Aw, nuthin’ too special - jus’ the 2010 V8 Camaro 2SS.
She’s got uh Tremec six-speed manual transmission, Brembo brakes with four-piston aluminum calipers, uh 245 watt Boston Acoustic stereo system with nine speakers, heated leather seats, an’ with uh s-type Borla catback awn th’exhaust, she’d have uh purr like uh goddamn sabertooth tiger.
TELL ME SHE AIN’T BEAUTIFUL.
Imagine Person A of your OTP nyehing sensually in Person B’s ear.
When Ellis had been a boy, he’d wanted a horse of his own to ride to school on instead of the bus.
His grandfather had owned a horse ranch before he was born, and pictures of his mother on various mounts lingered in the photo albums his grandmother had let him pour over in his grandparents’ living room. The ranch had fallen through after a tourist had snapped his neck, and Ellis come into the world with a grandpa who dabbled in banking instead of majestic beasts. The boy’s disappointment was profound.
kohtori26 asked: Ellis, how happy are you that Obama got re-elected? :3 What were you doing when you found out? (ask your boss-lady to answer this one too please~)
Keith’s head in his lap was a warm, familiar weight, the fluffy brush of his hair beneath Ellis’s fingers stirring a restless smile on the brunette’s lips that spread into a grin when Keith huffed softly and shifted to get comfortable. Votes were being tallied on the news, rapidly accumulating in favor of one candidate and then another, states turning red and blue across the country as polls finally closed in others. Riggs had managed to get up onto the couch without Keith – rather docile on pain medication – fussing at him, the lithe dog settled atop the redhead’s jean-clad legs to nose at his own thick tail in apparent listlessness. Ellis’s toes curled in the shag of Keith’s living room carpet, sleepiness mounting as hours trickled by with Florida waffling between red and blue and California still accepting voters.
The older mechanic’s mishap in voting had required several stitches and two hours in the emergency room, half of which Ellis had spent bragging on the phone about his boyfriend’s patriotism. But the excitement was gone now, replaced by idle affection as Ellis pet his fingers down the sparseness of a sideburn framing Keith’s handsome face.
“Nick says he’s gottuh win Ohio ‘er Florida,” Ellis noted for the thirtieth time, eyeing the two swing states in question as the tv displayed a map of America again. Florida had trickled into favoring Romney again, while Ohio was slowly inching closer to Obama’s. Georgia had long-since flushed red in Romney’s support, which hadn’t been much of a surprise though Ellis’s circle of friends had all voiced their hopes for Obama’s reelection. “Man, when’s this shit gonnuh end? We gottuh git yer ass intuh bed.”
“M’fine,” Keith groused in slurred denial, lifting a hand to blindly pat at Ellis behind himself as he cuddled his cheek against the man’s thighs. Ellis snorted, lifting his free hand to catch Keith’s, fingers unevenly twining together. “It doesn’t even hurt,” he added brusquely, lifting his thickly bandaged hand as if to prove it, and Ellis laughed.
When Ellis stirred an hour later, Keith remained asleep with his face tucked against the younger survivor’s lap, injured hand draped off the side of the couch and Riggs snuggled up on his back as the pair snored softly in the unnatural yellow burn of lamplight. Blinking sleep out of his own eyes, he squinted at the television, election news still burbling on with footage from election parties across the country celebrating Obama’s landslide victory.
Grinning, Ellis leaned back into the couch, fingers stroking the exposed nape of Keith’s neck as he settled in to go back to sleep.
[I was able to sleep easier, too, after staying up with my lover to watch the tallies and see our president win. I’m pretty passionate about a number of social issues and while I don’t think Obama has done enough about them, I’m hoping for a brighter future in the next four years. :)]
Aw, man, why not? :(
Because I dun want tuh.
[Art by the ever-fabulous and spoiling Ask-Keith. Cue me writing the boys being tools.]
As Keith closed the door on the night’s final trick-or-treater, pausing long enough to flick off the porchlight to prevent further stragglers from coming along at a later hour, he heard the soft press of Ellis’s shoes on the carpet behind himself and let a smirk unfurl on his scarred lips. He’d spent their evening needling Ellis with incessant teasing, feeling him up and spilling gentle nips across the hick’s throat without committing to actually getting him off, and no doubt the brunette was eager to collect on his redhead’s wordless promises of the night.
Was it more like uh gritty paste kinduh feelin’ ‘er like wet papertowels gone moldy stickin’ tuh yer hair?
No, no. It was more like a “Shut the hell up, Ellis” feeling.
Definitely, that one.
Does that feel more like wet shit, ‘er flappy dead skin, stickin’ tuh yew?
