Three Stripes
folder
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Celeb › Canadian Idol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
766
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Celeb › Canadian Idol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
766
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Canadian Idol, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Three Stripes
Disclaimer: The Canadian Idol series and its competitors are the property of 19e and CTV. This is a work of fanfiction. No money is being made from this story and no infringement is intended.
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--- X --- Three Stripes --- X ---
--- by paperbacksniper ---
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“I don’t care about the question. I just can’t get past that shirt, dude.”
Zack stared up at Ben in distaste. He shook his head and then in typical scathing Zack-style, he uttered his pronouncement. "Dude, there's not enough testosterone on this show."
It wasn't exactly like that, not always. But tonight, it might as well be true. There was Benedict Mulroney, son of a former Prime Minister, standing in all his glory. His glory being a polo shirt. His polo shirt being pink. Light powdery girly pink. All traces of male hormones might as well have taken flight, and Ben exited stage by means of the left wing, his father always having been standing firmly in the right.
Zack himself had taken the left wing earlier in life, and now here he was, backstage, pressing Ben into a wall. The smell of expensive cologne and cheap spray on tanner filtering through his nostrils. Running his soft tongue down Ben's neck, leaving a wet peachy trail in between dry bars of orange.
Ben moaned and tilted his head to the side, his eyes closed in bliss. Zack crouched down to his knees and then smirked, taking in the sight before him.
"I don't know, dude, maybe there is enough testosterone after all."
~fin~
“I don’t care about the question. I just can’t get past that shirt, dude.”
Zack stared up at Ben in distaste. He shook his head and then in typical scathing Zack-style, he uttered his pronouncement. "Dude, there's not enough testosterone on this show."
It wasn't exactly like that, not always. But tonight, it might as well be true. There was Benedict Mulroney, son of a former Prime Minister, standing in all his glory. His glory being a polo shirt. His polo shirt being pink. Light powdery girly pink. All traces of male hormones might as well have taken flight, and Ben exited stage by means of the left wing, his father always having been standing firmly in the right.
Zack himself had taken the left wing earlier in life, and now here he was, backstage, pressing Ben into a wall. The smell of expensive cologne and cheap spray on tanner filtering through his nostrils. Running his soft tongue down Ben's neck, leaving a wet peachy trail in between dry bars of orange.
Ben moaned and tilted his head to the side, his eyes closed in bliss. Zack crouched down to his knees and then smirked, taking in the sight before him.
"I don't know, dude, maybe there is enough testosterone after all."