Some of you lovelies took me up on my offer of drabbles for Valentine's Day. Below are the results:
: Hallmark MomentFandom:
Holiday cards from redandglenda
McCoy scowled and keyed in the command to wipe out the text of the message for the sixth time. He fervently wished he had actual paper so he could enjoy balling it up and tossing it in the recycler, but instead he had to be content to watch the cursor blink tauntingly at him.
“Still not done?” Jim slid gracefully onto the chair behind McCoy and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’ve been at it an hour.”
“’S not easy,” McCoy muttered. His fingers itched to pour a drink, but he’d promised himself he’d wait until he finished. “Never been good at this.”
“Let me try.” Jim reached around McCoy, hooked his chin over his shoulder, and took up the padd. He typed for a few seconds, paused and hm’d in McCoy’s ear, then typed a few more words before handing it back. “How’s that?”
McCoy read, “To our best girl and favorite Valentine: Hope you’re going easy on all the boys whose hearts you’re always breaking. Miss you every day. Be well. Love, Dad and Uncle Jim.” He set down the padd. “How do you make it look so easy?”
“I’m a good listener,” Jim said. “You say nicer things every time you talk about her.”
“Jo will love it.” McCoy pressed send on the message, stood, and pulled Jim to his feet. “Now what did you write on my card?”
“We’re doing cards?” Jim’s eyebrows shot up in alarm before his face settled into a mischievous grin. “Would you settle for mind-blowing sex instead?”
McCoy gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I must,” he grumbled. “But next year I expect a sonnet.”
: Same Song, Different VerseFandom:
Star Trek/Heroes Pairing:
Leonard McCoy/Peter PetrelliRating:
Love sucks for miss_miso
Peter spreads his legs, wanton and panting like Jim always is, but more yielding, more hungry for it. Peter has none of the brash arrogance of McCoy’s wayward roommate. “Please,” he says when McCoy slides into him, and Kirk never says please, or thank you for that matter.
McCoy stills, fully buried, head hanging as he sucks in air. Peter whispers, “Come on, hurt me.” McCoy doesn’t know who Peter’s trying to forget—or remember—but he wants to punish someone. He wants to punish Jim
, but Jim’s not here, and Peter is.
He almost says I’m a doctor, not a sadist
, but Jim would get the joke, and this kid wouldn’t. Besides, Peter needs
what McCoy wants to give him, pushing up weakly against McCoy and making needy, high-pitched sounds in his throat.
McCoy braces himself on Peter’s shoulder and gives in.
Corruption for sarkywoman
“Come here, pet.”
Peter followed the sound of Adam’s voice out onto the shade-dappled front porch. Adam stood looking down at something near the steps that led down to the yard. When Peter approached, Adam slid an arm around his waist, steered him carefully to where he wanted him, and pointed down.
In a square of sunshine perched a monarch butterfly, its wings languidly pumping the air.
“You do understand what we’re trying to accomplish here, don’t you pet?”
Peter looked away, as if he could see through the walls of the house to where the woman’s blood was soaking into the carpet.
Adam leaned in, whispered in his ear, “You’ve done well, Peter. I’m proud of you.”
Peter turned back to watch the butterfly bathing in its patch of warm afternoon sun.
“You know what we have to do next.”
“Yes.” Peter lifted his foot and brought his heel down hard right in the middle of the light.
: A Righteous ManFandom
Finding "good" for jaune_chat
“No.” Peter swatted at Sylar’s hand on his hip. “Not like that.” He rolled over onto his back, then held his arms up to beckon Sylar closer. “I want to see you.”
Sylar knelt between Peter’s legs, carefully lined himself up, and eased in again. He searched Peter’s face for signals: a hand smoothed down Peter’s naked chest made his mouth tighten, a tweak to his nipple made his eyes go wide.
Sylar hooked a hand under Peter’s knee and pushed it back, stretching him. He slammed into Peter with jolting force; Peter’s whole expression changed, then. He was open, hungry.
“How’s this?” Sylar asked.
“Good,” Peter said. “It’s good.”