Flash Fic Friday (Take 13 - Part One)
Jun. 4th, 2011 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Good evening, friends! It's very late, I know, but it was a long day and I'm just now managing to get these three done. *hangs head*
Still I hope you like them!
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hockeyiris
Prompt: MaesRoy, possessive/possession
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. NFSW. Warnings for spoilers, vague universe, slash, nudity
Forttenandayo
Prompt: Urahara/Yoruichi, shopping cart
Fandom: Bleach. Warnings: light hints to het, hint to foodplay, some OOC, lotsa crack
Formandalee1013
Prompt: Azriel/Kieran, BOD timeline, trapped in a closet
Universe: Infinity's End, The Break of Day. Warnings for intent to kiss between men, and some light crack.
“For the record, I blame this on you.”
Kieran laughs, squirming as what felt like a mop handle pressed between his shoulder blades. “Now why would you think this is my fault? I'm trapped in here too, you know.”
Despite the darkness, Kieran is quite convinced that Azriel glared at him. “It had to be your idea,” Azriel replies with a touch of irritation, but not enough to worry Kieran.
There isn't much room to move in here. Kieran can lift his arms, but he and Azriel are close, so close that if Kieran breathes in too deeply, his chest will knock against Azriel's. Also, every time Azriel speaks, he can feel the warm breath against his cheek.
“You think everything is my idea,” Kieran counters, and tries to shift around Azriel to reach for the door – missing it's handle, how odd. But all his movements do is push them closer together. “I'm not the only one who thinks around here.”
“You're the only one who thinks this deviously.”
Kieran grins. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” Azriel says with a sigh and that's when Kieran feels Azriel's arms lift to either side of him, Azriel pressing closer as he reaches for the door. “Let me try.”
Kieran obliges and Azriel's so close, he can practically taste him. “You know,” Kieran offers gleefully as he tucks his own hands behind him and hears Azriel's fingers scraping at the door, “I could take advantage of this.”
“How so?” Azriel sounds distracted.
“How else?” Kieran replies cheerily. “Here in the dark. It's nice and close. I could use a kiss right about now...” He trails off, pretending that it's all an idle suggestion.
Azriel makes a noise in his throat, but stops pawing at the door. “What you really need is a muzzle,” he murmurs, and that's when his hand settles on the small of Kieran's back.
Kieran tilts his face upward. “Aww, you don't mean that,” he says, and senses Azriel getting closer, feels the brush of breath against his lips, body tingling with anticipation--
The door opens behind Kieran and he tumbles backward, Azriel falling along with him as they land in bright sunlight with Souya, Harper, and Lyra looking down at them, distinctly amused.
Kieran groans. “You guys have such bad timing.”
a/n: For the record, honey is sticky, congeals quickly, and is fun at first, until you have to deal with the clean up. Just a little TMI to brighten up your day!
More flash fics to come! Except, starting tomorrow, I'm going on vacation (first time in five years, go me!) so my internet may be spotty. There's no guarantee I'll be attached to my laptop either. When I come back, I'll post them all if I don't manage to post while I'm gone. Vacay ends on Thursday, so if it's radio silence until then, you know why. *grins*
Still I hope you like them!
For
hockeyiris Prompt: MaesRoy, possessive/possession
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. NFSW. Warnings for spoilers, vague universe, slash, nudity
The phone rings and Roy answers it. The voice that comes over the line is soft and sultry, quiet in its command, but unyielding. The slow, banking fire in Roy's belly flutters, grows a bit, and he effects an air of nonchalance. He leans back in his chair, twirls a pen over his fingers, and pretends he's not affected. He sounds, to any listening, like he's being forced to attend a long, boring meeting and alas, he won't be able to finish his paperwork.
The voice chuckles, leaves instructions, and ends the call. The voice doesn't wait for Roy to agree. The voice knows that Roy will obey.
Roy hangs up the phone, fighting to maintain his composure. He straightens up his paperwork, makes his excuses to his subordinates and even Hawkeye's knowing glance doesn't dampen his enthusiasm.
He hurries home, drives himself so that he can get there faster, limbs jittering and heart pounding a faster rhythm. He's excited, the fire in his belly churning hotter and brighter. His pants are uncomfortably tight. It's been so long, too long.
His house is dark when he pulls up. Roy doesn't know whether he should be worried or shiver with anticipation. He settles somewhere between as he heads up the walk, unlocks the front door, and steps into the dim hallway. He pulls off his great coat as he walks, listening, but he should know better than to outsneak a spy.
