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telesilla ([info]telesilla) wrote in [info]porn_battle,
@ 2008-09-18 14:48:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:round five

Prompt List: Round Five
And now...the moment we've all be waiting for!

Prompt Lists: Round Five

You'll notice that the Western Media prompts have been handled a little differently; we're experimenting still. Also, please excuse any mistakes; all told we had over 2600 prompts and even split up as they were, things will slip past us.

So, you have a week; at some point in the evening on Thursday the 25th, I'll close the battle. Until then?

*points down to the comments*

Porn goes here!

You must put the prompt in the subject header of your comment. If the prompt is too long, name the fandom and pairing and as much of the rest as you can. (This is so that at the end of the round, we can make a link back to your fic on the final Master List.)

If your fic is too long for one comment, post part one as a top level comment and then the second part in reply to that comment and so on.

Have fun!

ETA: I am aware that most of the lists off site are all scrunched together. They shouldn't be and I'm working on it. Thanks for your understanding.

As of now--1:10 PST--the Porn Battle is closed.

The list of fics will be up soon, hopefully by tomorrow evening unless my connectivity issues continue.

Thanks for playing, everyone!



Page 8 of 9
<<[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] >>

(Post a new comment)

Bleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika, known for years
[info]ificouldfly
2008-09-25 03:37 am UTC (link)
Yumichika isn't surprised when a hand slides under his kimono in the middle of the night, then over his chest and down his side until it reaches his thigh and stops. Nor is he surprised when a face looms in front of him in the dark, masculine and shadowed and grumpy looking.

"Hey, what are you doing sleeping so soundly when I'm so fucking horny I can't even think?"

Yumichika smiles at Ikkaku, knowing it will annoy the other man, and reaches down to guide his hand more towards the center.

"I think you'll find that I've been waiting too," he whispers, feeling Ikkaku's breathing speed up as his fingers curl around Yumichika's already hard cock.

Their lips meet, and Yumichika grabs Ikkaku's belt to pull him in closer, moaning when Ikkaku's tongue thrusts into his mouth.

Ikkaku's belt doesn't need much coaxing to come undone, leaving his kimono open so that Yumichika can stroke down his front and against his erection softly enough to make Ikkaku growl and thrust into his hand. Yumichika starts to laugh, but another rough kiss to his lips and a few strokes against his throbbing dick have him gasping for breath and making tiny squeaking noises. It is Ikkaku's turn to laugh as he growls again and rubs against Yumichika's leg.

"Yeah, who's laughing now?"

There's a sudden pounding agianst the wall that makes them both freeze as a voice growls, "Will you two fucking keep it down in there?! For the love of all things holy, I'm trying to sleep!"

There's a pause, then, "I'm trying to keep things down," Yumichika giggles, "but--oh, unh, uh--it's so hard when he does this!"

"Of for-" Their captain's voice sounds both disgusted and furious, and just a tiny bit amused. "Just shut up! I don't want to hear another- another noise from either of you until sunrise, got it?!"

Yumichika and Ikkaku stare at each other, doing their best not to laugh as they both reply, "Yes sir!" Yumichika punctuates his words by giving Ikkaku's dick an extra squeeze, so that the other man's words come out rather strangled.

"Poor Captain," Yumichika whispers as Ikkaku bites his neck. "I wonder why he took the room next to mine?"

"They drew straws," Ikkaku mutters. "He lost."

Yumichika's eyebrows raise, and he curls his legs around Ikkau's. "Did they really?"

"Course they did. They've known for years about us."

Yumichika sighs as Ikkaku kisses the spot he just bit. "I suppose I should feel bad." Then with one swift motion he deftly flips Ikkaku onto his back, knocking the wind from him. "And I suppose I should feel bad about that, too."

Ikkaku watches as the other man draws a jar of oil from somewhere and begins sliding it over Ikkaku's waiting cock. "Maybe...but I sure as hell don't."

Yumichika smiles and smoothes the oil over his own erection. "Ah well, me neither."

"Poor captain."

"Better luck next time."

"I SAID SHUT IT!"

(Reply to this)

Yami no Matsuei, Touda/Byakko/Tsuzuki, truth or dare
[info]pegunicent
2008-09-25 04:34 am UTC (link)
Byakko had the best ideas. Always. But that was just natural for a cat after all. The only reason cats didn't rule everything was because they were smart enough to turn down the responsibility. Who wanted to spend their days cooped up inside doing paperwork when the sun is shining, the wind is coming down from the mountains and they had a very handy, empty sake bottle?

"Truth or dare?" Tsuzuki asked brightly, cheeks tinted rosy and eyes just a bit too bright. His suit was horribly rumpled and at least the jacket and tie had been lost, shoes and socks discarded to feel tender grass and sakura petals.

"Truth." Touda says, not quite a sigh. The snake is way too sober. He hasn't taken a dare all afternoon. Byakko doesn't know if that's because Touda is afraid of whatever he and Tsu might come up with, or if he just flat out doesn't care about whatever they might ask him. Reason is betting on the second option. The idea of Touda afraid of anything just doesn't want to compute, even if it includes yards of pink taffeta and a karaoke seduction of Soryuu's secretary.

"Uhm... damn. Uh..." Their master is so cute when he flounders. Especially since he's floundering in Byakko's lap.

"Ask him if he wants to have sex with us." Byakko whispers in Tsuzuki's ear, mostly to get the flustered blush that spreads itself all the way down his master's chest.

"Uh... Touda?"

The snake is arching an eyebrow at them. You can't see anything under the blackened glass but Byakko knows. He doesn't remember anything about Touda's face before the visor, doesn't know what color those eyes are or if they crinkle at the edges when he's tired. It feels like such a waste.

"Touda... do you want to... have sex with us?"

Byakko can't help but laugh because he hadn't thought Tsu would really say it. That sake must have been stronger than he thought! Touda isn't saying anything, just sitting there, either staring at them or asleep, maybe dead of a heart attack old geezer. Byakko wants to pinch him but Tsu feels way too good sprawled all over his legs.

Finally Touda shrugs, black leather rippling in a very distracting manner. "Only if you're better at it than Kijin."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Yami no Matsuei, Touda/Byakko/Tsuzuki, truth or dare - [info]dancing_serpent, 2008-09-25 05:40 am UTC
Re: Yami no Matsuei, Touda/Byakko/Tsuzuki, truth or dare - [info]pegunicent, 2008-09-25 08:41 am UTC
Re: Yami no Matsuei, Touda/Byakko/Tsuzuki, truth or dare - [info]dancing_serpent, 2008-10-03 04:01 pm UTC
xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness
[info]lysapadin
2008-09-25 08:49 am UTC (link)
Watanuki may have forgotten, but Doumeki remembers, though every last glorious moment of it is rendered sharp-edged as broken glass by the way Watanuki reacted once they were strangers again. Even with the fate of the worlds hanging in the balance, it had been a steep price to have to pay. If he'd known what it would be like to have Watanuki turn away from him in advance of paying, Doumeki thinks, perhaps he wouldn't have agreed at all, no matter how willing Watanuki was to spend himself for the sake of other people.

He hadn't anticipated how heavy it would be to be the only one who carried the memory of their courtship. Everyone else has forgotten the way he and Watanuki fought their way into friendship, building it on a foundation of crises dealt with or averted, mediated through Himawari's constant presence at first, until Watanuki had been able to admit, however grudgingly, that he was just as willing to see Doumeki without her as with. Doumeki is the only one who remembers their first kiss, caught on the run between the world nearly ending and it being saved again. He's the only one who remembers their first time in bed, how Watanuki's breath had caught and how pleasure had shocked him into silence.

Watanuki has forgotten all of that--given it up for the sake of everything else. Fortunately, there are other kinds of memory, the ones ingrained in muscle and bone, and tattooed invisibly across Watanuki's skin. And now, as Doumeki sets about relearning the taste of Watanuki's skin, reminding himself of and teaching Watanuki all of the places that make Watanuki gasp and moan and shiver, he promises himself that he will not give this up again, not for all the worlds there are.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]branchandroot, 2008-09-25 11:23 am UTC
Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 04:16 pm UTC
Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]hullabaloo, 2008-09-25 02:56 pm UTC
Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 04:15 pm UTC
Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]dorrie6, 2008-09-28 05:03 am UTC
Re: xxxHolic, Doumeki/Watanuki, forgetfulness - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-28 10:10 am UTC
Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later
[info]lysapadin
2008-09-25 09:22 am UTC (link)
Face to face with someone he'd only seen on the television or in the pages of tennis magazines for the past few years, Mizuki Hajime found himself at a loss for words. "I suppose you don't even remember me," he said, and then cursed himself for the inanity of it.

But a grin split across Yuuta's face anyway. "Mizuki-san! Is it really you?" he asked, and didn't wait for confirmation before shaking Hajime's hand anyway. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same thing." Hajime glanced over Yuuta's shoulder at the club's dance floor, pointed. "Aren't you meant to be training for the Open?"

Yuuta's grin didn't even waver. "We're taking the night off. Some of the guys have never been to Tokyo before, so I said I'd show them around."

Hajime surveyed the club, which was dark and smoky and crammed full of Tokyo's youngest and brightest. "And you're showing them all the most cultured things, of course."

