Friday Free For All

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Happy Friday ya'll!

And, because it's Friday, it' Free-For-All day. You know what that means! Anything goes, everything goes! Any fandom, any pairing, anything.

So bring it on!

Please be kind to our Code Monkeys, who do a HUGE job for us (and are deserving of our love and admiration because of it...) and set up your prompts properly.

For Example:

For a single fandom: SPN, Sam/Dean, slam

For a crossover: SGA/Eureka, Mckay/Stark, brain sex


Also, you should totally cruise over to the Lonely Prompts Index and earn some good Karma points by answering a few.

Go forth and porn/fic ya'll.

Comments

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

SPN, Sam/Dean, slam

take me (out to the ball game)

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

He smells like peanuts and a bit of secondhand tobacco, and it's intoxicating enough that the mildew and the chatters of the rats don't mean a thing. The spirit is gone, and tomorrow they'll find the ballpark owner and tell him he doesn't have to worry about any more fans tossing themselves from the bleachers. But for now they're lost in a little boy's dream, the smells and sounds of game time all around them, and it's hard not to want to cling to it.

They cling to each other instead. Dean nibbles along the line of Sam's neck and pushes him against the wall a Sam tosses his head back and makes gurgling noises in his throat. "Now, now, now," he hisses as Dean's wicked fingers open his fly. The first stroke is the last; Sam's on Dean in a minute and pushing him into the grit of the floor.

It's quick, hot, and dirty, Sam grabbing the cheeks of Dean's ass and licking fast frantic strokes around and into him. Dean's hips rise and slam the floor again and again until he's begging too, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Sam, fuck me, I'm gonna come, I want you to fuck me, Jesus God!"

He gnashes his teeth and grimaces as Sam enters him. Sam sucks in a breath and tries to stay still for a minute. It's not working. Dean's too far gone. Sam has to pound him, has to grunt as he pushes him down onto the concrete. He almost forgets to breathe and half-chokes as he comes, a half-second after Dean, who let loose with a flood of "Fuck God Yes Sam"s that is only just now dying down.

Their orgasms take a long time in fading, and there's still grunting and whimpering a good minute and a half after the peak. Sam finds his bearings first. "Nice." He lets out a long whoosh of air with the word.

Dean laughs. "Nice?" He bumps his ass up to jostle Sam's softening cock. That was a fucking grand slam."

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

SGA/Eureka, Mckay/Stark, brain sex

Code: Sex

[chibifukurou]

Sexy Dynamics has logged on.
Scientist in Space has logged on.
Sexy Dynamics wrote: 01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110111 01100101 01100001 01110010 01101001 01101110 01100111 00111111
Scientist in Space wrote: 01001101 01111001 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101001 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 00101110

Sexy Dynamics wrote: 01001101 01111001 00101100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101001 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101

Scientist in Space wrote: 01001000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101001 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 00111111

Sexy Dynamics wrote: 01001110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101001 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 00101110

Major Crazy Hair has logged in.

Major Crazy Hair wrote: Watcha’ doing?

Scientist in Space wrote: Honestly major can’t you tell I’m having a personal conversation, you would think that you wanted me to make it so that you can’t get anything, but cold water in your room.

MajorCrazyHair has logged out.

Sexy Dynamics wrote: Chicken.

Scientist in Space wrote: 01010011 01101000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01110100 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101101 01100101 01110111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101001 01110110 01100001 01110100 01100101 00101110 00100000 01010110 01101111 01111001 01100101 01110101 01110010 01101001 01110011 01101101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00101100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 00100000 01100110 01110101 01101110 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100010 01110110 01101001 01101111 01110101 01110011 00101110

Sexy Dynamics wrote: 01010100 01110010 01110101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01100110 01110101 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100111 01100101 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01001101 01100001 01101010 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100010 01101111 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100100 00101110

Scientist in Space wrote: 01001001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101111 01101110 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100110 01110101 01101110 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01110010 01110010 01100001 01101110 01100111 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110000 01110000 01100101 01101110 00101110

Scientist in Space has logged off.

Sexy Dynamics has logged off.

[bertee.livejournal.com]

SPN, Sam/Ruby, ice

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

There are nights when Sam comes to her ablaze. He captures her lips and ignites every nerve until she's seeing fireworks and is so, so pleased that she is alone in this body. She doesn't want to share him with anyone.

