Sticky II; the Haunting by Brigantine

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Story notes: Wrote the original version, "Sticky" ages ago, then one day the Bunny and I started re-writing it for some odd reason, and we ended up with a new story, and Hobbits. Tsk. Hobbits. They're like mice. They just get into everything.

Prairie Fire series: Prairie Fire, Anam Cara, Cat-eyes and Steelies, Prairie Fire Christmas 2005, Prairie Fire Shorts: Vol. 1, Sticky II: the Haunting, The Capitulation of Fort Bean.
There was jam, and there was toast.

The strawberry jam made burgundy. The cherry preserves made red. The blueberry preserves were indigo. The grape jelly made purple, and the apricot jam was a lovely orange. The bitter marmalade made a deep yellow. Apple/mint jelly gave him a glassene sort of green.

Slices of toasted bread lay long abandoned and unadorned on a plate on the kitchen counter.

Sean lay on his back across the kitchen table, bare feet dangling off the edge, waiting patiently for Viggo to finish fooling around with the apricot, and wondering not for the first time how in heaven's name he had ended up here. "Viggo... "

"Don't move." Swirls of honey dribbled liberally and enthusiastically added a certain Dali-esque flavor to the scene.

"Where are you going with all this?"

"Can't you see?"

Sean squinted down his own chest. Blueberries mushed between his chin and his Adam's apple. "Not from this angle, no, not really."

"You're a three-dimensional commentary on our endless attempt to bring order out of chaos, starting with choosing what to have for breakfast every day. You look amazing!" He grinned, skirting the lunatic fringe. "Tasty, too."

"There's grape jelly stuck under my arm. It feels weird."

"Don't move. I need to get the camera!"

As Viggo loped through the living room and down the hallway making happy "whoop-whoop" noises to himself Sean remained obediently on the table and muttered into the silence of the kitchen, "I've paired up with a madman." He stared up at a peculiar color of paint splashed on the ceiling and felt sugary strawberries squelch around his naked groin.

Wait. Camera?

Sean flailed off of the table, flinging multi-colored blobs of jam randomly about the kitchen. His feet slithered in the jammy mess he was making, and he landed with a painful splatter on the linoleum. He lay back on the cold floor defeatedly.

Viggo, camera loosely in hand, gazed down at him with a mixture of concern and disappointment. "What happened?"

Sean sighed heavily. "I'll never be able to look at me mornin' toast in the same way ever again. And if you take that photo I swear I'll maim you."

Viggo set the camera on the counter next to the toast, broke off a cold piece of bread, and, crouching next to his friend/art project swiped it down the middle of Sean's chest. "As though you've never been clicked in the buff." He chewed thoughtfully as Sean struggled to his elbows. "Blackberry. Somehow it suits you."

"Daft bugger," Sean accused, "Help me up, will you? Or have you forgotten, we've got company shortly?"

"Ah, yes. Ian, John, assorted hobbits."

"Plus two elves, and Dave, if Pete didn't completely flatten him filming yesterday. You did remember to visit the grocer's?"

Viggo indulged in a swipe of apricot, making Sean wriggle. "Where d'you think I got all the jam? Stop squirming there for a sec, will you?"

"What are you doing?" Sean eyed his friend warily as Viggo lowered himself easily to his knees, unmindful that he was staining his jeans with something that squished into purple.

"Mmm... strawberry... " Viggo leaned intently.

"Y'know, as nice an idea as this is, Vig, I think perhaps... "

Viggo bit carefully into the strawberry preserves.

Sean grunted and quit talking.

Viggo slowly licked and nibbled his way about Sean's crotch, the sweet red strawberries staining his lips, his cheeks, his nose Then he swallowed Sean, who said, summing things up neatly, "Ohh... " and closed his eyes.

As Sean lay there, holding very still on the linoleum with Viggo sucking and slurping preserves from him, and little beads of sweat forming on his upper lip, he thought less and less of the impending gathering of friends, until a distant pounding intruded faintly on his reverie. There was a general clatter in the living room. A small alarm bell rang belatedly in the back of Sean's increasingly distracted mind.

"Egad," yipped a Glaswegian brogue, "Vig's eating Beanie right off the floor! Don't put that in your mouth, man, you don't know where he's been! Or wait, yes you do."

Viggo laughed with his mouth full, and Sean bucked and surged with a quick catalog of earthy expletives and a remarkable amount of satisfaction, given the circumstances.

Then Viggo was sprawling semi-protectively over him, while Sean caught his breath and swore again, glaring up at the gallery of Hobbit faces plus one lanky Elf peering interestedly down, as though they'd all paid two bits for a show at the carnival, right after seeing the Amazing Alligator Man and the Tattooed Lady.

"That was beautiful," Billy breathed, fanning himself. "Lord, I'm blushing. I haven't blushed like that since I was fifteen!"

"There was yesterday," Dom reminded him with smug affection.

Billy smiled, blushing again. "M'yes, there was that."

"You're early," Sean pointed out with Olympian calm.

From somewhere in the living room he heard Ian proclaiming in a voice that hinted at civilisation snatched from the jaws of barbarism just in the nick of time, "John and I are opening the wine now. We shall retire to the patio until the all-clear."

"We're hungry," Elijah complained, "Can we eat jam off of Sean too?"

Sean attempted to appear villainous while squelching at a distinct disadvantage. "<em>No</em>."

Viggo suggested, not unreasonably, "Would one of you stooges go into the bathroom and grab a bath towel, please?"

Orlando, grinning and eager as a half-grown pup, bounced off to oblige.

Sean pulled a chunk of strawberry from Viggo's hair and thoughtlessly devoured it, earning a respectful eyebrow from Elijah.

"What about this?" Dom grabbed the red apron jammed into the handle of the refrigerator. The front of it read, 'Kiss the cook', except that someone had lined through 'Kiss' with a black felt-tip and written in 'Lick'.

"Well now that," Billy said, "explains rather a lot, don't ye think?"

"Billy."

"Yes, Vig?"

"Ian and John are getting lonely."

"Aye, then. Come along lads, it appears we're painfully unnecessary."

Viggo wriggled himself even with Sean's face and grinned down at him. "And here you were, worried about me and my camera."

Sean countered, "Hobbit invasions are an event of Nature, Viggo. Emergency preparation is strongly recommended by authorities, but in practice turns out mostly useless. Ah, here's m'valet."

Orlando bounced happily and offered blue bath linen. "Bills is right, you know. The two of you look beautiful down there, in a bizarre, debauched sort of way."

Viggo reached for the towel. "That will be all, Jeeves."

"We need a shower," Sean informed Viggo.

Viggo smirked. "We?"

Something crashed out on the patio. Giggling and cursing followed. Orlando snorted, sensing mayhem, and ambled loosely off to observe.

"Revenge," Sean leered at Viggo, "will be mine. Let John and Ian look after the hobbits for a while." He scooped up a gooey blob of blueberry jam, warmed by the soft skin of his own throat, and offered it to Viggo, who sucked it daintily from his finger while Sean wondered whether he might bring the honey along with them into the shower. Viggo was not, after all, the only artist between them.
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