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smutrecs fest day 14
Happy Valentine's Day!!!
When I thought of doing these recs a couple months ago, I couldn't really decide how to organize them, but I knew one thing was certain: the theme for Valentine's day *must* be celebrating my favorite multifandom purveyor of porn.
All of today's recs are![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thamiris's stories, and if you've never read her non-Smallville stuff, I strongly encourage you to check it out, because it may be blasphemy to say this, but I actually think a lot of her Hercverse/Xenaverse and her Bibleverse slash is *hotter* than her Smallville slash.
But let me start with Smallville. It was *extremely* hard for me to pick a favorite Thamiris Clex piece, but I finally narrowed it down to the three I reread the most for pornalicious purposes (rather than just to admire the beauty and lyricism of her writing). These are Along Came a Spider, Behind a Dragon's Smile, and The Rules of Blue.
Along Came a Spider is a sweet little PWP, in which Clark discovers an unusual sensitivity, and Lex helps him explore it. I can't tell you how much I love stories where people are having sex while pretending not to be having sex. *Especially* when they try to maintain a normal conversation while they're pretending. Something about that blend of hot porn and denial that it is happening just *does* something to me. And in this story, the conversation Lex and Clark have while they're pretending they're not having sex is hilarious:
Still too hot?"
"Boiling."
"I was just thinking...Maybe you should take off your pants. I don't want you fainting on me."
Then Lex shouldn't say stuff like that. "I would, Lex, but...The spider bite has this weird side-effect, and it's sort of embarrassing."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Clark. Who doesn't get a hard-on from a spider bite?" Lex had never looked so bland, like he was talking about stock options or some other billionairy subject.
"If you don't mind..."
"I just want you to be comfortable."
"Okay, then." The pants were on the floor beside his shirt, and he sat back down, conscious of his cock, so thick and hard behind the thin fabric of his boxers.
Lex noticed, too, looking down at the bulge as he brought Clark's wrist back to his mouth. "Later, when you're recovered, you've got to tell me what kind of spider this was. We could market the venom as the new Viagra."
Behind a Dragon's Smile is a very different type of story. Clark and Lex are already in a relationship, but they aren't public about it, yet. But Lex has decided it's time for a step forward, both emotionally and sexually. I love the stories Lex tells Clark in this: both the stories he tells in words and the stories he tells with his body. The story he tells in words, about an unlikely alliance between a monk and a dragon, is one of my favorite metaphors ever for Clark and Lex's relationship. The story he tells with his body is just damn HOT. Here's a bit of the beginning of the story:
It's not your birthday." Clark studies Lex like there are clues tattooed on his cheekbones, hidden in the pockets of his black suit. "Your birthday's in July. We had cake and fireworks and you didn't touch me. It was very frustrating."
"Not exactly my birthday today, no." Lex's smile is small and mysterious, then he turns again to the chopsticks. "Have some of the chu-toro." His hand over Clark's, Lex snags a piece of tuna and guides it to Clark's mouth. For leverage, he throws his arm around Clark's shoulder and pulls him close, thigh to thigh.
They're conspicuous even in the corner of the restaurant partially blocked by wooden beams, Lex sitting beside him rather than across the low table where the food sits, colorful and strangely shaped like a display in a candy store. It's not just how they're sitting; Clark imagines that they're giving something off, radioactive even after three months together. His dad wouldn't approve, but with a year of college under his belt Clark is learning that paternal morality isn't always the best lodestar, that there are worse crimes in the world than being Lex Luthor's boyfriend. Someday he might even act on that belief.
Right now, it's hard to think with Clark warm where Lex touches him, warm on his tongue from the spicy food. Or maybe he's just flying on air impossibly filled with sunsets and freedom, the shadowy light from the lanterns, rice paper ones with red dragons that spin gently overhead.
"Very good for a beginner," Lex says approvingly as Clark finishes another mouthful. "How about a reward?"
