Jumper is a story written for the Less Than Three press serial anthology "If Your Reading This". I'm so loving it and I can't wait to share.
So here, in no particular order, are the top three songs that inspires me for the story:
My entire body went numb as I stared up at the cream colored stucco ceiling. Every thought, every emotion I had bottled up in the last three weeks was on the tip of my fingers, my toes, and my tongue. I wanted to scream, to cry, and to drink more until I couldn't feel the pain of losing him.
“Sort of,” I sighed, remembering the day he left me like it was yesterday. “I don't know. Everything was wonderful until about a couple of months ago.”
In my mind, those fights weren't nothing. We handled them like two grown adults and were back to our usual selves the next morning. But Tanner must have thought through them, or he already had that guy and was trying to find a way to kick me out of his life.
The thought left me trembling. My face flushed. I shouldn't be thinking of this here but it was almost impossible after it was brought up.
“Joey?” A rustle in the corner made me turn my head, Dillon had gotten up, and stood next to the bed. “Are you okay?” His soft brown eyes narrowed in on me.
Tears stung in the corners of my eyes and slid down my temples. My heart ached, welled up into my throat, and I sniffled. I shook my head, no, because I wasn't okay.
He knelt on the bed beside me, hand reached out to gently wipe an escaping tear from my cheek. “You'll be okay. It'll take some time--”
My eyes brightened, realized that he was so close, and I could feel the soothing warmth from his touch comforting the hurt. Shit!
He must have thought it to be panic and swiftly moved his hand away from my face. I caught his wrist, the movement faster than I thought I could pull off, and stared into his tender eyes.
I licked my lips as he carefully bent closer, and my heart began to thunder in my chest. I needed him closer, to help me forget about the pain, not only what happened with Tanner, but with us as well. His lips brushed against mine, and my tongue darted out, lips opening wide to taste the alcohol resonating on his breath.
Letting go of his wrist, I wrapped my arms around his back and his muscles tensed. He had me pinned underneath his warmth, a place that I'd secretly wanted to be since I took that first honest look at him back at the party.
His lips moved across my cheek, and I tucked my head into his shoulder. There it was, that heady scent of cologne on him, and I drank in that intoxicating aroma, my entire body tingling, needfully grasping at his taut muscles. My pants had become too tight. My vision swirled.
It's too fucking hot in here.
This snog comes from a polished and subbed story called Angel's Redemption. Main character Blaine Schneider is a little shocked to have an angel, Lynsael, suddenly living with him. He's even more shocked when Lyn tries to kiss him...
Just then, the kitchen tap hissed, and Blaine turned to spot Lynsael at the sink. Dishes clanked together as he filled the basin with soapy water. Lynsael scrubbed at the dirty dishes, the baggy jeans that Blaine had loaned him barely held up by the belt. He even washed the bowl that Blaine had used for cereal before he'd left for practice.
Clank, he set the first plate in the strainer, robust shoulders tensed as Lynsael stretched his body out across the double sink to reach. Then he seized hold of the loops of his jeans, yanked them up to his waist, and continued to the next plate.
Maybe Blaine could apologize for being such an ass. Besides, he didn't even ask Lynsael to do the dishes. In fact, Lynsael didn't really have to do anything but be the marvelous creature that was originally carved in the sculpture; the strong, lean, handsome angel that had came alive under the pure white light.
Bubbles of soap waved and fluttered in the air as Lynsael continued the job. His jeans threatened to fall around his hips, and, again, he jerked them back up. Black wings spread wide across his back, and his long, dark hair waved behind him as he moved back and forth, setting the dishes to dry.
He was that glorious angel Blaine knew from the statue. The same beautiful creature with delicately carved muscles, and an ethereal face.
Blaine choked down the butterflies rising in his stomach. His heart thumped into his throat. Slowly, he stepped back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter next to Lynsael, who refused to look at him.
“You don't have to do that, you know,” Blaine said, feeling a little foolish for the way he'd acted.
“I just figured I might as well.” Lynsael shrugged, stretching to put a fork away.
Blaine reached out and grabbed Lynsael's arm. “Lyn.” He turned and furrowed his brows. “Don't--” the words caught on Blaine's tongue as he focused in on the perfectly sculpted face, the same one he couldn't take his eyes off when he first saw the completed statue.
Lynsael's face flushed red; his arm began to tremble. Blaine tempted himself to pull him in and steal those full, inviting lips, but Blaine didn't have the chance to struggle with his fascination. Lynsael leaned into him, and brushed his pale lips against Blaine's.
Blaine's legs felt weak, and his heart thumped hard in his chest. It was perfect; the moist, plump lips on his, and the lean, warm body pressed so close. He just couldn't take it. The heat built up into Blaine's cheeks; he dropped Lynsael's arm and backed away.
“That was...” Blaine couldn't find the words.
“Wonderful?” Lynsael tried, as he closed the gap between them.
Blaine pushed against Lynsael's clothed chest. “No. Weird.” He slid against the counter, and freed himself from Lynsael's warmth.
His feet had threatened to trip him as he staggered his way back into the living room. The flush of heat through his body lessened, leaving him flustered. “I... gotta get ready for bed,” Blaine said, feeling Lynsael's presence hovering behind him.
“But it's early—”
“Gotta work at six in the morning,” Blaine replied, stumbling off into the bedroom.