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rpf: Tahmoh/Trucco
RPF. Boyslash. With het references.
Boys: Michael Trucco and Tahmoh Penikott.
Warnings: bad language. there are boys kissing here. Of course, after having seen this picture, I am not at all averse to boys kissing, if one of them is Trucco. There's this thing he does with his hands, and... yeah.
I forgot. This is totally![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lizardbeth_j's fault.
Tahmoh finds Trucco on a balcony, cigarette in his fingers--but it's unlit. Like he's posing for some magazine. No cameras, though Tahmoh figures if there are any out there, they're both out of luck. "What are you doing?"
"Smoking." As if he wants to add something derisive, Michael opens his mouth, then closes it and shrugs, bringing the white stick to his lips. "Got a light?"
"Nah. That shit'll kill you, man."
"Look--" the movement is jerky, and Michael glares at him in the semi-dark, "Either I smoke, or--"
Or--oh. Tahmoh actually steps back a little in surprise, then smirks, "I warned you about cons, man."
"You did." His voice says it totally wasn't enough, though. "But you didn't explain the breasts and the groping and the energy--fuck, man, my skin is trying to crawl off."
"So find some chick," Tahmoh suggests, almost bored. God, he's had this conversation way too many times--and Aaron always claims it's a stupid solution.
"That's fucking insane. No. Have you seen the women here? If I go for one, they'll all rip her to shreds." He pauses, a slight contemplative look in his eyes, "There was this one, though. Brunette with breasts--" he vaguely waved his hands in the correct shape of an hourglass.
Rolling his eyes, Tahmoh slaps his shoulder, "Whatever, man. If you don't want advice, don't ask for it."
"I need matches," Michael mutters, turning to head into the suite.
"Wait--" reaching out, Tahmoh catches him, presses the other man up against the railing and kisses him full on the mouth. They're nearly the same weight, both the same height, and it's fucking weird, but good.
Michael's surprise keeps him pinned. Tahmoh uses that to his advantage, grinding against him just a little before pulling back and letting him go.
"Fuck."
Getting his breath back, Tahmoh smirks and repeats himself, "I told you about cons, man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a hot date with a redhead."
Michael doesn't try to stop him.
This time.
Boys: Michael Trucco and Tahmoh Penikott.
Warnings: bad language. there are boys kissing here. Of course, after having seen this picture, I am not at all averse to boys kissing, if one of them is Trucco. There's this thing he does with his hands, and... yeah.
I forgot. This is totally
lizardbeth_j's fault.Tahmoh finds Trucco on a balcony, cigarette in his fingers--but it's unlit. Like he's posing for some magazine. No cameras, though Tahmoh figures if there are any out there, they're both out of luck. "What are you doing?"
"Smoking." As if he wants to add something derisive, Michael opens his mouth, then closes it and shrugs, bringing the white stick to his lips. "Got a light?"
"Nah. That shit'll kill you, man."
"Look--" the movement is jerky, and Michael glares at him in the semi-dark, "Either I smoke, or--"
Or--oh. Tahmoh actually steps back a little in surprise, then smirks, "I warned you about cons, man."
"You did." His voice says it totally wasn't enough, though. "But you didn't explain the breasts and the groping and the energy--fuck, man, my skin is trying to crawl off."
"So find some chick," Tahmoh suggests, almost bored. God, he's had this conversation way too many times--and Aaron always claims it's a stupid solution.
"That's fucking insane. No. Have you seen the women here? If I go for one, they'll all rip her to shreds." He pauses, a slight contemplative look in his eyes, "There was this one, though. Brunette with breasts--" he vaguely waved his hands in the correct shape of an hourglass.
Rolling his eyes, Tahmoh slaps his shoulder, "Whatever, man. If you don't want advice, don't ask for it."
"I need matches," Michael mutters, turning to head into the suite.
"Wait--" reaching out, Tahmoh catches him, presses the other man up against the railing and kisses him full on the mouth. They're nearly the same weight, both the same height, and it's fucking weird, but good.
Michael's surprise keeps him pinned. Tahmoh uses that to his advantage, grinding against him just a little before pulling back and letting him go.
"Fuck."
Getting his breath back, Tahmoh smirks and repeats himself, "I told you about cons, man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a hot date with a redhead."
Michael doesn't try to stop him.
This time.
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(and the fic still fills me with all the wrong kind of glee)
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(Is it wrong to use my Kasey icon for this? It has the right sentiment!)
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VERY WRONG. Yes.
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PS. Helo is the son of a premier of the Yukon? *blink* Not that I should be surprised, but, zomg western Canada is a small world.
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Hah! I had no idea.
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