Ficlets by Demand
Wow. This was a lot of fun. I'm still clueless as to paradigm, but I feel accomplished. Three fandoms, four pairings, and six ficlets later...yeah. And I did it all before 9am on a Sunday. Go me.
None of these have been beta'ed, none of them are much longer than 200 words (they range in length from about 150 to 250) and I make no guarantees as to the quality. Enjoy anyway!
For copernica3: Mal/Simon, handcuffs, and chocolate.
"You can't be serious."
"Why not?"
"You have chocolate. Real, honest to God chocolate. And you're going to leave me tied up on the bed and just eat it?" Simon pulled against the cuffs in a vain attempt to get free, glaring at Mal.
"Didn't say I wouldn't share. Just said you weren't gonna get out of those." Mal broke off a piece of the bar and held it to Simon's lips, letting him take it. "I like the way you look like this."
"I'd bitch at you some more, but you have chocolate."
Mal laughed. "You remind me of my mama's cat," he said, giving Simon another piece. "Stand-offish-great mouser, but not one for cuddles. Unless you had chicken. Then she'd be all over you, purring, windin' herself around your ankles…anything to get some of that."
Simon glared at him. "I do not purr. And with these-" He pulled at the cuffs again. "I can't exactly wind myself around your ankles. Not that I *would*."
"Ankles, no, but purr? You should hear yourself sometime." Mal grinned and leaned down to kiss him. "Tell you what," he whispered. "If you're not purring by the time I'm done with you, I'll give you the rest of that chocolate."
He probably should have known better, from the look in Mal's eyes, but there was chocolate at stake. "Deal," he said with a nod.
He lost the chocolate. But at least Mal shared.
For webbgirl: Gibbs/someone, elevator sex.
"Gibbs, wha-"
"Hit the button, DiNozzo," Gibbs grated.
He knew better than to argue with Gibbs when he used that tone of voice. He hit the button.
"Good boy."
Oh, fuck. Tony's mouth went dry and he swallowed, backing against the side of the elevator. "Gibbs-we're in an elevator. At work. And-"
"You telling me what to do now?" Gibbs murmured, unzipping Tony's pants. "Thought we went over that, Tony."
"But-" Tony gasped when Gibbs' hand wrapped around his cock. "We're at *work*!"
"And if you don't shut up, everyone else is going to know that too." Gibbs kissed him, hard. "Mine," he said softly. "So if I want to make you come in the elevator on your lunch break, I will."
Tony just whimpered.
A little while later, when his knees were wobbly and the side of the elevator was holding him up more than anything else, he reflected that he really needed to start carrying baby wipes in his pocket more often, if it got this kind of reaction out of Gibbs.
For llaras: Firefly boyslash, no Mal/Simon (*glares*)
Zoe knows, of course, where Wash goes on those nights she wakes up and he's not there. She knows he'll be back, and she knows he won't say anything. Neither will she.
It's an unspoken agreement between them, a silent accord that they just won't talk about this, about her husband sleeping with the man she trusts with her life. There ain't much to say, after all, and none of them is willing to let it stop.
She doesn't know what either of the men get out of the deal and she doesn't really want to. For her…well, anything that makes it easier for them to get along is something positive, in her book. And no matter whose bed Wash shares, she knows she's the only one in his heart, the only one he loves.
So when she wakes up and he's gone, she sighs a little and rolls over, snuggling into the warmth he left behind.
For dawnydiesel: NCIS, Gibbs and Abby (gen)
"Gotta admit, Abs. I never would have picked you for a basketball fan." Gibbs glanced at her, a smile quirking his lips.
She grinned and bumped his shoulder with his own. "This isn't real basketball. It's a bunch of sweaty men running around and looking damn good while doing it." Abby's eyes followed one of the players admiringly. "Honestly, Gibbs. I wouldn't exactly call an NCIS versus the Feds pick-up game to be real basketball, but in terms of the eye candy quotient? Oh yeah."
Gibbs shook his head wryly. "I wondered what it would take to get you out in the sun," he teased her.
"Ugh. Don't remind me." Abby grimaced. "And-oh, now that's nice."
He looked up in time to see Tony steal the ball and leap up for a shot, the ball swishing through the hoop. Tony's bare chest gleamed with sweat and his hair stood up in spikes where he'd run his hands through it and Gibbs thought that if he didn't get Tony alone within two minutes of the game being over, he wasn't going to be held responsible for the consequences.
