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Idea shamelessly stolen from

fox1013:

So, the election results are sad. And frustrating. And make me want to either curl up and cry or start riots and set things on fire.

Therefore, we should do fun, distracting things. Things like... fluff! And porn! So request a drabble from me, and I'll write it for you. Any fandom, any pairing (as long as I know the fandom, which means pretty much only YnM or BtVS/Angel, but if you happen to have seen me talking about something else too, feel free to ask for it). I can't promise they'll be good, because I have OMG SO BUSY, but... fluffy porn! Yay!

And you should make the same offer, so I can request things from y'all. ^_^

Current Mood: silly

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

mistressrenet.livejournal.com

ClubSoka.

From:

wordsofastory.livejournal.com

Hisoka is annoyed, and irritated, and angry. There's not even a reason for it, or maybe there's a million small ones; school and his family and how stupid most people are and the gagging bitterness of alcohol and deepening cold of the days and nights, so that sometimes, when he comes home so late that it's early, frost glitters on the dead grass like the scattered silver chains of a broken necklace.

He doesn't care about why, though, just that he is. Reasons wouldn't make a difference, even if he had the patience to sort them out. Action is much better, action like this: kissing someone, knotting his fingers through hair to hold him close, the shift of legs and hips under Hisoka as the man restlessly tries to jerk upwards. His chest and shoulders are broad, but they taper down into a narrow waist, so Hisoka can sit on his lap comfortably, knees spread to rest on either side of his thighs. One of the man's hands is curled into Hisoka's waistband, fingertips dipping inside to brush the skin and keep him close. The other is restless, sliding down Hisoka's back before lifting to touch his face, his arm, his chest.

Hisoka turns his head, hungrily kissing across the man's cheek. He lifts his chin with a stifled moan, and Hisoka ducks down to trace the vein in his neck with his teeth. Hisoka can feel the hurried pulse beneath the skin through his mouth nearly as well as he can feel it with his empathy, a stream of sucking need that he longs to throw himself into. It's attractive in a sick, self-destructive way, as if sex or infatuation might actually be enough to make him feel adequate for once.

Stupid as it is, Hisoka just wants someone to want him. And oh, how this man wants. He looks at Hisoka through nearly closed eyes, violet shining beneath thick lashes, and it's like being worshipped. He breathes need, trails craving with his fingers across Hisoka's skin, and Hisoka curves into the touch involuntarily.

"Say something," Hisoka says, dropping his hands to smooth down the man's chest and tap his thighs, to press against his lower stomach.

He licks his lips, panting. "Wonderful. Beautiful. Please-" he bends to kiss Hisoka's shoulder, and the words come out muffled by the noise of the club and the press of his mouth against the skin. Hisoka runs a hand down through his hair, and further to the warm skin of his neck, the knob at the top of his spine, the smooth bow of his back. "I want this. Please."

He seems so lonely and hopeless that Hisoka almost feels guilty. But mostly he feels cynically vindicated, as if the fact that even someone this lovely and perfect is broken is just further proof of the world's unfairness and injustice. He's not cruel though, at least not right now when this man is the only thing that feels at all good, so he cups his face and leans back, staring into his striking eyes.

"Let's get out of here," Hisoka says quietly before kissing him. The man, his mouth closed by Hisoka's, agrees.