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The Metslash Drabble Thread!; Anyone can post! All ratings!
Topic Started: October 12, 2012, 10:39 am (1,284 Views)
!JaceyNewkid!
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I've had this idea for a while and after a discussion with Isis, who loved the idea, I decided to start 'The Metslash Drabble Thread!'

Here's the rules:

-Anyone can post their drabbles.
-The drabbles must stick to a 1000 word limit or below.
-Please write the pairings and title at the start of the drabble, just to give a heads up for readers.
-There's no limits on how many you can post so post away!
-The pairings must be slash, male/male.
-Sexual content, mature language etc is allowed of course...this is slash people! :P
-ENJOY!!!

This thread is a great start for new writers to practice and also to new slash writers as well. The 1000 word limit is just to keep the posts short and sweet and not to clog the place up :tu:

So I shall begin [with my first Kirk/Lars mind you]:


Smokin’ Class – Kirk/Lars
Load Era

Feeling the breeze on my neck, I knew today was going to be a great day and what better day then to spend it with your favorite person. Mr. Kirk Hammett was my everything; I couldn’t imagine a world without him.

Kirk invited me to his private island and I happily accepted his invitation. Any way possible for me to spend time with him meant the world to me. I’m always so happy when I’m around him, he makes me feel warm inside and complete.

I exited the private jet that transported me to the location and made my way towards the front door of his island villa, a beautiful white sun soaked deity with palm tress lining the drive way. I felt my body growing anxious all of a sudden, guessing it was just the excitement to see him. I pressed the doorbell that erupted the most awesome ring I had ever heard, it was a famous riff Kirk had wrote some years ago. His villa was personalized in every aspect. The door handle had turned slowly and then the door eased open to reveal my boy Kirk, sporting slicked back hair and a furry leopard print coat.

“Lars!” He jumped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around me. This gave me the chance to sniff him out for his latest cologne. It was an intoxicating musky scent that drowned my nostrils in ecstasy. He was always so classy, looked good and smelt good too. He ushered me inside to the living room. I sat down onto the lounge and Kirk offered me a drink, of course I’d chosen his best wine. He didn’t hesitate and was more than happy to share his best wines with me. He sat down beside me and poured me a glass to half way before handing it to me. I smiled and took the first sip, delicious, I licked my lips and noticed Kirk twitch at my sly movement. I responded with a cheeky wink.

Kirk was a keen cigar smoker and he had taken out a red box from under the seat, which contained 10 luxurious long cigars. He took one out, rested it on his lower lip and lit it with a match. He shuffled himself closer to me and slid his arm around my shoulders. My heart started to race and he took a couple of puffs on his cigar and exhaled the brilliant smelling smoke all over my face. The smoke caused my eyes to flutter violently but I took it in and felt my mind go into a high. I couldn’t just stare at him anymore. I needed a taste and in no time I had found myself closing the miniature gap between us and pressing my lips against his. Kirk moaned at first but eased into it willingly.

I removed Kirk’s coat off his left shoulder and kissed the exposed skin gently with the slightest touch of my lips. He moaned in delight and tilted his head backwards, beckoning for more. I accepted and went on to remove the coat completely from his body. To my surprise, and utter delight, he was completely naked under the coat this whole time. He had pulled back and spread his legs, giving me a full view of himself. He took a couple more puffs on his cigar and wriggled his index finger, gesturing for me to come to him. I smiled and crawled over to him on my knees. I was now on top of him and he unbuttoned my shirt whilst breathing more smoke into my face. He traced my jaw line with the side of his mouth and lowered onto my neck.

Energy was now heating up as Kirk had succeeded in removing both my shirt and pants. We were both now totally exposed to each other but we were enjoying every second of it. I slid my hands down from his chest to his hips and formed a tight grip on them. I was met with the viciously delectable lips again as well as his arms around my neck, fingers digging into the back of my head. Sweat was forming all over our bodies as we continued to make out passionately and feel each other all over. Whenever a sudden movement was made on the sensitive parts, both Kirk and I responded with twitches and moans, giving us both pleasing results.

“Are you ready for this?” Kirk had enough and was ready to move on further. We both had to have each other so all I replied with was:

“Fuck yes I’m ready.”

***

MUHAHAHA sorry to stop there... :biggrin
Edited by !JaceyNewkid!, October 12, 2012, 10:52 am.
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Isis
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Great idea! :D Liked what you wrote there, a little teasing ending. :P I think you did well for your first Kirk/Lars.

Here's an old drabble I have.

