#FlashMobWrites 1×28

Welcome to #FlashMobWrites Week Twenty-Eight

Come one, come all! This is an open flash fiction challenge with a musical inspiration, hosted by authors Cara Michaels (formerly of #MenageMonday, #WIPflash, and#RaceTheDate) and Ruth Long (of the wicked fun #LoveBites and #DirtyGoggles challenges).

Mob Rules

  • The challenge begins: Fridays @ Noon EDT (Eastern USA)
  • And ends: Saturday @ Midnight PST (Pacific USA)
  • Word count: 300-500 (no less, no more)
  • We love you and wish to heap praises (and random prizes) on you, so be sure to include your name (no, it doesn’t have to be your real name) and a way for us to get in touch (Twitter handles are encouraged)
  • A prompt choice is offered by each judge. Choose one (or both!) and include it in your story as given.
    • The prompt may be split between sentences, but no order change or dropping words.
    • Words may be added before or after, not in the middle.

The Inspiration

For your musical enjoyment only. You do not need to reference the video or song themes in any way for your story.

The Prompts

Cara Michaels: “lose all control”

Ruth Long: “in my sleep”

911

This isn’t the most celebratory of days here in the States. For many of us, I believe September 11, 2001 changed us forever.

In that regard, this week includes a special (optional) challenge:

Build your story around a defining moment (good or bad) in your character’s life.

Now pick your prompt(s) and post your story in the comments below!

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53 thoughts on “#FlashMobWrites 1×28

  1. A Sultry Sunday Afternoon in Crowbar City

    We had some free time before getting together with Gabi at about 4. John thought a courtesy visit to Sheriff Jack Squires might be in order.

    “He’s always on the job. Least ways, that’s the way Luci sees it,” Gabi revealed. She offered to call Squire’s wife and find out.

    “I also don’t want to spring two strange men on Luci without giving her some warning.”

    She placed the call.

    “Luci says she thinks he’s on duty. Probably in the office.”

    Gabi pointed us in the right direction. We drove, even though it was only a few blocks down the main street. So far, pretty much everything in Crowbar City was only a few blocks over or a few blocks down.

    The Woody was a sweat box. The Sheriff’s office wasn’t much better. We went to the counter. A small electric fan was aimed at a mid-sized cop, built like road block, head bent, reading a circular. Overhead, a ceiling fan was making a futile effort to perform.

    He looked up. “Help ya?”

    “Sheriff Squires?”

    “That’s me. You’d be the freelancers.”

    “Word gets around,” John said.

    “When it needs to! I coulda seen you coming in my sleep. Some people just look like they don’t belong.”

    Squires apparently had taken an instant dislike to us even before we had met.

    John tried to change the tide. “We’re just taking a look, Sheriff. That’s all. A couple a sets of extra eyes.”

    “Well, lookee four eyes, better men then you have hunted for Hazel Twigg.”

    “So we can’t count on your help?”

    “No one will stand in your way. Poke around. Maybe you’ll get to where my predecessor, Hank Porter, got to. Hazel likely pulled a Crater. People are always disappearing. She wasn’t exactly a pure living woman. Some people are like that. One day, they got the world by the tail. Next day, they lose all control and go off howling mad into the inferno of the desert.”

    We thanked Squires for his philosophical perspective and left.

    “Let’s swing by the internment camp, Woody. Maybe it’ll help us get our bearings.”

    It was a good idea. Except it was too damn hot for my tastes. Nevertheless, I kept my yap shut and we took a spin.

    As we drove, John asked, “Not one of our finer moments, eh Woody?”

    “Interning the Japanese?”

    “Yeah!”

    “I wish I could say I thought much about it. I come from a family that believes the Government, right or wrong.”

    “Not me,” said John. “Me, I come from a family that believes all that Government wants to do is toss your butt in jail.”

    “Hmm,” I chuckled.”That could warp you.”

    “Not as much as trusting the State only has your best interests at heart. Ask some of our Japanese citizens their thoughts on trust.”

    Silence seemed the best course.

    Up ahead, we got our first glimpse of an American Concentration Camp.

    A sorrow shimmered in the furnace.

