The Short Of It

Title: The Short Of It
Pairing: Nick McCarthy/Nick Hodgson (Kaiser Chiefs); Alex/Nick implied
Rating: R
Summary: When two Nicks are involved, things have a tendency to get sticky.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, no offence meant at all. I love them (all of them) too much to offend on purpose.
Notes: For the 5th challenge at slacken_ties (or mebbe not). And for glitter_traces who put me on this train of thought with her [http://www.livejournal.com/community/slacken_ties/358173.html#cutid1] Ricky/Alex, Nick/Alex fic and also wanted to see more Chiefs slash. I don't think this is very good (I think I was confused whether I wanted to write something funny or something fluffy or something smutty).

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Nicolas McCarthy idly wandered through the little clothing shop, fingering their colourful shirts but not seeing anything that immediately grabbed him. He didn't know what to do with himself now that he actually had some time off. He reached for a fairly bland number at the same time as another hand went for it. Nick looked up sharply and, realising who it was, smiled widely.

"Nick!" He exclaimed, grabbing the hovering hand and shaking it warmly.

"'lo," Nick Hodgson of the Kaiser Chiefs, not to be confused with the previously mentioned Nick, replied, returning the smile and the friendly grip.

Reluctantly Nicholas let go of the hand cradled within his own. "Busy?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Care to walk with me?"

Shifting from foot to foot, Nick nodded, shifting his lanky frame to follow the little guitarist out the door. Sidling up, he felt, for the first time, slightly uncomfortable as it was the first time they were in each other's company without their band mates. Clearing his throat, he tried to be witty, "You look shorter in person, did you know?"

Pouting, Nick glanced at his companion out of the corner of one eyes. "I can't help being short." He laughed when Nick hunched his shoulders a bit, to try to make himself look more compact perhaps. They strolled along further, store fronts passing in nondescript blocks of colour, walking closer than was strictly advised, bumping shoulders ever so often, talking about the weather and other inane things.

Cheeks burning slightly even before he opened his mouth, Nick tried to make the conversation more interesting, as it were, "Perhaps you'd be taller if you had eaten your meat."

Suppressing the laughter, McCarthy spoke gravely and barely above a whisper, "Ah, but you'll be the shorter of the two of us when you get down on your knees to sample some finer, prime cuts than whatever you've been shoving, or have had shoved, into your mouth all these years."

Now it was Mr. Hodgson's turn to pout. "Don't insult Ricky."

Nick smiled widely. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They paused, and exchanged a strange little look. Looking up, Nick extended his hand and once he had a firm hold of one thin wrist, dragged the amused Chief into a dead end alley. Licking his lips he pulled his accomplice behind a particularly large garbage bin. After unraveling the thick scarf from around Nick's neck, McCarthy wrapped his arms about the warm neck, pulling himself up and Nick down so he could kiss him firmly on the mouth.

Eyes wide with wonder, Nick wove his arms around this fascinating man, pulling him closer and leaning down to make the kiss deeper, tentatively sliding his tongue out to flick at the soft lips. There was a sigh of relief when McCarthy responded to the prodding, curling the tip of his tongue to trace the already glistening mouth.

It was a tantalizing slow kiss that made both itch for more.

Nicholas broke away for air and stepped back until he was pressed up against the brick wall, arms still loosely wrapped around Nick's sweet neck. Studying him for a moment, he reached up and slackened Nick's tie. "More fitting," he said in way of explanation, prompting laughter. Thumbs sliding over Nick's Adam's apple, he pulled up for another kiss, this one more vicious, catching the bottom lip between his teeth and pulling, watching the play of bliss and surprise in Nick's eyes.

Not breaking eye contact, McCarthy placed his hands on Nick's shoulders and insistently pressed down. Without much hesitation, Nick complied, sliding his hands down the back of the tight trousers, avoiding the famous arse purposefully and satisfying himself with merely getting a good feel of the molded thighs.

He looked up at Nick inquisitively. "You were not jesting, I take it, then."

"I would never," Nick murmured, a permanent smile stretching his lips as he dug his fingers further into the kneeling figure's shoulders and urging him closer.

Working patiently even as Nicholas moaned urgently above him, Nick took absolute ages to get the trousers undone, sneaking a grope here and there. Shifting his grip from shoulders to hair, Nick almost smothered the procrastinating man who finally relented and, getting a good grip on the perfect buttocks, sucked him down.

Nick groaned and resisted the urge that told him to bang his head against the wall, choosing instead to keep his eyes intent on the slide of mouth on cock, fingers running feverishly over the smooth hair and stomach muscles tensing. He thoroughly enjoyed the tight grip on his backside and the suction pulling on his nerves all at once so that he tingled all over.

This pale man was so much like Alex that Nick had to shut his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of the warm mouth and the smell of fresh air as a spring breeze blew by and the lingering taste of their kisses. One of Nick's hands found their way down McCarthy's trousers, fingers cold compared to his heated flesh as they sought his cleft. Breath hitching, Nick came into the willing mouth, his vision hazy and ears ringing, vaguely feeling the hands withdraw.

Wincing, Nick stood up, brushing off the knees of his jeans, tight across the front. Breathless himself, he leaned in to steal a kiss and almost crumbled, knees aching from the pavement, when Nick pressed the heel of his hand against his erection. Hanging on for balance, mouth hovering over the pale neck, Nick did not make a sound as he was deftly undone by the guitarist's rough fingers tugging and twisting just right. His pristine white shirt looked ruined though.

They took a few minutes of lazy finger swirling and soft touches to regain composure and tuck themselves away.

Standing practically nose to chin, chests brushing unevenly as they breathed deeply, in and out, Nick reached up and fixed the knot of the drummer's black and white striped tie.

Checking that nothing was too conspicuously stained, they strolled back onto the street in the most amiable of manners. And though they looked nothing like each other, they had an identical pleased look about their person.

End