Wednesday – Outer Space & Time Travel

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

Got a favorite pairing that runs around saving the world by traveling through time and space? A captain that needs to show his mechanic how to behave? Like archaeologists and military personnel? How about a cranky scientist and a pretty fly boy? Or maybe toasters are more your thing?

Today's prompts should all focus on those fandoms that deal with space and time travel. Doctor Who, Torchwood, Firefly, Stargate, Stargate: Atlantis, Battlestar Galactica. Or any other fandom that falls into time travel and outer space. Crossovers between time and space fandoms are ok, but let's try to keep it limited to just those fandoms.

Make sure your code your prompts correctly for the codemonkeys. Examples:

-- Doctor Who, The Ninth Doctor/Jack Harkness, whips and chains
-- BSG, Kara/Leoben, hopelessness


Anyone can post a prompt, anyone can answer a prompt. You can answer your own prompt if you like.

And if sci-fi just isn't your thing, feel free to check out the lonely prompts and maybe find something it your liking.

Comments

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, The Ninth Doctor/Jack Harkness, whips and chains

[vae]

On reflection, Jack considered, maybe it hadn't been entirely wise to use that particular comeback on the Doctor. Okay, sure, it was true, but truth wasn't always his guiding star, and when he'd made yet another comment on the Doctor's somewhat monotonous wardrobe and got the serene response of "sticks and stones may break my bones", instinct was too strong not to counter with "but whips and chains excite me". He'd laughed it off at the time, but that quirk of the Doctor's eyebrow and the thinning of the Doctor's lips suggested that he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon.

Which was probably how he'd ended up in yet another room in the TARDIS that he hadn't known existed, with the Doctor leaning against the closed door, still in that damned jacket, and wearing a particularly knowing grin.

Jack backed up a step, hands raised slightly. "Look, I was kidding, okay? Just...kidding."

"I don't think you were," the Doctor said sunnily, and pushed his sleeves up. "The question is, which end of the whips and chains you prefer?"

Jack took another step back, glancing at the chains hanging from the walls, and then across at the rack of whips and floggers, and swallowed again. "Look, Doctor..."

"I'm looking." Only looking, not touching. Yet. "And I think I've got the answer. Take your shirt off, Jack."

The next step had Jack's back hard against the wall, one of the chains brushing against the bare skin of his forearm. He swallowed, hard, and wrapped the chain around his hand, eyes wide and dark, and yeah, there was the answer.

"Take your shirt off, Jack," the Doctor repeated softly, and crossed to the rack, fingers trailing across the handles with confident familiarity.

Jack swallowed again, let go of the chain, and took his shirt off.

[roguewords.livejournal.com]

BSG, Kara/Leoben, hopelessness

Lonesome Heroine

[ruric.livejournal.com]

Kara’s locker contains almost nothing.

A life on Caprica, years spent out here searching for a new home, and she has very little to show for her existence.

A couple of changes of uniform hang from hooks and a there’s crumpled, dog eared photograph stuck to the inside of the door of her with Zak and Lee, arms around each other smiling, young, dumb and not knowing the horrors waiting for them. Looped over the square mirror is the necklace Sam gave her just after they were married and tucked into a folded piece of paper a small curl of bright blonde hair, memories of a child she’s wished with all her heart could be hers. The glint of the silver pocket knife, sitting on top of one of her black vests, she carried from New Caprica and it’s still with her.

She doesn’t need possessions to remind her of her dreams and nightmares – she’s always held them close, in mind and heart and in the ink decorating her skin.

Kara’s never given up on anything in her life.

She doesn’t know if she was born this way, doesn’t know where she gets the bloody mindedness that makes her hang on and fight tooth and nail for what she wants and believes in.

Knock her down and she’ll get back up, spitting curses through bloodied teeth.

Leoben learned that on New Caprica.

She’d been drawn to him the first time she met him, seeing something inside a machine, a skin job, she’d recognised. He’d played her, played her all the way through the interrogation but there’d been something in the way he looked at her. He was the first person to look at her like he knew her, like he saw all of her. And Laura had spaced him.

They hadn’t known then about resurrection.

