Drabbles Round One
Jul. 21st, 2010 08:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rillaliciousI've apparently lost the ability to drabble. The Burn Notice one ran a little long. Anyway, here are the first three. Yay!
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maddyriddle
SS/HG, Birthday Surprise
Hermione twined the ribbon around her fingers. She’d never been very good at choosing gifts. She wasn’t bad at it necessarily, but no gift she had ever chosen had been received with genuine enthusiasm. The things she picked out were always practical, useful, and expected. This time, it was going to be different. Not that Severus Snape was capable of enthusiasm.
Hermione pressed her lips together at that thought, trying not to laugh. She finished tying off the black ribbon around the brown paper package.
Severus was in the library, poring over some rare potions book that Minerva had sent him. Hermione leaned against the doorway.
“Happy birthday,” she said softly.
“Harrumph.”
Her lips quirked. “I know it’s not your favorite day.”
He didn’t look up.
“I have something for you.”
“Mmmph.”
She levitated the small package over to him. Severus sighed, putting his book aside with a flourish, driving home the inconvenience of what she had done. He took the package and his black eyes darted up to glance at her.
“Just open it.”
“Hmmph.”
He started unwrapping the package. Across the room, so did Hermione. His shoulders heaved with a sigh of annoyance when he finally reached the long, narrow box inside the paper. Dark blue silk pooled at Hermione’s feet. Severus lifted the lid, his brows knitting as he examined the contents of the box. She took two steps forward and stopped, rocking on her heels.
“It’s empty,” he said flatly.
Then he looked up. “Oh.”
“Indeed,” Hermione said, reaching up to unpin her hair. She watched his gaze follow the line of her arms, then trail back down to her breasts. “Happy birthday.”
Severus got to his feet, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
Success.
Forthenotoriousso4
Leevender, Toys
Lee sprawled out on the bed, the one Lavender had chosen just this afternoon at Madam Somnum’s World of Slumber. Her shopping sprees didn’t always include items that Lee could enjoy, but he had to admit this was the most comfortable bed he’d ever lain down upon. And she’d promised him that this afternoon’s trip had included something special for them to “play” with all night long.
He fidgeted on the bed, half-hard just from thinking about it.
“Crumpet,” he called out, stretching his arms up into the stacks of fluffy pillows. “Don’t worry about getting all dressed up tonight, love. I’m only going to take those clothes off you as soon as you get in here.”
Lavender appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but her Gryffindor tie and a mischievous grin. Lee licked his lips.
“So where are these new toys you were talking about?” he said.
“You’re lying on them,” said Lavender, and she grabbed her wand, flicking it toward the mattress.
Four thick, silky ropes shot out from the corners of the bed, wrapping around his wrists and ankles and pulling him spread eagle.
“Whoa!” Lee’s eyes lit up.
Lavender crawled up onto the bed to straddle him, leaning down so that the end of her tie tickled his chest.
“This is just the beginning, love,” she said, dipping her head to brush her lips over his.
She whispered something else and the bed beneath him began moving, like tiny fingers massaging him all over, creeping up over his sides, cradling his balls.
“Jesus,” Lee hissed. “Lav, baby. This bed is brilliant.”
“Isn’t it, though?” she said.
“Want you to touch me, crumpet,” Lee breathed.
Lavender blew him a kiss and slid down between his legs. The tie was smooth and cool as it glided over his cock, and then her lips and tongue, warm, wet and clever, were everywhere. The little fingers on the bed grew more insistent, pulsating, touching Lee all over, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
When a soft scarf suddenly shot up from beside his ear and wound around his mouth to gag him, Lee grinned around it. Lavender could spend the afternoon shopping anytime.
Forellensmithee
Burn Notice, Sam and Michael in a Tight Spot
When you’re a spy, sometimes you find yourself trying to cram into spaces that aren’t meant to house human beings. This can happen when you’re gathering intelligence or on a stake out. It can also happen when you’re running for your life. Add to the mix a partner who is running for his life too and those tight spots become almost impossible. The key word being “almost”.
“Hey, Mikey,” says Sam, twisting around in the ventilation pipe so he can crouch closer to the ground, “watch the crown jewels, would ya? I’ve got plans for those later tonight.”
