Friday Free For All

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Welcome, boys and girls, to your first Friday Free For All. It's been another fabulous week - the turn out each day seems to be better and better!

Let's keep the ball rolling, shall we? Anything goes today, of course - any fandom or crossover, any pairing or grouping, any prompt.


Please help the code monkeys maintain their sanity and remember to format your prompts:
For a single fandom: Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, cursed handcuff

For a crossover: Fandom/Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Burn Notice/Leverage, Eliot/Michael, old friends


And if nothing's jumping up and catching your attention, feel free to head on over to our Lonely Prompts section.


So, go forth and prompt! Write! And I have a happy Friday!

Comments

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

SGA RPS, Jason/Joe, mancation

drop in the ocean

[fyere.livejournal.com]

(Turned out sort of romance-y rather than porn. Sorry. ;D)

The day after filming wrapped, Jason took Joe to Hawaii. No pre-booked flights, no heavy luggage, just a coat and a wallet and a surfboard. It suited Joe just fine, and he knew Jason knew it.

The flight over the Pacific was sunny. It rained, though, when they got to Jason's favorite out-of-the-way surfing spot - a little, rocky, cliff-shadowed cove on the northern coast of Oahu, lying off a bay with an unpronounceable name - and soaked them both through before they even got on the water, but it was okay, because it wasn't freezing needle-sharp B.C. rain, or even gritty, lank L.A. rain, but warm, fragrant Hawaii rain. The cove was deserted, except for them. Good thing, because Joe was a little out of practice. But he found his feet and his balance again easily enough and, standing precarious watch on his board, laughed harder than he had in weeks when Jason wiped out spectacularly on his first run, long brown limbs flailing everywhere.

They got in about an hour of good surfing before the wind and the waves started to die down, and when they did Joe hauled himself up onto his board, straddling it and swishing his legs in the warm water, waiting for Jason to paddle over to him.

"Good, huh?"

Jason heaved himself up on his own board, putting one foot on Joe's so they wouldn't drift apart, though there wasn't much drift in this ocean at the moment. The water was like glass, not tropical but blue-grey, and with the raindrops rippling it all around them - Stargate-like, he almost wanted to say, but he'd promised to leave all that behind while on vacation - Joe felt like he was floating on the world's biggest puddle.

It was good. It was really - "Yeah."

Jason slouched, loose and happy, over his board, and Joe reached over and took Jason's hand, tracing the inked black arrows like teeth engulfing his forearm, turning the hand over to touch his palm, where Jason was, for some reason, inexplicably ticklish. Jason laughed and shook the rainwater from his head like a giant scruffy puppy, a move he wouldn't have been able to make with his old dreads. Joe still missed them, a little, though the short hair was fine and soft to the touch.

"I told you you'd like it," Jason said, brushing wet knuckles up Joe's shoulder, and Joe smiled. Floating in the middle of a quiet bay, with no one as witness but their boards and the dark lava-rock cliffs and the birds in the trees - here, they could afford it. "I know some other places you'll like, too. We can go there tomorrow."

"I know some places, too. We should go to Mancora sometime. Peru."

The pads of his fingers caught on the two-days' beard on Joe's cheek, and Joe closed his eyes, letting the water from above massage him, the gentle pulse of the water below rock him.

"We'll go anywhere you want," Jason said.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, cursed handcuffs

[alldunn.livejournal.com]

Dean turned around from where he had been bent over, digging in his dufflebag. Smirking, looking at Sam pointedly, Dean twirled the handcuffs around on his finger. Sam knew this was a bad idea, knew that this could only turn out bad. But, it was so ... addictive. Silently, Sam pulled his shirts off and turned around, hands held behind his back. As the last cuff clicked closed Sam felt their power sweep over him.

Everything in him wanted Dean, need to please Dean. Whatever Dean asked of him he willingly did. Based on the feel of the wood paddle resting on his clothed ass, tonight would be his pain for the offering. Silently, Sam waited for Dean to guide him, tell him how to please.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Burn Notice/Leverage, Mike/Eliot, old friends

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Follows this (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/24707.html?thread=4042627#t4042627).


"You look like hell," I say. I could kick myself. Wasn't I just giving Hardison the third degree for statin' the obvious?

"Yeah, well. Ex-KGB. They never did learn how to play nice." He tries to smile, but it just makes him wince. The bartender brings us both another round, and his is gone almost before the glass touched the table.

"Easy there," I say. "Don't want you down for the count too quick now." I smirk at him.

Mike grins, but doesn't take the bait. It's alright by me. Always did like chasin' him when it came to this. Man likes to be caught. "What're you doing in Miami?" he asks instead.

"Y'know how it is. A little a'this, a little a'that."

