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Wild Wild West first, because that's where my mind is today. Heh. The boys went all established-relationship on me. *grins*
Title: Negotiations
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Wild Wild West (TV)
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Artie
Summary: A new waistcoat leads to some heated negotiations
Wordcount: 815
Warnings/Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bradygirl_12, prompt 'waistcoats'
Disclaimer: Don't own
Title: Negotiations
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Wild Wild West (TV)
Characters/Pairings: Jim/Artie
Summary: A new waistcoat leads to some heated negotiations
Wordcount: 815
Warnings/Notes: For
bradygirl_12, prompt 'waistcoats'Disclaimer: Don't own
Negotiations
"Yes, sir, there's no doubt about it," Artie drawled, leaning casually back on the settee to watch James pull out his new waistcoat, a good, rich emerald green with silver brocade. "That there is one mighty fine piece of haberdashery, Jim."
"Why, thank you, Artie," Jim grinned, with a flick of his eyes in his partner's direction as he shrugged into it, and tugged experimentally to see how it rode over his shirt, twitching it a little to test the fit. "I thought so." He didn't look up as Artie rolled languidly to his feet, didn't twitch as a skillful pair of hands reached out to brush the brocade over his hips, or nimble fingers reached over to casually do up his buttons. Only casting an eye up to catch the mischievous amusement in Artie's eyes, and smile a little. "I can dress myself, you know."
"Not and keep the damn thing straight, you can't," Artie grinned, the tips of his fingers brushing Jim's stomach as he pulled the fabric in line, patting gently. Then his voice changed, becoming thin and thready and aged, incongruous against his smile. "Indulge an old man, whippersnapper. Let's give the poor thing a decent first outing."
Jim laughed softly, holding his arms willingly out to the side to give his partner all the access he wanted, smiling up into grinning eyes. "You may be many things, Artie, but old is not one of them," he reminded, lightly, and hid a smile at the flicker of something in brown eyes, the glimmer of delight.
"Then indulge your long-suffering partner," Artie acceded, voice dropping back into his usual warm baritone, a small smile on his face. He tugged the cloth one last time, smoothing his hands over it on Jim's waist. "You know, it's almost a shame. The way things are going lately, this here fine piece of cloth isn't going to last two weeks until I have to sew a hole in it." He shook his head ruefully. "They're never quite the same, after that."
Jim blinked up at him for a short moment, then allowed himself a quick, full-blown grin. Enough to set a wary flicker in his partner's eyes, and then Jim was reaching up, quick and gentle while Artie didn't flinch, curling his hand carefully around the back of Artie's neck, and pulling him softly down into the kiss. Artie, after a moment's suspicious stiffness, went willingly.
And James, James set himself wholly to the task, drawing on every scrap of seductive technique he knew, every hot pressure and twist of the tongue he'd learned from femme fatale after femme fatale, putting everything he had into it until he was absolutely sure that whatever Artie was thinking with, it wasn't that wonderful, sparking brain of his. He kissed Artie until he was proof-positive that his partner was dazed and breathless, and then, and only then, did he pull back just long enough to whisper:
"When that happens, you can buy me a new one, Artie."
"Buy you a new one," Artie echoed absently, eyes closed and head still curved to Jim's, so that he couldn't see the rather wicked grin gracing freshly-kissed lips. But then, oh, but then, Artie was no fool at all, and it would take more than James West's best kiss to knock him off his game for long, and those intelligent brown eyes snapped open, flashing as Artie straightened suddenly, glaring down at Jim. "Now wait just one second ...!"
Jim laughed, bright and grinning, and fell back at step before the amused temper in his partner's face. "Well, it was worth a try, Artie," he demurred, still grinning, and watched those eyes narrow dangerously, watched with some heat as Artemus morphed into something wholly deadly, and far too dangerous to taunt, and far too beautiful to pass up.
"Is that so?" Artie murmured, low and heated, and then he was back inside Jim's space once more, his hands insinuating themselves once again underneath the hem of his new waistcoat, and his mouth pressing down on Jim's. There was nothing seductive about this kiss, nothing polished or sophisticated. It was rough, and powerful, and then, after a moment, impossibly sweet. Nothing more than his partner's mouth on his, nothing more complicated or more necessary than Artemus Gordon laying decisive and passionate claim. For a moment, Jim could swear he heard himself whimper.
"You can buy your own waistcoats, James, my boy," Artie purred, after a small eternity. Low and dark and still so very, very close, warm breath tickling Jim's cheek. "Fine young man like you. I'm sure you'll manage just fine." He laughed, a soft little chuckle, and Jim stiffened his knees against sudden weakness.
