Sunday Free For All

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Yesterday was so much fun, it's time for some more!

Today, being Sunday, is another free for all. Any fandom, any pairing/grouping, any prompt. Bring on the RPS, the random fandom, the unconventional pairings! We wants it all!


Also, remember that we need you to help keep this comm working. We have hosts for the next two week, but we need more. If you can make an opening post with a theme for five days, you too can be a guest host. The post for signing up to do so is here. Have any questions? You can ask them there too and one of your crazy mods will get back to you.

So are you ready for another day of awesome?

Remember to format your prompts as follows:

For single fandom: Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: RPS, JDM/Misha, punished

For a Crossover: Fandom/Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: Criminal Minds/Numbers, Spencer Reid/Charlie Epps, academic acheivement

Ready? Set? Go!

Comments

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/Misha, punished

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

"You know why I did it."

Misha nods, tries to breathe through the pain flaring across his hips. His face is wet with sweat and tears, but he isn't ashamed of it. Jeff has a strong arm, and he doesn't pull the blow when he swings a belt.

When Jeff's hand slides over the reddened areas, callused fingertips dragging over smooth skin, Misha shudders, breath coming in hitching gulps. "Plan on coming home again smelling like beer and cheap whores?"

"N-no," Misha stammers, fighting the urge to hump the bed when Jeff's fingers slide lower, delve between Misha's cheeks, brush over his opening.

"Learned your lesson then?" The fingers pull away, then return, slick and cool as they push inside Misha with a twisting motion that makes him suck in his breath and arch.

"Yes, sir," Misha whispers, and closes his eyes as Jeff pulls his hips up and replaces his fingers with his cock.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds/Numbers, Spencer Reid/Charlie Epps, academic acheivement

More than schools.

[sagaluthien.livejournal.com]

OBS! Not betad.
---
More than Schools

"Do you never stop?" Charlie asked, as Spencer seemed to have come into a second breath with his exposition.

"I'm sorry. Most my friends know to stop me if I get all to in to what I'm telling."

Though it didn't take long time before Spencer was in it again, as they changed subject to their academic achievements.

Just to get him to shut up this time Charlie took a grip around Spencer's neck and kissed him. It did work and after a moment Spencer seemed to like the other thoughts and answered with a heated kiss.

Both looked around and with out words they left to continue elsewhere. They felt they might have something more together than how bright they are.

***The End***

Ps. This is my first try to write Numbers and Criminal minds, so I hope it worked especially as it is ages since a saw an episode of Numbers.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Jeff, floor

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Everyone was gone. Everyone but Chris, who was still on the floor near the television, and Jeff because...well, it was his house.

Jeff's in the chair, like a king holding court, a glass of beer in one hand. His legs are open in a Jared worthy sprawl, enough space between his knees to crawl into.

His eyes are closed, probably relishing the quiet. They could be a rowdy bunch. Chris sits up and finishes pulling off his shirt, which had gotten tugged and pulled and buttons broken in the rough housing, unbuttons his jeans. His cock is stirring just from the thoughts in his head.

He clears his throat to get Jeff's attention, rewarded with the opening of an eye and the raising of an eyebrow. Chris meets his eyes and holds them as he drops to all fours to crawl across the floor, and up between those legs.

Jeff's cock is warming to the unspoken desire as Chris rises up between his legs, his hands unzipping Jeff and fondling his cock to hardness. He doesn't ask permission, doesn't need anything more than that look in Jeff's eye, to drop his gaze, open his mouth, and take Jeff in.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, warm

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian snuffles in his sleep, curling in closer to Steve. He tightens his hold, burying his face in Steve's neck.

Steve chuckles, his hand running up and down Christian's back. "Gotta get up," he says, jostling his shoulder.

Christian simply grunts and holds on tighter.

"Got a train to catch," Steve continues, frowning at the muffled reply.

"Comfy," Christian replies at Steve's prompting, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to Steve's jaw.

"I know, but we've still got a train to catch."