Clark shivers at a playful swipe of tongue over his ear, a less playful one down his throat, hinting of teeth. "Lex. Public place, remember? Your reputation and all that?"
At his squeak, a woman peers over the Samurai warriors battling on a white screen. With her black dress and red lipstick, she matches the ikura.
Lex ignores her, his eyes smoky, like a fire's burning behind them. "It's the only reason I'm not inside you."
Finally, I must recommend The Rules of Blue, since it has one of my favorite versions of Thamiris' Lex and Clark: they both want each other badly, and have forever, but are held back by their own insecurities. I particularly how Lex tries so valiantly in this story to control his own desires (and how he fails so miserably):
An adolescence ago, Lex Luthor didn't sleep with Clark Kent. He had a closet full of excuses, mostly about corruption and illegality, with a box of fear at the back. Still, with the need cranked sun-high, Lex required a second strategy to keep his hands off one hundred percent pure farmboy: he refused to picture Clark naked. Ever. Even during Lex's frequent jerk-off sessions, Clark was always discreetly covered in flannel and cotton, more icon than player, suitable for a kid who got his kicks pulling drowning men from rivers.
Amazing the mileage Lex got from Clark's Colgate smile, his wide, depends-on-the-light-colored eyes, his dark hair that always curled the wrong way. And the longer he knew Clark, the more territory Lex covered in his masturbatory fantasies, turning fetishism into an art form, so that even the beauty mark on Clark's right cheek got its own time. Lex discovered the power of that last one on the way home from the Kent Farm: still hyped on Clark, who always laughed at his jokes and countered Lex's cynicism with an earnestness that would seem contrived on anyone else, Lex had pulled off the road and done it fast and hard, picturing Clark in that vaguely museum-like way. Afterward, he licked his own sticky hand, which tasted like hypocrisy.
Another rule was that Lex had to stop his hand and couldn't start again for twenty-four hours if even the hint of criminally-bare farmboy skin crept into his head. The Smallville water shortage of 2003 could be directly attributed to a very hot summer and a pair of tight cutoffs that gave Lex a glimpse of Clark's inner thighs as they sat together in Clark's loft. It took two weeks of hour-long icy showers before order returned, and Lex still needed a Victoria's Secret catalogue in his hand the whole time, not blinking once, to prevent a recurrence. Other people's skin didn't count; only Clark's, with its ability to transform Lex like a sexual werewolf, mattered at all."
Other fandom recs: WB: RPS
I actually will devote a couple of days to WB RPS later this month, but on a day devoted to celebrating Thamiris' writings I had to rec Of Bondage, Booty, and Avril Lavigne, an amazingly hot MR/TW story--and coincidentally one of the very first pieces of RPS I ever read.
"I want to tie you up." Tom says it casually, like this is everyday conversation, ‘Pretty wet out today. Care for some bondage?', but he's not blinking.
"Me?" The thing is, Tom looks enough like an eighteen-year-old virgin to play one on tv, and it's always a shock when he drops a pervy line. The tall beautiful bastard probably knows it, except with Tom you can never tell.
"You see anyone else here?"
"Yeah. You."
"My house, my rules; your body, my tongue."
Mike has to swallow a few times to get the words out. "Interesting logic."
"We don't have to," Tom says, taking a step closer. His hand's on Mike's hip, skimming the edge of the tshirt before moving under, his thumb doing these tiny circles. "I'm not a pervert or anything. I just like the idea of you there only for me, so I can look and touch and do you slowly."
"You think I'm not into it? I am. Here's proof." Mike grabs Tom's wandering hand and places it over his hard cock.
Tom's eyes close for a second. "Good." He rubs a few times, then moves away. "Take your clothes off."
Other fandom recs: Xenaverse
If I were following strict order of fandoms I've been in before (the way I've been doing so far this month), Xena should have popped up last week, but I decided to save Xena for Thamirisday because it was in the Xena fandom that I first fell in love with her writing. And like I said above, though I *love* her Smallville writing, in terms of pure porny goodness, I think there was just *something* about the Xenaverse that encouraged amazingly hot smut.
