Fic meme~
Stole'd from faded_lace:
The Works In Progress Meme
Find any fanfiction in progress that you have lying around your computer. Post excerpts from all of it. Maybe inspiration will strike.
Secret Box
Izumi straightened up reluctantly and rubbed at his eyes despite his fervent insistence he hadn't been dozing against his benchmate. He blinked a few times in slow succession, regarding Haru with confusion. "What do you mean 'come on'? Where are we going?"
"Party's over--I'm taking you home so you can get some sleep." He was already on his feet, hand outstretched to help Izumi up as well. "You've got class tomorrow, right?"
"At five," Izumi protested, slumping back against the bench. "Why do I have to go home now?"
"Because there's no one else here," Haru reminded him with a soft smile, gesturing around the room--and while Izumi knew that Haru felt the party had ended when Azuma and the others had left earlier, he mentally groused, That's the whole point, idiot. But he managed to keep his feelings from spilling onto hhis features and obligingly slid off the bench, slipping his messenger bag over one shoulder and digging around inside for his train pass while Haru paid their tab.
The party was over...and Haru was taking him home. Home to Izumi's apartment, where he would stand on the bottom step of the little stoop, and if it was private enough, maybe Izumi would duck down and kiss his cheek (or lips if he were feeling particularly bold), and then they'd part ways--Haru would head back to the station, and Izumi would stomp up the stairs alone and buzzed and wishing that he hadn't gotten attracted at sixteen and infatuated at seventeen and enamored at eighteen and completely enthralled at nineteen, leaving him horny at twenty and thinking he really didn't want to spend his first night as an official adult in the eyes of the law curled up under the covers alone.
Maharaja Mode
"We're gonna get caught," Nataraja hissed into Pasupata's ear, ducking low and struggling to flatten himself against the wall to avoid notice by the servants on night watch at the front gate. "We're gonna get caught, and I'm the one who's gonna get punished!"
"Shut up and stop being a coward," Pasupata snapped back shortly, eyes wide and alert as he kept his gaze trained on the old servant shuffling towards a chair in the corner that, if their luck held, he'd subsequently fall asleep in. "We're not gonna get caught; I've been getting ready for tonight for a week now. I've got everything under control."
"But why do I have to come with you?"
Pasupata raked an incredulous glance up and down Nataraja. "Cause it's fun? Cause we'll have the whole place to ourselves? Cause the water feels great at night, but Father insists on keeping curfew? There's only, like, a million reasons for us to go."
"But--" Nataraja started again, but fell silent when Pasupata waved a hand at him. He sighed as loudly as he dared in their current situation and pasted on a frown. It wasn't that he didn't want to go swimming, even though it was in the middle of the night; the water at the oasis would be perfect, retaining all the heat poured into it during the day, and it was just a waste that no one partook of the excellent little patch of paradise, so why not? Perhaps because sometimes there were bandits roaming the dusty fields around Pasupata's family's land, or just as bad--wild dogs and other animals that probably wouldn't mind picking off a couple of gangly twelve-year-olds. Not to mention sandstorms that came up out of nowhere and night temperatures that dipped into less-than-pleasant ranges.
But Pasupata was his master, whether Nataraja liked it or not, and while they more often than not treated each other as friends or siblings rather than master and servant, the fact remained that he'd likely wind up in more trouble for disobeying a family member's order than for getting caught out past curfew, so here he was, traipsing along after Pasupata like a reluctant hound. The "guard" at the front gate was only too easy to slip past, and soon they were saddling a pair of fat little ponies and bouncing off over the hills to the oasis Pasupata's brothers had found a few weeks back and subsequently commandeered as their own private getaway. This was another reason Pasupata wanted to go at night, Nataraja suspected; no matter your station, older siblings were always a pain in the ass.
Parvati spasmed awake with nervous, jerky movements and found himself engulfed in total darkness--for a moment, until his eyes adjusted, pupils dilating and bringing his surroundings into focus. Cool, soft moonlight filtered through the thing netting of the curtains, bathing all that fell in its pool in a ghostly glow and setting the rest of the vast royal chambers in muted grays and blues. From the length of the beams, it had to be only a few hours to dawn; it was, by all accounts, the dead of night...except just now, Parvati felt very much alive.
He shifted onto his back from where he'd been curled on his side, slowly and silently stretching himself out full, all the while doing his level best not to disturb his bedmate. He'd awoken quite violently and worried that, in his unconscious flailings, he'd--gods forbid--slapped or punched or poked Vishnu-sama, but the large form slumbered deeply next to him, breathing steady and even, with no sign he'd even noticed Parvati jerk awake.
Which was just as well, as Parvati could think of really no worse condition he wanted to be found in at the moment. For he had been woken not by any uncomfortable dream or nightmare, no fright had jerked him back into the waking world--honestly, he couldn't remember much at all beyond hands and voices in his ear and around him, gripping and groping and stroking him until...he'd woken up in Vishnu-sama's bed, hard and aching and breathing like he'd run a marathon.
He slowly, so slowly, pulled his knees up to his chest a bit and let them fall open, the angle causing the heavy duvet to tent and form a little hideaway where no one who happened to glance over--like a bedmate--would notice anything else poking up and tenting the sheets.
