Flash Fiction Fills Take 43 (Second Half)
Jul. 29th, 2013 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Last of the flash fiction!
For camfield
Prompt: Sora/Riku, It wasn't that Riku minded that Sora called the cat 'Pussy', it was that Sora liked to call the cat Pussy, way, way to much.
Universe: Kingdom Hearts. Warnings for humor/crack
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: Sideswipe/Vortex, 'why do I always end up with the crazies?'
Universe: Transformers G1. Warnings: refs past torture and violence, language
a/n: Phew. Flash fics done. On to other works! I'm still powering through War Without End and we should see an update of that on Thursday (my next day off).
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
For camfield
Prompt: Sora/Riku, It wasn't that Riku minded that Sora called the cat 'Pussy', it was that Sora liked to call the cat Pussy, way, way to much.
Universe: Kingdom Hearts. Warnings for humor/crack
“Riku, I think we should get a pet.”
Riku turned another page in his book, pretending he hadn't heard the suggestion. Sora's brain seemed to operate on random shuffle most days and he never bothered to use a filter. He was also easily distracted.
“Riku.”
He turned another page.
“Riku.”
My, these picture were fascinating. Look at the colors, the shapes, the--
Suddenly, Riku had a lapful of Sora. His book tumbled out of his hands and hit the floor, sprawling open. Quick fingers plucked Riku's glasses off his nose, tossing them with precision onto the couch a few feet away. They bounced on the cushion but luckily for Sora, didn't break.
“You don't read that fast,” Sora claimed as Riku opened his mouth to protest.
He arched a brow instead. “Is there something I can help you with?” Since obviously no more reading was to be had today.
Sora grinned, lounging in Riku's lap like a stray seeking affection. “I think we should get a pet.”
Definitely no more reading today. Riku granted Sora his full attention since his lover wanted it. “Why?”
“Because.” Sora lifted his hands, placing them on Riku's shoulders, face taking on an innocent look that Riku knew better than to fall for. “It'll be fun.”
Riku's hands had a mind of their own. They gravitated to Sora's squirming hips and stayed there, thumbs finding the gap between shirt and waistband, stroking the warm skin he found.
“Am I not entertainment enough?”
Sora laughed. “We can't spend all day in bed.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Sora leaned forward, brushing his lips over Riku's. It was a teasing kiss and Riku frowned, chasing after the departing mouth, but Sora seemed more interested in placing little nips over Riku's jaw.
“Are you going to make me beg?” he asked with that rolling purr that had gotten him no few favors from Riku.
Riku's tongue swept over his lips, feeling his heartrate increase. “The thought had crossed my mind.” Little nips worked their way to his ear and the hollow beneath the curve of his jaw. “You are very good at it, after all.”
Sora laughed against his throat. “Does that mean we can get one?” he asked, lips traveling back upward, capturing Riku's with an intoxicating tangle of their tongues.
His hands swept higher, cupping Sora's waist, long fingers pressing against Sora's back, feeling the dampness of the shirt sticking to Sora's back. Someone had been running through the sprinklers again.
“If you want a pet, just get one,” Riku said, between kisses, Sora pressing closer to him, a rumble of arousal audible in his chest. “Goodness knows you've got the energy to spare.”
Sora chuckled. “Any preferences?”
“No cats.”
“Why not?”
Riku's mouth decided that Sora's throat looked tempting so he dipped his head for a taste, running lips and teeth over sun-darkened skin. “Don't like them.”
Sora leaned back, out of range, lips twisted with mischief. “Don't like cats? Or don't like pussy?”
Riku startled, eyes widening at his lover's bald audacity. “You did not just say that.”
“I think I did.” Sora's eyes twinkled, amusement visible in the shaking of his shoulders. “It's okay, Riku. I know how much girls scare you.”
“Sora,” he growled, and there was warning in his tone. Playful, but warning nonetheless. “You are going to pay for that.”
“Not if you can't catch me.”
Quick as a flash, Sora and his freaky flexibility tumbled backward off Riku's lap, into a handstand before pushing himself up, performing a twist mid-air and landing on his feet in a crouch. He grinned and winked at Riku.
“Your move,” he said.
Riku was torn between amusement and exasperation. He debated for all of five seconds before he launched himself out of the chair and straight at Sora, who was already moving, sprinting down the hallway, laughing all the while.
It was on.
Riku turned another page in his book, pretending he hadn't heard the suggestion. Sora's brain seemed to operate on random shuffle most days and he never bothered to use a filter. He was also easily distracted.
“Riku.”
He turned another page.
“Riku.”
My, these picture were fascinating. Look at the colors, the shapes, the--
Suddenly, Riku had a lapful of Sora. His book tumbled out of his hands and hit the floor, sprawling open. Quick fingers plucked Riku's glasses off his nose, tossing them with precision onto the couch a few feet away. They bounced on the cushion but luckily for Sora, didn't break.
“You don't read that fast,” Sora claimed as Riku opened his mouth to protest.
He arched a brow instead. “Is there something I can help you with?” Since obviously no more reading was to be had today.
