Word Count: 295
Prompt: #71, Valentine
Author's Notes: Written for three movie_100 prompt challenges, this is my first foray into writing in this fandom. Many thanks to my husband for the beta.
Henry knows that it isn't so much that Pike hates Valentine's Day, as that it just doesn't fit him. That though Pike has always been there for everyone in Big Eden, he's never imagined anyone being there for him. That though he's always had cards and flowers on the day, despite his express wishes to the contrary, Pike has never had a Valentine. That is why Pike clings to fringes on Valentine's Day, even in the restaurant to which Henry has dragged him.
They are seated at the most remote table, where they can gaze at one another and talk with eyes or voices, as they choose, hold hands or not, slide into a passionate embrace or just eat, all while looking out at Aspen's slopes, or across the restaurant at Henry's work.
Henry looks at Pike. "I'm sorry about this stupid opening," he murmurs. "I'd rather have stayed home."
Pike tears his gaze from Henry's paintings and smiles. "I know. But at least the food's good."
"Mm. Not nearly as good as yours. Taste." Henry feeds Pike a forkful of venison.
Pike chews thoughtfully on it. "Not quite," he agrees, at last, "but the artwork's beautiful."
Henry has to work to quell the lump in his throat. "Not nearly as beautiful as the man who inspired it."
Pike holds Henry's gaze, but his struggle is obvious.
Henry moves closer and caresses Pike's cheek. "Be my Valentine, Pike."
Pike blinks. "I have to leave, now."
Henry's heart sinks.
Pike holds out his hand. "Come with me." His voice is thick with emotion.
Henry grasps Pike's hand. "Always. But can we finish lunch, first?"
Pike leans in and mouths against Henry's ear, "I need you."
Henry signals the waiter. "Lunch is overrated."
Word Count: 299
Prompt: #72: Discovery
Warnings: Fairly explicit sex
Henry hasn't had many lovers, but he loves the discovery of a first time. Stripping off his shirt, he sees Pike standing frozen, staring. He almost says, "Want a show?" And he is so grateful that before he lets that happen, he realizes that Pike is nervous. More than nervous. Scared shitless. That discovery is heady and terrifying, especially as it unlocks a wave of astonishing tenderness within him.
He lets his shirt drop to the floor and strokes Pike's arm. "You okay?"
Pike nods, but his eyes are wild.
Henry embraces Pike and waits until he gives in. "Have you done this before?" He kisses Pike's neck.
Pike tenses and then presses his face against Henry's cheek and clings.
"Sshhh..." Henry's heart is pounding when he says, "It's okay."
Pike takes Henry's mouth in a desperate kiss and whimpers.
Henry soothes with touch and tongue, discovering just how much Pike loves this, just how easy it is to slip his hands inside Pike's unbuttoned shirt and push it off those gorgeous, muscled shoulders, how Pike shivers and gasps when Henry tastes his nipples, and how utterly wonderful Pike's long, beautiful fingers feel as they caress flesh too long deprived.
There's the luxury of Pike's glossy hair spilling through his fingers and over the back of his hand. The way Pike's skin feels and tastes and fuses to his is every bit as erotic as the moment their hands meet and grasp their cocks together. But what makes him come is the sheer, lust-filled need in Pike's moaned "Henry..."
Henry discovers that night that sex with a virgin is very different from everything he'd been led to expect. He hopes that he never experiences it again, because he wants this memory joined exclusively to Pike.
Title: A Little Push
Word Count: 298
Prompt: #73: Push
Spoilers: Some movie details.
Author's Notes: The Onondaga legend of the Oot-kwa-tah, as so beautifully told in the movie by Pike, can be found with more detail here: http://www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Legen
Pike has never liked being pushed, especially into social contact.
So when Sam Hart pushed him to stay for supper, he was surprised by how much he liked the company.
When Henry Hart asked – and asked, and asked – he always refused.
But then Henry asked again, and he stayed because Henry had pushed, just that little bit. Henry listened to the story of the Oot-kwa-tah, rapt. It had felt good to connect that way.
Then everything got confused and bitter. Sam died, and Pike just couldn't go to the funeral. Couldn't risk the pain of that connection again. Not ever.
He's always been lousy at goodbyes.
"Pike, I – hey...." Henry sits down next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders. "What is it?"
Pike can't talk.
"Please tell me."
"I—" Pike wants to say, 'I hate it when you push,' but it would be mostly a lie. Sort of. And it would hurt both of them, so there's no point. "Shit."
Henry rubs Pike's shoulder.
"I miss Sam." And he hears the choke in his voice and knows that it's time to do this.
Henry takes Pike in his arms.
"Hey..." Henry leans back into the corner of the couch, pulling Pike with him. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."
Pike tries to snort. "Him and half the town." He hates crying in public.
"Don't you just love pushy neighbors?"
Pike thinks of the Oot-kwa-tah, how their parents unwittingly pushed them away and how he'd thought of them when he'd felt crowded. And how, of late, he'd felt that hunger that drove some of them to throw themselves back to earth and into their families' arms.
"Pike." Henry kisses him tenderly.
"Yes," Pike whispers, as he crash-lands.