"Warm. Comfy. Don't wanna move." Christian's kisses trail down Steve's throat to his chest, one nipple sucked into his mouth, tongue and teeth teasing until Steve groans, his hands sliding down Christian's back, playing over his ass and he agrees, as Christian' lips close over his cock, that staying in bed a little longer is actually a very good idea.

[alldunn.livejournal.com]

Dark Angel/Leverage, Alec/Alec, family

More Family, Dark Angel/Leverage, Alec/Alec, family

[hunters-retreat.livejournal.com]

“They say you can’t choose your family man, but…” He sighed, looking around them at the motley crew they had around them. Hell, most of them weren’t human, but if Alec really thought about he wasn’t sure any of his were either. Thieves and mercenaries, the people that humanity wrote off as less than human. They fit with the freaks and the crazies though. With the transgenics and mutations. “… I don’t know anymore. I think maybe you can.”

Alec stared at the other man, the other Alec in the room and smirked. Okay, so yeah he didn’t really have a family, but the people he was closest too were all here. Alright, if he were going to ‘have’ a family they would be these people. Max and Logan and OC and Joshua.

“Family? I don’t know about that.” He smirked then caught Logan looking his way. His smile softened slightly. “Then again, if they’re family they have to buy you presents right? Like… on your birthday?” He only knew about that specific tradition because Logan had got him a cake on his birthday, just something small but no one else had ever done anything for his birthday before so it meant something.

The other Alec smiled. “Yep they sure do.”

“I could handle some more family then.”

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

SGA, Vegas John Sheppard/ Vegas Rodney McKay, heat

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, happy

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian handed a bottle of beer to Steve, throwing himself down on the couch next to him. He leaned forward and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box and the remote control, randomly flicking through the channels and grinning as he finds a football game. He tosses the remote back onto the table and eats his pizza

Steve laughs and tugs Christian closer, one arm slung around his shoulder and Christian ending up half on his lap, laughingly protesting that he was watching the game, even as he squirms around to face Steve, cupping his face in his hands as he kisses him.

Before turning back around again, his his back to Steve's chest, still half on his lap, head resting on hi shoulder as they watch the game, feeding each other pizza.

[draco-somnians.livejournal.com]

Sanctuary, Druitt/Tesla, spark

Hehe, anyone done Sanctuary in comment fic yet? :)

[donutsweeper.livejournal.com]

Magnus shook her head as John and Nikola break into another argument, or 'discussion' as they called it. Watching John and Nikola exchange barbs and insults was like watching two tennis pros compete in the finals of Wimbledon. She paused in the doorway, knowing better than to interrupt, and a small smile slowly spread over her face. It was so obvious to her why neither man would back down, and it wasn't due to a disagreement over the plans they were drawing up.

Men, she thought with a huff, only men would be so blind and so stubborn as to not see the spark that lingered between them. Well, maybe it was time for someone to do something about that. And she was more than capable.

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/James Marsters, control

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

They circle, like two cats stalking prey.

They move slowly in toward one another, eyes locked.

Neither is ready yet to relinquish control. One of them will, eventually...but for now, it's a game of will.

When they finally come together, bodies crashing and fingers grabbing, moans and grunts and the sound of flesh on flesh fill the room until slowly one of them gains the upper hand and the other bends, not entirely unwilling under their control.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, Christian/Steve, sunshine

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

The sun is bright, shining on his hair. He's half asleep, laying there, stretched out on the blanket, eyes mostly closed. The breeze ruffles through the blond hair and makes me want to touch it.

His smile is lazy when I do just that, fingers light, but sliding deeper to connect with his scalp, rubbing lightly down to the back of his neck. His skin is warm and I want to taste it. I lean in, chasing sunshine down his back with my lips and tongue until I reach the waistband of his pants, groaning a little at the thwarting.

Steve's not nearly as asleep as he was moments before, his hands moving to his pants, easing them down over his ass in offering.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, smooth

I'll try...

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

Eliot is a man of action rather than words. Therefore, Nate shouldn't have been surprised when Eliot stepped out of the shower the night he'd mentioned a certain...kink.