"Your crew was here for another job, huh?"

I nod as I swallow my whiskey. "There's always some sonuvabitch that could stand to lose a few million dollars. Seeing as he's responsible for cutting off aid to disaster victims, who, interestingly enough, now have the funds to rebuild their homes... Well. I can't bring myself to feel bad about it."

"Just more of the same old, same old."

"Except, y'know. With less explosions."

"Speak for yourself."

I hum a little with realization. "You are juggling Glenanne, ain'tcha."

"You have no idea..."

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney/Ronon, hurts so good

Caught in the Middle (SGA, John/Rodney/Ronon, hurts so good)

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

John’s balanced between the other two, caught and trapped by their arms. He’s currently being stretched almost painfully by two cocks, and John whines, high and desperate in the back of his throat, begging someone to move because it’s amazing, and perfect and…but it’s still not enough.

And then Rodney pushes him down until he’s resting against Ronon’s broad chest, and Ronon reaches and pulls John’s legs just a bit more apart, and Rodney eases completely into John, one hand clutching John’s hip, and the other stroking and soothing down the taut line of John’s back.

John bites his lip hard enough that he tastes the sharp tang of copper and then Rodney begins to move, and Ronon tilts his head to claim a kiss and John’s world shrinks to that kiss, and the pleasure sharpened by that edge of pain and then he’s loosing control and coming, his short nails clawing at Ronon’s golden skin as he slips into darkness.

When he wakes up, he’ll be nestled between the other two men, someone will have cleaned him up and Rodney will be tracing equations on his hip in his sleep, his head resting on John’s shoulder as Ronon crowds in behind him and then, then, John will feel completely safe.

[telesilla.livejournal.com]

SGA, Dopple!Sheppard/John, in your wildest dreams

[magnavox-23.livejournal.com]

The ghost of John's counterpart continues to haunt him in his dreams. He knows it's not the real doppelganger, but he still doesn't let himself wake up. He has no idea where this inane curiosity will lead. Each dream is different. Sometimes there are taunts - he failed his family, he failed his wife, Elizabeth...

Sometimes it's endless hand to hand combat that seems to last for hours. The kicks, the hits, the blows he receives are as freeing as the damage he inflicts on his other. He doesn't have to control himself in the dreams, and there's no one there to save him.

Tonight John is pinned to the gate room floor. Legs held down by knee and ankle, wrists held tightly in strong, capable hands. His twin has already kicked his ass all over the place, and now he's resting his weight on John, surrounding him, suffocating him.

The pain has receded to a mute roar; the gate room fades away, but for the cold floor beneath his back. His only anchor apart from not!John.

He can't stand the look on his counterpart's face. The ugly grin. He knows he has never made that face in his life. And yet here it is before him in all its twisted beauty.

Not!John reaches down to grab him through his pants. He tries to move away, but there's nowhere else to go. His twin tugs harder, getting a firm grasp of the head and John feels himself respond. He should wake himself up right now...but he won't. He struggles in another half-assed attempt to get away but not!John just levers more weight on him, rubbing his own groin against John's hip. John's dick is caught in the fabric of his pants, contained, controlled. His orgasm is ripped out of him. Harder than he prefers, softer than he needs.

He would scream. But no voice comes out.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, scars

Re: Scars, Being Human, George/Mitchell

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

First Being Human fic, so I hope this works! *is nervous*

Everyone has scars. Some are just a little more noticeable than others.

George has a perfectly placed bite-mark on the right side of his neck. It looks so delicate – in fact, it’s almost invisible unless you know it’s there and you’re actually looking for it. George notices it every time he looks in the mirror.

Mitchell has scratch-marks on his back, clawed into the skin over his shoulder blades. Four on each side, drawn down and outwards like some artist’s impression of wings. He chose to keep those, consciously refused to let his body heal at its normal rate in that area until the slices through skin and tissue and muscle had knitted together as scars.

When they’re in bed together, George props himself up and he’ll stroke the tips of his fingers oh-so-softly down the scars on Mitchell’s back, words of apology all ready to fall from his mouth. Mitchell will roll over and reach up, first laying his fingers against George’s mouth to silence the words before they’re even spoken, and then his hand will slide down and come to rest at the side of George’s neck, the pad of his thumb covering the marks he put there with his teeth.

Then George leans down and covers Mitchell’s lips with his mouth, and rolls them until Mitchell is lying on top of him, and their scars will be forgotten.

