Wish I Was A Better Man
"Blithe," The young Detective glanced up from the mess of a desk before him; pages upon pages of cases spreading across the almost-too-small desk he'd been using for the past month, Blithe glanced up to greet the owner of the voice, a brow quirking in curiosity at the elder man leaning over his desk, grinning widely and seeming content and at home as if he'd never left the office in the first place, all those months ago.
"Well, look at you," The accent was unmistakable, and almost attractive in the slightest as the Scottish male shot the younger Detective a delighted grin. "All grown up," He continued with a chuckle, settling himself on the edge of the desk with a smirk, knowing just how much Blithe disliked his bad habits.
"Didn't expect to be seeing you so soon," Blithe commented, Peter grinning slightly and scratching his unshaved chin, "Ah, anyone'd think you weren't pleased to see me," He chuckled, leaning over and ruffling the red-haired male's hair, much to Blithe's protests.
"Thought you'd be too busy with Ripley's Wife-" "That's all behind me, now," Peter murmured quietly, "Oh?" Blithe pressed, "She decided she wanted to be with her kids-Who am I to stop her," Peter shrugged, a smile lighting his lips once more, "So, I thought, I should drop in to see you and we could catch up, hm? Your superior told me you were off, so why don't we go out to a local pub for old times sake?" He suggested, standing up from the desk and placing his hands on it, grinning widely at the other, "Of course," He decided before Blithe could make a remark.
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The night went on slowly, and after a few drinks, the laughter came, and soon enough, Blithe and Peter were talking as though nothing had ever gone wrong.
"So, what made you return to Blackpool?" Blithe asked, finishing off what seemed to be his hundredth Whisky that night. He didn't really like the taste, but then, it seemed it was the only thing that could bring him to verge being tipsy, and it had done just that. He was having trouble acting unfazed and he kept swaying in his seat.
"Ah, you know," Peter answered, quirking a bemused brow before standing up and lifting the other male to his feet, "Come on, home we go, young Blithe," He snorted, ignoring the younger male's protests and soon enough he was dropping Blithe onto his bed and helping the drunken male wrestle off his shoes before collapsing on the bed to his left, laughing into his hands as Blithe nearly strangled himself in his shirt before tossing it to one side.
"Y'know…I missed you," Blithe murmured drunkenly, his eyes falling closed as he fell into a near silent ramble, the taller male chuckling and sitting up, leaning over the other male with bemusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh?" He smirked, his eyes taking in the other male's features. He was so docile looking and didn't seem like the type of guy who'd taken too many women into his bed, he was feminine himself, in a non-too obvious way.
Leaning down, Peter brushed his lips over Blithe's own curiously, not surprised to find the male did nothing to push him away. He was drunk, after all. If Peter were a better man, he would have up and left at this moment, temptation wasn't something he was good at resisting, after all. If he were a better man, he would have left, ignoring the advice his other head was giving him. But he wasn't a better man. He'd accepted bribes as an officer. He'd slept with someone's wife. He'd framed his assistant.
No, Peter Carlisle was not a better man.
The next thing he knew, he was kissing Blithe with a bruising force, his hands jerking off the younger male's clothing and toying with his body as if it were something new for him to explore and play with. Peter had been with a couple of men. Nothing to make him an expert, but he definitely wasn't an amateur.
Leaning down and nipping at Blithe's throat, his tongue dashing out to taste the supple flesh, his hands roamed down the body, one seizing Blithe's member in hand and beginning to stroke it, while his other began to remove his own pants, his bulge pressing tightly against the inside of his jeans.
The boy beneath him did nothing to stop this. He pressed willingly into each touch and moaned openly, groaning Peter's name when his lips weren't otherwise occupied and it wasn't long after that his fingernails were pressing tightly into Peter's back and his body was being slammed into over and over until the two collapsed in ecstasy, panting and continuing their antics until neither could bring themselves to move.
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"Nn…" Blithe groaned. Hangovers weren't something he was exempt from. He wasn't surprised to find he was in bed alone. And he wasn't surprised to see the bruises amongst his flesh. His surprise came from the smell of cooking bacon, and the sight of his ex-superior strolling into the bedroom starch naked. Then again, working with Peter Carlisle was always a surprise and Blithe could do nothing back to roll onto his stomach and groan, bringing a pillow over his head.
"Five more minutes…" He complained, Peter scoffing and leaving the room for the male to take a few more minutes sleep knowing full well he'd be getting a lecture on taking advantage of drunken colleagues in a few minutes. Not that it'd stop him. Infact, he planned on buying a couple of Whisky bottles that night and trying for round two.
Blithe wasn't complaining.