Slashy tiemz!
Dec. 2nd, 2008 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lesmisloonySo, I finished my NaNo, but the boys are not finished with me. And for some reason I like second person today. And I've bedridden myself so here have a slashy Richmuliany thing.
I'd say it's PG-13. Definitely the most... er... specific thing I've ever written. I wouldn't suggest reading it if you don't like slash or you know me in rl and don't want your opinion of me to be changed forever. Um, and it has no proper ending and it's not very well written at all but it may help you with your slashy needs? It helped ME with MINE.
That said... story time! Merry Christmas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
suchcuriousity !
You aren’t sure why it’s always either a desperate wrestling match or smirking and teasing, but you know you like both. You like the way he squirms and the noises he makes and the way it feels to run your fingers over his ribs and around his little waist, to pull him against you and make him throw back his head, to slide your lips over his stubbly neck and the collarbone that seems to want to break through his freckled skin. His long fingers twist in your hair; he pulls it, musses it, but right now you don’t mind. Right now it’s just him and you and the empty planet, your hands at his hips and his at the back of your neck, his knees tightening on either side of your waist and your toes curling in the lavender carpet.
When it’s over he slumps against you as he always does, forehead against your neck and arms draped over your shoulders. You rearrange him in your lap and lay back on the mattress, easing him down beside you, but he wraps an arm around your chest and scoots in closer, resting his scratchy cheek over your heart with a sigh. You sigh too. He’s exhausted, already drifting off to sleep. You run a lazy hand through his thick brown hair, earning a sound like a purr as he snuggles in closer. You watch his head rise and fall with each breath you take. One of his feet is hanging over the side of the mattress, his toes brushing the carpet; the other leg is bent to cover yours, knees against knee. The slow but constant rush of warm breath across your chest tells you that he’s fallen asleep; you do your best to follow his example.
But you can’t help thinking, as you so often do. About this. About him. Ever since the first time he pinned you at the end of the game of hide and seek—though both of you were certainly too old for the game—and demanded a kiss in return for your freedom. Ever since he grabbed you by the shoulders and snogged you properly. You’ve always been heading for this, ever since the moment you met.
You made it this far almost by accident. The library certainly had no information that would lead you to this place, two bodies clinging together in an abandoned hotel. The two of you did what felt right, what felt good, and now here you are. He sighs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him and pressing his thigh harder against your knee. Your whole leg twinges in pain as his skin buries into your damaged right leg. Not even his parents’ surgical skills had mended it properly.
When you met him you had just come from their operating table and you had to use an old-fashioned crutch to walk. He had hidden behind his sister and grinned at you. You thought he was an idiot. You still do, but he’s your idiot now. Your lovely little idiot.
You put your other hand against his back, running your fingers across his xylophone ribs. You’ve seen him stuffing his skinny face at feasts and parties and restaurants in every decade and every century, but he never gains a pound. You wonder if he’ll be huge when he’s old. You wonder if you’ll be old together. You know he’ll never leave you. You stop moving your fingers in his hair and close your eyes, feeling his ribs move against yours as he breathes. You love this.
In what might as well be the morning you awake sore and content. Neither of you moved during the night, though his cheek seems to be plastered to your chest with drool. You pretend to mind, pushing him off and pinning him down with one hand on his shoulder, your long hair blocking out everything but his face as you lean over him, but he grabs your waist and together the two of you roll off the mattress and onto the carpet, his eyes dancing with glee and his impish grin firmly in place. He ends up on top, happily straddling your stomach with his hands on either side of your head. He leans in and kisses you, breaking away to tell you that he loves you.
You snake your arms around him and tug him back down for another kiss, using the moment to flip him over again and then get to your feet. After pulling him up by his hands you bring his body against yours, your hands at the back of his waist and his arms around your shoulders. You walk backwards, leading him into the bathroom. Both of you need to clean up before you go back home. Together.
I'd say it's PG-13. Definitely the most... er... specific thing I've ever written. I wouldn't suggest reading it if you don't like slash or you know me in rl and don't want your opinion of me to be changed forever. Um, and it has no proper ending and it's not very well written at all but it may help you with your slashy needs? It helped ME with MINE.
