InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Merde happens"

JL Sigman (jlsigman) wrote in porn_battle,
@ 2010-07-14 10:30:00

Entry tags:

prompts, round twelve

PROMPTS: R - X
There were no Q prompts.

Read or Die TV, Nenene/Maggie, Following directions
Read or Die TV, Nenene/Maggie, Read this with me?
Red Dwarf, Kochanski/Lister/Rimmer, reality
Repo! The Genetic Opera, Graverobber/Shilo, down in the muck
Repo! The Genetic Opera, Luigi/Shilo, knifeplay
Reservoir Dogs, White/Orange, twist in the tale
Robin Hood, Guy/Marian, powerplay
Robot Unicorn Attack, Robot Unicorn/Robot Dolphin, ALWAYS
Robot Unicorn Attack, Robot Unicorn/Robot Dolphin, HARMONY
Robot Unicorn Attack, Robot Unicorn/Robot Dolphin, what now?
Rogue Galaxy, Zegram/Jaster, experience difference, ‘Can you please her?’
Romeo and Juliet, Tybalt/Lady Capulet, favorite nephew
Rosencrantz and Guildernstern Are Dead, Rosencrantz/Guildernstern, heads
Rurouni Kenshin, Enishi/Kenshin, obsession - Battousai is all Enishi thinks about anymore
Rurouni Kenshin, Enishi/Kenshin, revenge - it's a double edged sword
Rurouni Kenshin, Kaoru/Megumi, secrecy
Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin/Tomoe, after she's gone, he dreams of her
Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin/Tomoe, experimentation
Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin/Tomoe, he'll do anything for her, even give up control
Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin/Tomoe, the first night in Otsu
Rurouni Kenshin, Misao/Aoshi, insubordination
Rurouni Kenshin, Misao/Aoshi, possessiveness
Rurouni Kenshin, Misao/Kaoru, cold hands
Rurouni Kenshin, Misao/Megumi, over tea
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Battousai, 'mine now'
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Battousai, dark alley
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Battousai, genderswap - Kenshin was born a girl
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Kenshin, bridge
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Kenshin, swords
Rurouni Kenshin, Saitou/Kenshin, tying him so tightly he won't be able to get away

Samurai Deeper Kyo, Fubuki/Hishigi, giving a reprieve from the pain
Samurai Deeper Kyo, Kyo/Kyoshiro/Sakuya, happy days together
Samurai Deeper Kyo, Yuan/Anthony, blindfolds
Samurai Deeper Kyo, Yukimura/Saizo, offering services, I’m only here to please you
Sanctuary, Will/Helen, dreams
Sanctuary, Will/Helen, home
Sanctuary, Will/Helen, love and comfort
Sanctuary, Will/Helen, unrequited
Sanctuary, Will/Helen, warmth
Sandman, Death/Delirium, a dream is a wish your heart makes
Sengoku Basara, Sasuke/Kasuga, shinobi do it silently in the dark
She-Ra Princess of Power, Adora/General Sunder, it wasn't all bad in the Hord
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, a relaxing weekend
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, a romantic day/evening/weekend
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, desire
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, fantasies
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, holding back
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, home alone
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, just a touch
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, kisses
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, loving you
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, making up
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, necessary roughness
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, quickies
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, role play
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, soft and sweet
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, take your time
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, three little words
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, trying something new
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, you can trust me
Sherlock Holmes 2009, Holmes/Watson, mine
Silent Hill movie, Cybil/Rose, Freedom
Silmarillion the, Morgoth/Sauron, master
Silmarillion the, Sauron/Ar-Pharazon, seduction
Sky High, Warren/Will, burn marks
Sky High, Warren/Will, play it loud
Smallville, Chloe/Davis, experiment
Smallville, Chloe/Davis, holding back the beast
Smallville, Chloe/Davis, I could belong to the night... Your eyes, Your eyes..
Smallville, Chloe/Davis, man in a uniform
Smallville, Chloe/George, wanted
Smallville, Chloe/Oliver, handcuffs, surprise
Smallville, Chloe/Tess, dirty, public, power
Smallville, Clark/Lois, want, phonebooth, reunion, shower, club, strip, bet, jealousy
Smallville, Clark/Lois/Oliver, compromise, bed, "why choose?", lust, dare
Smallville, Clark/Oliver, desire, claim, bondage, costume, taking advantage
Smallville, Lex/Davis, kryptonite cage
Smallville, Lois/Oliver, seduce, vacation
Smallville, Lois/Tess, after hours, games
Song of Ice and Fire A, Jaqen H'ghar/Arya, recognition
Soon I Will Be Invincible, Lily/Dr. Impossible, invisible
Star Ocean 4, Faize/Edge, culture differences
Star Trek TOS, Kirk/Spock, blow job in the captain's chair
Star Trek TOS, Kirk/Spock, making up
Star Trek TOS, Kirk/Spock, Pon faar
Star Trek Voyager, Janeway/7, collective
Star Trek XI, Gaila/McCoy, why & why not
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, arguing telepathically on the bridge
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, first time
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, I know what you need
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, pon farr mishaps
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, woo
Star Trek XI, Kirk/Sulu, double dare you
Star Trek XI, McCoy/Chekov, unexpected romance
Star Trek XI, McCoy/Chekov/Pike, a present for the new Admiral
Star Trek XI, McCoy/Kirk, almost too tired
Star Trek XI, Spock Prime/Kirk, comfort
Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk, claim
Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk/McCoy, cock slut
Star Trek XI, Spock/McCoy, "Kiss me, you green-blooded hobgoblin."
Star Trek XI, Sulu/Uhura, quick and dirty
Star Trek XI, Uhura/Spock, blurring the lines
Star Wars EU, Emperor/Mara Jade, training
Star Wars EU, Thrawn/Pellaeon, seduction
Star Wars, Barriss Offee/Luminari Unduli, letting go
Star Wars, Darth Vader/Han Solo, what if
Star Wars, Kit Fisto/Aayla Secura, something like family
Stargate Atlantis, Elizabeth/Todd, negotiations
Stargate Atlantis, John/Todd, bound together
Stargate Atlantis, John/Todd, feeding
Stargate Atlantis, Rodney/Todd, anything in the name of science
Suikoden V, Oboro/Raven, how to shut him up, annoying the annoyance
Suikoden V, Shigure/Sagiri, bloodplay, she’s the only one he’ll let near him with a knife
Supernatural, Azazel/John, time travel
Supernatural, John/Jo, daddy kink
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, take it
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, turning Dean into his sex slave

Talented Mr Ripley The, Dickie Greenleaf/Freddy Miles, convert
Tales of the Abyss, Asch/Luke, masturbation, he sees his other self in the mirror
Tarzan, Clayton/Jane, she'd never spent so much time near a man
Tarzan, Tarzan/Jane, a proper bed was overrated
Tarzan, Tarzan/Jane, jungle flowers
Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, he has more talents than Jack first realized
Torchwood, Tosh/Gwen, as the newbie, Gwen must submit to one of the original members
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, conditioning, Stockholm Syndrome
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, empathy/telepathy
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, go to him, stay with him if you can / but be prepared to bleed
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, gunplay
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, possessiveness, ownership, "*My* monster."
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, so I would choose to be with you / that's if the choice were mine to make
Toward the Terra, Keith/Matsuka, submission, obedience
Toy Story, Buzz/Woody, "I don't think it would mean the same coming from me"
Toy Story, Buzz/Woody/Jessie, OT3 fluffiness
Toy Story, Buzz/Woody/Jessie, Spanish Buzz
Trinity Blood, Abel/Cain, two halves of a whole, incomplete without you
Trinity Blood, Abel/Isaak von Kampfar, a delightful gift, lovely pet
Trinity Blood, Abel/Isaak von Kampfar, beautifully broken
True Blood, Bill/Sam, dreams become reality
True Blood, Bill/Sam, this was never about Sookie
True Blood, Eric/Bill, not jealous any more
True Blood, Eric/Lafayette, blood play
True Blood, Eric/Sam, mutt
True Blood, Sam/Bill, dream
Twilight, Bella/Edward, freaks and geeks
Twilight, Bella/Jacob, greasemonkey
Twilight, Carlisle/Charlie, annual physical
Twilight, Carlisle/Jasper, equals
Twilight, Edward/Jacob, switch
Twilight, Edward/Seth, his own personal fan boy
Twilight, Jacob/Edward, balance
Twilight, Jacob/Edward, don’t have to hide any more
Twilight, Jacob/Edward, heat
Twilight, Jasper/Emmett, wrestling

Underworld movies, Michael/Selene, possessive

Vagrant Story, Hardin/Sydney, following orders
Virgin Suicides, Cecilia/Lux/Mary/Therese/Bonnie, rotting

