Friday Free For All

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Pardon the lateness, all my fault, promise!

Anyway, it's Friday, so you guys know what that means.  FREE FOR ALL!!!

Yep, you got it.  Anything and everything goes.  Any fandom, any pairing, any crossover, any prompt.  Leave your inhibitions at the door.


Just make sure to be nice to the codemonkeys by leaving your prompts in the proper format.  Otherwise, they may pelt you with bananas.  ;)

For a single fandom: Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Lotrips, Karl/Orlando, quiet time

For a crossover: Fandom/Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: Supernatural/Boondock Saints, Dean/Murphy, whiskey in a jar


Don't forget that we have a lot of lonely prompts lying around over here, so if you can't find something you like today, feel free to go give them some love!

Now go wild and have fun!

Comments

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Karl/Orlando, quiet time

[stormatdusk.livejournal.com]

Karl tightened his arm around Orlando where he sprawled half atop Karl. He slid his hand left, then down, just a hair, nails scritch-scritch-scritching gently as they traveled the path. "Here?"

An agreeable growl deep in Orlando's chest confirmed he'd found the offending spot. Another few moments of scratching, and Orlando's body went slack. Karl's hand flattened, switched to light, soothing strokes. They could never have enough time like this: just the two of them, alone. Quiet.

"God, this is good." Orlando pushed his nose further into the warmth of Karl's neck. "Not moving till March."

"Dunno that rock stars are supposed to be so snuggly," Karl teased, grinning.

A half-flick of a lazy finger against Karl's side was all Orlando could manage in retaliation: too relaxed. Karl pulled the light blanket up over them.

"March'll be just fine."

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/Boondock Saints, Dean/Murphy, whiskey in a jar

[obvmluver.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Viggo/Orlando, Deception

Lotrips, Viggo/Orlando, Deception

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Viggo was stunned when he realized what Orlando had done. They had talked about their future and had reassured each other that they both wanted the same thing. No commitments, no promises. Just the here and now.

Apparently that wasn't the case for Orlando anymore.

Viggo picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, waiting for the line to connect, barely breathing.

"Hello," A sleepy voice answered.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Viggo tried to keep his voice calm, but he couldn't help the slight hitch when his voice constricted with emotion.

"Viggo, luv," Orlando sat up in bed, worried now that he was a little more awake. "What's wrong?"

"I found out, Orlando." Viggo replied softly. "You should have known I would eventually."

"Found out what?" Orlando was momentarily confused until he realized what Viggo was talking about. "Oh...shit. I didn't know how to say it in person. I kept waiting for the right moment.


"I guess that moment has arrived."


"Yes, I suppose it has." Orlando replied before taking a deep breath. "I'm guessing you found the ring then?"

"It was stuffed in the pocket of the carry on bag you told me to use." Viggo opened his fist to reveal a gold circle with the etching 'Forever, together'.

"Not too original, I suppose." Orlando chuckled quietly. "I mean it though." He swallowed nervously. "I only want you, Viggo. Forever, together."

Viggo's eyes swam as tears trickled down his cheeks. He supposed he could forgive Orlando for his deception. Just this once.

"Forever, together. Always."

[rivermud.livejournal.com]

The Departed, Costigan/Dignam, revenge

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, 'S.E.X.' by Nickelback


Yeah I totally meant to leave this the other day and missed it...

[andrea-deer.livejournal.com]

They had a bad start, because they based it on stupid assumptions and bunch of stereotypes. Texas' boys don't swing that way. Strong, buch cowboys don't like to play with other cowboys. Guys that can (and often do) hook up with sexy and hot girls in every town after concerts, don't much care for theirs band-mates. They don't ever think about it.

Which was so obviously bullshit.

Because they were Chris and Steve. The worked well together and just fitted. And sex was hot. So hot the mare idea of sex with each other got them hot and bothered for some time, before they finally faced what's going on. When they started fighting or discussing, or whatever. And ended up slightly more than slightly drunk and kissing and tearing at each others clothes.

Steve managed to pull away slightly, one of Chris hands caught in his hair, the other palming his ass through now barely holding on, open jeans.

