figured you would have slunk off somewhere around midnight to do just that.”

He frowned at the man in his bed, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I was tempted, but every time I thought about it, I was given a better reason not to.” Wait, why did I just say that?

A chuckle rose from Travis’ chest, amusement and fond memories of doing exactly that flitted across his consciousness. “Go then, have your shower. I’ll be here. Snoring.”

Wes snorted. “Yeah, that I can believe.” Oh god, he’s going to stay. What do I do, what do I… “Don’t get too comfortable there though, Marks. You’re next. Need to wash off that stuff you decided to bathe in yesterday.”

“Stuff?” Travis was confused momentarily before Wes’ meaning sunk in. Oh. “Yeah man, okay. Just wake me when you’re…” The rest was consumed by a yawn of epic proportions.

Wes smiled down at him, watching his eyes drift closed and his face melt back into that sleep-relaxed perfection of minutes before. It took enormous effort to pull his gaze from Travis’ face, but he knew what he needed to do. As soon as possible.

Shower, Wes. Wash away the love making, wash away the potion, wash away your doubts.

As if it’d be that easy. He still had no clue if what he’d been feeling for the last fourteen hours was real or chemically induced. And if it still lingered even after all traces of the unnaturally-induced romping had been washed away? What would he do then? Guess we’ll figure that one out when we come to it, right? Right.

God, he wished that so much of this didn’t rest in Travis’ hands. Those strong, skilled hands.

~*~

He heard the bathroom door click closed, followed shortly by the sound of water hitting tile. Travis pushed himself wearily into a sitting position and looked at the empty side of the bed. It went without saying that he shouldn’t have been arrogant enough to even attempt to mess with the potion. But honestly, who would have even guessed it’d work, let alone be as potent as it was. He knew better and yet, couldn’t resist messing with Wes – he made it so easy sometimes - hoping for that chance to have what he’d wanted for so long. Even if he got it under false pretenses.

Travis supposed that made him a tiny bit pathetic, to be so willing to grab at Wes’ affections when they were only temporary and nowhere near to being real. But he’d understood from the very beginning that it wasn’t ever going to be. Wes had had a wife back then, for craps sake. How could he ever expect him to desire another guy, when it was obvious he wasn’t even interested in other women?

It didn’t change the way he felt, unfortunately. From day one, Wes had accepted him, trusted him, and treated him like an equal. Not something he’d gotten much of over the years so, when it’d come from someone like his by-the-books partner, it meant more. It mattered. It’s what caused him to fall so hard, so fast.

And to break so bitterly when he hit the bottom.

To his credit, he’d done a damn good job at keeping his feelings from Wes. As far as Travis knew, Wes didn’t suspect anything more than a very strong friendship between the two of them, despite what had just taken place. Repeatedly. And amazingly. He needed to pull himself together quickly because, if he kept on this train of thought, it’d be blazingly obvious the minute his partner laid eyes on him. There was no doubt all his fears were written in bold block letters across his face.

This was the reason why Travis was always the first to leave. He who did the leaving had the control. You weren’t forced to face the pain of rejection if you weren’t the one being left behind. Or pushed away. But for some reason, he found himself glued to his side of Wes’ bed, unable – unwilling – to be the one to leave this time. Wes would have to throw him out to get him to leave this time.

Their relationship had reached that point where it was now or never. Like he’d jokingly mentioned earlier, their partnership had already hit the rocks, hard, and they were currently stuck in therapy. How much more damage could his confession do? Aside from the obvious destruction of what was left of their relationship.

Obviously.

He’d finally convinced himself that this was what needed to happen, today, when the bathroom door opened, light spilling into the dark bedroom. For a second, Travis’ heart stopped beating, words wedged in his throat. Hot, humid air wafted in Wes’ wake as he made his way to the dresser beside the bed, white hotel towel wrapped tightly around his hips. Travis’ conviction melted in the steamy air, leaving him voiceless. The sight of Wes’ pale skin glistening in the muted light didn’t help much either.

“Oh, you are up,” Wes teased, spying his partner in a locked and upright position finally.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Look, Wes, there’s something we need to talk about…”

Crap. Here it comes. He knew it was a mistake. Hell, even I knew it was a mistake, but he smelled so good and I just couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop touching him and… Wes gave himself a mental head slap and tried to focus on what Travis was saying before freaking out. Maybe he…

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Wes blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I just pulled a gun on you. Trust me. I’d recognize that look anywhere.” It was a lame joke, but it seemed to help. One corner of his lover’s mouth turned up slightly.

“Wha? Oh. Sorry. Just thinking about our to-do list for today.”

Travis smirked. “Does that list include me?” Please say yes…

“Trav, look,” he began, unsure of where to start. Start with the obvious. “You need to shower before we can do this.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the bed.

Something within him cracked, just a bit, when Travis’ face fell. Even though he struggled to pull it back into his typical casual grin, it wasn’t any use. Wes had seen it. And it hurt him to know that look was his fault. I have to fix this.

He climbed onto the end of the bed, crossing his legs and facing his partner. Taking one dark hand in his, he squeezed. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, Travis met Wes’ gaze, and held it, not breathing. “It’s not what you think, not really. I promise. I…” Wes was the one to look away, unsure and insecure. “I need to know if what I’m fe—feeling right now, I need to know if it’s real. I have to know that it’s not something chemically induced because I…” He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Travis’ deep blue eyes one more time. “I refuse to be the one to hurt you.”

A slight hitching breath came from the body across from him. Wes watched Travis intently, holding his hand tightly, waiting for the tears to fall. Instead of waterworks, he was blessed with a giggle-snort of laughter followed by the kind of shy smile you’d never expect to see on Travis Marks’ face. Not in this lifetime. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s so funny?”

“I was first afraid you were going to boot me out. Then,” he looked at the ceiling for encouragement, “I was afraid you were going to tell me just how big of a mistake this was.”

