B7 Friday is a LiveJournal 'community'
which posts a weekly theme. Some of my stories wound up suggestively homo-erotic or 'kinky'. |
| At Sword's Point (theme was Falling) When one has been utterly defeated, the traditional thing is to fall on one's sword. Blake had won,totally, accepting Avon's surrender with an annoying lack of surprise. Fortunately for both of them, Avon never was one for following tradition. And it was much more pleasant falling on Blake's sword. | Heart to Heart (theme was Prior Knowledge) I looked at those freshly scrubbed faces, freshly scrubbed brains, in my graduate class and there he was, shining bright as a new credit, shining bright. And clever, oh, my yes, he was as bright as his hair. I always did have a weakness for blondes. I requested a blonde for my son’s mother, did you know? He looked like an angel, but I was wrong about him, wasn’t I? Oh, yes. I caught him with my son; trying… well, I caught him in time. I’ve a bad heart, very bad, but Dorian’s heart is far more rotten than mine. |
| Lost and Found (theme was to use as your first sentence one from a list of story beginnings by the other owner of B7 Friday) "Where do you think you are going with that?" Blake resisted the urge to hide the offending item behind his back. "I was going to return it to its owner, if you must know." He blushed, even though he had innocently enough found it on the flight deck couch after Jenna's night watch. Avon looked at the black lace brassiere, and held out his hand. "Give it to me." "Why should I let you return it to Jenna…" Blake's blush deepened, as he realized Jenna must have had a reason to take it off. Avon's eyebrows raised. "Who mentioned Jenna?" | To fill a request :slash/ science fiction/ Bach/ 17th or 18th century music/ British sign language. Back to Bach For their fourth wedding anniversary, Avon used his new time-travel machine to send him and Blake back to Old Earth to hear some of the world's greatest music, as played by the original composers. Unfortunately the machine had a slight drawback. It only sent your consciousness back to the body of a person who belonged in that time. Avon, much to his annoyance, became a famous castrati, and Blake a nearly deaf labourer. Fortunately, they both knew British sign language. Avon's subtle hand-gestures during a concert invited Blake for a private recital of baroque chamber music. Then they went home. |
| Early to bed and Early to Rise (the theme was figures of speech, proverbs... I got carried away.) Avon said, "The phoenix is rising again." Blake smiled and murmured, "Once more unto the breeches, dear friends; a man's reach should exceed his grasp." "Hey," Vila protested from the other side of the flight deck couch, "Quit playing both ends against the middle!" "Sorry," Blake replied, "All cats are black in the night." Avon said, "I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole." Blake snickered, "Now you're just being modest." "I thought you said all men are created equal, Blake?" Vila put in. "It all depends on whose ox is gored, "Blake replied. "Heads I win, tails you lose." "The best things come in small packages," Avon replied, "That's the way the ball bounces." "The ball is in your court, then," Blake said cheerily. "Close, but no cigar." "How come I never get Avon?" Vila said grumpily. "Because I don't cast my pearls before swine." Avon squirmed around and found Blake. "Ah, speak softly and carry a big stick." "One swallow doesn't make a summer," Blake protested when Avon paused. "You have to take the bitter with the sweet." "Don't teach your grandmother how to suck eggs," Avon retorted. "There's a sucker born every minute," Vila informed him, hopefully. "So, the worm turns," Avon said with satisfaction to Blake. "Go paddle your own canoe," he told Vila. "Keep your nose to the grindstone," Blake ordered. "Let him stew in his own juices while you keep a stiff upper lip." "A rising tide lifts all boats?" Vila said suggestively. Avon paused to think about it. "No man can serve two masters." "Better a big fish in a little pond than a little fish in a big pond." Vila backed up to Avon. "Let the cat out of the bag, and put the pig in the poke." Avon investigated Vila. "Great oaks from little acorns grow. I wouldn't like to meet you in a dark alley. It's like opening a can of worms." "Oh, come on, Avon, you've made your bed, now lie in it." Avon surrendered. "The squeaky wheel gets the grease, otherwise you can't fit a square peg into a round hole." "It's more blessed to give than to receive," Avon said to Vila's back. "Beware of geeks bearing gifts," Vila said happily as Avon got to the seat of his problem. "Don't close the barn door after the horse has strayed," Blake said, putting Avon between a rock and a hard place. "I think I'll try the carrot and stick approach on this ass." Avon groaned as Blake gave him an inch and he took a mile. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Blake grinned. "The world is my oyster." Vila stealthily went to work. "Never let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." After the feast comes the reckoning. "All good things come in threes," Vila murmured and started to move. "Let sleeping Kerrs lie," Blake said. "Nice guys finish last," Vila grumbled just before falling asleep. |
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