Well… I appear to be almost over the cold from hell. The scratchy throat from last week lasted about three days and then it all went to my chest. Those mucus busting tablets work wonders for clearing out the crud and getting lots of sleep helped a ton. I think I'm on the road to recovery, so yay!
I'm still behind on my regular viewing shows but I did catch the episode "The Icicle Cometh" on The Flash. Actually quite enjoyed that one.
Caught another episode of The Sarah Conner Chronicles. My Crackle app started misbehaving and I finally got it back to usable form. I'm about halfway through the second season now.
I have one episode left of series thirteen of Midsomer Murders. Looking forward to starting the next one. Also caught episode nine of Babylon 5. I'd forgotten how truly remarkable the first season of B5 ended up being.
Watched another episode of Birds of Prey. I think I have five left. That show was a little ahead of its time. If they shot it now, it would probably be well-received. Also started a rewatch of Roswell. If the new reboot gets picked up, I want to have the memory of the original in my mind. Not sure they'll be able to pull off a decent new show.
Caught episodes of Pensacola Wings of Gold and Lexx. I've discovered I'm not as fond of Lexx on my rewatch. The episodes are very hit and miss.
Caught a few more episodes of Classic Who and started the fifth episode of Doctor Who's new season.
That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from No Words, a sexy short that started with a writing community prompt of describing a moment of quiet. My description turned into a short story where the characters don't need a lot of conversation.
Here's the mini-blurb:
Colby Mass and Webster Bishop are soldiers in an elite unit and usually go full tilt into action. But when they find unexpected down time, they discover solitude can be craved, sought, and given, sometimes in unanticipated ways.
And a snippety peek…
A moment of quiet always made Colby nervous. Not that she couldn't appreciate it when things calmed down… but those random stretches of silence always reminded her of death or dying. When people she cared about no longer lived or couldn't fight anymore.
Right now, the quiet made her eyes burn and her throat close. She couldn't speak if she wanted to. A comrade fell today and the harsh reality of being in a stupid warzone dragged her under its wheels.
Sitting outside the base morgue, she had time to think, which didn't always turn out well. Sometimes she remembered things better left alone, like close calls averted and good times that would no longer include a member of their unit.
Other times, she got a wild hair idea and couldn't resist the impulse to see where it went. Her current crazy plan involved a hot body, a hard dick, and mindless sex to chase away the numbness of grief.
Rising, still in full kit, she'd grab the first guy she ran into and make her desire known. Rounding the corner, she collided with Webster, also still dressed in his tactical gear. As far as partners went, he'd do nicely.
His hands gripped her forearms. "Sorry." He met her gaze. "Showers are clear. If you want…" Still holding her gaze captive, his voice trailed off.
He wanted the same thing. With her. How did I get so lucky?
She gave a nod. "I do. You?" Had to be sure even if she'd bet her next pay grade he had the same idea she did.
He jerked his head toward the exit. "Let's go."
Their boots clomped on the tiled floor then became muffled thuds when they crossed the hard-packed sand to get to the barracks. She preceded him into the head and sure enough, not a soul lingered in the steamy confines.
Turning , she gave him a chance to back out. "You sure?" She unclipped her vest, letting it fall to the floor.
He repeated her action, yanking the fastenings one by one. "I'm sure." Reaching behind his head, he dragged his t-shirt off.
She did the same, tossing it on her vest. Starting on her pants, she pushed them past her hips and stepped out when they pooled at her feet. Her bra came next and when she got it up and over her head, Webster stood facing her in his military issue boxer briefs.
By unspoken agreement, they shed their underwear in unison. She took a moment, letting her gaze do a once-over. Hot body. Hard dick. Check.
She needed this.
It.
Him.
The thought hit and settled deep in her brain. She didn't want anyone else. When had that happened? Didn't matter. She'd pictured him earlier and the reality turned out better than her imagination.
Webster ducked into a stall and turned the water on. He held out a hand, his gaze dark and smoldering.
She grasped his fingers and he tugged her forward, sharing the shower's spray. The water already hot, she expected a steamy beginning. Instead, Webster traced her cheekbones with his thumbs, grazing lightly over an abrasion she received from a piece of concrete.
Oh, man.
The tenderness and care he used sent a surge of emotion coursing through her. Her lip trembled and he caught her mouth in a gentle kiss. Her hands grasped his biceps and a sob bubbled up in her throat.
He broke the embrace and rested his forehead against hers. The sting of the water pelting them reminded her they were alive. The numbness of loss faded and a yearning for life bloomed.
Blindly reaching for the soap and a washcloth, she lathered up the fabric. "May I?" When he nodded, she started with his shoulders and washed his entire torso.
He took the cloth and mimicked her actions. When his hands dipped below her waist, she slid her palms around to cup his ass then dragged them forward to fist his erection. The slippery suds aided her and, by the time they rinsed off, his cock throbbed between her fingers.
Webster grasped her shoulder with one hand and trailed the other between her legs to find her slick and ready. "Won't be slow." His voice rasped, indicating his need.
Colby turned and put her palms on the tiled partition, then glanced back in his direction. "Don't want slow." She spread her legs and arched her back.
Webster grunted his approval, palmed her hips, and slid his cock through her slippery folds. He leaned forward, his lips sucking at the column of her throat at the same moment his dick plunged deep.
Colby hissed out a satisfied breath then moaned when he pulled back and thrust forward again. Webster's mouth worked across her shoulders, his hands holding her hips steady while he flexed his thighs with each charge and retreat. Her head dropped forward and goose bumps rose on her skin despite the steamy heat in the stall. Tingling awareness coursed through her, a reminder she still lived and breathed and needed to seize life with both hands.
And she couldn't imagine anyone better to share the ride with than Webster.
I'm pretty pleased with how this one is coming together. Hopefully, I'll get it finished up and submitted for publishing in the near future.
That's it for this week. Happy reading!
Skylin
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