DRABBLES

Mustard's No Good Without Roast Beef - Chico Marx (Double drabble set)

Bodie's not an ambitious man. More...resolute. Dogged. It's got him out of a few tight corners over the years, thinking things through--having his escape route planned well in advance, a good strategy for retreat. Up until he met Ray Doyle. 'Cause Ray doesn't. Think about things, that is. Ray spots half a chance, grabs it with both hands, and gets stuck in. Bull at a gate. Feet first. Consequences be damned.

Mind you, with his face buried in the pillow and Ray balls-deep in his arse, Bodie finds it difficult to complain. He'll worry about afterwards, afterwards.

*

Left to Bodie, they'd still be dancing around each other. Not that Bodie's indecisive. He just ponders on things before doing them. And when they're done, he puts them behind him. Completely. At first Ray thought it was indifference, lack of feeling, but now he knows better. It's as though there's a limited amount of time for each problem and, having used up the allotted amount, Bodie needs no more. Whereas Ray's the complete opposite. He acts first and worries later. A lot.

But, draped over Bodie's back, about to shoot his load, he knows that this time there'll be no regrets.

August 2006

Compromise

A throw resembling a dead sheep and silk sheets. Combined with spiffy suits and spit-polished shoes and that’s Bodie to a tee. Doyle, on the other hand, prefers wearing his silk and some people - names withheld - have likened his hair to something ovine. Bedding wise, he’s a cotton man, through and through. Or was.

These days, it’s Bodie in a parka that’d be more fitting on a tramp and Doyle’s the one looking fit to grace the catwalk. And it’s all in the name of compromise, so they say.

Murphy’s not convinced. Partners don’t normally fight over thread-count.

December 2005

Alloy

Strong but unstable--one too brittle, the other overly soft--they spin the orbit of CI5. Like binary stars they glow, heat pulsing between them--a warm palm pressed against a shoulder, sultry glances exchanged over lunch--simmering promises of things to come.

At day's close they collide. This feeling, still so new, boils away reserve, reducing them to component parts--lusty passion fuelling volcanic desire. In furnace darkness, fiery touch builds on fiery touch, merging and consuming, sparking pleasure and consummating need. Only when quenched in sweat, can they rest, spent. Cooling, tempered. Alloy.

April 2006

Sometimes a Cigar

Cold air wafted over his face as he rooted through boxes of multi-coloured lollies -- Strawberry Mivvi's got shoved to one side, Zooms and Fabs discarded. Had to be in here somewhere. Had to be.

"Bodie!"

"Yeah, yeah." The words echoed around the freezer. His toes lifted off the floor. Was it? Was it? Yes!

Triumphant, he emerged chilly and red-faced with his prize and sauntered over to the counter. Doyle glared at him. "That's it?"

"Yep," Bodie said, happily fishing out his wallet. Ice cream plus petrol. And worth every single penny to watch Ray eating a Mini Milk.

May 2006

Dawning

Dawn, and there's an early-bird strutting his stuff outside the window, bellowing his lungs out. Full of himself this little tinpot dictator. Thinks nothing can touch him. Nothing can bring him down. Course, he can't see next door's moggy, tail tip twitching, green eyes fixed in a hunter's baleful glare.

The cat leaps, a flurry of feathers, an undignified squawk, and the dictator is no more. Nothing but a slack corpse between bloodstained lips. Conquered.

Ray's hand grips my shoulder, fingers digging deep into the muscle, his body quivering with tension. "Anything?"

I shrug. Some things are best left unspoken.

July 2006

Aerial Display

From base to tip, he licks, as tawny thighs tighten at his shoulders. The last of the autumn sun beats on his back. Hair brushes soft against his palms. If there is a heaven, Bodie's found it. Here in musky scent, with heavy heat on his tongue, with hoarse, wordless sounds above him and insistent, frantic fingers in his hair.

Smiling, he ignores the moans of complaint and lifts his head, squinting to admire the view. Dew topped, dawn blushed pink, a living column twitching in swirling currents of air. He licks his lips, tasting, and breathes in Ray's scent.

November 2006 - Bonfire Night "Discovered in a Skyrocket" challenge on the discoveredinalj Livejournal community.

Happy Panda Shoots Himself

Past the door hinge, a sliced view of the room, dark but for a puddle of light over the bed. There, two blackened eyes set in an overly pale face topped by dark wavy hair. Bodie - who should be sleeping, not doing whatever it is he's doing.

Blankets, pushed down, give the perfect view. Of fingers skating from nipple to nipple, pinching them into hard pink peaks. A hand flat against a slightly rounded belly, fingertips vanishing beneath the sheet. Of opened mouth and soundless cry. Spasmodic jerk of hips and wet spreading warmth. Of sated smile and sleep.

November 2006 - Bonfire Night "Discovered in a Skyrocket" challenge on the discoveredinalj Livejournal community.

The End