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As soon as McKnight’s cast was off, they were going to make full use of the shower stall.
Submissives always look taller when they kneel.
“That’s one hell of a vice,” he sighed.
You can mess with her cooking. Mothers may be sacred, but chili is chili.
Will stood his ground. “You,” he said, “are depraved.”
Jack beamed with pride. “Precisely. And we’re all alone. What could be more ideal?”
To suck and be sucked.
You didn't give Hoot Gibson one of those namby-pamby-scented-candles-and-soft-music kind of massages. He was more of a being-pummeled-by-someone-Swedish-and-burly sort of massage recipient.
“It’s a time-honored tradition among ancient warriors to impress and intimidate the enemy with a display of their superior weaponry,” Sanderson deadpans.
Gimli harrumphed. “Well, that’s the truth, all right, but you can’t very well write that down in the history books can you?”
That didn't make any sense. That was how he knew it was a Zen thing. Zen had never, ever made any sense to Hoot. Sanderson said that was what made Hoot Zen. But he probably just said that to fuck with Hoot's mind. Right now, his mind that was so unfucked that thinking about Zen didn't even fuck it up.
When the talk got dirty it added an extra edge, an extra level of sin to the proceedings.
It was something Grimes kept hidden, locked up tight inside, hidden behind a mask of bravado and arrogance and flippancy. He never let it out in public, never even whispered it in the dark, unless he knew he was safe, or totally anonymous. How the fuck did McKnight know? “How?” he half-whispered, half-wailed. Half-hoping McKnight didn’t hear him.
If it were anything else, it would be barely discernable. A faint pressure, a muted heat, an almost imaginary wetness. But since it is a tongue, and a tongue that is lapping across worn leather, it sears like the blade of a light saber.
The air itself would reclaim this droplet before Alec's own skin could absorb it. So Alec placed his fingertip in his mouth.
Laurent sneaks a look at Lincoln, who sits quietly, hands folded in his lap, looking out the window, wide grin on his face. The kind of grin that makes his whole face light up in beautiful anticipation.
“Put your hands on your head,” McKnight groaned, and Grimes did, raised them and laced his fingers over his scalp and felt McKnight’s hands tighten around his wrists.
“That you are a master in all aspects of life, that you do not practice your mastery lightly, and rarely within the ranks of the Jedi.”
It was like that a lot. It was as if McKnight, trained in tactics as he was, had thousands of possible scenarios stored in his head, and corresponding thousands of battle plans just waiting to be implemented at the appropriate time. McKnight had, at some point, considered how he would respond if Grimes ever brought up the subject of measurement, and was now going through the steps, implementing his plan of attack, assured of the outcome because he'd thought of everything.
Whether it is the voluptuousness or the sluttiness that fascinates him more will be the subject of much meditation. Later.
Fuck the view.
Well… socks. Combat boots would be too uncomfortable without socks. Combat boots, socks, the kilt and that was it.
A man of your masculine beauty can more than compensate for a few frills.
“You do know how to do the tongue thing,” Lincoln whispers against his mouth.
Murmurs about the two of them together, as more than just a master/padawan team, were usually dismissed as wishful thinking. However, less than half a day into the project, Padawan This had realized that what she wished she was seeing was, in fact, what she was seeing.
And it was too late to stop now. Grimes went for it wholehearted, plunging his tongue into her mouth. You can’t fake that sort of thing.
Oh, well. If he was going to be cruel, he might as well be cruel all the way.
"Same place I found this," Jack said, and he plunked the matching boot on the table next to the first one. "And I didn't find it. Not the gold. I stole that." He beamed the word 'pirate'. He did not have to say it out loud.
Then Aragorn’s eyes wandered down the smooth torso to the… oh. My. He had never seen anything quite like that before.
He recognised this. Adrenaline withdrawal. He used his biofeedback training to mitigate it. He should get some food into himself, or maybe some caffeine, so he wouldn’t come down too fast and crash. The last thing he needed was to pass out when he had Kirill in his house.
Holes in Grime’s attire, no matter where, always made McKnight want to rip them open.
