It's Wednesday again. Yes! That means the weekend's that much closer.
I've been busy this week with the release of Right Street, Wrong House, the Bewitching Trick-or-Treat Blog Hop and of course Halloween. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to squeeze in a short flash piece too.
This week's prompt was provided to us by our lovely cover artist, Reese Dante, in her second time as a Guest Prompt Diva. Reese's prompt was:
Nope, wasn't listening. Too busy thinking about....
The alternate prompts were: bell, book, candle
things that go bump in the night (either figuratively or as a phrase)
He was so full of shit that his eyes were brown....
Reese's prompt gave me an idea right away so I wrote a short piece featuring Steve and Jon from an earlier flash called, Skinny Jeans. By the way, I was feeling a little bit cheeky when I came up with the title for this week's flash.
Cops and Rubbers
Steve bit back a sigh. “You really want to go to this thing?”
“I do. Yeah.” Jon stopped slicing carrot sticks and grinned up at him. “It’s gonna be a blast. It’ll be just like an Agatha Christie movie. We get to dress up and role-play…” He chattered away.
Steve frowned as he mixed tuna and mayo for sandwiches. He’d had some pretty set ideas about tonight’s activities and sitting around with a bunch of people trying to talk with British accents — and failing horribly — wasn’t one of them. He’d hoped to spend quite a bit of this weekend in bed. He'd bought wine and candles and even some bubble bath that was supposed to smell like cranberries and orange zest. He’d planned to coax Jon into the tub for a nice long soak. Together.
Now Jon had sprung this on him and the chance to live out that fantasy seemed to be slipping away. He sighed. A murder mystery dinner party was the last place he wanted to be, which was probably why Jon hadn’t said anything until now. It was already lunchtime. He couldn’t come up with a realistic excuse between now and dinner.
Damn it. What was the murder mystery scenario? What had Jon said — some kind of quaint British whodunit? What was his role anyway? With his luck it would be the village idiot.
Maybe he could offer to play the corpse. At least that way he’d be lying down, though he wouldn’t have Jon to kiss and cuddle. Tonight was going to suck.
He wasn’t comfortable in social settings at the best of times. He could make small talk, but to have to role-play? It was going to be painful. His extroverted boyfriend, on the other hand, would be in his element.
He sighed again. They were so very different. Sometimes he wondered what the hell a sociable guy like Jon saw in a big lug like him.
“…I’ve already got the costumes. I guess there won’t be a body or anything. Not that I’d want someone to play the murder victim. I’d feel sorry for the poor guy that got stuck with that role, but it would be cool to have a prop for atmosphere. Maybe some pillows under a blanket so we could stand around and look shocked. What do you think, Steve? Steve!”
He started guiltily.
Jon stared at him. Did you hear anything I just said?”
Jon stared at him. Did you hear anything I just said?”
He spoke without thinking. “Nope. Wasn’t listening. Too busy thinking about…” at the last minute Jon’s chilly expression registered. “…something else. Sorry.”
“You really don’t want to do this do you.”
“Jon…” He trailed off, hating the way Jon’s shoulders fell. He didn’t want to disappoint his guy or ruin the rest of their weekend.
“It’s okay.” Jon began chopping a celery stalk. “I told Michel I wasn’t sure we could make it. We can do something else. Maybe rent a movie. I can return the costumes.”
Jon chopped away, the celery a mushy green smear on the cutting board.
Sometimes you just had to suck it up and step out of your comfort zone. He reached out and stilled Jon’s hand. “You got costumes?” He smoothed his hand up Jon’s warm, bare arm, the fine blond hairs silken against his palm.
Jon stood rigid but he didn't move away. “I rented them.”
He kneaded tight shoulder muscles. “What’s my costume?”
Jon allowed him to tug him back, into his chest. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah.” And he did. Jon seemed to be going all out. This must be important to him. He brushed his lips over Jon’s nape, offering a silent apology.
“A British sergeant.”
“A police officer?”
Jon turned in his arms and stepped back, looking hopeful. “You’d look so good in your costume. It’s got handcuffs and even a truncheon. That’s what they call a night stick in England.”
He watched as Jon’s even, white teeth nibbled at his bottom lip. Arousal sparked in his belly.
“You’re role is Sergeant Nicholas Southerby. You’re the sidekick to Chief Inspector Denton.”
“A sidekick?” At least he wasn’t the main detective.
Jon nodded, soft hair brushing against his chin. “I think you could get by with just looking serious and pretending to make notes.”
He could do that. “Who will you be?”
“I’m the victim’s ne’er-do-well brother. I’ve a habit of drinking and carousing and borrowing money.”
He nuzzled Jon’s ear. “You’ve got motive.”
“Maybe I did it.” Jon gave him a coy look from beneath lowered lashes. “Maybe you should arrest me.”
This was interesting. Jon cheeks were pink and his eyes were bright. Did his boyfriend have a thing for authority figures?
“Maybe I should take you down to the cells for questioning.”
“Oh.” Jon’s breath quickened.
He gave Jon’s butt a little squeeze and palmed his groin.
Under the soft denim Jon was hard. His hips undulated. He made excited, breathless sounds.
Maybe this role-playing thing wouldn’t be so bad after all. He nibbled the side of Jon’s neck“Where’s my costume, babe?”
“Oh, God. Mmm, Steve. It’s in the closet.”
“Stay here.” He tried to disengage, but Jon wasn’t letting go.
“Wait, where are you going?” Jon sounded frustrated.
Steve grinned. “If we’re doing this I’ll need to get into character. I’m going to put on my costume then Sergeant Southerby is going to take you down to the station to answer some questions.”
He drew himself up to his full height and tried to look authoritative and stern. “It’ll be easier on you if you give me your full co-operation.”
Jon’s pink tongue flicked out and moistened his lips. “If I co-operate will you let me go?”
Steve smiled. “Not a chance.”
Jon and Steve first appeared in a flash fiction called Skinny Jeans. If you’d like to read it, here’s the link. Skinny Jeans
Hope you liked this one. Don't forget to check out the other Silver author's flashing this week. check out the links below:
Julie Hayes (m/m)