In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream

[ozsaur]

It's time for another Oz Drabble Tree! This is our 6th drabble tree! If you're new to this, check out: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble Tree That Could, Are You There God? It's Oz Drabble Tree and Oz Drabble Tree Knows Best

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"a shiver down his spine", 100 words

[severina2001]

Tim’s spent his whole life building castles out of playing cards. When someone knocks them down, he squares his shoulders and builds them right back up again.

He stands well behind the yellow crime tape, ignores the news crews, and tries to tell himself that he’ll rebuild this, too. Find the right programs, the right mix of prisoners…

He doesn’t know Sean is there until the hand touches his arm.

The simple touch sends a shiver down his spine, a quickening in his chest that he can’t even try to pretend he doesn’t feel.

Anyway, Tim is tired of pretending.

"castles", 100 words

[natlet]

They stand together in front of Buckingham Palace, Dee-Dee's chilly fingers curled in Diane's palm. "Is that where the Queen lives?" Dee-Dee asks. She sounds like she's four again.

Diane just nods. It's been so long since she's heard anything from Dee-Dee but sorrow, and she thinks she might cry if she tries to speak.

The guards outside the gates are still, but she catches a hint of a smile on one of their faces as Dee-Dee chatters happily about being a princess and living in castles. It's probably just some over-tuned maternal instinct, but Diane catches his eye and smiles back.

"Buckingham Palace", 200 words (double drabble)

[severina2001]

Tim’s gaze flits over the overstuffed sofa, the television propped in the corner, the open pizza box on the island that separates the tiny kitchen from the living room. Sean grabs up the remote and mutes the sound, hastily shuffles some sports magazines and a couple of empties from the chair.

“This is nice,” Tim says.

Sean shrugs. “It ain’t exactly Buckingham Palace, but I like it

"sofa", 200

[natlet]

Tim's asking for trouble, Sean thinks, having that goddamn thing in his office. It's too accommodating, too inviting; come in, sit down, stay a while. Tim had bitched about the old one constantly, used to run his mouth for hours about how sometimes he felt like his office was the break room, open to anyone who'd wandered in. But it's the first thing Tim brings back in, once the bio-terrorism guys get the building cleared.

"You sure?" Sean asks, eyeing the sofa, still breathing a little heavy. Tim should have accepted it when his old one got tossed during clean-up, taken it as a sign and moved on. "You don't think it's too -" fucking tempting "- informal?" Though maybe, he thinks, he should have asked that before they hauled it through the mostly-empty prison and up the stairs. "You're gonna have half the staff in this place hangin' out up here, drinking your coffee, getting in your way

"soapy water flying everywhere", 100 words

[severina2001]

When Toby stalks into the shower, shoves him against the wall, and sticks his tongue down his throat, Chris considers asking what the hell brought this on. Then he comes to his senses.

When Toby drops to his knees, sending soapy water flying everywhere, and licks a wide swathe with that tongue to his hardening cock, Chris manages to raise his head from the tile to check for hacks.

When Toby’s lips close around his dick and Toby’s hand cups his balls, Chris’s eyes flutter closed. He threads his fingers through Toby’s hair.

The why doesn’t matter. Not right now.

the why doesn't matter, 162 words

[levitatethis]

There’s a spring in McManus’ step as he makes his way back to his home, his creation, his damn baby.

He’s been away too long and it’s time to right the damage done. Everyone thought it would be so easy, after all anyone can run Em City. Of course they were all wrong and although he had imagined returning at the desperate plea of Glynn grovelling on hands and knees, in the end McManus is all too happy to slip back into his kingdom.

It’s time to wipe Quearns’ slate clean, annihilate the mess created with Adebesi as his right hand man. The specifics of what orchestrated the latest switch doesn’t play on McManus’ mind. On the issue of returning to Em City, the why doesn’t matter; it’s inconsequential bullshit.

As the gate slides open and McManus crosses the threshold, he takes in a deep breath and feels his nerves flare then settle.

His first love wraps him in a warm embrace.

"his first love", 100

[natlet]

His first love was words, man, how they got together and danced, how they'd climb and drop and flow together, how they sang. Words could lift him up, elevate, elate him - or they could show him the shadows, make him feel the fall. At first he listened, just let them all in, every word he could get, direct out of someone else's head and into his - and then he found his voice and it became a conversation, give and take, the hardest, most fulfilling, most thrilling thing he's ever known - from Poet with love, always with love.

a shiver down his spine, 200 words, RPS

[trillingstar]

The phone on his nightstand vibrates.

"Hey, bitch."

"Chris?" Lee sits up, rubs at his eyes. "What's up?"

Chris laughs. "Haven't you heard the news, prag? We're having a reunion."

Lee barks out an answering laugh. "You're fucking kidding me."

"I told you," Chris says. "Ratings are in the shitter."

"Yeah, but..." Lee protests.

"But nothing," Chris says. "Let me in so we can run lines."

"Lines?" Lee repeats doubtfully. "Figured you'd throw me against a wall and we'd ad lib from there."

The doorbell buzzes.

"I'll ad your lib," Chris growls.

"Kinky," Lee says, hanging up.

Chris stalks inside the moment the door opens, bringing with him a wild energy.

Lee raises an eyebrow. "Chris... Keller?"

Chris smiles, all teeth. He grabs at Lee, yanking him closer, loving his excited gasp. The familiar way they fit together sends a shiver down his spineHe takes his time with the kiss, licking into Lee's mouth, the soft touch of tongues making his dick hard. Chris holds Lee tight, pressing kisses to Lee's neck and bare

laugh, 100 words, RPS

[watergal]

"Cut!"

"What?" Chris looks annoyed, which is telling in itself.

