Pick-A-Porn: Round Two
For angylinni -
Lee/Kara
They think they’re alone, which makes it all the more real, all the hotter. She’s watching unbidden and unwelcome, but not unwanted, not if they don’t know. And the chances of them noticing the slightly parted curtains are next to none, given how Kara’s bent over the table, her hands curved around the edges. She can see the white of Kara’s knuckles, can see the swell of flesh where Kara’s breasts are mashed against the surface; the pale skin caught between the gray table top and the worn black fabric of bra where it’s been pushed up to expose her to his eyes.
The rest of Kara’s regulation outfit is bunched on the floor at her feet, mixed with his. The colors are jumbled together and he stands there like he’s braced against the tide, one hand holding her hip as he slams her into the table, thrusting hard. The other is snaked around her waist, fingers digging against her clit, rubbing it as hard and furious as he drills in between Kara’s spread legs.
Maggie matches them groan for groan, burying the sounds in her threadbare pillow, her own fingers imitating Lee’s as she pushes herself toward orgasm, focusing on the pressure on her clit as she watches him push Kara over the edge one more time.
For lokei -
Ioan/Jamie
“Hurry.” Ioan’s on his knees, head practically buried in the pillow, but Jamie can hear the urgency in his voice. He wants to tease him, torture him just a little, but the very real fact that his flatmate is going to walk in at any moment, not to mention that Jamie’s prick if nearly to the stage of painful arousal, makes him give in to Ioan’s panted request. He slides his hands over Ioan’s arse, spreading him, then pushes forward slowly, the slick heat of the lube doing very little to detract from how very tight Ioan is around him.
“Fuck,” Jamie breathes, hands tightening on Ioan’s arse. “Ioan.”
“H-hurr…” He breaks off as Jamie stops moving, fully seated inside him. “Oh…G-god, Jamie.” Ioan’s breathing hard, hands scrabbling at the floor until they finally curl into the sides of the pillows, fisting tightly. “Yes.”
Jamie tells himself to move slowly, to revel in the tight constriction, but he can’t help himself as he does begin. Ioan makes little noises that melt any resolve Jamie has, and soon he’s thrusting hard and deep. Ioan’s noises change, barely audible between the pillow and the lack of air and Jamie thinks he hears a key in the lock, driving his hips faster. “’e’s coming.”
Ioan whimpers, the sound turning into a grateful moan as Jamie slides his hand down and wraps it around Ioan’s prick, adding friction to the heat. Ioan tightens impossibly more around him and Jamie can’t hold back his orgasm, burying his own sounds in Ioan’s back as Ioan comes hot in his hand.
For sasha_b -
Arthur/Lancelot
The first time it happens, it is Lancelot that begins it.
He is in the baths, indulging in the one thing the Romans have ever managed to get right when the door opens. The cold chill of Briton is insidious and floods the room, so he sinks down lower in the heated water, his feet moving over the blistering hot stones. The cold dissipates eventually, though he fears it is seared into his bones from his infernal imprisonment in this country, so he sinks deeper still, eyes closed even as another body parts the waters.
He is silent, listening to the breathing that slows from stuttered gasps to measured stillness, not moving. He is like the animals he has heard tell of from Egypt - great maws of teeth and silence until they strike. He does not open his eyes or rise out of the water at all, and he can feel the steam like his own breath. “Do you wish me to go?”
Arthur does not answer, but in truth Lancelot does not expect him to. This has been a long time in coming, built up by swordfights and verbal sparring, both of them sharp edges and flat blades as they clash. Lancelot knows the ways of the Romans, even those who have let their old gods fall away to cling to the new God they worship, idols turned to stone in the face of less vindictive punishment and absolution.
He moves closer, inch by inch, the predator in every way. Arthur does not move, but Lancelot can feel his eyes watching, always watching. Arthur reacts to the first touch as Lancelot imagines the victims of these great alligators must - a quick jerk and then glorious submission. Arthur’s breath stutters, whispering words of once, just once, but Lancelot knows this feast will feed him again and again.
