February 2009 Drabble Dump - non-adult version
After Claire had mastered the kick, Monica decided to give her a break. She tossed the girl a water and let her catch her breath.
"I'm going to get this," Claire said, breathing heavily. "And nobody's going to get to me, ever again."
Monica laughed softly. "Then, baby, you know something I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
Walking over to stand toe to toe with her, Monica gave a sad little sigh and brushed away a strand of the sweat-drenched blonde hair with a finger. "I haven't figured that out yet. How to stop folks getting to me."
Claire stared at her incredulously. "But you're St. Joan. Who gets to you?"
Monica leaned in and kissed her.
"You do," she said.
-
It's been an uphill climb, getting the good doctor under her thumb. Elle's never really had to struggle all that much to bring a man under her control-- even Adam was pretty much prey to his hormones after a while. But Mohinder, Mohinder was a challenge. He barely blinked an eye when she let her shirt flutter down a little too far; he blushed but politely asked her to leave the day she wore a white lab coat and nothing else. There were times when Elle wanted to positively pull her hair out, scream and shout and electrocute something in her frustration.
But then Mohinder's laptop was out of batteries, and Elle happened to be walking by the exact same park bench where he was sitting in depressed consternation.
She'd already resigned herself to just giving the computer a jump-start and moving on. Not much opportunity for seduction there, she figured.
Except for instead of declaring his thanks when the laptop whirled to life, he grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her.
Except for when their lips parted, he whispered, "I'd like to see you tonight."
Except for right now, she was lying in bed next to a very sated and very naked Mohinder Suresh.
Uphill battles suck... until you reach the top.
-
When Olivia was a girl she used to think the stars were angels. She would look up into the sky and see a pair of sparkling eyes gazing back at her, bright eyes against dark skin and a fog-cloud of hair. She loved the word "astral." It meant "about stars" and it sounded like stars to say. Astral was the name of her misty-maned guardian angel, and she whispered and giggled with her at night. Astral knew all her secrets, would never judge her, and would always be there when she needed her.
Years passed and Olivia began to pass from girlhood into adolescence, then into womanhood. She hardened in many ways to the outside world, becoming the kind of woman that was simultaneously a man's best dream and worst nightmare: beautiful, but terrifying. Yet Olivia maintained the warmth in her core, and she never gave up on her guardian angel, Astral. In the sleepy moments between bedtime and dreamtime, she dreamed now that Astral came through the window to alight on the foot of her bed. Her warm angel form would press against Olivia's body, making blood run through each distant vein hot as it did through her core. Olivia lay in bed, half-lidded and slowly sighing as she caressed herself and dreamed of an angel's delicate fingers and wet kisses.
Then, one day, Olivia was called into her new boss's office. "I wanted you to meet your new assistant," said the bureau chief for the branch. "She'll run your names and numbers, get you any background info you need, and in general be your guardian angel. Here she comes now."
Olivia turned to find herself facing sparkling eyes and a fog-cloud of hair.
"My name is Astrid," said the new arrival, holding out her hand to shake.
Olivia took her hand and smiled.
At last.
-
Sam went to the funeral. Dean was in no shape to do anything of the sort, so Sam went and represented him, telling the parents how sorry he and his fellow state trooper were that the rash of fatal accidents had claimed another of their daughters' lives.
When he came back, Dean was already a good seven sheets to the wind and was working on eight.
"If she had just listened, stubborn bitch!" Dean kicked the nightstand of the motel bed and grumbled. "'I don't believe in curses' m'big red ass. Fucking--"
"Dean. Dean." Sam came to the bed and pulled his brother's head in to lean on his shoulder. "Come on. Don't talk like that."
"Bet sh'looked pretty good. All 'n white."
Sam gulped. "Yeah, she did. She looked beautiful. D'you mind if I have one of those?"
A few beers down and Sam and Dean had started half-laughing, half-crying at how predictable their situation was. They'd done it a million times: met someone on a hunt, felt instantly connected, then been unable to stave off the danger in time.
"You'd think we'd be used to it by now," Sam said, his chin in his hands as he tossed another can aside.
"Leas' we always got each other." Dean give him a slack-lipped grin.
Sam grinned back. "Yeah, but there's no substitute for a pretty girl, right?"
Dean shrugged. "You're kinda pretty," he said. Sam blushed and was laughing when he found himself on the other end of a sloppy, wet kiss.
He spat. "Don't do that shit, man!"
But Dean was scrambling up on top of him. "Aw, but you're so pretty, Sammy." He dipped his beer-breath mouth to Sam's neck and sucked on it.
A sound of arousal escaped Sam's mouth before he could transform it into protest. "Let go--"
"Sammy, I need you," Dean whispered, his voice suddenly hot and sure, the slurs gone from his words. "Please, I'm going to break. Just... please."
