bleh.

[schmerica]

Man, I am all out of the soda and salty junk food I bought myself to get through my period. Sad! And now I'm at the point where I'm not in much pain, except for how my head feels tight and I want to cry for no reason.

So, uh. You know. Anyone want to play comment tag with sentences or paragraphs of fic? Or do something else dorky and entertaining? I'm always up for Cliff/Shag/Marry. Or screencaps! Whatever.

*cuddles kitten sullenly*

Comments

[etben.livejournal.com]

That night, at dinner, Harry's talking to one of their old family friends. He can't remember the name, but it's someone important, someone influential down at one of the big art museums. Harry's all set to be resentful, angry at Clara and Ralph for interfering like this, but he keeps remembering the look in Ralph's eyes, the way Clara's face had gone still and silent, and he listens to the elderly gentleman in the nice suit without comment.

Then, too, Clara's hand is wrapped around his cock, squeezing tighter with every pass, and that keeps him from saying anything too tremendously offensive, or anything at all, really.

Afterwards, Ralph catches him in the hallway, on his way back from checking to see if the library had a copy of [something suitably intellectual; my brain is dead] to loan to Miss Merriwether.

"You're developing quite the following, Harry," Ralph says, taking the book out of his hand and setting it on one of the million tables the house seems to have.

"It's all because of you," Harry replies, stepping back from Ralph until they're tucked in a corner. Ralph smiles, and the light against his profile is subtle and vicious and beautiful.

"I'm glad you remember that," he says, and then he's leaning in, kissing Harry fiercely, pinning him against the wall with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cock.

(have I told you today how much I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS? because, OMG HEARTS)

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

...okay, I have to admit, I am totally blanking on anymore ideas of where to take this. Instead I am just rolling around joyously over and over in the fruits of your NUMMY NUMMY BRAIN. My goodness. Oh, HARRY and CLARA and RALPH and NNRRRRRGH.

[etben.livejournal.com]

dude, my brain is nothing compared to your fandom. the glee is UNENDING OMG.

...we could write the bits you talked about earlier? with Clara talking Harry through a blowjob, or with Ralph giving running commentary on Harry and Clara having sex? please? because I kind of think this bit of it has reached its end, or at leas an end of some sort.

*puppy eyes*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Mmmmmmm, yes. I think they would all be fully dressed, to begin with, maybe in a bedroom. Ralph is lounging in an armchair, and Clara is sitting cross-legged on the bed, perfect posture, like a queen looking over her kingdom, talking to Harry, who's standing between them.

"It's a skill, darling, so you can't expect to be good at it right away," Clara is saying to Harry, kindly, and Ralph smiles to himself and spreads his legs apart a little more, stretching the fine fabric of his trousers across his crotch.

[etben.livejournal.com]

And Harry wants to protest, but the fact of the matter is that he hasn't done this before, hasn't even imagined doing this—wanting it—before now.

He knows what it's like from the other side, of course. The first one had been Jane, the girl from the club that Max and George had taken him to, the night he'd sold his first painting. Her mouth had been wet and slick and warm, and the idea of what he was doing combined with the thing itself had been more than enough to send him over the edge. There'd been a few more in the intervening years: Alice and May and Henrietta, girls who wanted to be daring and dirty and scandalous, pushed past their inhibitions by the desire to escape their lives.

Then, Ralph and Clara. Clara first, of course; she goes first in most things, leaving Ralph to clear up her messes with sharp, cutting comments. She'd arranged him on the bed, one of their first nights, smiled at him with bright teeth and told him to stay put, there's a dear boy. He hadn't dared breathe, even, watching her move down his body and wrap her mouth around him.

"Oh, Harry," she'd said afterwards, "Ralph will be so jealous."

The next day, Ralph had caught up with him in the library, all dark eyes and devil-may-care smile; he'd pinned Harry to the wall and sucked his cock with devastating speed and talent, leaving Harry weak-kneed and clinging to the shelves, books sprawled at his feet, their covers creased and cracked.

