(irrational, transcendental, non-constructible… yet so very real)
So sheafrotherdon posted a FABULOUS ficlet about John’s neck, and Rodney (and assorted other people!) nosing and nuzzling and generally enjoying it, and… I committed fic. Her stories just – I don’t know! *hands* They make me do these things. Um, anyway. Here’s my follow-up to Nadine and Billy Bob Welcome You to M76-343.
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Touching was easy. That’s strange, I guess. I’ve seen how you shy away from contact, how the easy intimacy between strangers–handshakes, hugging, simple kissing on the cheek–fascinates you even as you flee it. Your mother can touch you, but even that is learned, often endured rather than desired. When others try, you hunch and flinch and back away. For me, though, it was simplicity itself. I reached, you reached, and our hands fit together strangely, perfectly. From there it was no distance at all to embraces and walking hand in hand, to your warm solid presence against my side. Continue Reading »
When Geoffrey looks into the mirror he sees awkwardness–angles and curves juxtaposed oddly. Ears like a Grecian amphora, nose like a squashed tomato. Crooked jaw. Sidewise grin. He gets by, he does. Knows he is attractive, in an odd way, or can be–when he’s funny, when he gets to know someone. But… different.
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Many Partings
Billy/Charlie, 200 words, hard R.
He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in silky straight hair; there are no sounds but hard breath and barely audible swallows, a long soft sigh as he sags back against the concrete wall. A moment later he shivers as cold air ghosts across his privates and hurriedly zips up. Charlie is still kneeling, his forehead pressed to Billy’s jeans. Billy pushes his fingers gently through his hair. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and feels the nod against his thigh. “C’mon, stand up,” he coaxes, but Charlie shakes his head.
Lucky
200 words, G.
Jamie searched through every drawer, laying the contents out in neat stacks before sighing and moving on. When I came in and saw the orderly disaster, I shifted the laundry basket on my hip and cleared my throat. He glanced at me and then back into the drawer he was currently dissecting.
“What are you looking for?”
Strip Poker
200 words, PG-13.
“Whose idea was this?” Dom slouches in his chair, glaring at Billy over his cards.
“I believe that would be Elijah.” Who is sprawled half-dressed under the table, crisps in his hair, eyes closed, snoring blissfully. Billy lifts one eyebrow. “And now I believe you’d better show me what you have.” The eyebrow waggles obscenely.
a. First time.
“I didn’t think it would be so…” Dom stopped, partly to recover his breath, partly to search for the word.
“Good?” Billy licked Dom’s collarbone.
“No. I knew it would be good.”
“Did you?” Billy’s eyes flicked up to Dom’s face, stayed there. “I didn’t. First-time sex… first time with each other and first time with a man…” He made a face, shuddered, laughed. “I thought it might be awful.”
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A is for Attitude
“The orientation of an–object relative… to its direction of motion.”
“What?”
“Attitude–that’s–one of its… meanings.”
“So if I do this–” Billy shifts, pulls, pushes— “then have I changed… unh… my attitude?”
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I woke refreshed, relaxed, a giant among men. Well, perhaps not a giant; Bloomers did have it right when he pegged me at a tad on the shorter side of the whole spectrum of human development. However, it has always been my considered opinion that the air up there must be rather thin, since so many of the longshanks I’ve known have been as short in the brains department as they are long in the leg department. Bloomers being a prime example, with Bean running a close second. Whereas we more compact types… I stretched to my full five-foot-seven… were generally quite quick on the uptake. Boyd being the prime example, and no other needed; he was perfectly ideal both mentally and physically, and no taller than I. If not even a mere hair shorter.
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His mouth opened in startlement, and for a moment–five heartbeats, not that I was counting at all, mind you–he responded. His hands came up to clasp my arms, his lips went soft and pliable, he sighed and I drowned in warmth, moisture, heat.
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