Drabble Dump - April/May
Jun. 1st, 2009 11:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tiptoe39Sylar/Gabrielle (Vortexverse)
He knew immediately upon seeing her. The street couldn't keep him from approaching her. Cars ground to a halt when he extended his arms. His strides beat a steady rhythm into the concrete.
She stood with her hands on her hips, amused, watching him. She knew, of course, immediately who he was, but he might not recognize her. His first words would be entertaining to hear.
And indeed they were.
"You're my kind of woman."
He had no idea how true that was.
She cocked her head. "And how can you tell that?"
He walked up to her, closer than a stranger should ever get to a woman without her screaming. But this was Gabrielle, and shoulds didn't matter much to her.
"It's all in the eyes," he says. His breath is hot on her lips. "I'd like to know what those eyes can see."
She threw back her head and laughed. "They can see how a man like you works," she said. "Do you want a demonstration?"
"I'd like nothing better," he said, a reptile's toothy grin crinkling his mouth.
She grabbed his chin in forefinger and thumb and pressed perfect blood-red lips to his, then trailed a finger up from wrist to inside of elbow to shoulder-ball, flickering her tongue out snakelike to taste either corner of that grin.
Three, two, one, and she pointed one long fingernail directly at his suddenly painful erection.
"All in the eyes," she repeated, and sauntered away.
-
Matt/Mohinder, "she kept us in tune"
Matt returns to an empty apartment. Mohinder's gone, their stuff is gone, everything that ever reminded him of anyone in his life is gone. Photo albums from Jan. Mementos from Daphne. Papers from Mohinder. Hell, even Audrey's get-well card was gone. Like Matt had never known any of them. Had never loved, had never had friends, was never there.
He's alone in the world.
Well, alone with this small, beautiful creature who's come into his life. He doesn't need a DNA test; Jan's round lips and stubby nose and the amazing things the child can do are proof enough that it's their child. He will have to call Jan and thank her, promise her little Matt will be hers as soon as this nightmare is over, that they'll work something out so the child never wants for a mother or father.
They had a love that died, but they have a connection that never can.
There's only one other person he's ever had that with, and this was his apartment.
Matt hopes he's gone back to India, he's managed to get everything taken care of and disappear from this crazy country and what it has done. He knows Molly's in India with Mohinder's relatives; he knows that's the safest place for her. He'd never begrudge Mohinder the right to go back and be a proper father to her.
Still, he wishes things could have been different.
He wishes they could have stayed here in this place with her. Protecting her from nightmares. They'd bickered and subtly fought each other, but it had all been part of a dance, dissonant chords that would always resolve in the end. She kept them in tune.
Without Molly, their connection had faded.
And Matt finds himself missing that connection more than he should, more than he knows how to explain.
He should have gone with Mohinder. He should have followed that melody.
Now he's here and alone, in an apartment empty of sound, unconnected but for the tiny life in his arms. May that miracle help him find his path again.
-
Adam/Monica, first kiss
It's safe to say Monica didn't see it coming. For one thing, she hadn't been able to interpret Adam's behavior for days now. For another, her back had been turned.
She did her best to resist, but as her trainer Adam always knew of a failsafe in case she proved too adept. This time he held her wrists firm, his grip solid, wrenching her around and pushing her against the wall. The bricks broke skin on her clutched knuckles; surely his hand was bleeding too, pinning them there, but just as surely, he didn't care.
His other hand was in her hair, caressing it almost manically, as his face splotched red in the only visual sign of some internal battle.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, truly more worried than afraid.
"I don't know," he said. His eyes flickered across her face, down to her chest, back up. "I don't know, but you can't tell me you don't feel it. You feel it, too. Right?" He shook her a little. "Monica..!"
So much desperation in the way he said her name. Like it mattered. Like she mattered to him. But that was impossible. He'd lived too long to care. He'd told her that himself. It had been the song she'd fallen asleep to every night, feeling hollow and hopeless. Who was she to want him, after all? He was so far beyond anything she'd ever known.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, I feel it too."
When their mouths came together it was a collision of a kiss, both of them struggling for supremacy. Adam tried to pin her to the wall; Monica tried to climb all over him, her leg hooking around his and pulling his hips flush against hers. They made no sound louder than a muffled moan; the communication was in their hands, frantically feeling each other out, pushing away clothes to find bare skin wherever it was, and the friction of their bodies as they moved against one another. Monica was drowning in a wellspring of heat that only grew more crushing when she felt his hardness riding up between her legs.
