Tag Archives: drabble

Free Read – Jorey’s Wager

This picture was my bit of eyecandy for getting the Torquere LJ readers to offer prompts.


And here’s what they gave me to write with:

Kelgar01:  brr, yummy
Aishabintjamil: sauna, ice, generator
Addison Albright: goggles, wipe-out, stuck
Pink1dragon: nude, muscles, snow boots.
Chris Quinton: icicle, broken, frostbite
Molly Church: cinnamon, fire, starlight
Marasmine:  slalom, flag,  ouch, idiot, blue balls
Coyboygal: hot chocolate, snuggle, cold
TC Blue: platypus, cup,  slushee
Eden Winters: quince,  lemon
Ali Wilde: penguin, champagne, cheese

I’m rather proud of myself for getting the platypus into the story.


“Jorey, you idiot!” I could not believe what I was seeing. Kurt pulled up by the base of my ski lift with something under his arm, which he used to flag down the  ski racer wearing not much besides shin guards. Looked like he was waving Jorey’s long underwear. “What are you doing?” I nearly said, “What the fuck are you doing?” and it would have been appropriate, but I was working and you didn’t say stuff like that in front of the skiers at Wapiti Creek.

“Winning a bet,” Jorey told me grimly when I asked again what he was doing. “Carlson! I want my clothes back!”

I bet Jorey wanted his clothes back. The exertion of his run had made him sweat, and the cold was turning it to sweat slushee over his well defined muscles.

Kurt waved a handful of spandex and microfiber, taunting his erstwhile teammate. “Come on, Kurt, let him dress; he’s making everyone’s goggles fog up.” I could understand it—Jorey was a yummy man, if unrelentingly hetero and inclined to pursue every attractive female in sight. Not that I was interested, mind you, it’s just that I’m not blind.

“Admit it, Jorey, you suck at being a chick magnet.” Kurt tossed Jorey’s clothes at him.  “All the way down Hotdog Bun, through the slalom gates and now at the lift line, this close to naked and no one’s come to warm you up.”

Jorey looked like he’d bitten into a quince. “I admit no such thing.” He stepped out of his ski boots, trying to stand on his skis and not put his stocking feet on the snow. Getting into his clothes with all the grace of a platypus on ice, he seemed to dawdle putting the jacket on, as if zipping the zipper would seal his lost wager.

“Brrr, I’m cold just looking at you!”  A woman with cinnamon hair and a lemon yellow jacket stepped out of the lift line to approach him, reminding me that I should be getting people on and off the lift. “Have you turned into a giant icicle?”

“It could have been worse; I could have wiped out. Tell you what, darling,” Jorey said, zipping his jacket the last few inches. “You take me to the sauna and feed me cups of hot chocolate, make sure I don’t have any frostbite.” He aimed a smirk at Kurt over her head, and the pair skied off to what would surely be a tale to tell for each of them. I went back to my loading zone, leaving Kurt wearing a long face.

“You about ready to shut that down for the evening, Jake?” He looked at the lift which had two skiers nearly at the top and a lot of empty chairs.  I pulled the lever after checking with the operator at the top, and we headed home. Kurt’s mood had miraculously changed: now he was laughing to himself and once inside our apartment, he pounced on me.

Being pounced on by Kurt was a damned fine thing. Parkas and snow boots went flying, snow pants came down, and he slid his tongue into my mouth with the kind of wild abandon that sent us to the carpet almost before the door was shut. Rolling and nipping, kissing and squeezing, and we ended up with my cock in Kurt’s mouth. I would have done some screaming, but my mouth was kind of full.

Later that night, I snuggled against him on our big ugly couch. A fire would have been really romantic, but fireplaces were amenities not found in the resort’s employee housing. Neither were little delights like hot tubs and saunas, which Jorey was no doubt enjoying to the fullest with his lady-love du jour at his hotel. At least the starlight through the window was free.

“Okay, Kurt, what did you bet Jorey and what did you lose?”

“I bet him that I could ski down the mountain and collect a partner before he did, even if he peeled down to do it. He might be a happy guy right now, or he might have blue balls, but it doesn’t matter.”  He kissed me rather thoroughly, and went on. “Jorey owed me a hundred bucks the minute I pulled up next to you.”

Our budget would be completely broken if he lost a hundred bucks, which could only mean that Jorey didn’t have a clue about us as us. “You’ve certainly won, but how are you going to prove it?”

Kurt looked stricken. “I didn’t think about that.”

I bit his ear, hard. “I’ll vouch for you, but Kurt, don’t put me in this sort of position again.” I wasn’t the happiest guy about being gay in public; only our closest friends knew, and I didn’t consider Jorey that close, no matter how many years he and Kurt had raced.

“Ouch.  I won’t.” He rubbed his ear and looked so contrite that I forgave him using our relationship as an income generator. Just this once.


Jorey met us at the base of the lift the next morning, a huge grin on his face and all his clothing on. “Pay up, Carlson. Veronica and I had a lovely evening, spent in the hot tub drinking champagne and eating cheese and grapes, followed by things you don’t need details about, but I won.” He rubbed his fingers together in the universal money sign, then held out his cupped hand.

“That hand should be holding money out to me, Jorey.”  Kurt regarded him steadily. “I won.”

“Oh, you did not.” Jorey laughed. “Veronica and I left you two…standing…there…” He trickled to a halt and stared at me.

“Better pay him, Jorey.” My face was hot and I wouldn’t look at either of them.

