Pros Slash Proliferation Challenge: Day Four
Friday, 30 March 2007 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
byslantedlightNeeeearly all packed up. Sort of. I'm full of Mexican food, I've got me bags to wrap the bed in, milk for porridge for breakfast, and a new pair of sandals bought on sale. And now I'm all sleepy... So 'tis only natural that my thoughts should turn to sleepy lads... *g*
(Possibly my favourite sleepy scene of all time: In Hot Water by J.M. on the ProsLib CD)
(After a long flight to California, Bodie and Doyle are offered a ride to a place where they can stay while waiting for their contact to gather information...)
"I'm driving the van. It has an air mattress in the back, big enough for two if they're reasonably friendly. And there's a shower through that door," she finished, pointing.
Bodie and Doyle regarded her with the closest approximations to genuine smiles they were capable of.
"When are you leaving?" asked Doyle.
"Half an hour? Sooner if you're ready. I'll bring the van around."
The shower helped. And clean clothes from their flight bags. Dr. Dawson opened the back doors of the van.
"Call me Elizabeth," she told them. "It'll be a bit slow getting out of town, and after that it's four or five hours to the house." She smiled. "Sleep will help with the jet lag, too."
The makeshift bed was irresistible. They crawled onto the mattress. She tossed a comforter over them and slammed the doors.
Were they going to share improvised sleeping arrangements all the time they were here, wondered Doyle, eyes already closing. Not that he minded. Good to have Bodie next to him. He seemed to be thinking that a lot lately. Know where he is like this, he told himself, know he's not out somewhere taking crazy chances all by himself.
This was better, Bodie thought drowsily. The most comfortable he'd been in days. Room to lie down and stretch out. Feel Ray close to him. Can keep track of him when he's this close, he thought with a little murmur of satisfaction. Know he's not bouncing about somewhere getting into god knows what.
Can't help touching him, packed in so close, thought Doyle with a contented sigh.
Tucked up together like children put down for their naps, thought Bodie, smiling sleepily.
They slept. The van took its place in the procession of outbound traffic, picking up speed as it left the more populous suburbs behind. The radio, tuned to a classical station, played quietly--Bach and Handel and Ravel. The motion of the van rolled the sleepers against each other. A strong arm wrapped around a trim waist, holding snugly. A long-fingered hand settled against a warm thigh. Two faces pressed close, sharing sleeping breath.
(In Harlequin Airs by Ellis Ward)
Dreary, rain-washed light filtered in through the curtains over the narrow bed. Lying on his side in the pre-dawn chill, Doyle stared sleepily at the man stretched out beside him. During the night, they had changed positions often, their two bodies meshing together like well- oiled gears. Some while ago, Bodie had placed his head on Doyle's shoulder, an arm slung heavily across his chest, a hard, contoured thigh hooked possessively over one of Doyle's.
In repose, Bodie was enchanting--even with thick, black stubble, sandpaper rough, dusting his jaw. Underneath the new growth of beard, his skin was as unmarred and pale as marble. Dark, curling lashes rested on the upper curve of his cheeks. His face, so often remote, if not outright forbidding, in sleep was as irresistible as a child's.
Doyle favored his mouth. The impish upper half and its longer, curving lower mate drew him like a siren's song, speaking of sweet pleasure at the very hint of a touch. He wanted to kiss Bodie, and to be kissed in turn. Smiling to himself, he recalled Bodie's statement of the night before: I might want to do both at the same time. Bodie was not alone.
Moving cautiously in order not to precipitate the sleeper's awakening, Doyle freed himself from Bodie's embrace and gently guided him onto his back. For a moment the other man's breathing became slightly more shallow, and his eyelashes shifted, as though they were about to open. After a moment, however, Bodie subsided back into dreams.
(And just for fun Professional Dreamer by Pamela Rose)
The sun in his eyes woke Philip. It was still very early, the light just passing the horizon, glinting in narrow streaks through the hedgerows. The meadow was hushed, even the sparrows were silent for the moment, and sunlight prismed a carpet of brilliant sparkles over the dewed stubble.
There was dew on Ray's hair as well, as his head lay tucked against Philip's shoulder. They had dressed sometime during the chill of the night, but their clothes were damp now and Philip shivered, disturbing the sleeper. Ray made a protesting noise in his throat and curled his limbs tighter around Philip.
Philip had always wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone he was madly in love with in his arms. And madly was definitely the correct adverb. Waking up damp and uncomfortable in the middle of a wheat field with a pile of bird doo within smelling distance pretty much topped off the romantic fantasy. But no, the final whimsical touch was the fact that the bird dropping smelled just that much better than the man in his arms.
Still, somehow Ray retained his charm, even if he did have gunk in the corner of his eye and his nose was running. A lover could overlook these little human frailties, even rejoice in--
Ray sniffed and rubbed his wet nose against Philip's shirt.
