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jsmn_kinkmeme2015-06-06 08:02 pm
jsmn_kink) wrote in jsmn_kinkmeme2015-06-06 08:02 pm
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☆ Round One!
Welcome to the first round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at jsmn_kinkmeme!
Below are some basic guidelines to get started. Please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines to minimise any confusion.
Guidelines:
■ Anonymously comment with your request – a character/pairing/nthsome, and a kink or prompt.
■ Only one prompt per post.
■ Fillers please link your fills in the Fills Post!
■ Have fun! :)
Keep in mind:
■ Any kinks welcomed!
■ The fill/request does not need to be sexual or porny.
■ Multiple fills are allowed.
■ Fills can be any sort of creative work: fic, art, song, photomanip, etc.
■ Beware of spoilers! Prompters and requesters are encouraged to warn for spoilers, but this rule is not enforced.
■ Warning for non-con, dub-con, abuse, slurs/language, and other potentially disturbing subjects is encouraged but be aware we do not enforce this.
Links:
☆ Current Prompt Post
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
☆ Misfire deletion requests
jsmn_kinkmeme!Below are some basic guidelines to get started. Please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines to minimise any confusion.
Guidelines:
■ Anonymously comment with your request – a character/pairing/nthsome, and a kink or prompt.
■ Only one prompt per post.
■ Fillers please link your fills in the Fills Post!
■ Have fun! :)
Keep in mind:
■ Any kinks welcomed!
■ The fill/request does not need to be sexual or porny.
■ Multiple fills are allowed.
■ Fills can be any sort of creative work: fic, art, song, photomanip, etc.
■ Beware of spoilers! Prompters and requesters are encouraged to warn for spoilers, but this rule is not enforced.
■ Warning for non-con, dub-con, abuse, slurs/language, and other potentially disturbing subjects is encouraged but be aware we do not enforce this.
Links:
☆ Current Prompt Post
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
☆ Misfire deletion requests
FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-09 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)The thought of that cook made his stomach grumble with the reminder that he hadn't eaten anything since he'd heard about Strange's arrest. Grant wondered when Strange himself had last eaten. After removing his overcoat and jacket, he checked the pantry to find that the cook had come around in his absence and prepared a hearty supper, which had been covered up for him. There was more than enough to share.
"Merlin?" Grant called, knocking lightly at the door. When he heard no reply, a chill ran through him at the thought that Strange might've fled through the mirror after all. When he opened the door, however, he found Strange standing stiffly at the window, his back pointedly turned on Grant, shoulders hunched and shaking slightly.
"Are you all right?" Grant asked, stepping into the room. After a moment, Strange turned toward him enough that he could see that Strange was crying. Grant held his breath, unprepared for such a display.
"Perhaps I am too late," Strange managed, his voice thick. He wouldn't meet Grant's eyes. "Perhaps her brother was right, and Arabella's soul is already consigned to heaven; what if I cannot bring her back as she was, fully in tact? What if I do more harm to her than death has done already? Would she be as miserable as Lady Pole, or worse for having been dead even longer? Would she forgive me, Grant? ...Would it be too unforgivable?"
"Why risk such a thing?" Grant tried, "Surely if you love her, you will let her rest..."
"It is because I love her that I cannot let her rest!" Strange cried, meeting Grant's eyes now with desperation, "What good is my magic if it cannot save the woman I love? What use am I?!"
"You cannot save what has already been lost," Grant reasoned, stepping toward him. "Death is not the province of any man, even a magician. It is a contract with God."
"I am not a very religious man, Grant," Strange confessed. "In truth, I don't think myself capable of honoring such a contract, if it means losing her."
"She is already lost," Grant emphasized, as gently as he could. He regretted the words when he saw Strange's face crumple, on the verge of another bout of tears. He cautiously stepped forward until he stood in front of Strange, his hands out as if uncertain what he should do. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his concerned eyes apologizing more sincerely than his words as they met Strange's helpless, watery gaze, "I'm so sorry."