And then there's nights like this, when he opens the door quietly and she knows, she just knows that Dean has gotten under his brother's skin again.

It looks the same; Sam still kisses her when he pulls her to him, but it feels all too different.

There's no heat as he lays her back on the bed, no fire as he trails his mouth along her bare skin. She still ends up screaming his name in climax, because his tongue is skilled in that way.

But as he curls up next to her she feels a tear or two escape his closed eyes, and she feels she's slowly turning to ice.

[bluemoon02.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, Severus Snape/James Potter snr, awkward hate!sex

[noxnoctisanima.livejournal.com]

When Snape's hand closed over his cock the first thing James thought of wasn't to get off rather it was to strangle the life out of him.

Snape was pressing him up against a wall, hand tight over his dick, squeezing threateningly. James's hand was wrapped around Snape's throat and he was squeezing red lines into it.

Snape growled at him and twisted his hand and that was when things started falling apart. Heat shot through James's groin, it had been a really long time since someone else hand had been on his cock and he had a problem with not being terribly picky.

Snape raised a long eyebrow, feeling James's dick harden.

"Interesting turn ons you have Potter."

James growled at him and cupped his palm over Snape's own hard on.

"Like you can talk Snape."

Snape flexed his fingers and James couldn't stop his hips from thrusting. Snape smirked at him.

James narrowed his eyes, no fucking way. He ran his thumb down Snape's fly, pulling the zip down with him. He smirked when he felt Snape shudder under his hands.

James sank his teeth into Snape's neck when his hand finally slipped into James's pants, Snape jerked into his hand, precome sliding across his palm.

James came embarrassingly quickly, but was at least safe in the knowledge that he only came after Snape thrust into his palm and groaned, biting his lip.

James slipped his hand out of Snape's pants, sticky with come and Snape stumbled back awkwardly. Their eyes came up to meet each other and then they just as quickly looked away, stepped back and then walked off in opposite directions.

[bluemoon02.livejournal.com]

Lost in Austen, Darcy/Amanda, fingers

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

She's always been the awkward one since primary school, with her big feet and her inability to master anything with her hand other than penmanship. Mrs. Bennett and Jane attempt to teach her sewing during her time with them but the thread tangles in ways that shocks even the most experienced embroiderer, and she always stays on the opposite side of the room from the pianoforte.

Right now she's staring at the beast of an instrument from her seat on the couch, a shy two weeks after becoming Amanda Darcy. Fitzwilliam, or Will as she calls him now, is off surveying something or another, and Georgiana is doing her lessons.

So it's just her, and her hands.

Amanda looks down at them and winces again. The complexion is too weathered, she remembers Lady Catherine saying, although it was about her face. But it's true about her fingers, too.

They're scarred and rough from ironing burns, London life, and just being a klutz. There's only one pretty thing, and that's the delicate ring on her left hand.

She scowls and folds her arms. "Ugly old things."

"Now that I will not tolerate, Mrs. Darcy."

Blushing she gives a sheepish smile to her husband as he enters the room and walks to her. "Didn't know you were back, Will," she excuses herself.

"And I am glad to have known what you think of yourself," he retorts but kneels in front of her rather than sitting. He pulls her hands free despite her noise of protest. "I refuse to allow anyone to think so little of my bride, especially herself," he comments with a raised brow.

"Honestly, I just feel so..." She looks down at her hands. "I can't play piano or do embroidery, or-"

Darcy laughs and kisses her knuckles, then to her surprise lifts her fingers and kisses the tip of each one. "Do you think I married you for your home skills, Mrs. Darcy?" he asks, and he nips at the tip of the digit with his ring.

Amanda laughs, although the bite catches her breath. Before she can attempt a reply he leans up and steals away her oxygen, his fingers running through her hair, and she feels her own fingers cup his chin as she lets him delve into her mouth.

Maybe not so ugly, she amends later when he kisses her neck and helps her back into her dress.

[bluemoon02.livejournal.com]

Lost in Austen, Amanda/Wickham, helping hands

[asimaiyat.livejournal.com]

Mad Men, Don/Roger, "can you keep up?"

