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

[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!