A birthday fic for the lovely and amazing @desperatelyseekingcannibals. Happy birthday, my dear Max, hope you enjoy <3<3<3
Thanks to @slashyrogue for the title, and @tcbook and @hotmolasses for advice on writing smut scenes (and for generally being amazingly patient and wonderful).
Mortimer slid quietly along the hallway and snuck a peek into the waiting room, hoping that no one would notice him in such an undignified act. Not that he didn’t spend all day engaged in what many people would no doubt term undignified acts, but at least those took place behind closed doors. Fortunately, the inhabitants of the waiting room seemed to have their direction focussed on quite another subject – the same subject that had caused Mortimer to sneak around without his shoes on.
Seated on a chair at the far side of the room was quite the most unusual patient Mortimer had seen on these premises (which, not to be uncharitable, was saying something). For a start, he was a man, and this practice was strictly ladies only (other than the doctors, of course). Then there was the matter of his hair, which was the colour of pewter and worn in a thick braid that hung over one shoulder, in a manner which made him look nothing short of a barbarian. Mortimer rather suspected he could fight like one too – despite his unremarkable clothing (rough-looking greatcoat, in a shade of grey to match his hair, untailored trousers, beaten-up workman’s boots), the man had a bearing that suggested impressive strength. A former soldier, was Mortimer’s immediate impression.
None of which explained why this rather intimidating specimen had, about half an hour previously, strode into the practice and demanded an immediate appointment with Mortimer himself. Mortimer squinted at his face, trying to recollect if their paths might ever have crossed previously. It was, Mortimer had to admit, rather an interesting face to examine, all angles and sharp edges, yet with an elegance that put him in mind of an ancient sculpture. Or perhaps an ancient rock face. Interesting or not, though, he had no memories of this man, and no reason to grant him an audience.
It had been rather a routine week so far, though…
Intrigued despite himself, Mortimer slipped back to his office, replaced his shoes, and returned to the waiting room. He first excused himself to Mrs Bellamy and asked for her patience in enduring a short delay to her appointment, for which he received a coquettish pout and a giggle in response. He then crossed to the far wall and offered his hand to his mysterious visitor as he rose from his seat.
“I am Doctor Granville. I believe you insisted upon meeting me somewhat firmly, Mr…?”
“Draco will be fine, Doctor Granville. I don’t stand on ceremony.”
I’m writing 300 word ficlets for anyone donating to my top surgery fund via ko-fi or GoFundMe – read more here.
Magical
Mature // M/M // Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki (Adam 2009) // Tags: Prompt Fill, magical creatures AU, merman Adam, centaur Nigel, star gazing, meet cute (kinda) Prompt fill for @slashyrogue : Spacedogs + merman Adam
Adam loves to go to the surface to look at the stars.
Merfolk shouldn’t go to the shallow waters, or worse – to the surface – Adam knew, but he did it often and from a young age. He spent many nights on this outcrop near the shore.. Sometimes humans would pass close but the side of the rock was never visible from land.
Adam let his fins unfurl on the rock, enjoying the sensation of his scales drying in the night air. Always so peaceful here. On a clear night he could see every star in the sky.
It was dark when Adam was startled by splashing, like a herd of humans chasing through the water toward him. He clung to the rock, hoping to go unseen – too late to dive back into the ocean.
Adam squealed when a man rounded the outcrop, up to his chest in water, hiding. He stopped when he saw Adam and gave a lopsided smile that Adam couldn’t quite interpret.
“Well, look at you gorgeous. Might want to get that tail moving, they’re on the hunt for magical creatures.”
Adam didn’t really understand and it was hard to concentrate when the man was so very beautiful – in a way that merfolk never were. Rough and earthy. Adam reached out to touch him before realising it might not be appropriate.
“Need help down kid?” The man asked, taking his hand and lifting him into his arms. “Pretty thing like you, they’ll stuff and mount you on the wall. Better swim starfish.”
He slowly slid Adam down his body, making the boy shudder. Adam submerged for a moment before resurfacing – surprised by the man beneath the water – not a man, but a centaur.
“Where will you hide?” Adam asked, his heart racing. He had never met other magical folk before and enjoyed the way the man’s skin felt against his own.
“You want to find me darling?” Another grin.
Adam’s cheeks reddened and he looked away. The centaur pressed a finger under his chin and raised his face so they looked upon each other.
“The mouth of the tidal river. I’ll be there tomorrow at dusk.” His smile was predatory. Adam turned tail and swam away as fast as he could, knowing he should be terrified, but equally knowing he would be at the river at dusk.
