I come bearing ficlets.

[haas mark]

Eh, well, figured I could post all my less-than-page pieces of fiction here. Since they're rarely responded to, anyway, but just in case I happen to get some C&C. First one is something I wrote a few days ago.

Title: See the Sun.
Author: Patrick Briscoe.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to me and [url=http://mask_of_dreams.greatestjournal.com]mask_of_dreams[/url].
Distribution: ASK ME.
Characters: Donovan St. Cyr, Trent Lynch.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Author notes: Inspired by RP between myself and [url=http://mask_of_dreams.greatestjournal.com]mask_of_dreams[/url] at [url=http://tres_risque.greatestjournal.com]tres_risque[/url].

It's so hard, sometimes, for him to believe that they've known each other just over a year. They met each other at his club, Le Péché de la Peau. Trent was working for him at the time, another dancer, eventually moving forward in the business. It was nice, though; he made him just ... forget a lot of things of his past. Former addictions, excepting cigarettes, were no more, and the ones prior were a part of the past. Trent helped him keep them there.

So soon after some incidents, though. A near suicide, if inadvertent, on his own part. Successfully forgotten. Well, not forgotten, but definitely lessened in his own mind. He hadn't felt the way he did now in a long time. Ever, looking back on it. Sure, he had scars of his past worn on his sleeve. Literally. But right now, they didn't matter. They were things to remember, but things to remind him of how far he'd come, too.

The power of a co-worker, friend ... lover? ... could be mightier than anything else he'd imagined. He didn't need the razorblades, the fixes, the buzzes to get through his stresses anymore. He couldn't break the smoking habit, though. He guessed everyone needed a vice of some sort, and that was his.

He knew Trent's, too, and would do everything he could to get him past it, but with everything of that nature, it's difficult. There are too many factors involved in that one, in particular, but it's nothing that could not eventually change.

At the moment, though, that didn't bother him. It just mattered that, for once in his life, he was happy.

[haas mark]

Next up, a set of three (so far, and seeming to be ongoing).

-------

Title: What Could Have Been.
Author: Patrick Briscoe
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Vince McMahon, Jeff Jarrett and all others associated with World Wrestling Entertainment and NWA. No money is being made off of this work of complete fiction.
Distribution: GJ, verilon.net, OpenFiction
Characters: Charlie Haas, Jeff Hardy
Warnings: Male/male interaction.
Spoilers: None

He brushed a soft kiss over his lips, the taste of the rain still strong in his mouth. His damp hair dripped onto the other man's face. It had been raining outside for a few hours, and from everything they could see, it could be for a while. Cupping the second man's jaw, he kissed him again, this time more deeply. His eyes were slitted, and a drop of water ran slowly down his face, almost as if it were a tear. Slowly breaking the kiss, the first man ran his thumb smoothly over Jeff's cheek, a soft smile curving his lips. He crouched down, his right hand sliding over Jeff's body and resting lightly on his hip.

Jeff smiled a little and tilted his head, bringing his right hand to meet the other man's left on his face. He took the first hand and brought it to his lips with a gentle kiss, and then stroked his thumb over the back of the wrist. 'Charlie,' he whispered, 'what're you doing here? What about-'

Charlie took his hand from Jeff's and placed a single finger over the second man's lips. 'Shh,' he said quietly. 'Don't worry about that. That's not important.'

Jeff raised an eyebrow, confused, but then nodded and complied with a soft smile. He watched Charlie's eyes for a moment, a sparkle of anticipation there before reaching up with his right hand and running it over the top of the first man's head, the water from the rain spiking his hair slightly as Jeff moved his hand backward. He lay his hand on Charlie's shoulder and squeezed softly, leaving a wet handprint on Charlie's jacket. 'Glad you're here,' he siad simply, his voice just above a hoarse whisper.

Charlie grinned lightly, then placed his hand under Jeff's chin, holding it with the first two fingers and thumb as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the Carolinian's. 'I thought I would surprise you,' he said.

With a soft chuckle, Jeff quirked an eyebrow briefly. 'Well, Mr. Haas, I can certainly say that this is one hell of a surprise.' He grinned softly, tilting his head slightly. 'But not one that I mind, of course.'

