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Colin and Bradley go Shopping

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Colin and Bradley stood in the middle of Cardiff High Street, trying very hard to look as though they were not having a row. No-one was taking much notice, but they weren't quite sure where Angel and Katie had got to, which meant it was entirely possible they were hiding somewhere, gathering evidence to present at the most embarrassing moment they could find.

"It's a girl's shop," Bradley said, stubbornly.

"Unisex," said Colin. "Anyway, why does it matter?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Colin, I'm not a girl."

Colin smirked. He couldn't help it. "So, do you want people to think your mother still dresses you or not?"

"We don't all want to be fashion victims. What's wrong with buying things from, I don't know, normal shops?"

A gaggle of young women standing a little further down the street burst into giggles. It might not have been anything to do with him, or him and Colin, but Bradley couldn't rule it out. He went through a range of emotions in about ten seconds; surprise, embarrassment and outrage were the chief contenders.

"I'm going to buy video games instead," he said, all set to stomp off. But Colin grabbed his arm, put his mouth close to Bradley's ear. A traitorous shiver fizzed over Bradley's skin.

"Come in that shop with me," Colin whispered, "and I promise you won't regret it."

Bradley scowled, and half-heartedly shook off Colin's grip on his arm. "Alright. But don't blame me if I pretend I'm buying something for my sister."

Colin grinned, and shoved Bradley across the pavement and through the shop door before he could change his mind.

The shop was full of light and dance music with a deep bass that pulsed through the laminate flooring. Bradley followed Colin through the rails, deeply resenting the fact that Colin Morgan, of all people, could reduce him to a sulk worthy of a sullen teenager. He was almost disappointed to find the men's' section; he was hoping to be able to cheer himself up with some serious gloating.

He folded his arms across his chest and watched as Colin twitched through things on hangers with a critical eye, humming to himself. There was the faintest of blue stains on the back of Colin's neck, a legacy from yesterday's filming when Colin had got drenched and the dye from Merlin's neckerchief had bled into his skin. Predictably Colin had proved to be mildly allergic to fabric dye, and then to the stuff wardrobe used to get the worst of it off, and because everyone always had to be nice to Colin, Bradley had somehow ended up having to rub cream into Colin's neck last night, and then that led to rubbing other things elsewhere and... yes. Well.

"Okay," Colin said, plucking a couple of shirts off the rail. "Let's go and try these on."

"Why try things on?" said Bradley, sulkily. "You know what size you are."

Colin gave him an exasperated look, and grabbed Bradley's elbow. "Will you just get in the fuckin' changing room, Bradley?"

"Oh, Colin," Bradley whined. But he allowed himself to be dragged towards the back of the shop.

There were two changing rooms side by side, male and female, a (female) assistant perched on a stool between the two doors with a sheaf of forms on her lap. She was sucking thoughtfully on the end of a pencil, and as Colin and Bradley approached she looked up and said, "Hello, Colin," with a warm smile (as people always did) and waved them in. Bradley was about to explain about waiting outside, but Colin still had hold of his arm and dragged him through the door.

It was a surprisingly large room, with three cubicles and a single floor-length mirror. Bradley paused for a second to fiddle with his hair, while Colin selected the cubicle at the far end.

"Bradley?" Colin said.

"Yeah?"

"Come here a sec.?"

Bradley let out a long, martyred sigh and sloped off towards the cubicle. The door opened, Colin's arm shot out and grabbed Bradley's shoulder (he really needed to have a talk with Colin about all this manhandling, it wasn't cool) and dragged him inside.

At which point Bradley was shoved firmly against the wall, and kissed. Thoroughly.

The kiss was rough and messy and very, very pleasant, and it took Bradley a few moments to recover enough brain cells to say, "What...?"

