Just thought I'd compile the odds and sods of comment!porn I've been posting all over the place the past few days weeks so that I'm not spamming my memories section as much.



Totally owed to wolfsbride and nyxmidnight for the conversation about footjobs they had and posted XD.

~

In all honesty, Roland probably should have expected something like this. They were all crazy for starters, and on top of that, he'd seen the way their different demon forms fought.

These were things he might have thought about or considered if he were actually capable of thinking or considering at that moment in time. As things stood, Roland's more logical mental capabilities had been reduced to slightly below rat level.

The fact he was absolutely hammered probably had something to do with that to boot.

Oh. Yes. Boots. God, he was never going to look at feet the same way again.

Gale had always been a practical being, and lately something of a generous one too. Roland hadn't meant to walk in on him and Cielo, but Sod's law that the one time Cielo had been quiet enough not to broadcast "Hello, I am getting laid" noises all over the city Roland had decided he needed munchies from the store cupboard to sop up a bit of the excess alcohol he'd imbibed that evening.

The fact the sight of those two going at it made him so hard it hurt wasn't exactly surprising given he'd not got around to jacking off for a few days, but he'd expected to be allowed to just make excuses and leave. Truth be told, he probably could have - but when Gale said "Sit down", he felt more than a little like he ought to obey. Gale had whispered something in Cielo's ear and Roland was left watching as the smaller man reached back, grabbing Gale's boots and pulling them off before resettling himself in Gale's lap, and then -

Yeah. And then.

Gale's flexibility had brought up more than one envious or overenthusiastic comment from Lokapala members before, but even so, Roland would have expected the man to just use his hands like any sensible person. Not good enough for him, it seemed; and thus while Gale kept his hands moving over Cielo's hair, lips against the blue-haired Embryon's ears, Gale's eyes stayed fixed on Roland and something in his drunken brain exploded at the realisation he was having his zip undone by feet.

Cielo had taken over the duty of movement and rhythm from Gale, and Roland thought he was going to die just watching, but Gale seemed to want him to die, bury himself and decompose in record time because after unzipping his pants and nudging the flaps of material around the crotch aside, dexterous toes gripped his underwear and yanked it down before gripping his cock.

Oh holy fucking god.

Being used to balancing, Gale's toes had a grip like steel. And then they were moving up, down, back up the length of his erection and over the head of it, squeezing again and making him have to bite his lip to bleeding point to avoid just yelling the building down, and Gale's big toe brushed across the head lightly to catch some of the precome for lubrication before getting back to stroking, and oh holy fucking god again, because he was just, he was going to die of this. He was actually going to die, pissed as a fart watching one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen in his life fucking Cielo (who, honestly, couldn't really be described as anything other than 'Cielo'), getting jacked off by feet.

Adil had an aneurism when he wandered in looking for a notebook. Or something close to it anyway.

And declined the offer of Gale's other foot.





Totally Ponderosa's responsibility for her TEH HAWT fanart of them in evil mode.

~

Neither of them have something you could call a soul anymore, but that doesn't mean the memories of who they were have been lost. When Dean pushes into Sam, laughing when he brother has to bend awkwardly to make holding his hands possible, it's better for the memories; better for the seven or so years Dean knew what he wanted but refused to take, better for the year before those he'd spent trying to ignore it altogether.

Spirits, demons, those damn near always worked solo. You'd get freak exceptions, families and vampires - but generally if the soul wasn't there, it wanted to work alone. It's what scares most of the other demon-hunters away, how they work together; Sam can feel them coming, and Dean loves to kill, liked it too much even before, although back then he'd pretend otherwise to keep everyone else happy. It's the funny thing about all this - Dean hasn't changed much at all when it comes down to it. Not really - dad had seen to it Dean's real needs, realy wants, likes, desires, they were all basic. Dean couldn't waste time on football and college so he enjoyed hunting and learning what he could from television and the Internet. As to desires, he'd done well enough with the odd girlfriend and tarts from bars, but there'd been that dirty little secret for a long time.

Pretty gratifying then that Sam didn't start crying like a little bitch or tried to fight him off after the change; those pretty, puppy-dog eyes just looked at him wrong, alien grin on his face as he said "Do it".