[bluemoon02.livejournal.com]

Lost in Austen, Amanda/Wickham, mutual commiseration

[ashedrake.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Sylar/Luke, 18 finally

Heroes, Sylar/Luke, 18 finally

[carmexgirl.livejournal.com]

The noise of the party crowd seems to fade outside as Luke sits on the corner of the bed, contemplating. It’s late and he’s tired, but he still can’t help thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow he will be eighteen, and he wonders what he has to show for it, what exactly he has done with his life. Threatened, chased, captured, constantly on the run, constantly looking over his shoulder. He’s lost count of the amount of dead bodies he’s seen, their lifeless eyes seemingly pleading with him, expressions forever locked in death.

He sighs like he has done so many times, thinking how, on the very cusp of adulthood, he has done more growing up than any teenager ever should. But in an instant none of that matters, because there’s soft lips nipping at his ear, a voice whispering in his head and a firm hand wrapped around his cock as he whimpers and begs. “Yes. More. Faster, please faster. Fuck that’s it. That’s it right there. Oh god, oh…”

He falls apart continually, only to have Sylar put him back together again, night after night, motel after skeevy motel. Only this time, it’s different. This time, he seems gentler, more aware of Luke’s low mood, more in tune to Luke’s fragile state. When he enters him, after kissing and caressing his lithe, pliant body for what seems like hours on end, until Luke can’t stand it any more, until he thinks he will go mad from the sheer force of want alone; it’s as though he’s entering him for the very first time. He does it slowly, gently, stretching him out, stroking him through every moan, every whimper.

When he grips Luke and starts to thrust, it’s as though Luke can suddenly see his future mapped out perfectly in front of him, in line after line of dead bodies, all staring up at him with cold, dead eyes. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but the regular sound of Sylar moaning “Fuck. Fuck, fuck,” as he thrusts into him, and the shiver of pleasure he feels as the heat breaks all over his body, is enough to silence him altogether, and make him think about what he really wants. He wants this. Hew wants whatever Sylar can give him. He has given him more than he ever could in his entire life, taught him more than he could ever hope to learn, and he knows it.

“You feel so good tonight, Luke. So good.” Sylar moans as he grips him and starts to caress him to orgasm. Luke comes, crying out loudly, shaking as he feels Sylar burst inside him and cry out too, strangled, panting as he continues to thrust through his climax, whispering his name.

In the background, the clock chimes twelve times, almost triumphantly. Sylar pulls out and lies next to him, panting, wiping sweat of his brow and smiling, actually smiling. He stares at his watch, and his smile falls. “Hmmm. That clock is 30 seconds out.” He counts quietly, before leaning over to kiss Luke, long and slow, his hand gripping the back of his head tightly. “Happy birthday,” he whispers.

And Luke cannot help but smile. Because now, in this motel room, with Sylar by his side to protect him, he is finally a man.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Kane RPS, goth!Chris/goth!Steve, spiked cuff

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"What are you doin'?" Chris grinned. Steve merely smirked and continued to advance on him like a cat stalking his prey.

He was so fucking beautiful. His blonde mane fell over his shoulders, the painted black ankh and dark kohl eyes made the blue glitter like sapphires.

Fuck that, Chris chastised himself, not going to be girly. He looked down, Steve was at his feet, more and more cat like as he nuzzled up the inseam of Chris' leather pants. His pointed teeth flashed when he to to the cuff wound about Chris' wrist.

"God damn, boy," Chris breathed.

Warm, wet lick touched his skin. The pink tongue worked suggestively around the silver spikes. Chris went rock hard and impatient.

Winding his hand in Steve's hair, he drew his mischevious lover up and kissed. "Bedroomn, now." He growled.

"Thought you'd never ask," Steve purred and topped it of with a long lick from Chris' jawbone to his ear.

[elebridith]

RPS, Goth!Chris/Goth!Steve, shower

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

There was grungy and then there was dirty. Steve hauled Chris' protesting ass into the shower.

"I don't want to hear it." He said firmly shoving his shorter lover under the warm spray.

Chris' blue eyes were mutinous.

"Please," Steve smirked, "Drop the bad ass-ness and just enjoy."

He started by gently wiping away the eyeliner that dripped down his cheeks. Then he pooled a generous amount of shampoo in his hands. As his fingers kneaded Chris' scalp, his lover moaned. Steve could feel the insistent dig of arousal against his hip.

"Take what you need, baby."

Steve washed Chris' thick hair as his lover rutted against him. His own cock was screaming from release as the last of suds swirled down the drain and Chris' come dripped down his thigh.