W Delta Z (aka The Killing Gene), Eddie/Danny, get you off
W..I.T.C.H., Phobos/Cedric, loyalty
Warehouse 13, Claudia, Lonely at the top
Warehouse 13, Claudia/Artie, pornography
Warehouse 13, Claudia/Artie/Pete/Myka, The Sex Pollen artifact
Warehouse 13, Claudia/Myka, Hold me
Watchmen, Comedian/Moloch, magic
Watchmen, Comedian/Rorschach, hero worship
Watchmen, Comedian/Silk Spectre I, pregnant
Weiss Kreuz, Schuldig/Yoji/Aya, more than mind control
Weiss Kreuz, Yoji/Aya, dubious consent
Weiss Kreuz, Yoji/Aya, hurt/comfort
White Collar, anyone, staying in on a cold night
White Collar, Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke, drunk sex
White Collar, Peter/Neal, hurt/comfort
White Collar, Peter/Neal, sex pet
Wild Things, Duquette/Sam, dirty
Wizards of Waverly Place, Alex/Harper, Fashion disaster
Wizards of Waverly Place, Alex/Harper, Testing boundaries
Wizards of Waverly Place, Alex/Justin, I hate you
Wizards of Waverly Place, Alex/Justin, Sibling rivalry gone awry
World Ends With You, 777/Neku, go fetch
World Ends With You, Hanekoma/Neku, painting
World Ends With You, Neku/Kariya, lollipop

X-Men (movieverse), Pyro/Magneto, devotion
X/1999, Kamui/Keiichi, in my time of need
X/1999, Kamui/Subaru, moments of weakness
X/1999, Karen/Yuuto, role playing
X/1999, Yuzuriha/Arashi, helplessness
X/1999, Yuzuriha/Karen, firsts
X/1999, Yuzuriha/Kusanagi, overly careful
X/1999, Yuzuriha/Kusanagi, something sweet

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Fangs - (True Blood, Sam/Bill, dream)

kalira
2010-07-15 01:42 am UTC (link)

Sam answered the door with a towel draped around his shoulders and his hair dripping down his back to darken the fabric of his jeans.

If Bill had still needed to breathe, his breath would have caught in his throat. As it was, he breathed deeply, scenting the air. His eyes glazed slightly as he got his first hint of Sam’s true scent - not covered by alcohol, or the patrons of his bar, or even the faint flowers-and-sunshine scent that was Sookie’s own, personal, calling card.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, smirking at him, sleekly muscled arms crossed over his bare chest, doing nothing more than drawing Bill’s hungry gaze down that expanse of tanned skin.

“Would you like to come in?” Sam asked, “Or would you prefer to stand outside and . . . window-shop?” he added archly, shifting his hips and standing away from the wall.

Bill refocused immediately, but he found himself, if not exactly speechless, then at least unsure of what to say. He met Sam’s luring green eyes silently.

Sam grinned. “Because I won’t stand here and be drooled over forever…” Sam trailed off teasingly.

Bill started moving again, suddenly. He flashed forward, stopping, perfectly motionless in an instant, just on the other side of the door from Sam.

“You already have my invitation - you are most welcome in my house, William Compton.” Sam murmured, his voice deeper than usual - it almost held a touch of the animal to it.

Bill rumbled contentedly, deep in his throat, and stepped through the door. Sam didn’t back away, but allowed Bill’s step to bring them a hairsbreadth from touching. Bill’s eyes slid closed in appreciation of the warmth radiating from Sam.

They snapped open again, accompanied by the miniscule click of his fangs descending - though it sounded almost deafening to Bill - when a hot hand wrapped around his waist, slipping under his untucked shirt, and traced a line of sparking sensation to his spine.

Bill looked down, trying to hide the fangs he hadn’t meant to show, but Sam just laughed, throatily, and pulled Bill closer, inside. He shut the door with a flick of his free hand and then pushed Bill up against it.

“I am not afraid of your fangs, Bill…” Sam murmured, leaning close, the hand that had been at his back now pressed firmly against his belly. If Bill had needed to breathe, Sam’s weight against him there would have been most uncomfortable - as it was, it made him want to purr.

Bill panted, eyes at half-mast, wrapping one of his own hands around Sam’s wrist. Sam laughed, leaning just that little bit closer, and, before Bill could divine his intentions, he covered Bill’s mouth with his own.

Bill closed his eyes, moaning into the kiss, somehow both content and burning for more than a simple kiss, no matter how pleasurable.

Sam laughed into his mouth, and then he wrapped his tongue around one razor sharp fang, nicking himself on it slightly, and sucked.

Bill’s head hit the inside of the door at the amazing sensation he hadn’t known was possible, and Sam grinned, pulling away, dropping a light kiss on Bill’s jaw line, and then diving back to do the same to the other fang. He sucked even harder this time, and Bill groaned, uncomfortably close to coming in his jeans - Lord, he hadn’t even taken his shirt off.

Bill shuddered - he almost slammed his head into the underside of the floorboards above him before he remembered where he was, crossing his arms protectively before his face.

Why the fuck was he dreaming about Sam Merlotte!

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	Re: Fangs - (True Blood, Sam/Bill, dream) jlsigman 2010-07-15 09:17 am UTC (link)
	Oh, I don't know, maybe because it's REALLY HOT! fans self (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Fangs - (True Blood, Sam/Bill, dream) kalira 2010-07-15 07:16 pm UTC (link)
	helps fan you Well, glad you liked it! (Silly vampire, of course he should be dreaming about Sam!) (Reply to this) (Parent)

Vagrant Story, Hardin/Sydney, following orders

pegunicent
2010-07-15 01:05 pm UTC (link)

Lea Monde never sleeps, not fully, it's halls whisper and echo with the dead and ever dying, the forgotten and barely imaginable. Such is the power of the Dark and it's gifts. Hardin knows this, has faced fiend and foe and fellow cultist in these caverns. Knowledge does not ease the weight of burden on the soul.

"Unbuckle my boots." Sydney whispers in his mind, lounging on a throne of aging ebony wood and dusty velvet. It's the only chair in the room, by necessity of size and a lack of care to evict it for something more comfortable. Comfort is for the Dead, Sydney espouses, always with that cat grin.

The boots are thick leather and heavy iron that never make a sound when Sydney walks, buckling high on his thighs. Removed, they are hollow and ugly, too sharply angled for anything but an Eight-man's cobbled armor. Hardin massages the ragged stumps revealed carefully, unbidden of his master's will, a simple offering of homage.

"Now the leathers John." Sydney's mind voice is as silky as his real one, curling deep in his heart with amusement. He knows how much Hardin wishes to worship, how secure the loyalty of this knight to his liege. Sydney's garments are simple and barely secure, falling away from bony hips almost too easily. There's a fluttering thought of having dinner brought up, of trying to coax the Prophet to eat something, but its swept aside by Sydney's orders.

"My arms, please." he hears, and stands from his place at Sydney's knees to reach for the thin silver wires. It pains him to remove the glittering silver claws, the master-craft alloy of silver-steel that is his lords most obvious defense. Without the armor, the rough, ugly patchwork of scar tissue gleams waxily in the candlelight. Beneath the shoulder Sydney has lost both limbs as though devoured in acid and these aches Hardin is not allowed to ease away. Not directly at least.

"You are the only one who sees the truth, why hide such from your view? Though it's only polite to return the favor, I do believe. I will see you." Sydney never mocks him, says nothing of the lattice work scars of Hardin's back or the cratering of his knuckles. Only watches with a basilisk gaze as John bares himself with a blush of shame for the hard coil of desire that's made his flesh rise.

"I would have you within me, above me. Prepare me as you can." Sydney's eyes take him in, and he's helpless but to listen, blood pounding hot in his veins. He handles Sydney gently, picking him up and carrying him to the aging mattress. There is vera root salve in his rooms, sword oil or potions in the armory, but here there is nothing, and he knows that Sydney will not be tempered to the patience to await his return from foraging. He uses his mouth instead, lifting the sharp hips to spread ivory globes and wet their interior. He has done this before, with razor claws pricking his spine and throaty hums encouraging each twisting thrust of his tongue, but now it is silent darkness around him. Memory and caution guide him.

((Cont.))

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Re: Vagrant Story, Hardin/Sydney, following orders

pegunicent
2010-07-15 01:05 pm UTC (link)

((part 2))

When Sydney is strung bow tight, his musk coating the air from his weeping shaft and the chasm at Hardin's lips rosy wet, he adds his fingers. He tests his lord's patience with his resistance, submitting with grace the chains of Dark that wrap around him tight in response. He is owned, possessed, his body belongs to Sydney's will. Gladly he takes the ache of arousal, the punishing edge of denied pleasure as he carefully pries Sydney open. When sharp white teeth threaten to cut through Sydney's lips, John eases forward and claims his position as the favored dog of Lea Monde's master.

There is no warning threat of silver at his back, no leather wrapped iron bruising his thighs to push him faster. Not even Sydney's voice touches him to force action. Only hard teeth in his throat and the burning hot steel or an erection on his belly tell Hardin how much his lord wants this, how badly his service is required. He gives in to the silent demands with all his will, this at least, he is practiced at.

The chains on him tighten as Sydney spends betwixt them, untouched. Hardin stills and waits, air hard in his lungs, arms straining to hold him above the smaller man. Want and Need work him over, wracking his nerves.