Strange let out a strangled noise then and crumpled further, and Grant was obliged to draw him in for an embrace. Grant had never been particularly skilled at providing comfort, especially to anyone with a constitution as delicate as Strange's. In wartime, such fragility would be actively discouraged. No soldier would be permitted to carry on like this. But the war was over, and Strange had never really been a soldier. He was a creature wholly unto himself; something powerful and even dangerous at times, but also requiring special protection and looking after. It made for an odd dynamic, and the friendship that had slowly developed between Grant and the magician had simultaneously been the most unusual and natural sort of thing. Despite his eccentricities, or maybe even because of them, Grant did like the man, and had even come to respect him. He'd seen Strange at various low points, and each time Strange had managed to pull himself together enough to maintain his dignity. But this raw emotion from Strange was something new, and Grant didn't know how to handle it.
As Strange collapsed against him, sobbing miserably into his shoulder, Grant stood stiffly, feeling a sweat break out across his body. Such physical contact was quite alien to him. He could feel each of Strange's sobs as it wracked through him, and the dampness of Strange's tears soaking into his shirt. Strange's breath was both warm and cool on the wet fabric, and his hands clutched tightly at the shirt over Grant's back. He didn't know whether he wanted to push Strange away in disgust, or hold him closer in sympathy. Unable to settle on which option was preferable, he merely stood still and abided the onslaught.
Grant wasn't sure how long he stood that way before Strange's hands finally loosened their grip on his shirt, his sobbing reduced to shuddering breaths. Time seemed to stretch out with agonizing intensification as their awareness of their respective positions became acute. All of a sudden Strange stepped back unsteadily, wiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands.
"What a spectacle I've made of myself," he apologized, voice congested.
"Not at all."
"I've gone and made a handkerchief of your shirt."
"Never mind. Come, sit here; Pauline has laid out fresh handkerchiefs for you," Grant offered, indicating the dressing table. As Strange complied, Grant handed him a handkerchief to blow his nose as he poured some hot water into the wash basin. Placing a gentle hand behind Strange's shoulder, Grant took up a towel and dipped it in the water, then dabbed the wet cloth at Strange's tear-streaked cheeks. When Strange closed his eyes and sighed at the attention, Grant pulled a stool beside him and sat down to continue his ministrations. If either of them wondered why Grant was compelled to coddle Strange in this manner, they didn't let their confusion show.
"You are overdue for a shave," Grant murmured as the fine linen snagged against Strange's stubble. When Strange merely hummed in vague acknowledgement, Grant made a decision. "Give me a moment," he said, rising from his stool and giving Strange a comforting pat on the shoulder when the man opened his eyes in confusion. Grant left the room, then quickly returned with a small bowl and a kit of shaving soap, a shaving brush, a leather strop and a fine-looking razor blade. Strange watched as Grant hooked the leather strop to the table and pulled it taut, drawing the blade along it in a practiced manner until he was satisfied that it was properly honed. He then poured some fresh water into the bowl, wet the brush and worked up a lather with the soap. Watching Grant's preparations was oddly soothing to Strange, and he relaxed back into his chair with a warm anticipation.
"Don't get too comfortable; you'll need to undress first," Grant gently admonished, gesturing to Strange's collar. When Strange tiredly looked down at himself as if too drained to even remove his own jacket, Grant gave a short sigh and set the brush aside, wiping his hands off on a towel before re-seating himself beside Strange and unfastening the garment, himself. This appeared to be what Strange wanted, as he passively allowed Grant to undress him with a look of calm, cooperating by slackening his limbs as Grant pulled the jacket off and began to remove the waistcoat, cravat, and finally loosened his shirt enough to pull back the collar and expose the length of Strange's throat.
Strange's eyes were barely open throughout the process, but when he felt warm fingers pressing lightly against his chin, he opened them fully to regard Grant in surprise.