There. And now, I think, to bed... *g*
Click here to take part in the Pros Slash Proliferation Challenge!
(Possibly my favourite sleepy scene of all time: In Hot Water by J.M. on the ProsLib CD)
(After a long flight to California, Bodie and Doyle are offered a ride to a place where they can stay while waiting for their contact to gather information...)
"I'm driving the van. It has an air mattress in the back, big enough for two if they're reasonably friendly. And there's a shower through that door," she finished, pointing.
Bodie and Doyle regarded her with the closest approximations to genuine smiles they were capable of.
"When are you leaving?" asked Doyle.
"Half an hour? Sooner if you're ready. I'll bring the van around."
The shower helped. And clean clothes from their flight bags. Dr. Dawson opened the back doors of the van.
"Call me Elizabeth," she told them. "It'll be a bit slow getting out of town, and after that it's four or five hours to the house." She smiled. "Sleep will help with the jet lag, too."
The makeshift bed was irresistible. They crawled onto the mattress. She tossed a comforter over them and slammed the doors.
Were they going to share improvised sleeping arrangements all the time they were here, wondered Doyle, eyes already closing. Not that he minded. Good to have Bodie next to him. He seemed to be thinking that a lot lately. Know where he is like this, he told himself, know he's not out somewhere taking crazy chances all by himself.
This was better, Bodie thought drowsily. The most comfortable he'd been in days. Room to lie down and stretch out. Feel Ray close to him. Can keep track of him when he's this close, he thought with a little murmur of satisfaction. Know he's not bouncing about somewhere getting into god knows what.
Can't help touching him, packed in so close, thought Doyle with a contented sigh.
Tucked up together like children put down for their naps, thought Bodie, smiling sleepily.
They slept. The van took its place in the procession of outbound traffic, picking up speed as it left the more populous suburbs behind. The radio, tuned to a classical station, played quietly--Bach and Handel and Ravel. The motion of the van rolled the sleepers against each other. A strong arm wrapped around a trim waist, holding snugly. A long-fingered hand settled against a warm thigh. Two faces pressed close, sharing sleeping breath.
(In Harlequin Airs by Ellis Ward)
Dreary, rain-washed light filtered in through the curtains over the narrow bed. Lying on his side in the pre-dawn chill, Doyle stared sleepily at the man stretched out beside him. During the night, they had changed positions often, their two bodies meshing together like well- oiled gears. Some while ago, Bodie had placed his head on Doyle's shoulder, an arm slung heavily across his chest, a hard, contoured thigh hooked possessively over one of Doyle's.
In repose, Bodie was enchanting--even with thick, black stubble, sandpaper rough, dusting his jaw. Underneath the new growth of beard, his skin was as unmarred and pale as marble. Dark, curling lashes rested on the upper curve of his cheeks. His face, so often remote, if not outright forbidding, in sleep was as irresistible as a child's.
Doyle favored his mouth. The impish upper half and its longer, curving lower mate drew him like a siren's song, speaking of sweet pleasure at the very hint of a touch. He wanted to kiss Bodie, and to be kissed in turn. Smiling to himself, he recalled Bodie's statement of the night before: I might want to do both at the same time. Bodie was not alone.
Moving cautiously in order not to precipitate the sleeper's awakening, Doyle freed himself from Bodie's embrace and gently guided him onto his back. For a moment the other man's breathing became slightly more shallow, and his eyelashes shifted, as though they were about to open. After a moment, however, Bodie subsided back into dreams.
(And just for fun Professional Dreamer by Pamela Rose)
The sun in his eyes woke Philip. It was still very early, the light just passing the horizon, glinting in narrow streaks through the hedgerows. The meadow was hushed, even the sparrows were silent for the moment, and sunlight prismed a carpet of brilliant sparkles over the dewed stubble.
There was dew on Ray's hair as well, as his head lay tucked against Philip's shoulder. They had dressed sometime during the chill of the night, but their clothes were damp now and Philip shivered, disturbing the sleeper. Ray made a protesting noise in his throat and curled his limbs tighter around Philip.
Philip had always wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone he was madly in love with in his arms. And madly was definitely the correct adverb. Waking up damp and uncomfortable in the middle of a wheat field with a pile of bird doo within smelling distance pretty much topped off the romantic fantasy. But no, the final whimsical touch was the fact that the bird dropping smelled just that much better than the man in his arms.
Still, somehow Ray retained his charm, even if he did have gunk in the corner of his eye and his nose was running. A lover could overlook these little human frailties, even rejoice in--
Ray sniffed and rubbed his wet nose against Philip's shirt.
There. And now, I think, to bed... *g*
Click here to take part in the Pros Slash Proliferation Challenge!
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Date: Saturday, 31 March 2007 11:55 am (UTC)