The Mission Impossible theme sound should have been playing. The storage closet, the elaborate plans, the diversion, the secret signals. The sergeants were communicating in sign language, for Christ's sake.
Look, he's shy. He's never been with two guys at the same time, and he's going to be skittish enough without you grabbing asses.
Oh, God, this playing pirate thing was bloody brilliant – why hadn’t Jack thought of it months ago?
“With all due respect, sir, you watch the game on TV. I’m usually other wise occupied.” Grimes shifted his eyes down to look in the general vicinity of McKnight’s crotch.
Laurent never lies to Lincoln. It’s not that he can’t, he just really enjoys telling the truth.
“But then we lay back on a soft grassy hill, and I rubbed little circles on your back until you fell asleep and we had a long peaceful nap.”
What kind of piercing, he wonders… a silver ring? A plain gold stud? He can't imagine anything too flamboyant.
Lincoln says goodnight and the door closes shut.
“Why, indeed? “Superstitious nonsense,” Jack said. “Knew you wouldn’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”
He gets his breath under control and his heart rate down and tries to get the dopey, just-orgasmed look off his face.
Steam hangs heavy and dense, but, more than that, the atmosphere in which it is suspended is a miasma of sex, desire and nearly visible pheromones with a tinge of testosterone. Fetid. Disgusting, really, if one were to be honest about it.
“But sir, I feel better when we fuck.”
This is so unfair. He’s an almost fully-grown, perfectly competent Jedi padawan, proficient in all his studies, if a little weak in a few of his meditation practices. Offers from both humanoid genders and a few non-humanoid varieties are common. He’s in peak physical condition. The only flaw is the stupid haircut.
Grimes’d had no idea McKnight ever looked at him that closely. The light in the room suddenly seemed very bright.
The first thing he sees is the red hair. No, first he recognizes the mouth. Then he looks at the red hair.
What he doesn’t know is that Albert wants seconds because of Lincoln.
He’s no longer some freak, a clone meant to replace parts on the useful one. He is the one.
Truth was, Sanderson couldn’t call John Grimes ‘John’ without wondering if McKnight called Grimes 'John" in private. And if Grimes called McKnight ‘Danny’ in private. He hadn’t actually seen Grimes and McKnight together in public, so he didn’t know how they referred to each other in person, but he knew that in the third person Grimes tended to refer to McKnight as ‘The Colonel’, and he nurtured a secret hope that at least some of the time in private, Grimes called him that. Or ‘sir’.
Ridiculous. He had hair like a girl, that's what it was. Long and red. Down to his shoulders! Thank heavens he eventually cut it off.
Of course, the solution has been there all along, patiently waiting for him to grow weary of the task.
“You want me to order you to talk? You need to be forced to trust me?”
Nope. Not going there. Need-to-know did not have to include weird shit like that. He had no need to know sort of lowlife shenanigans Mr. Midnight was up to on behalf of D-Tech, and he had no desire to know.
The robe covers his entire body, but one or two perceptive council members notice that the folds of it nestle very close to his slender frame. Too close to be hampered by Jedi tunics, or belts, or even Jedi pants.
Jeff, do you have something you’re not telling me about? Maybe a secret double-life. Ex-Delta op by day, hairdresser by night.
Jack didn’t quite understand that. In his opinion, manliness was hampered by excess clothing. In fact, Will was at his most manly when completely naked.
That’s when he realized that Grimes had been laying so low, even McKnight couldn’t spot him in a crowd.
Auto detecting primary master drive
Auto detecting prime slave drive
So, you know your Romantic poets. Big deal.
Maybe a few cowboy antics. After all, Hoot was involved.
It would be embarrassing if they ended up in a circle jerk, after all this. Searingly hot, but juvenile.
The sex part of McKnight’s brain made his hip bump the edge of the table as he walked past, so a single file folder tumbled to the floor, spilling its contents across the rug.
“Because tracksuits are not for going out,” Albert says with a air of dreadful finality.
Lincoln keeps himself sheltered, in the safety of Albert’s shadow, behind Albert’s back.
Rich. Earthy. Full-bodied. “It doesn’t smell like a cheap harlot at all; it smells like… chocolate,” Jack said.