"Yeah," he just said. "DiNozzo's not too bad with a ball."
Abby nearly fell over laughing.
For amireal: Greg/Gris, no scene specified.
Like so much else in life, this goes in cycles. He'll be fine for weeks, months even, and then something will set it off and he'll spend a week waking up shaking and sweating, his skin twitching from sensation the nerves can no longer feel. Gil's never sure what triggers it; he's not sure Greg is either.
He doesn't think Greg really wants to know.
Gil asked him once about seeing someone and Greg said no so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He didn't bother bringing it up again. But some nights, when he's holding Greg in their bed, stroking his hair and whispering to him until the panic's over and Greg can breathe again, he wonders why Greg does this to himself.
He doesn't fool himself into thinking that talking about it will make it go away. Nothing can do that. But maybe, if he could get it out, if he could articulate the buried fears and memories…and there Gil always trails off because he doesn't know what's next.
He does know that Greg will insist he's fine, that it's just an isolated occurrence despite all evidence to the contrary. He knows that Greg will turn away, ashamed, when it happens again (as it will), and that he'll have to coax Greg back into their bed with gentle touches and the words he's never been good at.
It's hard, demanding work-in some ways more so than processing a crime scene. But if it keeps Greg with him…it's worth it.
For malnpudl: Gibbs/DiNozzo, silence, sex, and senses.
He's stretched out on his stomach, hands gripping the covers and knees pulled up under him. The breeze blows in from the open window and he shivers as it brushes over his skin, carrying the scent of fall leaves and a hint of rain.
Gibbs moves inside him slowly, steadily, his chest warm against Tony's back and his teeth sharp where they scrape over Tony's throat. A gust of wind rattles the leaves against the window; it's starting to rain outside and if Tony were paying attention, he'd hear the low rumble of thunder or see the flashes of lightning.
He's not.
All he's paying attention to right now is this, the way Gibbs feels inside him, over him, driving him out of his mind one thrust at a time. His forehead drops to the comforter and he supposes it almost looks like he's praying.
He would, if he thought it'd help. But he knows better.
Tony breathes in the scent of rain and coffee, need spiraling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach every time he inhales. He moans in desperation, pushing back on Gibbs' cock, trying to get just that little more to push him over the edge.
Gibbs' hand wraps around his cock and pulls, hard. Tony comes with a groan just as the skies open up outside.
None of these have been beta'ed, none of them are much longer than 200 words (they range in length from about 150 to 250) and I make no guarantees as to the quality. Enjoy anyway!
For copernica3: Mal/Simon, handcuffs, and chocolate.
"You can't be serious."
"Why not?"
"You have chocolate. Real, honest to God chocolate. And you're going to leave me tied up on the bed and just eat it?" Simon pulled against the cuffs in a vain attempt to get free, glaring at Mal.
"Didn't say I wouldn't share. Just said you weren't gonna get out of those." Mal broke off a piece of the bar and held it to Simon's lips, letting him take it. "I like the way you look like this."
"I'd bitch at you some more, but you have chocolate."
Mal laughed. "You remind me of my mama's cat," he said, giving Simon another piece. "Stand-offish-great mouser, but not one for cuddles. Unless you had chicken. Then she'd be all over you, purring, windin' herself around your ankles…anything to get some of that."
Simon glared at him. "I do not purr. And with these-" He pulled at the cuffs again. "I can't exactly wind myself around your ankles. Not that I *would*."
"Ankles, no, but purr? You should hear yourself sometime." Mal grinned and leaned down to kiss him. "Tell you what," he whispered. "If you're not purring by the time I'm done with you, I'll give you the rest of that chocolate."
He probably should have known better, from the look in Mal's eyes, but there was chocolate at stake. "Deal," he said with a nod.
He lost the chocolate. But at least Mal shared.
For webbgirl: Gibbs/someone, elevator sex.
"Gibbs, wha-"
"Hit the button, DiNozzo," Gibbs grated.
He knew better than to argue with Gibbs when he used that tone of voice. He hit the button.
"Good boy."
Oh, fuck. Tony's mouth went dry and he swallowed, backing against the side of the elevator. "Gibbs-we're in an elevator. At work. And-"
"You telling me what to do now?" Gibbs murmured, unzipping Tony's pants. "Thought we went over that, Tony."
"But-" Tony gasped when Gibbs' hand wrapped around his cock. "We're at *work*!"
