Five hottest moments/May story roundup
Ages ago, when the meme was going around to pick your five favourite stories, flipmontigirl tagged me to list mine. And I tried, I really did. But I couldn't do it, not pick just five. So I decided to do a variation, and I've picked my five favourite hottest moments in my stories. Which is quite telling really - I've read through a lot of my older stories to do this, and much as I like the sex scenes I've written in various fandoms, it all comes down to certain characters for me. And Sam Winchester, mostly - Sam makes me porny! And hot!!
These are in no particular order.
1. this is a land could eat a man alive [Supernatural, Dean/girl!Sam]
I wrote this for one of my Porn Battles. It was weird, I just couldn't write porn that week, until I decided to try writing het, instead of Dean/Sam which I'd been trying to write. So I thought I'd try writing Sam as a woman (not genderswap, but Sam born a girl) and wham bam, porniness happened!
She doesn't want careful. She wants dirty and spent and exhausted. Desert cowgirl, fucked on a bedroll until her pussy is raw and opened up like ripe fruit. She wants his fingers, all of them, she wants his big cock between, in her, she wants to feel. How much he needs her.
Hands between them, she undoes his fly. Dean's breath hitches, but he doesn't say anything. Lies there, silent, acquiescent. She'd think he didn't want her, but he's never been able to fool her. It's her game, see how long it takes. She presses her tits up against him, feels her nipples rub to hard under her t-shirt, against him. He'll crack soon, and it'll be as though he forgets she's precious, forgets she's his baby sister, forgets everything but the heat of her pussy swallowing him up and the taste and scent of sex, and then.
She whispers against his neck, almost too soft for him to hear. "I love the feel of you inside me, your hands on my tits," she says. "I love you," she says, quieter still, words only for the dark. He shudders under the feel of it, his dick grows in her hand, hot with blood.
"Sam," he says. Begs. It didn't take long. "Sammy." Urgent now, "God, Sammy," their blanket cocoon flung open so he can move in, move over, envelope her.
He leaves her jeans around her ankles - a hobble, but she's not going to run - and her panties on. Slides one hand under the tight fabric and she's so wet already, sticky on his fingers. Other hand under her t-shirt, finding her little tits. Cold air, and Dean's pressed up tight against her, fitting his dick in beside his fingers. Fucking her with both.
2. All the hurt geography I own [Supernatural, Sam/Ellen]
This was an unintentional story. I was struggling to write any of the stories I had planned, so I just sat down and free-wrote, whatever came into my head. And it turned out to be Sam/Ellen, from Ellen's point of view, which caught me completely by surprise. I'm sure the reason it happened was because flipmontigirl had just written that pairing, and made it hot and right, so the idea of it had seeped into my brain, and this came out.
He blankets a crate with his jacket, and she sits on it in her faded-white cotton panties while he slips his long fingers inside them, slips into the silky wetness between her legs, pulls them off and leans between the vee of her legs. He's gorgeous, all long lean muscle, and she closes her eyes, too many sensations.
His hand cradling her ass is steady as he slides in and out of her. There's a splinter in her hand, old wood; she'll have to pull it out later, but she doesn't feel the pain, not now, just the vague awareness of its presence. All she can feel is Sam, the tickle of his pubes against her thighs, the not-quite stubble against her neck, the foreign feel of his cast against her flank, his knowing fingers. Hot everywhere they touch skin. He's filling her with heat and she wraps a leg around him and pulls him in deeper, as if she can keep him there forever. He's breathing heavy, and when she opens her eyes she's not sure if he's in agony or ecstasy.
"Ellen," he grunts and his voice is an octave lower than normal. He sounds like his father and, God help her, she comes at the sound, wet and needy and silent, head thrown back while her body trembles in his hands.
