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Smutrecs fest day 7
I wouldn't say there's a *theme* to today's recs, precisely, but they all have a dreamy, lyrical sweetness to them.
The Clex rec of the day is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
koimistress's, A Nice Friendly Game"
If I were forced, at gunpoint, to name my absolute favorite Smallville story, this is the one I would name. I love this story so much that I only let myself reread it a certain number of times a year, for fear I will wear it out and it won't still be fresh on a day when I really *need* to read it. I want to go live with this story and have its babies (and I don't ever *want* babies--but for this story I would have them). I sometimes feel, reading this story, that it has tapped directly into the pleasure center of my brain, and I have reached some higher state of consciousness while reading it.
This was an early Smallville story, and I fear that canon Lex has not proven to be as *smart* as this Lex, but otherwise this story is *perfect*. First of all, it's smart cliche fic, which is one of my favorite things EVER: Lex and Clark are quarantined together for 10 days. Second, it has brilliantly funny dialogue, and gorgeous characterization of both Lex and Clark. And finally, it has sex scenes so wonderful and intense that I literally lose the capacity to form language when I read them. I love D/S, and I particularly love D/S which conveys a particular mood that I can't quite describe in words, but which the "nice friendly game" is a perfect example of..
An excerpt:
He was helped to stand up straight, and found his knees shakier than expected. A tug, and he was guided across the room and... out into the hall, it must be. Bare feet on carpet, on stone, on polished wood, and they kept walking. Lex didn't bother to reassure him that he wouldn't let him fall, but then, Clark already knew that.
Periodically he was stopped and his mouth, well, ravished. There wasn't really another word. His sense of direction was totally gone, and he had no idea which room he was in -- on some level, if he'd pulled off the blindfold and found himself in another world, he wouldn't have been surprised. He was walking further and further into a dream.
Still, he thought they were probably going to the bedroom -- though he wasn't sure, or how far away it was, until he found himself already seated on the bed, the sheets pulled back for him. He moved up, positioning himself, until a hand told him that that was far enough. He hoped Lex was going to talk to him again at some point; not that it seemed necessary so far, he was communicating just fine, but Clark would have liked to hear his voice.
His hands were untied, and then one was brought back and tied again, this time to the headboard. Then the other. His shoulders were pressed down into the mattress, and he felt Lex straddle his waist. And finally, he spoke.
"That's all right, isn't it." As a hand scraped one nipple.
Arc of electricity. He could almost see it, a crackling line of white fire in the dark.
"Oh, fuck."
He didn't know how Lex knew he would like this, but he did. "Like" was too insubstantial a word for what he was feeling. There was velvet over his eyes and a rushing in his ears and he just wanted to drown in this dark, sweet river and never come up; never have to taste ordinary air again.
"I'm going to take the blindfold off. But you'll keep your eyes shut, because you know that's what I want, right?"
Dear god. He was having trouble breathing. "Yeah," he got out.
The silk was untied from his head and slipped off gently, no more weight than a breeze. It was still dark behind his eyelids.
Then -- a soft bite on the flesh of his inner arm. Another, without warning, at his collarbone. Bites alternated with a maddening stroking of his inner thigh that made his nerves fizz and overflow their glass. Next, a line of soft kisses that marched up toward his groin but in a surplus of unfairness never reached it. It was all incredible, but he never knew where it was going to happen next, and his whole body started to quiver with blind anticipation.
He felt his head twist from side to side, trying to deal with the voltage running through him. If he'd open his eyes, he could see where the next attack would be, but Lex had said not to, and he'd agreed to those rules. Besides, he was experiencing an overwhelming urge to do anything Lex said, like it was some kind of natural law, so there was a good chance he would have kept his eyes shut anyway. It was tough, though. He was starting to feel like that story they told kids in school, Ben Franklin's kite with the key attached, tossed in the storm and sizzling with lightning strikes. He could almost smell the burnt canvas.
