Annnnnnd SCENE!
Apr. 9th, 2009 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeOkay, so I've been all writer's blocked what with, um, everything-- I had three stories (one post-Lee, one early Jer, one Wonder Girl) almost ready to go from before, and two others that I was in the middle of, and I haven't really had the heart to work on any of them and I didn't know what else to write and I just haven't been writing, which as you guys know is not normal for me, I'm always writing SOMETHING.
And today I really needed to write something (I actually ache and twitch if I'm not writing, it's kind of like sleeping or eating, or talking to people, for me-- stress makes it harder, but if I don't do it, it affects me very negatively, my overall state) but I still couldn't really bring myself to look at any of the stories from before, and finally I just wrote this scene, which is like... basically this is my writerly id's Thing That It Does, if left to its own devices. I mean if I don't have an outline, or a plot, or a prompt, or an idea-- if I just sit down and am like, hey hips, wiggle for me.
So-- at least I WROTE something. For the first time since the end of the world as we knew it; so hopefully that will help with the block on the other stories in the wings. So here it is, you can read it; post-Bran, pre-Jesse, ~1200 words.
Bran was awakened by a gentle, barefooted kick in the ribs-- more like a nudge, really-- which didn't frighten him, in and of itself. But as he automatically scrambled to kiss the foot thus brought to his attention, he heard an unexpected voice say, "What the hell--?" and then, "Bran?" and as he remembered where he was, his heart leaped into his throat. He wasn't sure if the leap was more inspired by joy at the sudden realization that the foot, like Bran, actually belonged to Holden-- or by trepidation, because Holden was about to be seriously irritated with him. For his own part, he was furious with himself; how had he been stupid enough to fall asleep here?
"What in the world?" asked Alix's voice, as Bran cowered, naked as he'd been when he crept in here, in the same posture he'd instinctively assumed on waking: on his knees, with his head bowed to the floor beside his master's feet. From their position, Holden seemed to be sitting on the edge of the bed. He wouldn't have kicked Bran on purpose; he must have done it when he tried to get up. After all, it wasn't as if Bran was supposed to be there.
"Bran?" Holden asked again, sounding more bemused than angry.
"I'm sorry, master," Bran answered, without lifting his head.
There was a pause, and then a couple of creaks from the mattress. Holden's feet didn't move, but footsteps crossed the room, and the door opened and closed. That couldn't be good for Bran; if he weren't going to be punished, or at least seriously reprimanded, Holden would have just ordered him out of the room and out of the way. The fact that Alix had apparently gotten out of the way instead...
Bran startled when his master's hand came down on his bowed shoulder; it lingered there a moment, then moved to cup his jaw and turn his face upward.
"Bran, why were you sleeping on the floor beside my bed?" Holden asked, still without sounding angry.
Bran couldn't lower his head without fighting his master's hand, but he kept his eyes as low as they would go as he said again, "I'm sorry, master. I-- I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Look at me," said Holden softly, "and answer my question."
Bran lifted his eyes and looked into his master's face, which was serious and attentive. He swallowed, drew breath, and managed, "I-- I woke up, master-- I'd had a, a dream-- and I thought-- if I could be in here, near you, for just a little while-- I didn't mean to fall asleep--"
"Oh, for the love of--" said Holden, and reached down to hook his hands under Bran's arms and pull him up; after a startled moment, Bran got his feet under him and let himself be tugged up, onto the bed. Resignedly he started to move himself into position to be spanked-- or whipped? Was Holden that annoyed?-- and found himself being pulled firmly, instead, into his master's arms. He caught his breath, relaxing helplessly against Holden's warm, naked chest and shoulder, happy but bewildered. The last thing he'd expected, as a consequence for invading his master's bedroom without invitation in the middle of the night and then tripping him up first thing in the morning, was to be cuddled.
"For future reference," said Holden, adjusting himself on the bed to fit Bran more comfortably between his legs, "if you need me and I'm asleep, you may wake me up, okay?"
"Master?"
"Sweetheart," said Holden, and Bran shivered a little with pleasure at the endearment. "I can count on one hand the things you've ever told me you needed-- and when I ignored one of those, you ran away and almost gave me a heart attack. Don't squirm-- we've been through all that. I'm just saying, if you need me badly enough to come into my room at night and lie down on the floor, then I need to be there for you. Just like I need to make sure you get enough to eat and that you don't get injured or sick if I can help it. Because you're mine."
"Yes, master," Bran whispered, though he really doubted he'd ever dare to wake his owner up in the middle of the night for no other reason than his own comfort after a nightmare. For right now, though, he was basking in the words, and in the joy of being held so close to Holden. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry I stepped on you," said Holden, one hand moving to Bran's side, where his foot had connected. "Are you hurt?"
"No, master," said Bran meekly. "I'm sorry I was in your way."