She’d never expected to see him again – and she’d gods damned sure never expected to see him in her dreams, or delusions, of her old apartment in Delphi. Never expected to hear his voice soft and hushed talking to her of destinies and the future or to feel his hands, as real as any man’s on her body, the weight of him pressing her down into the floor, slickness of paint under her back and on her hands.

Hope had kept her alive on New Caprica - hope that she’d get out and get away. Every time she’d plunged the weapon into Leoben’s body and felt his blood spill hotly over her hands she’d smiled. Because she’d keep on doing it until he stopped coming back. She’d fought his soft words and promises, fought the parody of domestic bliss he’d tried to create because she knew it wasn’t real.

She’s always known who and what she was until she went down to Earth and found the Viper.

She’d known what she was right up until she’d until she pulled away the wreckage and helmet, and found a body with a shock of blonde hair wearing her tags.

She’d known what she was until she’d seen Leoben pale and shaken stumble a step then two backwards and turn walk away from her.

Closing her eyes she tries to shut out the memories that won’t go away.

Sam lies down in the infirmary, and he’s gone according to the medics. But she won’t believe that either until she hears the last breath rattle out his chest.

“What am I?”

She counts her breaths, counts the beats of her heart until she feels his hands close on her shoulders and his breath whisper against the back of her neck.

“I don’t know.”

Kara opens her eyes and looks at his face in the mirror.

He used to look at her with hope. With heat and hunger, the light shining from his eyes when he’d try to convince her what he believed.

Now Leoben’s eyes are empty.

Kara looks at him and sees nothing but the hopelessness of her own gaze reflected back at her.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror and sees a woman she no longer knows.

[speccygeekgrrl.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Hiro/Ando, "never had a vacation like this before"

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

BSG/Firefly, Kara/Simon, swearing

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"Frak me!"

"Really, is swearing necessary!" Simon said.

"It frakking is necessary if you're doing it right, Simon frakkin Tam!"

"But I'm - doing that right now."

"And I'm telling you to frak me harder you frakking piece of shit!"

"Please don't call me that, Kara."

"Frak you, motherfrakker! If you can't frakking handle it, then just finish frakking me and then we never have to see each other again, you uptight frakking sonuvabitch."

As they built toward climax, Simon started to moan louder and louder and when he finally spilled he couldn't help but cry out without thinking "Gan-e ma!!!"

As they lay there after, Kara asked, "What did you say back there? I never understand these Alliance dialects."

"Oh,um nothing. Nonsense words."

A giggle came from behind the chair in the corner. Starbuck pulled her gun on it, but Simon gestured that she could lower it. "That's probably my sister. River! I have told you not to hide in my room when I .... have guests" he said.

River popped up and said to Kara. "He said 'Fuck your mother'" and giggled again.

Kara raised an eyebrow at him.

Simon sighed. "Please give us some privacy, River. What little we have left."

River skipped out, stopping along the way. "I like her. She's shot lots of people." They could hear her then in the hallway singing "Frak, frak, frakkity frak frak, FRAK!"

Simon said, "I am SO sorry about that Kara. She's ... occasionally troubled."

"Really? She seems pretty frakking cool to me."

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Simon/Kaylee, soon

Soon

[guiltyreasons.livejournal.com]

Soon.

She hated that word.

Soon.

He kept saying it.

Soon.

God she wanted to kill him.

When did soon come anyways?

Soon

Oh, soon was so her new four letter word.

Soon, Mal said Simon'd come back.

Soon wasn't soon enough. It never would be as long as she was going back to her cold bed at night and Simon was out there risking his life to keep this ship flying.

Soon she'd start crying. Soon she'd toss herself on the bed. Soon, but for right now she had repairs to make with the money that Simon was bringing in. She'd rather have Simon any day than money.

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Simon/Kaylee, late night

Can I watch?

[guiltyreasons.livejournal.com]

She'd used to dream about him late at night. Now he never let her dream about nothing. Since they had started dating, which was six months ago, he hadn't let up on her. She understood that it was a lifetime of sexual repression letting out, but she wanted some alone time right now. Sometimes something with a battery sounded good, like tonight.

