So I am stealing
this from my darling
featherfish because it is a very, very rad idea and also some of you are shy and I wish you wouldn't be because I really don't bite unless you're into that.
So without further ado, I give you:
In past Christmases, I have left an open invitation to write little fanfic drabbles for LJ holiday presents. I'd like to do that
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I bit down on my knuckle as he closed his lips over the head of my cock, reaching my other hand down to knot in his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling up, See, this is how I play this game, don’t you want to play rough, too? And it seemed like he did, digging his nails into my hipbones, taking my cock all the way into his mouth so that I was screaming into the palm of my hand, rocking my hips up. O, god, he was everything wicked and clever, the way his tongue moved the way he dipped his head, the sting of his nails clutching tighter and tighter. I was shaking, teeth clenched and sucking in tight, choked breaths. My hand fell away from my lips to cup his cheek, feeling his jaw work against my palm.
I wished I could see him, his pale, kohl-rimmed eyes. I knew exactly the expression he’d have on his face, defiant, like he was saying Enjoying the show, are you? and I couldn’t imagine anything more delicious. I closed my eyes, tipping my head back, just picturing it. I didn’t care who saw us anymore, didn’t care who heard me moan. In flagrante delicto. So be it. Worth the risk, O god. I’d give myself over to it again and again.
Imagining it wasn’t enough, though, would never be. I pushed back my chair, hauled his head forward with his hair clutched in my hand, grinding out fuck through gritted teeth as he took me in even deeper.
O, his face, even better than I’d pictured it in my mind, his mask half pushed up, eyes bright and kohl smeared, lips swollen and dark. A trickle of sweat creeping down from his hairline. He was perfect, utterly perfect. And that’s when I knew, yes, it was true what he said, I wanted him as mine. Wanted it so bad, that ache, that lungful of glass shards, glittering and sharper than love, sharper than hate.
Everything went bright and liquidblurry around me as I came, a clutter of words and sounds caught somewhere in my throat and I could feel his smile, broad and tight around me as I gasped deep, wrenching breaths, clinging uselessly to the table for support. He stood up between my spread-wide legs and I leaned against his chest while he stroked my hair and the band played on.
And the band played on.
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This is beautiful and luxuriantly sexy and elegant and all the things I ever wanted. Oh thank you beautiful Wonderderp.
Oh god glorious. In particular this:
Everything. And I could break it all down, shatter it so that it’s small enough to handle. Calculate every angle. Strip it to its simplest form and then build it back up so that my hands would know worlds. There’s something there, stitched through everything like a gold thread. Higgs boson, God particle, call it what you want, it’s all the same. My harlequin boy doesn’t see the world like I do, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t see the order in it all, only the potential.
That suits him just fine because all he wants is to shred it all apart in thin, fragile pieces, like pulling the wings from flies. He wants to take a look inside just for the sake of seeing something novel. I know just then that I’d let him, too. O, how I would. It’s worth the risk. Go ahead, I thought, go ahead, pull it all apart, rearrange it, use my blood as fingerpaint.
Clinerei thinks that all I know are numbers, but he’s never made me burn like this.
No one has, if I’m being honest, and I should probably be afraid.
But I’m not.
You amazing lady. You got Higgs in there and everything. Excuse me while I die of happiness.
&hearts &hearts &hearts &hearts &hearts &hearts
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