That's when the silence was broken. "Adam, Adam, hold on, wait, I, I'm a virgin," she stammered, even as she was lowering her panties and fumbling with his belt.
A bit of the old Adam surfaced there. "You'll never believe this," he said with a rueful smile, "but I'm not."
She laughed, smacking him playfully on the arm. "But I've seen pornos before," she bragged, "so I know I'll be able to do a good job."
This brought a huge grin to his face. "Always the committed student," he said.
For a moment they were themselves again, without the veil of lust. It was the only time to say what they had to say. "I've wanted this for a long time," she confessed.
"You're not afraid, then?"
"Scared to death," she said casually.
"Good," he said. "That means you're taking it seriously. I am."
That was all she needed to hear, really.
-
Peter's Summer Job Woes
Peter never thought he'd be the one to make him miserable. Gabe, that dorky little spectacles-wearing nerd who always had one piece of hair sticking straight up despite how carefully it was gelled (glued, more like!) to his head? Be trouble? He was so wrong.
Example One:
"Gabe, would you put the heat lamp back together?"
"I'm seeing how it works!"
"When you've taken it apart like that, it doesn't!"
"I can put it back together."
"Like you put the grill back together? The one that was making crispy shredded beef for three straight hours?"
"I liked crispy shredded beef."
"This is a McDonald's!"
Example Two:
"What are you doing to the special sauce?"
"I'm making it even more special."
Example Three, and the reason Peter finally decided fast food was not his chosen career path:
"We opened up our Happy Meal to discover the Barbie figurine inside had the top of its head sliced off! Alicia's been crying for days! What are you going to do about it, Mr. Junior Manager!?"
-
Matt/Mohinder, Sinful
Matt had never been one to dwell on the concept of sin. He was a law-and-order kind of guy. There were laws, they were what they were, and he enforced them. There was nothing illegal about what had happened; consenting adults and all that. In fact, as a California kind of guy he knew it was no reason to be ashamed.
So why was it, then that when he woke up and saw the matted curls and gently pursed mouth, he felt guilty?
He searched inside himself for a reason. Nothing to do with his religion - he'd never been taught to read the Torah literally, and he wasn't sure he'd ever read the pertinent verse at all before it had come into fashion in the past decade. His mother, God rest her soul, would have been shocked to hear of it-- and then, after a few months of trying in vain to "change him back," she would have accepted him just as he was.
Still, it felt sinful to lie here and look at Mohinder's chest and remember suckling on dark nipples and thrusting hard into tight hot space. Perhaps it was just that Mohinder himself was delectable, like a fine wine or a rich dessert. His skin was so flushed and dark. His cries had been so poignant and piercing. When he'd come, the shudders that had taken over his body had been like the tremblings of a man moved in prayer. He'd been so beautiful, so heart-stoppingly perfect, that Matt felt like a sinner just thinking about touching him.
But when Mohinder woke up, he proved to have plenty of sinful ideas of his own.
-
Teenage Fantasy
sorry so dark. AU; Maya's still powered. Really, I don't know what it says about me that I wrote this.
Lyle's been thinking about it for years. Ever since he hit puberty, really. The moving around, the running, the bizarre things that went on under his roof-- they were all her fault, all because she had to have everything better. Everything special.
It was her fault Amanda broke up with him because his family was too weird. It was her fault Dad didn't even fight for custody of him when the marriage ended. It was her fault his college fund had somehow evaporated into thin air. Or maybe into the slinky black car in the driveway and the cache of weapons she kept under her bed.
Every boy dreams of killing his sister, he thought. Not every boy has the restraint of knowing it would work. Sapped of the ability to even fantasize about it, he went about researching it. After all, if it wouldn't work, what harm could learning do?
It was in the course of that research that he found Maya.
She was sweet and obliging and gullible, and Claire thought it was quite adorable that Lyle had taken an interest in her work. It wasn't hard to maneuver them into a small, secluded cell together. And once they realized they were trapped, and panic set in...
For hours he watched, watched and laughed, as Claire choked and sputtered, victim of Maya's unending panic and uncontrollable poison. She couldn't die, but she could spend the rest of her life dying.
Then, when it was dinnertime, he sealed up the vault, tossed the key down the toilet, and hit the road in that slinky black car. It was his time now.
-
Mohinder/Lyle (Cock-Tail Barverse), creaturetastic AU
not pr0n, but drabbly sweet AUness. What do you call an AU of an AU?