Yuuta laughed. "Nothing but the best." He grinned again. "You here with anyone?"

"No," Hajime admitted, after a startled moment.

"Great!" Yuuta caught his hand again. "You can catch me up on how you've been."

"But--your, ah, friends--?" Hajime protested, even as Yuuta pulled him away from the dance floor, over to one of the tables where it was marginally quieter.

Yuuta shrugged. "They're all dancing. They'll be fine." He sprawled into a chair, all lean limbs and grace, and grinned at him, mischief in his eyes. "Think they're planning on getting themselves laid tonight, anyway. I don't think I'll see 'em again until they drag themselves in tomorrow morning."

Hajime supposed he could sympathize with that. "If you're sure I'm not intruding..." Yuuta gestured at a chair, insistent, so he sat. "I knew you were in Tokyo, but I didn't think for a second I'd actually run into you." He moved his chair closer to Yuuta's, so they wouldn't have to shout at each other to be heard over the music.

"Yeah, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I turned around and saw you standing there." Yuuta leaned closer. "So, how've you been? I haven't heard from you in forever."

Hajime's fault, that; he'd become slower and slower to answer Yuuta's emails after he had left, as it became increasingly difficult to find things to say to him that weren't commonplaces, things that couldn't possibly be interesting for Yuuta to hear. "I've been well," he said, and shrugged. "It's mostly the usual."

"Yeah?" Yuuta's smile didn't waver. "So tell me about it."

Hajime did, telling Yuuta about his job (financial management, responsible for juggling investments, and if it wasn't as immediately gratifying or unpredictable as managing a tennis player who always found a way to surpass his expectations, it was satisfying in its own way). He kept a careful eye on Yuuta, wary of boring him, but Yuuta listened like every word thrilled him. Maybe they even did; maybe he hadn't needed to be leery of emailing Yuuta with everyday things after all.

Still. There was no point in babbling, and he stopped himself. "What about you?"

Yuuta shrugged. "Tennis, tennis, and more tennis," he grinned. "I tell you, it's a rough life."

"I can see how much you're suffering," Hajime told him; it made Yuuta laugh. "I always knew you'd go far."

Yuuta's expression shifted from its good-natured grin to something surprised, and almost shy, before he ducked his head to hide it. "Wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for you," he said, gruff, soft enough that Hajime had to lean close to hear it.

"Don't be stupid," Hajime told him, "of course you would have." Someone as bright and driven as Yuuta couldn't do anything else. "I knew that from the first time we met."

"Mizuki-san..." Yuuta looked up again, and his smile was something softer, more open than Hajime had expected; it caught him somewhere under his ribs and lodged there, glowing warm. "Thanks."

"It was my honor," Hajime said, suddenly deeply conscious of how close they were sitting, and of the clearness of Yuuta's eyes, and of the weight of the things that had gone unsaid and undone when they'd been too young to know how. "I should--"

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 09:23 am UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]branchandroot, 2008-09-25 11:35 am UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 04:15 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]wei_jiangling, 2008-09-25 06:03 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 06:42 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]wei_jiangling, 2008-09-25 07:13 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-25 08:03 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]seregil_1982, 2008-09-28 03:41 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-28 03:44 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]seregil_1982, 2008-09-28 04:20 pm UTC
Re: Prince of Tennis, Mizuki/Yuuta, ten years later (cont) - [info]lysapadin, 2008-09-28 04:41 pm UTC
Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books
[info]busaikko
2008-09-25 11:21 am UTC (link)
"These are the banned books," Daniel says of the towering stacks on his worktable, and he raises his eyebrows while slitting his eyes. He looks like an Asgard when he does that, Jack thinks: the whole expression drips with aggravating intellectual superiority.

"Well, Daniel," Jack whips back, because, yeah, that had been the whole deal struck with the Sacred Sisterhood Convent of Holiness on P3T-15N. They let SG1 have the dirty Ancient books locked away in the basement in return for -- kiwi fruit, or Advil, or something. "Are they any good?"

"You tell me," Daniel says, turning away to hunch over a scroll. "The ones on the right are technical manuals, heresies in the middle, and sex guides on the left." He flashes Jack a look over the rims of his glasses. "You can look at the pictures."

"Fathu tis," Jack says through a tight smile. He doesn't remember much from the Ancient repository, but he tries to learn fuck you whenever he encounters a new language. Daniel ignores him. Jack picks up the first book, flips through it, puts it down. He tries the second and third, which ought to have been banned for being dull.

The fourth book, though, has detailed colour plates of some of the most acrobatic positions Jack's ever seen. He wonders if the Ancients had a special flexibility gene. He's not sure his body was ever capable of bending like that. He sure as hell can't now. He turns the book upside down to try and distract himself from the fact that he's getting turned on. Whoo-hoo, gotta love that Ancient porn.

"You're ambitious," Daniel says, peering over Jack's shoulder, and Jack fumbles the book. He hadn't even noticed Daniel moving. Daniel's hand holds the book steady. Jack's ears start to burn. "So." He gives Jack another challenging look. "What did you like about this one? The realistic art? The guy who rolls himself up like a hoop and -- oh, dear."

"This guy looks kind of like you." Jack jabs a finger down on a man with an eyebrow malfunction, who is arching up off a platform as he fucks another man. "Kind of. . . myopic."

"It's not the same thing as blind, you know," Daniel says, and shuts the book. "I'd do that. If you asked. Fathu tis," Daniel adds. He's always been a quick learner.

"Yeah?" Jack's chin jerks sideways; his eyes don't move, resting fixed on Daniel's. "Read me like a book, do you?" His jacket's unbuttoned; he shrugs it off and slings it over Daniel's chair. He's not wearing a belt. Neither is Daniel. Daniel puts his hands on him, touching his shoulder and his waist and sliding his palm down the outside seam of Jack's trousers, as if he's looking for something, as if he's lost and too stubborn to ask for directions.

Then Daniel pushes Jack up against the wall, moving Jack's hands up and pressing them there to hold his weight. Daniel disappears for a moment, accompanied by desk-rummaging sounds, and then he's back. He undoes Jack's trousers and shoves them down with his boxers, and kicks Jack's feet wide like a police officer hyped up on fear and adrenaline.

It's not foreplay kind of sex; Jack hadn't imagined it would be. One of Daniel's hands spreads Jack's ass and the other guides his dick. Daniel leans, and he's an irresistable force, pushing into Jack, pushing Jack into the wall, and Daniel doesn't stop, he just keeps pushing, and God wasn't that just like him? He always has to push until Jack shoves back.

And just like that they are fucking hard, or fighting, Jack's not sure, there's some kind of argument being carried out on his skin. Daniel's hands. Daniel's strong, sure hands leaving heat pooling in bruises but never going where they'd do the most good.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books - [info]busaikko, 2008-09-25 11:21 am UTC
Re: Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books - [info]helens78, 2008-09-25 07:18 pm UTC
Re: Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books - [info]busaikko, 2008-09-26 12:07 am UTC
Re: Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books - [info]zoi_no_miko, 2010-01-03 06:31 am UTC
Re: Stargate: SG-1, Jack/Daniel, banned books - [info]busaikko, 2010-01-03 06:35 am UTC
Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer
[info]hyel
2008-09-25 11:51 am UTC (link)
Tangle and Defeat

Morpheus traces the wraiths of a sleeper's desires, molds them, gives them shape. Here a mythic beast, tall as a tree, high-breasted and bull-headed; here a beautiful woman crying; here a young man as full and sweet as a freshly picked blueberry. And there, behind them, the darkness of what the sleeper really wants; a primordial blackness full of creeping crawling intentions.

There's potential there, and he reaches out, puts mouths on tree branches that grab at you as you pass, soft moss that feels like flesh to the touch.

He feels a touch, almost a caress, along his sigil. Bright and cold and intense, it feels.

'Not now, sibling,' he growls.

'But you call to me, brother,' says Desire, in its gallery, lounging against an ornate desk it just thought up, its cabinets bursting with love letters and suicide notes.

'I am making.'

'You are working in my field, brother. You're changing this man's mind.'

'I am fulfilling him. I am...'

'He will become a Corinthian thing. I like him just as he is, and so does my twin. He's ours too. Stop.'

'You do not call me just to talk over the petty wants of a single sleeper.'

'I suppose I am bored. Won't you come over?'

'No.'

'Haven't you forgiven me?'

'I have not forgotten.'

'May I come to you?'

'...Very well.'

They stand in Dream's gallery, Desire like a knife encased in a silk sheath, Dream as black and deep as mystery.

'May I offer you refreshments?'

'No,' whispers Desire, and slinks close, catching Dream's cloak in a slender bone-white hand. 'I'm horny.'

'I hate you still.'

'Yes,' whispers Desire, pressing close. 'Yes.'

Desire never begs - it doesn't have to. 'I could look like her,' it says, as Morpheus' lips touch its neck, a low moan of need in his throat. 'I could smell like her.'

'Don't you dare.'

They stand in Dream's bedroom, which is never slept in and was only put in when Lucien took over and began to model the palace after human needs. Desire's silken gown falls off its shoulders, Dream tugs at a belt he could wish away in an instant. Desire undoes it deftly, its fingertips on what's beneath like concentrated heaven. The jeans come off faster, the cloak pools at their feet, and Morpheus falls back on the soft white sheets. Where Desire's hands touch them, they become red, like passion, like blood, like the secret flesh.

