Horror/Thriller - Joker - fürs Team
Aug. 30th, 2012 09:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nessaniel.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
120_minutenTeam: Dickinson
Autor: nessaniel
Titel: Budapest is naked
Challenge:Horror/Thriller – Joker – zu dieser Fic von ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leni – fürs Team
Fandom: Avengers – Marvel Cinematic Universe
Charaktere/Pairing: Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow / Clint Barton aka Hawkeye
Disclaimer: Alles gehört Marvel. Ja, wirklich alles, auch meine unsterbliche Seele.
Kommentar: Story is in English! Sadly no beta reader was available so you have to bear with my silly mistakes. Oh and we have a very graphic f/m-sex scene with a wee bit of bloodplay (when did I start writing these...O.o) and fail!anatomy, so don’t like don’t read? (And oh my friggin' God this sucked the life out of me, I'm so happy this is done..)
Budapest is naked
„I hate you.“ Natasha said, while shooting through the gaps between two wooden planks that formed the meek excuse of a door. “First, you ruin my observation and then you lead us out here into the most forsaken place in all of Russia. Which is saying something, believe me, I’ve been everywhere.”
Some bullets flew over her head – Natasha cursed loudly. “I miss those days where seducing the rich guy got the job done.”
"You were the one who said 'Oh, that's going to be easy!'... you jinxed it!", Clint grumbled while he took apart a table and provisionally barred the door with the remains. “This is not going to hold them back forever... we need backup.”
“Of course we need backup, genius” she scowled, while shoving two planks behind the turned up table to reinforce the improvised barrier. “They are probably coming already. Coulson had us supervised like babies.” Which in retrospect might not have been a bad idea seeing how well this particular mission played out. Natasha hated being defeated and she grumbled and cursed her way through the old abandoned warehouse. “Come on, up here” she demanded and pointed to a hole in the lower ceiling. “We can climb this and take them one by one if they swarm in.” Until those goons would try to shoot directly into the ceiling but Tasha preferred not to think about that until the problem arouse. She jumped, grabbed one of the lower handlings and hauled herself upward. “What are you waiting for? I’m not carrying you again!”
She heard him scoff behind her. "Again? That never happened... officially."
Despite the circumstances she smiled.
While Clint was climbing up by himself, Tasha took a look around, making sure there were no holes or hidden entries to their stakeout before she covered every gap in the ground with straw she found in a corner. It was hasty and badly done but better than nothing.
She turned around only to see Clint smirking at her, while he sat down with a groan.
“How’s your leg, Tasha?” he asked.
“It’s nothing” she said dismissing Clint’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Bit of a bruise, the uniform took most of the impact.” She sat down next to him – and although it was neither the time nor the place, she laughed. “Damn. What a rookie mistake. Right, baby?” She looked at him and for the first time since their hastened escape she saw the amount of blood that had seeped through Clint’s black vest and stained his arms and neck.
“Idiot”, she cursed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
"Well... rookie mistake, that's why", Clint grinned. "Still got a reputation to ruin." He unbuckled his vest and raised his shirt. Tasha was relieved when she noticed that it wasn't as bad as it could've been, but still... this would slow him down immensely. Clint seemed to think so too. He growled and shook his head though not a second later he smiled again. "There should be some tape in my vest pocket... would you mind?” he asked. “Don't wanna bleed all over the new carpet."
Natasha just rolled her eyes. “If they ever kill you, they’ll have to shoot your sassy mouth twice just to make sure it stays dead...” She turned so she could face Clint while searching through his pockets producing a thinly pressed roll of duct tape. “This tape you mean? This didn’t end well the last time...” She didn’t hesitate though and began ripping off stripes with her teeth. “This will hurt” she informed him, before she covered the long cut in his chest with tape. “We need to bring one of those staplers. Hurts like a bitch but it keeps that stubborn skin in place.” She listened but no gunfire could be heard. There pursuers hadn’t given up but maybe they wanted to wait – Tasha and Clint had to come out sooner or later. She sighed, caressing Clint’s bloody chest with quick, heavy strokes. “You are an idiot.”
To her everlasting surprise, Clint agreed.
"I am. Sorry." Clint looked up to her through his lashes and smirked apologetically. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you weren't that damn good at fixing up."