“Oh, this was a mistake,” he drawled, “and a big one, too, but not because of what you’re thinking.”

Travis was confused. “What are you babbling about?”

“Look. This is crazy. I can’t get enough of you. You obviously can’t get enough of me, either.” Travis snorted at this declaration. “But we have to still be able to work together. It’s not going to be easy.”

“It’s not as hard as you think,” Travis confessed.

“Wait, what?”

Travis shrugged, feigning nonchalance despite his racing heart. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Wes. I’ve just… kept it to myself.”

Wes was dumbfounded. “You have? How… why?”

Travis’ brows pulled together as he studied his partner. “Why what?”

“Why me? Why haven’t you said anything? Just fucking why?”

“Why you? I don’t honestly know. Because you are you and that’s good enough for you. It damn well better be good enough for everyone else, too.” Wes laughed, knowing that that was exactly how he put himself out there in an effort to hide his fear of failing, of not being enough. “But why didn’t I say anything? One word, man: Alex.”

He nodded, it made sense. But it still sucked to know that his partner – his friend – had been having feelings all over the board for him and there was nothing he could do to help ease them. “Is that why you pulled that stupid stunt with the cologne?”

A faint blush crept into his cheeks. “Sorta. I mean, I didn’t honestly think it would work. You know, because it hadn’t worked for the perp?” At Wes’s nod of understanding, he continued. “I did it mostly to mess with you, but…”

“But…”

“Well, you know. You were here. You saw how it played out.”

Wes grinned and it caused Travis’ insides to turn to liquid. “Yeah. I was here. And out there. And in the elevator, and the car…”

“And in the shower?” Travis raised his eyebrows in suggestion.

“You,” he chuckled, “are incorrigible.”

“You’ve been reading my social worker’s files again, haven’t you?”

Wes just shook his head. “I guess I should make a confession, too, now that we’re airing all our dirty laundry.” He paused and Travis waited patiently, giving him the same respect he’d been given earlier. “I was terrified that I’d finish my shower and you’d be gone.”

This took Travis aback. “I’d never leave you, Wes. You’re my partner. And my friend.” And more.

He nodded, slowly, taking time with the movement. “I know that, now. But I – I was afraid. I’m so tired of being alone.” Swallowing back the tears waiting to burst forth, he leaned forward and pushed at Travis’ shoulder. “Now, you still need to get in the fucking shower. I suggest you do it before we’re called out of here and you have to face the captain smelling like sweat and sex.”

“And you,” he added.

“And me,” he agreed, liking the way that made him feel inside. “Now mush. If you’re a good boy and you get your ass in the water in the next five minutes, maybe we can have dinner?”

“I’d like that.” Travis grinned and then faltered. “But, what… what if you’re not interested once I’m aphrodisiac-free?”

There was genuine fear in his partner’s face, it killed Wes to see it there. “I don’t have an answer for that other than I’ll always have your back. We’ll find a way to work through it. You, me, Dr. Ryan…”

“And all those wingwangs in our couple’s group.”

Wes smiled fondly. “Yeah, and them, too. Now MOVE.”

He watched Travis pull his naked self out of bed and lumber unhappily into the bathroom. As the door closed behind him and the shower started up again, Wes took a deep breath. Holding it for a moment, he made a promise to himself to give things – Travis - a chance, before blowing the air back out of his nose. Something occurred to him then. He cautiously took another sniff. And then another.

“I’ll be damned,” he mumbled.

“Are we going down this conversational route again,” Travis asked from the vicinity of the sink.

“Aren’t you in the shower yet,” he deflected.

“Not yet. And what are you out there muttering about anyway?”

“I can’t smell you,” he spluttered gleefully.

“You can’t what?”

“I. Can’t. Smell. You.” Wes enunciated each word clearly.

“And that’s a good thing?” He put a touch of mock-hurt into his reply.

“In this case, yeah, it is.” Wes made his way over to where Travis stood, using Wes’ razor. Oh lovely, Trav, thanks for asking first. He ghosted the tips of his fingers along the curve of one shoulder, testing. “It means that the potion’s worn off, you idiot.”

“And?”

And I still want you. "And nothing. Everything. Hell, I don't know." He dropped Travis' jeans at his feet, having grabbed them on the way over. "I just know that I'm oddly looking forward to our dinner later. Now - get in the shower. Please don’t make me ask you again." He gave his partner a playful shove in the right direction.

"Okay, okay!" Travis winked, picking his jeans up. He closed the door behind him before fishing in a front pocket for the secret he kept there. Smiling, he popped the cap off the tiny bottle and upended it into the toilet. "You were fun while you lasted, but it looks like I don't need you anymore." His grin widened. "You see, once Wes gets started, there's no stopping him."

He flushed the toilet and ducked into the water.

Mi Vida Loco (Common Law Fanfic)

Title: Mi Vida Loco

Fandom: Common Law

Pairing: Travis/Wes

Rating: NC-17 (quite possibly R, depending on your point of view)

Word Count: just shy of 4k (3,922 for those keeping score… and you know who you are)

Warnings: Language, smut, mistreatment of leather furniture, and still, your crack head author at work. 

The OMG What ARE You Doing Now Person: skyesurfer12. At least she’s stopped laughing at me.  For now.  That’s good, right?

Spoilers: None that I can think of offhand, but you now officially know that I’m a dork of epic proportions.  (This still fits, so I’m leaving it)

Hate mail: asphaltcowgrrl@aol.com

Author’s Note: All because of this prompt here. This time, the title is a variation on a really awesome, if a bit ancient, song by Pam Tillis.  The first line of the song says, “If you’re coming with me you need nerves of steel, ‘cause I take corners on two wheels”.  And what can I say?  That about sums it up.