Michael stretches his leg down, stealthily guiding his foot to the ground, between Sam’s legs, and lowers himself to Sam’s lap. Overhead, a bullet ricochets off the pipe’s grate. Michael thinks about what Fi would say if she saw this. Of course, if Fi were here they would have been saved by a series of strategic explosions and wouldn’t have ended up in this pipe in the first place.
Sam stretches his arms out against the pipe, holding Michael in a faux bear hug as Michael reloads. Getting in a position to use the gun is going to be another matter. At least no one knows they’re here. For the moment.
“Uh, Mikey? Is that you vibrating in my pants?”
Michael groans and tries to maneuver himself into a position to answer his phone. No such luck. The vibrating stops. A few seconds later it starts up again, this time coming from Sam’s left thigh.
“That’s me,” says Sam.
“Yeah,” says Michael. “I figured that much out already. Hang on, I think I can get it.”
He gropes around blindly behind him, ignoring Sam’s crack about grabbing something he’s not going to be able to answer, and finally retrieves Sam’s phone.
“Hello?”
More bullets ping off the grate. The shoot out up above them is intensifying.
“Michael? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Where’s Sam?”
“I can only get into Sam’s pants right now.”
“Uh huh.”
“Fi, we ran into a little bit of trouble out here at the docks.”
His words are punctuated by an explosion over head, and Sam covers them both with his arms as remains of the grate rain down the pipe.
“So,” Michael says, juggling the phone. “How soon can you get here?”
“Two minutes.” Fiona is already throwing the car into park.
She flings open the trunk and pulls out her two favorite babies.
When a spy is in a compromising position, and needs to wait for reinforcements, sometimes the best thing you can do is hunker down and make yourself as scarce as possible. A little trickier when there’s two of you, but it can be done.
Michael twists around, crunching his body into the small space at the bottom of the pipe between Sam’s legs.
You use whatever you can as cover, whether that be the metal plate at the bottom of the ventilation shaft, or a tarp made out of a belt and a pair of pants.
With his belt and pants to secure it, Michael reaches up above Sam to tie off the metal plate, just in time to catch a smattering of shrapnel. Sam looks at Michael with barely contained admiration.
“If you ever get tired of being a burned spy,” says Sam, “I think you could get a job at the circus.”
“Great,” says Michael. “Make mom even prouder.”
From the distance, they hear the sound of a rocket launcher, and Sam throws himself over Michael as best he can. The metal plate above them jerks as a chunk of the pipe slams against it, the entire top of the pipe blown away. There are screams, and footsteps, followed by the fire of a semi-automatic weapon.
“Sounds like Fiona’s here,” says Sam.
A few seconds later, they hear the clicking of her shoes on the roof.
“Anybody down there?” she calls out.
Sam unties the pants and the metal plate drops out of the way.
“Thanks, Fi,” he says as Michael rises up from the floor.
Michael pulls himself out first, and stands on the roof in his boxers, trying to look as composed as any spy can while standing in front of his ex-girlfriend in his underwear. Sam surfaces next.
Fiona raises an eyebrow smoothly. “And here I thought I was the one who’d be seeing some action tonight,” she says.
They watch her walk away, Michael watches the sway of her hips, the way she flings her hair back over her shoulders without really trying. The way she turns her head to the side when she slips her sunglasses on. There’s an art to appreciating Fiona, and it’s trickier to master than the most intricate secrets of espionage. Michael’s pretty sure this guy she’s seeing tonight has no clue how to do it. But he’s also pretty sure this guy has never disappeared on Fiona for months at a time. Not that Michael’s ever done that on purpose.
“Hey, Mikey.” Sam claps him on the back. “Let’s grab a drink before I meet up with my special friend tonight.”
“Uh, Sam? I think I need to grab some clothes first.” He looks down at his mostly bare legs.
Sam shrugs. “Eh, the signs say ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’. There’s nothing on there about pants.”
When you’re a spy, not every mission is going to go according to plan. Sometimes you need to leave things behind. Sometimes it’s a weapon, sometimes, and you hope this is rare, it’s a fellow spy, but sometimes what you leave behind isn’t something tangible at all. Sometimes it’s a little bit of your dignity.
