Wednesday - Love in the Afternoon
Jan. 6th, 2010 07:16 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello everyone!! I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
johnboy91719 bringing you a brand new theme today.
In honor of Wednesday being sometimes referred to as Hump Day, let's have some love in the afternoon. That's right, folks. Let's see some fics about sex. Events leading up to it, the act itself, or whatever happens afterwards. It can be sweet and innocent or naughty and raunchy. Let your mind take you wherever it wants to go, even if it's found a nice home in the gutter like mine has.
Please remember the following:
* Post no more than three prompts per fandom and no more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills a prompt, you're more than welcome to post some more prompts later in the day.
* No spoilers in prompts for at least seven days after the original airdate or publication date. If you have spoilers in your fic, please warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.
* Show some love to the code monkeys and format your prompts correctly. Examples below (last one is for crossovers):
"[tag=LoveInTheAfternoon]"
johnboy91719 bringing you a brand new theme today. In honor of Wednesday being sometimes referred to as Hump Day, let's have some love in the afternoon. That's right, folks. Let's see some fics about sex. Events leading up to it, the act itself, or whatever happens afterwards. It can be sweet and innocent or naughty and raunchy. Let your mind take you wherever it wants to go, even if it's found a nice home in the gutter like mine has.
Please remember the following:
* Post no more than three prompts per fandom and no more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills a prompt, you're more than welcome to post some more prompts later in the day.
* No spoilers in prompts for at least seven days after the original airdate or publication date. If you have spoilers in your fic, please warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.
* Show some love to the code monkeys and format your prompts correctly. Examples below (last one is for crossovers):
- Star Trek XI, Kirk/Bones, quickie in the sickbay
- One Life to Live, Oliver/Kyle, afterglow
- Dollhouse/author's choice, Victor/author's choice, Victor is the dominant one in an engagement
"[tag=LoveInTheAfternoon]"
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 07:15 pm (UTC)There was an ensign on the other side of the room, sleeping off a Venusian Flu Vaccine, his monitors all humming and thrumming and beeping; these noises were usually so comforting. They had about two minutes before Nurse Chapel came back from her wild goose chase to medical supply, but they couldn’t wait; or rather, Jim couldn’t wait.
His fingers gripped McCoy’s hips all the harder and the sweat that was coating their bodies made them slip as Jim tried to lift just enough to ride Bones’ prostate.
Bones bit his lip to stop from crying out as bliss arced through his nerve endings and brought every bit of attention he had in his brain to that small bundle of pleasure and the huge cock that was rubbing it just right. Nothing else mattered, not the patient at the other end of the room, not the limited time, not the fact that anyone could come walking in on them and see him bent over one of his own sick bay beds with his trousers around his knees and his shirt pushed up out of the way, taking it hard and fast from his captain. No, all he had right here and right now was his own impending orgasm and Kirk. Kirk’s hands bruising his hips. Kirk’s cock splitting him open and taking, taking, taking. Kirk’s teeth grazing the back of his neck. Kirk’s voice, rough and sultry and sexy and strained, whispering in his ear, “You love it. You love when I take you like this. Take it. Fuck. God. Yeah.” One of Kirk’s hands fisted Bones’ neglected dick roughly and Bones came undone.
By the time Bones came back to his body, he was standing, Kirk was holding him up gently and fastening his trousers and trailing small kisses over his jaw and neck. He wanted to stay like this for a while, to let Jim take care of him, but he couldn’t let go. “Damn it, Jim,” he groused, pushing Jim’s hands away and standing steadily on his own. “It’s bad enough you can’t control your damned hormones like a grown man, but must you paw me when I’m working.”
Jim, the bastard, just smirked. “You seemed stressed. I was just helping you out.”
“Get out of my sick bay. And take your damned pheromones with you.”
“Absolutely. See you for dinner?"
(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-06 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:38 pm (UTC)I will not accept I'm the only one who ships this!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-15 11:39 pm (UTC)“Hey, albatross. You flyin’ off without me?”
Straightening her neck, she looks at him standing beside her, clothed now, buttoned up, but he hasn’t smoothed his hair and the heat is still in his cheeks and eyes, a pretty glow. She puts her palm on his chest, over his heart, pressed close to feel the beat. “I’m glad you let me in.”
“Let you?” He snorts, but it’s soft with amusement, it doesn’t cut. “More like I gave you a finger and you took the whole hand.”
“I didn’t,” she says, a smile stealing out, widening, and then, “I’ve taken more,” her palm sliding, pointedly, down a suspender strap to the waist of his trousers. “And you enjoy it.”
His brows rise. “Ain’t the only one.”
“No.” She draws in a breath, an echo of sensation going through her. “We should’ve done this before. Long ago.”