"Lean your head back," Grant instructed, carefully positioning Strange before withdrawing his hand to refresh the lather on the brush. Inexplicably, Strange found himself missing the gentle touch, but was soon gratified when it returned as Grant began to stroke the brush over his skin in regular, circular motions, lightly holding Strange's head in place with the fingers of his left hand at his jaw. Strange watched Grant's face as he worked, finding Grant's look of concentration oddly touching. He was suddenly very grateful to have a friend like Grant, willing to take him in to his own home and pamper him so in the wake of his great loss. Who was this man seated beside him, his shoulder still damp from where Strange had cried against him, attending to him with such gentleness and concern? Was it really the same man that Strange had known in the Peninsula, who had at first been so brusque and dismissive of him? The same man who fought so valiantly at Waterloo, cutting down the lives of so many French soldiers, somehow surviving the fray despite reports to the contrary? Strange recalled that moment after the battle, when he'd recognized Grant approaching him, still alive, and felt the heavy burden of that day lighten at the sight of him. Grant hadn't died after all, and neither had he — and here was the proof of their mutual survival: the vital miracle of warm, living fingers touching his own face. Strange leaned into the touch without intending to, and Grant's eyes lifted to meet his.
"I'm so very glad you are alive," Strange heard himself say in a small, wavering voice. Grant frowned in confusion, his eyes turning somewhat sad again before he returned to his task, glancing nervously at Strange before finishing his brush strokes, then setting the brush aside and taking up the razor.
"Keep still," Grant said quietly, his soft touch now at Strange's temple, repositioning his head. As Strange leaned back and closed his eyes, he felt Grant's fingers reaching higher, parting the wild strands of his hair as he cradled Strange's head, almost caressing him. Strange inhaled deeply at the touch, then felt the first swipe of the razor against his neck. The soft scrape of the razor against the bristles of his exposed throat was surprisingly intimate, and Strange's Adam's apple lurched at the sound. "Keep still," Grant reminded him, his fingers flexing minutely against Strange's head. Strange swallowed and relaxed, allowing the careful, repetitive motion to continue as Grant finished shaving his neck and began on his jaw.
As more and more of the lather and stubble was scraped away, Strange could feel a delightful coolness left behind on the clean swaths of his skin. This refreshing sensation, combined with the gentle warmth of Grant's fingers cupping his head, was incredibly relaxing, and he let out a sigh of contentment. Surprised by the sound he'd just made, Strange opened his eyes to find Grant looking at him curiously. Strange offered a small, embarrassed smile, and Grant resumed his work.
After he'd finished, Grant wet a towel and swiped at the residual traces of soap, and noticed how Strange had closed his eyes again and seemed to find comfort in the attentiveness. Grant was emboldened by the trust that the magician was showing him, and did not wish to withdraw so soon. Grant mused that, though he may have received such attention from caretakers as a child, he'd never been so gentle with another... He'd clumsily attended to wounded soldiers before, but never with such a degree of compassion as this; never with any lingering tenderness. And yet here he was, taking the damp cloth and soothing it over Strange's brow, wiping at his face until it was clean again, as if he could wipe away the man's sorrow.
Some water and suds had trailed down Strange's neck and settled in the sparse, dark hairs of his chest that were visible through the open neckline of his shirt. Grant followed the trail with his towel, noticing the soft rise and fall of Strange's chest as he did so. Strange, still with eyes closed and looking so comforted as to be on the verge of sleep, held out his arms as if expecting Grant to remove the entire shirt. Grant only paused for a moment, then set the towel aside and obliged, lifting the shirt off with ease. As if it were the most normal thing to do, Grant reached for a sponge and soaked it in the warm water of the basin, then began rubbing over the other man's torso. Strange's head lolled back in appreciation as Grant cleaned him, then leaned forward to allow for better access to his back as Grant reached around and swiped at him thoroughly. He took up a ball of fine soap and built up a sufficient lather, then lifted Strange's arm and scrubbed beneath, the warm scent of bergamot and neroli filling the air around them. Strange inhaled deeply in appreciation, and Grant quirked a small smile as he lifted the opposite arm, unsurprised that this man would be enchanted by such fineries. Though he'd thought the gifted toiletries had been silly when he'd received them, he supposed that he might come to appreciate their charms, now.