Eliot's face still had it's stubble and his hair was still long, but the rest of his body was smooth as a baby's bottom.

Nate's hand reached out to touch...

[havenward.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, close the door

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

"You wanted to see me, Boss?"

"Close the door."

Tony raised an eyebrow at the tone. He knew the sound, knew what it meant, why Gibbs had called him into this particular room.

The one with no windows, no observation room, no lights but the one over the table. There was a chair next to the door, the best lock they'd get in a room like this.

"Close the door, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded, closed the door and shoved the chair up under the knob. His hand fell to his pants, his belt. His heart thundered through him, relief that he'd been forgiven...or was about to be.

"Belt." His face blushed red as he pulled the leather belt off and handed it over, dropping his pants quickly. First would come the spanking, the belt across his ass until it was red and hot...the punishment.

Then, if Tony took the punishment, the Boss would forgive him, would fuck him...it wouldn't be gentle, but neither of them really needed gentle. And when he came, when he let Tony come, all would be well again.

A cuff upside the head once they were both re-dressed, a caustic word or two...and no one would ever know.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Alec/Eliot, boots

[alldunn.livejournal.com]

Alec was a damn tease.

Eliot had asked for help getting his boots off, since his hand was broken. Busted hand and very snug boots did not go well together. So Alec was helping him. He helped by straddling his lap, bent over, ass up and in Eliots face.

Alec was a damn tease, but busted hand of not, Eliot was getting some of that tonight.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jason Momoa/Chris Kane, lucky

God and his angels

[ruric.livejournal.com]

Chris has always thought of himself as a lucky man. He’s got family that care for him, friends who’ve supported him and two careers that he loves, neither of which he considers to be real work – cause he’s seen what real work looks like, knows what it feels like, and it ain’t pretending to be somebody else for a living or putting words and music together.

So yeah – he’s always thought of himself as lucky right up until he met Jason.

“Where’ve you gone?”

The voice is low and gravelly and breathed into his belly, but it’s amused rather than annoyed.

“Just thinkin’.”

Yeah - at least he’d thought of himself as lucky. Jason called him up when he was in town and they’d meet – bars, parking lots, the occasional motel, sometimes back here at Chris’s house. And it was all good – easy and uncomplicated.

He shifts as teeth nip at his thigh, big hands spread over his skin and the whisper of breath is both a tease and promise.

Then one day Jason had bundled him into his truck, snatched the keys from his hand and driven him up into the hills, to a house with a fabulous view, parked his truck in the drive and turned to him.

“I want you to meet my family.”

Chris knew how that one always turned out – and it was never good. But Jason had leaned over, kissed him and got out of the truck disappearing into the house and Chris? Well he could either look like a dick and stay in the truck, walk back home or suck it up and go inside.

So he went inside and met Lisa who smiled at him and pulled him into a hug and whispered “Jason’s told me all about you” with an inflection that left nothing to wonder about and just like that? He became family. He’s still not quite sure how it happened so easily but he’s not going to question it.

Sharp teeth nip at his belly, Jason’s chin drags up his skin, and the promise he’s been working on for the last half hour - driving Chris almost crazy ‘til he had to focus on memories of how he got to be this lucky – is delivered as Jason slides balls deep inside him.

“Get back here.”

He blinks up into dark eyes that are laughing at him, knowing where he’s been and what he’s been thinking about and he grins.

Sleepy, sated, fucked out in a bed whose crumpled sheets bear testament to a lazy Sunday morning, he rides the waves of pleasure brought by Jason’s hands and body.

No he’s not lucky.

He’s fuckin’ blessed and God and all his angels are on the side of Chris Kane.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/Samantha Ferris, smokey

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Jeff loves the way Samantha tastes on his tongue. Dark and smoky and forbidden.

Oh, he loves the way she feels beneath him, against him, when they're fucking. And he loves the way she smells after a long day on set or fresh from the shower. He loves to listen to her talk and laugh and moan when he's deep inside her.

Most of all, he loves that taste. Loves the way it trips along his tongue, drowns him in its richness.

