ds_flashfiction | by engenda and mergatrude

heuradys issued a challenge for the Challenge Challenge which

engenda and I found impossible to resist! Many thanks to

daughtershade for sorting us out. (925 words)

Marquise of Who?

Renfield squinted in the bright light, ears ringing as he struggled to understand the instructions the Inspector shouted at him. Whilst his superior was almost unrecognisable wearing only a towel turban and a mudpack, he’d know that look of exasperation anywhere. She’d elbowed aside Ms. Vecchio whose attempts to mop his brow were hampered by the shortness of her white leather skirt and the spiked heels of her matching cowboy boots. He had no idea why Lieutenant Welsh was baking cookies. Perhaps they were for after the bout.

Detective Huey, resplendent in a tuxedo, rang the bell to signal the start of the next round. It was not going well, but then his opponent was in another class entirely. It was like boxing with a gadfly. He held his gloves up in a vain attempt to deflect another stinging blow.

The cheers and jeers of the crowd stung him equally, as he swung wildly and missed completely. This was not good. His honour was at stake, as well as that of the sport he loved.

He needed to use his weight and height to better advantage. If he could get his opponent on the ropes, he might be able to land some decent blows. Switching his attention from the flashing gloves to the dancing feet he managed to counter a feint, by throwing his weight forward and to the side. In his enthusiasm he lost his balance, tangling his legs with Ray’s and both of them fell heavily to the canvas.

Ray let out surprised “oof” as Renfield’s full weight forced a puff of air out of his chest. It cooled the sweat on his forehead. Ren watched Ray’s expression of surprise slowly transform into a smirk. “So, is this another one of your Canadian pastimes, Turnbull?”

With a breathtaking grin, Ray shimmied his hips, and Ren suddenly found himself cradled between Rays thighs. He shifted and became uncomfortably aware of the heat of their groins thrust into proximity by that small movement. Ray licked his lips. Ren was transfixed by the glimpse of that flickering tongue. Noticing the wound on Ray’s forehead--reopened by a lucky blow on his part--he couldn’t help but bend and lick. He tasted the copper salt of blood and the faint tang of the salve Constable Fraser used. It may have smelled awful, but it tasted fine. And he was in a position to know, because Constable Fraser had used the salve on more than one of his scrapes. Ray whimpered and bucked up reflexively, and the feel Ray’s erection against his own made Ren whimper in reply. His own hips thrust forward as the silk of their shorts rubbed together.

The sound of the crowd became a distant roaring in his ears as Ray’s hands slid down his sweat-slicked back, encouraging him to grind down... He braced himself above Ray, his tongue following the trickle of blood down to the corner of Ray’s mouth, and met Ray’s own tongue there. All the time, the movement of their hips became more urgent...

Ray leaned up to lap the sweat dripping from his face, tongued his ear, and whispered, “More pizza?”

Ren sat bolt upright, dislodging Diefenbaker who had relaxed against him on the sofa. He struggled desperately to regain his composure and managed a strangled, “No, thank you kindly.” Bidding Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio good night, he attempted to beat a hasty retreat realising he'd missed what Detective Vecchio had called a 'lesson in American culture.' Although he was confused as to how a panel of young girls talking about sleeping with their mother's boyfriends was at all cultural...

As he stood to leave, the lighting flickered like a strobe. It reminded him of the flickering neon sign outside his apartment along with the clatter and yowl of fighting Toms in the side alley. The sound of dripping water was from the cracked gutter outside his window, not from the echoing Consulate kitchen. The Consulate… where the source of his provocative dream no doubt lay resting quietly. Sliding his hand down into his shorts to grasp his aching erection and bring himself to yet another solitary release, he forced himself not to recall the image of a half-naked detective, not to ruminate upon how fervently he wished that the next time he removed his uniform it would not be so that Detective Vecchio could put it on. He shifted restlessly as he tried to turn his thoughts away from his proximity to Detective Vecchio whilst he had assisted the detective with the correct adjustment of his lanyard and Sam Brown. The faint tang of sweat that had clung to his uniform on its return was incredibly seductive…

His eyes snapped open as a hand gently caressed his cheek. The shock set his heart racing and he lifted his head from a pillow far too luxurious to have been his, inhaling that familiar, arousing scent. He stared into his lover’s concerned face and took a deep breath, letting go of the dream and revelling in the safety of Ray’s embrace, the comfort of their shared bed. The alarm clock read 1:35. He kissed the faint scar above Ray's eyebrow and shifted, blinking sleepily. Ray’s gaze sharpened when he realised Ren’s pulse was rapid under his fingertips. He stilled as Ray ran his hand ran down Ren’s neck, over his chest and stomach, before sliding down to grasp his cock. Ray's eyes flickered up and his grin was wicked.

"Let me help you back to sleep".

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lynnmonster.livejournal.com

Hee! I'm so glad somebody wrote this -- that was too good of a bunny to go unused and unloved!

This is a different story than I would have predicted, so thanks for surprising me (and for all the delicious images)!