Friday Free For All

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

It's Friday and I've just finished work (well, it is 16:30 GMT) so that can mean only one thing.... FRIDAY FREE FOR ALL!!

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

Just make sure to be nice to this codellama and her fellow codemonkeys by leaving your prompts in the proper format

For a single fandom: Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: RPS, Chris/Steve, love is...

For a crossover: Fandom/Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Example: The Crooked E/Leverage, Brian Cruver/Eliot Spencer, I need your help

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 you guys enjoy yourself and I'm heading out into city centre traffic... wish me luck!

Comments

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, love is.

[bwhouwant2b.livejournal.com]

For Christian, love is the fact that Steve takes care of him when he’s sick. He knows that he is whiney and annoying, but still Steve doesn’t tell get mad or tell him to shut up, or make him sleep in the spare bedroom. He tolerates the whining, the runny nose, and the coughing, all of it.

Chris knows that despite how sick he is, how sniffley he is; when Steve gets back, he’ll great him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, because he likes to pretend that he isn’t going to catch what Christian already has. He’ll cook chicken noodle soup for him, even though Christian knows Steve hates to make it according to the recipe that Christian’s mom sent. He still makes because he knows that soup more than anything else will help make Christian feel better.

Those kinds of things are love to Christian. It isn’t about the big gestures or PDA or anything like that. It never has been with them. For the two of them, love has always been about the small things, things that probably seem insignificant to outsiders looking in.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

The Crooked E/Leverage, Brian Cruver/Eliot Spencer, I need your help

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

steve/riley, pink elephants & lemonade

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, chris/steve, a trip to the grocery store

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Chris is still running the words around in his head, trying to make them work. But they don't work. They don't make any sense and no matter how he twists them and turns them they jumble up and don't fit the melody or anything that resembles an actual sentence someone might say.

Well, any someone who actually spoke English.

"Do we need milk?"

The words insert themselves into his scrambling stream, but don't really help any. What the hell does milk have to do with love or broken hearts...oh, unless it's a momma....a single momma trying to pull ends together after her heart's been broken and...no...not working at all...

"Eggs?"

Easter eggs, rotten eggs, broken eggs...no, that didn't work either...

"You want beans to make that chili?"

Beans might work...rhymes with dreams and seems and someone spilled the beans...broken dreams...torn at the seams...gotta make a clean break, let go of broken dreams...move past the heart ache, just tear it all apart at the seams...

"Hey."

The sudden jarring sensation stops him and he blinks, looking up and around him. The grocery cart digs into his hip, pushed there by Steve's hands. "You in there somewhere?"

"What? Yeah, course."

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "Right. Figure it out yet?"

Chris tries to be indignant. "Figure what out?"

"How to fit our shopping list into a song?"

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, chris/steve, three words i couldn't say last night

[bwhouwant2b.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, Steve just needs to hear the words. They’d been more then friends, for almost 3 years the first time he’d walked out because he’s told Christian that he loved him and Chris hadn’t said it back. That time he honestly hadn’t meant to leave, he’d just been hurt and angry. He’d needed time. He came back a couple of hours later to find Christian drinking bourbon, and not the shitty stuff but the good stuff that was guaranteed to get him wasted quickly.

It became a recurring trend with the two of the over the next few year. Steve would tell Christian he loved him. Sometimes when Chris didn’t respond, Steve would leave. Most of the time he stayed because as much as it hurt that Chris couldn’t say it Steve loved him anyway.

The last time Steve walked out because Chris didn’t say the three little words was when they’d been together for almost 7 years. In those 7 years, he could count on his fingers the number of times Christian had told him that he loved him.

He didn’t think walking out that last time would change anything between the two of them. It had. It was like some kind of light bulb went off in Christian’s head that told him he was going to lose Steve for good if he didn’t figure out how to say it.

