WIP Wednesday [2020-04-15]

[thrillingdetectivetales]

WIP Wednesday!



Here it is y'all! Let us know what you're working on, chat about ideas for new projects, ask for feedback on old projects that have gotten stuck—we welcome it all!

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Generation Kill PWP in progress...

[thrillingdetectivetales]

I'm working on a PWP for an LLSS prompt and though I imagine it will remain fairly short I'm really pleased with how it's turning out so far.

It's a nice, lazy morning, and Ray might be content to finish this way if Nate would just surrender to sleeping in the nude, as God intended, but there's a layer of slippery, moisture-wicking whatever-the-fuck fabric between them and Ray is too old to come without dicks touching, at least a little.

He hooks a finger under Nate's waistband and mutters, "Off," against his mouth. Nate hums into the kiss and complies, tugging his underwear down as soon as Ray clambers far enough out of the way for him to manage. He makes a pretty picture, the LT—ex-LT, technically, Ray supposes, but old habits die hard—all splayed out like a Greek statue against their rumpled sheets. He's sleek and lean, same as he was in the Corps, with a sweet pink flush spilling down his throat and staining his chest. His big blue eyes are hooded and glossy, mouth wet and bee-stung from Ray's attentions, his standard choirboy neatness all mussed and thoroughly debauched. Ray curls a hand over Nate's knee and slides it up his thigh, brushing the sparse hair in the wrong direction and reveling in the way Nate shivers.

"I know we've talked about it before, but I really think we could make bank doing gay pornos," Ray says, arching his eyebrows enticingly.

Nate snorts and tucks his arms under his head, beating the pillow into place as he does so. "I thought we put that idea to bed when you couldn't decide on a porn star name."

"You try picking between Dick Bigger and Fist Jaxem and see how far you get."

Johnny/Bull Post War

[muccamukk]

Which I wrote like 2k of last night, which is def what I should have been doing. Yup.

Johnny tugged Bull into the room that was half a guest room, and already half a nursery and dropped his ruck at the foot of the bed. Bull stood in the doorway, and Johnny recognised the look of a man too shocked and exhausted to move another step. He let his fingers trail over Bull's bicep as he left, feeling the muscles under his jacket as strong as ever.

"I'll get you some towels," Johnny said, and ran into Pat in the hallway, her arms already full of linens. Instead of handing them over to Johnny, she jerked her head towards the kitchen. Johnny followed her.

"Pat," he started, his voice just a whisper, even though the whole situation made him feel like screaming. "Pat, love, we can't turn him out, not in the shape he's in."

Pat shoved the towels into Johnny's hands and folded her arms. Her breasts pressed against the threadbare cotton of her favourite nightie, and Johnny tried not to think of the show she'd given Bull. "Course we're not turning him out," Pat answered in an equally heated whisper. "But he's been in a hell of a tangle, and recently. You better find out if he's got trouble riding in on his heels."

It only showed how absolutely befuddled Johnny had been by the whole situation that he hadn't thought of that yet. "And if he does?" Johnny asked, knowing that he was even less likely to cast Bull out on is own if there was another fight coming, at the same time as he realised that that decision wasn't holding up his duty as the man who'd promised to love honour and protect his wife no matter what came. He just prayed that she wouldn't ask that of him.

Pat sighed, like she expected better from Johnny, which was probably only fair. "Then we'll need to be ready," she explained patently.

"Right," Johnny said, and took the towels back into the spare room.