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ozmissageTitle: on the inside looking out
Pairing: Jack/Claire
Rating: R
Words: 406
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Claire makes up for lost time.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hitlikehammers who asked for affection, tattoos, and voices.
She traces the ragged scar on his side, leans in close to examine the stars etched into the skin of his arm, runs her tongue over the characters she doesn’t understand---
“What does this mean?”
Jack’s watching her through heavy eyelids, sleep creeping up on him as they lay sprawled in the midday sun. Her examination has been thorough so far. A steady mapping of his body with her hands and her mouth, there’s not an inch of undiscovered country left. I want to know all the things I missed, she had said. If we had grown up together, I’d have been there.
If we had grown up together, we wouldn’t be doing this now is what he thought. But he kept it to himself and let her get on with the unenviable job of learning him.
He knew she’d make her way to the marks eventually, just like he knew she was saving them for last. They always do. Every woman that’s ever seen them has asked. He’s told them all a lie. Claire is staring at him with clear blue eyes, the corners of her mouth set in a familiar, stubborn line. It still shakes him to see glimpses of himself in her, it’s so obvious now that he knows to look.
“He walks among us, but he is not one of us. I had overstayed my welcome,” Jack explains.
Claire rests her head on his arm, her fingertips trailing the ink, drawing goose bumps to the surface of his skin.
“I think it suits you,” Claire says finally. “Both of us, actually.”
Jack laughs and turns to his side, drawing her closer in the process.
“How so?”
“We’re always going to be outsiders now,” Claire says. “I don’t suppose we were ever normal in the first place though, were we?”
“No,” Jack says, his voice sounding softer than it has in years. “I guess not.”
“I should get one too,” she says, and he wants to tell her no, he likes her just as she is, her body clean and unmarred, but even as he thinks the words he knows they’re not true. They’ve both been marked.
“Absolutely,” he says.
“We’ll be a matching set.”
She slides on top of him, and leans in to press a lazy kiss to the side of his neck. He wraps his arms around her back, holding her tightly against his chest.
“We already are,” he whispers.
Title: risky business
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: NC-17
Words:560
Disclaimer: Not my guys.
Summary: It’s in the middle of the jungle, halfway between hostiles and hippies, and if Miles got it into his head to be all sentimental and Hallmark-y he’d call it their spot.
A/N: Five Acts fic written forpann_cake.
Miles waits at the border. The one patch of no man’s land no one gives a damn about on this stupid island. It’s in the middle of the jungle, halfway between hostiles and hippies, and if Miles got it into his head to be all sentimental and Hallmark-y he’d call it their spot.
Instead he thinks of it as the fucking tree. It has a nice ring to it.
Richard is late as usual. Miles shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched to ward off the cool night air, and watches the tree line. This is a dangerous arrangement. If Jim knew he’d shit a brick. If Horace knew---well, if Horace knew Miles would be screwed and not in the fun way. They all would. It’s a stupid risk to take.
The distant snap of a twig catches Miles’s attention and he stands tense, trying to thinking up a lie good enough to keep some Other from shooting him in the face as Richard strolls into the clearing.
Miles sighs in relief, rubs his hand wearily across the back of his neck.
“About damn time, what’d you do follow a white rabbit here?”
Richard smiles, shakes his head.
“It’s nice to see you too, Miles.”
He’s already unbuttoning his shirt. Miles gets the message and pushes his ugly ass jumpsuit down around his waist. Sometimes they talk first. Sometimes that’s all they do, which seems weird and kind of unsettling, but Miles likes it anyway. But most of the time it’s like this. Rushed and quiet. Just a quick lay in the jungle.
Richard backs up until he’s leaning against the tree and Miles braces one hand on the trunk as he kisses Richard, their tongues tangling together, teeth clashing. They still haven’t mastered this part. Their kisses are always too rough, too sloppy. But it’s okay. They’ve gotten the hang of all the important bits.
Richard moves forward without warning, flipping Miles easily so he’s the one against the tree.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Richard whispers, his breath tickling Miles’s ear. He steps closer and Miles can feel Richard’s cock pressing against his ass. Miles laughs, rests his forehead against the rough bark.
“God, you’re so formal. Are we going to have sex or tea?”
“We could have both.”
“You’re making jokes now? I’m a horrible influence.”
Miles can hear the soft sound of Richard’s knees hitting the jungle floor.
“Yes you are. Now turn around,” Richard says.
