kkscatnip: Peacemaker Kurogane (a casual sort of happiness)
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Title: Star's Journal
Prompt: 15. Survivalism
Word Count: 532
Rating: R
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): None
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): Explicit violence, implicit slavery
Summary: The beginning of Star's journal, which you can see a later entry in Whining is Expected.

Sunny gave me this journal two weeks ago. I remember laughing at her and asking her what I, what a mere pet, would have to write about.

She shrugged--I remember those shrugs, how they were like words sometimes, like 'I don't know' or 'whatever you want, Star' or other things. I really had no idea what to write about then, no idea what was waiting for me. For all of us.

And now the invasion. I have no idea what to do, but I think I know what I'm supposed to write about.

She's dead. I know that for sure. Sunny is dead.

What more is there to say?

Okay so I was a little overwrought yesterday. I'm still a little overwrought today (why shouldn't I be, though?) but I found a little group of people and we have a fighter protecting us.

But he scares me sometimes! I mean yesterday he snapped someone's neck without even stopping walking, like breaking a twig or something. The boy crumpled to the ground and I threw up everywhere and he just acted like nothing. Nothing.

Anyway there's yaras and humans in this group, and I've seen other groups that are just yaras or just humans but I think this kind is better.

I don't understand why the sivophen are invading. One of the two yaras in this group, Kit, he says that the sivophen have followed yaras through time and space but that doesn't make sense. I mean who carries a grudge like that? There must be some other explanation.

I think it's because yaras have something the sivophen want. Or something, I don't even know. Something that makes more sense than a grudge that makes them move their entire civilizations, you know? That's not a small thing.

If I don't think about her, it doesn't hurt as bad. It still hurts, though, all the time. I wish it didn't.

The fighter, his name is Roger, is crazy. He's saying we're going to have to eat other people before this is over.

Why in the world would humans eat other humans? And how long does he think this invasion is going to last? Of course the yaras are going to beat them.

There's two other pets, Raven and Tammy. I think they want to run away. They want me to come with them.

What do I do? Wish you were here, Sunny.

We ran. That's all I can write, now.

That was the scariest game of cat and mouse I've ever played. I mean I was shaking so hard because I remembered him snapping that boy's neck like nothing and Raven was afraid, too, but Tammy was like... she was just amazing. Not scared at all.

What makes a person not afraid? I wish i knew, so I could quit being scared all the time.

But now we're free of Roger. We'll figure something out for food; there's plenty of rations going around. We're free, and Raven keeps saying it like it means something, but I'm not sure free is something I wanted to be.


Title: Going Back
Prompt: 11. Word Count: 389
Word Count:
Rating: PG-Rish
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Mitchell/Nolan
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): Too much cute, mild sexual overtones
Summary: Before they make it back to the yara quarter, Mitchell and Nolan have a moment.

Mitchell curled around Nolan under their patchwork blanket, sliding his arms around Nolan's waist and pulling Nolan back against him. It was cold enough outside tonight for him to see his breath, and they'd both ducked their heads under the musty blanket. Breathing in air that cold hurt.

He felt bad for Parker, who was stuck with most of the night watch, butes Mitchell was still pissed enough at Parker that he didn't really care that much. He cared a lot more about Nolan, who was shivering minutely. He whimpered when Mitchell hugged him tight, which was a bad sign.

"It's okay," Mitchell whispered in his ear. He always felt stupid and awkward giving comfort, but the happy sound Nolan made and the way Nolan's hand slid down to cup over Mitchell's and squeeze made the awkwardness go away a little.

"I know it is," Nolan murmured in return, and began the slow process of rolling over to face Mitchell without disturbing the blankets. "I just can't--it's going back to the yara quarter. Going back to where the sivos are."

Of course. Mitchell was on edge, himself. Snappy, cruel as he'd been before It happened.

Getting captured. Nolan getting--no, he wasn't going to think about it. He was just going to be glad they escaped and had a plan to get out of here, to get to a place where they wouldn't have to work so damn hard just to not die. Just to live.

Nolan finished rolling over, and one of his hands traced over Mitchell's face while the other rested on his hip. As was customary, he slid his leg between Mitchell's. Also customary, Mitchell kissed him gently on the lips. Nolan didn't respond at first, so Mitchell pulled away, but Nolan followed, humming, and pressed a kiss to the side of Mitchell's mouth and the tip of his nose before letting his own head rest against the shared pillow--the pack that had nothing but clothes in it. Not very full.

"I'll be okay," he said, just as gentle as Mitchell's kiss had been.

Will you? Mitchell wondered, but didn't question it. He pulled Nolan closer and kissed him on the forehead and shut his eyes. Tomorrow, they faced the world and death and the sivophen and; tonight, at least, they'd be warm.