Repetition - James/Jason.
Set in 2002.

The place is still the same. Jason isn’t. “James?” He peeks a little out the front door, looking at James the same way he’d look at gum under his boot. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Get out.”

“Jase—”

“I said, get out.”

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.” The door shuts. “Jason, please.

“You had enough time.”

“I—”

He slams it in his face.

The screen door bounces and rattles around, until it finally settles down. It looks like a steel cage, barring away the world from his home—their home. Former home.

“Shit.”

Tomorrow. James turns away, back to his truck. I’ll try again tomorrow.
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!JaceyNewkid!
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Thanks! I'll have plenty more soon :P Aww I love yours so much! So cute but sad, poor James :wub:
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Voxx
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^^lfkjfglkjsdflkj!!

Trin! You need to write more J/J!

This killed me. </3

I've said it before, I'll say it again, you are the master of all things slash. :heart:

So beautiful. So few words and so freaking beautiful. Gah.
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Isis
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Thanks. :) Have another one (old one again, I'll write something new and fresh later today).

Mile High - James/Jason
Set in Oct 1996.

James liked fucking him in either really weird or really dangerous places. Yesterday, it was the dangerous: the bathroom of Lars’s gloriously indulgent suite. Tomorrow, it’ll be the weird: the back of some dumpster outside the venue. Or a graveyard. Or at the damn movies, again, during Independence Day or Jerry McGuire or whatever.

Today mixed the two. Having sex on the plane, in the back. Between the seats.

He tried to warn him. “Not here.”

James’s hand squeezed his dick. His glare made him gasp. The mouth covering his shut him up good.

So there he was, staring at the back of Kirk and Lars’s sleeping heads, fucking between the seats, James sitting on the chair, Jason sitting on his dick. And what should’ve felt hot as hell--as hot as James’s panting on his neck and his growling and the bite marks that’d bruise and purple by the time the plane landed in France--made Jason feel completely awkward and off.

But James knew how to move his hips. Knew what made him twitch. How to make him come hard. And he did.

With the hand on his dick, the teeth on his ear, the nails leaving welts on his thigh, hip, waist, clawing like a needy angry animal, Jason came over the back of the seat, his stomach, the floor. And he slumped back onto James a sweaty, tired mess, the pounding in his head and heart as uncontrolled and violent as his shaking arms and legs.

James showed no exhaustion, save the hard breathing heating his ear. His hand left Jason’s softening dick and trailed up the come on his stomach, all the way to his chest, and he petted it like he would a dog. “Mm.” Teeth scraped his reddened, purpled neck, tonguing a hickey. “Nice.”

Jason sucked in his bottom lip and shut his eyes.

When they landed two hours later, Jason walked out bow-legged, James right on his tail, heading for the limo.

Behind them, Lars and Kirk shared a knowing look.
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newkid96
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Isis
October 16, 2012, 11:34 am
Thanks. :) Have another one (old one again, I'll write something new and fresh later today).

Mile High - James/Jason
Set in Oct 1996.

James liked fucking him in either really weird or really dangerous places. Yesterday, it was the dangerous: the bathroom of Lars’s gloriously indulgent suite. Tomorrow, it’ll be the weird: the back of some dumpster outside the venue. Or a graveyard. Or at the damn movies, again, during Independence Day or Jerry McGuire or whatever.

Today mixed the two. Having sex on the plane, in the back. Between the seats.

He tried to warn him. “Not here.”

James’s hand squeezed his dick. His glare made him gasp. The mouth covering his shut him up good.

So there he was, staring at the back of Kirk and Lars’s sleeping heads, fucking between the seats, James sitting on the chair, Jason sitting on his dick. And what should’ve felt hot as hell--as hot as James’s panting on his neck and his growling and the bite marks that’d bruise and purple by the time the plane landed in France--made Jason feel completely awkward and off.

But James knew how to move his hips. Knew what made him twitch. How to make him come hard. And he did.

With the hand on his dick, the teeth on his ear, the nails leaving welts on his thigh, hip, waist, clawing like a needy angry animal, Jason came over the back of the seat, his stomach, the floor. And he slumped back onto James a sweaty, tired mess, the pounding in his head and heart as uncontrolled and violent as his shaking arms and legs.

James showed no exhaustion, save the hard breathing heating his ear. His hand left Jason’s softening dick and trailed up the come on his stomach, all the way to his chest, and he petted it like he would a dog. “Mm.” Teeth scraped his reddened, purpled neck, tonguing a hickey. “Nice.”

