Thursday Spooktacular

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Due to personal matters, our lovely host for the week, meredevachon, is unable to put up today's theme, so I've agreed to take care of it for her.  It's her theme, so all credit goes to her, and hopefully she can make it back to finish up the week tomorrow.  :)


I hope y'all had fun with yesterday's celebration of Leverage porniness. There were some great prompts and even better responses.

But today is Thursday, and that means it's time for a new theme.

In honor of Supernatural returning tonight, we're going with Vampires and things that bump in the night.  That means vampires, werewolves, ghosts, etc., either canon or AU, so go wild with it!

And it's not limited to Supernatural.  Any fandom (or original), any pairing/grouping, any prompt. Crossovers are absolutely welcome, and perfect for this one.



Remember to format your prompts as follows:

For single fandom: Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: Lotrips, Karl/Orlando, surprise

For a Crossover: Fandom/Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: SPN/Buffy, Dean/Faith, leather



And don't forget, there are still plenty of lonely prompts if the creepy and spooky isn't your thing.

Comments

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Karl/Orlando, surprise

Claimed!Fic - 'Surprise' (Karl/Orlando)

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Orlando yanked off his tie with a muttered curse, and threw it on the floor on top of the ever-growing pile. "Stupid charity event, stupid Harry..."

"Wouldn't let Harry hear you disparaging him like that."

Orlando looked up, glaring as he met Karl's amused smirk in the mirrored reflection. As always, Karl looked the perfect picture of insouciant elegance in his navy pinstriped suit and grey tie that made his eyes seem even darker, more mysterious. "It's his fault I got roped into this," he griped, peevishly.

Karl stepped beside him, and bent to fish a discarded tie – the royal purple one – out of the pile. "This one's fine," he said, and held it out. "Goes with the suit, makes your skin look amazing. I wasn't aware spending an evening in my company was so arduous."

"It's not," Orlando protested, with a chagrined look. He'd been so busy feeling sorry for himself for having his evening interrupted that he hadn't thought about how his actions might look to Karl. "It's just..."

"It's alright." One of Karl's hands came up to smooth Orlando's jacket. "I don't mind going stag."

"That's not it." Great, he really was every inch the brat Harry'd once accused him of, and now he'd gone off and made Karl think... He half-turned, tugged Karl to him, and nipped at Karl's lower lip, fangs barely grazing soft flesh. "I'd just hoped it was going to be all three of us, that's all," he murmured.

"Ah." To Orlando's relief, Karl wrapped his arms around Orlando's waist, drew him closer. "Well, then, why don't we do the requisite round at the party, then surprise Harry with a visit? I feel certain he'll need the distraction after dealing with Bulgarian politicians the past three days."

Orlando's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Christ, I forget how easy you are to please," Karl smiled. "You know, if you wanted more time with the two of us, all you have to do is say something."

"I know, I know." And he did, he really did. But it was still so hard to remember some days that this was all real – that they were real – and it was an equal relationship. "I'll do better."

"Good. I'd hate to put Dave on the case again."

Orlando's lips quirked. "He'd just insist on fucking me into realizing the error of my ways."

"No wonder you don't learn," Karl laughed, and leaned back far enough to finish knotting Orlando's tie. "Now, are you ready?"

Another quick look in the mirror to finger-comb his curls into shape, and Orlando nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready."

The sooner they got this over and done with, the sooner they could go see Harry.

***

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

SPN/Buffy, Dean/Faith, leather

Done! Also my first in the comm.

[autumnrae89.livejournal.com]

Dean could appreciate a girl in leather. So when Faith rolled up, he was more than ready to go. She looked him up and down with dark smoky eyes and her lips curved slightly into a smile.

“I’m Dean…”

“Don’t care,” Faith replied hauling him back to his car. Dean admired her ass as she strutted in front of him. “Which is yours?”

“Impala,” Dean smirked.

“Nice ride, how’d you get it?” Faith asked as she pressed him up against the bonnet of the car. She brought her foot up to rest on the front bumper of the car. Dean let his hand touch her thigh, the leather just as tight as it looked as he stood between them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean shrugged, she didn’t want to talk, neither did he.

“Come on then, game on.” Faith smiled

The back of the Impala didn’t really work, Dean was a tall guy but he shifted and Faith rolled then she was breathing heavily on top of him, riding out her pleasure. Dean kissed her neck as he brushed his fingers, shoved up her top, over her breast. Squeezing together thighs smoother than the leather in his car, Dean bit out a curse as she twisted over his cock.

“Yeah, it’s a neat trick,” Faith laughed but it was more like a heavy breath as she held herself up on her hands.