Miles does as he’s told. Richard sits up slightly and pushes the hem of Miles’s white shirt up so that he can run his tongue around the circle of Miles’s belly button as he slides his hands up the small of Miles’s back.
After a moment, Richard’s hands trail downward until they reach Miles’s cock. He traces it from tip to base with his long, calloused fingers and Miles bucks his hips forward impatiently, his way of begging for more while keeping his dignity in tact.
“Come on,” he groans.
Richard shushes Miles, blowing a hot puff of air on his cock in the process. Miles balls his hand into a fist and bites down on his knuckles to keep from crying out as Richard relents and takes him into his mouth.
Miles closes his eyes.
It’s a stupid risk.
But this is why it’s one worth taking.
Title: take a sad song and make it better
Pairing: Charlie/Oz (BTVS crossover)
Rating: PG
Words: . He did the whole selfless sacrifice thing, didn’t he? He deserves something and really all he wants is to kiss a bloody werewolf.
Disclaimer: Not my guys. Title gakked off The Beatles.
Summary: 662
A/N: Five Acts fic written fortoestastegood who asked for taking it slow.
Attempt number one is a complete failure. Charlie leans forward, concentrating entirely on that lovely feeling of the slick slide of lips on lips, on the way he imagines Oz will taste (like grass and peppermint), and the sounds Oz will make or not make because this is Oz after all---and then nothing.
He passes right through, the only thing Oz feels is a cool breeze. Charlie groans in frustration.
“It seems to me, that maybe, you’re trying too hard,” Oz says, his voice maddeningly calm. Charlie bites at one of his eternally black chipped nails (if he’d known he was going to spend his afterlife wandering around London, he’d have stopped to touch up his nails before his grand heroic drowning) and tries not to look as petulant as he feels.
“Well excuse me for wanting to snog you, if I seem a bit desperate maybe it’s because I haven’t had a good lay in a year. A year.”
Oz shrugs.
“That’s not so long.”
“Not so long? Are you completely insane?”
“I spent some time in a monastery. They’re not big on sex.”
“Course you did.”
Charlie flops down on the sagging couch and watches enviously as Oz strums out a Dylan song on his guitar. He would be hard-pressed to say which he missed more: fucking or his guitar. Oz is watching him out of the corner of his eye; it makes Charlie shift in his seat.
He had been so happy when he first met Oz. It was a relief to be seen again, to have someone to listen to his rambling. Oz is a wonderful listener. He supposes it’s selfish to want more. But fuck it, he does. He did the whole selfless sacrifice thing, didn’t he? He deserves something and really all he wants is to kiss a bloody werewolf. And okay, he’d very much like it if the kissing could lead to other, sweatier activities, but that’s not too much ask, is it?
While Charlie was lost in his own self-pity, Oz had managed to scoot so close to Charlie he was nearly sitting in his lap. Charlie turns just in time to see Oz’s face inches from his own.
“What are---”
Oz wraps a hand around the back of Charlie’s neck and drags him forward in one swift move. Dimly, Charlie thinks Oz is much stronger than his tiny body would suggest, but the thought is soon lost to the tingling sensation in the region of his lips. He feels. He feels Oz, his tongue warm and wet inside Charlie’s mouth. Charlie can taste him---he was right about the grass bit, but not the peppermint, he tastes like earth and sun. He makes a mental note to add that into any future Oz related songs, of which he is sure there will be many. An entire album’s worth if he keeps this up.
Oz pulls away, their lips parting with a very human, very solid squelching sound and Charlie leans foreword trying to hold on to the connection.
“I felt that,” Charlie murmurs. “You felt it too, right?”
Oz nods.
“I told you. You were over thinking it. You just have to do.”
“God, you’re so zen. It’s embarrassing,” Charlie says with a grin.
He reaches out tentatively to place his hand on Oz’s chest and he’s pleased when he makes contact, more pleased when he feels Oz’s heart beating much faster than his calm exterior would suggest.
“Do you think we could try something else?”
A small smile crosses Oz’s still red lips as he turns to reach for something beside the couch. Charlie can’t stop his eyes from watering as Oz places the guitar in his lap. His fingers hover over the strings for a moment before he works up the courage to play his first note.
“We can do the other thing later,” Oz promises, settling back against the couch as Charlie begins to strum out a song.