“Yeah right. Too much blood loss makes you woozy.” She smacked him up the head. “Try to keep this head on that neck and everything will be fine.” She sighed, crawled over to his uninjured side and leaned against his shoulder. “We have faced worse”, she said after a moment of silence. “This is just... bad routine. But routine nonetheless.” She wasn’t sure why she kept talking. Clint knew all of this (although sometimes she felt that he depended a bit too much on sheer luck) and she herself didn’t need to be reminded that this was not the terrible Siberian winter or Stalingrad or the concentration camp in Oświęcim. The light started to fade – they’d have some thirty minutes before the sun vanished behind the mountain tops and pitch-black darkness would cover them.
She sat up a little straighter looking at Clint who desperately tried to grin and keep the pain out of his features. Tasha sighed softly while taking his hand and lifting it to her mouth.
Of course this was not Stalingrad.
She had so much more to lose right now.
She kissed his palm.
Clint startled but then his smile grew a bit more confident and less forceful.
"Tasha... thanks", he whispered slowly stroking her cheek with his fingertips, wiping away some grime.
“We are getting shmoopy again” she warned him but she playfully nudged his palm leaning into his caress, while letting her hand wander down to his legs. “What I am about to do right now...what we are about to do...it’s stupid, immature and dangerous” she commented after a while. “Are you aware of that?”
"Sorry... what?" Tasha was surprised. Clint needed longer than usual to understand what she had just suggested. She cocked and eyebrow – and suddenly Clint started to grin. "Oh, that! Sorry, must be the loss of blood. I feel kinda woozy... you're responsible now." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Besides... who cares?"
“Why do I even bother” she sighed, before smiling a little and slowly pushing him down, so she could kneel over him. This was indeed fucking irresponsible but honestly she had fought naked countless times before and those idiots out there weren’t even Spec Ops but mere mercenaries (which made it even more embarrassing that they had been caught but Tasha wasn’t anyone to cry over spilled milk).
And besides, it wasn’t her fault that Clint looked hot with his shirt up to his neck, all vulnerable and exposed.
If Tasha and Clint hadn’t talked about their...very special relationship (as in: not addressed the matter at all but quietly accepted extended hands and sudden groping) she would have been worried about her kinks in this more than inappropriate situation.
But with matters as they were, she just bent down to him, carefully avoiding his injury, and kissing him fully on his lips. She grabbed his wrists with one hand, pinning them to the hard wooden floor above his head while pulling her own zipper down with the other. It went just above her lower abdomen but at least her breasts were free and easier to touch – if she’d allow him to, that was.
Clint gave her a smug smile. "Really - that's what you call responsible?" he said but then he sighed with relish and licked his lips.
Natasha didn’t answer that, instead she worked on getting Clint’s pants open, palming him through the thick fabric of his trousers and briefs. His chest was covered in blood but Natasha decided she couldn’t care less bending forward once again to lick his nipple, tasting sweat, blood and gunpowder, an intoxicating mix to drive her out of her mind. She sighed while licking and sucking at the hard flesh under her tongue, taunting him with an off-beat rhythm to get him closer to the edge.
“You talk too much” she told him after a while finally letting go of his chest – only to open his belt and pulling down his pants and leaving him naked on the floor. Then she took his hand and pressed it against her breast. “You should do more productive things.”
She waited for the snarky comment that was bound to follow her words but Clint said nothing, instead he grasped her breast firmly.
A short moan escaped his throat, as he began massaging her soft, pale skin and he closed his eyes "God, Tasha..." he whispered.
Tasha was surprised how needy he sounded and she felt a shiver cover her whole body as soon as Clint began to touch her. She had lounged for this without even knowing it. She threw her head back because she knew he liked to see her exposed neck and moaned almost inaudibly. Her hand found its way between his legs, settling down on the hard flesh and she heard his needy whimper. Tasha smiled, tracing one of her fingers from Clint’s neck over his chest, around his nipple down his stomach and then with much more pressure over his penis and down to his thigh and his knee. She looked him in the eye, a dirty greedy heat spreading through her body, settling right between her legs. She cursed loudly, bending down again and ravishing his hot, wet mouth while pleasuring him with heavy strokes.