'Another page in our Endless family epic--'

'Quiet.'

Desire falls silent, though it spares a thought to Destiny in his garden, and kisses Morpheus, tastes sweet sorrow on his tongue, feels the rush of its own desire and hatred mingle in the heady mix that called it here. Morpheus alabaster skin is warm to the touch, smooth and rippling and spare, and his movements of flesh-need coax the song of triumph in Desire's soul. 'I'm in you, brother,' it whispers.

Without a word, Morpheus spreads his legs, wraps them around Desire's hips, and Desire can feel his cock hot and thick against its belly. It takes it but a moment to guide itself into it's brother, tight but moist and deep and sweet.

Flesh-bliss is only surface. This is soul-bliss. A thousand dreamers come in their sleep. A hundred thousand. They will never forget what they see, the rutting of gods in a changing room, eternity in each gasp and thrust.

The palace shakes in the unravelling aftershocks. A ming vase dreamed of by an archeologist shatters, books fall off the library shelves and pile themselves on the aisles, some chocolate cakes become ostriches, and every flesh and blood dreamthing feels the stirring of the mating instinct. It passes quickly. The Dream King is rarely so careless.

Desire lies its head on its brother's chest, slipping into an unaccustomed calm. It had been a long time since it had taken a lover, and had almost forgotten this part - or at least the way it felt first-hand. Desire felt peaceful, pleasant. Unbidden thoughts and images appeared before its eyes.

It sat up, disquieted, scared.

Dream touched its arm, a light caress. 'And I'm in you, sibling,' he said.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]branewurms, 2008-09-25 06:27 pm UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]hyel, 2008-09-26 05:54 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]mrkinch, 2008-09-25 08:56 pm UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]hyel, 2008-09-28 03:36 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]the_reverand, 2008-09-25 09:33 pm UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]hyel, 2008-09-26 05:54 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]quaedam, 2008-09-26 09:14 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]hyel, 2008-09-28 03:35 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]kira_k, 2008-09-28 11:45 am UTC
Re: Sandman: Desire/Dream, diary of a seducer - [info]hyel, 2008-09-28 11:42 pm UTC
Vampire Knight, Kaname/Zero, resistance is futile
[info]moontyger
2008-09-25 04:38 pm UTC (link)
The first time Zero drank his blood, Kaname said nothing about repeat occasions. Nothing about the pleasure of it, the thrill of fangs in his throat, sharp points of pain, a taboo no one else would dare break. The second time, he stayed silent as well, though he smiled, a smile that caused Zero to glare even more murderously than usual, waving the gun at him in such a way that he might almost believe he were serious.

The third time, though, he spoke up. “You realize, of course, that you don't need my blood again so soon. Your mind is as stable as it ever was.” Which wasn't saying much, though he forbore to point that out as well.

“Shut up,” Zero hissed, and pressed the gun to Kaname's throat, hard enough that it would bruise were he merely human.

“You must know why you're here,” Kaname continued, smiling, if not the indulgent smile he had for Yuuki, fangs extended at the scent of blood, even his own. “You see why it is forbidden.” Kiryuu must know; he wouldn't be here if he'd been able to keep himself away, though his response was only a low, animalistic growl.

He closed his eyes as fangs touched his throat, tilting his head willingly, ignoring the gun as though it didn't exist. “You might as well put it away. We both know you won't shoot me.” Not only because without Kaname, the death sentence would stand, but for the more primal reason, obvious in the way violet eyes slid shut and Zero writhed against him. If he killed Kaname, he'd never taste his blood again. He was more his slave than he'd ever been Shizuka's.

The scent of his blood and Kiryuu's seemed to fill the room as he bent to bite him in turn, knowing he wouldn't push him away and the others knew better than to interrupt. Nor did Zero resist when Kaname reached for the zipper of his pants, sliding it down with a minimum of fuss, offering pleasure as though he were merely human, as though he could ever really find a warm hand around his cock as fulfilling as the taste of blood from a willing throat. They both knew it was a lie, as much a lie as all his pretense at humanity, but Kaname furthered the game just the same, stroking him hard and fast, enjoying the helpless whimpers of mingled pleasure and self-hate against his skin. Even for this, Zero wouldn't stop, too caught in the taste of blood and power to pull himself away.

It was Kaname who pushed him away, when he knew he was too far gone to stop him, too far to do more than beg him not to stop. Still smiling, the cruelty he would never, ever let Yuuki see in his eyes, he did as Zero begged, kept stroking him until he came all over his hand, the smell of sex added to the scent of blood and humiliation nearly enough to bring him to orgasm as well, without a single touch other than that of fang and gun. But he'd never been human; here, where no one else could see, he felt no need to pretend to be other than the predator that lurked beneath the languid beauty of all vampires.

After, he turned away, dismissing Kiryuu completely with a single gesture. “Clean yourself up and get out of here.” He wondered how long it would be before he saw again, what would happen if he refused him, forced him away. Would he shoot him, despite the consequences? Had his addiction gone that far, or was that still to come? One day, he'd find out.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Vampire Knight, Kaname/Zero, resistance is futile - [info]ificouldfly, 2008-09-26 09:34 am UTC
Re: Vampire Knight, Kaname/Zero, resistance is futile - [info]moontyger, 2008-09-26 08:54 pm UTC
Re: Vampire Knight, Kaname/Zero, resistance is futile - [info]k8bnimble, 2010-07-25 09:42 pm UTC
Yuugiou, Jounouchi/Yuugi, tenderness, he used to be a thug
[info]mischif
2008-09-25 05:05 pm UTC (link)
Jounouchi used to be a thug.

The world had been harsh, treating him with a striking closed fist and Jounouchi had learned to do the same. Lash out at people, with words and fists and feet and attitude, just to stay safe, stay together, stay on top, stay alive, stay sane.

Yuugi had seen that, had seen past that to realise that what the boy whom everyone thought was a thug wanted friends. Wanted to be close to people but didn’t know how.

It had taken Yuugi meeting Jounouchi’s world, the world of a striking fist, to break the barriers between them. To draw Jounouchi out of that world, to see the other worlds around him.

The worlds of duelling, of friendship, of gentle touch with an open hand. Jounouchi was still harsh, like a golden sunbeam that was too bright to look at, but he was warm and giving and caring once he’d been given the chance. The opportunity to open his closed fist and touch in something other than anger.

And now when Jounouchi touched, such as his battle scared hands on Yuugi’s hips as he slides inside of Yuugi’s eager body, it is so very tender.

-fin-

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Yuugiou, Jounouchi/Yuugi, tenderness, he used to be a thug - [info]ladynero, 2008-09-26 10:34 pm UTC
C.S.I., Nick Stokes/Warrick Brown, a little time off
[info]the_reverand
2008-09-25 06:06 pm UTC (link)
This could also be in answer to the prompt "playing to win".

When they're not processing a scene they sometimes get toghether. At first, when there was no DNA to match or blood to find, they would have a drink together, in a bar, on one or the other's sofa. Later they would use their time off to challenge each other to various one-on-one sports, which Nick usually won, and they never made bets.

Once, after a week on the case of an abused and murdered kid, they argued during hoops and Warrick threw a punch but Nick just threw his hands in the air and stepped back, red-faced and sweating and walked off the court. On Monday Warrick brought him coffee and apologized with a shrug and open hands and Nick just nodded and said "two sugars, next time."

That evening they met for drinks and long after midnight Warrick asked if Nick really meant what he'd said about love and sex.

"Why do you ask?" Nick said, slouching on the sofa beside Warrick, game controllers long abandoned for pillows, both of them speaking in low, sleepy tones.

Warrick only laughed lightly, rolled his head toward Nick.

Nick smiled patiently, "Do you want to know if I love you or if I'd have sex with you?"

"Man, I just asked if you meant what you said."

Nick shrugged. "When don't I?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe what you should ask," Nick suggested, shifting closer, "is my definition of love."

"Or sex," Warrick corrected.

Nick leaned in for the kiss first, but Warrick took control quickly, so that while the first touch was soft and warm and Nick, the second and every one after was deliberate and unabashedly Warrick. Lips on lips soon became tongues and teeth and when Warrick swung a leg over to straddle Nick and massaged him through jeans Nick drew back. "What happened to foreplay?"

"Playstation?" Warrick suggested, working at zippers.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick asked, watching Warrick's hands, his own on Warrick's waist, moving up his ribcage, sizing up an opponent.

"We could wrestle," Warrick suggested, taking Nick's cock into his hand, "See who loses."

"You'd lose," Nick said, but his voice broke in the middle of saying it so that it wasn't very convincing.

They still get together sometimes when they're not processing a scene. Sometimes it isn't planned and Nick shows up at Warrick's and they cook steaks and play Madden and they laugh about something and Warrick will touch Nick's arm and Nick never doesn't touch back. Sometimes it is planned and they meet at Nick's and play basketball, and fuck slow and long in the shower. Always kissing. Nick likes to kiss.

Sometimes they schedule vacation days so they overlap, and drive out to the dessert and fuck in Nick's truck and stay in one of the few hotels where they've never processed a scene and practice a little boxing or wrestling. Usually boxing. Warrick always wins those.

