Writings and ramblings

More for Kink Bingo today (Kink Bingo), this time for the square ‘gag/silence’. Once more from the Water and Dust universe, like last week, but this time, much earlier in Brendan and Marc’s relationship, from around when they first met. And dramatic it was too! This one is about 1500 words.

–

They ran up the stairs, and tumbled into the bedroom they found there. One double bed, a chair, and an upright cupboard, with a bathroom off to the side. A large window faced onto the main road. It had no curtains, and let all the brilliant light through, washing the room yellow.

Brendan pointed to the cupboard. “There!”

The cupboard was really too small for both of them; they’d both have to squash themselves in, and uncomfortably at that. But Brendan whispered that that would convince Walker that they couldn’t possibly be hiding in it. So Brendan clambered in first, tucked his knees to his chest, and Marc followed, swinging the doors shut while his left leg braced one side and his right knee almost dug into Brendan’s side. As it was, he was hyper-aware of being that near to Brendan, their proximity closer than they’d even had in the truck. The cabin had been restricted, but this allow no movement. To do so would alert Walker to their presence, and that would be the end of it.

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Previously

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Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Previously

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Previously

Marc remained very still as Brendan took a step backwards, and scooped his hands into the water. Brendan cupped the water, raised it like an offering, and let it spill over Marc’s shoulder. His hand followed, a soft and soothing touch on the scratches on Brendan’s arm. He did the same for other. An anointment, a blessing. Marc’s whole body swelled with humble gratitude, and quiet arousal.

The moonlight caught the parts of Brendan Marc would rarely have noticed; the glean of his fingernails, the brilliant whites of his eyes. And the water, drops like diamonds on his collarbone, and across his shoulders. Marc would have touched each drop, tried to capture each one in his hand, if Brendan would have let him. He wouldn’t, of course. You might tame someone, but that means you let them have their way, at least sometime.

It caused Marc little pain to do so.

Brendan reached around to Marc’s back. Once more, he cupped the water, and for a long moment, let his hands hover at the point where Marc’s neck began. He met Marc’s eyes, gazing up at him with such power, that Marc almost swayed in the water. He could have caught Brendan to him right then, but he would not.

When Brendan released the water, it cascaded down Marc’s back, between his shoulder blades, and crashing back into the pool, rejoining the particles it was once part of. Brendan swept his hands down Marc’s back, and, finding his hips, pulled Marc to him for a kiss.

Read on

Photo by Kr.B found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Continued from here.

The water Brendan shook around him was quiet compared to his words, deafening for all their softness. Marc sighed, and entered the water. The coolness encased him, silky, soft, like a glove, or a balm, soothing the scratches on his shoulder.

The water enveloped his cock. It rose and fell easily between his legs as he stepped over the smooth pebbles, heading to Brendan who now hovered with his nose at the water line, peering at Marc with glimmering eyes. Marc reached him, and stroke his hand over Brendan’s curls.

“Hey.”

Brendan rose, his head lilting into Marc’s palm, like a panther allowing itself to be tamed. Marc never wanted Brendan tamed, yet somehow, he’d done just that.

“I try to forget,” Brendan said, a confession, and a scolding aimed not at Marc but at himself.

All Marc did was nod. He swept his hand around Brendan’s cheek and jaw, thumb finding Brendan’s lower lip. Brendan’s eyes fluttered, and he sunk his teeth into the pad of Marc’s thumb.

Continue here

Photo by Brian Smithson found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Previously

—
Brendan slipped in the water. It rippled, a distorted mirror, fracturing and wavering the trees in the reflection. Marc lowered what he carried to the ground. Once, the sight of Brendan naked and wet, his skin reflecting the moonlight, would have sent blood rushing straight to his cock. Now, as he watched Brendan glide through the water to the centre of the pool, his body filled with the warm hum that comfortable and familiar bring when they surprise you with an image of stark beauty.

Brendan glanced back, face serious. “Are you coming?”

Marc started to take tentative steps over the rocks to the water, when Brendan laughed.

“Jeans off, you fool!”

TBC

Photo by mira66, found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Forget what (little) happened before? Read here. If you’re just coming into this, it’s a short m/m piece, each part approximately six sentences long. Aiming to be more romantic and a little sensual rather than overly smutty. 😉

*

Marc started. The usual excuses came to his mind: it’s late; we should sleep early; the lights and the radio are on. He didn’t need to voice them, though, for in his mind he heard Brendan flick each one of them off with a solid, reasonable rejection. This land was theirs. They didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission, or wait on expectation. They’d built the fence to protect their sanctuary. Now they could enjoy it, and live their own rules.

Shaking off the old ways of thinking though was, for Marc, like trying to step out of his own skin. While Brendan walked with an assurance, whistling as his lantern swung, Marc couldn’t rid the tension from his chest.

*

TBC

Photo by PinkMoose, found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.

Been a full on week, and mostly dancing related; Tuesday teaching kicked off again, as did the Wednesday night class I go to, followed by a meeting on Thursday and a very late night dem-ing and helping run a ceilidh at a local barracks on Friday.

So today have done little that is productive. Met up with a friend for coffee, and watch Red Road in the morning on LoveFilm instant. Initially had it on my list because Tony Curran is in it (oh man, he’s lovely to look at, and on a fraction less shallow scale, impressed me as Vincent van Gough in Doctor Who and King Stephen in Pillars of the Earth), but came away exceedingly impressed with Kate Dickie’s (who I knew I’d seen before but it took a net search to realise she is Lysa Arryn in Game of Thrones performance, and curious about director Andrea Arnold’s other films. Atmospheric, beautifully made and gripping (and just to show what a one-track mind I have, it also featured a very compelling sex scene, which I suspect one wasn’t meant to find hot, but, well…Tony Curran as I said.)

(Tangentially, I wonder what Arnold was trying to say with the many inclusions of random and not so random shots of dogs – I have my thoughts but that would give away the ending a bit much and it works better not knowing where it’s all going. Update: Interesting review (with spoilers) here that theorises not only on the dogs but the use of other animals in the film.)

But, now for some more sentences.

–
Continued from here

Brendan reached out to Marc’s shoulder, brushing over his skin, frowning as his fingers found the scratches. “You’re hurt.”

Marc’s eyes fell to Brendan’s fingers on his shoulder. Holding the rifle and the lantern, Marc couldn’t touch him back. He shrugged. “Just scratches.”

“Still…”

Brendan’s gaze shifted up to the night sky. Marc followed it. In their hurry, they hadn’t noticed the moon, not quite full, hanging in a cloudless sky.

Brendan grinned. “Now there’s a thought.”

Continued here

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.