It was enough to just have that, but what was the fun in enough when they had a trunk full of toys and a few billion people in the world to use them on?

The first was beautiful, just some ordinary college boy who could've been one of Sam's ordinary friends, Sam bringing him back for beers, and almost before the spike kicked in he was saying what his dream death would be while Sam licked pretty little patterns up his neck. Dean watched, slouching in a chair, so damn proud as his good baby brother pulled off the boys jeans, laughed at a half-mumbled "This don't make me gay", pushing in slow and angling for Dean's viewing pleasure, and the boy moaned around the gun Sam slipped into his mouth, came with eyes rolling back into his skull before the trigger was pulled.

Sam was his, always his, and knew no one fucked him better than Dean, but a death-orgasm was so sweet. No point in passing up opportunities for more.

Good on dad's old buddies, because they were onto them two kills before the police - three before the press, five before they had a name. So much fun to watch the press combing over the past, because how many times had good Dean and Sam been accused of murder? How many times had good Dean and Sam died? Better still watching all that goodness put to use as old friends leapt to their defence, because Sam Winchester saved this little girl and Dean stopped that son of a bitch, and these emerging videos had to be doctored because they were such good boys.

Dean was particularly fond of their victims' moments of realisation, usually when they saw him because Sam hadn't already been a serial killer, and watching as arousal turned into fear then back into arousal because although these brothers left no one alive, they made deaths that weren't footnotes in the obituaries, they made deaths that lasted, and not one of their victims had died looking afraid.

It was one of the best parts of the human anatomy; so many ways to inflame, fake comfort, turn agony into ecstasy. Sam had always been an excellent student, and Dean was always fond of practise.





Dean? Loves present tense. Just so you know. It's odd.

~

Dean Winchester is twenty-two years old when he first realises it's not just hormones and it's not going away, he is in love with his brother, and it's not the healthy fraternal sort of love whatever THAT is, it's what happens when mummy and daddy love each other very much love, and the realisation scares him so much he has to sit on the toilet with a bucket resting on his knees because his entire digestive system seems to collapse on him.

He is twenty-six when he realises absence doesn't kill any sort of feeling, even if you want it gone.

He is twenty-eight, just, when Sam reminds him they only have a few weeks left and Dean would be upset at the idea if it weren't for the fact his sacrifice has kept Sam alive. He's five minutes older than that when Sam asks him to pull over, climbs into his lap and cuts off a "What the-" with the only kiss Dean has ever waited on in his whole life.

It's short and messy as they stroke each other, even panicky when Sam slips and knocks the car brakes, leaving Dean scrambling to stop it and a brief moment of laughter before they're together again and Dean's had longer, more spectacular orgasms but when they come shortly after each other on Sam's plaid shirt and Sam slumps against him weighing a fucking ton, he's never enjoyed an orgasm more.

It's a whole two hours before they make it to the next motel, and Sam's clicking away at the laptop when Dean puts down his dinner and grabs Sam's wrist, tired of all the false hopes and dead-end leads, pulls him through to the bedroom and actually waits to get hard enough that they can suck each other off in a kind of awkward 69, Sam seeming just ridiculously long from head to foot when Dean hunches over him, and he's trying to memorise every moment of it. They don't have long, and Dean wants something solid to go to hell with, something *good* he can hold on to.

Each week that passes, Dean learns something new about Sam. Learns the best way to angle to reach Sam's prostate, the best way to angle for Sam to reach his, learns the taste of every inch of him. It's something to remember.

The yellow-eyed demon had asked Dean if he was sure what he'd brought back was entirely Sam, but Dean knew. It was entirely possible something more had come back; but the old Sam, even if was slightly underneath this newer thing, was one-hundred percent there.

Dean's twenty-eight and nearly a half when he dies, waking from sleeping half on top of Sam as his soul is torn from his body, along with a few other things, and even as the excruciating pain he's about to go through for the next few eternities starts up, he knows if he'd been taken back to the room where Sam lay dead before him and offered a new start, he wouldn't do anything differently.





For animekittysama on pornandkittens ^_^.