Sometimes they don't fuck. But not very often.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: C.S.I., Nick Stokes/Warrick Brown, a little time off - [info]mrkinch, 2008-09-25 11:21 pm UTC
Princess Tutu, Lilie/Drosselmeyer, sadism
(Anonymous)
2008-09-25 06:16 pm UTC (link)
((Squeaking this in under the deadline since I doubt this pairing will ever see a fic if I don't!))

Lilie is a writer. Not in the traditional sense, of course -- she hasn't ever written anything down. Not yet. But as she learns her dances and criss-crosses the ballet academy on her daily errands, her mind is a constant tapestry of narration.

Once upon a time, she thinks, watching Ahiru skulking towards the boys' dormitory when no one else is looking, there was a peasant girl who fell tragically in love with a beautiful prince. When Ahiru slips back through the common room at night, her footsteps quiet and her face grave, and Lilie smiles and wonders if she was spurned by Mytho, or if she encountered his cruel, fiery-tempered roommate.

It's a wonderful story, in her head -- the earnest peasant girl, the stark castle walls, the fierce palace guardian who set upon her with fire and sword, and the handsome prince at the top of the tower who never noticed the drama below him, though the poor girl was drowning in her own sorrow.

Drosselmeyer, she thinks, would be pleased with it.

Between classes, Lilie goes to the library. Her eyes glide over long histories and scholarly treatises on the arts to find her favorite section, tucked away in the corner of the stacks. She has been here many times before, and knows the books by heart, but still she comes nearly every day to re-acquaint herself with her favorites. And her favorites are all hear, collected on one shelf and under one name.

Lilie loves fairy tales, but none have ever touched her like Drosselmeyer's books. Other authors are too bland, too pretty, too obsessed with golden-haired princesses and white horses. Lilie could care less about the happily-ever-afters of virtuous girls and brave boys, preferring instead to dwell on evil queens, cannibal ogres, and big bad wolves.

Drosselmeyer's stories are not like the others. Even his princesses are monsters under their skin, their hair bristling with black feathers and their eyes cold and cruel and beautiful; or, if they were truly good at heart, they are doomed by uncaring stars to painful destinies. When she reads of the Prince shattering his own heart, she can nearly feel the cold steel sliding through her own breast and hear the Prince's final cry of perfect, all-consuming agony.

Lilie reads of the death agonies of the Knight and the Prince with trembling hands, dreams up terrible punishments for the raven princess, and leaves the library with her face flushed red.

In her daydreams, Drosselmeyer is a handsome young man with sharp, dark eyes and long fingers, ink-stained.

The day after their first lesson en pointe, Lilie sits with Pique in their shared room, bandaging her friend's bleeding feet with a slowness that is as much fascination as care. Lilie considers the situation from the viewpoint of her beloved master of the macabre, and imagines the story of a girl who dances herself to death -- or perhaps the tale of a wicked stepmother whose cruelty ended in red-hot iron shoes.

At night, she dreams of Drosselmeyer -- her Drosselmeyer, breathtakingly handsome in his finest black frock coat and a devilish smile. He writes his stories in blood, this Drosselmeyer -- the blood of beautiful princesses and clever miller's sons -- with a black raven's quill. His latest work is the Tale of Savage Princess Lilie, but he has no need of any ink. He writes it on her naked back with slow, loving strokes of his razor-sharp pen.

Lilie awakes suddenly to the chime of clocktower bells, writhing in imagined pain, and, gasping, fumbles under her nightgown with one hand.

The next day she is in the library again, and when the student ballet troupe performs Giselle at the end of spring, Lilie dances as the vengeful queen of ghosts, pale in her makeup, her pale arms and white shoes curved like the blades of a scythe.

~~ anima_mecanique on LJ

((^^; all my Tutu fics are creepy!))

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Princess Tutu, Lilie/Drosselmeyer, sadism - [info]cuddlesquid.livejournal.com, 2008-09-25 06:43 pm UTC
Re: Princess Tutu, Lilie/Drosselmeyer, sadism - (Anonymous), 2008-09-25 10:13 pm UTC
Final Fantasy IX, Eiko/Vivi, awkwardness
[info]wei_jiangling
2008-09-25 06:47 pm UTC (link)
He never once imagined that he would be alone with Eiko. Not like this, anyway; not when the two of them being alone leads to Eiko trying to kiss him and settling for a hug when she couldn't find his lips, and not when that hug somehow ends with him wearing significantly less clothing. He asks her why, and she shrugs and says she's curious, she doesn't know what a Black Mage looks like, really. And then she looks at him more seriously and says she thinks he's cute and she likes him, but she doesn't know what to do with him, and won't he show her?

They're in a room in the palace in Alexandria, and it seems an amusing coincidence that there happens to be a large, soft bed nearby, and that Eiko is dragging Vivi toward it. Alright, the latter is not so much a coincidence. Soon they both sit in the middle of the bed, Vivi perplexed and Eiko playful and both more naked than they really should be, and Eiko kisses Vivi on the part of his face where his lips should be and doesn't seem to care whether his lips are really there. And Vivi sighs because it feels nice, and he's surprised and confused and never expected this, but he isn't about to complain.

His hands move across her skin, cautious at first, then more confident, and lower, and she nods encouragingly. And he knows that some people would say this is wrong, they're just kids, they shouldn't be doing things like this-- but aren't they both older than most people their ages?

Even if people think it's wrong, when he sees the look on Eiko's face as he touches her between her legs, he thinks it can't be wrong; anything that feels this good and makes him this happy can't be wrong, can it?

And he smiles, though he doesn't think Eiko notices, because humans never can tell when he's smiling. But to his surprise, she tells him that she's happy, and she says that he looks happy, too.

---------

Vivi opens his eyes, and he's in a tent and not a nice bed, and Eiko is there, but she isn't touching him. He watches her for a moment, laying there asleep with a small smile on her face, and wonders if her dreams are anything like his.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Final Fantasy IX, Eiko/Vivi, awkwardness - [info]sky_pirate_tat, 2008-09-25 07:10 pm UTC
Re: Final Fantasy IX, Eiko/Vivi, awkwardness - [info]wei_jiangling, 2008-09-25 07:16 pm UTC
Battlestar Galactica/Doctor Who, Kara/Martha, stupid frakkin men
[info]vulgarweed
2008-09-25 06:52 pm UTC (link)
“So you’re really from Earth. It’s really true.”

Martha nodded. “London, specifically.”

“Fraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak,” muttered the other woman, drawing deep on a cigar that smelled like the TARDIS overheating and shaking her head with that seen-it-all, done-it-all, might-as-well-hang-it-up-now way.

Some things were universal, wherever there were people. Spirits, for example. Despite its name, Martha though Ambrosia tasted like Glasgow rotgut that even that little chavette chippie would turn her nose up at. But this hotshot, this Kara, slugged it like water in a desert. Which space was, in a way, especially when you were lost and the ragtag fleet wasn’t much of an oasis.

“And I’d love to take you there, but that doesn’t seem to be an option right now,” said Martha, taking another drink and finding it went down a little easier the second time. Probably it would on the third as well. She was sure she’d find out.

“Left you, did he?” sneered Kara. Her derision wasn’t aimed at Martha. “Frakkin’ men. Won’t ever ask for frakkin’ directions.”

“He’s not even really a—“

Kara turned around in sudden attention. “Oh. I had a couple of those too. No difference really, godsdammit.”

“Well, he’s not a Cylon, if that’s what you’re thinking.” It had taken Martha a little while to really understand that complexity of that issue – oh, the Cybermen-looking creatures were straightforward enough, but the fear that the others inspired gave her a shiver. She could almost sympathize with that “skinjob” and “toaster” business, if it hadn’t struck her as tastelessly racist. Still, identity politics took on vast new dimensions once you left the nursery of Earth and started seeing divisions among humans for the playground rubbish it really was.

“Didn’t think so. You can’t really tell though. Not until it’s too late. Learned that the hard way.”

Martha made a noncommittal noise and reached for the bottle again, to see Kara’s glazed but bright eyes gleaming wicked.

“Does he frak like one anyway?”

“What?”

Kara rolled her eyes.

“No!” Martha cried. “I mean…we haven’t…”

“Yeah? No shit. They’re all out for just one thing—humans, skinjobs, whatever your flyboy in the blue toilet stall is. But,” Kara grinned. “Ya know, that’s alright. Because I’m out for the same thing half the time. And they do it pretty good, I gotta admit. That’s one way you can tell. Their spines light up. Bein’ a girl, you don’t get to do ‘em from behind really, but if you twist around just right, you can see it. It’s wild.”

“Really? Is…the…er….you know, all the parts…the same?” Martha’s medical education sometimes failed her utterly when alcohol, hormones, and contact embarrassment were involved.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s real hard to tell. Hey, how do I know you’re really a human?”

“I don’t think my spine lights up. I’ve never looked. I’ve only got one heart…not like the Doctor.”

“Why do you call him that?”

“I don’t have anything else to call him.”

“Ha, you got in the bunk with him, you’d come up with all sorts of things. So if you’re really a human, why don’t you show me?”

“What?” Martha blinked, something in her hoping she hadn’t misunderstood.