After several more passes with the sponge, enough stray trails of water had soaked into the edge of Strange's trousers that they were becoming uncomfortably damp. Strange blinked his sleepy eyes open and glanced down, unfastening them. Before Grant could decide whether or not he was comfortable with what was happening now, Strange had removed his shoes and stockings, stood, divested himself of his trousers, and was now working on the ties of his drawers.
"Perhaps you'd like to take over from here," Grant suggested, clearing his throat and offering Strange the sponge.
"Must I?" Strange pouted, looking as if the idea of washing himself was not at all appealing.
Grant quirked an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in uncertainty. Did Strange really expect him to continue? Apparently, the answer was yes, as Strange was now stepping out of his drawers and standing before him completely nude, without so much as a hint of awkwardness about him. He was looking at Grant expectantly, glancing from the sponge in Grant's hand to Grant's stunned face. Grant didn't understand why the sight of a naked man should be so shocking to him, having seen more than his fair share of male bodies in his time — but the sight of Strange standing there, wanting Grant to touch him more intimately than he'd ever touched another man, however innocuous the invitation, suddenly had him feeling quite out of sorts. He didn't understand why his skin should feel so hot beneath his clothes, or why the long, pale shape of the magician's body should draw his attention as it did, looking less like a blunt, average male physique than like the body of a creature far more graceful; something almost otherworldly; something more significant to lay hands upon. But of course this was only Jonathan! What had possessed him to think of his friend in such terms? Was this the effect of his persistent appetite, causing his mind to deteriorate? Or was there really something to this notion that Jonathan Strange was more 'other' than he'd previously conceived?
"Please, Grant," Strange encouraged. "You really have a most soothing way about you; I should very much like you to continue."
Well. He supposed it wouldn't do to refuse, now...
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-09 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-09 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)It was actually a kink I was contemplating on posting a promt of AND HERE I HAVE IT. SHAVING. Author, you kill me with every word of this perfection. I cannot get enough of it. I felt like purring during the whole scene of shaving and bathing :3
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 02:08 am (UTC)(link)He wasn't dreaming, he knew, as he smoothed the sponge over the man's lower back, knowing with complete certainty that the flesh he encountered was as real as his own steady hand. He was not imagining the gooseflesh that broke out across Strange's arms as a trail of water streamed down over the curve of his rear, and Grant chased its progress with his sponge. Strange's posture seemed to change, however minutely, as Grant smoothed the sponge over his buttocks, perhaps with a touch more reverence than the situation demanded. When he caught himself lingering too long on the area, he blinked in bewilderment at his own wayward thoughts and reached over to the basin to soak up some more water. Turning back toward Strange, he found that the man had rotated in place and was now facing him, chin held high, arms out as his sides, and was looking at Grant expectantly... with a (playful?) glint in his eye that he took as a kind of challenge. Surely this wasn't some kind of game he was playing at? Was Strange actually teasing him? Well. If he thought Grant was about to back off, now, he was quite mistaken.
Giving the sponge a light squeeze over the basin, Grant returned Strange's enigmatic look with one of his own and stepped forward, glancing down at Strange's exposed genitals and holding the sponge aloft, hovering over them as he returned his eyes to Strange's face. Strange gasped as Grant squeezed the sponge, trickling water over him with a half-smirk before pressing the sponge against him and working over the area with clinical detachment. To his continued surprise, Strange looked bereft when he removed his hand to douse the sponge again, and he narrowed his eyes in curiosity. He moved the sponge back in place, this time holding it to Strange's belly, and moved it in a light circular motion, noting how Strange's muscles twitched at the delicate contact. Strange's abdomen contracted as the sponge moved upward, teasing light strokes across his ribs, then up again to press against his furred chest, stray trails of sudsy water trickling down the length of him to collect in his already damp pubic hairs. As Grant passed the sponge sideways to graze over a nipple, Strange's body shuddered as he gasped again, locking surprised eyes with Grant.