Christian wasn’t going to let that happen because he did love Steve, It just seemed like every time he started to say I love you, the words got caught in his throat and he couldn’t get them to come out no matter how hard he tried. But he knew for Steve he was going to have to try harder because they’d been together a long time and Steve deserved more, Steve deserved better. So Christian would be better. He would learn to say I love you. No matter how hard it was, it was worth it to see the grin on Steve’s face when he did manage to get the words out.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, jeff/chris/steve, stop your messing around boy

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

Jeff watches. He doubts the boys know he's there. He didn't warn them, they don't even know he's in town. But he nurses a beer in the shadows near the bar until the set is nearly done.

Chris plays to a busty blonde babe in the front row. Steve's a little more subtle, making eyes at a red head at a table on the side.

Of course, Jeff knows they'll end up in each other's arms instead, but the fans don't know it, and it's good to play on the lust of the women who pay to see you play.

But Jeff isn't there to play.

It's their last set of the night and Jeff pays his tab and slips down the long hall to the bathrooms, taking a detour at the door that he knows leads back stage. The psuedo-bouncer there makes a game attempt to stop him, but Jeff's fresh off a movie where he got to be as bad as they come, and he's still carrying some of the attitude.

He's waiting in the back, still hanging back, in the shadows as they come off stage, rough housing and laughing and spilling more of the drinks in their glasses than they're drinking.

Steve gets into the closet that serves as green room/dressing room in this rinky club, but Chris feels him and stops, eyes narrowing.

Jeff steps out of the shadows after the manager of the club thumps Chris on the back and wanders off. Chris swallows, opens the door to the room. "Steve."

Steve appears and Jeff lets his eyes rake over them both. "Stop your messing around boy, and get your ass out back. My car. Five minutes. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes sir." Chris responds quickly and Jeff grins. He was going to have him some fun tonight.

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Life/Supernatural, Charlie/Sam, Zen

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, jeff/chris/steve, get on your knees boy and do what you should

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

They stumble into the house, hands and lips reluctant to stop digging past clothes or attempting to find leverage to help them navigate.

They crash into walls, Jeff kicks the door closed, letting Chris and Steve pull away enough, both grabbing at each other's clothes. Something tears, someone cusses, then laughs and hands are reaching to pull him back into the fray.

Chris reaches him first, which suits Jeff just fine. He's been itching to get his hands in that boys hair since he walked into the club.

He fist his hand in the wild mane, pulls Chris in for a crushing kiss while Chris fumbles with his belt and zipper, finally getting his cock out. Jeff uses that hand in his hair to pull Chris back, already pressing him down. "Be a good boy. Get on your knees and do what you know I want...and maybe I'll let Steve do the same to you when you're done."

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, sam/dean, superstitious

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

“I'm not getting out of bed. Not today.” Dean mumbled against his pillow as his brother threw the curtains open and bright light streamed in to the small room. He could smell the bacon brought up by room service. It was out of reach though, taunting him. “Can you bring that over here so I don't have to stare at my breakfast from across the room?”

“Nope. Not unless you accept that today is just another ordinary day like any other.” Sam sat down at the table, attempting to impart some kind of logic into the conversation. “We have a job to do here in town and if I'm going to be sitting in the Impala next to you doing surveillance it would be nice if you got up and took a shower.”

Dean still refused to move. Instead, he pulled the covers back over his head. “I'm not going. Do you remember what happened last Friday the Thirteenth?”

“That was a fluke.”

“Getting chased by one dog is a fluke, Sam. Getting chased by a dozen wild pit bulls is fate telling me not to get out of bed next time this holiday--”

“Friday the Thirteenth is not a holiday.”

“I'm not going.” Dean said with finality.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. If you want to wuss out, that's fine with me.”

A few minutes later, Dean heard his brother get up and start packing for his day, eager to start on the trail of the werewolf they were tracking. Sam made some muttering comments before he left about silly superstitions and cowards and how Dean was probably afraid of his own shadow.

When Sam left, Dean rolled over and returned to sleep.. it would just be easier today that way.

