themkshrine

Title:  A Taste of Bobka 

Author:  Shannon

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  PG-13

Satina’s Challenge:  A 212-word drabble told from the POV of a “Red Shirt”, (a third person, not M or K, telling the story.) 

……….

I was at the corner of 7^th and University when I saw them.  Having been a P.I. for 25 years, I knew a guy tailing someone when I saw it, even in the San Diego midnight fog. 

The first one, black-jacket, went in City Diner.  I saw his profile checking out the bobka in the glass cases while the detective-looking one hung back, out of view.  I watched him peer in.  Saw Black-Jacket point to a bobka, frowning.  Saw Following-Guy lick his lips.  I wondered what was so interesting about this guy’s dessert. 

I saw Jacket take the bobka and pocket it, turn to leave.  Detective Armani jumped back, ducking into the empty lot behind the diner.  The signal for ‘Walk’ came on, but I kept watching.

Bobka-guy was about to walk past where Armani was hiding against the wall.  I squinted to see.  I saw Armani’s hands grab Bobka into the shadows.  I was about to call the cops when I noticed how close they were…how Armani’s lips nearly brushed Bobka’s as he spoke urgently. 

I sighed, relaxing.  If Armani was after a piece of Bobka , it looked like self-same was more than willing to offer it up.  I zipped up my coat, hunched my shoulders, and crossed the street.

themkshrine

Author:  Satina

Pairing:  M/K pre-slash

Rating:  R

Note:  Written for another drabble challenge given to me by Shan.  What it was will be revealed at the end.  ;-)

 ...

He’s not even naked,  I tell myself, shifting in my seat. 

I watch his bare abs flex hard as his body rocks. 

I’ve seen better bodies, I rationalize. 

He spreads his legs wider and I do the same. 

He’s straight, I remind myself, hand inching toward my inseam. 

His biceps flex as he leans in and then away.  He slides his fingers inside for a moment, and my breath catches, hand a millimeter away from brushing my erection.  He raises his head, and his free hand lifts to wipe sweat off his brow.  Then his right uncurls, and I let out a sigh of relief, finally past the danger zone.

 He turns off the iron and puts on his shirt, then finishes getting ready for work.  I wipe my hand on my jeans.

 Close one.

END

 The challenge:  Krycek almost jerks off while surveilling Mulder, who is ironing shirtless.