Soon

Soon 

by Lou

I love it when she lets me do this, undressing her slowly and letting my hands direct her. Kissing the marks made by her clothes; soft indentations on pliant flesh. Pulling her nipple into my mouth and inhaling the scent of her warmth. Of her.

Her leather belt, supple from use, the memory of which can make me grin foolishly just to see her wearing it, low across her hips, at a dull and deadening party. That spark of amusement as she catches my eye and notes my increasingly frequent forays into my bag to clutch at car keys. 

Soon.

Off

Written for the Loving Swats May 2011 Breakfast in Bed Drabble Challenge

Sitting on  the table, Tim cast an appraising eye over Rob's form as he slid eggs from the pan.

Rob gestured for Tim to shift. "Off. You want to take this back to bed?"

"Nope. Just you."

Discarding his plate on the bench, Rob walked over to stand between Tim's knees, claiming a kiss, pushing him backwards as he did so.

"Shit!"

Tim leapt up, smacking his head on Rob's chin, as his backside caught the edge of his own plate, tipping its hot contents against his pants.

 Hand pressed to his face, Rob pointed at Tim's jeans. "Off. Bed."

Breakfast in Bed

Written for the Loving Swats May 2011 Breakfast in Bed Drabble Challenge

Perching with one hip on the wide windowsill, Rob twitched the curtains aside to peer out at what looked to be an unpromising day. Tim, having lost the argument, set a tray of breakfast on the bedside table. 

"It's bloody freezing on that kitchen floor!"

His partner grinned and pointed out the window at a huddled figure, arms wrapped around her body; the small dress' pulling properties clearly outweighing its thermal ones. Opening the window, Tim leaned out and yelled, "Oi! Shazza! Good night?" and laughed at the two fingered response and Rob's smack on his leg.

"Good for her."

TopHat

Drabble: TopHat
Rob/Tim.
No warnings.

****

"Put on your Top Hat, baby", Tim whispered, nuzzling into Rob's neck and inhaling the scent of a day's work and the faint hint of this morning's soap. Friday and the world could at last fall away.

Rob hesitated for a moment and brought his hands up to steady Tim's face, and searched out the other man's beautiful eyes; the slight blush on his partner's cheeks and quickly dropped gaze gave him his answer.

"Yeah?"

"Please."

Rob captured his lips in a firm kiss and ran a hand down Tim's back to pat his backside warningly.

"Bring me your hairbrush."

Discord

Discord

by Lou

Tim rubbed his darkly stubbled cheek over the hair at the junction of Rob's thigh, nosing his way to that softest of skin and breathed in the morning muskiness he knew so well. He felt the man's pulse under his fingers as they ghosted up his inner thigh to his groin. 

Glancing across at the tall mirror by the wardrobe, Rob eyed the reddened swell of Tim's backside as he shifted to a more comfortable position between his legs. Giving himself up to the warmth of Tim's mouth, Rob smiled, happy that was the only evidence now of yesterday's discord.

Snap

Written for the Writing Lines Spring 2011 Drabble Challenge

Snap

"I'm just saying, reality is not her friend."

"Mhmm."

"A hundred bucks a head? No one will pay that for some crap spumante, limp sandwiches and the honour of meeting an ageing footballer and his bit of stuff; I don't care if it is for charity."

"Yeah. Shame that."

Tim put down the dish he was drying and looked at Rob.

"Do you even have a clue what I just said to you?"

Rob's mouth worked as he struggled to respond.

"Chillax?"

Twisting the tea towel, Tim flicked him across the back of the leg. "Doesn't work for you, either."

Itch

Written for the Writing Lines Spring 2011 Drabble Challenge.


"How much for a windscreen?"

"Chillax."

"Chillax??"

Tim heeled off his sneakers and peeled his t-shirt over his head. "Yeah,  didn't really work for me, either. I think you have to be American."

"I think you have to be fourteen and in a food court, but that is neither here nor there", said Rob, sweeping the discarded shirt off the floor and tossing it across chair. "You really think it wise to tell me to "chillax" or anything approximating that when my palm is already just itching to smack your bum?"

Tim grinned, backing towards the bed. "Chill, old man."