nsfw

[nerdon]

• no blank posts
• state for who
• have fun!

Comments

for hank

[herpetology]

[ When we last left our heroes... ]

[ Seriously, whoever the first person was that wanted to get off on a color? Newt could kiss them right about now. He's been trying for ages to think of a way to broach this subject. He wasn't sure if Hank even liked dudes. Newt's always had the world's worst gaydar. And probably why he has the record for most rejects.

Newt's tense, mostly from excitement. Getting laid was not on the list of of To Dos for the day. He'll absolutely take it, especially considering who he's going to be fucking. The whole beast factor isn't really what's doing it for him. Honestly, it's mostly Hank... being Hank. ... Being ripped helps, though, he will admit that.

He gives himself one more look over, making sure his hair is okay. He did his level best to get the smell of experiment off of him. And mostly succeeded! ]

[bigbluefuzzball]

[Hank was still pretty sure that the being told his particular shade of blue was arousing would qualify as one of the worst pickup lines he's ever heard, but he can't really complain about it either anymore, since apparently it worked. That was probably more to do with Newt than the line itself. He wasn't really used to being hit on, and not by someone like Newt, who he found brilliant... And attractive... Though he wasn't admitting that last part until now.

He did his best to clean up his lab before the other man showed up, but there was only so much he could do about that. Newt's seen his lab before, all the cables, wires, electronics, and sometimes even alien or mutant body parts, like the other's lab. It didn't look much better now, but it was at least an organized chaos, and the small living area that Hank had made for himself at the back of the room was clean.

It wasn't the best it could have been, but Hank spent more time making sure his fur was at least brushed and he didn't smell like whatever he was working on before Newt showed up.]

I know it's not exactly tidy, but we'll have more privacy down here than anywhere else in the school.

for hermann

[batrachology]

[ Yes she got all dressed up just for you, Hermann. Okay, not entirely. Most of the time, you have to dress so conservatively in the lab if you don't want to end up with body parts missing or worse. So, on the rare occasion that she does get to dress up? All out. Every tattoo on display and as much skin as she's comfortable with showing. Unsurprisingly, she's extremely comfortable and confident with her body. It shows in the way she walks, both relaxed and sure at the same time.

There's some party thing for whatever. She doesn't care anymore. She's been eyeing her boyfriend the entire time. She feels sexy in this dress and she can't get home fast enough. Finally, the door is open, but the booties don't come off. You don't wear a dress with a zipper in the front without hoping to use it! Just outside of the doorway, she waits for him with hands on her hips. ]

Hermann.

Re: for hermann

[orthogonal]

[Hermann had gone out of his way not to go with the party. In fact, he faked all kinds of pains in both of his legs just so he could avoid it. He was bad at parties, he ineffectually glowered at people who stared down Newt's dress, and frankly he did not like to see her around all those rather dashing young English professors. He rarely got to talk about anything of interest of him - what did he care about pop music anyways? All garbage. Plus he had no interest who was sleeping with whom - he slept with Newt. It was amazing. It was also their personal business.

And again failed because Newt gave him the big dark eyes and the pouting look and yes. There he had been, miserably nursing a rather good German beer while men tried to paw at his woman and he had to inadvertently smack them with his cane.

So by the time they had gotten home, he was in a foul mood and all he wanted was his pajamas, perhaps some tea and his boards. Newt looked beautiful, smelled like heaven and he wasn't good enough for her and it drove him batty.]

[He sighed as he limped through the door.] Newt, honestly ... I told you. He is a big boy and it is very likely it was not a concussion.

{ england }

[compile]

[ Arthur is... brilliant. Bit rough around the edges, but he more than makes up for it. Attracted isn't nearly a strong enough word for it. He can't quite explain why he's so very drawn to Arthur. There's something about him that makes one feel both calm and excited.

Helps he's got looks, as well.

There's the obligatory polite attempt at coffee (that isn't necessarily coffee) after a date, pretending like they're going to lead into it rather than jump right in the sack. Part of him wonders why bother. They've been giving each other looks all night. He really shouldn't be this nervous. It has been some time since his last sexual encounter.

Legs now uncrossed, he abandons his lukewarm cup of coffee at the table. Fuck it. ]

I had a splendid time tonight.

[ Oh, God, Q, that's hardly an open invitation. Where's 007 when his input is actually helpful? ]

[knackered]

[Arthur doesn't know why he's nervous. There's always the normal reasons--like all the complications, for example. Dating humans can't ever last more than oh, five or more years, whether or not they know who--what--he is. So much time spent with a nation takes its toll on them; they begin to age more slowly, and then depending on exposure, they lose their sense of time and their minds start to degrade....

He snaps himself out of that utterly depressing train of thought. He's enjoyed himself and Q makes for excellent company, and there's absolutely no good reason why he ought to spoil his own mood with matters that are both irrelevant in the current moment and inevitable in the far future.

Casual dating is definitely not on the list of things to avoid. As for jumping right into the sack? He's not drunk enough to not pretend that's what he's hoping for. The lad's got such a brilliant mind and wonderful looks and great taste in cardigans. How can Arthur possibly resist?

