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nickngregHey all, here's my most recent for the NGChallenge community enjoy.
Title: Anything But Dirty
Author: SAEbuffyboy
Rating: NC17 to be safe
Warning: None
Summary: Three bits about being and feeling dirty.
A/N: Thanks to Geekwriter for letting me borrow an idea of hers. I also tired to avoid using the word dirty so...yeah enjoy.
“What in san hill are you doing?”
Nine year old Nick Stokes was crawling through the mud of his Texas home after a rain storm. His fathers good tape measure in hand. Next to him was one of the kitchen mixing bowls filled with what looked like a flour paste.
“Collecting shoe prints.”
“Why?”
“Cause I couldn’t get any finger prints.” Little Nick responded gesturing towards his mother blusher and a small bowl of potting soil, which lay discarded a few yards from where Nick was rolling around in the wet Earth.
“Again I’ll ask why?”
“I’m trying to see who stole my bike.”
“No one stole your bike, I had your bother put it in the garage before the storm hit.”
“Oh.” Nick plopped down and wiped a muddy hand across his filthy face. “No wonder I couldn’t find any clues.”
“Where’d you get such a crazy idea, finger and shoe prints...”
“Scooby Doo.”
“You will be the death of me, come here.” Nick walked over to his mother who grabbed his head in her hands and brought his eyes up to hers. “You better go inside you’re a filthy mess and the baby sitter will be here soon.”
“No,” Nick grabbed his mothers waist. “You and dad never do anything fun with us any more.”
“Aww, Nick, you know our jobs keep your father and I busy in the evening, Now go inside and get cleaned up, before we confuse you with a muck monster.” His mother kissed him on the top of his head. The one spot that was clean. Before sending him on his way.
For years Nick looked back at that moment as the last time he’d been clean. Even covered in all that Texas mire he still felt cleaner than he did after the dozen showers he took when the babysitter left that night. It wasn’t until Greg came along that Nick was able start letting go of that stain in his past, and enjoy getting unclean for the fist time.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Five year old Greg had snuck his mothers measuring cup set out of the kitchen and had collect different piles of yard debris and began measuring them out.
His mother was standing in the kitchen doing dishes when she saw the fist burst of yard waste come into her field of view and then disappear. Moments later it was followed by another. She made her way to the back door where she found Greg surrounded by his piles of debris. He was carefully measuring out amounts from each of them putting them in another pile in front of him, churning them with his grimy hands and then throwing them in the air with a loud BOOM. The sticks and needles and sand and pebbles raining down on him. Sticking in his hair and covering his face and body.
“What in the world are you doing with my good measuring cups.”
“Making explosions.”
“Where in the world did you learn something like that.” Greg eyed his mother for a moment before replying.
“Sesame Street.”
“Look at you you’re a mess.” Greg just sat there grinning from ear to ear. His teeth being the only clean part that was showing, just before he started rolling around in his debris piles laughing manically. Suddenly he was scooped up and being held by his ankles and swung back and forth by his father.
“Potatoes for sale, fresh picked sack of potatoes for sale, still covered in the ground they were pulled from.” His father called in his best nondescript accent. His mother came over grabbed Greg’s arms.
“That’s no sack of potatoes, that’s my little boy.” She said tugging on Greg’s upper body.
The swung Greg back and forth joking about weather he was a little boy or a sack of potatoes. Greg rolled with laughter the entire time. The next day his parents sat him down and told him that they were getting a divorce. And try as he might, he could never wash away that happy memory of them and blowing things up in his back yard. He almost wished they’d had a big fight or something it would have been easier to cleanse his mind of the good times. And people thought his trouble with explosions started after the accident.
----------------------------------------------------------------
“You are never picking the activity for our day off ever again.” Nick said collapsing on their bed.
“What we needed to landscape the yard. I refuse to ‘that house’ in the neighborhood.”
“What house is that?”
“The house where the owners are too busy fucking to be a part of the neighborhood.”
Greg looked over at his lover on the bed. They had both discarded their shirts hours ago in the hot dessert sun. Vegas soil streaked their torsos, arms, and faces. Their sweat had run lines through the filth that clung to their bodies.