My favorite story by Thamiris in this universe is "Like a Virgin" (Ares/Autolycus).
Like a Virgin poses the question "How can a mortal seduce a god?" Specifically, how can Autolycus, that gorgeous King of Thieves and occasional sidekick of Xena, seduce the amazingly sexy God of war? Autolycus starts by stealing Ares' sword of power (which makes him temporarily human) and offering to help Ares find it. Their quest offers multiple opportunities for seduction--sharing a bed in a tavern, sharing a cave in a rainstorm, bonding while fending off attackers--and yet Ares proves remarkably resistant to Auto's wiles.
Here's an excerpt:
Ares snorted at the name, but he said nothing, obviously distracted by the building above them. "That's one of my temples up there. I'll head up and check it out."
....
The climb up the steep hill accounted for only part of Autolycus' panting. The rest came from fantasies. Hot, wet, come-filled fantasies. Then Autolycus stopped so suddenly that Ares crashed into him. For one, fleeting but intoxicating second, he felt Ares' cock against his ass. Cock. Ass. Fucking. Come. God. Sex. With a hurried shake of his head, Autolycus returned to his previous thoughts. What if the kiss grossed out Ares? What if, deep down, he really did prefer women? What if all of this heat was just the product of Autolycus' huge, undeniable infatuation?
"We've come this far. Don't back out now." Ares pushed past him.
What if Ares wasn't quite as oblivious as he seemed? What if he knew all along about Autolycus' crush and wandering mouth? What if he was in control, playing Autolycus like a lust-crazed puppet because he, the god of war, wanted to fuck him? What if he knew that they were going up this hill to finally get things going? Caution climbed onto his desire and choked it. Or at least restrained the impulse to jump Ares and hump him like a puppy. With a sigh, he followed Ares' ripe, leather-clad ass up the temple steps and into the candlelit chamber, with its frescoed walls and air smoky with old incense. Remember the grins, he thought again.
Ares went to the black marble altar, rooting through a pile of weapons left as offerings. "Not bad," he said, picking up a heavy sword with a ruby-encrusted handle.
At least Autolycus thought they were rubies. Could be old drops of blood. "Can I see?"
It was Ares' fingers that slipped, and the sword fell with a thunderous clatter to the tiled floor. "Shit!" Ares exclaimed, even more loudly. Suspiciously loudly, if one had a suspicious mind. The sound of running feet came from the inner sanctum. "What do you want to do?" Ares asked, looking directly at Autolycus.
Caution took a vacation. "We need to look innocent. Like we weren't trying to steal anything. And we need to hide your face Don't want everyone knowing that you're mortal.. I think our best bet, if we don't want to end up in prison, or reveal your presence, is to...kiss."
A slight pause while something unreadable flowed across Ares' face. Then: "Okay."
"It's the easiest way, you understand. That's all." Autolycus took a quick step forward, smacking against the hottest, hardest body he'd ever ground crotches with. Nose-to-nose, cock-to-cock with the cream of the Olympian crop, Autolycus opened his mouth to make a final, tension-dispelling joke, and kissed Ares instead. Maybe acting on instinct, Ares pushed his tongue between Autolycus' parted lips, and for the first time, their tongues touched.
Autolycus had kissed a lot of people in his time. The first, at thirteen, had been Medon, the baker's cute son from next door. They'd been playing hide-and-seek, and Medon had found Autolycus in the dark crawlspace beneath the back porch. Rather than letting him out, the boy had crawled in beside his friend. They'd spent the summer necking in the dark, hard cocks rubbing together, but too inexperienced to do more than dry-hump for hours. For the next decade or two, Autolycus had kissed a seemingly endless series of men and women, from virgins to whores. But nothing in his life had prepared Autolycus for that first kiss from the god of war.