He was kissing at her neck and she just had to push him away.

"Simon, come on. It's been half a year and ya'll ain't let me had a night alone once," she complained.

"Do you want time alone? Am I that bad?" he asked sounding shocked.

"No, no it ain't that, but a girl know herself ya know?" she asked with a little pout.

"Can I watch?" he asked his cheeks going completely red afterward.

"Course. I'd love that," she said giving him a kiss and going for her bag of toys. She hadn't thought there was possibly a way to please both of them. The idea had seemed to kinky for Simon's taste. Maybe she should question them more often.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

BSG/Firefly, Sam/River, "I know what you are"

Learn to Walk The Line

[ruric.livejournal.com]

She’s gone and this time he knows she won’t be coming back.

He wasn’t there to see it happen, but he didn’t need to be. Apollo had come to find him, tracked him down and dragged him into an empty comms room and played back to him the last things Kara, his Kara, had said before her Viper exploded in a ball of flame.

Sam had felt the last of his hopes turn to ashes listening to the sound of her voice. The thing that killed him most was that she didn’t sound afraid. She sounded happy.

"Just let me go."

Lee had always been between them when she was alive, and Sam couldn’t help thinking it was fitting that Lee was there when she died. Gods alone knows she hadn’t wanted him near her for a long time.

These days he spends his time with the pilots and the Chief because they’ve made a place for him. He can’t blame them if they don’t notice he’s dead inside. He’s not the only walking dead man around here. They’ve all lost so much.

His days are simple.

Make sure his Viper is space worthy, fly recon, shoot at what they tell him to and spend his nights in the bar drinking to be able to sleep without seeing her face or finding another woman, different enough to not feel like her.

That’s how he comes to be in his quarters, door locked, with this slender girl, her wide, brown eyes watching him strip off his shirt and vest. She doesn’t talk much and there's something soothing in her silence, her ability not to fill the space with endless chatter. He’d asked her back here and she’d slid her fingers into his hand, let him lead her from the bar and she’d not said a word the whole way.

"Pretty."

Sam glances up at her, he’s been called many things but no-one’s called him pretty recently. But her eyes are on the ink decorating his arm, indelible memory of a marriage that didn’t work.

"Pretty wings...but where are you going to fly away to?"

She’s pulled the jumper over her head, stepped out of her skirt and she’s naked closing the distance between them, graceful as a dancer. Her hand closes on the back of his neck pulling him into a kiss and he figures that she doesn’t really want an answer. Where are any of them going to fly away to? A dream of planet that for all they know doesn’t even exist.

It’s easy to lose himself in her body, she’s leaner than Kara, all hips and angles where in Kara there were curves and softness. But she’s strong too and she tumbles them into his bunk and straddles his hips, her hands pressing his wrists into the pillow. She teases him with sharply bitten kisses until his hips are rocking up into her, his fingers aching to close on her skin.

She smiles against his mouth, her hair falling like a dark curtain around them and she’s nothing like Kara. She might be a little strange, a little different, but after everything sanity isn’t something Sam thinks he can wholeheartedly lay claim to any more.

"What’s your name?"

He hasn’t asked and he finds he wants to know. She’s warm and she’s willing and she doesn’t seem to want any more than he has to give and for tonight that’s enough – but he’d like to know her name.

"River."

She lets him go so he can lift her hair, see brown eyes the pupils blown wide and the rosy flush staining her cheeks to spill down her neck as her body claims him and they move together.

It’s enough to feel her under him, her fingers closing on his arms, digging into muscle. Enough to feel her legs tighten around his hips pulling him in, the heat of her body welcoming him. It’s enough to feel the whisper of her breath on his cheek, to feel another heart beating under his chest and to realise his heart’s still beating too.

After, lying in his bunk watching her dress, he can’t think of anything else to say but thank you.

"Pretty wings and pretty green planets but they’re not your home are they?"

He’s about to ask her what she means but the pressure of her fingers on his lips are soft and still his words.

She leans close to his ear and hums a few bars of a song, a song he’s had in his heads for days, that he can’t quite hear or remember.

