More porn. >3 [The 69 Challenge, numbers 1-2]
I joined a writing challenge where I have to write 69 drabbles, all with ratings of at least PG or higher. Details here, but the most important (and probably the most interesting) fact about this challenge is that a bigger part of the entries being submitted involve pr0n in one way or another. >_> Participating will take away time for me to focus on WH, but it will also force me to write, and write scenes with higher ratings than what I'm used to writing, so hopefully this will have more positive than negative effects. Here are the first two entries - the first, of course, is a pairing that people who have friended me for my writing are familiar with. The second isn't - it's about the main characters in my entry for last year's Nanowrimo.
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1. Heya stranger. (Hunter X Hunter - based heavily on the make-out scene in the Mr. and Mrs. Smith movie, Kuroro x Kurapika, PG-13)
Note: All right, all right, not so much based on the scene as exactly reproducing it - as Candice pointed out so eloquently. I’d wanted to write an AU based on the movie ever since I saw it, only I got Lazy and didn’t want to commit myself to yet another fanfic. Additional disclaimer to the movie for stealing the scene and using it here, and yes, I will think of my own ideas soon enough. I have 68 more chances to do that, right? +_+
They spotted the gun at the same time, and dived for their preferred weapons at the same time - Kuroro’s groping fingers reaching the larger stock of the shotgun that Kurapika had been using against him, at the exact same moment that Kurapika’s hands found the smaller grip of a fresh handgun hidden in the fireplace.
They brought the guns up to bear at the same time, too, and faced each other in classic standoff positions over the ruins of the living room. The furniture summed up the situation perfectly - the couch was turned over, the bookcase splintered and the shelves askew, the glass of the coffee table shattered, and the floor littered with plaster blasted from the walls. It was a life of lies, smashed into bits in the short, short span of a few minutes.
They were both breathing heavily, each exhalation sounding deafening in the sudden silence. Kuroro found himself gazing into Kurapika’s furious blue eyes. It struck him that this could very well be his first time seeing the younger man for what he really was - without pretense, without the mild-mannered, perfect boyfriend mask that he always wore in front of his partner and the rest of the neighborhood.
He also realized, with dawning wonder and admiration, that the blonde looked his best the way he was now, thoroughly disheveled and angry, bleeding and bruised and deadly. He knew right there and then that he couldn’t pull the trigger.
Kuroro lowered the barrel of the shotgun a few inches.
"I can’t do it," he said, before lowering it completely in surrender.
"Don’t! Come on!" Kurapika demanded through gritted teeth. He jabbed his own gun forward, trying to provoke Kuroro into raising his shotgun again.
"Come on!"
The boy was angry, and desperate. Maybe even panicking. Despite his claim that he would kill Kuroro as his superiors had ordered, there was still something stopping him from shooting. Their gunfight now felt both real and fake, like they had jumped into the fray to unleash all their pent-up emotion, and yet it had also been a front to hide what was now becoming clear.
Neither could fight if the other didn’t want to fight back.
"You want it? It’s yours," Kuroro said quietly.
He saw the moment when Kurapika’s masks completely fell, when the boy’s forehead scrunched up in misery and defeat, and then he was moving forward, knocking the handgun aside and throwing his own shotgun to the floor without care that the cocked and loaded weapons might go off accidentally. All he cared about was Kurapika’s lips on his own, Kurapika’s hands about his neck, Kurapika’s slighter body fitting itself to his in a way that it never had before.
The sex that followed was almost as brutal as their earlier brawl, as if knowing their real professions had ripped away all the precautions that they would normally take. They crashed into a few more walls, sent a few more ornaments tumbling noisily to the ground before finally finding a suitably horizontal surface. Kuroro took Kurapika roughly, almost without preparation, but the younger man didn’t seem to feel the pain, driven mad as he was by raw hunger and need. The most primal of instincts overtook them, longing fueled their limbs as they moved together, and when they collapsed to the wooden floor minutes later, breathing heavily for entirely different reasons, Kurapika slapped Kuroro when he turned his head, grinning lasciviously, to ask for another go.