"Sex... is not an answer," he stated with conviction only a drunk person can get, when he thinks he's speaking some great truth.

Chris just tagged his closer and pressed against him, rubbing his crotch against Steve's hip.

"Sure," he breathed. "You're abso-fucking-lutely right Carlson. Sex is never an answer." He pushed him in the direction of bedroom. "Sex is the question, Carlson. 'YES!' is an answer."

Steve chuckled and moaned, when one of Chris' hands moved to the front of his jeans and slide under his boxers, grabbing for his dick. He groaned loudly and tugged Chris to move quicker to that freaking bedroom... Or any flat surface they may walk upon.

"It sure as fuck is at least my answer."

"With you all the way, man!"

After all they ended on the wall. And the floor next to it. (And bed to, but only in the morning.)

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, one for the road

[kelios.livejournal.com]

He's got to go. Jared knows, Jensen knows, but they just can't stop. Soon Jared is going to be in New York, surrounded by screaming fangirls and it drives Jensen crazy to watch him play to the crowd, offering them what belongs to Jensen and so he takes what's his, one last time, pushes Jared up against the front door and kisses him hard and fast while his hand slides up and down the long hard length of Jared's cock.

"Jen, god, Jen..." Jared is moaning against him, pressing bruises into his shoulders and pushing into his hand harder and faster as Jensen sucks hard on his neck. He wants to mark Jared, prove to the world that Jared is his, no one else's, and he bites down, hard. Jared bucks against his hand and comes, eyes rolling and knees buckling and it's all Jensen can do to keep him upright.

But Jared doesn't want to stay up. He sinks to his knees in front of Jensen, hands pulling on Jensen's sweats as he breathes, "Yours, Jensen, only yours, always...." like he could read Jensen's mind. Then his mouth is on Jensen's cock, sucking and humming and Jensen can't take it. He buries his hands in Jared's hair and fucks his mouth gently, swearing and crooning under his breath. "Yeah, Jared, so beautiful, miss you so much, so good..." Jared's looking up at him, love and want glowing in his eyes and Jensen shudders and comes, filling Jared's mouth and it's so fucking hot the way he just lets him.

He pulls Jared up and kisses him, tastes himself in Jared's mouth and it kinda makes him want to start all over again but Jared pulls away gently. "Gotta go, man," he whispers and Jensen nods sharply.

"Yeah, go on, get out of here," he says, giving him a little push. "Call me when you get there, all right?"

Outside the driver hits the horn for the fifth time and Jared grabs his suitcase and runs out the door.

[technocowboy.livejournal.com]

Dr. Horrible, Dr. Horrible/Captain Hammer, college flashback

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

*smishes you *

I have no fic foe you, but wanted to say hi! Hopefully one of our wonderful writers will pick this up!

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Peter/Nathan, sweet and bitter

[takhallus.livejournal.com]

“You’re not peeking are you?”

Peter smiled, the blindfold was completely effective but Nathan knew he would try to cheat if he could. “I can’t see a thing, really.” He was tied to the chair but only loosely, to stop him instinctively trying to interfere with Nathan’s games.

Nathan jabbed his fingers towards Peter’s eyes fast, testing to see if he would flinch. When Peter didn’t stir Nathan was satisfied, and reached to the tray he had prepared earlier. “Okay, open.”

Peter opened his mouth obediently and felt pitted skin against his tongue. He bit down and hummed contentedly as the taste of a strawberry ran into his mouth. He chewed the strawberry and shivered as juice ran down his chin.

Nathan caught the juice as it was about to drip and licked up to Peter’s mouth, eliciting a moan. He sucked Peter’s bottom lip and smiled. Time for a step up. He took a slice of lime from the tray. “Tongue out.” He instructed.

Peter grinned, sticking out his tongue, mouth open. Nathan squeezed the lime hard and laughed as Peter grimaced and coughed at the bitterness. “Yech, that wasn’t funny.”

