3 - Island City (sorry, v obscure TV movie...but fun!) De Chazal picked up a liqueur glass, swirling it idly. “What’s his name?” 23 closed his eyes. Might as well dive in. “Michael.” He picked up his wineglass again. “He’s… I… I mean, 6 taught me, when we were young. We were all made to go both ways, I just thought it was natural. But I’ve always dated women. I never thought about it, not since the Cataclysm and the Youth Drug… And then Michael… I remembered, and he seemed to need something… No, to be honest, I was just cold that night and he… didn’t protest. I didn’t mean for it to continue. Well, I mean, we could both use the release, you know, just blowing off steam – the job’s kind of stressful sometimes, out in the Wasteland, with Recs shooting at us half the time…” “You’re both in one of the HL units, then?” “Yes. HL-1.” “Ah. Is it a matter of officer versus enlisted?” “No, he’s a Lieutenant. But…I’m a Lieutenant Colonel. My god, I never thought of that. What if he’s just…obeying orders…?” “Probably not, if that issue has never occurred to you. You are friends, too, yes? I understand the camaraderie among the HL units exists regardless of rank.” “That’s true, but…” “Are you disturbed to find yourself attracted to a man after so long taking only female company?” “It’s not just that.” 23 fidgeted with his wine glass and nearly dropped it. This was the part that might strain even de Chazal’s famous tolerance. “He’s half-Recessive.” De Chazal’s arch eyebrows rose only slightly. “Ah, the very tall, blond young man with the interesting face? I’ve seen him. Magnificent. Insanely sexy.” He sipped his liqueur and smiled, catlike. 23’s jaw dropped. “You’re blushing, my boy; how charming. Ah, forbidden love – makes me feel young again.” “You… I…” No way am I telling him about Michael’s body temperature. “Eurgh…No, I’m…I mean, the point is, if we’re found out, if we…continue, for me it just means the end of my career, probably. But for him…I don’t know what they’ll do to him.”
4 - Thundercats We stripped each other of armor and cloth. Baring his teeth, he was strong enough to undo my belt. His coat was old-clan vivid, starkly countershaded, his belly and face white, white, meeting the fire orange and soot-black stripes in neat lines I tracked with my hands. I'd noticed at every stream and river fording he ducked down, immersing himself deep and in no hurry to shake off the wet coming out. His mother's son.
I knelt and took my prince onto my lap; his fur yet soft, but the body beneath it hard, war-made. Flame-in-the-night, I'd called his mother - Claudus had been a generous friend and king, and he liked to watch. "Flame-in-the-night," I called Tygra, into the velvety fur of his throat. Hot, slick, our stalks stirred between us, rising from their sheaths, nodes coming up on his already. Our mouths coupled, tongues as hot and wet as the parts of us below. His hips moved restless, needy so I held like a rock for him, my arms enough for his back, his smaller hand between us, keeping our stalks together as he moved; and all right, old cat, I admitted to myself, it's been a long time. He was a cocky youngster, his own scent full in his nostrils, but he was fine and lithe in my arms, against my chest and belly and thighs.
I turned him, set him on his knees. His eyes flashed once; the girls in the scratch houses wouldn't have done this, not with him. There was enough fluid in my sheath to make the passage smooth and easy. Neither of us made a sound, though I clenched my teeth to hold back a moan. His mouth opened wide but no roar came, only hinted at in the lines of his jaw and throat, a tremor running through his body, becoming a purr as I seated myself properly and began to move. His purr was bigger than his body; I felt it root and marrow, commanding my own purr from my chest. His father's son.
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2011-09-09 03:24 am (UTC)De Chazal picked up a liqueur glass, swirling it idly. “What’s his name?”
23 closed his eyes. Might as well dive in. “Michael.” He picked up his wineglass again. “He’s… I… I mean, 6 taught me, when we were young. We were all made to go both ways, I just thought it was natural. But I’ve always dated women. I never thought about it, not since the Cataclysm and the Youth Drug… And then Michael… I remembered, and he seemed to need something… No, to be honest, I was just cold that night and he… didn’t protest. I didn’t mean for it to continue. Well, I mean, we could both use the release, you know, just blowing off steam – the job’s kind of stressful sometimes, out in the Wasteland, with Recs shooting at us half the time…”
“You’re both in one of the HL units, then?”
“Yes. HL-1.”
“Ah. Is it a matter of officer versus enlisted?”
“No, he’s a Lieutenant. But…I’m a Lieutenant Colonel. My god, I never thought of that. What if he’s just…obeying orders…?”
“Probably not, if that issue has never occurred to you. You are friends, too, yes? I understand the camaraderie among the HL units exists regardless of rank.”
“That’s true, but…”
“Are you disturbed to find yourself attracted to a man after so long taking only female company?”
“It’s not just that.” 23 fidgeted with his wine glass and nearly dropped it. This was the part that might strain even de Chazal’s famous tolerance. “He’s half-Recessive.”
De Chazal’s arch eyebrows rose only slightly. “Ah, the very tall, blond young man with the interesting face? I’ve seen him. Magnificent. Insanely sexy.” He sipped his liqueur and smiled, catlike.
23’s jaw dropped.
“You’re blushing, my boy; how charming. Ah, forbidden love – makes me feel young again.”
“You… I…” No way am I telling him about Michael’s body temperature. “Eurgh…No, I’m…I mean, the point is, if we’re found out, if we…continue, for me it just means the end of my career, probably. But for him…I don’t know what they’ll do to him.”
4 - Thundercats
We stripped each other of armor and cloth. Baring his teeth, he was strong enough to undo my belt. His coat was old-clan vivid, starkly countershaded, his belly and face white, white, meeting the fire orange and soot-black stripes in neat lines I tracked with my hands. I'd noticed at every stream and river fording he ducked down, immersing himself deep and in no hurry to shake off the wet coming out. His mother's son.
I knelt and took my prince onto my lap; his fur yet soft, but the body beneath it hard, war-made. Flame-in-the-night, I'd called his mother - Claudus had been a generous friend and king, and he liked to watch. "Flame-in-the-night," I called Tygra, into the velvety fur of his throat. Hot, slick, our stalks stirred between us, rising from their sheaths, nodes coming up on his already. Our mouths coupled, tongues as hot and wet as the parts of us below. His hips moved restless, needy so I held like a rock for him, my arms enough for his back, his smaller hand between us, keeping our stalks together as he moved; and all right, old cat, I admitted to myself, it's been a long time. He was a cocky youngster, his own scent full in his nostrils, but he was fine and lithe in my arms, against my chest and belly and thighs.
I turned him, set him on his knees. His eyes flashed once; the girls in the scratch houses wouldn't have done this, not with him. There was enough fluid in my sheath to make the passage smooth and easy. Neither of us made a sound, though I clenched my teeth to hold back a moan. His mouth opened wide but no roar came, only hinted at in the lines of his jaw and throat, a tremor running through his body, becoming a purr as I seated myself properly and began to move. His purr was bigger than his body; I felt it root and marrow, commanding my own purr from my chest. His father's son.