He didn’t even have to ask, obviously. Kurapika rose and climbed on top of him, intent on showing Kuroro yet another skill that he’d been hiding from the older man for the last few years.
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2. What do you think is the moral of the story? (Untitled original series, Wei x Shori, PG-13)
Note: Taking a page out of izkariote’s book. :3 This title’s nicked from the May 5, 2006 theme in 31_days. And the request comes from yukitsu; I wouldn’t have written something that has shibari otherwise.
When he’d acknowledged his younger partner’s more... exotic tastes in bed, he’d put his foot down when it came to the needles. Wei had once used one of his little weapons to render him immobile but still perfectly capable of feeling every sensation, and while Shori would (grudgingly) admit that it was an interesting experience, he had no desire to go through it again anytime soon. That particular stunt had left him feeling entirely too vulnerable, unable to move to resist or even to satisfy himself when Wei’s teasing became too unbearable. It was just once, and Wei promised never to do it again unless Shori asked, so he thought that he’d be safe from any more nasty surprises.
Unfortunately, he’d underestimated the boy’s resourcefulness, or the lengths he was willing to go through to go around the promise he’d made.
"This isn’t funny, Wei. You promised not to do this again!"
"I promised not to use my needles, and I didn’t use them."
"No, but you attacked me and trussed me up like a -" Shori choked off his protest as Wei brought something into his field of vision - something that was wickedly long and looked like it belonged on the centerpiece rack of a deadly weapons store somewhere. He began to pull on his bonds with newfound panic, but the deceptively simple knots held fast, and the very sturdy wooden frame of his bed didn’t even creak.
"It’s shibari, Shori-san," Wei pointed out brightly. "I thought all Japanese liked this sort of thing?"
"I’m not even full Japanese!" Shori bellowed. "Come on, Wei, I have work tomorrow! If Cassie catches me with another hickey -"
"I’ll just have to be gentle, then." Wei climbed into the bed, vibrator in one hand, a tube of lubricant in the other - already uncapped - and an eager, almost predatory glint in his dark eyes. Shori shuddered when he saw the heat in them.
"And I’ll try not to leave any marks above the neck," the brat added, almost as an afterthought.
Shori ended up wearing a turtleneck to work, anyway, if only to have more cloth to hide the blush that refused to go away for days afterward.
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Whee. At least 2 drabbles a week. If I keep this up I'll only take half a year to finish everything. XD
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1. Heya stranger. (Hunter X Hunter - based heavily on the make-out scene in the Mr. and Mrs. Smith movie, Kuroro x Kurapika, PG-13)
Note: All right, all right, not so much based on the scene as exactly reproducing it - as Candice pointed out so eloquently. I’d wanted to write an AU based on the movie ever since I saw it, only I got Lazy and didn’t want to commit myself to yet another fanfic. Additional disclaimer to the movie for stealing the scene and using it here, and yes, I will think of my own ideas soon enough. I have 68 more chances to do that, right? +_+
They spotted the gun at the same time, and dived for their preferred weapons at the same time - Kuroro’s groping fingers reaching the larger stock of the shotgun that Kurapika had been using against him, at the exact same moment that Kurapika’s hands found the smaller grip of a fresh handgun hidden in the fireplace.
They brought the guns up to bear at the same time, too, and faced each other in classic standoff positions over the ruins of the living room. The furniture summed up the situation perfectly - the couch was turned over, the bookcase splintered and the shelves askew, the glass of the coffee table shattered, and the floor littered with plaster blasted from the walls. It was a life of lies, smashed into bits in the short, short span of a few minutes.
They were both breathing heavily, each exhalation sounding deafening in the sudden silence. Kuroro found himself gazing into Kurapika’s furious blue eyes. It struck him that this could very well be his first time seeing the younger man for what he really was - without pretense, without the mild-mannered, perfect boyfriend mask that he always wore in front of his partner and the rest of the neighborhood.
He also realized, with dawning wonder and admiration, that the blonde looked his best the way he was now, thoroughly disheveled and angry, bleeding and bruised and deadly. He knew right there and then that he couldn’t pull the trigger.