One more to go after this, with the possibility of a total bit of insanity spurred by a random comment by my lovely beta, if I can pull it off.  Thanks for reading. 

--

Mi Vida Loco

No no no no no, he thought, white knuckling the steering wheel. What the fuck just happened?

“Wes?”

“What,” he growled.

“Where are we going?” Travis had asked this once before and hadn’t gotten an answer. He thought he knew. Hell, he hoped he knew, but Wes wasn’t being very forthcoming at the moment and since he was at the wheel, it was hard to really know for sure.

“Um, to that address you gave me a minute ago,” he hedged.

Travis grinned. “You’re going the wrong way, sweet cheeks.”

Wes opened his mouth until he realized Travis was right. Fuck. “Crap. I am. I’ll…”

“Keep heading back to your hotel?” He reached across the console separating them and squeezed Wes’ knee playfully.

“I am not heading back to my hotel,” he argued. Although, he actually was and hadn’t noticed that that was exactly where they’d been headed. “What are we doing, Trav?”

“Using this damn potion as an excuse to go rip each other’s clothes off?” His hand tightened on Wes’ leg again, this time moving farther up the length of lean muscle.

Wes sighed in frustration. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t quite had enough of his partner, not by a long shot. And damn, did his hand feel good on him right there, hot and strong. Safe. A simple touch that changed everything.

He was certain there was only one way to decrease the discomfort he was currently in, and that was by following Travis’ suggestion, like it or not. “Okay. Point. But why are we doing this? It can’t just be the love cologne working overtime, can it?” Oh gods, please let it just be this fricken cologne…

Travis bit his bottom lip, chewing a bit as he thought. He knew what his answer to this question was: Hell no. He’d been attracted to Wes since the day they’d met. Those blue eyes and the crew cut he’d worn back in those days, they were too much to resist. But he couldn’t say that, not quite yet, in case this really was just the potion talking on Wes’ end of the bargain. “No clue. And you know me, I don’t much care.”

Wes snorted. “Truth. God, I hope we’re not going to regret this.”

I know I won’t, Travis told himself. “Things really can’t get any worse, can they? I mean, we’re already in therapy, right?” Wes just prayed he was right. “This just might tack on a few extra sessions…”

They rode in relative silence until they reached Wes’ current residence, a swanky hotel that Travis wouldn’t have been caught dead visiting, let alone living in. But that was a moot point now, because if he refused to enter, he’d be SOL, wouldn’t he? And that just wasn’t an option, not when he finally had Wes right where he wanted him. Metaphorically speaking… for the moment.

As they entered the lobby, Travis looked around, noticing all the little touches that made this such a high class place. Polished wooden counters. Smartly dressed staff ready to assist at a moment’s notice. Mirrored walls gilded with gold. Someone obviously had entirely too much spare money.

“Elevator’s this way,” Wes muttered, grabbing Travis’ arm and pulling him to the left. He punched angrily at the buttons until he heard a faint ding. Travis found himself shoved through the doors the moment they opened enough for his broad frame to fit through.

“Easy man, you don’t want to damage me yet.”

Wes flicked his eyes to his partner briefly. “Wanna bet?” He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from elaborating on that urge. That distinct urge to tie him down and have his way with him. Repeatedly. All because the scent of that infernal cologne was tickling his nose again, causing a rise in his suit pants that he couldn’t control. If there was one thing Wes hated, it was losing control in any manner. Swallowing hard, he looked out of the corner of his eye to find Travis watching him closely.

A small quirk of his lips was all that told Wes that he’d been busted. Caught. He breathed a hefty sigh, wondering if it was any use trying to fight the need building in his chest. He gave his partner a little more obvious look and found him still staring. Still smiling. Broadly. He was so fucked. “Trav?”

“Yeah, buttercup?”

Wes closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself with the movement of the elevator rising, concentrating on the vibrations of the walls around him, thinking of anything but the delicious smell coming from the man beside him. He edged a little farther away, trying to put as much space between them as he could. “Nothing,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He was desperately fighting a losing battle and he knew it was hopeless.

A muted whimper was Travis’ only warning before Wes launched himself at him. Two pale hands hit his chest moments before Wes’ mouth latched onto his, biting, sucking, and begging. He stumbled backwards until his shoulders met the elevator wall behind him. Opening his mouth to Wes, he sucked his partner’s tongue into his mouth, responding eagerly.

Wes opened his eyes and was assaulted by the image of himself pressed against Travis reflected in the mirrored walls of the cage surrounding him. A helpless noise rose from his throat and he vowed silently to see this through to the end. The sight of his mouth locked onto another man’s, and that man’s arms wrapped around him tightly, hugging him close, was the most arousing vision he’d ever seen.

Another faint ding echoed in the confines of the elevator and Wes found himself being flung back this time. Before he could orient himself, he felt Travis grip his arm again, growling, “Get the fuck out, Detective Hotpants, and show me where your damn room is.”

Despite himself, Wes laughed. Travis taking control, now that was a new one. And he liked it. A lot. More than he should, probably, but he’d analyze that tidbit later, when he was alone again.

Fuck me. He pushed that idea out of his head, fast, and focused on the here and now. On Travis. On getting this freaking stubborn door open. He ran his keycard through the slot one more time, only to be denied again when a dark-skinned hand reached around him, taking it from his fingertips.

Travis flipped the card over, leaned into Wes’ back and slid the card into the reader, getting a green light. “You had it backwards, genius.”

A shiver of anticipation sped up Wes’ spine with the touch of hot breath on his skin. He turned his head slightly, enough to catch Travis’ eye, and glared at him. “You’re pressing your luck,” he countered. When Travis leaned just a tiny bit closer, causing the tip of his nose to brush his cheek, Wes remembered that this was not the time to be angry with his partner. They could discuss this incessant name calling later. Much, much later.

