Saturday Free-For-All

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

HAPPY WEEKEND EVERYONE! Go craaaaaazy!


Drill is as follows: Any fandom, any pairing, any crossover, any prompt. Leave your kink at the dink... or something. Just make sure you post in the proper format, such as in the example below:

For a single fandom: Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Leverage, Eliot/Nate, Burn

For a crossover: Fandom/Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Dollhouse/Leverage, Eliot/Echo, making a memory

Can't think of anything to prompt? Answer a lonely prompt here and earn extra Karma Points!

Happy Prompting, everyone!

Comments

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Nate, Burn

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

"Fuck," Eliot growled as he hauled himself out of the swimming pool he'd been knocked into.

"What?" Nate panted, looking at the men who lay unconcious or worse around them. "You got 'em all didn't you?"

"Yeah, but my sunblock's not waterproof."

Nate's puzzled look was quickly replaced by one of urgency as Hardison let them know the backup was about to spill out of the house. "No time to worry about skin cancer now pretty boy," Nate growled as he began to run.

Eliot's growl turned into a hiss behind him as they both ran. Nate didn't look back, eyes focused on the van that was pulling up in front of them, the side door opening. As he jumped in he could hear Eliot crying out in pain now, felt the smaller, solid weight hit his back as Eliot lept and began writhing on the floor of the vehicle.

Nate turned to look at Eliot, jaw dropping when he saw the burns on the younger man's arms. Storm blue eyes were now the color of ice as skin smoldered...

Yeah, not what anyone was looking for. Sowwy.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse/Leverage, Eliot/Echo, making a memory

[http://users.livejournal.com/_calex_/]

She's a wet dream come to life, literally, and damn him for still being able to get hard even as the thought disturbs him. This girl with someone else's personality programmed into her to make her his perfect plaything, writhing on the expensive sheets of his five star hotel suite bed, moans pouring out of a throat that's stretched out as she throws her head back, arms straining as she pulls against the ropes that keeps them there. Her skin's sweat slicked gold, perfect breasts tipped with nipples his lips and teeth and tongue have tasted and teased into hardness even as he tries to remind himself that she's just a means to an end, that she's just a job that he needs to do for the greater good. He shouldn't touch her, but he knows they've got her monitored. Her heart beat stays calm, and they'll know something's up, but he keeps thinking that he could've done something else, should've done something else to fool them but he can't stop his hands from touching her, feel her so wet and ready for him.

Her legs wrap around his waist, long and slender and just as perfect as the rest of her and it has him groaning, surging up, pushing into her even as she lets out a dark, husky laugh filled with triumph. Sweat stings his eyes as he looks down at her, sees those red lips swollen and shiny with spit from sucking his cock and crushes his mouth to her, doesn't care that he can taste himself in her mouth, just pushes his tongue inside to stop the torrent of filthy words that had driven him completely insane all. damn. night.

He knows they wouldn't approve, knows that Nate will look at him in that way that pisses him off, knows that Sophie would be so disappointed in him, but he doesn't care, can't care when he feels her slick and tight around him, can see her nails gouging at the head board as he slams into her as fast and hards as she asks, demands. Even though he knows it's wrong, even though he knows it's impossible, he wants to mark her, he wants to brand her with his scent, with the feel of him so that somewhere, somehow, she'll remember him. So that even after they wipe her pretty head clean of their perfect weekend together, she'll get flashes of what he's done to her, of what they've done together.

He buries his face against her neck as he comes, and knows that it could never happen.

[schmooie730.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Sarah, recipe

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

Sam's got the ingredients all measured. The chocolate is grated just so, and he thinks he's ready now. He fully intends to have chocolate pancakes ready for Sarah before she wakes up.

But he turns around to find her there, twirling the bottle of syrup around her finger and smiling at him.

"Come on then, Sam," she teases as she grabs some of the sifted and pre-measured flour. She throws it at him and he growls, grabbing her wrist.

"You messed up my recipe," he informs her as he pins her back against the kitchen island.

"Is that so?" she murmurs, and he kisses her hard.

"Now breakfast is ruined," he mutters as he tastes her skin, nipping at the spot where her pulse jumps in her throat.