“Nick what the hell are you doing!!! You’re a mess and we have to sleep on that bed.”
Greg walked over and started nudging Nick in an attempt to get him off the bed. He gave up and went into the bathroom to start running a bath.
“Nick, Get up, we have to get clean, there’s no way I can sleep like this.”
“Who said anything about sleeping yet?”
Greg walked over to the bed and laid down on top of Nick pinning him to the mattress. And licked clean a stripe from Nick’s ear to his chin.
“I know something we can do while we’re still waiting for tub to fill.” Nick said, and continued to whisper into Greg’s ear.
“Give me a sec, I’ve got just the thing.”
Greg got up and ran to the closet and disappeared for a minute. Nick laid on the bed in anticipation of what nasty little thing Greg was getting ready to do. Greg emerged from the closet wearing Nicks favorite jersey, which is usually reserved for game day, a jock strap, and a stripe of shoe polish under each of his eyes.
“Man, can you believe it, we lost the game by one point.” Greg reached down and adjusted himself. “I wish there was something to make all that rolling in the mud with those other men worth my while.” Nick smiled to himself.
“Um, actually, I was thinking of something kinda different....”
“Oh” Greg looked puzzled for a second. “OH” he called again disappearing into the closet once more. This time when he emerged he was wearing an old Stetson that Nick had saved from his days in highschool, an old belt he had found vintage shopping with a huge belt buckle, a red bandana tied around his neck, and nothing else. He stood there chomping on some invisible chew, and resting is hands on the imaginary six shooters on his hip.
“Been one mighty long and hard cattle drive, partner. I got trail dust in places I din’t know I done had.” Greg reached over and started lazily stroking his cock. “But after a stampede like that, there’s only one long and hard thing I need.”
“There’s boots under the bed.” Nick called out as he got up and put on his own hat and bandana, on his way to shutting off the water. There was no way there were going to be cleaning themselves up just yet.
Feedback loved and accepted.
Title: Anything But Dirty
Author: SAEbuffyboy
Rating: NC17 to be safe
Warning: None
Summary: Three bits about being and feeling dirty.
A/N: Thanks to Geekwriter for letting me borrow an idea of hers. I also tired to avoid using the word dirty so...yeah enjoy.
“What in san hill are you doing?”
Nine year old Nick Stokes was crawling through the mud of his Texas home after a rain storm. His fathers good tape measure in hand. Next to him was one of the kitchen mixing bowls filled with what looked like a flour paste.
“Collecting shoe prints.”
“Why?”
“Cause I couldn’t get any finger prints.” Little Nick responded gesturing towards his mother blusher and a small bowl of potting soil, which lay discarded a few yards from where Nick was rolling around in the wet Earth.
“Again I’ll ask why?”
“I’m trying to see who stole my bike.”
“No one stole your bike, I had your bother put it in the garage before the storm hit.”
“Oh.” Nick plopped down and wiped a muddy hand across his filthy face. “No wonder I couldn’t find any clues.”
“Where’d you get such a crazy idea, finger and shoe prints...”
“Scooby Doo.”
“You will be the death of me, come here.” Nick walked over to his mother who grabbed his head in her hands and brought his eyes up to hers. “You better go inside you’re a filthy mess and the baby sitter will be here soon.”
“No,” Nick grabbed his mothers waist. “You and dad never do anything fun with us any more.”
“Aww, Nick, you know our jobs keep your father and I busy in the evening, Now go inside and get cleaned up, before we confuse you with a muck monster.” His mother kissed him on the top of his head. The one spot that was clean. Before sending him on his way.
For years Nick looked back at that moment as the last time he’d been clean. Even covered in all that Texas mire he still felt cleaner than he did after the dozen showers he took when the babysitter left that night. It wasn’t until Greg came along that Nick was able start letting go of that stain in his past, and enjoy getting unclean for the fist time.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Five year old Greg had snuck his mothers measuring cup set out of the kitchen and had collect different piles of yard debris and began measuring them out.