He stills until she digs her heel in his back, rubs her breasts against him and wishes there'd been time to get naked so she could feel his chest bare against hers, but then he's fucking her, hard and desperate and almost angry, like he's looking for something he's lost and he knows he won't find it here but he still has to look anyway. And she would cry for him, mourn for all he's lost, but it's his pain, and she doesn't have a place in it, not really, just a brief role in the here and now.
He comes in the end, sinking one last time heavy against her, and she holds him tight while he breaks up.
He kisses her after they've pulled their clothes back on, so gently and tenderly that it almost doesn't matter that there's no need left in it any more.
"Next time," he says, "next time I want to see you."
"My breasts sag," she tells him. Next time. She processes slowly.
"I want to see your saggy breasts," he says.
3. Symbiote [Smallville, Lex/Clark/Adam]
I have a love/hate relationship with this story. It's the only story I've ever posted as a WIP, and I got completely stuck towards the end, and didn't finish it until I joined wip_it_good and picked this as my main story to finish. I still can't decide if it's any good or not, but the main premise still pleases me - maybe one day I'll attempt to write the idea again. But I was quite surprised when I reread this sex scene: I'm not really into threesomes, but this still does it for me. I think it's because this is where the dynamic starts to turn from Clark/Adam to Lex/Clark. Adam is there, and taking part, but he's fading, and it's the start for Lex and Clark. It's far from being one of my best sex scenes, but I still like the image of three amazingly attractive men, naked on the floor in Lex's library, fire light and lamp light.
Lex draws back, smiles a half smile that's visible as much in his eyes as his lips, and turns to Adam. Clark can't look away while they kiss, wants to, but his head doesn't obey, and his eyes won't close, like staring at a train wreck. But Lex's hand is still on him, under his shirt now, so he can feel the warmth from it, reassurance.
There are three of them, but they're all one whole, and now it all starts to get jumbled for Clark, as he picks his hands off the rug, smoothes the pile where he's been pulling at it, and twists round, into them both, and there's hot breath and slow hands, sharp edges concealing softer lines. It should be difficult, but it's not anymore, because they all want this and they're all just fitting together, like a crazy puzzle that you look at and can't see how it would ever fit, until by chance one day you put each piece in just right and it happens. It's a shape that makes sense, all solid and tightly interlocked. And as the clothes get flung away, they get closer, until they're all skin on skin.
And even though they're so intermingled they feel like they can never be separated, Clark can tell clearly where each one is. Adam's skin is a little rough in places, his legs covered in fine curly hair, whereas Lex is entirely bare, skin smooth and fine. And he's discovering more each second, from each part of his body that's pressed against Lex's, rubbing and feeling, feeling naked skin, everywhere. Unique. He'll never know anyone like Lex, but that's fine because he'll never need to, because he's never giving this up.
And now Lex is sliding down him, and oh God.
Oh sweet God.
The mouth that felt so hot kissing him is now taking him in, swallowing him down. Tight and wet, and his cock is going to explode. Lex shudders, and Clark opens his eyes, not that he even realized he'd closed them, and sees Adam, his head down behind Lex, and he must be, fuck, he must be licking him, there. And the thought is so dirty it shouldn't make his cock pulse and his balls tighten, but it does, and Lex is still swallowing, still shuddering, and Clark can see that he likes what he's doing, and he likes what Adam is doing to him, and Clark is fucking loving what Lex is doing to him.
And now Lex's hand is doing wonderful things, rolling his balls, reaching further back, pushing into the dark area behind, fingers delving, and it's all so much sensation, his every nerve is shrieking at him, screaming for more, for everything.
He can hear Adam's voice from behind Lex. He's calling out intermittently what Clark thinks at first is sheer nonsense, but then realizes is musical terms (sharp, major, fifth) and Clark almost laughs because Adam is playing Lex, tongue fucking him and translating it in his own weird brain to music. He doesn't laugh though, because he thinks that if he were musical, maybe this is what this would be to him too. But he's alien, and he can't hold a tune or dance or paint a picture, so he falls back on what he can understand - that this is life to him, life literally to Adam, but almost as much to him too, something organic that makes him feel more human than he's ever felt since he learned that he isn't.