Until the next time George remembers and feels the guilt start to rise. Mitchell would worry about it, but he knows he’ll be there to stop it – he can’t imagine not being there ever again.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Knox/Monica, old friends

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Hollyoaks, John Paul/Kieron, spooning

Hollyoaks, John Paul/Kieron, spooning

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

John Paul falls asleep first. Always does. Kieron lies away in their bed, pressed tight against his husband's back. He strokes John Paul's stomach with his hand and he listens to the heavy rise and fall of his sleeping breath. The moment seems frozen: their curtains block out the moonlight and the room is over-warm and dusky. He doesn't want the sun to rise.

Kieron nuzzles his lips against the back of John Paul's neck. There's still a part of him that thinks this can't have happened: it isn't supposed to be this easy, not for him. An ex-priest does not get to have this kind of happily ever after. He's certain that God can't allow it.

But here they are, together and happy, and Kieron thinks they must be blessed.

God smiles down upon him, and as Kieron lies with John Paul he closes his eyes and offers his thanks.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, quickie

[merihn.livejournal.com]

He's in between meetings, discussions about failing crops on the other side of the kingdom, and what that will mean for Camelot.

He grabs Merlin; half carries him along the corridor and down the next before he shoves him into an alcove, panting with the need, half desperate from the hours of sitting still and trying to think while Merlin fidgets restlessly behind him. And it's that thought that has kept him on edge he entire time, mostly hard, the thought of Merlin unable to sit still because of how hard Arthur had fucked him just that morning.

And he wants it again.

Merlin grabs his hips and pulls him into the alcove against him, grinds their cocks together through their clothes. The friction is painful by now and Arthur groans as he leans in and takes Merlin's mouth in a hard, unforgiving kiss. Merlin mewls and pushes into it, opens wide for Arthur's tongue, fingers already scrabbling at the bindings of his trousers.

Arthur pushes Merlin’s trousers out of the way at the same time, spins him in place and shoves him against the wall. He sucks his fingers into his mouth and wets them as fast as he can before caressing Merlin’s arse with his other hand and teasing his wet fingers around Merlin’s hole.

Merlin turns his head to the side, face flat against the wall and bites his lip as he pushes back. Arthur lets his finger slide into Merlin, gasping at how hot he feels, still a little loose and slick.

“Fuck, Merlin. You’re ready, aren’t you? Come on, say it,” Arthur growls, trying to hold himself in check until he can get inside.

“Yes, Arthur, please,” Merlin whines, eyes squeezed shut. Arthur slips his finger inside as he leans in and kisses Merlin, tugging his lip from between clenched teeth. Merlin sighs into his mouth and rocks back, as if trying to get him deeper.

Arthur doesn’t waste time, barely a cursory push inside with two and then three fingers before pulling them out and gripping Merlin’s hips. Merlin pants and braces himself against the wall with his hands, settling his feet as far apart as he can with his trousers still tangled around his knees. Arthur presses his cock against him and leans in to mouth at Merlin’s neck.

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin murmurs, hips moving restlessly. Arthur holds him still and pushes slightly, closing his eyes as the head slips inside. They both let out shuddering groans and Arthur can’t hold back any longer, he tightens his grip on Merlin’s hips and thrust in hard.

Merlin squeezes tight around him as he settles in deep, their bodies snug together and he drops his forehead onto Merlin’s shoulder, trying to relearn how to breathe. It’s been mere hours since he was right here, and yet it feels completely new again and he struggles to keep control of himself.

He withdraws slowly, enjoying the silken drag of Merlin’s body around him, trying to hold him in. Merlin whimpers as his rim pulls against the head of Arthur’s cock and Arthur shudders before sliding back in and starting the rhythm to get them to the edge.

Merlin’s fingers curl and scrabble against the wall as Arthur finally fucks him hard and fast, feet slipping against the floor as he tries to meet Arthur’s thrusts. Arthur holds him tight and loses himself in the sensations until he feels the tightness curl in his stomach. He reaches around and curls his fingers around Merlin, who lets out a choked off cry and spills over his fingers, body rippling around Arthur’s cock.

Arthur keeps it up for a few more thrusts, fucks Merlin through it until he goes limp, then lets himself go deep inside. He slumps against Merlin, presses open mouthed kisses to the back of his neck as he tries to catch his breath. Merlin’s hand comes up and curls around the back of his neck, guiding him into a sloppy kiss. He knows he should pull back, Merlin’s squashed tight against the wall, but he can’t bring himself to just yet.

He doesn’t want to go back to the real world just yet.

*

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Supernatural Dean/Sam
Dom!Dean first time puppy on leash

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

They entered the club and everything went silent. Dean gripped the leash in his hand and dared anyone to fuck with him. He wasn't in the mood.

"Ah Winchester, I didn't think you would make it or have the necessary requirements." The voice was as oily as the half demon himself.

"Rowan," Dean gritted out, "Let's do this."