"I will have you this night, the entirety of this night, and all of your nights thereafter, until we are as one in the Dark." Sydney whispers, his true voice breathing over Hardin's ear, and John can only nod his servility. His throat closes on the truth, but Sydney already knows it, has always known it.

"Now, I would have you do that again. But this time, keep your eyes open."

The idiots of the Church could only pray their God was as kind as John's master, whatever pact the Dark demanded in return.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Vagrant Story, Hardin/Sydney, following orders jlsigman 2010-07-15 02:15 pm UTC (link)
	;adfkj fv a;d;lsfgblka09 a[0eirgnvlkzdnfb nosebleeds ded (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Vagrant Story, Hardin/Sydney, following orders pegunicent 2010-07-15 03:30 pm UTC (link)
	-resurrects- Yay! (Reply to this) (Parent)

Aquisition - (White Collar, Peter/Neal, hurt/comfort)

kalira
2010-07-18 03:38 am UTC (link)

“Sweetie, I don’t know what happened this week - and I know you won’t tell me, don’t worry. I don’t even really want to know.” Elizabeth said calmly, resting a soft hand on his slumped shoulder. “But whatever it was, Neal is all messed up over it. Now, Mozzie and I are going for lunch - hush - and you need to fix him up somehow.”

Peter looked up, eyes wide and troubled. “I don’t know how, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth leant down, kissing his cheek. “I think you’re the only one who can, sweetie.”

Peter sighed, looking at the floor, but he nodded. Elizabeth smiled at him, then walked out, calling goodbye to Neal, ensconced upstairs in their bedroom.

A few minutes later, Peter headed upstairs to check on his ‘pet con-man’.

Neal was still sitting by the window, his grey eyes distant and haunted. Peter hesitated, but laid a hand firmly on Neal’s slim shoulders anyway, instinctively rubbing calloused fingers soothingly across the nape of his neck.

Nate twitched and stiffened, but after a few seconds he relaxed and leaned into the familiar grasp. Peter fought down the strange frisson of . . . sensation that flashed through him at that easy trust.

Neal closed exhausted eyes and tilted his head, resting it against Peter’s chest with a sigh.

Peter froze momentarily, and then forced himself to relax. After a few breaths he gave in to a temptation he’d been fighting - much though he loathed to admit it - since he’d first caught Caffrey. He stroked his hand down Neal’s shoulder and then up to comb his fingers through that perfectly styled hair, disarranging it.

Peter felt a little odd when he noticed the fact that he was now essentially petting Neal Caffrey. A thought made even odder by the realization that Neal was, far from protesting, simply pushing into the caress.

Peter eventually stopped, content to just . . . be. Sharing space and a moment of unthinking silence with Neal. Long minutes later, he sighed heavily, moving around Neal on his chair and settling on its match, barely a foot away.

Neal’s eyes fluttered open - even that was charming, Peter noticed dryly - with a flicker of panic until they landed on Peter, who had made no move to leave him.

Neal took a few moments to regain his equilibrium. When he had, he tilted his head curiously. “What was that for?” he asked, carefully neutral.

Peter shook his head, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Elizabeth told me to ‘fix you’.” he said. Neal looked offended for bare seconds before he brushed it away, his face smoothing expertly clear of any emotion save distant curiosity. “Don’t do that!” Peter insisted impulsively. “And I told her I didn’t know how. She said… Well.”

Neal started, surprised at Peter’s outburst, and then turned thoughtful. He rose, unfolding his lean form elegantly from his chair, stepped to Peter’s side, and then gracefully settled across Peter’s lap.

Peter froze, eyes widening in shock, but he didn’t so much as protest the - rather presumptuous - advance.

Neal leaned down, resting his forearms on the chair back. He smirked, his eyes going bluish in some unknown emotion, and then breathed teasingly into Peter’s ear. “Is that it, Peter? Gonna fix me all up? Make me all . . . better?”

Peter shivered in reaction, and Neal licked his ear; so fast Peter almost thought he might have imagined it, save for Neal’s craftily acquisitive expression. It was one that Peter had only seen on Neal’s face before when he was looking at something he wanted to steal.

Peter blinked, thinking over that odd recollection - for one, he hadn’t quite captured the sheer presence Neal embodied when he was so focused . . . on anything.

“Afraid I’m going to try and steal you away, Peter?” Neal murmured, mirroring his thoughts uncannily.

Peter’s gaze dropped to Neal’s lips.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Aquisition - (White Collar, Peter/Neal, hurt/comfort)

kalira
2010-07-18 03:38 am UTC (link)

Neal chuckled, brushing Peter’s own with a teasing kiss. “I wouldn’t.” he breathed. “Not from Elizabeth - and a truly handsome addition is always sweeter when it’s given over willingly . . . Peter…” his voice was teasing and light, but held notes Peter had never heard before - even when Neal was playing his latest woman.

Peter closed his eyes briefly, trying to think. After a long moment of looking into those amazing eyes he pulled Neal back down for a deeper kiss.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

Yes - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?)

kalira
2010-07-19 04:12 am UTC (link)

Despite what most might think, Jim was anything but unobservant. It took a mere few weeks of odd twitches, and unusual stiffening - even for the already stiff half-Vulcan - for him to notice that something was off about the way Spock reacted around him.

Of course, around missions and standard shipboard duties, it took him considerably longer to pinpoint the reason. He dug up everything he could on Vulcans - old files from his classes, those only available now that he was a Starfleet officer, even a few that shouldn’t, technically, have been obtainable even now.

After all his research, he was still left puzzled - and, of course, asking would likely get him nowhere, even were he ready to admit defeat.

Eventually, it turned out to be mostly luck that helped him make his final deductive link. He brushed against Spock often - he admitted to himself that perhaps, just possibly, more often than strictly necessary - and he knew that Vulcans possessed touch-telepathy, making skin-to-skin contact of any kind intimate - even uncomfortable.

This time, though, something particular must have disoriented Spock, because he nearly dropped a padd instead of handing it over. Jim grabbed it instinctively, incidentally catching the middle and ring fingers of Spock’s left hand as well. Spock gasped, his face paling even as the tips of those tempting ears flushed dull green.

Jim glanced down at their entwined hands, and suddenly a blaze of connections slipped through his mind, flashing up countless moments when he had been left wondering what could possibly have discomfited his First so. He’d known that Vulcan hands were sensitive, but…

Jim experimentally loosened his grip by the slightest of margins, dragging the callous on the pad of his index finger between the two fingers he held. “Damn, Spock! Exactly how sensitive are your hands?” he asked incredulously, noting the display of several tell-tale signs of arousal shared by humans and Vulcans.

Spock’s cheeks flushed at the question. “Th- Captain. T-.” His colour deepened at his uncharacteristic inability to finish a sentence, and Jim’s brows rose.

“That sensitive, then?” Jim asked, more quietly, stepping closer. Spock took several quick breaths as his mind relayed the precise - miniscule - distance now separating the Captain’s body from his own.

Spock opened his mouth to answer - probably indignantly - but all that came out was a small whimpering noise. Jim grinned, and Spock was almost angered, save for the light in his Captain’s eyes - one he had learned to recognise as excitement and curiosity. The smile took longer to register as lust - something he saw fairly often on the Captain’s face, but never before aimed at himself.

“Oh yes, it has been.” Jim murmured softly. Spock startled, and Jim’s grin twisted in fond amusement. “Apparently Vulcan touch-telepathy works two ways - with those sensitive to psi-forces. Like me.” Jim explained.

Spock swallowed, moving to speak, but suddenly drew a blank. Jim discarded the padd with his left hand, turning his hand to clasp Spock’s softly but more completely. His thumb stroked over the sharp contours of Spock’s knuckles, and he felt the affection behind the caress register in Spock’s surprised mind.

“This isn’t new, Spock…” Jim breathed, knowing that they were close enough that he would be heard. Spock inhaled sharply at the implication.

Jim forced himself to step back and release Spock’s hand, though he couldn’t resist a last fond, teasing stroke across the backs of those long fingers. He took a deep breath before looking up to meet Spock’s eyes, knowing his own would be dark with his desire. “Do you want this, Spock? Want me?” he asked, hiding uncertainty.

Spock stood, meeting his eyes, calmly and motionlessly for a long time. Jim remained just as calm, outwardly, at least, waiting as patiently as he could.

Finally Spock stepped forward. He took Jim’s hand, bringing their hands up between their chests. “Yes.” he answered, his voice quiet. “Yes, ashayam.”

