Sweat and Rum (Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack/Will/Elizabeth, R)
Writing porn is fun.
I'm glad I think this way, because I have a decent number of springkink bits that really ought to be porn. And some het_challenge pieces that could do with porn. And -- well, nothing in gen_challenge that needs porn, since, you know, it's gen.
Ah, I remember the days when I couldn't even imagine writing anything above PG-13.
Anyway.
Sweat and Tears. Jack/Will/Elizabeth. Drunken sex. Not worksafe (R). Implied threesomes. 238 words.
"They're gone," Will reports as he climbs down from the crow's nest. "They fled after a taste of the Pearl's cannons."
Elizabeth brushes sweat-soaked strands of hair from her eyes. Jack's hand is at the small of her back before she can sink blissfully to the Pearl's deck, limp as a gutted fish. "Rest," he says, his lips making a feather-light trail along the lobe of her ear. She can't summon the energy to voice a protest when he presses the bottle into her hand. "Pass it to Will when you're done and we three wanderers can put up our weary feet for a time."
She remembers the sweetness of it resting thick on her tongue, and she remembers the same heady taste of molasses and gold on Jack and Will's lips. After that, amber-tinted memories swirl together, and she picks up only fleeting images from the flow. Will's stubble scratching the sensitive skin at the base of her chest as he licks salt from the hollow of her throat. Bringing her lips to Jack's chafed hands and kissing the soreness from his cramped fingers until he arches against the headboard and directs her attentions lower. Will and Jack's hands skimming over her thighs, cupping the taut flesh of her buttocks, and Elizabeth smiling lazily down at the pair of them, their outlines blurred as though she were gazing at them through a fog-colored windowpane one grey morning.
I like this as a series of loosely connected images, but I still might make it longer. Maybe. It did give me a hell of a time at first. >>
I'm glad I think this way, because I have a decent number of springkink bits that really ought to be porn. And some het_challenge pieces that could do with porn. And -- well, nothing in gen_challenge that needs porn, since, you know, it's gen.
Ah, I remember the days when I couldn't even imagine writing anything above PG-13.
Anyway.
Sweat and Tears. Jack/Will/Elizabeth. Drunken sex. Not worksafe (R). Implied threesomes. 238 words.
"They're gone," Will reports as he climbs down from the crow's nest. "They fled after a taste of the Pearl's cannons."
Elizabeth brushes sweat-soaked strands of hair from her eyes. Jack's hand is at the small of her back before she can sink blissfully to the Pearl's deck, limp as a gutted fish. "Rest," he says, his lips making a feather-light trail along the lobe of her ear. She can't summon the energy to voice a protest when he presses the bottle into her hand. "Pass it to Will when you're done and we three wanderers can put up our weary feet for a time."
She remembers the sweetness of it resting thick on her tongue, and she remembers the same heady taste of molasses and gold on Jack and Will's lips. After that, amber-tinted memories swirl together, and she picks up only fleeting images from the flow. Will's stubble scratching the sensitive skin at the base of her chest as he licks salt from the hollow of her throat. Bringing her lips to Jack's chafed hands and kissing the soreness from his cramped fingers until he arches against the headboard and directs her attentions lower. Will and Jack's hands skimming over her thighs, cupping the taut flesh of her buttocks, and Elizabeth smiling lazily down at the pair of them, their outlines blurred as though she were gazing at them through a fog-colored windowpane one grey morning.
I like this as a series of loosely connected images, but I still might make it longer. Maybe. It did give me a hell of a time at first. >>