"And if you don't shut up, everyone else is going to know that too." Gibbs kissed him, hard. "Mine," he said softly. "So if I want to make you come in the elevator on your lunch break, I will."
Tony just whimpered.
A little while later, when his knees were wobbly and the side of the elevator was holding him up more than anything else, he reflected that he really needed to start carrying baby wipes in his pocket more often, if it got this kind of reaction out of Gibbs.
For llaras: Firefly boyslash, no Mal/Simon (*glares*)
Zoe knows, of course, where Wash goes on those nights she wakes up and he's not there. She knows he'll be back, and she knows he won't say anything. Neither will she.
It's an unspoken agreement between them, a silent accord that they just won't talk about this, about her husband sleeping with the man she trusts with her life. There ain't much to say, after all, and none of them is willing to let it stop.
She doesn't know what either of the men get out of the deal and she doesn't really want to. For her…well, anything that makes it easier for them to get along is something positive, in her book. And no matter whose bed Wash shares, she knows she's the only one in his heart, the only one he loves.
So when she wakes up and he's gone, she sighs a little and rolls over, snuggling into the warmth he left behind.
For dawnydiesel: NCIS, Gibbs and Abby (gen)
"Gotta admit, Abs. I never would have picked you for a basketball fan." Gibbs glanced at her, a smile quirking his lips.
She grinned and bumped his shoulder with his own. "This isn't real basketball. It's a bunch of sweaty men running around and looking damn good while doing it." Abby's eyes followed one of the players admiringly. "Honestly, Gibbs. I wouldn't exactly call an NCIS versus the Feds pick-up game to be real basketball, but in terms of the eye candy quotient? Oh yeah."
Gibbs shook his head wryly. "I wondered what it would take to get you out in the sun," he teased her.
"Ugh. Don't remind me." Abby grimaced. "And-oh, now that's nice."
He looked up in time to see Tony steal the ball and leap up for a shot, the ball swishing through the hoop. Tony's bare chest gleamed with sweat and his hair stood up in spikes where he'd run his hands through it and Gibbs thought that if he didn't get Tony alone within two minutes of the game being over, he wasn't going to be held responsible for the consequences.
"Yeah," he just said. "DiNozzo's not too bad with a ball."
Abby nearly fell over laughing.
For amireal: Greg/Gris, no scene specified.
Like so much else in life, this goes in cycles. He'll be fine for weeks, months even, and then something will set it off and he'll spend a week waking up shaking and sweating, his skin twitching from sensation the nerves can no longer feel. Gil's never sure what triggers it; he's not sure Greg is either.
He doesn't think Greg really wants to know.
Gil asked him once about seeing someone and Greg said no so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He didn't bother bringing it up again. But some nights, when he's holding Greg in their bed, stroking his hair and whispering to him until the panic's over and Greg can breathe again, he wonders why Greg does this to himself.
He doesn't fool himself into thinking that talking about it will make it go away. Nothing can do that. But maybe, if he could get it out, if he could articulate the buried fears and memories…and there Gil always trails off because he doesn't know what's next.
He does know that Greg will insist he's fine, that it's just an isolated occurrence despite all evidence to the contrary. He knows that Greg will turn away, ashamed, when it happens again (as it will), and that he'll have to coax Greg back into their bed with gentle touches and the words he's never been good at.
It's hard, demanding work-in some ways more so than processing a crime scene. But if it keeps Greg with him…it's worth it.
For malnpudl: Gibbs/DiNozzo, silence, sex, and senses.
He's stretched out on his stomach, hands gripping the covers and knees pulled up under him. The breeze blows in from the open window and he shivers as it brushes over his skin, carrying the scent of fall leaves and a hint of rain.
Gibbs moves inside him slowly, steadily, his chest warm against Tony's back and his teeth sharp where they scrape over Tony's throat. A gust of wind rattles the leaves against the window; it's starting to rain outside and if Tony were paying attention, he'd hear the low rumble of thunder or see the flashes of lightning.
He's not.
All he's paying attention to right now is this, the way Gibbs feels inside him, over him, driving him out of his mind one thrust at a time. His forehead drops to the comforter and he supposes it almost looks like he's praying.
He would, if he thought it'd help. But he knows better.
Tony breathes in the scent of rain and coffee, need spiraling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach every time he inhales. He moans in desperation, pushing back on Gibbs' cock, trying to get just that little more to push him over the edge.
Gibbs' hand wraps around his cock and pulls, hard. Tony comes with a groan just as the skies open up outside.