Sweet pink tongue licked furry paws and darted back behind equally pink lips. Lyle arched his back as he washed himself, dragging forepaws along his white belly and red-flecked chest, curling his tail around to dab at it with wet paws. Happily, he purred into the moonlight.
Mohinder had watched the catboy for days now. He himself was a creature of stealth and shadow, destined to hide and conceal forever, so to watch this creature bathe in the moonlight and touch himself so wantonly in full view of predators like Mohinder was an exercise in fascination.
Then Lyle reached down and sucked the tip of his tail into his mouth, his naked cock growing hard in the silver light, and Mohinder's instinct took over.
He was out of the bushes and onto the boy in a moment, claws and sharp teeth bared, but rather than rending the flesh Mohinder devoured it, sucking on his white shoulders and moaning as that hard cock was pinned between their two stomachs. "So beautiful," he murmured.
"You've been watching me," Lyle said, strangely calm where by all rights he should be panicked. "What are you?"
"I... I don't know." Mohinder pulled back to look into bright pale eyes. He had been a wolf, a long time ago. Then there had been a bite and...
"You're beautiful, too," Lyle interrupted his thought. He ran his paw down the line of scales on Mohinder's back. "I've hoped you would come out of the darkness and let me see you."
Mohinder gasped. He'd expected resistance, expected fear. Every creature feared him, with his strange amalgamation of traits, fur and scales and human skin all mixed together. But Lyle wasn't just gazing at him with affection, he was touching him, with paws and tail alike. And the touches felt good, so good Mohinder's skin shivered, so good his breath caught as he involuntarily jutted his hips forward. The two of them moaned in unison.
"What's your name?" Mohinder whispered, the breath behind his words thin and thready.
"I'm Lyle," the catboy said, smiling coyly.
It suited him, Mohinder thought. "I'm Mohinder."
"Beautiful name," Lyle said. His eyes were wide, his lashes fluttering in a series of quick, playful blinks.
"Beautiful..." Mohinder had never been called beautiful before, let alone twice. Inexplicably, tears prickled in his eyes.
"Shh," Lyle said, winding arms around him. "I'm here now. I'm yours." He shifted his hips under the confused creature and claimed trembling lips in a kiss.
For the first time in Mohinder's life, the moonlight felt like a blessing, not a curse.
He knew immediately upon seeing her. The street couldn't keep him from approaching her. Cars ground to a halt when he extended his arms. His strides beat a steady rhythm into the concrete.
She stood with her hands on her hips, amused, watching him. She knew, of course, immediately who he was, but he might not recognize her. His first words would be entertaining to hear.
And indeed they were.
"You're my kind of woman."
He had no idea how true that was.
She cocked her head. "And how can you tell that?"
He walked up to her, closer than a stranger should ever get to a woman without her screaming. But this was Gabrielle, and shoulds didn't matter much to her.
"It's all in the eyes," he says. His breath is hot on her lips. "I'd like to know what those eyes can see."
She threw back her head and laughed. "They can see how a man like you works," she said. "Do you want a demonstration?"
"I'd like nothing better," he said, a reptile's toothy grin crinkling his mouth.
She grabbed his chin in forefinger and thumb and pressed perfect blood-red lips to his, then trailed a finger up from wrist to inside of elbow to shoulder-ball, flickering her tongue out snakelike to taste either corner of that grin.
Three, two, one, and she pointed one long fingernail directly at his suddenly painful erection.
"All in the eyes," she repeated, and sauntered away.
-
Matt/Mohinder, "she kept us in tune"
Matt returns to an empty apartment. Mohinder's gone, their stuff is gone, everything that ever reminded him of anyone in his life is gone. Photo albums from Jan. Mementos from Daphne. Papers from Mohinder. Hell, even Audrey's get-well card was gone. Like Matt had never known any of them. Had never loved, had never had friends, was never there.
He's alone in the world.
Well, alone with this small, beautiful creature who's come into his life. He doesn't need a DNA test; Jan's round lips and stubby nose and the amazing things the child can do are proof enough that it's their child. He will have to call Jan and thank her, promise her little Matt will be hers as soon as this nightmare is over, that they'll work something out so the child never wants for a mother or father.
They had a love that died, but they have a connection that never can.
There's only one other person he's ever had that with, and this was his apartment.
Matt hopes he's gone back to India, he's managed to get everything taken care of and disappear from this crazy country and what it has done. He knows Molly's in India with Mohinder's relatives; he knows that's the safest place for her. He'd never begrudge Mohinder the right to go back and be a proper father to her.
