DC short short: "Inked," Booster Gold/Blue Beetle (R)

[hsavinien]

Title: Inked

Author: H. Savinien
Disclaimer: Property of DC, however badly they have been treated thereby.
Pairing: Booster Gold/Blue Beetle II (Ted Kord)
Rating: R
Wordcount: 610
A.N.: Written for the Boostle Kink Meme III (http://boostle.livejournal.com/464176.html) prompt: Ted/Booster, paintbrush and/or writing on each other.

***

Booster blinks half-awake at a persistent tickle on his hip and swipes at it clumsily.

"Arghnononono, hold still!" A solid weight pins his arm and repositions him on his side and that's Ted's voice buzzing and too-fast. "I almost had it, hold still! You're messing up the lines, jerk."

Booster makes a sleepy noise, something like "Bwuh?" and tries to twist around to see what's going on, but then Ted's hand is on the back of his neck holding him down and his breath is hot against Booster's shoulder and the tickle is tracing over his ribs and Ted's murmuring something that sounds like physics. Booster blinks at the wall across from Ted's bed and it looks wrong, gray and spiky, until he realizes that the wall is still the same white, but there's writing on it, black and crammed together and covering it from ceiling to floor. The pillow too...he squints at it and can just make out a jumble of Xs and Ys and is and numbers trailing down onto the sheet and Ted is still behind him, mouth tickling almost as badly against his shoulder as whatever-it-is that Ted's doing on his back.

Booster moves one arm gingerly and, when that doesn't elicit another round of protests, brings his hand up to look at it. Sinuous curves along hastily-sketched axes mark the veins inside his wrist, black ink marching variables around his forearm. Ted's mumbling is nearly at the Flashes' unintelligible tempo as his fingers lift from the back of Booster's neck and the tickle coalesces into one wild swipe and a triumphant dot. An exclamation mark, Booster realizes after a single, suddenly quiet moment.

"Can I move now?" he asks carefully.

"Yeah." Ted sounds drained.

Booster shifts carefully, sitting up with as little sliding around as he can, in case some of the ink isn't dry yet. Ted looks exhausted and kind of manic still. He's jittery, fingers twirling a black sharpie in a ragged beat against his own bare leg. "Uh..." Booster says.

Ted shrugs. "Three pots of coffee, used up all the paper I could find, and office supply stores don't deliver at three forty-five a.m. unless you're Bruce Wayne; I tried." Booster stares around the room. The walls and most of the ceiling (a chair propped against one wall explains how he managed that), the sheets, the pillow-cases, and the curtains are covered in writing. About half a dozen sharpies are strewn across the carpet, discarded.

Booster scratches his eyebrow (gingerly, just in case). "What about your computer?"

"Tried." Ted shrugs again. "Couldn't organize my thoughts in front of a screen."

Booster shivers, a little cold without the sheets. "So what is it all?"

"A new propulsion system for the Bug," Ted replies. "Blueprints are on the curtains if you want to see." He scoots closer and his fingers trace a line of chemical equations that cross Booster's pecs and detour around a nipple. Booster squirms. "See, this is the new fuel mix that I think I'll need."

Booster lets out a choked noise and snatches Ted's hand away. Ted blinks at him dazedly. "Ted. How permanent is this ink?"

"It's fairly water-resistant, but it can still smear," Ted answers automatically.

"Go get a camera and take a picture of it."

Ted looks bemused.

"Seriously. I am about to have really athletic and energetic sex with you and your insane and sexy brain and if you don't want to have to reconstruct these data from scratch– " Ted cuts him off with a hard kiss and his hand, hot and heavy again on the back of Booster's neck, then races for his camera.

Comments

[yuri-shoujo.livejournal.com]

If he wrote it in purple, it would never come off. No camera needed.

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

Heheh.