Dean rolled his hips and leaned upward, Faith scratched her nails down his now exposed back, “Yeah, I know.”

“Faith.”

“What?” Dean asked, his balls tightening with his own orgasm.

“My name is…” Faith bit her bottom lip and grunted as she came again, “Faith!”

Dean buried his face in her hair and bit her shoulder when he felt his release come and go. Faith smiled again, “You drew blood.”

Picking up her trousers, Faith hopped back into the front of the car, “Later Dean,”

“See ya Faith.”

[autumnrae89.livejournal.com]

SPN/Smallville, Dean/Oliver [Queen], cars.

[dragonlet.livejournal.com]

Dean grunts at the impact when his back hits the hood of the Impala. He thinks a silent apology to his girl when the blond plants a hand on either side of his head and leans in to kiss him, letting his own weight press Dean against the car. Dean groans and bucks up, wrapping the tie around his fist and pulling him closer, biting his lower lip and grabbing the tie is more of a power thing, he knows it's gotta cost some insane amount because this is Oliver fucking Queen pushing him against his car in a dirty alley.

Oliver--Ollie, he'd panted earlier into Dean's mouth. Call him Ollie. Ollie was shrugging his suit jacket off, was dragging his lips down Dean's stubbled jawline, making Dean buck again because he knows that's going to leave marks on the man's mouth, someone's going to see that and public as Ollie is, it's really fucking hot that he doesn't care. Dean moans again because now those lips are parting against his throat and kissing, sucking at his neck, hand moving to his shoulder to keep him from moving. Dean does jerk then because holy shit he's not really a vamp, is he? But then the hotwetsmooth mouth moves back up to Dean's mouth and Dean kisses back eagerly.

Dean's let go of Ollie's tie but that's because he's unbuttoning his shirt now, opening it up because he suspected--he knew--that there's no white collar business body under there. Not when someone moves like that. He flattens his palm against Ollie's stomach and smirks when the other man groans and grinds his hips forward against Dean's jean-clad legs. Ollie slides his hand down from his shoulder to press his palm--holy fuck that has to be a dream, the way he's working his palm and the fucking heel of his hand against his erection through his fucking pants. This has got to be the best wet dream of Dean's life because there's no way Oliver Queen actually knows how to work his hand like that.

It really has to be a dream because there's also no way that little pleading whimper just came out of his throat. Ollie smirks against his mouth and it looks good on him, as far as Dean can see through the stars that are showering across his vision from time to time. Ollie fumbles with the opening of Dean's jeans and okay maybe this isn't a dream. He curses quietly when Dean snorts and lets go of his zipper to tug Dean's hand from his stomach to his pants. "Fuck," Dean whispers then, voice rough and low while he tries to return the favor, own hand shaking. And yeah maybe Ollie had a point with the fumbling.

But it feels godsogood when Ollie finally gets his hand around him and pulls him out where he's not being constricted by those jeans and once again he wonders why he wears pants that tight yeah they look good but then he gets hard and he can't wait to get them off.

...Oh right.

And he almost comes because Ollie shakes his head like to clear it and lifts his hand to his mouth and licks it, drags his tongue over his palm and fingers while Dean watches and pants, and then he wraps it around Dean's cock and grips. Dean almost forgets to return the favor, but Ollie stops and Dean remembers what he was doing and tugs Ollie's pants that much open, and that much lower. He's pretty sure that means his ass is half hanging out but then Ollie pushes Dean further back on the hood of his car and climbs on top of him, hand pumping and squeezing in a concentrated rhythm--and there are calluses and calluses are fun, Dean's realizing, especially when they're not his--and grinds down again, sliding cock against cock and hand and hip and Dean lets out a choked, strangled noise that he tries to cut off when he arches up, other hand wrapped around Oliver's shoulders and pulling on the back of his shirt.

[rabidpandabear.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Spn, Eliot/Succubus, Dean to the rescue!

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Eliot doesn't get spun like this. Not over some skanky girl in some skanky bar with watered down whiskey and a ten dollar cover...not unless she'd put something in his drink.

Which he's starting to think is a possibility, judging by the way he's letter her paw at him, letting her drag him into the alley, the straps of her tank top sliding over skin greased with sweat...and it isn't that hot, but suddenly, he's sweating too...sweating and pulling at his clothes and kissing her like...like he's going to die if he doesn't...and maybe this is dying, because as she sinks onto his cock (and when did she get his jeans open), his whole body tightens, burns, craves her rocking, her wetness, her heat...and he can't breathe, can't think and holy fuck he's going to come.