Clark's holding on, walking so close to the edge that he's dizzy, but he's not going to fall, not yet.
4. The Art of War [Smallville, Lex/Lana]
I almost ended up copy and pasting the entire story, because I think it's one of the hottest things I've ever written. In the end, I picked the opening rather than the sex scene, because I love the feel of tension in it, the reveal of what is actually happening. But I love the sex scene too.
Lana isn't fragile.
She slams back against the wall, trying to twist away but failing. She's panting, hard, out of breath, but she's not giving in this easily.
Too many people think she's fragile. They want to care for her and protect her and sometimes that's good, it is, and she's grateful, but sometimes she gets so sick of it she wants to scream.
She fights back, catches him by surprise. She's lithe and fast and she's out of his grasp before he realizes it. Running. She can feel the sweat trickling down her back, pooling between her breasts. Not fear, exhilaration.
Appearances are deceptive. And people change. Lana's changed, even though not everyone sees it, or wants to accept it. She's not the girl she was a few years ago.
He catches her up, of course. She knew he would, but she gets in one punch before she's down. He staggers, but only for a second.
She's grown up, and when you grow up, sometimes you just grow out of things, out of people. You don't think it'll happen that way when you're fifteen and you've met the love of your life who you're going to be with forever and ever, but a couple of years later you've almost forgotten his name. It's the way things go.
She'll have bruises tomorrow; fresh bruises on top of all the old ones. She doesn't care. She's proud of them.
Lex knows her. Knows who she's become, and sometimes he's gentle with her - he'd give his life for her - and sometimes-sometimes he won't spare her at all, and it's what Lana needs, what she wants, and she hadn't realized that until Lex taught her.
She thrusts up slyly, but he catches the move almost before she's made it. He presses her down, and he's lean but he's strong too, and he's not holding back. He laughs at her, dammit, just laughs as she tries to get free.
Lex is teaching her self-defense as well, taking up the lessons he started years ago. She's learning fast, but he beats her every time. For now.
She surrenders.
The art of war, he calls it. Being fit enough, strong enough and clever enough to defeat your opponent in whatever field you're fighting: political, financial, physical. And his eyes narrow, full of memories, and Lana thinks of all the battles he's fought and won.
And now he has an ally.
Lex rolls off her, lying on the mat beside her. She made him fight hard for the victory this time.
She's out of breath and Lex is too, his sweats dark with perspiration. She can feel the heat radiating from him.
He says well done and you're learning fast and she glows in his approval, but he doesn't give her time to relax or recover before he's leaning over her again, and this time it's not a fight and she's not going to push him away.
5. lovers alone wear sunlight [Supernatural, Sam/Lenore]
Um, this just hits way too many of my kinks! I have flipmontigirl to thank for this scene even existing - she told me I had rushed the story at this point, and needed to write the sex scene instead of glossing over it, so I did and it just happened like this, and I loved it. I actually find it sexier because the sex barely happens, than if it had. If I had to pick a favourite out of the five, it would be this one.
He's a mess, and she has to guide every move he makes. His kisses are in her hair, on the curve of bone behind her ear, sloppy in the crook of her neck. He bites her there, silly grin afterwards, playing with her, too drunk to understand his own game.
He's heavy when she undresses him, swaying uncertainly on legs that seem too long for him to control. He leans, one hand outstretched against the doorframe, all awkward angles and impossible mathematics. He falls when she tries to pull off his jeans, and laughs, white molars gleaming in the milky light. She tugs, hands lifting him, the tight muscle of his thighs sliding through her hands as she pulls the denim down.
He is vulnerable, laid out naked before her, eyes closed and arms out wide, a crucifix, an offering. And she doesn't understand what she has done to deserve this simple trust, but she won't abuse it.