---

It didn't take long for his sleep to be interrupted by the hurried noises of the motel door being swung open. Dean jumped awake to see Sam standing there. He was panting as he locked the door behind him, “I'm sorry I didn't believe you. There were.. black cats.. and then a ladder.. and then I accidentally broke the Impala's mirror.. and then things just snowballed from there and oh god.. it was.. horrible.”

Dean held the blanket up as he ushered Sam under it. Then he wrapped his strong arms around him and waited for Sammy's heartbeat to return to normal. “Now will you believe me?”

“About this.. yes.” Sam relaxed a little bit more, safe and sound back in Dean's arm. He held onto his brother for dear life but still managed to sneak in a quick jab. “About other things.. depends.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean sighed, snuggling under the blankets as Sam closed his eyes. The day was a wash-- or maybe this was just fate telling them that even hunters needed a vacation every once in a while. He watched as Sam's breathing slowed, but then a thought occurred to him. “Wait.. you broke the mirror in the Impala? You hurt my baby?!”

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, dean/castiel, where angels fear to tred

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Dean closes his eyes and spreads his arms flat against the bed, bites at his lower lip to fight the flame spreading through his body and focused on his hard cock. He whimpers at the gentle breeze in the room from angel wings, knows he's watching but silent.

Sam's off probably with his demon-chick and Dean's stuck here, stuck with this desire pumping through his veins to fuck someone dirty, to find a faceless body on the street and shove it against a wall, to rip pants down, shove inside, just prove that he's filthy, unclean, unworthy of this second chance that his angel has given him. He wants to try to get those soulful blue eyes out of his head, not imagine that he's bending over flawless perfection and pleasuring one of God's chosen messengers in his fantasies.

There's the sound of a flutter, and then he can smell that fresh earth dug up after the rain. Cleanliness, redemption.

A hand touches his chest. "I cannot."

"Don't." The words grit out past his teeth and Dean shuts his eyes tighter until it hurts. "Cass, get out of here." There's a whisper of something and suddenly his pants are moving down and a hand encases him. "Fuck!"

Opening his eyes he sees Castiel standing there sans jacket, staring at Dean's face with such hunger it makes him ache inside. Makes his hips jerk upward with each stroke.

Makes him walk where he doesn't dare.

(not sure if this is what you had in mind)

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Werewolf!Eliot/Nate, care

Re: Care, Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

He finds Nate curled up on the couch underneath a ratty old blanket when he lets himself into the older man’s apartment. Even from the door he can smell the sickness when it hits him like a wall, and Eliot wrinkles his nose and pushes forward through it, his left hand clenching and almost-blunt nails digging into the palm of his hand. He’d had no idea that Nate was this bad – it was only a cold when Nate had called in to the office, and none of them had been worried. It was the season for colds, after all.

But this…Nate’s curled up and shivering and he doesn’t even seem aware that there’s anyone else in the apartment with him. The floor around the couch is almost blanketed with screwed up tissues and Eliot grimaces with disgust. He hasn’t been sick since before his first change, thank God, but he remembers what it was like and that why he’s made his momma’s chicken soup and brought it over.

He dumps the bag with its container in the table and crouches down in front of the couch, reaching to stroke a hand down Nate’s arm. The other man looks up at that, eyes bleary and confused, and Eliot smiles.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he says, standing up and waiting. To his credit, Nate does struggle to push himself up before Eliot sighs and scoops him up in his arms, carrying him towards the bedroom.

The bedroom that looks like a bomb’s hit it or something, seriously, because the covers are off the bed and there’s more used tissues in here and Eliot changes direction, sitting Nate carefully down on the stool in the bathroom while he busies himself with filling the bathtub.

“Stay here,” he orders and Nate just nods and tries to keep himself upright and Eliot has to remind himself that it’s not cute.

He doesn’t dare leave the bathroom until the tub’s half-full and he’s stripped Nate and helped him into it, and even then it’s only quick trips to strip the bed and clear the trash away, always re-appearing to check on Nate in the water while he’s making up the bed.