Kara lunged, twisting sinuously, and catching Martha up underneath her, soldier’s hands wild but skilled in Martha’s spiky hair, undoing that style she worked so hard to make look casual. Her mouth tasted of smoke, and ambrosia, and machine oil, and it wasn’t unpleasant at all; it was the taste of one of those sleek, efficient, fast ships.

It was the sort of situation you didn’t let yourself think about. Martha just slipped her slim hands under Kara’s tanks, feeling firm breasts that rode high on a sound frame of muscle and scars. A boxer’s instincts. Martha never had a chance, but she tried—with grappling over skin that grew slick with sweat, with scrambling to get Kara’s knickers off first as calloused fingers invaded her own and smeared her wetness up her thighs, pushing her apart and open as they writhed.

“You’re frakking gorgeous, you know that,” panted Kara, pushing her thigh in between Martha’s, searching for the urgent friction that would make the Earth woman arch and scream. They wrestled across the damp sheets, all hair and muscles and nails and mouths—rough and raw and human and homeless, female and complete.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Battlestar Galactica/Doctor Who, Kara/Martha, stupid frakkin men - [info]mrkinch, 2008-09-25 09:21 pm UTC
Re: Battlestar Galactica/Doctor Who, Kara/Martha, stupid frakkin men - [info]vulgarweed, 2008-09-25 10:13 pm UTC
Re: Battlestar Galactica/Doctor Who, Kara/Martha, stupid frakkin men - [info]rhianona, 2008-09-27 03:12 pm UTC
Banana Fish, Ash/Eiji, regret
[info]ificouldfly
2008-09-25 07:12 pm UTC (link)
"Hey Ash?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever regret anything? In your life, I mean. Do you ever wish you'd done things differently?"

Ash was silent for a moment, thinking, or just weighing what he was about to say.

"No. Because if I regreted one thing, I'd have to regret them all." Ash paused, and looked at Eiji closely. "Why? Do you?"

"No!" Eiji burst out, then added more quietly, "I don't regret what I've done. I can't change it, so why regret it?"

Ash ran a hand down Eiji's arm, studying him. "Are you just saying that because I said I didn't?"

"No, I'm not."

Another hand touching Eiji, this one on his waist. "So, you don't regret kissing me?"

"N-no."

Eiji felt his stomach tighten as Ash leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Good."

As if all the tension had suddenly drained from his body, Ash leaned his forehead against Eiji's shoulder, relaxing his grip. Hesitantly, Eiji reached up and stroked his back, softly, then more firmly.

"I cannot regret the decisions that led me here. I cannot..." Eiji leaned his head against Ash's soft hair. "I cannot regret meeting you, or anything that has happened that has led me to meet you."

"But," Ash said suddenly, in a low voice, "what if something happens soon that makes you regret it?"

"Like what?"

"Like this."

That's when Ash raised his head and kissed Eiji on the lips, hard enough to make the smaller boy stumble backwards until his back hit a wall. Eiji automatically put his hands up to struggle but Ash pinned them before he could do anything, keeping them fast until Eiji opened his mouth and relaxed enough to let Ash slip his tongue in. Eiji's head reeled at the feeling, and how it felt better every time, and felt Ash's hands intertwine with his.

When Ash finally pulled away, panting slightly, Eiji watched him closely.

"Why would I regret this. I...like this." He swallowed. "I always have."

Ash wouldn't meet his eye. "Because. Because I want more than this, okay? And- I don't want you to regret this."

"More?" Eiji's eyes widened at the thought, and finally Ash looked up.

"Yeah." Ash brought their twined hands between them, brushing Eiji's stomach. "More."

Eiji thought his heart would stop, or the ceiling would fall in, or something drastic would happen because this was just too much.

"I-" Eiji paused, staring at their hands. Then he straightened his shoulders and looked up at Ash. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ash sounded as if he couldn't really believe it.

"Yeah. Okay."

Their lips met again, and this time it was Eiji's tongue that found its way into Ash's mouth as Ash leaned against him. A tentative hand unclasped from Eiji's and slipped under his shirt to smooth skin. Eiji's eyes closed as his own hand made it's way to Ash's back, fingers curling when Ash began kissing his neck. When he reached for the waistband of Eiji's pants, though, Ash paused, eyes hooded.

"Are you sure? You won't regret this?"

Eiji forced a coherent thought through his spinning mind. "N-no. No. I won't. I couldn't."

Ash slowly undid the button. "Are you sure?"

Eiji reached down and placed his hand on the top of Ash's jeans. "Yes. I'm sure."

Then he leaned forward and kissed Ash, and two zippers quietly, quietly slid down.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Banana Fish, Ash/Eiji, regret - [info]dorrie6, 2008-09-26 11:34 pm UTC
Re: Banana Fish, Ash/Eiji, regret - [info]hyel, 2008-09-28 02:57 am UTC
Dogma, Loki/Bartleby, upsides
[info]shimyaku
2008-09-25 07:32 pm UTC (link)
((Let me say I was very reluctant to post this, if only because I'm in no way worthy of writing fic for a fandom I so revere. Anyway~ ^^))



One took a swig from the bottle in his hand, the mouthful swirling around before finding itself expelled to the pavement.

"So what now, Loki?"

Sip.

"The fuck you mean, what now?"

Spit.

"Well, we came to down to the world to cause havoc and mayhem and all manner of other chaos-inducing activities, correct? And yet here we are... in Wisconsin. Two of God's greatest gifts to the realm of Angels, sitting in a ditch, perving on those unconscionable ladies across the street like any pathetic human male would do."

"Besides the fact that this is a curb, not a ditch, and they're five-dollar-an-hour whores, not 'ladies', what would you suggest we do, oh ever-inspired Bartleby?"

The dark-haired angel rolled his angered eyes. "See now you're just being fucking smart. And oh, gee, I don't really know what we should do. Something a little more chaos-inducing, perhaps? Something to incur some minor havoc and mayhem? But I mean, they're merely suggestions, just an idea or two that... suddenly popped into my head."

Loki stood immediately from his concrete seat, eyes livid and arms flailing. "Seriously?! We're on the verge of fucking Universal Destruction and Negation of All Existence and you want to go out and cause a 'little chaos'?! What's wrong with you? Why is you're sorry ass so unsatisfied that you can't sit still for a few hours?! My God! A few hours! Just a few hours and the fucking fireworks are gonna start, man!"

"See, that's where you're wrong my friend - I have no ass."

And immediately the blonde angel returned to his former position, all traces of anger gone in a blink. "This is true. You know, it's just ridiculously hard to insult a guy when he's anatomically impaired below the waistline. No pun intended."

Bartleby appeared to ponder this. "Mm. But it's not all bad either, is it? You should be the first to admit that, Mr. High-and-mighty. So, no, we can't go and fuck a few whores in our last remaining hours, but hey! Not every guy you know can just go out there like you used to and instigate the mass genocide of an entire nation before dinner time, can he?"

"Got that right. Watching that shit unfold was like... good hardcore porn for my merciless soul. If I'd had a cock, I swear I'd woulda had a raging hard-on."

The brunette nodded in understanding, gesturing his hands expansively as he carried on. "And was it not also you who wielded that intemperately fiery sword back in the day, smiting those uncultured philistines whom took His name in vain, casting down the power of vengeance upon the unworthy rulers of the earth, slaughtering their first-born and whatnot..."

"Outstanding! Who knew you could be so eloquently praising? Thanks, man." Loki slapped his partner on the back.

"I know how you are, with your frightful penchant for dramatics."

"Hey, it's called style. And striking fear into the hearts of the wicked ain't always easy... I like to think I've achieved a lot in my life so far."

"Me too. No more regrets... Except for the never getting laid part, but let us not put a downer on this sanguine moment."

"Amen to that."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Dogma, Loki/Bartleby, upsides - [info]the_reverand, 2008-09-25 08:48 pm UTC
Re: Dogma, Loki/Bartleby, upsides - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-26 09:44 pm UTC
Re: Dogma, Loki/Bartleby, upsides - [info]hyel, 2008-09-28 03:07 am UTC
Re: Dogma, Loki/Bartleby, upsides - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-30 09:54 am UTC
Final Fantasy VII, Turks/Rufus, we are family
[info]shimyaku
2008-09-25 07:42 pm UTC (link)
(Mmkay, so this is lacking a little in the porn department, but my muses were being difficult, sorries.)


"Whatcha thinkin', Boss?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Reno."

The Turk grunted in resignation at the typical comeback. Of course he expected nothing less from the guy, always keeping things to himself. Secrets and lies. Creating distance. But then, he himself said nothing more as he reached his arms around Rufus' sitting form, scooping up the slightly-younger man, and setting him down on the bedcovers. As it was he would only let that distance spread so far, would only let slide so many lies - he was the one the blonde confided in after all, and thankfully Rufus had demonstrated many a time that he did trust his lover in the end. Really, that was the only one thing he'd decided he had to be certain of.

"You should go, Reno." Rufus considered that the current silence was somewhat less than comfortable, and that perhaps it would be more so should the red-head leave him be for a time. He could undress and slip between the sheets without aid, he was sure of it; never mind that he couldn't recall the last time he had done so without Reno's help. "I shall remain here to rest," he concluded with an air of finality.

