"And I Would Be the Last to Let it Show..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

So I finally finished the last book in Gerald Morris' Arthurian series. I had been getting steadily more disappointed, as the last three or four books were kind of awful, but the last one was actually really good. I mean, evil!2-D!Mordred, but I've really given up on that front. And yeah. I cried. At my client's house, stealthily, while she was napping and watching The Waltons. >_> I would say Mr. Morris has seen himself off with a pleasing dignity.

BUT now I am all sad b/c all my dumb Arthurian boys are dead, so obvs. this is your cue to ask for porn of them, as I am doing: THIS MEME (which shall be called This Meme):

01 » Submit a pairing (or threesome, or solo person) and a prompt by replying to this post.

02 » Please use the following format: fandom, pairing, prompt.

03 » I'll then reply with five* sentences of smut. [The original meme does say that you can request gen/other non-smutty things, but I'll say straight up that I'd prefer to flex my porn muscles (that was a TERRIBLE thing to say) and so would prefer that request. Having said that, y'all can of course request whatever you'd like, and I may even turn some requests into gen depending on how I feel about my ability to write the smut. Also, I guess "solo person" here refers to masturbation in the context of smut? Which I'm fine with too!] <-- so said blindmadness and julietveiled, so say I.

04 » If I can't do the prompt then I will beg for your forgiveness, and offer it up to others let you select another if you'd like.

This is not really restricted to Arthuriana. I also write Sherlock, Westmark, certain historical novels, Shakespeare, and can probably be conned into others if you remind me of what they are (when I'm done I will tag this post with the appropriate fandoms).

Comments

[julietveiled.livejournal.com]

oh god I love this meme more than is healthy.

-Westmark, Zara/Stock, burning
-Westmark, Stock/Florian (SAY WUT OH YEAH I WENT THERE), legacy
-Westmark (I will never never stop), Justin/Rina, prophetic


...

I really can keep going forevvvverrr but I will just say these three and you can pick just one or you can do two or all or you can say "um that was easy gimme more" and I will do that I lurve you pansymouse :D

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

I hope you're aware that writing smut that has Rina in it makes me feel dirty and wrong. XD Also, ilu2 omggg and feel free to give me more. :D

1. "Gonna hurt you," she warns, gruff and brief, but Stock shrugs, halfway out of his shirt already.

"You can't wound me in any way that you haven't already tried with words," he says grandly.

He finds later that this isn't necessarily true; her fingernails rake down his back when he thrusts into her for the first time, all his preparation for naught, and the welts she leaves are still burning the next day. But he doesn't dwell on it. Making love to Zara is poetry, albeit angry poetry, and, besides, he made her harsh voice crack, made her cling to him for just a handful of seconds, breathless and sobbing his name.


2. "This is not," Florian says, "the legacy I wanted to leave you with." The way his hands move across bare skin has a startling intensity to it, unexpectedly direct, and frank in its desire.

Stock grins. "I'll leave it out of the poem."

Florian smiles, and he feels the rush of warmth go over him, so thorough and deep that he climaxes before Florian's loquacious hands ever finish with him.


3. It was prophetic, he thinks, that Florian always called her the golden divinity, because he knows she's goddesslike, more than human. Things get jumbled up in his head sometimes, blurred and melted together like hot tar on shoe soles, tugging down his footsteps; still he knows that she's more than human, shining luminously from amidst the other things. Sometimes when he has her in his lap, teasing his cock with her small hands, flushed and laughing and her hair tumbled around her face, the cold, bitter memories of blood and blood and blood try to creep up on him, pooling around his ankles. She pushes them back. Her golden divinity casts away everything else, and he loses all sense of reality in her touches -- his body answers, but he might as well be miles away.

