Flash Fiction #5
Apr. 9th, 2012 07:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsonFor 
animelover1993
Prompt: EthanxJaiden, fluff/smut
Ethan and Jaiden are characters from my general fic Synesthesia. Warnings here for slash, smut, and some language. NSFW.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SleetxLady Crysan, “Fake It,” Seether
Universe: War of the Animum. Consider this one CANON folks. *grins* NSFW. Warnings for smut between a man and a woman *gasp*, with memories of smut between men, spoilers, and general devilish glee.
For miss_meip
Prompt: Erland being happy, “I See the Light,” Mandy Moore
Universe: Erland Duology, post Best Intentions. Warning: light het, possible spoilers, references to past angst
animelover1993 Prompt: EthanxJaiden, fluff/smut
Ethan and Jaiden are characters from my general fic Synesthesia. Warnings here for slash, smut, and some language. NSFW.
There's something simultaneously frightening and exhilarating about not being able to sense Jaiden's emotions. It makes everything that happens between them a guess. It means Ethan has to trust Jaiden's words and actions, that he can't know things just because he can hear Jaiden's feelings.
It makes Ethan feel normal again, like this is what life must be life for people who aren't Kinetic. As much as he enjoys that, it's also a little frightening. Because he can't tell what Jaiden's thinking half the time and he's worried he's going to completely fuck things up.
But it's also good because he can kiss Jaiden, and all he hears is silence, except for maybe the movie playing in the background and the sound of the AC kicking on. His ability is silent when he kisses Jaiden, so he doesn't have to worry about hearing something he doesn't want to hear. He can fully believe that Jaiden is kissing him because he wants to, and Jaiden is touching him because he wants to and not because he feels he has to.
Teeth nip at the back of Ethan's shoulder and he startles. “What was that for?” he demands, a question that trails off into a shiver as arms wrap around him from behind, and hands smooth down his abdomen, heading wonderfully south.
Jaiden chuckles in that mysterious way of his. “Pay attention,” he breathes against the back of Ethan's neck, and one hand cups Ethan's groin, fingers massaging expertly.
Ethan's breath hitches, and his head lolls back and to the side, laying on Jaiden's shoulder. “I am,” he insists, body surging as Jaiden works his hips, rocking them forward, pushing himself further into Ethan with each slow and steady thrust.
Jaiden's other hand moves up, cups Ethan's chin, turns his head to the side so that their lips can meet in a steamy kiss that makes Ethan shiver every time. Jaiden's tongue slides into his mouth, tasting of pasta sauce and garlic, from the spaghetti they had for dinner.
Ethan groans into the kiss, reaching behind him to tangle his fingers in Jaiden's dreads, getting a good grip on them. The other hand joins Jaiden's hand on his cock, trying to encourage a faster stroke. Jaiden impatiently nudges his hand away, a silent command to let him do it, and Ethan makes a noise in his throat, scrabbling for something to cling to.
His body feels made of fire, the good kind, and there's a marked silence in the part of his mind doomed to constantly hear someone else's soundtrack. He loves it. He writhes in it, or maybe he's just writhing to the feel of Jaiden's hands on his body, and Jaiden's cock inside him. Maybe it's all about being able to touch another person without getting bombarded by unpleasantness. Maybe it really is all about sex.
Ethan doesn't really care which. He just knows he wants it, likes it, and never wants to lose it. If Jaiden is a drug, then Ethan will gladly get addicted.
It makes Ethan feel normal again, like this is what life must be life for people who aren't Kinetic. As much as he enjoys that, it's also a little frightening. Because he can't tell what Jaiden's thinking half the time and he's worried he's going to completely fuck things up.
But it's also good because he can kiss Jaiden, and all he hears is silence, except for maybe the movie playing in the background and the sound of the AC kicking on. His ability is silent when he kisses Jaiden, so he doesn't have to worry about hearing something he doesn't want to hear. He can fully believe that Jaiden is kissing him because he wants to, and Jaiden is touching him because he wants to and not because he feels he has to.
Teeth nip at the back of Ethan's shoulder and he startles. “What was that for?” he demands, a question that trails off into a shiver as arms wrap around him from behind, and hands smooth down his abdomen, heading wonderfully south.
Jaiden chuckles in that mysterious way of his. “Pay attention,” he breathes against the back of Ethan's neck, and one hand cups Ethan's groin, fingers massaging expertly.
Ethan's breath hitches, and his head lolls back and to the side, laying on Jaiden's shoulder. “I am,” he insists, body surging as Jaiden works his hips, rocking them forward, pushing himself further into Ethan with each slow and steady thrust.