Swallowing his heart back into his chest, Wes squeezed the door handle until it clicked and opened inward. He stepped to the side and allowed the other man to enter first, watching the sway of his hips intently as he made his way inside. Wes was pretty certain Travis was putting a little extra umph into his walk, mostly for his benefit. It worked, too.

He watched Travis make his way to the middle of the living area, bracing his backside against the back of the leather couch. A smile crossed Travis’ face as he gestured for Wes to actually enter the hotel room and move a little closer. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand in the doorway, Wes?” Hands met hips in a playfully impatient look.

The blonde took that as an invitation, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides. Stopping inches before Travis, he reached out with one foot, tapping at the worn sneakers crossed before him. Taking the subtle hint, Travis uncrossed his ankles, bringing his feet to rest in a more natural hip-width position. Wes took advantage of the space between his partner’s knees and insinuated himself between them.

Placing one hand on each of Travis’ thighs, he leaned in close to one ear and whispered, “Yeah, actually I do have better things to do.”

Travis couldn’t hide the quiver of expectation at the husky sound in his partner’s voice, coupled with his nearness. The waves of desire rolling off of Wes had him tongue-tied. He barely squeaked out, “Really?” Tearing his eyes off the determined set of Wes’ mouth, he tried to put on some courage. “Like what?”

“Well,” Wes drawled, lifting a hand slowly, “I thought I’d start with you.”

His hand tugged at Travis’ belt, pulling it through the buckle easily. The button holding his jeans closed proved to be a bit more of a challenge, requiring the use of both hands, leaving Travis feeling deprived of their warmth. He shifted his hips slightly, giving Wes a better angle to work with and to alleviate the pressure he was suddenly feeling against the front of them. “So,” he faltered, “what… where exactly did you plan to start with… me?”

Blue eyes flashed devious intentions. Wes allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up in the slightest hint of a grin before lowering himself to his knees. “I thought right about here would be a good place to begin, don’t you?” With one hand, he cupped Travis’ growing erection.

Travis, unable to do more than nod, watched Wes release his cock from the prison of his too-tight jeans and boxers. He caressed the length of him with the palm of a hand, making him harder and more eager. Taking that suggestive grin and turning it to one laced with pure evil, Wes nestled closer and took Travis into his mouth. Allowing himself to savor every inch of mocha skin, Wes took his time working his way up to the patch of dark hair at its base.

It was inevitable, Travis decided, that his knees would buckle the moment Wes made eye contact. Leave it to friggen Wes to even think about making eye contact at a time like this. Travis’ eyes had only barely fluttered open when he’d noticed his part – no, lover now, it had to be lover – watching his every reaction. Once he knew he was being watched, he couldn’t take his gaze from the blonde’s face. Or his mouth, to be completely honest. The sight of those full, pink lips gliding along the length of him was his undoing. A content hum of pleasure rumbled in his chest. “So… so damn good,” he breathed.

Wes couldn’t help but grin around his mouthful of man. It was something completely new for him and he was shocked at how much he loved the feel of the smooth skin stretched over hard-as-steel muscle. And the smell of his body… sweat and flesh and man all combined into one addicting fragrance he couldn’t get enough of. Burying his nose in the nest of hair surrounding Travis’ cock, he inhaled deeply, taking in all that was his partner and relishing it.

His hands worked their way behind Travis’ body and gripped his ass, pulling his hips forward so he could take him even deeper. Travis gave a muffled moan of encouragement and Wes complied, alternating between sucking and teasing with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled back, eyes locked on Travis’, and released his cock from his mouth. “You taste as amazing as you look,” he said. “And god, you smell good. Did you rub that crap all over you when I wasn’t looking?”

It was a feat to even shake his head. “No, just…” he faltered as Wes started stroking him methodically. “Just my neck, Wes. I…” His eyes pressed closed and his hips jutted forward, reaching to prolong the touch.

Wes stood, coming back to eye level with his lover. “Then why,” he kissed the line of his square jaw, “do you,” he pressed his lips to the crest of his cheekbone, “smell so,” another kiss, this time to the corner of his eye, “damn delicious?”

Travis turned his face into Wes’ wandering kisses, bringing their mouths together again. “I don’t know,” he admitted, not caring just as long as they got naked sooner rather than later. “Because you want me?” He snaked his arms around Wes’ waist, rubbing his back and bringing him in close, chest to chest, hip to hip.

“God do I want you,” he confessed. “Now.”

“Aw,” Travis teased. “You like me, you want to fuck me.”

“You idiot, yes, yes I do.” Fast and rough and hard and right this goddamned minute!

“What do you say?” He knew he was treading on dangerous ground here, but the temptation to push all of Wes’ buttons was too hard to resist. Besides, he was interested to see just how far undone Wes could become.

“Now,” he growled into Travis’ neck, nipping lightly at the skin there.

“Wrong answer, lover boy,” he teased. “How about you try please.”

“How about I bend you over the back of my couch and we call it even?”

Travis swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah, we could do that, too.” Please? The simple fact that his pants were already halfway down his ass and his cock was bobbing free had nothing to do with his sudden change of heart. It was that sound in Wes’ voice, that utter desperation to rut like a couple of animals in heat, that was just what he was wanting to hear. The sign that Wesley Mitchell had finally lost all control.

Mission accomplished.

Wes, struggling to hold on to his remaining bit of dignity, fumbled with his belt three times before Travis’ hands reached out to help him once again. “Let me, buttercup,” he joked, breathless with need. He’d waited for so long, years, really, for this moment and he wasn’t sure if he could make it another five minutes.

“Please don’t call me that.” He groaned and leaned his head back, concentrating on the feel of Travis’ hands so near his aching cock.

“Aw, but they’re so cute,” he joked, “just like you. Little tiny delicate flowers.”

“I am not,” Wes grated out, pushing Travis’ hands away from his waist, “a delicate little fucking flower!” He jerked open the front of his suit pants and freed his own cock, praying that he could keep it together for just a minute longer.