When Q speaks up, Arthur peeks over his mug of tea and tries not to smile. His cheeks go a little pink, though.]

So did I. Don't think either of us have enough interruptions from work.

[...Idiot. Say something else!!] Er, you know. We should. Do this more often. I like it.

[...quite passionate, aren't we Arthur?]

{ enjolras • spreadsheet }

[ferre]

[ This relationship is actually going so much better than Combeferre could have hoped for. Mostly because he did not think this relationship would be able to happen at all. It was a long time coming and he is eternally in debt to the marvelous Monsieur Courfeyrac. Every day is a blessing. Every evening comes with a smile.

But.

There is something they have been ignoring. More accurately, work has forced them to ignore it. When they first got together, sex was talked about. Neither of them would have been comfortable just jumping in. And, of course, they are not lacking in the frequency of sex. There are simply a list of things to attend to. To trim. To talk about. They can't go on ignoring it forever. The health of their relationship will eventually fall into jeopardy if it continues.

Combeferre sits next to Enjolras on the couch. The initial list of all things that they would be comfortable with trying are there. That in itself took hours. Now it's a matter of time of figuring out which to try first, which they will like. His cheeks pink as he already knows the first topic of conversation. ]

Are you ready, Enjolras?

dammit jim i'm a doctor not a love machine

[saurianbrandy]

[ Even the captain has to have his regular physical. Bones would chase him down for it if he absolutely had to. It's bad enough he complains about the new diet Bones has put him on! How else is he supposed to keep him in top condition? How else is he supposed to make sure he's alright? It's a dangerous job.

He's got a light out, making Kirk follow it. One hand on his shoulder. ]

Mm.

[ Looks good, despite the standard stoic face he's sporting. Bones finds himself pausing and smiling down at the... Far too young captain.

All these years ahead of him and the next mission could take them out. He pushes the thought out of his head and finally lets go, turning around to get the next instrument. ]

You need to get down to the gym more.

there are better ways of doing a physical is all im saying ;)

[kirking]

[That's right, he's young. Young and he deserves a donut if he wants one. Not the rabbit food that Bones keeps insisting that he eats. Especially if the doctor is so convinced he's going to die, then he'd rather die a satisfied man rather than a hungry one.]

How can you even tell that by making me follow a light? That's not even scientific.

[urgents]

( from here )

[ The first comment surprises him slightly, not offended by the word tender any more than he is baffled by his own cautiousness towards Q, too distracted to take the time to think on why exactly, his youth or his slight form, or maybe even some wholly strange and affectionate sentiment towards his coworker and unlikely friend. It matters much less when he's keening beneath him like that, not asking but inviting and it clicks something into place that involves a lot less thinking and a lot more doing.

Regretfully, Bond eases his hand back out from the front of his slacks, instead shifting up on his knees to tug the material swiftly down slender hips, off the bed to stand on the floor between an open pair of thighs he's too impatient now to mark up to his liking. His own trousers already unbuttoned, he shoves them down, briefs and all, shoes and rumpled fabric kicked to the side and immediately forgotten. ]

I intend to. Do you have anything? [ Bond settles back over him, framing his hips with strong knees, too pleased by the sprawl of pale, freckled skin bared to him, a weathered palm sweeping down the ladder of his ribs teasingly. ]

[compile]

[ Q bounces between feeling silly getting undressed and too distracted to really care. Of course he'd have more than enough in his pants. Too cocky not to.

He's not so enthralled that he can't move further, give Bond a bit more room to work with. And he's rewarded with both legs being draped around his hips like they belong there. Q forces himself to take a deep breath. He will not get in over his head over one bloody - if damn good - touch to his skin. His own explore forearms and biceps. Even in his more sane moments he wouldn't deny they do send a particular thrill through him. ]

I am quartermaster, 007.

[ You aren't the exclusive shareholder on occupational jokes, Bond. Although Q does manage to keep his smile down a little better. Must put on that air of polite "offense" to up-play the joke. He shifts head and eyes to their right toward the bedside table where he will find three or four condoms as well as lubrication. Anything more adventurous is under the bed and will have to wait for later. ]

{ thranduil }

[ilignus]

[ Full and relaxing baths are not something Thorin indulges in often. Keeping clean is one thing. Taking time to properly have a bath is another entirely. There are many habits of his that changed when he and Thranduil entered into this strange sort of courtship. Bathing would be one of them, he was sure.

They were to be left alone entirely. Not interrupted for anything save the most drastic of emergencies. Most knew better than trying to interrupt them when alone. There was a very good chance you'd see far more than ever bargained for.

Clad only in a dressing gown, Thorin enters the cave full of natural hot springs. He's seen them before. If he had not, his eyes still would have roamed to the elven king. No one being should ever be this beautiful. Thorin crosses to stand at the edge of the spring while shedding his robe. Thranduil will receive an approving smirk before any sort of greeting. ]

[heleg]

[Truthfully, Thranduil does not often indulge in baths such as these either, and when he does, he certainly doesn't let his glamour slide. But today he is with Thorin, and Thorin's dislike of his cloaking magics is well-known to him, and he has made a conscious effort to let them drop when he spends time alone with the dwarf.