"Clara was right," he'd said, cleaning Harry up briskly and impersonally.

For a long minute, Harry's throat had been too dry to speak. "She usually is," he'd croaked, finally, and Ralph had turned in the doorframe to smile at him, silent and impossible.

[um. yay flashback? sorry, I went on something of a tangent there...]

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Dude, this whole thing is kind of a tangent, you know? OWN IT. (Also, um, HEART. I thought we were going to try a different pov, but this is just as good. <3)

And this -- this was Clara's idea, as it was always was (or, at the very least, she was the one who always uttered them out loud). "I think you'd rather enjoy it," she had said. "I know Ralph and I will..." She trailed off, smiling at him, and had ruffled his hair a little.

Harry could think of any number of reasons to say yes, and only one reason to say no.

"Are we going to start any time soon?" Ralph said. Harry couldn't help grinning at him, matching his own expression, but Clara gave him an icy glare.

"No talking, Ralph," she said firmly. "You know better."

[etben.livejournal.com]

[dude. this fandom is a tangent. and sorry about changing the POV on you - or, rather, on failing to pick up your POV change. If you want to change it for reals, just give me a poke; we can totally do that.]

Ralph sighed, shifting in his chair; the play of the light across his trousers made Harry's fingers itch for a pencil, made his mouth water for other reasons entirely.

"Ignore him, dear," Clara murmurs, pressing herself against his back and slipping her arms around him. "He's only trying to distract you; he always does." One glance at Ralph's face is enough to confirm her words; Ralph is still smiling, but Harry can see the tension in his neck and shoulders, the desperation in the restless involuntary movement of his hips.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

"Just let us know when you're ready, Harry," Clara says, squeezing him, her breasts and hips tight against him. "We don't want to rush you into anything."

Ralph's eyes don't leave Harry's the entire time Clara is speaking.

Harry doesn't break eye contact as he says, "I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Clara says, and her body is gone from his again just like that. "Now, darling. Kneel down."

[etben.livejournal.com]

Harry steps forward, folds to his knees with a little less control than he'd like, rests his hands on Ralph's legs, just above the knee. Clara's talking, still, but it's hard for Harry to focus on her voice - he keeps being distracted by the shape of Ralph under his hands, the fine tremors he can feel in the muscle, the slide of cloth over skin.

It's a good thing he's never been interested in sculpture, really; no stone or clay could ever capture this, and he'd be forever frustrated.

"Harry!" Clara says, and he snaps back to reality, jerking his head up from where he's been leaning towards Ralph. "Harry, dear," she says again, "If you don't want to, that's quite all right—"

"I want to," he says, and he does, he does; his throat is tight and dry with how much and how suddenly he wants this.

He doesn't need to see Clara's face to know she's smiling; the pressure of her hand on the back of his head is benediction enough.

"All right, then, dear," she says, "but you'll have to pay attention."

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

He nods, a little too quickly; he feels completely off-balance here.

"You can unbutton his fly now," Clara says.

Harry looks up and sees Ralph's face, the way he's staring at him, the way his fists are curled against the arms of the chair. He looks back down immediately and moves his hands to the front of Ralph's trousers.

[etben.livejournal.com]

Harry knows this - he's been where Ralph is, pinned to the chair by Clara's eyes, waiting and wanting and wanting to wait, wanting to see how long Clara will draw this out, how long she can hold back. Harry's been the man in the chair, staring down at the stark pale of hands on dark trousers. He knows what it feels like, the awkward backwards fumble of someone else's fingers opening his trousers, the way familiar actions feel entirely different when he isn't in control, the relief (only it isn't relief, not in any way that matters) of fabric pushed aside.

When he's done, though, and staring at Ralph's cock, he has to pause, because this - this is different, unfamiliar, impossible.

This, he doesn't know at all.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

<3<3<3

I'm going to be leaving for long day of traveling soon, and then I'm going to be HOME for HOLIDAYS, complete with parents, grandparents and little sister, so I'm not sure how long it will take me to tag you back. But, bwee!