Today's Smallville mystery rec of the day is Hope's "Paper" (Clark/Lex implied) http://smallville.slashdom.net/archive/8/paper.html
This is another story that I ration myself on rereading, because I don't want it to wear out. It doesn't actually have explicit sex in it, but it's one of the most sensuous, lyrical pieces of erotica I've ever read. Lex's skin becomes the canvas for an artist's creations. In her paintings, she is able to see below the surface to the desire Lex hides beneath his skin.
Today's "Blast from the Past" rec is a Highlander Story,
"The Seduction of the Desert Prince," by the Krell (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
killabeez, elynross, and wickedwords)(Duncan/Methos), AU WIP.
This is a gorgeous, sweeping AU in which a barbarian Scot (Duncan McLeod) is enslaved by a desert chieftain, Rashanal (Methos). The reader should be warned that this is a WIP that has been in progress since 1998 (it currently has 33 chapters), but it is still being updated about twice a year, and as far as I'm concerned I'm sticking with it if it takes another ten years to finish. Slave fic (especially slave fic in which the master eventually falls for the slave, and the relationship eventually moves toward equality) is one of my biggest kinks, and this is a gorgeous example of that genre. Not only do we get to see Methos' gradual seduction of his unwilling captive (followed, of course, by Methos realizing that Duncan means more to him than he wants to admit), but there are really interesting plot complications based on the intricacies of tribal politics that give this story interesting texture and depth.
Here's an excerpt:
Rashanal pulled back and looked hard into his eyes. "You pretend to yourself that you are free, but your body knows that I am your master. You ask why? Because I take what I want, and I will have you. Now."
Duncan froze as hands slid down across his ass and hips and then cupped his groin, kneading and massaging his hardened cock. His breath caught, and he could hear the blood throb in his temples as his mind struggled to fix upon a course of action. He wasn't allowed the time for thought as his mouth was taken in a fierce, bruising kiss.
He felt as though he were resisting; some part of him was. But the assault Rashanal was working on his body bound him in a web of his own hunger, a passionate trap that tightened around him the more he struggled. Dark desires rose up from hidden places within him, deep wells of longing for something he had never named, nor faced, nor even known existed. Rashanal had bested him once already, sparing his life - and those dark places in him felt that ownership more deeply than any paid in coin. Fight, his instincts cried, but the wiser, cooler part of his mind counseled that resistance would get him killed, or worse, though a small, traitorous voice whispered to him that he said this only to convince himself of his own helplessness - and therefore blamelessness.
He gasped once for air between soul-searing kisses, breath catching hard as the certainty welled up in him, I want him, want this, oh mother of mercy help me... He never even noticed his own goblet dropping to the floor.
Methos felt the shudder that moved through his slave's body, the hands that uncontrollably clutched at his shoulders. He was ready for the instinctive rebellion of that powerful body struggling against him; when the lush lips parted instead, melting into hot welcome, he was undone. Desire surged through his loins like the heat of the sun itself, and restraint slipped away in the swell of lust that threatened to drown him.
His hands kneaded the muscled flesh as he swallowed the sounds of Duncan's ardor, each moan serving to feed his fever to possess the man as he pulled the Highlander in tight to his body, matching them groin to groin. His tongue flicked over teeth and slid hungrily across the soft palate. Duncan's cock hardened even more, and his own responded eagerly. In a flash, the image of the Highlander kneeling, hands bound at his back as Methos fucked his mouth, came to him with an almost soul-destroying intensity. That wet, sensuous mouth around him, avidly sucking him, muscled thighs spread for balance, the expressive eyes half-lidded in pleasure...
Bonus Highlander rec:
Rac and Cml, Untitled "Swords at Sunset" Challenge #6, (Duncan/Connor, Duncan/Methos) http://www.7parabian.com/Schmarlequin/contest6.html
Ok, this doesn't fit the "dreamy" theme, but I wanted to include this in the Highlander recs anyway, because it's both funny and porny. If you can put up with the overuse/abuse of bad Scottish dialect in this story, this is a hilarious and unbelievably smutty Duncan/Connor, Duncan/Methos tale, in which Connor is a little more lascivious than he is in canon, and convinces poor Duncan that young immortals need copious amounts of the, um, life essence of older immortals to survive at all. And he doesn't take kindly to Methos trying to tell Duncan otherwise.
