Kinky Writing
-
Moments with Sir – Can’t?
Sir recently discovered that my new blog theme has emoji buttons at the bottom of posts and decided to go through all of my posts and “like” them with the emoji buttons. I found this both silly and mortifying and, without thinking said, “No, you can’t…” Â I caught myself and stopped, but… not soon enough. Sir looked at me. Â He wasn’t angry, I could see the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but he raised his eyebrow and turned in the office chair to face me fully. “I what?” “Nothing…” “I can’t?”
-
Manic – Part 2 – Moments with Sir
For someone’s birthday… since she wants to know… and because I keep fading to black… Sigh. Happy birthday! This is the second half of Manic. *** The fog of dreams gives way to a replay of last night across the back of my eyelids. I groan and throw my arm across my eyes. It does nothing to stop the flood of memory and I pull my pillow over my face. Sir tugs it away and I cover my face with my hands. “What?” I can feel him shift in the bed beside me but I don’t move my hands. “Me!” He shifts again and I feel his fingers close around…
-
Mistakes – SFD #4
“What were you going to say?” His voice is gentle, one hip is cocked against the counter top, his arms are folded loosely over his chest, all outwardly relaxed, casual. She feels her breath catch in her chest and her eyes widen. “I’m sorry.” He tilts his head slightly. “Oh? Are you apologizing or was the end of that sentence really going to be ‘because I’m too…I’m sorry’?” She feels her skin wash with a flush of heat, followed by a chill. Her heart is thumping wildly, high in her chest. Her tongue flickers over her lips, and her eyes skitter over his chest, unable to find a safe place…
-
Dribble Drabble Black Fire
It’s been a rough week. Â I feel too worn and raw to post about life today. Â But I have this stupid every day posting commitment that SOMEBODY thought was a good idea (Nice job ghost of Shadow past…), so I’m going to write a story snippet. I hate this. Â I hate sharing writing at all, and even more if it is unprepared writing, but I’m going to post raw writing (cringe) because… just… because… Somewhere in the next chapter of Black Fire…
-
Irony
A random bit of writing inspired by events of the evening… Sorry not much commentary here. I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m under threats of dire consequences if my “ass is not in bed in the next thirty seconds…” Are dominance and a tendency to hyperbole carried on the same gene or something? Seriously… It seems to be a thing.Â
-
My Writing Journal
My journal. Â Yes, it does exist, much as I some days wish it didn’t… mocking me with its presence, the guilt building the longer I put off writing. Â But I do write in it, eventually. Â Granted, the writing is often scraps, bits and pieces which may or may not ever actually end up on a story…
-
Untitled – Snippet – August 9, 2012
I studied his face. His eyes were bright in the guttering candlelight. His pupils were wide, pushing out all color to their coal blackness. His skin was faintly darkened by sun and wind-roughened along high cheekbones. Although his face was lean and worn by years, it maintained an impish hint of youth.Â
-
Penance
Trig pads across the carpet until he stands a long step from David’s feet. David lets his head roll to one side and gazes silently at Trig for a long moment. I look at Trig, too. The muscles in his throat twitch and his eyes seem focused on empty space. For just a second the tip of his tongue flickers over his lower lip then disappears as he presses his lips together, muscles tensing along his jaw.
-
Need
He catches his lip between his teeth and holds it lightly as he turns his head, brushing his cheek against the black leather surface of the bench. I let the cane come to rest, lightly this time, against his skin, so pale but for a single, pink stripe, rapidly darkening to crimson.