WIP meme
Stole this from jehane18 under her suggestion. :D
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many WIPs as you want, no explanation attached.
So here we go, and I'd love some feedback so I know what to focus on first, yeah?
1) The carpet is rubbing against his bare back, rough and hot like fire engulfing his skin. He knows that there’s going to be marks tomorrow, red and raw, that he’ll feel every time his shirt brushes against his skin. He’d blush from just the thought if he could even think about anything but the feeling of the carpet and the way the stairs are digging in, just the right amount of pressure against his spine. The way it makes him arch his back, deepening the angle of Cook’s cock inside of him until he’s almost sure he can’t possibly take anymore.
2) “The fuck do you want?” Tommy spats, flitting right in front of Adam’s face like he’s going to fly straight into it.
“Oh come on, don’t be so grumpy T,” Adam laughs, raising his eyebrow.
Tommy reaches in his pocket and throws a handful of dust directly in Adam’s eye. “And I told you to stop calling me that,” he says as he glares and flies away, leaving Adam to try and blink the glitter from his eye.
3) When the sounds finally died down and everything stilled, Cook let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. Archie was shuddering underneath him and Cook rolled off, sitting up quickly to try to assess any damage. The window had shattered, leaving only splintered wood and jagged edges of glass, and there was a strange odor coming from the mirror in the corner. It was a strong metallic smell, like a strange combination of ozone and gunpowder, and as Cook’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that the whole composition of the mirror had changed. The glass reminded him of a viscous liquid rippling back and forth, and had become a sort of opalescent, blue color. He got up carefully from the bed and moved towards it, barely hearing Archie’s whispered warnings behind him. He took a deep breath as he lifted a shaky hand to the glass, suddenly finding it felt nothing like glass at all. It was cold and slick, and gave ever so slightly as he trailed the pads of his fingers along it. He ran his hand up and down the mirror, exploring the new surface until he felt something warm and solid, and almost familiar, press against his palm. He quickly pulled back and realized that it was a hand, reaching out of the mirror now, grabbing at the air.
4) Archie stepped out of the automatic doors, immediately feeling the suffocating heat wrap around his body. He held tightly onto the bag in his right arm as he searched his pocket for his sunglasses with his free hand, squinting against the harsh summer sun. Just as he fumbled to pull them out, he heard a series of loud clicks, and jumped, startled and unable to see where they were coming from. The bag slipped from his arm, landing sideways on the ground with a dull thud. Archie looked on helplessly as two apples and a bottle of shampoo rolled out, and he knelt down, scrambling to save the rest of his mangled groceries.
“Shit, I’m sorry, here…” Archie looked up and was greeted by a man with a very apologetic smile and a camera around his neck holding out his shampoo.
“Um, thanks,” he said, trying to rearrange the items back in his bag.
The man held out his hand again and smiled. “David Cook, Ok Magazine. Sorry about your produce man.”
5) And Archie knows he shouldn’t be looking. It’s not even like he’s trying to see, he never does intentionally, but this time the window is open too. He can hear grunts and strange strangled noises and he can’t help but look to make sure Cook’s okay. And then he can’t look away because Cook has his friend, Neal, bent over the kitchen table and they’re both naked and well, he’s pretty sure that’s not something friends normally do.
Thoughts?
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many WIPs as you want, no explanation attached.
So here we go, and I'd love some feedback so I know what to focus on first, yeah?
1) The carpet is rubbing against his bare back, rough and hot like fire engulfing his skin. He knows that there’s going to be marks tomorrow, red and raw, that he’ll feel every time his shirt brushes against his skin. He’d blush from just the thought if he could even think about anything but the feeling of the carpet and the way the stairs are digging in, just the right amount of pressure against his spine. The way it makes him arch his back, deepening the angle of Cook’s cock inside of him until he’s almost sure he can’t possibly take anymore.
2) “The fuck do you want?” Tommy spats, flitting right in front of Adam’s face like he’s going to fly straight into it.
“Oh come on, don’t be so grumpy T,” Adam laughs, raising his eyebrow.
Tommy reaches in his pocket and throws a handful of dust directly in Adam’s eye. “And I told you to stop calling me that,” he says as he glares and flies away, leaving Adam to try and blink the glitter from his eye.
3) When the sounds finally died down and everything stilled, Cook let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. Archie was shuddering underneath him and Cook rolled off, sitting up quickly to try to assess any damage. The window had shattered, leaving only splintered wood and jagged edges of glass, and there was a strange odor coming from the mirror in the corner. It was a strong metallic smell, like a strange combination of ozone and gunpowder, and as Cook’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that the whole composition of the mirror had changed. The glass reminded him of a viscous liquid rippling back and forth, and had become a sort of opalescent, blue color. He got up carefully from the bed and moved towards it, barely hearing Archie’s whispered warnings behind him. He took a deep breath as he lifted a shaky hand to the glass, suddenly finding it felt nothing like glass at all. It was cold and slick, and gave ever so slightly as he trailed the pads of his fingers along it. He ran his hand up and down the mirror, exploring the new surface until he felt something warm and solid, and almost familiar, press against his palm. He quickly pulled back and realized that it was a hand, reaching out of the mirror now, grabbing at the air.
4) Archie stepped out of the automatic doors, immediately feeling the suffocating heat wrap around his body. He held tightly onto the bag in his right arm as he searched his pocket for his sunglasses with his free hand, squinting against the harsh summer sun. Just as he fumbled to pull them out, he heard a series of loud clicks, and jumped, startled and unable to see where they were coming from. The bag slipped from his arm, landing sideways on the ground with a dull thud. Archie looked on helplessly as two apples and a bottle of shampoo rolled out, and he knelt down, scrambling to save the rest of his mangled groceries.
“Shit, I’m sorry, here…” Archie looked up and was greeted by a man with a very apologetic smile and a camera around his neck holding out his shampoo.
“Um, thanks,” he said, trying to rearrange the items back in his bag.
The man held out his hand again and smiled. “David Cook, Ok Magazine. Sorry about your produce man.”
5) And Archie knows he shouldn’t be looking. It’s not even like he’s trying to see, he never does intentionally, but this time the window is open too. He can hear grunts and strange strangled noises and he can’t help but look to make sure Cook’s okay. And then he can’t look away because Cook has his friend, Neal, bent over the kitchen table and they’re both naked and well, he’s pretty sure that’s not something friends normally do.
Thoughts?