She has some snappy retort on the tip of her tongue, but he returns his mouth to hers and sucks the words away.

And then he's got her spread open on top of the counter so fast she doesn't know how he did it, but the look in his eye is one of hunger.

"I guess I'll just have to eat something else," he mutters, pulling aside the tiny scrap of fabric she calls panties, and sliding a finger into her. She arches as his tongue descends upon her, flicking back and forth over the sensitive pearl.

Her hands fist in his hair, which is impossibly soft, and now she's gotten flour all over it, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that his tongue and mouth are hot, and he's got her teetering on the edge...


He sinks into her with a satisfied moan, and she grips the edge of the counter, hard. He thrusts into her slowly at first, but as she responds he picks up the pace. Faster, harder, soon he is slamming into her and the world is spinning.

And then it's over, small shudders rippling through both of them. He helps her off the counter and gives her a kiss.

"Now you have to sift and re-measure my flour," he says, and turns back to his recipe.

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

NCIS/Leverage, Gibbs/Nate, Bourbon

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, ooops

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"I said I was sorry."

Sam hissed, scrubbing furiously.

"Sammy."

"Not now," Sam gritted out. His hands moved away from his ass only to moan with pain. He grabbed more soap and continued to scrub.

"Sam."

Dean should have expected the bitch face when Sam's head snapped around, his hazel eyes part pain and anger.

"Jerk."

Dean had to bite down the automatic, 'Bitch.'

"Sam."

"Since when do you keep Icy Hot, Dean? Huh?" Sam winced again, "Since when do you keep it beside the lube?"

Dean felt a blush heat his face and said the only thing that came to mind.

"Ooops?"

Getting a bar of soap between the eyes was hardly a shock at all.

[never-says-die.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/werewolf!Eliot, Should've known better

Should've known better, Leverage, Nate/werewolf!Eliot

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

I have no idea why I'm suddenly whumping Eliot so much...I blame amara_m and you with your 'Broken Roads'...


“You should have realised we’d come for you,” Nathan says to the wall. “Should have just…waited instead of…”

He sighs, his fingers tightening around Eliot’s hand before he remembers and eases up slightly. He’s glad it’s fairly dark in the room – it means he doesn’t have to see the bruising and the cuts where Eliot isn’t covered by dressing and plaster. Doesn’t have to see the clear tubes attached that pump oxygen into Eliot or the ones hooked up to bags of…saline? Possibly? He’s not entirely sure – the whole period between getting the call from the hospital and actually arriving in Eliot’s room is sort of one big blur.

Nathan bites back a sob that tries to make its way out. He’s spent way too much time in hospitals over his lifetime, and it’s rarely been for a good reason. This is not a good reason.

“Such an idiot,” Nathan breathes, not without fondness as he reaches out to stroke Eliot’s hair off his forehead. “You realise I’m going to kick your ass for this when you come back? Well…I’ll try, anyway. Maybe I’ll just sic Sophie and her catalogues on you instead.”

There’s no answer from Eliot, but Nathan wasn’t expecting one. Anyone would play dead when threatened with Sophie and anything to do with shopping.

“Hey, remember Paris?” he grins despite himself. “Remember the way we had to trail ‘round after her while she visited shoe shop after shoe shop? I think she actually visited some more than once – they all looked the same to me…”

He trails off and leans forward, staring intently at what he can make out of Eliot’s face in the dim light. Slowly, he smoothes his thumb over Eliot’s knuckles, and his eyes narrow at what he thinks was movement.

“Come on, Eliot…please…”

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

RPS, Rob Morrow/James Marsters, years gone by

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

RPS, Steve/Chris, dirty talking voice mail

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

He's off the plane, phone in hand...and Steve's less than a half hour away. He's listened to the message half a dozen times and it makes him hard, but that doesn't stop him from thumbing the button and lifting the phone, even as he flags down a cab outside the airport.

Steve's voice is deep, sounding sleep heavy and maybe just this side of sober. Chris can picture him on the phone, his free hand stroking himself.

"Miss you...want to taste you...gonna tie you down and lick you, suck you...gonna swallow you down and make you scream my name...I'm so hard for you right now...wish you were here so I could put my cock in your mouth....love the way you suck me, Chris...you gotta come home soon...can't come without you...need you..."