Jeff's words were met with a devious smirk. Charlie leaned back a little and slipped out of his jacket, a tan t-shirt beneath. He stood, kicking his shoes off and crawled to the bed next to Jeff, slipping his hand under Hardy's shirt, his hand resting against the warm skin of his side. He lay, pressing his forehead against Jeff's, bringing his body close and whispering his words. 'Go back to sleep.'

He simply chuckled with a hint of a grin playing his expression, then nodding, nestling himself against Charlie, reaching his right hand back and taking Charlie's in his own, lacing their fingers together. He sighed softly and closed his eyes, wrapping his other arm around Charlie's waist and holding him against himself.

Charlie smiled softly and closed his eyes himself, pleased, and let himself be taken by Jeff's presence. In a few moments, both slept soundly, still wrapped in each other.

[haas mark]

Title: Feelings.
Author: Patrick Briscoe
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to World Wrestling Entertainment, NWA and all their associates. No money is being made off of this work of complete fiction.
Distribution: ASK ME.
Characters: Charlie Haas, Jeff Hardy.
Warnings: Male/male interaction.
Spoilers: None.
Author notes: This is a continuation of What Could Have Been, which can be found here.

The interaction between the two was always smooth, fluid, as if they were a liquid or a gas when with each other. Their touches, caresses. Like a creek flowing gently over stones in its bed of soil.

'Charlie,' Jeff said with a smile.

The other man raised an eyebrow over the book he was reading. 'Yeah?' He didn't put anything past Jeff, so he stayed put for the time being.

'Aw, c'mon, stop bein' such a worry wart,' Jeff grinned. 'It's nothin' bad, promise.'

Charlie simply shook his head with a chuckle and a small laugh. 'Yeah, well... What's up?'

Hardy shrugged a shoulder and walked over to Charlie, crouching in front of him, hands over Charlie's knees. 'Nothin'. Just wanna be over here. That's all.'

Charlie set his book down on the end table next to the chair he was sitting in, and then slid down out of the chair, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Jeff. Raising a gentle hand to Jeff's jawline, he ran his thumb over his cheek. 'Always did like your accent.' He tilted his head, a half-grin slipping over his expression.

Jeff laughed, his own expression sheer amusement. 'You're silly sometimes, y'know that?' His southern drawl became more prominently so. He figured if Charlie liked it so much, he'd make it more noticeable.

'You are just as much.' He looked into Jeff's eyes, his own sparkling slightly as he looked back and forth between them. 'But you make it work one helluva lot better than I ever could.'

Jeff laughed again in response. 'But I think it's cute when you try to be silly.'

'And when I fail at it?'

Jeff shrugged. 'It doesn't matter whether you succeed or fail. You're bein' you. That's what matters to me.' His hand came up to stroke Charlie's face now, looking at him with such pure and raw passion and emotion that he didn't know what else to say, but couldn't contain it at the same time. His voice lowered to a whisper. 'Sometimes... there's just so much I wanna say to you.'

Charlie nuzzled his jaw into Jeff's hand. 'Like what?'

A shrug. 'I dunno. Just... Stuff, I guess.'

Charlie chuckled, smiling some. 'It's not just stuff if you wanna say it and you can't.'

'I...'

Still smiling.

'I... I got feelin's for you. You know that, though. It's just...'

An eyebrow arched slightly, but not mockingly.

'I dunno how to put it. That's all.'

Charlie nodded. 'That's cool. I know what you mean, though.' He laughed, nervously, this time. 'Can't say I haven't really felt the same myself.'

Jeff, taken aback, just stared at Charlie, withdrawing slightly. 'Whaddya mean?' He cocked his head slightly.

He shrugged a shoulder. 'I guess I'm in the same boat as you. Don't really know how to put it.' He shook his head. 'I want to say what I'm feeling, it's just... how do you put something like that into words, really? I don't know you can.'

Jeff smiled brightly, warmly. 'Well, I say we work on that sometime.'