~

Zack pressed his lips against Sephiroth's neck, oversensitised skin enjoying the feel of ridiculously silky hair against his forehead, reluctantly pulling back after a moment so that he wasn't pushing Sephiroth's limbs into quite so awkward an angle. Granted the General could take it, given he was obscene levels of flexible, but sometimes it was best to just be polite.

It had been a hell of a long time since they had a few minutes to themselves, even stolen ones, and while Sephiroth hadn't said anything because he had the patience of a few... few... patient things, the tension of not having time alone had evidently been getting to them both.

None of that really mattered now, Sephiroth pushing back against Zack, one leg over a shoulder, the other around Zack's waist, pale and beautiful in the nook's shadows - you couldn't really call it a cave under any circumstances, it was just something vague resembling cover from the rain.

If asked... well, Zack would deny everything like a good boy, but if someone like Aeris asked, Zack would have said there was no way on the Planet he would have thought Sephiroth would ever bottom, never mind prefer bottoming. Go figure. Even less would he have expected to get to be the one topping the General.

It had happened... pretty much entirely by accident, because he'd been getting sort of close in a war-buddies way, but he honestly had no idea Sephiroth was completely unused to being touched by other people. Zack had made it a bit of a personal mission to get Sephiroth a little more familiar with hugs, but Sephiroth hadn't wanted to finish at that. One night of slipping into Sephiroth's bed so someone would stop him tearing out fistfulls of hair courtesy of the latest treatments - Zack couldn't even begin to guess what kind of shit they were injecting Sephiroth with because it sure as hell wasn't mako and that wasn't all fun and games in itself - and Sephiroth had sort of ground back against Zack, and maybe it was only because he was feverish or something but when Zack gave in and slipped a spit-slick finger inside Sephiroth to find and rub against his prostate the General had just howled into his pillow, coming violently and copiously like he hadn't... well, like he hadn't done it before.

Like most people with pulses, Sephiroth hadn't really wanted to give up the having orgasms thing.

He hadn't really given up the howling part either, which was both obscene sorts of hot and hideously impractical, but if it meant getting to watch Sephiroth's lips work around his fingers as a distraction for his throat, making the most phenomenal sounds as he tried to fight the noisier instincts, Zack wasn't about to complain. Ever.

Sephiroth bucked hard and Zack arched over him, knowing he was going to have to clean his top off in the rain, but it was worth it to get a better view of Sephiroth's face as his eyes squeezed shut and he came. Shiva, every time he came it was always a spectacle, and for a split second Zack wondered if Sephiroth ever jerked off, inadvertently sparking off his own orgasm at that mental image in between being weirded out by the fact he just knew the answer was probably 'no'. Someone really, really needed to teach Sephiroth a thing or two about the non-lethal, non-medical facts of the human body.

Stupidly it only occurred to Zack nearly half an hour later as he pressed up against Sephiroth on the chocobo they were riding back to base that said 'someone' probably ought to be him.





Again, retrieved from pornandkittens

~

Snake knew perfectly well he ought to find it annoying as all hell that Otacon was pretty much entirely reliant on a good set of walls and an array of gadgets to be safe, that he should find the man irritating and useless (well, ability to make and fix electronics aside), but since he'd first had the scientist move in with him, it had all been... strangely comforting.

It wasn't as if he'd never lived for a length of time in a household before, just... he'd heard expressions like "home is where the heart is", and while Snake had no idea what his heart was actually up to, he knew that whenever Otacon was around, he kind of stopped referring to houses as houses and started referring to them as homes. Had to be an unintentional thing, really.

And there was definitely no way the entire thing was related to the fact that when he came back from a mission he wasn't just a matter of taking a shower, patching up his wounds properly and throwing his camouflage into the washing machine, but now he had someone to look over him; someone to fix the wounds on his back that he couldn't reach, rub aches out of his shoulders that wouldn't go, and keep an eye out while he slept to make sure no one had followed him home. Not that anyone ever would - he wasn't a master of stealth for nothing - but Otacon had a pretty impressive yelp when needs be and there was no way in hell Snake was getting a dog or any other creature that couldn't feed itself when he was out.

