Two Andrew drabbles: A sad one, then a silly one to cheer you up again. Up to 15
Two Andrew drabbles. A sad one, then a silly one to cheer you up again.
Looking On
Sirens stir the sick-scent quiet of the dingy flat. Jeer and wheelspin on the street below. “Another riot? Can we watch?” “ Thought it was me who enjoyed chaos.” Ethan rummages for 50p for the gas. Even the touch of the blankets hurts Andrew, now. Andrew bites back the pain of comfort from newly unseen arms. “Not much to see, tonight,” lies Ethan. Lightest touch of lips on parched remnants of blond. Breath struggles; death will take Andrew from him before dawn. No! not just yet! Ethan rages at gods long-abandoned. The night - this night - is ours!
Unappreciated
Get the phone, Andrew! Re-shelve the books, Andrew! Translate this ancient text in time to save the world by lunchtime, Andrew! Redemption; daytimes spent waiting hand and foot on Mr Giles and Mr Rayne, nights borne restlessly on their lumpy sofa, listening to their languid, laughing lovemaking.
Andrew trudges sleepily upstairs with the morning tea tray. Prepared to be ignored. Less prepared for being dragged into the bed and meticulously ravished.
Okay, he decides, just before his third orgasm renders him insensate. If they’re going to start paying him this level of attention, he might even stop peeing in the teapot...