“Good thing I know where everything is, huh?” Eliot grins, and Nate looks up at him, his eyes a bit more focused now. He goes to speak and Eliot silences him with a hand over his mouth because they’ve tried that already and Nate really has no voice left.

The soup’s heating on a low heat on the stove, and Eliot can tell by the smell that he’s got about two minutes to settle Nate into bed before it starts to over-heat. He helps Nate to stand, wrapping a fresh towel around him, and then lifts him into his arms again, chuckling slightly as Nate grabs at his shoulders.

Once Nate’s settled, propped up against the pillows, Eliot disappears into the little kitchen, coming back with a bowl on a tray and a spoon that he settles on Nate’s lap. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching carefully as Nate tries to feed himself and then leans forward, taking the spoon gently from him.

“Hey, you’d do the same for me, right?” he shrugs off Nate’s narrowed eyes and fills the spoon, blowing on it carefully before offering it up.

Nate doesn’t quite manage to finish the whole bowl, but there’s more in the kitchen if he’s hungry later. Eliot helps him lie down and rounds the end of the bed to crawl in beside him, wrapping a careful arm around the older man and grinning into Nate’s shoulder when he turns into the hold. The thick stench of sickness isn’t quite gone, but it’s lifted, and Eliot holds Nate close while he falls asleep, and he stays awake, listening to the sound of Nate’s breathing until it becomes clearer and lighter.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

NCIS, gibbs/abby, romance

[hawk-soaring.livejournal.com]

The candles were lit, dinner simmering on the stove.

"Not much for romance, Abby," Jethro said softly.

"Not much used to it, if I'm not mistaken," Abby answered with a smile. "You've got nothing to worry about. It's just a dinner -- if that's all you want."

"If?"

Abby smiled as she handed Jethro a glass of bourbon. "That's right -- if. I'm not going to pressure you, but I'm not going to lie. I want you -- in my bed -- tonight." She watched the emotions play across Jethro's face. "I've wanted you for a long time, Jethro, but if you want to walk away from this with just a dinner I'm fine with that too."

Gibbs took a sip of the bourbon, rolling it around on his tongue.

"I can wait..." Abby handed Jethro a napkin when he began choking on his drink. Who knew the man could blush so easily. Tonight should be fun -- if she could get him to loosen up just a little.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

NCIS, abby/mcgee, spanking

[nephir.livejournal.com]

I am hoping that this is along the lines of what you wanted:

rose pink -- the barest hint of flush as her hand slapped at the upturned cheeks, warming them up.

pink -- they were darker now as her strikes became a little stronger. Tim wiggled but movement was not a real option. Squirming as much as he could, he waited for the next swat.

rose red -- the cheeks were darkening to nice even rose red. She made sure to cover the entire area equally. She wanted him to remember this for a day or two.

red -- he was moaning now, pain and pleasure a knifes edge that his body danced along. Her strikes never slowed in response, but kept to a cadence only she could hear.

cherry red each strike reverberated through his cock and balls and only the cock ring kept him from spilling all over the spanking bench. His ass burned but she was still going strong.

deep red -- the throbbing in his ass was a mirror of his heartbeat. Each time her hand made contact with his swelling cheeks his cock throbbed. It was torture of the most beautiful kind.

magenta -- he knew he’d not be able to sit comfortably for a day or two, maybe even more.

bruised -- the spanking stopped and all Tim could hear was his heartbeat banging like a mad drum solo. His ass throbbed in time to the heartbeats and with each beat his dick twitched and dribbled another stream of precome. The bench beneath him was covered in it.

Abby looked in joy at the patterns on Tim’s upturned ass. She deliberately leaned so that the patterns of lacing on her corset would press into the hot and sensitive skin of Tim’s bottom causing him to try and squirm away and then into the pressure.

"My good boy" she murmured. "You deserve a treat," as she reached around and removed the ring while she stroked the leaking cock strongly.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Werewolf!Eliot/Nate, confused

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

Nate had had enough of Eliot’s attitude for the last few days. He’d also had just a few too many tonight, so as he was making his way up to Eliot’s apartment, he was staggering ever so slightly. He banged indignantly on the door and demanded that Eliot open up this instant.