Valar give him strength, he still does not understand why the dwarf seems to like to see him scarred and disfigured, but every time he lets his glamour drop, he sees Thorin's eyes soften, and the heavy dwarfish hands that touch him are gentle and, dare he say it, reverent. It is a strange feeling for him, a man who has lived centuries without being touched at all, let alone touched with any kind of gentleness or tenderness, but it is becoming more and more normal, easier with each touch to lean into the next one instead of shying away.

Today he sits in one of the hot spring baths, carved to provide comfortable seating, leaning back with a towel folded behind his neck, the ends of his hair swirling in the water that shifts gently about his shoulders as he waits for Thorin to join him. As soon as the last of his attendants left, he had allowed his glamour to fade away, leaving him with only one good eyes with which to see the way Thorin leers at him.

He may be blind in one eye, but he can still roll them both, which he does. As obviously as possible.]

Just get in, Thorin.

For Thorin

[kindlywest]

[Bilbo knew exactly what he was doing. Ever since he and Thorin had begun dating, he'd noticed that Thorin occasionally got very possessive. Sometimes it was worrisome, given that it was Thorin and he tended to go overboard, but he's learned to tone it down most of the time.

Sometimes, however, Bilbo wants that possessiveness. And the fastest way to encourage that possessiveness? Play the bumbling twink who doesn't realize all these men are eying him when they go to the club and "accidentally" flirt with them (only to then of course mention that he sees his boyfriend and go off, which leads to a lot of longing looks and angry glares in Thorin's direction).

That was his game tonight and he thinks it worked. Thorin's bristly in the sexy way, though Bilbo had shot him a text message midway through the night: "remind me again what you do with terrible men who like to see you get all possessive and sexy? ;)". They're leaving the club now, Bilbo a little tipsy with a hand on Thorin's ass.

He really likes Thorin's ass.]

[ilignus]

[ The fact that it was so obvious he knew is what made Thorin's blood boil. He was a jealous lover - wanting perhaps too much of Bilbo than he should. Any eyes roaming his burglar were sent off quickly with a glare. A growl if he had to.

But then Bilbo started flirting with them. Never more than that. He was never unfaithful. He always knew when to pull away and retreat back to exactly where he should have been in the first place. It was maddening and confusing.

It made sense, suddenly, when Thorin received the text. Had to send it and couldn't even say it? With him standing right here? He wraps an arm around Bilbo's shoulders then lets his hand drop to Bilbo's ass and grips hard. He leans down to grumble ]

Punish them

[ In his ear.

He starts leading Bilbo to the restrooms. ]

For Ferre ♥

[shylyintrepid]

[It had taken a lot of time, bribery, and money but frankly, Jehan was sure it was going to be worth it.

He and Ferre had been dancing around each other for what felt like months now; a hand on a thigh here, an awkward compliment there (and bless Ferre's heart, he tried). But Jehan was tired of it. He enjoyed a dance as much as the next guy but he could only take so much.

So he developed a Plan. A Plan that would end in Sex.

He had to bribe Courfeyrac for a copy of Ferre's key and wait weeks for his clothes order from Italy to arrive but when Ferre arrives in his flat he will meet with a lovely surprise.

That surprise is of course Jehan, lounging on his sofa with a well-read copy of The Tale of Genji fully done up in what he calls his crossdressed best. Black stilettos and hose with the tiniest hint of matching lace garters peeking out from under his skirt. His corset (thank you, Musichetta) is visible through the thin white button up he has on, top button undone and lace again peeking out.

But he thinks it's the make-up that will sell it for Combeferre. He rarely wears it but he didn't spent four years in theater for nothing.]

[ferre]

[ His Jean - their Jean - was simply an affectionate sort. He and Courfeyrac had slept with nearly every member of the troupe save for himself and Enjolras. Perhaps not Musichetta. He could never truly tell with that woman.

His attraction to Jean had grown from nearly the moment he laid eyes on him. A shy smile with eyes alive that were full of wonder and beauty and sadness all at once. Jean knew things that Combeferre in all his intense hours of study could never hope to know. He was beautiful. He was intelligent. He was a lover. He could never hope to have a full relationship with a man like him - something exclusive and entirely them. Combeferre could never be his world. He would never wish to take that away, either. As much as he was attracted to him. This was a fact Combeferre accepted long ago. It pained him but not to the point of suffering. He had work to do.

That work was exactly what was on his mind tonight. He had an arm full of books in addition to the bag of them around his shoulder. Add both of those to the phone in his hand to read emails, lists, texts to and from various members of the group to ensure safety and various supplies. Even a bit of legal advice from their gaggle of lawyers-to-be. He is so focused on the device and placing his items exactly where they belong he misses the intruder to his house for longer than he should.

It's only when he goes to push up his glasses that he notices the... person? His mind takes too long to catch up to what is before him. This is their Jean Prouvaire dressed from head to toe in beautiful and sultry feminine garb. This is Jean Prouvaire with expertly executed make up, a shirt that teases without revealing, a skirt that does much the same and-- He gulps feeling his cheeks grow hot. With his skin so pale, he knows he must be tomato red by now. By sight alone he can feel his cock start to stir to life. That is his real embarrassment. ]

Prouvaire?

legolas • blindfolds

[fortythree]

[ Games and challenges had become all too common for them. From morning to night, there was some contest or another, some wager for them to settle before the day was through. It only made sense that these would continue well after their marriage vows were exchanged. In fact, it meant that a wider variety of games were to be had.

