July fic & things
First of all, I recieved a marvelous Sanctuary story for not-primetime: Days in the Life (3064 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sanctuary (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Declan MacRae, James Watson, Original Characters
Summary: Two days in the life of Declan MacRae - before we met him and after it all ended.
The story I wrote is probably obvious; correct guesses will get a drabble or something :-)
I also wrote and posted three things as a result of the Con*Strict flash-slash panel.
Wrist - Inhale - Innocent - Starlit - TPM, Qui-Gon, PG-13ish
On AO3
Soft lips met the tender skin of Qui-Gon's wrist, innocent kisses that made him shiver and lit stars of desire in his veins. He inhaled sharply, muscles trembling, struggling to stay still, attentive, aware and in the moment. He wanted to remember it all, experience every caress, sound, scent, and taste. This was a gift that might never come his way again, and he intended not just to enjoy it to the fullest, but to return the delight in full measure to his lover and beloved. However outwardly chaste they were, however seemingly stoic and unapproachable, Jedi, too, knew love.
A Silken Web - HL, Methos, PG
Prompt words: Silk, Wrestle, Tight, Dripping
On AO3
He'd woken from death several times to airless, liquid darkness, fading - dying - again before he could more that gasp and strain ineffectually against wholly enveloping restraint, heart stuttering around the blade that pierced it. This time when he woke, there was light visible beyond his eyelids, faint and golden; and air sharp and redolent of teasingly familiar spice, despite the fine-woven stuff that stretched smotheringly close over his face, molded wetly to every limb, so tight it was only just possible to breathe. The iron tang in his throat made him wonder if it was his own blood that made it cling fast. It was silk, thin and stubbornly strong, for all its gossamer lightness when dry, much tougher than it had appeared, floating deliciously over the curves of the dancer. He'd been well and truly caught by that pretty face and lithe form. Where on earth had she been hiding that damn dagger anyway?
Slowly he wrestled his way out of the furls and folds of tightly-wound cloth. The inner layers were unembellished, smooth and red with what he hoped was only dye. The outer veils were elaborately worked, edges fringed and dripping with pearls and silver bullion, gemstones winking in the low light. They tangled in his hair, around his fingers, hindering him almost as much as the silk alone. This was ridiculous. Finally he stood unbound, stark naked in a puddle of silk and pearls, not a blade or a weapon to be seen. Dammit. He recognized this scenario.
"Amanda!"
Abandoned - Lavender House 3, HL/Lord John Grey, Methos/Lord John, Explicit
Prompt words: Quill, Yielding, Insert, Frozen
On AO3
The quill dropped from Lord John's fingers, ink spattering on the once-white page as it fell. For a moment his breath was frozen in his chest, then the spicules of ice transformed in an instant into stars of fire in his veins as the touch came again, feather-light against the nape of his neck. His blood burned, rushing precipitously to fill his cock. James' fingers continued mapping John's skin as he turned in the chair, teasing at John's throat, dipping into the hollow of his collarbones, drawing ribbons of heat down the pale expanse of his chest. The silk of John's banyan slid off his shoulders, caught on his elbows as James proceeded down, now adding lips and tongue to his exploration of John's now exposed and yielding flesh. Soon John was sprawled in the chair, sliding down until his tailbone reached the edge of the seat-cushion, thighs spread and hands gripping the carved arms as James employed his mouth to devastating effect on John's cock as he played at John's nether entrance. Before long, those fingertips - now slick and smooth with oil; James was never unprepared, never careless, even when deliciously forceful, erotically brutal - were dipping into his arse, precise as he would insert a pen into an ink pot, fucking John with his fingers.
John's head was thrown back as he gasped, only long habit keeping him from crying out as again and again James pressed that perfect spot, at the same time applying masterful, amazing suction, swirling his tongue under the crown of John's cock, driving John inescapably onward to completion. A climax all the more thorough and devastating for the need to keep still lest he fall out of the chair, and quiet lest anyone hear. The very uncontrol of being so wholly in James' hands only stoked the fire of his need. James would be smiling to see John all undone, but that too was good. John did not in the least doubt that James' would bring him through.
John abandoned himself to James' ministrations, consumed by desire, by ravening need, as James pressed deeper, sucked harder. His body shuddered, invaded and surrounded, driven to the brink and beyond. He loosed one hand to brush James' curls, signal that he was coming, but James always took delight in drinking him down. And with a last firm suck and twisting thrust, John was coming, cock pulsing, arse clenching hard as waves of shattering pleasure rolled through him.
Then James was gentling him through the aftermath, holding the head of John's cock in the warm cavern of his mouth as the last pulses shivered along his nerves, easing his fingers from between John's nether cheeks, leaving him feeling stretched and well-exercised. John leaned over to draw James into a kiss, tongues sliding along each other. When he could trust his muscles again, John levered himself up from the chair, never quite letting go of James. He collected the dish of oil from the corner of the desk where James had put it, and urged James back toward the bed, where James was more than willing to go. James' cock was flushed dark and wonderfully hard between their bellies, eager and hot.
John wanted to see James writhe on John's fingers, wanted to hear that quiet, breathy moan as John urged James in turn to that ecstatic climax. Wanted, even, to sink down and fill himself with James' rigid cock until John's own flesh recovered, and then take James in turn, James insisting in a filthy undertone that John fuck him dammit, harder! Until they were both breathless and shaking, wet with sweat and utterly replete.
The letters could wait until morning.
There is one more set of prompt-words I plan to do something with, and a second piece for the first set that needs some more thought.