“Long ago,” he reminds her, “we couldn’t have.” He pulls from her touch, bending to pick up the blanket, shaking it out, bits of grass and flower seeds scattering. “Things were —”
“Problematic,” she fills in and to follow his example, clearing the spot, she grabs her boots, meaning to carry them, her toes digging into the crust of the earth. “You weren’t ready.”
He startles, opens his mouth, but reconsiders the words before he speaks, ending with quirked-up lips. “Maybe I wasn’t,” he says. “Guess I should be right grateful you were patient.”
She nods, grave outwardly, but not inside. “Yes, you should.”
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 06:27 pm (UTC)Sorry for the questions - this one is sort of flitting about at the back of my mind and some more specifics would help me put something together for you. :)
(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-06 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 02:14 pm (UTC)Re: FILLED!
From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 02:14 pm (UTC)Sam/Gabriel
Date: 2010-01-06 02:51 pm (UTC)Gabriel pats his hip consolingly. "We should do this again sometime."
"No," Sam says grumpily, levering himself into a sitting position. There's sweat cooling on his skin and he aches in new and interesting ways. "I don't even like you."
"Keep telling yourself that," Gabriel says smugly. "I'll be back."
He grins, snaps his fingers, and vanishes, and Sam curses quietly and lets his head fall back against the headboard.
It's not until after he's managed to drag himself into the bathroom for a shower that he sees them. Hickeys. Dozens of them, scattered across his torso and bitten into the sensitive skin at the hollow of his throat. Tentatively, he lifts a finger to touch one on his neck, and the sense memory hits him in a rush of heat: Gabriel's mouth gliding across his skin, latching, catching, murmuring absolutely filthy nothings just loud enough to hear. Sam closes his eyes for a long moment, and when he opens them again his reflection is flushed and stunned.
He is so screwed.
Re: Sam/Gabriel
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Date: 2010-01-06 02:49 pm (UTC)I have no excuse for this.
Date: 2010-01-07 12:29 pm (UTC)-
He’s been in the stocks for three hours and it’s so cold he thinks his fingers might fall off. He wants to cast a spell, just to make sure that, by the end of this, he still has all his appendages, but he’s in the middle of the fucking square and, if two years in Camelot has taught him anything, it’s that magic is not something that you do in the middle of the town square, even if daylight is just fading away into dusk and there’s no one about.
Okay, who’s he kidding, he’s too cold to remember the fucking spell and that’s the truth.
He’s too cold to shiver, he didn’t even know that was possible, and he has the horrible feeling that it’s about to snow.
It takes a lot of effort in the stocks to crane your neck enough to look at the sky. It’s a complicated manoeuvre involving shoving your neck as far through the hole as possible, until your collar bones are almost fusing to the wood, and then tilting your head as far as it will go, carefully, not to knock yourself unconscious.
There are thick grey clouds over head, just visible in the strange purplish light that lingers. Merlin wonders how long it will take someone to remember to dig out his frozen corpse in the morning. It probably won’t be until at least lunchtime when Arthur finally decides to see what’s keeping his food.
He sags against the wood, but even that isn’t comfortable. Every muscle in his body is cramping, protesting and reminding him that he has been in this position for three hours.
There is a sharp sound and something whacks him on the arse.
“Enjoying yourself there, Merlin?” Arthur asks, too smug and amused to be in any way attractive.
The smack on his arse is even more painful in the cold. He hisses angrily and glares at Arthur’s boots when they come into sight. He’d glare at Arthur’s face, but he’s not sure he could manage to look up again, his neck muscles really hate him at the minute.
“It’s bloody freezing out here,” Merlin tells him. Arthur laughs.
“I know... that’s why I’ve got my cloak on,” the Prince tells him. Merlin can see the bottom of it, swishing around his boots... his thick, fur lined boots. Merlin, at this precise moment, can think of nothing he hates more than smug, arrogant courtiers in fur-lined boots who are able to stand up right.
“Your lips are going blue,” Arthur comments, and a large, gloved, hand comes into view. His index finger touches Merlin’s bottom lip softly, as though trying to rub off the colour.
“All of me’s going blue... look, just let me out, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll never do it again.”
“Never do what again?” Arthur asks. He crouches down so that Merlin can see his face... still smiling, always smiling. Damn prat. Merlin hopes his testicles freeze and drop off like little snow balls.
Except for how Merlin doesn’t, because he’s actually quite fond of Arthur’s testicles... and most of Arthur really, but not when it’s sitting in front of him smiling and his own balls are in danger of turning to blocks of ice.
The problem is, he really can’t remember what he was put in here for now. He might have said something, or done something, or tripped over his own feet. It’s all such a long time ago and he’s tired and Arthur’s sitting there smugly. So all he can really do is pause and try to shrug.
Shrugging doesn’t really work in the stocks, your shoulders don’t have anywhere to go.