He could tell Steve kept talking, but the message cut off, leaving Chris in the back of a cab with a hard on and fifteen minutes left to the ride.

He throws money at the driver when they get there, grabs his bag and even if he wanted to play it cool, there's just no way. He takes the stairs two at a time and burst through the door, catching Steve by surprise.

He's picking at his guitar on the couch and Chris grins as he closes the door, because Steve is naked behind the instrument, he can tell.

"You weren't coming home until next week." Steve manages after his surprise wears off a little.

"Couldn't stay away." He holds up the phone and watches Steve blush. "God, Steve." Chris crosses to him, setting the guitar aside and pressing Steve to the couch with kisses and hands on his skin. "Been hard for two days listening to you tell me what you were going to do to me."

Steve presses back, reversing their positions. "I've thought of a few more since then."

Chris doesn't doubt he has, and he has nearly a week before he has anywhere he has to be. He lifts his hands away, up over his head. "I'm all yours."

[danniisupernova.livejournal.com]

Battlestar Galactica, Boomer/Chief, godlessness
Battlestar Galactica, Boomer/Crashdown, speckled
Skins, Pandora/Cook, dynamite
Bones, Angela/Zack, houses

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

It's one prompt per comment, sweetie!

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, eyeliner

[dragonlet.livejournal.com]

"Ow!"

"If yeh don't stop squirmin', of course it'll get in yehr eye." Mitchell snorts and grips George's chin.

"I don't want it at all," George whines and squirms. Mitchell grins and bounces on George's lap a little, reasserting his position of dominance straddling his thighs. Also to press him down a little further. "I'll look girly." But he stops squirming.

"Nonsense. Yeh'll look dark and mysterious."

"I don't want to look dark and mysterious!"

"I want to see what he looks like dark and mysterious," Annie offers from her perch atop the chair. George squeaks again and tries to trash but Mitchell grasps the back of his head and holds him still, leaning in close to drag the liner pencil across his skin. George freezes and lets him, kind of helplessly staring into his housemate's eyes.

Mitchell leans back and nods, satisfied. Annie claps her hands and George blinks.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, Dom!Steve/sub!christian, collar

[echoing-dream.livejournal.com]

*whimpers a litte* And there go my plans for the rest of the day... ♥

[oteap.livejournal.com]

The Lost Boys/Supernatural, David/Dean, family secrets

You Were Right, The Lost Boys/Supernatural, David/Dean, family secrets

[hunters-retreat.livejournal.com]

They both had secrets. Dean didn’t lie to himself about that as he ran down the boardwalk trying to catch up to him. He’d known, going into it, but they’d had to wait for the right time, wait for the head to be cut off before they could attack the rest of the snake. He’d had his fun then, never worried that it would ever be an issue, but it was.

At the end of the way he waited, his eyes flashing dangerously and Dean pulled the gun out.

“You think that can hurt me?” David asked.

Dean smiled. “Oh, I think you’d be amazed at what I can do.”

David smiled. “You do have a pretty mouth.”

Dean’s eyes hardened and he took the first shot. David’s mouth opened wide because of all the things he’d been taught, no one ever told him about dead man’s blood and all of Dean’s bullets were coated in it. He took another four shots to make sure there was enough to keep David down before he moved closer.

David was lying on the ground looking up at him. His smile was slightly off, the blood immobilizing him. “Always said you’d be the death of me.”

Dean nodded as he pulled out the machete. “You were right.”

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Generation Kill, Fick/Colbert, Brad's sulking under the Humvee again

Generation Kill, Fick/Colbert, Brad's sulking under the Humvee again

[echoing-dream.livejournal.com]

Another wave of sand hits him in the face, and Brad turns his face away, squirms a little so he’s just out of Ray’s range and keeps picking the muck out from under the Humvee. He’s not sure how much of it he’s actually getting rid of any more, and the satisfaction that came from actually seeing some progress, however small, in this whole clusterfuck of an invasion has more than faded. Ray starts singing, something country, loud and with no discernable tune. Brad focuses extra hard to tune him out, smiling just a little when the Humvee rocks above him because Walt’s dropped from the turret to tell Ray to shut his face.

