The challenge was from atlantis100 and (the part of it I did) for these two was for "Atlantis as home."
First, an actual drabble:
Title: "By the Shores of Silver Lake"
Author: Little Red
Props: to Laura Ingalls Wilder, Ash, and A.j.
Elizabeth is sure that the Ancients must have a more sophisticated means for this, but advanced alien laundry technology isn't on the top of anyone's list of mission objectives.
She doesn't mind. There's something nostalgic about kneeling at the sloping edge of the city with her hands bunched in cloth and ocean water. Though the weight of her obligation never lifts, for a few minutes as her freezing knuckles scrape against her makeshift washboard her responsibility takes the shape of blizzards and Indians and the prairies her ancestors crossed in a covered wagon.
She always wanted to be a pioneer.
And then... well, I promised Ash I would write a pr0n drabble and it's kind of... a triple-drabble, if that exists. So. Oops. I post it here instead:
Title: "Tangible Evidence"
Rating: R for skin and sex and stuff
Props: A.j. and Ash again, and this time the published author who gets the props is Jayelle Lindsay, whose poetry book is lying on my floor. I am borrowing the title.
John finally figured out how to keep the lights from turning on every time he moves, and now he can't get them to come on in his quarters at all.
That's okay, though, because he knows this place like he knows her body. The door to the hallway outside swooshes shut once they're out of sensor range but he pins her to the wall by feel alone and finds her favourite spot -- and his -- on her neck by the sounds Lizzie makes and the landmarks on her skin. Collarbone, fractured twice. Scar under her jaw from a ceremonial Durgai knife.
He remembers that his sheets are hang-drying in the shower instead of waiting on the bed just in time. He knows the number of paces to the dresser and lifts her on the edge without incident. They can't afford to keep losing buttons so he doesn't tear off her shirt, but they fight her clothes together as fast as they can, eager to finish what they were just tipsy enough to start in public.
The piece of furniture leftover from the Ancients is just the right height and so is she. He kisses her and rubs the backs of his fingers over her breasts until she jerks her legs around his back and makes that moan he knows so well.
It takes her that long to realize they're in the dark.
"Is your light still broken?" she asks, one hand still on his cock and the other at the base of his skull, holding his face close enough to feel her breathing through the nearly pitch black.
He spreads her open with one hand and she hisses. He knows that sound, too. "Later," he dismisses her worry about the light.
He doesn't need it.
-- Little Red, who is having fun :)