There's a shot, and she screams and Eliot's vision swims, he tries to follow her, tries to get up, but his body feels like lead and he finds himself throwing up, groaning and he can't keep himself from passing out on the dirty alley ground.

"Easy." That is decidedly not the girl. Eliot pulls away, opens his eyes.

Shitty motel room, paisley wall paper, lumpy bed, and a guy sitting beside him holding a glass of water. "You're going to want this, and about another twenty just like it. Will help flush the toxin out of your system."

Eliot's eyes narrow. "Toxin? What'd she give me?"

The guy shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. Just drink it, you'll thank me." He rose after Eliot took the glass, crossing to a dresser. "I sent my brother out to get you some food, you're going to need that too."

Eliot got half way through the glass, but his eyes were on the guy's ass. His cock stirs and Eliot finds himself thinking how nice it would feel inside this guy's ass. "I'm Dean."

He turns, holding up both hands as he sees Eliot standing, setting the water aside. "Hold up. I'm sorry I didn't get there before she got all up inside you like that...but..." He licks his lips and Eliot mimics the motion. Dean's eyes flick over him, then to the door and back. "Oh hell, at least you're better looking than the last guy."

His hands unzipped his jeans and before he could move, Eliot was on him, dragging him to the bed and climbing on top of him. Heat surrounded his cock, relief flooding through him.

"I should warn you though, you should finish before my brother gets back, or he'll be jealous." Dean says, his voice muffled by the comforter.

Eliot snaps his hips and Dean's voice trails off in a moan. "I'll finish when I finish, Dean. And maybe then I'll try your brother too."

Behind them the door opens and Eliot hears a heavy sigh. "Damn fucking succubi."

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, werewolves

Wolf Bite/Wolf Mate | NC17

[dameange.livejournal.com]

It was the bite's fault. The wolf that bit him had unnaturally red eyes.

It had to be.

Otherwise, Arthur would not be on his bed, balls deep inside Merlin, teeth clenched in the soft, smooth curve between his manservant's neck and shoulder, hands greedily grabbing slim, pale hips.

It was the bite's fault. He never thought about how pale and pretty, how silky soft Merlin's skin was. How he smelled like something beautifully mystical and wonderfully home. Arthur never wondered what Merlin would sound like when he came, sibilant and sensual.

Arthur forced himself not to mark his mate, letting Merlin go, gritting his teeth against each other as pleasure soaked his senses.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Mohinder/Sylar, blood

Blood -- you asked for it

[spookynoodle.livejournal.com]

Sylar pinned Mohinder roughly to the bed, smiling at his small triumph. Mohinder's eyes showed an irresistible combination of desire and intimidation...mostly the former, Sylar thought. Keeping Mohinder pinned down with his left forearm, he lifted his right hand and, without touching them, attached the tethers to the black leather cuffs wrapped around the other man's wrists. Sylar knew that he didn't need to use any tangible part of his body to hold Mohinder motionless, but the brute strength that it implied was satisfying and made worthwhile by the overwhelmed look on the doctor's face.

After the restraints were attached, Sylar bent down to trace a line up the center of Mohinder's torso with his lips, not quite kissing him, his breath wet and hot against dark skin. His hands reversed the pattern, fingernails raking down Mohinder's sides. He arched up, shuddering slightly at the combination of sensations. Sylar smirked wryly.

"Do you trust me?" he purred. Mohinder nodded, his intent eyes never moving away from the other man's.

"We're going to try something different tonight. For your sake, let me know if I should stop," Sylar continued. He thought he heard Mohinder's breath catch in his throat, a hint of fear just barely detectable on his face. Noting no actual resistance, Sylar continued.

A hand was lifted, two fingers pointing at the skin of the scientist's chest. Mohinder gasped at the sensation as a thin, shallow trail of red began to form across his left pectoral muscle. Sylar stopped to note his reaction, watching as the other man relaxed from his previous tension presumably as the endorphins began to kick in, eyes closed lightly. Mohinder sighed, which Sylar took as an invitation for more.

Another line appeared on Mohinder's bicep, causing him to throw his head back, teeth clenched, eyes shut tightly. As the scientist exhaled loudly, Sylar took this as a strategic opportunity and slashed quickly under his ribs. Mohinder cried out this time, panting as the sensation dulled after the initial shock of pain.

He said nothing, but the growing hardness between his legs betrayed his otherwise stoic state. A low rumble of a chuckle sounded from Sylar, who leaned over to plant a breathy kiss on the other man's neck. Mohinder emitted a small moan as Sylar's lips moved down with each kiss, reaching his collar bone and sucking lightly at the skin there.

