Flash Fic Friday (Take 13 - Final Part)

[dracoqueen22]

a/n: At last! Some full week later, I bring you the last four flash fics. Please enjoy! And I apologize for the long wait.

For theablackthorn 
Prompt: DouWata, I'm ready now

Fandom: xxx-HoLiC. Warnings for MASSIVE spoilers, some slashy action, slightly NSFW, sorta sequel to this one

Dinner is a work of art, if Watanuki does say so himself. He's quite proud of his creation, and he can tell by the look on Doumeki's face, that he enjoys it, too. But then, when has Doumeki ever seriously complained about anything Watanuki's made for him?

The atmosphere is thick and heavy, brimming with anticipation. Watanuki can hardly sit still, but he's never been the most composed either. Doumeki looks unperturbed, save for the heat in his eyes, the way he watches every movement Watanuki makes, the measured glances and the languid motions.

Years of friendship, of something more without crossing that final line, have come down to this moment, this night. Doumeki has always been more to him than just friend. At first a mere nuisance, an obstacle, then a valued companion, a helping hand even when Watanuki didn't know he needed it. Then, he became a necessity in Watanuki's life, a fixture, a loyal companion, his one, true connection to the outside world. His rock.

Watanuki has been avoiding that final push, the one thing that would cement Doumeki's presence in his life, inside him even. He fears it, as much as he longs for it, and the dichotomy of his emotions has never ceased to amaze him.

Dinner is over. Watanuki delays things by doing the dishes, drying them even, before replacing them in the cupboard. He knows, with a strange but keen sense of always knowing where Doumeki is, that the other man is on the porch, enjoying the sake out of the store room.

Watanuki restlessly pats down his robe, drags fingers through his hair for no reason whatsoever, and then joins Doumeki out on the porch.

He sits next to the other man, close enough that they share warmth, and pointedly looks out at the garden, at the starlit sky, and the beams of moonlight peeking through a light sprinkling of clouds. He has no interest in the sake, despite what nerve-steeling courage it might give him. He'd rather be sober for this. He wants to remember, not forget.

They sit there for several long moments, in companionable, expectant silence. Doumeki finishes his sake. Watanuki picks out several constellations, not covered by the clouds. Some of the tension dissipates, making Watanuki wonder how he'd worked himself into such an anxious state in the first place.

When Doumeki's hand lands lightly on his thigh, Watanuki wonders why he hadn't done it sooner. When Doumeki leans over to kiss him, tasting like sake and lips warm, Watanuki wonders what he'd been afraid of. When Watanuki groans, Doumeki makes a soft noise, like a chuckle, and Watanuki wonders what the hell he thinks is so funny. But when Doumeki cups his face, deepens the kiss, and presses against him, Watanuki stops wondering at all.

 

For lemmings_live 
Prompt: Tag team, Urahara/Shinji/Ichigo

Fandom: Bleach. NSFW. Threesome action. Foul Language. 

They have this down to an art. Which makes Shinji somewhat jealous of who else might have received the pleasure of being the sole focus of both Kisuke and Ichigo. While a pair, they have been known to play, though Shinji knows no names. And the fact that they, together, know how to drive a person mad with lust makes Shinji simultaneously horny and jealous. He has no claim, but suddenly, he really, really wants to.

He's not allowed to touch. He's only allowed to feel, or so Kisuke has reminded him time and time again with a smirk and a smoky look in his grey eyes.

“I'll break out the ties if you keep touching,” Kisuke says cheerfully, his mouth making a wet, warm path down Shinji's throat, his words a soft vibration against sensitive skin.

Ichigo snorts, his fingers stroking along the inside of Shinji's thighs, just enough pressure but still not enough. “Nah, better use the cuffs. He'll snap the ties.”

Shinji resists the urge to whine in a very undignified fashion, and puts his arms above his head once more, fingers twitching. “I still don't see a reason why I can't,” he complains, and tells himself it's not a pout, because he wants to touch so badly.

Ichigo is right there, in front of him, and oh-so-naked. Bare flesh and muscles and an enticing sheen of sweat that makes Shinji want to lick him all over. Make that over-confident teen whimper and moan and blush all over.

And then there's Kisuke, who needs to be knocked down a peg or two. Shinji wants to get a grip on his hair, wants to mouth his collarbone, stroke his abdomen. Wants to be the cause of that dark heat in Kisuke's eyes, all while Ichigo watches.

Mmm. Yes. That sounds just right. If only they'd let him touch.

Kisuke chuckles, mouth moving lower, teeth getting involved, making the coil of lazy heat in Shinji's belly a blazing torrent. “Because I said so,” he replies nonsensically.

“And he's a control freak on top of that,” Ichigo adds, fingers starting a wonderful trek upward, toward Shinji's aching balls and cock.

He lifts his hips up hopefully, pushing toward Ichigo, who blatantly ignores his seeping need in order to tickle over Shinji's hipbones.

Shinji growls. “I didn't sign up ta be tortured!”

Kisuke trades a knowing look with Ichigo. “Think I'm going to need the gag, too?”