“Go away, Nate!” was called back in response.

“I’m not going anywhere until you open this door and I can yell at you to your face, damn it!”

The door swung open violently and Eliot seemed to take up all of it, the way he was leaning on the jam. His every muscle was flexed, he was covered in a light sheen of sweat and he was winded. Nate had never seen Eliot truly winded before. “Then make it fast,” Eliot said, his voice thick and gravelly.

“Fine,” Nate said, swaying very slightly as he pointed at Eliot. “You have been a royal pain in the ass all week. Now I want to know just what the hell has gotten into you, and I want to know before you put the team at risk.”

“I… I… I put the team at risk?” Eliot said indignantly. “You think I’m the one running ops while I’m drunk off my ass? Am I the one who can’t keep the goddamned job straight?”

Nate stepped back and blinked for just a moment, he must have been one hell of a lot more drunk then he thought he was, he would have sworn that Eliot’s eyes had just changed color.

“Get the hell in here, I’m not having this conversation in the hallway,” Eliot grabbed the front of Nate’s shirt and pulled him bodily into the apartment. He kicked the door shut and it slammed with an ominous bang. “You think that I’m the one putting the team at risk then I’ll go, hell I don’t know why I’ve stayed this long, but you gotta tell me to go.”

“You’re a big boy, Eliot, you wanna go, I’m not gonna bar the door.”

“No, Nate, you don’t get it, you gotta tell me, or I can’t.” There was a slight look of desperation in his eyes and his fists were clenched.

Nate just stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out what the hell that was supposed to mean. No one could tell Eliot to do something he didn’t want to do. So then why was Eliot looking at Nate like he was terrified? “Um… what?”

Eliot growled deep in his throat and moved forward faster than Nate really thought he should be able to. He grabbed Nate’s face in his hands, none too gently, and kissed him hard and forcefully.

Nate tried to pull away for all of two seconds before he found himself melting into the kiss, grabbing Eliot’s hair and ass and pulling him in for more.

Eliot honest-to-god whimpered at that and tried to force his knees not to buckle below him.

Nate pulled back for a second to gage that that sound hadn’t meant he’d hurt Eliot in some way – and that’s when he saw his eyes again, not the normal color, in fact they were gold. “You’re gonna explain the eyes later, right?”

Eliot nodded, “Later,” he said, his voice gruff. And then he pulled Nate to the floor and rolled under him and kissed him again. “Much later.”

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

NCIS, gibbs/di nozzo, boss

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"Yes, boss, on it boss."

"Boss, hang on boss, don't you fucking leave me, boss."

Gasp. Parted lips. Hips thrusting upward, seeking more, needing more.

"Fuck me, boss, please."

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Werewolf!Eliot/Nate, feel

Re: Feel, Leverage, werewolf!Eliot/Nate

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Nate’s wrapped a cloth around Eliot’s head, covering his eyes completely, and Eliot had balked when Nate had first suggested it, so unwilling to give up control like that to anyone, even Nate – Nate, who practically owned him now, and he lies back on the mattress and strains to catch every sound in the room.

“You okay?” Nate asks, and Eliot nods, head turning as he places Nate to his left, and he grimaces when he hears the low chuckle.

Then there’s a hand ghosting up his body and Eliot’s muscles contract under it as he tenses up. He can’t help it – instincts, Eliot knows, but he still curses under his breath because this is all about trust and Nate and Eliot needs to do this.

The mattress dips slightly as Nate settles beside him, and Eliot’s suddenly so relieved that Nate hadn’t insisted on tying him down because he needs, now, and he reaches out, his hand brushing against Nate and he grins despite himself when he realises that Nate’s just as naked as he is.

The hand comes back again, fingers trailing and stroking in patterns as Eliot tries to follow the movement in his mind, but there’s the sound of the bed creaking as Nate settles into a new position and then there’s the sound of Nate whispering in his ear – all the things he wants to do to Eliot. Eliot whimpers and gives up, turning his head and whining into the kiss as Nate licks over his mouth and then inside, and he wants to reach up and pull Nate down, but that’s not how this game works, apparently.