The Clex rec of the day is
koimistress's, A Nice Friendly Game" If I were forced, at gunpoint, to name my absolute favorite Smallville story, this is the one I would name. I love this story so much that I only let myself reread it a certain number of times a year, for fear I will wear it out and it won't still be fresh on a day when I really *need* to read it. I want to go live with this story and have its babies (and I don't ever *want* babies--but for this story I would have them). I sometimes feel, reading this story, that it has tapped directly into the pleasure center of my brain, and I have reached some higher state of consciousness while reading it.
This was an early Smallville story, and I fear that canon Lex has not proven to be as *smart* as this Lex, but otherwise this story is *perfect*. First of all, it's smart cliche fic, which is one of my favorite things EVER: Lex and Clark are quarantined together for 10 days. Second, it has brilliantly funny dialogue, and gorgeous characterization of both Lex and Clark. And finally, it has sex scenes so wonderful and intense that I literally lose the capacity to form language when I read them. I love D/S, and I particularly love D/S which conveys a particular mood that I can't quite describe in words, but which the "nice friendly game" is a perfect example of..
An excerpt:
He was helped to stand up straight, and found his knees shakier than expected. A tug, and he was guided across the room and... out into the hall, it must be. Bare feet on carpet, on stone, on polished wood, and they kept walking. Lex didn't bother to reassure him that he wouldn't let him fall, but then, Clark already knew that.
Periodically he was stopped and his mouth, well, ravished. There wasn't really another word. His sense of direction was totally gone, and he had no idea which room he was in -- on some level, if he'd pulled off the blindfold and found himself in another world, he wouldn't have been surprised. He was walking further and further into a dream.
Still, he thought they were probably going to the bedroom -- though he wasn't sure, or how far away it was, until he found himself already seated on the bed, the sheets pulled back for him. He moved up, positioning himself, until a hand told him that that was far enough. He hoped Lex was going to talk to him again at some point; not that it seemed necessary so far, he was communicating just fine, but Clark would have liked to hear his voice.
His hands were untied, and then one was brought back and tied again, this time to the headboard. Then the other. His shoulders were pressed down into the mattress, and he felt Lex straddle his waist. And finally, he spoke.
"That's all right, isn't it." As a hand scraped one nipple.
Arc of electricity. He could almost see it, a crackling line of white fire in the dark.
"Oh, fuck."
He didn't know how Lex knew he would like this, but he did. "Like" was too insubstantial a word for what he was feeling. There was velvet over his eyes and a rushing in his ears and he just wanted to drown in this dark, sweet river and never come up; never have to taste ordinary air again.
"I'm going to take the blindfold off. But you'll keep your eyes shut, because you know that's what I want, right?"
Dear god. He was having trouble breathing. "Yeah," he got out.
The silk was untied from his head and slipped off gently, no more weight than a breeze. It was still dark behind his eyelids.
Then -- a soft bite on the flesh of his inner arm. Another, without warning, at his collarbone. Bites alternated with a maddening stroking of his inner thigh that made his nerves fizz and overflow their glass. Next, a line of soft kisses that marched up toward his groin but in a surplus of unfairness never reached it. It was all incredible, but he never knew where it was going to happen next, and his whole body started to quiver with blind anticipation.
He felt his head twist from side to side, trying to deal with the voltage running through him. If he'd open his eyes, he could see where the next attack would be, but Lex had said not to, and he'd agreed to those rules. Besides, he was experiencing an overwhelming urge to do anything Lex said, like it was some kind of natural law, so there was a good chance he would have kept his eyes shut anyway. It was tough, though. He was starting to feel like that story they told kids in school, Ben Franklin's kite with the key attached, tossed in the storm and sizzling with lightning strikes. He could almost smell the burnt canvas.
Today's Smallville mystery rec of the day is Hope's "Paper" (Clark/Lex implied) http://smallville.slashdom.net/archive/8/paper.html
This is another story that I ration myself on rereading, because I don't want it to wear out. It doesn't actually have explicit sex in it, but it's one of the most sensuous, lyrical pieces of erotica I've ever read. Lex's skin becomes the canvas for an artist's creations. In her paintings, she is able to see below the surface to the desire Lex hides beneath his skin.
