Sloan Parker's Three-Word Scenarios
Here's another one of my three-word scenarios (where I take three random words and write whatever scenario comes to mind, using each word at least once.) The words for the following scenario were generated using this random word generator: pumpkin, computer, spark.
(c) halfpoint /
www.fotosearch.com Stock Photography
My Brother's Best Friend
by Sloan Parker
"You done with that pumpkin yet?" Leo was
examining something on his computer. His eyes
never left the screen as he asked me the question
with as much interest as if he was talking to a
telemarketer.
So much for confessing my
feelings for him on Halloween.
We'd been
seated across from each other at the kitchen table
for the past hour, but until he'd asked about the
pumpkin, neither of us had said more than five
words. He had a trial to prepare for, and I had a
pumpkin to gut.
Why'd I buy the thing anyway?
Because I'd always been a sucker for the
holiday. As a kid I'd loved the costumes, the candy,
going to my Grandma's for a tall glass of cider, and
trekking with my brother through the fallen leaves
that covered the sidewalks of our neighborhood in
search of those rare houses with the king-size candy
bars.
Those fond memories were why I'd
thought tonight would be the night I'd work up the
courage to tell Leo I no longer thought of him as
just my older brother's best friend, to tell him I
was seriously crushing on him.
I had been
since the night my brother came home to the
apartment we shared and announced that Leo was going
to crash in our spare room for a while because he
and his wife had separated.
"He's gay," my
brother added as if that was all the explanation I
needed. Maybe he thought all gay men instantly
understood each other and didn't need to speak at
all.
But I did need to speak. It was driving
me crazy not telling Leo how I felt.
He'd
been staying with us for months now. Most nights my
brother went out with whatever girl he was seeing,
leaving Leo and me alone. We'd have dinner together,
then he'd get some work done or suggest we rent a
movie. Sometimes we'd just listen to music and shoot
the shit for hours. I wasn't usually as tongue-tied
as I was now.
Of course, we'd never before
discussed how much I wanted to suck his dick.
"Blake?" He leaned forward and snapped his
fingers in front of my face. "You in there?"
"Yeah. What?"
"Did you finish it?" He
gestured with his head to the pumpkin on the table.
The bumpy, orange surface before me only had one
triangular eye carved into it and nothing else. I
hadn't had the focus to do more than that. "Sure.
It's done."
Even without a mouth, the pumpkin
seemed to be laughing at me.
Leo stood and
stretched his arms over his head, giving me a
glimpse of his stomach as the bottom edge of his
T-shirt rose above the top of his jeans. I wanted to
lick that skin, use my lips to trace the line of
dark hair disappearing into the jeans that were
unbuttoned at the top. I wanted to know if he wore
boxers or briefs underneath, and if he was as
controlled in bed as he was during the day in the
courtroom. Or did he let go when he fucked? I wanted
to know how it felt to have those serious, dark eyes
staring at me in bed.
I licked my lips as he
came around behind me to get a look at my pathetic
carve job.
"That's just about the scariest
jack-o'-lantern I've ever seen."
I elbowed
him in the thigh. "Shut up." I wanted to reach back
and stroke that thigh with the palm of my hand. I
held still.
He didn't. He placed an open hand
on the table beside the pumpkin and leaned over me
so he could get a better look.
He was close;
his chest made contact with my shoulder on his every
breath. Neither of us spoke for a minute. Maybe two.
He didn't need to stare at that stupid one-eyed
jack-o'-lantern that long. There wasn't much to see.
Maybe tonight was the night, after all,
and maybe he wasn't going to tell me to fuck off
like I'd feared.
I turned my head his way. He
did the same until we were eye to eye, and in that
moment I knew. He wanted me the way I'd been wanting
him.
The air in the room seemed to come alive
with energy, like a spark of lightning had
zipped through the space.
"Blake." He
breathed my name more than said it.
Then he
moved with amazing assurance and speed. I couldn't
have stopped him if I'd wanted to. He tugged me out
of the chair and backed me against the refrigerator
behind us. I hit so hard, the upper freezer door
popped open and smacked me in the back of the head.
I didn't care. He was touching me.
His mouth
covered mine.
I wrapped my arms around him,
clutching his back, dragging him closer, desperately
wanting to memorize every inch of his body under my
hands, every moment of the consuming kiss. Because
that one kiss might be all I'd get.
As if I
had a gift for prophesizing, he pulled back.
But he didn't go far. He leaned in again so his
forehead was pressed to my left temple. "I've waited
so long for this." He kissed my cheek, my earlobe.
"Years."
What? Did that mean… "So before?"
He looked away, toward the table and the pumpkin
still sitting there with that taunting eye. Then he
met my gaze again. "Yeah. Long before she and I
called it quits." He nuzzled the side of my neck.
The scratch of his dark stubble on my skin had me
very aware of his touch as he kissed his way up to
my ear. "I think I've wanted you since the day I met
you."
We'd met when I was sixteen, when he
and my brother had been freshmen in college.
Which meant… He'd wanted to be with me for over ten
years.
"I just didn't know how to accept it,"
he added. "I pushed it aside, went on with my life.
Only, my life was all a lie."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why tonight?"
He laughed.
"I've been trying to make a move for weeks now. Just
couldn't figure out how. Never came on to a guy
before, never kissed one." He shook his head,
glanced at the table again. "Watching you there, I
couldn't resist. You just looked so damn adorable
carving that thing." He kissed me, taking his time
now, his hands exploring, his soft, wet tongue
brushing against mine. Then he was backing me across
the kitchen, moving us toward the hallway, toward my
bedroom.
Passing by the table, I caught a
glimpse of the single carved eye socket of that
stupid, beautiful pumpkin—the best damn
jack-o'-lantern on the planet.
"I love
Halloween," I murmured as my lips brushed his again.
Copyright (c) September 2013 by Sloan Parker
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About the Author: Award-winning author Sloan Parker writes passionate, dramatic stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Sloan enjoys writing in the fictional world because in fiction you can be anything, do anything—even fall in love for the first time over and over again. You can learn more about Sloan and her writing at www.sloanparker.com.