But he can smell Nate, can smell the arousal and how desperate the other man’s getting, although you’d never guess it from the way he’s managing to keep his voice steady and his touch too-light over Eliot’s skin. Eliot breathes in deeply, taking in that scent, and Nate rewards him by smoothing his hand down Eliot’s body to wrap around his cock.

He bites at Nate’s mouth for that, catching Nate’s bottom lip between sharp teeth and loving the gasp that gets him as he laves over the mark and tastes bloodNatemine on his tongue.

It’s going to be a long night, Eliot knows, but he thinks he can deal with it – even if he can’t see Nate, he can smell and hear and taste Nate, and he knows that from now on, for the rest of the night, he’s always going to be able to feel Nate, and Eliot knows that makes everything seem alright.

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, "scared again?"

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

A guttral groan and shift of limbs. Then silence. Only to be broken with a quiet, "no, please, no." Peace. Flailing of arms, tugging at invisible restraints. Teeth flashing in pale moonligh, animalistic and angry.

But it was the arms going about knees, drawing upward so that chin brushed them, muscles rippling, shivering shoulders with unshed tears...

Sam moved, slipping beneath shitty sheets to wrap himself around his dreaming brother. Scared again, scared of things that Sam could not fight, scared of memories that Sam could not take away. So scared that Dean allowed himself to be held in his sleep, the terror overriding the fear and the pain.

Sam kissed the sweat tense neck, and like always, felt the marginal release and the quiet whimper of "Sam."

"I've got you, Dean," Sam replied brushing his lips against Dean's hair, "I've got you."

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

Numb3rs/CSI:NY, Don Eppes/Don Flack, basketball v. baseball

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

leverage, eliot/hardison/parker, how to make friends and influence people

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, tears

[bwhouwant2b.livejournal.com]

Steve walked around the nursery begging Jessica to be quiet. He knew she wasn’t wet, or hungry or anything else. She had a cold and wanted her other Daddy. Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen because the little cold she had, had been shared with Christian and he was supposed to be sleeping in their bed.

Steve sang her lullabies and walked her around the room. He did everything he could think of to make his little angel stop crying, but so far, it wasn’t working. He wished he could just give in and let her bed with Christian, but he didn’t need either of them getting sicker than they already were.

Steve was humming Hush Little Baby under his breath when Jessica finally stopped crying and went to sleep. He kissed her on the head and put her in her crib. He turned to leave with the intention of going to check on Christian, when he found him leaning against the door of the nursery.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Steve said, as he walked over and gently began to guide him back to their bedroom.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Hearing Christian’s sleep roughened voice, made all the annoyance that Steve was feeling towards him melt. He knew that Christian hated being sick, and it was even worse when he and Jessica were sick at the same time and he felt like he couldn’t do anything about it.

Steve drifted off to sleep with Christian curled up against his side hoping that tomorrow his little family would feel better.


Again doesn't fit the prompt exactly, but I wrote it and decided I had to make it fit somewhere.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

leverage, nate/eliot, addicted to you

[noteveryday.livejournal.com]

It's a smell, a taste, a sound... More than whiskey could ever be. Sweet musky salt on his tongue, the low, purring moans that start deep in Eliot's throat. The perfect arch he made whenever his nipple was stroked just so....Like a drug.
Eliot's body was the perfect distraction, the perfect new high. Nate knew they all wanted him off of the liquer. They couldn't trust him anymore if things went on the way they were.
Eliot had been the only one to offer an actual solution. He'd offered himself.

Now Eliot hung by his wrists in Nate's office, gloriously naked, light from the open office window glinting off of each gentle angle of hard muscle. Nate licked his lips at the scene, savoring the high, the buzz that had swept his need for alcohol away. His long fingers traced gently over The other man's bare skin, memorizing the feel. He devoured each twitch and hitch of breath, taking in all that was his new lover.