He had to keep his wits about him and for Sam as well. Sam. His mouth went dry and his jeans got tighter. His brother, his baby brother...collared, harnessed, plugged with a god damn tail. It swayed as Sam followed carefully, knees protected, hands bound in mitts. He must have felt Dean's reluctance, tipping his head to the side, eyes slitted in worried.

They were led to a darkened booth and as Dean sat, Sam curled about his feet, his head leaned against Dean's thigh. Dean's hand went to the soft hair reflexively. The tension in Sam's shoulders relaxed and he nuzzled into the touch.

"What a pretty little puppy," A trussed up bitch in leather cooed. She leaned down to touch Sam making him tense once more.

The click of the gun was audible. "Hands off, bitch." Dean said lowly. Sam curled into him with gratitude. "Let's deal."

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Rps Jeffrey/Jared
Show yourself to Daddy

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

"Mmmm...yes...like that."

Jeff circles the boy, appreciating the long line of his back, more muscled than when they met, broad and beautiful. He holds it straight, not slouched like he can when he's around others, trying to disguise his true height. The spine is an indented line, a valley between the planes of muscle.

Jeff's eyes slide down that valley, falling as it leads to his naked ass. That ass is slightly pink from the very light spanking Jeff had given him.

Jared shifts a little under his scrutiny, his head turning to try to find Jeff.

"No, still." Jeff touches his head, slides a finger over his face, over his red lips. He moves in front of his boy. Jared's hands are covering his cock, which Jeff knows is hard and red.

He leans in, kisses Jared lightly. "Show me."

Jared blushes some, but his hands fall away. Jeff strokes his own cock, almost ready to give it to Jared, to let him lick and suck and bring Jeff finally to orgasm, after the hours of playing.

"Show yourself to Daddy, boy." Jeff says and Jared's hands move behind him, his chest lifting, his knees moving apart a little bit more. His cock is beautiful and curved, brushing his stomach. "That's my good boy." Jeff slides a hand into Jared's hair, holds him, guides his cock to Jared's lips.

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Rps Jensen/Chad
Chad never get spanked enough

CWRPS. Jensen/Chad. Chad never gets spanked enough.

[lorilann.livejournal.com]

Jensen was tired and all he wanted was a shower and then to sleep until Monday morning. The fates had other plans for him though, in the form of Chad. Chad was standing in their kitchen talking about shit that Jen could care less about.
 
"Where's Jared?"
 
"No man, she was smokin'. You know she was all over me."
 
Jensen rolled his eyes. Now the little motherfucker was gesturing. Turning around, he went to his room.
 
"Hey man."
 
"Hey," Jensen called over his shoulder.
 
"So what are we doing tonight?" Making himself comfortable on Jen's bed.
 
"Feet. Bed." Staring incredulously at Chad's dirty shoes on his bed.
 
"Don't be so anal, man." He laughed him off.
 
Yanking Chad up by his collar. Jen had him up and over his lap in a blink of the eye.
 
"Hey, man. What the fuck?" Chad wiggled, trying to get free.
 
Jensen held him firmly and went about swatting at his jean clad ass. The first hit stunned Chad, he stopped moving. Using this to his advantage Jen tugged down Chad's jeans just to under his ass. He really should not have been surprised to find Chad's bare skin under his palm.
 
A thrill ran through Jensen at the thought of making this pale skin become tinged with red. A slap to one cheek and then the other got sharp hisses from Chad.

"Do you like this?"

No response. He had finally learned a way to shut Chad up. Jensen continued to work Chad until his ass was flaming red. The heat could be felt on Jen's hovering hand.

Tears filled his eyes at the sting, burn of each hit. Squeezing his eyes shut they fell. He only hoped Jensen hadn't noticed them or the erection straining against his jeans.

"Stand up."

Chad stood facing away from Jensen. Turning his body.

"You did like it." He marveled.

Squeezing Chad through his jeans he was rewarded with a groan. Slipping his hand inside, stroking three times, Chad came over his hand.

Placing a kiss to his exposed hip Jensen got up to take a shower.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Jeff, undone

[caarirose.livejournal.com]

Tying Chris to the bed is something Jeff never fails to enjoy. Listening to that voice whimper his name, the way the word ‘please’ is breathed out, stretched into three syllables.

Four if Jeff is on a roll.

Tonight he’s on his game and then some. Chris is tied to the bed spread and on display just for his lover, gleaming with sweat that’s starting to pool wherever his body concaves just enough, and panting half formed words like he can never exhaled enough to be able to breathe in completely.

The night started out with Chris prodding Jeff in the just the right way to get what he wanted without actually have to ask for it, and it’s going to end when Jeff says it can. They don’t need words any more, they both know their queues.

