SEKRIT CABAL PORN BATTLE (version 3.0)
THE SEKRIT CABAL PORN BATTLE HAS BEGUN.
How to Participate:
Pick a prompt, any prompt, from the list below - then write a porny ficlet answering said prompt. Post it in the comments to this post, and then enjoy yourself basking in praise. Remember, this is a porn battle, so each ficlet should have at least an R rating for sexuality.
( Posting Rules: )
How to Participate:
Pick a prompt, any prompt, from the list below - then write a porny ficlet answering said prompt. Post it in the comments to this post, and then enjoy yourself basking in praise. Remember, this is a porn battle, so each ficlet should have at least an R rating for sexuality.
( Posting Rules: )
First read the prequel.
Then I recommend the full version
Blonsky has the pink, tender look of someone who’s spent too much time under a scorching shower, trying to wash off blood that won’t go. No wonder Bond is helpless - he’s more soldier than spy, in some ways, and very sanguine about killing. But Blonsky is a solider to the core, according to Bond, as if it wouldn’t be obvious just in the way the man carries himself.
Which tells Alex it was someone special.
After Bond helps him strip an eerily malleable Blonsky, Alex curls behind him, sucking the abused red skin of his back, nipping his neck, until his lips are brushing Emil’s ear.
“Tell me about your prey,” he whispers. Blonsky moves - fast, too fast, impossibly fast, and Mahone wonders what he’s taking, what could possibly give him that, and what price he’ll pay for it - and if Bond hadn’t caught him as he twisted, Blonsky would have snapped Alex’s neck. Alex kisses Blonsky briefly, darting back as Blonsky tries to bite.
“Mine was a genius,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over Emil’s chest, over a nipple, drawing the contours of a painting memorized from photographs. “Not psycho-evil genius, just…brilliant. Noble, even. Elegant and intricate and I caught him and destroyed him.”
Blonsky nearly breaks one of Bond’s arms throwing off his hold. He shoves Alex down on the bed, kissing him viciously, brutally, like he’s trying to offer Mahone’s death in place of the one he can’t take back.
Mahone savors it, Blonsky’s teeth sharp on his lips, the sting of his tongue as Blonsky licks his blood, surrenders to the violence and returns it with equal fervor, biting and clawing to distract himself from how much he still doesn’t want to think about everything he just said.
Bond presses a bottle into Mahone’s hand, and his fingers close around it.
Mahone breaches Blonsky with slick, spiteful fingers. He lets a nail catch and drag back out, making Blonsky hiss and grind down on him. Before Mahone has done any more with three fingers than one good twist, Bond’s grip is a vise on his wrist.
“Enough,” he growls, and Alex agrees. Blonsky bites hard on the muscle between his shoulder and neck, and Alex knows already that the bruise will last for weeks.
“Bitch,” Alex mutters, and Blonsky grins wolfishly at him. It’s empty, of course, but it’s progress.
They push Blonsky onto his hands and knees and he goes, sneering, like an offended cat, not because they push but because he wants to. Mahone kisses his spine for that, while he slams into him, fucking him rough and violent as an open brawl, and twice as cathartic.
“Tell - me - about - him,” Alex grunts. None of them would bare their souls in charity; this is strictly quid pro quo. Bond slithers under them on his back, drags his teeth along the inside of Blonsky’s thigh, then arches up to take Blonsky’s erection into his mouth, because this is the most he can offer them. Sure, Mahone is certain there was a girl once, who got inside his armor when it was less adamant and stabbed him somewhere tender, but Bond doesn’t live for the chase; he isn’t the type to fall for his mark in the thrill of a challenge, be caught off guard by the wonder of an equal. He will never know the horror of slaughtering his match.
And suddenly Mahone is furious, pounding into Blonsky ferociously, digging his fingers into Blonsky hips as hard as he can, wanting him to feel the pain even through whatever crazy enhancement he’s on.
“You’ll never get him back,” he hisses cruelly, wanting to punish Emil in all the ways he hasn’t yet managed to adequately punish himself. “Not ever. Something wondrous and shining, and you snuffed it out.”
Blonsky screams into Bond’s stomach, thrusting wildly into his mouth. Mahone comes at the sound of it, because Blonsky is his mirror breaking, and the shards pierce the bleak core of him with awful brightness.
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You know, one of the things I love about fanfic porn is that it defies boundaries. I've never seen The Incredible Hulk or Prison Break, and I'm not a big fan of James Bond, but I still really liked this. The last sentence, especially. :D Nice job! *shivers*
Sarah
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