For
maddyriddleSS/HG, Birthday Surprise
Hermione twined the ribbon around her fingers. She’d never been very good at choosing gifts. She wasn’t bad at it necessarily, but no gift she had ever chosen had been received with genuine enthusiasm. The things she picked out were always practical, useful, and expected. This time, it was going to be different. Not that Severus Snape was capable of enthusiasm.
Hermione pressed her lips together at that thought, trying not to laugh. She finished tying off the black ribbon around the brown paper package.
Severus was in the library, poring over some rare potions book that Minerva had sent him. Hermione leaned against the doorway.
“Happy birthday,” she said softly.
“Harrumph.”
Her lips quirked. “I know it’s not your favorite day.”
He didn’t look up.
“I have something for you.”
“Mmmph.”
She levitated the small package over to him. Severus sighed, putting his book aside with a flourish, driving home the inconvenience of what she had done. He took the package and his black eyes darted up to glance at her.
“Just open it.”
“Hmmph.”
He started unwrapping the package. Across the room, so did Hermione. His shoulders heaved with a sigh of annoyance when he finally reached the long, narrow box inside the paper. Dark blue silk pooled at Hermione’s feet. Severus lifted the lid, his brows knitting as he examined the contents of the box. She took two steps forward and stopped, rocking on her heels.
“It’s empty,” he said flatly.
Then he looked up. “Oh.”
“Indeed,” Hermione said, reaching up to unpin her hair. She watched his gaze follow the line of her arms, then trail back down to her breasts. “Happy birthday.”
Severus got to his feet, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
Success.
For
thenotoriousso4Leevender, Toys
Lee sprawled out on the bed, the one Lavender had chosen just this afternoon at Madam Somnum’s World of Slumber. Her shopping sprees didn’t always include items that Lee could enjoy, but he had to admit this was the most comfortable bed he’d ever lain down upon. And she’d promised him that this afternoon’s trip had included something special for them to “play” with all night long.
He fidgeted on the bed, half-hard just from thinking about it.
“Crumpet,” he called out, stretching his arms up into the stacks of fluffy pillows. “Don’t worry about getting all dressed up tonight, love. I’m only going to take those clothes off you as soon as you get in here.”
Lavender appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but her Gryffindor tie and a mischievous grin. Lee licked his lips.
“So where are these new toys you were talking about?” he said.
“You’re lying on them,” said Lavender, and she grabbed her wand, flicking it toward the mattress.
Four thick, silky ropes shot out from the corners of the bed, wrapping around his wrists and ankles and pulling him spread eagle.
“Whoa!” Lee’s eyes lit up.
Lavender crawled up onto the bed to straddle him, leaning down so that the end of her tie tickled his chest.
“This is just the beginning, love,” she said, dipping her head to brush her lips over his.
She whispered something else and the bed beneath him began moving, like tiny fingers massaging him all over, creeping up over his sides, cradling his balls.
“Jesus,” Lee hissed. “Lav, baby. This bed is brilliant.”
“Isn’t it, though?” she said.
“Want you to touch me, crumpet,” Lee breathed.
Lavender blew him a kiss and slid down between his legs. The tie was smooth and cool as it glided over his cock, and then her lips and tongue, warm, wet and clever, were everywhere. The little fingers on the bed grew more insistent, pulsating, touching Lee all over, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
When a soft scarf suddenly shot up from beside his ear and wound around his mouth to gag him, Lee grinned around it. Lavender could spend the afternoon shopping anytime.
For
ellensmitheeBurn Notice, Sam and Michael in a Tight Spot
When you’re a spy, sometimes you find yourself trying to cram into spaces that aren’t meant to house human beings. This can happen when you’re gathering intelligence or on a stake out. It can also happen when you’re running for your life. Add to the mix a partner who is running for his life too and those tight spots become almost impossible. The key word being “almost”.
“Hey, Mikey,” says Sam, twisting around in the ventilation pipe so he can crouch closer to the ground, “watch the crown jewels, would ya? I’ve got plans for those later tonight.”
