Crossing Fingers
I've been wanting to write Fastlane for a while. But have been having nightmares about dialogue. Notice this snippet has none *g*
I love the idea of this community, so decided to have a try despite my fears. Just be aware it's short, and the first Fastlane I've ever tried.
So we have drinks for Van and Deaq shirtless.
Dropping to the floor, Deaq pulled off his sodden tank top, using the bunched up material to wipe the sweat from his face. Shivering a little as cool air hit his over heated body, he reached for the water bottle next to him, gulping down a huge mouthful, then pressed the cool bottle against his forehead.
It was hot, the air heavy and humid despite the air conditioners running full blast. Billie was sat at her desk, supposedly working on reports. In reality she was guarding a fan that blew cold air past her. Kept standing in front of it and lifting her shirt, luxuriating in the cool breeze. Deaq should have been over there too, squabbling for the cool air. Or maybe he should have been lying on the sofa, chilling out, a cold frosty soda nearby.
What he shouldn't be doing was playing one on one with Van. Jumping for baskets, dodging and running in this heat was insane -- Van was insane -- but that was a given. The man was crazy as a loon. Deaq knew that. Had often sat and wondered what he was doing with someone who could fill a book with his quirks. But he also knew that despite those quirks Van was one of the best men he'd ever met. Not that he would ever tell him that.
So when Van had suggested playing he'd heard himself agree, mouth engaging before his brain caught up. Cue some intense moves on both their sides. It might have been hotter than hell, but they both still wanted to win -- pride was at stake. Finally, score at ten a piece Deaq called a time out. He might want to win, but he was brought up no idiot, a cold drink was calling his name and he was going to get it.
Taking another long swallow, Deaq hid a smile as Van flopped to the floor next to him, grabbing for his own water. Draining half the bottle in one gulp, Van pulled his tank off too; letting it drop next to Deaq's before lying back on the floor with a small sigh. Deaq allowed himself a smile this time, Van looked like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, boneless and motionless on the floor.
Twisting the bottle in his hands, Deaq allowed himself to just look at Van. Taking in and filing every little thing he could see, how his hair clung to his face and neck, dark with sweat. The shadow of his eyelashes above cheeks flushed with heat. His lips -- still for once, not talking -- damp and shining with droplets of water. The dark hollow of his collarbone, the beads of sweat that slid down his bare chest, leaving trails that ended under his pants, and finally, those pants, snugly outlining what was hidden below.
Pulling his gaze away, Deaq drank some more. Needing to do something apart from look at what he couldn't have. It was getting harder and harder to be around Van. Knowing that the man had no hang ups about sex at all, with men or women. Knowing that Van would sleep with him without hesitation. But this knowledge did nothing but torture Deaq. If he had Van he wanted it to be for keeps, something real, and Van just couldn't give that yet. He jumped from woman to woman, man to man like some kind of hyperactive Romeo.
Deaq didn't want to be a notch on a bedpost, a fuck buddy; he wanted love and commitment -- nothing less. So he restricted himself to looking, no touching, and that's how it was going to be. It hurt, but Deaq was strong. He had his eyes, and memories of Van that he'd use at night in his lonely bed, the only company his hand. He'd wait, and when Van was ready, he'd be there, however long it took.
I love the idea of this community, so decided to have a try despite my fears. Just be aware it's short, and the first Fastlane I've ever tried.
So we have drinks for Van and Deaq shirtless.
Dropping to the floor, Deaq pulled off his sodden tank top, using the bunched up material to wipe the sweat from his face. Shivering a little as cool air hit his over heated body, he reached for the water bottle next to him, gulping down a huge mouthful, then pressed the cool bottle against his forehead.
It was hot, the air heavy and humid despite the air conditioners running full blast. Billie was sat at her desk, supposedly working on reports. In reality she was guarding a fan that blew cold air past her. Kept standing in front of it and lifting her shirt, luxuriating in the cool breeze. Deaq should have been over there too, squabbling for the cool air. Or maybe he should have been lying on the sofa, chilling out, a cold frosty soda nearby.
What he shouldn't be doing was playing one on one with Van. Jumping for baskets, dodging and running in this heat was insane -- Van was insane -- but that was a given. The man was crazy as a loon. Deaq knew that. Had often sat and wondered what he was doing with someone who could fill a book with his quirks. But he also knew that despite those quirks Van was one of the best men he'd ever met. Not that he would ever tell him that.
So when Van had suggested playing he'd heard himself agree, mouth engaging before his brain caught up. Cue some intense moves on both their sides. It might have been hotter than hell, but they both still wanted to win -- pride was at stake. Finally, score at ten a piece Deaq called a time out. He might want to win, but he was brought up no idiot, a cold drink was calling his name and he was going to get it.
Taking another long swallow, Deaq hid a smile as Van flopped to the floor next to him, grabbing for his own water. Draining half the bottle in one gulp, Van pulled his tank off too; letting it drop next to Deaq's before lying back on the floor with a small sigh. Deaq allowed himself a smile this time, Van looked like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, boneless and motionless on the floor.
Twisting the bottle in his hands, Deaq allowed himself to just look at Van. Taking in and filing every little thing he could see, how his hair clung to his face and neck, dark with sweat. The shadow of his eyelashes above cheeks flushed with heat. His lips -- still for once, not talking -- damp and shining with droplets of water. The dark hollow of his collarbone, the beads of sweat that slid down his bare chest, leaving trails that ended under his pants, and finally, those pants, snugly outlining what was hidden below.
Pulling his gaze away, Deaq drank some more. Needing to do something apart from look at what he couldn't have. It was getting harder and harder to be around Van. Knowing that the man had no hang ups about sex at all, with men or women. Knowing that Van would sleep with him without hesitation. But this knowledge did nothing but torture Deaq. If he had Van he wanted it to be for keeps, something real, and Van just couldn't give that yet. He jumped from woman to woman, man to man like some kind of hyperactive Romeo.
Deaq didn't want to be a notch on a bedpost, a fuck buddy; he wanted love and commitment -- nothing less. So he restricted himself to looking, no touching, and that's how it was going to be. It hurt, but Deaq was strong. He had his eyes, and memories of Van that he'd use at night in his lonely bed, the only company his hand. He'd wait, and when Van was ready, he'd be there, however long it took.