drabble (request #7)

for astrojen:

Balian/Godfrey:

Godfrey hides his face in shame as I push into his body. For myself, I don't think God cares with whom we lie in the cold of night, man or woman, even father and son. Most priests lie, but one told me when I was a boy that all we are asked to do is love one another.

Godfrey, though, is on a quest to save his soul and I am on one to find mine. Or perhaps we are running, each from our dark pasts, and tonight is yet another sin as we seek for warmth in the dark.

drabble (request #8)

for helena_s_renn:

Billy/Bean:

Today was hideous. I had this brilliant idea to imitate Orli all day, bounce all over, bug the fuck out of everyone. It would annoy the Elf *and* I'd get to grope Bean, too.

Everything went brilliantly until Bean walked in. I sashayed over in a spot-on Elf-glide and tried to drape myself on him like Orli does. But Bean's a lot taller than I am, a lot bulkier, a lot *more* than I am. And I got flustered and lost my nerve. Right there, in front of everyone. Speechless.

Aren't I supposed to be too old for this shite?

drabbles (request #6)

for justinetre:

Harry/Bill:

Cool. I would never have thought any of the Weasleys could be cool, but he is. Tall, lanky (yeah ok, like Ron, but different), with that long hair and earring and black clothes and just... The way danger seems to surround him. Smart. Capable.

He's just *cool*. And, well, fit. Gorgeous. Everything inside me tenses and gets hot when he's around. Or when I'm alone, at night, thinking about him. Like now...

I can't tell if I want to be him when I grow up... or touch him.

No, I know - I want him to touch me.

Just.

Like.

This...



Fred/George:

Warm skin under my hands, smooth and strange but familiar, to see one so like myself like this. It never gets old, the feeling of familiarity and strangeness combined. Like a mirror gone wrong, one you can step into and out of, touching, feeling, tasting, teasing. It's almost too much when our eyes meet, too strange even for us. Not wrong, not really, nothing we do ever feels wrong, but it's too intense. Like coming home and flying out into space all at once.

I know we'll get caught eventually. It's not knowing when, exactly, that makes it so exciting.



Charlie/Bill:

He fell, stretched too far to make a save during Quidditch. Pulled a muscle. He took a shower, tried a simple charm to stop the ache, didn't want to ask Mum. So I offered to rub it. He gave me a look, but it was an innocent offer, so he took me up on it – after all, I've been giving the girls back rubs in the Common Room for years now.

But I didn't expect to react to massaging Bill's shoulders. Strong muscles, warm skin, the glide of my hands on him...

I'm only hard because I'm sixteen, right?

Right?







That's all the drabbles! That was fun!