Next Nathan picked up the chocolate syrup, squeezing it on his fingers. “Open up Pete, I promise you’ll like this one.” He fed his fingers into Peter’s mouth, feeling himself harden as his younger brother sucked and licked them clean.

“Mmm. Nice.” Peter licked his lips. “What’s next? Sweet or bitter?”

Nathan grinned, taking the final taste test in his hand. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Peter stuck his tongue out and scrunched his forehead in confusion. “It’s kind of salty…I..” He laughed as the realisation hit him. “Oh Nathan, that’s just wrong.”

[rohaa.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Uther/Gaius, crown

Re: Crown, Merlin, Uther/Gaius

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

This kind of contradicts 'Merlin' canon, but I couldn't get the damned fic out of my head! I hope you enjoy.

Uther stands in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection as the latest in a long line of terribly forgettable servants adjusts the lie of his tunic and steps away with a bow. The bow turns into the servant leaving as someone else enters his chambers without knocking and, really, there’s only one person who does that…only one person now, that is.

He doesn’t want to be here – doesn’t want to be standing here, on this day, wearing these clothes. Everything about today is just reinforcing the fact that his father has died, and Uther suddenly has to fight against the pain in his chest that makes him want to stop breathing.

The other man in the room moves up behind him, and Uther meets Gaius’ eyes in the mirror.

“My lord,” Gaius begins, so deferential, and that’s really just too much to cope with today of all days. He spins to face Gaius, moving forward and forcing the older man up against the edge of the table as he reaches for a kiss that eases the pain and makes it possible to breath again even as it takes that breath away.

“Don’t,” Uther says when he breaks the kiss, and he rests his forehead against Gaius’. “Not today, please.”

It’s his coronation, today, and his wedding all wrapped up in one confusing and intimidating day. Igraine is waiting for him downstairs – along with a goodly portion of Camelot – but he needs this, needs Gaius, now. They’ve been side by side since childhood – one raised to be King and one to the exalted position of court physician – and yet Uther cannot remember a time when he needed Gaius as desperately as he does today.

Gaius smiles at him, one eyebrow raised in what looks like humour.

“Uther,” he begins again, still smiling as he wraps one arm around Uther’s waist to hold him closer and reaches up with the other hand to cup Uther’s cheek. “There’s nothing to be scared of, you know…”

And, of course, Gaius knows how to push Uther’s buttons after so long in each other’s company.

“Scared?!” Uther repeats, back straightening in outrage. He knows Gaius is playing him, but it’s taking his mind off everything else, so… “Lords of Camelot – princes of Camelot are never scared.”

Gaius looks suspiciously like he’s forcing himself not to laugh.

“Of course not, my lord,” he says, and now any hint of subservience has disappeared, then he sobers, and leans forward to brush his mouth over Uther’s so gently. “Remember,” Gaius whispers, “Igraine will be there, and so will I. Just remember that, my lord – Uther,” he says, and Uther squeezes his eyes shut against the prickling that is most definitely not tears. “We’ll always be at your side.”

Uther allows himself another minute in the safety of Gaius’ arms, and then pulls away, straightening and forcing himself to think past now, past today and towards the future.

“You will be a great King, my lord,” Gaius says as he fusses over Uther’s clothing.

Later, as the Uther stands with the crown of the King of Camelot placed firmly on his head, his eyes search and find first Igraine’s and then Gaius’, and there is such love coming from both that Uther feels some of this new and frightening weight lift and he faces the cheers of the people of Camelot with his head held high.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jeff/Chris, devilish

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Chris has a devilish grin, one that transmits all the dirty, nasty things going on in his head when he levels it at Jeff.

Thing is, as dirty and nasty as the boy can get, they don't begin to compare to the things Jeff plans to do with the boy once they're out of the public eye.

Chris isn't pliant, isn't submissive...he pushes when Jeff pulls, he bites when Jeff kisses, oh but it's worth it when they wrestle their way into the play room, worth it when Jeff gets him down, gets inside him, fucks him into that place where he's still not submissive, but beginning to get with the program...and that's when Jeff starts.