The voice comes from behind him, probably having slipped silently from the adjoining den. “You're overdressed.”
Roy sheds his clothing in record timing. He knows better than to turn around. He waits, heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing through his veins.
There's barely a whisper of movement before Roy is embraced from behind, the rough texture of a uniform pressing to his bare back, as smooth, talented hands glide down his bare chest. Ghosting over his skin. One wandering downward, cupping his half-arousal. There's the bristly feeling of facial hair against the back of Roy's right shoulder, the ghost of warm breath across his ear.
“Whose are you?” the voice asks, cheek sliding along Roy's like a nuzzle.
“Yours,” Roy gasps as the hand manipulating his groin squeezes lightly. “Yours.”
And the voice chuckles, dark and sinful, lips sliding over his ear, hands touching and flitting over Roy's skin. “And don't you forget it,” Maes says and Roy groans, giving himself up to that ownership, sliding deeply into delicious surrender.
The military may have Roy's loyalty, but it doesn't own him. Never has and never will.
The voice chuckles, leaves instructions, and ends the call. The voice doesn't wait for Roy to agree. The voice knows that Roy will obey.
Roy hangs up the phone, fighting to maintain his composure. He straightens up his paperwork, makes his excuses to his subordinates and even Hawkeye's knowing glance doesn't dampen his enthusiasm.
He hurries home, drives himself so that he can get there faster, limbs jittering and heart pounding a faster rhythm. He's excited, the fire in his belly churning hotter and brighter. His pants are uncomfortably tight. It's been so long, too long.
His house is dark when he pulls up. Roy doesn't know whether he should be worried or shiver with anticipation. He settles somewhere between as he heads up the walk, unlocks the front door, and steps into the dim hallway. He pulls off his great coat as he walks, listening, but he should know better than to outsneak a spy.
The voice comes from behind him, probably having slipped silently from the adjoining den. “You're overdressed.”
Roy sheds his clothing in record timing. He knows better than to turn around. He waits, heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing through his veins.
There's barely a whisper of movement before Roy is embraced from behind, the rough texture of a uniform pressing to his bare back, as smooth, talented hands glide down his bare chest. Ghosting over his skin. One wandering downward, cupping his half-arousal. There's the bristly feeling of facial hair against the back of Roy's right shoulder, the ghost of warm breath across his ear.
“Whose are you?” the voice asks, cheek sliding along Roy's like a nuzzle.
“Yours,” Roy gasps as the hand manipulating his groin squeezes lightly. “Yours.”
And the voice chuckles, dark and sinful, lips sliding over his ear, hands touching and flitting over Roy's skin. “And don't you forget it,” Maes says and Roy groans, giving himself up to that ownership, sliding deeply into delicious surrender.
The military may have Roy's loyalty, but it doesn't own him. Never has and never will.
For
ttenandayo Prompt: Urahara/Yoruichi, shopping cart
Fandom: Bleach. Warnings: light hints to het, hint to foodplay, some OOC, lotsa crack
“I like this kind,” Yoruichi says, and Kisuke watches as three brightly colored boxes of sugar-laced cereal tumbles into the shopping cart. A cart that is already overflowing with more food than Kisuke's entire shop could consume in a year, despite his best efforts to keep things at a reasonable level.
When she turns around to admire shelves and shelves of other breakfast foods, Kisuke surreptitiously lifts two of the boxes out and puts them on the shelf. And then, after a second's thought, returns the third one as well. At this point, he doesn't think Yoruichi needs any more sugar.
“You're only going to be here for a week,” Kisuke reminds her, though to be fair, he knows she'll be back just as quickly.
Yoruichi grins at him as she tosses in a box of flavored pastries. “So?”
He leans on the bar of the cart, amused. “Perhaps a little restraint would be in order?”
“Restraint?” Yoruichi echoes with a laugh as she moves into the next aisle, prompting Kisuke to roll along after her. “Since when do you know anything about restraint?”
“Since I've learned one of us has to adopt it,” Kisuke replies easily, snatching the two bags of chili-cheese monstrosities out of her hand and putting them back on the shelf.
She huffs, not so much annoyed as amused. “And you volunteered to become the boring one?” Yoruichi asks, leaning against the side of the cart, looking hardly bothered by the fact Kisuke is steadily vetoing most of her recent choices. Her gold eyes sparkle at him.
“I can't expect you to act mature,” Kisuke teases.
“Why would I bother with that?” Her eyes skip past him, and then her mouth curves into an impish grin. “Say grab that bottle on the shelf behind you.”