    500 (or maybe 499) degrees and no shade
    @billmelaterplea

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I lose all control in my sleep. In the light of day, I can pretend that she is still here, that she hadn’t made the call to tell me that the tower was on fire, that she hadn’t told me how I should tell our daughter she would never see her mommy again. There is work to do. Laundry to fold. Food to cook. Stories to read. Birthdays to celebrate. Air to breathe.

    Our daughter knows I’m not okay. Sixteen now, and busy with her own life, I see the worry in her eyes when we pass in the hall rushing to get ready in the morning, hear the concern in her voice as she checks in on me before she goes to bed. I’m fine, I tell her. Just tired. And I am tired. But I don’t tell her that every line of her form, every peal of laughter, every touch of her arms as she hugs me goodbye in the morning is a test for me to pass, to see if today is another day I will keep from going insane.

    But my dreams betray me. Without the will to build my reality as I see fit, I lose my anchor. Allowed to forget, I am no longer consumed by grief. In my dreams I drive my daughter to her soccer games and cheer with the other parents. We go out for ice cream and celebrate a win or drown our sorrows in whipped cream and hot fudge. As my eyes dance in REM sleep, I see my wife’s beauty echoed in our daughter, but I see me, too, a combination which she carries with a grace that takes my breath away. While the moon and stars cavort overhead, I am happy.

    And every morning the grief returns. The anger rises with the sun. By the time I am dressed, and shaved for work, and see my daughter loading up her backpack for school, I am in control again.

    But I am not okay.

    336 words
    @drmagoo

    Liked by 6 people

  3. For all of those who suffered and died this day I hope you have found peace for we will never forget you.

    I stay rigid on guard all the time keeping the thoughts out of my mind. It’s only been a few hours, but I fear I will someday lose all control in my sleep. Most people’s dreams are sunny all the time; but these feelings of despair and grief that linger in the shadowy recess corners of my mind are in a dark place which come out in screams and I don’t want to go there. So I stay awake losing my mind in the darkness begging someone to save me from myself, save me from the memories that haunt me. I think I’m keeping them at bay but they creep and slither into my thinking and then I turn my feelings off becoming cold and detached.
    I close my eyes only for moment and I’m there that day when my life ended. I smile when I see my wife and we tenderly make love. I get up getting ready for work and see my child, not remembering what is to come. My daughter falls into my arms my wife brushes her lips across mine and I am filled with exhilaration as we plan our day. My wife will take my child to daycare and I will go to my work.
    It’s a beautiful sunny day, but in the corners in the shadows of the day, is a dark place I don’t want to go. I’m yelling and pleading to myself for us all to play hooky and not go into work and daycare but my former self doesn’t hear me. I kiss my wife and child goodbye and get in my car and drive. Park my car and get in the elevator. At 8:45 a.m. the building shook and swayed at 9:45 a.m. a blazing inferno started in the building there was no escape for me and others. I look and this time I see the light and a hand reaching out to me. An angel has come to me and this time I don’t turn away. The angels who are many gather up souls and fly them to the heavens above. An angel asks me what I want. I tell them I want to live and the angel picks me up and carries me to the light of a heartbeat. Nine months later I am reborn giving my wife hope and joy and strength to continue. Each year I go with her and keep my peace; for she must never know who I once was. I pray that I will forget myself, but never the sacrifices of those in those buildings who perished that day; for they will live in hearts and minds forever more.
    436 words
    @SweetSheil

    Liked by 2 people

  4. A Heartbeat Away

    “What would you give up?” The gargoyle ancient watched her.

    Sade rocked back on her heels. For Caleb? Roman? Ariel? Yeah. An arm. A leg. Her life. But for Sinjen? For Sinjen she would give up everything, including her heart, her soul, her mortality. Crevan read her decision in her expression.

    “You are a fool.”

    “No. I’m the woman who loves him.”

    “Then it is done.”

    A breath later, she landed in the basement of a derelict building, standing before a hole in the wall, a shadowed crypt in this long-dead place. Something moved inside and she peered closer. The creature’s eyes flashed feral red beneath the flickering sodium lights filtering through broken windows, but Sade didn’t react. Her right hand already rested on the butt of her Beretta, its clip filled with silver bullets. They wouldn’t kill the vampire but would slow him down enough she could get away. He watched her, a trapped animal prepared to defend his lair. Her heart broke just a little.