Limbs drained, vision darkened, Autolycus nearly fell. Only two things kept him up: the wall now at his back, and Ares' weight, pinning him there. Reaching up almost desperately, Autolycus wrapped his arms around Ares' neck, winding his fingers in Ares' hair. When Ares kissed back, his tongue penetrating that divine mouth, Autolycus groaned, and he pulled Ares closer. He was vaguely aware of noise beside him, of shocked then annoyed voices buzzing in his ear, but when he paid no attention, they eventually disappeared. How could he do more than simply feel, when Ares was penetrating him like this, using that hot, honey-sweet tongue to fuck his mouth more and more aggressively, like he was equally hot for it?
If you read this and love it as much as I do, you can find more of Thamiris' Ares stories here and here.
Other fandom recs: Bibleslash
Finally, I can't neglect to recommend Thamiris' Bibleslash. Aceldama is an amazing tale of Judas' relationships with his two masters: Bel (Belial) and Jesus. Bel lets him slake every desire and pushes his passion higher and higher, but eventually drives him away. Judas initially wants to use Jesus just as Bel has used him, but finds that he is unable to do so.
This story is *such* an interesting exploration of desire and love and temptation in the lives of Judas and Jesus. I've always loved stories about Judas' motivations, and I think this is one of the most compelling I've ever read. Here's a snippet:
"That boy is trouble," John whispered.
"We can kiss our purse goodbye," Peter muttered back. "I give him a day."
"That's not what I mean. Have you seen the way he looks at the master? And the way the master looks at him?"
"Yes, but what of it? The master chased off Satan; it's not likely a pretty boy will tempt him."
"It's what's inside Judas that worries me, the blend of rage and longing. The rabbi's safe from offers of worldly power, less so from someone with that level of need. Saving him would be like saving the devil himself."
"I thought you had more faith in him."
"I have all the world's faith in God, but Jesus is God wrapped in flesh. Just because you don't see him struggling doesn't mean he's not. He's got the strength of fifty men, true, but he's still a man, and what defines us more than need?"
"You can't think the master would take Judas into his bed?"
"What's worse," John asked, "need fulfilled or need denied?"
When I thought of doing these recs a couple months ago, I couldn't really decide how to organize them, but I knew one thing was certain: the theme for Valentine's day *must* be celebrating my favorite multifandom purveyor of porn.
All of today's recs are
thamiris's stories, and if you've never read her non-Smallville stuff, I strongly encourage you to check it out, because it may be blasphemy to say this, but I actually think a lot of her Hercverse/Xenaverse and her Bibleverse slash is *hotter* than her Smallville slash.But let me start with Smallville. It was *extremely* hard for me to pick a favorite Thamiris Clex piece, but I finally narrowed it down to the three I reread the most for pornalicious purposes (rather than just to admire the beauty and lyricism of her writing). These are Along Came a Spider, Behind a Dragon's Smile, and The Rules of Blue.
Along Came a Spider is a sweet little PWP, in which Clark discovers an unusual sensitivity, and Lex helps him explore it. I can't tell you how much I love stories where people are having sex while pretending not to be having sex. *Especially* when they try to maintain a normal conversation while they're pretending. Something about that blend of hot porn and denial that it is happening just *does* something to me. And in this story, the conversation Lex and Clark have while they're pretending they're not having sex is hilarious:
Still too hot?"
"Boiling."
"I was just thinking...Maybe you should take off your pants. I don't want you fainting on me."
Then Lex shouldn't say stuff like that. "I would, Lex, but...The spider bite has this weird side-effect, and it's sort of embarrassing."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Clark. Who doesn't get a hard-on from a spider bite?" Lex had never looked so bland, like he was talking about stock options or some other billionairy subject.
"If you don't mind..."
"I just want you to be comfortable."
"Okay, then." The pants were on the floor beside his shirt, and he sat back down, conscious of his cock, so thick and hard behind the thin fabric of his boxers.
Lex noticed, too, looking down at the bulge as he brought Clark's wrist back to his mouth. "Later, when you're recovered, you've got to tell me what kind of spider this was. We could market the venom as the new Viagra."