Pairing: Jack/Claire
Rating: R
Words: 406
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Claire makes up for lost time.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for
hitlikehammers who asked for affection, tattoos, and voices.She traces the ragged scar on his side, leans in close to examine the stars etched into the skin of his arm, runs her tongue over the characters she doesn’t understand---
“What does this mean?”
Jack’s watching her through heavy eyelids, sleep creeping up on him as they lay sprawled in the midday sun. Her examination has been thorough so far. A steady mapping of his body with her hands and her mouth, there’s not an inch of undiscovered country left. I want to know all the things I missed, she had said. If we had grown up together, I’d have been there.
If we had grown up together, we wouldn’t be doing this now is what he thought. But he kept it to himself and let her get on with the unenviable job of learning him.
He knew she’d make her way to the marks eventually, just like he knew she was saving them for last. They always do. Every woman that’s ever seen them has asked. He’s told them all a lie. Claire is staring at him with clear blue eyes, the corners of her mouth set in a familiar, stubborn line. It still shakes him to see glimpses of himself in her, it’s so obvious now that he knows to look.
“He walks among us, but he is not one of us. I had overstayed my welcome,” Jack explains.
Claire rests her head on his arm, her fingertips trailing the ink, drawing goose bumps to the surface of his skin.
“I think it suits you,” Claire says finally. “Both of us, actually.”
Jack laughs and turns to his side, drawing her closer in the process.
“How so?”
“We’re always going to be outsiders now,” Claire says. “I don’t suppose we were ever normal in the first place though, were we?”
“No,” Jack says, his voice sounding softer than it has in years. “I guess not.”
“I should get one too,” she says, and he wants to tell her no, he likes her just as she is, her body clean and unmarred, but even as he thinks the words he knows they’re not true. They’ve both been marked.
“Absolutely,” he says.
“We’ll be a matching set.”
She slides on top of him, and leans in to press a lazy kiss to the side of his neck. He wraps his arms around her back, holding her tightly against his chest.
“We already are,” he whispers.
Title: risky business
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: NC-17
Words:560
Disclaimer: Not my guys.
Summary: It’s in the middle of the jungle, halfway between hostiles and hippies, and if Miles got it into his head to be all sentimental and Hallmark-y he’d call it their spot.
A/N: Five Acts fic written for
pann_cake.Miles waits at the border. The one patch of no man’s land no one gives a damn about on this stupid island. It’s in the middle of the jungle, halfway between hostiles and hippies, and if Miles got it into his head to be all sentimental and Hallmark-y he’d call it their spot.
Instead he thinks of it as the fucking tree. It has a nice ring to it.
Richard is late as usual. Miles shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched to ward off the cool night air, and watches the tree line. This is a dangerous arrangement. If Jim knew he’d shit a brick. If Horace knew---well, if Horace knew Miles would be screwed and not in the fun way. They all would. It’s a stupid risk to take.
The distant snap of a twig catches Miles’s attention and he stands tense, trying to thinking up a lie good enough to keep some Other from shooting him in the face as Richard strolls into the clearing.
Miles sighs in relief, rubs his hand wearily across the back of his neck.
“About damn time, what’d you do follow a white rabbit here?”
Richard smiles, shakes his head.
“It’s nice to see you too, Miles.”
He’s already unbuttoning his shirt. Miles gets the message and pushes his ugly ass jumpsuit down around his waist. Sometimes they talk first. Sometimes that’s all they do, which seems weird and kind of unsettling, but Miles likes it anyway. But most of the time it’s like this. Rushed and quiet. Just a quick lay in the jungle.
Richard backs up until he’s leaning against the tree and Miles braces one hand on the trunk as he kisses Richard, their tongues tangling together, teeth clashing. They still haven’t mastered this part. Their kisses are always too rough, too sloppy. But it’s okay. They’ve gotten the hang of all the important bits.
Richard moves forward without warning, flipping Miles easily so he’s the one against the tree.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Richard whispers, his breath tickling Miles’s ear. He steps closer and Miles can feel Richard’s cock pressing against his ass. Miles laughs, rests his forehead against the rough bark.
“God, you’re so formal. Are we going to have sex or tea?”
“We could have both.”
“You’re making jokes now? I’m a horrible influence.”
Miles can hear the soft sound of Richard’s knees hitting the jungle floor.
“Yes you are. Now turn around,” Richard says.
Miles does as he’s told. Richard sits up slightly and pushes the hem of Miles’s white shirt up so that he can run his tongue around the circle of Miles’s belly button as he slides his hands up the small of Miles’s back.