Their argument becomes another comfortable hum, blending into the other sounds of their camp, and Brad slides back inside his headspace. There are too many things to think about, so Brad doesn’t focus on any of them, concentrates on following the line of the wires, cleaning each one and picking out the thick brown sludge from between them. He should have brought more cable-ties down with him, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

It takes him a while to notice how quiet it’s become, and Brad mentally berates himself, twisting his shoulder to look at his watch. There’s still ambient light, so the absence of Ray’s voice is the equivalent of alarm bells.

“Brad.” He winces at the LT’s tone, twisting his head to track the LT’s boots as they move around to the back of the Humvee. He’s not expecting him to drop down on his stomach, soft sigh as though it’s an effort as he crawls forwards slowly on his elbows. There’s just enough room to turn over, and the LT does it slowly, body heat shockingly close to Brad as he wriggles onto his back, top of his head just brushing Brad’s shoulder.

Brad braces himself, trying to read the LT by the tension in his body, the pace of his breathing, but neither of them speak. He wonders if the plan is to guilt him into coming out, because the LT knows better than anyone how well Brad stews in his own sense of guilt, but then the LT sighs, soft enough that Brad only just hears it, body sinking a millimetre further into the sand.

As hard as this is for them, at least Brad has the option of crawling under his victor, escaping everyone, if only for a few hours. The LT feels the weight of the war just as keenly as any of them, but there’s nowhere for him to hide, no place or time of day where he doesn’t have to keep his poker face on. Brad’s stomach bottoms out with more guilt at that thought.

“Sir, I-“ he begins, but the LT’s shoulder just brushed up against his, forgiveness and a stern glare all wrapped in a simple movement.

“We can only do as we’re told to out here Brad,” he says, but his voice is quite, and Brad hears the longing and the disappointment there, sees the idealism shattered by the realities of invasion. “We’re not responsible for everybody else.”

Brad wants to argue back, to explain that they could help people if they really tried, but it’s a battle lost before it’s even begun, and he knows it. He shuffles a little closer, nudges the LT’s shoulder with his own and turns his head just enough to see relief in his grin before he starts to crawl out from under the Humvee.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Eureka, Carter/Stark, watching the night sky

Stars.

[cjmarlowe.livejournal.com]

Jack was pretty sure it couldn't actually be called a stakeout if what you were surveilling was an empty off-site lab and what you were watching for was a tiny puff of blue smoke.

"It's a bit like waiting for the new Pope, isn't it?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the fence.

"It's a bit like what?"

It also probably couldn't be called a stakeout when one half of the ostensible stakeout team was not a law enforcement professional.

"You know, with the watching and the black smoke and the white smoke and the...." Stark stared at him with a fascination usually reserved for stupid pet tricks. "Right, okay, not so much like the Pope, then."

"I'm not sure incineration of a virulent chemical mixture is comparable to the papal conclave, but sure, if it makes you happy, this is just like waiting for the new Pope."

"I really hate you sometimes," said Jack, crossing one ankle over the other too as he stared at the ventilation pipe and waited. If he promised he would stop saying that if Stark survived the little time mishap, well, he didn't think anybody was actually going to hold him to that. It wasn't as if they believed he actually meant it. "How long is this supposed to take anyway?"

"It'll take as long as it takes," said Stark. "You're welcome to go back to your bunker. There's no town bylaw requiring you be here to witness this."

"That thing nearly knocked out the whole town," he said, wagging a finger at the lab like the entire building was responsible and not a small vial inside. "I'm not going anywhere until I can file a report saying it's dust."

"Ash and vapor, technically," said Stark, "but I doubt your job requires you to be that accurate."

It was just his luck, Jack figured, that they were both going to be here a long, long time, Nathan to complete the incineration safely and Jack to see it through. Long enough for a lazy silence to fall. Long enough for the waxing moon to rise and begin to set again. Long enough for the dark clouds to clear and the stars to emerge over the town.

"When I was young," said Jack, breaking a long silence, "my parents used to tell me that when people died, they got their own star in the sky. And that that one right there, right beside the big dipper--" He pointed, like that would make it easier to see. "They told me that one was my grandmother looking down on me."