“That’s what the cheap harlots smell like where I come from,” Anamaria said.
Sanderson always takes care of that kind of detail. He’s a genius with finances. A genius at organization. Damn genius at blowjobs, too, but that’s only during off-hours. They’re trying to be very strict about discipline.
This could not be happening. Grimes looked at the sandwich and the milk and back at McKnight, and he wanted to slide off the chair onto the floor but McKnight’s hand was on his thigh, burning a hole through his jeans, holding him on the chair.
“I want you to kiss me.”
Hoot grinned. It was false bravado. He knew fucking well that if McKnight ever found out some of the thoughts Hoot had about Grimes…
One of her clearest and earliest memories is of dancing blue-grey eyes and neat white teeth.
Had he whispered McKnight’s name softly? Or had he cried out because McKnight wasn’t there?
Yes, he did have that effect on Elves, sometimes, he chuckled to himself.
Besides, McKnight didn’t really mind Grimes rubbing his hand like that. And the cream, as it turned out, was a pretty good lubricant.
Jack swam like a fish. Every fine day saw him strip down to his skin to dive off the Pearl and swim along side the ship, his arms cutting effortlessly through the waves, the sun glinting off his wet shoulders. One of Will’s most treasured memories was of watching Jack play with a school of dolphins, weaving in and out of them, barking back at them when they barked at him.
Fuck. The pouting was going to KILL McKnight.
“It appears, my young padawan, that you’ve been flirting with the other team.”
No good. The towel is too fucking small. No matter what he does, one long, smooth thigh peeks out seductively.
And then they heard the sound that drives terror in the hearts of the doughtiest of warriors.
Forget the porn. They didn’t need porn anyway. All Grimes had to do to get McKnight turned on was call him ‘sir’ and kneel. If that didn’t work, he just had to lick his lips or wiggle his ass. In a worst case scenario, he could peel off his t-shirt and run his hands down his torso.
“Lad, you seem to be misinformed about the exact location and dimensions of Dwarvish private bits.”
McKnight had spread his legs and pulled Grimes close, grabbed his ass, tried to be as encouraging as possible.
What she wouldn’t give to be kissed as if she were worth kissing. Just once.
It probably was not shyness that prevented him from saying ‘sexual’ earlier – it must have been prudence. The way Obi-Wan says ‘sexual’ is an open invitation to wantonness. He must have to ration his use of the word to prevent spontaneous orgies. Must find a way to get him to say it again. More. Often.
The master had set his heart on a good, wet fuck the moment he'd set eyes on the spacious shower stall. "I hate this planet," Qui-Gon Jinn growls
“Aw, for cryin’ out loud, Moriarity, it’s a stinkin’ most awful stupid attitude and you’re always pulling the same stinkin’ awful stupid attitude. You don’t want in this thing, you don’t get in this thing. Someone to share my cot I can find anywhere.”
“It’s been over twenty years, luv. I don’t know if I remember how to do it.”
Will scowled at the paints on the table and muttered something Jack could not quite make out.
“What was that, William?”
Will sat down with a thud and glared at Jack petulantly. “I said, ‘That didn’t stop you the first time I fucked you.’”
He doesn’t even look sad.
He had never in his life wanted to hurt anyone. He’d spent his whole adult life in the army, but that didn’t make him a violent man.
Evidently, there is not much useful equipment stored in a Jedi utility belt after all.
He shouldn’t need permission to come. But Grimes could do that to him, put him in that state of mind.
Kissing could go on all night, McKnight decided. He could ignore his cock, ignore the ache in his balls, ignore everything but Grimes’ mouth and lips and the way he hummed when McKnight sucked lightly on the tip of his tongue.
He only has to reach out.
“I would not call it a tryst, my lord. Balian has a will of his own. It would be an… opportunity.”
“Sooooo, take it off. Don’t fancy playing you wearing that bit of fur on your head. Reminds me of the day you nearly hung me.’
McKnight decided to ignore her. He closed his eyes and pictured Grimes putting on the dress shirt. Buttoning it up. Deft fingers. Better suited to unbuttoning, but they always looked good. Tucking the shirt into the pants. Putting on the narrow black belt. Checking in the mirror to make sure there were no unsightly lines across his ass – as if anything about Grimes’ ass could ever be unsightly.
