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Five Acts Meme!

It's that time of year again, that time of year where we post the links to our kinks and write porn for each other! And who doesn't love that? The lovely toestastegood is keeping the master list of people (and various other helpful links to kinks) over here: Five Acts Meme.

My top five kinks at present (in no particular order):

1. Power Play - Dominance and/or submission, bondage, different ranks or social positions, a special ability, bringing a little extra edge to the bedroom to see who does (or doesn't) wear the pants!

2. Urgency for sex - Gotta have it, gotta have it all right now! Uncontrollable desire, sex pollen, the people just have to to the horizontal (or possibly vertical) tango right the heck now!

3. Alternate Universes - Throw the modern guys into a medieval setting or a futeristic one, swap time periods, have everyone be a cat, blow up the world, put everyone on a sports team or in a coffee shop or a hospital, have a zombie apocalypse, vampires and werewolves and demons, just shake things up in a big way and have the dynamics play out sexily.

4. Multiple orgasms - Once you pop, you just can't stop. The fun just keeps on coming. And coming. And coming.

5. Fuck-or-die - Aliens made them do it, have to complete an obscure ritual, illnesses with strange cures, needful to share body heat, at gunpoint, just do it!


Supernatural: Dean/Sam, Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby, Dean/Anna, Dean/Sam/Castiel, Sam/Madison, Pam/Jo, or some variation on the above, including threesomes or moresomes!
Heroes: (I like virtually everything about Heroes, but here are a few faves) Nathan/Peter, Noah/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, Adam/Monica, Adam/Peter, Elle/Sylar, Sylar/Claire, Sylar/Luke, Matt/Mohinder, and anyone else you like in threesomes or moresomes!
Torchwood: Jack/Ianto, or Jack/damn near anyone. Seriously. It's Captain Jack.
Star Trek reboot: Any pairing really. They're all pretty awesome. Mirror verse rocks too. Special faves are Kirk/McCoy, Kirk/Spock, Spock/Uhura.
Sherlock (BBC): Sherlock/John
Crossovers: Parker (Leverage)/Elle (Heroes)



Jan. 13th, 2011 04:47 am (UTC)
Sherlock: John/Sherlock. Urgency, mild power/class dynamics
John pulled at his tie and then, when a nearby upper-crusty woman in a teal gown raised an eyebrow at him, tried to look like he wasn’t fidgeting.

The ballroom—who had ballroom’s in their home, really?—buzzed with chatter at which John could only smile and nod. After fleeing the last conversation he’d attempted (“Yes, my agent came back from Sotheby’s with the most appalling Degas sketch. I’m sure you saw in the papers. No?”), he felt a profound gratitude and visceral relief similar to when he’d escaped a gang of armed criminals.

After waving off the advance of yet another black-suited waiter bearing a champagne-laden silver tray, John forged a path through the crowd, craning his neck over the heads of the guests to try to catch a glimpse of a certain curly-headed detective. He curled his left hand into a fist and pressed it against his leg, which had begun to throb with a phantom pain. Another hour of this madness, and he’d need the cane again.

The sound of a smooth wash of laughter caught John’s attention. He pivoted on his good leg to spot Mycroft Holmes standing in a circle of distinguished looking men in expensive suits. Next to him stood Sherlock. Not next to Mycroft, precisely. John might characterize it more as “nearby” Mycroft, as Sherlock was currently staring at the ceiling, looking like he was wishing fervently for death.

As soon as John’s eyes landed on them, Sherlock left off his contemplation of the heavens. His eyes searched the crowd until they found John, and there they stayed. He muttered something John couldn’t hear, and patted absently at his brother’s arm before striding away from the group, leaving Mycroft to stare daggers at his back.

Sherlock came right up to John, caught his arm, and kept walking, steering them toward the far end of the ballroom. “How are you getting on?” he asked.

“I feel like a peasant.” John pulled at his tie again.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side a bare degree, as if he needed to study John’s statement from another angle. “A peasant?”

“Yes.” John lowered his voice below the level of the buzzing crowd. “A commoner. The help. Like I belong below stairs. This isn’t my kind of party, Sherlock.”

“Nor is it mine.” Sherlock snatched a glass from a passing waiter’s tray, tossed back the contents, and deposited it neatly on the tray of the next waiter they passed.

“That’s not precisely true, is it?” John said. “And since when do you drink champagne?”

“I’m celebrating.” They’d reached the edge of the ballroom, where a hallway branched off further into the mansion. Sherlock steered them into an alcove screened by a ficus. “Explain. What’s not precisely true?”