Mohinder's erection was pressing against Sylar's leg, which he rubbed against the hardened flesh teasingly. Mohinder moaned louder this time, instinctually rolling his hips into the pressure. A small smile formed on Sylar's lips as he forced his submissive's hips down with unseen hands, simultaneously biting down sharply against the skin of his collar bone. Another cry rang out from Mohinder. The blood flowed. The killer could taste the coppery, sweet tang of the sanguinous liquid in his mouth. Intrigued, he leaned back over to Mohinder's collar bone and caught the drop of blood that was starting to drip slightly with his tongue. He sucked lightly on the wound, reveling in the primal, almost feral feeling that the action elicited. He sucked harder, nibbling at the skin to encourage the blood to continue to flow, becoming intoxicated with the taste. Mohinder's breath matched his, coming quicker and more ragged at the sensation. Sylar remembered him, gripped both of their cocks together and began to stroke, trying to keep his rhythm somewhat composed as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Mohinder came first with a low groan, instantly drained. Sylar followed soon after, a sharp shout accompanying his climax. He rolled off of the doctor, still panting wildly, a bit of blood smeared on his own chest and stomach from his previous incisions.

"That was quite interesting," said Mohinder with a weary, satisfied grin.

"Of course," came Sylar's reply. "You should see the surprise I have planned for next weekend."

He couldn't tell whether the look that appeared on Mohinder's face was of intrigue or apprehension, much to his amusement.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, vampire!Steve/Chris, silk

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

He was human once, many many years ago. Lifetimes ago, in fact. So long ago that he doesn't remember much of his life anymore. He knows he was European; Italian he thinks. A merchant, a trader. Rich. And that is where his love for the finer things in life comes from

Clothing, especially.

And, more to the point, silk

He loves the slide of it over his skin - it always sends a shiver of pleasure through him. Hedonism, that's another of his human traits he's retained over the centuries. And it goes so well with his love of silk

Something else that goes well with silk, that never fails to send need crashing through him is Christian. The slip-slide-rustle of the silk over his warm tanned skin, the desperate mewls and whimpers that escape him. And the taste of him sliding smoothly down his throat.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, succubus!Chris/Steve, lazy morning

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

His boy is sleeping, soft sighs slipping from him as he shifts a little closer to wakefulness. Christian lays beside him, not touching, not yet.

He wants to watch this, the slow climb out of the deep sleep that comes from his feeding...wants to see him wake and realize that Christian is there beside him, wants to kiss him while he was still sleep warm and drowzy, wants to taste the dreams that stirred in his head through the night.

Blue eyes open slowly, a smile creeps over his face, lazy, indulgent. Christian's hand splays out over Steven's chest, feeling his heartbeat, his breathing. He leans in to kiss him, chaste and sweet, lips chasing over the smile before licking his way inside.

"Good Morning, Steven."


*not entirely porny, sorry*

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Spn, Sam/Madison, scratches

Fin.

[willow-reece.livejournal.com]

He remembers the feel of her wrapped around him, the heels of her feet digging into his spine as he thrust deeply inside of her wet willing body.

He can still-almost, but not quite-taste her on the back of his tongue. She had been minty chocolate. Both cooling and more than satisfying.

When he closes his eyes the last image he has of her-a limp corpse splayed on the floor of her apartment-burns into his retinas and it's like he's reliving a moment in time.

And every single time he showers, he stops to look in the mirror. They've faded, the scratches she'd given him that night, but they were still visible.

When he's sees them-his little reminders-Sam always remembers both the good and the bad of those few days.

~~*~~*~~

Not all porn, but I tried. I'm really not used to writing SPN fic. Hee.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

SPN/AtS, Dean/Lindsey, vampire bite

[meredevachon]

[pre-Dead Man's Blood]

It didn't take Dean long to figure out Lindsey had kind of a thing for biting. Especially his neck. Get that patch of skin, the tendon and muscle underneath, between Dean's teeth and bear down hard enough to leave marks, and Lindsey would bare his throat and just fucking open up for Dean so sweet just the thought of it was enough to get Dean hard when they were apart.