He jerked Travis forward, kissing him roughly before forcing him into a pirouette of sorts. Having been pushed forward unexpectedly, Travis caught himself against the back of the couch, surprised by Wes’ aggression. He’d never admit this out loud, but he was also extremely aroused by the manhandling he was suddenly getting at the hands of his partner.

Wes leaned in and whispered, "Stay right here." He disappeared and returned a moment later with a bottle of lube leftover from some unremembered previous encounter. Yanking Travis' pants over his seductive hips, Wes gave them a final tug, watching as they fell to the floor. That pool of denim and cotton surrounding the worn sneakers made him smile. "I need you like crazy, Trav." A hand lazily caressed the mocha skin of his well-rounded ass.

"I'm here for you and if you don't hurry, I'm going to start without you."

"You wouldn't dare," Wes challenged, two fingers slipping between Travis' cheeks. He stroked his entrance lightly, eliciting a sexy squirm and a whimper from his lover. "Yeah, I didn't think so." Wes opened the tube of lube and squeezed it directly onto the other's skin, making him jump.

"Where do you keep that shit? The freezer?"

Laughing, Wes rubbed it into his skin, working one finger back between his cheeks and then inside. Travis opened his mouth but no words emerged. Gasps and groans were the only sounds he was capable of making, pressing backwards against Wes’ hard thighs and intrusive fingers.

“Yeah, I see that smart mouth isn’t so smart now, is it?” Wes loved having the tables turned on Travis. It wasn’t often that he was the one getting the snark in. “Want more?” The grunted reply was more than an answer. Wes maneuvered a second finger deep inside his partner, resting his forehead against the small of Travis’ back.

“Damn you, Wes, that’s not what I wanted more of,” he begged. “Please, for the love of…”

Wes rumbled out an inarticulate reply of his own, feeling his cock leap to attention at the sound of Travis begging. Begging! God, did he enjoy the sound of that. Replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, he pressed against Travis, littering his bare skin with a thousand and one butterfly kisses. When Travis’s groans turned to cries of desperation, he knew he was finally ready.

He got close to Travis’ ear, quietly suggesting he hold the fuck on before thrust into the man he had bent over his couch. Travis stumbled forward, caught himself, and pushed back into the next drive of Wes’ hips. Each pump of his hips was met with an equal push backwards, driving Wes insane, pushing him to move faster, to fuck harder.

Travis was weak in the knees again, panting, moving with Wes’ rhythm, unable to resist, to be able to do anything but ride the wave of desire to its end. His head fell to the edge of the couch, his grip tightening. He could hear Wes’ breath coming in harsh pants, the sweat from his chest and brow dripping onto Travis’ back. They were both close, dangerously so.

Wes lost control first, grinding down hard against his lover’s backside, hips and knees and bodies aligning perfectly for that one moment in time. The sound Wes’ orgasm pulled from his throat caused a reaction in Travis that reverberated deeply, forcing his own hot on Wes’ heels. Wes slumped forward, boneless, against Travis’ back, panting, desperate for his dancing heart to slow from a salsa to a waltz.

Already having lost all strength in his legs, Travis was hard pressed to hold the two of them upright for long. Lowering himself to his knees, he pressed his face against the cool leather covering the couch, a nervous giggle escaping. “Wes?”

“Mmm?” Wes had slid to the floor with him, arms around his waist, resting back on his heels. He pressed his cheek into Travis’ sweat-coated skin and inhaled the musky scent of sex and sweat and Travis. It was a heady combination.

“Uh,” he began, not quite sure how to break the news to his partner-turned-lover, “I think I made a mess of your couch.”

Hysterical giggles bubbled up in Wes’ chest. After what had just passed between the two of them, Travis was actually worried about a little spunk on the back of the couch. His body shook with laughter, creating an undeniable urge in Travis to laugh along with him. “Does that mean you’re not mad?”

Wes pressed his lips to Travis’ smooth skin one more time. Yeah, he was actually worried about the mess. This, too, was a first. “Don’t worry about it, Trav,” he reassured him, lightly tracing designs in the moisture on his skin. “It’s leather. It’ll wipe off.”

Travis twisted out of Wes’ embrace and turned so that they were eye-to-eye. “So, buttercup, where do we go from here?” He tried to soften his anxieties by brushing his lips against Wes’. When Wes responded with a smile, he breathed again, confident that he wasn’t going to be abruptly tossed into the hallway with his shoes in his hands.

“Where indeed,” Wes replied, rubbing his neck with the tips of his fingers, thinking. “And I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” Travis confessed, “so, until I do, it’s stuck.”

Wes frowned, but couldn’t hold it for long. He was too drunk on passion to stay mad, even for a minute. “I guess the first step is admitting that we’re not making that second stop this afternoon.”

Travis grinned broadly. “No, I don’t think we are.”

Trapping Travis’ gaze with his own, Wes took a leap of faith by asking, “How about we just go…” He lost his nerve but inclined his head in the direction of his bedroom.

“Yeah, how about we…?” Travis laughed, trying to tamp his glee into something manageable. He stood, reaching a hand down for Wes, helping him to his feet.

Wes rose to his full height, throwing one arm around his partner’s neck, pulling him into a lengthy kiss, sharing desire and passion and hope. “Can we, I mean, can I… can I ask a favor?”

Travis pulled back and scoured Wes’ face for any hint of something unhappy to come. He could sense worry and concern, but even Travis knew that was natural after what had just happened between the two of them, but what else was there, lurking in the shadows of his face? “Yeah, anything man, you know that.”