Jason sucked in his bottom lip and shut his eyes.

When they landed two hours later, Jason walked out bow-legged, James right on his tail, heading for the limo.

Behind them, Lars and Kirk shared a knowing look.
Hot:p :heart:
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Jungleland
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Woo drabbles! A tiny one from months and months ago:

Heat - James/Kirk
1983

"Body heat," Kirk says. "That'll warm you up."

James's knees get closer to his chest. "I don't..."

"Come on. It's fine."

Cold air slips underneath the comforter when he moves his arm. He wanted to reach for James, who slides closer by himself with a shaky "Shit, fine." There's still some space between them. "How..."

"Come here."

"Don't say that," James growls, but hitches even closer.

Kirk curls an arm around him, and presses their chests together. Their faces are too close for comfort--James's eyes immediately close after widening.

Noses touch. The hand on his back slowly slides higher.

(yes I considered that an ending)
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Isis
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Only you can make me enjoy James/Kirk. Soon enough, you'll make me write a fic. A full blown epic-y one. (Damn you.) :heart:
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Jungleland
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Isis
October 17, 2012, 6:09 pm
Only you can make me enjoy James/Kirk. Soon enough, you'll make me write a fic. A full blown epic-y one. (Damn you.) :heart:
:D
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kirkhammettismyman
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Love is Control - James and Lars
2003

"So, like, when can I see you?" he half asked half pleaded down the phone.
"I don't know," was the reply.
"James! Who are you talking to?" came a muffled voice from the other line.
"No one, it's no one," he heard James say.

Go on, he thought, lie to her.

"I gotta go."

Dead line.

"FUUUUCK!" Lars yelled, throwing the phone across the room.

He always did this shit, he was never available to him, he was always brushing off his calls, hanging up on him, he was ashamed of him like he was the dirty little secret.

He pulled himself off the bed and stumbled across the room to the bathroom noting the shattered handset as he went. Now he wouldn't be able to call even if he wanted t-

Oh get a grip Lars, he told himself.

He looked himself over in the mirror. Pulling at his skin slightly, pulling it back and letting it go, as if to try and find where the years hand gone. He barred his teeth to himself and ruffled his own hair before raising the one finger salute to his own reflection and making his way from the bathroom to find his cigarettes.

He rummaged through his room, swearing, bickering with himself, where the fuck did you leave them Lars. He left the bedroom and headed for the living room.

Of course after an age of searching in his bedroom, they were in the most obvious and noticable spot in the living room, so he picked them up straight away with a "thank fuck" and headed right for the balcony.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he looked out from his hotel balcony he wondered what it all meant, why was he alone, why was he blowing him off. He replied their last conversation over and over in his head.

"It's no one," he'd said.
No one? He couldn't believe it. He was sleeping in a hotel after his wife and mother of his kids had kicked him out after he'd been caught out in yet another lie about them but now they were nothing? He was a no one?

He cursed again and went inside.

He knew deep down that this was James, he didn't know how to be the "loving guy" whenever he loved something he choked it to death. Love meant control to him. This was his method of control, keeping Lars at arms length.

But maybe Lars couldn't do it anymore. Maybe he didn't want to be hanging around for this to happen again and again and...

The room phone rang and Lars dived to answer it.

It was him.

"Sorry, it was Fran, I couldn't..." his voice trailed off as if he was covering the phone, "can I come tomorrow?"
Damn.
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Isis
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^ ;; </3

Awesome.
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!JaceyNewkid!
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These new ones are great! I'll post another one tonight :)
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Jungleland
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kirkhammettismyman
October 18, 2012, 5:16 pm
Love is Control - James and Lars
2003

"So, like, when can I see you?" he half asked half pleaded down the phone.
"I don't know," was the reply.
"James! Who are you talking to?" came a muffled voice from the other line.
"No one, it's no one," he heard James say.

Go on, he thought, lie to her.

"I gotta go."

Dead line.

"FUUUUCK!" Lars yelled, throwing the phone across the room.

He always did this shit, he was never available to him, he was always brushing off his calls, hanging up on him, he was ashamed of him like he was the dirty little secret.

He pulled himself off the bed and stumbled across the room to the bathroom noting the shattered handset as he went. Now he wouldn't be able to call even if he wanted t-

Oh get a grip Lars, he told himself.

He looked himself over in the mirror. Pulling at his skin slightly, pulling it back and letting it go, as if to try and find where the years hand gone. He barred his teeth to himself and ruffled his own hair before raising the one finger salute to his own reflection and making his way from the bathroom to find his cigarettes.