Chris is pinned between Jeff and the wall, Jeff's cock inside him, Jeff's voice in his ear, gruff and deep and dirty. Devilish even.

"Going to fuck you open and tie you down...gonna shove my fist inside you and make you beg me to fuck you with it...gonna feed you my cock..." His hand fists in Chris' hair and yanks his head back. "And then, we'll get to the good stuff..."

He licks a long stripe up the boy's neck, bites down on the tender spot just behind his ear. "Gonna teach you a few new tricks boy."

Chris' grin is devilish just before he pushes back off the wall. "Come on then, old man...stop talking about it."

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Kitty!Chris/Steve, catch

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Steve swore as he stumbled, hitting his hip against the edge of the bar. He laughed under his breath and scrubbed his hand over his face, knocking back the last of his beer. It wasn’t even like he was that drunk… that tired, maybe; and not just tired – jet-lagged and sleep deprived and the caffeine was wearing off fast. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for his bed right now. Of course, his bed was a few thousand miles away but the hotel bed would work. And fuck he must be tired because he was rambling and he wasn’t even saying anything. He pushed himself upright and shook his head, eyes darting around the bar until they landed on Christian; who, really – where else would be than surrounded by a group of giggling fangirls?

He weaved across the room to join him, slinging a companionable arm across his shoulders as he slid next to him, bumping his hip.

Christian flashed a grin at him, tugging an arm around his waist and holding him close. Yeah, Christian was definitely as tired as he was if he was displaying even a tiny bit of affection in public. “Hey.”

Steve grinned back, letting himself relax against Christian. “Hey.” His grin faltered when eyes more feline than human met his when Christian took a drink from the bottle in his hand, then offered it. Steve took the bottle, brow furrowing as concern started to burn its way through the haze of exhaustion and, as he watched Christian closely, it became clear to him that Christian was so tired he was having trouble concentrating on staying human form: eyes definitely more feline than human, more gold than blue; rubbing at the top of his head with the side of a fist, tips of his ears starting to peek through his hair; his ability to keep up with the conversation waning as more and more of his concentration was needed to stop himself from switching back to his natural form and, as he slid a hand down to pat Christian on the ass, he could definitely feel his tail pressing against the seat of his jeans.

Steve swore and wrapped his arm tighter around Christian. He smoothly jumped into the conversation, apologising to the girls, telling them eh was stealing Christian away because it was late, they were tired and they had a long day tomorrow. He steered Christian back across the room and grabbed their bags and guitars before leading him out of the door, propping him up against a wall before hailing a cab. He pushed Christian through the door, crawled in after him and gave the driver the address of their hotel.

“That was rude,” Christian muttered, even as he curled up against Steve, burying his head in his neck.

“I know,” Steve replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, stroking his hand through Christian’s hair. “But you’re sliding back to feline,” he whispered. “You’re barely holding your human form.”

“Yeah,” Christian agreed, shudder running through him. “You… how… fuck…”

“Just a couple more minutes,” Steve promised, lifting Christian’s head and kissing him on the lips. “We’re almost back at the hotel, Chris.”

“K,” Christian whispered, laying his head back against Steve’s shoulder, his whole body vibrating with tension as he struggled to stay in his human form.

A few minutes later and, true to Steve’s word, the cab arrived at their hotel. They quickly exited the cab and made their way up to the hotel. Both men fell silent as they kicked off their shoes and stripped, sprawling down on the bed. A sigh of relief escaped Christian as he slumped back against the mattress, body shimmering as his tail and fur grew. He mrowed softly and curled around Steve, dragging the duvet up as sleep claimed them both.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Dom!Nate/Eliot, please

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

“Please.”

The word is so soft that he almost missed it, it's said as though it's been dragged out of the man below him against his will as though saying it brings it's shame in it's own right. “What was that?”

Keeping the smirk that on he's lip's that Eliot can't see out of his voice isn't the easiest thing he's ever had to do but he does it, as his hand brushed over the younger man's heated ass the skin a lovely shade of pink against Eliot's tan.

“Please.”