"Someone's broken it to you that they're actually distant balls of fiery gas, right?"

"Aw, come on, Nathan, why you gotta break my heart like that?" he said, grinning over at him anyway. "Besides, can't they be both?"

"This is why you're the sheriff and I'm the scientist," said Stark. "You should probably leave the cosmological theories to us."

"You know what your problem is?" said Jack. "You have no soul."

Stark snorted, and didn't say anything else for a few moments. "My parents told me they were nature's night lights," he said finally. "Of course, I was four years old at the time."

"You believed them, didn't you?" said Jack. "Nathan Stark actually believed something that didn't come out of a textbook."

"Technically, they were right," said Nathan, and Jack was sure he caught a hint of a smile as he looked up at the sky.

As a comfortable silence fell again, a puff of smoke finally emerged from the ventilation pipe, hanging there for a moment then beginning to dissipate in the night air.

"It's kind of pretty, isn't it?

"It's the by-product of a dangerous chemical reaction."

"Yes, and it's pretty," said Jack. "I definitely prefer it in smoke form to potent chemical mind-altering drug thingie."

"Which of course is the technical term," said Nathan, pushing himself away from the fence with one foot. "I need to go inside and dispose of the rest. Are you coming?"

"I think I can leave that in your capable hands," said Jack, watching the last of the smoke vanish. "If I leave now, I might actually make it home before Zoë gets up for school."

"Well then," said Nathan, "I'll probably see you bright and early tomorrow anyway. Another day, another disaster."

"Yeah," said Jack, giving him a wave as he disappeared into the building, "Yeah, I hope you do."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage, vampire!Nate/Eliot, watch the world burn

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Fury fills him. Uncontrolled. It's dangerous and he knows it. But at the moment he doesn't care.

He stands at the window, stares out at the night, snarling at his own reflection. The poor nurse who came in to tell him that visiting hours were over was gone. Nate had felt her leave the hospital, her heart pounding in fear.

He wasn't leaving this room. He would stand there and watch the world burn before he did.

"Nate?"

He turns from the window, his face softening. Eliot blinks, his eyes sweeping the room. Nate can hear his heartbeat, feel the confusion, taste his pain. "Shh...you should be sleeping."

The drugs running through him keep Eliot from really putting it all together. Nate can almost see the scattered memories flitting through him as he sits on the bed, taking Eliot's hand. "I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. You're safe. Sleep."

"Safe..." There's a hint of humor in the word. "My boyfriend is a vampire." Eliot's eyes drift closed. "How's that safe?"

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Kinky Boots, Charlie/'Lola' (Simon), dance with me

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

*GLEE* I love you. I can't write it, 'cause I've only seen the movie once *SAD*, but I love you for prompting this. Yes.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Neverwhere, Richard/Marquis, Underground (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-2vLTSUpC0) by David Bowie

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Neverwhere/Labyrinth, Marquis/Jareth, favours

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Merlin RPS, Bradley James/Colin Morgan, interviews

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Colin leans back and lets Bradley talk (with his pretty talented mouth). From this angle he can see the dark mark he put on Bradleys neck last night peeking above the edge of his sweater as he leans forward to explain something to the female reporter. As Bradley gestured to illustrate some point or the other (he stopped listening a while ago) Colin can only think of those hands gripping the sheets as he licked his way up Bradleys chest, those lips as they wrapped around his dick, that messy hair even messier as Bradly grasped his name and ...

".. is that right Colin" asks the reporter (her name also forgotten).

As he deperately tries to pull his thoughts togheter for a coherent answer he catches Bradleys sideways glance and wicked grin and know that he knew exactly where and when Colin was just then...

((Hope I am doing this right, it's my first time :)))

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Dom!Nate/Eliot, imagination

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

Nathan knows what he's doing when he has Eliot like this, up in their room alone. He's strapped face down to the bench today, but the last time they'd done this he'd had him firmly strapped into the swing, and the time before that he'd been kneeling quietly in the center of the room. The time alone serves multiple purposes.

It calms them both, letting Nathan reel in his possessiveness and his aggression. For Eliot, he has a chance to center himself, pace his mind because wanting so much so soon gets old.