But he especially loves the way she tastes right now, when she's wet and begging for him as he drops to his knees to bury his face between her thighs, tongue sliding over slick folds as he seeks her center, and her legs are trembling with the effort of holding herself upright.

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

leverage Nate/Eliot, trust

[ghostrunner7.livejournal.com]

Eliot wasn't wrong when he said Nate needed this. Nate does need this. Nate needs something else to think about other than all the reasons for another drink.

So now he has something. Now he has a family again. Something to think about. But that something to think about has turned out to be the shape of Eliot's shoulders and the fall of his hair. The way his bracelets slide on his wrists when he wraps his hand around his Leverage, Inc. coffee mug.

Nate catalogs Eliot's movements like he's sizing him up for a fight, or a mark. He reads volumes of new meaning into the way Eliot tosses his hair out of his face when both his hands are occupied. He dissects the significance of the fact that Eliot moves like a coiled spring in the downtimes and like a hunting cat when they're on the job. Trying to get inside his head the way he approaches any job.

Trying to see if maybe, after trusting his new family with everything he has left, he can trust Eliot with this, too.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, Steve/Jensen, first words

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

The very first thing Jensen ever said to Steve was hey.

Steve replied with hey, man, thanks for coming, beer's in the fridge, food's out back, and Kane's around here somewhere.

Back then, Jensen and Christian had been carrying on a thing, for lack of a better word, and it had been strictly casual. Then Christian had suggested Jensen come to Steve's party. Jensen figured he'd go, have a few beers, hang out, and then head out with Christian for a night of half-drunken sex.

Then he'd laid eyes on Steve.

And the night had ended in the hallway outside Steve's bathroom, Jensen's hand down Steve's pants while they traded sloppy, heated kisses.

Now, eight years later, they still traded sloppy, heated kisses and rushed handjobs at parties, but now Jensen's clothes take up half of Steve's closet and Steve leaves half-written songs scattered around Jensen's Vancouver rental. And the beds in both places have tangled sheets that have to be changed daily and pillows that always end up on the floor.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/Abby, boat

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

Gibbs really did not do well in relationships. They started well and ended badly. That's why he had rules, to keep himself from making the same mistake twice.

Because who wanted to repeat having a baseball bat swung at their head. No, he didn't do well in relationships.

Until Abby, part mother, part child, part saint, part slut, a package that Gibbs could not deny. Besides, what Abby wants, she normally got. Hands down, or rather her legs wrapped about his hips.

But there was an innocence that captivated Gibbs. The curve of breast, the dip of backbone, the swell of buttocks were gorgeous and given. But it was the jut of ribs that made Gibbs blind with lust.

He would trace over the bone, nip at it with his teeth, hold onto them possessively as Abby came in his arms, her back plastered to his chest. It reminded him the exposed ribs of his boats, how he molded them, shaped them, the satin and strength under his fingers.

And maybe it did not help when he fucked Abby against the boat, her hands splayed, her neck lowered and exposed. They panted against each other, sweat drenching their bodies.

"Damn, Gibbs," Abby's lips parted in a grin as she elbowed him the gut, "I knew you would have boat fetish."

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Bones, Angela/Hodgins, charcoal

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

There's a smudge of charcoal across her nose, her cheek, over one eyebrow. She doesn't know it's there. She doesn't know I'm here, watching.

Her concentration is on her sketch book, on the faces she's drawing. Her hair falls soft against her skin, her eyes follow her fingers.

She's beautiful like this, a goddess. I breath in and she senses me, her head lifting, a smile breaking over her face and I fall in love all over again.


*okay, so not porny...but it was an image I couldn't escape*

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/Chris, paddle

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Chris doesn't think it's fair. He knows Jeff is angry. But you can't tell it to look at him. The fucker is calm, carrying on a conversation as he walks Steve to the door.

He itches in place, because he knows it's coming. Knows that when Jeff gets this quiet, when his eyes get that hard edge and his lips thin, Chris is going to get what's coming.

He still doesn't think it's fair.