"I know what you are, Samuel Anders. You’ll find out soon too."

And she’s gone, sliding out from under his hands before he can catch her. He pulls the blanket up and drifts into sleep with the same four bars of music echoing in his head.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

Tru Calling/Firefly, Jack/River, murderer

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

He's not sure where he is or how he got there.

He wanders through the dimly lit halls, looking for some sign of what his location might be. He briefly considers calling out, trying to find some other evidence of humanity -- but quickly rules that out as a potentially very bad idea.

He has no idea whether or not any people he might find here would be friend or foe.

He's focused on finding an exit, making his way past the dim doorways that appear to lead only deeper into this strange structure, so he barely hears the single whispered word.

It still sends chills down his spine.

"Murderer."

He freezes in the doorway, staring into the slightly brighter room where a young girl sits, staring at him with an odd mixture of blank innocence, and a frightening intensity of understanding.

"Excuse me?"

His tone is wary, as he cautiously approaches her, unsure what to expect, or how it is that she might have discerned his true nature. She looks down at the floor, pensive, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in thought.

When she speaks, her voice is soft and ethereal, as if broadcasted to his ears from some other plane of existence.

"Fate is not for you to decide." She looks up at him, her dark eyes piercing through to his soul. "You're either God... or a murderer."

His mouth goes dry, his heart suddenly pounding in an inexplicable reaction of panic. He's breaking out in a cold sweat, feeling the weight of the accusation in her eyes and words.

Without another word, he flees the room, rushing blindly through the halls, knowing only that at all costs, he has to escape.

[fairyglass.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, Ten/Ten II, "Just whos TARDIS is this?!"

[fairyglass.livejournal.com]

Stargate: Atlantis, Rodney/Radek, ATA Gene

[jessicamariek.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Wash/Zoe, cockpit sex - "The interstellar version of road head"

[havenward.livejournal.com]

"Cap'n's got rules," Zoe says. But all the same, she's swinging the door to the cockpit shut before he can make a smartass remark about blowing the captain instead. She takes her time walking up to his chair, letting the heels of her boots click on the grating. Each step makes him shiver.

"What's our status?" Mal's voice crackles over the comm.

"We're on approach," Wash says cheerfully, pleased with his little double entendre. He switches the controls to manual to begin the descent through the atmosphere just as Zoe slides over him and down between his legs. His fingers slide over buttons and switches as hers undo his buttons and straps, and he's just tipping Serenity's nose down toward the world when her hand wraps around him, pulling him free.

Her mouth is hot and wet against him as she licks and tugs him to full hardness. Suddenly Wash is glad that they're on the fringe, that so far out toward the black he won't need to chatter with any kind of air control. About the only coherent thing he can manage is her name. And even that is gone once she gets started in earnest.

She pulls the orgasm out of him hard, and he shudders with it. For just a moment he forgets himself, buries his hands in her hair so he can pull her up for a deep, satisfied kiss. Serenity jerks and tips before his hands are back on the controls, Zoe laughing against his stomach.

"Wash!" Mal's voice crackles over the comm again. "Juh shi suh mo go dohng shee?"

Wash tries not to sound too sheepish as he answers. "Just some turbulence, boss!"

"You best be getting us on the ground, bao bei," Zoe says as she tucks him in and puts his clothes back together. "You can return the favor after we land..."

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Spn Dean/teenage!Sam Like a virgin

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

“Like a virgin, hey, touched for the very first time.” The high falsetto voice greeted Dean when he came home from school that afternoon. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened. Slowly, he walked down the hallway, towards where the sound seemed to emanate. He knew that voice a little too well.

He peeked into his brother's room though the crack in the door, watching Sam dance around in their mother's old high heeled shoes. His small teenage feet seemed to fit perfectly in them, as Sam twirled around and pretended he was the material girl incarnate.

“Gonna give you all my love, my fear is fading fast. Been saving it all for you, cause only love can last.”

Vampires and witches were one thing, but this was a bit too disturbing. Dean's mouth flapped open, he didn't even know what to think. Standing there, like a deer in headlights, he was too slow to move when his brother turned around and spotted him.