Jim didn’t know what the word meant, but the traces of emotion Spock showed were more than enough to satisfy him. “Good.” he breathed, twining their fingers intimately before leaning over their hands to kiss Spock softly.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	Re: Yes - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?) jlsigman 2010-07-19 10:20 am UTC (link)
	Ooooh... yes! (Reply to this) (Parent)

	Re: Yes - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?) k8bnimble 2010-08-01 07:22 pm UTC (link)
	Yummm...nice. I like the dimension about Spock's sensitive hands. Vulcans are a different race and therefore may very well have different erogenous zones. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Yes - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?) kalira 2010-08-01 10:53 pm UTC (link)
	Good! And, well... According to the TOS canon - I think, as far as I can remember, anyway - hands really are an erogenous zone for Vulcans. As cool as that sounds, it also sounds like it might be really inconvenient, doesn't it? And as much as I like hand!porn, with this prompt I just had to write! ~Kalira (Reply to this) (Parent)

	Re: Yes - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, how sensitive are your hands?) dani_meows 2010-08-10 04:25 am UTC (link)
	I adore you. This is awesome! (Reply to this) (Parent)

Jasper's Point - (Twilight, Jasper/Emmett, wrestling)

kalira
2010-07-19 04:18 am UTC (link)

Emmett gasped a rough breath to speak. “Why are you doing- Uh!”

Jasper shifted his grip, easily restraining the bigger male. “You get way too cocky, you know? You may be stronger than the rest of us, but strength alone won’t win a fight.” he explained conversationally.

Emmett bucked and Jasper rode the movement easily before planting a pointy elbow squarely between his shoulder blades. Emmett arched into the dirt, trying to get away from the sudden pressure. “Get off!” he bellowed.

Jasper snorted, turning Emmett over so his face was no longer in the dirt - though he didn’t move to let Emmett up. “No.” he spoke calmly, but firmly.

Emmett growled, but when he tried to push Jasper’s hands off his shoulders, he couldn’t budge them. He glanced down, tracing the wiry lines of Jasper’s arms with his eyes, taken aback by his inability to budge the slight male.

“I spent my entire life as a mortal proving I could take on anyone, no matter how much bigger and stronger. After I was turned, it was much the same - I’ve always relied on my mind and my speed to win.” Jasper explained, his rich amber eyes faraway.

Emmett stopped struggling, mesmerised by this previously unseen side of Jasper. Emmett had seen him fight, of course, but…

Jasper refocused instantly, and the new awareness and curiosity in his eyes made Emmett moan. Jasper’s eyes went hazy, his hands reflexively tightening and relaxing. “Oh. Ohh.” he breathed, tilting his head back.

Emmett blinked as Jasper’s hips rocked unexpectedly against his stomach. “Wh- Are you okay, Jazz?” he asked uncertainly, fighting the impulse to buck up into Jasper, intensely aware of him resting just inches from where Emmett suddenly, desperately, wanted him.

“Oh, yes.” Jasper hissed, looking back at Emmett, whose eyes had gone black. “You… You feel so good. Caught it before, of course, but not like- All that focused on me and you’re just so-” he broke off, yelping, as Emmett grabbed his hips.

Emmett grinned - though he wouldn’t swear it was a smile, rather than a predatory leer - and squeezed Jasper’s hips, dragging the small frame down until Jasper was straddling his own hips.

Emmett noted that Jazz looked even slimmer with his own large hands curving around him. That thought fled as his wrists were abruptly seized by fine-boned hands that felt as though they could shatter him effortlessly.

Emmett moaned, letting go and tilting his head back. Jasper chuckled roughly - it took Emmett a moment to place the sound, it was heard so rarely - and traced his fingers up the centre of Emmett’s chest, all the way to his throat.

Emmett swallowed, feeling the fingers press harder for a moment, and the shudder of delight his reaction induced in Jasper.

Just as Emmett was wondering precisely what he’d gotten himself into, Jasper’s hand relaxed, winding a teasingly circuitous path up the side of his neck and across his face. Emmett shivered as Jasper traced his mouth with a single fingertip, then bent to follow the same path with his tongue.

Jasper pulled away, and Emmett turned, lunging slightly to catch his mouth. Jasper froze, but allowed Emmett to kiss him, forgetting himself and moaning, eyes fluttering shut, as it deepened.

Emmett pressed his advantage, spreading himself over Jasper and pinning him gently to the ground. Jasper absently allowed it, basking in the wash of emotions Emmett was broadcasting.

Emmett grinned, snaking a hand up under the three shirts - talk about overkill - Jasper was wearing. Jasper raised a brow, then slid his own hand over Emmett’s back and ripped his shirt in two pieces, discarding them carelessly.

Emmett startled upwards, but covered it by sucking his way down Jasper’s neck, making him moan again, then tremble restlessly, tossing his head.

A moment later, Jasper had suddenly disappeared from under him, and Emmett scrambled to his feet, brushing off the muddy streaks on his chest and looking around.

Jasper was perched in a nearby pine tree, smirking. “We really ought to be getting back, don’t you think?” he suggested innocently. “The others will be wondering where we’ve disappeared to - after all, we were just going out for a simple hunt.” He landed lightly only feet away, tracing his eyes pointedly over Emmett’s body.

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No Lie - (White Collar, anyone, staying in on a cold night)

kalira
2010-07-21 02:47 pm UTC (link)

Neal was curled up by one of the huge windows in his room, watching the snow fall past him and warming his hands on a large cup of hot cocoa - hardly as sophisticated a drink as one might expect of him, but there he was.

His eyes were faraway, had anyone been there to see him, and his mug was going cold - he’d rather forgotten it, in the depths of his thoughts.

Neal had certainly been shot at before - though it was an experience he endeavoured to avoid, as much as possible - but today had been different, somehow. Perhaps it had been the fact that Peter had tackled him, interposing himself between Neal and the gun - perhaps it had been the look in his . . . friend’s eyes as he ran those broad, calloused hands over Neal’s body, checking frantically for any injuries.

Neal sighed, rising from his chair by the window. He couldn’t remember when the majority of his thoughts had begun to follow that pattern - when Peter had become the centre of his life. That in itself was worrying, but he was too tired, and too confused, to worry about it tonight.

Cup rinsed and discarded in the sink, clothes stripped off and folded neatly to await cleaning, Neal tucked himself away in his large - and rather luxurious, if he did say so himself - bed.

For all its size and comfort, though, tonight it felt cold and . . . lonely. Neal curled up on his side, hiding his face in his comforter. He wasn’t supposed to get lonely - Neal Caffrey, expertly seducing, masterfully thieving, skilfully forging… He was supposed to be entirely self-sufficient. The occasional ally, but he needed no company to soothe away his fears for goodness’ sake.

If he did, though…

Neal turned over, scolding himself for his flight of fancy even as he closed his eyes, allowing the memory of Peter’s wide hazel eyes to fill his mind, tracing his own hand down his chest, teasing the sensitive spots he knew better than anyone.

Neal moaned, eyes fluttering open, arching his back as his hand slid over his abdominal muscles, achingly slowly. Peter would definitely be the type to soothe fears, for all his awkwardness…

Neal put off his relief, teasing at the inside of his thighs and spreading them further, as if to allow a person heavier than he was to lie there. He panted, his eyes slipping half-closed as he imagined tracing the heavy lines of Peter’s shoulders.

Neal teased the underside of his cock with delicately calloused fingertips, stroking smoothly up from the base. He traced back down, forcing his hips to remain pressed flat on the bed as he repeated the teasing and familiar series of movements.

Eventually he needed more than that, firming his grip and speeding his rhythm by the slimmest of margins, keeping his strokes smooth and steady.

Neal’s hips tilted up into his stroke, rocking needily, whimpering. At this point his mind was absorbed enough by his fantasy to start believing in his conjured Peter.

Strangling the urge to scream his pleasure, Neal’s hand tightened, sweeping his thumb over the head of his cock. His hips jerked up into the sharp sting of sensation it caused as he allowed himself to moan Peter’s name - no one was present to hear him, after all.

Neal traced the edges of his flat abdominal muscles, which fluttered almost ticklishly at the touch. He exhaled shakily, shades of a whine showing through his ever-refined voice as he sped his strokes further, no longer restraining himself from bucking into the sensation.

With his own expert touch, and the experience of a lifetime, it wasn’t long before Neal was biting down lightly on his lip, shuddering his release and smothering the yell of Peter’s name he wanted to let loose. His eyes were dark in his passion, and, though once more opened wide, looked blankly up at nothing.

Less than ten minutes later, Neal was smothering shaky noises he denied, even to himself, were sobs. He curled back up, hiding from the world - from himself - and trying not to think about anything.

Neal laughed wetly. If his life had taught him anything, it was that he could never lie to himself - it was why he was so good. He never lost himself to a con, or allowed himself to lose sight of his objective.

It was also why he couldn’t dismiss or deny the fact that he knew he was in love with Peter Burke.

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Trapped - (White Collar, anyone, staying in on a cold night)

kalira
2010-07-21 02:50 pm UTC (link)

A/N: Because I had two ideas hit me almost simultaneously from the one prompt, I wrote two comment!fics for it - I asked a mod, and she said to go ahead and post them both, so here they are!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neal moaned, arching up into the strong body covering his own slender one.

Peter chuckled, voice low and alluring, and trailed his lips down Neal’s outstretched neck at the same time as he stroked up Neal’s arms, drawing them above his head.

