Caleb's head thudded back against the leather of the seat of his Mustang. He'd still not touched the soda he'd packed when he started; didn't feel like it. Possibly yet, although he wasn't sure. It was energy, yes, but it was also a stimulant, and right now, ( he wasn't sure if it wouldn't push him over the edge. )

( Oh, once in your life... )

( And now it's Q-time. Also, it might be somewhat queasy-fying. )

( Cutting for, ah, romantic goings-on suggestiveness. )

... next time somebody asks if my boyfriend's underwear is as minimalistic as his swimwear, I start throwing punches.

( Back here. Some responses contain graphic or explicit adult themes, and some are connected to future plotted developments. )

Pogue sprawls until he takes up the whole bed, Reid snuggles into the nearest body, and Tyler curls up and doesn't stir for the night.

Sometimes, he could be content just running his fingers down one of those long blond strands, tips trailing the soft skin of the cheek lightly until the motion took them further down and away, over and over again.

A/N: Companion piece to this. Set in the Pile o' Puppies 'verse. Written to an inspiration for a while and this picture prompt.

Fundraisers. They had all grown up with those, even though the people who mattered knew that the old Ipswich families did the bulk of their charity away from the public eye, quiet and very efficient. However, there were ( Read more... )

This is relevant to the 'verse 'Pile o' puppies'. Pogue is lieutenantwitch.

If he showed up at the garage, somebody would inevitably alert Pogue about his arrival, so if he wanted to watch his man just work, it had to be at home. Well, in the garage that hosted whatever wheels they had between them at the moment ( Read more... )