Sora grinned, lounging in Riku's lap like a stray seeking affection. “I think we should get a pet.”
Definitely no more reading today. Riku granted Sora his full attention since his lover wanted it. “Why?”
“Because.” Sora lifted his hands, placing them on Riku's shoulders, face taking on an innocent look that Riku knew better than to fall for. “It'll be fun.”
Riku's hands had a mind of their own. They gravitated to Sora's squirming hips and stayed there, thumbs finding the gap between shirt and waistband, stroking the warm skin he found.
“Am I not entertainment enough?”
Sora laughed. “We can't spend all day in bed.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Sora leaned forward, brushing his lips over Riku's. It was a teasing kiss and Riku frowned, chasing after the departing mouth, but Sora seemed more interested in placing little nips over Riku's jaw.
“Are you going to make me beg?” he asked with that rolling purr that had gotten him no few favors from Riku.
Riku's tongue swept over his lips, feeling his heartrate increase. “The thought had crossed my mind.” Little nips worked their way to his ear and the hollow beneath the curve of his jaw. “You are very good at it, after all.”
Sora laughed against his throat. “Does that mean we can get one?” he asked, lips traveling back upward, capturing Riku's with an intoxicating tangle of their tongues.
His hands swept higher, cupping Sora's waist, long fingers pressing against Sora's back, feeling the dampness of the shirt sticking to Sora's back. Someone had been running through the sprinklers again.
“If you want a pet, just get one,” Riku said, between kisses, Sora pressing closer to him, a rumble of arousal audible in his chest. “Goodness knows you've got the energy to spare.”
Sora chuckled. “Any preferences?”
“No cats.”
“Why not?”
Riku's mouth decided that Sora's throat looked tempting so he dipped his head for a taste, running lips and teeth over sun-darkened skin. “Don't like them.”
Sora leaned back, out of range, lips twisted with mischief. “Don't like cats? Or don't like pussy?”
Riku startled, eyes widening at his lover's bald audacity. “You did not just say that.”
“I think I did.” Sora's eyes twinkled, amusement visible in the shaking of his shoulders. “It's okay, Riku. I know how much girls scare you.”
“Sora,” he growled, and there was warning in his tone. Playful, but warning nonetheless. “You are going to pay for that.”
“Not if you can't catch me.”
Quick as a flash, Sora and his freaky flexibility tumbled backward off Riku's lap, into a handstand before pushing himself up, performing a twist mid-air and landing on his feet in a crouch. He grinned and winked at Riku.
“Your move,” he said.
Riku was torn between amusement and exasperation. He debated for all of five seconds before he launched himself out of the chair and straight at Sora, who was already moving, sprinting down the hallway, laughing all the while.
It was on.
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: Sideswipe/Vortex, 'why do I always end up with the crazies?'
Universe: Transformers G1. Warnings: refs past torture and violence, language
Interrogator.
That was Vortex's job. He enjoyed it. He was good at it. He got paid – well, he used to get paid. Now he just did it because he could. It was a valuable skill.
Autobot. Decepticon. Neutral. It didn't matter. It was fun to pick them apart, strip them down, get to their core.
Interrogating was an art.
It was more than causing fear or pain or both. It was more than threats or intimidation or sweet, sweet trickery. It was not just asking the right questions, but getting the right answers. Getting the real truth, and not the false truth.
Prisoners lied. Prisoners wanted to live. Prisoners had things they wanted to protect, or personal honor, or personal limits. Prisoners had reasons to lie their afts off, if only to stop the pain.
So there was an art to interrogation. No two prisoners were alike. Pain made some defiant. Humiliation was shaken off by others. Some held their secrets with less regard than their pride. Some would give anything, would die for their cause. Vortex had to look at his victim, figure out how they ticked, before he could even start to tear them apart.
There was no step by step guide to train an interrogator. The good ones, really good ones, were sparked for it.
And Vortex?
He was the best.
Sometimes, Onslaught brought him toys because he was bored and had nothing better to do. Those mechs and femmes were easily breakable and Vortex played with them just to wile away the hours. They didn't have any information he needed, no secrets that would help win the war, but they were still fun to strip down.
Vortex liked secrets, no matter their origin. Secret lovers, secret sins, he hoarded them like precious metals, more valuable than chits. Vortex liked to catalog all the secrets he'd learned, poke at them later, laugh to himself.
Sometimes, though, Vortex was given a real task. They plunked him down in front of some Autobot prisoner, or Neutral with the unfortunate luck to have wandered into Decepticon territory. Occasionally, he even got a Decepticon suspected of being an Autobot in disguise. Those were the most fun.
One day, Vortex walked into his favorite interrogating room, a whistle in his vents, and cheer in his field, carefully dampened so that his prisoner would sense it. The Decepticons had caught themselves an Autobot scouting party and were eager to see just what kind of intelligence they could gain from their prisoners before granting them a long and entertaining execution.
Vortex had been given one of the soldiers, a frontliner and warrior by all rights. They were the most fun to break because they didn't fear pain, didn't care about pride, and laughed off any kind of blackmail.
