Fandom: Life on Mars
Word Count: 500+ words.
Notes: Glen/Chris slash. An entry to this challenge. Let that be a warning.
“There’s a certain art to writing erotica, I’ve found,” Chris was saying, chewing on some gum and his lower lip, hoping it would make inspiration spring forth.
“You’re writing erotica?” Glen asked, wondering if it was cruel and unusual punishment that he had been put on a stake-out with Chris as a welcome back to the station. “When you say erotica, do you mean bodice-ripper stuff? All silky white skin and quivering thighs? ‘Cause I’m telling you, that stuff’s about as erotic as dogshit.”
Chris flipped his notebook open and started scrawling in big letters. Glen eyed him, tongue in his cheek as he contemplated escape.
“What’re you doing?”
“Writing those lines down, you’ve a great mind, you.”
On the page he’d flipped were the beginnings of his story. And Chris wrote in medias res. He smoothed it back down and handed it to Glen. He watched in glee as Glen’s mouth opened wider and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
She was right beautiful, great big green orbs and abalaster skin that shone with the glow of candelight. He looked down at her and knew he’d made a good choice when he’d picked her up at the side of the road.
She catawhauled as he fucked into her box open for him to take all her treasures. She were thrashing like a banshee and his hands sought and found her squishy breasts fingers grouping against her nipples. She was ooozing against his throbbing love baton as he surged in and out. His dick was a sherbet dib-dab collecting her zesty juices as it pistoned and swung from side to side inside her. He kneeded her breasts and she needed him going deeper so she moved and got it so he were battering against her servix.
“Ung ung ung this is so great Chris your a sex god.”
His milk creamed inside her but he kept going and going and going and going ‘til he couldn’t anymore ‘cause he’d gone soft. She was just so tight and the tip of his cock was coated in the fermantation of her womanhood. She licked him up and down taking his fulsome meatbags careful not to bite and then she took his turgid truncheon in her mouth and swalowed.
“What do you think?” Chris asked, well pleased at the look of wonder on Glen’s face.
“I think you need more experience with sex. C’mere. The particulars may be different, but the generals are the same.”
Glen leaned forward and unzipped Chris’ fly with the kind of confidence heretofore unseen in someone who preferred to ‘blend in’. Chris rocked back, at once acting the role of nervous schoolboy.
His voice was high-pitched and had an edge of frantic. “Glen?”
“My mouth, your doomhammer, we may never see an atrocity like that again, but for God’s sake, if you choose to write about this, don’t refer to my skin as ‘hot chocolate’.”
Chris thought he’d be writing tonnes of erotica in the future, if it got him more sessions like this. Ray had been right. Oldest and best trick in the book.