Drabble: Vapors
Feb. 14th, 2009 10:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amediaTitle: Vapors
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amedia (but see A/N)
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: The Mystic Man/Sorceress
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Imagiquest. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tinman100 Challenge 20, "Stick." This story was suggested by TODS and most of the language is his as well; I just wrote it down, added a few lines, and made sure it came out to a hundred words. He refused authoring credit. Originally posted here.
That night was stuck in his head.
That unspeakable night when he set out once and for all to show that arrogant Sorceress that he knew a thing or two about satisfying women in bed.
True, he knew more than most men—after all, he was the Mystic Man. But the Witch had had a long time in that cave to store up desire. And think. And invent.
Her insatiable passions drained him irreparably; her impossibly perverted imagination conjured horrors he had never dreamed.
No amount of vapors would erase the memory of that night. He knew. He had tried.
Author:
amedia (but see A/N)Word Count: 100
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: The Mystic Man/Sorceress
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Imagiquest. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Written for the
tinman100 Challenge 20, "Stick." This story was suggested by TODS and most of the language is his as well; I just wrote it down, added a few lines, and made sure it came out to a hundred words. He refused authoring credit. Originally posted here.That night was stuck in his head.
That unspeakable night when he set out once and for all to show that arrogant Sorceress that he knew a thing or two about satisfying women in bed.
True, he knew more than most men—after all, he was the Mystic Man. But the Witch had had a long time in that cave to store up desire. And think. And invent.
Her insatiable passions drained him irreparably; her impossibly perverted imagination conjured horrors he had never dreamed.
No amount of vapors would erase the memory of that night. He knew. He had tried.