Neal tossed his head, fighting the firm hold on his wrists, but not truly distressed by it. Moments later, he felt something cold - and uncomfortably familiar - click around his wrists, and then Peter’s warm hands disappeared.

Reassuringly, they reappeared again, this time curved around his waist, but his hands were still handcuffed to his headboard. He tilted his head back, looking at the tightly locked cuffs and snorting in annoyance. He resisted the urge to whine pathetically, returning his gaze to Peter, who was moving down his body with a mischievous smile.

Neal yelped as Peter nipped sharply at the tender inside of his thigh, jolting away from the sudden pain. Peter chuckled again, nosing into the line where Neal’s thigh met his hips. He breathed hot warmth teasingly there, and just as Neal lost control of his whine - half-protest, half-pleasure - Peter . . . stopped teasing.

Neal gasped, his hips rising out of Peter’s light grasp and thumping, slightly painfully, into him. “Ah! Ah… Peter!” Neal yelled, yanking hard at the restraints clicked tightly around his wrists.

Peter pulled back, just far enough to speak, his mouth slick and twisting into a smug smirk. “Careful, Neal… Wouldn’t want to damage those delicate wrist bones of yours…” he teased, voice rough.

Neal hissed in a breath as Peter’s words blew air against his sensitised skin. To be completely frank, though part of his mind told him that his wrists would be red, and quite possibly raw, tomorrow, just at the moment, he truly could not care less.

In fact, he had just opened his mouth to voice this thought - as coherently as he could, at the moment, which probably wouldn’t be much, at the moment - when Peter elected to stop their conversation and resume his previous activity.

Neal made a single, strangled and nonsensical noise, rather than the sentence he had planned - it was most uncharacteristic, and very unrefined. He really didn’t care how uncharacteristic or unrefined he sounded just now, though . . . not as long as Peter didn’t stop . . . doing . . . that!

Neal moaned Peter’s name, turning his hands fitfully inside the unforgiving clasp of the metal. Peter made a muffled sound that could, possibly, have been a laugh - or Neal’s name - he couldn’t quite be certain.

Neal’s legs shifted restlessly against the mattress, and he enjoyed the feel of them brushing up against Peter’s solid body. After a few moments of that movement, though, Peter pinned them flat to the bed as well, with a rumbling noise of annoyance, the feel of which sent shivers of pleasure up Neal’s spine at the same moment as the sound of it heightened his arousal yet further.

Neal’s throat constricted, pulling taut on a scream as he jolted against Peter’s hold. Peter tightened both of his hands, one curved around Neal’s right thigh and the other settled wrapped at his hip.

Peter pulled away, pressing a slick kiss to Neal’s hip, only inches above his fingers, which were dug painfully hard into the muscle wrapped around Neal’s long thigh.

Neal whined, even as the final tremors of his orgasm flickered through his body, twisting in the entrapping layers of blankets on his bed.

He shot upright in bed, hand leaping to his wrist, feeling nothing but smooth skin. Neal’s face twisted in mild disgust as he registered the sticky - and rapidly cooling - mess inside his silk sleeping pants.

He threw the covers away, sliding out of his bed and wincing at the chill of the floor. He steadfastly ignored the object of his dream as he glided into the bathroom to strip off his pants and wash away the remnants of his slumbering pleasure.

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Trapped, Part II - (White Collar, anyone, staying in on a cold night)

kalira
2010-07-21 02:50 pm UTC (link)

That done, he washed his face, hoping it would clear his mind. It failed, but he hadn’t really believed that it would help, in any case.

Neal decided to forgo redressing and returned to bed - a little confused and still caught in a haze of desire.

He sighed as he collapsed back against the fluffy pillows, wrapping the blankets about him to ward off the New York winter chill.

If only it were desire alone, then perhaps he would be able to forget it . . . to brush off his dream with ease - even if it was rather embarrassing, for a man of his age - but it wasn’t.

Every moment he spent with Peter deepened the respect he had had for the man almost as long as he had been chased by him. That respect . . . it grew into something deeper, day by day, something Neal refused to acknowledge, even now that Kate was- especially now. He knew he could never tell Peter why he had truly wanted to stay, even if he had already explained that he had actually wanted to remain here - anklet and all.

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Heat - (Sky High, Warren/Will, burn marks)

kalira
2010-07-23 02:24 am UTC (link)

Layla had tried to be supportive of Will’s relationship with Warren, even when they had become uncomfortably loud in their room. Even if it was terrifically uncomfortable, being able to hear the screaming downstairs in her own room.

This, on the other hand, was not good screaming. She ran up the stairs, an instinctive reaction to the sound of someone in pain, and froze before the door - she could see the dangerous glow of flames beneath the door.

She bit her lip, rocking back and forth uncertainly, before finally making a decision and opening the door. She immediately wished that she hadn’t when she saw the men entwined on the bed - there was no mistaking the fact that she had been mistaken before; she must have been.

It took her a few moments to regain enough sense - and mobility - to back up out of the room - their room - and shut the door again; luckily the men were far too absorbed in themselves to notice her standing there. Layla was left gasping, slumping against the opposite wall, involuntarily replaying the after-image burned - appropriately enough - into her mind.

Warren had been stretched out across the black cotton covering their king-size bed, every inch of his tanned skin glistening in the heat of passion - it must be from that; no amount of heat she had seen him engulfed in had ever caused him to sweat at all.

Will was straddling his long-time lover’s hips, one hand braced on Warren’s waist, holding him down easily, keeping him from bucking up. Will’s muscles - which had gotten more defined, though not much larger, in the years since he’d gotten his powers - flexed distractingly under his skin as he rose and fell.

The reason for the shriek which had so alarmed her appeared to be when Warren’s control - flawless in most situations - had shattered and his power had erupted. One of his hands was wrapped around Will’s wrist, the other twined in his curly hair, and both were flaming - Will didn’t appear to either notice or care.

In fact, there were fluctuating streaks of fire erupting from places on Warren she had never seen flame before - and a few from places she had never seen at all.

What had finally snapped her out of her shock was Warren raising the hand from Will’s wrist to stroke him - at least, that was what Layla assumed he was doing, from the movements she could see - and Will’s head falling back as he screamed again.

The bed - specially designed to withstand flame and super-strength - groaned in protest as Will began to bring himself down harder. That was when Layla backed out, but she could still . . . hear them.

It was only a few minutes later - though it felt rather longer - when Will’s screams - now released almost every time he took a breath - were joined by a deeper sound that Layla would almost have to call a roar.

Her face was probably even redder than her hair, Layla thought, as those intermingled sounds were echoed by a slow creak and then a resounding crash as the bed apparently gave up the fight. She found herself amazingly glad that the sheets used in Will and Warren’s room were completely fire-proof - otherwise the whole house probably would have caught by now.

Layla left when she began to hear quiet murmuring noises of - well, ‘sweet nothings’ was hardly Warren’s style . . . either of them, actually. In any case, she really didn’t need to hear - or see, oh Gaia - anything more than she already had.

Layla slowly backed down the hallway and crept down the stairs, praying that neither of them would remember her - rather ill-advised, apparently - invasion of their room, and her inadvertent invasion of their privacy.

She thought that perhaps she would find something else to do - maybe spending a few hours in her greenhouse would make her blush - which seemed like it might become a permanent fixture just at the moment - go away. And maybe they would have finished with ‘round two’ by then - she had no illusions that there wouldn’t be one, even if they had already broken their bed. Again.

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Becoming Familiar - (Star Trek XI, Kirk/Spock, first time)

kalira
2010-07-23 08:48 pm UTC (link)

Jim’s smile was softer than usual, more private, as he urged Spock back until he bumped into the edge of the bed. Spock startled slightly at the nudge - then felt embarrassed as he immediately realised what it was - but Jim didn’t say anything, just encouraged Spock to lie back on the - surprisingly large - bed.

Spock was trembling under his hands, Jim noted, as he mapped out the smooth, angular lines of his new lover’s ribs. Jim smiled, pressing a brief kiss to the slight hollow of Spock’s breastbone.

As he moved lower, he felt the fluttering vibration of Spock’s heart beating under his palm. Spock reached down, drawing elegant fingers over Jim’s brow, feeling the buzz of his thoughts almost connecting with Spock’s own.

Jim looked up at the touch, his brows rising curiously. Spock didn’t speak, simply pulling Jim up over himself until they could kiss again. Despite the illogic inherent in the statement, Spock felt as though he were swiftly becoming addicted to his Captain’s kisses.

Jim enthusiastically answered that unspoken request, remapping the hotspots he’d noted before and teasing Spock into taking a more assertive role.

Spock most certainly did, burying his hands in Jim’s already mussed hair and deepening the kiss, moaning into his lover’s mouth. Jim whined softly at the firm grip, enjoying the gentle reminder that Spock was so much stronger than he.

Moments later, Spock pulled away - not even breathing hard, the bastard - and left Jim’s lips in favour of nipping a possessive bruise over his collarbone.

Jim moaned, seizing Spock’s shoulders. This had the unwanted effect of causing Spock to release him, and Jim made a faint protest. Spock loosened his hold in Jim’s hair, stroking softly through it in apology.

