I'm a BAD girl. There have been so many things going on this week (Half Term) that I totally forgot to write my flash. Don't want to let your lovelies down so here is one I wrote right back in the beginning. I hope you'll still enjoy
They were beautiful. They clung to all the right places and rustled slightly with every move. The sleeve under his cheek was cool; the whisper of the silk, like words of love, spoken softly into a kiss. Oh yes, the pyjamas were the cat’s whiskers. The only problem was… they weren’t his.
Heaving a huge sigh, he stripped off the pants, closing his eyes as the material slid down his legs, feeling himself harden at the sheer eroticism of the silk’s caress. Arching his back, he slowly circled his nipples, letting the thin jacket slide over the tingling nubs. A soft moan escaped him and, still caressing one nipple, he allowed the other hand to stroke his chest, sides and belly, anywhere he could rub the silk against the hot, damp skin.
Squeezing his nipple hard, he moaned again. Still stroking himself, he let go of his nipple to take hold of his, now throbbing…
“Keiron, are you home?”
Shit. Shit. Fucking, shit.
Kicking away the pants, he almost tore the jacket in his haste to get it off. What the hell was she doing home this early? She was supposed to be working this afternoon. Taking a few steadying breaths, Keiron forced his trembling fingers to fold the silky material carefully and slide the pyjamas back into the drawer.
Still trembling, he crept out of the room and into the bathroom, across the hall. Just as he turned on the water, he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Phew, that was close.
“I’m about to take a shower, Mam.”
“How long have you been home?”
“Not long.” He sighed. Why did she have to come home right now?
“Have you been in my room?”
“No,” he lied.
“Forget the shower. Get dressed and come downstairs. I’m calling the school. If you are supposed to be there I’m calling Dr Freidricks.”
“Mam,” he snapped, “I don’t NEED a doctor.”
“Just get dressed and get downstairs.”
With a huge sigh, he touched his forehead to the cold mirror, and watched his breath mist the glass. Just great. Wunderbar. Well, he wasn’t going to see that doctor again, that’s for sure. He shivered at the memory of the last session. He’d never been so embarrassed in his life.
God, he wished he could just move out; but he had nowhere else to go. There’d been a time when things were going to be alright. He was going to move in with Chris and… But that was all over now. His eyes turned as misty as the mirror, thinking about what could have been and what had actually happened.
“I’m sorry Keiron, but being gay’s one thing; that… well, that’s just freaky.”
“I thought you, of all people would have understood. How can you stand there, after having gone through all that shit about being gay, and tell me I’m a freak?”
“Well, like I said, being gay’s different.”
“How? How is it different?”
“Ki dude, you came into school wearing a… a… skirt. And you were hauled off to see a psychiatrist and…”
“And I went through hell. And I thought that you, of all people would be there for me.”
Chris had shrugged, Keiron had stormed off and that was that. It’d been over a week now and, apart from having to see each other at school, he’d neither seen nor spoken to him. It was over. His only chance of escaping the stifling clutches of an overbearing, ultra conservative, mother, was gone. Tears ran down his cheeks. Chris. His angel. The only one who understood him. Except… he didn’t.
“Keiron, get down here.”
With a last look at the pale, tear streaked face in the mirror, he hauled himself out of the bathroom, pulled on a pair of shorts and slouched down the stairs.
“Did you go into my room?” his mother snapped, the instant he appeared in the doorway.
“No,” he said again.
“Liar!” He wasn’t expecting the slap and he froze, staring in disbelief. “What did you do? What did you… touch?”
Keiron hung his head, his face burning. “Pyjamas,” he muttered. He’d never been a good liar.
“Not my silk pyjamas?” He nodded and she slapped him again, then stormed out of the room. He didn’t move, was afraid to, and was still in exactly the same position when his mother came storming down the stairs. She was carrying the pyjamas.
Going straight to the kitchen drawer, she took out a pair of scissors and laid into the pyjamas. Every snip felt as if she was cutting into him.
When the silk was nothing more than colourful ribbons, she turned to him, brandishing the scissors and he shrank back, thinking, for a moment, that she was going to go for him with them.
“You will go to your room,” she hissed, “and you will stay there until I tell you that you can leave. I will schedule an appointment with the doctor in the morning and this time you are NOT going to talk me out of letting him put you on medication.”
“There’s no way…”
“I am your mother and you are still only seventeen. If I tell you to take the medication you will damn well do it or I will have you committed.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. “This isn’t over,” she snapped, then disappeared. Angrily, he dashed away tears, until he heard the scream.
Running into the hall he froze in utter shock. His mother had shrunk back against the wall, shaking and white. Standing in the doorway was a vision, an angel, HIS angel.
Chris was wearing a long, pink, silk dress with a straw hat. His wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes made him look completely angelic, although there was no dress in the world that could make him look remotely feminine.
“Get your things, babe,” he said, with a huge grin. “We’re going home.”
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