A whole bunch o' stuff from the Porn Battle. Strangely, a lot of them were too long for this comm! *Chuckles* Oh well. Enjoy!Title
: Silence is GoldenRating
: Harry PotterWordcount
Al bit his lip and heaved a sigh. Being the younger brother of James Potter junior, he was more than experienced at the art of being on the receiving end of torture. He knew, all too well, that the trick was to pretend that nothing was happening -- don't give your aggressor the pleasure of knowing they're affecting you. Dad had taught him that one, he'd learnt it at Auror training, and had seen that it was really more use to his youngest son.
But then, of course, there were some tortures that weren't entirely a torture. Such as the persistent pressure of Scorp's hand against his traitorous erection. Al glanced around the table, but all of the others were studiously examining their textbooks. So was Scorp, of course. When his thumb circled the clothed tip of his cock, there was no visible sign above the table that anything untoward was happening.
It would be easy enough to stop him. He could just shove the chair away, or go to the stacks, or say very loudly, "Actually, mate, I don't really want you jerking me off in front of my friends in the library." But it would be a lie. He would endure his torture in absolute silence, see it to its conclusion and, when the moment came, would heave not a sigh or whimper as Scorpius teased him to completion.Title
: R -- correct me if I'm wrongFandom
"Just dump it on me," Claire said, slightly exasperated. "Like on the plane."
Elle looked on the verge of tears, as her body spasmed, skin cracking with electric sparks. "You don't understand," she began, but tailed off with a gasp as another surge took her over.
"Of course I do, so just do it, I don't mind."
"No, it's not that," Elle gritted her teeth, pushing down on the urge to fire off sparks in every direction. "It's ... when I ... Oh!" she couldn't help the involuntary gasp of pleasure-pain as a lightning bolt shot down to the sidewalk, leaving nothing more than a black smudge behind. She closed her eyes in mortification, the blush warming her cheeks doing nothing for her already out of control pyrotechnics. In broad daylight, in front of the cheerleader, of all people. There would be absolutely no living this down. Ever.
Claire's eyes slid away, and she had the good grace to look abashed. "Oh," Claire replied softly. She took a deep breath, and Elle's power surged as she noticed the swell of Claire's deliciously rounded breasts rise and fall with the breath. Another bolt thundered to the pavement, leaving Elle gasping. "Well, you can't help it," the cheerleader said determinedly, clasping one hand around Elle's wrist.
Blue eyes looked up into bluer eyes, searching for a certainty that could never be guaranteed.
But it was enough.
With a shudder of relief, Elle slid her hand, tight and serpent-like, around Claire's forearm. She let the power coil out of her, felt her skin sizzle pleasurably and knew how it crackled over the other young woman. Elle gasped head falling forward onto Claire's shoulder. Her whole nervous system tingled, not quite ecstacy and not quite agony, but whatever it was was very nearly enough to push her over the edge. "Let it out," Claire whispered, her breath shifting the long strands of flaxen hair, tickling at the side of her over-sensitised neck, "Let it all out."
A whimper and a shudder, and everything almost went black. Slumped against softness, and tingling pleasantly from top to toe, Elle turned her face into Claire's honey coloured hair. "Thank you," she whispered, static fizzing between them as she removed her hand.
"You're welcome," Claire said, breath shorter than she would like to admit.Title
: A Post-Modern MomentRating
: Lost in AustenWordcount
Darkness all around but her, one radiant pool in a world of darkness. Surges forwards before I can move (not that I would) and pressed against me.
So soft. All soft, all the way down, from lips to breath to skin to breast, and all of it all down me all against me. Soft to hard, need to need.
And her lips. Still, for only a second. She's thinking, I can feel it, and her eyelashes flutter on my cheek (Stop thinking, stop thinking, wantwantwant to feel you move) she's moving me backwards, she's all movement now. Hotwet slide, and puffing damp breath and her hands touching, I can't even think where. Too much too much, but not enough, and my senses can't tell what's her and what's me.
Hot and wet and (oh, that's her tongue, her tongue on mine, in me, against me) now all the pressure and sensation in the world could never be enough to make me stop.
But the cold intrudes, as it had to from the start, and I can breathe again. Coldcold air, bitter in my chest. She breathes with me, we breathe as one, and stare at one another.
Her reputation lies in tatters between us, that's what she thinks.
I lick my lips, but my tongue can't do what her tongue did. It's not the same. It lacks (her). Why won't she come back? I'm cold.Title
: Faithful ColonelRating
RPF Nancy Mitford/Gaston PalewskiWordcount
It is never easy to love a man who cannot love you in return. Such were Nancy's thoughts as she clung to her Colonel's shoulders, his waist, hips, anything on which she could gain a purchase as he slid into her. So many years now that they had been together. He shouldn't have this affect on her anymore. She shouldn't swoon like a teenager -- certainly not a woman of her age -- and feel like the air had been squeezed from her lungs at the slightest brush of his lips against her neck.
"Haven't I been a faithful Colonel?" he had whispered to her at dinner earlier that evening, fingers playing over the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. She had smiled and purred like a contented cat, and he had duly smoothed his hand down her spine.
The truth was, of course, Gaston had not been faithful to her, not once, not ever, from the very moment they had met. There had always been other women. For all she knew, there had been other men! And she should hate him for it. The knowledge alone should turn her nails to claws, should turn her caress into a deep scratch of anger.
But when he grimaced down at her, eyes rolling up as she twisted upwards to meet his every thrust, he was all hers. Her faithful Colonel.
And for those twenty-three minutes, she could almost believe it herself.