It definitely had even less to do with the fact Otacon had got used to Snake's nightmares and instead of forcing him to share what they were about or cuddling him so that he felt awkward as hell, Otacon would just get out of bed regardless of the time, put some daft movie on the television, pull beers out of the fridge (or make coffee when they weren't stocked up) and just wait with him until he'd calmed down.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the way that sometimes, if they'd been forced to shack up in a motel when finding somewhere new to live, and there was the one bed, Otacon didn't really complain much if Snake woke up and shifted under the sheets to kneel over the scientist, pulling skinny thighs around his waist and using the lubricant that he'd bought a whlie ago to stop it hurting Otacon when he pushed in. Otacon didn't complain much about that at all. Neither of them ever really said much about it, just that sometimes, Otacon would put an arm around Snake's shoulders and pull him a bit closer as a hint, and sometimes his glasses steamed up if Snake caught him before they'd gone to sleep, and now whenever Otacon came in from the cold and they got foggy Snake would always find himself thinking of how much better it looked when he'd been the one to make Otacon look that way.

Home was... home felt like an Otacon thing. But Snake wasn't inclined to ask what made it that way.





Pornandkittens...

~

The golden rule of relationships in war was that as long as you didn't talk about it, it was okay. Problem was, most of the higher members of Soldier had little to do other than gossip between missions, so talking did happen; frequently, often, and a lot.

Zack was always a little bit put off by how accurate the guessed bits of gossip sometimes were. Of course, he had to join in, throwing in bullshit theories about why Sephiroth and Angeal were screwing, who got more out of it, how long their dicks were, anything to make it look like he only had gossip and card games to pass the time, same as anyone else.

What put him off more was wondering if any of the glances cast his way when he threw in his two gil on the subject meant that other Soldiers were making unpleasantly accurate guesses about Zack's unspoken activities when he was out of the room. It was probably just paranoia, but even so.

Mind you, whatever paranoia made him anxious on his way to Sephiroth's room when he found an hour or two's free time pretty much went away the second Sephiroth had him pinned up against the door, hard and fast kisses to make up for all the time Sephiroth didn't have someone to play with. And if there'd been any lingering doubts - which there never, ever were, because Sephiroth's tongue could do things that ought to be illegal, they were so damn good - when Sephiroth helped them stagger back towards his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed for Angeal to come around? Yeah. That... that would have done it. For anyone.

Once or twice he'd had to knock quite enthusiastically, coughing loudly to make it quite clear it was him stood outside the door, when Angeal had beaten Zack to Sephiroth's bedroom, but he couldn't complain about that.

Especially not when it meant Angeal was the one getting the worst of the bruises, and especially not when it meant Zack got to watch for a moment before getting to push into Sephiroth. Truth be told, getting to do that just the once would have been worth giving up Soldier for. Getting to do it over and over again if his timing was right, and for free?

If it weren't for the fact that you had to earn your rank in Soldier through seeing and doing things most anyone couldn't dream of if they tried, Zack probably would have considered his life outright blessed.





Heat/Serph

~

Serph had always felt strangely fond of Heat's smile. Even though the edge to it was almost always cruel, there was a generosity to his lips that made Serph want to touch them over and over.

Being the leader, he had. Being something else, Heat let him. And that made it feel all the better.

Serph could never find words easily and chose to ignore them altogether when he could, but not everything needed to be said, and if he liked to press his fingers and his lips and more against Heat's lips, it was alright, because Heat let him and sometimes, sometimes Heat would come into Serph's room and take Serph's hands and move them for him.

They'd never really known what it meant.

And then the virus hit and everything started changing, and when Heat came into Serph's room it wasn't to press Serph's fingers against his lips, it was to press his lips against Serph's, nipping and sucking and biting, and then moving them down Serph's neck, unzipping and pulling aside the black underclothes that made armour bearable, finding things Serph remembered were called nipples and remembered men didn't need for some reason, moving down further and ghosting his fingers over the shape in Serph's shorts that had changed when Serph wasn't looking, pulling the shorts down too before closing his lips over it.

