Current Mood: irate
Current Music: The Beatles 'Getting Better'

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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.

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You can mix them and match them and then undress them for hot porns. \o/

ETA: I have Regina Spektor at home on the iTunes. Remind me later if no one has it for you. :D

Edited 2009-07-15 20:20 (UTC)

I've got Regina on my work computer. Uploading it now!

If I had a photo on here I'd ask for porn, but, alas, I'll just read everything else.

PEE ESS: LEVERAGE.

It's the smile that keeps getting to Brad.

In Iraq Nate didn't seem to smile much, at least not at other people, but give Brad 20 seconds with his LT -- 15 if he was feeling particularly smooth -- and Nate would smile. Sometimes he'd even laugh. It was like a gift then. Except it was something that Nate was giving to him, not the other way around.

Now that they're stateside, Nate laughs more, smiles more, Brad still watches. Even when Nate's asleep.

Nate rubs his face with his fist, sniffing before opening his eyes. "You're staring at me," he says observantly.

Brad raises an eyebrow. "You were smiling in your sleep."

"I was?"

"Yes, sir, so I would assume it was a good dream. Something pornographic maybe. Something about me sucking you cock."

Nate blinks. "No fooling you, he says with a grin.

Brad pulls the sheets down, away from where they're wrapped around Nate.

He shifts down the bed, wrapping a hand around Nate's cock and stroking leisurely. He's just lowering his head when Nate calls out to him. "I was actually dreaming about the bacon I'm going to have for breakfast, but whatever works for you."

Brad just laughs. "You couldn't even lie to me for ten seconds?"

Nate shrugs. "Guilt during blowjobs is bad."

Here: www.mediafire.com/?yw5ooayemye

This accidentally isn't the highest quality one (which is split in two parts) and I'm uploading that currently if you wanna wait.

I will wait. You are mad awesome. Also, it's really nice to see your LJ name pop up. Where you been? How's things?

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 YOU A LOT!

Edited 2009-07-15 20:43 (UTC)

It's the stupid shades that irritate Eliot the most. Actually, the fact that Hardison wears them inside is what irritated Eliot the most.

"You're not cool enugh to wear those," he protests when they're in the kitchen getting another bag of pretzels. There's a Epitafios marathon on HBO and Hardison is all about his Argentinan crime soap opera

Hardison lowers the shades on his nose a fraction, looking at Eliot from over the tops. "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Eliot just hoots. "You ain't a player -- and you have no game."

"You sure about? Because you thought I had mad game when I had your dick in my mouth--"

"Whoa!" Eliot interrupts. "Too much information."

Hardison shrugs and pushes the sunglasses back up his nose. "Us fucking is too much information. I see," he says, walking away with the pretzels.

"I didn't say that was too much information," Eliot protests loudly.

Hardison pauses in the kitchen doorway. "I was gonna wear these the next time we have sex so you can see yourself in them, since I know how much you like looking at your face, but never mind that."

"You were gonna what?" Eliot sputters.

"Never mind that now," Hardison says breezily. "My and my pretzels are gonna go watch some serial killers on TV. You and your hand have a nice night now, you hear?"

"That's not funny," Eliot calls after Hardison's gone.

Silence.

"That's seriously not funny!" he repeats.

More silence.

"Fine! You can wear the damn sunglasses!"

Hardison's head pops back around the door. "I win."

♥!

I will totally do this one. I just need someone to tell me RPS or Ocean's 11.

Oh, also I got distracted in my rush to upload (sorry for spamming you, bb!) but that pool story is deplorable.

AW!!! That made me so happy!

YAY! YAY! YAY! And I love the idea that Hardison is far more kinky than Eliot because he totally is.

Sometimes when Nate watches Brad, he's staring at something Nate can't see. It doesn't bother him, though. It intrigues him. It's like Brad sees things that are there, hiding in plain sight, and Nate doesn't always have that ability, too mired in walking the thin line between command and his men. Brad doesn't look away from where he's sighting along his weapon, doesn't look away up from where he's lying on the berm.

"You know, sir, you keep standing there like that, we're going to have to paint a big fucking red target on your ass."

"Right." Nate drops down beside him, and they're relatively secluded up here away from the camp, if a couple of yards counts as secluded. "It would probably lower morale for me to get my ass shot off."

"You mean for Bravo Two itself, sir, or just those of us who enjoy your ass?" Brad takes a moment to cast a quick glance at Nate, smiling slightly. "Because it does seem like too fine an ass to lose."

"I'll keep that in mind as well, Sergeant." Nate rolls his neck, head moving from side to side. "What do you see out there?"

Brad seems to understand what Nate means, because he doesn't answer right away, none of the stock responses in military jargon that equal 'jack shit' or 'a whole lot of desert' or 'the most fucked up military operation since the dawn of time'. "History." Brad reaches out and picks up a handful of dirt and lets it fall through his fingers, spinning away in the hot breeze. "Blood."

Nate watches Brad's fingers. "Me too."

"Death." Brad's not quite finished. He's poetic in his way, even though they're just small words that are supposed to be descriptive, but leave everything open to interpretation. He smiles slightly and turns his head toward Nate. "Beauty."

Nate reaches over and touches Brad's lower lip, running the tip of his finger over the dry, chapped skin. "You better be careful, Colbert. You're going to go to my head."

Brad smiles, slow and so knowing that it makes Nate's body flush hot, his cock stiffen, makes him want. "Lie back, sir, and I'd be damn happy to."

I kind of love Nate's smile. And bacon. And blowjobs. So win!

*makes happy stupid dolphin noises*

You're making me choose?! But then I realized I already knew which pic makes for a happier day, so I was like, cool beans, must go ul. AND THEN I SAW I ALREADY HAD!

Clearly my priorities are in order.

He wins! AHAHAHA!

LOVE!

"Guilt during blowjobs is bad."

Yes, because Nate's SUCH a good boy and he don't play that way. ::hearts::

"Lie back, sir, and I'd be damn happy to."

LOVE all the innuendo and talking around things and all the implications. You are so very good.

::sends cookies::

HAHAHAH! I just found your post about this picture and I almost edited my comment to include it.

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)

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Page 1 of 32

Ah, people. Failing since evolution began.

SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

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

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

I LOVE YOU A LOT!

HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THAT PHOTO!!

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Re: HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THAT PHOTO!!

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

still haven't found an acceptably large version, alas

Re: HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THAT PHOTO!!

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

Re: still haven't found an acceptably large version, alas

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

Re: SINCE IT IS YOUR FAULT I AM STARING AT THEM ALL DAY ANYWAY

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