"I could probably manage that," he agreed, and grinned up into the twinkle in his partner's eye.
Well, if every new waistcoat was going to be welcomed like this, there was no question it would be worth it, was there?
"Yes, sir, there's no doubt about it," Artie drawled, leaning casually back on the settee to watch James pull out his new waistcoat, a good, rich emerald green with silver brocade. "That there is one mighty fine piece of haberdashery, Jim."
"Why, thank you, Artie," Jim grinned, with a flick of his eyes in his partner's direction as he shrugged into it, and tugged experimentally to see how it rode over his shirt, twitching it a little to test the fit. "I thought so." He didn't look up as Artie rolled languidly to his feet, didn't twitch as a skillful pair of hands reached out to brush the brocade over his hips, or nimble fingers reached over to casually do up his buttons. Only casting an eye up to catch the mischievous amusement in Artie's eyes, and smile a little. "I can dress myself, you know."
"Not and keep the damn thing straight, you can't," Artie grinned, the tips of his fingers brushing Jim's stomach as he pulled the fabric in line, patting gently. Then his voice changed, becoming thin and thready and aged, incongruous against his smile. "Indulge an old man, whippersnapper. Let's give the poor thing a decent first outing."
Jim laughed softly, holding his arms willingly out to the side to give his partner all the access he wanted, smiling up into grinning eyes. "You may be many things, Artie, but old is not one of them," he reminded, lightly, and hid a smile at the flicker of something in brown eyes, the glimmer of delight.
"Then indulge your long-suffering partner," Artie acceded, voice dropping back into his usual warm baritone, a small smile on his face. He tugged the cloth one last time, smoothing his hands over it on Jim's waist. "You know, it's almost a shame. The way things are going lately, this here fine piece of cloth isn't going to last two weeks until I have to sew a hole in it." He shook his head ruefully. "They're never quite the same, after that."
Jim blinked up at him for a short moment, then allowed himself a quick, full-blown grin. Enough to set a wary flicker in his partner's eyes, and then Jim was reaching up, quick and gentle while Artie didn't flinch, curling his hand carefully around the back of Artie's neck, and pulling him softly down into the kiss. Artie, after a moment's suspicious stiffness, went willingly.
And James, James set himself wholly to the task, drawing on every scrap of seductive technique he knew, every hot pressure and twist of the tongue he'd learned from femme fatale after femme fatale, putting everything he had into it until he was absolutely sure that whatever Artie was thinking with, it wasn't that wonderful, sparking brain of his. He kissed Artie until he was proof-positive that his partner was dazed and breathless, and then, and only then, did he pull back just long enough to whisper:
"When that happens, you can buy me a new one, Artie."
"Buy you a new one," Artie echoed absently, eyes closed and head still curved to Jim's, so that he couldn't see the rather wicked grin gracing freshly-kissed lips. But then, oh, but then, Artie was no fool at all, and it would take more than James West's best kiss to knock him off his game for long, and those intelligent brown eyes snapped open, flashing as Artie straightened suddenly, glaring down at Jim. "Now wait just one second ...!"
Jim laughed, bright and grinning, and fell back at step before the amused temper in his partner's face. "Well, it was worth a try, Artie," he demurred, still grinning, and watched those eyes narrow dangerously, watched with some heat as Artemus morphed into something wholly deadly, and far too dangerous to taunt, and far too beautiful to pass up.
"Is that so?" Artie murmured, low and heated, and then he was back inside Jim's space once more, his hands insinuating themselves once again underneath the hem of his new waistcoat, and his mouth pressing down on Jim's. There was nothing seductive about this kiss, nothing polished or sophisticated. It was rough, and powerful, and then, after a moment, impossibly sweet. Nothing more than his partner's mouth on his, nothing more complicated or more necessary than Artemus Gordon laying decisive and passionate claim. For a moment, Jim could swear he heard himself whimper.
"You can buy your own waistcoats, James, my boy," Artie purred, after a small eternity. Low and dark and still so very, very close, warm breath tickling Jim's cheek. "Fine young man like you. I'm sure you'll manage just fine." He laughed, a soft little chuckle, and Jim stiffened his knees against sudden weakness.
"I could probably manage that," he agreed, and grinned up into the twinkle in his partner's eye.
Well, if every new waistcoat was going to be welcomed like this, there was no question it would be worth it, was there?
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