Chris bit his collarbone, "Your turn, boy."

The water ran cold by the time they were done.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage, vampire!Nate/Eliot, reclaiming

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

It's two in the afternoon, and they lay side by side in the bed, hidden behind Nate's blinds that make the room feel like it's two in the morning, but neither of them are sleeping.

They don't talk.

They don't have words to make this right, to take them back to the place where it started...or even to take them past this into a place where they're both okay.

Too much has happened to both of them. Too much has changed. Eliot's still hurting, still traumatized, the memory too fresh, the scars and marks still too visible against his skin.

Nate turns on his side, his fingers trailing over Eliots chest, his eyes on Eliot's face, watching for any sign that this is too much...then leans in to kiss over the faint scars around Eliot's nearer nipple...a mark Nate had left before...Eliot's breath hisses in, his eyes close, but he doesn't pull away.

Nate let's his lips linger, licks tiny kitten licks against the scar that no one but a vampire would know were there. He doesn't bite, because there's no way Eliot is ready for that...instead he's gentle, letting Eliot know he still wants him, needs him...reclaiming him the only way he can.

[asimaiyat.livejournal.com]

Lost, Ben/Locke, "trust me"

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage RPS, Timothy/Chris, Milo

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

takes place in 2008

Chris was nervous as hell as he pulled up in front of Tim's condo. This was "The Test", with capital letters because things like this deserved caps in his mind. This could make or break anything they had going and he knew it.

He pulled down his visor, made sure his hair looked decent, then climbed out of his truck and headed up the steps. Just dinner tonight, just the three of them. God he was frickin' terrified.

He reached the door and knocked, packages in his arms as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. When the door opened and Tim grinned at him, Chris' belly flipped for an entirely different reason. They exchanged a brief kiss, just a chaste press of lips as Tim motioned Chris in, squeezing his shoulder. "He's gonna love you."

"Wish I was so confident," Chris murmured as Tim called Milo down from his room. In a few seconds, a little boy was standing in front of Tim and looking up at Chris.

"Milo, this is Daddy's friend Chris. Chris, this is Milo, my son."

Chris smiled and extended a hand. "Pleasure to meetcha there fella. Happy birthday."

Milo grinned.

[elebridith]

RPS, Goth!Chris/Goth!Steve, cinnamon

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

Steve said he smelled like leather. But to Chris, Steve was both spicy and sweet.

Kind of like cinnamon. Chris lifted the heavy blonde hair and nuzzled Steve's nape, licking and nipping at the sensative skin.

Steve groaned, his fingers spearing into Chris' long hair. "Quit teasing me."

"What do you want, boy," Chris growled, his lips pressed against Steve's skin.

"Make me feel it."

Chris grinned before sinking his teeth into Steve and biting down hard.

"Fuck," Steve's hips bucked forward helplessly. Chris did not let up on the relentless pressure. He could see over his lover's shoulder, the leather, fingerless gloved hand pushing down into tight black jeans.

Steve jacked off quick and furious. Chris wouldn't let go until he came. When white ribbons shot across black leather, Chris let go with a wet pop.

The bruise was as black as the leather. "God, you taste good." He muttered against Steve's hair as he held his panting lover in his arms.

[ashedrake.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/any demon, love

[earthquakedream.livejournal.com]

uh...warnings for non-con, some bloodplay, and disturbing imagery? Also, blasphemy. :D

Dean's not quite sure how he ended up like this - the demon had been taunting him and Sam was off trying to save its latest victim - and Dean had been an idiot and stormed into the devil's trap to hurt the damn thing.

"Dean," it breathes in a low, smoky voice. It's possessing a guy, someone almost as big as Sam. It holds Dean down easily as it bends him over the candle lit alter it'd been using to work its spells. Dean struggles, but he knows he won't break free. "Look at you, Dean Winchester. Protected by angels, hm? Let's just see how well your God's love protects you when I fuck your tight little ass."

Dean puts up a small pretense of a struggle, but he knows who this is now. "Alastair," he says quietly, voice resigned. Of course it is.

"Mmm, I've missed you, Dean." Alastair uses his powers to yanks Dean's jeans and briefs down to his ankles, one hand coming away - and Dean hears the demon undoing his own pants. "Of course, I never got to fuck your real body. It should be even sweeter to hear your screams now."

