A Series of Ficlets from the RPF Kink Meme
Aug. 7th, 2009 11:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katydidmischief posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cjs_owndisclaimer. Not mine and none of the events described herein have any basis in reality.
title. Covert Planning
rating. G
pairing. Zach/Chris, pre-slash.
notes. Written for this prompt attrek_rpf_kink.
"Aww, Zach! I forgot Harold was coming today!" Zoe laughed and smiled, reaching for the cat Quinto was carrying securely in his arms.
Leashed, harnessed and even microchipped, Zach was more than a little paranoid about losing the cat on set and he handed over his feline companion with great hesitation. "Hold on to this," he instructed, looping the leash end around her slim wrist before glancing over Zoe's shoulder and greeting Chris who'd been called in early that morning to reshoot some scenes from the night before.
"Hey! Will you keep an eye on the fuzzbutt while I go get changed?" he asked.
"Yeah, go on. I've got to torment Karl with him anyway."
Zoe gave him an offended look and cuddled Harold closer. "Torment Karl? Why would you use this cute little kitten to torment Karl?"
"Because, hunny, Karl is terrified of cats and I can't just let that go," Chris answered with a grin and as Zach turned to go, he hear John join the covert planning.
title. Morning Pancakes
rating. PG-13
pairing. Zach/Chris
notes. Written for this prompt attrek_rpf_kink.
He's halfway through the second batch of pancakes, the first having mysteriously found their way into his stomach, when a pair of long arms wind their way around his abdomen and a chin settles onto his shoulder; Chris can't help the smile that curves his lips.
Seriously, when his mom said that she'd known his father was the right person for her because he was also her best friend, he should have listened. One night with Zach, their first, had been better than any encounter previously and Chris pushes back into Zach's solid form with a purr.
"Good morning," Zach murmurs, voice low and gravelly and still a bit sleepy. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Chris' face, glancing down at the the silver dollar pancakes his lover is expertly making. "Haven't had those in a long time."
"I always make them on Sunday mornings," he answers as he sets down the spatula and grabs one of the cooled pancakes, dipping it in the bowl of syrup he'd set out earlier. He holds it up to Zach's lips, eyes dilating a bit when Zach licks over his fingers to catch the drop of syrup that had rolled off the soft disc. "Good, right?"
Zach hums in delight and nips at Chris' neck, saying, "Not as good as you. You know how arousing it is to find you clean and smiling in my kitchen? Can we do this everyday?"
"What, me cooking? Don't know..."
Zach cut him off, "Think you have to flip them. And no, I mean, you being here. With me."
Pancakes flipped, Chris turns off the burner and turns in his lover's hold, letting his hands fall to Zach's shoulders before maneuvering them away from the hot stove. With his back pressed into a wall, Chris drops his hands to the strip of skin at Zach's waist, rubbing warm fingers over equally warm flesh.
"Yes, of course," Chris finally answers, unwilling just yet to let the real world burst their freshly formed bubble. Tomorrow, when Chris has to leave to get ready for some interviews and an audition, they'll talk about agents, media, careers, and coming out, but this is too new and discussing it while in the haze of their honeymoon phase won't end well. So he lies a little, just because the sad look on Zach's face is too overwhelming and then leans in for a kiss. “You still hungry?”
The grim look on Zach's face is gone, replaced by a somewhat evil smirk and Chris has precisely four seconds to ponder that before he is yanked by his undershirt, the kitchen table tossed of its accoutrements, and he is splayed on it.
title. Swine Flu
rating. PG-13
pairing. Zach/Chris, established.
notes. Written for this prompt attrek_rpf_kink.
"Oink oink oink!" Anton called into the house as he wandered in. A plastic grocery bag filled with homemade soups swung from one wrist, the other going down to stop Noah from making a break for it.
On the couch, Zach made a face but quickly stopped when his head began to pound; luckily for him, the worst part of his catching swine flu (which seriously was not that funny, no matter what Karl and Anton thought) was the headache that had blossomed behind his eyes. "If you're smart, you'll drop the food right there and get out before Chris vomits on you," he called back, ignoring the oinking for the moment.
"I told you that feeding him scraps will only make him puke," Anton shot back.
"Seriously, dude, you keep going with those references, I'm siccing Noah on your ass," Chris finally spoke, a damp washcloth over his eyes and his legs slung up on the couch beside Zach's.
The dog in question simply thumped his tail on the floor at his name and wagged harder when Anton reached down to pet him, happy for some attention after the utter lack of it over the last three days. He'd been let out in the yard to do his business, which Zach was firmly not thinking about cleaning up, and feedings were a little irregular for both animals as one morning Zach woke at nine, the next seven, and then nine-forty-five that day.