He knows better than to fight, but when Jeff comes back, the paddle in his hand, Chris shakes his head no. No. Period. He thinks maybe if he leaves now, he'll get away with it.

He knows better, but that doesn't mean he won't try.

It always surprises him how fast Jeff can move, how he ends up with his jeans pulled just under the curve of his ass, his cock trapped in denim and hardening as Jeff presses him over his knee and brings the leather down onto his skin.

It isn't fair...but his cock doesn't seem to care, and he's coming in his jeans before Jeff is done with the paddling and ready to move on to the serious punishment.

[meredevachon]

Lotrips, Viggo/Orlando, wink

[denyce.livejournal.com]

“No, yeah, hold it right there.” Click

“Just.. . ah that’s good, just stretch into it…Beautiful!” Click

“Viggo, please….”

Click “don’t think I’ll ever tire looking at you like this, having you wink at me…” click, click, click.
“If you don’t put the damn camera down, and do something….

“Shhh…” Viggo paused his finger traced around Orli gapping hole, ready waiting to be filled again. No this was a sight he had to preserve. Click, click. “Patience. Now hold your position.”

Frustrated Orli moaned, but eased back into his stretch. Kneeling, legs spread wide, his torso flat and head supported by pillows. Arms stretched back, his fingers adjusted his hold as he kept his ass cheeks spread wide for Viggo’s inspection. Click. “That’s a good boy.” Click, click…

[meredevachon]

SGA, Ronon/Carson, unexpected

Gratitude

[ruric.livejournal.com]

Carson pushes the last of the paperwork into the file, powers down his laptop and switches the light on his desk off.

For once the infirmary is quiet – he dismissed the last on duty nurse hours ago because the only patient currently occupying a bed doesn’t exactly need a lot of nursing. Truth be told he could’ve been discharged too but Carson’s never rushed a patient out of an available bed if he could help it and he’s not about to start now.

He walks past the racks of medical gear into the main area and isn’t at all surprised to see Ronon is still awake.

“How’re you doing, laddie?”

Carson drifts more to the vernacular of his homeland when he’s worried and he’s worried now.

He’s always had problems keeping Ronon in a bed before – the guy seems to think that as long as he’s conscious and still breathing he should be mobile. Carson doesn’t doubt it’s a legacy of seven years running and it’s only that Ronon can keep moving past pain that would put a normal man down and keep him down that’s kept Ronon alive.

But they were all a little surprised when Ronon gruffly accepted the idea that he should stay in bed when they got him back from Sateda. The Wraith had worked him over badly – he’s a mass of bruises, grazes, burns, scorches, contusions and torn muscles – but miraculously nothing’s broken. Carson doesn’t know whether to chalk that up to the strength of the Satedan armor Ronon had been wearing, his uncanny ability to avoid serious injury or sheer bloody good luck.

“I’m okay.”

Ronon pushes himself to a sitting position and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Carson’s by his side in half a dozen quick strides, hand flattening against Ronon’s chest ready to push him back down flat at the first sign of dizziness.

“I said I’m fine.”

Carson can feel the deep rumble of Ronon’s voice through his palm.

“How are you?”

“What?”

“You killed a Wraith today.”

It’s the first time anyone has asked him – Hippocratic oath and vocation aside – Carson feels no guilt whatsoever about firing straight into that bastard’s chest.

“I think he deserved it – don’t you?”

Ronon’s grin is fierce and joyful and strips ten years from his age.

Strong fingers close around Carson’s wrist and when Ronon’s lips meet his, the only coherent thought in Carson’s head is that his kiss is surprisingly gentle.

Carson might just be a little breathless when Ronon breaks away but the hands closing on him are insistent.

“Not here.”

His voice is little more than a ragged whisper but the infirmary can be monitored and he doesn’t want any of the techs to stumble across the Head of the Medical Team making out, with someone who is, technically for all intents and purposes, still one of his patients.

Besides it’s been at least 15 years since Carson fooled around on a gurney.

“Okay.”

