Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Wednesday Briefs: Don't Look Back #40 (8.1)

Hello, happy Wednesday to everyone! Hump Day already! This week is going fast. Spring is definitely here, and we had the showers today to prove it! But at least we're out of the freezing zone. At least I hope so!

So if it's Wednesday, it's time to bring you more flash fiction from the writers of the Wednesday Briefs. Every week we bring  you stories between 500 and 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts. This week, I return to Don't Look Back with a new chapter. A few weeks have passed since Thanksgiving. Marshall and Lee have been quail hunting by the pond. Join them and see what's up. Then go see what the other Briefers are up to!

Don't Look Back #40 (8.1)

Marshall slowly swam to consciousness. The chitter of birds and rustle of branches over his head were his first clues morning was upon them. Lee’s arm, draped around his torso, was warm and comfortable, their bodies spooned together in the oversized sleeping bag they used when they slept outdoors. Marshall burrowed against Lee, content to lie there. More than two weeks had passed since Thanksgiving, and his fears had begun to recede. They’d spent yesterday quail hunting and decided to stay the night out by the pond, where they’d cooked the birds they shot and made love beneath the stars.

Something niggled at the back of Marshall’s brain, , and it threatened to drive him crazy. There was something he’d left undone. He knew it was nothing as stupid as leaving the stove on, or forgetting to turn off a faucet. That was all too ingrained in him to even be a consideration. So what could it be?

Just as he decided it was his imagination playing him, and snuggled down for a little more shut-eye, he remembered, with a groan. Today was trash pick-up. Normally, he took the can to the road the night before, but in all the excitement of hunting and such, that little chore had slipped his mind. He knew better than to think he could just forget about it until next week, either. Not without hell to pay.

He still had time. The truck didn’t come by their place too early. All he had to do was jump in their truck, run up to the house, and take it out. Then he could come back and they could begin their day together. Lee had mentioned Roy might join them if he could.

He didn’t want to move, not really. But the sooner he got up and got it done, the sooner he could come back to Lee’s waiting warmth. And wasn’t that an incentive to hurry?

Marshall rolled over in the circle of Lee’s embrace and contemplated the sleeping Lee. His face was relaxed, his chest rising and falling in even breaths. Marshall couldn’t help but admire the view. Reluctantly, he leaned in to Lee’s lips and kissed him softly. No way would he just leave without telling Lee what he was doing. He wouldn’t appreciate it if the shoe were on the other foot and Lee just up and left without a word.

Lee’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Mmm, that’s a nice way to wake up,” he murmured.  “Morning, sunshine. What’s up?”

“Morning, Lee.” Marshall smiled back. “I gotta run up to the house for a second. Need anything while I’m up there?”

Lee’s eyebrows rose. “You forget something?”

“Yeah,” Marshall admitted sheepishly. “Forgot to take the trash out.”

Lee chuckled and pulled Marshall closer, running his hand lightly up and down his back. “Then I guess you need to get’er done, don’tcha?”

Yes, and wasn’t Lee making it harder for him to do just that. Lee’s hand had descended to Marshall’s butt cheek and squeezed it familiarly. Marshall’s cock twitched at the hint of more to come. Luckily for Marshall, Lee released him with a kiss, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you make a pot of coffee while you’re up there, I’ll straighten up here, you come pick me up, and we’ll get cleaned up and have some breakfast, see what Roy’s up to? Maybe he can join us, if he hasn’t eaten yet.”

“Sounds good to me.” Marshall received another lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling himself away. He yanked on his jeans, omitting shirt or shoes. He wasn’t going that far, and he was decent as far as the law was concerned. Especially since the law was Roy, who’d seen him in a whole lot less.

Lee handed him the keys to the truck, and was folding the sleeping bag as Marshall drove off with a parting wave. Back at the house, Marshall pulled into the drive and parked. He debated making the coffee first, but decided the most important thing was getting the trash out. He skirted the house for the back yard. The can was ready to go; at least he’d done that much. He tilted it back on its wheels and pulled it around to the front of the house, depositing it at the street. Across the road, he saw the Fergusons’ can still in place, so he knew he hadn’t missed the pick-up. Good.

He let himself into the house and shuffled into the kitchen. Then he filled the reservoir with water, added coffee, and pushed the button. From outside, he heard the sound of a car door and smiled to himself. Guess Roy decided to take them up on their offer. He could come back to the pond with Marshall and they could discuss what they wanted to do.

Marshall opened the fridge and glanced inside, debating whether or not to grab a beer, but decided orange juice sounded better. He took out the carton and shook it. Just as he laid it on the counter and reached for a glass, he heard Roy’s knock.  “Come on in, Roy,” he hollered out. He poured himself some juice and drank it down quickly, rinsing the glass and setting it in the drainer.

That hit the spot. He rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes, and padded back through the house, expecting to see Roy’s familiar mug. Instead, another knock came at the door. Frowning, Marshall peered through the front window. That wasn’t Roy’s truck there. It was some rundown travel trailer. What the hell?

He cautiously opened the door just enough to look out and see a faux-blonde woman standing there. She wore too much make-up and was had trashy clothes. She spotted him and smiled at him warmly.

“Hello, Marshall,” she greeted him.

No. Fucking. Way.

He froze in place, speechless.

Her. She found him.

What the hell did she want?

to be continued

Now, go see what the other Briefers have done!

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