John glanced out over the sea of upstanding citizens from the relative safety of the alcove. “How many of these types of things would you say you’ve been to in your life?”

“Countless,” Sherlock said, then grimaced. “I could count, of course, but I see no reason why that’s necessary. Several dozen.”

“See, there you have it. Several dozen. You have the right kind of clothes. You know which fork to use. You treat everyone like a servant, so having someone hand you a towel in the loo probably doesn’t seem jarring.”

“And yet I avoid these kinds of engagement.”

“You’d rather play at being charmingly bohemian in your bachelor’s flat with a washed-up Army doctor.”

“Have I done something you don’t like?” Sherlock looked genuinely puzzled now. “You asked me to come. I’m here.”

“I thought you should be here. The way you looked at the RSVP card…” John trailed off. He’d interpreted Sherlock’s long contemplation of Mycroft’s invitation as interest. Sherlock so seldom showed interest in any social activity that John had insisted they go. “You weren’t secretly dying to come?”
Jan. 13th, 2011 04:48 am (UTC)
Sherlock: John/Sherlock. Urgency, mild power/class dynamics [2/2]
“I was trying to figure out which of two printers had set the typeface. If I wanted to go, I would have said so.”

“Not if you were secretly pining,” John said, but he knew he was grasping at straws.

“I never pine in secrecy,” Sherlock said seriously.

“True enough.” John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Alright. I apologize for getting us in to this. My fault entirely.”

“Yes it is. Come along.” Sherlock grabbed John’s elbow and pulled him down the hallway away from the ballroom.

“What’s this about?”

“Exit strategy. Coping mechanism. Means of extracting further apology. Take your pick.”

“Hurry,” John hissed.

Sherlock responded by reaching up for John’s wrists and pressing them to the wall on either side of him. “Do calm down, John,” he said, breath ghosting over John’s thigh. “Considering how many bottles the sommelier took out of here earlier this evening, they won’t need more for at least ten more minutes.”

Sherlock had easily figured out the mansion’s floor plan well enough to navigate unseen to the wine cellar, and though John had not planned on earning forgiveness in quite this way, he found it difficult to argue when Sherlock was tugging open his pants.

“Ten minutes.” John darted out his tongue to lick his lips. “Not much time.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sherlock’s look was meant to be angelic, but on his knees in that damn expensive suit, he looked positively sinful.

“Absolutely,” John said.

Sherlock surged forward to swallow John down, and began taking him apart with methodical, precise abandon. John pulled one hand out of Sherlock’s grip and fastened it onto the wine rack on his right to prevent his knees from buckling as Sherlock hummed around him. He told himself he had to listen for sounds, to be ready if someone were to come in, but the roar in his blood drown out everything else. His brain only had room for sensation, and he’d venture to say that even a genius in deductive logic would have trouble keeping coherent thought alive when such things were being doing with a tongue.

When Sherlock growled around John’s cock and shoved him back into the wall, John bucked forward. His mouth fell open in a soundless shout as his release spiraled through him. John slid down the wall to land in a crumpled heap. He allowed himself a few seconds of recovery before prying his eyes open.

Sherlock had sat back on his heels, braced a hand on the floor, and taken himself in hand. John leaned over and added both of his hand to the process. “Come on, then,” he whispered. “You’re getting away with fooling around in the wine cellar of an MP’s mansion. Bet those ponces upstairs wish they were down here watching you rather than upstairs talking nonsense.” He leaned closer, nudging Sherlock’s legs as far apart as they could go with his expertly-tailored pants still caught around his thighs. “You have this gorgeous look of full attention on your face when you come, and I know no one up there saw that from you tonight. Come on, show it to me.”

“John,” Sherlock choked out as his cock jerked, spilling his seed over John’s hand, the floor, and onto his Italian wool suit.

They slumped together a moment, breathing hard, until John said, “Well, what do you know? Turns out it is our kind of party.”

Edited at 2011-01-13 04:48 am (UTC)
Jan. 13th, 2011 04:59 am (UTC)
Re: Sherlock: John/Sherlock. Urgency, mild power/class dynamics [2/2]
It's my kind of party tooooooooooo!

I love seeing Sherlock in his former element, and John calling him out on his pretentions. The lad is too elegant for his own good. But Sherlock sure as hell can make up for it. John wanting to see that look of "full attention" focused on him... gorgeous. Thank you m'dear!
Jan. 21st, 2011 06:40 pm (UTC)
Re: Sherlock: John/Sherlock. Urgency, mild power/class dynamics [2/2]
You give the best prompts that cause all these things to happen!



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