Ronon simply tucks his clothes under his arm and pads barefoot, still dressed in hospital whites, after Carson back to his quarters. If Carson heaves a sigh of relief when they get there unnoticed Ronon has the good sense to not say anything.

A whisper of sound behind him brings Carson around and Ronon’s so close Carson has to back up a step and tilt his chin so he can look up into Ronon’s face and not stare at his chest. And he has to try even if it will kill him to do it.

“Look, laddie sometimes a patient can well....” and he stutters to a halt caught by the sly humor in Ronon’s eyes and the curve of his lips into a smile.

“Relax doc. I just want to say thanks.”

Ronon’s skin is warm and his mouth is soft, and Carson can feel the steady thump of Ronon’s heart under his hand. Carson has a healer’s hands, he knows how and where to touch without damaging injured skin and muscle.

Thank you can be a two way street and maybe, Carson thinks, this isn’t such a bad idea after all.

[meredevachon]

Leverage/RPS, Eliot Spencer/Christian Kane, wall

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Eliot presses him into the wall hard, brick scraping against skin as he moans. It's like looking into a mirror, except for all the ways it isn't. This guy's just a little bit smaller, a little bit softer. Unscarred.

He nips at the pulse point, pleased at the way the other man reacts. Hips bucking as his fingers pull at Eliot's pants. Biting his lip to hold back the words that would undoubtedly sound like begging. He gives in when Eliot licks and bites his way into his mouth, taking hold of him.

Eliot's not sure he's never been so pleased making someone whimper.

This one's a challenge...

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

WWE/Leverage, John Cena/Eliot, domestic

Re: This one's a challenge...

[calcium-yeah.livejournal.com]

It would happen every month or so, John would get a text message letting him know that Eliot was in the same town. It was easier to keep track of the wrestler’s schedule than to know where Eliot would be on any given day. John couldn’t call him the ‘construction worker’ or the ‘bounty hunter’ or the ‘animal trainer’ because Eliot always danced around the question of what it was he did for a living.

The bruises and scars to rival his own made John lean towards bounty hunter.

Eliot never came to Massachusetts, never came to John’s home—said the whole thing felt too domestic, would make him feel like a jerk for not stopping by more often if they were really in some kind of relationship. So the two of them stuck to hotels around the country and around the world.

It was in Cincinnati, Ohio that John first learned Eliot was from Kentucky. He told John that he’d been there to help an old high school friend—or an old high school sweetheart—an old fiancée, really.

It was in Cincinnati, Ohio that Eliot told John that he kissed someone else and it felt like cheating—that until then he’d never thought about who John was with, about who he himself was with, but that he realized that the kiss had been the first he’d had with someone else since they met. Eliot didn’t ask John if he thought Eliot had cheated, just told him that he didn’t want anyone else—didn’t want John to want anyone else.

Neither man initiated sex that afternoon; they hung out and watched a baseball game and Eliot left before John went to wrestle at a house show that evening. It was awkward and silent and John wondered if something good had just been ruined.

Tired, sweaty, and with muscles sore, John came back to find Eliot in his hotel room, surprised for only a moment that the other man had gotten in. John dropped his duffle bag to the floor beside the door and Eliot moved from where he sat on the bed to meet John by the door, pressing their hips together and backing the wrestler up against the door.

Eliot placed his hands on either side of John’s head, letting his thumbs stroke the edges of his hairline as he ground upward with his hips.

“You got some free time coming up?” Eliot’s words were slow and deep, bringing out an accent that often remained hidden like the talents that allowed him to access another man’s hotel room with apparent ease.

John placed his hands on Eliot’s hips, pushing him down and forward until they had to take turns breathing in and out for lack of room to move. It took a moment before John remembered to nod and whisper out the words “Wednesday…Thursday….”

“Mmmm,” Eliot’s hair fell over both of their shoulders as he leaned in to speak centimeters away from the taller man’s neck. “Well why don’t I stop by?” He softly bit the corner of John’s jaw, catching a piece of skin between his teeth and pulling gently.

“Yeah? We gonna bake some cookies? Pay some bills?” John tried to joke, but the last word came out as a moan when Eliot liked a stripe along the area he’d just marked.