There's dried mud on his cheek - she wipes it off with his discarded tee-shirt, then strokes the shirt down his chest, watching him shudder under the touch. He's still soft, his penis limp in the crook of his legs. She palms it, spongy-soft in her hand, feels the twitch of interest.
"I'm not too drunk to fuck you," he says. "If that's alright with you," he adds, so politely she barks out a laugh in response.
She strokes him to hardness, learning fast the touch he likes best, the twist that makes blood race hot into his cock, warming her palms, the flick of her thumb that makes his thighs tremble.
"Yes," he says, "yes, like that," and she tugs harder until he gasps and lets his head slip back against the floor.
"Or you could fuck me," he says blearily, "'cos I don't think I'm moving." And she lies like a blanket over him, guiding him inside her, and they stay like that, joined, unmoving. It's enough, the remembered warmth as welcome as last night, and she rests her head on his chest. She reaches out each side for his hands, and hers fit when he closes them around her. It feels intimate, almost too much, something more than she feels she has the right to, but she doesn't let go. They lie like that even after he softens inside her, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest under her the only motion in the room.
So, apparently I find my het sex far hotter than my gay sex! Though a Lana/Chloe bathtub ficlet I wrote years ago nearly made the list, and a couple of snippets of Dean/Sam sexxin' and kissin' came close too. But yeah, my choices surprised me!
I haven't posted a story round-up for May. I'm almost ashamed to do so - driest month in ages.
Lorelai's Little Girl [Gilmore Girls, Rory, Lorelai, gen, PG, 100 words. A missing scene from the series finale.]
I would cradle you tight in my arms, always [Supernatural, Dean/Sam, mention of Dean/Cassie, R, 1,547 words. A coda to All Hell Breaks Loose part 1]
This story hurt to write - I actually cried at one point while I was writing it.
we'll love you just the way you are, if you're perfect [Gilmore Girls, Dean, gen, G, 100 words.]
Ten years. Stars Hollow hasn't changed. Dean has.
And Who Will Save Him? [Supernatural, Dean, Sam, gen, PG, 100 words. Coda to 2x20.]
Always with the right thing, no matter the cost.
ETA: A message to whoever left that comment about me on mrsronweasley's Anonymous Love Meme - I ♥ you so much! Thank you!!
These are in no particular order.
1. this is a land could eat a man alive [Supernatural, Dean/girl!Sam]
I wrote this for one of my Porn Battles. It was weird, I just couldn't write porn that week, until I decided to try writing het, instead of Dean/Sam which I'd been trying to write. So I thought I'd try writing Sam as a woman (not genderswap, but Sam born a girl) and wham bam, porniness happened!
She doesn't want careful. She wants dirty and spent and exhausted. Desert cowgirl, fucked on a bedroll until her pussy is raw and opened up like ripe fruit. She wants his fingers, all of them, she wants his big cock between, in her, she wants to feel. How much he needs her.
Hands between them, she undoes his fly. Dean's breath hitches, but he doesn't say anything. Lies there, silent, acquiescent. She'd think he didn't want her, but he's never been able to fool her. It's her game, see how long it takes. She presses her tits up against him, feels her nipples rub to hard under her t-shirt, against him. He'll crack soon, and it'll be as though he forgets she's precious, forgets she's his baby sister, forgets everything but the heat of her pussy swallowing him up and the taste and scent of sex, and then.
She whispers against his neck, almost too soft for him to hear. "I love the feel of you inside me, your hands on my tits," she says. "I love you," she says, quieter still, words only for the dark. He shudders under the feel of it, his dick grows in her hand, hot with blood.
"Sam," he says. Begs. It didn't take long. "Sammy." Urgent now, "God, Sammy," their blanket cocoon flung open so he can move in, move over, envelope her.
He leaves her jeans around her ankles - a hobble, but she's not going to run - and her panties on. Slides one hand under the tight fabric and she's so wet already, sticky on his fingers. Other hand under her t-shirt, finding her little tits. Cold air, and Dean's pressed up tight against her, fitting his dick in beside his fingers. Fucking her with both.