"Don't," Dean tries, but he knows it's useless. Alastair reaches over and scoops up blood from one of the chalices adorning the table, slicks his cock, then Dean feels like he's burning up from the inside as the demon presses in. He doesn't scream. He doesn't want to bring Sam running.

"God, this is even better than I'd thought. Haven't been fucked since you were resurrected, have you?" Alastair starts fucking him hard, the meat suit's huge dick pumping into Dean, and fuck, it hurts so bad, Dean isn't sure he can keep from screaming for much longer. "Thought that angel would be making use of you. He wants to, Dean. He wants to show you just how strong the Lord's love really is."

"Please," Dean sobs out. He's supposed to be out of Hell, he's supposed to be free from Alastair. But it's like he never left.

By the time Sam gets back, Dean's stirring groggily on the floor. Alastair escaped - really, Dean's just glad he had the decency to put Dean's clothes back on after he was done with him.

He follows Sam out, listening to him bitch about letting the demon get the better of him, but he's too busy concentrating on the ache in his ass, forcing himself not to limp. When he dreams that night, it's about Alastair.

"Such a good boy," Alastair says when Dean carves out the heart of the young boy who took his own life.

"So precious, so beautiful." Alastair says as he fucks Dean on the rack, still covered in blood from the mother Dean just tore apart, the one who didn't save her daughter from being raped and beaten by her father.

"Mine," Alastair says as he guides Dean's hand through disemboweling the teenage girl who stole money from her grandmother to buy drugs, and died from an OD. Her screams are so sweet and Alastair fucks Dean while she watches.

Dean wakes with a gasp and Sam looks at him, frowning. "What'd you dream about, Dean?" he asks.

"Nothing," Dean says. He's achingly hard and he stumbles to the bathroom so he can shower, the phantom ache of Alastair's dick spreading through his entire body. He's never going to forget how that feels.

[elebridith]

RPS, Chris Kane/James Marsters, guitar

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

The guitar is like a permanent part of him everywhere except on set, so it seems odd when Chris gets out of the car at the house James is borrowing from a friend without it.

James frowns at him as he heads up the walk, hands in his pocket instead of wrapped around the neck of the instrument. "I feel naked." Chris says, all hokey accent and southern-boy shame, face blushing as he looks down. He holds up his picking hand in it's wrappings of ace bandages. "Doc says I can't play for at least a week..." He fidgets awkwardly. "I just..."

"Feel naked." James finishes for him, one hand darting out to grab his belt loop and pull him in past the high hedges, where the nosy neighbors can't see them. "Maybe we should get rid of all these pesky clothes then? Make the outside match the inside."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

SPN, evil!Dean/demon!Sam, all hail the Boy King

[bertee.livejournal.com]

*resists the urge to write more crack!fic*

[elebridith]

Torchwood/Leverage, Capt. John Hart/Eliot Spencer, "Do I know you?"

'Do I know you?', Torchwood/Leverage, Capt. John Hart/Eliot Spencer

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Hmm...I've decided I like this pairing...damn you! XD


After he leaves Wales and Torchwood and Eye Candy and Jack, the man currently calling himself Captain John Hart heads out for China. It’s a good a name as any, and a good a place as any, and he just knows Jack’s gonna need his help before long, so he might as well stick around. He just hopes one of Jack’s little team are man enough to pick up a phone and ask for it.

So, anyway – China, early 21st century, and John finds himself wandering the streets and utterly bored out of his mind. He’s never had Jack’s taste for sitting and observing and mingling with the native peoples of the time periods they visited, and now, with the scar on his wrist as a reminder, he’s even less enthralled by the people and places he comes across.

What does perk him up some is the return to his old vices. Beijing’s a big place after all, and there’s plenty of bars and strip joints to get lost in, and plenty of alleys to pick a fight in.

Like now, for example, with this gorgeous piece of whirling fury up against four guys – and taking them all out as easy as you like.

John claps, slow and almost-mocking when the fight draws to a close, and the man (western, long hair, fuckable mouth and ass and blue eyes that maybe remind him just a little too much of Jack) turns, raises one eyebrow and sneers. Just like that, there’s a hit of recognition, and John reels back, hand going to the scummy alley wall behind him to catch himself.

“Do I know you?” The man asks – growls out, really, and John squints at him in the dim light.