Suddenly she felt him letting go of her breast and sliding his hand down behind her zipper. He grunted when he the fabric didn’t allow him to go further, grabbed her shoulders and slid the thick black cloth down to her waist, revealing her firm, lean body.
A dark growl escaped him, in between moans of her name, making Tasha shiver in response. She had always liked how vocal he was. It fitted him.
Finally his fingertips found a way into her suit – and he started to tease her mercilessly, fingers gliding into her, never deep enough, never staying long enough.
Tasha cursed, she moaned, writhing above him, grinding her hips harder and faster down on him, grinning like mad.
“You won’t get me”, she promised him in the deepest Russian brawl she could do.
Immediately Clint started to howl like a wolf, almost shoving her off with the way he started to thrash beneath her.
“Tasha...Tasha, please...”
He was pleading now, much to her enjoyment. His hands started to shake, a scarce beautiful look on him, the fingers between her thighs seemed unsure of what to do, caressing her, gliding in as deep as they could, using too much pressure but she liked it, loved it, longed for it.
She stilled for a moment, smiling at Clint’s helpless confusion, before she threw herself on the ground next to him, turning him so that he was lying on his uninjured site, guiding his hands back to her body.
The light was almost gone but she could still see his face, mouth half opened, sweat on his brow, eyes wide open, staring at her mouth and neck.
“What are you...?”
She quickly stroked him back into blissful silence, while kissing him and letting herself be touched and rubbed by his shaky fingers.
It didn’t take them long now.
Clint gave up with a scream, arching his back and gasping her name and “God, GOD!” multiple times.
Seeing him like this made her go crazy herself. Quickly she batted his hand away, putting her own hand to good use, rubbing, caressing, fingering herself like countless times before...
And then she felt it, felt the heat and pressure in her lower abdomen rising to its highest point...
She started shaking, thrashing on the ground, her toes curling and those seconds of not thinking anything, those three or five or ten seconds of blankness stretching out inside her mind, cloaking her whole body.
Three or five – and then her mind kicked back in, analyzing the heavy steps in the room below their hideout, counting the numbers of their enemies, measuring the fastest route out of the warehouse, listening to the faint whoosh of rotor blades a mere forty-seven seconds away, thinking, thinking, thinking...
When Clint was finally able to crawl over to the hole through which they had climbed earlier, Tasha had already taken down three of the men, firing her gun and shouting curses and obscenities to confuse the goons, kicking, slamming her fists down on heads and necks.
“You finally awake, princess?” she shouted at him, when Clint shot his last arrow to stop a man in midair threatening to jump on Tasha from behind.
“It’s your fault!” he quipped. “You forgot to kiss me!”
“Always something to complain...”
The helicopter was only four seconds away when the last of the men fell dead on the floor.
Tasha and Clint stood on opposite sides of the room, facing each other over the mass of bodies.
Clint was grinning again.
“You hearing that?” he asked while the chopper was roaring right above them.
Tasha didn’t roll her eyes. “Yeah. Must be the babysitters.”
Clint nodded and his grin grew wider. “You get to explain this mess to Coulson.”
Then he closed his eyes and passed out, landing on the floor with a thud, his body exhausted from blood loss and sex and fighting too much.
Tasha smiled as she rushed to his side, kneeling down and carefully pulling his body onto her legs. She petted him, while a dozen SHIELD soldiers barged in through the front door, Coulson hard on their heels.
She looked at him, a dreamy expression on her face.
“Do you care to explain why this took so long?” Coulson asked his face still as ever but she could see the worry in his eyes as he checked Clint over with a quick look.
“No”, she answered. “Make sure he is alright.”
Coulson said nothing, just nodded. He stood aside so the paramedic could rush to Clint’s side and immediately ordered for him to be put on a stretcher.
Tasha watched as they carried him to the helicopter, declining the outstretched hand one of the soldiers offered her.
As she stood up, Coulson discreetly cleared his throat.
“You should tell him to at least close his fly during fights. It’s not very... professional” he said quietly.
Natasha just laughed on her way out.
- End
Autor: nessaniel
Titel: Budapest is naked
Challenge:
leni – fürs TeamFandom: Avengers – Marvel Cinematic Universe
Charaktere/Pairing: Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow / Clint Barton aka Hawkeye
Disclaimer: Alles gehört Marvel. Ja, wirklich alles, auch meine unsterbliche Seele.