Serph had screamed, and Heat had groaned at that. Serph didn't make noise. Varna did, they'd all discovered, but Serph just... Serph didn't. Not unless he had to. Not unless it seemed vital. And Heat's lips dragged up and down the hardness Serph hadn't known he could have, tongue licking up and over, and over and over and over until Serph thought he was going to sob or go mad or explode, and then Heat raked his teeth lightly over the top, squeezing over-sensitive skin a little lower down with his hands, and he did explode, or something in him did, and he was thrusting without being able to control it between Heat's lips, whitish liquid escaping when Heat couldn't swallow enough, and if he died then and there he wouldn't have been surprised or even upset.

He didn't die, though. Heat got up, licked his lips clean, before sitting at Serph's side and pulling one of Serph's hands to the hardness in his own shorts. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Serph wasn't given to wording anything that wasn't vital. "Yes."

~

Argilla/Jinana

"I thought we were enemies," Jinana stated, not really asking, more confused in the same way everyone had been since the virus hit, everyone's worlds turned upside down or flipped back to front, but all Argilla could think about was the huskiness of Jinana's voice, and why did it appeal to her so much more than any of the men in their tribe?

Argilla had been periodically keeping an eye on the Maribel's attack as Gale suggested, and seeing Jinana fall for one brief moment had sent Argilla rushing back out through the sneak entrance, letting the others press on without her, working her way through the crowd to Jinana's side. She'd had to kill Maribel on the way, Maribel who didn't understand the concept of allies, but it was worth it to patch her up with a few castings of Dia and a strip torn from the inner lining of her skirt.

Argilla liked to cover up, felt safer with her skin covered although she knew shorts could be so much more practical for running around on the field, but there was something about Jinana's comfort in her own skin that Argilla felt... felt weak for.

There'd been a small wound on Jinana's chest too, and Argilla had patched that, but couldn't completely bring herself to pull her hand away from it. The swell of Jinana's breasts made Argilla... made her ache, ache deep, deeper than the hunger ever felt though the feelings were not too dissimilar. And then she'd been licking off the blood, and Jinana pulled down on her top, exposing nipple, and Argilla had licked that too even though it served no purpose that she knew, although she wanted to know, wanted to know why Jinana's softness and warm scent made her feel so strange, and Jinana had pulled Argilla against her, sliding a hand down the front of Argilla's skirt she should have pushed away but couldn't have done even if she'd wanted to, and she found herself doing the same back, pulling Jinana's clothes aside and sliding her fingers through wetness and into it, screaming when the touch was reciprocated.

When it ended, she didn't know what had made it end or what that explosion of feeling had been, the feeling that seemed to be in her and outside her all at once, seizing her muscles and making her gasp ridiculous cries into the air, and Jinana's face showed no more comprehension than hers had as clothes were reassembled and fingers licked clean. She didn't want to leave Jinana's side ever again. She wished she had that choice.

~

Gale/Cielo

"Don't it feel nice?" Cielo murmured against Gale's ear - or attempted to, only really reaching the green-haired Embryon's neck. Even sat down in a bathtub Gale was much, much taller.

Cielo found he liked that feeling.

They still hadn't met up with the others, left behind for a moment because Gale's weakness to electricity made him unsuitable for the area they were exploring and Cielo tended to burn through magic a little too quickly, but Roland had basically let them do what they liked with his home, and Cielo had no complaints about the discovery of baths. No one really washed in the Junkyard - when the rain fell constantly there seemed no point to submerging oneself in water.

Gale still insisted there was no point to submerging oneself in water, but Cielo had been quite insistant. Insistance won surprisingly often when it came to persuading Gale into new activities, given the only thing Gale disliked was taking no action.

"It does seem to have some benefits," Gale agreed as enthusiastically as he'd probably ever manage, and Cielo smiled, resting his head against Gale's shoulder and using a discarded mug to pour more water over Gale's head. Slicked back even more than usual, Gale's hair looked like it belonged to a forest, although the smell was the same. Cielo liked it. For some reason, being close to other Embryon members always felt nice; Gale just happened to be less temperamental about having Cielo slung half across his shoulders than most of the others did.

"Could stay here forever."

"The water would get cold."

"Ja, but -" Cielo shrugged and shut himself up, figuring that no, Gale probably didn't know what he meant, and nuzzled the taller man's neck.