Sam closed his eyes tight and wrapped Dean in his arms. "That's all you had to say."
-
"I'm going to get this," Claire said, breathing heavily. "And nobody's going to get to me, ever again."
Monica laughed softly. "Then, baby, you know something I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
Walking over to stand toe to toe with her, Monica gave a sad little sigh and brushed away a strand of the sweat-drenched blonde hair with a finger. "I haven't figured that out yet. How to stop folks getting to me."
Claire stared at her incredulously. "But you're St. Joan. Who gets to you?"
Monica leaned in and kissed her.
"You do," she said.
-
It's been an uphill climb, getting the good doctor under her thumb. Elle's never really had to struggle all that much to bring a man under her control-- even Adam was pretty much prey to his hormones after a while. But Mohinder, Mohinder was a challenge. He barely blinked an eye when she let her shirt flutter down a little too far; he blushed but politely asked her to leave the day she wore a white lab coat and nothing else. There were times when Elle wanted to positively pull her hair out, scream and shout and electrocute something in her frustration.
But then Mohinder's laptop was out of batteries, and Elle happened to be walking by the exact same park bench where he was sitting in depressed consternation.
She'd already resigned herself to just giving the computer a jump-start and moving on. Not much opportunity for seduction there, she figured.
Except for instead of declaring his thanks when the laptop whirled to life, he grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her.
Except for when their lips parted, he whispered, "I'd like to see you tonight."
Except for right now, she was lying in bed next to a very sated and very naked Mohinder Suresh.
Uphill battles suck... until you reach the top.
-
When Olivia was a girl she used to think the stars were angels. She would look up into the sky and see a pair of sparkling eyes gazing back at her, bright eyes against dark skin and a fog-cloud of hair. She loved the word "astral." It meant "about stars" and it sounded like stars to say. Astral was the name of her misty-maned guardian angel, and she whispered and giggled with her at night. Astral knew all her secrets, would never judge her, and would always be there when she needed her.
Years passed and Olivia began to pass from girlhood into adolescence, then into womanhood. She hardened in many ways to the outside world, becoming the kind of woman that was simultaneously a man's best dream and worst nightmare: beautiful, but terrifying. Yet Olivia maintained the warmth in her core, and she never gave up on her guardian angel, Astral. In the sleepy moments between bedtime and dreamtime, she dreamed now that Astral came through the window to alight on the foot of her bed. Her warm angel form would press against Olivia's body, making blood run through each distant vein hot as it did through her core. Olivia lay in bed, half-lidded and slowly sighing as she caressed herself and dreamed of an angel's delicate fingers and wet kisses.
Then, one day, Olivia was called into her new boss's office. "I wanted you to meet your new assistant," said the bureau chief for the branch. "She'll run your names and numbers, get you any background info you need, and in general be your guardian angel. Here she comes now."
Olivia turned to find herself facing sparkling eyes and a fog-cloud of hair.
"My name is Astrid," said the new arrival, holding out her hand to shake.
Olivia took her hand and smiled.
At last.
-
Sam went to the funeral. Dean was in no shape to do anything of the sort, so Sam went and represented him, telling the parents how sorry he and his fellow state trooper were that the rash of fatal accidents had claimed another of their daughters' lives.
When he came back, Dean was already a good seven sheets to the wind and was working on eight.
"If she had just listened, stubborn bitch!" Dean kicked the nightstand of the motel bed and grumbled. "'I don't believe in curses' m'big red ass. Fucking--"
"Dean. Dean." Sam came to the bed and pulled his brother's head in to lean on his shoulder. "Come on. Don't talk like that."
"Bet sh'looked pretty good. All 'n white."
Sam gulped. "Yeah, she did. She looked beautiful. D'you mind if I have one of those?"
A few beers down and Sam and Dean had started half-laughing, half-crying at how predictable their situation was. They'd done it a million times: met someone on a hunt, felt instantly connected, then been unable to stave off the danger in time.
"You'd think we'd be used to it by now," Sam said, his chin in his hands as he tossed another can aside.
"Leas' we always got each other." Dean give him a slack-lipped grin.
Sam grinned back. "Yeah, but there's no substitute for a pretty girl, right?"
Dean shrugged. "You're kinda pretty," he said. Sam blushed and was laughing when he found himself on the other end of a sloppy, wet kiss.
He spat. "Don't do that shit, man!"
But Dean was scrambling up on top of him. "Aw, but you're so pretty, Sammy." He dipped his beer-breath mouth to Sam's neck and sucked on it.
A sound of arousal escaped Sam's mouth before he could transform it into protest. "Let go--"
"Sammy, I need you," Dean whispered, his voice suddenly hot and sure, the slurs gone from his words. "Please, I'm going to break. Just... please."
Sam closed his eyes tight and wrapped Dean in his arms. "That's all you had to say."
-