I write a lot of little, quick, often pointless ficlets, and B keeps pestering me to come back and post, so until I come up with an idea for a pokemon fic, I'm going to give another go at a ficlet topic.
This is for the most part PG, even G, except it's about a male/male couple. You can almost miss that fact until the end though. T'was written after reading a prompt for a short peice and might turn into something more.
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I'm curled up in the bed and I'm sinking deeper into the mattress, burried under the sheets and the comforter, nestled with the pillows and that squishy stuffed puppy you got me when we were younger and still virgins. It's so warm, here in your bed, and I breathe in the scent of the freshly washed sheets, detergent and fabric softener, and then there's your scent, that musk, that manly something that drives me wild and makes me feel at home.
I don't want to open my eyes but I do and I'm assaulted with light pouring in through the curtains. It takes a while to adjust, but then I look around and I smile at the tiny room that we share. It's cramped, but it's ours and it's filled with things that belong to me, that belong to you, that belong to the both of us. I don't want to get up and out of this bed. It seems so perfect, nestled here in our very own nest. Even though you're not in the bed with me, I can still feel where you were pressed against me while we slept. I can still feel where you touched me last night.
I look around again and something tightens in my heart. I can see that spot in the wall where the paint doesn't quite match the rest. We fought that night. I hit you... And then you almost hit me back, but you stopped and punched a hole in the wall. To this day I wonder what it would have felt like if you had hit me with all that anger.
I sigh and curl tighter, and then I hug my pillow, biting into it to stop myself from... I don't know. The cotton tastes salty and I remember crying yesterday, but I can't remember why.
My eyes land on the puppy, and I can't help but smile and release the pillow. I sit up and for a moment want to go back under the covers, but I know that the morning is slipping away and I need to get up.
The floor creaks and I know that you're on your way back to our room. Have you cooked breakfast? Did you just take a shower? Music starts to drift into the room and I wonder what you're up to. You usually don't let me wake up alone unless you're mad at me.
The door glides open - we finally fixed it to stop that horrible squeaking - and you saunter in, proudly clad in nothing but your towel. I laugh because there's something absurd about you lounging around in a towel, you, the one who is always in a hurry to get dressed and go somewhere.
"I'm taking a sick day," you say, leaving the door open so I can still hear the music. "I haven't taken one all year and I think it's about time." You perch on the edge of the bed, and I can see a few stray drops of water on your shoulders, lots in your hair. You start to drip onto the bed and I can't help but wince slightly because, well, because I like my bed warm and dry. You knows this and you unwrap the towel from around your waist to dry your hair some more. The sharp aroma of soap, cheap but pleasant, drifts over to me, and under it, I can smell you and I can almost taste your skin in my mouth. My eyes roam over your body, marvelling at all that skin, at the scars that I so love to run my tongue over because of the change in texture.
I don't know what I did to deserve this seduction. You know I don't like to do anything until I've had my shower too, but here you are, sitting in front of me, perfectly naked and gorgeous. I can see you naked without wanted to ravish you, but not today, not this morning. And you go on drying your hair like it's nothing, like we're still little kids that don't see anything sexual in being naked around each other.
You stop and you drop the towel on your lap, and you look at me, and you smile. I remember what I was crying about yesterday. I was crying because my sister had called, because she still has trouble accepting who we are. And I was crying because I love you, and I don't care that we're both guys and that we're poor and barely making it in this damn apartment.
But now... Now I'm smiling. It's warm and comfortable and cluttered. It's our place and we're together.
I push the covers off my legs and I sit in front you and then I kiss you. Soft, gentle, lingering. I pull away and I look into your eyes; I think I'm ready to get out of bed and take a shower.
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I personally really like this ^^ But I've had no feedback on it yet.
This is for the most part PG, even G, except it's about a male/male couple. You can almost miss that fact until the end though. T'was written after reading a prompt for a short peice and might turn into something more.
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The Way Things Are
I'm curled up in the bed and I'm sinking deeper into the mattress, burried under the sheets and the comforter, nestled with the pillows and that squishy stuffed puppy you got me when we were younger and still virgins. It's so warm, here in your bed, and I breathe in the scent of the freshly washed sheets, detergent and fabric softener, and then there's your scent, that musk, that manly something that drives me wild and makes me feel at home.
I don't want to open my eyes but I do and I'm assaulted with light pouring in through the curtains. It takes a while to adjust, but then I look around and I smile at the tiny room that we share. It's cramped, but it's ours and it's filled with things that belong to me, that belong to you, that belong to the both of us. I don't want to get up and out of this bed. It seems so perfect, nestled here in our very own nest. Even though you're not in the bed with me, I can still feel where you were pressed against me while we slept. I can still feel where you touched me last night.
I look around again and something tightens in my heart. I can see that spot in the wall where the paint doesn't quite match the rest. We fought that night. I hit you... And then you almost hit me back, but you stopped and punched a hole in the wall. To this day I wonder what it would have felt like if you had hit me with all that anger.
I sigh and curl tighter, and then I hug my pillow, biting into it to stop myself from... I don't know. The cotton tastes salty and I remember crying yesterday, but I can't remember why.
My eyes land on the puppy, and I can't help but smile and release the pillow. I sit up and for a moment want to go back under the covers, but I know that the morning is slipping away and I need to get up.
The floor creaks and I know that you're on your way back to our room. Have you cooked breakfast? Did you just take a shower? Music starts to drift into the room and I wonder what you're up to. You usually don't let me wake up alone unless you're mad at me.
The door glides open - we finally fixed it to stop that horrible squeaking - and you saunter in, proudly clad in nothing but your towel. I laugh because there's something absurd about you lounging around in a towel, you, the one who is always in a hurry to get dressed and go somewhere.
"I'm taking a sick day," you say, leaving the door open so I can still hear the music. "I haven't taken one all year and I think it's about time." You perch on the edge of the bed, and I can see a few stray drops of water on your shoulders, lots in your hair. You start to drip onto the bed and I can't help but wince slightly because, well, because I like my bed warm and dry. You knows this and you unwrap the towel from around your waist to dry your hair some more. The sharp aroma of soap, cheap but pleasant, drifts over to me, and under it, I can smell you and I can almost taste your skin in my mouth. My eyes roam over your body, marvelling at all that skin, at the scars that I so love to run my tongue over because of the change in texture.
I don't know what I did to deserve this seduction. You know I don't like to do anything until I've had my shower too, but here you are, sitting in front of me, perfectly naked and gorgeous. I can see you naked without wanted to ravish you, but not today, not this morning. And you go on drying your hair like it's nothing, like we're still little kids that don't see anything sexual in being naked around each other.
You stop and you drop the towel on your lap, and you look at me, and you smile. I remember what I was crying about yesterday. I was crying because my sister had called, because she still has trouble accepting who we are. And I was crying because I love you, and I don't care that we're both guys and that we're poor and barely making it in this damn apartment.
But now... Now I'm smiling. It's warm and comfortable and cluttered. It's our place and we're together.
I push the covers off my legs and I sit in front you and then I kiss you. Soft, gentle, lingering. I pull away and I look into your eyes; I think I'm ready to get out of bed and take a shower.
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I personally really like this ^^ But I've had no feedback on it yet.
. The scene was so well written as to be entirely believable, with the character's introspection being really, really, really well done.