They both knew in that moment that their game had escalated now, to their mutual astonishment. Grant's ministrations had somehow gone beyond administering comfort and were now coaxing a different kind of pleasure from Strange, which was plainly evident from Strange's swelling genitals. Even more perplexing was the fact that Grant's own cock had begun to stir in response.
Grant and Strange both stared at their crotches in alarm, then glanced back up at each other. Grant was still holding the sponge high against Strange's ribs, uncertain how to proceed. As if in answer to his unvoiced question, Strange pressed his body against Grant's stilled hand, silently urging him to continue. Grant looked at him as if to convey, 'are you sure you want this?' and Strange's eyes seemed to reply, 'why not?'
So Grant tentatively moved the sponge lower, until it was sliding over the jutted edge of Strange's hip. Both men watched its progress, transfixed. It moved up along Strange's waist, caressing the sensitive skin of his side, then took a meandering course down his back as Grant reached behind him to take another pass over the tempting curve of his rump. Strange raised an eyebrow at this, regarding Grant quizzically before shifting just slightly enough to direct Grant's attention to the cleft of his buttocks. Grant's eyes flashed to his as he took the hint, and pressed the sponge between the well-rounded cheeks, inhaling sharply along with Strange as he pressed until he hit his mark. Grant's free hand landed on Strange's hip, steadying both himself and Strange as a rush of blood surged toward his genitals, his cock now straining against his trousers. A glance down confirmed that Strange was experiencing a similar rush, and both men swallowed thickly.
Grant moved the sponge against Strange's hole in a manner that was both curious and incendiary. Strange's hands flew up to grip Grant's shoulders, his breath coming out hot and thick against Grant's face as Grant allowed a single finger to stray, grazing across Strange's perineum. At the sound of Strange's hitched breath, Grant dropped the sponge and pressed his fingertips against Strange's anus, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his own desire. Strange's hands gripped Grant's shoulders tighter as his head fell forward to rest against Grant's, forehead to forehead, both men's eyes closed tightly as they gave in to the startling temptation. Grant's other hand slipped behind Strange until he had two heavy handfuls of the other man's rump, and as he squeezed, spreading the cheeks, his middle finger circled the exposed hole, eliciting a broken sound from Strange that went straight to Grant's groin.
Grant's mouth was hovering close enough to Strange's to feel his heavy breaths against his lips, and he felt an overwhelming impulse to kiss the other man. Instead, he tried to snuff out the desire by latching his mouth onto the crook of Strange's neck, half-biting, half-sucking on the clean skin as Strange yelped in surprise, grasping at the back of Grant's neck as Grant's tongue slid heavily against his skin. When Grant's fingertip pressed slowly into him, still slick with soapy water, Strange moaned and dropped his other hand to Grant's rear, pulling him in until their crotches were pressed together. Grant's finger pressed in deeper as he thrust his hips forward against Strange, groaning against the spit-slick skin of Strange's neck.
Strange was fairly whimpering now, rolling his hips to press back against Grant's probing until he'd driven him in all the way, and rubbing his hard cock against Grant's trouser-bound erection. The noises Strange was making were driving Grant too close too fast, so despite his earlier reservations about the act, he pulled back to silence him with a searing kiss. Strange welcomed it eagerly, one of his hands lifting to cradle the side of Grant's face, and Grant's opposite hand mirrored the gesture, threading fingertips into Strange's hair. The kiss gentled and deepened as each of the men communicated their want to the other, Grant's other hand caressing over the curves of Strange's buttocks. When Grant withdrew, he found that Strange was shaking.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, concern creeping into his lust-clouded eyes.