They were down to their barest of clothes now. Gimli in only his underbreeches. He stood at the back of Legolas and began to wrap a silken black cloth around his husband's eyes. ]

You aren't meant to see a thing.

[ It was half an invitation for Legolas to correct his tying (which of course his skill would be perfect) and to explain the nature of this game. ]

[bow_of_the_galadhrim]

[And Legolas sits in nothing more than a loose and easily removed pair of pants, Gimli learning quickly after they'd married that elves didn't wear anything under their trousers.

His breath hitches briefly as the cloth is placed over his eyes but he trusts Gimli and reaches to make sure no light slips through. It's strange not being able to see anything and already he's unconsciously straining his remaining senses.]

Not even light.

thorin u drama queen

[heleg]

[If asked, Thranduil would put the occasional spat down to cultural differences — for many centuries, his people and Thorin's had not exactly been the best of friends — but in truth, he privately blamed the fact that his husband had quite a temper, and his pride was equally as troublesome. There were times he'd get a bee in his bonnet over something, and Thranduil has learned just to let him bluster it out. More often than not, all Thorin really needed is the chance to yell and stomp and generally act like a wounded bull, and then his mood improves dramatically.

Except when it doesn't, and then even Thranduil starts to grow concerned.

He finds Thorin sitting in what used to be a study but has now been somewhat converted into a workroom for the dwarf, perched on a bench and glowering at his hands. Sweeping into the room, he walks behind his husband, trailing his fingers over broad shoulders, frowning down at him.] Will you tell me what troubles you, or will you make me guess?

[ilignus]

[ His husband is insufferable.

Thorin knows this to be falsehood. In truth, Thranduil was only occasionally insufferable. Their jokes, jests, anger at merely what the other is could go too far. Thranduil had crossed a line earlier. Mocking him in such a way in front of the Elvish court... Nearly unforgivable to make him look a fool like that.

The simplest of touch stills the anger brooding in him. In some ways, that only made it worse. He was supposed to be upset, not easily swayed by the slightest attention from him! He relaxes under the touch only to stiffen once more. A dark look is given to Thranduil's frown. ]

I am surprised you haven't yet.

[compile]

[ Well. There wasn't exactly an easy way to ask this, was there? He did try to wait for an opportune moment. The two of them relatively alone - other Q branch operatives off absorbed in their work on the other side of the room - with the end of a debriefing and Bond turning in what was left of his equipment.

There is a vast difference between being confident in your sexuality and asking for-- this. From James fucking Bond. Well, who else would they invite? Francis? Hardly. Not unless they wanted to hear about it for the rest of Q's life.

He can't quite make eye contact. Q's putting the finishing touches and knows Bond will leave any moment. Ah, no, he has to stop him. ]

007. [ He says to get his attention. ] I had something else to ask you. A personal matter.

[doubleoh]

[Still Looking down, emptying a gun of its ammo, he answers:]

Don't listen to what the other boys say, not being able to grow a beard doesn't make you any less off a man.

[the gun clicks shut and he looks it over before placing it down and looking up.

Q actually looks nervous.... and Bond isn't exactly the sort to be sought after for personal problems outside of a gambling debt or horny housewife.]

Go on, then?

[ilignus]

Bilbo. On your knees.

[ He commands with a nod in front of where he stands, seeing that Bilbo is finished or nearly finished with whatever grading he had to do. It's a completely different demeanor from what he's had for the rest of the night. That is to say the rest has been normal. Somewhere between stoic and loving. But now? Now he couldn't be argued with for Bilbo's weight in gold.

He's never tried this before but... he's read more than a few of Bilbo's favorites. This is a theme in them. He trusts Bilbo, too, to complain and properly protest when he's gone too far. He has to because he has only a vague idea of what the hell he's doing. ]

[kindlywest]

Half a moment.

[Because he's a neat sort of guy and Thorin knows it. Still, there's something exhilarating knowing that Thorin's read his books and is interested in trying this.

Bilbo caps his pen quickly and moves away from his desk before obeying Thorin. He's on his knees, but he has a look of "well? now what?"]

better safe than sorry

[albugineous]

[It may have been a long while ago that Thranduil bore her son, Legolas, but it is not an experience she is likely to forget, no matter how long the intervening years have been. When her husband died, she had assumed she would never bear another child, and had made her peace with the notion. After all, to have more than two children is a very rare thing for her kind, and to have only one is far more common. Besides, she was more than content with her little leaf, his perfect features and sweet, darling smile enough to fill her heart with warmth when grief would turn it to ice.

She had never thought she would fall pregnant again.

Especially not since her next husband was a dwarf — never before have dwarves and elves mated, as it were, it had not occurred to her that they could. When she had lain with Thorin, held his shoulders to the bed and felt him spill inside her, she had not even thought of the possibility that her womb might quicken with his seed. Elves are not a particularly fertile race to begin with, but apparently the dwarves are.