And half an hour later, ten minutes after Chris was taken past any limit he’s been near before and with Jeff’s come spread of his stomach, Jeff leans forward, covering Chris to undo the soft thick ropes.

That’s all Chris needs to lose it. When the ties are undone, he’s allowed to undo himself.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, tired

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

It's the kind of tired that sinks into the bones, makes you dumb and heavy and nothing but solid sleep and a few days to lay around in unwashed sweats with unwashed hair and unshaven face was going to make right again.

He's drunk with it, eyes barely open as he stumbles up the stairs, leaving the bags at the bottom because they're just too damn much. Like his boots, which he manages to lose part way up, and his jeans that he trips on and nearly falls out of once he's unbuttoned them.

But the door's part way open and he can hear the soft sounds of Steve and his guitar, not really playing anything particular, strumming through bits of melody and random strands of thought.

He doesn't stop when Chris finally stumbles into the bedroom, just turns to smile at him, sleepy, maybe a little stoned, humming now along with his fingers as they caress over the strings.

Chris lets his eyes fall closed, lets the music seep into him with the tired, cradling him, caressing him almost as surely as Steve's hands will be once he puts down the guitar.

He almost misses it when he does, nearly gone already when Steve crawls in beside him, kissing over his face, his eyes.

There will be a time, in the next few days, when they won't be able to stop touching, when sex will lead to more sex, and frantic will seep in as the tired goes, because they have three days before Chris is on a plane again...and sleep will eat away half of that...but for now, it's all soft voices and soft pillows, tender touches and kisses, and sleep.


*not porny at all*

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, playful

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

It's not often Christian lets the full force of his feline instincts, his complete cat side out. But when he does... It's an explosion of fur, claws, ears and tail. And Steve loves it, loves his playful nature, the mewls and mrrows as Christian pounces on Steve's hand, licks at his fingers, rolls around on his back doped on nip, purring as Steve give him a bellyrub; a rub that has Christian stretching out and arching up, his purrs turning to moans as he bucks into Steve's touch, flashing back to human as he pounces on Steve, knocking him down on the bed and kissing him as he slides his cock in.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Vampire!Steve/Chris, middle of the night

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Steve is a vampire.

It takes a little getting used to, even apart from the shock of vampires exist. Chris is used to keeping late nights. Chris is also used to sleeping at some point. But with his filming schedule, and promotion schedule, and concert schedule... He was having to find a new balance to things entirely.

Which is how sitting down on the couch to take his boots off just before sunset turns into seven hours of sleep.

A weight shifts the cushions under him, and he leans into the presence before he's really quite awake enough to consciously acknowledge it. A cool hand strokes his hair back from his face, slightly warmed lips press against his temple.

"You have to take better care of yourself Christian," Steve's voice murmurs in his ear.

"Mmmm," is all Chris manages as he tucks his head into the curve of Steve's throat and falls back asleep.


That... is so not where I was planning to go with that. ::blinks::

[elebridith]

Angel the Series, Lindsey/Spike, "Wow, I didn't see that coming!"

[strg8g33k.livejournal.com]

Title: Even heroes need a bonus.
Rating: PG.

It was business as usual. "Doyle" would walk into Spike's apartment, telling him that he's had a vision, and giving Spike the details on what he was up against this time. Spike would go, save the damsel, beat the bad guys (often not in that particular order), and be home by the time his pizza arrives. On this day though, things were different.

When Lindsey walked in today, Spike was wearing nothing but a towel, having just come out of the shower. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Lindsey, expecting his normal greeting of "I've just had a vision," but this wasn't the case today.

Spike wasn't happy with this intrusion. He wanted to relax today. Pass a few levels of Crash Bandicoot and maybe, just maybe take an afternoon nap. Surely he's not expected to save the day every day, right?

"Bloody hell Doyle, you can't expect me to work every single day! Even heroes get vacations!" he said indignantly.

Lindsey didn't answer. He walked almost purposefully up to the vampire and kissed him roughly. Spike returned the kiss with just as much passion.

After what felt like ages, Spike pulled away. They were both breathing heavily and Lindsey could both feel an unmistakable tightness in his pants.

"Bloody hell!" Spike exclaimed, "I didn't see that coming!"

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Orlando/Karl, meeting family

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

It's much quieter than Orlando expected. He creeps down the hall, wincing each time his shoes squeak on the tile floor. Most of the doors are closed, and he can hear soft beeping and murmuring from the ones that aren't.

He counts to himself. 216. 217. 218.

