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charisstomaFB3X Drabble Cascade #25 - Time
Title: Holding onto Memories (m/m, horror, M)
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 500
Prompt: Time
The leather cover of the album was a dead sort of off white as befitted where the leather had originated. The center front of the book held an intricate delicate tracing in what was now a faded blue. Some of the areas were filled in with that blue but again that could be laid at where the covering had originated. The two raised overt dimples might almost be overlooked but tactilely they drew fingers to lie on either side of the design.
He picked up the album laying it comfortably in his lap, his legs propped upon the ottoman. With what could be termed reverence he opened the cover to the first page, where a single name was written in cursive. Fancy enough yet simple enough, like the man.
There were photographs in the beginning, faded like that design on the book’s cover. Old photos, grouped together filling each page with years numbered in the upper corners of the pages. They were a work of love by a parent of a young boy aging into adulthood. He smiled.
Then there were sketches of the man child at that rebellious stage, he’d done those and he supposed that they were done in love too. That had been his pencil to paper stage before he’d become interested in photography. Again he smiled.
The later pages were dated for each of the months he’d known Denton. There were years of photos; some large, some stark blacks and whites, one entire page done of Dent’s body assembled into a collage with the magnification to stress the importance of that body part. It wasn’t too surprising that Dent’s cock was one of the largest photos or its flipside either. That photo was placed to the side of the cock as if Dent had been cut in half front to back and displayed.
On each page was another part of Dent’s life, even the last, though that grouping had been taken by a timed shutter so that Aster could be in the photos too at Dent’s side. There was Dent drinking, and there when he lost consciousness falling into the sleep he’d never wake from.
He traced a finger over the photo of Dent lying supine on the dark plastic tarp, stark white on dark.
The next photo was after the excisement, the large square of skin removed from Dent’s chest from arm to arm, from clavicle to below the ribs. Dent’s photo was dark on white on dark, the photo done this time in sepia like faded rusty blood.
It was Dent’s life laid out all in one place.
He closed the book and ran his hands under it to admire the twin padded rounded shapes, cupping them. Raising the book enough so he could undo his pants, he centered himself between the now shallow globes. The view was perfect, his cock pressed into Dent’s ass and the cover, Dent’s chest the tattoo centered between the nipples. A work of art he could cum to.
Title: Holding onto Memories (m/m, horror, M)
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 500
Prompt: Time
The leather cover of the album was a dead sort of off white as befitted where the leather had originated. The center front of the book held an intricate delicate tracing in what was now a faded blue. Some of the areas were filled in with that blue but again that could be laid at where the covering had originated. The two raised overt dimples might almost be overlooked but tactilely they drew fingers to lie on either side of the design.
He picked up the album laying it comfortably in his lap, his legs propped upon the ottoman. With what could be termed reverence he opened the cover to the first page, where a single name was written in cursive. Fancy enough yet simple enough, like the man.
There were photographs in the beginning, faded like that design on the book’s cover. Old photos, grouped together filling each page with years numbered in the upper corners of the pages. They were a work of love by a parent of a young boy aging into adulthood. He smiled.
Then there were sketches of the man child at that rebellious stage, he’d done those and he supposed that they were done in love too. That had been his pencil to paper stage before he’d become interested in photography. Again he smiled.
The later pages were dated for each of the months he’d known Denton. There were years of photos; some large, some stark blacks and whites, one entire page done of Dent’s body assembled into a collage with the magnification to stress the importance of that body part. It wasn’t too surprising that Dent’s cock was one of the largest photos or its flipside either. That photo was placed to the side of the cock as if Dent had been cut in half front to back and displayed.
On each page was another part of Dent’s life, even the last, though that grouping had been taken by a timed shutter so that Aster could be in the photos too at Dent’s side. There was Dent drinking, and there when he lost consciousness falling into the sleep he’d never wake from.
He traced a finger over the photo of Dent lying supine on the dark plastic tarp, stark white on dark.
The next photo was after the excisement, the large square of skin removed from Dent’s chest from arm to arm, from clavicle to below the ribs. Dent’s photo was dark on white on dark, the photo done this time in sepia like faded rusty blood.
It was Dent’s life laid out all in one place.
He closed the book and ran his hands under it to admire the twin padded rounded shapes, cupping them. Raising the book enough so he could undo his pants, he centered himself between the now shallow globes. The view was perfect, his cock pressed into Dent’s ass and the cover, Dent’s chest the tattoo centered between the nipples. A work of art he could cum to.