Jim pushed up on his forearms, scowling down at his lover. Spock’s eyes widened before he cleared his expression. Before he could withdraw too far, however, Jim caught him in another kiss, and as Spock’s hands returned instinctively to his lover’s face, he felt the residual wash of pleasure that his overly-possessive action had caused.

It really was far too presumptuous a claim to make, but Jim appeared to have gloried in it, all the same. Spock attempted to relax, soothed by the reassurance that could not be falsified, and had just fallen into the kiss when Jim pulled away again. He was gasping as he pulled Spock’s hands into his own, and after a few breaths, Jim pressed a wet kiss to the centre of each palm.

The sensation, which would have been pleasantly arousing to a human, was overwhelming in its intensity for Spock. His muscles loosened and a loud, involuntary moan was drawn out of the depths of his chest as he went limp.

Jim smirked triumphantly, having hypothesised that Spock would react much as he had. He nipped the thick muscle at the base of Spock’s thumb before soothing over the sting with his tongue. Spock cupped Jim’s jaw, his dark eyes warm.

Jim grinned, releasing both of his lover’s hands to draw his own down over the slim contours of Spock’s hips. Jim curved his hands and gripped there, tilting Spock’s hips up into his own as he pressed them downwards.

Spock’s hands slid down to his shoulders, clutching them hard in reaction to that first brush of hips. He knew that it was likely too hard for Jim, but he couldn’t quite manage to make his hands release the rapidly bruising flesh.

Jim groaned, biting his lip, eyes fluttering as he pushed harder against Spock. Spock echoed the noise, widening his legs to allow Jim freer movements. Jim settled eagerly into the opened space, and Spock instinctively wrapped his legs around Jim’s, holding him down and close.

Jim moaned, bucking down into the mirroring arch of Spock’s body and turning his head to nuzzle and lick at the point of his lover’s ear. Spock shuddered at the sensation, tilting his head in an attempt to coax Jim into continuing - which he did, promptly and with pleasure.

Spock moaned, dragging one hand down over the well-muscled contours of Jim’s back and insinuating the other between their bodies - closely pressed as they were - to stroke them both to a rapid completion. The pleasure was doubled for Spock due to the incredible sensitivity of his fingers, trapped between them, warmed and slightly chafed by the friction.

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Reclaiming - (Sherlock Holmes 2009, Holmes/Watson, mine)

kalira
2010-07-25 10:45 pm UTC (link)

Sherlock twisted his hands, tugging them apart and towards himself, even knowing already that they were quite well secured - with his own scarf, as it so happened, the other end of which was knotted loosely to the middle of his headboard. Sherlock had watched and listened as John tied it, and he knew he could get free with relative ease and speed, but he also knew that John would be displeased by such an action, and the threat of that outweighed the rather minor discomfort of his bonds.

“You just couldn’t manage it, could you?” John barked exasperatedly. “Not for five minutes - less - even!”

Sherlock tried - unsuccessfully - to hide his blooming smirk. John scowled at him, but, a moment later, it dissolved into a reluctant, though fond, smile. Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, then tilted his head upward just enough to catch his old friend in a kiss.

John resisted bare seconds before he returned it, sinking his left hand deep into Sherlock’s thick hair, pulling his lover’s head back and dominating the kiss. Sherlock gave in easily, moaning in pleasure at the almost brutal pull.

John dragged himself away, and Sherlock leant up to bite his bottom lip harshly. John groaned, and Sherlock released him with a smug chuckle. “Never!” he insisted.

John unwillingly echoed his laugh, frustrated by his lover’s stubborn - and possessive - nature, but knowing him too well to expect anything different, all the same.

“You knew.” Sherlock posited confidently. “You knew all the time, but still you persisted determinedly in your course. You wanted me to sabotage-”

John covered Sherlock’s mouth with his own again in mid-sentence, muffling the man’s incessant flow of words. It took a few moments for Sherlock to actually stop trying to speak, and when he did, John pulled back, raising a brow and looking guardedly down at his lover. “Of course I knew what you’d do. I still thought-” he broke off, sighing.

“Ah, but I was right, was I not? You did miss the threat of the macabre in your everyday life.” Sherlock stated triumphantly, “I daresay you even missed me, occasionally…” he murmured, his voice quieter, more subdued, now.

John smiled, stroking the side of Sherlock’s face with a gentle hand. “I missed you more than anything else, Sherlock. Of course I did.” John pressed a kiss to his lover’s ever-tempting lips - he had a hard time resisting those lips, even when they were twisted around a cruel taunt - or, worse, when they were in full view of Inspector Lestrade and his men.

He pulled away a mere fraction of an inch. “Always.” he breathed almost silently against Sherlock’s now kiss-reddened lips.

Sherlock caught the slight sound, though, and he grinned - a smile John would wager that few had seen; unguarded and affectionate.

The smile was the only response Sherlock gave - but that was to be expected, and John knew it. Sherlock was far too uncomfortable with emotions in general, and his own particularly, to voice his feelings on the matter.

John kissed the throbbing pulse point half-hiding just beneath the line of Sherlock’s jaw, then nipped the spot before laving the sting away with his tongue. John knew his lover far too well to be offended by his silence. Besides, at the moment he had better things to be focused on…

He kissed his way further down Sherlock’s well-defined chest, vindictively pressing harder on the bruises from yesterday’s death-defying stunt - which had nearly been a deadly stunt, instead - and eliciting small hisses and yelps of pain mixed amongst the moans and rolling pleas for more.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s hips bucked up, dragging across John’s chest. John’s head whipped up to meet those sly hazel eyes, and as soon as he was distracted, Sherlock’s thighs bent up and locked around his waist.

John gasped at the sudden restraint, and glared up at his lover. “Cunning bastard!” he snapped, and Sherlock smirked.

John made to rise, and Sherlock released him innocently. John moved back up, pressed a swift, teasing kiss to Sherlock’s smirk, then lowered his hips onto his lover’s. He rocked down, and Sherlock’s eyes closed as he moaned John’s name.

As worked up as they both were, and as long as it had been, both were soon groaning their release.

“You know I’ll always be yours, don’t you?”

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Stress Relief - (Star Trek XI, McCoy/Kirk, almost too tired)

kalira
2010-07-26 07:11 pm UTC (link)

Bones was slumped at his desk when Jim came to see him. Jim bit his lip, feeling a sinking sensation at the sight of Bones scribbling away, scowling, Jim would bet… It was a familiar sight - but not a happy one.

Jim paced forward, leaning on the edge of the desk and watching the steady progression of Bones’ work. After a few minutes with no sign that Bones had noticed him, Jim laid a hand on his lover’s shoulder.

Bones jumped, his head whipping around, but he relaxed as he was faced with only his lover’s concerned face. “You can’t keep doing this, Bones.” Jim murmured, sliding his hand up to caress Bones’ cheek.

Bones smacked his wrist lightly, snorting and shaking his head. Jim sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the desk - only briefly before Bones pulled Jim down easily, scowling, into his lap, instead.

Jim grinned, and Bones raised a brow. Of course he had just given his lover precisely what he wanted. Almost everyone did, eventually - even him. Jim wriggled happily, spreading his legs further and nestling into Bones’ firm grip on him.

Bones chuckled, kissing Jim’s neck - the same spot he so often ‘stabbed’ with the medications that Jim tried so strenuously to avoid most of the time. Jim leaned his head over to give Bones more room, whimpering slightly - conditioning, Bones mused, smiling against the rapidly reddening skin.

Jim rocked purposefully in Bones’ lap, aligning their bodies for the best angle with the ease of long practice. Bones groaned, releasing the red mark for a moment before biting down hard on it.

Jim’s rhythm stuttered and he jerked in Bones’ grip, nearly howling at the feeling. Jim regained his equilibrium quickly, however, and he tangled his fingers in Bones’ thick hair, forcing his head back to kiss him, hard.

Bones tilted back in his chair, moaning roughly into Jim’s mouth and nibbling on that teasing lip when he began to pull back. “Sure you’re not too . . . tired?” Jim asked impishly, his crooked smile playful and affectionate.

Bones groaned. “Yes! I was, you idiot, but now…” he trailed off as he realized just how strongly his drawl was emerging. Jim had stilled at the first word, and now his hazy blue eyes drifted closed and he was almost purring in reaction.

Bones chuckled at the half-forgotten, though familiar, reaction from his lover, despite the fact that Jim’s reaction was spurring his own arousal higher. Despite what he’d said, though, he really was too tired for anything complicated.

“Remember . . . back after your first try at that hobgoblin’s test? I brought you off just like this, mm?” Bones rumbled in a rough voice - he intensified his accent as much as he could, watching the shivery sensations rolling over Jim, who was now writhing in his lap.

Bones smiled, kissing his way along the rough line of Jim’s jaw to his ear, murmuring in rich, gravelly tones. “Want to bet I can do it again? …right now.” he snapped the last word out, much like his usual insistent arguments with Jim, and his lover ground downwards even harder, whining, his eyes half-open and cloudy.