Turning on him, turning him over, forcing his way inside. Feeding that part of Steele that was so starved it howled in the night, every night.
Of course, McKnight thought. Grimes wants to get fucked.
This Constantine is fitter than the old one, free of his pain, his bitterness, his cancer.
“I don’t want to die a virgin.”
Lincoln’s taking his time.
"How could I forget? Yes, stubbornness, legendary staying power, and superior recovery time. Shouldn't we be following Aragorn into the mountain?"
“I would hope not. Pretty young thing like that would be taken advantage of horribly by pirates. All that flowing black hair and porcelain skin and big, innocent eyes.”
Fortunately, events at the Governor’s mansion are always the exception to the rule.
Laurent’s not sure whose idea it was to have Lincoln partner with Merrick, but he’s regretting it. Deeply.
Connor sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and looked down at his brother, bathed in the neon glow from the giant cross.
He can feel his nipples pebble into tight little nubs. Or perhaps that is because he knows what will happen next.
Lincoln Six Echo will never forget the achingly beautiful intensity of being laid out on the desk, papers and sketches fluttering in the air around him, as Albert Laurent’s mouth descends with deadly accuracy.
Grimes had McKnight right where he wanted him.
Clones don’t take anything at face value.
After all, he’d been travelling for quite some time with Hobbits, Men, a Wizard and a Dwarf, and though he found some of their ways strange, he found that, on the whole, their peculiarities were fairly tolerable.
He watched McKnight stretch out. Fuck, he was like a second mattress on top of the bed.
Doctor Merrick had claimed he’d given life to Lincoln Six Echo, hence he could take it away.
Alex was closing the drapes. Elizabeth watched her glide to the double door and turn the key in the lock. “We shan’t be disturbed,” Alex whispered.
Saladin signified his approval with a twist of his fingers in Nasir’s hair.
James groaned. Please, he thought, don’t start with the spanking again. That would lead to other things, things he wasn’t sure he could take anymore. They’d been in bed for almost a week...
Grimes lowered his eyes. Bad move. McKnight was shirtless, and Grimes couldn’t look at McKnight’s naked chest without feeling weak in the knees.
He'd get dressed up, they'd do a bit of fussing to make his hair look better, maybe throw a manly scar on his cheek, he would strike a few heroic poses... not a bad way to spend the arvo.
It’s all in the grind.
To wit, he hopelessly missed his Dwarf.
Two fingers touch Laurent’s lips, stilling his words.
It wasn’t easy getting Albert to take off his shirt and lie down like this.
Obi-Wan had been thoroughly examined by the Temple Healers, and while they had not found anything specifically wrong with the young man, they had muttered about ‘vile secretions” and “not sure of the long-term effects on humanoids.” (Jedi Healers hated not having the entire answer to any medical question, and tended to mumble when confronted with an unknown quantity or quality.)
Jack licked his lips as Will used a tin cup to pour water over his shoulders and back and chest, which made the golden skin glitter like, well, like gold.
Pirates love gold.
His hot breath makes the air shimmer around Laurent.
He has learned that what is not said is more important than what is said.
Off with the boots, come on, Orlando. Don’t be shy. I’ve seen plenty of naked feet at the dojo.
Constantine steps up to Midnite. Close.
Grimes’ hair fell across his face, hiding his eyes from McKnight, but McKnight wouldn’t have to see them to know what he was doing to Grimes.
That was inappropriate. Qui-Gon schooled his features. “Perhaps we should retire for the night. I think you have had quite enough excitement for the day.”
He voiced these concerns to Gimli, who tut-tutted him and insisted there was plenty of space on the bed, and would he please drink up his ale.
… when Laurent is really lucky, his tongue is showing, just peeking out between lips drawn tight with concentration.
He turned his head to drag his chin across a pale, taut arse. “What you’ve always wanted,” he whispered.
Brad reached over and patted his ass. “Not skinny. Compact. I happen to like compact.”