The word came louder this time, want lacing through it, Eliot begging for what he was giving him. His hand lifted and connected hard enough with other man's skin to sting, the shudder and the whimper that it drew well worth the little pain.

“Please.”

This time Eliot's giving the word full voice as close on to demanding as he'd dare get, needing Nate to fuck him, claim him and take everything that Eliot is offering and there was no way he could refuse that even if he wanted to; which he doesn't.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Succubus!Chris/Pet!Steve, magic

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

His master tells him there is no magic, that there is only the heat of the blood, the scent of need that draws him, but some moments Steven isn't sure he believes.

There is some magic that finds him when he is alone, when he is dreaming and his master is hungry with need, it whispers to Steven, calls him from his slumber to his master's bed, hard, aching, craving his touch as though it were some drug.

His hands tremble as they glide over Christian's skin, hot to the touch, heated with the fever of his hunger.

There is magic in the way his touch burns, the way the smell of him seeps into Steven, arouses him. There is magic in the way his eyes light on Steven's face and he flushes down to his toes as if he were yet virginal and untouched. There is magic in the way Christian takes him, pressing him to the mattress, filling him and Steven can not contain the way his body needs, the way his voice cries out for more, the way he shudders. There is magic when that mouth, wet heat and the feeling that he could die happy with his cock in his master's mouth...then the rush as he comes, as he comes and Christian sucks, pulling life from him.

There is magic, whether his master believes or not, Steven most certainly does.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Werewolf!Eliot/Nate, boss

Re: Boss, Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Eliot’s never had an alpha before – not a true one, although Mikav came so, so close. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that he’s answerable to someone besides himself.

Weirdly, he doesn’t actually feel it the most when he’s on his knees in front of Nate, or when he’s on his back or bent over the nearest flat surface with Nate pressing in so hotstretchedneedmine. No, Eliot feels that tug, that indescribable pull from somewhere behind his heart, when he hears Nate’s voice over the earbuds. It’s belonging and pressure all at once, making his cock harden in his jeans even as Eliot finds himself moving instinctively to obey whatever order Nate’s just given him.

Sure, Nate’s the boss of the entire team, by mutual decision, but he’s also Eliot’s alpha, and that means a hell of a lot more to Eliot. That is something he can’t walk away from, and he’s slowly realising that he wouldn’t want to, even if he could.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Matt/Mohinder, on a deserted island

LOST (Stranded on the Beach of Disapproval)

[moorishflower.livejournal.com]

"You cannot be serious."

Matt lifts one eyebrow, then the other. Tilts his head meaningfully towards the luggage they'd managed to save from the incoming tide, the (sopping wet) clothes, the travel bag with the sunscreen in it.

"No. No. I am not having sex with you at a time like this!"

Mohinder's arms cross; he's topless, his shirt ripped apart by a jagged piece of coral while they were struggling through the undertow, and his skin is cinnamon-bronze beneath the midday sun. He gleams with sweat and the remnants of seawater, his curls slowly springing back to life as they dry, and Matt steps closer, reaches out to comb his fingers through the worst of the knots, smoothing them. Mohinder sighs and leans against him, still protesting.

"I mean the sand, Matthew, it gets everywhere, and we really should be building a...a fire or a shelter of some sort..."

Matt leans forward, takes the tip of Mohinder's right ear between his teeth and nibbles delicately. The long, lean body arches against him, a sigh bubbling from Mohinder's throat.

"And...and you s-should be calling for help, and I can see if anyone else is here..."

Matt abandons Mohinder's hair, runs the palm of his hand from ball of shoulder to jut of hipbone, splays his fingers across Mohinder's side and feels the muscles of his abdomen twitch as he continues to lavish attention upon his ear, his neck, his collarbone: sucking little kisses and teasing nips to skin that shudders beneath his lips.

"Should be...should be...Matthew!"

For the record it's only Matt who gets sand in uncomfortable places, and Mohinder is unbearably smug about it for the rest of the week.

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Jo, that demon was totally lying.

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

She's surprised when the door opens and it's Dean standing there.

She's even more surprised when he simply steps up and takes her face in his hands and kisses her, hard.