Had there not been cloth shielding his eyes, he would have seen the concern and longing painting the red-head's features. None knew as well as he did how badly the Stigma was effecting the blonde, though the stubborn bastard would never let on about anything of the sort. Probably thought it would make him look weak... But regardless, Reno could see the weakness as clear as day, how the blonde's state grew progressively worse, his body often feverish and frail. Surely he was kidding himself if he thought the Turk was going to jump up and leave like that.

"Sorry, Boss," he started softly, "but I ain't leavin'. Got a little somethin' I gotta keep an eye on, y'know?"

Seemingly the red-head was going to be difficult about this. "Reno--"

"Kiss me, Ru'."

The blonde was thrown off by the sudden question, and it took a moment for him to compose a response; yet he noticed in that same moment how his lips had become vastly warm, humid breath floating down from above, and weight hovering over top of his body.

"You shouldn't touch me Reno."

"Ain't listenin', Boss. We're family, yo. That means we gotta share. You gotta share..."

Rufus' head jerked as the sound of an opening door met his ears, and one - two - three sets of feet accompanying the intrusion. He could only assume that it was his usual team of Turks, Reno's subsequent stillness suggesting as much. The stillness didn't last long however, even if he'd hoped it would, as Reno's lips pressed immediately down upon his own, ignorant of their audience. The kiss quickly turned insistent, and Rufus found himself unable to deny his want for it, having turned away all of the red-head's advances of late, avoiding unnecessary contact should the Stigma be harmful. He had no idea whether the black ooze that seeped from his wounds was directly contagious or not, but he would not chance that Reno might be harmed by it. And yet, here was Reno, pressed against him, kissing him with abandon, hands sliding carelessly beneath the cloths that covered his body.

Wait, Reno--

"What are you doing?"

The Turk huffed, letting a hand wander eagerly down between his Boss's legs. "Reminding you I'm here. And when I'm done, these guys'll be keen to do the same."

So, it was his favourite few Turks in the room. Perhaps they were all insane - but what could the blonde do? He was hardly in a state to be forcing them away. Not that he would want to exactly... wary though he might be, he realised he was desperate to be touched, the recent absence of it only increasing his desire as Reno carried on in his self-appointed task.

He groaned as the red-head pushed his clothing back, grasping hold of his naked flesh. "Reno, why... are they here, exactly?" The blonde could feel the other three Turk's eyes all intently upon him. And given his state of (un)dress, he was finding it quite the discomfiting feeling.

"Well, you know how I get after sex... how I just drop off to sleep at the drop of a hat? These guys are here to stop you doing a runner should that happen."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Final Fantasy VII, Turks/Rufus, we are family 2/2 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-25 07:42 pm UTC
Shadow Of The Colossus, Wander, needs, "out on the prairie"
[info]wei_jiangling
2008-09-25 08:14 pm UTC (link)
You're out in the prairie, surrounded by endless waves of grass. A gentle wind blows, and you look to the distance as you sit in the grass thinking about your next move, the monster you're going to fight, the girl you're going to save.

There's no one here. Just you, your horse eating grass nearby, a bird circling in the sky above, and somewhere in the distance a monster you need to kill. You should be going, you tell yourself, you should be finding that monster and not reaching into your pants and touching yourself, but you can't stop yourself. It has been far too long since you've been in the presence of another human, much less a lover, and it's driving you mad.

You have only your imagination and memories for companionship, but that's enough. You tell yourself that your fingers are hers, that it's her warm hand wrapped around you, pumping up and down, bringing you closer to a much needed release. It's her and she's there and alive and warm and not lying lifeless in a temple in the middle of nowhere. But it's how she was once, and you know and your imagination tells you she is again at least until you come and you don't need the fantasy anymore.

You wipe your hand on your pants, stand with a sigh, and call your horse. It doesn't matter how lonely you feel or how tired; it matters that there's something you need to do, and that maybe one day the fingers will be hers, and not yours.

(Reply to this)

RPS, Viggo/Sean Bean, rain
[info]the_reverand
2008-09-25 08:44 pm UTC (link)
A short short from my cowboys universe

The first heavy rain came late summer near dusk while Viggo was feeding up and Sean unloaded grain from the wagon in the barn. They continued in spite of it, walking then running through the rain to catch horses and latch gates and fetch Grullo who cowered in his little house.

Inside they all three dripped rainwater onto the kitchen floor, smearing mud and manure. Grullo went immediately to a rug he'd long ago claimed as his own in the corner of the kitchen, and shook, and walked a circle and lay down. Sean stripped off his soaking shirt and Viggo did the same, turning them inside out and wiping water and mud from their arms and faces, then removed boots and pants. Sean lit a lantern. Viggo fetched a sheet from the linen closet and wrapped himself in it and stood in the kitchen doorway.

"I'm to stand here wet and catch cold, I guess," Sean said.

"I was raised to share," Viggo said, and held open one end of the sheet and his smile was visible even in the low light. Sean returned the smile and stepped forward but Viggo began walking backward down the dark hall. Sean followed, keeping Viggo within the circle of light.

They met on Sean's bed, Viggo's sheet spread over the quilt, Viggo spread over the sheet, and Sean sat the lantern still burning on the bedside table and crawled onto the bed to cover Viggo. Cold thighs, warm hands, and rainwater in their kiss.

"Always did like the rain," Viggo said.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: RPS, Viggo/Sean Bean, rain - [info]mrkinch, 2008-09-25 09:42 pm UTC
Re: RPS, Viggo/Sean Bean, rain - [info]the_reverand, 2008-09-25 11:06 pm UTC
Re: RPS, Viggo/Sean Bean, rain - [info]mrkinch, 2008-09-25 11:15 pm UTC
Firefly, Kaylee/Simon(/River), staring at the ceiling and watching her watching them
[info]wei_jiangling
2008-09-25 08:55 pm UTC (link)
Simon's on top of you, and you thought it would never happen. Much less that it would happen with both of you on the floor by a pile of cargo where just anyone might walk by and see you. But what can you say? You two had been alone and things were just shiny and you finally got up the nerve to kiss him and it seems like maybe he'd been waiting for that for a long time because he didn't have the nerve to do it himself. So now you're here, clothed only enough to be comfortable against the metal floor, and Simon's lips are on your neck and his hand is between your legs, and things couldn't be better.

Except she's looking at you. River is standing on the walkway above you, staring with an expression that might be fascination or disgust or something else entirely. It seems like you understand her better than most, but you've never been good at reading her face and knowing what she's thinking. You gasp when you see her, and Simon seems to assume it's in pleasure. You think it's better that way. If he knew she was watching, he would stop, and that's not what you want at all. Not when things are finally going the way you want.

You ignore her, and look at the ceiling instead. And then you decide it works better to close your eyes, though you can't help checking sometimes to see if she's still watching. But you try not to get distracted, and pretty soon you're so enthralled with the feeling of Simon on you and in you that you can't be distracted (but you notice she's still there), and you and Simon come at the same time, seeming satisfied and breathing hard. He rolls off you and the smile on his face is so shiny it makes you giggle.

And then you remember her. You're afraid he'll see her and know she was there and it'll ruin the whole thing, but when you look back up she's already gone. You must look confused, because Simon asks you if there's something wrong. You tell him no, everything is shiny, and let's do that again sometime, but maybe somewhere a little more comfortable and a little more private.

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Re: Firefly, Kaylee/Simon(/River), staring at the ceiling and watching her watching them - [info]hyel, 2008-09-30 11:05 am UTC
Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, school ties
[info]katekintail
2008-09-25 09:10 pm UTC (link)
Remus raised his head, pausing in finishing his homework at the last minute and looking past his books. “Sirius, what are you wearing?”

“Hmm?” Sirius stood in front of the mirror in their dormitory room, modeling his new look. “Just the school uniform.”

Remus set down his quill. It was true that it was all there—the black trousers, the white shirt, the tie, and the black robes. But none of it was quite the way it was supposed to be. The robes were open in the middle and hung half-off his shoulders. The trousers were rumpled and the zip was partially unzipped. Only some of the dress shirt was tucked into the pants; the tail ends especially hung out, askew, in the back. And the tie was not around his neck but around his waist, threaded through belt loops. Remus watched an end dangle alluringly. “That’s… not the uniform.”

“Sure is.” Sirius clapped his hand against his chest.

“No.” Remus tried and mostly failed at suppressing a smile. “It isn’t. You can’t go down to breakfast like that.”

Sirius posed in front of the mirror, turning, shoving his hands in his pockets, eying his rear. “Why not?”

“I can think of a few reasons.” Remus got up out of his seat and started over. “For one, it’s not proper.”

“Since when did I care about that?”

Remus smiled again as he crossed the room. “For another, it’ll turn heads.”

Sirius grinned at his reflection. “That’s the general idea.”

“And…” Remus came up behind Sirius and wrapped his arms around Sirius from behind. One hand fingered the tie while the other slipped in-between the shirt buttons and found the sparse chest hair. “You look so hot you’ll drive me to distraction during every lesson. Who could concentrate on potions with you looking like this?”

Sirius looked shy now, and he ducked his head, hiding behind his dark bangs. “Good one, Moony. Go on, have a go at me.”

