Taro (mother2012) wrote,

The fic meme

If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else.

Late to the party as always, but decided to do this. These are from three stories. I'm afraid I didn't stick to one sentence.

The thing I’ve really learned is this: Take each day for the joy it can give. And hold on to the memories of joys past, but leave them in the past. Don’t put any faith in tomorrow. Plan for it, prepare for it, but don’t count on it for happiness.

Suddenly, like God’s Wrath, a ball of fury plummeted through the air, connecting with Orli and sending him flying
off his prey. Elijah watched, bemused, for what seemed like several minutes, as Orli and Dom struggled again. His cock remained hard, watching them, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to have happen. He began to realize that he had
two highly desirable young men fighting over him, which didn’t help either his hard-on or his comfort. If he could haveexcused himself to the bathroom, he’d have gone and jerked off. As it was, however, the whole situation was becoming unbearably embarrassing, and he finally took the only way out he knew. Tackling the two of them, laughing, he got them separated. “Let’s do it again,” he challenged, and took off into the woods.

Elijah obeyed the commands mechanically; “Lie on your back,” “roll over,” “spread your legs,” and even “relax;” while trying to figure out what was happening, why the change. It came to him though, as Thomas breeched his anus for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours. His status had changed from prisoner to possession. A prisoner is to be abused and punished - a possession is to be cherished and taken care of. To his battered body, it was a relief to know that; to his soul it was deeply insulting to the core of his being. A prisoner is a rival, a full person worthy of respect. A possession is subhuman, not equal. He had been well and truly conquered. Tears of defeat stung behind his eyes, but he would not shed them, somehow knowing that if he didn’t mourn his subjugation, then on some level he was still free in his heart.
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