NEW PLAN. I don't touch a synth until I get SOMETHING written. Man, I've got all these random unfinished drabbles that I can easily craft into something great, if I can just rediscover my motivation...
“I thought something smelled like Scarborough Fair.”
“You think so? Because that’s what I was going for.”
“As touching as it is that you’ve turned our room into the namesake of my favorite song, love, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a massive fire hazard.”
In the light of what must have been three-dozen candles, Len pulled Oliver to him and kissed his forehead.
“Nothing’s gonna catch on fire,” he promised, tracing his fingernails over Oliver’s cheek. “The only uncontrolled flames here will be the flames of our desire.”
Oliver coughed.
“Great,” he scolded, shoulders shaking with a barely-repressed laugh. “I’m already turned off.”
“You think so? Because that’s what I was going for.”
“As touching as it is that you’ve turned our room into the namesake of my favorite song, love, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a massive fire hazard.”
In the light of what must have been three-dozen candles, Len pulled Oliver to him and kissed his forehead.
“Nothing’s gonna catch on fire,” he promised, tracing his fingernails over Oliver’s cheek. “The only uncontrolled flames here will be the flames of our desire.”
Oliver coughed.
“Great,” he scolded, shoulders shaking with a barely-repressed laugh. “I’m already turned off.”
?
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