For August I have the first of my HL_Chronicles piece to finish & post, and several things in process. Including some amusingly challenging Six Degrees of Separation prompts. I'm still open for more :-)
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/234898.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sanctuary (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Declan MacRae, James Watson, Original Characters
Summary: Two days in the life of Declan MacRae - before we met him and after it all ended.
The story I wrote is probably obvious; correct guesses will get a drabble or something :-)
I also wrote and posted three things as a result of the Con*Strict flash-slash panel.
Wrist - Inhale - Innocent - Starlit - TPM, Qui-Gon, PG-13ish
On AO3
Soft lips met the tender skin of Qui-Gon's wrist, innocent kisses that made him shiver and lit stars of desire in his veins. He inhaled sharply, muscles trembling, struggling to stay still, attentive, aware and in the moment. He wanted to remember it all, experience every caress, sound, scent, and taste. This was a gift that might never come his way again, and he intended not just to enjoy it to the fullest, but to return the delight in full measure to his lover and beloved. However outwardly chaste they were, however seemingly stoic and unapproachable, Jedi, too, knew love.
A Silken Web - HL, Methos, PG
Prompt words: Silk, Wrestle, Tight, Dripping
On AO3
He'd woken from death several times to airless, liquid darkness, fading - dying - again before he could more that gasp and strain ineffectually against wholly enveloping restraint, heart stuttering around the blade that pierced it. This time when he woke, there was light visible beyond his eyelids, faint and golden; and air sharp and redolent of teasingly familiar spice, despite the fine-woven stuff that stretched smotheringly close over his face, molded wetly to every limb, so tight it was only just possible to breathe. The iron tang in his throat made him wonder if it was his own blood that made it cling fast. It was silk, thin and stubbornly strong, for all its gossamer lightness when dry, much tougher than it had appeared, floating deliciously over the curves of the dancer. He'd been well and truly caught by that pretty face and lithe form. Where on earth had she been hiding that damn dagger anyway?
Slowly he wrestled his way out of the furls and folds of tightly-wound cloth. The inner layers were unembellished, smooth and red with what he hoped was only dye. The outer veils were elaborately worked, edges fringed and dripping with pearls and silver bullion, gemstones winking in the low light. They tangled in his hair, around his fingers, hindering him almost as much as the silk alone. This was ridiculous. Finally he stood unbound, stark naked in a puddle of silk and pearls, not a blade or a weapon to be seen. Dammit. He recognized this scenario.
"Amanda!"
Abandoned - Lavender House 3, HL/Lord John Grey, Methos/Lord John, Explicit
Prompt words: Quill, Yielding, Insert, Frozen
On AO3
The quill dropped from Lord John's fingers, ink spattering on the once-white page as it fell. For a moment his breath was frozen in his chest, then the spicules of ice transformed in an instant into stars of fire in his veins as the touch came again, feather-light against the nape of his neck. His blood burned, rushing precipitously to fill his cock. James' fingers continued mapping John's skin as he turned in the chair, teasing at John's throat, dipping into the hollow of his collarbones, drawing ribbons of heat down the pale expanse of his chest. The silk of John's banyan slid off his shoulders, caught on his elbows as James proceeded down, now adding lips and tongue to his exploration of John's now exposed and yielding flesh. Soon John was sprawled in the chair, sliding down until his tailbone reached the edge of the seat-cushion, thighs spread and hands gripping the carved arms as James employed his mouth to devastating effect on John's cock as he played at John's nether entrance. Before long, those fingertips - now slick and smooth with oil; James was never unprepared, never careless, even when deliciously forceful, erotically brutal - were dipping into his arse, precise as he would insert a pen into an ink pot, fucking John with his fingers.
John's head was thrown back as he gasped, only long habit keeping him from crying out as again and again James pressed that perfect spot, at the same time applying masterful, amazing suction, swirling his tongue under the crown of John's cock, driving John inescapably onward to completion. A climax all the more thorough and devastating for the need to keep still lest he fall out of the chair, and quiet lest anyone hear. The very uncontrol of being so wholly in James' hands only stoked the fire of his need. James would be smiling to see John all undone, but that too was good. John did not in the least doubt that James' would bring him through.
John abandoned himself to James' ministrations, consumed by desire, by ravening need, as James pressed deeper, sucked harder. His body shuddered, invaded and surrounded, driven to the brink and beyond. He loosed one hand to brush James' curls, signal that he was coming, but James always took delight in drinking him down. And with a last firm suck and twisting thrust, John was coming, cock pulsing, arse clenching hard as waves of shattering pleasure rolled through him.
Then James was gentling him through the aftermath, holding the head of John's cock in the warm cavern of his mouth as the last pulses shivered along his nerves, easing his fingers from between John's nether cheeks, leaving him feeling stretched and well-exercised. John leaned over to draw James into a kiss, tongues sliding along each other. When he could trust his muscles again, John levered himself up from the chair, never quite letting go of James. He collected the dish of oil from the corner of the desk where James had put it, and urged James back toward the bed, where James was more than willing to go. James' cock was flushed dark and wonderfully hard between their bellies, eager and hot.
John wanted to see James writhe on John's fingers, wanted to hear that quiet, breathy moan as John urged James in turn to that ecstatic climax. Wanted, even, to sink down and fill himself with James' rigid cock until John's own flesh recovered, and then take James in turn, James insisting in a filthy undertone that John fuck him dammit, harder! Until they were both breathless and shaking, wet with sweat and utterly replete.
The letters could wait until morning.
There is one more set of prompt-words I plan to do something with, and a second piece for the first set that needs some more thought.
For August I have the first of my HL_Chronicles piece to finish & post, and several things in process. Including some amusingly challenging Six Degrees of Separation prompts. I'm still open for more :-)
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/234898.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.