Over at the Torquere Social email list, Vince Diamond threw down a ficlet challenge: 100 words or less using the words:'June', 'nuclear', and 'garage'.

I'm not doing so great at writing short today, it seems, so here's exactly twice as much ficlet as required (which is why I'm posting here not there.)


The metal garage door was hot to the touch, and when Mark turned the latch and lifted it up and over the June heat slammed into him, prickling his temples with sweat and making him squint against the sun's nuclear-blast brightness.

He retreated a few steps into the relative coolness of the shaded garage and screwed up his eyes, watching the sunspots dance across his closed eyelids.

Fuck, it was brutal out there. A beer out of the fridge, and his recliner positioned between two fans seemed more tempting than ever, but he'd promised Hal that he'd clear out the junk boxes today, and, well - a promise was a promise.

That went for his promised reward, too, he reminded himself, and the mirage of the fans faded away, replaced by something much more distracting.

Mark loved water and sex together, which, admittedly, wasn't Hal's favourite thing about him. Hal wasn't above bribery, though, and especially after nearly two weeks of heat-wave which made even the slightest touch sticky and irritating, the prospect of Hal stretched up against the wall in the shower stall, water running over those muscles, begging Mark to touch him…

Mark shivered.

The beer could wait.

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