Finally, he reaches 223. For a long moment, he just stands there, stares at the closed door. Then he takes a deep breath and taps on the door with his knuckles. It's a soft, barely there sound, but he hears a quiet "Come in," from inside the room. So he takes another breath, eases open the door.

"Hey," he whispers, smiling when his eyes find Karl's form, sprawled in an armchair.

"Hey," Karl whispers back, smile wide enough to split his face. He gestures Orlando closer, reaches up to brush aside the blanket covering a tiny face. "Meet Hunter."

All Orlando can do is stare. The tiny features are perfect, dark lashes resting on chubby cheeks, dark fuzz covering the tiny skull, oh so small fingers curled tight around the edge of the flannel. "He's beautiful, love," he finally whispers, reaching out to brush one long finger against skin that's softer than the best silk.

"He's ours," Karl says, soft voice eliciting a small stirring from the fragile, precious bundle in his arms. Orlando's fingers itch to soothe the infant. "You ready for this?"

"Probably not," Orlando admits, with a soft chuckle, and bends to brush a light kiss across Karl's lips. "But I'm willing to give it a shot."

[galor5.livejournal.com]

TW, Jack/Ianto, the first (kiss, sex, I love you, etc.)

Re: First kiss, TW, Jack/Ianto

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Spoilers for 1x04 and 1x06

Okay, so if you were to ask Jack? Their first kiss took place lying in the puddle of water in the middle of the Hub, surrounded by death and chaos and pain.

Ianto rolls his eyes at that because, God. That is so not ever going to be the story he tells when people ask him what their first kiss was like. So he’ll stomp on Jack’s foot and shoot him a glare promising a night sleeping on the metaphorical sofa, and he’ll smile sweetly at whoever is asking.

Their first kiss, he’ll say, took place after Jack saved the day – and the team – from a group of human-eating aliens (they won’t be humans, the monsters, because Ianto wouldn’t wish that memory on anyone). There he was, Ianto will say, all dark, flashing eyes and coat flapping about in the wind as he strides over to Ianto, perched on the tailgate of the SUV. He demanded to know how Ianto was, threatening to fetch the paramedics back if they hadn’t done a good enough job – and by this point Jack will have stopped looking pointedly injured and be looking at Ianto with such adoration that Ianto will blush. Jack’s eyes were full of panic when Ianto looked up to meet them and to reassure him, and this small, broken sound will come from Jack, and Ianto found himself pulled up and held in Jack’s arms. He’ll remember, at this point in the story, how careful Jack was as he held Ianto, how his big, warm hands stroked up and down Ianto’s back, and he’ll reach for Jack’s hand, lacing their fingers together even as he turns back to their audience.

Jack pulled away, then, his eyes searching Ianto’s as though he could read Ianto’s mind. Ianto had leaned forward, brushing his mouth against Jack’s in a quick kiss. Before that point it was all innuendo and subtext and flirting, but then Jack pushed forward and took his mouth and deepened the kiss until Ianto forgot the incredibly huge amount of pain he was in, and the paramedics and the police and the rest of the team surrounding them.

And that, Ianto will say, was their first kiss. Jack will then tug Ianto into the circle of his arms and re-enact that very kiss for their very interested audience before Ianto pulls away and smoothes down his tie and walks away with a contented smirk.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

RPS, Orlando/Jake, on vacation

[wanderlost.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Hardison/Eliot, shampoo (and conditioner)

[hegemony.livejournal.com]

Nate always says Hardison finds ways to rest on his laurels, allowing his talent and luck to coast him right on through. Nate always says that Hardison, young as he is, never works for what he wants.

Eliot respectfully disagrees.

Alec's hungry for it, desperate. They've shared the shower in his apartment before: Large enough for two men and yet small enough to make for interesting ways of playing. It's a box of stone walls and clear glass, the whole ceiling raining on them as Alec pulls Eliot to him, wraps himself around Eliot, mouths at his chin and neck, like he's asking forgiveness. Eliot can't remember why he was mad in the first place.

Alec's hands slip into his hair, and while Eliot knew he was good with his hands, it's hands massaging in sweet smelling shampoo that makes Eliot hard, clawing into Alec's hips, kissing him back. Alec's fingers tangle in the long hair, nails sinking to the scalp. He tips Eliot's head back, lets the shampoo wash out while he licks at Eliot's collarbones, and when Eliot snaps up and presses him back against the wall, Hardison's gasp is music to his ears.

His hand settles around alec's cock, and it burns to hold himself still. He thinks for a second that Alec doesn't get it, but when he latches onto that gorgeous mouth, licking and sucking right at it until Alec's moaning, he suddenly feels the twitch in Hardison's hips, the easy pace he sets up with his hips. Alec is all hands, grabbing onto him like he really needs this, and Eliot thinks its the hardest thing in the world to watch Alec tease himself, falling quiet as he tries to hold out.