Lincoln bets that Albert is extraordinarily grateful that he killed the wrong man.
Almost every town had something – a marble pillar, a bronze statue, a garden, a plaque – commemorating war, remembering the sacrifices made. None brought him peace.
In short, the Queen of Gondor was pining for a wizard.
And from the sea came a hero, and he was the mighty Beowulf the Geat – slayer of foes, fighter of evil and possessor of much manly facial hair.
All that matters is that he and his sidearm stay between Merrick and Lincoln.
Talia does not like charming, suave, handsome men.
The strap of the holster around Albert’s black-clad leg is almost enough to make Lincoln toss Merrick back out the door.
Laurent could strangle Merrick.
The problem was not that McKnight didn’t enjoy sex with Grimes. He enjoyed it immensely. And as often as possible. Maybe even too often. But it was Grimes he was enjoying, and Grimes wanted him to enjoy himself too.
It and trails off, faintly glowing, merging with the line of dark hair that leads into his…
“Constantine, do you think anyone could do this without the help of a little magic?”
A deep line appeared in the middle of McKnight’s forehead. Grimes could actually see the edges of teeth, digging into McKnight’s upper lip. Grimes could clearly see this was serious, that McKnight was making a decision, or at least expecting Grimes to agree to something.
Laurent can’t imagine why he’s holding them closed.
He watched Eric be Hector, and he watched burly arms look menacing and legs-for-days move into a fighting stance and pecs shift under the heavy armour and dark eyes flash anger and pride and goodness, honest-to-god goodness, at the camera. Karl watched and felt the leather tighten across his crotch.
“You can’t kiss wrong,” McKnight stated with great certainty
The unknown should be treated with caution. He does not resent it.
Lightning bolts shot through Grimes’ pelvis. He started to reach for the lube. “Do you want me to…”
Lincoln has to know how they work. Inside.
“Yes. I like to be dominated in bed because I can’t allow myself to be dominated anywhere else.”
His finger slips, glides over Laurent’s silk-covered bicep.
McKnight sat down, and Grimes nestled between his legs and rubbed his face over his crotch. McKnight wasn’t hard, but he sure as hell wasn’t soft either.
If he stops, he’ll want to lick Albert’s head, and Albert wouldn’t like that because they’re on the sidewalk, out in the open.
They did. They ached. Grimes wanted to them to burst. McKnight had nuzzled them and rubbed his nose against them. Fuck.
He can smell the water outside the window, even though the window is closed.
Might as well get it out in the open. Just in case things did progress to the stage to which he desperately wanted them to progress - then if he yelled out 'Cupid' it wouldn't sound quite so daft.
“No, you may not ask. You are not supposed to be talking at all. But since you did ask, it is Jedi Binding Tape.”
The commands. The obedience. The come on the floor. She would NOT understand the come on the floor.
Grimes was working in the sunniest part of the yard, and his clothes were starting to stick to him with his sweat. Except, somehow, Grimes’ clothes didn’t stick to him the same way other people’s clothes sick to them. Grimes’ clothes hugged his curves and grooves. It was almost obscene.
After his experiences, Lincoln could easily have gone the other way and become as ruthless and unfeeling as… as Laurent used to imagine himself.
“It’s the same color your lips get after you’ve been sucking my cock for a long time.”
He simply shreds Laurent’s hard-earned discipline as if he’s sweeping away a spider’s web. But spider’s webs are stronger than they look. When you push them aside, the strands wind together and make themselves even stronger.
It might not have been glossy, but there was a lot of lubricant involved, so Lincoln suspects it would be quite shiny.
“I see,” Laurent says, not really seeing anything but the way Lincoln’s legs are bare, except for the ginger-coloured hair and a pair of black socks that droop a bit at the top of his black, high-top sneakers.
Albert just got here a few minutes ago, and Lincoln is pretty sure you’re not supposed to just jump into doing the tongue thing
McKnight stuck his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming.
“Experience with other men?” Andrew whispered. Ted went six different shades of white.
“I’m done, soldier. Now get the fuck out of that bathtub. I seem to recall something about fucking you after I shave you.”
Lincoln is trapped between big, strong Albert and the wall.