"Bran," said Holden, now stroking the nape of Bran's neck with gentle fingers, "you are a very silly person."
Bran didn't answer, but he dared to slip his arms around his master's back and cling a little bit closer, and Holden didn't pull away, or stop stroking him. After a few moments, the hand at Bran's neck slid upwards and tilted Bran's head towards Holden's, and Bran found himself being kissed tenderly on the mouth. He kissed back eagerly, overjoyed when Holden's caressing hands drifted, one to his inner thigh, kneading the flesh possessively, one to his throat, the thumb stroking gently at his collarbone.
"Oh please," he whispered, hardly aware he had spoken aloud; Holden chuckled softly and kissed him again, until he was breathless, and said in Bran's ear, his warm lips grazing the lobe, "Please what, sweetheart?"
"Please take me, master," Bran begged, and moved until his hip could press and slide itself against the delicious hardness between his master's thighs. "Please-- let me-- touch you-- please you--"
"How?" Holden asked, the deep voice sliding into Bran's ear on a rush of ticklish warm breath, making Bran squirm even more desperately against him. "Where do you want my cock, sweetheart? In your hand, so you can play with me a little? In your mouth, so you can taste me? In your ass, so I can pin you down, and kiss you, and sink my teeth in you, while I fuck you?"
"Oh, gods, master," Bran groaned, as Holden chuckled again. "Wherever it please you, master, please, please--"
"Yeah? But you're sure you want it right now?" Holden whispered. "You don't want me to--" The hand on Bran's thigh wrapped itself around his hot, swollen cock and began to stroke; Bran cried out, quietly, as the husky voice continued, "--take this in my mouth-- and your balls in one hand-- they're so tight, you're not going to come already, are you? --and suck you, while I slide a finger-- or two-- inside you-- to get you ready-- suck you right to the edge, and then stop, and slide my fingers out-- and then push you down, and hold you and kiss you and fuck you till you come so hard you can't see--"
Bran was already gasping for breath; Holden kissed him again, long and slow.
"And after that," he said meditatively, as the hair on his chest brushed against Bran's nipples, already stiffened into hard little nubs of sensitivity, "well, I could just take you straight downstairs for breakfast, all sticky and flushed and hardly able to walk, so everyone can see what I did to my beautiful boy, just for being in my room when I woke up-- You like that idea? But then I'd miss bathing you, while you're so limp and warm and relaxed-- getting you slippery with soap and hot water, rubbing you nice and slow, all over, everywhere-- well, I just don't know, Bran. Take a deep breath now, sweetheart, and help me decide. How can I take care of you, if you don't-- ask me?"
And today I really needed to write something (I actually ache and twitch if I'm not writing, it's kind of like sleeping or eating, or talking to people, for me-- stress makes it harder, but if I don't do it, it affects me very negatively, my overall state) but I still couldn't really bring myself to look at any of the stories from before, and finally I just wrote this scene, which is like... basically this is my writerly id's Thing That It Does, if left to its own devices. I mean if I don't have an outline, or a plot, or a prompt, or an idea-- if I just sit down and am like, hey hips, wiggle for me.
So-- at least I WROTE something. For the first time since the end of the world as we knew it; so hopefully that will help with the block on the other stories in the wings. So here it is, you can read it; post-Bran, pre-Jesse, ~1200 words.
Bran was awakened by a gentle, barefooted kick in the ribs-- more like a nudge, really-- which didn't frighten him, in and of itself. But as he automatically scrambled to kiss the foot thus brought to his attention, he heard an unexpected voice say, "What the hell--?" and then, "Bran?" and as he remembered where he was, his heart leaped into his throat. He wasn't sure if the leap was more inspired by joy at the sudden realization that the foot, like Bran, actually belonged to Holden-- or by trepidation, because Holden was about to be seriously irritated with him. For his own part, he was furious with himself; how had he been stupid enough to fall asleep here?
"What in the world?" asked Alix's voice, as Bran cowered, naked as he'd been when he crept in here, in the same posture he'd instinctively assumed on waking: on his knees, with his head bowed to the floor beside his master's feet. From their position, Holden seemed to be sitting on the edge of the bed. He wouldn't have kicked Bran on purpose; he must have done it when he tried to get up. After all, it wasn't as if Bran was supposed to be there.
"Bran?" Holden asked again, sounding more bemused than angry.
"I'm sorry, master," Bran answered, without lifting his head.
There was a pause, and then a couple of creaks from the mattress. Holden's feet didn't move, but footsteps crossed the room, and the door opened and closed. That couldn't be good for Bran; if he weren't going to be punished, or at least seriously reprimanded, Holden would have just ordered him out of the room and out of the way. The fact that Alix had apparently gotten out of the way instead...
Bran startled when his master's hand came down on his bowed shoulder; it lingered there a moment, then moved to cup his jaw and turn his face upward.