Behind a Dragon's Smile is a very different type of story. Clark and Lex are already in a relationship, but they aren't public about it, yet. But Lex has decided it's time for a step forward, both emotionally and sexually. I love the stories Lex tells Clark in this: both the stories he tells in words and the stories he tells with his body. The story he tells in words, about an unlikely alliance between a monk and a dragon, is one of my favorite metaphors ever for Clark and Lex's relationship. The story he tells with his body is just damn HOT. Here's a bit of the beginning of the story:
It's not your birthday." Clark studies Lex like there are clues tattooed on his cheekbones, hidden in the pockets of his black suit. "Your birthday's in July. We had cake and fireworks and you didn't touch me. It was very frustrating."
"Not exactly my birthday today, no." Lex's smile is small and mysterious, then he turns again to the chopsticks. "Have some of the chu-toro." His hand over Clark's, Lex snags a piece of tuna and guides it to Clark's mouth. For leverage, he throws his arm around Clark's shoulder and pulls him close, thigh to thigh.
They're conspicuous even in the corner of the restaurant partially blocked by wooden beams, Lex sitting beside him rather than across the low table where the food sits, colorful and strangely shaped like a display in a candy store. It's not just how they're sitting; Clark imagines that they're giving something off, radioactive even after three months together. His dad wouldn't approve, but with a year of college under his belt Clark is learning that paternal morality isn't always the best lodestar, that there are worse crimes in the world than being Lex Luthor's boyfriend. Someday he might even act on that belief.
Right now, it's hard to think with Clark warm where Lex touches him, warm on his tongue from the spicy food. Or maybe he's just flying on air impossibly filled with sunsets and freedom, the shadowy light from the lanterns, rice paper ones with red dragons that spin gently overhead.
"Very good for a beginner," Lex says approvingly as Clark finishes another mouthful. "How about a reward?"
Clark shivers at a playful swipe of tongue over his ear, a less playful one down his throat, hinting of teeth. "Lex. Public place, remember? Your reputation and all that?"
At his squeak, a woman peers over the Samurai warriors battling on a white screen. With her black dress and red lipstick, she matches the ikura.
Lex ignores her, his eyes smoky, like a fire's burning behind them. "It's the only reason I'm not inside you."
Finally, I must recommend The Rules of Blue, since it has one of my favorite versions of Thamiris' Lex and Clark: they both want each other badly, and have forever, but are held back by their own insecurities. I particularly how Lex tries so valiantly in this story to control his own desires (and how he fails so miserably):
An adolescence ago, Lex Luthor didn't sleep with Clark Kent. He had a closet full of excuses, mostly about corruption and illegality, with a box of fear at the back. Still, with the need cranked sun-high, Lex required a second strategy to keep his hands off one hundred percent pure farmboy: he refused to picture Clark naked. Ever. Even during Lex's frequent jerk-off sessions, Clark was always discreetly covered in flannel and cotton, more icon than player, suitable for a kid who got his kicks pulling drowning men from rivers.
Amazing the mileage Lex got from Clark's Colgate smile, his wide, depends-on-the-light-colored eyes, his dark hair that always curled the wrong way. And the longer he knew Clark, the more territory Lex covered in his masturbatory fantasies, turning fetishism into an art form, so that even the beauty mark on Clark's right cheek got its own time. Lex discovered the power of that last one on the way home from the Kent Farm: still hyped on Clark, who always laughed at his jokes and countered Lex's cynicism with an earnestness that would seem contrived on anyone else, Lex had pulled off the road and done it fast and hard, picturing Clark in that vaguely museum-like way. Afterward, he licked his own sticky hand, which tasted like hypocrisy.