That accent drives Constantine crazy.
“In fact, you tend to do very nice things to me.”
“It’s just like using your mouth on anyone,” McKnight said, wanting desperately to use his mouth on Grimes.
Murphy slid his hands down to cover his nipples with his palms. He gave his chest a light squeeze, then rotated his hands for some satisfying friction. “Sensors set to maximum sensitivity, captain.”
Motherfucker, McKnight thought, sudden flash of insight making him dizzy. He’d learned to trust that sort of revelation. The bitch had not filed the papers on purpose, hoping John would see action, hoping he’d get wounded and worse. KIA.
Will actually stamped his bare foot in the sand. “You can’t borrow a figgy pudding, Jack!”
“I like touching you inside,” McKnight said, keeping his voice low and steady, with enough of a growl to make Grimes whimper.
Papa Midnite begins to unbutton and unzip his clothes.
Lincoln read it somewhere. Peanuts are a traditional snack at card parties.
So. Karl was going to have to fuck Eric. There was no other option.
Breathing is for pussies, Laurent decides.
We were two days journey from Jerusalem, without adequate shelter or supplies. It was the cold of the desert night that convinced him to come closer.
That she could spend millions of dollars on a clone of herself, and end up with an allegedly perfect copy that turned out to be so very absolutely and uncompromisingly lesbian was a matter of grave concern to the talk show hostess.
Then he forgets all about manicures and nails, because Lincoln’s lips are on his throat.
Lincoln loves sleeping in, even if it doesn’t involve a whole lot of sleeping. And when Albert decides to sprawl across a bed, he covers a lot of ground. A lot of warm, rippling, beautiful, incredibly sexy ground.
Black leather, stretched taut, so when the sun hits it, it gleams like a mirror.
McKnight moved his left leg, the bent one. He was starting to get a cramp in his hip joint. Grimes nuzzled his thigh and pressed his face against McKnight’s balls.
Hector slammed his been mug down on the counter and growled. Not another barfight!
Your eyes are the most impossible blue before you come.
"Anakin is very alert, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan. He usually senses Master Kenobi's approach, so we have time to make things look perfectly innocent."
… the praying thing creeps me out.
Trendy and cool are two entirely different things. Trendy has to do with marketing cycles and the short attention span of the buying public. Cool is forever.
But there was a recklessness to the way it happened.
What he doesn’t know is that Albert wants seconds because of Lincoln.
“You’ve never bottomed before, sir. You don’t know it you want it. You can’t know.”
You suit our garb well, my friend. The rich colours, the heavy materials, they drape over your frame in a most comely fashion. Perhaps, some skin. Yes, my lord should see more skin.
Grimes had cut his hair. That in itself was not shocking. Grimes had trimmed his hair several times. But Grimes had cut his hair a lot.
“That was not an advance, Anakin. That was inappropriate touching.”
It’s unfair of Laurent to even consider going any further. He has already gone beyond what is proper.
“Really, Obi-Wan, it is time you learned to control your urges. I will not always be here to master them for you. Strip and meditate until you go soft.”
But then Steele offered to help Linda carry the food outside, after Linda asked McKnight to get a bottle of wine from the basement, and Grimes was downstairs getting something else, so McKnight had time to pull Grimes behind the door, grab a handful of that hair, and kiss him really hard.
Could it be that he was her brother’s… friend?
Had it been twenty minutes? It couldn’t have been twenty minutes. Fuck. “Ah, sir, I thought you said… didn’t you say twenty minutes?”
I’m saying I don’t care how the soap smells. I like the way you smell.
Nothing, not Orcs nor Sauron nor the fires of Mount Doom itself, could keep him away from Legolas. The only thing that would part them would be the sea, and even that, he was sure, he would find a way around.
Grimes turned his back to McKnight and lay down. He looked up. “Try not to touch me until I say I’m ready,” he said, his face upside down to McKnight.
And for the life of him, he can’t figure out which team she meant.
He could make no assumptions. Assumptions could be coloured by desire. Incorrect assumptions lead to the dark side.
McKnight looked at him with soft eyes. “You know if we weren’t out in the open like this…”
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