The Works In Progress Meme
Find any fanfiction in progress that you have lying around your computer. Post excerpts from all of it. Maybe inspiration will strike.
Secret Box
Izumi straightened up reluctantly and rubbed at his eyes despite his fervent insistence he hadn't been dozing against his benchmate. He blinked a few times in slow succession, regarding Haru with confusion. "What do you mean 'come on'? Where are we going?"
"Party's over--I'm taking you home so you can get some sleep." He was already on his feet, hand outstretched to help Izumi up as well. "You've got class tomorrow, right?"
"At five," Izumi protested, slumping back against the bench. "Why do I have to go home now?"
"Because there's no one else here," Haru reminded him with a soft smile, gesturing around the room--and while Izumi knew that Haru felt the party had ended when Azuma and the others had left earlier, he mentally groused, That's the whole point, idiot. But he managed to keep his feelings from spilling onto hhis features and obligingly slid off the bench, slipping his messenger bag over one shoulder and digging around inside for his train pass while Haru paid their tab.
The party was over...and Haru was taking him home. Home to Izumi's apartment, where he would stand on the bottom step of the little stoop, and if it was private enough, maybe Izumi would duck down and kiss his cheek (or lips if he were feeling particularly bold), and then they'd part ways--Haru would head back to the station, and Izumi would stomp up the stairs alone and buzzed and wishing that he hadn't gotten attracted at sixteen and infatuated at seventeen and enamored at eighteen and completely enthralled at nineteen, leaving him horny at twenty and thinking he really didn't want to spend his first night as an official adult in the eyes of the law curled up under the covers alone.
Maharaja Mode
"We're gonna get caught," Nataraja hissed into Pasupata's ear, ducking low and struggling to flatten himself against the wall to avoid notice by the servants on night watch at the front gate. "We're gonna get caught, and I'm the one who's gonna get punished!"
"Shut up and stop being a coward," Pasupata snapped back shortly, eyes wide and alert as he kept his gaze trained on the old servant shuffling towards a chair in the corner that, if their luck held, he'd subsequently fall asleep in. "We're not gonna get caught; I've been getting ready for tonight for a week now. I've got everything under control."
"But why do I have to come with you?"
Pasupata raked an incredulous glance up and down Nataraja. "Cause it's fun? Cause we'll have the whole place to ourselves? Cause the water feels great at night, but Father insists on keeping curfew? There's only, like, a million reasons for us to go."
"But--" Nataraja started again, but fell silent when Pasupata waved a hand at him. He sighed as loudly as he dared in their current situation and pasted on a frown. It wasn't that he didn't want to go swimming, even though it was in the middle of the night; the water at the oasis would be perfect, retaining all the heat poured into it during the day, and it was just a waste that no one partook of the excellent little patch of paradise, so why not? Perhaps because sometimes there were bandits roaming the dusty fields around Pasupata's family's land, or just as bad--wild dogs and other animals that probably wouldn't mind picking off a couple of gangly twelve-year-olds. Not to mention sandstorms that came up out of nowhere and night temperatures that dipped into less-than-pleasant ranges.
But Pasupata was his master, whether Nataraja liked it or not, and while they more often than not treated each other as friends or siblings rather than master and servant, the fact remained that he'd likely wind up in more trouble for disobeying a family member's order than for getting caught out past curfew, so here he was, traipsing along after Pasupata like a reluctant hound. The "guard" at the front gate was only too easy to slip past, and soon they were saddling a pair of fat little ponies and bouncing off over the hills to the oasis Pasupata's brothers had found a few weeks back and subsequently commandeered as their own private getaway. This was another reason Pasupata wanted to go at night, Nataraja suspected; no matter your station, older siblings were always a pain in the ass.
Parvati spasmed awake with nervous, jerky movements and found himself engulfed in total darkness--for a moment, until his eyes adjusted, pupils dilating and bringing his surroundings into focus. Cool, soft moonlight filtered through the thing netting of the curtains, bathing all that fell in its pool in a ghostly glow and setting the rest of the vast royal chambers in muted grays and blues. From the length of the beams, it had to be only a few hours to dawn; it was, by all accounts, the dead of night...except just now, Parvati felt very much alive.
He shifted onto his back from where he'd been curled on his side, slowly and silently stretching himself out full, all the while doing his level best not to disturb his bedmate. He'd awoken quite violently and worried that, in his unconscious flailings, he'd--gods forbid--slapped or punched or poked Vishnu-sama, but the large form slumbered deeply next to him, breathing steady and even, with no sign he'd even noticed Parvati jerk awake.
Which was just as well, as Parvati could think of really no worse condition he wanted to be found in at the moment. For he had been woken not by any uncomfortable dream or nightmare, no fright had jerked him back into the waking world--honestly, he couldn't remember much at all beyond hands and voices in his ear and around him, gripping and groping and stroking him until...he'd woken up in Vishnu-sama's bed, hard and aching and breathing like he'd run a marathon.
He slowly, so slowly, pulled his knees up to his chest a bit and let them fall open, the angle causing the heavy duvet to tent and form a little hideaway where no one who happened to glance over--like a bedmate--would notice anything else poking up and tenting the sheets.