    He stared at the intruder, the one who haunted him. “In my sleep, you come.” He said the words but not aloud. He watched, wary. His tongue teased the sharp points of his canines. They’d elongated as soon as he caught a whiff of her scent. Hungry. So hungry. He would lose all control if she stepped closer. Oh, yes, please step closer, he silently commanded.

    “What have they done to you?”

    Her voice ignited his rage and he lurched to his full height. With lightning speed, he struck her, knocking her to the ground. Looming over her as she groveled at his feet, his nostrils flared at the scent of her blood. She should fear him but nothing in her expression indicated she did.

    She rose, a fluid movement so filled with grace he was distracted. She searched his face and for a brief moment, he wanted to hide from her gaze, suddenly ashamed of his monstrosity. He faded back into the shadows but she followed him. Her fault then, whatever happened next.

    Grabbing her, he yanked her to him and threaded his fingers through her long hair—hair the color of the shadows in which he dwelled. He dragged her head back to expose her throat. His fangs gleamed in the uncertain light. “You are mine.”

    “Yes,” she agreed. “Always.” Her gaze sought his, collided. “What happened to you, Sinjen?”

    Sinjen. He knew that name, had been that man. Once. But no more and never again. He bit. He drank. Deeply. He felt her heart stutter but still he drank. Her hand resting against his heart, her whispered words stopped him.

    “I love you.”

    She loved him enough to die that he might find his memory, his life. She humbled him, brought him to his knees. He sealed her ravaged throat with a kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

    “Tough shit. You’re stuck with me.”

    “For your lifetime, love.” And my own.

    ****
    491 words
    @SilverJames_

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Pingback: Project Gemini

  6. Establishing Trust

    Moira turned away as the person on the other end began talking and Aiden pulled Talia toward the front of the office. Talia raised her eyebrows, but said nothing until he was sure Moira wouldn’t hear them.

    “Can you close the shop?”

    Talia nodded slowly. “Yes. Why?”

    “Because Moira needs to resettle. This guy has totally jacked up her energy.”

    “How do you know that?”

    Aiden shot her a dry look. “The same way you know where someone needs the most attention during their massages. I’m from this town, too, Talia. My family goes back almost as long as the Callahans and yours.”

    “You mean—” She stopped herself and shot a look at Moira still on the phone. “Do the Callahans know?”

    He shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. But I do care about Moira and she needs to reset and recuperate. So can you close tonight?”

    “In my sleep, underwater, with the lights off.” Talia nodded and gave him a smile. “Are you going to take care of her?”

    He heaved a sigh. “If she’ll let me. Do you know anything about what happened in Denver?”

    She hunched her shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. “A little. I know about Lenny Corsica and how he badly betrayed her trust. She never said how until today, but it was like deal-breaker bad.”

    “If he ignored her safeword while playing, it makes sense.” He shook his head. “If he’s as bad as she’s said, he could lose all control if he shows up here again. I’m glad you called Fitzroy. Maybe I’ll stop by the police station and have a chat with him myself. I have a bad feeling about this guy.”

    “You and me, both, Aiden.” But she shifted her jaw to the side and tipped her head. “But then, I’ve had the same sort of feeling about you before you showed up again.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re not going to do the same sort of harm to her? She mourned you a long time and now you show up out of the blue. What’s to say I shouldn’t let Fitzroy keep an eye on you, too?”

    Anger kindled, but he beat it back behind his eyes. The questions were fair from those who didn’t know him. And after eighteen years missing, they don’t know me.

    “I guess I can’t tell you that. In this case, actions will have to speak louder than words.”

    “Yes, they will.” Talia’s eyes remained narrowed, but she said nothing else as Moira hung up the phone. “What did Fitzroy have to say?”

    “He said he’d drop by tonight or tomorrow morning to get a picture of Lenny so he’d know what to look for.” Moira waved at the security monitor.

    “He’s going to keep an eye out?” Some of the tension left Aiden’s shoulders.

    “Yeah. I just hope it’s not like a watched pot that never boils.”

    487 #WIP500 words
    @SiobhanMuir

    Liked by 3 people

  7. Nightmares Have Teeth

    I run from the wolves, and they have teeth, inflicting injury, destroying my sanity.