2. All the hurt geography I own [Supernatural, Sam/Ellen]
This was an unintentional story. I was struggling to write any of the stories I had planned, so I just sat down and free-wrote, whatever came into my head. And it turned out to be Sam/Ellen, from Ellen's point of view, which caught me completely by surprise. I'm sure the reason it happened was because flipmontigirl had just written that pairing, and made it hot and right, so the idea of it had seeped into my brain, and this came out.
He blankets a crate with his jacket, and she sits on it in her faded-white cotton panties while he slips his long fingers inside them, slips into the silky wetness between her legs, pulls them off and leans between the vee of her legs. He's gorgeous, all long lean muscle, and she closes her eyes, too many sensations.
His hand cradling her ass is steady as he slides in and out of her. There's a splinter in her hand, old wood; she'll have to pull it out later, but she doesn't feel the pain, not now, just the vague awareness of its presence. All she can feel is Sam, the tickle of his pubes against her thighs, the not-quite stubble against her neck, the foreign feel of his cast against her flank, his knowing fingers. Hot everywhere they touch skin. He's filling her with heat and she wraps a leg around him and pulls him in deeper, as if she can keep him there forever. He's breathing heavy, and when she opens her eyes she's not sure if he's in agony or ecstasy.
"Ellen," he grunts and his voice is an octave lower than normal. He sounds like his father and, God help her, she comes at the sound, wet and needy and silent, head thrown back while her body trembles in his hands.
He stills until she digs her heel in his back, rubs her breasts against him and wishes there'd been time to get naked so she could feel his chest bare against hers, but then he's fucking her, hard and desperate and almost angry, like he's looking for something he's lost and he knows he won't find it here but he still has to look anyway. And she would cry for him, mourn for all he's lost, but it's his pain, and she doesn't have a place in it, not really, just a brief role in the here and now.
He comes in the end, sinking one last time heavy against her, and she holds him tight while he breaks up.
He kisses her after they've pulled their clothes back on, so gently and tenderly that it almost doesn't matter that there's no need left in it any more.
"Next time," he says, "next time I want to see you."
"My breasts sag," she tells him. Next time. She processes slowly.
"I want to see your saggy breasts," he says.
3. Symbiote [Smallville, Lex/Clark/Adam]
I have a love/hate relationship with this story. It's the only story I've ever posted as a WIP, and I got completely stuck towards the end, and didn't finish it until I joined wip_it_good and picked this as my main story to finish. I still can't decide if it's any good or not, but the main premise still pleases me - maybe one day I'll attempt to write the idea again. But I was quite surprised when I reread this sex scene: I'm not really into threesomes, but this still does it for me. I think it's because this is where the dynamic starts to turn from Clark/Adam to Lex/Clark. Adam is there, and taking part, but he's fading, and it's the start for Lex and Clark. It's far from being one of my best sex scenes, but I still like the image of three amazingly attractive men, naked on the floor in Lex's library, fire light and lamp light.
Lex draws back, smiles a half smile that's visible as much in his eyes as his lips, and turns to Adam. Clark can't look away while they kiss, wants to, but his head doesn't obey, and his eyes won't close, like staring at a train wreck. But Lex's hand is still on him, under his shirt now, so he can feel the warmth from it, reassurance.
There are three of them, but they're all one whole, and now it all starts to get jumbled for Clark, as he picks his hands off the rug, smoothes the pile where he's been pulling at it, and twists round, into them both, and there's hot breath and slow hands, sharp edges concealing softer lines. It should be difficult, but it's not anymore, because they all want this and they're all just fitting together, like a crazy puzzle that you look at and can't see how it would ever fit, until by chance one day you put each piece in just right and it happens. It's a shape that makes sense, all solid and tightly interlocked. And as the clothes get flung away, they get closer, until they're all skin on skin.