He turns. “Which one--” The words stutter in his mouth as he sees what Yoruichi is referring to. He knows, immediately, why Yoruichi wants this particular bottle.
“You won't reject that one, I bet,” she purrs.
Kisuke doesn't have to think twice about it. He tosses the bottle of honey into the basket, barely keeping himself from grabbing a second one.
“I think we're done shopping for today,” he announces.
Yoruichi's laughter follows him all the way to the check out counter.
When she turns around to admire shelves and shelves of other breakfast foods, Kisuke surreptitiously lifts two of the boxes out and puts them on the shelf. And then, after a second's thought, returns the third one as well. At this point, he doesn't think Yoruichi needs any more sugar.
“You're only going to be here for a week,” Kisuke reminds her, though to be fair, he knows she'll be back just as quickly.
Yoruichi grins at him as she tosses in a box of flavored pastries. “So?”
He leans on the bar of the cart, amused. “Perhaps a little restraint would be in order?”
“Restraint?” Yoruichi echoes with a laugh as she moves into the next aisle, prompting Kisuke to roll along after her. “Since when do you know anything about restraint?”
“Since I've learned one of us has to adopt it,” Kisuke replies easily, snatching the two bags of chili-cheese monstrosities out of her hand and putting them back on the shelf.
She huffs, not so much annoyed as amused. “And you volunteered to become the boring one?” Yoruichi asks, leaning against the side of the cart, looking hardly bothered by the fact Kisuke is steadily vetoing most of her recent choices. Her gold eyes sparkle at him.
“I can't expect you to act mature,” Kisuke teases.
“Why would I bother with that?” Her eyes skip past him, and then her mouth curves into an impish grin. “Say grab that bottle on the shelf behind you.”
He turns. “Which one--” The words stutter in his mouth as he sees what Yoruichi is referring to. He knows, immediately, why Yoruichi wants this particular bottle.
“You won't reject that one, I bet,” she purrs.
Kisuke doesn't have to think twice about it. He tosses the bottle of honey into the basket, barely keeping himself from grabbing a second one.
“I think we're done shopping for today,” he announces.
Yoruichi's laughter follows him all the way to the check out counter.
For
mandalee1013 Prompt: Azriel/Kieran, BOD timeline, trapped in a closet
Universe: Infinity's End, The Break of Day. Warnings for intent to kiss between men, and some light crack.
“For the record, I blame this on you.”
Kieran laughs, squirming as what felt like a mop handle pressed between his shoulder blades. “Now why would you think this is my fault? I'm trapped in here too, you know.”
Despite the darkness, Kieran is quite convinced that Azriel glared at him. “It had to be your idea,” Azriel replies with a touch of irritation, but not enough to worry Kieran.
There isn't much room to move in here. Kieran can lift his arms, but he and Azriel are close, so close that if Kieran breathes in too deeply, his chest will knock against Azriel's. Also, every time Azriel speaks, he can feel the warm breath against his cheek.
“You think everything is my idea,” Kieran counters, and tries to shift around Azriel to reach for the door – missing it's handle, how odd. But all his movements do is push them closer together. “I'm not the only one who thinks around here.”
“You're the only one who thinks this deviously.”
Kieran grins. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” Azriel says with a sigh and that's when Kieran feels Azriel's arms lift to either side of him, Azriel pressing closer as he reaches for the door. “Let me try.”
Kieran obliges and Azriel's so close, he can practically taste him. “You know,” Kieran offers gleefully as he tucks his own hands behind him and hears Azriel's fingers scraping at the door, “I could take advantage of this.”
“How so?” Azriel sounds distracted.
“How else?” Kieran replies cheerily. “Here in the dark. It's nice and close. I could use a kiss right about now...” He trails off, pretending that it's all an idle suggestion.
Azriel makes a noise in his throat, but stops pawing at the door. “What you really need is a muzzle,” he murmurs, and that's when his hand settles on the small of Kieran's back.
Kieran tilts his face upward. “Aww, you don't mean that,” he says, and senses Azriel getting closer, feels the brush of breath against his lips, body tingling with anticipation--
The door opens behind Kieran and he tumbles backward, Azriel falling along with him as they land in bright sunlight with Souya, Harper, and Lyra looking down at them, distinctly amused.
Kieran groans. “You guys have such bad timing.”
More flash fics to come! Except, starting tomorrow, I'm going on vacation (first time in five years, go me!) so my internet may be spotty. There's no guarantee I'll be attached to my laptop either. When I come back, I'll post them all if I don't manage to post while I'm gone. Vacay ends on Thursday, so if it's radio silence until then, you know why. *grins*
