Title: Deadly Sins
By:
alyse
Disclaimer: CI5: The New Professionals belongs to Brian Clemens and David Wickes Productions, not me, although if anyone wants to send me Sam, gift-wrapped, I will not object.
Author's notes: In response to the
ci5100 'Seven Deadly Sins' Challenge. Some of these drabbles are slashy, surprise, surprise. Cross-posted to
ci5100.
~*~
Wrath
Chris' locker door slams shut. It doesn't startle him - he anticipated it just as he anticipated the stream of invective that pours from his partner's lips.
He knows Chris. Chris' rage is like fire - quick burning and soon spent. It may consume everything in its path and leave ashes in its wake, but it blows out eventually.
Sam isn't like that. His anger is like ice. It builds slowly, freezing those around him, and is equally slow to thaw.
But glaciers are as destructive as fire and just as inexorable. Both change the landscape.
Two agents dead and for what?
~*~
Sloth
He doesn't want to move. He's warm, he's comfortable and for once he's not required to save the world. Knock on wood.
No, not knock on wood. Stretching his arm out far enough to reach the bedside table is too much effort.
Turning on the TV is too much effort too although staying in bed all day, channel surfing, sounds like bliss. Once he finds the energy to use the remote.
A warm body stirs beside him and something that's hard but definitely not the remote presses into his hip.
He reconsiders. Maybe some things are worth making the effort.
~*~
Lust
Chris is watching him. There's something intensely predatory about that gaze even though they're in the middle of the break room, surrounded by fellow agents. Not the most appropriate location to be eyed up with carnal intent.
He reaches for his cup and Chris' eyes follow, tracking it to his lips. When he puts it down, the eyes follow it rather than staying on him.
Comprehension dawns. He toys with his cup, watching Chris' pupils dilate hungrily.
"Let me guess. At your physical, the doc told you to cut down on the caffeine, didn't she?"
Chris twitches and he smirks.
~*~
Gluttony
He can't get enough of his partner. His lover now, he supposes. He could gorge himself on Chris and never get enough. Never touch enough, never hold enough to satisfy that aching need. For all his exalted self-control, one glimpse of Chris' eyes dilating with a hunger to match his own and he's undone. He could drown in Chris' touch, in the taste of the man. Does drown, often for hours at a time.
He spends more time these days watching Chris' backside than his back.
It terrifies him sometimes, how much he craves Chris. But not enough to stop.
By:
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Disclaimer: CI5: The New Professionals belongs to Brian Clemens and David Wickes Productions, not me, although if anyone wants to send me Sam, gift-wrapped, I will not object.
Author's notes: In response to the
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
~*~
Wrath
Chris' locker door slams shut. It doesn't startle him - he anticipated it just as he anticipated the stream of invective that pours from his partner's lips.
He knows Chris. Chris' rage is like fire - quick burning and soon spent. It may consume everything in its path and leave ashes in its wake, but it blows out eventually.
Sam isn't like that. His anger is like ice. It builds slowly, freezing those around him, and is equally slow to thaw.
But glaciers are as destructive as fire and just as inexorable. Both change the landscape.
Two agents dead and for what?
~*~
Sloth
He doesn't want to move. He's warm, he's comfortable and for once he's not required to save the world. Knock on wood.
No, not knock on wood. Stretching his arm out far enough to reach the bedside table is too much effort.
Turning on the TV is too much effort too although staying in bed all day, channel surfing, sounds like bliss. Once he finds the energy to use the remote.
A warm body stirs beside him and something that's hard but definitely not the remote presses into his hip.
He reconsiders. Maybe some things are worth making the effort.
~*~
Lust
Chris is watching him. There's something intensely predatory about that gaze even though they're in the middle of the break room, surrounded by fellow agents. Not the most appropriate location to be eyed up with carnal intent.
He reaches for his cup and Chris' eyes follow, tracking it to his lips. When he puts it down, the eyes follow it rather than staying on him.
Comprehension dawns. He toys with his cup, watching Chris' pupils dilate hungrily.
"Let me guess. At your physical, the doc told you to cut down on the caffeine, didn't she?"
Chris twitches and he smirks.
~*~
Gluttony
He can't get enough of his partner. His lover now, he supposes. He could gorge himself on Chris and never get enough. Never touch enough, never hold enough to satisfy that aching need. For all his exalted self-control, one glimpse of Chris' eyes dilating with a hunger to match his own and he's undone. He could drown in Chris' touch, in the taste of the man. Does drown, often for hours at a time.
He spends more time these days watching Chris' backside than his back.
It terrifies him sometimes, how much he craves Chris. But not enough to stop.