Drabbles
These are my two latest drabbles from open_on_sunday. I thought I'd post them here so I could save them in my memories. The prompt was flag. The first one, Intentions, got a mention at su_herald.
Intentions
“Will ye come with me, lad? For the fun of it? For damnation’s sake?”
Angelus laughed in delight when William nodded solemnly. Yet, it wasn’t for Angelus, William the soon-to-be Bloody chose the pathway to Hell.
How could he flag when his dark delight danced before him, a twirl of tumbled tresses and billowed lawn, her eyes beckoning seductively? How could he escape the touch of her fingertips painting ecstasy on his skin and on his cock with the blood of innocents? Was for her.
In the bedroom’s fire-shadowed corner, Angelus waited, lips curved in a thin smile.
A Rough Wooing
“No!”
William shook his head. He wasn’t deviant, he told himself.
His face was pushed into the pillow, his fists knotted in the sheets. Helpless gasps escaped him, as his tormentor clutched his naked hips and pulled him back onto the merciless iron shaft. Even then, through the spilt blood, through the smell of pain, his body did not flag. It surged with an irresistible, insatiable hunger.
Hard muscle over-shadowed the curved softness of Drusilla’s pale shade. William’s mind broke apart, free of human constraints. A hand found him, wrung infinite pleasure from his balls. He wasn’t deviant. Only gloriously liberated.
“Angelus!”
Intentions
“Will ye come with me, lad? For the fun of it? For damnation’s sake?”
Angelus laughed in delight when William nodded solemnly. Yet, it wasn’t for Angelus, William the soon-to-be Bloody chose the pathway to Hell.
How could he flag when his dark delight danced before him, a twirl of tumbled tresses and billowed lawn, her eyes beckoning seductively? How could he escape the touch of her fingertips painting ecstasy on his skin and on his cock with the blood of innocents? Was for her.
In the bedroom’s fire-shadowed corner, Angelus waited, lips curved in a thin smile.
A Rough Wooing
“No!”
William shook his head. He wasn’t deviant, he told himself.
His face was pushed into the pillow, his fists knotted in the sheets. Helpless gasps escaped him, as his tormentor clutched his naked hips and pulled him back onto the merciless iron shaft. Even then, through the spilt blood, through the smell of pain, his body did not flag. It surged with an irresistible, insatiable hunger.
Hard muscle over-shadowed the curved softness of Drusilla’s pale shade. William’s mind broke apart, free of human constraints. A hand found him, wrung infinite pleasure from his balls. He wasn’t deviant. Only gloriously liberated.
“Angelus!”