His mother was standing in the kitchen doing dishes when she saw the fist burst of yard waste come into her field of view and then disappear. Moments later it was followed by another. She made her way to the back door where she found Greg surrounded by his piles of debris. He was carefully measuring out amounts from each of them putting them in another pile in front of him, churning them with his grimy hands and then throwing them in the air with a loud BOOM. The sticks and needles and sand and pebbles raining down on him. Sticking in his hair and covering his face and body.
“What in the world are you doing with my good measuring cups.”
“Making explosions.”
“Where in the world did you learn something like that.” Greg eyed his mother for a moment before replying.
“Sesame Street.”
“Look at you you’re a mess.” Greg just sat there grinning from ear to ear. His teeth being the only clean part that was showing, just before he started rolling around in his debris piles laughing manically. Suddenly he was scooped up and being held by his ankles and swung back and forth by his father.
“Potatoes for sale, fresh picked sack of potatoes for sale, still covered in the ground they were pulled from.” His father called in his best nondescript accent. His mother came over grabbed Greg’s arms.
“That’s no sack of potatoes, that’s my little boy.” She said tugging on Greg’s upper body.
The swung Greg back and forth joking about weather he was a little boy or a sack of potatoes. Greg rolled with laughter the entire time. The next day his parents sat him down and told him that they were getting a divorce. And try as he might, he could never wash away that happy memory of them and blowing things up in his back yard. He almost wished they’d had a big fight or something it would have been easier to cleanse his mind of the good times. And people thought his trouble with explosions started after the accident.
----------------------------------------------------------------
“You are never picking the activity for our day off ever again.” Nick said collapsing on their bed.
“What we needed to landscape the yard. I refuse to ‘that house’ in the neighborhood.”
“What house is that?”
“The house where the owners are too busy fucking to be a part of the neighborhood.”
Greg looked over at his lover on the bed. They had both discarded their shirts hours ago in the hot dessert sun. Vegas soil streaked their torsos, arms, and faces. Their sweat had run lines through the filth that clung to their bodies.
“Nick what the hell are you doing!!! You’re a mess and we have to sleep on that bed.”
Greg walked over and started nudging Nick in an attempt to get him off the bed. He gave up and went into the bathroom to start running a bath.
“Nick, Get up, we have to get clean, there’s no way I can sleep like this.”
“Who said anything about sleeping yet?”
Greg walked over to the bed and laid down on top of Nick pinning him to the mattress. And licked clean a stripe from Nick’s ear to his chin.
“I know something we can do while we’re still waiting for tub to fill.” Nick said, and continued to whisper into Greg’s ear.
“Give me a sec, I’ve got just the thing.”
Greg got up and ran to the closet and disappeared for a minute. Nick laid on the bed in anticipation of what nasty little thing Greg was getting ready to do. Greg emerged from the closet wearing Nicks favorite jersey, which is usually reserved for game day, a jock strap, and a stripe of shoe polish under each of his eyes.
“Man, can you believe it, we lost the game by one point.” Greg reached down and adjusted himself. “I wish there was something to make all that rolling in the mud with those other men worth my while.” Nick smiled to himself.
“Um, actually, I was thinking of something kinda different....”
“Oh” Greg looked puzzled for a second. “OH” he called again disappearing into the closet once more. This time when he emerged he was wearing an old Stetson that Nick had saved from his days in highschool, an old belt he had found vintage shopping with a huge belt buckle, a red bandana tied around his neck, and nothing else. He stood there chomping on some invisible chew, and resting is hands on the imaginary six shooters on his hip.
“Been one mighty long and hard cattle drive, partner. I got trail dust in places I din’t know I done had.” Greg reached over and started lazily stroking his cock. “But after a stampede like that, there’s only one long and hard thing I need.”
“There’s boots under the bed.” Nick called out as he got up and put on his own hat and bandana, on his way to shutting off the water. There was no way there were going to be cleaning themselves up just yet.
Feedback loved and accepted.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 10:19 pm (UTC)“But after a stampede like that, there’s only one long and hard thing I need.” - Love the corny dirtyness ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 10:20 pm (UTC)Also, funny typo: At the end, Nick put on his own hat and banana. I think you should just leave it like that, though ;-)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 11:20 pm (UTC)2. I love the past things
BEYUTIFUL!!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-20 09:53 pm (UTC)