And even though they're so intermingled they feel like they can never be separated, Clark can tell clearly where each one is. Adam's skin is a little rough in places, his legs covered in fine curly hair, whereas Lex is entirely bare, skin smooth and fine. And he's discovering more each second, from each part of his body that's pressed against Lex's, rubbing and feeling, feeling naked skin, everywhere. Unique. He'll never know anyone like Lex, but that's fine because he'll never need to, because he's never giving this up.
And now Lex is sliding down him, and oh God.
Oh sweet God.
The mouth that felt so hot kissing him is now taking him in, swallowing him down. Tight and wet, and his cock is going to explode. Lex shudders, and Clark opens his eyes, not that he even realized he'd closed them, and sees Adam, his head down behind Lex, and he must be, fuck, he must be licking him, there. And the thought is so dirty it shouldn't make his cock pulse and his balls tighten, but it does, and Lex is still swallowing, still shuddering, and Clark can see that he likes what he's doing, and he likes what Adam is doing to him, and Clark is fucking loving what Lex is doing to him.
And now Lex's hand is doing wonderful things, rolling his balls, reaching further back, pushing into the dark area behind, fingers delving, and it's all so much sensation, his every nerve is shrieking at him, screaming for more, for everything.
He can hear Adam's voice from behind Lex. He's calling out intermittently what Clark thinks at first is sheer nonsense, but then realizes is musical terms (sharp, major, fifth) and Clark almost laughs because Adam is playing Lex, tongue fucking him and translating it in his own weird brain to music. He doesn't laugh though, because he thinks that if he were musical, maybe this is what this would be to him too. But he's alien, and he can't hold a tune or dance or paint a picture, so he falls back on what he can understand - that this is life to him, life literally to Adam, but almost as much to him too, something organic that makes him feel more human than he's ever felt since he learned that he isn't.
Clark's holding on, walking so close to the edge that he's dizzy, but he's not going to fall, not yet.
4. The Art of War [Smallville, Lex/Lana]
I almost ended up copy and pasting the entire story, because I think it's one of the hottest things I've ever written. In the end, I picked the opening rather than the sex scene, because I love the feel of tension in it, the reveal of what is actually happening. But I love the sex scene too.
Lana isn't fragile.
She slams back against the wall, trying to twist away but failing. She's panting, hard, out of breath, but she's not giving in this easily.
Too many people think she's fragile. They want to care for her and protect her and sometimes that's good, it is, and she's grateful, but sometimes she gets so sick of it she wants to scream.
She fights back, catches him by surprise. She's lithe and fast and she's out of his grasp before he realizes it. Running. She can feel the sweat trickling down her back, pooling between her breasts. Not fear, exhilaration.
Appearances are deceptive. And people change. Lana's changed, even though not everyone sees it, or wants to accept it. She's not the girl she was a few years ago.
He catches her up, of course. She knew he would, but she gets in one punch before she's down. He staggers, but only for a second.
She's grown up, and when you grow up, sometimes you just grow out of things, out of people. You don't think it'll happen that way when you're fifteen and you've met the love of your life who you're going to be with forever and ever, but a couple of years later you've almost forgotten his name. It's the way things go.
She'll have bruises tomorrow; fresh bruises on top of all the old ones. She doesn't care. She's proud of them.
Lex knows her. Knows who she's become, and sometimes he's gentle with her - he'd give his life for her - and sometimes-sometimes he won't spare her at all, and it's what Lana needs, what she wants, and she hadn't realized that until Lex taught her.
She thrusts up slyly, but he catches the move almost before she's made it. He presses her down, and he's lean but he's strong too, and he's not holding back. He laughs at her, dammit, just laughs as she tries to get free.
Lex is teaching her self-defense as well, taking up the lessons he started years ago. She's learning fast, but he beats her every time. For now.
She surrenders.