Bones bucked up into the curve of Jim’s body, pressed down into his lap with almost all his strength - it would probably leave a few painful bruises, but at the moment, he couldn’t really feel the pain - or bring himself to care.

Bones groaned, his eyes closing as he slumped over, his forehead resting against Jim’s own. “B-” Jim gasped, “Bones!” He bucked once more, as Bones’ arms tightened around him, and his voice strangled to a mere shadow of a moan as his orgasm followed swiftly after Jim’s.

When Jim regained his senses he thought that perhaps he ought to feel smug - after all, Bones was all relaxed now, and not stressing out over his bureaucratic nonsense busywork - but he was a little too relaxed and contented to even bother with such a thing.

Though they might consider moving to a bed - his or Bones’, he didn’t really care, but this chair was barely comfortable for Bones, much less Bones with Jim in his lap, not to mention the evidence of their recent ‘stress relief’ drying inside their respective pants.

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Telltale - (Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk, claim)

kalira
2010-07-29 11:30 pm UTC (link)

Jim was on his way to the bridge when he ran into Lieutenant Uhura.

He hid his sudden discomfort and smiled winningly at her. Thankfully, their conversation was brief - she’d worked gamma shift, working on a complex translation, and was going off-duty now - and it wasn’t long before Jim was walking away cheerfully.

Uhura cleared her throat, and Jim winced - he allowed himself the wince, as he wasn’t currently facing her. “Captain, with all due respect… What happened to your neck?”

Jim blinked, then felt himself flushing slightly as he turned to face her. She was referring, of course, to the uncomfortable bruise half-way up his neck - too high for his uniform to cover, of course. It was worthy of remark; he’d seen it in the mirror this morning - it was a deep bluish colour.

He coughed, stalling, and she raised a brow. “Don’t tell me. You ran from a vaccination again? You know, Captain, it would be far easier on everyone if you just sat still - Dr. McCoy doesn’t like having to bruise you to give you a hypospray, I’m sure.”

Jim strangled down the laugh welling in his throat, remembering precisely how he had gotten the bruise - it had not been from Bones.

A flash of imagery resurfaced in his mind; Spock panting near-silently a steady rhythm to his counterpoint of moans and demands; the deep noise that sounded almost like pain that Jim had dragged from his lover as he tightened his grip on Spock’s shoulders, dragging him down harder; the scream he knew had come from his own throat as Spock bit hard on his neck, after a moment he’d started sucking, though he hadn’t released the bite.

Jim had felt the rush of blood that signified a forming bruise, but the knowledge had faded into unimportance as he felt the undercurrent of ‘mine’ from Spock, carried by the expanses of their skin touching. Touch-telepathy, a part of Jim’s mind had noted absently, as the rest of him was occupied with a spectacular orgasm and bruising finger-marks into Spock’s arms.

This morning he had caught sight of the resulting bruise, which had had just enough time to colour fully as they slept - he’d bet the damn bastard had done it there, where it would be entirely visible no matter what he did, on purpose.

Jim had voiced this thought to his lover, half-scowling and trying to repress the small part of him that loved that thought, but Spock had merely raised a brow in a particularly infuriating smug version of his non-expression.

Uhura’s annoyed stare - though Jim fancied there might be a touch of concern there, as well - finally got through to him, and he laughed. “Oh, uh… Yeah. Bones being a little overzealous again, you know. Got to- uh, get to the bridge, now - hey, Spock! Wait up!” he added, raising his voice.

Before Uhura could react - demand a better explanation, perhaps - he was trotting off down the corridor toward his First Officer - she thought he looked rather like a man that had just been thrown a life-line.

Uhura’s brows rose as she saw Spock adjusting his stride minutely to compensate for the Captain’s. Spock turned his head, murmuring a greeting, and she recognised the flick of an eyebrow and a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth as a subtly affectionate welcome.

Perhaps even more surprising than Spock’s actions was the fact that the Captain appeared to have recognised them himself - he returned the welcome with a wide grin and wriggled his own eyebrows teasingly as he joined Spock.

Uhura’s eyes tracked back to that bruise, and she had to wonder…

She’d known instantly that the Captain was lying, of course, but . . . Spock? Really? He had never been so-

Maybe that was the point, though.

She had never brought out that kind of passion in him - the Captain might not always do so in the best of ways, but he could always get a response from Spock.

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Telltale, Part II - (Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk, claim)

kalira
2010-07-29 11:31 pm UTC (link)

Uhura nodded, once, decisively, and turned, striding down the corridor - shocking a Security Ensign, she noticed - and wondering when, exactly, the rest of the crew would notice what was going on.

Dr. McCoy would know already, she thought - he might not wish to know, but he would. She doubted anyone else had noticed anything - or given it any credence if they had.

Uhura hummed to herself, amused and filled with a sense of anticipation.

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	Re: Telltale, Part II - (Star Trek XI, Spock/Kirk, claim) dani_meows 2010-08-10 04:21 am UTC (link)
	this is brilliant! :-) (Reply to this) (Parent)

Roommates and Thin Walls - (Sky High, Warren/Will, play it loud)

kalira
2010-07-30 03:37 pm UTC (link)

Set-up: they're in college, sharing a house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Turn it up, will you?”

Layla looked up at her friend when Maj voiced the odd request. “Um, why? Isn’t it loud enough? Besides, I like being able to talk while we study. Don’t you?”

Zach, who had been bopping his head to the music, paused in order to listen to their discussion with a curious expression.

Maj shrugged. “I just think you’ll want it up higher, to protect your delicate and virginal ears. Suit yourself, Layla.” she went back to her Chem 102 book.

Layla stared at her, completely confused. Zach, bored again, went back to bobbing his head, ignoring the essay he should have been writing and Ethan periodically remembering to poke him with a pencil in an attempt to make him pay attention.

Layla finally shook her head, forgoing turning up the stereo and going back to her own book.

Within a few moments, her red face testified that she now knew why Maj had suggested turning up the music. “Oh my!” she said, her voice embarrassingly squeaky.

Maj quashed her smile, catching the low mutter of Warren’s voice beneath the powerful almost-bellow of Will’s. “I did try to tell you, Layla. Sorry!”

“Huh?” Zach looked puzzled, but as if on cue, there was a loud thump as something hit the wall just the other side of Maj’s chair. The noise was echoed by a breathless laugh and a half-irritated, half-pleasured groan. “Oh.” he said, before giggling.

“Yeah. ‘Oh’. My room here often echoes with . . . er, theirs, at night. In the evenings… Mornings… Afternoons…” she trailed off, smiling amusedly. “You might never have found out, had our living room not been full of paint fumes.”

Layla’s eyes went wide. “Haven’t you . . . told them?” she asked incredulously.

Maj shook her head. “Why? It’d just embarrass Will. They won’t stop - and I don’t mind, anyway. Not most of the time, anyway. It can be inconvenient when I really need to sleep before a test and they won’t be quiet, but…”

Layla flushed darker. “You- Mind- But-” she stopped her stammering forcibly, swallowing hard. “I’ve known they were together for years, of course, and I assumed-” she broke off, embarrassed to think of how much she had ‘assumed’ - and imagined, even. “I didn’t really think…”

Maj shrugged. “I thought that it might be . . . well, I thought you might rather have it drowned out by the music. You know,” she added, mischievously, “it was something very like that that destroyed the wall of the living room, I suspect - not a fight.”

Layla sputtered, and, as she heard a husky moan from the other side of the wall, turned the music up. She focused as intently as she could on the book still spread in her lap, flushing brilliantly and trying to ignore Maj’s snickering.

Unbeknownst to all of them, at least one of the young men that were the subject of their conversation actually listened to it, much amused by the topic.

Warren smirked as he heard Layla’s stammering embarrassment, and listened to the ensuing discussion absently as he waited for Will’s brain to switch back on. He chuckled softly at Maj’s guess - not far off, either. It had actually been a small fight that had developed into truly spectacular fight-sex. And then make-up sex.

Warren grinned in fond remembrance. And then they had moved upstairs and had just-because sex. Sometimes it was really, really awesome having a lover with super-strength - a vanishingly short refractory period, for one. Even if a fantastic orgasm did make his brain short out for a bit.

At that moment, Will stirred from where he had been sprawled across Warren’s lap, looking up into his lover’s eyes with a sappy, adoring grin.

Warren snorted, rolling his eyes, but the gleam hiding in them, and the quirk at the corner of his mouth - not to mention the possessive grasp he had kept on Will’s shoulder - betrayed his equal fondness.

Warren pulled Will up to kiss him silly - sillier - and then, catching the sound of the music next door clicking up, broke the kiss to grin wickedly. Be a shame not to take advantage of such an opportunity, wouldn’t it?

Will moaned, eyes slipping closed and hips bucking downwards forcefully, as Warren dragged a purposefully over-heated hand down the arch of his spine.

