Porn Me…erm…Prompt Me *closed*

[avamclean]

So I stumbled across comment_fic and thought, ‘that could be fun’ and decided that I’d opening myself up to some bit sized bits of porn. Why, you ask? Because it’s been months since my muse has had the opportunity to play with the sweaty and she’s itching to write some.

So this is how it works. Give me a pairing, preferably a crossover, and a prompt and I will write as much or as little as I want, but it can’t be any longer then the comment section allows to be posted. I have the right to refuse any pairing so bear in mind the fandoms I like to write in. (I do admit that Damon on the Vampire Diaries has snagged by interest so you’re welcome us him in your prompts.)

Example: Buffy/Castiel; blue firmament

Comments

[avamclean.livejournal.com]

Title :: Fuck Remorse
Word Count :: 495

A small hand catches his shoulder, shoves him back onto the flattened bedroll, that was barely any protection from the warm concrete at his back, as she snagged his boot, making quick work of the laces before tugging it off and turning on the other. He didn’t even bother to mutter a greeting—not anymore—instead he fumbles with his belt only to have her hands descend over his, shove them out of their way to free him of it.

His hips jerk up and off the floor as she yanks the bit of leather free and tosses it over her shoulder to clatter against the ground. He sits up, grabbing either of her wrists and yanks her down, knees cracking against the ground as she straddles his thighs and clamps her mouth over his. Blunt nails scrape the back of his head, teeth tugging at his lower lip before he pulls back enough to ask, “How many?”

Green eyes blink at him and he imagines, for a moment, there’s remorse in their depths before they close and she grabs his jaw and jerks his head to the side, teeth biting a hot path down his neck as she breathes against his skin, “Thirteen.”

His eyes close, face contorting in a grimace as he realizes they’d lost over half the men they’d sent out with Summers to safeguard the nuclear facility they obtained from the metal. Her fingers work beneath his shirt, nails scraping his sides as she tugs it up and over his head before repeating the motion on herself and snapping, “Don’t fret, boss, we still have our foothold.”

His head snaps towards her, eyes narrowing as he growls, “Is that all you think I care about?”

“Isn’t it?” Green eyes search his a moment before they widen and her next kiss is softer, sweeter, but no less desperate as she shimmies out of her fatigues and is in his lap covered in nothing more then cotton and dust.

Callused fingers thread through her hair and yanks her back, separating them and giving him, them a moment to think, to ask, “Why are you here?” A brow quirks and she sends a quick glance towards the bulge in his fatigues and the hand in her hair tightens as he repeats, “Why are you here?”

Her lashes dip, shadowing her eyes from him and her hand settles over his growing erection, squeezes it before her chin rises. Green eyes locking with his as she explains, “Because when I’m with you,” her hand leaves him and he just bites back a groan and suddenly that hand is down the front of pants, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth with his lack of underwear as her skin settles over his, “When I’m with you this isn’t hell,” she gives a sharp twist of her wrist that has him thrusting up into that waiting hand, “So fuck me, Connor, and shut up about it.”