Strange shook his head, pressing his forehead to Grant's and wrapping his arms around him to grip at his neck and the hair at the base of his head.
"No, please, you mustn't stop," Strange whispered, his words ghosting over Grant's flushed face.
Grant moved his mouth to Strange's ear, suggestively stroking his fingers over Strange's buttocks as he quietly asked, "Do you know what I would have?"
Strange swallowed thickly, and nodded.
Grant pulled back and looked him in the eye as he asked in all seriousness, "Will you let me?"
By way of answer, Strange lifted a shaky hand to Grant's face, caressing him gently before leaning in for a lingering kiss, then murmured against his lips, "Do as you will. I won't resist."
If Grant thought this was an odd manner of assent, the thought quickly passed as Strange pressed a curious hand to the bulge in his trousers, testing the bulk of him. Strange examined the bulge with interest, then lifted his gaze to Grant's with the quirk of a smile playing at a corner of his open mouth. Without further deliberation, Grant began removing his trousers.
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 06:28 am (UTC)(link)*chinhands*
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 01:22 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-11 07:59 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-12 02:30 am (UTC)(link)FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (4/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-13 09:25 pm (UTC)(link)And anyway, Grant seemed to be keen enough to go down this path with him. Judging by the urgency of his undressing and the— yes, Strange could now assuredly confirm as Grant's drawers were pulled down— the exceptionally erect state of his member, Grant was quite keen, indeed. At the back of his frantic mind, Strange was distantly aware of a kind of foreboding that followed the recognition of Grant's eagerness, but he could not dwell on this, now; not while Grant was stepping forward again, fully unclothed, and looking at Strange as if he meant to thoroughly scandalize his person. By God, Strange would let him.
As soon as Grant was close enough to kiss Strange once more, he stopped short, seemingly considering something of great import. Strange felt a jolt of panic, fearing that Grant had suddenly come to his senses and would turn away from him. He looked at Grant questioningly, hoping he hadn't changed his mind.
"Is it safe?" Grant asked, a little stiltedly.
"Safe?" Strange repeated, confused.
"What I mean is... might there be any risk of some kind of... magical outburst, I suppose?" Grant inquired, shrugging in some embarrassment. "I wouldn't want to inadvertently... I don't know. Set the house on fire?"
Strange smiled at that. "I promise not to start any fires," Strange assured, "though your confidence in your ability to inspire such a reaction from me is quite provocative."
"That is not what I meant," Grant flatly retorted.
"Would you like me to, then?" Strange asked, rather flirtatiously. When Grant lifted an eyebrow in question, Strange clarified, "Shall I do a bit of magic? For you?"
Grant swallowed, flushing at the suggestion. "Such as?"
Smirking, Strange cast his eyes about the room for a moment before apparently lighting on an idea. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes before his eyelids began to flutter, and a series of unintelligible words tumbled very quickly from his moving lips as his hands lifted, fingers dancing. The hairs on Grant's arms suddenly stood on end as a distinctly paranormal sensation swept across his skin, and his breath hitched as hundreds of tiny lights suddenly burst into being in the air all around them, each one hovering for a moment as it was born, then drifting in a slow orbit around the pair of them, trailing faint, glimmering streams as they circled them, pulsing with the soft, silvery glow of starlight.
"Good lord..." Grant murmured as he took in the dazzling display, mesmerized by the scene. He tentatively reached toward one of the orbs, hesitating before his outstretched fingers came in contact.
"They are perfectly safe," Strange teased, looking rather pleased with his own spell.
Grant turned back to him with an expression Strange hoped was more impressed than leery, looking him over again with such intensity that Strange felt his gaze like a heat upon himself. He swallowed, then returned the gaze with equal fervor. Grant was upon him in an instant.