He strode into the room, anticipation a hot and heavy curl in his lines, only to come to a complete halt as his optics fell on his victim.
Oh, Primus' rusted undergarments. Not this Autobot.
“Hey, Tex,” Sideswipe said with a cheery, smug grin, his helm tilted back. “Fancy running into you here.”
He lounged in his chair, draped in chains six ways from Moonbase, and didn't seem to care one whit about his circumstances.
The door slammed shut behind Vortex. The ghost from his past continued to smirk.
“You're supposed to be dead,” he said flatly.
Sideswipe chuckled, a twinkle in his optics. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
“Why aren't you dead?” Vortex gritted out and no, that wasn't a whine at all.
“Sorry to disappoint.” Sideswipe lifted his arms, unsurprisingly no longer chained to the floor though wrists yet shackled one to the other, and brought them behind his head. He was the very picture of redolence. “But I just couldn't pass on without sayin' goodbye to my favorite rotary.”
He had the audacity to wink.
Somewhere in the distance, Vortex heard an explosion. The base shuddered. Alarm klaxons began to sound, the commander screaming for all mechs to report to battle on all open comms.
Frag.
“Oh,” Sideswipe said, frame shaking with silent laughter. “That's probably Sunstreaker. He missed you, too.”
Frag them all to the Pit. Vortex snarled.
They always stuck him with the fragging crazies.
That was Vortex's job. He enjoyed it. He was good at it. He got paid – well, he used to get paid. Now he just did it because he could. It was a valuable skill.
Autobot. Decepticon. Neutral. It didn't matter. It was fun to pick them apart, strip them down, get to their core.
Interrogating was an art.
It was more than causing fear or pain or both. It was more than threats or intimidation or sweet, sweet trickery. It was not just asking the right questions, but getting the right answers. Getting the real truth, and not the false truth.
Prisoners lied. Prisoners wanted to live. Prisoners had things they wanted to protect, or personal honor, or personal limits. Prisoners had reasons to lie their afts off, if only to stop the pain.
So there was an art to interrogation. No two prisoners were alike. Pain made some defiant. Humiliation was shaken off by others. Some held their secrets with less regard than their pride. Some would give anything, would die for their cause. Vortex had to look at his victim, figure out how they ticked, before he could even start to tear them apart.
There was no step by step guide to train an interrogator. The good ones, really good ones, were sparked for it.
And Vortex?
He was the best.
Sometimes, Onslaught brought him toys because he was bored and had nothing better to do. Those mechs and femmes were easily breakable and Vortex played with them just to wile away the hours. They didn't have any information he needed, no secrets that would help win the war, but they were still fun to strip down.
Vortex liked secrets, no matter their origin. Secret lovers, secret sins, he hoarded them like precious metals, more valuable than chits. Vortex liked to catalog all the secrets he'd learned, poke at them later, laugh to himself.
Sometimes, though, Vortex was given a real task. They plunked him down in front of some Autobot prisoner, or Neutral with the unfortunate luck to have wandered into Decepticon territory. Occasionally, he even got a Decepticon suspected of being an Autobot in disguise. Those were the most fun.
One day, Vortex walked into his favorite interrogating room, a whistle in his vents, and cheer in his field, carefully dampened so that his prisoner would sense it. The Decepticons had caught themselves an Autobot scouting party and were eager to see just what kind of intelligence they could gain from their prisoners before granting them a long and entertaining execution.
Vortex had been given one of the soldiers, a frontliner and warrior by all rights. They were the most fun to break because they didn't fear pain, didn't care about pride, and laughed off any kind of blackmail.
He strode into the room, anticipation a hot and heavy curl in his lines, only to come to a complete halt as his optics fell on his victim.
Oh, Primus' rusted undergarments. Not this Autobot.
“Hey, Tex,” Sideswipe said with a cheery, smug grin, his helm tilted back. “Fancy running into you here.”
He lounged in his chair, draped in chains six ways from Moonbase, and didn't seem to care one whit about his circumstances.
The door slammed shut behind Vortex. The ghost from his past continued to smirk.
“You're supposed to be dead,” he said flatly.
Sideswipe chuckled, a twinkle in his optics. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
“Why aren't you dead?” Vortex gritted out and no, that wasn't a whine at all.
“Sorry to disappoint.” Sideswipe lifted his arms, unsurprisingly no longer chained to the floor though wrists yet shackled one to the other, and brought them behind his head. He was the very picture of redolence. “But I just couldn't pass on without sayin' goodbye to my favorite rotary.”
He had the audacity to wink.
Somewhere in the distance, Vortex heard an explosion. The base shuddered. Alarm klaxons began to sound, the commander screaming for all mechs to report to battle on all open comms.
Frag.
“Oh,” Sideswipe said, frame shaking with silent laughter. “That's probably Sunstreaker. He missed you, too.”
Frag them all to the Pit. Vortex snarled.
They always stuck him with the fragging crazies.
a/n: Phew. Flash fics done. On to other works! I'm still powering through War Without End and we should see an update of that on Thursday (my next day off).
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