Dean didn't think too much of it. It wasn't like he didn't have a thing or two of his own that Lindsey'd wised up to pretty damn quick, and used to both their advantage. It was just a thing. Spot on Lindsey's neck, direct connection to Lindsey's dick, and a surefire way to a happy ending for both of them. So, no, Dean didn't think anything of it, until one morning in the shower, Lindsey on his knees, his hair slicked back as he put that tongue of his to good use. With something other than talking… not that Lindsey talking during sex was anything but hot as hell. Dean slid his hand down Lindsey's cheek and along his throat to trail his fingers over the mark he'd left the night before. He felt it then, something he hadn't noticed before, and he was going to take a closer look, but right then Lindsey stopped teasing at the bundle of nerves just under the head, opened wide and took Dean in completely, and when he swallowed around Dean, no way Dean could think about anything. Hell, it was all he could do to lock his knees and hope they'd hold him up as his orgasm rushed through him.

Dean was fifty-some miles down the road before he remembered. With all the crazy things he'd seen over the years, and with Lindsey's habit of getting into Dean's sort of trouble, it was almost enough to make him wonder.

But there weren't any vampires. Dad said so. Somebody just went a little too far with that thing of Lindsey's, that's all. And it just happened to leave a scar.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, vampire!Steve/Chris, whimper

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian bites down on his lower lip, hands fisted tightly on the sheets beneath him. His eyes are squeezed closed, his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving as he struggles to draw in enough breath. A needy noise escapes him, his eyes flying open when the hand on his willy and the mouth at his neck both still.

“Breathe,” Steve’s mouth move to Christian’s, lips brushing over Christian’s and Christian’s opening up underneath him; his every breath a panted mewl swallowed by Steve. He pulls back far enough to meet Christians’ eyes, grinning wickedly at him before dipping his head back to Christian’s neck; fangs grazing tantalisingly over his pulse point, hand pumping his cock until Christian’s hips are jerking into his fist.

“Please,” Christian chokes out, his teeth gritted. He feels Steve chuckle against his throat, his hand tightening, speeding up on his cock. A low, desperate groan escapes him as Steve’s fangs sink in; his back bowing, his eyes roll back in his head and his world whites out as his blood flows into Steve’s mouth and comes coats his hand.

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

SPN/Angel, Dean/Angelus, dark alley

Fin.

[willow-reece.livejournal.com]

Angelus moved silently down the alley, his coat floating around him like wings.

He could hear the hunter behind him, tracking, walking almost as silently as he himself was.

He had to give it to the boy, he was good. Not since Holtz had he had so much trouble with one damn hunter.

This one was a mite prettier to look at though.

Soulful eyes, amazing body. Oh what he was going to do to that body once he had him in his grasp. His fun was going to last for hours.

Angelus doubled back, coming up behind the young one.

He watched from the shadows as the hunter looked around, trying to spot him. He grinned and stepped from the shadows announcing his presence with a very heartfelt;

"Hello, Dean."

~~*~~*~~
Not a lot of porn, but it's implied. First time trying this. (Also first time trying to write either fandom, wanted to do something new.) So I'm sorry if it sucks. Hee. ♥

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Karl/Harry, treasure

Claimed!Prequel!Fic - 'Treasure' Karl/Harry

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

(Takes place right after 'Rebirth', but I'm sure you probably could have figured that out on your own. *g*)


Claimed!Prequel!Fic – 'Treasure' (Karl/Harry) comment_fic prompt


**Ireland – 1168 A.D.**


The flames dance merrily in the hearth, staving off the worst of winter's chill, as Harry pulled the thick blanket up higher around him and Karl. Their bed was an oasis of heat and barely cooled passion. After Karl had brought him back the previous night to recover, they'd only left the comfort of their room for the most basic necessities.

"How long do you think it will take for us to tire of each other?" Harry asked, voice quiet as he watched the fire crackle and burn, creating bright spots behind his lids every time he blinked.

Karl propped his head up on one of the pillows and gave Harry a puzzled look. His hair spilled in a dark, messy fan, tangled by Harry's hands sliding through it earlier in fevered need. "What do you mean?"

"This." Harry pointed between himself and Karl, then rested his hand over Karl's heart, feeling the slow thump that now beat in time to his own. "Forever is a long time."

"Not nearly long enough, not for us," Karl replied, and placed his hand over Harry's. "I should have told you I loved you every day while you were mortal. I should have shouted it from the highest parapet and thrown tournaments in your honor."

"I'm not a maiden you needed to woo," Harry reminded him, with a small smile.

"No, but you are mine." Gentle fingers traced the fading red scar on Harry's chest. "It should have never come to this."

Harry looked deep into Karl's eyes, felt the new connection zing through him yet again, total and complete. "We're both too stubborn for it to have happened any other way," he finally replied.

"I still have much to make up for."

Harry leaned in until his lips were almost on Karl's. Already, he could feel the heat, the never-ending lust and love, surging through him, more powerful now because of their bond. "We have time," he murmured, and closed the small distance between them.

