Meme - Ask Me Anything - Writer's Edition

[elrhiarhodan]

Continuing in my sheeply ways (ganked from almost everyone on my flist)...

Ask Me Anything About My Writing

Comments

[doctor-fangeek.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

I also find writing out of order unnatural, FYI.

And now, of course, I am rooting for you to find a slave fic that *does* gain traction with you. :-) I remember the one from the last DC meetup (and would love to see more), but can't pull the one from Deb's out of my memory. If it's not too much of a pain, might we have a snippet of that one?

[elrhiarhodan]

It was called A Familiar Command. We pulled three prompts and a genre. Mine were Kneel/Whisper/Desperate, and the genre was porn:

“Kneel.”

The command was implacable and Neal could no more disobey than he could stop breathing. His knees bent and slowly, gracefully, he dropped to the hard marble floor, eyes cast down. It was cool in this vast, elegant room, but he was sweating. It was always like this when he was brought before a new Master.

The marble was hard beneath his knees, but Neal didn’t feel it. He knew that later his body would pay for this moment of obedience.

A hand ruffled his hair, caressing him. He caught his breath at his Master’s gentleness. Black gloved fingers traced the curve of his ear, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. Neal wanted nothing more than to turn into that hand and press a kiss, a dozen grateful kisses into that palm.

But he hadn’t been given such permission, and he didn’t want to ruin this moment for his Master, he didn’t want his Master to have to punish him for an infraction. Unless his Master wanted that.

The hand cupped his chin, tilting his head up. “Look at me, Neal.”

Neal gasped - his Master knew his name? Maybe he hadn’t given him a command? Maybe he already disobeyed, he was already a disappointment. He tried to steel himself against the inevitable punishment, a swift backhand across the face. The whip against his back. Or worse.

But he met this Master’s eyes, and there was no disappointment there, no censure, no anger. Just a look of satisfaction, a smile of pleasure.

“You are mine now, Neal. Mine again. No one will hurt you anymore.” His Master brushed his fingers against his lips, and Neal breathed deeply of the scent of fine leather and a hint of something else. A thumb rubbed at his lower lip and Neal looked into his Master’s sparkling brown eyes. His Master nodded and Neal opened his mouth, sucking in that thumb.

When his Master moaned, Neal sucked harder, licking at the leather. There was a flavor to go along with the scent and Neal finally placed it - it was a man’s come. Sharp and bitter and Neal wondered if it was his Master’s, or another slave’s.

He licked and sucked, until his Master pulled his hand away. Neal tried to chase after it, desperate for more. There was a laugh - more a chuckle - but not the mean, humiliating sound that he was familiar with. It was a sound of satisfaction, as if he just proved something to his Master.

“You like sucking, Neal? You always did.”