Today's "Blast from the Past" rec is a Highlander Story,
"The Seduction of the Desert Prince," by the Krell (
killabeez, elynross, and wickedwords)(Duncan/Methos), AU WIP.This is a gorgeous, sweeping AU in which a barbarian Scot (Duncan McLeod) is enslaved by a desert chieftain, Rashanal (Methos). The reader should be warned that this is a WIP that has been in progress since 1998 (it currently has 33 chapters), but it is still being updated about twice a year, and as far as I'm concerned I'm sticking with it if it takes another ten years to finish. Slave fic (especially slave fic in which the master eventually falls for the slave, and the relationship eventually moves toward equality) is one of my biggest kinks, and this is a gorgeous example of that genre. Not only do we get to see Methos' gradual seduction of his unwilling captive (followed, of course, by Methos realizing that Duncan means more to him than he wants to admit), but there are really interesting plot complications based on the intricacies of tribal politics that give this story interesting texture and depth.
Here's an excerpt:
Rashanal pulled back and looked hard into his eyes. "You pretend to yourself that you are free, but your body knows that I am your master. You ask why? Because I take what I want, and I will have you. Now."
Duncan froze as hands slid down across his ass and hips and then cupped his groin, kneading and massaging his hardened cock. His breath caught, and he could hear the blood throb in his temples as his mind struggled to fix upon a course of action. He wasn't allowed the time for thought as his mouth was taken in a fierce, bruising kiss.
He felt as though he were resisting; some part of him was. But the assault Rashanal was working on his body bound him in a web of his own hunger, a passionate trap that tightened around him the more he struggled. Dark desires rose up from hidden places within him, deep wells of longing for something he had never named, nor faced, nor even known existed. Rashanal had bested him once already, sparing his life - and those dark places in him felt that ownership more deeply than any paid in coin. Fight, his instincts cried, but the wiser, cooler part of his mind counseled that resistance would get him killed, or worse, though a small, traitorous voice whispered to him that he said this only to convince himself of his own helplessness - and therefore blamelessness.
He gasped once for air between soul-searing kisses, breath catching hard as the certainty welled up in him, I want him, want this, oh mother of mercy help me... He never even noticed his own goblet dropping to the floor.
Methos felt the shudder that moved through his slave's body, the hands that uncontrollably clutched at his shoulders. He was ready for the instinctive rebellion of that powerful body struggling against him; when the lush lips parted instead, melting into hot welcome, he was undone. Desire surged through his loins like the heat of the sun itself, and restraint slipped away in the swell of lust that threatened to drown him.
His hands kneaded the muscled flesh as he swallowed the sounds of Duncan's ardor, each moan serving to feed his fever to possess the man as he pulled the Highlander in tight to his body, matching them groin to groin. His tongue flicked over teeth and slid hungrily across the soft palate. Duncan's cock hardened even more, and his own responded eagerly. In a flash, the image of the Highlander kneeling, hands bound at his back as Methos fucked his mouth, came to him with an almost soul-destroying intensity. That wet, sensuous mouth around him, avidly sucking him, muscled thighs spread for balance, the expressive eyes half-lidded in pleasure...
Bonus Highlander rec:
Rac and Cml, Untitled "Swords at Sunset" Challenge #6, (Duncan/Connor, Duncan/Methos) http://www.7parabian.com/Schmarlequin/contest6.html
Ok, this doesn't fit the "dreamy" theme, but I wanted to include this in the Highlander recs anyway, because it's both funny and porny. If you can put up with the overuse/abuse of bad Scottish dialect in this story, this is a hilarious and unbelievably smutty Duncan/Connor, Duncan/Methos tale, in which Connor is a little more lascivious than he is in canon, and convinces poor Duncan that young immortals need copious amounts of the, um, life essence of older immortals to survive at all. And he doesn't take kindly to Methos trying to tell Duncan otherwise.
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(Anonymous) 2006-02-07 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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(just juggled my 6 userpics for this free account. please note lovely MR from rave macbeth. yum.)
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