***

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Parker/Eliot/Sophie, risky

[havenward.livejournal.com]

They shouldn't be doing this. Not now, not here, in the middle of a job where it turns out the mark is actually a vampire and the bitch's body guard is a werewolf. The whole super-sensitive hearing and sense of smell... Doing this is a bad bad idea.

Eliot would say as much (again) except that's the moment Parker shifts and thrusts and he sinks into her tight warmth and all that passes his lips is a strangled groan. She rocks on top of him, whimpering as she twists her hips. And then gasps when Sophie leans into her from behind to nip at her earlobe. He bucks his hips as Sophie drags her nails along his thigh, her other hand twisting one of Parker's nipples. Parker cries out and twists her hips again on the next thrust in retaliation.

"You don't have time for this," someone says in their earpieces.

Parker and Sophie give him a look, and all thoughts of stopping are gone.

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

CW RPS, Jensen/Misha, dawn

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

It's nearly dawn, Jensen realizes slowly, his eyes tracking to the horizon that was just starting to streak red. He knowshe should leave...now that the danger was passed...deal with his body before Misha sees what he's done.

He dresses slowly, pulling torn clothes over stiff muscles and dried blood where claws and teeth had found more than fabric. None of it was life threatening, but it would bother Misha none the less, make him feel guilty, make him talk about running away again.

Misha groans, rolling to his back, chains rattling. "You okay?" Jensen as softly.

Misha sits, nods. "You?"

Jensen grins, kisses over his naked skin, shoulders, neck. He's always sore after, cranky and quiet and there isn't much but a strong cup of coffee and a day of quiet day of slow touches, sex that's anything but what it's like when the full moon brings out the beast.

Jensen's glad Misha only remembers glimpses, glad he can't forget the passion and controlling power of his normally gentle lover. He treasures these nights, and all the marks they leave behind, almost as much as he treasures the mornings after, when Misha is needy and docile.

Jensen reaches for Misha's clothes while Misha works the chains off. "Did I hurt you?" Misha asks as they head out of their secret hiding place, just like he does every morning after.

Jensen slips a hand into Misha's, thinking about the teeth that bit into his skin, about the brutal fucking that lasted for hours, about the way he'd come over and over, and he smiles, shaking his head. "Nothing serious."

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

CW RPS, JDM/Steve, red

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Hard muscles strain against him, against stronger muscles, harder hands, a fight for dominance, a dance that began with the first step into the room, maybe before, when he'd first recognized the hunger.

He fights, but his body knows what it needs, what it wants, and Steve is ready to give it to him, shoving his cock into the tight ass, earning a long, low moan that is as much permission as they way his body sags under him, sinking down onto the bed.

It's been a long time since he's needed this, longer still since Steve has given it to him. Steve draws eight rough lines down his back with nails sharper than any man's, releasing the flow of red over pale white skin. Jeff hisses, his hips rising up before Steve leans in, licking slowly up each line, swallowing down the heat as he fucks into him, slow now that the initial penetration is over, now that the initial submission has been one.

They have all the time in the world...and before it's over they'll both get what they need...Jeff will get his pain and release, Steve will feed and fuck until he's sated...and then they would go their separate ways once more...until the next time Jeff needs to have his skin painted red.

[meredevachon]

CWRPS, Werewolf!Jeff/Jensen, alpha

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

*I think you're trying to kill me*

The wolf lays dormant, or so
he tells himself. As long as he's fed, as long as he takes care of the needs, the cravings...but even then...sometimes he can't control himself...


He catches the scent at dusk, familiar, arousing. Before long he's navigating the crowd on that scent alone, eyes half-closed, hearing muffled in the din, blood pumping fast and furious as he spots his prey.

Jensen leans on the bar, flirting with some girl and Jeff's body flushes with possessive fury that is far more wolf-alpha-dog than he wants to admit. His move I far from smooth, his hand on Jensen's shoulder less than gentle, but as Jeff hauls them into the men's room, Jensen soothes him with a smile, a touch and then he's on his knees.

Jeff feels the rage fade, leaving behind only the possessive need for his boy.

[meredevachon]

Lotrips, Harry/Orlando, suck

Claimed!Fic - 'Suck' Harry/Orlando

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

"Hand me the sprocket right there." When no answer was forthcoming, Harry lifted his head. "Orlando."

With a guilty start, Orlando tore his gaze away from Harry's ass and looked up. "Yeah?"

"When you're finished perving, I need the sprocket."

"Oh, right." Sure he was blushing to his roots, Orlando quickly handed over the wrench. Not that he thought anyone would blame him for staring, however. Harry's ass in faded jeans that molded lovingly to his thighs was really the sexiest thing going.