Another rule was that Lex had to stop his hand and couldn't start again for twenty-four hours if even the hint of criminally-bare farmboy skin crept into his head. The Smallville water shortage of 2003 could be directly attributed to a very hot summer and a pair of tight cutoffs that gave Lex a glimpse of Clark's inner thighs as they sat together in Clark's loft. It took two weeks of hour-long icy showers before order returned, and Lex still needed a Victoria's Secret catalogue in his hand the whole time, not blinking once, to prevent a recurrence. Other people's skin didn't count; only Clark's, with its ability to transform Lex like a sexual werewolf, mattered at all."
Other fandom recs: WB: RPS
I actually will devote a couple of days to WB RPS later this month, but on a day devoted to celebrating Thamiris' writings I had to rec Of Bondage, Booty, and Avril Lavigne, an amazingly hot MR/TW story--and coincidentally one of the very first pieces of RPS I ever read.
"I want to tie you up." Tom says it casually, like this is everyday conversation, ‘Pretty wet out today. Care for some bondage?', but he's not blinking.
"Me?" The thing is, Tom looks enough like an eighteen-year-old virgin to play one on tv, and it's always a shock when he drops a pervy line. The tall beautiful bastard probably knows it, except with Tom you can never tell.
"You see anyone else here?"
"Yeah. You."
"My house, my rules; your body, my tongue."
Mike has to swallow a few times to get the words out. "Interesting logic."
"We don't have to," Tom says, taking a step closer. His hand's on Mike's hip, skimming the edge of the tshirt before moving under, his thumb doing these tiny circles. "I'm not a pervert or anything. I just like the idea of you there only for me, so I can look and touch and do you slowly."
"You think I'm not into it? I am. Here's proof." Mike grabs Tom's wandering hand and places it over his hard cock.
Tom's eyes close for a second. "Good." He rubs a few times, then moves away. "Take your clothes off."
Other fandom recs: Xenaverse
If I were following strict order of fandoms I've been in before (the way I've been doing so far this month), Xena should have popped up last week, but I decided to save Xena for Thamirisday because it was in the Xena fandom that I first fell in love with her writing. And like I said above, though I *love* her Smallville writing, in terms of pure porny goodness, I think there was just *something* about the Xenaverse that encouraged amazingly hot smut.
My favorite story by Thamiris in this universe is "Like a Virgin" (Ares/Autolycus).
Like a Virgin poses the question "How can a mortal seduce a god?" Specifically, how can Autolycus, that gorgeous King of Thieves and occasional sidekick of Xena, seduce the amazingly sexy God of war? Autolycus starts by stealing Ares' sword of power (which makes him temporarily human) and offering to help Ares find it. Their quest offers multiple opportunities for seduction--sharing a bed in a tavern, sharing a cave in a rainstorm, bonding while fending off attackers--and yet Ares proves remarkably resistant to Auto's wiles.
Here's an excerpt:
Ares snorted at the name, but he said nothing, obviously distracted by the building above them. "That's one of my temples up there. I'll head up and check it out."
....
The climb up the steep hill accounted for only part of Autolycus' panting. The rest came from fantasies. Hot, wet, come-filled fantasies. Then Autolycus stopped so suddenly that Ares crashed into him. For one, fleeting but intoxicating second, he felt Ares' cock against his ass. Cock. Ass. Fucking. Come. God. Sex. With a hurried shake of his head, Autolycus returned to his previous thoughts. What if the kiss grossed out Ares? What if, deep down, he really did prefer women? What if all of this heat was just the product of Autolycus' huge, undeniable infatuation?
"We've come this far. Don't back out now." Ares pushed past him.
What if Ares wasn't quite as oblivious as he seemed? What if he knew all along about Autolycus' crush and wandering mouth? What if he was in control, playing Autolycus like a lust-crazed puppet because he, the god of war, wanted to fuck him? What if he knew that they were going up this hill to finally get things going? Caution climbed onto his desire and choked it. Or at least restrained the impulse to jump Ares and hump him like a puppy. With a sigh, he followed Ares' ripe, leather-clad ass up the temple steps and into the candlelit chamber, with its frescoed walls and air smoky with old incense. Remember the grins, he thought again.