He rummaged through his room, swearing, bickering with himself, where the fuck did you leave them Lars. He left the bedroom and headed for the living room.

Of course after an age of searching in his bedroom, they were in the most obvious and noticable spot in the living room, so he picked them up straight away with a "thank fuck" and headed right for the balcony.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he looked out from his hotel balcony he wondered what it all meant, why was he alone, why was he blowing him off. He replied their last conversation over and over in his head.

"It's no one," he'd said.
No one? He couldn't believe it. He was sleeping in a hotel after his wife and mother of his kids had kicked him out after he'd been caught out in yet another lie about them but now they were nothing? He was a no one?

He cursed again and went inside.

He knew deep down that this was James, he didn't know how to be the "loving guy" whenever he loved something he choked it to death. Love meant control to him. This was his method of control, keeping Lars at arms length.

But maybe Lars couldn't do it anymore. Maybe he didn't want to be hanging around for this to happen again and again and...

The room phone rang and Lars dived to answer it.

It was him.

"Sorry, it was Fran, I couldn't..." his voice trailed off as if he was covering the phone, "can I come tomorrow?"
Damn.
My kind of angst :heart:
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Isis
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Decay - James/Lars
Set in Jan 2001.

“It’s done, uh?”

Lars looked over his shoulder. James stood in the doorway of their kitchen, hands in his leather pockets. “The press release?”

He shook his head no. “That.” And nodded down. To his hand.

His fingers closed around the old bracelet James bought him, back in '85. Lars tucked it back into his jean pocket.

James’s boots made too much noise in the room. He liked the silence before, for once. He could hear the little things: the sound of tires on pavement outside the open window, the hum of the fan above him, the bzz of the fluorescent lights, his own breathing. Now all he heard matched all he saw: James, James’s leather squeaking, James’s boots creaking on the wood, James’s breathing, James’s voice.

James said, “Can’t be fixed,” and it twisted Lars’s gut.

He sounded like Jason did today, in that hotel room. As final and as certain. Can’t be fixed. Can’t do anything. I’m gone. I’m out of here. This is lame, and weak.

Weak.

Lars looked at James, taking the seat next to him.

He felt James’s fingers brush the wrist of the hand tucked away.

“Let me see it.”

“Why?”

“C’mon.”

“Go away.”

“Please.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, unfurling his fingers.

James’s attention went to the cloth bracelet. He lifted it up. “Wore it out.”

“Yeah.”

“Not going to get it repaired?”

“No need.”

Blue eyes flicked away. They stared right at him—right through him, and Lars repressed his shiver when James whispered, “Yes there is.”

His hand snatched the bracelet back. “What for, uh?” His voice cracked. “What’s the fucking point?”

James leaned in.

Lars crushed the bracelet. Twisted it up.

“Tell me,” he hissed.

James turned blurry.

“What’s the fucking point?”

James’s hand cupped his neck. It pushed down.

His forehead pressed onto James’s leather shoulder. Black filled up his vision. Leather stunk the air.

Fingers brushed the ends of his hair.

James’s other hand rested on the small of his back.

The bracelet fluttered to the ground.

His arms snapped around James’s waist, squeezing tight like his shut eyelids. He smothered his face into the leather, and up and down went James’s hand on his spine, gentle strokes matching his breathing.

James pulled him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom. They laid down side-by-side, James’s hands petting him into sleep.

Soon, the hands stopped moving. James’s breathing turned into snores. He glanced up to stare at James’s peaceful face, then kissed his cool cheek.

He eyed his own bare wrist. James’s bracelet, worn and gone. Too weak to survive.

Lars’s fingers dug into James’s leather jacket, shutting his eyes again.
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!JaceyNewkid!
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Please Come Home - James/Jason
Sometime in 2002

I miss him. I feel like my entire world shatters every time I think about how he just walked out on us, especially me. I loved him more than anything but maybe he just didn’t have those same feelings for me and besides; I never really gave the man the light of day. I was a complete dickhead to him.

Images of him flooded my mind and all I felt was my heart rip and tear into a hundred painful pieces. For every love I know, another stitch I sew. This one was going to take a very long time to heal. Why couldn’t he just come back to me…

How about a 'James! I miss you man. I apologize. Do you want to hang out again?'

Unfortunately for me, this was not the case.

The turmoil inside continues to grow.
My heart continues to shatter.
The tears continue to fall.
I am nothing without him.

Jason, please come home…
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