She blinks up at him as he pulls back and guides her backwards until she's up against the bar, and her breath catches as he lifts her up to a stool.

She wants to ask what he's doing here, wants to tell him she'd been certain that he didn't think of her that way.

But the words don't come. Instead, her hands grip his shirt and he smiles. Before she can think of it he's got her shirt off and is sucking on her breasts and the moans she's making are more wanton than the porn she's seen.

And when he lays her out on the bar and slides her jeans off, she is almost almost ready to throw the pitcher of holy water on him, just to make sure it's him.

But then his mouth is on her and he sucks and nips and licks, and all she can think is omygodomygod. And she shudders to her climax as his fingers slide into her. When she's finished, he has his cock out and he slides into her, taking her right there on the bar.

When they are finished and start re-dressing, he pulls her in for another kiss.

"That demon, Jo?" he says. "Totally lying."

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, voice

[havenward.livejournal.com]

A little Elsewhere-verse, so there! <3

He isn't loup garou, isn't governed by moon and it's madness. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get antsy when the moon is full. Weird shit happens when the moon is full, and shit in Vancouver is weirder than usual.

Nevermind the temper he inherited from his mama.

But tonight, there's Steve. Beside him, on top of him, inside him. Singing in his ear with a breathless voice broken and stuttered with yes and please and perfect and need you. There's no magic except the touch of his fingertips, everywhere. No energy humming under his skin except want and something Chris isn't ready to name.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Constantine, Chas/John, noisy

i have a relevant icon for this

[morlockiness.livejournal.com]

Chas follows him up to his loft again and John just doesn't understand it. The kid's got the equivalent of a supernatural library in his cab - he still asks so many questions, mouth running off at a mile a minute.

"What is it that you want, Chas?" his tone sharp and monotonous as they stand in the hall outside John's place.

"I just want to be informed. Is that okay with you, John?" He can hear behind the boy's words: I want to be around you. He scoffs slightly at the sarcasm (he's rubbing off on Chas a little or maybe the kid's just a smart ass), placing a cigarette between his lips with a slight shake of his head. Chas simply stares at him, the clink and rough skitch as he lights up- the only sound. The smoke invades his lungs in the best way possible. John can practically feel the cancer cells tingling as they're given fuel, tar, smoke. He suppresses a cough and looks at Chas, holding the coffin nail between two fingers.

John gets intimate, moving close to Chas, smoke dribbling from his lips. Chas sets his eyes, green and firm, boring into John's chocolate brown ones. John inches closer, suddenly unsure whether he means to be so close that it's threatening or so close that Chas wants to leave. He's so near that John is practically shotgunning the exhaled smoke into Chas' mouth and he's breathing it in, not even a hint of a cough bubbling up his throat. John's lips twitch in a smirk, not expecting Chas to take the toxic vapor so well. In a way, he's almost proud.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, edited

Re: Edited, Being Human, Mitchell/George

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

This is probably not what you had in mind...

Mitchell remembers every single thing that has ever happened to him since he was about four years old and human. He remembers the screams of his men as they died in the trenches, and he remembers the way Herrick held him as he drank Mitchell’s blood, hard and hot against Mitchell’s thigh. Sometimes he wishes he could forget, but then he looks at George and Annie, and he knows he wouldn’t even if he could.

George, though – George forgets everything that happens when he’s transformed. Mitchell hasn’t worked out yet if it’s a normal thing for werewolves or if it’s just George’s subconscious forcibly editing the memories so George doesn’t have a nervous breakdown every month. He doesn’t really know that much about werewolves – George is the first that Mitchell’s ever really had any prolonged contact with.

When the memories get really bad and manifest themselves in full Technicolor, surround-sound nightmares, Mitchell leaves his warm bed and the shadows in his bedroom and goes downstairs to curl up on the couch and stare mindlessly at whatever he can find on TV. Annie sat with him the first few times he did it and tried to ply him with tea and biscuits to take his mind off the images superimposed over the TV screen, but Mitchell was so unresponsive that she soon gave up and wandered away to the kitchen.