The first time she realizes what is wrong is on the dawning of Thorin's return to his mountain. They are both too stubborn to give up their thrones for each other, and so they content themselves with long visits between them, one going to the other's kingdom for a month or two, then retreating, then the other making the journey across the desolation. She found herself feeling queasy, her limbs aching in a way they haven't for many, many years, her head delicate as if she was recovering from a blow. Concerned, but not wishing to alarm her husband, she had hidden her nausea and bid him a fond farewell, promising to come before Durin's Day so they might celebrate the festival together.

The intervening months have only proven her suspicions correct, and so when she alights upon the large, flat stones of the entrance to Erebor, Thranduil's hand immediately alights on the soft swell of her stomach, hidden beneath her cloaks and her gown.] Go tell your king I have arrived, [she orders one of the dwarves standing at attention. He does not grumble at being told what to do by an elf, but she can sense the mutiny in his eyes as he nods and turns on his heel, but it does not anger her anymore. She wishes to see her husband again, wishes to share with him the good news, and the distrust of one dwarf is not enough to dull her spirits. (She hopes it is good news; Thorin likes to curl up behind her and rest his palm on her belly, in retrospect, she is going to assume it means he wishes for a child. The thought of him spurning her, or worse, telling her he wishes the child aborted, makes her already delicate stomach churn unhappily.)

When she hears footsteps approaching, she finds herself smiling despite her attempts at aloofness, and she is reaching out her hand before he even fully emerges from the shadows of the doorway.] Thorin. Bennig nîn.

[ilignus]

[ The question of whether or not they could have children lingered in his mind. Thorin had always wanted children of his own. For so long, he thought he never would. He had his nephews and that was close enough, being much like a father to them for so long. Thorin, as many dwarrow did, refused to marry unless he found his Other. Little did he know that his Other would be an elven queen. So, he may never see his own children after all.

It is her turn to stay in the halls of Erebor. This only made possible once Erebor had reclaimed some stability. Their courtship had been a long and distanced one. Yet, a system had been set in place. He could trust his council entirely to make the right decisions on smaller matters in his own absence.

His spirit had lifted considerably knowing he would have both his wife and his home for a while. Many did not approve but few were willing to argue when Erebor had only recently been reclaimed. No amount of glares could stop him from smiling upon seeing her.

That is-- Until he drew closer and saw her face. The weariness troubled him for she was an elf and they did not grow weary easily. ]

Thranduil,

[ He said as he took her hands in his. ]

You do not look well.

[ He started to lead her right to their chambers and wouldn't hear any protest. ]

meme inspiration

[ferre]

[ He's had enough of this. Everyone gets their share of Courfeyrac except for his best friend. It hardly seems right or fair. How many of them had held up his proverbial hair as he prayed to the porcelain god? How many of them had sleepless nights wondering if he was still alive? How many of them could see him for what he was when the energy died down and he was Decidedly UnCourfeyrac?

It does not help that today he looks exceptionally beautiful. Exceptionally fired up. Exceptionally intelligent.

Combeferre grips him by the shoulders and stops him mid sentence with a kiss. Damn who might be looking. The small group around them stares but bless whoever it was - Bahorel? - for running them along. ]

Re: meme inspiration

[coeurdunpaladin]

[Bless that man, indeed! Courfeyrac will be sure to thank whoever it was later. Much later, because right now he's just giving Combeferre a slightly befuddled stare. His hands, meanwhile, are reaching to tug the other a bit closer, because who is he to waste such a pleasant surprise?]

Ah. I've completely lost my train of thought. But I can't say I mind too much.

the beard in space

[darns]

[ Time apart was written in the job description for both of them. They knew going in they would end up communicating over video chats, voice messages, text. Sometimes none at all, considering the adventures Jim liked to get into. Most they could really manage for weeks was text based.

But, at last, Mycroft would be on the ship again. And Leonard would be one of the first to see him. Had to clear him for duty after all. ]

Well, if it isn't long time no--

[ An eyebrow arches and Bones feels frozen in place! Him? This serious old coot, so trim and cut, daring for a beard? It looked downright-- ... Appealing. Sexy if he had to put the most accurate description on it. He's smirking not a moment after. ]

See.

Re: the beard in space

[brotherthine]

[Well, these last few weeks had really been neither one of their faults. Mycroft was on a practically archaic planet that while encouraged space travel, would rather not have electronic equipment running all day. In fact they only used power four hours of the day, so Mycroft had to time his messages carefully.

Tradition also stated that a man in a relationship had to grow a beard, to show that he was not available for mating rituals. He had grown scruff the very next day, and had not a time to get it shaved before he was beamed back aboard, and told to report to sickbay.

Yes, of course, the physical. Then the meetings to discuss with the Captain the trade agreements ... it would be hours before he got Leonard to himself - but at least he would see him before he had to go back on duty. Professionalism first, naturally - ]

[Except when he walks into med-bay, bag over shoulder and when Bones looks at him with that eyebrow raised, and then that bloody Smirk of his. Mycroft gave him a baleful look, before he put the bag down neatly.]