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Frenzy - (Twilight, Edward/Jacob, switch)

kalira
2010-07-31 02:08 am UTC (link)

I just finished this one, and I was a little unsure about posting it - I think I may have lost the thread of the prompt at some point, but... Well. It was inspired by the prompt, so here it is. Oh, and a warning for rough, but decidedly consensual, sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edward pressed an icy kiss to the back of Jacob’s right shoulder, and the muscles twitched at the sensation as he turned his head to meet his lover’s eyes with a quirked brow and an amused grin.

Edward huffed petulantly, and Jacob lost control of his laughter, collapsing flat to the bed and gasping. Edward slipped off Jacob’s back, stretching out next to him.

“Sorry, Ed… But you just-” Jacob broke off, stroking his lover’s cheek with fond amusement. Edward frowned, but leaned into the caress anyway. Jacob grinned, pushing up on his elbows and leaning over to kiss Edward - who resisted briefly, but eventually relaxed into the familiar slide of heated lips and tongue.

He whined when Jacob pulled back again, leaning up to chase after his mate’s mouth. Jacob chuckled softly, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow beneath one collarbone before continuing down, scenting the dip of ribs and swell of stomach muscles proprietarily.

He lingered there, licking and teasing with calloused fingertips, for what seemed to his already worked-up mate to be far, far too long.

In his impatience, Edward’s own hands shifted restlessly, digging into the sheets and rising to sweep along Jacob’s shoulders or tangle briefly in his shaggy hair.

Jacob shifted up and prowled over Edward, smirking predatorily. The sight of that grin sent a frisson of sparkling arousal through Edward’s body, and he reached up, curving slender, strong hands around Jacob’s shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss.

Jacob growled, pressing against him, not flinching at the unnatural chill of the skin flattened against his own. Edward hissed back instinctively, curling up into his mate’s domineering pull, and Jacob’s grin softened as he nuzzled gently up Edward’s neck and behind his ear.

Edward panted lightly, drawing in the powerful, alluring scent of his mate - wildness and trees and the strong, musky odour of a predator covered by hints of dirt and metal and engine grease. He moaned at the familiar, intoxicating tease to his senses, so thick he could almost taste it.

Jacob nipped his neck, growling in a low and friendly tone before moving down and sinking his teeth in, hard, just above Edward’s collarbone.

Edward’s responding shriek lodged, unheard save for a thready hint of sound, in his throat, as Jacob took advantage of his distraction to thrust down and in and, god, hard.

Jacob stilled patiently, teeth still locked in Edward’s shoulder, as his mate’s fingers slid down his sides firmly before gripping, punishingly tightly, at his hips. He licked and sucked at the flesh caught between his teeth as he caught the barest wisp of his own blood-scent in the air.

Jacob released the bite, watching absently as it sealed itself, leaving a bare shadow of a mark behind, and breathed deeply, recovering his wind and steeling his control.

It was only a few moments later when both males decided they had waited long enough. Edward reached to yank his mate into moving again, goading him with short nails and strong hands, but before he could make contact, Jacob drew away . . . and before Edward could protest, he slammed back.

Edward’s shriek found voice this time, and his hands glided back up Jacob’s spine, encouraging him to keep this pace, to stay here and close and pressed, hot and solid, against Edward’s chest.

Jacob’s grin was distracted and crooked, his focus directed to the pure physicality of playing his mate’s body and chasing his own pleasure, but he obliged Edward’s pull, stretching his body as close as he could over his mate’s.

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Frenzy, Part II - (Twilight, Edward/Jacob, switch)

kalira
2010-07-31 02:08 am UTC (link)

Edward panted, wrapping his long, slim legs around Jacob’s hips to keep him there. He began drawing in rapid, thickly-scented breaths and releasing them in breathy moans, some of which lent themselves to words.

Jacob himself was too far gone for words, and replied to his mate’s cries in rumbling growls and needy whines as he skilfully worked them both higher and higher in the familiar spiral of their ecstasy.

It wasn’t long before Edward’s roughly-moaned words devolved into growls and whines - his slightly lighter voice blending smoothly with his mate’s into a familiar harmony.

Edward’s grip - with hands and thighs, both - tightened on Jacob until several major bones fractured, though neither noticed, caught in the throes of orgasm. Jacob’s powerful body arched down into Edward, and a howl forced its way through his clenched teeth.

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Better - (True Blood, Bill/Sam, dreams become reality)

kalira
2010-07-31 07:40 pm UTC (link)

This was actually the first thing I wrote for the battle, but somehow it got shuffled around and I didn't realise until today - weird. I think I may have taken the prompt a little more literally than intended, but... Ah, well. I hope it is enjoyable, either way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill paused in mid-stride as Sam suddenly twitched and began to laugh quietly. He raised a brow. “You are amused?” he asked, not offended, but puzzled.

Sam met his gaze. He looked a little embarrassed, now, but he cleared his throat and explained his laughter just the same. “I, uh . . . had a dream like this once.” he murmured, looking steadily at Bill’s collarbone.

Bill paused for a long moment, thinking. “You had a dream like this?” he asked. When Sam nodded, Bill looked bemused. “I showed up at your door half-naked and covered in dirt - and no little blood - asking to use your shower.”

Sam nodded, flushing slightly. “And offering to share it with me.” he added quietly, stepping forward until he was breathing in Bill’s scent.

Bill paused, thoughtful, and then matched Sam’s stride forward, settling a hand in the centre of his chest with deliberate slowness. “Would you care to join me?” Bill’s smooth tones slid pleasantly through Sam, just as he had imagined - dreamed.

Sam’s mouth dropped open on a breath frozen in his throat as Bill’s lips quirked slightly upwards and his hand slid confidently downwards until it was curved over the rapidly rising bulge in Sam’s jeans.

Sam took a couple of gasping breaths, then grinned crookedly. “I think I would, actually.” he answered, and Bill wondered if that had been in his dream as well.

Bill stepped to the side, trailing chill fingers over Sam’s hip and ducking his head in an instinctively predatory way - the sudden adjustment sent a flash of heat through Sam, triggering a low moan.

Sam flushed dark as he heard the hint of a whine in his own voice, but Bill only chuckled, his smile returning, bigger than before. He stepped closer again, leaning in alongside Sam’s face, and brushed his lips across Sam’s cheek softly.

Sam’s flush faded slowly, and he brought his own hand up to wrap around Bill’s upper arm, turning himself back to face Bill.

“Come…” Bill breathed, twisting his hand to retrace his previous path and run his fingers up the centre of Sam’s chest, tracing the rounded outlines of hard muscles, hidden beneath soft skin and a bare sprinkling of hair.

Sam’s gaze fuzzed out, and he turned to follow Bill unthinkingly, slipping his hand down Bill’s arm and tracing the contours in the centre of his palm. “All right.” he replied, as less than an afterthought.

Once that deep blue gaze was torn away from his own, Sam regained some of his usual equilibrium, but he continued into the small bathroom of his small trailer before breaking gently away from Bill’s grasp.

Sam settled lankily on the edge of the tub and reached for the taps. “Don’t have a problem with heat, do you?” he asked. “I like it hot.”

Bill snorted. “I most certainly do not.” he drawled, stepping closer and running a hand up Sam’s spine.

Sam shivered under the touch, but not from the transfer of cold from Bill to himself. He started the shower and then turned his back on it, rising and dragging the length of his heated chest up Bill’s before sucking at the side of his mouth.

Bill gasped an unneeded breath at the sensation - the most he’d felt of Sam ever, when they weren’t fighting, in any case - and then turned into his mouth, drawing him into a proper kiss, deep and exploratory, slow and burning in its intensity.

Sam whimpered quietly, grasping at Bill’s shoulders for support, currently unable to care about the submissiveness his instincts were causing him to display in the face of Bill’s greater strength.

Bill growled low in his chest, moving Sam back until he hit the wall - harder than was comfortable, even for him. The impact made Sam throw his head back, but Bill simply took the opportunity to bend his head to Sam’s neck, sucking ever-so-gently at the tender, steadily throbbing flesh just above his jugular. It might not be Bill’s favourite place to bite, but it had a mighty tempting feel for all that.

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Better, Part II - (True Blood, Bill/Sam, dreams become reality)

kalira
2010-07-31 07:40 pm UTC (link)

Sam relaxed into the wall, allowing Bill to do as he would. Bill smiled against the hot skin and then placed a gentle kiss there before withdrawing.

“Come, then.” he instructed, stepping back towards the shower. Sam stayed there, splayed against the wall, panting, for another few moments before he joined Bill, brushing past him and stepping into the water.

Sam’s eyes slipped closed briefly as the heat washed over him. Bill followed him, drawing the curtain closed behind him and then hissing involuntarily at the sudden lance of heat. Sam smirked over his shoulder at his companion. “Hot enough?” he asked.

Bill hissed again, dark eyes going even darker as he plastered himself against Sam’s back. Sam moaned, leaning back into Bill’s chest and running his hands down the sides of Bill’s hips, pulling him forward.

Bill leaned in until his lips brushed Sam’s ear. “Better than a dream?” he asked playfully, hips arching against the small of Sam’s back.

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