Sam shrieked, which caused Dean to shriek.. which in turn caused Sam to shriek even louder.

Dean recovered and pulled the door to Sam's bedroom shut and backed away. He shook his head and tried to clear his memory of that moment before it made his brain explode.

They would never speak of this again.

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Spn Dean/Young!John Impala sex

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

_{I haven't seen S4 so I'm sorry if this contradicts what happens there!}

God, this is wrong. And this is him saying that, Dean Winchester – and Dean'd be the first to admit that he's not exactly free from sin. Wrath and lust and greed all weigh heavily on his shoulders. He'd have been going downstairs with or without the deal to save Sam.

He plunders young lips guiltlessly, hands roaming up smooth skin underneath his father's shirt. There are no scars, nothing like what Dean imagines must mark there in later years, after the teenage innocent in his lap has been through decades of grief and hunting.

Stop thinking about that, he tells himself. Can't think of him as his father. Can't think about what he's doing. It'll drag him down too fast.

"God, I wanna fuck you," he murmurs, lips brushing against his dad's – John, think of him as John, you sick fuck – with each word.

The nervous smile he receives is pretty fucking stunning; it's impossible to believe that his dad was ever like this, that this isn't just some sick fantasy he's fallen into. "We can't," John says. He looks around the backseat of the Impala and laughs nervously. "We'll get caught."

Dean looks him in the eyes for a few moments, holding his gaze even as his hands begin to work away the stiff button of John's jeans. "Trust me," he urges, trying to memorise every single reaction, every shivering breath and every dip of John's eyelids.

He kisses him once more, too gentle for the short amount of time that John thinks they've known each other – wishing that he could think of a way to bring his John back to life in the future rather than grasping moments in the past.

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Rps/Gilmore girls Jensen/Dean Forrester Lost puppy

Where You Lead I Will Follow

[demonlord-dean.livejournal.com]

When Jensen wakes up the cast has vanished. He stands up and looks around a little bit confused. The set looks more like the Gilmore Girls set Jared worked on years ago. It's all there. Luke's Diner, the Stars Hollow High School, Taylor Doose's Market.
Maybe he's hit his head a little bit harder than he's first expected.
Jensen takes a deep breath. This can't be real. He'll wake up any second. He'll be back at his trailer with Jared at his side and -
"Hey!"
Jensen turns around. There he is. Jared. His Jared with his long darkbrown hair and his dimples. But something seems off.
Jared comes nearer and then he sees it.
The brunette looks younger. Way younger. Just like when he had been on "Gilmore Girls".
"Who are you?" he askes Jensen.
Jensen just blinks at the youth.
"Shy? Well, I'm Dean Forrester."
Dean helds out his hand.
"Jensen Ackles." he almost whispers and shakes Dean's hand.
The lad smiles at him.
"So, I take it you're not from around here?"
Jensen just shakes his head. He's not sure he could say anything at the moment. This is just too...odd.
He looks into Jared's - no, Dean's eyes. The same hazel orbs he's so used to. Even though Dean looks exactly like Jared his eyes seem different. More innocent. Dean seems more like the lost puppy Jared used to be only few years ago.
"What brings you here?"
The younger man's voice brings him back to reality. Jensen snorts. Reality. Yeah right.
"I'm an actor. A friend of mine lives nearby."
Dean smiles his dimpled smile.
"An actor. Wow, that's cool. What's the show's name? Maybe I know it."
"I don't think so." Jensen gives Dean a small smile.
"It's new."
Jensen has to go. Has to find a way out of this weird dream. Has to find a way back to Jared.
Jared's doppelgänger looks at him with his beautiful eyes. This god damn puppy dog eyes.
Jensen looks away.
"Anyway. I have to go now. Bye Dean."
He gives him another, this time a bigger smile.
He walks - almost runs away.
This isn't fair. He can't have Jay in the real world and now, this stupid ass even haunts his dreams?
'I'm sorry, Jensen. You know I really love you man but not like this.'
The words still make his heart ache. He knows it's stupid. To fall in love with your best friend. Knew it back then. But love is blind and does what it wants.
"Hey! Jensen!"
He hears Dean yell while he runs after him.
Jensen's not slow but the kid has reeeaaally long legs and so it doesn't take long for Dean to catch him.
"Dude." he says while he grabs Jensen by the wrist. It begins to sting a bit.
"What happened? Did I say something wrong?"
Jensen's an actor. He can do this. So he looks once more into this toxicating eyes. He gulps.
"I - I just -"
The way Dean stands there, he looks like a lost puppy again. Jensen's skin itchs. He feels like an idiot.
"Let me drive you?"
Dean seems as surprised as Jensen when the words come out of his mouth. The youth's voice sounded rough and pleading.
The older one closes his eyes in defeat. In reality he can never have Jared. He knows this. But this here is just a dream. Right? Jensen's dream. Here, he's allowed to do what ever he wants.
He gives Dean his most beautiful smile.
"Thanks."
His wrist still stings.