Down, boy. I require a shower but before that, I need to update the Captain on our current diplomatic standing and trade agreements. He needs to tell me how many social gaffes he created whilst I was away. Then you can smirk at me that way.

For Gimli~

[sculptor_of_aman]

[Few of the many humans in these parts seemed to have any concept of it, but the lady Elf who worked these forges was a rarity beyond any treasure. It was uncommon enough to see a female Elf in the position of a smith to begin with, especially with so many of her kind having left the shores of Middle-earth, but she was a creature ancient beyond the sun and moon with years beyond counting to her name. She spoke kindly, but sadly, her heart weighed down by thousands of years of tragedies, nearly all of her kin lost to her.

Still, one person had learned how to make Nerdanel smile again, her Dwarf friend Gimli. When they spoke, the light that danced at her feet gleamed more bright, her eyes shining with the Treelight that few others held in living memory. She had told him tales of when her youngest niece, the venerable Lady Galadriel, had been a child, of the antics of her seven sons, and the joy of working directly with the Vala Aulë, while he told her what he could of his own people. He had become her dearest friend, and one of few who could abate the loneliness that haunted her.

Gimli had always maintained an almost courtly respect for her, much as he had for her niece, but Nerdanel insisted she was far too old to stand on ceremony, no longer holding any claim to nobility, for she had once long ago been High Queen of the Noldor, but a mere smith's daughter. Never would she consider herself a beauty compared to other Elves, but she was striking, especially on this day. She was tall for an Elven woman, scarcely an inch shorter than Galadriel, but her entire form rippled with muscle, made all the more evident by the fact that she had stripped to the waist in the heat of the forge. During her many years, she had gradually collected adornments of both metal and ink in her skin, most of her own design and beyond explanation, but their delicate twisting shapes enhancing her every line and curve, glittering in the light of the forge fires now that they were exposed. Her copper-red hair, unusual among the Noldorin Elves, was bound back in elaborate braids that hung to her knees and left her charms on clear display.

But yet, when Gimli entered unannounced, she made no show of modesty, smiling at him.]

Ah, Gimli! It is good to see you. Coming to see my work for today?

[fortythree]

[ This was not the first topless female Gimli had seen. As a youth, he'd been tossed into the bath with cousins of either sex. As a young dwarrow, he'd gone swimming with a dam or two in his time. But an elf, and and elf of such nobility - the aunt of Lady Galadriel! Oh. His heart couldn't take it.

Especially not at the sight of her. She looked as if she had been made for those forges. Her muscle and build unlike any other elf. If not for her height, she would be mistaken for a dwarrowdam by the sharpest of eyes. His own go wide as his cheeks turn red as both their hair put together. She looked-- She looked-- Well, she-- He shouldn't be thinking of such things. Not of her, not of an elf.

Quickly he turns to try and gain some semblance of propriety back. ]

You should have warned me of your state of undress!

[ At least he views her enough of a friend to gently scold her. ]

caught in the act • NED

[compile]

[ Q thought he was alone. Thought he had worked out the schedule perfectly in his mind. It seemed he was about 30 or so minutes off.

There were a great many things Q enjoyed with Ned. Pie, movies on the couch, stupid puns exchanged, and recently more sexual adventures. Honestly, he was fine with it being this slow. Ned was ... unique in his fear of touching. Q nearly thought they'd never get anywhere at all. This advancement was not enough for his very active libido. So. It only made sense for Q to enjoy a sexual release in his own time. He doubted that Ned would be into Q being bent over, wrists tied behind his back, blind folded, gagged, and spanked.

It wasn't himself, but that's more or less what Q was enjoying now. Bringing himself closer and closer to orgasm as he watched the man bent over wince with pain.

Oh god yes... What he wouldn't give to have that right now... ]

[piecrust]

[ Ned has never really thought about texting if he's arriving early, or calling ahead. They've never really had issues with it in the past, and with some of the Korean take out under his arm, he approaches Q's apartment, fishing about comically in pockets and his side bag for the keys to the man's apartment. Once found, he doesn't think twice before letting himself in. Doesn't even look up necessarily when he does come in, fussing about with his things at first. ]

I'm here, sorry, a bit early just finished up quicker than --

[ When he turns, sees the computer, hears the moans and groans and slap of flesh, even sees his own boyfriend, pleasuring himself, and looking far, far too close...

Well. Ned's cheeks fill with color, and he isn't sur where to go or what to say. ]

O-oh, oh god, sorry, I... I'll text next time I'll just... I can come back? I mean -- really, it's -- I mean. What is that? [ because of all things, Q's watching something that very much has ties, blind folds, and was that... spanking? A gag? A pity he can't look away -- and furthermore, the look on Q's face is a curious one (well at least until he was just as shocked as Ned perhaps) but the pleasure, the color to his cheek, the fanning of lashes on cheekbones... ]

I'll come back shortly.

for thorin

[seenthefire]

[So many lay dead around them but they had survived. The smoke cleared over the battlefield but the Elven King's gaze was almost wide as he searched. Dwarf, Elves, Men, so many lay upon the streets of Dale and before Ereborn but he is only searching for one now that he's set his son off, knowing that he was safe.