"Your presentation's wrong," the AD says. "You're doing Keller, not Eliot."

Chris relaxes and gives Eliot's laugh. "Sorry. Must be today's company. Muscle memory and all." Across the interrogation table, he slips Lee a covert wink.

Lee has muscle memory too: bodies moving; hands surrounding; the slap of Chris's thighs; mouth struggling with first one ball, then both; arching upwards, straining to come as Chris whispers filthy fantasies; Chris jizzing inside him in spurts.

"Let's go again," the AD calls, "Everybody back to one."

Chris grins at Lee. "Let's do."

Muscle Memory, 100 words, RPS

[blackchaps]

Of course Lee walks to the shoot. It's New York. No one drives. Chris gives him that shitty grin, and just like that, everything in the world is good again.

"Hey! You get lost on the subway?" Chris tugs Lee into a trailer that has Meloni taped on the door.

Lee laughs. "Shouldn't I be in makeup or something?"

"Nah, you look good just the way you are." Chris leans into Lee's space, and muscle memory makes it so easy to pull him close, nuzzle him. Their mouths meet, and Chris takes Lee on another ride through crazy town.

Makeup or something, 100 words, RPS

[watergal]

Yes, the camera adds ten pounds, but that's not it. Maybe it's makeup or something, but no TV screen holds the Chris Lee knew.

It's back on set together, misting stinky sweat. It's Chris hovering over him, not quite touching, although with each heave of his chest it seems--this time--they must. It's Chris's bulk wielded as weapon and promise both, its whole attention devoted to him.

It's when they touch, fifty eyes upon them, painfully restrained within the script, and Chris's strength surprises still.

It's after wrap, alone together, cameras off, the Chris Lee knows comes to him.

I figured you'd throw me against the wall and we'd adlib from there" RPS

[roxymeloni]

Figured you'd throw me against a wall and we'd ad lib from there

Where is Chris?

[roguemarch]

Is almost time for count in Em City.

Where is Chris? Toby finds himself asking the same question time and time again. Not that he would ever accept it; not to the open that is.

With Keller hating him an all, Beecher knows he should not care where the motherfucker is. He tells himself is because an innate instinct of self preservation that obliges him to know where the danger lies. Yet, as Toby worries his lower lip, he asks himself ‘Where is Chris’.

He cold be in danger, he could be hurt. They may not be talking to each other but…

When that familiar strutting man walks through the gates of Em City, Beecher lets go the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Their eyes meet for a second; time freezes.

No, Beecher doesn’t care where Chris is. Not at all.

He'd know that voice anywhere, 100

[cmk418]

He’d know that voice anywhere. From the streets, from his dreams, from hushed whispers late at night in dark alleyways. He’d heard the rumors, knew that O’Reily was coming to Oz, hell, he was staring at the man ever since he entered the cafeteria. But it wasn’t real, none of it, until he heard Ryan’s voice, urging him to get up. Nino held him in place, hand on his shoulder, telling him to calm down. And he needed to. Because, as Dino Ortolani knew from experience, hearing Ryan O’Reily’s voice was one thing, but touching him was something entirely different.

"hushed whispers late at night", 100 words

[severina2001]

Keller shifts on the bunk below him, and Beecher reaches instinctively for the cane, clutches his fingers fiercely around it until he’s sure Keller is just sliding onto his side.

He’s still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling when Keller’s breathing deepens, and he curses the bastard for being able to sleep without pain, without fucking remorse, even while he misses his companionship, hushed whispers late at night and laughter and simple touch.

Beecher grits his teeth. Lies, all lies.

It doesn’t matter. Soon he’ll have little Andy sharing his pod. Soon he’ll be rid of Keller once and for all.

nightgown - 100 words

[cmk418]

She’s never thought much of the nightgown. The plain white material which clings in some places and hangs shapeless in others. None of the men in her life have wanted to pamper her with feminine things like frilly negligees or lace teddies. They were more of the ‘yank the panties down and push the gown above her hips’ variety. Now, as she slowly lifts it up, feeling the fabric brush higher and higher against her thighs as she does a little not-quite-striptease for sweet Timmy Kirk, she sees there is more power in it than she’s given it credit for.

"plain white", 100 words

[severina2001]

Toby takes the subway to work, tells his colleagues in the break room that he loves to people-watch.

The truth is, he sits stiff-backed in his seat, trying to simultaneously keep his gaze fixed and take in everyone at once. With each flicker of the overhead lights the panic intensifies…

-flick-

the skinhead in camo and doc martens leers

-flick-

a glare above a plain white T, no tat sneaking out from beneath the sleeve, no tat, none

-flick-

until he bolts three stops early, mouth dry, heart pounding.

The truth is, he doesn’t talk to his colleagues at all.

'panic' 150 words

[numenora]

“Holly, where is your brother?” Toby asked his daughter who was engrossed in some teen novel about vampires. She was sitting near the community pool of their apartment building.

“He's somewhere,” the tween answered absently, not looking up.

“Somewhere? How incredibly helpful,” Toby quipped ironically, trying not to panic. “The only reason I agreed to let you two come down here without me is because you both swore you'd watch out for each other.”

That statement earned Toby a scandalized look at the suggestion an 8-year-old could watch out for her.

“Hi, daddy!” Toby watched as Harry came running towards them, a tall, incredibly handsome man right behind him.

“Where have you been?” Toby was so relieved, he forgot to be angry.

“With Chris. He works here.” Harry smiled happily.

“Hey! I’m head of security. Nice to meet you,” Chris offered Toby his hand.

Then Toby forgot how to speak.

Re: nightgown - 100 words

[michele659]

yank the panties down and push the gown above her hips*I changed "her" to "your