‘Er maybe it feels like that time that bird shit in yer coffee when we wus outside an’ yew didn’t notice an’ took uh sip? Man Ah didn’t even know birdshit cud float til yew got uh mouthful off th’top!
[Been out of the writing loop for a lil bit, here’s some wee drabbles for warm-up practice I did.]
Doing something domestic.
Ellis was once more apt to leave his clean clothes piled somewhere than put forth the effort of folding or hanging them up, but this poor habit was assuaged by Keith’s presence after the redhead moved in. The pair would make an afternoon every other week of going through the wash and sorting and folding it all to be halved between their houses. Tedious though the task was, splitting the effort and chatting their way through made the act tolerable, if not enjoyable, and Ellis rapidly abandoned former distaste for folding to instead enjoy the chore with Keith beside him, elbows-deep in dryer-heated fabrics and hangers.
Y’know yew got uh awful lottuh questions about mah breakfast drinks, miss.
Anyhow, Ah got loads of experience with m’KAWC, so Ah don’t choke none. Who th’heck chokes awn orange juice? An’ Ah ain’t much fer sharin’ drinks with anybody but Keith cus, c’mon man, cooties. An’ Ah don’t reckon he cares much, we don’t always check up awn eachothers’ blogs so he prolly ain’t even seen.
Oh-ho, Ah see wut yew think yer doin’ there, anon. Yew think yer real’ smart, askin’ me how Ah’d feel if Ah wus Overalls and Nick kept visitin’ his friends when Ah told’im no, am Ah right?
Well lookie here, man. When Keith wus jealous, wanted me tuh quit visitin’ Nick s’much, Ah told’im no. Cus Ah wusn’t doin’ uh damn thang wrong an’ that wus mah best friend who fixed me up when Ah didn’t know how tuh be mahself no more. Yew don’t ask sumbody tuh quit seein’ their best friend cus yer jealous. Yew work awn trust an’ helpin’ ‘em git along.
Tuh be honest, them lines kinduh blurred fer awhile, an’ Ah wusn’t uh real’ good friend tuh Nick. But we’re awl workin’ awn it now.
Findin’ yer soulmate’s th’most important thang yew can do in life, man. That’s th’person yer gonnuh spend th’rest uh yer days with – yer gonnuh write yer life’s story tuhgether. But yew don’t fergit th’folks who kept yew company awn th’way, an’ that’s yer friends.
Th’way Ah figgur it, lotsuh folks ain’t got no other option, righ’? Like, single moms ‘er dudes whose parents kicked ‘em outtuh their house?
Ah met uh couple guys in Atlanta an’ they wus real’ nice people. Me an’ Dave swapped stories with ‘em cus we split uh pizza an’ sat buhind uh buildin’ few like four hours, man.
See, Dave knew’em cus he’d go tuh Atlanta tuh see his grandparents every weekend, an’ him an’ Paul came across’em in the park once. They’d dance durin’ th’day an’ let folks see’em, then at night they’d hang around an’… *Shrugs his shoulders* Sum people’d come back around an’ pick’em up.
Ain’t like messin’ ‘round with whoever from uh bar ‘er whatever fer th’hell uh it. Ah git awl tore up when Ah think ‘bout people who got so little thah’s awl they got tuh sell… *Rubs the back of his neck, eyes dipping low*
Why wouldjuh bring that up!?
Ain’t never been much fer water, but Ah’ll crack open uh bottle ‘er sip from th’hose if Ah haftuh, cus it gits hot as hell here, speshully in th’summertime, an’ it’d be sum real’ fool shit if Ah passed out cus Ah didn’ wannuh drink water.
Plus soda don’t help none. S’mostly sugar an’ shit, righ’? Ain’t gonnuh do uh dang thing fer yuh if yer dehydrated outtuh yer skull. Ah think Ah read sumplace that it makes yuh worse off when yer thirsty… Ah love Pepsi an’ Coke both, an’ Ah’m gittin’ tuh like rootbeer cus mah baby does, but mostly fer eatin’.
Ah like Gatorade when Ah’m out, like, doin’ shit, mahself. Better’n pop, an’ don’t taste funky like water. Ah git thah shit bah th’cases from Sam’s Club an’ stack ‘em up in th’laundry room fer when mah fridge runs out. Ah drink awl th’flavors, too. *Grins* Makes it real’ easy tuh shop for.
Well, heck, a’course! Back when Ah wus real’ down awl th’time, Ah wudn’t really workin’ no more an’ me an’ Nick usetuh jus’ lay around bein’ sad. Ain’t no way fer nobody tuh live.
He still takes like uh million naps erryday an’ gits sore when yuh wake ‘im up, an’ he’s too old fer sleepin’ like uh baby awl goddamn day. Awl ‘e does is sleep an’ mope an’ it ain’t no good.