Kuroro lowered the barrel of the shotgun a few inches.
"I can’t do it," he said, before lowering it completely in surrender.
"Don’t! Come on!" Kurapika demanded through gritted teeth. He jabbed his own gun forward, trying to provoke Kuroro into raising his shotgun again.
"Come on!"
The boy was angry, and desperate. Maybe even panicking. Despite his claim that he would kill Kuroro as his superiors had ordered, there was still something stopping him from shooting. Their gunfight now felt both real and fake, like they had jumped into the fray to unleash all their pent-up emotion, and yet it had also been a front to hide what was now becoming clear.
Neither could fight if the other didn’t want to fight back.
"You want it? It’s yours," Kuroro said quietly.
He saw the moment when Kurapika’s masks completely fell, when the boy’s forehead scrunched up in misery and defeat, and then he was moving forward, knocking the handgun aside and throwing his own shotgun to the floor without care that the cocked and loaded weapons might go off accidentally. All he cared about was Kurapika’s lips on his own, Kurapika’s hands about his neck, Kurapika’s slighter body fitting itself to his in a way that it never had before.
The sex that followed was almost as brutal as their earlier brawl, as if knowing their real professions had ripped away all the precautions that they would normally take. They crashed into a few more walls, sent a few more ornaments tumbling noisily to the ground before finally finding a suitably horizontal surface. Kuroro took Kurapika roughly, almost without preparation, but the younger man didn’t seem to feel the pain, driven mad as he was by raw hunger and need. The most primal of instincts overtook them, longing fueled their limbs as they moved together, and when they collapsed to the wooden floor minutes later, breathing heavily for entirely different reasons, Kurapika slapped Kuroro when he turned his head, grinning lasciviously, to ask for another go.
He didn’t even have to ask, obviously. Kurapika rose and climbed on top of him, intent on showing Kuroro yet another skill that he’d been hiding from the older man for the last few years.
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2. What do you think is the moral of the story? (Untitled original series, Wei x Shori, PG-13)
Note: Taking a page out of izkariote’s book. :3 This title’s nicked from the May 5, 2006 theme in 31_days. And the request comes from yukitsu; I wouldn’t have written something that has shibari otherwise.
When he’d acknowledged his younger partner’s more... exotic tastes in bed, he’d put his foot down when it came to the needles. Wei had once used one of his little weapons to render him immobile but still perfectly capable of feeling every sensation, and while Shori would (grudgingly) admit that it was an interesting experience, he had no desire to go through it again anytime soon. That particular stunt had left him feeling entirely too vulnerable, unable to move to resist or even to satisfy himself when Wei’s teasing became too unbearable. It was just once, and Wei promised never to do it again unless Shori asked, so he thought that he’d be safe from any more nasty surprises.
Unfortunately, he’d underestimated the boy’s resourcefulness, or the lengths he was willing to go through to go around the promise he’d made.
"This isn’t funny, Wei. You promised not to do this again!"
"I promised not to use my needles, and I didn’t use them."
"No, but you attacked me and trussed me up like a -" Shori choked off his protest as Wei brought something into his field of vision - something that was wickedly long and looked like it belonged on the centerpiece rack of a deadly weapons store somewhere. He began to pull on his bonds with newfound panic, but the deceptively simple knots held fast, and the very sturdy wooden frame of his bed didn’t even creak.
"It’s shibari, Shori-san," Wei pointed out brightly. "I thought all Japanese liked this sort of thing?"
"I’m not even full Japanese!" Shori bellowed. "Come on, Wei, I have work tomorrow! If Cassie catches me with another hickey -"
"I’ll just have to be gentle, then." Wei climbed into the bed, vibrator in one hand, a tube of lubricant in the other - already uncapped - and an eager, almost predatory glint in his dark eyes. Shori shuddered when he saw the heat in them.
"And I’ll try not to leave any marks above the neck," the brat added, almost as an afterthought.
Shori ended up wearing a turtleneck to work, anyway, if only to have more cloth to hide the blush that refused to go away for days afterward.
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Whee. At least 2 drabbles a week. If I keep this up I'll only take half a year to finish everything. XD