FIC: Misspent Youth
Sep. 26th, 2011 09:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zaubraAnd another! I am obviously procrastinating. But at least I'm writing again! :D
Fandom: UK Politics
Title: Misspent Youth
Ship(s): Nick Clegg/surprise [slash]
Word Count: 465
Rating: PG-13
Content: One-night stand.
Summary: As a young man, Nick has an encounter. Written for this prompt on the meme, which wanted Nick written with someone unexpected.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Misspent Youth
He’s not sure of the man’s name, but he is attractive and wiry and warm. The club is loud and close, and when the man dances up against Nick again, Nick dips his head and kisses him.
The man laughs into his mouth, bright and knowing, and kisses back, sure and dirty.
When Nick pulls back, the man leans in. “Shall we take this somewhere else?” There’s a sparkle in his eyes that might have been a leer on someone else’s, but it’s too sharp and humorous.
Nick is young, and horny, and he likes sex. It’s not at all surprising that he sticks two fingers in the man’s waistband, or that the smile he gives the man might be described best as rakish.
Nick blows him in the loo, as the man throws back his head and makes shamelessly pornographic noises, ignoring the prospect of others overhearing. (But then again, in this sort of establishment, they are perhaps de rigueur.)
Afterward, the man repays the favour by jerking Nick off, practiced and sure, while doing possibly illegal things with his other hand and making Nick see stars on the dingy bar ceiling.
They make out leisurely afterward, two young men with the careless beauty and recklessness of youth, sharing a moment in time.
~//~
Long years later, they are married men, midcareer politicians at the height of their power. They serve different parties; they chase different goals. They face off across the chamber upon occasion – Nick has slightly higher status, but the other man is sharp and funny and bright, all the things Nick remembers from that one night.
Nick tries not to remember that night, when he can help it, because it’s seriously disconcerting to be answering questions in the Commons and have a flashback to the rush of blood in his veins, the smell of beer in the air, the feeling of the man’s hand on his cock.
But every once in a while, the memory washes over him, and the colour mounts on his face, as the man stands, and flirts with the Speaker, and makes some cutting quip about the point of Nick, and the long-ago night seems both yesterday and so, so far away.
And then he’s standing, and the man’s eyes glitter at him across the chamber, above a ridiculous tie (his fashion sense was always unique), and Nick’s clothes feel too tight, and there’s a slight smile on the man’s face, as if his memory is as good as Nick’s.
Nick swallows, and forges on, because he’s mature, and responsible, and Deputy Prime Minister. Even if sometimes he misses that young man he used to be, carefree and fearless and so, so alive.
“Mr. Speaker, as the honourable member for Rhondda knows, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
~//~
Fandom: UK Politics
Title: Misspent Youth
Ship(s): Nick Clegg/surprise [slash]
Word Count: 465
Rating: PG-13
Content: One-night stand.
Summary: As a young man, Nick has an encounter. Written for this prompt on the meme, which wanted Nick written with someone unexpected.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Misspent Youth
He’s not sure of the man’s name, but he is attractive and wiry and warm. The club is loud and close, and when the man dances up against Nick again, Nick dips his head and kisses him.
The man laughs into his mouth, bright and knowing, and kisses back, sure and dirty.
When Nick pulls back, the man leans in. “Shall we take this somewhere else?” There’s a sparkle in his eyes that might have been a leer on someone else’s, but it’s too sharp and humorous.
Nick is young, and horny, and he likes sex. It’s not at all surprising that he sticks two fingers in the man’s waistband, or that the smile he gives the man might be described best as rakish.
Nick blows him in the loo, as the man throws back his head and makes shamelessly pornographic noises, ignoring the prospect of others overhearing. (But then again, in this sort of establishment, they are perhaps de rigueur.)
Afterward, the man repays the favour by jerking Nick off, practiced and sure, while doing possibly illegal things with his other hand and making Nick see stars on the dingy bar ceiling.
They make out leisurely afterward, two young men with the careless beauty and recklessness of youth, sharing a moment in time.
~//~
Long years later, they are married men, midcareer politicians at the height of their power. They serve different parties; they chase different goals. They face off across the chamber upon occasion – Nick has slightly higher status, but the other man is sharp and funny and bright, all the things Nick remembers from that one night.
Nick tries not to remember that night, when he can help it, because it’s seriously disconcerting to be answering questions in the Commons and have a flashback to the rush of blood in his veins, the smell of beer in the air, the feeling of the man’s hand on his cock.
But every once in a while, the memory washes over him, and the colour mounts on his face, as the man stands, and flirts with the Speaker, and makes some cutting quip about the point of Nick, and the long-ago night seems both yesterday and so, so far away.
And then he’s standing, and the man’s eyes glitter at him across the chamber, above a ridiculous tie (his fashion sense was always unique), and Nick’s clothes feel too tight, and there’s a slight smile on the man’s face, as if his memory is as good as Nick’s.
Nick swallows, and forges on, because he’s mature, and responsible, and Deputy Prime Minister. Even if sometimes he misses that young man he used to be, carefree and fearless and so, so alive.
“Mr. Speaker, as the honourable member for Rhondda knows, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
~//~
