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more snippets! Heh I crack me up. Snippets...lol
Sanity Is Over Rated
When Cable entered the room what he saw would have startled another man but he just sighed a deep breath and tried to stifle the tiny curl of a smile, it would only make the man worse to think he found him amusing.
He just walked up to the red and black clad man and stood, towering over him and radiating stern disapproval.
Wade looked up slowly; through his thin mask Cable could see his frown. He seemed rather disappointed at being interrupted.
Paint was smeared across all four walls, floor and ceiling of the room. It was still shiny wet, red, black, blue and silver. There appeared to be blood spattered here and there in not quite random shapes; rather reminiscent of ink blots; many of the spatters had been dragged across the walls into butterfly wings.
The sanity challenged man had the gloves fingers of one hand digging into the open slice in his other forearm; he appeared to have been drawing hearts on the floor, blood hearts edged in silver sparkly paint. With glitter.
Deadpool reached up, blood and paint dripping from his hand, and pulled his mask off.
"Don't say anything," he whispered. "The walls have ears." Cable followed the pointing finger to where he could indeed see the ears taped to the wall. He vaguely hoped they weren't Wade's. The fact he could grow them back didn't mean he should get in the habit of cutting them off.
He raised an eye brow. Wade grinned at him and stood up quickly. He slid right up close to Cable, close enough to kiss him, reached up slowly and laid one finger on his cheek trailed it gentle in a heart pattern and rising up on his toes and whispered, breath warm and tingling, in his ear.
"You never have enough fun, let's play."
Deadpool slid past him, smaller body pressed up against his side for a moment. He closed his eyes at the feel of a small lithe chest brushing against him and slim hips, for a just a second, rubbing up against his thigh. The mercenary smirked a he skipped off singing loudly.
Cable reached up, not quite touching his cheek, smiled gently at the blood traced heart on his cheek. Maybe a short trip from sanity wasn't really such a bad idea, sanity was over rated anyway.
Word Count: 399
Out or In
“Non.”
“No? What do you mean no?!”
“Non, Bobby.”
“But...I...Jesus Jean-Paul, why not?”
“I...I...I won’t go out with a man dressed like that!”
Bobby Drake paused and stepped back to look down at himself.
His lucky jeans, a bit threadbare but they covered everything necessary, good white sneakers, snazzy sun glasses and a top notch Hawaiian shirt. He sighed.
“It’s the shirt isn’t it?”
Jean-Paul nodded almost frantically. Bobby smirked slightly and swiftly slid the shirt over his head. The speedster couldn’t take his eyes off the sleek muscles revealed.
Bobby stalked up to him, toeing his sneakers off on the way and dangling his glasses from his fingers. He leaned up slightly, just brushing his bare chest against the other’s arm and leaned up to breathe on one pointed ear tip. He purred. “Will you go out with me now?”
Northstar swallowed hard and looked at the icy x-man. Now with bare chest and feet (one of which was now rubbing up against his well muscled calf), scruffy brown hair and nearly see through jeans what was he supposed to say?
“Non.”
“What?!?” It was almost a squeak.
“Don’t want anyone else to see you. Do not want to share you.” He breathed his words into the younger man’s ear, nipped the edge. “Want you to be just mine.” he stared down at Bobby, eyes smouldering. “I want you in my room, away from everyone. No going out.”
Brown eyes twinkled at him. “Well then. I guess we’ll just stay in.”
Word Count: 257
Candy
He swayed through the doorway of the Gotham night club so aptly named “The Bat Cave”. Smirked in wry amusement at the memory of the first, last and only fight to reach here. He’d had to drag the criminal away to safety from the masses of club going fans howling after the blood of someone who dared hurt the Batman in their cave. It made him proud in a way.
Tight black leather hugged his powerful thighs, hot and itchy in the crowded club. Black boots claimed his calves. A deep silvery shirt in the softest silk clung to the heavy muscles of his back, shoulders and chest. He had finished the costume off with silver studded leather arm bands, pair of silver and onyx studs in his ears and just a touch of eyeliner and lip gloss. The make-up had been done by a chortling Dick Grayson.