It also serves as a time of reflection and contemplation. Do they really want to do this right now, or do they want to wait. Do they want this to be their special 'alone' time or do they want to tempt Imari up those steps. Do they have time to do this properly, or will they end up rushing through and possibly injuring themselves?

But mostly, it allows them both to use their imagination, adding another element of fun. Eliot comes up with ideas, runs through possible scenarios in his head and ways he can get them to play out how he wants. Nathan does the same, but with a different view point. They each try to imagine what the other will want and how they can give that to him.

Those imaginative ideas also bring new elements into their love life. New ways of using old toys that are still loved and enjoyed or even taking a common item they touch every day and coming up with a way to use it in their room.

And then, there's the sweet anticipation that outdoes every other thing the waiting does. The anticipation of the flogger, or the plugs or the chains attached to silver nipple rings. The expected groans and eager moans and whimpers hold delicious promise before they're ever uttered.

Then the tension mounts as Nathan climbs the steps, his heavy boots thudding on the way up. So often, they both wonder of the other...

Did he just gasp when the door was opened, or was it my imagination?

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate, connection

Connection, Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

You should probably read this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/16272.html?thread=2206352#t2206352) first.


It’s all dark around him, but not the dark confusion of a change – this is the thick, fuzzy dark that comes with the really good drugs, underlain by the sharp spike of pain. Well, at least he seems to have a good reason for being on the drugs, although it’s probably going to play merry havoc with his rep later. Last time, Nate told him he’d mixed up a bowl of ice cream and chips…and then eaten it…

There’s a voice in the dark – soothing and quite and oh-so-familiar. It’s comforting, pushing away the last of the pain that the drugs haven’t quite managed to get.

But the voice is worried, and that can’t be good. Slowly, Eliot pushes towards the voice, feeling the warmth from it increase as he becomes more aware – it’s quite possible he’s in a hospital bed, although he wouldn’t lay any money on it just yet.

It’s Nate – he can tell by the smell that Eliot knows he’d recognise anywhere, even over the stink of hospital antiseptic.

And, Paris? He’s lying in a hospital bed, and Nate’s rambling on about Paris?

Well, that’s got to stop – they’d promised never to mention Paris again. He concentrates, feeling his way along that indescribable thing that ties him to Nate, getting closer and closer to the warmth and the voice all the time.

“Come on, Eliot…please…”

Yeah, yeah, Nate. Goin’ as fast as I can…man’s never satisfied...

“Just a little more,” Nate urges, and Eliot wonders in the back of his mind if Nate can feel this thing between them as well.

He blinks his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. At least, he thinks it’s the ceiling – it’s ridiculously dark in the room. Someone’s holding his hand, and Eliot turns his head, feeling the pain flare up just a little bit more as he looks over at Nate.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Vampire!Steve/Chris, delicious

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Steve grinned wickedly, his fangs flashing. He pressed Christian down, lapping at the sweat covering his chest. "You taste so good," he murmured, tongue swiping a path from his chest up his throat. "Could taste you all day. Your skin. Your sweat." He nuzzled at Christian's pulse point; Christian groaning in response, arching his neck. "Your blood," Steve agreed, then slithered down Christian's body, mouthing at his sac. "Your come." He sucked Christian's hard cock into his mouth, tongue and lips bringing him to the very edge of orgasm before pulling back, fangs sinking into the soft skin of his inner thigh, his mouth filling with blood before he took Christian's cock back between his lips, sucking him off; come and blood mingling in his mouth. "Delicious," he confirmed, sharing the joint taste with Christian.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, shaken

Shaken

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Again too long and up on my LJ...Shaken...

http://hawk-dancing.livejournal.com/

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS/Leverage, Steve/Chris/Eliot, double trouble

[meredevachon]

After that first drink, after the kind of awkward small talk that passes for introduction and invitation both, the fact Eliot could pass for Christian's twin had been nothing more to Steve than a freaky coincidence. Everything that happened after that was because of the man beside him, not the one off in Nashville making a name for himself without Steve.