The art of war, he calls it. Being fit enough, strong enough and clever enough to defeat your opponent in whatever field you're fighting: political, financial, physical. And his eyes narrow, full of memories, and Lana thinks of all the battles he's fought and won.
And now he has an ally.
Lex rolls off her, lying on the mat beside her. She made him fight hard for the victory this time.
She's out of breath and Lex is too, his sweats dark with perspiration. She can feel the heat radiating from him.
He says well done and you're learning fast and she glows in his approval, but he doesn't give her time to relax or recover before he's leaning over her again, and this time it's not a fight and she's not going to push him away.
5. lovers alone wear sunlight [Supernatural, Sam/Lenore]
Um, this just hits way too many of my kinks! I have flipmontigirl to thank for this scene even existing - she told me I had rushed the story at this point, and needed to write the sex scene instead of glossing over it, so I did and it just happened like this, and I loved it. I actually find it sexier because the sex barely happens, than if it had. If I had to pick a favourite out of the five, it would be this one.
He's a mess, and she has to guide every move he makes. His kisses are in her hair, on the curve of bone behind her ear, sloppy in the crook of her neck. He bites her there, silly grin afterwards, playing with her, too drunk to understand his own game.
He's heavy when she undresses him, swaying uncertainly on legs that seem too long for him to control. He leans, one hand outstretched against the doorframe, all awkward angles and impossible mathematics. He falls when she tries to pull off his jeans, and laughs, white molars gleaming in the milky light. She tugs, hands lifting him, the tight muscle of his thighs sliding through her hands as she pulls the denim down.
He is vulnerable, laid out naked before her, eyes closed and arms out wide, a crucifix, an offering. And she doesn't understand what she has done to deserve this simple trust, but she won't abuse it.
There's dried mud on his cheek - she wipes it off with his discarded tee-shirt, then strokes the shirt down his chest, watching him shudder under the touch. He's still soft, his penis limp in the crook of his legs. She palms it, spongy-soft in her hand, feels the twitch of interest.
"I'm not too drunk to fuck you," he says. "If that's alright with you," he adds, so politely she barks out a laugh in response.
She strokes him to hardness, learning fast the touch he likes best, the twist that makes blood race hot into his cock, warming her palms, the flick of her thumb that makes his thighs tremble.
"Yes," he says, "yes, like that," and she tugs harder until he gasps and lets his head slip back against the floor.
"Or you could fuck me," he says blearily, "'cos I don't think I'm moving." And she lies like a blanket over him, guiding him inside her, and they stay like that, joined, unmoving. It's enough, the remembered warmth as welcome as last night, and she rests her head on his chest. She reaches out each side for his hands, and hers fit when he closes them around her. It feels intimate, almost too much, something more than she feels she has the right to, but she doesn't let go. They lie like that even after he softens inside her, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest under her the only motion in the room.
So, apparently I find my het sex far hotter than my gay sex! Though a Lana/Chloe bathtub ficlet I wrote years ago nearly made the list, and a couple of snippets of Dean/Sam sexxin' and kissin' came close too. But yeah, my choices surprised me!
I haven't posted a story round-up for May. I'm almost ashamed to do so - driest month in ages.
Lorelai's Little Girl [Gilmore Girls, Rory, Lorelai, gen, PG, 100 words. A missing scene from the series finale.]
I would cradle you tight in my arms, always [Supernatural, Dean/Sam, mention of Dean/Cassie, R, 1,547 words. A coda to All Hell Breaks Loose part 1]
This story hurt to write - I actually cried at one point while I was writing it.
we'll love you just the way you are, if you're perfect [Gilmore Girls, Dean, gen, G, 100 words.]
Ten years. Stars Hollow hasn't changed. Dean has.
And Who Will Save Him? [Supernatural, Dean, Sam, gen, PG, 100 words. Coda to 2x20.]
Always with the right thing, no matter the cost.
ETA: A message to whoever left that comment about me on mrsronweasley's Anonymous Love Meme - I ♥ you so much! Thank you!!