He is nearly desperate by the time he reaches the gates of Erebor on foot. The dwarves are not sure what to make of an Elf coming among them in such a manner but Thranduil ignores the protests. There had been so many things left unsaid during their last meeting, so much Thranduil had wished he had said.

But it all dies upon his tongue as he catches sight of Thorin standing in the great hall. They both bear the marks of battle but both uninjured. It did not matter what he had to say in that moment because all he can think of is the sight of Thorin standing before him. He let his sword fall from his fingers as he approached him once more, reaching out to just grab the dwarf for a kiss with all the pent up emotions he had sought so hard to control.

Let the others watch. Let them judge that Thranduil, the cold and distant Elven King, was reduced to such desperate measures for a dwarf. It did not matter.]

[ilignus]

[ There is rarely a good outcome for battles. When the good side does win, there are still the dead to mourn and bury, the earth and homes to repair. Some good does come for Thorin. The near death of himself and his nephews shows how much of a fool he had been. He nearly lost everything again and would not allow it. Debates were still to be had on fair shares and all that would wait.

His closest friends and family secure - someone finally found Bilbo - Thorin turns to see the elf on his mind marching right towards him with sword in hand. Thorin braces himself for another fight. To the death if that is what the elvenking wished.

Thorin's idea was incredibly wrong. And the faintest of hopes that he refused to bring to light before that moment were correct. They can hear disgusted gasps all around and bless Balin for being wise enough to already guess this would happen. He rushes the rest on their way.

Thorin pulls the elf to his knees to make the act of kissing easier. He smells of blood and sweat and smoke. But underneath he smells of his Mirkwood forest and tastes of wine. He is glad to feel with roaming hands that the elf is without injury. It would make this much more difficult if so. Skilled hands make quick work of unbuckling and unclasping and untying armor. ]

scars

[ilignus]

[ This was far from their first time engaging in The Act. Their marriage, especially by elf standards, had been long ago. Their dwarrow one not too far after it. This, however, was different. This would be a first with Thranduil showing himself as he truly was. The scars were not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. They looked painful and marred his otherwise perfect skin. His milky eye never quite going where it should.

Thorin loved to see them all the same. The trust such a vain creature needed to allow him to see... He trailed a delicate finger along Thranduil's cheek as he examined the detail there. ]

Are you certain of this?

[ He didn't seem it. ]

[heleg]

[Thranduil will never understand Thorin's fascination with his scars. They are dreadful things; horrible, disfiguring, painful even now, a terrible reminder of one of the worst days of his life. He has learned to compensate for them after all these years, to treat his left side more gently than his right, to guard that arm a little more closely when he fights, to tilt his head in such a way to unnerve those he looks at when all it really does it allow him to see from his one good eye.

His magics are good, but they are not perfect. He has some vision in his left eye, but not very much.

None at all when he drops the glamour.]

Yes. [He knows he does not sound certain, and that is the worst of it. Still, Thranduil stubbornly sits on the edge of their bed, his glamour abandoned, though he still has a dressing gown of pale green silk wrapped casually around his body, hiding the worst of the scars.

He doesn't quite glare as Thorin approaches, but his expression is rather baleful nonetheless.] Will you stop asking me that?

for Q

[earmark]

[ The cover is simple enough: a party. The purpose behind it, not at all unfamiliar to him: information.

It's how things go these days. The world runs on money and information, and often those two things are one and the same. This particular set of files, he imagines, must be all too important, at least to those holding them at the moment, if they're kept entirely off the grid.

This also means, though, that if they want to get those files without leaving a trace of their presence, they can't very well send just Bond to get the job done. His definition of getting that done would be to either take the computer with him, or rip the disk out of it, and it would most likely take less than an hour for them to know someone had gotten their hands on it.

He still wonders, though, if out of all the people, this kid really is the best choice. Bond is willing to believe Q can do a lot of damage in his pyjamas, but that doesn't make him feel wholly confident about his ability to work in the field. And right now, he's feeling more like a glorified bodyguard than a Secret Service agent.

But he doesn't say anything. Well, he did - he asked, when they were first given the assignment - but he's grown a little more used to the idea by now. Not wholly comfortable, admittedly, but he can manage. Even if Q might not in the end, Bond will just have to do it for the both of them.

He leans against a table in the hotel room - his room, or Q's, he hadn't really cared when he guided the both of them in there - watching for a while longer as Q continues to fiddle through one tie and the next in front of a mirror. Black, navy blue, dark green, no one will notice much at all at the party in a few hours, and yet it seems like the one thing he's worrying about the most.

A distraction, possibly. But he's got a better idea, if a distraction is what he's looking for.

Pushing himself off the wall, he crosses the room calmly, reaching for the black tie Q's holding up in one of his hands. His fingers brush over the knuckles, he stands barely an inch behind him. ]

Black. [ A low but definite tone, eyes meeting in the mirror's reflection. ] Usually, simplicity is elegance.

[compile]

[ Q, despite being part of Q branch, does have some training behind him. He'd have to to be cleared for anything resembling field work. He doesn't personally design many of the weapons, but he has to oversee it all. He has to know them inside and out. He has to be able to improve them, which means knowing how well they fire.

