dracoqueen22 | Flash Fiction Fills (Take 30) Part Three

a/n: Two more flash fiction for your reading pleasure. Please enjoy!

For theablackthorn
Prompt: TamakixTwins, making sense of it all

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club. Warnings: threesome

It's been five years since high school and the host club. Tamaki still can't tell them apart. He doesn't bother to try anymore. He loves them separately as he loves them together.

He doesn't know them by sight, but there are other truths. Other details. Other ways of distinguishing one from the other that doesn't rely on his eyes.

Hikaru's hands are always warmer, more eager. Clutching hungrily at Tamaki when he crawls into bed between them after a long, long day at the office.

Kaoru sleeps like a rock. In the wee hours of the night, Tamaki has Hikaru all to himself. Intense Hikaru whose touches are soft and certain, who treats Tamaki like something delicate and fragile. Whose kisses are fresh with mint toothpaste and the chocolates he can't help sneaking afterward.

Hikaru likes to sleep wrapped around Tamaki, his face tucked into the nape of Tamaki's neck, nose pressed to fine blond hairs. He also prefers to be nude, bare skin pressed to bare skin, clinging as though he fears Tamaki will slip away into the shadows if he loosens his grip.

They have maids and butlers and cooks, but Hikaru still likes to spend time in the kitchen. Whipping up culinary masterpieces just to surprise Tamaki and his brother. He prefers lukewarm showers and late night television and face to face conversation rather than a phone call.

Kaoru is, at once, like his brother and altogether different. He likes to surprise Tamaki at random times. In the shower. Over morning coffee. In between changing clothes in the closet. Cornering him in the garage before he can get into the car.

The entire reason Tamaki is often late to work or late for anything really rests solely in Kaoru's clever hands. He's eager, hurried, more likely to leave marks behind. Claiming marks. He likes to dress Tamaki, too. Picking out his suits and ties and cufflinks.

He has a habit of pushing Tamaki up against the nearest surface, devouring with lips and teeth and tongue. Mapping every inch of Tamaki's body as though he fears he'll forget sometime soon.

Kaoru likes to leave little notes, in the condensation on the bathroom mirror, tucked into Tamaki's wallet, text messages throughout the day, an e-mail in his inbox by the time he arrives at work. Nonsensical quotations, cute jokes, playful words of endearment.

It's little details like that which helps Tamaki know that they are different. He loves them for the things that make them unique. And he loves them for all the ways that they are identical.

How they can talk to each other without needing words. How sometimes, what one forgets the other remembers. And how wonderful it is to be comforted by not one, but two lovers. Life, for Tamaki, is great.

For animelover1993
Prompt: JazzxProwl, “Stutter,” by Maroon 5

Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for implied bondage and implied polyamory

Prowl is contemplating recharge over a cube of spiced energon when someone pings his door. It's a bit late for casual visitors.

Curious, Prowl opens his door, orbital ridges lifting in surprise. “Jazz,” he greets as the TiC lounges indolently in his doorway. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“C'mon, Prowler. It's Tuesday,” Jazz murmurs, tilting his helm just so, visor glinting at Prowl in the lowlight of the hall.

Prowl pauses. “I... don't follow your logic.” There's nothing special about Tuesday as far as he's aware.

Jazz's lipplates curl in a slow smile. “Tuesdays are for the quiet ones,” he purrs and presses forward, Prowl backing into his quarters without truly understanding why he's doing so.

“I...” Prowl trails off as the circuits finally connect. “You have a schedule?”

Jazz's hand reaches out, fingers splaying over Prowl's chestplate. “Sorta.” He laughs as he caresses a headlight. “Lots of love to go around and only one Jazz. If ya know what I mean.”

“You... I can't...” Prowl splutters, unable to form a coherent statement. A schedule? Is Jazz serious or is this just another case of his questionable sense of humor?

Jazz's energy field flares outward in a tingling invitation. “You don't want to?”

Any attempt at clinging to composure eradicates itself at the noise of Prowl's cooling fans kicking on with a roar. “I said nothing of the sort,” Prowl replies smoothly as his aft collides with his berth.

Jazz smirks. “You haven't said much at all, Prowler,” he teases, crowding Prowl against the berth, glossa sliding teasingly over his lipplates. “Don't let me break your processor. Ratchet'll have my tailpipe and ream me a new exhaust.”

“For you that's hardly a punishment,” Prowl says wryly, placing his hands on Jazz's hips and tugging the saboteur closer. He doesn't know a single mech who could turn away an eager Jazz. Not even himself. “Hedonist that you are.”

“Guilty as charged.” Jazz's knee rises up, stroking an electrifying path across the insides of Prowl's leg. “What do ya say, Prowler? Wanna share a berth tonight? I got magna cuffs in my subspace.”

Heat flares through Prowl's frame. “Only if I can use them on you.” It would do the feisty saboteur some good, Prowl thinks.

Jazz laughs. “I'd be offended if you didn't.”

Ever so diligent, Prowl prudently sends a message to Prime that he'll be late for his shift tomorrow. Best to be prepared.

a/n: I may have a sliiiight kink for the Autobots (and Decepticons) being huge groups of polyamorous mechs. Just a little. *grins*

I hope you enjoyed. Got much more flash fics to come!