Kommentar: Story is in English! Sadly no beta reader was available so you have to bear with my silly mistakes. Oh and we have a very graphic f/m-sex scene with a wee bit of bloodplay (when did I start writing these...O.o) and fail!anatomy, so don’t like don’t read? (And oh my friggin' God this sucked the life out of me, I'm so happy this is done..)
Budapest is naked
„I hate you.“ Natasha said, while shooting through the gaps between two wooden planks that formed the meek excuse of a door. “First, you ruin my observation and then you lead us out here into the most forsaken place in all of Russia. Which is saying something, believe me, I’ve been everywhere.”
Some bullets flew over her head – Natasha cursed loudly. “I miss those days where seducing the rich guy got the job done.”
"You were the one who said 'Oh, that's going to be easy!'... you jinxed it!", Clint grumbled while he took apart a table and provisionally barred the door with the remains. “This is not going to hold them back forever... we need backup.”
“Of course we need backup, genius” she scowled, while shoving two planks behind the turned up table to reinforce the improvised barrier. “They are probably coming already. Coulson had us supervised like babies.” Which in retrospect might not have been a bad idea seeing how well this particular mission played out. Natasha hated being defeated and she grumbled and cursed her way through the old abandoned warehouse. “Come on, up here” she demanded and pointed to a hole in the lower ceiling. “We can climb this and take them one by one if they swarm in.” Until those goons would try to shoot directly into the ceiling but Tasha preferred not to think about that until the problem arouse. She jumped, grabbed one of the lower handlings and hauled herself upward. “What are you waiting for? I’m not carrying you again!”
She heard him scoff behind her. "Again? That never happened... officially."
Despite the circumstances she smiled.
While Clint was climbing up by himself, Tasha took a look around, making sure there were no holes or hidden entries to their stakeout before she covered every gap in the ground with straw she found in a corner. It was hasty and badly done but better than nothing.
She turned around only to see Clint smirking at her, while he sat down with a groan.
“How’s your leg, Tasha?” he asked.
“It’s nothing” she said dismissing Clint’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Bit of a bruise, the uniform took most of the impact.” She sat down next to him – and although it was neither the time nor the place, she laughed. “Damn. What a rookie mistake. Right, baby?” She looked at him and for the first time since their hastened escape she saw the amount of blood that had seeped through Clint’s black vest and stained his arms and neck.
“Idiot”, she cursed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
"Well... rookie mistake, that's why", Clint grinned. "Still got a reputation to ruin." He unbuckled his vest and raised his shirt. Tasha was relieved when she noticed that it wasn't as bad as it could've been, but still... this would slow him down immensely. Clint seemed to think so too. He growled and shook his head though not a second later he smiled again. "There should be some tape in my vest pocket... would you mind?” he asked. “Don't wanna bleed all over the new carpet."
Natasha just rolled her eyes. “If they ever kill you, they’ll have to shoot your sassy mouth twice just to make sure it stays dead...” She turned so she could face Clint while searching through his pockets producing a thinly pressed roll of duct tape. “This tape you mean? This didn’t end well the last time...” She didn’t hesitate though and began ripping off stripes with her teeth. “This will hurt” she informed him, before she covered the long cut in his chest with tape. “We need to bring one of those staplers. Hurts like a bitch but it keeps that stubborn skin in place.” She listened but no gunfire could be heard. There pursuers hadn’t given up but maybe they wanted to wait – Tasha and Clint had to come out sooner or later. She sighed, caressing Clint’s bloody chest with quick, heavy strokes. “You are an idiot.”
To her everlasting surprise, Clint agreed.
"I am. Sorry." Clint looked up to her through his lashes and smirked apologetically. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you weren't that damn good at fixing up."
“Yeah right. Too much blood loss makes you woozy.” She smacked him up the head. “Try to keep this head on that neck and everything will be fine.” She sighed, crawled over to his uninjured side and leaned against his shoulder. “We have faced worse”, she said after a moment of silence. “This is just... bad routine. But routine nonetheless.” She wasn’t sure why she kept talking. Clint knew all of this (although sometimes she felt that he depended a bit too much on sheer luck) and she herself didn’t need to be reminded that this was not the terrible Siberian winter or Stalingrad or the concentration camp in Oświęcim. The light started to fade – they’d have some thirty minutes before the sun vanished behind the mountain tops and pitch-black darkness would cover them.