[julietveiled.livejournal.com]

Omg that is amazing. Justin you are the crazy. Florian you are the wonderful. HERE ARE MORE >:9

• Rina/Zara, stillness
• Rina/Stock [it feels weird cuz they were both my puppets...but STILL.], chivalry is dead
• Rina/Florian, innocence
• Justin/Stock [EVERY COMBINATION, BABY--], seeking glory
• Luther/ ... I can't somehow but I so want to do Luther/Rina, coming home. But if you refuse I understand. XD

Now some not westmark for a moment.
• Fogg/Aouda/Passepartout, regular as clockwork
• YOUR variation on lynet/gaheris/mordred, coming home
• musichetta/joly/lesgles, a change of pace

Part 1 -- Westmark set

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Why are you INSANE. XD

1. It's back in the days when Rina is still in love with Florian, and they have something to share in their quiet, sexless leader. Zara is so angry with him, but Rina, determined to make the best of everything, unlaces the bodice of her plain blue dress and guides Zara's hands over her breasts, teaching her to let her thumbs linger on the pale brown nipples. In the stillness of those unendingly long nights before the revolution, Rina has whole volumes to teach her. Zara has always been too angry to make love to anyone. Rina has a body too beautiful to fuck; the only way to touch her is like this.


2. "I'm composing a sonnet for you right now," Stock tells her, and Rina rests her cheek against his shoulder and just laughs, her golden hair spilling across his skin. He stops his gentle thrusting and stares at her. "What are you laughing at?"

"You not be very interested if you can think to compose," she says, taking his face in her hands.

"A true poet is inspired by everything," he says with great dignity, and Rina's heart warms; she presses her hips forward to his, startling him back into action.


3. "I thought you were in love with Justin." The smile plays across his pockmarked face. Rina grits her teeth, determined to be stubborn -- behave like Zara, think of Zara -- and sinks to her knees, reaching for his trousers. A moment later, before she can protest, he pulls her back to her feet. "If you're determined to do this, then we'll do it like equals," Florian says mildly, and Rina feels the relief wash over her.


4. "You want to do something to prove to me that you're not just playing at war because you like code names and limericks?" Justin's voice is as calm and authoritative in Stock's ear as his grip is tight on his cock. Just barely tight enough it ought to hurt, but all Stock feels is excitement.

"That's right," he breathes.

"I'll give you a chance to-morrow, with the Monkey," Justin says, and Stock feels himself get harder.


5. Before Florian finds them and makes them his children, they live alone together; he isn't so old, and she's young, and he, the carpenter's son, makes them a bed wide enough that when her nightmares come all she has to do is roll over to be in safe arms.

Later, before she leaves for Nierkeeping, they spend one more night together. Rina isn't so young -- at least sometimes her heart feels old. But there's safety still in his arms, and this time they keep each other warm in a different way. When she leaves in the morning, she stays a little to touch his long white hair and the fine crow's feet in the corners of his eyes.

"I love you," she says; Luther smiles.


^Smut wasn't going to happen, I just wrote the fucking pairing for you. XD

Part 2 -- Others

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

1. "He's back," Lynet says shortly, putting down the pewter dishes she's washing as Gaheris pauses to lean on his axe. They've been living in exile for half a year now, and Mordred always comes to visit once a month.

Gaheris doesn't say anything. Mordred always stays for a week, and during that week he soothes them both, filling Lynet and then taking the harsh edge out of her anger when he withdraws, holding Gaheris in his hands and smoothing down the furrow of the madness that stretches like scars across his body. In return, they take their turns kissing and stroking down the hollow and bitter places in his heart, until all three of them are safe to come home and continue.



2. Little in their lives is spontaneous -- they keep a firm and attentively marked calendar, through which everything is determined, one event to the next. So the fact that they never compose any statement to one another that Jean should be included in their measured love-making is odd, Aouda thinks fleetingly, as she chooses colours for the new curtains. Even superfluous details should be clearly marked.

But somehow they decide upon it together without ever discussing it, and prepare for it without knowing when. And Jean, as he always does, works like the tiny gears in a pocketwatch, turning everything smoothly and cleanly and brightly, fitting together between them until she wonders how they were ever able to run so well before him.



3. "Upside down," Bossuet suggests, grinning.

"Don't be ridiculous. Making love upside down -- knowing you, you'll fall and break your head open and then poor Christian will catch some blood-borne illness and die," Musichetta says, with a disturbing show of understanding of how things go in their household. "We're perfectly nice the way we are."

Joly adds, "And no one is poisoning me with his unlucky brain tissues," and Bossuet, who can hardly think of witty, irritating comments to make anyway, buried as he is in beautiful 'Chetta, and Joly's clever fingers teasing his skin, nods agreeably, slipping his hand round Joly's cock and smiling at the gasp.