The Sharing of the Things
1) I have become kind of obsessed with my livejournal interests as of late. I must have 100 even and I am trying to make them as outlandish and dumb as possible. No "reading camus" or "drinking lattes" for me. Askars the failed lesbian and my little pony all around!
2) Thanks to anybody who comments on my love thing. I'm all a-glow. I also responded to all the comments, but since most of them are anon I didn't figure you'd have tracking on. RESPOND TO ME, MERLIN ANON.
3) I love Flash games. Preferably silly ones. Like Haunt the House or my FOREVER FAVOURITE SUSHI CAT. If you hate Sushi Cat I hate you.
4) C and I are still prepping stuff for gk_remix. So it's happening, but we're slow. Go watch the comm, though. SOON.
5) I wrote my dearest alethialia some porn this morning, for she needed it. And now I'm tacking it here for archival purposes. Also hahaha WRITING WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU BEFORE? I blame, like with all my problems, Askars.
Nate nestles into Brad’s neck, trying to warm his nose. Brad doesn’t move, which means he’s still sleeping or dead. Either way he’s giving off heat so Nate doesn’t care.
Nate breathes in the smell of Brad and sleep. Maybe he cares a little. His morning semi sloping against Brad’s thigh says he cares. Brad apparently doesn’t though, even when Nate kisses his neck. He’s sleeping straight facedown, which shouldn’t be possible. Nate marshals an arm into slow motion, gripping Brad’s bicep.
“Hey,” he murmurs, shaking Brad.
Brad snorts into the pillow and moves his face an inch, so Nate can feel his hot breath seeping between him and the pillow.
Nate grunts in appreciation and rubs Brad’s arm, feeling the morning fullness of his body, the urge to stretch, the feeling of blood flowing to his cock. His hand slips from Brad’s bicep and across his back until he can touch his own cock, giving it a tug.
Brad gives a full-body twitch and slowly peels his face off the pillow. He looks at Nate like he forgot what colours mean. Nate has to laugh and him and he blinks so slowly, starting to turn. Nate gives him room but doesn’t take his hand off his cock until Brad replaces it with his own. His grip is much looser.
“Hand izsleep,” Brad says, turning his wrist so Nate can see the marks from the sheets left.
“Stop sleeping on them for eight hours every night,” Nate says, rubbing the similar creases on Brad’s face with his thumb.
Brad hums in response and strokes clumsily, then less so. He keeps flexing his fingers, trying to get the feeling back. Nate lets him do whatever he wants. He rubs Brad’s flank because Brad is nowhere near awake enough to get in on the action. Hell, Brad’s still taking deep sleep breaths and barely bothering to keep his eyes open.
Eventually Nate has to get his hand around Brad’s to tighten the grip and speed him up. That’s when Brad opens his eyes, just a hint of a knife behind them. Nate smiles at him and presses two of his fingers down so two of Brad’s do.
Brad looks at him until he’s close, barely contributing. Then when Nate is pushing into their hands, his eyes closed against the sun, that’s when Brad hefts himself closer and whispers warm right into Nate’s face, “Good morning.”
The rusty voice is Nate’s undoing. He groans back at Brad while he comes, panting, tilting his face into the pillow. When he opens his eyes Brad’s are closed again, his breathing at peace. His hand is still curled around Nate though, a little slick of come streaking down the back of his hand.
Nate collects it on one finger. Brad squints at him but opens his mouth for the finger and sucks it clean. Then he closes his eyes again.
“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Nate asks. He feels relaxed and ready for the day. Brad looks like he feels otherwise.
“Mrph.”
Nate laughs and edges out of bed. “Okay. Don’t sleep forever.” He walks straight into the bathroom, not even bothering to get a towel off the floor. He doesn’t turn the light on in the bathroom either, just the shower. It’s already warm when he gets in. He’s pretty relaxed but he lets the water pressure take care of his shoulders anyway. He doesn’t start washing yet, waiting for the rush of cold air that heralds Brad’s morning stumble into the bathroom.
2) Thanks to anybody who comments on my love thing. I'm all a-glow. I also responded to all the comments, but since most of them are anon I didn't figure you'd have tracking on. RESPOND TO ME, MERLIN ANON.
3) I love Flash games. Preferably silly ones. Like Haunt the House or my FOREVER FAVOURITE SUSHI CAT. If you hate Sushi Cat I hate you.
4) C and I are still prepping stuff for gk_remix. So it's happening, but we're slow. Go watch the comm, though. SOON.
5) I wrote my dearest alethialia some porn this morning, for she needed it. And now I'm tacking it here for archival purposes. Also hahaha WRITING WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU BEFORE? I blame, like with all my problems, Askars.
Nate nestles into Brad’s neck, trying to warm his nose. Brad doesn’t move, which means he’s still sleeping or dead. Either way he’s giving off heat so Nate doesn’t care.
Nate breathes in the smell of Brad and sleep. Maybe he cares a little. His morning semi sloping against Brad’s thigh says he cares. Brad apparently doesn’t though, even when Nate kisses his neck. He’s sleeping straight facedown, which shouldn’t be possible. Nate marshals an arm into slow motion, gripping Brad’s bicep.
“Hey,” he murmurs, shaking Brad.
Brad snorts into the pillow and moves his face an inch, so Nate can feel his hot breath seeping between him and the pillow.
Nate grunts in appreciation and rubs Brad’s arm, feeling the morning fullness of his body, the urge to stretch, the feeling of blood flowing to his cock. His hand slips from Brad’s bicep and across his back until he can touch his own cock, giving it a tug.
Brad gives a full-body twitch and slowly peels his face off the pillow. He looks at Nate like he forgot what colours mean. Nate has to laugh and him and he blinks so slowly, starting to turn. Nate gives him room but doesn’t take his hand off his cock until Brad replaces it with his own. His grip is much looser.
“Hand izsleep,” Brad says, turning his wrist so Nate can see the marks from the sheets left.
“Stop sleeping on them for eight hours every night,” Nate says, rubbing the similar creases on Brad’s face with his thumb.
Brad hums in response and strokes clumsily, then less so. He keeps flexing his fingers, trying to get the feeling back. Nate lets him do whatever he wants. He rubs Brad’s flank because Brad is nowhere near awake enough to get in on the action. Hell, Brad’s still taking deep sleep breaths and barely bothering to keep his eyes open.
Eventually Nate has to get his hand around Brad’s to tighten the grip and speed him up. That’s when Brad opens his eyes, just a hint of a knife behind them. Nate smiles at him and presses two of his fingers down so two of Brad’s do.
Brad looks at him until he’s close, barely contributing. Then when Nate is pushing into their hands, his eyes closed against the sun, that’s when Brad hefts himself closer and whispers warm right into Nate’s face, “Good morning.”
The rusty voice is Nate’s undoing. He groans back at Brad while he comes, panting, tilting his face into the pillow. When he opens his eyes Brad’s are closed again, his breathing at peace. His hand is still curled around Nate though, a little slick of come streaking down the back of his hand.
Nate collects it on one finger. Brad squints at him but opens his mouth for the finger and sucks it clean. Then he closes his eyes again.
“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Nate asks. He feels relaxed and ready for the day. Brad looks like he feels otherwise.
“Mrph.”
Nate laughs and edges out of bed. “Okay. Don’t sleep forever.” He walks straight into the bathroom, not even bothering to get a towel off the floor. He doesn’t turn the light on in the bathroom either, just the shower. It’s already warm when he gets in. He’s pretty relaxed but he lets the water pressure take care of his shoulders anyway. He doesn’t start washing yet, waiting for the rush of cold air that heralds Brad’s morning stumble into the bathroom.