Two Midnight Ficlets
Apr. 3rd, 2010 01:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
browngirlDashed off for two friends as I await traveling guests, stuck here mostly so I don't lose them in case I have other ideas to combine them with.
To fit this picture of a happy tangle of feet:
Big Spoon
Jim is only pretending to be asleep, watching through his lashes, and he knows Pike -- Chris -- fuck it, the man's always gonna be Pike in his head, no matter how naked they've managed to get, and he knows Pike knows damn well he's not asleep. One and Bones are solidly out, her arm limp over his shoulder and her thighs tucked up under his, her smooth controlled face and his ridiculously mobile one both quieted into gentle unconsciousness, or she'd probably take Jim's pulse through his knee behind hers and they'd call him on pretending. And yeah, after everything, after all the pieces Bones put him back together from and all the congratulations-we're-not-dead sex they all just had he should be asleep.
Except that Pike's breathing in his ear with the calm regularity of Pacific tides, and One's skin is unbelievably soft and fine-textured under Jim's palm, and Bones has actually had every last bit of worry fucked out of him for once. This is at least the third best night of Jim's life, and it's not ranking even higher only because of the first time he didn't die and his first night on his Enterprise. There's no fucking way Jim can sleep.
Pike squirms a bit, shifting his arm under Jim's, his hand over Jim's on One's shoulder. Jim pushes back just a little into Pike's smile pressed behind his ear, and grins as he finally closes his eyes.
While I was typing,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
possibly_thrice posted a better fill for the same image.
Meanwhile: I haven't written anything Minoan in way too long.
Glitter and Spark
The other bull-boys and bull-girls flutter and fret at the unexpected midnight summons, but Adam takes a deeper breath, lays hold of brush and mortar and kohl-pot, and sets about painting magic upon his face. As his fellow leapers and their catchers dash and shout around him he paints a steady sharp line around each eye, catches up the mirror Elize drops and studies the effect: a pair of perfectly outlined wadjet- eyes in the Egyptian style, but nothing more than mortal yet, nothing to announce 'sibling' to the Goddess-on-Earth.
So Adam pulls a peacock feather from the bunch, strips out a glistening blue eye and smashes it to powder as all around him call for their jewels and their friends. He closes his eyes, seeing in the darkness the spiral dancefloor awash in moonlight, and dusts the peacock glitter on his lids as the priestesses begin chivvying them all into their line. A step by the row of coffers and he's pushed sturdy rings of inlaid gold up his arms, another and he stands calmly in the line, knowing as if he looked into his own face the deep-sky glimmer surrounding his smoke-sky eyes.
He'll catch all the court's eye now, he thinks, even among the jewel-sparked flock of bright bull-dancers, and as he steps in time with his fellows he unfurls a smile.
To fit this picture of a happy tangle of feet:
Big Spoon
Jim is only pretending to be asleep, watching through his lashes, and he knows Pike -- Chris -- fuck it, the man's always gonna be Pike in his head, no matter how naked they've managed to get, and he knows Pike knows damn well he's not asleep. One and Bones are solidly out, her arm limp over his shoulder and her thighs tucked up under his, her smooth controlled face and his ridiculously mobile one both quieted into gentle unconsciousness, or she'd probably take Jim's pulse through his knee behind hers and they'd call him on pretending. And yeah, after everything, after all the pieces Bones put him back together from and all the congratulations-we're-not-dead sex they all just had he should be asleep.
Except that Pike's breathing in his ear with the calm regularity of Pacific tides, and One's skin is unbelievably soft and fine-textured under Jim's palm, and Bones has actually had every last bit of worry fucked out of him for once. This is at least the third best night of Jim's life, and it's not ranking even higher only because of the first time he didn't die and his first night on his Enterprise. There's no fucking way Jim can sleep.
Pike squirms a bit, shifting his arm under Jim's, his hand over Jim's on One's shoulder. Jim pushes back just a little into Pike's smile pressed behind his ear, and grins as he finally closes his eyes.
While I was typing,
possibly_thrice posted a better fill for the same image. Meanwhile: I haven't written anything Minoan in way too long.
Glitter and Spark
The other bull-boys and bull-girls flutter and fret at the unexpected midnight summons, but Adam takes a deeper breath, lays hold of brush and mortar and kohl-pot, and sets about painting magic upon his face. As his fellow leapers and their catchers dash and shout around him he paints a steady sharp line around each eye, catches up the mirror Elize drops and studies the effect: a pair of perfectly outlined wadjet- eyes in the Egyptian style, but nothing more than mortal yet, nothing to announce 'sibling' to the Goddess-on-Earth.
So Adam pulls a peacock feather from the bunch, strips out a glistening blue eye and smashes it to powder as all around him call for their jewels and their friends. He closes his eyes, seeing in the darkness the spiral dancefloor awash in moonlight, and dusts the peacock glitter on his lids as the priestesses begin chivvying them all into their line. A step by the row of coffers and he's pushed sturdy rings of inlaid gold up his arms, another and he stands calmly in the line, knowing as if he looked into his own face the deep-sky glimmer surrounding his smoke-sky eyes.
He'll catch all the court's eye now, he thinks, even among the jewel-sparked flock of bright bull-dancers, and as he steps in time with his fellows he unfurls a smile.