"Traitor," Zach muttered. "Either knock off the references or I'm making you go change the sheets on our bed."
title. Covert Planning
rating. G
pairing. Zach/Chris, pre-slash.
notes. Written for this prompt at
trek_rpf_kink."Aww, Zach! I forgot Harold was coming today!" Zoe laughed and smiled, reaching for the cat Quinto was carrying securely in his arms.
Leashed, harnessed and even microchipped, Zach was more than a little paranoid about losing the cat on set and he handed over his feline companion with great hesitation. "Hold on to this," he instructed, looping the leash end around her slim wrist before glancing over Zoe's shoulder and greeting Chris who'd been called in early that morning to reshoot some scenes from the night before.
"Hey! Will you keep an eye on the fuzzbutt while I go get changed?" he asked.
"Yeah, go on. I've got to torment Karl with him anyway."
Zoe gave him an offended look and cuddled Harold closer. "Torment Karl? Why would you use this cute little kitten to torment Karl?"
"Because, hunny, Karl is terrified of cats and I can't just let that go," Chris answered with a grin and as Zach turned to go, he hear John join the covert planning.
title. Morning Pancakes
rating. PG-13
pairing. Zach/Chris
notes. Written for this prompt at
trek_rpf_kink.He's halfway through the second batch of pancakes, the first having mysteriously found their way into his stomach, when a pair of long arms wind their way around his abdomen and a chin settles onto his shoulder; Chris can't help the smile that curves his lips.
Seriously, when his mom said that she'd known his father was the right person for her because he was also her best friend, he should have listened. One night with Zach, their first, had been better than any encounter previously and Chris pushes back into Zach's solid form with a purr.
"Good morning," Zach murmurs, voice low and gravelly and still a bit sleepy. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Chris' face, glancing down at the the silver dollar pancakes his lover is expertly making. "Haven't had those in a long time."
"I always make them on Sunday mornings," he answers as he sets down the spatula and grabs one of the cooled pancakes, dipping it in the bowl of syrup he'd set out earlier. He holds it up to Zach's lips, eyes dilating a bit when Zach licks over his fingers to catch the drop of syrup that had rolled off the soft disc. "Good, right?"
Zach hums in delight and nips at Chris' neck, saying, "Not as good as you. You know how arousing it is to find you clean and smiling in my kitchen? Can we do this everyday?"
"What, me cooking? Don't know..."
Zach cut him off, "Think you have to flip them. And no, I mean, you being here. With me."
Pancakes flipped, Chris turns off the burner and turns in his lover's hold, letting his hands fall to Zach's shoulders before maneuvering them away from the hot stove. With his back pressed into a wall, Chris drops his hands to the strip of skin at Zach's waist, rubbing warm fingers over equally warm flesh.
"Yes, of course," Chris finally answers, unwilling just yet to let the real world burst their freshly formed bubble. Tomorrow, when Chris has to leave to get ready for some interviews and an audition, they'll talk about agents, media, careers, and coming out, but this is too new and discussing it while in the haze of their honeymoon phase won't end well. So he lies a little, just because the sad look on Zach's face is too overwhelming and then leans in for a kiss. “You still hungry?”
The grim look on Zach's face is gone, replaced by a somewhat evil smirk and Chris has precisely four seconds to ponder that before he is yanked by his undershirt, the kitchen table tossed of its accoutrements, and he is splayed on it.
title. Swine Flu
rating. PG-13
pairing. Zach/Chris, established.
notes. Written for this prompt at
trek_rpf_kink."Oink oink oink!" Anton called into the house as he wandered in. A plastic grocery bag filled with homemade soups swung from one wrist, the other going down to stop Noah from making a break for it.
On the couch, Zach made a face but quickly stopped when his head began to pound; luckily for him, the worst part of his catching swine flu (which seriously was not that funny, no matter what Karl and Anton thought) was the headache that had blossomed behind his eyes. "If you're smart, you'll drop the food right there and get out before Chris vomits on you," he called back, ignoring the oinking for the moment.
"I told you that feeding him scraps will only make him puke," Anton shot back.
"Seriously, dude, you keep going with those references, I'm siccing Noah on your ass," Chris finally spoke, a damp washcloth over his eyes and his legs slung up on the couch beside Zach's.
The dog in question simply thumped his tail on the floor at his name and wagged harder when Anton reached down to pet him, happy for some attention after the utter lack of it over the last three days. He'd been let out in the yard to do his business, which Zach was firmly not thinking about cleaning up, and feedings were a little irregular for both animals as one morning Zach woke at nine, the next seven, and then nine-forty-five that day.
"Traitor," Zach muttered. "Either knock off the references or I'm making you go change the sheets on our bed."