Title: Too Far
Prompt: 4. Word: Stay, 12. Person: 1st, 13. Tense: Past
Word Count: 1534
Rating: NC-17
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Parker/Lyle
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): kinda hatesex, allusions to slavery
Summary: Lyle and Parker's last time together

Okay, so I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I had to say anyway. I had to try anyway, since otherwise Parker was going to follow the rest of the pack he was with now straight out of the yara quarter and then he'd be gone for who knew how long.

I mean, not just how long he'd be gone, but also how likely it might even be that I'd see him again; I was spending less and less time at the trading post, and he wasn't involved in the rebellion stuff so...

Anyway, what it ended up out as was that I said, "You could stay," and I cupped his cheek, catching his gaze best I could.

But he closed those pretty violet eyes and ducked his head, already shaking it side to side. "I can't, Lyle," he said, and nuzzled my hand, kissed the inside of my wrist. Like it meant he was sorry. "I owe Mitchell and Nolan, and I can't risk being here. I'm too much of a pet. You--you know I'm more of a liability than an asset."

I knew it was the truth--everyone knew it was, with his fine bones and his ridiculously gorgeous caramel skin and that hair like a river--but I hadn't wanted to face losing someone else. Jesse, Red, Tiffany.... They were dead and gone and I, miraculously, was still alive.

And still going to stay alone. I was tired of this bullshit, and if it weren't for having such a drive to be with people, to touch them and kiss them and make them want me as much as I wanted them, I think I'd probably have said fuck fucking by now. But I hadn't, and the two weeks it took to convince everyone else that Mitchell and Nolan needed rescuing--just as much as we needed to make an attack against them, and why not combine the two?--had meant we'd gotten pretty friendly.

"Lyle?" Parker asked, and moved closer, pressing himself against me, breathing my name out over my face. "Lyle, Lyle. Please don't--I can't. You know I can't." Tears began to fall down his sharp, sharp cheekbones.

I wiped them away with my thumb as they fell. "I know," I said. My voice was a little thick, but so was his. "I know. But we could--we could cut your hair, give you some scars. Make it--"

"I am not going to let you scar up my face just so I can stay," Parker said, his voice dropping low and dangerous. "That's stupid. What if my face gets infected? What if it kills me?"

Of course I didn't have a good answer for that. I distracted him by way of a gentle kiss, teasing some feeling out of him; my gentleness made him harsh and he tangled fingers in my hair, pulled my hair, kissed me without fear.

I felt his cock stiffening against my hip and rolled my own hips forward into it, drawing a little moan out of Parker. "Fuck," he panted against my lips, one of his hands sliding down and back, teasing my freshly fucked hole. Freshly fucked by him. "Lyle, we just--there's not even time for another round."

I laughed. "Why not? Because you need your fucking beauty rest?"

Parker growled, a sound deep in his throat that sent a happy shudder through me, and pushed more than one finger into me all at once. Two or three, I didn't know; he had small hands. Delicate. Wasn't easy to guess, not with Parker.

I wiggled back against the intrusion, gasping, and he drove them in deeper, until my eyes rolled back. "Parker. Fuck me, Parker. Please, I need, I need--"

"Don't I know exactly what you think you need," Parker said, voice rich and husky against my neck right before he sank his teeth in. He wouldn't suck--the sivos didn't like seeing bruises on me, didn't like the reminder that humans fucked among themselves--but the pain was just as good as the way Parker didn't stop fingering me.

He didn't even stutter with the rhythm he'd established, in and out, in and out, sometimes shallow and sometimes deep but always inside of me. And with his sharp hip grinding against my cock before long, at which point I realized he was just going to get me off like this. Finger me until I came.

"Fuck," I gasped helplessly, grabbing at Parker's arm, lifting one of my legs to wrap it around Parker's waist.

"Is this what you want?" Parker asked, the same feral quality as before glazing his words, dark and dangerous. "Is this--is this what I'm good for, for you?"

I should've said no, but I he'd know I was lying. Too perceptive. "Yes," I said, the word only sticking in my throat a little. I choked on it when I tried to say it again: "Ye--"

Parker's voice wasn't anything but a growl, though he didn't stop finger-fucking me. Didn't let up. "Fucking isn't all I'm good for," he said, but his cock was hard; he didn't hate it. "I'm not just--just this--fulfillment machine you can keep around because it's convenient."

The thing I wanted to tell him was that I wasn't, either. I wasn't a dumbass; I knew why he'd ended up fucking me when Mitchell got caught. Capturted. But I purely didn't give a fuck, didn't give a good goddamn, didn't care at all about anything but Parker right here, right now. "Please," I begged, almost sobbing the word out. I wrapped my arm around Parker's waist, curled to bury my face against his chest. "Please, please, please."