“Eliot..” He breathed the name softly, savoring the way Eliot's eyes fluttered to a disjointed sort of attention. Apparently, He wasn't the only one enjoying this little deal. Nate smiled, trailing his hand down Eliot's stomach as their eyes locked. Eliot's cock jumped at a soft touch, the younger man leaning, unashamed, into the touch. Nate's smile pulled into a smirk, and he stroked the hard length until Eliot's eyes lost their focus. His free fingers he tangled in that perfect, silky hair and pulled Eliot's body full against him, naked flesh pressing against his fine tailored suit.

“Eliot,” This time the name came as a soft rumble. “This game. It's not just for me, is it?” It was more a statement than a question; he was sure he already knew the answer. He hadn't stopped the insistant pumping at Eliot's cock, and the lusty hase still clouded the retreival specialist's eyes as he managed a ragged answer. That look shot like electricity straight to Nate's cock.
“You're not the only one who's addicted Nate.”

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

leverage, werewolf!nate/eliot, wolves mate for life

Re: Wolves mate for life, Leverage, werewolf!Nate/Eliot

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Eliot curses when he finds himself flat on his back on the bed. Any other day, and Nate would never have been able to get the drop on him like this…

…Then again, that look in Nate’s eyes makes Eliot wonder if he might just have let Nate drop him on the bed.

Nate crawls up the bed, moving over him, and Eliot forces himself to hold still, not to react to the man – to the werewolf now hovering over him, even when Nate leans down and fucking scents him, nose ghosting along the line of Eliot’s throat.

“You sure about this?” Nate asks, his voice rougher than it is normally, and Eliot swallows. “No going back.”

He knows this – Nate’s told him time and time again, and still Eliot wants it. Reaching up, he runs his fingers through Nate’s tousled hair and smirks at the light growl that gets him.

“I’m sure,” he says, and Nate’s eyes close, the body over Eliot’s trembling as the older man tries to hold himself together. “Come on, let it go,” Eliot urges, and the air rushes out of him in a gasp as Nate falls on top of him, mouth and teeth and tongue already seeking out the delicate skin over his pulse point. He groans, arching up into Nate as those teeth worry at his skin, his head turned to the side to give Nate more room and he knows that he could never regret this.

“Can’t run from this now,” Nate mumbles before he licks over the mark he’s just made, and Eliot turns them both so they’re lying on their sides in the bed.

“Can’t see why I’d want to,” he counters, hands already wrapping around Nate’s cock and stroking as he watches Nate come apart under his touch.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/author's choice, rush

RPS Chris/Author’s choice rush

[yanzadracan.livejournal.com]

The horses raced across the grasslands, wind rushing through their manes as hard muscled legs pounded out a four beat rhythm. The men on their backs melded into one with the animals. Stretched low over their necks, long hair mingling with long manes as they became one with the wind.

Behind the riders, a line of black smoke and flame from a dry lightning strike raced to catch them. They slowed the horses from their headlong rush, and looked back as they felt the wind shift.

Green eyes met blue, each man’s teeth bared in a feral smile. “River!” The stocky man on the buckskin shouted. Both men let out a war whoop as they spurred the sweat streaked horses forward. The geldings so well matched, they moved as one across the prairie, the black a shadow to the buckskin in the gray of twilight.

The horses gave their best, but the wind was relentless, and the fire continued to gain ground on the pair. Their eyes and lungs started to burn as the wind carried embers out ahead of the horses.

The men opened their long dusters to allow their coats to fall over the horses’ rumps, giving them little protection from burns.

Just when it seemed the fire would win, the grassland sloped to the river. With no room to maneuver, they pushed the horses toward the water at full speed. Fractious at the uncertain footing, the riders fought for control.

Geysers of waters fell over both animals as they hit the water, fighting for footing on the rocky river bottom. The water was deep enough and the current fast that the horses had to swim for the opposite bank.