“Damn it, Kurt, one of these days I am going to win a bet with you.” He dug in his pocket for a handful of bills which he counted into Kurt’s hand.  “At least I can still kick your ass down the mountain.” Jorey poled off, grumbling, and I wondered how often Kurt had lightened his pocket over the years, and how.

“You’d think he’d learn.” Kurt made no effort to put the bills away. “Take it, Jake.”

“It was your bet, your winnings.” I didn’t reach for the money.

“Ill- gotten gains. I’ll have to spend it on you, frivolously.”

“Don’t do that!” I was saving every cent for school; the idea of spending a hundred bucks frivolously was almost painful.

“Then think of it as a pebble. Penguins bring their mates pebbles.” He stuck the money into my unzipped pocket. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. It’s just, Jorey and I make these bets that he thinks are sewn up tight and I always walk away with his cash. In fact, I have another idea for Jorey’s next contribution to the scholarship fund and it doesn’t involve you or us at all, just a bit of set up…” he mused. “Oh, Jake, this next one is gonna be good!”

Prompt Ficlet – After the Fire

The prompts: phoenix, seedling, trunk
The length requested: 150-200 words

The story:

“The burned area does recover.” Kurt knelt to examine the seedling. “Lodgepole pine cones don’t open unless the resin burns off; this little guy wouldn’t exist except for the fire.”

“All the duff burned off.” The ground was bare except for some straggly grasses and the tiny pines.

“They only sprout on the bare mineral earth. Hey, look!” He threaded his way between blackened but still standing forest giants. “Got some Engelmann spruce coming up. They need shade when they’re tiny. Eventually they’ll take over from these big guys.”

“Are all the big ones dead?” I touched the charred trunk.

“Hard to tell. Some of the buds up top might have survived.” Kurt laughed with an edge of harshness. “The forest is like a phoenix; it comes back after the fire, just slightly different.”

“Think we can do that?” Kurt and I had fought a scorched earth battle. Harsh words had led to bitter silence. We spoke only of the forest.

“Hard to tell.” He wouldn’t look at me.

“Kurt, I’m sorry.” I folded him against my chest. “I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, too, Jake.” Then he kissed me, and he tasted of lodgepole pine.

August Prompt Story with Jake and Kurt

The August prompt challenge from Vincent was scrapbook, zinnia, and tire (in the sense of “round thing on a vehicle”). The length requested was 150-200 words, so, here we are: a little pre-“Fire” action.

Kurt should have let Jake drive the tanker into town. The sides were laced with scratches from previous adventures in “Reverse,” and now there were new ones. The gouges in the paint made a scrapbook of the places they’d gone.

A small car in front and a pickup behind boxed the tanker in, turning their leaving into a parallel-parking situation.

“No problem,” Kurt had said, backing and filling to escape.

“Problem,” Jake disagreed with his eyes squinched shut.

The Chief’s mail box listed at an angle that would require the postman to bend nearly double for deliveries. The big puffy blooms of the zinnias at its base were mashed into the soil– pink petals brightened the treads of the dual rear tires.

“That’s two pine trees, one Weber kettle and a mailbox. We take the car next week, I drive, and we arrange for fuel with Max.” Jake squatted on his heels to assess the damage. Green twill stretched tight over his ass, distracting Kurt from the carnage.

Damn it, if he could just get Jake’s attention, Kurt would show him that he really could get in and out of a small tight place.

A Ficlet – Birdwatching

The prompts: windchimes, falcon, saddle (Vincent, you have an interesting imagination)
The men: Jake and Kurt from “Fire on the Mountain”
The length: 200 words


“Just a leisurely ride today?” Kurt gave Jake a leg up onto the chestnut mare, a good teaching horse. The tack jangled like windchimes before Jake found his stirrups. For a man who had ridden at a summer camp and then not again until about four months ago, he was doing well. He had a good seat. Jake had a very nice seat indeed.

Kurt swung onto his sorrel gelding– they headed into the Flattops, away from the Rendezvous Lake Lodge. Max had packed lunch, helped them saddle, and told them to get lost. Kurt knew exactly where they were going; they’d be lost only to the rest of the world.

At the tiny meadow, they hobbled the horses, turned them loose to graze, and fell into each other’s arms. Clothing flew, no words needed, and a long, happy, sweaty time later, they lay on their backs in the grass, gazing into the sky.

“Feruginous hawk?” Jake pointed at a speck soaring in the clear blue above.

Kurt followed his finger. “Peregrine falcon. They live year round here.”

“I thought they migrated through?”

“The Arctic peregrines do.” Kurt rolled to hold his lover’s eyes. “They mate for life, you know.”

Drabble Prompt Attacks

Vincent offered up an odd list as drabble prompts this time: June, nuclear, garage. Since the boys have to go into town to even get near a garage, they had to visit with the Chief. This is a little out of order on Jake and Kurt’s personal chronology, since they aren’t published yet (though July 22 is coming fast!) but stick with them.


Jake hunted through the toolbox, looking for Allen wrenches. The Chief had sent him to the garage while he and Kurt took the gauge apart in the living room. Where were the damned things?

“Are you going to take til the end of June, or what?” Kurt came in search of him, wrapped strong arms around his chest from behind.

“The Chief will go nuclear if he finds us making out!” Jake rubbed his ass against Kurt anyway. “Help me find the stupid Allen wrenches.”

“When we get back to the cabin,” Kurt purred, “I’ll show you what fits where.”