elrhiarhodan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elrhiarhodan) wrote2014-10-26 02:14 pm
elrhiarhodan) wrote2014-10-26 02:14 pm
Entry tags:
Meme: Trick or Treat Drabble Meme
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sinfulslasher and like her, it’s awesome…
The first five ghouls who come trick-or-treating at my door will get at least a three-sentence drabble written.
Just comment with "trick or treat!" and leave me a prompt or just a preferred pairing or ‘verse if you want to be surprised. Then go ahead and post this in your own journal so I can come trick-or-treating at your place!
To facilitate your participation, the code for you to paste into your own entry…
sinfulslasher and like her, it’s awesome…The first five ghouls who come trick-or-treating at my door will get at least a three-sentence drabble written.
Just comment with "trick or treat!" and leave me a prompt or just a preferred pairing or ‘verse if you want to be surprised. Then go ahead and post this in your own journal so I can come trick-or-treating at your place!
To facilitate your participation, the code for you to paste into your own entry…
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Neal lies prone, fucked out, exquisitely exhausted from Peter's loving. His control is all but shot, but tonight he's somehow managed to keep his wings from bursting free as he orgasms. That's happened before, and while Neal is always embarrassed by this lack of discipline, Peter seems to enjoy getting a face full of his plumage.
Peter traces the lines of bone and muscle along his back, letting the power of their kind - the wing folk - call to his blood. He can feel the itchiness in his soul as his wings want to emerge. Neal rolls away from Peter, but only as far as the edge of the bed.
"What's the matter?" Peter asks as if he's concerned, but Neal can see the devil's light in his eyes.
"I'm tired. You've worn me out." Neal tries not to sound like he's pouting. He can't deal with what this means - how Peter can call his wings. Peter has Elizabeth, he already has a wing mate. What he is to Peter is something else, an extra appendage, a beautiful obscenity.
"Neal?" Peter says his name like he's calling his soul. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Neal waits for Peter to leave, to go home to his wife, his wing mate.
But Peter doesn't. He settles himself under the covers and pulls Neal into his arms. "Sleep, Neal. Everything will be better in the morning."
Neal can finally relax, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of being cradled in Peter's dark, magnificent plumage.
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