Ellis huffed trying to put on his bowtie, one last party before going to the last campaign in this war, one last party that could indeed be the last.
Being alpha always meant being in the lines, Ellis learned that no matter what your job was, alphas always ended between the bullets and fire. One last campaign they said, one last before the war ended and he could be back in his little, sad apartment in London.
Ellis fixed his tuxedo before going into the ballroom, greeting officials at the main door while taking out his cigarette case, the room filling with smoke of perfumed cigars. Scents of so many alphas and betas trying to forget what was happening outside the for walls of the party.
The night outside was calm, silent, almost like it was before the nazis. The music clouding the voices of so many people that maybe will not be alive tomorrow. Ellis exhaled a cloud of smoke, chuckling at himself for being such a downer.
“Excuse me?” A low smooth voice asked behind him, Ellis turned to see a tall man, at least a little taller than him, round thick rimmed glasses, contrasting with the soft brown of his eyes. His scent citrus and strong… Omega Ellis thought to himself.
Hannibal looked like a dream: lying there sunbathing in his white speedo and sunglasses near the lake. It was the first summer vacation they’d had with Abby in their lives, and the sun was shining high while Abby – wearing a bright blue swimsuit and arm floats – tossed pebbles into the water. Will watched the whole scene from the cabin kitchen while he gutted their lunch.
As yet, there had been nothing in his developing relationship with Adam that had given Jean pause for thought. Perhaps this should, but it didn’t. Instead he grinned at Adam – the slight flush to his cheeks and scent of arousal obvious – as he held the collar out to him when he returned to the bed.
Jean took it and turned it over in his hands. High quality leather, a large bell – to mimic the collar of a usually much smaller cat.
“You wish to domesticate me?” He rumbled, amused.
Adam grinned back. “I’m sure I already did.” An obvious twitch of his cock.
Jean couldn’t argue. In his everyday life he was still the formidable carnivore people knew and feared. But with Adam, he was gentle, vulnerable and – when they were both inclined – submissive.
Even when he had claws out for Adam, he was tame – he was his pet.
To that end, the collar was amusing.
He smiled wryly as he allowed Adam to slip it back from his grasp. With no hesitation or fear of refusal, Adam crawled over him, their hardening cocks sliding together as the bunny straddled him. He leaned forward, crushing their hips together to place the collar around Jean’s willing throat.
Adam moved slowly forward before sitting back up, sinking back onto Jean’s waiting cock. He twisted his finger under the collar, pulling it a little tighter when Jean groaned. Adam always felt amazing, and Jean was always willing to allow him to take whatever he wanted.
As Adam started to ride him slowly, one hand still keeping the collar tight, he stroked Jean’s cheek with his free hand.
“Such a sweet kitty. Just waiting for this bunny to declaw you.”
Jean groaned as he nodded. Adam grinned as he dropped his hand to the bell, giving it a flick so that it jingled.
“Good kitty.” He growled before moving in ever harder and deeper movements, giving Jean no doubt of how much Adam really enjoyed domesticating him.
That week in November, the powerful winds were the messengers of an early and cold winter. The south-east was constantly battered by the winds rolling from the Surrey hills and the town of Epsom had never seen such dry storms sweeping across the chalky slopes.
Will had gone downstairs to break apart a chair that he would surely regret dismantling, if he knew anything about Hannibal’s home. However, the wood was necessary to try and stoke a fire in the small fireplace in the master bedroom. The cold had become unbearable, even under the thick, woolen blankets and buying coal for the boiler in the basement was still a ways to go and an issue for later.
Explicit // M/M // Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Cal Roberts // Tags: Alternate Universe – Future, Drug Use, Religious Cults, Sex as Therapy, somebody save Cal Roberts, Rain, Lots of rain, outside it’s raining inside it’s wet, Car Sex, Frottage, Anal Fingering, not canon in any way at all really, did I mention the robot cops?
Words: 2456 Chapters: 1/1
I mean… this is just some kinda random porn in the back of a cop car, with maybe a few feels thrown in. And oh yeah, it’s set in the future. With robot cops. Yup.
Some of my writing buddies and I were previously inspired by the Hannigram Rare Pairs Generator and decided to do a little challenge between us based on our randomised results. Well this second time around we decided to step it up a bit – not only getting a pair at random but also then getting the title from random (questionable) romance trash novels.
I got Nigel x Cal Roberts (or as I like to affectionately call them – DogPath) and “Dripping Wet in the Cop Car.”