Lee/Kara
They think they’re alone, which makes it all the more real, all the hotter. She’s watching unbidden and unwelcome, but not unwanted, not if they don’t know. And the chances of them noticing the slightly parted curtains are next to none, given how Kara’s bent over the table, her hands curved around the edges. She can see the white of Kara’s knuckles, can see the swell of flesh where Kara’s breasts are mashed against the surface; the pale skin caught between the gray table top and the worn black fabric of bra where it’s been pushed up to expose her to his eyes.
The rest of Kara’s regulation outfit is bunched on the floor at her feet, mixed with his. The colors are jumbled together and he stands there like he’s braced against the tide, one hand holding her hip as he slams her into the table, thrusting hard. The other is snaked around her waist, fingers digging against her clit, rubbing it as hard and furious as he drills in between Kara’s spread legs.
Maggie matches them groan for groan, burying the sounds in her threadbare pillow, her own fingers imitating Lee’s as she pushes herself toward orgasm, focusing on the pressure on her clit as she watches him push Kara over the edge one more time.
For lokei -
Ioan/Jamie
“Hurry.” Ioan’s on his knees, head practically buried in the pillow, but Jamie can hear the urgency in his voice. He wants to tease him, torture him just a little, but the very real fact that his flatmate is going to walk in at any moment, not to mention that Jamie’s prick if nearly to the stage of painful arousal, makes him give in to Ioan’s panted request. He slides his hands over Ioan’s arse, spreading him, then pushes forward slowly, the slick heat of the lube doing very little to detract from how very tight Ioan is around him.
“Fuck,” Jamie breathes, hands tightening on Ioan’s arse. “Ioan.”
“H-hurr…” He breaks off as Jamie stops moving, fully seated inside him. “Oh…G-god, Jamie.” Ioan’s breathing hard, hands scrabbling at the floor until they finally curl into the sides of the pillows, fisting tightly. “Yes.”
Jamie tells himself to move slowly, to revel in the tight constriction, but he can’t help himself as he does begin. Ioan makes little noises that melt any resolve Jamie has, and soon he’s thrusting hard and deep. Ioan’s noises change, barely audible between the pillow and the lack of air and Jamie thinks he hears a key in the lock, driving his hips faster. “’e’s coming.”
Ioan whimpers, the sound turning into a grateful moan as Jamie slides his hand down and wraps it around Ioan’s prick, adding friction to the heat. Ioan tightens impossibly more around him and Jamie can’t hold back his orgasm, burying his own sounds in Ioan’s back as Ioan comes hot in his hand.
For sasha_b -
Arthur/Lancelot
The first time it happens, it is Lancelot that begins it.
He is in the baths, indulging in the one thing the Romans have ever managed to get right when the door opens. The cold chill of Briton is insidious and floods the room, so he sinks down lower in the heated water, his feet moving over the blistering hot stones. The cold dissipates eventually, though he fears it is seared into his bones from his infernal imprisonment in this country, so he sinks deeper still, eyes closed even as another body parts the waters.
He is silent, listening to the breathing that slows from stuttered gasps to measured stillness, not moving. He is like the animals he has heard tell of from Egypt - great maws of teeth and silence until they strike. He does not open his eyes or rise out of the water at all, and he can feel the steam like his own breath. “Do you wish me to go?”
Arthur does not answer, but in truth Lancelot does not expect him to. This has been a long time in coming, built up by swordfights and verbal sparring, both of them sharp edges and flat blades as they clash. Lancelot knows the ways of the Romans, even those who have let their old gods fall away to cling to the new God they worship, idols turned to stone in the face of less vindictive punishment and absolution.
He moves closer, inch by inch, the predator in every way. Arthur does not move, but Lancelot can feel his eyes watching, always watching. Arthur reacts to the first touch as Lancelot imagines the victims of these great alligators must - a quick jerk and then glorious submission. Arthur’s breath stutters, whispering words of once, just once, but Lancelot knows this feast will feed him again and again.