And a few weeks later, when Eliot met Steve with a handful of pictures he must've found on the internet and a gravel-growled I'm not him, Steve had spent hours making sure Eliot knew just how aware Steve was of that one little fact and how he wouldn't have it any other way. Steve's with Eliot. Steve wants to be with Eliot.

Life is good.

Life is kinda crazy sometimes, what with Eliot leaving town at a moment's notice – or less – for work, he says, and comes back days or weeks later, looking like he's gone a full fifteen with Ali, and not saying a word about where he's been or what he's been doing, but it's good.

Which is why when Steve looks out at the audience over halfway through his set and sees a familiar shape in the darkest corner of the club, he smiles… and then prays he doesn't forget what he's singing. Eliot's been gone almost a month, and the one time he'd managed to call he didn't have any idea when he would be back. The shape is gone by the time Steve thanks the crowd for coming and makes his way to the bar, so he doesn't wait around, just packs up his gear and heads for his car. He's only a few steps away when he finally realizes the person leaning against the bumper isn't who he expects.

He just wishes it had been before he called out, "Welcome home, babe."

And from the look on Chris' face, he wishes so too. Steve tries to work through the shock and embarrassment enough to find the words to explain, but before he can say a word, he hears footsteps behind him and a soft, "Thought I told you not to call me 'babe,' darlin'."

There aren't words to describe Chris' expression as Eliot steps out of the shadows and snakes one arm around Steve's waist to pull him close. At least not for the second or two Steve bothers to notice it. But then Eliot's turning him, a strong hand coming up to cup Steve's skull as he leans in for a kiss. At that point Steve doesn't really care what Chris' is thinking… it's been almost a month after all.

Eventually they have to stop; oxygen's kind of important after a while. Eliot jerks his head toward Chris. "I saw him when I came in. Figured if he took time out of his busy schedule to come to your show, the least I could do was let him hear you sing, introductions could wait."

"I think they waited long enough, don't you?" There's an edge to Chris' voice, one that could end with Steve having to scrape Chris off the pavement if explanations fail and Chris decides to take a swing at somebody.

"Chris, Eliot. Eliot, Chris." Steve doesn't fool himself that it'll be that easy… but maybe he hopes it might.

"Nah, man. You gotta do better than that. I wanna get to know this guy of yours."

There is no way Chris means that the way it sounds. Steve's sure of it. But Chris hasn't taken his eyes off the two of them, and Steve watches as Chris scrapes his lower lip through his teeth, sees the way he shifts his weight. Steve's seen Chris like that before. Only usually there's a busty blonde cheerleader-type in general vicinity at the time.

Eliot moves around behind Steve, his chin on Steve's shoulder, his breath hot and damp along Steve's ear, his cock hard against Steve's ass… and Eliot can't seriously be considering this thing that Chris obviously can't mean… right?

"I think you're right. We need much more thorough introductions. If Steve's willing to do his part, of course."

Chris' smile as he pushes up off the car is mirrored by the one Steve feels against his neck, and all those things that couldn't be are suddenly seeming pretty damn likely.

And if Steve thought he was in trouble before…

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Werewolf!Eliot/Nate, tremble

Tremble, Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

You should probably read this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/16272.html?thread=2206352#t2206352) and this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/16272.html?thread=2211728#t2211728) first.


Eliot’s eyes blink open, and Nathan’s breath catches as time seems to slow and then speed up as Eliot looks over at him, mouth opening to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Oh, right…” Nathan lets go of Eliot and reaches for the cup on the cabinet beside the bed, bringing it closer and fishing out an ice chip. He can almost see the blue-gold colour of Eliot’s eyes in the grey of the room when he’s this close, and Nathan’s breath catches again when he watches his fingers run the ice over Eliot’s lips and then slip it inside his mouth.

He’s concentrating so hard on feeding Eliot ice chips that he doesn’t notice it at first – the faint trembling that starts in his hands and spreads until his whole body is shaking. Delayed shock, he thinks almost clinically, and he has to lay his head down on the edge of Eliot’s bed and just breathe for a minute, dragging in harsh breaths as he squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

A hand lands in his hair, petting vaguely, and Nathan reaches up to tangle his fingers with Eliot’s, holding on as he remembers how to breathe and live again.