Lotrips drabbles.
I was just going to link these from my site, but hey...
Three random drabbles that have been collecting dust.
*
"You've got a thing," Billy said, motioning.
Dom's fingers flitted about, brushing. "Got it?"
"No, it's by you'rehere." A soggy, brown something or other appeared between Billy's fingers. "It lives."
"May I keep it?"
"Now, Dominic, a leaf is a big responsibility."
"But, Bill, I've named it already and"
By the time Billy recovered from the laughing fit, Dom had snaked two arms around his damp waist. A pause, and then: "You've got a thing. It's hiding. It's skittish. I may have to fish for it. For instance, in the privacy of yonder trailer."
Billy smirked.
*
"You look like an insect."
"What?"
"Your makeup. Like glittery-green exoskeleton." The cameras flash and they turn, wearing identical grins.
"Should I book it back to the limo before you get your net?" She shifts again, this time in the direction of people shouting her name.
"I'm too fast for you, anyway, love." His fingers cup her waist.
"Bullshit."
"You've got a dirty mouth, you know that?" he whispers, right against her ear.
She flattens her fingers across his belly. "I thought we were supposed to be good tonight."
He gives a wave to the cameras, grinning. "We're always good."
*
There's only so many jokes you can wring out of "Powderhorn" before someone gets bored and "accidentally" tips a pint into your lap. Orlando is indignant; Elijah cannot hold his liquor; and John's face is very, very red. Like roses. And no, Dom announces, there will be no "roses are red" triple-x rated round robin and, if the party chooses that route, he will pointedly abandon the misguided revelry. He's serious, you realize. Serious! A solid chap, first-rate order andand his lap is soggy. Proper masculinity with a hint of liquor-soaked trousers. Bottle that and sell it, Elizabeth Taylor.
Three random drabbles that have been collecting dust.
*
"You've got a thing," Billy said, motioning.
Dom's fingers flitted about, brushing. "Got it?"
"No, it's by you'rehere." A soggy, brown something or other appeared between Billy's fingers. "It lives."
"May I keep it?"
"Now, Dominic, a leaf is a big responsibility."
"But, Bill, I've named it already and"
By the time Billy recovered from the laughing fit, Dom had snaked two arms around his damp waist. A pause, and then: "You've got a thing. It's hiding. It's skittish. I may have to fish for it. For instance, in the privacy of yonder trailer."
Billy smirked.
*
"You look like an insect."
"What?"
"Your makeup. Like glittery-green exoskeleton." The cameras flash and they turn, wearing identical grins.
"Should I book it back to the limo before you get your net?" She shifts again, this time in the direction of people shouting her name.
"I'm too fast for you, anyway, love." His fingers cup her waist.
"Bullshit."
"You've got a dirty mouth, you know that?" he whispers, right against her ear.
She flattens her fingers across his belly. "I thought we were supposed to be good tonight."
He gives a wave to the cameras, grinning. "We're always good."
*
There's only so many jokes you can wring out of "Powderhorn" before someone gets bored and "accidentally" tips a pint into your lap. Orlando is indignant; Elijah cannot hold his liquor; and John's face is very, very red. Like roses. And no, Dom announces, there will be no "roses are red" triple-x rated round robin and, if the party chooses that route, he will pointedly abandon the misguided revelry. He's serious, you realize. Serious! A solid chap, first-rate order andand his lap is soggy. Proper masculinity with a hint of liquor-soaked trousers. Bottle that and sell it, Elizabeth Taylor.