Still, he wishes things could have been different.
He wishes they could have stayed here in this place with her. Protecting her from nightmares. They'd bickered and subtly fought each other, but it had all been part of a dance, dissonant chords that would always resolve in the end. She kept them in tune.
Without Molly, their connection had faded.
And Matt finds himself missing that connection more than he should, more than he knows how to explain.
He should have gone with Mohinder. He should have followed that melody.
Now he's here and alone, in an apartment empty of sound, unconnected but for the tiny life in his arms. May that miracle help him find his path again.
-
Adam/Monica, first kiss
It's safe to say Monica didn't see it coming. For one thing, she hadn't been able to interpret Adam's behavior for days now. For another, her back had been turned.
She did her best to resist, but as her trainer Adam always knew of a failsafe in case she proved too adept. This time he held her wrists firm, his grip solid, wrenching her around and pushing her against the wall. The bricks broke skin on her clutched knuckles; surely his hand was bleeding too, pinning them there, but just as surely, he didn't care.
His other hand was in her hair, caressing it almost manically, as his face splotched red in the only visual sign of some internal battle.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, truly more worried than afraid.
"I don't know," he said. His eyes flickered across her face, down to her chest, back up. "I don't know, but you can't tell me you don't feel it. You feel it, too. Right?" He shook her a little. "Monica..!"
So much desperation in the way he said her name. Like it mattered. Like she mattered to him. But that was impossible. He'd lived too long to care. He'd told her that himself. It had been the song she'd fallen asleep to every night, feeling hollow and hopeless. Who was she to want him, after all? He was so far beyond anything she'd ever known.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, I feel it too."
When their mouths came together it was a collision of a kiss, both of them struggling for supremacy. Adam tried to pin her to the wall; Monica tried to climb all over him, her leg hooking around his and pulling his hips flush against hers. They made no sound louder than a muffled moan; the communication was in their hands, frantically feeling each other out, pushing away clothes to find bare skin wherever it was, and the friction of their bodies as they moved against one another. Monica was drowning in a wellspring of heat that only grew more crushing when she felt his hardness riding up between her legs.
That's when the silence was broken. "Adam, Adam, hold on, wait, I, I'm a virgin," she stammered, even as she was lowering her panties and fumbling with his belt.
A bit of the old Adam surfaced there. "You'll never believe this," he said with a rueful smile, "but I'm not."
She laughed, smacking him playfully on the arm. "But I've seen pornos before," she bragged, "so I know I'll be able to do a good job."
This brought a huge grin to his face. "Always the committed student," he said.
For a moment they were themselves again, without the veil of lust. It was the only time to say what they had to say. "I've wanted this for a long time," she confessed.
"You're not afraid, then?"
"Scared to death," she said casually.
"Good," he said. "That means you're taking it seriously. I am."
That was all she needed to hear, really.
-
Peter's Summer Job Woes
Peter never thought he'd be the one to make him miserable. Gabe, that dorky little spectacles-wearing nerd who always had one piece of hair sticking straight up despite how carefully it was gelled (glued, more like!) to his head? Be trouble? He was so wrong.
Example One:
"Gabe, would you put the heat lamp back together?"
"I'm seeing how it works!"
"When you've taken it apart like that, it doesn't!"
"I can put it back together."
"Like you put the grill back together? The one that was making crispy shredded beef for three straight hours?"
"I liked crispy shredded beef."
"This is a McDonald's!"
Example Two:
"What are you doing to the special sauce?"
"I'm making it even more special."
Example Three, and the reason Peter finally decided fast food was not his chosen career path:
"We opened up our Happy Meal to discover the Barbie figurine inside had the top of its head sliced off! Alicia's been crying for days! What are you going to do about it, Mr. Junior Manager!?"
-
Matt/Mohinder, Sinful
Matt had never been one to dwell on the concept of sin. He was a law-and-order kind of guy. There were laws, they were what they were, and he enforced them. There was nothing illegal about what had happened; consenting adults and all that. In fact, as a California kind of guy he knew it was no reason to be ashamed.
So why was it, then that when he woke up and saw the matted curls and gently pursed mouth, he felt guilty?
He searched inside himself for a reason. Nothing to do with his religion - he'd never been taught to read the Torah literally, and he wasn't sure he'd ever read the pertinent verse at all before it had come into fashion in the past decade. His mother, God rest her soul, would have been shocked to hear of it-- and then, after a few months of trying in vain to "change him back," she would have accepted him just as he was.