    I hear shrieks. I feel terrifying dread in my soul; I know something terrible is coming. I see bodies tumbling as human snowflakes hurtle from a blackened, billowing sky. They fall through licking infernos as gravity pulls them down, turning each into flaming projectiles. Jagged cement like broken teeth awaits sickening, terrifying thuds, people bouncing, shattering into pieces. Glass glitters as it cascades like crystal shards down a precipice, crashing like cymbals striking the concrete. I am falling, head first towards the broken teeth, glass glittering below me, bouncing, undulating as waves upon the ground. I lose all control, my wings broken. Hurtling faster, the further I fall, hurtling as a bullet. . .

    Jolting, I wake before reaching the jagged bottom. My chest heaves. I snatch for giant gulps of air. Sweat lies thick on my brow, my mouth arid, eyes moist.

    Jonathan bursts through the door. “I heard you scream! What’s wrong?” He runs to my bedside, concern creasing his brow.

    “Just a nightmare,” I try to smile, the dream still sharp.

    “Again? Honey, when are you going to the doctor? She can give you something to help.”

    “Not going to happen. I’m fine. They’re just dreams.”

    Slipping into my satin robe, I move to the window. Sunshine is bright and glorious this morning in the azure sky, cumulus clouds serenely meander, though I can’t appreciate it, shaken to my core. I don’t want to look down, but it’s the only way to make myself calm. To know I’m safe here in our Penthouse, fifty stories up, and everything is fine. Our building’s not on fire. I’m not falling from our window.

    Without turning around, “Jonathan, why can’t we move? Maybe then . . .” I can feel him roll his eyes behind me.

    “You’re being ridiculous, Honey. How many times did we have this talk? We’re in the safest building there is, and you know we have a lot invested here. We can’t move.”

    Kissing me, he left for work, leaving me to my thoughts.

    ‘When is he going to believe me? Believe I have this cursed sight for things that haven’t happened yet.’

    It was almost three when I returned home and my heart stilled. Police stopped me half a block away. ‘Thank heavens Jonathan’s still at work.’

    Fire engines surround our building, sirens blaring, lights blinding, smoke filling the sky, angry and black. Flames shot out from the windows around the fortieth floor. I squint to see our Penthouse; there’s no flame. People are hanging out of their windows crying, screaming for help above the burning floors. Glass shatters as the flames rise higher. Crystal shards crash to the ground, and bodies begin to fall like flaming torches.

    Flames shoot from the Penthouse, more glass shatters. I see movement at our window. Jonathan! He jumps; tumbles headfirst and catches fire, hurtling towards the ground. I hear his thud and swim in inky blackness.

    @PattyannMc
    WC: 497

    Liked by 3 people

  8. @AvLaidlaw
    469 Words

    Delta Wave

    Hibernation Ark 3: Magellan. 154 Earth Days (Ship Relative) After Departure.
    Procedure: Scheduled course correction. Navigation thrusters fired for 3.6 seconds.
    Alert: Cerebral activity detected in Vault C Pod 42. Consistent with REMS. Monitoring.

    In my sleep, I dream.

    HA 3: Magellan. 657 Days AD.
    Alert: Acceleration phase complete.
    Alert: Cerebral activity detected in Vault C Pod 42. Increasing dose of soma by 5%

    The Earth hangs in the night sky, a droplet of water refracting greens and blues. These are the forests and the seas. We are on a yacht, on our honeymoon in the tropical seas that writhe with lazy phosphorescence.
    “All life is in the sea,” she says.
    “What about tigers, and tortoises, and us?”
    “Little splashes. We’ll dry out soon enough, but the sea…”
    “Let’s make love.”
    “In the water.”
    “I don’t even know if that’s possible.”
    She confesses that she wants to be transformed into a mermaid. We do make love, as a compromise, under the stars on the deck of the yacht, and afterwards we swim in the darkness.

    HA 3: Magellan. 7,628 Days AD.
    Alert: Collision damage to navigation systems.
    Procedure: Auto-repair systems initialised.
    Alert: Cerebral activity detected in Vault C Pod 42. Inducing delta wave pattern.