She sat up a little straighter looking at Clint who desperately tried to grin and keep the pain out of his features. Tasha sighed softly while taking his hand and lifting it to her mouth.
Of course this was not Stalingrad.
She had so much more to lose right now.
She kissed his palm.
Clint startled but then his smile grew a bit more confident and less forceful.
"Tasha... thanks", he whispered slowly stroking her cheek with his fingertips, wiping away some grime.
“We are getting shmoopy again” she warned him but she playfully nudged his palm leaning into his caress, while letting her hand wander down to his legs. “What I am about to do right now...what we are about to do...it’s stupid, immature and dangerous” she commented after a while. “Are you aware of that?”
"Sorry... what?" Tasha was surprised. Clint needed longer than usual to understand what she had just suggested. She cocked and eyebrow – and suddenly Clint started to grin. "Oh, that! Sorry, must be the loss of blood. I feel kinda woozy... you're responsible now." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Besides... who cares?"
“Why do I even bother” she sighed, before smiling a little and slowly pushing him down, so she could kneel over him. This was indeed fucking irresponsible but honestly she had fought naked countless times before and those idiots out there weren’t even Spec Ops but mere mercenaries (which made it even more embarrassing that they had been caught but Tasha wasn’t anyone to cry over spilled milk).
And besides, it wasn’t her fault that Clint looked hot with his shirt up to his neck, all vulnerable and exposed.
If Tasha and Clint hadn’t talked about their...very special relationship (as in: not addressed the matter at all but quietly accepted extended hands and sudden groping) she would have been worried about her kinks in this more than inappropriate situation.
But with matters as they were, she just bent down to him, carefully avoiding his injury, and kissing him fully on his lips. She grabbed his wrists with one hand, pinning them to the hard wooden floor above his head while pulling her own zipper down with the other. It went just above her lower abdomen but at least her breasts were free and easier to touch – if she’d allow him to, that was.
Clint gave her a smug smile. "Really - that's what you call responsible?" he said but then he sighed with relish and licked his lips.
Natasha didn’t answer that, instead she worked on getting Clint’s pants open, palming him through the thick fabric of his trousers and briefs. His chest was covered in blood but Natasha decided she couldn’t care less bending forward once again to lick his nipple, tasting sweat, blood and gunpowder, an intoxicating mix to drive her out of her mind. She sighed while licking and sucking at the hard flesh under her tongue, taunting him with an off-beat rhythm to get him closer to the edge.
“You talk too much” she told him after a while finally letting go of his chest – only to open his belt and pulling down his pants and leaving him naked on the floor. Then she took his hand and pressed it against her breast. “You should do more productive things.”
She waited for the snarky comment that was bound to follow her words but Clint said nothing, instead he grasped her breast firmly.
A short moan escaped his throat, as he began massaging her soft, pale skin and he closed his eyes "God, Tasha..." he whispered.
Tasha was surprised how needy he sounded and she felt a shiver cover her whole body as soon as Clint began to touch her. She had lounged for this without even knowing it. She threw her head back because she knew he liked to see her exposed neck and moaned almost inaudibly. Her hand found its way between his legs, settling down on the hard flesh and she heard his needy whimper. Tasha smiled, tracing one of her fingers from Clint’s neck over his chest, around his nipple down his stomach and then with much more pressure over his penis and down to his thigh and his knee. She looked him in the eye, a dirty greedy heat spreading through her body, settling right between her legs. She cursed loudly, bending down again and ravishing his hot, wet mouth while pleasuring him with heavy strokes.
Suddenly she felt him letting go of her breast and sliding his hand down behind her zipper. He grunted when he the fabric didn’t allow him to go further, grabbed her shoulders and slid the thick black cloth down to her waist, revealing her firm, lean body.
A dark growl escaped him, in between moans of her name, making Tasha shiver in response. She had always liked how vocal he was. It fitted him.
Finally his fingertips found a way into her suit – and he started to tease her mercilessly, fingers gliding into her, never deep enough, never staying long enough.