Standing on the far side, they stopped to watch the flames. Dripping water, four sets of lungs worked like bellows to draw air, they stared fascinated as the horses danced wanting to get away from the heat and flames.

Just as they prepared to run again, the wind shifted, turning the fire back on itself. They walked their horses quietly along one of the river’s feeder streams, looking for a place to camp.

Horses stripped and rubbed down, bed rolls spread, the men eased soot streaked bodies into the stream and washed away the smoke, sweat and horse. Splashes and squeals bounced off the trees as they played like otters.

The rush of the race for their lives was starting to wane, as a new rush replaced it. The play that started in the water, moved to the bedrolls. Lips and teeth kissed, chewed, licked and sucked across wet skin. Fingers slid seeking hand holds, arms and legs tangled. Hands gripped hair to expose necks to teeth that scored skin.

As they came down from the ultimate rush, breath mingled along with body fluids. Fingers tangled in long dark hair and nipped the silver ringed ear lobe. “Love ya, Chris.”

Intertwining arms and legs, Chris rolled the taller man under him spreading the sun streaked hair over the bedroll, nuzzling the muscled neck. “Love you, Jenny.”

They cleaned up and dressed before checking the horses once more. They settled into their bedrolls for the last time, the rush of the day released to the arms of Morpheus.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

leverage, eliot/hardison, geeks can be sexy too

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Hardison's leaning up against the side of the van when Eliot arrives at the rendezvous. He's the first of the rest of them to arrive, the comm in his ear buzzing with the sound of Parker and Sophie's banter and a quiet thump that he can only guess is Nate's head against the window. And the older man had been wondering why it was that Eliot insisted on separate transportation...

"That was good work," he says, thumping him on the shoulder. "That thing you did with the gates locking and unlocking."

"Yeah, I guess."

Eliot stops and looks at him. Hardison never passed up on a chance to brag on his geekery. It's too much a point of pride and passion for it not to come bubbling up at the smallest compliment. "What's wrong, man? You look like someone pissed in your orange soda."

"Nothing." Eliot just raises an eyebrow at him, and Alec looks away. "Look. It's just. Sometimes I'm sick of bein' stuck in the damn van."

"What, really?" Hardison makes a face and doesn't respond. "But you won't even let the rest of us touch your set up... It's your thing, it's what you do..."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Hardison huffs and pushes away from the van to stalk a few feet away. Before Eliot can say anything else, though, Hardison spins on his heel and thrusts an accusatory finger at him. "Geeks can be sexy too!"

Eliot blinks. "Huh?"

"I'm just as fucking sexy as you and Sophie are!" Alec pouts, pouts as he goes on. "Parker too, for all she's crazy. People don't notice crazy when you're hot, don't give a damn cuz they're too busy flirting, but they sure as hell don't notice you when you're stuck in the damn van!"

Eliot's pretty sure that didn't actually make any sense. He goes over the words in his head, brow furrowing. "You're upset because you don't get to flirt with people you ain't gonna hook up with anyways?"

Hardison slaps his palm against his forehead at the same time he hears Parker say "Boys are stupid" over the comms. Nate snorts and Sophie's shushing her, obviously just trying to keep her quiet so she can eavesdrop. Now Eliot's sure he's missing something. Thankfully Sophie can't keep Parker quiet, though, because the next thing he hears is, "You have to be stupid not to notice Hardison wants to..." Then Parker grunts because Sophie's elbowed her in the ribs.

The meaning's pretty obvious, though.

Hardison just stands like that, hand over his eyes like he's afraid if he moves it and looks at Eliot, Eliot's going to punch him. He flinches a little when his boots crunch in the gravel, makes a little whine in his throat when Eliot tugs gently on his wrist to pull his hand away. It's sweet, even if Eliot's never, ever going to admit it to anyone.

The squeak Alec makes when Eliot's lips brush against his is entirely satisfying.

"Huh. Turns out boys aren't so stupid after all."

[katbcoll.livejournal.com]

Torchwood/Supernatural, Jack/Sam, Naked Hide and Seek