Jaiden's other hand moves up, cups Ethan's chin, turns his head to the side so that their lips can meet in a steamy kiss that makes Ethan shiver every time. Jaiden's tongue slides into his mouth, tasting of pasta sauce and garlic, from the spaghetti they had for dinner.
Ethan groans into the kiss, reaching behind him to tangle his fingers in Jaiden's dreads, getting a good grip on them. The other hand joins Jaiden's hand on his cock, trying to encourage a faster stroke. Jaiden impatiently nudges his hand away, a silent command to let him do it, and Ethan makes a noise in his throat, scrabbling for something to cling to.
His body feels made of fire, the good kind, and there's a marked silence in the part of his mind doomed to constantly hear someone else's soundtrack. He loves it. He writhes in it, or maybe he's just writhing to the feel of Jaiden's hands on his body, and Jaiden's cock inside him. Maybe it's all about being able to touch another person without getting bombarded by unpleasantness. Maybe it really is all about sex.
Ethan doesn't really care which. He just knows he wants it, likes it, and never wants to lose it. If Jaiden is a drug, then Ethan will gladly get addicted.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: SleetxLady Crysan, “Fake It,” Seether
Universe: War of the Animum. Consider this one CANON folks. *grins* NSFW. Warnings for smut between a man and a woman *gasp*, with memories of smut between men, spoilers, and general devilish glee.
If he closes his eyes, it's almost the same. The fingers are dainty but the grip is firm and warm. Lady Crysan knows about command, how to put a sharpness in her voice. And when she drags her nails down his bare skin, biting into flesh hard enough to leave red marks behind, it's almost enough for Sleet to shiver.
Almost but never quite there.
When her lips wrap around his arousal, Sleet is even less convinced. More accustomed to giving than receiving, the sensation is almost too alien to feel arousing. Frost never lowers himself to suck Sleet's cock, and previous partners to Frost had made it such a rare touch that it was given as a treat, a reward, for particularly pleasurable service.
He doesn't know if he's trying to pretend she's a man or Frost or some merging of the two. Maybe it's the smell in the room, so distinctly feminine, perfumes and thick powders and flowers that ruins it. He doesn't know.
All Sleet does know is that he's in danger of losing his erection and looking like a fool. So much for trying to play the game.
Sleet fists his fingers in the covers, clenches his eyes shut, and calls to mind every dark, dirty, and perverted fantasy his imagination is capable of. Things he's never even tried, stuff he has, and all the things that never fail to make him shoot. Hands on his body, ropes around his wrists, a cock in his mouth....
Warm lips leave his cock, replaced by fingers, but the mouth returns to his thigh. Licking bare skin there like it's really going to arouse him. But when the teeth get involved Sleet shouts. His body arches. That had been no idle nip. That had been a bite, one hard enough to leave marks. The issue of staying hard is no longer a problem, instead it's become one of throbbing like mad for release.
Lady Crysan chuckles, and a finely shaped fingernail scrapes at the tender skin of Sleet's thighs. He licks his lips, suddenly feeling heated, and she surprises the hell out of him when she bites him again, harder this time, as her fingers squeeze his cock.
He groans, bucks upward, twists his fingers in the cover, and half considers protesting. This isn't part of the game, this isn't--
A whimper echoes in his throat when her nail scratches over his puckered entrance and it flutters at the intentional touch. She squeezes him again, twists her hand around his cock, and pushes that one finger inside all in one fell swoop. Sleet gasps and comes, just like that, spurting over her fingers with a mingling sense of shame, humiliation and pleasure so sharp it invades his senses. He pants, sated, and feels like crawling under a rock. So much for pretending.
Almost but never quite there.
When her lips wrap around his arousal, Sleet is even less convinced. More accustomed to giving than receiving, the sensation is almost too alien to feel arousing. Frost never lowers himself to suck Sleet's cock, and previous partners to Frost had made it such a rare touch that it was given as a treat, a reward, for particularly pleasurable service.
He doesn't know if he's trying to pretend she's a man or Frost or some merging of the two. Maybe it's the smell in the room, so distinctly feminine, perfumes and thick powders and flowers that ruins it. He doesn't know.
All Sleet does know is that he's in danger of losing his erection and looking like a fool. So much for trying to play the game.
Sleet fists his fingers in the covers, clenches his eyes shut, and calls to mind every dark, dirty, and perverted fantasy his imagination is capable of. Things he's never even tried, stuff he has, and all the things that never fail to make him shoot. Hands on his body, ropes around his wrists, a cock in his mouth....
Warm lips leave his cock, replaced by fingers, but the mouth returns to his thigh. Licking bare skin there like it's really going to arouse him. But when the teeth get involved Sleet shouts. His body arches. That had been no idle nip. That had been a bite, one hard enough to leave marks. The issue of staying hard is no longer a problem, instead it's become one of throbbing like mad for release.