Maybe he's waiting for Eliot to get bored. Maybe he doesn't really think he deserves to come right now. Eliot doesn't know, can't ever seem to get into this kid's head even though he's under his skin.

Hardison's hands reach back up, shaking, as they finish the job of washing Eliot's hair, slicking it back with conditioner, pulling at it needfully as he speeds his pace, letting his toes curl under him, sounding that little moan like he's ready to come.

Eliot doesn't move. Hardison works for it until he comes.

Afterward, Eliot tries not to focus on Alec's mouth, wet hot heat surrounding his cock, and thinks of washing his hair out. He fails, his mouth falling open in the sharp gasp of a 'pleaseohgodyeah!' that will only serve to make Alec cockier in the long run. For now, though, he'll blank out mindlessly and plan what the hell he's going to do with Hardison once they get to the bed.

Alec's in his head and under his skin, too.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

lotr, Aragorn/Legolas, writer's choice

[ennorwen.livejournal.com]

“But Aragorn,” called Legolas, trying to the follow as Aragorn cut a serpentine course through the forest. “Our last shortcut through the woods nearly ended in disaster.”

Legolas leaned against an oak, drawing breath, when a hand shot out in front of him, then another, until Aragorn’s chest was against his, the man’s lips hovering over the elf’s mouth.

“Would you think it such a disaster if I took you here? Against the tree?”

Legolas smiled. “It that why you brought me here?”

“Turn around,” answered Aragorn, taking Legolas’ wrists and twisting the elf until he faced the tree. Aragorn stretched their arms upward and curled Legolas’ fingers around a knot. “Right here. And do not move them.”

Aragorn nestled his face into Legolas’ hair, inhaling the elf’s scent before taking a handful into his fist and moving it over Legolas’ shoulder.

The whisper of Aragorn’s lips at his nape forced a moan out of the elf and Legolas tried to inch backward, his burgeoning arousal uncomfortably forced into the bark.

“I think you like this, my feral wood elf,” said Aragorn, hands sliding toward Legolas’ belly, tantalizingly close to the laces on the elf’s leggings.

“Aragorn…” The name was sounded as both groan and warning. Legolas pushed his backside into Aragorn’s groin and the elf smirked when he heard the answering growl.

Aragorn’s fingers wound through the laces, rapidly untying the strings. He pushed Legolas’ leggings to the elf’s knees and reached for the mîdhthond in his pocket. He slid the root through the crevice in Legolas’ buttocks until he circled the elf’s aperture with the viscous liquid that oozed from the plant. He pressed it forward, an inch and then two, until the root was sliding smoothly in and out of Legolas’ channel.

Legolas welcomed the soothing slickness, and his nethers glided into the rhythm that Aragorn had set.

“Ai, that is so good,” and then, looking over his shoulder, “more now?”

Aragorn fumbled for his own laces and pulled his fully engorged erection out of its constraint, spreading drops of pre-come over the tip.

“Yes,” answered the ranger in a stuttered breath, withdrawing the root.

He bent slightly and aligned himself carefully. With a quick upward thrust, he impaled Legolas and his hands reached upward, taking the elf’s fingers between his own.

Legolas gasped, withholding his breath as Aragorn pierced him, letting it out slowly as his fingers held on to Aragorn’s. Bowing his body out from the tree, Legolas followed Aragorn’s lead – meeting every thrust with a counterthrust of his own. Aragorn’s fingers moved down, clutching Legolas’ hips in a near death grip, surely marking him. Legolas shivered and felt his sac draw up, Aragorn’s rigid cock without fail hitting the sweet spot just inside.

As Aragorn’s hands snaked around his loins toward his shaft, Legolas braced himself on the tree, fingers curled into the bark. A mere touch at the seeping tip of his cock and he spasmed, white heat arcing from his body, painting the tree.

Aragorn felt the clutch, the clench of Legolas’ soft hot tunnel and he plunged once more, hard and deep. Bursting within, he allowed the sweet convulsions of Legolas’ body to draw his seed forth.

Regaining his breath, Aragorn withdrew, planting a gentle kiss upon Legolas’ back, swiftly followed by a playful nip.

“Look what I have done to the tree.”

“I think a tree would welcome the essence of a wood elf.”

“Um,” pondered Legolas, “Maybe so.”

“Do you think our walk was a disaster now?”

Legolas re-laced his pants, cocking his head and considering. “Only if I do not get to reciprocate. You have until the count of ten to start running.”

Legolas laughed while he watched Aragorn scramble to pull up his pants. As Aragorn took flight, Legolas placed his palm upon the tree, whispered a brief “thank you,” and leapt to the pursuit.