"You're a bastard," Parker said, hissing the words out over the back of my neck. "You're a fucking bastard and I-- oh fuck."

I squeezed his cock harder between my fingers, jerking myself and him off with the same brutal grip and pace. We moaned together and he shook, his fingers finally stuttering. It was good to feel that, good to be reminded that he was human and he needed this as much as I did. Because he didn't stop me; he didn't say another word, just moaning, hips jerking, fingers still fucking me.

My own pleasure was like embers with Parker fanning them. Cool embers, thanks to the orgasm not that long ago, but warming the longer it kept up. I could just about feel them glowing, see them glowing behind my closed eyes. Parker's fingers pressed in and in, and I realized that he must be using all four, if he was getting that deep--he was one thumb short of fisting me--and that realization was a bellows right on those embers.

I came with a strangled noise, fuck fuck fuck fuck, only it was so high and breathless that my words were barely audible over Parker's steady encouragement. "Come for me, come for me, that's it, that's it," straight through my orgasm, my own hand milking my cock as Parker finally stopped fucking me with his fingers.

He wiped them on the towel we kept nearby and then wrapped his hand around mine, around his cock, and moved my hand for me. I'd stopped, somewhere in the middle of the orgasm, somewhere in the middle of the wildfire burning through me.

"Fuck, Lyle, fuck," Parker said, like he didn't even know what he was saying. His breath was still hot against the back of my neck, though now it made me shiver. But I kept my eyes open, kept watching our hands together over his cock.

It wasn't small, Parker's cock. Almost bigger than mine, but not so thick, but long enough to get deep and I could only remember the way it felt inside of me, the way he convulsed around me as he came.

This orgasm wasn't as hard, or he was too tired to convulse, because when he came it was almost silent, words trailing off into wordless gasping. His hand around mine slowed, tightening painfully, and Parker came on my face. Probably not on purpose, but the first two shots went up that far, one kind of up my nose and the other on my chin.

I lasted for long enough that he'd unwrapped his hand before I sneezed, and his spunk went fucking everywhere. We both sat there for a second like we couldn't believe it happened, and then I sneezed again and felt the last of his come go out of my nose that time.

"Gross," he mumbled, reaching for my undershirt to clean off my face. I took it from him and kept wiping, just trying to make damn sure there wasn't any more jizz up my nose. He went for the towel to clean off our bodies of the globby bits.

"Yeah," I agreed, sitting up, dragging in breaths through my mouth. I made it to my feet--only a little unsteady--while he was still wiping himself off. So meticulous with being clean; I guessed it was probably a pet thing. Didn't matter much to me, though.

It did seem like a fitting end for our sexual relationship, somehow. Grossness and all.


Title: Beachside Living
Prompt: 3. Word: Fallen, 6. Place: Beach
Word Count: 1285
Rating: NC-17
Original/Fandom: Fanfic/original remix thing.
Pairings (if any): Frederick/Ashe
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): sex!
Summary: Living on the beach is fun!

The very first time Ashe had spent the entire day down at the beach, he had ended up red as a lobster and in terrific pain. Luckily it's been long enough by the time that Frederick shows up that Ashe is well-practiced at putting on sunscreen--he can even get his entire back by himself.

But it feels nice to have Frederick's broad hands rubbing the oily semi-fluid over Ashe's muscles, to feel those strong fingers digging in, pressing here and there up and down Ashe's back probably far, far longer than necessary. Ashe feels languid and relaxed, the way he used to after the massages Frederick used to give, enough to lean back against Frederick and trust him to catch Ashe, then roll his face back and look up the tall, dark, and handsome man that he--

"Why did you stop giving me massages?" he asks. (He still remembers them. Remembers the hand down his back and shhh the most, but also that bone-deep feeling of just being loose too.)

Frederick presses a peck of a kiss against Ashe's lips. "You stopped needing them, after awhile. You weren't tense all the time, so I stopped then, because I'd rather spend more energy on foreplay than massage." As he talks, he rubs his hands up and down Ashe's sides, digging into muscle in the most delicious way.

"Massage is foreplay," Ashe says, sighing and leaning more heavily against Frederick.

"Is it?" Frederick asks, and digs his thumbs into Ashe's lower back and presses up Ashe's back slow, slow, slow. "Your opinion's noted. I'll give you another massage again soon."

"Now," Ashe says happily, all thoughts of the beach forgotten.

Frederick laughs, because he's like this denial machine that will give Ashe everything he wants but never when Ashe asks for it. He saves up ideas like currency and doles them out when Ashe least expects.

Not that Ashe minds, except times like this when he suddenly wants something so bad he can taste it and Frederick's only response is to help Ashe into an upright position once more and pull away. Frederick follows that by putting the tube of sunscreen in Ashe's hand, smiling. He then turns around so that Ashe is faced with the idea of complaining to the broad, gorgeous expanse of Frederick's amazing back muscles.

