Friday, June 3, 2011

Friday Night Slash: I Slapped a Brat (and I Liked It) by @SingleStrand

Banner by the fabulous Tkegl!

Okay y'all, I'm back with another great edition of Friday Night Slash! This week, to go along with my Saturday Sit-Down interview with the fantastic SingleStrand, I'm giving you an in-depth peek into one of her fabulous fics, I Slapped a Brat And I Liked It!

It's a Carlisle/Riley fic written for the prompt SadTomato gave SingleStrand. It was: "Drama Queen Twink Riley, older Carlisle, slapping, fucking. Go."

And boy did she deliver! I love this Riley and the fact that Carlisle is so patient with him and loves him so unconditionally just makes it that much more special. Riley is quite the demanding, needy, self-centered boy here but when you get into it and realize why, you'll understand.

Carlisle, though he is twelve years older than Ri, feels a strong need to take care of him and loves him despite his insecurities.

Riley is being a whiner and complaining thru the whole dinner and Carlisle tries to destract him by asking him about his latest fantasty, Riley tells him he wants to be slapped. Carlisle doesn't know if he can do it but he wants to make Riley happy.

When they get home, the fucking ensues and so does the slapping. It's hot! It's not everyone's cup of tea but holy hell do I love it!

SingleStrand is awesome. And by awesome I mean wicked talented and completely genius! She's also the author of the Judge's Choice winner of the Dirty Talking Jasper Contest, Hard. Feel free to check that out also! I promise you won't be disappointed! It's Edward/Jasper/Riley three-some with some Garrett thrown in on the side! *heck yeah*

Now here's a peek into the beginning of I Slapped a Brat!


"Eww. Why did we have to come to this place again, Carly? Everything is so … meaty," he whines, as we both peruse the menu.

"Riley, we came here because after a long stressful week at the hospital, I enjoy a bottle of wine and a good steak. It's once a week. Now, find something to eat without whining and please stop calling me Carly in public. You know how I feel about that." I give him a stern look over the tops of my reading glasses. Getting old is a bitch.

He huffs and grumbles something under his breath as he pulls the menu back up to hide his face.

"Riley. I said without whining." My patience is wearing thin.

"Fine. Carlisle." He's walking a very fine line this evening, and he knows it. Good thing I'm head over heels in love with him.

We met in my hospital. His father was in my care, not likely to recover from the injuries he sustained in a car accident, and we had called his next of kin. Riley had come to see him for the first time since he was fifteen, and for what would be the last time as well. He was such a wreck, my Riley, hating his father yet wanting to love him all at once. All I wanted to do in that moment was take him in my arms and hold him. To show him that he could be loved. So I did. He had molded his body to my own like he was meant to be there, like his mind knew we were supposed to be. Four years and lots of therapy later, I think he finally truly believes it.

And I'm patient with him when he digresses to this lost bratty boy, for lack of a better description. Because I love him.

We order our food - a medium rare steak and baked potato for me and a grilled chicken salad for him - and settle in with our wine.

"So, how was your day? Did you go to class?" Riley has been in college for as long as I've known him. I don't know that he'll ever actually graduate, but he works hard at a part time job too.

"Ugh. No. Can I just drop that art history lecture? Please? The professor is such a bitch, and I hate going. Please, Carly?" He tries to soften his voice as he pleads with me, but I stay firm.

"No. Absolutely not. And you better start going, or I'll make you pick up an extra shift at the library." At this, he straightens up a little in his seat. I know he likes to complain about the library, but secretly he takes pride in his work there. I don't know why he doesn't just declare a Library Science major and be done with it.

"Do you think I have time for another shift? I mean, I could always work Sundays, but you always say Sundays are only for us."

"As long as you continue going to school, which I strongly suggest you do, you don't have time for any more shifts. And you most certainly don't need the money right now, so please focus on classes. For me."

"Fine," he says, after a huge sigh. He takes a sip of his wine, and the whining begins again. "Why do we have to get red wine? It has so many more calories than white."

"It's better for you, and this one in particular pairs well with my steak. Now drink it, Riley, or ask for some ice water."

Our meal comes and after some more wine, we relax into our usual rhythm, but when I talk about a peculiar case at work for a few minutes, Riley looks up and interrupts me.

"New rule for our steakhouse dinner. No talk about work or school. We can talk weather, music, the news, anything but work or school. Think you can do it?" He's taunting me with his eyes, the little shit.

"Of course I can. And I'll make it even more interesting than pop culture. Why don't you tell me, in detail, about your latest fantasy." Riley has a vivid imagination, and he's constantly creating these little scenes he wants us to act out.

"Ohhhh, I see what you're doing. Trying to embarrass me out in public. I don't even care what these people think, Carly. You should know that. Hmm." He raises a thin arm and scratches the back of his neck as he thinks, and I know he's trying to come up with something on the fly.

'Well, I've been thinking a lot lately about you hitting me." There's a gleam in his eye, but for once I can't tell if it's a teasing gleam or an excited one.

"Jesus, Ri. Hitting you? I could never ..."

"No, silly. Not like, beating me. Just like, I don't know, we get in a really dramatic argument or something, and you slap me across the face, and then you feel bad, and I let you fuck me to make it up to me. The end." He looks so pleased with himself, I can't help but chuckle.

"Well. The rest of that I'm sure I can manage. I'll have to think about the slapping though. I don't want to hurt your pretty face, baby." He hates when I call him pretty, but surprisingly he doesn't let it get to him for once.

"Are you done? Can we go home yet? It's cold in here, and I need a blankie and some snuggles."


Now, if you love it as much as I do, please take a moment to review and BEG her to write more! I want more and I'm sure you do too! Remember reviews are a way you can give back to the author!

Tune in tomorrow to read the fantastic interview with SingleStrand. You won't wanna miss it!

Until then lovlies...


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