Pervy Slash Whore

for bloominbabylon:

BanaBloom:

His hands are so huge, it feels like he could crush me with a careless gesture. Power, coiled in those bronzed muscles, courting danger.

I'm not going to get hurt, of course. Eric's always graceful, careful, kind. Aware of himself, of the space he fills, of his physical advantage. Full of restraint.

The way he touches me is frustratingly reverent, as if I were a fragile thing. I have to get him drunk before he'll ravage me the way I want, biting, squeezing, bruising me with those huge hands.

I want his marks on my body. I'm the dangerous one.


VigOrli:

Sometimes I wish I could freeze him, capture him in crystal, save him away forever. Just to have him be still for one moment when I could look at him when he's not asleep. Take in the color of his eyes, the texture of his skin, the small flaws in his face. The strength of his muscles, the tendons in his arms, the scar on his spine. All the bits and parts that make up Orlando.

Film is the best I can do and even that fails. He is nothing without movement, without life. Beauty frozen; appreciated, maybe, but dead.


Aragorn/Legolas:

The weight of time has barely brushed me in the last three thousand years, yet I know that I will always feel I did not have enough time with him. The Halls of Mandos will drive me mad with their silence when his footsteps fail to echo. I cannot leave these shores; I cannot leave him. I have heard the cry of the gulls and stopped my ears. If we survive this darkness, if the Enemy does not destroy us all, I will tell him.

We will never have enough time, but I will not squander what little we have.


Paris/Hector:

My big brother Hector thinks this war is going to be difficult to win. He has no faith in deities, only in men. He will not honor the gods unless Father demands it, and he refuses to make offerings to the goddesses.

He is the grown up one, with wife and child. Finished dabbling with boys, settled down to the serious business of defending Troy. For me, though, he bends over, moaning in heat. All it takes is a certain look and he comes running, full of guilt, shame, and lust.

See how much it pays to honor the goddesses?



Excellent writing exercise - if anyone else wants one, it's not too late!