Later he found out that she had gone upstairs after the third time he had settled in the relative safety of the living room, and she had poked George until the other man had woken up and then pushed him to go downstairs. All he remembers of that particular night was the sudden warmth as George sat beside him and slung one arm around his shoulders, pulling him in and down until Mitchell was almost curled up in George’s lap. He remembers shaking and wondering why he couldn’t stop it, and it was only when George brushed his cheek with his thumb and Mitchell could smell the bitterwetsalt that he realised he was crying.

It would have been embarrassing, Mitchell thinks afterwards, but it was George and after everything…besides, George had just looked at him, nothing of the wolf in his eyes but everything of kindness, and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead.

So, yes, Mitchell wishes he could edit his memory as effectively as George seems to be able to, but now when he wakes screaming from yet another blood-tinted nightmare, George is always there, petting Mitchell’s hair as he wraps himself around him and forces Mitchell not to flail and hurt either of them in his panic. It makes up for the fear, Mitchell thinks – a fair exchange for all the horror the past century has thrust upon him.

[lilyleia78]

SG1, Jack/Daniel, 'You may be smart, but my geek carries a gun' (Quote from Abby Scuito, NCIS)

SG-1, Jack/Daniel, "You may be smart, but my geek carries a gun.

[sg-wonderland.livejournal.com]

(I have no idea if I'm playing correctly, but that prompt was too good to pass up. Honestly.)


"Have I told you lately how unbelievably sexy I find that?" Jack glanced across the dimly lit interior of his truck.

Daniel scowled back at him. "You get off on me losing my temper?"

"Oh, come on, you know those guys were just asking for it? If it had been aliens, I could kind of excuse them, but they were from the Pentagon."

Daniel's lips twitched in spite of himself. "Jack, no place is more alien than Washington. And why are we heading home? Didn't I tell you I had work to do?"

"And didn't General Hammond ask me, nicely, to get you the hell away from the pencil pushers? I did mention how turned on I was, right?"

"So the 'You may be smart, but my geek carries a gun' line was you subverting your sexual arousal?"

The truck swerved dangerously. "Dammit, Daniel, don't talk dirty while I'm driving! I'd like to get home alive and able to nail your ass to the mattress."

Daniel blinked slowly at him. "Want me to whip out my gun?"

"That's it," Jack swore as he whipped the truck into his street. "As soon as I get you home, I'm turning you over my knee. Teach you how to behave."

"Make me keep my mouth shut?" Daniel breathed softly as the truck screeched to a stop in the driveway.

Jack replied, equally as softly. "No gag tonight, I want to hear you scream."

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

Prison break. Lincoln/Lj Daddy's good boy

[lorilann.livejournal.com]

Lincoln leaned back against the cold stone of his cell. There wasn't much to do in solitary confinement except be alone with all the thoughts of rights and wrongs, of missed opportunities, of things that you no longer had. He thought most of his son and his brother. They both depended on him and he'd done his best but ultimately he had let them down. Lincoln Burrows was a screw up of the greatest proportions.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to when Michael had taken his first steps. Michael, quiet and sure of himself, used the old wooden coffee table to lift himself off the carpet. Standing he looked so pleased with himself until Mike morphed into his little boy.

Now Lincoln could see LJ with his chubby red cheeks working with all his might to stand on his own two feet. The look of pure accomplishment on his face at doing it. Linc could see himself with a wide grin on his face. Younger Linc crouching down, egging his son on.

“Come on, come to daddy. That's a good boy.”

A father's pride is what gets him through the endless days and nights.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Eden/Isaac, wonder

Unglaube

[moorishflower.livejournal.com]

She wonders if he'll thank her for the shave and haircut, if he'll look more human once his face is washed and his hands stop shaking.

She wonders if he bit his lip that way when he was high and creating futures out of red and blue acrylic, out of oils, out of charcoal.

She wonders if he tastes like paint, turpentine, pastels, canvas. Or maybe he tastes like a man, smooth slick tongue and hard-ridged palate.