“Clearly, you have not learnt your lesson,” Arthur tells him, standing up. “Such a pity.”
“I’m going to freeze to death if you leave me here over night!” Merlin calls out as Arthur begins to walk away. He can just see his heels now... and Merlin’s going to have to polish those boots because there’s a tremendous scuff on one of them – if he doesn’t die of cold first, of course.
I have no excuse for this. Part 2
From:I have no excuse for this. Part 3
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From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 04:36 pm (UTC)"No," Merlin answered firmly, flipping through the channels without really looking at the T.V.
"You can't spend all day sitting around."
"Sorry if I'm not little-mister-golden-boy who spends every second of every day doing something significant," Merlin replied, ignoring Arthur's towering presence.
The other man rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "It's not my fault I have a life," Arthur drawled.
"You're overactive. Try relaxing for once," Merlin said, "though I'm not sure you Pendragons know how."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Was that a challenge?"
"A challenge to relax?" Merlin smirked. "I don't think you get the point."
"I can relax!" Arthur said with a laugh. "Watch this! I can relax twice as awesomely as you can!"
"I don't think it's supposed to be a comp-" Merlin began, but stopped because Arthur was crawling on top of him.
"What are you doing?" Merlin asked warily. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Relaxing. This sofa looked so welcoming, and you seemed almost addicted to it, so I figured we'd have to share," Arthur explained, grinning arrogantly.
Merlin huffed. "Get your own couch, you prat."
"Aw, but Merlin, this clearly is the superior one. I can't let you hog it all day."
Merlin muttered something about clotpoles and tried to ignore how close Arthur was pressed to him.
Arthur lay his head against Merlin's shoulder and sighed. "You're right, this is very nice," he said, then proceeded to wriggle his hips a little.
Merlin groaned. "Can you stop that?" He asked, biting his lip.
"Stop what, Merlin? Relaxing? I thought that's what you wanted me to do." Arthur blew out a stream of hot air that made the hair on Merlin's neck stand up.
"Goddammit Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed, but Arthur just gazed up at him using his best 'innocent' look.
Merlin doubted that Arthur had ever been innocent in his life.
Arthur moved one of his hands up and down Merlin's side, sliding under his shirt and making patterns on his skin. All the while, his eyes remained fixed on the T.V., prattish smile in place.
And now Merlin was hard, and Arthur, on top of him, knew it.
"Now, now Merlin, that's not relaxed, is it?" Arthur asked, propping himself up on his hands and leering over him.
Merlin growled in frustration and grabbed the back of Arthur's neck, pulling him down for a hot and messy kiss.
From which Arthur pulled back looking quite flushed and triumphant.
"See, I told you I was better at it," he said. Merlin sighed.
"Fine, you're good at relaxing," Merlin responded, to which Arthur felt it was necessary to continue their earlier ministrations.
It was hard to be indignant when Arthur's tongue was in your mouth and his fingers were trailing downwards in a slow and suggestive manner.
After all, he was victorious on one count; he didn't have to get off the couch.
(I really feel like this needed more porn...)
(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-06 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:01 pm (UTC)Doors Should Be Locked, R
Date: 2010-01-11 08:53 pm (UTC)It’s easy to get lost in Reid, hands roaming over skin, lips and tongues tangling together. They don’t even bother with the bed. Reid has him face-first against the wall… their jeans pooled at their feet. Lube tossed somewhere on the floor behind them and Reid’s thrusting in and out of him, mouthing over his back and shoulders, up along his neck. Tyler grunts, left hand gripping Reid’s waist and right hand planted against the wall. He curses and moans while Reid breathes taunts and filthy promises against his ear. He drops his head back against Reid’s shoulder, eyes closing as he tries to breathe, rasp out Reid’s name, when…
“I’m tellin’ you, man, you need more—holy shit!” Pogue practically shrieks the words as the door slams closed behind him. Tyler’s eyes widen, cursing softly as Reid pulls out of him way too quickly but instead of moving completely away he’s shielding Tyler from view and rubbing his palm up and down along his side.
“Don’t you guys fucking knock before going into someone’s room?” Reid huffs out frustration evident in his voice.
“Hey, moron, don’t you know how to lock the damn door?” Caleb grits out, ever the sensible one. Tyler feels the flush in his cheeks and the heat along his neck and chest as embarrassment overtakes him. Pogue covers his eyes with his hands and Caleb’s looking at the opposite wall as they break apart to do up their jeans. Reid walks around bare-chested, gingerly buttoning his jeans over his hard-on as Tyler still scrambles for a shirt to put on, unable to find his own he settles for Reid’s discarded shirt.
“Everyone decent?”
“Yeah, princess, you can uncover your delicate little eyes now.”
