In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream
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
( The Rules )
( The Rules )
"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 ( ... )
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They were his life up until a few weeks ago. Now, he understood the expression swinging the other way because his life at this point was in turnaround. It was sitting on the couch in his apartment, watching the game and not saying anything. It was stubble instead of smooth skin, the taste of pizza and forgotten beers, sweat and musk, strong arms and broad shoulders. It was immediate, a moment of eye contact or the touch of a hand, no negotiation necessary.
There was a list of women. But there’d only always been one man.
Sean.
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And the other one - never met a pussy he didn’t want to fuck?
And he did fuck a lot of them. Even Howell’s, but he’s pretty sure she worked some devil mojo to make him do it. That bitch was not fucking right in the head.
Most of his conquests weren’t particularly difficult. All were ready and willing, and just thinking about their response to him - flushed skin, deepening breaths, speeding heartbeats, peaked nipples, moans - makes him hard.
But the ache for release comes with the one can’t have, at least not yet.
Gloria - just beyond his grasp she is the brilliant light at the end of the tunnel which threatens to ensnare him. She thrums his body and mind with seismic vibrations, twists his soul, and renders him enthralled. She’s unlike the others and doesn’t deserve to be demeaned in the same breath. With her it’s not about going back to his place for a tumble in the sheets. It’s about the consuming fire of forever, the declaration of eternity, the sacrifice of bitter logic ( ... )
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Eddie found her after last call at Julie's, down by the boardwalk. Usually he's not left scraping the bottom of the barrel like that, but the first girl he'd picked out ralphed on the table. That stench? Killed his boner dead.
Whatever, this girl's got a pussy, and he's eight inches in. They twist so she's on top and he stares at her bouncing tits. Grabbing them, he lets them smack against his palms each time she lifts up and falls back down. He rubs his thumbs over her big nipples and she cries out.
"Yeah, that's right," he purrs, 'cause personal rule, Eddie doesn't come until his lady's satisfied. He thrusts, hard, loving how she trembles, tightens around his dick.
On cue, she shivers, comes.
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It didn't matter that he'd only known her for a couple of hours. It didn't matter that she wasn't the kind of woman that he could ever have more than a friendly one-night stand with. It didn't matter that he hadn't had the guts to stay with her.
All that mattered was that in her last moments, he found grace.
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He strips out of his clothes, crawls into bed, wraps her up in his arms, holds her close against his chest. She's relaxed in a way he barely remembers.
They almost don't have sex. He's content to lie against the pillows, holding his wife, listening to her breathing. Slowly, the tenseness dissipates.
He thought he was here for comfort, but when she presses his hand to her breast, he knows he's here for more. Love, peace, grace. Forgiveness. Home.
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He understands now that he’d been counting on something like a particular song suddenly playing on the radio in Sister Pete’s office. Not Keller crouching over his body, murmuring you’re gonna be okay and hold on and don’t leave me while blood streams through his fingers and pools on the gym floor.
God always has a few surprises up His sleeve.
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But, now, he couldn’t see any of that. There have been those who said a person’s life flashes before his eyes when he’s dying and he’d always believed it. Now, he realizes that was a lie, too. As the pain slammed through his chest, all he saw was Bitcher and that traitor Keller out-smarting him.
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It’s about being able to smell his hair when he leans across the chess board, and about running my fingernails down his arm when he stands at the sink brushing his teeth. It’s about seeing the way he shivers at my touch and looks at me with those wide, trusting eyes. It’s about every excited gasp and breathless moan that I can wring from him with my hands, my mouth, my dick.
It’s the way he says my name.
Chris.
Like I’m something special.
It’s about making him mine. But mostly, it’s about being his.
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