oh, why not.

[yesdrizella.livejournal.com]

Venture Bros., Brock/Rusty, "whaddaya mean we can't go back?!"

[museofspeed.livejournal.com]

Firefly/Star Wars, Mal Reynolds/Han Solo, space pirates.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

"Thing is, you got it pretty good with your stretch here." The tall, lanky man with the quick smirk and the easy-as-you-please manner drinks long and deep from his mug, long fingers gesturing at the skanky backwater bar on a world that just about ends the known bit of space Malcolm Reynolds calls home.

His ship's a piece of shit like nothing he's ever seen, and got Kaylee so hot, he had to lock her on Serenity so as she wouldn't jump ship, and he claims to be from the other side of the black, but ain't no one been out that far.

Somehow that doesn't matter here, six beers in and a bit of quiet he ain't seen in far too long. Job's done, payment tucked in tight and he's got nothing but a ways of peace to stare at.

"Where I come from your Feds would shit themselves. We got an Empire, with troops that never end and pirating ain't as easy as you got it round here."

"Plenty hard here too." Mal counters, raising his glass. "Harder all the time too. Feds pushing out all the time toward the edges, crowding out the honest folk what just want work."

"I hear you. That's how it starts. Next thing you know they're locking up all the trade and taxing what they can't lock down, and you end up smuggling things you used to be able to carry in your holds."

"Ain't that the truth." Mal raised his glass. "To free trade, Captain Solo, and making an honest living."

That smirk was contagious as he raised his glass to match. "To pirates, Captain Reynolds, smugglers and brigands and scoundrels."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Red Dwarf, Lister/Rimmer, that costume from 'Demons and Angels'

Red Dwarf, Lister/Rimmer, 'Demons and Angel's' costume

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

warning: non-con, blood-play and grossness. Also, I must be insane to even attempt this, please forgive me.

Rimmer made good on his promise to 'have' Lister. He just looked so clean, so pure, he had to. Rimmer took great joy in giving Lister that head-wound, the blood gushing, staining that perfect body, staining the floor and burning itself into Rimmer. Rimmer drank down all the blood he could.

He made sure Lister was tied down before he woke up. He was alerted to Lister regaining consciousness by the pained cries, they made Rimmer hard and he had to smirk because by Lucifer this was gonna be good.

He didn't want to break his new toy already, not beyond repair but it was so hard to take this slow. As a hard-light hologram Rimmer had already sprayed his shorts with come twice and he could feel it dripping down his thighs, meeting his stockings. It felt uncomfortable, awkward and Rimmer fucking loved it.

He loomed over Lister, wondering where to cut first, when he was taken by surprise. With a flick of Lister's hair he'd been able to rip out the chain from Rimmer's ear to his nose. The pain was intense and it made him come again.

"You like that, don't ya?" Lister tried to be seductive but his voice was high and uncertain, filled with fear and Rimmer found that more seductive than anything. "Why don't you untie me and I'll see what else you like?"

"You'll just run away." Rimmer argued, he really didn't want to lose Lister, not when he'd just found him.

"Look at yer collar." Lister pleaded. "You're my pet. You've got to do as I say." Rimmer fingers his black and silver collar, loosening the bloodied rope that tied Lister down. Lister kneed Rimmer in the balls and ran away, as fast as his weak body could take him.