Still, it felt sinful to lie here and look at Mohinder's chest and remember suckling on dark nipples and thrusting hard into tight hot space. Perhaps it was just that Mohinder himself was delectable, like a fine wine or a rich dessert. His skin was so flushed and dark. His cries had been so poignant and piercing. When he'd come, the shudders that had taken over his body had been like the tremblings of a man moved in prayer. He'd been so beautiful, so heart-stoppingly perfect, that Matt felt like a sinner just thinking about touching him.
But when Mohinder woke up, he proved to have plenty of sinful ideas of his own.
-
Teenage Fantasy
sorry so dark. AU; Maya's still powered. Really, I don't know what it says about me that I wrote this.
Lyle's been thinking about it for years. Ever since he hit puberty, really. The moving around, the running, the bizarre things that went on under his roof-- they were all her fault, all because she had to have everything better. Everything special.
It was her fault Amanda broke up with him because his family was too weird. It was her fault Dad didn't even fight for custody of him when the marriage ended. It was her fault his college fund had somehow evaporated into thin air. Or maybe into the slinky black car in the driveway and the cache of weapons she kept under her bed.
Every boy dreams of killing his sister, he thought. Not every boy has the restraint of knowing it would work. Sapped of the ability to even fantasize about it, he went about researching it. After all, if it wouldn't work, what harm could learning do?
It was in the course of that research that he found Maya.
She was sweet and obliging and gullible, and Claire thought it was quite adorable that Lyle had taken an interest in her work. It wasn't hard to maneuver them into a small, secluded cell together. And once they realized they were trapped, and panic set in...
For hours he watched, watched and laughed, as Claire choked and sputtered, victim of Maya's unending panic and uncontrollable poison. She couldn't die, but she could spend the rest of her life dying.
Then, when it was dinnertime, he sealed up the vault, tossed the key down the toilet, and hit the road in that slinky black car. It was his time now.
-
Mohinder/Lyle (Cock-Tail Barverse), creaturetastic AU
not pr0n, but drabbly sweet AUness. What do you call an AU of an AU?
Sweet pink tongue licked furry paws and darted back behind equally pink lips. Lyle arched his back as he washed himself, dragging forepaws along his white belly and red-flecked chest, curling his tail around to dab at it with wet paws. Happily, he purred into the moonlight.
Mohinder had watched the catboy for days now. He himself was a creature of stealth and shadow, destined to hide and conceal forever, so to watch this creature bathe in the moonlight and touch himself so wantonly in full view of predators like Mohinder was an exercise in fascination.
Then Lyle reached down and sucked the tip of his tail into his mouth, his naked cock growing hard in the silver light, and Mohinder's instinct took over.
He was out of the bushes and onto the boy in a moment, claws and sharp teeth bared, but rather than rending the flesh Mohinder devoured it, sucking on his white shoulders and moaning as that hard cock was pinned between their two stomachs. "So beautiful," he murmured.
"You've been watching me," Lyle said, strangely calm where by all rights he should be panicked. "What are you?"
"I... I don't know." Mohinder pulled back to look into bright pale eyes. He had been a wolf, a long time ago. Then there had been a bite and...
"You're beautiful, too," Lyle interrupted his thought. He ran his paw down the line of scales on Mohinder's back. "I've hoped you would come out of the darkness and let me see you."
Mohinder gasped. He'd expected resistance, expected fear. Every creature feared him, with his strange amalgamation of traits, fur and scales and human skin all mixed together. But Lyle wasn't just gazing at him with affection, he was touching him, with paws and tail alike. And the touches felt good, so good Mohinder's skin shivered, so good his breath caught as he involuntarily jutted his hips forward. The two of them moaned in unison.
"What's your name?" Mohinder whispered, the breath behind his words thin and thready.
"I'm Lyle," the catboy said, smiling coyly.
It suited him, Mohinder thought. "I'm Mohinder."
"Beautiful name," Lyle said. His eyes were wide, his lashes fluttering in a series of quick, playful blinks.
"Beautiful..." Mohinder had never been called beautiful before, let alone twice. Inexplicably, tears prickled in his eyes.
"Shh," Lyle said, winding arms around him. "I'm here now. I'm yours." He shifted his hips under the confused creature and claimed trembling lips in a kiss.
For the first time in Mohinder's life, the moonlight felt like a blessing, not a curse.