Monday, October 4, 2010

Short Story: Beautiful Music Series: Shotgunning

A short story about early days between Jason and Erik, before they began to realize what their relationship meant, and far before they met Kayla, the woman who changed everything.


Shotgunning

It wasn't the first time they'd shared a spliff. It wasn't even the first time Jason had leaned over to Erik, a small smile curling his mouth, and offered to share the smoke he'd just inhaled.

But it was different.

Jason's lips whispered against Erik's as Erik leaned forward and drew in the sweet, heady smoke. But Jason didn't pull back. He stayed where he was, lips just brushing Erik's, ever so soft, and when Erik breathed out, Jason breathed in again. Then back out, his lips still, just breathing. The sweet, grassy taste of the weed had faded from the breath that passed back into Erik's mouth. Now it was mostly just warm, alive, and tasted like Jason.

Something in Erik wanted to pull back, thinking this was too strange, not right, and maybe Jason didn't want him lingering there. The rest of him just wanted more.

Jason's mouth shifted a little against his, and Erik took it as a signal to back off. But he'd barely moved his lips a millimeter from Jason's when Jason reached up and cupped the back of his neck, holding him in place.

Erik shifted again, suddenly self-conscious, unsure what Jason wanted. But Jason just held him still, their lips barely brushing, and breathed Erik's quickening breath.

They weren't kissing, not really. They were both very still, no soft movement, no tongues. Just the warm column of air moving between them, Erik's mouth to Jason's, Jason's back to Erik's. It was just breath now, none of the smoke left in it at all.

Jason moved a little, not enough to jar his mouth from Erik's. A moment later, Erik felt warm fingertips on the narrow strip of skin between his shirt and his jeans. Jason's fingers settled there, a soft yet firm touch. It wasn't a caress, nothing teasing about it. His fingers just pressed against his skin, as if to remind Erik he existed. He almost needed the reminder, the moment of orientation. He was high and floaty, and by now he wasn't sure if it was from the weed or from Jason himself. It could easily have been just Jason, the musky, male taste of him, the smell of sweat and metal and near-sleep.

Erik's hand moved of its own accord to cup Jason's cheek. Just to hold him there, to anchor himself. He shifted a little closer, the better to taste Jason's mouth, and breathed him.
Shotgunning

It wasn't the first time they'd shared a spliff. It wasn't even the first time Jason had leaned over to Erik, a small smile curling his mouth, and offered to share the smoke he'd just inhaled.

But it was different.

Jason's lips whispered against Erik's as Erik leaned forward and drew in the sweet, heady smoke. But Jason didn't pull back. He stayed where he was, lips just brushing Erik's, ever so soft, and when Erik breathed out, Jason breathed in again. Then back out, his lips still, just breathing. The sweet, grassy taste of the weed had faded from the breath that passed back into Erik's mouth. Now it was mostly just warm, alive, and tasted like Jason.

Something in Erik wanted to pull back, thinking this was too strange, not right, and maybe Jason didn't want him lingering there. The rest of him just wanted more.

Jason's mouth shifted a little against his, and Erik took it as a signal to back off. But he'd barely moved his lips a millimeter from Jason's when Jason reached up and cupped the back of his neck, holding him in place.

Erik shifted again, suddenly self-conscious, unsure what Jason wanted. But Jason just held him still, their lips barely brushing, and breathed Erik's quickening breath.

They weren't kissing, not really. They were both very still, no soft movement, no tongues. Just the warm column of air moving between them, Erik's mouth to Jason's, Jason's back to Erik's. It was just breath now, none of the smoke left in it at all.

Jason moved a little, not enough to jar his mouth from Erik's. A moment later, Erik felt warm fingertips on the narrow strip of skin between his shirt and his jeans. Jason's fingers settled there, a soft yet firm touch. It wasn't a caress, nothing teasing about it. His fingers just pressed against his skin, as if to remind Erik he existed. He almost needed the reminder, the moment of orientation. He was high and floaty, and by now he wasn't sure if it was from the weed or from Jason himself. It could easily have been just Jason, the musky, male taste of him, the smell of sweat and metal and near-sleep.

Erik's hand moved of its own accord to cup Jason's cheek. Just to hold him there, to anchor himself. He shifted a little closer, the better to taste Jason's mouth, and breathed him.

More about Jason, Erik and Kayla at Changeling Press:
Beautiful Music: Daze on End
Beautiful Music: Interlude in C (Coming 10-8-10)

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