Rimmer was too post-orgasmic to follow.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Mal/Jayne, Captain's orders

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Jayne stroked Mal hard and fast.

"Not much for gentle, huh?" Mal said through gritted teeth.

"Get the job done and then get the hell out of there. That's how we do missions on Serenity."

"Is that so?"

"Yup. Captain's orders."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, lazy morning

[nephir.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, lazy morning

Jack loved waking slowly in the mornings. His senses each coming alive as he drowsily roused from slumber.

This morning was no different or special than any other. His usually quick mind lazily turned facts over as he lay there, warm and contented as a kitten in the sun.

‘Comfy mattress under his body, check.’

‘Feather pillows piled high behind his head and shoulders, check.’

‘Snuggly warm blankets and all cotton sheets tangled around him, check.’

‘Ianto snuggled tight against his side and breathing warm and moist into his shoulder, che….. ‘

‘Wait’ his brain told him. ‘Ianto is missing from him usual place’.

Suddenly touch came online with a scream as a hot wet mouth swallowed down his morning erection.

Now widely awake Jack wriggled into a slightly more comfortable position, allowing his legs to drop open wider as he enjoyed his favorite part of lazy mornings. Lazy morning blow jobs from Ianto.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Life on Mars, Gene/Sam, lets get drunk and screw


What?!?! It's time travel! Sort of... ;p

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney, out with the new, in with the old

Pudding time

[guiltyreasons.livejournal.com]

John had a new best friend. The guy was handsome, a fighter, flyer and all around more like John than Rodney was. Didn't help that he was cool too, that kind of cool that made Rodney nervous about getting beaten up. But that hadn't happened because this guy was nice too.

"Hey, Rodney," John said stopping at the messhall when he saw Rodney inside. Rodney was drowning his sorrows in vanilla pudding.

"Hey," Rodney said swirling his finger through the cup and bringing it to his lip. When John didn't say anything he figured it was due to the fact John had nothing to say to him anymore and felt awkward trying.

"Huh well you doing anything tonight?" John asked.

"Maybe, why?" Rodney asked putting the pudding down and started on the new one.

"Rich," Rodney rolled his eyes at the name, "And I are going to try the new bowling alley we set up downstairs. Care to join?"

Hm, Rodney thought, What those two hang all over each other and be perfect while they make fun of me for not being able to bowl? That sounds like so much fun, but I've got to stick my dick in a light socket tonight.

"Nah," Rodney said blankly, "You guys shouldn't hang out so much. People might stare thinking your gay or something."

"They never thought that when we hung out," John argued.

"But I don't look like Rich. I'm the pudgy, geeky tech guy that fallows you around to try and get some cool points. Rich on the other hand is up your alley so people think it might happen," Rodney said putting his finger back into his pudding and taking another bite of it.

"I never thought you did that."

"But others did."

"The same others who think I'd rather be gay with Rich than with you?" John asked his words holding more meaning than they should have.

"But you'd rather not be gay with anyone right? The way you sex up any female alien we come into contact with must mean you'd rather they see you as straight."

"I guess, but really, truth be told, I'm kinda...a double swinger," Jack said making Rodney's eyes go big.

"So you and Rich are?"

"No, I won't want to with Rich. I prefer pudgy, tech geeks,"John said.

"Really," Rodney asked his finger, covered in pudding, still in between his lips as he tried to talk.

"Yes, now would you stop eating that vanilla pudding like a porn star before I have to jump your bones here in the mess hall?" John asked with a smirk that made Rodney know he wasn't joking. Rodney put down the pudding than picked it back up.

"Well, I'm going to go eat my pudding in my room. You can feel free to fallow if you'd like," Rodney said dipping his finger into it and sucking it off his finger again. He turned his back on his friend and walked towards his room.

"Oh I like, I like," John said and started after Rodney.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Firefly/Torchwood, Mal/Jack/Ianto, lets be bad guys

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

Guh... I think my brain just melted. *g*

[museofspeed.livejournal.com]

Torchwood/Firefly, Jack/Mal, pretty.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Inara always said he was a sucker for a pretty face.

