And so drabbles.
And so with danishpinkcess we were on IM.
ME: You. Me. Fic challenge.
HER: YEAHEH. Prompt?
ME: Theme. You?
HER: Paring.
ME: OKEE. Timed.
Hers are here, yo!
Prompt: "TASTE THE EVIL". Written on a t-shirt.
Time: 12 minutes. I write slooooowly. Oo
The wind whips his hair in his face in his eyes across his cheeks; he grins, and keeps the steering wheel steady with one hand. Small mercy, the road stretches straight for miles.
Toma sprawls sideways in the passenger seat, feels his skin prickle with heat, a bead of sweat dragging down his throat. He enjoys it as much as he does the other’s eyes on him, slanted in the rearview mirror, attentive.
“Shouldn’t it be ‘devil’?”, he asks, and Toma laughs. The shirt sticks to his skin, darker with sweat and the bottle he unpended over himself a while ago. “You can’t taste evil,” and the words slide on his breath on his laugh on the wind.
“Whatever,” Toma says. It doesn’t matter so much. His eyes flick to the road and away, back to him.
Toma takes off the shirt. It’s easier that way.
He smiles at the way the car swerves a little, a secret little smile with a strange, alluring tilt to it.
The other’s eyes stay fixed on the road after that, both hands tight on the wheel.
Prompt: half-eaten apple
Time: 11min.
She snatches it back, then, mock frowns at him with her lips twisted to smooth the smile away; lets it bloom, fleeting, as she takes a large bite, she has very white teeth. He likes it when she turns to him and she’s laughing at him with her eyes, her shoulders hunched inwards like she’s protecting something, one hand tucked neatly between her knees. He pretends he doesn’t, though, turns to do something else like his mind has something else to focus on than where her knees brush his thigh, her slim fingers curled inches away.
She makes a little noise, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, unrefined and strikingly delicate. He suddenly wants to know what kind of noise she’d make if he slid his hand over the curve of her shoulder, her collarbone, and drew her clothing to pool at her waist, what-
He laughs then, with the sudden knot that twists his stomach with tiny sparks of heat.
She thinks he’s laughing at her. (He lets her.)
Prompt: "I'm kind of bleeding. I cut myself..."
Time: 11min.
Warning: Don't ask me. I don't know.
Koki watches, transfixed, as Ueda’s fingers, so pale against Koki’s sun brown skin, push the shard in deeper. The skin parts; they both feel it, hear it with the way they stop breathing and their heartbeats echo in their heads in the silence.
The edge draws blood, thick, shock-red, pooling around the shard around Ueda’s fingertips, dripping, sluggish, down his forearm, circling the skin like ink, like art.
“Tell me when to stop.”
Ueda’s voice cuts through the haze in Koki’s mind, lashes at him at his heart at the prickling absent kind of pain and at the absent kind of feeling that comes with it. He wants to look into Ueda’s eyes understand him know if he thinks what he says, even though Koki can never tell; tonight Koki’s eyes are clouded and he can’t drag his gaze away from what Ueda is doing to him.
“Don’t,” he rasps, his voice alien to his own ears; his eyes close as the glass bites deeper.
He never knows that Ueda always stops after the first draw that it’s all in his mind it’s all in his mind but Koki never knows.
Haha, they're crap, w/e :D Exams make me reckless. *RAWR*
ME: You. Me. Fic challenge.
HER: YEAHEH. Prompt?
ME: Theme. You?
HER: Paring.
ME: OKEE. Timed.
Hers are here, yo!
Prompt: "TASTE THE EVIL". Written on a t-shirt.
Time: 12 minutes. I write slooooowly. Oo
The wind whips his hair in his face in his eyes across his cheeks; he grins, and keeps the steering wheel steady with one hand. Small mercy, the road stretches straight for miles.
Toma sprawls sideways in the passenger seat, feels his skin prickle with heat, a bead of sweat dragging down his throat. He enjoys it as much as he does the other’s eyes on him, slanted in the rearview mirror, attentive.
“Shouldn’t it be ‘devil’?”, he asks, and Toma laughs. The shirt sticks to his skin, darker with sweat and the bottle he unpended over himself a while ago. “You can’t taste evil,” and the words slide on his breath on his laugh on the wind.
“Whatever,” Toma says. It doesn’t matter so much. His eyes flick to the road and away, back to him.
Toma takes off the shirt. It’s easier that way.
He smiles at the way the car swerves a little, a secret little smile with a strange, alluring tilt to it.
The other’s eyes stay fixed on the road after that, both hands tight on the wheel.
Prompt: half-eaten apple
Time: 11min.
She snatches it back, then, mock frowns at him with her lips twisted to smooth the smile away; lets it bloom, fleeting, as she takes a large bite, she has very white teeth. He likes it when she turns to him and she’s laughing at him with her eyes, her shoulders hunched inwards like she’s protecting something, one hand tucked neatly between her knees. He pretends he doesn’t, though, turns to do something else like his mind has something else to focus on than where her knees brush his thigh, her slim fingers curled inches away.
She makes a little noise, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, unrefined and strikingly delicate. He suddenly wants to know what kind of noise she’d make if he slid his hand over the curve of her shoulder, her collarbone, and drew her clothing to pool at her waist, what-
He laughs then, with the sudden knot that twists his stomach with tiny sparks of heat.
She thinks he’s laughing at her. (He lets her.)
Prompt: "I'm kind of bleeding. I cut myself..."
Time: 11min.
Warning: Don't ask me. I don't know.
Koki watches, transfixed, as Ueda’s fingers, so pale against Koki’s sun brown skin, push the shard in deeper. The skin parts; they both feel it, hear it with the way they stop breathing and their heartbeats echo in their heads in the silence.
The edge draws blood, thick, shock-red, pooling around the shard around Ueda’s fingertips, dripping, sluggish, down his forearm, circling the skin like ink, like art.
“Tell me when to stop.”
Ueda’s voice cuts through the haze in Koki’s mind, lashes at him at his heart at the prickling absent kind of pain and at the absent kind of feeling that comes with it. He wants to look into Ueda’s eyes understand him know if he thinks what he says, even though Koki can never tell; tonight Koki’s eyes are clouded and he can’t drag his gaze away from what Ueda is doing to him.
“Don’t,” he rasps, his voice alien to his own ears; his eyes close as the glass bites deeper.
He never knows that Ueda always stops after the first draw that it’s all in his mind it’s all in his mind but Koki never knows.
Haha, they're crap, w/e :D Exams make me reckless. *RAWR*