That said... story time! Merry Christmas,
suchcuriousity !You aren’t sure why it’s always either a desperate wrestling match or smirking and teasing, but you know you like both. You like the way he squirms and the noises he makes and the way it feels to run your fingers over his ribs and around his little waist, to pull him against you and make him throw back his head, to slide your lips over his stubbly neck and the collarbone that seems to want to break through his freckled skin. His long fingers twist in your hair; he pulls it, musses it, but right now you don’t mind. Right now it’s just him and you and the empty planet, your hands at his hips and his at the back of your neck, his knees tightening on either side of your waist and your toes curling in the lavender carpet.
When it’s over he slumps against you as he always does, forehead against your neck and arms draped over your shoulders. You rearrange him in your lap and lay back on the mattress, easing him down beside you, but he wraps an arm around your chest and scoots in closer, resting his scratchy cheek over your heart with a sigh. You sigh too. He’s exhausted, already drifting off to sleep. You run a lazy hand through his thick brown hair, earning a sound like a purr as he snuggles in closer. You watch his head rise and fall with each breath you take. One of his feet is hanging over the side of the mattress, his toes brushing the carpet; the other leg is bent to cover yours, knees against knee. The slow but constant rush of warm breath across your chest tells you that he’s fallen asleep; you do your best to follow his example.
But you can’t help thinking, as you so often do. About this. About him. Ever since the first time he pinned you at the end of the game of hide and seek—though both of you were certainly too old for the game—and demanded a kiss in return for your freedom. Ever since he grabbed you by the shoulders and snogged you properly. You’ve always been heading for this, ever since the moment you met.
You made it this far almost by accident. The library certainly had no information that would lead you to this place, two bodies clinging together in an abandoned hotel. The two of you did what felt right, what felt good, and now here you are. He sighs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him and pressing his thigh harder against your knee. Your whole leg twinges in pain as his skin buries into your damaged right leg. Not even his parents’ surgical skills had mended it properly.
When you met him you had just come from their operating table and you had to use an old-fashioned crutch to walk. He had hidden behind his sister and grinned at you. You thought he was an idiot. You still do, but he’s your idiot now. Your lovely little idiot.
You put your other hand against his back, running your fingers across his xylophone ribs. You’ve seen him stuffing his skinny face at feasts and parties and restaurants in every decade and every century, but he never gains a pound. You wonder if he’ll be huge when he’s old. You wonder if you’ll be old together. You know he’ll never leave you. You stop moving your fingers in his hair and close your eyes, feeling his ribs move against yours as he breathes. You love this.
In what might as well be the morning you awake sore and content. Neither of you moved during the night, though his cheek seems to be plastered to your chest with drool. You pretend to mind, pushing him off and pinning him down with one hand on his shoulder, your long hair blocking out everything but his face as you lean over him, but he grabs your waist and together the two of you roll off the mattress and onto the carpet, his eyes dancing with glee and his impish grin firmly in place. He ends up on top, happily straddling your stomach with his hands on either side of your head. He leans in and kisses you, breaking away to tell you that he loves you.
You snake your arms around him and tug him back down for another kiss, using the moment to flip him over again and then get to your feet. After pulling him up by his hands you bring his body against yours, your hands at the back of his waist and his arms around your shoulders. You walk backwards, leading him into the bathroom. Both of you need to clean up before you go back home. Together.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 04:18 am (UTC)And I really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really love your boys way too much.
(MOAR PLZ? I'M A GREEDY LITTLE FANGIRL.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 03:25 pm (UTC)...
I love it. (I WANT TO REALLY READ YOUR STORY YOU KNOW.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 04:41 pm (UTC)The Twin Sunsets (http://www.megaupload.com/?d=FS1DX1DE)
...if you promise not to judge how poorly written it currently is. XD
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 09:37 pm (UTC)...also, since I'm going to Lenoir again, would you like some more cookies?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:14 am (UTC)OM NOM NOM.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-03 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 03:19 pm (UTC)