"You always get your way, don't you?" Ashe grumbles, squirting some sunscreen into his palm and rubbing his palms together until it's warm. Frederick still jumps a little when Ashe touches his hands to Frederick's shoulder blades and rubs outward from there. He covers the backs of Frederick's arms--he watched Frederick do that area inadequately earlier--and his neck, then down the center of his back and rubbing his hands back up again and beginning to rub in lotion here and there.

It's an incredibly sensual process. He's never given Frederick a massage before, but he thinks he might want to try sometime, might want to find an excuse. Especially with the way that Frederick moans, leaning back against the pressing of Ashe's fingers.

Ashe thinks for long moments about letting Frederick fall flat on his ass, but he's not that much of a jerk. Not when it's so--things aren't certain yet. It's like beginning their relationship over again, in some ways.

So he's not willing to fuck with things yet, and finishes Frederick's back without incident, sliding his hands around to Frederick's front and dipping one inside Frederick's swim trunks to cup his fingers around the growing halfie Frederick's sporting.

"Nice," Ashe whispers in Frederick's ear, and squeezes.

This time Frederick's moan is throatier, with less breath in it. "I thought we were going to the beach," he says, but not like he really minds.

"The sunscreen needs to dry," Ashe says, grinning. He planned this well, yes he did. "Half an hour or so should do it, and if we wait until it's dry to leave we'll end up with less sand sticking to us."

"Ah," Frederick sighs the word out, reaches back to cup one hand around Ashe's ass and pull Ashe's hips forward against the curve of one of Frederick's cheeks ass cheeks. "Sweating won't mess things up?"

"It's oil-based," Ashe says, though sweating won't exactly help.

"Mmm. We'll have to be careful, though. Don't want anyone getting burnt."

He says it like he knows that Ashe has been burnt, but he also squeezes Ashe's ass when he says it and yeah, okay, coherent thoughts are laughable right now. Ashe bites down on Frederick's ear, then whispers, "Or just touch places we didn't sunscreen," and pulls his hips away from Frederick's.

Just enough that he can move around to the side and slide his other hand down the back of Frederick's trunks. He'll need them tighter for the ocean, Ashe knows that by now, but he didn't make Frederick tighten them earlier on purpose.

Frederick moans when Ashe lets one sunscreen-slick finger slide between the cheeks of his ass--it's all-natural stuff, not burny at all; Ashe has used it for lube when fingering himself on the beach. He teases relentlessly, loose grip and just letting his middle finger slide up and down the cleft until Frederick's working his hips between Ashe's fingers, trying to get him to do more.

Cursing him, low and steady, one arm around Ashe's waist, fingers gripping Ashe's trunks. "Fuck Ashe just--let me finger you too." Ashe is just beginning to think something on the lines of maybe when Frederick adds, "You're using that sunscreen, aren't you?" and picks it up off of the table where Ashe set it, unties the lacing on Ashe's trunks, and slides sunscreen-slick fingers into the back of Ashe's shorts.

The first touch of Frederick's fingers makes Ashe gasp--he didn't bother with warming it up--but by the time Frederick gets a finger inside of Ashe he's pressing back against it. Fingering Frederick, too, thumb and forefinger of his other hand wrapped around the base of Frederick's cock as the rest of his fingers cup Frederick's balls.

"Red," Ashe says against Frederick's shoulder, grinding his hips against Frederick's hip while Frederick's hips move desperately back against Ashe's fingers. It's like that for a few minutes--Ashe saying Red and Frederick saying Fuck and Ashe and Damn until he quits being able to come up with coherent words.

Then it's all ffff and ahhh and fffddahhh, with emphasis on the AHH as Ashe begins to move the hand on Frederick's cock. It's easier to not get lost in his own pleasure when he's trying to both finger and jack Frederick off at the same time, so Ashe doesn't really... it feels good, but not distracting, not badly, until Frederick's all but shouting Ashe's name, his jerking unsteadily, his free hand gripping the arm of the hand that's jacking Frederick off.

It's when Frederick's shivering and cursing that Ashe really feels it. He feels the effects of being fingered for close to twenty minutes, of grinding his hips against Frederick's hip-slash-leg and of just--"Red," Ashe says, almost swallowing the word, choking on it as he comes.

They both go to their knees--falling, yeah, and it's funny, the idea they've both fallen to their knees for each other--and Ashe leans against Frederick and Frederick leans against Ashe and Ashe does not catch his breath first.

"Beach later?" he asks, when he does.

"Fuck," Frederick says, laughs, and shakes his head. "No, beach now."

Ashe just accepts here and now that they're going to have funny looking burns by tomorrow, and decides he doesn't give a shit.


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