Ares went to the black marble altar, rooting through a pile of weapons left as offerings. "Not bad," he said, picking up a heavy sword with a ruby-encrusted handle.
At least Autolycus thought they were rubies. Could be old drops of blood. "Can I see?"
It was Ares' fingers that slipped, and the sword fell with a thunderous clatter to the tiled floor. "Shit!" Ares exclaimed, even more loudly. Suspiciously loudly, if one had a suspicious mind. The sound of running feet came from the inner sanctum. "What do you want to do?" Ares asked, looking directly at Autolycus.
Caution took a vacation. "We need to look innocent. Like we weren't trying to steal anything. And we need to hide your face Don't want everyone knowing that you're mortal.. I think our best bet, if we don't want to end up in prison, or reveal your presence, is to...kiss."
A slight pause while something unreadable flowed across Ares' face. Then: "Okay."
"It's the easiest way, you understand. That's all." Autolycus took a quick step forward, smacking against the hottest, hardest body he'd ever ground crotches with. Nose-to-nose, cock-to-cock with the cream of the Olympian crop, Autolycus opened his mouth to make a final, tension-dispelling joke, and kissed Ares instead. Maybe acting on instinct, Ares pushed his tongue between Autolycus' parted lips, and for the first time, their tongues touched.
Autolycus had kissed a lot of people in his time. The first, at thirteen, had been Medon, the baker's cute son from next door. They'd been playing hide-and-seek, and Medon had found Autolycus in the dark crawlspace beneath the back porch. Rather than letting him out, the boy had crawled in beside his friend. They'd spent the summer necking in the dark, hard cocks rubbing together, but too inexperienced to do more than dry-hump for hours. For the next decade or two, Autolycus had kissed a seemingly endless series of men and women, from virgins to whores. But nothing in his life had prepared Autolycus for that first kiss from the god of war.
Limbs drained, vision darkened, Autolycus nearly fell. Only two things kept him up: the wall now at his back, and Ares' weight, pinning him there. Reaching up almost desperately, Autolycus wrapped his arms around Ares' neck, winding his fingers in Ares' hair. When Ares kissed back, his tongue penetrating that divine mouth, Autolycus groaned, and he pulled Ares closer. He was vaguely aware of noise beside him, of shocked then annoyed voices buzzing in his ear, but when he paid no attention, they eventually disappeared. How could he do more than simply feel, when Ares was penetrating him like this, using that hot, honey-sweet tongue to fuck his mouth more and more aggressively, like he was equally hot for it?
If you read this and love it as much as I do, you can find more of Thamiris' Ares stories here and here.
Other fandom recs: Bibleslash
Finally, I can't neglect to recommend Thamiris' Bibleslash. Aceldama is an amazing tale of Judas' relationships with his two masters: Bel (Belial) and Jesus. Bel lets him slake every desire and pushes his passion higher and higher, but eventually drives him away. Judas initially wants to use Jesus just as Bel has used him, but finds that he is unable to do so.
This story is *such* an interesting exploration of desire and love and temptation in the lives of Judas and Jesus. I've always loved stories about Judas' motivations, and I think this is one of the most compelling I've ever read. Here's a snippet:
"That boy is trouble," John whispered.
"We can kiss our purse goodbye," Peter muttered back. "I give him a day."
"That's not what I mean. Have you seen the way he looks at the master? And the way the master looks at him?"
"Yes, but what of it? The master chased off Satan; it's not likely a pretty boy will tempt him."
"It's what's inside Judas that worries me, the blend of rage and longing. The rabbi's safe from offers of worldly power, less so from someone with that level of need. Saving him would be like saving the devil himself."
"I thought you had more faith in him."
"I have all the world's faith in God, but Jesus is God wrapped in flesh. Just because you don't see him struggling doesn't mean he's not. He's got the strength of fifty men, true, but he's still a man, and what defines us more than need?"
"You can't think the master would take Judas into his bed?"
"What's worse," John asked, "need fulfilled or need denied?"