(no subject)
I got up at 7:40 this morning. What was I thinking?! I felt sort of like Bernard off of Black Books, when he gets up at ten and he's like 'what do people do at this time? I scouted out the place I'm going to for an orchestra rehearsal tonight- I'm sorry I won't be at writer's group, but I have missed playing in an orchestra so damn badly it's like I've been missing a limb or something. That'll be every mondal, but not friday.
Also finished The Charioteer. Meep is all I can say. And because it is due to the pimping skills of my flist that I read it (and at swim, two boys), I feel I should pimp a book for you in return. The Vintner's Luck, by Elizabeth Knox. I read this book at about sixteen, fell in love with it and had to retur it to the library. Darnit. 3 years later, and I've just had it delivered from Amazon. This book is...it's about a vineyard owner from Burgundy, who is visited by an angel, Xas, at the same time evey year. It's rich and vivid, full of Christian imagery, erotic and with this close focus on some detail that makes it inhuman, otherworldly. It's like the cinematography of certain films, washed in colour, rich and dark. I love this book so so so much, and recommend it very highly.
Also? Hugh playing golf with Callum. How much glee? *flings arms out* This much! I mean, hillbilly voices!!!!! \o/
And did a post for
ds_workshop on the au, here, in which people are having the most fantastically clever discussions. Truly a case of the blind having led the superclever *g*
Guess what.
It's the birthday of the one and only Paul Gross!
Is this not the coolest thing? There should possibly be another blowjob day in celebration *g*
But anyway, here's to an intelligent, dorky gorgeous canadian with a slashy heart worthy of the most irredeemable fangirl and the smile of...well, it's a good smile *beams*
So! Hugh, Callum and Paul playing golf!!! Now, what sort of lube wouldn't rust the club handles...hmm....
"Golf. Fucking golf, Cal, Gross comes over here to talk about a film and you make us play golf."
Paul wondered vaguely if Hugh knew that every time he said 'golf', Callum's smile grew more and more sultry. Hugh turned to him for support, and he grinned at him, just to rile him up a bit more, and then said their code word (that hugh had chosen, the bastard) "Voodoo fucking sucks." Hugh nodded, once, Paul checked his pockets for supplies, and Hugh and Callum had a brief argument over who was going to drive the golf buggy. Paul got into the driver's seat, revved it up and started driving, which stopped them pretty quickly. Early bird and all that.
As he drove, he heard Hugh put the plan into action subtly (for him) by whispering 'wanna fuck?' into Callum's ear. Callum murmured something about 'swings' and 'eagles', Hugh swore. Phase 0.5 complete.
The next phase, apparently, involved Hugh grabbing him in the middle of Callum taking a swing and kissing him. Damn, but he was good, even if he seemed to have forgotten the whole 'distract callum' plan, so they ended up having to run after the golf buggy when Callum drove off in it.
Next phase was talking in a french accent and adding syllables to words. Callum dug that, for some reason. "Eet ees vairairy ot wezzer for thees time of yearrrrrrr" he purred. Hugh collapsed laughing behind him, Callum absent mindedly adjusted his trousers. Hugh tried next.
"Wanna fuck?"
5th hole and no success. Hugh had started kissing Paul for the heck of it, and Paul was considering dramatic action. Right after hugh had finished...mmmyeah...
"So, uh, you see, this swing means the ball goes faster but is, uh, less accurate. You need your legs to be wider- why are you kneeling down and undoing my-"
Paul kissed him to shut him up, gently removing the club from Callum's frozen hands. Damn but it was a good sight, Hugh on his knees, cheeks hollowed, lips slick and shiny- Callum pulled him back for another kiss, mouth tasting smoky and warm, coffee and cigarettes, soft lips and stubble. Callum had his head turned, one hand on Hugh's head, the other on the back of Paul's neck as he groaned, moving his hips in sharp, restrained thrusts. Paul moved right in close, cock hard, so hard it felt like the sight of a golf club would get him hot in future.
Callum whimpered into his mouth, hand tightening then he was gasping, coming, shaking and breaking the kiss to hide his face in Paul's jacket. Damn. More toothmarks in the leather. He kept moving, needing friction, needing to come-
"Not yet, Mister Paul fucking Gross," Hugh said, grabbing his hips from behind, licking the side of his neck. He whimpered, tried to move again but Callum had moved away.
"Back home?"
Callum looked amused in a fucked out sort of way. "Okay, you sure you don't want to finish the game?"
Paul wondered just how warped his mind had become after all the criminals he'd played. Hugh tugged him along by the hand, back to the cart, getting into the driver's seat.
"Now, how fast does this baby go?"