Northern Exposure: 4 flashfics (Chris/Joel, Ed/Joel, Maggie/Joel | K to T | 723w)
[ Chris/Joel, Ed/Joel, Maggie/Joel | 723w total | K to T | 2007-03-15, 2007-07-18, 2007-07-13 ]
Chris and Joel off (and on) the air; Joel wants Ed to call him by his first name; Joel and Maggie at a party.
Off the Air (Chris/Joel | 102w | six words of smut, posted here)
Radio voice croons in your ear.
He’s nervous; you relax him, fully.
“But ties have multitudinous sexual applications.”
Kiss, ice melting, tastes like Alaska.
Trailer littered with beer bottles, clothes.
His hand, playful, grips tight, sweet.
“Joel. Stop talking and start feeling.”
Crooked smile. “Well, you’re circumcised, alright.”
Skinny dipping, he finds you underwater.
“I’m almost positive this isn’t orthodox.”
Artist’s hands draw your passion out.
Your cries echo over the lake.
Welder drops to ground. Him, knees.
Even on you his mouth smiles.
You request him, naked, spread eagle.
Off-air, he talks so pretty-dirty.
Unfettered, free. Wild. Burning intensity. Finally.
Public Access (Chris/Joel | 121w | porn battle, posted here, prompts in italics)
.dials
circles pressed into
his back and static follows.
now, they’re broadcasting.
cicely, waking,
tunes in to doctor fleischman
moaning chris’s name.
.neuroses
“is that thing on?” joel
gasps, suspiciously eyeing it.
“of course not,” chris laughs.
but, too turned on by
joel’s neuroticism, he
doesn’t double check.
.games
“i have a request.”
joel smirks, licking chris’s neck.
“talk me through, dj.”
chris grins, clears his throat,
and starts, narrating every
sensation and touch.
.radio
across cicely
eight hundred and forty eight
radios turn up.
and then, chris sees the
blinking red light of broadcast
winking at him, sly.
he looks at joel, head
thrown back, skin flushed, ankles locked
behind chris’s back.
he smiles and thrusts
harder, speaking up so that
everyone can hear.
Breakfast of Champions (Ed/Joel | 400w | porn battle, posted here, prompt: coffee)
“Ed.”
“Yes, Dr. Fleischman?”
“For the last time-” Joel sighed, slamming down his cup of coffee. “Call me Joel, would you?”
Ed cocked his head to the side. “Why, Dr. Fleischman?”
“Why? Why? It’s my name, Ed, that’s why-you’d think after a awhile of being someone’s very good friend, because as much as I hate to admit this aloud to you, you are my friend, possibly my only real friend here in Cicely, a truly frightening notion to contemplate this early in the morning-you’d think that after awhile of being someone’s friend, you could call them by their name, couldn’t you?”
Ed pursed his lips, Ed-style, which meant pushing them out in a semi-pouty manner while his brow scrunched. Joel felt something that wasn’t acid reflux turn in his stomach.
After a few moments, Ed sonorously proclaimed:
“Well, I dunno.”
Joel leaned forward, looking at him in disbelief. “You… don’t know? What is it you have against my Christian name, anyway? Does it offend you? What? What is it?”
In that moment, Ed began to shrug, but he wasn’t allowed to complete the motion, because Joel suddenly leap-crawled across the table (the coffee was spilled everywhere), with a crazy sort of look in his eye. His intent unclear, even in his own mind, but his hands were reaching for Ed and when he started overbalancing, he grabbed onto Ed’s ears and somehow fell onto him so that they were… kissing. Like mad monkey wild men, with wrestling and a leather jacket getting bunched up in his hands, and at some point, Ed’s chair tipped over and they sprawled out on the floor which was good, it was very good, because then the wild grappling entered a whole new level, with their shirts getting twisted off and pants shimmying out of pants that, really, why were they wearing them in the first place?
Later, Joel would have no explanation for how one minute, he’d been innocently enjoying a Jamaican Blue Mountain blend with a little cream and the next he was desecrating his kitchen floor and screaming out Ed’s name loud enough for the grizzlies to suspicious.
But at present, he was very pleasantly occupied with mad monkey pursuits, and he laughed like the king of the Alaskan forest when he finally got Ed to call him by his name, head thrown back and eyes closed in bliss.
Highlight (Maggie/Joel | 100w | vocabulary soup #1: delectation)
The true delectation of the evening-though he’d never tell her, because God knows what O’Connell would do with that kind of ammunition-wasn’t Adam’s food, or the music (although Ruth Anne’s singing voice was certainly one of the more pleasant surprises Cicely had offered him), nor the free-flowing beer that Holling had generously bought for the occasion. No, it was O’Connell, in her dress that could make a tailor weep with how well the damn thing fit her, laughing at some stupid joke of Ed’s and looking like the most radiant thing Joel had ever seen in his life.