She wonders if he'll respond the way she wants him to, arch up into her hands and her mouth as she climbs on top of him, fists her hands in his shirt, maps calligraphy into his skin with sucking bruises and grip-tight-scratching nails.

She wonders if he'll want to be inside her, if he'll want to roll her over and have her like an animal or if he'll lift her legs and look her in the eye with his hair like a curtain around her face as they kiss, moan, want, his thrusts and his hips and the curve of his back, the line of his jaw, the sweet bow of his lips, yes.

She wonders if he'd say 'I love you' like all the rest.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Pirate!Chris/Merchant!Steve, storm

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Wind pushes against the ship, rocking her against the dock as rain lashes her de
cks. It's a violent night, devoid of people. Steve stands just inside the door of the cabin, soaked to the skin, shivering. The storm raging outside is but a tantrum compared to the fury and rage that filled him as he looked at Christian.

"You bastatd." Steven spits at him. "He was a boy."

"Got your attention, didn't I? And you won't ignore me again. Now, get out of those wet clothes. I want to warm you up."

He rages, but a part of him is melting already, heating uo, aroused. His hands tremble for reasons other than anger as he drops wet pants to the cabin floor. Christian's smil. Is wicked as he lifts his knife, letting it catch the light. Steven remembers the feel of that .metal on his skin, the bite and sting...arousal flushes through him and Christian chuckles low.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Lost, Daniel/Miles, consciously

Lost, Daniel/Miles, consciously

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

They don't kiss for over a year, but it's only later that Miles thinks that that is really fucking weird.

They live together, sleep in the same bed, and Miles even stops snarking Daniel quite so ruthlessly, but they don't kiss. They don't fuck. They don't even hug. It's a relationship without the physical benefits. Miles looks out for Daniel, makes sure that nothing on this island manages to fuck him up worse than the outside world already did, and Daniel keeps him sane. Keeps him grounded.

It's their one-year Dharma anniversary and the stars twinkle in the sky above them when Daniel finally grabs Miles by the collar of his Dharma uniform and kisses him, the bristle of his beard tickling Miles's mouth. He sighs against the kiss and his eyes fall closed as the pieces all fall into place.

It's only after Daniel pulls away, blushing, that Miles realises that he's been waiting forever for that.

"What took you so damn long?" he complains.

Daniel shuts him up, this time by kissing him again.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, instructed

[rohaa.livejournal.com]

"Do you know how to walk on your knees, Merlin?" Arthur's grin is cheeky as always, and Merlin rolls his eyes at him - as always.

"You asked me that before, you know. Several times."

"Yes, well." Arthur lazily lifts his arms and allows Merlin to slide his red shirt over his head. His skin still feels damp from the bath; Merlin truly is the most useless servant ever, if he cannot even properly towel off his prince. "You never gave me a satisfactory answer."

"I do not walk on my knees, sire," Merlin replies. "I can walk on my feet perfectly well."

"You should try it sometime." Arthur takes a quick step towards his servant, who only looks at him with those adorable innocent big eyes.

"Arthur, what - "

He grins again as he steps even closer, a grin which turns into a full laugh when Merlin stumbles back, eyes still wide but now a little panicked. "You should practise it."

Merlin slaps at his arm. "I am tired of you manhandling me whenever you want to bully someone around, you know! It's always do this Merlin, do that Merlin, come to target practise with me Merlin, polish my sword Merlin..."

The looming presence of Arthur suddenly very close before him shuts him up. Good. Arthur grabs Merlin's shoulder. The list his servant just ran through sounds pretty accurate. You'd really think he'd get the hint. "On your knees, Merlin," he orders, and pushes down on the bony shoulder.

Merlin stumbles to his knees right before him. Those beautiful eyes grow even wider as he sees what is right before him.

Merlin hasn't helped Arthur in his breeches yet.

"Oh," he says stupidly, staring. "Oh."

"God, servants!" Arthur says in mock frustration. "You have to explain everything to them!" But he is secretly rather pleased by the way Merlin keeps looking at him.

A few seconds later, all he can say is "God..." as Merlin finally, finally gets the hint. "God, Merlin."