hackthis_archive | Ah, people. Failing since evolution began.

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Ah, people. Failing since evolution began.

1. The word of the day is clusterfuckiest. Trufax.

2. I'm a big fan of the part where a summer camp that rented a pool in north PhillY for $1900 were told they weren't welcome, because they changed the complextion of the pool. Keep it classy, racist assholes!

3. If I think too hard about the confirmation hearings, I might stroke out, so...

4. YAY, Leverage premieres tonight!

5. And Matt Damon is going to be on Entourage! So, that means that Matt and Ari are going to be hanging out. And I didn't even have to write it! Yeah, I know, who's the man? All they need now is RDJ... you know since I write it and it happens. Excuse me, I have to go write myself winning ten million dollars. BRB.

6. Ryan Gosling is releasing his album in October. I WANT IT NOW.

6a. Anybody got the new Regina Spektor album (Far) that they wanna share with the class.

7. An Offer: Anybody who wants to come over here and give me a photo prompt that maybe might result in some drabble porn to make the masses happy is more than welcome.

If you just want to picspam the pretty to you know, help the general mood, that's awesome too. In fact, feel free to come and post photos and write your own porn too! But it's gotta be a photo. And SFW. It can be a party!

Mostly I'm just trying to make

romanticalgirl smile, so help a sister do a good deed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sweat. Heat.

That's all he can taste as the sun bakes the earth around them. He's been sitting in these clothes, in this tin can for hours or days or weeks or months. He doesn't remember the last time he pissed. He doesn't remember the last time he ate something that didn't look like it might have been left by aliens. He doesn't remember anything.

He just feels and tastes. Feels the sweat slipping along his spine, slow and maddening. It's like Chinese water torture, a slow slither he can't quite get rid of and it makes him itch. Makes him sweat in other places. The back of his neck. The bend of his knees. The crook of his elbows. His balls and dick, slick with it like he's been fucking for hours and he's covered in spit or slick or juice and instead of relief it's like he's right at the edge and can't come.

He swallows the taste again and again. It's dry and hot and the kind of wet that can't quench a thirst. He feels like he's breathing flames instead of air and the smoke is going to turn his lungs to ash. He wants some kind of relief, but he doesn't know what will make this stop. He thinks about showers and rain. He thinks about naked skin and tongues. He thinks about everything and nothing, and it still doesn't stop.

Can't move. Can't breathe. Can't stop.

I love that I totally wanted to write stuff to make you happy and you come write anyway. That's like the most giving thing EVAR. You got something you wanna see? I wanted to write one of your Get Some prompts, but nobody was talking to me this morning that wasn't named Ben. *pokes Brad* C'mon baby, time to work…

"Say something."

"This is weird."

Brad huffs out a laugh. "Something besides that."

"What do you want me to say?" Nate replies. "If I've got this right -- you're calling me at 3 a.m. UK time from a phone booth--"

"Near Fleet Street."

"Fleet Street? Isn't that where all the papers are?"

"Nate, it's a phone card. Limited time. Try and focus. Sex talk now. The historical shit when you get here."

"When do I get there again?"

"In eleven days," Nate prods.

"And you couldn't wait?"

"I waited two months in Kuwait. Six weeks in Iraq. Three months until you quit the Corps and become a pussy, bitch liberal fuck -- you're going to give me what I want, sir, right now."

"The 'sir' thing is a dirty trick. I didn't even know they still *had* pay phones."

"Nate>"

Nate bites his lip. Pushes his textbooks off his lap and stretches his legs out on the bed. "What do you want me to say?" he asks quietly. "Talk to me, Brad. I don't get to hear your voice much anymore."

"I want you to tell me you're thinking about me fucking you," Brad says. "That you're thinking of my fingers fucking you, my tongue up your ass, licking you open, listening to all those noises you make for me."

Nate makes a soft grunt. He cock jerks in his sweatpants and he rubs it with the heel of his hand. "You know I am."

"You want my cock down your throat don't you. Want me to rub it all over that pretty mouth, have you suck on it until you're gagging for it, until every time you lick your lips you think of me fucking your mouth.