Chris and Joel off (and on) the air; Joel wants Ed to call him by his first name; Joel and Maggie at a party.
Off the Air (Chris/Joel | 102w | six words of smut, posted here)
Radio voice croons in your ear.
He’s nervous; you relax him, fully.
“But ties have multitudinous sexual applications.”
Kiss, ice melting, tastes like Alaska.
Trailer littered with beer bottles, clothes.
His hand, playful, grips tight, sweet.
“Joel. Stop talking and start feeling.”
Crooked smile. “Well, you’re circumcised, alright.”
Skinny dipping, he finds you underwater.
“I’m almost positive this isn’t orthodox.”
Artist’s hands draw your passion out.
Your cries echo over the lake.
Welder drops to ground. Him, knees.
Even on you his mouth smiles.
You request him, naked, spread eagle.
Off-air, he talks so pretty-dirty.
Unfettered, free. Wild. Burning intensity. Finally.
Public Access (Chris/Joel | 121w | porn battle, posted here, prompts in italics)
.dials
circles pressed into
his back and static follows.
now, they’re broadcasting.
cicely, waking,
tunes in to doctor fleischman
moaning chris’s name.
.neuroses
“is that thing on?” joel
gasps, suspiciously eyeing it.
“of course not,” chris laughs.
but, too turned on by
joel’s neuroticism, he
doesn’t double check.
.games
“i have a request.”
joel smirks, licking chris’s neck.
“talk me through, dj.”
chris grins, clears his throat,
and starts, narrating every
sensation and touch.
.radio
across cicely
eight hundred and forty eight
radios turn up.
and then, chris sees the
blinking red light of broadcast
winking at him, sly.
he looks at joel, head
thrown back, skin flushed, ankles locked
behind chris’s back.
he smiles and thrusts
harder, speaking up so that
everyone can hear.
Breakfast of Champions (Ed/Joel | 400w | porn battle, posted here, prompt: coffee)
“Ed.”
“Yes, Dr. Fleischman?”
“For the last time-” Joel sighed, slamming down his cup of coffee. “Call me Joel, would you?”
Ed cocked his head to the side. “Why, Dr. Fleischman?”
“Why? Why? It’s my name, Ed, that’s why-you’d think after a awhile of being someone’s very good friend, because as much as I hate to admit this aloud to you, you are my friend, possibly my only real friend here in Cicely, a truly frightening notion to contemplate this early in the morning-you’d think that after awhile of being someone’s friend, you could call them by their name, couldn’t you?”
Ed pursed his lips, Ed-style, which meant pushing them out in a semi-pouty manner while his brow scrunched. Joel felt something that wasn’t acid reflux turn in his stomach.
After a few moments, Ed sonorously proclaimed:
“Well, I dunno.”
Joel leaned forward, looking at him in disbelief. “You… don’t know? What is it you have against my Christian name, anyway? Does it offend you? What? What is it?”
In that moment, Ed began to shrug, but he wasn’t allowed to complete the motion, because Joel suddenly leap-crawled across the table (the coffee was spilled everywhere), with a crazy sort of look in his eye. His intent unclear, even in his own mind, but his hands were reaching for Ed and when he started overbalancing, he grabbed onto Ed’s ears and somehow fell onto him so that they were… kissing. Like mad monkey wild men, with wrestling and a leather jacket getting bunched up in his hands, and at some point, Ed’s chair tipped over and they sprawled out on the floor which was good, it was very good, because then the wild grappling entered a whole new level, with their shirts getting twisted off and pants shimmying out of pants that, really, why were they wearing them in the first place?
Later, Joel would have no explanation for how one minute, he’d been innocently enjoying a Jamaican Blue Mountain blend with a little cream and the next he was desecrating his kitchen floor and screaming out Ed’s name loud enough for the grizzlies to suspicious.
But at present, he was very pleasantly occupied with mad monkey pursuits, and he laughed like the king of the Alaskan forest when he finally got Ed to call him by his name, head thrown back and eyes closed in bliss.
Highlight (Maggie/Joel | 100w | vocabulary soup #1: delectation)
The true delectation of the evening-though he’d never tell her, because God knows what O’Connell would do with that kind of ammunition-wasn’t Adam’s food, or the music (although Ruth Anne’s singing voice was certainly one of the more pleasant surprises Cicely had offered him), nor the free-flowing beer that Holling had generously bought for the occasion. No, it was O’Connell, in her dress that could make a tailor weep with how well the damn thing fit her, laughing at some stupid joke of Ed’s and looking like the most radiant thing Joel had ever seen in his life.