15 minute fic exchange.
Oct. 30th, 2006 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanAnother lovely exchange with the inimitable ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen. My prompt was "disjointed."
Title: Arrested
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13ish for some violence and some mild sexual situations (How specific!)
There was a drop of blood, hovering in the air.
No, that’s not right.
There was a gunshot, first. The noise was inappropriately comic, like someone uncorking champagne.
No, that’s not it either.
“What do you say, William? Double or nothing?” The tall young man grinned, brown curls dancing in the wind as he tilted his head to one side. His features were almost hawk-like, but split by a still-boyish expression of amusement.
“Mm. You always win. I should cut my loses now.” The voice was mine, but I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. The wind picked up, pushing the grass aside carelessly as it passed by.
Laughter. The sun came out from behind a cloud. We were boys. We were playing.
We weren’t playing. There was a clash of bodies and mouths, tongues tangling. Warmth giving way to heat. The wind blew.
He was riding up on a gray horse that looked like an escaped patch of overcast sky. I’d seen the two of them, horse and man, since they were too young to merit the names. Time and time again. They grew into each other. I grew into them.
His hand undid my tie. My fingers slipped buttons out of their restraints. There was no one to see.
Someone was watching. Someone was listening.
We were laughing, catching frogs. No one watched us. We let the frogs go, watching them hop away in panic.
His taste was like smoke and blood. I never asked him what my taste was. I don’t know if he would have told me.
My horse was tied up out of sight. His had wandered off. Never far. Just over the ridge. Out of sight.
Birds hitting the sky like buckshot. The wind stopped.
We didn’t stop.
His muscles all tensing, every one, before the shot ripped through. Blood everywhere, on linen, on tanned shoulders.
It was his.
No, that wasn’t it.
His was mine.
Time stopped.
A drop of blood hung in the air.
That’s right.
Isn’t it?
rougen. My prompt was "disjointed."Title: Arrested
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13ish for some violence and some mild sexual situations (How specific!)
There was a drop of blood, hovering in the air.
No, that’s not right.
There was a gunshot, first. The noise was inappropriately comic, like someone uncorking champagne.
No, that’s not it either.
“What do you say, William? Double or nothing?” The tall young man grinned, brown curls dancing in the wind as he tilted his head to one side. His features were almost hawk-like, but split by a still-boyish expression of amusement.
“Mm. You always win. I should cut my loses now.” The voice was mine, but I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. The wind picked up, pushing the grass aside carelessly as it passed by.
Laughter. The sun came out from behind a cloud. We were boys. We were playing.
We weren’t playing. There was a clash of bodies and mouths, tongues tangling. Warmth giving way to heat. The wind blew.
He was riding up on a gray horse that looked like an escaped patch of overcast sky. I’d seen the two of them, horse and man, since they were too young to merit the names. Time and time again. They grew into each other. I grew into them.
His hand undid my tie. My fingers slipped buttons out of their restraints. There was no one to see.
Someone was watching. Someone was listening.
We were laughing, catching frogs. No one watched us. We let the frogs go, watching them hop away in panic.
His taste was like smoke and blood. I never asked him what my taste was. I don’t know if he would have told me.
My horse was tied up out of sight. His had wandered off. Never far. Just over the ridge. Out of sight.
Birds hitting the sky like buckshot. The wind stopped.
We didn’t stop.
His muscles all tensing, every one, before the shot ripped through. Blood everywhere, on linen, on tanned shoulders.
It was his.
No, that wasn’t it.
His was mine.
Time stopped.
A drop of blood hung in the air.
That’s right.
Isn’t it?