*Mîdhthond – Sindarin for dewy-root, is my own invention, as we in the LOTR FPS fandom were sick and tired of the ubiquitous “vial of oil.”

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Viggo/Karl/Sean, getting drunk/stoned ;)

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Sean's not much for feeling sorry for himself, for carrying on and crying in his beer after a bad breakup or bad day at work or at whatever other disappointments and set-backs life has to offer. They're all part of the joys and frustrations of living, aren't they, and he knows better than most how good he's got it. No use moping about like one of his girls, all long faces and whatnot, whinging over things he couldn't change.

Still, when he'd come back from England, freshly divorced for the third time and perhaps a little more sad about it that he'd ought to be, considering they hadn't suited from the start, he'd been gratified at Viggo and Karl's invite to dinner and maybe a late night swim. It's nice to have mates that know what you need even when you don't.

Viggo welcomes him with a hug and a smile and a freshly poured pint, bare-chested and barefoot, paint speckled on his cut-offs and in his hair. Karl's similarly dressed (without the paint, except for one vermillion-colored handprint on his inner thigh that Sean doesn't even need to ask about), and his hug is as warm and welcoming as the ocean outside their back door. They usher Sean inside, stuff him full of ice-cold beer, seared steaks and marvelously whipped potatoes, entertain him with stories and laughter until he's wheezing and light-headed with delight. Then they take him to their private stretch of beach, blankets in tow, and they all laze about, watching the stars and passing one of Karl's joints back and forth, silence a comforting cocoon surrounding them.

And when Karl lightly turns his head, meets his lips halfway with a kiss that tastes of pot and compassion, then nudges him to Viggo for another kiss that's just as sharp and sweet, it's the easiest thing in the world for Sean to allow them to push him onto the blanket and take what they're so willingly offering. To offer himself in return – his kisses and body and thankfulness that words aren't needed. He grieves his loss and celebrates his freedom with only the stars and waves bearing witness, with two men who also know a little about regret and life, and blesses whatever fates had brought him here. He may not be one for reflection, but he's also smart enough to know that life is fleeting, and it's best to take what joys come with the bad.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Viggo/Orlando, ring

[zee113.livejournal.com]

Oops, sorry. My only excuse is that it wanted to come out.

'What's that? You got a ring?'

They were sitting on the couch in front of the television, oddly domestic for them. There came no answer to the ring question though.

He looked at him again, blue lights flickering on their faces, but his look wasn't returned.

He turned back to the television but his eyes were looking inside; to memories of happier times, when they met, loved and thought of no tomorrows.

'Someone gave it to you, eh?'

He didn't need the answer, so he was surprised when he heard the soft Yeah.

So that was it. He stood up slowly, felt his pockets for his keys, then started towards the door. He turned back in the open door frame, to take a last look at his past.

'Whatever you do mate, never let them know that you're a coward.'

He didn't wait for an answer, just closed the door with a soft click. He took a deep breath and quickly went down the stairs, got in his car and drove home. He wanted to cry and get pissed ad wake up as if nothing happened, as if he didn't even know the man he left behind those doors. And that's exactly what he would do.

He gave himself one day to forget Viggo.

[wanderlost.livejournal.com]

Smallville RPS, Mike/Tom, body double

[earthquakedream.livejournal.com]

After Smallville ends (finally, Tom thinks), Tom's cast in a movie. He's supposed to be nude in a scene and well, in the last few months since Smallville ended, Tom's let himself go a little. He doesn't feel like going to the gym and bulking back up or whatever, but he has to do something.

"Get a body double," Mike suggests, mouth full of chips, spraying crumbs all over the front of his shirt.

"No!" Tom says. "I don't need a fucking body double. I'm not scrawny like you, asshole."

Mike smirks, finishes chewing the chips and swallows. "So don't go to a gym. I have a much better way to get you sweating."

Mike's...actually not that scrawny, it turns out. He somehow gets Tom on his belly, jeans down, and has his tongue in Tom's ass before Tom can even make a sound.

After that, though, he makes plenty. It's been a while since they've done this, because Tom was married - it didn't stop them, but after every time, Tom would go crazy with guilt - but then he wasn't and Mike left Smallville - and then...well, they were just being idiots.

Mike somehow gets Tom to come just from his tongue and a couple fingers in his ass, and then he's shoving in, slow and deep, and he manages to be even louder then Tom, groaning out Tommy, god, Tommy with every thrust and Tom comes again, untouched.

After Mike comes and rolls off the couch to sprawl nakedly on the floor, Tom collapses with his cheek pressed into the cushions and sighs.

"That works."