"Cielo, could you pick up the soap?" The offending object was on the bathside, and Cielo pointed to it with one lazily extended finger, his expression confused. "There's something hard digging into my back."

"... Oh." Cielo reddened slightly, then reddened more on realising what blushing looked like against bright blue hair, but didn't let go of Gale either. "Um. That - that's me."

"Ah. Heat came at me with one of those after the virus hit. What on earth are they for?"

"You mean you and Lupa -" Oh hell, Cielo clamped a hand over his own mouth, couldn't believe he'd said it.

"Lupa had one of those?"

"Maybe! I - uh. Man. You know, you know that whole kids and children speech in Samsara? It kinda - it -" Cielo blushed furiously, skin heating up, when he looked down over Gale's shoulder and noticed that the green-haired Embryon had a handle on his pretty impressive 'one of those'. "Hey! Are you teasing me?"

Gale said nothing but smirked just a little, reaching his free hand behind him and groping between Cielo's legs until he had what he wanted. "You do realise this would negate the hygiene factor of this activity."

"Gnngk," Cielo replied, slipping one of his own hands down to assist Gale and make quite certain the green-haired Embryon agreed.

~

Varin/Bat

"I'm a military man. I have no need for some prettyboy whore," Varin spat, shoving Bat back against the floor but studiously paying attention nonetheless.

"I have information you need, Varin. Besides - " Bat wiped the blood from his split lip onto the back of his wrist before licking it clean, keeping his eyes steadily on the Brutes' leader. "As a military man, I thought you would understand a whore's need the most." It wasn't the tidiest way to secure a deal, but Bat was a survivalist. Let Varin take whatever was easiest as a reason to keep him - the Brutes' leader had already ruled out needing a knife fighter, and Bat had limited other skills to offer. "Treat me nicely and I might tell you a thing or two about Sera."

That startled him enough, Varin grabbing Bat by the neck and pulling him up onto his feet, up further into the air, half-strangling him. How forceful, Bat thought appreciatively. "Tell me a thing or two about Sera and I might treat you nicely, boy."

"Mm... an older man can be so much better," Bat purred, gasping in something that wasn't wholly pain when Varin punched him in the side before throwing him up against the wall again.

Unbuckling his pants, now, and Bat grinned, lifting one of his legs and hooking it around Varin's waist.

Military man indeed.

~

Lupa/Gale (and Gale/Cielo)

Okay, this was awkward.

Cielo kinda... he wasn't used to crying, it wasn't something that felt like you could get used to, but it was familiar. Even so, he didn't have a clue what you were meant to do if someone else cried - he'd seen the girls hug other people when they were crying, but it still felt weird.

Deciding that maybe the girls had something of the right idea, Cielo rolled over on the mat and put one arm around Gale's waist, resting a hand on the taller man's stomach until the jerking motions stopped and Gale seemed calmer. Talking felt even more awkward than holding him did, but necessary anyway.

"You okay?"

"There's nothing to be concerned about," Gale replied, voice sounding admirably calm all things considered, and Cielo frowned, not in the mood for lies.

"Yeah, everyone cries for fun. What's up? I won't tell." Well, that was mostly true, provided Gale wasn't about to reveal he'd killed and eaten Argilla while no-one was looking. Didn't seem too likely.

"I miss him." Gale turned over to face Cielo, green eyes looking even stranger when red-rimmed, and getting kissed by a tear-streaked face wasn't all that pleasant an experience, but Gale seemed to need it, pulling back after a long moment to brush Cielo's dreadlocks back from his face. "It's foolish. We barely knew him and he's dead."

Oh. Yeah. Cielo had kind of seen this one coming for a while. "Lupa was a pretty cool guy."

"He should have come with us," Gale replied, tone a little harsh, and Cielo found all those little moments where Gale had been a bit snappish with Sera clicking into place. If they'd been there on time, maybe they would not have had to kill Lupa. Ouch. Explained a lot of Gale's recent behaviour.

Cielo wasn't sure what to say to that, so he nodded in lieu of saying anything deep and meaningful, hugged Gale a bit tighter and let him curl up against him. "Sorry, bro."

Gale pulled the blanket over them a little higher, keeping them both warm, practical as ever, and after taking a long few breaths he lifted his head from being pillowed against Cielo's shoulder and started to tell Cielo everything.