Harry bent back over the open hood of the Viper. Orlando busied himself by staring instead at Harry's triceps as they flexed whenever he did...well, whatever mysterious mechanical thing it was he was doing. "So what's wrong with it?" he finally asked, when the silence got to be too much.

Harry shrugged, but continued poking around under the hood. "Looks like the fuel line's clogged, your oil's for shit, and the valve intake manifold's sort of fucked. What the hell've you been doing, anyway, drag-racing in your spare time?"

"No," Orlando protested, with what he was sure was a pout. It wasn't his fault he wasn't mechanically minded like Harry. He had...other talents. He still wasn't sure what they were yet, exactly, but he had time to work on them now. "I just...y'know, I get busy and forget to take it in."

Harry sighed, and smoothed dark hair out of his face with the back of his hand before turning his head to look at Orlando. The hot amber of his eyes slammed through him, as always, like a sledgehammer. "Orli, you have assistants now. Put it on their calendar, get them to take it in."

Orlando nodded weakly. He hated that disappointed look more than anything. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Harry's grin was lightning-quick. "It's still Karl's car, for all that you never let him use it."

Orlando responded with his own smile. "And I suppose you're going to tell him what a mess it's in."

"I might not." Harry paused just long enough to make Orlando squirm. Once again, his gaze pinned Orlando into place. "Provided I get the right incentive."

Orlando's breath quickened at the blatant innuendo. "I'm really great at incentives," he nodded, voice thick with lust.

Harry's quick wink sent every bit of blood still in Orlando's body scrambling towards his crotch. "Then I'm sure you'll think of something."

Fucking hell. For Harry, Orlando could come up with an encyclopedia.

***

[meredevachon]

FK, Natalie/Vachon, sneaking around

[meredevachon]

SPN, John/Mary's ghost, dreaming?

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Her lips flutter over his skin, golden hair and pale skin flickering like candle light. It isn't her, it can't be her. But he can taste her when she kisses him. Feels her hair as her head moves down, feels her tongue at his nipple, then his navel. Feels her teeth when she bites the curve of his hip.

Just like she used to.

This is ain't Kansas, and this ain't home. But god, if he's dreaming... He doesn't want to wake up. Not yet...

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, thunderstorm

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian sighs again and stares out of the window, his wings rustling restlessly. "It's raining," he says, looking back over his shoulder. "Again."

Steve looks up from the paper as a rumble of thunder makes Christian cuss. "Sounds like its gonna be one hell of a storm," he agrees.

Another sigh and Christian turns from the window, moving to lay on his stomach on the floor, wings stretching out above him. "Fed up of this fucking weather," he grouses, tapping his fingers on the floor in time with the rain drumming on the roof. "Fuckin' hate storms." He jumps slightly, freezing for an second, his breath catching in his throat when a bolt of lightning lit the room up, another rumble of thunder loud enough to make the house shake. "Fuck," he breathes.

"Chris?"

"I'm ok," Christian mumbles, not looking up at Steve. He's breathing heavily, wings still rustling and twitching even though they're folded flush against his back.

"Don't lie," Steve chastises, moving to sit down on the floor next to Christian. He runs a hand soothingly down Christian's wing before tugging him close, pulling him onto his lap and kissing him.

"Stupid bein scared of a fuckin' storm."

Steve shook his head, kissing Christian again, reaching around him to stroke down his wings. "No it isn't," he promised. "Don't blame you at all." He shuddered as a flashback of Christian laying unconscious, crumpled on the ground, wings black, singed, tattered and still smoking from the lighting strike crashed through his mind. "Never wanna go through that again."

Christian reached up, cupped Steve's cheek in his hand, resting their foreheads against each other. He opened his mouth to say something, the words dying at another crash of thunder, another bolt of lightning, further away this time.

Steve's arms tightened around Christian; Christian's head resting on his shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck. They sat there, arms around each other, both falling silent, lulled by the drumming of the rain on the roof as the storm - and the fear it brought with it - moved on.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, winged!Chris/Steve, home

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian grunts, his whole body vibrating with need. He looks back over his shoulder; his eyes dark and his lips red, swollen and parted as he watches Steve coating his cock with lube. "Please," he whispers, wings beating a soft rhythm in the air between them. "Steve..."

Steve looks up, meets his eyes and gasps as all the air suddenly floods the room. He crawls forward, between Christian's legs and wings, braces himself on one shoulder and, placing a kiss to the bottom of his Christian's neck, guides his cock in; slowly, surely until he's fully sheathed, both men panting. "Fuck."