Here was the proof, because here was Mal, once again all gussied up in a dress on some dustbowl planet with a cattle problem and his skirt was rucked up over his back, his bonnet swaying under him as he sweated and grunted and that sound there wasn't nothing he was laying claim to, even as Jack did that thing again to make him make it...

All around them the cattle crowded and moaned, making it all the more obscene as Jack's hands slipped up under the skirt and yanked on Mal's cock until he was shouting and coming and his knees buckled, landing them both in the mud.

He was panting when Jack pulled out, panting when Jack grinned down at him, his face sweaty and flushed, his cock hanging out of his pants all shiny and wet.

"Why is it every time you come around, I end up on my knees in the mud?" Mal asked as he got to his feet, smoothing the skirt down and fighting with the bonnet until he got it off.

"The more important question is why is it every time I come around I find you in a dress?" Jack countered, tucking himself away.

"Just trying to be as pretty as you I reckon."

"Keep trying. I'll keep finding mud for you to kneel in."

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, Donna/Ten, couch

Doctor Who, Donna/Ten, couch

[donutsweeper.livejournal.com]

"I wouldn't sit if I were you."

Donna, who had been about to collapse on the large couch when he spoke up, turned around and looked at the Doctor. "I'm tired. And my feet hurt," she complained. But she didn't sit, not after seeing that amused glint in his eyes. "Why shouldn't I sit?"

"Oh, you can sit. Just, maybe, not there."

"Why? What's wrong with it." It was a large, brown couch. Not, by any means that fancy, somewhat mangy and rather thread worn. "Why not? What's wrong with it?"

"Because," he grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to take several steps back, "That is our host. Donna, meet the Emir of T'sophah. Emir, my traveling companion, Donna."

The couch shook, the cushions moving as a thready voice said, "Doctor, you never let me have any fun."

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Doctor Who, Jake/Mickey, alert

[jemzamia.livejournal.com]

These stolen moments seemed to become briefer. It was that or they had simply become too faster for them to remember.

Life in the parallel world is always perilous, with Cyberman looming around every corner, and just as hostile humans threatening them, trying to steal what very little they had. Mickey and Jake were constantly on the run, moving from city to city, combating the metal-cased menace in any way they could, from the comfort of their little blue van.

Its times like this, when the van is still, parked, that the two men can finally slow down, look at each other, and let their emotions run wild. Passion, companionship and need often were the ones that came sprinting out of the docks. Mickey quickly rushed towards Jake's lips, kissing him roughly and not caring. He knew the man could take it. Jake needs no cues in order to know what to do next; he pulls at Mickey's t-shirt, hoisting it up over his head and flinging it to the floor. Time is of the essence; they never know when the next danger is going to approach.

Talented licks and nips are played by Jake over healing cuts and forming scars on Mickey's chest. Mickey lets out a groan, threading his fingers through Jake's mousy blonde hair, pulling him back up to stand up straight. There's a slight pause, an unusual occurrence in the programme of events that they usually follow. Mickey takes a moment to stare at his friend, gently tickling the hairs at the nape of his neck. Smiling from one corner of his mouth, Jake gazes back, before being pulled in for a kiss. A soft, lingering one that they're both not used to.

Haste soon makes itself known again afterwards though; scrambling fingers yanking at Jake's t-shirt, shortly before flinging it to the ground, along with its owner. Mickey soon joins him, leaning over his body, biting at Jake's neck as he pulls down his combats and boxers. Without a moment's notice, Mickey's own naked form is pressing down on top of him; hands possessively running up and down large plains of skin. Jake yells at Mickey to "Do it now" and he's more than happy to oblige. Lube's sloppily applied, some even spills onto the van floor, but Mickey doesn't care, they never had time to clean it anyway. He swiftly lines himself up, ready to engorge himself in Jake, hungry with need on the floor.

An incessant beeping sound soon stops him, causing him to swear loudly while Jake drops his head to the floor in disbelief.

"Alert from Sector 6," Mickey said, "They seriously need back up."
"Well let's give them it," answered Jake, "Cos I'm as sure as hell I'm not getting any!"