Nate gasps softly, sliding his hand inside his sweatpants. His cock is leaking, sweaty. He strokes himself with a tight grip. "Brad…"

"Yeah, you're going to say my name like that. You're going to beg for my cock, aren't you, Nate?"

"Yes."

"You're going to be such a slut for me. Going to get yourself ready in the plane, lock yourself in the bathroom and fuck yourself, two fingers, three, get all stretched out just for my cock."

Nate bites his lip. He knows what's coming next.

"Did you get it?" Brad asks.

"Yes."

"You're going to put it in when you're done," Brad says. "Going to slide that plastic butt plug in and then you're going to go back to your seat and you're going to wait for me. Gonna wait to land, wait through customs. You're going to be standing before the finest police the UK has to offer at Heathrow and you're going to be hard and thinking of nothing but the slick, thick plug up your ass and how badly you want me to take it out."

Nate's hand quickens on his cock. "Fuck, Brad."

"Maybe," Brad says. "Maybe after I come and get you from the airport I'll bring to back to Brian's shithole in Kilburn. Or maybe I've got something else in mind. Maybe we'll come down to Fleet Street, walk around, go to the pub, and you can spend all afternoon thinking about me fucking you. About how stretched you are. How all you want is to come. You gonna come in your pants for me?"

Nate's so close. So very close. When he says Brad's name it's more of a whine than anything else.

"You know," Brad says conversationally. "Brian's flat is on the top floor. Nobody else around. Maybe I'll bring you back here, take you all the way upstairs, and then not let you in. Maybe I'll just shove my hand down your pants, pull out that plug and finger your perfect ass. You'd like that wouldn't you? Feel my fingers up your ass, two, three. Slick, fucking you harder and harder. And you'd take it. Take it all. Make that little sobbing noise that you make when I want you in public. Listen to you try not to wake the rest of the house."

Nate gasps, coming hard in his fist, his sweatpants sticking to the back of his hand.

"Sound like a plan?" Nate can hear the smile in Brad's voice.

Nate pulls his hand out of his pants, wipes it on the thigh. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

"My time's run out," Brad says. "I'll see you --."

The phone goes dead and Nate shakes his head, looks down at his defiled hand. "Thank God."

Edited 2009-07-15 21:17 (UTC)

::flails::

Poor Nate. That's a damn long flight to have a hard on for. Of course, if he's smart (and he is, oh, he is!) he'll just start talking dirty to Brad when he lands and gets through customs and Brad's not going to be able to wait too long.

::sighs happily::

Brad's kind of evil. Wow. Also... HOT!!!

Well. My brain has melted. You win!

Brad is a devious fucker and it'd be totally appalling if it didn't lead to such fabulous orgasms. Also, my thought? He totally sent him a remote controlled vibrating butt plug, without bothering to tell Nate, and will turn it on when Nate's least expecting it. And then he'll make Nate beg.

Did it get hot in here? I think it just got REALLY hot in here.

*bites lip* I can't help but think that this is either someone right before sinking into the throes of an orgasm to stop all orgasms, or one of the GK-boys captured D=. It makes me sad.

I wasn't sure if it was GK in the middle of the shit or Southland where they're on stakeout and just damn fucking tired of being in the same position for hours. But what do I know. It was supposed to be porn.

Hey, it's always good when you start out writing porn and end up with something that's gorgeously twisted.

...okay, not always, but in this case it is.

Awww, thanks!

I am re-reading through our Thread of Awesome because I can (and also, b/c I apparently can't write a goddamn thing), and because the first time I was too high on hormones to quite appreciate how awesome we are, because WOW are we awesome. Also, I am re-reading the above and about ot twitch out of my skin with all the descriptiveness, because the slow drip of sweat along the spine, along your hairline, sweat in the bend of your KNEES. Holy shit do I hate that. This so evocative I kind of feel like I need a shower now.

because WOW are we awesome.

Trufax.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah, people. Failing since evolution began.

This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

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Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.

Re: This is not porn. It was supposed to be. I don't know what it is.