Lady Crysan chuckles, and a finely shaped fingernail scrapes at the tender skin of Sleet's thighs. He licks his lips, suddenly feeling heated, and she surprises the hell out of him when she bites him again, harder this time, as her fingers squeeze his cock.
He groans, bucks upward, twists his fingers in the cover, and half considers protesting. This isn't part of the game, this isn't--
A whimper echoes in his throat when her nail scratches over his puckered entrance and it flutters at the intentional touch. She squeezes him again, twists her hand around his cock, and pushes that one finger inside all in one fell swoop. Sleet gasps and comes, just like that, spurting over her fingers with a mingling sense of shame, humiliation and pleasure so sharp it invades his senses. He pants, sated, and feels like crawling under a rock. So much for pretending.
For miss_meip
Prompt: Erland being happy, “I See the Light,” Mandy Moore
Universe: Erland Duology, post Best Intentions. Warning: light het, possible spoilers, references to past angst
He wakes with the sun every morning, some internal time mechanism letting him know that it's time to rise since his eyes are no longer capable of telling him. Unsurprisingly, Valda has already risen. Her side of the bed is cold even.
Some days, Erland swears he will get up before her, perhaps even surprise her with breakfast. But today is not to be so.
He tumbles out of the bed, takes a moment to get his bearings, and dresses in darkness. It's all routine by now, so much so that he hardly notices his infirmity anymore. He feels like he can see the room as unusual as that may sound.
The three-room cottage is not the palatial caverns of Kayel, but it is home, and in many ways, Erland is much happier for it.
He pushes through the heavy cloth separating their bedchamber from the main room and his nose twitches at the scent of frying bacon, eggs, and the evidence of bread rising. Soon to be freshly baked sourdough if his nose is at all accurate.
“Good morning,” Valda says warmly, and Erland can track her location by the sound of her voice alone. “Sleep well?”
Meaning: was his rest without nightmares?
Erland pauses, considering. “Actually... I did,” he replies, to his own surprise. He doesn't think he had a single nightmare – reality revisited – at all.
It's been five years since he left Kayel and this is the first night without the past haunting his sleep. Maybe he really is healing. Maybe he really can leave all that behind. Maybe he's being forgiven.
“I thought so. You didn't toss or turn once.” He can't see Valda's smile, but he hears it in her voice. “Well, get in here and greet me properly.”
The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “Yes, dear.” He carefully makes his way to the corner of the main room reserved for their kitchen area, guided by memory alone.
Valda chuckles. “I still say cutesy endearments like that sound strange coming from you.”
Approaching her from the right, Erland leans down and can sense Valda leaning upward, putting their lips in perfect proximity for a quick morning's kiss, where Erland is ever careful of his sharp canines. His lover smells of yeast, her lips sweet to the touch.
“They feel strange,” Erland admits. “But I like to use them anyway.”
a/n: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!
Some days, Erland swears he will get up before her, perhaps even surprise her with breakfast. But today is not to be so.
He tumbles out of the bed, takes a moment to get his bearings, and dresses in darkness. It's all routine by now, so much so that he hardly notices his infirmity anymore. He feels like he can see the room as unusual as that may sound.
The three-room cottage is not the palatial caverns of Kayel, but it is home, and in many ways, Erland is much happier for it.
He pushes through the heavy cloth separating their bedchamber from the main room and his nose twitches at the scent of frying bacon, eggs, and the evidence of bread rising. Soon to be freshly baked sourdough if his nose is at all accurate.
“Good morning,” Valda says warmly, and Erland can track her location by the sound of her voice alone. “Sleep well?”
Meaning: was his rest without nightmares?
Erland pauses, considering. “Actually... I did,” he replies, to his own surprise. He doesn't think he had a single nightmare – reality revisited – at all.
It's been five years since he left Kayel and this is the first night without the past haunting his sleep. Maybe he really is healing. Maybe he really can leave all that behind. Maybe he's being forgiven.
“I thought so. You didn't toss or turn once.” He can't see Valda's smile, but he hears it in her voice. “Well, get in here and greet me properly.”
The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “Yes, dear.” He carefully makes his way to the corner of the main room reserved for their kitchen area, guided by memory alone.
Valda chuckles. “I still say cutesy endearments like that sound strange coming from you.”
Approaching her from the right, Erland leans down and can sense Valda leaning upward, putting their lips in perfect proximity for a quick morning's kiss, where Erland is ever careful of his sharp canines. His lover smells of yeast, her lips sweet to the touch.
“They feel strange,” Erland admits. “But I like to use them anyway.”
a/n: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!