"Bran, why were you sleeping on the floor beside my bed?" Holden asked, still without sounding angry.
Bran couldn't lower his head without fighting his master's hand, but he kept his eyes as low as they would go as he said again, "I'm sorry, master. I-- I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Look at me," said Holden softly, "and answer my question."
Bran lifted his eyes and looked into his master's face, which was serious and attentive. He swallowed, drew breath, and managed, "I-- I woke up, master-- I'd had a, a dream-- and I thought-- if I could be in here, near you, for just a little while-- I didn't mean to fall asleep--"
"Oh, for the love of--" said Holden, and reached down to hook his hands under Bran's arms and pull him up; after a startled moment, Bran got his feet under him and let himself be tugged up, onto the bed. Resignedly he started to move himself into position to be spanked-- or whipped? Was Holden that annoyed?-- and found himself being pulled firmly, instead, into his master's arms. He caught his breath, relaxing helplessly against Holden's warm, naked chest and shoulder, happy but bewildered. The last thing he'd expected, as a consequence for invading his master's bedroom without invitation in the middle of the night and then tripping him up first thing in the morning, was to be cuddled.
"For future reference," said Holden, adjusting himself on the bed to fit Bran more comfortably between his legs, "if you need me and I'm asleep, you may wake me up, okay?"
"Master?"
"Sweetheart," said Holden, and Bran shivered a little with pleasure at the endearment. "I can count on one hand the things you've ever told me you needed-- and when I ignored one of those, you ran away and almost gave me a heart attack. Don't squirm-- we've been through all that. I'm just saying, if you need me badly enough to come into my room at night and lie down on the floor, then I need to be there for you. Just like I need to make sure you get enough to eat and that you don't get injured or sick if I can help it. Because you're mine."
"Yes, master," Bran whispered, though he really doubted he'd ever dare to wake his owner up in the middle of the night for no other reason than his own comfort after a nightmare. For right now, though, he was basking in the words, and in the joy of being held so close to Holden. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry I stepped on you," said Holden, one hand moving to Bran's side, where his foot had connected. "Are you hurt?"
"No, master," said Bran meekly. "I'm sorry I was in your way."
"Bran," said Holden, now stroking the nape of Bran's neck with gentle fingers, "you are a very silly person."
Bran didn't answer, but he dared to slip his arms around his master's back and cling a little bit closer, and Holden didn't pull away, or stop stroking him. After a few moments, the hand at Bran's neck slid upwards and tilted Bran's head towards Holden's, and Bran found himself being kissed tenderly on the mouth. He kissed back eagerly, overjoyed when Holden's caressing hands drifted, one to his inner thigh, kneading the flesh possessively, one to his throat, the thumb stroking gently at his collarbone.
"Oh please," he whispered, hardly aware he had spoken aloud; Holden chuckled softly and kissed him again, until he was breathless, and said in Bran's ear, his warm lips grazing the lobe, "Please what, sweetheart?"
"Please take me, master," Bran begged, and moved until his hip could press and slide itself against the delicious hardness between his master's thighs. "Please-- let me-- touch you-- please you--"
"How?" Holden asked, the deep voice sliding into Bran's ear on a rush of ticklish warm breath, making Bran squirm even more desperately against him. "Where do you want my cock, sweetheart? In your hand, so you can play with me a little? In your mouth, so you can taste me? In your ass, so I can pin you down, and kiss you, and sink my teeth in you, while I fuck you?"
"Oh, gods, master," Bran groaned, as Holden chuckled again. "Wherever it please you, master, please, please--"
"Yeah? But you're sure you want it right now?" Holden whispered. "You don't want me to--" The hand on Bran's thigh wrapped itself around his hot, swollen cock and began to stroke; Bran cried out, quietly, as the husky voice continued, "--take this in my mouth-- and your balls in one hand-- they're so tight, you're not going to come already, are you? --and suck you, while I slide a finger-- or two-- inside you-- to get you ready-- suck you right to the edge, and then stop, and slide my fingers out-- and then push you down, and hold you and kiss you and fuck you till you come so hard you can't see--"
Bran was already gasping for breath; Holden kissed him again, long and slow.
"And after that," he said meditatively, as the hair on his chest brushed against Bran's nipples, already stiffened into hard little nubs of sensitivity, "well, I could just take you straight downstairs for breakfast, all sticky and flushed and hardly able to walk, so everyone can see what I did to my beautiful boy, just for being in my room when I woke up-- You like that idea? But then I'd miss bathing you, while you're so limp and warm and relaxed-- getting you slippery with soap and hot water, rubbing you nice and slow, all over, everywhere-- well, I just don't know, Bran. Take a deep breath now, sweetheart, and help me decide. How can I take care of you, if you don't-- ask me?"