Charlie returned the smile with one of his own and a nod. 'We will.'

Jeff grinned now, but then said, 'In the meantime, I think I'm going to borrow you for the day.'

Laughing, Charlie nodded. 'All right, then, sounds good to me.'

Jeff stood, and extended a hand. Charlie took it, and Jeff helped him up, then wrapped his arms around his waist, head slightly tilted again. 'I think I've got about the best way I can put it.'

'How's that?'

A whisper, now, almost inaudible, 'Ain't ever met no one else I felt like this about. That's the truth.'

His words were returned with a nod, and a gentle kiss, then a whisper, 'And I'm still in the same boat.'

[haas mark]

Title: Morning.
Author: Patrick Briscoe
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to World Wrestling Entertainment, NWA, etc. and all their associates. No money is being made off of this work of complete fiction.
Distribution: ASK ME.
Characters: Charlie Haas, Jeff Hardy.
Warnings: Male/male interaction.
Spoilers: None.
Author notes: This is a continuation of Feelings, which can be found here. 100 words.

One of them awoke, seeing the softly snoring body of the other. His fingers traced a gentle line over the side of the other. The skin on skin contact slightly roused the second man, and he mumbled something, opening his eyes slightly with a smile. 'Morning,' he said.

'Morning,' the other said, and left a gentle kiss across his shoulder, lingering somewhat.

'Whatcha lookin' at?'

'Just like watchin' you sleep.' His lips curled, a soft grin.

'Should I go back to sleep?'

'If you want.'

He nodded, cozying up again next to the first, letting himself drift off once more.

[haas mark]

Title: Una Noche.
Author: Patrick Briscoe.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to themselves and their associates in all their forms.
Distribution: ASK ME.
Characters: Drew Lachey, Nick Lachey.
Warnings: Male/male slash, incest.
Spoilers: None.
Author notes: If hell exists, I am so going there when I die. Also, shameless smut. And, my longest ficlet to date, not to mention the best, apparently.

'Hmph,' he said, looking at his brother flatly. 'Yeah, you'd really do something like that.'

Nick raised an eyebrow, challenging him. 'You really think I wouldn't?' He snorted, shaking his head a little, a smirk spreading across his lips.

Drew stared at him incredulously, pulling off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair. 'No, I don't.' He replaced the cap, shrugging a shoulder. 'Besides, it's not like you would even want to in the first place.'

Nick laughed, and the way he did somewhat disturbed Drew, causing a chill to run down his spine. 'Funny, the way people think sometimes.'

Drew was beginning to get uneasy. He shifted his weight where he stood, leaning against a wall, and crossed his arms in front of him. 'Exactly.. Exactly what do you mean by that?'

A smirk. 'Oh, nothing. Just that appearances might come off as deceiving. A little hard to judge a book by its cover, wouldn't you say?'

Chewing on his lip a moment, Drew considered what his brother was telling him, and the possible implications... and ramifications. He shook his head, sighing heavily. 'I... I don't think I know what you're getting at, Nick.' Tilting his head, he looked his older brother in the eye. 'Are you saying that you'd do it ... freely?'

He shrugged a shoulder, but the smirk remained, silent.

Drew shook his head in disbelief, eyes closed. 'That's... That's just...'

'And here comes the part where you tell me you've never thought about it, it's gross, it's wrong. Am I right?' His eyebrow rose, questioning.

Drew looked at Nick only briefly, then turned his head. He nodded once.

A light laugh from the other man. He knew he won that argument... but he wasn't through yet. He stood from the chair he was sitting in and walked... nay, waltzed, over to Drew, putting his hand on his shoulder. Drew simply shrugged it off. But Nick was persistent. He leaned in, putting his hand on Drew's shoulder again, leaning in a little bit, breathing in deeply through his nose. He caught the light, sporty scent of Drew's cologne.

His fingers slid down over Drew's shoulder, then his chest. The younger man tensed his muscles under the touch; the sensuality was a different experience than he'd had before. Sure, he had his wife, and Nick had his, but ... this was different somehow. More intimate. More invigorating. He relaxed, melted, underneath Nick's touches.