This is, of course, vastly different from the training that Bond would get and has experienced, but Q fancies himself very clever.

Even out of his pyjamas.

It's the lack of them that is currently making him uncomfortable. Going undercover is about making a half-alternate personality for yourself. Under Cover 101 dictates you should be as close to yourself as possible. So, which was closer: blue or green or--

The telling aspect of him not being a field agent shows itself when Bond suddenly creeps behind him. Q does not have nearly as much experience in... certain aspects, but he's no idiot. This is the infamous 007. His hand stills and he says with an absolute calm, ]

I suppose one of us has to be.

[ Q makes eye contact via the mirror, expression as positive-neutral as ever. ]

It has been a very long time since I've had to wear one of these.

[ So, please, feel free to continue flirting with showing him the ropes. Q's rather curious at how far he himself will go as well. ]

hartwin

[bespokes]

[ cont ]

[ Harry looks in the same direction and his heart sinks. He very nearly tries to excuse himself, come up with anything. Merlin bothering either of them would be absolutely fantastic right about now.

Simultaneously, anything short of the world ending again would be silenced and put on the back-burner. He'll come to his senses later. Possibly even regret this. It wouldn't be the first time. Harry lifts his eyebrows and moves to give a good hard grip of Eggsy's ass. ]

Definitely.

[ The car isn't far, which is good for poor Eggsy's sake. Shame he'll have to wait through traffic. Harry was not going to have him in the back of it. ]

[nandos]

[ That's not through lack of trying though. Once or twice - or maybe three times - Eggsy tries to resume their activities in the back of the car. But all he gets is the word patience, which he's not sure who told Harry he had any of but they were lying when they did.

Eventually he gives up, mouth pressed into a frustrated line and arms folded as he stares out of the window, the crease between his eyebrows deepening at every junction some prick won't let them through for all of twenty seconds that right now feels like a lifetime. And then when they're there of course Harry takes his fucking time getting out of the car and in the fucking house, and Eggsy's riled up still and almost vibrating with pent-up energy and-- ]

For fuck's sake, Harry, c'mon.

this is basically the start of 99% of porn

[bugleboy]

[ Steve really couldn't get why Raleigh got such a bad reputation. He got emotional. They all did. Considering what he had to do, literally get inside the brain of someone else, he couldn't blame him. He was a good guy. And he put up a challenge in the ring.

For Steve, that was one hell of a compliment. He'd go bare fists, wrapping them in athletic tape. Raleigh could use a weapon if he wanted. Not like he wouldn't be healed from it in a few hours. ]

You want me to go easy on you this time?

sdf;ljh basically

[unbreachable]

[ Raleigh's flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders, and contemplates picking up the hanbō he sometimes favors, but in the end he winds up as bare fisted as Steve. ]

Only if you want the same treatment, old man.

jarvis, help

[bugleboy]

[ So... Steve had never done this. He'd never done this with a woman, much less a man. Some days, he was still sort of reeling from the fact that he was into men at all. Those thoughts were usually brushed away quickly. Most people seemed fine with it these days. Being with Jarvis helped. A lot. No one on this earth was more patient and kind, seriously.

That was probably going to be pushed to the limits tonight. Steve had no idea what he was doing. None. He cold guess based on things he did with himself. Beyond that, though... He took another deep breath before finally exiting the bathroom next to Jarvis's bedroom. ]

So.

[ Smooth, Rogers. Smooth. ]

[originalmodel]

[ In his own quiet way, Jarvis had his own concerns. While he did have experience in the bedroom, it had been quite some time since his last tumble, and he was afraid it would show. He was eager for whatever the evening might bring, but he would rather like to avoid scaring Steve off or pushing him too far. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands splayed out over his knees, Jarvis swore to take things at whatever pace Steve needed from him.

His determination on the matter only grew when Steve emerged from the bathroom with and uncertain expression on his face, and a distinct shortage of vocabulary. He offered up a calming smile as he studied the man in front of him. He took a breath; it was doing to be difficult to keep his promise to himself. ]

Why don't you sit?

[He made the offer and patted the space on the bed next to him.]

elf mama

[fortythree]

[ Tall and broad, skin dotted with spots and scars of the forge. Nerdanel was a gift to his eyes. As beautiful as any gem. Her hair as bright as the fire, which made him laugh. His own name had been given for that very reason. She burned like one within him. She gave him the promise of love that he had looked forward to so much as a small child.

She was beautiful in every motion she did. Every smile, every swing of the hammer. He didn't care that she was busy with some task or another at the moment. Gimli needed to kiss his wife for no reason other than her beauty compelled him to do so. He pulled her closer, for even sitting they were of considerable difference, without any warning and kissed at the lobe of her beautiful elven ear. ]

[sculptor_of_aman]

[She laughed delightedly at the touch and turned to brush a kiss over his forehead.]

Hello to you, too, my Gimli.

[Her eyes were a bright, dancing silver, and she looked on him with such joy. Joy she had almost forgotten since the loss of her family so many Ages ago.]

Were you needing to do some work as well? Or are you here simply so I might delight in your company?