FLASH-FIC IS HERE
PLEASE JOIN US EACH FRIDAY TO SEE WHO'S FLASHING US
Each Friday a new prompt will be posted along with the previous week's winners.
What exactly is a Flash-Fic? It's pretty much a spur of the moment, tiny story, prompted by words, images or silliness. Not sure if you've ever been on twitter when this has happened, but it's pretty awesome when it does. It also happens often in threads, with a combination of people contributing.
How does it work? Each Friday one admin of TLS posts a picture prompt here to the blog. Using this image, entries are created by commenting on this post. Submissions must be 100-300 words ONLY. No more, no less. The entries are then judged and we post the winners here, each Friday, to share with all of you.
You will have until next Wednesday at 9 p.m. EST to submit your entry.
Picture prompt and judge this week is Jaime Arkin.
Please leave your submission in the comment section at the bottom of the post using this format:
Your name (use your Twitter, Facebook or FFN name)
Your link to your FFN profile if you choose to share it
Submissions will be judged on Thursdays and on Friday the winning entry will be posted here, on the TLS blog.
This feature is open to everyone, so come one, come all!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Word count: 300
“I love you.”
My words are whispered against Edward’s cheek while I trace my thumb along the arch of his eyebrow. His eyelids flutter but don’t open. Skimming my fingers from his temple down to his jaw, I chuckle when he twitches, trying to escape my slumber-threatening caress.
Since he moved over to share my pillow sometime during the night, we’re nose-to-nose as I study him in the early morning light. Against the white sheets, his face is tan, relaxed. Peaceful. I should let him sleep, but…
I press my lips to his. “I love you.”
Still not quite awake, he mumbles my name and rolls away to lie on his back. Determined, I carefully pull the sheet down, and then crawl over him, hovering on all fours, trapping him underneath me.
Dipping my tongue into his navel, my hair falls forward to brush his skin. As I kiss a path up his abs, he grips the hanging strands, pushing them away from my face.
“You’re not gonna let me sleep, are you?” His deep, raspy voice sends a wave of desire pulsing through me. “What are vacations for?”
Raising my eyes to meet his, I smile playfully. “Fucking?”
Laughing, he sits us both upright, wrapping one arm around my bare back to steady me.
“And getting engaged.”
Tears spring to my eyes as he takes my left hand, tenderly fingering the ring he put there last night.
Gentle kisses quickly turn frantic, and when he shifts me off his lap, I know what he wants.
“Roll over, baby.”
Lying on my stomach, I moan as he fills me again and again. Covering me, he thrusts faster, sliding his fingers between mine. Neck arched, I cry out in pleasure.
Against my ear, he finally answers. “I love you, too, Bella.”
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Your lips don’t kiss. They bruise and punish, suck at my skin until I’m covered in lovebites so dark there’s no love in them at all. Your hands are rough, your touch so careless that I wonder if you know what it means to be soft. You insist on being behind me when we have sex, and I tell myself it’s the position you like rather than the anonymity. Your hips thrust so hard I know there will be bruises on the back of my thighs all week. I know that I’ll feel you each time I sit - as if I don’t think about you often enough anyway.
I lay face down in a comforter that smells like another woman as you fuck me, because that’s the only word there is to describe the way you take pleasure from my body as though you’re owed it. Your weight pushes mine down into the mattress, your rhythm never faltering even as we fall. I thought I was past falling for you.
There’s a moment when your hands cover mine that I think, “This is it. This is when you start loving me back,” except all you actually do is admonish me for wrinkling the sheets. And then I remember that you have no love left - that you save it all for your wife and leave me with nothing but hate.
Your cock fills me, but I can’t remember a time I felt so empty.
You pull out roughly once you’ve come, disposing of the condom and shutting yourself in the bathroom. This has always been my cue to leave.
Except this time, I leave a note under your wife’s pillow before I walk out of your house for the last time.
Revenge doesn’t taste as sweet as I’d hoped.
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Word count: 300
This is my favorite position. You don’t complain.
I love and crave the way your body covers mine—the way you dominate me.
The intimacy of missionary has its merits as well, sure. And you love it when I get on top. But there’s something about this way.
I fucking need it.
Your skin slaps against mine, your hips to my ass. Your fingers dig into the fleshiest part of my hips as you plunge your cock into me in a hard but steady rhythm.
You do my most favorite thing. You lay your torso over mine, caging me.
My hands are fisting the sheets as your cock hits that spot inside that makes white spots dance across my vision.
You lace your fingers with mine, dropping hot kisses onto the back of my neck.
You’ve already made me come three times tonight—once with your tongue alone, once with your tongue and fingers working in tandem, and once while I rode your cock on your wife’s precious $5,000 Italian leather sofa.
My walls begin to flutter around you again, and you whisper hotly into my ear, “Don’t you dare come again. It’s my turn now.”
Your grip around my fingers tightens as your hips pound into me relentlessly.
I shatter around you just as you shudder and falter.
Sated, we fall together, your body still covering mine.
I relish your weight on me.
Moments later, you’re up and disposing of the condom. You slap my ass, and I giggle.
“You’d better go, beautiful. She’ll be home any minute.”
I give you my best pout but get dressed anyway. You kiss me passionately at the door, and I have no doubt of your love.
You’re leaving your wife next month.
I just know it.
What was it about last night?
We were both in rare form. When have I ever been more engrossed in a television show than you? When have you ever been so... needy feels like the wrong word. Demanding, perhaps. You were demanding of my attention, and when I didn’t give it to you...
When I ignored the way you started to press little kisses to my cheek, when I moved your hand off my thigh, you straddled me right there on the couch. That got my attention. There isn’t anything on television that’s better than your tits in my face, your fingers in my hair, and your ass sliding over my lap.
But baby, I was watching that. My minx. My beautiful brat.
Turnabout is fair play, love.
I know how much you love your sleep. You’re not a morning person. The way you sleep on your belly, your arms grabbing the pillow as if for dear life -- it’s adorable. I could watch you for hours.
But not today.
No. Today I steal your covers. You hate the cold, don’t you? But I’ll warm you up right quick. Just like this, with my hand between your legs. And you’re trying to get away, trying to get back to your blankets and sleep. But then your curses turn to moans and your shivers to sighs. That’s when I slide into you. Deep. Quick. You lift your head. I kiss your neck.
I didn’t really mind missing my show, and we may make a morning person of you yet.
The Lemonade Stand would like to also thank all of the participants. We thoroughly enjoyed ALL of the entries!