He couldn’t bear the intensity on Travis’ face, couldn’t stand the nerves making him so unsure of himself. Wes turned away from Travis’ intense scrutiny. “Can we… can we just not talk about this right now?” God, he hated the way he sounded, the hurt he knew had to be showing on Travis’ face. Why was he such a fucking coward suddenly? He just had sex with his best friend, his partner, the one person he trusted with his life. Why was it so hard to accept that he had feelings for him? It’s so sudden, how can it be real? “I…”

“I get it,” Travis interrupted, saving him. “It’s the stud cologne that’s got you all riled up and confused. It’s all good.”

“Ohthankgodyougetit,” he breathed out in a rush, slumping slightly from that weight being lifted from his chest. “Travis, I, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea…”

Travis held up a hand. “I just said it was all good. Ya want me to jump in the shower and scrub myself with that expensive ass body wash you use and see if you still want to jump me, even when I’m clean?” He plastered on his most innocent expression while waiting for Wes’ response.

His attempt to scowl was thwarted by the laughter bursting forth. “Oh lord, no. All I want is for you to get that ass of yours into my freaking bedroom before we do more damage to my furniture!”

Travis saluted, hiked up his jeans, and took off down the hall. Wes shook his head, smiling at the amount of playfulness contained within that boy when he noticed the back of his couch. “God damnit, he did make a mess of my couch! Travis! Come back here and clean this up! I thought you were joking!” He got it everywhere!

“Nuh-uh,” Travis called from the other side of the suite, “you told me to ‘get my fine ass into your freaking bedroom’.”

“I never said it was fine,” Wes disagreed. “Oh, never mind,” he mumbled, grabbing a damp cloth and cleaning it up himself. He figured that he could hold this over Travis’ head later, making him pay for defiling nice leather in such a manner.

Wes couldn’t help but grin at that thought.

Mi Vida Loco

Okay, so my first fanfic got quite the shocking response – I even got encores for “MORE!” which really surprised me.  Not because I think I’m a terrible writer, but because I just wasn’t sure how interested anyone would be, you know?  And honestly, did it even have a future?

So, anyway, while driving my child to the grocery store last night, I was listening to one of my old standby CD’s – and it’s not just old as in old music, but the CD itself is quite old – and had a bit of a flash of inspiration title-wise for this next part.  The CD in question is Pam Tills’ Greatest Hits and the song?  Mi Vida Loca (My Crazy Life).  I laughed and thought, “Wow, this is the perfect title for this second installment in the whole ‘sex pollen’ thing.”  And then, the funniest thing happened.  Last night, before I even started working on this WIP, I put together the beginnings of a playlist to help me along.  And for those of you who don’t know, I make playlists for everything I write… and should anyone ever get ahold of my iPod, they’d really wonder. 

But I digress…

This morning, I left the house on my way to work and the first song on the playlist was… Mi Vida Loca, of course!  Well, there I am, sitting at a stoplight, singing along and – holy crap – the lyrics just hit me and I start cackling.  And I mean laughing uncontrollably at how perfectly perfect this song is for these two boys!

I mean, seriously… this is the first verse:

If you're coming with me you need nerves of steel
'Cause I take corners on two wheels
It's a never-ending circus ride
The faint of heart need not apply

Right???  And this second verse is what I’m contemplating as far as they are concerned:

Sweetheart before this night is through
I could fall in love with you
Come dancing on the edge with me
Let my passion set you free

Is it love?  Is it the love potion?  Or, like another Pam Tillis song goes, “Maybe it was you maybe it was me, but it sure felt right…”  (Maybe it Was Memphis)

I guess we’ll have to wait and see.  And in case you care, here’s the rest of my playlist to date:

T&W (Travis & Wes because I refused to put ‘sex pollen’ on my iPod)

Mi Vida Loca (My Crazy Life) – Pam Tillis (see above)

Ten Thousand Angels – Mindy McCready – I love the idea of this song.  ‘I can fight all that I’m feeling, but I can’t do it alone… I need ten thousand angles to walk out the door’.  Again – accurate.

Shut up and Kiss Me – Mary Chapin Carpenter - I think this is self-explanatory.

I Feel Lucky – Mary Chapin Carpenter -  See previous song.  I just love her music.  Always fits where I need it to. 

Harder to Breathe – Maroon 5 – this song is what started the first installment, so I can’t help but include it here.  ‘When it’s cold out side and I got nobody to love… is anybody out there cause it’s getting harder and harder to breathe’.

Desperation – Miranda Lambert – one line says it all: Desperation, there’s danger in frustration.

Unskinny Bop – Poison – ever hear the story about why this song was written?  Let’s just say that CC DeVille, man-whore supreme – was caught in an um, precarious position…  Sound familiar?

Sexual Thing – Poison – Heh.  I think the title says it all, no?

Addicted – Saving Abel – ‘I’m so addicted to, all the things that you do…’  (Poor Wes, he’s in for a rude awakening by the end of this story, I think)

Call Me – Shinedown – ‘Call me a sinner, call me a saint, tell me it’s over I’ll still love you the same’ (and this is Travis’ song for this one, I think)

Stuck Like Glue – Sugarland – this is just a fun song and I think it fits them both so well.  I mean, they’re pretty much stuck like glue, aren’t they?

Felt Good on My Lips – Tim McGraw – Now, I chose this song mostly for it’s great groove, but it fits too.  Everything that happens in this song, the narrator is pretty much unsure of.  However, once he dives right in, it feels good on his lips so he’s okay with it.  I think that’s pretty much the entire theme of this story.  What say you?

So, if nothing else, it’s a fun tour through 90’s country music.  *snort*

Keep your eyes peeled, I hope to have the second part of this posted by this weekend with the third and final to be posted whenever I get around to it. 

Harder to Breathe (Common Law Fanfic)

Okay so you’re thinking, “Wait, what?  The subject line says fanfic?  What the hell?  Yeah, well, I’ve got to admit that, honestly, I’m thinking the same thing.  However, it was fun to dabble this one time.

If you’ve never seen/heard of the show, you can find out more about it here. 