There’s something about this man, feral as he is, John can’t help but see him in an office, leaning against a long wooden table with that sneer on his face and a bruise on his pretty jaw…

He shakes the image out of his head, and grins, sharp and interested.

“Not yet, baby,” he licks at his lips, and the man’s suspicious glare breaks into a smirk.

“Buy me a drink first.”

“You got it, pet,” John drawls out, and wonders where that name came from. He’s pretty sure he’s never used it before in his entire life.

The man moves up in front of him, quick, clever eyes taking everything in, and he holds out his hand for John to shake.

“Eliot.”

“John.”

Eliot grins – a flash of white, even teeth, and he leans in, pressing John up against the wall. John grins, delighted. It’s the most fun he’s had since before Gray – that little shit – and everything he got mixed up in there.

“It’s funny, y’know – ya don’t look like a ‘John’,” Eliot says later, and John just looks at him, waiting to see if he has anything to worry about, if he’s got to run, or kill or fuck his way out of yet another mess.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” Eliot reaches for him again, languid and sex-stupid, and John goes. “More like a Spike, if’n you ask me.”

It hits that place inside him again, and JohnSpikeWhatever smirks into the next kiss.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

RPS, David Boreanaz/James Marsters, getting into character

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

"Um, Dave?"

"I'm pretty sure that this isn't what Joss had in mind."

"He said to get into character." Dave insists, stopping where he was. "Or don't you think Angel would want Spike just like this?"

James barks out a laugh, pulling a little against the ropes Dave had looped around his hands, spreading him out. "Right...because we--OH!" Those were Dave's hands, and not where James expected them.

"Easy, I'm not going to hurt you. Much."

James cranked his head around, trying to spot where Dave had gone, but he found him when something wet and warm slid up his spine. "Okay, that? That isn't Angel at all."

Dave chuckled, his voice dark, more Angelus than Angel. "Oh I don't know...Aly's been telling me stories..." Dave's body pressed to his back, all warm and far more naked then the last time James saw him properly.

Fingers trailed over his stretched chest muscles. "I'm going to show you exactly what Angel wants from Spike."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Torchwood, Nate/Eliot/Ianto, welcome to the team

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

I think you just broke my brain.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, ice

Ice, Leverage, Eliot/Hardison

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

"Here, let me get some ice for that." Eliot offers, Hardison gingerly touching the cut that has re-opened over his right eyebrow.

"Sorry for coming here, man. I just didn't know where else to go." Hardison apologises, licking the blood from his lower lip.

"It's fine." Eliot tells him, because it's more than fine.

"Yeah." Hardison sighs.

"Woah, don't fall asleep on me. You've got a pretty bad concussion." Eliot lectures.

"I haven't slept for three days." Hardison drones.

"I'll get you some coffee with that ice." Eliot decides.

****

With the coffee brewed, Eliot presents the cup to Hardison who sniffs it before carefully taking a sip, leaving blood on the chipped mug. Eliot presses the cloth to Alec's eyebrow, the ice inside melting and dripping through his hand and down Alec's face.

"Thanks for doing this man." The pain and the coffee are not enough to keep Hardison lucid and his head begins to sag.

"I'm thinking I should teach you how to fight." Eliot announces and Hardison shrugs.

"I know how to take care of myself."

"Yeah, it sure looks like it." Eliot scoffs, running his wet fingers over Alec's bottom lip. Alec licks the moisture off them, not a trace of blood.

"They just caught me offguard." The ice has pretty much melted now, the river of water running down Hardison's neck, down the open collar of his torn shirt. "I should probably get going." Hardison tells him but Eliot grabs his shirt, tugging the wet material towards him and Hardison stumbles but Eliot is right there to catch him.

"Stay here tonight." Eliot's voice his pleading and the hope in his eyes makes Hardison pause. "I mean, you still need more ice." But Hardison doesn't let that fool him. He gets that Eliot cares and as shitty as Hardison feels at the moment he can't help but smile.

"Sure."

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, boundary

Boundary, Being Human, Mitchell/George

[solarbaby614.livejournal.com]

Sometimes Mitchell thinks that there is a line there. A sort of boundary between him and George. He was afraid that if he pushed too hard or too fast it would go up and George would be gone before he could blink. So he allowed himself the small touches, a propping of his feet up in George’s lap when on the couch or brushing his hand against the werewolf’s back when urging him out the door.