It hadn't taken long, or been something identifiable as a deep and meaningful experience, but in Samsara Gale had found himself cornered by the Wolves' leader. He'd thought he was going to get eaten, in all honesty, given Lupa had initially approached in his Cerberus form, but he hadn't gone mad yet, reverted but there was still something of the demon left in him.

Gale hadn't moved when Lupa started nuzzling him. There'd been conversation, yes, but all he remembered was clothing being pulled off, his back cold against the wall, Lupa hot against his front and the tag ring necklace left on the floor. Maybe he'd complained about it, he couldn't remember. And Lupa had moved inside him, he'd never let anyone do that before, never let anyone do it since, and he'd been in so much pain but he wanted it, god, he'd wanted more, and he'd heard Heat call it fucking but that was all wrong, he'd heard someone else call it making love and that was wrong too, but whatever it was, he never wanted anyone but Lupa to do it again.

It made him dirty, grime from the walls streaking his back, his chest and thighs streaked milky, and he didn't want to let it dry but he didn't want rid of it either, not completely, not when it made him feel... marked. Like he belonged.

He'd wanted Lupa to cut him. He'd wanted to be scarred. And he'd hated letting him go.



Cielo had wondered where the fine, raised white lines on Gale's lower back had come from, but didn't ask if Lupa had done it or if the green-haired Embryon had done it in memory of the Wolves' leader. He'd guessed - all of them had guessed - why Gale had been so angry at Lupa's death. Argilla had been open about her misery over Jinana's death, but Gale had been typically quiet about anything he felt that wasn't vital to driving the Embryon forward towards Nirvana. They'd never been able to confirm it though, Gale remaining remarkably resilient even when Heat made a typically off-colour remark with regards to Gale's sexuality. And though Cielo had definitely discovered Gale's preference for men, it was always Gale inside him, not the other way around, and it didn't necessarily mean Lupa was the first to be with Gale that way.

Roland and Gale's strange connection made sense too, now, with Roland's feelings about Greg echoing in a human, impractical way everything Gale had expressed in small motions and things he wouldn't say about Lupa.

Cielo hadn't felt anything like that yet, pressed his lips into Gale's hair with a puzzled frown of his own, but he had a sneaking suspicion who he might get that way over himself.





Pornandkittens. Boy, aren't you getting bored by now XD.

~

It wasn't that Elena was wholly unused to kink - hell, after being a Turk long enough anyone got used to pain, and being within earshot of Reno for more than five minutes would render anyone desensitised - just... it had been an accident, she hadn't done it on purpose, she hadn't expected him to like it - or like it as much as he did, either.

"Sempai..." Tseng groaned in approval, pushing her further up the wall, the back of her shirt straining against the rough surface as he thrust inside her harder, and she bit down on a whimper, hating the sound of anything less than a moan when it came from her own lips.

"Elena..." He was struggling to hold back and she knew it, smirking just a little bit at the power she had over him in this respect, before deliberately tightening around him, pulling him over the edge so he could finish her off and they could get on with the mission.

"Fancy putting your spare ties to good use later, sir?"

"Nngk."

It was one of the more interesting, and infinitely more fun traits of sex with Tseng that though he happily referred to himself as the master, she was the one who got to string him along.





Pornandkittens.

~

Shinji had felt his heart race a thousand times, but he'd never had a nervously excited enjoyment of the feeling before. Kaworu hadn't said anything in a while, just climbed in beside Shinji and stroked his hair, stroked down his side to his hip, pressed so, so soft lips against Shinji's ear.

"I don't know what to -"

"Shh," Kaworu soothed, gently - everything always so gentle with Kaworu - unlacing the front of Shinji's trousers and slipping a hand inside, gripping his growing erection and handling it like it were precious at first, then his eyes were all over Shinji, watching every reaction as he stroked and tugged and pulled and -

Shinji couldn't last long, and there was damp on the back of his thighs he could only assume came from Kaworu rubbing against him. He'd never been treated like this. He'd never been...

"Beloved," Kaworu said quietly. "Always love you."