If you’re living under a rock and haven’t a clue as to where I got this title from, you can find the video here.

And now the breakdown:

Title: Harder to Breathe

Fandom: Common Law

Pairing: Travis/Wes

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: a plump 2k (a little over 2,100 if you really need to know)

Warnings: Language, Bumpless grind, Crack head author

Sorta-Kinda Beta: Skye.  Thank you for laughing at me.  That must mean this is okay, right?

Spoilers: None that I can think of offhand, but you now officially know that I’m a dork of epic proportions

Hate mail: asphaltcowgrrl@aol.com

Author’s Note: All because of this prompt here. I hate you. But I don’t, not really. But I do have to wonder what’s wrong with me now. Title from a song by the same name by Maroon 5. It’s my newest obsession, this song. And it fits.

---

Harder to Breathe

He watched silently as the two uniforms cuffed and manhandled the suspect into the back of the cruiser. "Love potions," Wes scoffed. "Seriously." Shaking his head, he wandered off to find his partner. In all his years on planet Earth, never would he have guessed that someone would actually make and sell love potions in the form of colognes and perfumes on the internet. It was only slightly less believable that someone might possibly murder the maker of such items when the potions failed to work as promised. Go figure.

Wes spotted Travis standing a few feet off from the arrest scene, rubbing his neck with the palm of his hand. “Can you believe this guy?” He pointed at the man in question, still unable to get past the facts of this bizarre case. “I mean, who is gullible enough to believe in this kind of thing?”

Travis continued rubbing his throat with one hand, beaming brightly. “Believe in what? That a bottle of whatever can make someone fall for you? Or the murdering of the producer when it doesn’t work? What’s not to believe in? Skeptic.”

Refusing to be baited, he pressed his lips tightly together, watching his partner curiously. “What are you doing?”

“Trying out Dr. GoodLove’s potions.” Travis grinned broadly, knowing Wes’ initial reaction was not going to be good. “Do I smell good yet?”

“What?” Wes raised his hands in mock surrender. “No. Please tell me you’re joking.” With one look at his partner’s goofy grin, he knew that there was no way he was joking. For once. “You’re riding in the backseat for the rest of the day.”

He watched his partner stalk off towards their transportation, his usual grin transforming to a satisfied smirk. “Wait, does this mean I don’t smell good? Wes? Wait up, man!” Laughing, he trotted after him, managing to only just get to his place in the passenger seat before Wes roared off down the road.

They hadn’t made it very far down the street before Wes began tugging at his collar. Travis, ever aware of his partner’s many quirks, picked up on this new one almost immediately. “You okay?”

Wes glared at him with half-squinted eyes. “I’m fine,” he insisted a bit too vehemently, unbuttoning a second button, exposing a larger swath of pale flesh.

Settling back into his seat, Travis sighed. “If you say so, buttercup, but you sure don’t look okay to me.” He absently rubbed his throat with the tips of two fingers, thinking. “Hey Wes, ya think…”

“No, Travis, I do not think that that absurd love potion cologne thing is having any affect at all. It’s the unseasonable heat getting to me. It’s getting hard to breathe with all this weird humidity in the air.”

Travis’ tongue poked out of his mouth, cruising the length of his bottom lip. “If you say so, Wes.”

“I do, now drop it and let me drive. Where are we headed again?” He only half listened as Travis recited the address of their next stop before heading back to the precinct.

The disturbing truth was Wes couldn’t deny it. Something had a hold of him and was refusing to let go. Being near his partner hadn’t ever had this affect on him before and they’d been a lot of sticky situations over the years landing them in much closer quarters than the front seat of his car. Even considering how small cars were these days. So, why now?

Wes glanced over at the passenger seat and watched Travis thoughtfully rubbing his throat. Those long, dark fingers slowly stroking the smooth skin from chin to collar bone and then back up to his chin. Up, down. Up, down. The fingers slid up to his chin, over and rested lightly on his full lips. He’s thinking about something, Wes realized.

“Wes?”

“Hmmm,” he replied, eyes still fixed on his partner’s fingertips.

“Light’s green, pal.”

“Oh.” Then, “OH. Right.” He guiltily shifted the car into gear and drove onward. Oh dear God, he thought frantically, what’s wrong with me? Taking a deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart, it hit him. Something smelled so good it was distracting him. He sniffed again, tentatively. And that something appeared to be Travis. “It’s those fucking pheromones,” he muttered. A little more loudly, he grunted, “I’ll be damned.”

“Aren’t you already,” Travis teased.

“Huh?” Wes was distracted again. “Aren’t I what already?”

“Damned.”

“I must be, you’re my partner, aren’t you?” That must’ve been the secret, Wes thought suddenly. Inhaling a second time, getting a good, deep breath, he realized he was right. It was Travis and it had to be because of that damned cologne he was playing with at the scene. It certainly wasn’t that eau du frat boy he usually wore. And he smelled so good! Letting out a shuddering breath, Wes took the next turn and pulled into the nearest parking lot, surprising his partner with this detour to a convenient convenience store.

“Uh, Wes? What are you doing? Not that I couldn’t go for a Coke and a Slim Jim right now but…”

“Hey Trav, I think I know why the love cologne didn’t work for that idiot.”

Travis felt like he had whiplash from the sudden shifts in their conversation this afternoon, but he decided to play along for fun. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

Wes pulled into the first spot he found near the side of the building, hidden from both foot traffic and street view. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he fixed his blue eyes on his partner. “The pheromones need contact with the user’s skin to be effective. That loser was wearing enough of that crap – on his clothes – to choke a horse…”

“But he didn’t actually wear any of it,” Travis finished for him. “Brilliant!” And then blanched. Like I am. I slathered that mother-loving crap all over my neck. It certainly did explain a thing or two.

