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maderrThe basic idea is all Sammikins. She told me "this sounds like it would work well in DwtD. You should do it."
Mine is but to obey ^__^
Only the first couple pages.
Case # 467: The Crossroads
Chris was in the library when they bothered him.
Having handed over the bulk of his prized agency to Doug and the others to run, he was left with those cases brought in by people who were not intimidated—or thought they merited—by Chris' being a demon consort.
It was his own fault for daring to relax. Every time he actually tried it, he was ambushed. He wouldn't mind so much, if the cases they brought him at least proved interesting. They were always boring, however. Too easy.
He set his wine aside and closed the book he'd been reading as the abnormal human across from him sniffled into her silk handkerchief once more. Behind her, her wealthy sorcerer husband scowled in a way that he obviously expected to have a certain affect upon Chris.
Chris ignored him.
"So everyone in your neighborhood is falling ill and close to death? You…want me to find the correlation?"
"No!" The woman said, then blew into her kerchief again. "I know what's doing it! That vile, nasty thing running around the neighborhood. Filthy mongrel!"
Something shivered across the back of Chris' neck, something that held the potential to be interesting enough he might stop resenting being bothered. "Thing?" he repeated. "Mongrel?"
The woman sniffled again. "Y-yes. A big, black, filthy dog."
Intrigue raced across his skin. A Black Dog…could it really be? Those were notoriously rare, even according to supernatural standards. Why would a Black Dog suddenly appear around Sable's city? At the far end where the obscenely wealthy abnormal skulked?
It was the sort of question that he just loved to answer.
He snapped his fingers and caught the second wine glass as it appeared on his command, pouring the crying woman a glass and handing it to her. He waited impatiently as she murmured and sipped, then finally said, "Now, if you will please—tell me everything. Leave no detail out, I do not care if it seems trivial to you. If I am to help, then I must know everything. Now, start at the beginning…"
Two hours later, he was finally able to have one of the hotel workers show the couple out. He yawned and reached out blindly for his wine—and encountered a warm hand instead, tamping down on a smile as Sable lifted it to press a kiss to the palm. "Sable."
"Beloved," Sable greeted, moving around to sit beside him on the long leather sofa. "Did the case intrigue?"
Chris grunted. Sable had known damn good and well it would.
He pointedly ignored Sable's soft chuckles, and even managed to ignore the way Sable nibbled at his earlobe—but he jerked with a gasp when those teeth bit down hard at his throat. "You're nothing but trouble," he groused, but went easily enough when Sable pushed him down into the soft leather of the sofa, reaching up to sink a hand into hair that was a thousand times softer.
Sable smirked and kissed him with slow thoroughness. "The best kind of trouble, the sort you could never resist."
"Ha!" Chris challenged, and abruptly shoved him off the couch, but his laugh was cut short when Sable reached up and yanked him down before he could scramble away.
There was a pained grunt as he landed. "You could watch the elbows."
Chris elbowed him again, just for good measure. "You could let me go to work on my newest case, instead of being a smug bastard who thinks giving me a potentially interesting case means you get sex."
Sable chuckled and nibbled at his throat, his jaw, then his lips, before taking a proper kiss.
Moaning, Chris shifted so he was straddling Sable properly, digging his fingers into the fine, broad shoulders, feeling muscle rippled beneath the smooth silk of Sable's shirt. He gave up another moan as knowing hands found his ass, drove their trapped erections together.
"Are you certain I can't have sex?" Sable asked, storm cloud eyes flashing with mirth and lust.
Chris rolled his eyes, and moved to Sable's tie. "Shut up."
Sable gave a husky laugh, and helped him with their clothing.
By the time Chris was able to leave to begin work on his new case, the sun had long past set. All to the better, of course—a true Black Dog was more likely to appear beneath the light of the moon.
Mine is but to obey ^__^
Only the first couple pages.
Case # 467: The Crossroads
Chris was in the library when they bothered him.
Having handed over the bulk of his prized agency to Doug and the others to run, he was left with those cases brought in by people who were not intimidated—or thought they merited—by Chris' being a demon consort.