After a moment, Richard’s hands trail downward until they reach Miles’s cock. He traces it from tip to base with his long, calloused fingers and Miles bucks his hips forward impatiently, his way of begging for more while keeping his dignity in tact.
“Come on,” he groans.
Richard shushes Miles, blowing a hot puff of air on his cock in the process. Miles balls his hand into a fist and bites down on his knuckles to keep from crying out as Richard relents and takes him into his mouth.
Miles closes his eyes.
It’s a stupid risk.
But this is why it’s one worth taking.
Title: take a sad song and make it better
Pairing: Charlie/Oz (BTVS crossover)
Rating: PG
Words: . He did the whole selfless sacrifice thing, didn’t he? He deserves something and really all he wants is to kiss a bloody werewolf.
Disclaimer: Not my guys. Title gakked off The Beatles.
Summary: 662
A/N: Five Acts fic written for
toestastegood who asked for taking it slow.Attempt number one is a complete failure. Charlie leans forward, concentrating entirely on that lovely feeling of the slick slide of lips on lips, on the way he imagines Oz will taste (like grass and peppermint), and the sounds Oz will make or not make because this is Oz after all---and then nothing.
He passes right through, the only thing Oz feels is a cool breeze. Charlie groans in frustration.
“It seems to me, that maybe, you’re trying too hard,” Oz says, his voice maddeningly calm. Charlie bites at one of his eternally black chipped nails (if he’d known he was going to spend his afterlife wandering around London, he’d have stopped to touch up his nails before his grand heroic drowning) and tries not to look as petulant as he feels.
“Well excuse me for wanting to snog you, if I seem a bit desperate maybe it’s because I haven’t had a good lay in a year. A year.”
Oz shrugs.
“That’s not so long.”
“Not so long? Are you completely insane?”
“I spent some time in a monastery. They’re not big on sex.”
“Course you did.”
Charlie flops down on the sagging couch and watches enviously as Oz strums out a Dylan song on his guitar. He would be hard-pressed to say which he missed more: fucking or his guitar. Oz is watching him out of the corner of his eye; it makes Charlie shift in his seat.
He had been so happy when he first met Oz. It was a relief to be seen again, to have someone to listen to his rambling. Oz is a wonderful listener. He supposes it’s selfish to want more. But fuck it, he does. He did the whole selfless sacrifice thing, didn’t he? He deserves something and really all he wants is to kiss a bloody werewolf. And okay, he’d very much like it if the kissing could lead to other, sweatier activities, but that’s not too much ask, is it?
While Charlie was lost in his own self-pity, Oz had managed to scoot so close to Charlie he was nearly sitting in his lap. Charlie turns just in time to see Oz’s face inches from his own.
“What are---”
Oz wraps a hand around the back of Charlie’s neck and drags him forward in one swift move. Dimly, Charlie thinks Oz is much stronger than his tiny body would suggest, but the thought is soon lost to the tingling sensation in the region of his lips. He feels. He feels Oz, his tongue warm and wet inside Charlie’s mouth. Charlie can taste him---he was right about the grass bit, but not the peppermint, he tastes like earth and sun. He makes a mental note to add that into any future Oz related songs, of which he is sure there will be many. An entire album’s worth if he keeps this up.
Oz pulls away, their lips parting with a very human, very solid squelching sound and Charlie leans foreword trying to hold on to the connection.
“I felt that,” Charlie murmurs. “You felt it too, right?”
Oz nods.
“I told you. You were over thinking it. You just have to do.”
“God, you’re so zen. It’s embarrassing,” Charlie says with a grin.
He reaches out tentatively to place his hand on Oz’s chest and he’s pleased when he makes contact, more pleased when he feels Oz’s heart beating much faster than his calm exterior would suggest.
“Do you think we could try something else?”
A small smile crosses Oz’s still red lips as he turns to reach for something beside the couch. Charlie can’t stop his eyes from watering as Oz places the guitar in his lap. His fingers hover over the strings for a moment before he works up the courage to play his first note.
“We can do the other thing later,” Oz promises, settling back against the couch as Charlie begins to strum out a song.
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Date: 1/17/11 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/18/11 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/19/11 03:06 am (UTC)HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Amazing, amazing, amazing. :D :D :D
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Date: 1/20/11 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/28/11 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/30/11 04:18 am (UTC)