He opened his mouth to relay this thought to Wes, but was too late. Before he could form the words, Wes had turned off the car, climbed over the parking brake and wedged himself between Travis’ legs, pushing on the lever responsible for seat position. When the seat clicked into its furthest back position, Wes did his best to climb into Travis’ lap, hands curling into his partner’s hair, mouth locking onto mouth.

He was shocked for a moment, before giving in with gusto, wrapping an arm around Wes’ middle and using the other to lower the seat back. The sudden drop forward forced a startled laugh out of Wes but didn’t slow his efforts any. His fingers untangled from Travis’ hair and moved to the waist of his jeans, tugging at the t-shirt tucked into them.

“This cologne is making me crazy,” he breathed into the other man’s mouth. “I can’t stop myself and, even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to.” He succeeded in getting one hand under Travis’ tee, feeling skin on hot skin.

“I can’t say that,” Travis bit back in between kisses, “I’d honestly let you, even if you wanted me to.”

That was all it took. Wes devoured Travis’ mouth with his own, biting, licking and sucking at his lips and teeth and tongue. Travis fought back with his hands and hips, moving and grasping and pulling on his partner. “We really should go some--…”

“There’s no time, I can’t…”

“Fuck it,” Travis growled, grabbing hold of Wes’ hips and thrusting his own upwards as he drew the other’s down against him. “We’ll figure this out, somehow.”

Wes showed his agreement by grinding down onto his partner’s lap, roughly, eliciting a groan of desire out of him. Hard bodies moved against one another, increasing in speed and desperation as the minutes wore on. Travis frantically worked at the buttons on Wes’ shirt, exposing as much skin as he could, just enough to get his teeth into, just once.

He pulled the starched white collar away from his partner’s neck, breaking the kiss and smelling the stretch of bare flesh before him. His clean and no-nonsense scent invaded Travis’ senses, overwhelming him, consuming him. Drawing his tongue along that piece of landscape, he claimed it for himself, tasting the essence of Wes.

A completely and utterly out of control Wes. Something Travis didn’t think had ever existed before this moment in time. And he liked it. He liked it a lot. Especially the way his tongue on salty skin caused his fellow detective to make helpless sounds of surrender. Lightly, he nipped at Wes’ collarbone, relishing the other man’s instinctive thrust forward at the first touch of teeth. A deep rumble of appreciation rolled out of Travis’ chest, muffling the halfhearted protest from the man straddling his lap.

“Like that,” he purred, nipping at pale skin again.

“Trav, don’t,” Wes protested weakly. “Don’t… oh God… don’t mark me. No one can...”

“Shut it,” Travis gently ordered, biting down onto that sweet spot where shoulder met neck. That spot where Wes’ fingers always wandered when he was deep in thought. That spot where the sweat glistened in the sunlight after chasing down a runner. That spot that had always attracted Travis’ unwanted attention at the worst possible times. That spot right there where Trav had his mouth stationed. Wes moaned despite himself and Travis bit harder, evolving that moan to a grunt of satisfaction.

Wes’ hands gripped Travis’ hips, pulling him up and against him, encouraging the behavior he just forbid and not caring. Travis loosened his grip with his teeth and fastened onto Wes’ body with his whole mouth, nipping and sucking. Wes thrust against his partner, his friend, whatever they were becoming, not wanting or caring for anything but relief from the intense, incurable hard on he had.

“Damn it, Trav,” Wes whimpered. “Do it again.”

“Do what, Wes, tell me.” His voice was breathy, strained.

“Bite me.” He licked his lips, the friction between their bodies becoming too much. “Please.”

Travis obliged. He pressed his swollen lips against his partner’s skin once, pulled back to within a breath of touching, swallowed hard, and buried his teeth in the curve of Wes’ neck. He bit and held on, hands tightly gripping Wes’ firm backside as he bucked against him.

“Oh dear God,” Wes groaned, grasping desperately at Travis, pressing his mouth to any available skin he could find, over and over and over again. He ground down harder, meeting every rise and fall of his partner’s hips, unable to get enough body to body contact to satisfy his touch-starved self.

Travis squeezed Wes’ ass as he gave one last, hard bite to that spot he loved so much. With a grunt, Wes shouted, “God, Trav, yeah,” and collapsed, boneless and panting. He peppered the other man’s face and neck with butterfly kisses encouraging him to use his body for what he needed it for. Never one to let an opportunity pass, Travis complied, rocking Wes against him, until his head fell back and his hips jutted forward into Wes one last time. Regretting having let go of the blonde’s neck, Travis bit down on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, baby,” Wes encouraged, giving him a good dose of body contact. “Just like that.”

Travis knew just what he meant. Leaning forward, he closed the gap between them, claiming Wes’ mouth with his own. Holding him against his chest, Travis ground up and into Wes, briefly wondering what it’d be like to have him naked and riding his body just this way. The thought of being pressed fully against his partner’s bare body pushed Travis over the edge. With a cry into his lover’s mouth, he finally found some kind of relief.

Wes pressed a light kiss onto Travis’ mouth before muttering, “Fucking pheromones.”

Travis laughed despite himself. “If you say so, man. But, between you and me?”

Wes raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever smartass reply Trav had waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah?”

“I think we need to make a pit stop for some um, less sticky clothing.”

The blush that flushed Wes’ face was unexpected and rather adorable, as far as Travis was concerned. “Ya think?” He always got cranky when he was embarrassed.

“Yeah, I do on occasion, although I must admit, this wasn’t one of them.”

“You’re not the only one,” Wes grudgingly admitted, kissing Travis’ face one last time before returning to the driver’s seat. “So um, where were we headed again?”

Travis grinned. “Back to your hotel?” He pulled a face to show Wes he was kidding, but when his partner pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the wrong direction, he wondered if Wes really knew he’d been joking.

Or if he knew and didn’t care.

He supposed he’d find out soon enough.