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English
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Published:
2012-05-14
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441
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Their love tastes of whiskey and feels as smooth as a new deck of cards

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

:::

Grant tasted of whiskey, but Talbert did too. Sergeants had perks, like grade A alcohol at their fingertips; spoils of war that washed hot down their throats and sat in their bellies. Webster and Bull left them playing cards, each headed to sack out. And Luz left for a smoke outside with Toye, their laughter clattering down the hallway after them. The air was warm and thick, but the fire they'd lit in one of the big open fireplaces of the château had long since extinguished; and with its decline so the game slowed to a stop, now ending with Grant's lips pressing messily on Talbert's.

The playing cards lay scattered to the ground, brushed aside once their initial hesitance evaporated, like alcohol dripped on warm skin - or the remainder of the whiskey dripped onto a tongue. They'd done this before, back in basic, but just the once. A semi-drunken attempt to dull the ache in their guts that haunted their steps; that initial unease of a new place and new people. Back in basic it was just the same, combats on, hands on top of them, standing and pressed awkwardly against the side of a table. And while before in their eagerness they were unable to find the gaps in fatigues quickly enough, now Floyd's movements were knowing; the difference of two years as apparent as the stubble that brushed against Grant's cheek.

"Maybe we should..." Talbert's breath was heady with alcohol, a night's bravado still hanging on it as they stumbled and fell to the chaise lounge that was off to their left.
"Find a room? Yeah... maybe..." Grant really didn't let him speak again; his hands were already unbuttoning Talbert's shirt, his fingers opening the belt on his combats. The skin at the waist of Talbert's shorts it felt as smooth as a new deck of cards under his fingertips and he slid his fingers down and pressed gently, enjoying the look on Floyd's face as he moved his hand. It was quick; almost as it was that first time, but it didn't matter. Talbert came into Grant's palm with a shudder and a moan only stifled by Grant's lips on his own.

They remained still, just for a moment, as the remainder of their cigarettes smoked quietly away in the ashtray, the tendrils rising to the ceiling and melting into nothing. Stale smoke, grease, whiskey and now fresh sweat from Talbert's brow filled the air. The sound of people talking in the distance made them shift from the couch, stand, and look awkwardly around.

When Speirs entered the room the playing cards were still on the floor.

:::

Notes:

Originally posted on my old LiveJournal, Jan. 12th, 2004.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

This was for Azure, who sprinkled a bit of Talbert/Grant joy into my (live)journal by way of drabbage the other day to cheer me up, and who is a doll.