But Remus wanted far more than that. “No, I mean it. You’re irresistible and you fucking know it.” The look in Sirius’ eyes made Remus laugh out loud. “You bastard!” He slid his hand down into Sirius’ black pants. “You had no intention of going out like this, did you?”

In answer, Sirius turned and found Remus’ mouth with his. The kiss was strong, lips crushed and tongue lapping. Their hands made quick work of all layers of clothes between them, except Remus kept hold of the tie. He wrapped it around Sirius’ waist, pulling the man closer, right up against Remus’ front. Then he slid the soft satin against the smooth skin of their cocks, winding it loosely around, encircling.

Sirius gasped and clung to Remus with eagerness. Remus made to direct them towards the nearest bed, not caring about which of the four boys owned it. But Sirius held him there, held him close. “Want to watch us,” Sirius whispered. The both looked towards the mirror and saw glimpses of their cocks against the maroon and gold stripes. They saw each other, bodies tight and ready, pressed so close together. “Right now,” Sirius begged. “Stroke me here.”

Remus could not hesitate. Immediately he seized Sirius’ cock and began pulling, sometimes stroking through the tie, sometimes with flesh against flesh, right under the tie. Instead of looking at each other, they watched their reflections. Their mirror images were panting and frotting with horny desperation, trying to get the maximum sensation in the minimum amount of time. Their bodies radiated heat. Their hearts raced. Their bodies jerked and swayed, thrusting and rubbing until Sirius came.

He moaned happily, dirtying his tie and Remus’ belly. Cum dripped down towards Remus’ crotch. Before it got there, Remus reached orgasm as well. The wave of ecstasy rushing through his tense body was doubled reflected in the mirror.

Afterwards, they cleaned up with quick spells and dressed. Remus ended up with Sirius’ tie. He considered it a moment, teasing the smooth fabric between his fingertips. Then he walked over to a well-dressed Sirius and draped it around the man’s neck. Sirius reached up to tie it, but Remus grabbed his hands and kissed him. “Leave it undone,” Remus insisted. He pulled Sirius’ hand down, directing it to Remus’ crotch.

Sirius grinned. “But if I do this, it’ll make you all hot and bothered and distract you during your lessons.”

Remus grinned back. “That’s the general idea.”

(Reply to this)

Final Fantasy VII, Reeve/Cloud, finding a place to belong
[info]aikonamika
2008-09-25 09:33 pm UTC (link)
“Delivering a package for me, hm?” Reeve chuckled, and then gasped as Cloud tightened around his cock as the blond lowered himself down.

“I was!” The protest went unheeded for a few seconds, as both of them held very still, Reeve gripping the arms of his office chair as Cloud rested in his lap, waiting out the first few moments of tense and pleasure. Then they relaxed as one, the younger man rocking forward a bit, and then back to get used to the feeling.

“I don’t think a bottle of lube is a usual delivery,” was purred after a short time, and Reeve shifted his grip to Cloud’s hips to help support him.

“Good enough reason for me to come home,” Cloud said, one hand resting on one of Reeve’s, while the other shifted to lie on the suited chest, tie knocked askew and fabric rumpled, but otherwise untouched in their haste to get to this part of the act. His own pants lay somewhere across the room, dropped beside his boots in his eagerness to strip as soon as the door had been closed and locked, and his armor, shirt, and gloves were scattered somewhere along the way.

“Missed you,” Reeve murmured as he started moving as well, and then neither of them could think long enough to make any sort of coherent sentence.

Eventually Cloud would have to go back to his deliveries, and Reeve had an office full of paperwork to do with more on the way, but that was later. Now was just for each other, their own version of “home.”

(Reply to this)

Temeraire, Temeraire/Laurence, overcoming obstacles
[info]vulgarweed
2008-09-25 10:11 pm UTC (link)
Here, in the desolate landscape far from the civilization even of heathens, Laurence had far, far too much time and silence in which to think.

When the silence was broken, it was by large wet splashings and slappings, as Temeraire enjoyed himself rather wantonly in the water. It set Laurence’s thoughts to wondering in such a direction that he wondered if his honor was now hopelessly compromised.

How could he have imagined that Temeraire’s sensual pleasures were completely innocent? He was, after all, an animal. And yet, was there not an innocence of a certain type in that state? Was not shame in what is natural a curse reserved for Adam and Eve’s descendents only?

His face still burned hot when he remembered his reaction when Temeraire asked him matter-of-factly if he did not prefer the pleasure of Jane’s body to that of, oh, rocks? And that revelation that, having courted and mated with a lady of his own kind, Temeraire’s body would remember and crave…

Oh heavens. Temeraire wasn’t pining for Mei as he ought, and Laurence wasn’t pining for Jane as he ought, because, Laurence had to conclude, he was now so far removed from what is right and natural in human affairs that his longings were soothed and almost, almost satisfied by the caress of scaled skin, that long, strong neck he sat astride, that bond that he had always believed was reversed only for man and wife, and yet he had felt it only with…

A greater abomination than any unnaturalness conceived of among humankind? Or just the logical bending of the heart in strange circumstances and odd society, to the dearest friend, the kindred spirit?

If only it were so pure. No, when Laurence closed his eyes and leaned back against the scraggly tree, he saw shining black scales undulating against the sky, dripping with clear river water; he felt the power of those mighty foreclaws that could snap his spine in an instant but held him as gently as a tender girl with a kitten; he heard the roaring flap of great wings and the comfortable rumble of a giant heart. Intelligent eyes piercing, slim forked tongue flickering. The tension that wracked his body was not that of a mere friend, no, nor was the inexorable creep of his hand to a part of him that craved touch in in its own right even when there was no proper partner.

So wrapped in his own pleasure, his guilty heat and his dragon dreams was he that he snapped his eyes open, too late, as water dripped upon his bare chest, his exposed hips and taut manhood in his hand, and a huge head stared down at him. Behind it, a noble and serpentine body thrashed eagerly.

“Why did you hide this from me?” asked Temeraire, a little hurt perhaps, but his slitted eyes mostly wide and lusty. “If it brings us both joy, I can’t see how there’ll be harm in it, if we’re very careful.”

Laurence could see it. Or he knew he ought to be able to see it. But he didn’t want to see it, so he closed his eyes and made it go away as he leaned his hips wantonly towards Temeraire’s tongue.

The wonder of that slithering organ of sense, the rumbling wet heat, the heady dragon-musk, and most of all, a maddening miasma of love and danger made Laurence buck and spill with embarrassing speed, like a schoolboy, and left him eager to get his revenge as Temeraire fondly chuckled.

“I’m glad you’re not a fire-breather, my dear,” Laurence muttered as he moved along the long body (so, so beautiful) to encounter that alien, reptilian organ of generation, nearly as long as he himself was tall, seeking for a way to address it that would not merely frustrate his beloved—or kill Laurence himself. But with Temeraire, even anatomy was a minor obstacle that they would certainly find a way around.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Temeraire, Temeraire/Laurence, overcoming obstacles - [info]chofi, 2008-09-25 10:24 pm UTC
Re: Temeraire, Temeraire/Laurence, overcoming obstacles - [info]mitsuhachi, 2008-09-25 10:27 pm UTC
Re: Temeraire, Temeraire/Laurence, overcoming obstacles - [info]alaceron.livejournal.com, 2010-06-25 08:54 pm UTC
Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud, bdsm, "not supposed to get me this hard."
[info]aikonamika
2008-09-25 10:23 pm UTC (link)
“Let him go!” Tifa’s eyes were wide and shocked, despite the firmness of her voice. Though Barret’s gun was pointed forward, his normal hand was covering Yuffie’s eyes, to the ninja’s squalling protest. The rest of AVALANCHE was out retrieving supplies, and the martial artist wished desperately that they were here right now, because this was wrong, and she wasn’t all that sure she could defeat Sephiroth with just Barret and Yuffie, let alone rescue Cloud.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Sephiroth’s smile was only vaguely cruel, more caught up in the amusement of the situation than anything else. On his lap, Cloud put up a token struggle before relaxing once more into the leather straps that held him bound and spread open. Despite the humiliated blush on his face, he hardened further, every motion causing Sephiroth’s cock to rub just the right places inside of him.

“You bastard, we’ll kill you! Cloud will kill you!” Tifa clenched her fists and didn’t dare move forward, because Cloud was…Cloud was…Cloud was captured, that’s what he was, and Sephiroth was raping him, and he’d done something weird to Cloud to control him like that.

“He won’t.” The purr was easily self-assured, and he could see them faltering at that, especially when Cloud showed no sign of denying that claim. He wasn’t gagged, so he was free to spit whatever curses he wanted at the man leisurely thrusting in and out of his body. But he didn’t, and remained silent, though blushing. “He could make me stop at any time. Haven’t you ever heard of a safeword, my dear?”

“W-what?” That threw all three of the inadvertent voyeurs off-balance, thought Barret’s hand stayed over Yuffie’s eyes.