Nick smiled at the change in Drew, and whispered in his ear. 'Don't worry. It'll be all right.' He left a small kiss against the side of Drew's neck, suckling the spot slightly. In response, Drew grunted, turning his head away in the intention of getting Nick off of him, but instead relaxing even more into it. He let his arms uncross, dropping to Nick's waist. He did manage to pull Nick off of his neck, though, turning him so that they faced each other. Drew licked his lips, and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned forward into a kiss.

He was still shocked by the prospect of sharing these types of intimacies with his brother, his own flesh and blood... but at the same time, he was wildly excited by it. He let himself go, freeing himself up into the liplock, passionate, deep, hungry. Breaking the kiss, he took a step back, shivering slightly. 'I...'

His brother interrupted him, placing a finger over his lips. 'Don't talk.' He winked, and then stepped back himself, lifting his shirt over his head, rolling his shoulders back a little. Drew followed suit wordlessly, tossing his cap aside and peeling off his own shirt. Once this was done, Nick stepped forward again, pressing his lips once again to Drew's neck, his hands roaming over his brother's torso. His touches were gentle, fluid, but his fingertips also firmly pressed against spots that Drew didn't even know would feel as good as they did.

It was funny, though, that Nick looked so good to him at that moment. He thought that maybe it was a trick of the light coming in through the window that Nick seemed so attractive. But in the back of his mind, he knew that Nick was always good-looking. That he had a body that he would love to just touch and feel against his at night.

Nick, however, was moving down Drew's body. With each passing moment, he moved lower and lower, his hands eventually coming to the button at his brother's pants. He raised an eyebrow smugly. 'Looks like you got a pretty nice hard-on down there, bro.'

Drew blinked in surprise. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts and sensations that he hadn't even realized exactly how turned on he had been. He chuckled meekly, cheeks brightening slightly. 'Apparently so,' he said, embarrassed.

Nick shook his head with a laugh. 'Nothing to be embarrassed about. It'll get taken care of, though,' he said matter-of-factly, punctuating it with a wink. His hands deftly undid Drew's jeans, unzipping them, as well. He slid his hands underneath the waistband of Drew's boxers, sliding both them and the jeans down, letting them fall to the floor. Grinning, he licked his lips at the sight of Drew's bare cock. 'I'll bet you taste good, too.'

Drew took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. 'Well.. you're more than welcome to find that out.' He managed a small smile, but his eyes shone of the fiery lust he had at the moment, overwhelming the nervousness and confusion. Nick knew he wanted this, and knew that Drew wanted this just as badly. He took his brother's length in his hand, stroking it gently, moving his lips down to one nipple, gently tugging on it with his teeth.

With that combination, Drew let out a low moan, head drooping backward; he contracted his loins for a brief moment, his dick growing as stiff as it would, throbbing in Nick's hand. He could feel the slickness of his own precum in Nick's hand, sliding over his cock, and he was already shuddering slightly, his hands against the wall behind him.

Nick brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting the clear liquid. 'Mmm, you do taste good... Can't wait to suck you dry.' He laughed again, the same laugh that disturbed Drew before. This time, though, it made him feel at ease, because he could already tell Nick knew what he was doing. He didn't know how, and he certainly didn't care, he just knew that it felt good, and didn't want it to stop. In that moment, his length was surrounded by a different wetness. He looked down to see Nick's head at his crotch, his mouth sliding over his dick.

Nick gave him not only the right speed, but just the right amount of pressure. He couldn't have Drew cum too soon, after all, and he didn't want it to hurt. Lord knew that teeth were the biggest disaster that could ever happen to a blowjob. Besides, this was special. It was Drew.

Drew brought one hand off of the wall, letting it rest atop Nick's head. He licked his lips again, watching with amazed curiosity, breath rapid, his whole body moving with the rhythm of Nick's bobbing. When he got past the novelty of just how good it was, he began rocking his hips slightly, moving in time with Nick. Nick reached a hand up, taking Drew's balls in his hand, rolling them in his palm. That sent Drew over the edge, though, and he stilled his movements, shooting his seed into Nick's mouth. The older brother took Drew's entire length in his mouth, deep-throating him.