Several of the regulars waved and leered at him as he made his way to the bar. No-one touched him though. They all believed him to be very picky, which was true although it served better for other purposes. He accepted a cocktail from a cute younger man and slid into a booth with a man whose eye he’d caught on the way in.
Short words informed him of the new movements of several gangs in the area as well as a handful of current rumours.
He spent the next hour wandering the floor, chatting, flirting and generally chasing up snippets of information. Until he noticed the commotion near the entrance.
Clark was a tall man and even in what he must have considered “clubbing” clothes stood out like a lion in a pack of wolves. He sighed. The other man was obviously looking for someone, three guesses who. He winced when Clark spotted him and started to head over, awkwardly pressing through the milling throng on the floor.
When an arm grabbed him from the dance floor he allowed himself to be dragged in and let himself sway to the music.
When a big strong hand closed on his shoulder he turned his head slightly to look up at his fellow leaguer through his eyelashes. He watched his own name start to form on the Boy Scout’s lips and set one finger over them. He smouldered up at the man and murmured “Candy is fine, farm boy.” Watched Clark stumble for words and smirking, rubbed up against his chest.
Bruce turned, back pressed to the Kryptonian’s chest. He settled his hands onto rock hard thighs and surrendered to the slow pulse of the music, sliding his hips back against the ones behind him and starting to roll them with the music. He hid his amusement at the stuttering shock of the other man. Tugged on his thighs until he slowly, unsure of himself, began to move with the music.
Two songs, luxuriously slow and deep beats matching the beat of their hearts, later and he tugged Clark out the back door of the club letting his hands wander hungrily over that powerful body. He made a grab at the man’s arse as he stumbled through the door and slammed him up against a handy wall; thigh pressed up between the other’s as he shoved the door closed behind them.
He leaned up to snarl in Superman’s ear, still pressed close against the man. “What the hell are you doing in my city?!”
Clark winced and started to stutter something about technical aid in a mission but was cut off when his nervous shifting brought his hardness against the Bat’s thigh. They both froze.
“Clark?”
“Oh God. Um...I. Darn.” Blushing hard he pushed Bruce away. Breathing heavily he started to back away, to flee.
The dark man stood still for a second before tackling the other, dropping him to his back in the dingy alley. He pinned him down and before Clark could toss him off dropped his body to rub down against the other man. Waited for the startled gasp and dived to steal the other’s mouth.
He claimed the heat of Superman’s mouth, it felt like licking the sun except wet and a strong taste of coffee. Devine.
He rolled with the startled buck of the other man’s hips and savoured the ragged moan that was torn out of his throat. Fisted bare hands in short black hair and pressed his whole body against the furnace that was the Kryptonian and mashed his mouth against the other, taking everything he could.
Slowly, almost shyly, hands settled on him, one on his lower back and the other settling slowly on Bruce’s arse. Squeezed, hard, when Batman bit down on his bottom lip. Moaned again into his mouth. Flipped them over and pulled away, panting harshly.
“Bruce... what’s going on? Did something happen? Poison Ivy?”
He growled in irritation. Rubbed a hand over his face, glared at the dark alley, most definitely not the place he would have chosen for this.
“For Christ sakes Clark, just shut up!”
Ignoring the stunned expression on the other man’s face he grabbed a handful of hair and twisted the other hand into the back of Clark’s shirt and pulled the man down again. Felt the glorious slide of solid hardness up his thigh until it rested against his own. Felt Superman freeze again, for just a second, before melting against Bruce’s chest. He leaned down and licked at the darker man’s lips before claiming a kiss. He snugged both arms around the man’s back and took off.
Hundreds of metres above the city he stopped wind whipping at their clothes and hair as he let his Dark Knight attack his mouth. Calloused hands stole under his shirt and grasped possessively at his unblemished skin. Powerful thigh wrapped around his waist and hips thrusts up against his stomach hungrily.
“If you want this Clark it has to be for keeps. I won’t accept anything else. Not anymore.”
The Last Son of Krypton stared down at this man. Just an ordinary mortal but he’d seen and done more than most heroes, saved more people then anyone he knew. He smiled and leaned in close.
“Yes Bruce. Your’s forever.” He smirked slightly and glanced down at his loves outfit. “Or should I call you Candy?”
Word Count: 1050
You know for a "snippet" Candy is the longest thing I've ever written, I think.