    Between the shadows of the forest, trees grow as evening falls. I climb the shadows but fall back and float down into the drifts of leaves, clouds of them swirling around me. I laugh now I know that in my dream I am a child.
    She tells me to hush. “This is not our place.”
    “We could live here. In the wild, like wolves.”
    “There aren’t any wolves. Not anymore.”
    “Where did they go?”
    “Haven’t you read Little Red Riding Hood? The woodsmen killed them all.”
    I want to kiss her, but she runs from me, back into the sodium glare of the city. Things are not good between us,

    HA 3: Magellan. 34,659 Days AD.
    Warning: Navigation systems failed to lock onto guide star.
    Alert: Cerebral activity detected in Vault C Pod 42. Decreasing pod temperature by 0.5K.

    I pack my suitcase. It takes a long time as the suitcase is infinitely deep and by the time I shut it with a final click of the lock, I am an old man with hair growing from my ears.
    She watches but does not say anything. These days she spends more and more time as a cat, aloof, out late at night on mysterious journeys. She follows me out of the house as I leave. The Earth is still suspended in the night sky like a droplet of water. She touches it and it bursts and the greens and blues trickle over her face.

    HA 3: Magellan. 829,771 Days AD.
    Warning: Complete navigation system failure.
    Status: No cerebral activity detected in cargo.
    Procedure: System shutdown.

    Liked by 2 people

    • The back and forth from system updates to dreams is intense, and there’s so much ‘OMG, what is happening?’ in all the details.

      Like

  9. My husband Hank holds my hand as we walk into the magistrate’s courtroom. If all went well, today, we’d adopt the seventeen-year-old boy we’d been fostering for the last six months. Most of which he’d spent in drug rehab. His friend and our neighbor Jacoby came to witness the adoption today.

    We push open the heavy wooden doors. The courtroom is stark: white walls, grey carpet, black chairs at a pair of conference tables in the middle of the room. Four other families sit on the pew-like benches facing the judge’s bench. We take a seat near the front. Jimmy fidgets with his tie, shuffles his new dress shoes. He’s chewing with nothing in his mouth, which I’m told is a side effect of cocaine addiction. I finally give him some gum.

    A short woman wearing a red shirt and white skirt walks in with papers in her hand. She smiles at us.

    “The judge will be in shortly. Once he comes in, we’ll all stand and then he’ll seat us. Once that happens, he’ll call families up one at a time. I’ve got your papers here and all that’s left is the signatures.” A door near the back opens and the judge walks in. “All rise.”

    “Please be seated,” the judge says. “I’m Judge Jim Pearson and I have to say, this is my favorite part of the job. Who’s excited to have a forever family?”

    The little kids cheer and my heart melts when Jimmy smiles and raises his hand.

    “Great! Would the Woodward family come forward?”

    It’s heartwarming to see how happy the kids are to get their new families. Over the last few months, our home has been studied, we’ve answered countless questions, and been put under a microscope. But it’s all worth it to be able to participate in National Adoption Day.

    “Would the Marks family please come forward?”

    Hank and I walk up front, Jimmy at our side. The judge smiles at us.

    “Jimmy, are you ready to have Hank and Eleanor as your parents?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Do you want them to adopt you?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “All right. Sign the papers here and you will become James Charles Marks.”

    I nearly cry as I sign the papers. Hank’s hand shakes. Jimmy grins. Once it’s official, we hug each other. The judge stands up.

    “Everyone stand up, please.” Once everyone is standing, he speaks again. “Kids: congratulations on your forever families. Parents: what you are doing is no small task. It’s hard to take in a child that isn’t yours and raise them. But you’re doing these kids a good turn. And they will never forget this day. Even when you’re all mad at each other, because it will happen, this day will stand out in their minds. Let’s get a group photo.”

    I wrap my arms around my son. He’s going to be a challenge. He could lose all control at any time. But I don’t care. He’s my son and I love him.

    @Aightball
    500 words

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Alcubierre Fleet: T-minus 18:00 minutes until jump:

    “You know we’re making history today, ladies and gentlemen. You are part of the first full fleet with independent Alcubierre fold drives. We’re in Earth orbit now, but in less than twenty minutes, we’ll be in an unexplored quadrant of the galaxy.”

    Cheers from the crews sounded throughout the fleet of one hundred fifteen ships.

    “All personnel, this is EASA Launch Control. Please complete final launch preparations at this time. T-minus 16:00 minutes until jump. All control personnel, return to Launch Control.”

    T-minus 10:00:

    “Do you really think this will work?”