Shinji's breath hitched and if he was crying, Kaworu said nothing, just held him closer and kept him warm until morning.





Pornandkittens and CRACK.

~

"NOT FAIR," Jaina yelped as Tyrande thwacked her from an unfair distance while still clinging to the pillow. Damn the woman's extra reach!

Still, be she a lithe night elf or not, Jaina's comparitively petite stature made it easier to dodge most of the blows.

... What, how had they ended up doing this? Jaina remembered writing a long letter to Tyrande where at the end she might possibly have included a brief note about the frustrations of orc men, receiving a similar letter back including plenty of details about the new auction house in Darnassus she wasn't interested in and a footnote about 'try a man who lives in the Emerald Dream'. Bit by bit the footnotes and P.S.s had gotten longer, until eventually both women gave up the pretence and decided to squeeze something close to free time out of their schedules and visit the Darkmoon Faire. Some young adventurer was selling icecreams that ought to be long past their sell-by dates were it not for the wonders of magic from an event earlier in the year, and both women indulged, finding the medium of icecream an excellent way to find expressions for the irritation that was men.

Still didn't explain the pillow fight, or how Tyrande had ended up in bra and panties. Not that Jaina could quite complain, because the practical part of her had found colliding with a large-chested woman was very comfortable provided she wasn't covered in a half ton of armour, but she was pretty sure she would have noticed the stripping down to underwear part.

... Oh well. Still needed to smack the elf down for the cheating.





Pornandkittens!

~

Admitting anything that could be remotely construed as a compliment about Arthas was an act that tended to cause Kael'Thas Sunstrider to die a little inside, but truth be told, if Arthas stopped doing with his tongue exactly what he was doing right now, he suspected he might die all the way through right there and then on the desk.

Teachers or students or anyone could walk in the room right now despite the fact Kael kept looking up at every slight noise that might not have come from inside, but it was getting harder to concentrate on anything outside the rush of blood to his head - and elsewhere - when Arthas had one arm pushing Kael's back down across the desk and the other keeping Kael's robes bunched up while his tongue explored a particular recess tongues theoretically weren't designed to go.

Theoretically.

Kael's mind kept snapping from one daft tangent to another and he suddenly found himself overly concerned with the books on the other side of the desk to him, books older than he might live to be and riddled enough with magic to be damn near sentient, and he wondered if the books were offended by having a half-naked on the wrong half elven prince splayed and getting rimmed by a petulant, arrogant, irritatingly popular human prince so close to them.

Correcting the earlier thought; no, he actually WOULD die if Arthas stopped, and he really couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to free one of his own hands so he could help himself elsewhere or if the effects of being forced to rub against the desk for stimulation were better than he could achieve manually.

Okay, the books on the other side of the desk might be offended at his presence, but he suspected they weren't half as offended as the cloth duster he grabbed between his teeth so that he wouldn't scream out anyone's name to half the tower. That said, the cloth duster wasn't magic and... ohhhhhh.

Anything help him, he'd pray to them if they did, and...

Yes, that cloth duster was definitely going to be unhappy. He didn't know he could shred cloth between his teeth.

... oh hell, he couldn't exactly leave that around for the teachers to find. At least it gave him something to wipe the rest of the mess off with.


Arthas stood up, grinning like the proverbial cat with its dairy product, as Kael reassembled his clothes. "You're good, Kael, but I'm so much better."

Arthas was right about that.

Kael wasn't going to admit it. He'd die a little inside.



Tee-hee! As Aeris might say.

Yes, this is actually 90% procrastination from the OHHOLYGOD fact that in under 24 hours my degree work is completed for good, provided I haven't drastically failed anything, and, yes, I'm bricking it.

And yes, I do have an awful lot of Dean icons, and by god I can't wait for my beloved Jane to catch up to the end of Season 2 so I can start using the spoilery ones.

ETA: No jumping to congratulate me just yet. I've decided to hand in my last piece of coursework a week late so that it isn't just a steaming pile of half-baked C# poo, given it's worth 100% of the module. I'm going to take the week to mould it into something worth closer to 60-70% so that I at least know I'll pass on handing it in, because as things stand, I would scrape 40%, and bollocked if I'm going to spend my summer resitting the module.