StagesOfLove Drabble Challenge: Part 5
Last part! I am so sorry to be really late: the first draft had been ready for ages, but... I hated it :P So it was re-write time! (I have no idea how that turned out :S)
Title: Not a Ristretto
Author: scary_sushi
Theme: Commitment
Rating: G
Word Count:535...Yes, same word issues.
Disclaimer: Nope. Too poor.
Cross-posted to stagesoflove's drabble challenge.
Hodges checks the hallway twice before treading off to the Break Room. He has carefully calculated each angle at which he takes his quick steps, has accounted for every glass panel one can see through.
It’s been a week since that ambiguous (confusing) nighttime encounter. To mixed signals, David Hodges definitely favors no signals at all; which is to say Stokes still hasn’t spoken to him till now. Not for lack of trying, although Hodges wouldn’t know that (he still thinks Jacqui and Archie exaggerate when mimicking a biting Stokes asking about his whereabouts), however David has become an expert at evading embarrassing confrontations years ago (in the closet is never pretty: not in LA, and certainly not here)...
-“You know, Hodges? You still haven’t asked me how I like it.”
David chokes, dropping Greg’s Blue Hawaiian all over the counter of the Break Room. He makes a mess but his eyes see only Stokes, sinfully sprawled against the doorframe.
-“I mean, I know where your tastes run, but... Quid pro quo is only fair, don’t you think?” Nick smiles, and its feral-it makes Hodges palms sweat and his breath hitch.
-“You’ll be surprised, but, espresso-the double espresso, to be exact, is my personal favorite.” Stokes slithers closer, his gaze still holding Hodges’: his moves remind David of a cat stalking its prey.
His heart beats faster: it’s been a while since he was chased.
-“I would have taken you for more of the ristretto type,” David pants. His voice betrays him, breath coming out in low gasps. However, he prides himself on still controlling his shudders.
It’s the proximity.
-“Ristretto? No: true that it is richer, more flavorful” and Nick’s eyes burn into David’s, “much more intense”, Nick’s tongue rolls the s and David’s knuckles turn white because he’s clenching his fists too hard. “But... it is much too short for me. Not to mention most of Las Vegas ristrettos taste like Sara’s sludge”. Nick’s face scrunches up and Hodges tenses a little less, because some things never change. “Americans can’t help over-roasting their beans; that’s what makes espressos so bitter”.
“Aah, that and poor brewing,” smiles Nick, inching precariously close. He now has Hodges trapped. “Rough handling often turns anything concentrated and full-flavored to a bitter muck that needs to be heavily diluted with milk and syrup to be palatable...”, and Nick’s eyes travel up and down Hodges, making him shift apprehensively.
-“Stokes, you barged in about a double espresso, but you still haven’t explained why”, groans David. Anything to stop talking about... whatever they were talking about: he’s certain the tremors and tachycardia have a medical origin, even if they only start in Stokes’ vicinity.
-“Avoiding the point, are we? As you wish...” Nick scoffs. ”Why the double? Because it’s twice as concentrated” (Nick leans in, ambushing Hodges in between his arms and the counter, then whispers)”and its twice as much. You’re up for it, aren’t you, David?”
Hodges swallows audibly. He’s suffocating, the heat emanating from Nick scalding his face, his skin, his groin. “Anything up is fine by me, Stokes”, he gasps, “but beware: I hate... No, I just don’t want short”.
Nick grins.
“That’s good, because neither do I”.
Title: Not a Ristretto
Author: scary_sushi
Theme: Commitment
Rating: G
Word Count:535...Yes, same word issues.
Disclaimer: Nope. Too poor.
Cross-posted to stagesoflove's drabble challenge.
Hodges checks the hallway twice before treading off to the Break Room. He has carefully calculated each angle at which he takes his quick steps, has accounted for every glass panel one can see through.
It’s been a week since that ambiguous (confusing) nighttime encounter. To mixed signals, David Hodges definitely favors no signals at all; which is to say Stokes still hasn’t spoken to him till now. Not for lack of trying, although Hodges wouldn’t know that (he still thinks Jacqui and Archie exaggerate when mimicking a biting Stokes asking about his whereabouts), however David has become an expert at evading embarrassing confrontations years ago (in the closet is never pretty: not in LA, and certainly not here)...
-“You know, Hodges? You still haven’t asked me how I like it.”
David chokes, dropping Greg’s Blue Hawaiian all over the counter of the Break Room. He makes a mess but his eyes see only Stokes, sinfully sprawled against the doorframe.
-“I mean, I know where your tastes run, but... Quid pro quo is only fair, don’t you think?” Nick smiles, and its feral-it makes Hodges palms sweat and his breath hitch.
-“You’ll be surprised, but, espresso-the double espresso, to be exact, is my personal favorite.” Stokes slithers closer, his gaze still holding Hodges’: his moves remind David of a cat stalking its prey.
His heart beats faster: it’s been a while since he was chased.
-“I would have taken you for more of the ristretto type,” David pants. His voice betrays him, breath coming out in low gasps. However, he prides himself on still controlling his shudders.
It’s the proximity.
-“Ristretto? No: true that it is richer, more flavorful” and Nick’s eyes burn into David’s, “much more intense”, Nick’s tongue rolls the s and David’s knuckles turn white because he’s clenching his fists too hard. “But... it is much too short for me. Not to mention most of Las Vegas ristrettos taste like Sara’s sludge”. Nick’s face scrunches up and Hodges tenses a little less, because some things never change. “Americans can’t help over-roasting their beans; that’s what makes espressos so bitter”.
“Aah, that and poor brewing,” smiles Nick, inching precariously close. He now has Hodges trapped. “Rough handling often turns anything concentrated and full-flavored to a bitter muck that needs to be heavily diluted with milk and syrup to be palatable...”, and Nick’s eyes travel up and down Hodges, making him shift apprehensively.
-“Stokes, you barged in about a double espresso, but you still haven’t explained why”, groans David. Anything to stop talking about... whatever they were talking about: he’s certain the tremors and tachycardia have a medical origin, even if they only start in Stokes’ vicinity.
-“Avoiding the point, are we? As you wish...” Nick scoffs. ”Why the double? Because it’s twice as concentrated” (Nick leans in, ambushing Hodges in between his arms and the counter, then whispers)”and its twice as much. You’re up for it, aren’t you, David?”
Hodges swallows audibly. He’s suffocating, the heat emanating from Nick scalding his face, his skin, his groin. “Anything up is fine by me, Stokes”, he gasps, “but beware: I hate... No, I just don’t want short”.
Nick grins.
“That’s good, because neither do I”.