"Move," Christian groans, shuddering when Steve runs a hand down the centre of his back before gripping his hips and doing just that.

"Yeah..." Steve's grip shifts, one hand sliding round to stroke Christian's cock on alternate thrusts; Christian whimpering as he rocks back against Steve. "Fuck..." He jerks at the first brush of Christian's wings to his sides; a wordless moan as he's surrounded by wall of feathers. He bends over Christian, trailing his tongue down his back

"Fuck!" Another tremor wracked Christian, his back arching and his wings quivering, beating a gentle breeze around them as he bucked and rocked against Steve. A constant litany of wordless moans and grunts tumbling from his lips; Steve gasping and panting his name and then he was coming, Steve slumping down on top of him with wings wrapped around him, holding them both safe and tight.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, cat!Chris/Steve, warm afternoon sun

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Christian's sprawled out on the centre of their bed, basking in the sun streaming in from the window. He has one paw covering his nose and his tail's twitching as he dreams. A loud purr is rumbling from his chest, and a look of contentment is clear in the curl of his lips.

Steve slides onto the bed next to him, a soft sigh at the warm of the sun against his skin. He runs a hand through Christian's fur, scratching his ears. "Hey," he whispers when Christian cracks one eye open sleepily, lazy grin spreading on his face as he racks his eyes over Steve.

Christian stretches out with a mrow and arches his back, yawning as he shifts back to human form and rolls over, pinning Steve below him. "Hey," he replies, his lips sealing over Steve's. He rocks his hips down, his erection rubbing against Steve's, both of them gasping. Grinning, Christian presses down harder, tongue lapping across Steve's chin, down his throat and shoulder as he rocks against him, one hand sliding between them, taking both of their cocks and stroking them until Steve's coming with a soft cry; his own orgasm following a beat later. He slumps boneless on top of Steve, kissing him before yawning again. He stretches out on top of Steve, wriggling to get comfortable before rolling off and curling up next to him, one arm thrown across his chest as his eyes slid closed again.

Steve chuckled and yawned himself, curling into Christian. He ran his hand through Christian's hair, playing, then down into his fur, his hand buried in the warmth as Christian fell asleep, his purrs filling the room.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/Torchwood, Dean/Captain Jack, Faeries

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

He's seen a lot of things on earth and in hell, but Faeries wasn't one of them, assuming that's what those were. If it had been him and Sam then the girl wouldn't have gone and the Fey would have, obviously this man in his long grey coat has a different agenda, one that he's not sure he agrees with.

“You can stop hiding, I know you're there.”

“Wasn't hiding.” The words are gone before he has any control over them putting him the back foot a place he doesn't like in the slightest.

“Is that so?”

The other man's amusement is obvious as is the fact that he's trying hard not to laugh. Another thing that Dean doesn't like, which has him going from back footed to on the attack. “Not completely human are you?” The other man shrugs a little the laughter dying out of his blue eyes as they become serious.

“Could say the same for you.”

And he's thrown again and just about to come out fighting before the other man's raised hand stops him.

“You've an Angel sat on your shoulder and the mark of the Devil around you; if not you personally. I'd say that made you a little different.”

The words stop him still in his tracks any retort dying on his lips. “Who are you?”

“Jack Harkness.” The name comes from behind him and he'd swear blind there was even amusement in Castiel's voice, if he took the time to think about it. But right now the changes in the man in front of him have his attention, nothing major all very subtle in fact but where there had been genuine before there was now fake, a fake smile of welcome, a fake openness and faked relaxation. This Jack had suddenly become coiled tighter than a spring.

Why?

“Castiel. A pleasure to see you again.”

Oh look screwed time lines in a few short paragraphs. Go me *g*

[willow-reece.livejournal.com]

Firefly/Serenity Verse', River Tam & Jayne Cobb, Ghosts

[havenward.livejournal.com]

It's fun to tease.

I lean down, close enough our noses are almost touching. Jayne's eyes widen and he backs up, backs away. Backs into the back of a box.

He doesn't like it when I hang upside down. Damages his calm.

I can't stop the giggle bubbling up from down below, so I don't try.

"Gorrammit girl. What're you doin'? Place is haunted!"

I twist and flip, make my ceiling into the floor again. Get up close so as I can see his eyes, and he swallows hard. He doesn't know what to do with me, this close.

"But I am a ghost," I say. Twirl away, spinning steps that don't quite touch the ground, and hope he follows.


I don't normally write these two, so I went for ambiguous, leaning heavy on the pre-porn. Hope you enjoy it anyway!