It was his own fault for daring to relax. Every time he actually tried it, he was ambushed. He wouldn't mind so much, if the cases they brought him at least proved interesting. They were always boring, however. Too easy.
He set his wine aside and closed the book he'd been reading as the abnormal human across from him sniffled into her silk handkerchief once more. Behind her, her wealthy sorcerer husband scowled in a way that he obviously expected to have a certain affect upon Chris.
Chris ignored him.
"So everyone in your neighborhood is falling ill and close to death? You…want me to find the correlation?"
"No!" The woman said, then blew into her kerchief again. "I know what's doing it! That vile, nasty thing running around the neighborhood. Filthy mongrel!"
Something shivered across the back of Chris' neck, something that held the potential to be interesting enough he might stop resenting being bothered. "Thing?" he repeated. "Mongrel?"
The woman sniffled again. "Y-yes. A big, black, filthy dog."
Intrigue raced across his skin. A Black Dog…could it really be? Those were notoriously rare, even according to supernatural standards. Why would a Black Dog suddenly appear around Sable's city? At the far end where the obscenely wealthy abnormal skulked?
It was the sort of question that he just loved to answer.
He snapped his fingers and caught the second wine glass as it appeared on his command, pouring the crying woman a glass and handing it to her. He waited impatiently as she murmured and sipped, then finally said, "Now, if you will please—tell me everything. Leave no detail out, I do not care if it seems trivial to you. If I am to help, then I must know everything. Now, start at the beginning…"
Two hours later, he was finally able to have one of the hotel workers show the couple out. He yawned and reached out blindly for his wine—and encountered a warm hand instead, tamping down on a smile as Sable lifted it to press a kiss to the palm. "Sable."
"Beloved," Sable greeted, moving around to sit beside him on the long leather sofa. "Did the case intrigue?"
Chris grunted. Sable had known damn good and well it would.
He pointedly ignored Sable's soft chuckles, and even managed to ignore the way Sable nibbled at his earlobe—but he jerked with a gasp when those teeth bit down hard at his throat. "You're nothing but trouble," he groused, but went easily enough when Sable pushed him down into the soft leather of the sofa, reaching up to sink a hand into hair that was a thousand times softer.
Sable smirked and kissed him with slow thoroughness. "The best kind of trouble, the sort you could never resist."
"Ha!" Chris challenged, and abruptly shoved him off the couch, but his laugh was cut short when Sable reached up and yanked him down before he could scramble away.
There was a pained grunt as he landed. "You could watch the elbows."
Chris elbowed him again, just for good measure. "You could let me go to work on my newest case, instead of being a smug bastard who thinks giving me a potentially interesting case means you get sex."
Sable chuckled and nibbled at his throat, his jaw, then his lips, before taking a proper kiss.
Moaning, Chris shifted so he was straddling Sable properly, digging his fingers into the fine, broad shoulders, feeling muscle rippled beneath the smooth silk of Sable's shirt. He gave up another moan as knowing hands found his ass, drove their trapped erections together.
"Are you certain I can't have sex?" Sable asked, storm cloud eyes flashing with mirth and lust.
Chris rolled his eyes, and moved to Sable's tie. "Shut up."
Sable gave a husky laugh, and helped him with their clothing.
By the time Chris was able to leave to begin work on his new case, the sun had long past set. All to the better, of course—a true Black Dog was more likely to appear beneath the light of the moon.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:54 am (UTC)I think this works quite well on it's own really. Seeing the investigation and it's conclusion would be nice, but if it never got written this could still stand alone as a decent drabble.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 02:00 am (UTC)I love you. Really. I do.
And I love Sammikins too.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 02:03 am (UTC)Do NOT impede her creative process. We want more!
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 02:04 am (UTC)*laugh* Fear not, more will get written.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 09:30 am (UTC)There is always a lack of European myths running around, in my opinion. <3
no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:10 pm (UTC)puppies!dogs of any kind. And this is definitely a nice intriguing beginning. *_____*no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 01:22 pm (UTC)