Michael stretches his leg down, stealthily guiding his foot to the ground, between Sam’s legs, and lowers himself to Sam’s lap. Overhead, a bullet ricochets off the pipe’s grate. Michael thinks about what Fi would say if she saw this. Of course, if Fi were here they would have been saved by a series of strategic explosions and wouldn’t have ended up in this pipe in the first place.
Sam stretches his arms out against the pipe, holding Michael in a faux bear hug as Michael reloads. Getting in a position to use the gun is going to be another matter. At least no one knows they’re here. For the moment.
“Uh, Mikey? Is that you vibrating in my pants?”
Michael groans and tries to maneuver himself into a position to answer his phone. No such luck. The vibrating stops. A few seconds later it starts up again, this time coming from Sam’s left thigh.
“That’s me,” says Sam.
“Yeah,” says Michael. “I figured that much out already. Hang on, I think I can get it.”
He gropes around blindly behind him, ignoring Sam’s crack about grabbing something he’s not going to be able to answer, and finally retrieves Sam’s phone.
“Hello?”
More bullets ping off the grate. The shoot out up above them is intensifying.
“Michael? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Where’s Sam?”
“I can only get into Sam’s pants right now.”
“Uh huh.”
“Fi, we ran into a little bit of trouble out here at the docks.”
His words are punctuated by an explosion over head, and Sam covers them both with his arms as remains of the grate rain down the pipe.
“So,” Michael says, juggling the phone. “How soon can you get here?”
“Two minutes.” Fiona is already throwing the car into park.
She flings open the trunk and pulls out her two favorite babies.
When a spy is in a compromising position, and needs to wait for reinforcements, sometimes the best thing you can do is hunker down and make yourself as scarce as possible. A little trickier when there’s two of you, but it can be done.
Michael twists around, crunching his body into the small space at the bottom of the pipe between Sam’s legs.
You use whatever you can as cover, whether that be the metal plate at the bottom of the ventilation shaft, or a tarp made out of a belt and a pair of pants.
With his belt and pants to secure it, Michael reaches up above Sam to tie off the metal plate, just in time to catch a smattering of shrapnel. Sam looks at Michael with barely contained admiration.
“If you ever get tired of being a burned spy,” says Sam, “I think you could get a job at the circus.”
“Great,” says Michael. “Make mom even prouder.”
From the distance, they hear the sound of a rocket launcher, and Sam throws himself over Michael as best he can. The metal plate above them jerks as a chunk of the pipe slams against it, the entire top of the pipe blown away. There are screams, and footsteps, followed by the fire of a semi-automatic weapon.
“Sounds like Fiona’s here,” says Sam.
A few seconds later, they hear the clicking of her shoes on the roof.
“Anybody down there?” she calls out.
Sam unties the pants and the metal plate drops out of the way.
“Thanks, Fi,” he says as Michael rises up from the floor.
Michael pulls himself out first, and stands on the roof in his boxers, trying to look as composed as any spy can while standing in front of his ex-girlfriend in his underwear. Sam surfaces next.
Fiona raises an eyebrow smoothly. “And here I thought I was the one who’d be seeing some action tonight,” she says.
They watch her walk away, Michael watches the sway of her hips, the way she flings her hair back over her shoulders without really trying. The way she turns her head to the side when she slips her sunglasses on. There’s an art to appreciating Fiona, and it’s trickier to master than the most intricate secrets of espionage. Michael’s pretty sure this guy she’s seeing tonight has no clue how to do it. But he’s also pretty sure this guy has never disappeared on Fiona for months at a time. Not that Michael’s ever done that on purpose.
“Hey, Mikey.” Sam claps him on the back. “Let’s grab a drink before I meet up with my special friend tonight.”
“Uh, Sam? I think I need to grab some clothes first.” He looks down at his mostly bare legs.
Sam shrugs. “Eh, the signs say ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’. There’s nothing on there about pants.”
When you’re a spy, not every mission is going to go according to plan. Sometimes you need to leave things behind. Sometimes it’s a weapon, sometimes, and you hope this is rare, it’s a fellow spy, but sometimes what you leave behind isn’t something tangible at all. Sometimes it’s a little bit of your dignity.