Drew's moans of pleasure were more than enough for Nick, and he made sure that he didn't let anything escape his mouth. When Drew was done, he was breathing raggedly, letting out small whimpers. Nick stood, sliding his hands along the younger man's body as he did so. He came to Drew's face, pressing his lips to the other man's, silencing him.

After a brief moment, Nick stepped back again, sniffing again, this time the cologne mixed with the scent of sex and sweat. 'God, you even smell good.'

Drew chuckled slightly at that, sinking down against the wall. '...Thanks?'

Nick grinned a little at that, shaking his head. 'Of course. And ...'

Drew raised his eyebrow, inquiring.

'...Maybe another time, we can go a little further.' He smiled, picking his shirt up off the floor and putting it back on.

Drew simply nodded, both still in shock and, now, bliss. God, he wouldn't mind having his brother there for whatever he wanted. He could almost swear that he'd damn near be his lapdog, if actually having sex were as good as that. He couldn't pass that up. Not in a million years. But who knew things would be so good with his own brother?

[Ace Pace]

Nice, nice.

[haas mark]

Title: Addiction.
Author: Patrick Briscoe.
Rating: R.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to World Wrestling Entertainment and all their associates. No money is being made off of this work of complete fiction.
Distribution: ASK ME.
Characters: Rob Conway, Lisa Varon (aka Victoria).
Warnings: Some violence, strong language.
Spoilers: None.
Author notes: Inspired by one of dragon_rose's many fics at Cypress, namely, Any Given Sunday.

His knuckles met her cheek in a hard backhanded slap, the impact busting the already swollen bruise over her lip. Crimson threads laced her chin and jaw, pooling in the open palm atop her thigh. She relished in the feeling, the sheer adrenaline of the beating. My god, did she ever gain such ecstasy from it. She never felt so turned on in her life, save when he did these things to her.

But she was a good girl. She was a good little slave. Her master was definitely lucky to own her. Because of her, Rob Conway was the envy of every other master and mistress she came across. Hell, the slaves envied her because she was lucky enough to be owned by him.

'Goddamnit, pay attention, slut.' Another backhand to the other side, this time with a small cut opening along the cheekbone.

She simply nodded in response. That was all she was allowed to do. Her glassy stare followed him, his every movement. Her wistful watching was still filled with the daydreams of what he had done and would do in the future. She still couldn't believe that he, Conway himself, would pick such a lowly wretch as her to be his.

As far as she was concerned, though, her name didn't matter. Lisa. Victoria. That was for what she would be acknowledged by other masters and mistresses. She was Rob's though. His slut. Whore. Bitch. Toy.

Toy, there was a word he liked to use. Not always in reference to her, but sometimes in what he would do to her. The only toy of his that she was utterly frightened by was the TENS unit he had. She shuddered at the mere thought of it. It hurt, and it was the only thing that hurt her that she didn't actually enjoy. That was for punishment. She was glad, though, that he was in a good mood.

Just as she was thinking how he was happy, though, a swift kick to her side knocked the wind out of her. She doubled over, gasping raspily to catch her breath again. But she was a good girl, her palms were still upright on her thighs, just as they had been moments ago. She coughed, and a small bit of blood came forth when she spat. Her breathing was heavy, now, her lungs hurting from the lack of oxygen.

'I said, pay attention.' He looked down at her with one eyebrow raised in authority. She looked up at him weakly, nodded, smiled. She was glad to be his. He always knew the right way to show his love for her.

Maybe that was why he picked her. Because she was perfect for him. The perfect whore for him. The only one who fit into his mold. Rather, the only one that could be shaped into his mold.

Her gaze followed him as he walked about, doing menial tasks and explaining to her the proper way to affixiate things. Always just so. She didn't understand why he had to have his things this way or that, but she knew that part of her duty to him was to do as he asked. And she would. That was the way she showed her affection for him. And his was worn on her body like medals of honor earned in battle.

But she wouldn't have it any other way. She needed it like a drug.