Colin grinned at him, looking not a little smug, and then he kissed him again. This time he shoved Bradley's t-shirt up, and his long, cool fingers started to stroke Bradley's side. Bradley's rational thought processes stuttered and failed, and all he could do was slide his tongue into Colin's mouth and flick at his teeth and taste him; chocolate, mineral water and Colin. Bradley relaxed his shoulders into the wall behind him, and sank his fingers into Colin's hair. "Won't there be cameras?" he murmured.

"Not in here," Colin told Bradley's neck, just before he kissed the spot behind Bradley's right ear that made his legs go weak.

"We could get caught," Bradley protested, feebly, nipping at Colin's lower lip.

"Yeah," said Colin, so low and dirty that it made Bradley's cock twitch.

"It's always the quiet ones," Bradley murmured, and then Colin was kissing him again.

Bradley was suddenly enjoying himself very much, and planning how they could get back to the hotel very, very quickly, and what he'd do to Colin when they got there, when Colin plunged his hand down the front of Bradley's jeans.

"Whatthefuck? Colin!"

But Colin just chuckled, deep in his throat, and pressed his mouth over Bradley's again. Before Bradley could produce a semi-coherent sentence Colin had got his belt undone and his zip down, and had his hand around Bradley's cock. It was at once the hottest and most terrifying sexual act Bradley had ever encountered (so far) and all he could do was tug on Colin's hair and mumble, "oh shit, Col, what if someone comes?"

"Kinda the idea, here," Colin said, and started to move his hand in quick, firm strokes.

"But," said Bradley feebly. Colin paused for just long enough to undo his own jeans, grab Bradley's hand and shove it down. Bradley had just about enough co-ordination left to work out what he wanted, and it was no hardship, Colin's cock smooth and hard in his palm. He couldn't quite get the angle to grip it properly, but he gave Colin something warm to shove against, and judging by the way Colin's breath hitched and the little moaning noise that escaped his throat, it would do.

"Oh God," Colin murmured. His eyes were open, looking straight into Bradley's, and that alone was one of the sexiest things Bradley had ever known. He could lose himself in Colin's eyes at the best of times, but right now, when they were lust-glazed and blue and absolutely purely fucking wicked, Bradley couldn't help himself. He came, just like that, fighting to keep his eyes focused on Colin's even as orgasm tugged at him, weakened him, strengthened him, surged through him. He was barely recovered when Colin grabbed Bradley's hand and spread come all over it before wrapping it around his own dick; somehow he'd made enough room now that Bradley could get a decent hold on it. Sticky and wet and oh God, he was wanking his own come onto Colin's dick, that was so fucking filthy, and Colin was panting against Bradley's neck and there, right there he was shuddering in Bradley's arms.

There was a moment of absolute, complete stillness, a slow-mo shot where Bradley's hair fluttered against his temples, and Colin's hands slid up Bradley's back under his shirt, and Colin found Bradley's mouth and kissed him. A soft, wet, triumphant kiss.

Real time came back in a rush of cleaning up and Bradley bitching about how everything was wet and sticky and God, Colin, while Colin grinned his dirty post-coital grin and refused to panic about anything at all.

Once they'd made themselves moderately decent they escaped the changing room. Colin charmed the shop assistant into discount and paid for a number of items of clothing - Bradley had no idea what he bought, and couldn't bring himself to care, he was far too mellow now. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, and saw his own grin, his eyes all wide and foolish, cheeks flushed. God, with him and Colin grinning like idiots, people would know. He looked guiltily in the direction of the changing-room assistant, but she was thoroughly engrossed in her ordering.

"Come on, Bradley," Colin said. "Katie texted. They're waiting in the cafe on the corner for us."

"We're going to go and be with people?" Bradley asked, weakly. Parts of him were still very sticky and he couldn't shake the feeling that what they'd just done was written all over him in very big letters.

"Sure," said Colin, as they emerged back onto the street. "It's okay. We can clean up in the cafe toilets." He caught Bradley's eye, his expression far too innocent. "Give me a ten minute head start though, 'kay? We don't want people to be talking." And he headed off up the street.

Too stunned to speak, Bradley could only follow.