Delightful!
You can read this and fics from our previous “challenge” in our little AO3 collection.
They’d fucked once. That had clearly been a mistake. Nigel should have known better, because he really couldn’t just fuck someone he knew he would run into again. He had too much of an obsessive nature… possessive, controlling, done in by the fucking love. He didn’t fall for people easily, but when he did he fell hard. And hard was exactly what Cal Roberts had made him the very first day they met when the guy troubled him for something to help him forget the shit he was currently living through.
Cal was clearly at least halfway to being an alcoholic, he needed something stronger, just to take the edge off, just for that one time. Nigel had helped him out with a zoner, nice popular pill just right for Cal, barely cut with any shit too. Good stuff, too good for just one time.
And it had been more than one time. Cal had dropped by, needing a hit, needing the escape and on the eighth time they’d fucked.
He had felt so good under Nigel as he thrust into his writhing body. Sex was always a good way of forgetting, so perhaps he could say it was all part of the service? But that wasn’t true… he just fucking liked the shape of Cal’s ass and was glad to finally know what it was like to watch his dick pumping in and out of it.
That had been a few weeks ago, and Cal had stopped coming around for his hits. Nigel had tried not to take it personally. He had no idea if the guy was gay and dealing with his own journey of self discovery or whether the whole thing had given him some kind of awakening he had to deal with. He just… he had to admit he had been worried.
Turns out, Cal had a lot to forget about. He’d opened up a little that day – he was some bigwig in The Movement – those fucking weirdos who seemed to be running everything since their meteoric rise a decade ago. A damn cult was what it was, but then Christianity had started as a cult too hadn’t it? Nigel couldn’t quite remember, it was years since he’d read anything about the defunct and antiquated religion.
And then he hadn’t expected Cal to turn up on his doorstep, shaking and shivering, dripping wet from having walked from fuck knows where in the rain to his apartment. He was detoxing, going cold turkey and that shit hurt, so he had apparently gone looking for the only person he felt he could trust in this situation. What qualified Nigel as that person, he had no fucking clue. But what was he supposed to do?
It wasn’t unusual for Hannibal to spend some evenings alone in his own bedroom. But as Will passed the door, he saw the fire had gone out in the fireplace.
No music played. There was no reading light for a book or sketching. Hannibal was just sitting in the dark, on the bench at the foot of his bed.
Will sat beside him. The moonlight from the window caught on the sharp lines of Hannibal’s face, and Will realized they were tracked with tears.
“Hey.”
If Hannibal was ashamed, he didn’t show it. He acknowledged Will with a sigh.
“Y’know, you haven’t always been easy to read. Or deal with. But over the years, I’ve come to accept you’re prone to being pretty dramatic.”
Hannibal didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said ‘you better have a point, Will.’
“But this, Hannibal? Sitting in the dark all alone, crying? This is some Blanche Dubois level bullshit.”
“While I appreciate your touching concern, my open door was not an invitation.”
Will tilted his head, taking in the tension in Hannibal’s posture, the downcast lines of his features. “You’ve never had someone else around before. On this day.”
Again Hannibal didn’t answer, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth told Will all he needed to know.
Part of him really wanted to find a place to stick a knife. Kick Hannibal while he was down. It would serve him right. But Will couldn’t help how he reacted to wounded birds. So instead, he pulled Hannibal into his arms.
Though Hannibal didn’t make a sound, his shoulders shook as he buried his face against Will’s neck. Trembling fingers curled into Will’s shirt at his sides. Will stroked a soothing hand down Hannibal’s back, carefully avoiding the ridges of the scar he didn’t want to think about.
“You’re not alone anymore, Hannibal. Not ever again. You understand?”
Hannibal nodded, soaking Will’s shirt with his tears.
“I mean it. If you ever try to leave me, I’ll kill you.”
Sobs turned to soft laughter. Hannibal pulled back to look at Will. Backlit by the moon shining through the window, most of Hannibal’s face was cast in shadow. But Will saw the glint in Hannibal’s eye, something painfully vulnerable, right before Hannibal kissed him.
Will thought it was good they were sitting; he was pretty sure his legs turned to rubber.
Once upon a time, there was a king who would only drink from his favourite cup. One day, the king dropped his favourite cup on the marble floor and broke it into pieces. Subjects of different professions offered their help but none was able to fix the teacup. A year after the tragedy, a man arrived in the kingdom and asked to be seen by the king. “Here is your favourite teacup, your Majesty.”
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