Knocking his head back, Shinji groans. It's going to be a long night.

For mistress_pirate 
Prompt: Aizen/Ichigo/Gin, I'm Not Your Pet

Fandom: Bleach. Slightly NSFW. Threesome action. OOC. Inappropriate attire. Crack. Language. 

“Wear this today!” Gin suggests cheerfully, holding up a shirt that Ichigo distinctly remembers wearing sometime last year and throwing out a few months ago because it was far too short, even for him. There's a certain point where a man should stop showing his stomach, and the belly button was it.

Ichigo shakes his head. “Hell, no.”

“Of course not,” Sousuke says smoothly. “Because you'll be wearing this.” Sousuke, in turn, holds up nothing more than a collar and chain.

Ichigo's scowl deepens. “And that is a most emphatic no,” he retorts, ignoring both of them and the knowing smirk that curls Sousuke's lips.

“Ah, Sousuke! I agree with you. Our Ichigo would look much better in that!” Gin says, and tosses Ichigo's too-short shirt over his shoulder.

“I'm not going out in public in a collar,” Ichigo hisses, storming toward his closet.

Gin, however, has other plans, his long fingers hooking in the waistband of Ichigo's boxers and pull him backward, Ichigo uttering an undignified squawk. He stumbles, falls back against Gin's front, and feels long arms curl around him from behind. Gin nuzzles against his cheek, and Ichigo just knows that the silver-haired man is smirking.

“But ya'd look so good in one,” Gin purrs, turning his head to nibble at Ichigo's ear with a warm mouth and wet tongue, enough to make Ichigo squirm.

“I don't care,” Ichigo says. If they come toward him with that collar, fists will begin to fly. And quite possibly, Zangetsu. “I'm not your pet.”

There's a jingling noise as Sousuke steps into view, still holding the dreaded collar. “Of course not,” he soothes in that silky-sweet voice that manipulates others so very well, but Ichigo's too smart to fall for. “But Gin is right. You would look good in one.”

He steps closer, fingers trailing down the side of Ichigo's face in a light caress. “We don't have to go in public. We can play right here.”

Gin groans into Ichigo's ear, his embrace tightening. “Please say yes,” he all but begs, and Ichigo can feel him getting harder, getting pulled into Sousuke's usual web of lust.

Working his jaw, Ichigo glares. “We won't leave the apartment?”

“I solemnly swear,” Sousuke says as Gin's fingers start to stroke down Ichigo's side. Which, of course, is when Ichigo knows he's going to give in. Damn them both.

 

For trappedbybunny 
Prompt: Ed/Roy, Challenge

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. NSFW. Slash. Smut. Bondage. Ed in charge. Language.

“Now this is an odd circumstance,” Ed says as he taps his chin with one automail finger, unable to stop the smirk from curling his lips. “I'm not sure what to do about it.”

Dark eyes gleam at him, mixed with rising irritation and building lust. “I'd like to think that a certain amount of touching is in order,” Roy says, or wheedles rather, and as he struggles against the bonds, the muscles in his arms and shoulders strain quite enticingly.

There's nothing quite so attractive as a bound and helpless Flame Alchemist.

“That's what you'd like to think,” Ed replies as he lets his eyes roam shamelessly over the nude body on display for him, admiring the lean form of his lover. “But this situation seems to call for what I want rather than what you want. Don't you agree?” He smiles as a low growl echoes in Roy's throat.

Surrendering control is the hardest thing for Roy. Ed knows this, because it's a damn hard thing for Ed, too. How kind of Roy to give Ed the first opportunity.

A flurry of emotions cross Roy's face before the Flame Alchemist sucks in a long breath, releases it, and then looks at Ed. “Very well,” Roy says, and there's a purr to his voice, one that proves he's trying to turn the tables. “What do you want, Edward?”

A shiver dances down Ed's spine. He works his jaw, swallows thickly, flexes the fingers of his automail hand. Damn but Roy has a sexy voice.

Ed reaches for his clothes, pulling them off slowly, baring skin inch by inch, pleased when half of Roy's attention sways from manipulation into watching Ed undress. “I want to see you beg,” Ed says, almost casually, as he slides his coat off his shoulders. “I want to see you lose control.”

Dark eyes rake Ed from head to toe. “Oh?” Roy says, half-amused, half-intrigued, and most definitely, aroused. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Ed's own breath is short now, the lust creeping through him, starting in his belly and radiating outward, until his skin prickles with heat. He steps closer, smugly noticing that Roy is watching every emotion he makes.

“I'm going to touch you,” Ed says, with more patience than he knew himself capable, and drags his flesh fingers down Roy's chest, feeling the sharp rise and fall of Roy's breathing. “And then, I'm going to touch you more.” His fingers drag down, stopping just above Roy's eager cock. “But I'm not going to touch you where you want it most.”

Roy makes a noise that he wouldn't name a whine, his body arching toward Ed. “Oh,” he says darkly and he licks his lips. “Bring it on, Fullmetal. Bring it on.”
 

a/n: And that's all the flash fiction that I owe from last Friday. Phew. 

Hope you enjoyed!