    “Stars, Bryant, you really think now is the time to worry about the feasibility of the op? That was a question to ask before you signed on EASA’s dotted line in blood.”

    I, Randall Jacob Bryant IV, nephew generations removed from a legend, swallowed hard, trying to settle my nerves.

    “I just—I need to do this. It’s just—”

    “You won’t be the first Bryant lost in space if it goes wrong.”

    “Yeah, that.” I settled into my seat and buckled in. The time to back out had passed months, maybe years ago.

    “Let’s make sure you’re the last.”

    I swung my head right as warm fingers wrapped around mine. Justin Locke offered a smile. In it, I saw a promise kept. I squeezed his hand.

    “Just, you didn’t have to give up your life on land for this.”

    “I gave it up for you, jackass.” He slipped his hand free and cuffed me upside the head. “You just need to live up to your end of the deal and make it worth my while.”

    My lips curled up. I caught him by the nape and tugged him close. Lips and tongues and teeth tangled and teased.

    T-minus 5:00:

    In my sleep, in dreams that seem impossible when I wake, we finished this journey as heroes. Maybe we even found the ill-fated Gaea’s Ark. Maybe I learned what happened to Gemma Bryant and her crew.

    So many fucking maybes.

    T-minus 1:00:

    Justin rested his head on my shoulder. His fingers moved restlessly with mine, the only sign of nerves we still allowed this close to the jump.

    T-minus 0:30:

    “See you on the other side, lover,” Justin whispered.

    “I won’t have it any other way.”

    He commanded the kiss this time, one last hurrah before we leaped into the unknown.

    “I love you.”

    I feel the words against my lips.

    T-minus 0:10:

    “Alcubierre, you are go for jump.”

    “Copy that, EASA. Fleet jump initiated.”

    T-minus 0:00.

    @caramichaels
    425 words

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Inclement Weather

    The street is alive with blue and red flashing lights, blaring emergency sirens, and the steady rhythm of rain. Paul Gideon pushes through the on-lookers surrounding the perimeter, flashes his badge at the officers on crowd patrol, and hustles toward the white luxury sedan bent around a light post.

    Before he reaches the vehicle, one of the EMTs spots him and says, “She’s okay, Detective.”

    He stops and takes a couple deep breaths. Okay is good. Maybe the nausea and sweats will stop now. Need to settle down before she sees him.

    “Gid,” the EMT calls to him. “You want a moment before we move her?”

    “Thanks, Ruben,” he says, long legs making short work of the distance to the car. “Somebody find me an umbrella.”

    Danielson joins him as he reaches the car and hands him a bright red umbrella. “Here you go, sir.”

    He nods his thanks, opens the umbrella, and uses it to cover the opening where the driver’s door had been. “You need anything before the boys put you in the ambulance?”

    A weak smile flashes across her face. “Not much of a bedside manner.”

    “Good thing I’m not a doctor.”

    “Good thing.”

    There are words converging on his tongue, rushing from his chest cavity and hurtling out of his skull, but he remains still and silent.

    “Trouble is,” she says, hand coming to rest on his knee, “this is one of those rare moments I’d welcome an emotional response.”

    He reaches into the car and brushes the tendrils of damp hair off her forehead.

    She smiles and it stays a little longer this time. “That’s a good start.”

    He trails a finger down her jaw. “What if this is all there is? What if this is how I behave when I lose all control? Is it enough? Am I enough for you, Eugenia?”

    Her eyes meet his.

    “I’m not bold and commanding like your husband. Maybe that’s why you keep putting me off. Maybe I can’t live up to his memory.”

    “That’s not it -”

    The words couldn’t be reined in any longer. “I walked out of section exams when Danielson sent news of the accident. I made it across town in half the time to get to you. And I’m right here with you, in front of my peers, the public, and the media, openly giving you more time and attention than I have ever afforded anyone. For god’s sake, tell me that’s enough.”

    Her fingers close over his, where they linger on her cheek, and her eyes close. “More than enough. But I don’t know how to reconcile myself to the difference in -”

    He leaned into the car, all warm damp heat and masculine intensity. “When you’re all patched up and tucked into a hospital bed, I’m going to lock the door and show you just how quickly I lose control when it comes to you.”

    @bullishink / 493 ineligible words

    Liked by 1 person

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