Tasha cursed, she moaned, writhing above him, grinding her hips harder and faster down on him, grinning like mad.
“You won’t get me”, she promised him in the deepest Russian brawl she could do.
Immediately Clint started to howl like a wolf, almost shoving her off with the way he started to thrash beneath her.
“Tasha...Tasha, please...”
He was pleading now, much to her enjoyment. His hands started to shake, a scarce beautiful look on him, the fingers between her thighs seemed unsure of what to do, caressing her, gliding in as deep as they could, using too much pressure but she liked it, loved it, longed for it.
She stilled for a moment, smiling at Clint’s helpless confusion, before she threw herself on the ground next to him, turning him so that he was lying on his uninjured site, guiding his hands back to her body.
The light was almost gone but she could still see his face, mouth half opened, sweat on his brow, eyes wide open, staring at her mouth and neck.
“What are you...?”
She quickly stroked him back into blissful silence, while kissing him and letting herself be touched and rubbed by his shaky fingers.
It didn’t take them long now.
Clint gave up with a scream, arching his back and gasping her name and “God, GOD!” multiple times.
Seeing him like this made her go crazy herself. Quickly she batted his hand away, putting her own hand to good use, rubbing, caressing, fingering herself like countless times before...
And then she felt it, felt the heat and pressure in her lower abdomen rising to its highest point...
She started shaking, thrashing on the ground, her toes curling and those seconds of not thinking anything, those three or five or ten seconds of blankness stretching out inside her mind, cloaking her whole body.
Three or five – and then her mind kicked back in, analyzing the heavy steps in the room below their hideout, counting the numbers of their enemies, measuring the fastest route out of the warehouse, listening to the faint whoosh of rotor blades a mere forty-seven seconds away, thinking, thinking, thinking...
When Clint was finally able to crawl over to the hole through which they had climbed earlier, Tasha had already taken down three of the men, firing her gun and shouting curses and obscenities to confuse the goons, kicking, slamming her fists down on heads and necks.
“You finally awake, princess?” she shouted at him, when Clint shot his last arrow to stop a man in midair threatening to jump on Tasha from behind.
“It’s your fault!” he quipped. “You forgot to kiss me!”
“Always something to complain...”
The helicopter was only four seconds away when the last of the men fell dead on the floor.
Tasha and Clint stood on opposite sides of the room, facing each other over the mass of bodies.
Clint was grinning again.
“You hearing that?” he asked while the chopper was roaring right above them.
Tasha didn’t roll her eyes. “Yeah. Must be the babysitters.”
Clint nodded and his grin grew wider. “You get to explain this mess to Coulson.”
Then he closed his eyes and passed out, landing on the floor with a thud, his body exhausted from blood loss and sex and fighting too much.
Tasha smiled as she rushed to his side, kneeling down and carefully pulling his body onto her legs. She petted him, while a dozen SHIELD soldiers barged in through the front door, Coulson hard on their heels.
She looked at him, a dreamy expression on her face.
“Do you care to explain why this took so long?” Coulson asked his face still as ever but she could see the worry in his eyes as he checked Clint over with a quick look.
“No”, she answered. “Make sure he is alright.”
Coulson said nothing, just nodded. He stood aside so the paramedic could rush to Clint’s side and immediately ordered for him to be put on a stretcher.
Tasha watched as they carried him to the helicopter, declining the outstretched hand one of the soldiers offered her.
As she stood up, Coulson discreetly cleared his throat.
“You should tell him to at least close his fly during fights. It’s not very... professional” he said quietly.
Natasha just laughed on her way out.
- End
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-08-31 07:43 am (UTC)Buuuuut I liked the setup, liked how you got them there and the bantering. Beautiful.
And Tasha starting analyzing and fighting as soon as orgasm wears off: Yes. Very much yes.
How can I persuade you to write more of them?
(Just, maybe, just for my peace of mind without sex...)no subject
Date: 2012-08-31 09:01 pm (UTC)as soon as orgasm wears off: Yes. Very much yes.
Super soldier serum stuff science... yeah well, magic basically. But I think it fits. xD
Well, you know... giving me a challenge (NO JOKER please xD) in Skype would help... tehehehhehe. xDDDDD