Pogue glares, indignant. “Dude, your pasty white ass is forever burned into my retinas.”
“You see me naked in the locker rooms all the damn time.”
“Not like that,” he mutters.
Tyler’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and he’s running his fingers through his hair with nervous energy. “Something you guys wanted?”
“Cause this isn’t awkward at all.” Caleb snickers. If possible, Tyler’s face goes even redder.
Pogue rolls his eyes, patting his hand over Tyler’s shoulder before being shrugged off. “Sorry to break up the love fest, baby boy. We thought you’d want to head down to Nicky’s for some pool but it looks like your busy, so maybe another time.”
“Right,” Reid bites back. “After you’ve officially cock-blocked us.”
Caleb stares pointedly at the bulge in Reid’s jeans. “Dude, who are you kidding?” Reid shrugs, settling back on his bed and placing a pillow over his front. “We’re heading over to Nicky’s. Come—uh, I mean stop by if you guys want to.” Reid doesn’t think Tyler can look anymore flustered but he’s proving him wrong, going completely speechless.
“But we won’t expect you,” Pogue interrupts, sounding choked up. Caleb nods, gripping Pogue’s shoulder and steering him towards the door.
“See you later.”
“Yeah,” Reid adds. “And lock the door on your way out, will ya?” Pogue grumbles something they can’t quite hear but Caleb gives them an amused smile as he pointedly locks the door before shutting it behind him.
Tyler hides his red-face behind his hands, words muffled against the skin. Reid laughs from his spot on the bed. “This is not funny.”
“It is. A little bit,” Reid insists with a crooked smile. “Now get over here and we can finish what we started before we were rudely interrupted by jackass one and two.”
“Yeah, right, Reid. The mood is officially over.”
“Bullshit. Come on, baby boy. The door is locked and they sure as hell aren’t expecting us tonight.”
Tyler grumbles—more for show than actual protest—as he makes his way over throwing Reid’s pillow on the floor before straddling his waist. “Next time we make sure the door is locked. Triple check,” he declares with blood-flushed cheeks.
“Agreed. Now get down here.” Reid runs his hands underneath the shirt, tickles his fingers over Tyler’s abs until he huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to softly brush his mouth over Reid’s.
Re: Doors Should Be Locked, R
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Date: 2010-01-06 03:02 pm (UTC)in the afterglow, reid/tyler
Date: 2011-02-01 12:12 am (UTC)Tyler tucks his face in against Reid’s neck, hot puffs of air escaping parted lips as he tries to catch his breath. His skin buzzes, orgasm leaving him shaking and vibrating with energy that gradually eases.
Reid runs his fingers along Tyler’s side--keeping him close, silently telling him not to go anywhere.
Tyler huffs a laugh--amused and sated; he wasn’t planning on moving, at least not anytime soon. He merely settles in closer against Reid’s warm side, feet tangling together as he presses a gentle kiss against Reid’s throat.
Reid mutters something under his breath; his fingers never cease their comforting rhythm as Tyler drifts off to sleep.
---
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From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:14 pm (UTC)Fill - sort of
Date: 2013-12-30 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:15 pm (UTC)No fic sorry... just
Date: 2010-01-06 04:02 pm (UTC)Sorry, I felt the need to exclaim over the fact that there is someone else here who watches Casualty... (I don't write fic for it, and as I only dimly remember Stitch that's probably best).
Re: No fic sorry... just
From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-14 11:00 pm (UTC)Puddlemere's whole team and crew are there, every Gryffindor teammate and many others, too.
The only one who Harry didn't expect to see is Draco Malfoy. Hell, he didn't even know that Malfoy and Oliver knew each other.
Draco stays away from the other mourners but he lays two roses, one white and one red onto the casket. Beneath the shallow mask of stoicism he looks miserable and wretched, fragile and vulnerable somewhow as if he would break any time soon. The last time Harry saw Malfoy like this was when he was working on killing Dumbledore to save his parents and himself.
'Amor ordinem nescit.' Harry heard him saying.
Oliver's mother apparently saw him, too, because she walked to him and hit Draco. He let it happen, apathically, but Harry, who stood only a few feet away saw tears cling to Draco's lashes.
'Malfoy?' He asked because he couldn't help himself.
'Potter.' Even Draco's sneer was only a fraction of its usual apperance.
'I didn't know you knew Oliver.'
'We met at work.' Now Harry remembered that Malfoy had gone to Healer school and was Puddlemere's medic wizard. Now it made sense that Oliver's mother would blame him for her son's death.
'You were close?' It wasn't a question, not really. Draco shrugged:
'It's not important, Potter.'
'I'm sorry.' Draco's glare was full of contempt:
'Spare me your pity. I'm no the one who's dead.'
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Amor ordinem nescit - Loves knows no order
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 03:18 pm (UTC)