He catches himself at times, though. Right after the full moon and George comes home smelling of earth and forest and wild. It takes all his control not to pin the poor clueless werewolf to the wall and have his wicked way with him. To lean in and bite and drink and take and mark and claim.

Annie seems to know; she just rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot. He sends her a questioning look that she ignores-- it seems she knows more than he does but he isn’t sure what that means. However, George… Mitchell doesn’t know whether he should be grateful or upset that the werewolf seems so blissfully unaware. He just makes due with what is given and convinces himself that he has time. All he has to do is wait. He doesn’t see the looks that George sends him when his back is turned.

George knows that there is a boundary between the two of them at times. When he knows that he’s getting close to losing control and has to turn away. It’s always the simple touches that get him. The moment that Mitchell touches him he wants nothing more than to pull the vampire to him and give him a reason to never stop.

So he has to force himself away and ignore Annie’s incredulous looks, like he’s one of the biggest idiots in the world. Which is entirely possible. Who in their right mind falls for someone they know will never love them back?

It’s Annie who ends up making the move. Later she would compare it to chess, moving the two of them around until she reaches checkmate. But they know it more stemmed from over-frustration from dealing with the two of them until she finally snapped.

That was how the two of them ended up supernaturally locked in the bathroom, courtesy of a set of powerful telekinetic powers. She refused to let them out until they ‘kissed and made up’ which baffled them because as far as either of them knew nothing was wrong.

When she went to let them out in the morning, Annie found the two wrapped around each other, dead asleep. George had his head buried in Mitchell’s neck, baring his own neck for the world to see and she saw two small dark marks on the curve along with an impressive set of hickeys surrounding it. On closer inspection, Annie realized that Mitchell had his own hickeys as well.

She stood there for a few more moments, contemplating waking them up, before shaking her head and shutting the door.

They would let themselves out when they woke up.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Heroes RPS, Adrian/Milo, pre-interview nerves

[sandersyager.livejournal.com]

"Milo, Jesus, calm down," Adrian says, grabbing his shoulders on the fifteenth circuit around the green room.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Milo looks at him incredulously. "You want me to fucking calm down when I'm about to go on The Fucking View to explain a fucking sex tape on goddamned YouTube with me, just off a break up with a nineteen year-old, the married co-star who plays my brother and his wife, who, by the way, is still massively hated by political conservatives?"

"Tell 'em you were just keeping it in the family," Adrian says, smartly stepping out of reach. "First the niece, now the brother. Cristine better watch out."

"I fucking hate you. I hope it's still funny when Nat's on the road and you're cozying up with your deformed thumb, wishing it were my tongue on your dick," Milo grumbles, tugging his tie loose. He reties it, adjusts the pin, and Adrian can't stop staring at his hands.

"You're really an asshole when you're nervous," he says, taking a chance with his life and curling his fingers around Milo's perfect blue tie. "You're actually an asshole all of the time, but I'm rather fond of assholes."

"Really? If I hadn't seen the tape along with twenty million other people, I'd have never known that," Milo says, trying to pull away. Adrian just moves with him, trading a grip on the tie for a hand tight against the back of Milo's neck.

"That's enough, Milo," Adrian says firmly, more aware than Milo is that Adrian's literally backed him into a corner. "We're going out there and we're going to explain that what we did was as consenting adults and that the tape was never intended to be made public. We are not ashamed of our off-screen relationship, and we're proud of the work we do together. Got it?"

Milo growls at him, soft and accompanied by a nod, but still a growl, and Adrian answers with one of his own, smirking as he pushes his mouth against Milo's in something close to a kiss. He gets bitten for it, Milo's teeth catching his lower lip and tugging. Adrian goes with it, biting back and letting Milo work out some of his frustration with his tongue pressing against, fighting against, his own.

"Is this what you need?" Adrian asks when he can stand to tear his mouth away. His voice is ragged, just like his breathing, and Milo's eyes have gone half-closed while he exhales harshly. "You need one of us to hurt right now?"

"Not now," Milo says, giving a minute shake of his head, hands clenching tight against Adrian's shoulders. "Not here. After."

"Alright," Adrian says, taking a deep breath. He takes a step back, smoothing the shoulders of Milo's suit jacket, straightening his tie. "After."

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage RPS, Timothy/Chris, hamming it up for the fans