“My dear little" Cloud-” my dear little Puppet “- would say that single word, and I would release him and let him go freely.” But that word wouldn’t be passing Cloud’s lips, and he knew it. “His safeword, dear girl,” and here Sephiroth ran one hand over Cloud’s throat, and the other over his cock, making Cloud grown wordlessly, “is please.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud, bdsm, "not supposed to get me this hard." - [info]mitsuhachi, 2008-09-26 09:59 am UTC
Re: Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud, bdsm, "not supposed to get me this hard." - [info]aikonamika, 2008-09-26 11:51 am UTC
Bleach, Renji/Byakuya, stability
[info]shimyaku
2008-09-25 10:26 pm UTC (link)
Kuchiki Byakuya stilled mid-step as he passed the entry to his private garden, the door unexpectedly ajar. A sacred place he deemed it - a sanctuary of sorts - and a place reserved exclusively himself, no exceptions. Yet there beyond the gap in the shoji screens sat his Lieutenant, legs hanging over the edge of the wooden terrace, hair streaming down his back, as still as the Captain had ever seen him. So he stood there in kind, silent and still, observing and questioning, and nought was disturbed bar the gentle breeze that flitted about the surrounding hallway, kicking up the tips of his hair.

After what seemed a longer time than it perhaps was, the Sixth-Division Captain took a step from his frozen stance toward the door, greeting the outside air with a concerned expression, and finding a slumped back and a river of red hair greeting him.

"You sit there as still as death, Abarai."

The redhead took an extended moment to respond, as though time had somehow slowed, but eventually he broke from his reverie and carefully raised his head, looking up to the sky. Again he took another long moment to move once more, body twisting just enough for Renji to meet his Captain's gaze out the corner of his eyes. He smirked.

"Nothin' quite as absolute as death, Taichou. My apologies."

The Captain wondered a moment what exactly he was apologising for, but determined it must have been for situating himself in this particular place - his Lieutenant would never joke with him about such a thing after all. And while he had been about to respond - as well to question his Lieutenant's reason for being here - the redhead beat him to it, albeit in a direction completely unforeseen.

"Y'know Taichou..." Renji took a breath, gathering his words, "I've never had anything really stable in my life. There's never been anyone or anything I could count on or be sure of. Even growing up it was like a guessing game whether you'd have somewhere to sleep or not, and they used to call it 'luck' if all your friends came back at the end of the day... Isn't that stupid?"

The ebony-haired man blinked, startled, not sure if he was meant to offer consolation or an answer of some kind. This manner of subject was utterly off-character for the younger man, and as such was rendering the Captain's mind empty of a single reply to offer. Looking at Renji, he noticed his eyes filled with a plea of some description, realising he was waiting on the Captain, and he had to uncharacteristically scramble for something to say. Good thing he'd been brought up to think quickly.

"Perhaps it is... But then, are you in need of something or someone you can count on, Abarai? You have always struck me as the kind who's quite independent."

Again, Renji smirked. It seemed he'd been expecting the Noble to say something akin to those lines. "Nobody really wants to be alone Taichou, even the independent types. And after all this time... I've figured out that there is, and there's only ever been, three definite, constant things in my life - and that's Rukia, Ichigo and you. And now I'm even starting to doubt that occasionally."

"Doubts?"

"Not necessarily you, Taichou, even if ya have surprised me more in the past few months than the past few decades combined. But I mean... say with Ichigo, even if I've not really known him that long, I've always trusted him right from the start. He'll tell ya what he's gonna do, and he'll go and do it, no fucking around. I can count on that. Then Rukia; she's been my rock from the get-go. The one thing that's outlasted my life in Rukongai. I know she ain't goin anywhere and she would never leave me behind. I can count on that too.

"But then lately... lately Ichigo's been crackin around the edges, and Rukia gets all agitated and defensive on a whim..." As he stopped to take a breath, the redhead shook his head in despair, long hair shifting over his shoulders.

Somewhat confused, and not quite sure if the other was going to continue, Byakuya took a step forward, urging his Lieutenant to explain further. "Renji, even if I was one for riddles, I believe you're going to have to spell this one out for me."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Bleach, Renji/Byakuya, stability p.2 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-25 10:38 pm UTC
Bleach, Renji/Byakuya, stability p.3 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-25 10:41 pm UTC
Re: Bleach, Renji/Byakuya, stability p.3 - [info]inkwell_, 2009-02-16 07:15 pm UTC
Torchwood, Ianto/Jack, hypothermia
[info]katekintail
2008-09-25 11:06 pm UTC (link)
It was cold. Fucking cold. Unbelievably fucking cold. The fact that the heater in the hub had broken six hours ago made it infinitely worse. Ianto had tried fixing it, but apparently they lacked a key part that the Cardiff area stores would have to specially order. There was nothing more that Ianto could do except for what he did best.

“Tea, Sir?”

Jack, shivering uncontrollably, took the teacup. It rattled on the saucer and the spoon rattled in the cup.

Ianto tried not to laugh. “It isn’t that cold.”

“It is,” Jack insisted. He took a few sips and gave Ianto the most miserable of looks possible.

“Chances are, you won’t die,” Ianto said, holding back his smile.

“Still…” Jack drank a little more tea. “Better not take any risks. It’s going to be cold tonight. Too cold to be believed—”

“We can go to my flat—” Ianto began to suggest, but was cut off immediately. Jack wasn’t even listening.

“My body temperature is slightly higher than yours, but even so… Ianto, I’m afraid the only way we’re both going to survive is to keep each other warm.”

Ianto’s eyebrows rose just slightly. “Well, Sir, if that is indeed the only way, I suppose we have no choice.”

Soon they were naked and clinging to each other beneath the covers of Jack’s bed. Initially, Ianto had been full of doubts, but after a few minutes of pressing his body against Jack’s, he didn’t care about anything else.

Jack stirred in more ways than one and not for the first time Ianto got impression that all this—the coldest day of the year combined with a broken heater and an impossible-to-find part— might just be a clever way for Jack to get Ianto in his bed. Even when he realized this, though, he found he didn’t care one bit. “So cold,” he whispered. Jack’s arms tightened around him and Ianto stirred as well.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Torchwood, Ianto/Jack, hypothermia - [info]ladykorana, 2008-09-26 06:28 pm UTC
Re: Torchwood, Ianto/Jack, hypothermia - [info]rhianona, 2008-09-27 03:17 pm UTC
Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud, wolves
[info]shimyaku
2008-09-25 11:18 pm UTC (link)

"Cloud, remind me exactly why it is you've dragged us out into the middle of nowhere?"

Said blonde huffed as he stopped in his tracks, turning about-face to the two men following behind him. He grimaced. "Firstly Zack, I know exactly where we are, it is not the middle of nowhere. Secondly, you were the one who was so keen to see the hell-hole that I grew up in. You've already seen the town, now it's obligatory that you see this as well." Cloud spread his arms to his sides, as if 'presenting' the two other SOLDIERs to the very forest that surrounded them. "This, Zack, is where I came from. From as far back as I can remember, up to the time I left for Midgar, I all but lived out here..." He turned to look out amongst the trees, arms dropping to his side with a sigh. "Coming out here really feels like coming home."

Sephiroth smiled knowingly as he watched the young blonde survey the place with that explained air of familiarity, then he stole a quick glance at the black-haired man beside him, his head hung in defeat. It was generally much easier when he would simply shut that runaway mouth of his - rarely did he win against Cloud's intellect.

"Well, so long as you don't mind sharing your home with some rather large beasties," Zack belatedly shot back, pointing to a group of depressions in the soft soil beside their path, "They look like paw prints if I'm not mistaken - recent too."

Cloud peered down at the prints with a neutral expression, "Well, you know, Nibel wolves aren't called Nibel wolves for no reason. There was always plenty of them around when I was young."

The dark-haired man was incredulous. "What?! You were running around here before you even hit your tweens when there were wolves around? Are you messed in the head?!"

"As you might observe, I'm quite rational, thank you. And so long as you're not a threat to them, they won't bother you. They're quite friendly if you must know, I made friends with a few of them actually..." The blonde tapped his chin in thought. "There was one in particular that was like a best friend to me, followed me around everywhere - I called him Bolt because he was so fast! I wonder if he's still around..."

Both Sephiroth and Zack looked at each other in awe. Cloud? Friends with wolves?

Well, he'd always had a way with chocobos, maybe that explained it somewhat.

"You would have had some preferred sites I imagine? In the forest, I mean." The General piped up, aiming to change the direction of conversation. It worked.

"Yeah, heaps. I'm taking us toward one of my favourite though. You'll like it too, I think."

And right he was, both Zack and Sephiroth sighing at the picturesque sight that soon greeted them. The now mostly-overgrown encampment was situated in a perfect position amid the Nibel mountains, not high enough to be completely exposed, but not so far down that they couldn't catch the beautiful view of both the mountain tops, and the gullies between.

"You're right Cloud," the General murmured, "it's quite the place."

*

"Look Cloudy, there's your wolfy friends. Three of them!"

"What?! Where?" Cloud looked over to where Zack hovered at the edge of the camp, following his line of sight into the forest beyond. And there, in plain view, stood three fearsome Nibel wolves of storm-cloud grey, eyes glowing silver in the evening light. Two were much larger, stances alert, predatory and imposing, while the other...

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud, wolves p.2 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-25 11:20 pm UTC
Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud, wolves p.3 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-25 11:21 pm UTC
Re: Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud, wolves p.3 - [info]yami_no_tenshi, 2008-09-26 12:55 pm UTC
Re: Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud, wolves p.3 - [info]shimyaku, 2008-09-26 08:53 pm UTC

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