Okay, it’s 12:07. I need to be up until 1, and I need 3,000 words written. I have 1500–let’s continue to write, even though we’re nodding off.
Brandon walked naked to where he
stood, and rubbed his lower lip with a thumb. “No. You love them. It’s family,
Taylor. It’s the whole reason I’m leaving in a week, right?”
Taylor’s heart fell into the trees where it was picked up by the columbine and chucked live into the orgy of bees.
KERSPLANG AWAKE!!! Oh hell. What in the fuck? Hearts falling into trees? Bee orgies? Heaven help me–here. Chocolate. Let me go eat chocolate and drink some water, and I might manage write something intelligible. Chocolate. Ice water, GO.
He’d managed to
forget that. “Yup. All my idea. It’s awesome. So glad you’re going.”
Taylor stepped away toward the bathroom,
only to be seized behind by a behemoth with more muscles than sense. “I hate
going,” Brandon whispered, brushing Taylor’s ear with his lips.
Just like that, their bubble butt bubble butt bubble butt champion bum smashers bubbling in buttland, bubble bubble bubble bubble…
KERSPLANG AWAKE! More goddamned ice water. And cat petting. And don’t I have to pee? C’non… I’ve got 1600 words done… what am I made of, chartreuse bubble butts?
“I’m… not excited about it,” Taylor said
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re having
a big family meeting then—we’re going to need some help moving you in.”
Taylor closed his eyes and leaned his
head back against Brandon, shamelessly using his strength and vitality, because
his own body felt stripped of any sort of volition. “You know, we don’t have to—“ slow down into the magical lizard forest where the chimera danced nude before the bronze unicorn god. SPARKLES!!!
KERSPLANG AWAKE! Fucking Jesus. Sparkles? Naked chimeras and bronze unicorns? What the fuck is in this water????
“Stop,” Brandon whispered. “Stop. You
Rashly. Uncharacteristically. Whole-heartedly.
“I promised,” Taylor conceded. And whispered promises, in the DARK… never again, wasn’t that how it went? And if taking was going to be done you’d decide to eat pancakes!
KERSPLANG AWAKE! Okay, take THAT song off Spotify. What was I going to write again? Wait. What do they have to do? There’s action here, I can’t just have them wandering around the house petting the cat. What just happened? Oh God, yeah. Sex scenes. Lots and lots of sex scenes.
“No go take care of your cat and I’ll
Taylor started to pivot and turn
toward the bed, but Brandon didn’t let go. “Let me imagine you naked,” he said
with an evil little flick of his tongue in the whorl of Taylor’s ear. Against
Taylor’s backside, Brandon’s impressive erection stirred. And they took off all their clothes and rolled naked in jello pudding using it as lubricant AND breakfast as they licked the sugary pudding goodness off each other’s naughty bits before inserting tab A into slot B and building an underwear drawer.
KERSPLANG AWAKE! Oh dear God, I don’t even want to know what my subconscious thinks my sex life is. NO PUDDING EVER!!!
Taylor stepped away and scowled,
grabbing his underwear. “Get in the shower,” he ordered gruffly. “We’re late.”
Brandon stroked him up and down with
just the power of his gaze. “We are going to have so much fun,” he promised.
“You and me—I don’t see ever getting bored.” The lizard and the butterfly went to pee in the beautiful sea green bloat. And then they danced at a party and the lizard done farted and the butterfly to death he choked.
KERSPLANG AWAKE! Oh hell. I’m writing poetry in my sleep. It’s REALLY BAD. Can I just finish this damned scene?
He was trying to promise forever, but
Taylor couldn’t do it. Not when he was leaving in five days.
“Go,” he said
gruffly. “Promises to keep.”
And he went. To beautiful blissful sleep where the lizards and unicorns and chimeras and jello pudding could all coexist in peace without making me fat or getting in the way of my sweet little contemporary romance. Sleep, Taylor, sleep, there will be sex scenes tomorrow and deep emotional discoveries and now me and the dogs are going to dream of endless fields of clovers and dog treats and the occasional pile of poop.
Wanders off to bed to sleep so soundly anything I’ve had to erase off my work in progress will be forever forgotten. Which is a real shame, because damn, I’d like to know where my head was when I wrote that shit.