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Title: Holi Festival
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Black Lagoon
Pairing: Rock/Revy
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: written for the cinco de mayo meme, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nimblnymph, Holi festival.
Summary: Rock and Revy get a bit of downtime. Which doesn't mean they aren't still dodging projectiles.
Rock decided on a strategic retreat.
He grabbed Revy's wrist and led her off the street, away from the throngs of celebratory pedestrians hurling multicolored powders at each other.
Rock's white shirt was liberally dosed with color; red splashed across his belly, yellow across his left side, indigo arcing up his front to tickle his throat.
Revy's golden sari was spotless. Her hands, however, were caked with green powder.
She was laughing crazily as she pounded up the stairs of their hotel after him, her combat boots loud on the wood.
Rock, adrenaline surging in his veins and his nostrils free of the coppery reek of blood, was laughing right along with her.
They burst into their room and suddenly Revy's mouth was on his.
For a minute, he stood shocked, and then he fumbled behind himself, locking the door.
Revy's mouth was merciless, plundering his throughly, her body soft against his, even as her hands gripped his powder-streaked shirtfront hard enough to have the cloth creaking in protest.
His powder-streaked shirt front. Which was part of his powered-streaked shirt. Which was on his sweaty, dusty body.
Rock jerked back. "I need a shower," he said.
Revy blinked at him with an angry, bewildered expression on her face. Then she scowled, just looking pissed.
"Whatever, Rock," she snarled, shoved him away from the door.
"Revy, wait," he said, gingerly touching her hip.
She whirled to face him, the Walter PPK she concealed in a thigh holster before they left the hotel this morning in her hand. She pressed it into his chest, hard.
"What?" she snarled, baring her teeth.
"I wasn't saying no," Rock explained. He took a deep breath, the pressure of the barrel at his chest decreasing. "I just-" he gestured at his shirt. "I meant - maybe... you could wash my back?"
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Black Lagoon
Pairing: Rock/Revy
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: written for the cinco de mayo meme, for
nimblnymph, Holi festival.Summary: Rock and Revy get a bit of downtime. Which doesn't mean they aren't still dodging projectiles.
Rock decided on a strategic retreat.
He grabbed Revy's wrist and led her off the street, away from the throngs of celebratory pedestrians hurling multicolored powders at each other.
Rock's white shirt was liberally dosed with color; red splashed across his belly, yellow across his left side, indigo arcing up his front to tickle his throat.
Revy's golden sari was spotless. Her hands, however, were caked with green powder.
She was laughing crazily as she pounded up the stairs of their hotel after him, her combat boots loud on the wood.
Rock, adrenaline surging in his veins and his nostrils free of the coppery reek of blood, was laughing right along with her.
They burst into their room and suddenly Revy's mouth was on his.
For a minute, he stood shocked, and then he fumbled behind himself, locking the door.
Revy's mouth was merciless, plundering his throughly, her body soft against his, even as her hands gripped his powder-streaked shirtfront hard enough to have the cloth creaking in protest.
His powder-streaked shirt front. Which was part of his powered-streaked shirt. Which was on his sweaty, dusty body.
Rock jerked back. "I need a shower," he said.
Revy blinked at him with an angry, bewildered expression on her face. Then she scowled, just looking pissed.
"Whatever, Rock," she snarled, shoved him away from the door.
"Revy, wait," he said, gingerly touching her hip.
She whirled to face him, the Walter PPK she concealed in a thigh holster before they left the hotel this morning in her hand. She pressed it into his chest, hard.
"What?" she snarled, baring her teeth.
"I wasn't saying no," Rock explained. He took a deep breath, the pressure of the barrel at his chest decreasing. "I just-" he gestured at his shirt. "I meant - maybe... you could wash my back?"
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