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drabbles are little ficlets
one hundred words long - no more, no less.
it's an interesting challenge
to capture a moment in time using only one hundred words. i've read
drabbles that are almost like poetry, lovely little things, unbelievably
evocative for something so short.
if you've never tried it,
i urge you to give it a whirl.
most
recent drabbles are at the top.
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| boy curves - jc/justin/chris "Hey, sparkly dance boy."
Justin brushed his lips over JC's neck. JC's skin was soft and warm under
his mouth. "Mmm, hey," JC murmured,
and turned his face to Justin's stubbled jaw. Justin's fingers followed
the curve of JC's bicep; he bent to lick the rounded sweep of JC's shoulder. "Boy curves," Justin whispered,
and palmed the slight, gentle slope of JC's ass. "Where's Chris?" he asked
between kisses. "Chris is right here, enjoying
the view," came from behind them. “I think Chris should be
part of the view,” JC laughed softly into Justin’s mouth. With a kiss,
Justin agreed.
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| apple - justin/lance
"God didn't make little green
apples, it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summer time..." Justin looked
up when I entered the room singing. “Who says?” I laughed and dropped down
into his lap. “I just sing the songs, baby.” He grunted, but I ignored
him. I couldn’t ignore his hand, though, inching slowly up my thigh. “Hey, sexy,” he growled and
looked up at me through his lashes. “Gimme some sugar.” The soft kiss turned open
and wet; I pulled back and licked my lips. “Green Apple Jolly Ranchers?” He stroked a thumb across
my eyebrow. “Green like you.”
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| mood - justin/chris
"Jesus," Chris says, rolling
his eyes, "I said no." And he's stepping away from the bunk before Justin
can touch him again. "Fuckin' not in the mood, OK?" "Come on, man, you know you
like it." "Yeah, but chill; I wanna
play a little before I turn in." Justin blinks. "You'd rather
play video games." "Right now, yeah," Chris
says. "Whatever," Justin says. "Kiss Lance for me." Chris, turning away, hesitates.
"What?" Justin’s eyes narrow. "You heard me." Chris snorts, then laughs
softly and shakes his head. "Yeah.Blow JC for me, OK?" Justin’s hands tremble, but
he says nothing.
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| slumber - jc/lance
The Russians were assholes
and his backers were assholes and staying up another hour wouldn't change
things. "Put it away," JC murmured. Lance rubbed his temples. "I should," he agreed. He looked at the papers in his hands, then glanced at the bed, weighed what he wanted and might not get against what he had and wanted to keep. "C'mon, it'll be there in
the morning," JC continued, sleep thick on his tongue. His slight
drawl was more pronounced when he was on the threshold between sleep and
wakefulness. His slurred, mumbled, "it'll be worth your while" made
Lance smile.
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| interest - jc/chris
"I like you." Chris smiled at JC. "I like
you too, dude." "No, I like you." "Me?" Chris blinked. "You?
Dude, you're seriously on crack." "You should suck me," JC
said, his voice low. He straddled Chris' out-stretched legs. Chris, seated,
was faced with the visible evidence of JC's interest. "Everything OK?" Justin asked
from the doorway. JC's eyes never left Chris'.
"Go up front. Chris and I need to talk." "You all right, Chris?" Justin
didn't seem convinced. JC's thigh was warm under
Chris' slowly curling fingers; Chris licked his lips. "Go up front, J,"
he said, "we're fine."
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| hidden - jc/justin
"Shhh," Justin murmured,
his breath warm against JC's ear. "Jesus." JC tried to keep
his hips from moving. "They'll see!" "Not if you keep your skinny
ass still," Justin whispered. The blanket barely rose as he slowly fisted
JC's cock. Chris tipped his head back
and gave them a curious, dark-eyed glance. "Just kissin'," Justin said,
smiling. He tilted JC's face toward his as if to illustrate the point,
and JC moaned into his mouth. Justin ran his thumb lightly over the head
of JC's cock. "Just kissin'," he repeated softly. His tongue traced a moist
trail over JC's jaw.
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| taste - joey/lance
When Joey first sees Lance,
he's always a little smaller than Joey expects. It's odd, given the number
of years they've been friends, and the months that they've been lovers.
He's muscled though, compact and solid, a delicious, irresistible mouthful
of boy. "Do we have--" Joey questions,
and stops. "Where's the--" Lance is
breathless. He's ready, eyes and legs open wide, but they have nothing
to ease the way. He's a feast that won't be
wasted. The crease between hip and
thigh is smooth and sweet; the heat in the valley between beckons lips
and tongue, and Joey cannot resist.
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