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Mar. 17th, 2003 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kbkam back from weekend. have been catching up on fic for some hours. should have been working. oh well.
wrote a few things over the weekend, including the following snippets for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seemag's OPI Nail Polish Challenge. three different fandoms, including a new one that I won't be writing more in. honest. *hides*
Dusk Over Cairo - Highlander - 200 words
He walked me home. When I held the door open he stepped over the threshold, and it felt like dusk over Cairo. A transition from the harsh bright honesty of his life and the daylit eyes of the world to the murkier shades of my existence and the promise that my humble apartment held. Hey, I don’t hang out with poets for nothing.
He couldn’t mistake or ignore my invitation and he didn’t even try. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled me forward, kissing me intently. I sent a prayer of thanks to the first god I could think of, and kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands moved around my back, under my sweater, reaching bare skin and making me gasp with the intensity of that simple touch as I grasped him in return. We were close and hard against each other, gasping for air as we broke apart our devouring mouths to strip off our clothes… and I’ll leave it there. Suffice it to say that Mac and I had sex – hot sex – very hot sex – astoundingly… sorry. Distracted. – and continue to do so to this day.
Aren’t I the lucky one?
Grand Canyon Sunset - Harry Potter - 200 words
Draco had always had a sense of the dramatic. He was and had always been a study in monochrome, the only colour on his entire figure a splash of Slytherin green and the red gash of his mouth. His life was eventful and dangerous; his loyalty the talk of the school; his love, once and forever.
Draco had been at once aloof and eminently available – free with his favours but jealous of his heart. When he fell in love, he fell hard and irrevocably. But he made the mistake of falling for an enemy, one he was sworn to kill. He was not, in the end, the death of this one love. Neither did he stop he who was.
And in the aftermath, Draco – broken – chose the most dramatic retreat he could envisage. He set his affairs in order and left the country of his birth to find a scar in the Earth dramatic enough to represent the pain of his heart. And he waited. Past cloud, wind, and tourists he waited. The fifth day was perfect. The sun was red; the sky an intense gradation of colour.
And greyscale Draco stepped into the pink of a Grand Canyon Sunset.
Russian to a Party - X-Files - 300 words
“Glad you could join us, Alex,” the man in the blue suit said. The man’s voice, trained to a blandness that many politicians would have envied, grated unpleasantly on Alex’s ears, but he forced a polite smile to his face and returned the greeting. “A minor problem with traffic,” was how he excused his tardiness, neglecting to mention the exact circumstances of the problem – he had been unable to evade his tail quickly enough to avoid a confrontation and had ended up killing the man, rolling the corpse in a tarp and dumping it in an alley, entirely unwilling to bring any trace of his violent existence to this cultured house.
He was dressed for the occasion in slacks and a cashmere sweater – all black, of course, he wouldn’t compromise his image any further – and had regretfully left his leather in the car. Boots, however, were a necessity. He had almost forgotten how to run in anything else, and he wouldn’t put himself at that kind of disadvantage in this company. It was practically a sign of his respect.
“Still,” his host said, “you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Nicky refused to open his presents without you.” He turned a reproachful gaze on Alex, which was totally ignored as the aforementioned Nicky came barrelling out of the inner room, yelling, “Uncle Sasha!”
Alex picked him up, a real smile breaking free, and swung the child around joyfully. “How are you, my little Nikolasha?” he asked. The suited man frowned at the foreign endearments, but let it pass. He had given up hoping that Krycek would miss any event in the child’s life unless it was totally unavoidable, and he would always make up for any disappointments with yet more visits. But Alex would never miss his son’s birthday.
I apologise for... well, various things about, uh, all three. The last one really changed direction in the middle of writing it. But, y'know, it happens, and I'm excusing this with sleep-deprivation, so. There you go.
wrote a few things over the weekend, including the following snippets for
seemag's OPI Nail Polish Challenge. three different fandoms, including a new one that I won't be writing more in. honest. *hides*Dusk Over Cairo - Highlander - 200 words
He walked me home. When I held the door open he stepped over the threshold, and it felt like dusk over Cairo. A transition from the harsh bright honesty of his life and the daylit eyes of the world to the murkier shades of my existence and the promise that my humble apartment held. Hey, I don’t hang out with poets for nothing.
He couldn’t mistake or ignore my invitation and he didn’t even try. He kicked the door closed behind him and pulled me forward, kissing me intently. I sent a prayer of thanks to the first god I could think of, and kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands moved around my back, under my sweater, reaching bare skin and making me gasp with the intensity of that simple touch as I grasped him in return. We were close and hard against each other, gasping for air as we broke apart our devouring mouths to strip off our clothes… and I’ll leave it there. Suffice it to say that Mac and I had sex – hot sex – very hot sex – astoundingly… sorry. Distracted. – and continue to do so to this day.
Aren’t I the lucky one?
Grand Canyon Sunset - Harry Potter - 200 words
Draco had always had a sense of the dramatic. He was and had always been a study in monochrome, the only colour on his entire figure a splash of Slytherin green and the red gash of his mouth. His life was eventful and dangerous; his loyalty the talk of the school; his love, once and forever.
Draco had been at once aloof and eminently available – free with his favours but jealous of his heart. When he fell in love, he fell hard and irrevocably. But he made the mistake of falling for an enemy, one he was sworn to kill. He was not, in the end, the death of this one love. Neither did he stop he who was.
And in the aftermath, Draco – broken – chose the most dramatic retreat he could envisage. He set his affairs in order and left the country of his birth to find a scar in the Earth dramatic enough to represent the pain of his heart. And he waited. Past cloud, wind, and tourists he waited. The fifth day was perfect. The sun was red; the sky an intense gradation of colour.
And greyscale Draco stepped into the pink of a Grand Canyon Sunset.
Russian to a Party - X-Files - 300 words
“Glad you could join us, Alex,” the man in the blue suit said. The man’s voice, trained to a blandness that many politicians would have envied, grated unpleasantly on Alex’s ears, but he forced a polite smile to his face and returned the greeting. “A minor problem with traffic,” was how he excused his tardiness, neglecting to mention the exact circumstances of the problem – he had been unable to evade his tail quickly enough to avoid a confrontation and had ended up killing the man, rolling the corpse in a tarp and dumping it in an alley, entirely unwilling to bring any trace of his violent existence to this cultured house.
He was dressed for the occasion in slacks and a cashmere sweater – all black, of course, he wouldn’t compromise his image any further – and had regretfully left his leather in the car. Boots, however, were a necessity. He had almost forgotten how to run in anything else, and he wouldn’t put himself at that kind of disadvantage in this company. It was practically a sign of his respect.
“Still,” his host said, “you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Nicky refused to open his presents without you.” He turned a reproachful gaze on Alex, which was totally ignored as the aforementioned Nicky came barrelling out of the inner room, yelling, “Uncle Sasha!”
Alex picked him up, a real smile breaking free, and swung the child around joyfully. “How are you, my little Nikolasha?” he asked. The suited man frowned at the foreign endearments, but let it pass. He had given up hoping that Krycek would miss any event in the child’s life unless it was totally unavoidable, and he would always make up for any disappointments with yet more visits. But Alex would never miss his son’s birthday.
I apologise for... well, various things about, uh, all three. The last one really changed direction in the middle of writing it. But, y'know, it happens, and I'm excusing this with sleep-deprivation, so. There you go.