“Oh, we’re not getting domestic.” Eliot lifted his head to nuzzle the side of John’s face, “We’re just getting more of this.” And he thrust up once more, remaining on his toes when John gripped him tight, reveling in the sensation and thinking that more would be great.

[meredevachon]

SPN, Dean/Ellen, remember

Last Year's Man

[ruric.livejournal.com]

Ellen knows it’s wrong.

His arms slide around her, fingers skimming from her hips to the small of her back pressing her close. His stubble grazes her cheek, his breath hot against her skin stirring her hair.

“I’ve missed you.”

She doesn’t need his words because she can feel how much he’s missed her and how much he wants her.

His knee bumps hers, thigh sliding between her legs, walking them back into her bedroom, fingers tugging her shirt free. She should push him away, tell him no, not now, not ever again. She’d only have to say it once and he’d walk away.

But her hands are sliding over his shoulders, fisting in the softly worn material of his t-shirt as his mouth claims hers in a hungry kiss tasting of stale beer and the long road to get here. She’s kissing him back, sucking on his lower lip, needy and wanting, her hips grinding into his.

They tumble to her bed in a tangle of limbs, the weight of his body pinning her beneath him. She hooks her ankle over his calf, rocking her hips up into him, anticipation knotting her belly. The ache between her legs is closer to pain than pleasure and it brings a whimper to her lips.

She feels him smile into their kiss, his hands stripping her shirt away even as she forgoes the pleasure of his kiss to yank the T hastily over his head, as hungry as he is to get to skin she can taste and touch.

He leans away from her and she feels bereft, lips bruised, her bare skin cold, missing the heat of his body.

His boots hit the floor as she skins out of her jeans and panties. She watches him strip the remains of his clothes and finds she’s looking for new scars, a testament to the battles they’re all fighting.

The heat of his body is back over her, her legs falling open because she’s ready and has been since he phoned to say they were on their way in.

“You in a hurry there, Ellen?

“Shut up, smart ass”

She growls and he laughs, because she doesn’t want soft or gentle and she doesn’t need romance, she just wants this.

His hips slam forwards, his body driving into her, her fingers curling, nails dragging down his spine til she feels his skin catch. Laugh turning to a string of soft curses, his hands tangle in her hair, pulling her head back until her neck arches and her spine bows and now it’s her turn to laugh.

Legs tightening around his hips she rolls them until he’s beneath, fingers curling around his wrists, pressing them into the mattress. She pushes away, riding him, teasing him with the roll of her hips her body tightening around him as she pushes up and then slides back down until he’s buried deep in her. She could and has, done this until her thighs burn and until he’s begging her to finish it but that’s not what she wants tonight.

He’s grining, his eyes gone a little wild, pupils blown wide and large. His gaze moves from her eyes to her mouth and then her breasts and she feels her skin scorch and burn as sure as if he were holding a flame to her. She leans down, her breasts close to his mouth, wanting the heat of his lips and the bite of teeth. Her hair falls like a curtain around them and now she’s cursing him, his tongue teasing her nipples to an aching hardness.

His wrists slide from her grip, his hands pulling her down again and she lets him turn them until she’s beneath him again, legs tight around his hips, urging him on.

It’s been too long since she’s seen him and if this, the first time, is hasty then they’ve still got the rest of the night.

His hips slam forward and her fingers are digging into his arms deep enough to leave bruises and the tumble of words from his lips as he tips them both over the edge could be a curse or a prayer.

After he talks for a while, tells her about what’s been going on with him and Sam, his voice slowing and slurring as sleep claims him.

Curled around him she notices the differences. He’s not as broad in the shoulders as John, he’s still lean and lighter and despite everything he’s been though he doesn’t carry the weight of responsibility that John did. His father seemed to come to her to ease that burden.

Ellen knows it’s wrong.

Dean shouldn’t be in her bed, not when his father had been here too.

She can’t help but think they’re trying to find something of the man they lost in this tangle of sheets and sweat.