bradygirl_12 (bradygirl_12) wrote,

Fic: The Definition Of Passion (1/1)

Title: The Definition Of Passion (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Mel/Johnny
Fandom: Public Enemies
Genres: Challenge, PWP, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Claim: For the 12_stories Challenge (Mel/Johnny)
Prompt: T 7; P 5: Passion
Prompt Count: (1/12)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Johnny knows that passion simmers below the surface with his Mel.
Date Of Completion: November 18, 2011
Date Of Posting: November 21, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 872
Feedback welcome and appreciated.

Passion is
As passion does,
Seeing the world
In colors splashed
Across canvas,
Hearing jazz
In hallowed halls.

Allison Bell
"The Fruits Of Passion"
1922 C.E.

pas·sion (p sh n). n. 1. A powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred, or anger. 2. a. Ardent love. b. Strong sexual desire; lust. c. The object of such love or desire. 3. a. Boundless enthusiasm: b. The object of such enthusiasm.

Johnny appreciated Mel’s passion.

Back in grade school, his fifth-grade teacher had taught the class the meaning of the word: a strong interest in something, either a hobby or a cause. She naturally left out the physical meaning to a bunch of ten-year-olds, but Johnny had always remembered the definition.

Mel exuded passion in bed and out, though not many people realized it. They saw the cool, controlled Special Agent who dressed elegantly and enjoyed opera and poetry but was judged too intellectual to be passionate.

Johnny knew better.

He wore his own passion on hi sleeve, his self-confidence always sure to attract both men and women. He was brash, outgoing, and charming, and while there were times he used those traits for manipulation, they were as natural to him as breathing.

He knew that his personality had attracted Mel. He’d known that since their first meeting in the Tucson jail when electricity had crackled between them. He had seen the hunger and fascination in Mel’s eyes.

Big, brown eyes. Prettiest eyes I’d ever seen.

The Clark Gable of the Bureau of Investigation had kept a tight lid on his emotions during that first meeting. His hands were thrust into his jacket pockets, his every movement spare and careful. Johnny had been hooked, because a man was not that precise and controlled without passion seething below the surface.

“And what keeps you up nights, Mr. Dillinger?”

That smooth, honeyed tone had sent shivers of delight down his spine. He loved the soft voice and Southern accent. The passion of fiery South Carolinian ancestors simmered below the civilized surface.

Mel was passionate about his heritage, justice, and culture. He loved the aforesaid opera and poetry and all kinds of books. He held a law degree and was well-read, Johnny’s nimble mind always hopping around to keep up with him, but he liked the intellectual stimulation.

To Johnny, passion meant caring about something deeply. While his passions were the science of bank robbery laced with the art of showmanship, baseball, cars, and whiskey, he was passionate about fairness. Being sentenced to ten years for a fifty-dollar robbery was highly unfair in his not-so-humble opinion. He would have taken two, maybe even three years for his crime, but ten? The injustice of it still rankled him.

“That sentence was an abomination, Johnny.”

It pleased him that Mel thought so.

Passion was good. A man needed passion in his life.

Johnny stroked Mel’s hip as they kissed passionately. The bed was big and the sheets of silk in an elegant hotel room that allowed them free reign. Decorated in soft golds and greens, the drapes were velvet and the carpet was lush. Mel’s leg was slung over Johnny’s thigh as his hand cupped Johnny’s buttock.

Their cocks rubbed together as hands roamed and squeezed and caressed. They came up for air and Johnny’s eyes sparkled.

“Mmm, you taste so good, darlin’.”

Mel smiled shyly. “I thank you, suh.”

Johnny laughed and kissed Mel hard again as love and lust surged up in his heart and loins.

Passion was good, he thought with a smile as he rolled Mel over and lay on top of him, kissing every inch of skin as Mel squeezed his buttocks. Johnny moaned as he rubbed back-and-forth, wanting more.

Mel’s eyes were dark with lust as he nipped Johnny’s shoulder and moaned, “Take me.”

Johnny felt the quiver in his groin as he lightly bit Mel’s neck. “With pleasure!” he smirked.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a jar of cream. Unscrewing the lid, he scooped out a generous amount to prepare him and Mel, his blood thrumming with anticipation. He put the jar on the nightstand and rubbed Mel’s thighs, murmuring sweet nothings as he relaxed his high-strung partner. Mel spread his legs and hooked them over Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny eased in, watching his lover’s face.

It felt so good to be sheathed in Mel’s tight heat as he began to thrust slowly. Mel moaned as he gripped the sheets. Pleasure rippled through them both as they established the age-old rhythm.

Johnny loved to watch the emotions of pleasure and lust play over Mel’s beautiful face. He increased his pace and his thighs quivered, Mel’s right hand ghosting over his leg.

Johnny could feel himself close to coming, his pulse pounding as he pounded Mel. Mel cried out, spurting over Johnny’s chest and belly. The sight of his Mel in the throes of passion pushed him over the edge and he felt the sweet rush of orgasm. Johnny collapsed on top of Mel as he slid out, Mel caressing his hair as they caught their breath.

Johnny rubbed his cheek on Mel’s chest. Yeah, he could really appreciate his Southern honey’s passion.

He smiled and kissed Mel lovingly.

Tags: 12_stories, challenge, fic prompt, melvin purvis/johnny dillinger, public enemies, the definition of passion
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