Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are:
"An ounce of prevention is worth..."
or use: cauliflower, pastor, enable
or "When will I see you again?"
or dress your characters in blue
or "Count sheep? I'd rather count..."
or "My ... is so sore....
All That He Desires #18
Jules followed Anslee to the bedroom, his nerves jumping. Anslee had kissed him. Okay, it wasn’t the hottest kiss he’d ever had—it probably wouldn’t show up on the Richter scale, but still... And what Anslee had said about moaning with need, panting, gasping… screaming with pleasure... That had lit him right up.
Anslee pulled the covers back, got into bed, and patted the space in front of him, showing Jules clearly where he was supposed to lay. Resting on his elbow, Anslee was the picture of decadence. All that long dark hair spread out around him, his night pants riding low, that sexy treasure trail, those dark eyes trained on him… Jules gulped.
He’d never noticed what good shape Anslee was in. Probably been too busy freaking out. Anslee was buff, ripped, cut… however you wanted to describe it, the fact was the man had a body that made him drool. Anslee had a six-pack he wanted to explore… with his tongue. And then, after that, take the exploration farther south. Holy hell, he was getting hard. His libido had picked a hell of a time to wake up and take notice of the body in his bed.
“Come on, I don’t bite.” Anslee grinned suddenly. “Unless you want me to, that is.”
“I, ah… Jesus. Just shut up and move over a little. My bed isn’t that big.” He was not going there, just wasn’t.
Jules lay down, his body as stiff as petrified wood; and fuck him, that wasn’t the only thing stiff. The arm Anslee threw over his body didn’t help matters, nor did being pulled into a close embrace. His back was glued to Anslee’s chest, and dammit to hell and back, there was something hard against his ass too. Anslee’s warm breath against the back of his neck made his body tingle and his toes curl. He was never going to go to sleep like this—lose his mind maybe, but not sleep.
He lay there, barely breathing, and thinking of every horrible nightmare he’d had about midterms, coming to class naked, and failing the semester. Nothing worked; his cock was still stiff and aching. Time for plan B… otherwise known as counting sheep. After about ten minutes of that, he caught himself humming Old MacDonald. Disgusted, he blew out a breath.
“Whatever were you just doing?” Anslee whispered against the sensitive skin on his neck.
Chill bumps rose and Jules had to fight not to squirm. So distracted by the warm puff of air against his skin, he answered without thinking. “Counting sheep.”
“Un-huh. Counting sheep.” Anslee’s fingers slipped under Jules T-shirt. “Why?”
Jules nearly came off the bed when Anslee’s warm fingers glided across his stomach, making the muscles twitch. “I-I count sheep when I can’t sleep.”
“Count sheep. I see.” Anslee threw his leg over Jules. “Wouldn’t you rather count something else?”
Jules fought to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. The hard cock nudging his ass really got his attention now that Anslee had shifted positions. “Huh? Like what?”
“Um, like how many times I can make you come in one night?”
“Alrighty then!” Jules, panic creeping in, struggled to unwrap all the arms and legs that were holding him down. When had Anslee morphed into a damn octopus? “What the fuck are you doing, Anslee?”
Anslee sighed, letting Jules move away. “I said I wouldn’t force you. I never said I wouldn’t seduce you, Jules.”
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” Jules struggled to sit up, sure he had that panicky wild-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look plastered across his face.
Anslee snorted, looking down at the rapidly decreasing tent in his night pants. “If you’re trying to break the mood by throwing God in the middle of bed with us, I think you may have succeeded. Anslee junior here is certainly retreating fast.”
Jules goggled at Anslee, for once struck dumb. Anslee junior? Seriously? Anslee did not just call his cock… Jules lips twitched, then he slapped himself mentally. No! No, no, no, no. Oh, he was in trouble—big, fat, hairy, fucking trouble with a capital T. When the hell had Anslee gone and gotten himself a sense of humor? Anslee couldn’t do that! It was against the rules. This wasn’t good, really wasn’t good. He loved men with a sense of humor. That was his one weakness.
“I-I-I…” God, he sounded like a broken record. Jules cringed. He was so not thinking about God right now, not after the image Anslee had stuck in his head. “Behave, dammit.”
A sultry smile slid across Anslee’s face. “Just giving far warning.”
Jules’ cock actually jumped in his night pants at that look. He was screwed… figuratively and, very possibly, literally. As long as Anslee acted like a bossy ass, he could ignore how sexy the man was, but now? Now that he’d changed and was acting… Oh, crap. Anslee was acting like he might give a damn about Jules and his feelings. Like he was willing to learn about Jules, know his wants and desires. Like Jules actually mattered to him. Like he wasn’t out to break Jules and bend him to his will.
Like… shit. He was so screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed. Which was probably not the best terminology to use at the moment.
Jules glared at Anslee. “Let me repeat: behave, dammit. Or I’m sleeping on the couch. I need my rest, remember? You even agreed.” Hey, he was desperate. He’d use whatever he had to in order to get Anslee to back off.
“Indeed you do, so I will… How did you say it? Behave, dammit.”
Jules slowly lay back down, Anslee’s arm coming around him once more. Satisfied he’d made his point, he tried to go to sleep… again.
He was just drifting off when Anslee whispered in his ear, “For now.”
Yup, he was in big, big trouble.
TBC! Make sure to visit the other briefers. :)