Strange made a pleased noise as soon as their mouths met, which Grant swallowed up hungrily as he reached behind to latch a firm grip on Strange's rear, pulling him in until their cocks slid against one another. They both gasped out small cries at that, thrusting aimlessly against one another as tongues and lips and teeth variously licked, sucked and bit, while the silvery lights gained momentum in their individual orbits. It wasn't long before Grant was backing Strange toward the bed, the orbs following their movements as they ended up tangled together on top of the mattress, Grant crawling over Strange, groping and mouthing every part of him he could reach while Strange made the most encouraging sounds beneath him, giving himself over completely to the sensual assault.
Eventually Grant pulled back enough to take a good look at the man beneath him, still astonished by the reaction of his own mind and body at having him. He supposed the magician was quite handsome, albeit in a rather unusual sort of way, but this increasingly domineering impulse to ravage him was still so new; so unprecedented, that it was followed by a formidable sort of anxiety. He *wanted* this so much that he didn't trust the forcefulness of his desire, and felt like he was doing a kind of violence to himself in yielding to it. Still, with his lips so raw and wet and his face so slack with pleasure, Jonathan Strange was impossible not to cave in to. Grant slanted his hips, grinding down against Strange's hardness, thrilling at the wavering moan that he received. He continued to grind against him as he watched his face, feeling not unlike a cat toying with a trapped mouse before swallowing it whole.
Strange was similarly fascinated with the sight of Grant as he hovered over him, his blonde hair mussed in a decidedly boyish fashion, his rosy lips parted in concentration as he thrust against him, watching him with expressive eyes that appeared almost nervous, pupils blown with lust. His strong arms were flexed as they held his body up, bracketing Strange's shoulders as Strange reached up to hold onto Grant's sides, alternating between pushing him back and pulling him in. He'd known that Grant was a sturdy, proper soldier, but seeing him flexed above him now, with the orbiting lights illuminating his naked musculature, he was fully aware of just how well-built the man really was. This awareness would have made him self-conscious of his own physique (an aspect of himself that had never troubled him before), were it not for the plainly evident adoration that the blonde Adonis was bestowing on him. The idea that this man was determined to take him was as thrilling as it was daunting, but Strange latched on to that conflicting reaction with purpose, using it to fuel his growing delirium.
With a long groan, Grant leaned down and kissed Strange with a languid tongue, tugging his lower lip between his teeth as he canted short thrusts against him.
"I need you," he breathed hotly into Strange's ear, nipping at the lobe before growling, "now."
"Yes," was all Strange could gasp in response, his cock throbbing against Grant's hip as he strained against it, "yes... yes..."
Grant was suddenly off him, sauntering over to the washing table with such confidence in his nudity that Strange's cock twitched appreciatively -- a reaction that thankfully went unnoticed. Strange watched as Grant fished a small pot of cold cream out of a drawer, loosening the lid as he returned to the bed with a cluster of wayward orbs trailing after him.
Strange gulped as Grant straddled him again, rubbing the cream over his engorged member with a slight hiss, coating it liberally. He leaned down to kiss Strange again before murmuring, "Roll over."
Strange swallowed again, nodding, then obliged, inhaling shakily when he felt Grant stroking his buttocks approvingly again. He gasped when he felt cool fingers prodding at him, spreading him and coating his anus in the slick cream. At first he was resistant to the finger Grant was working inside of him, but as Grant's other hand continued stroking over his lower back, buttocks, and the backs of his thighs, soothing him and inciting him, he relaxed into the prodding, beginning to enjoy the pressure of it. When Grant began pinching and tugging at the fleshy mounds of his arse cheeks, clearly getting worked up behind him, Strange bucked back into his hand, encouraging him to press another slick finger inside him. After stretching him to satisfaction, Grant curled his fingers deep inside Strange, eliciting a high, fluttering moan that went straight to his straining cock. He could hear how harshly Grant's breaths were coming, and the feeling of being exposed to him like this, exciting him, was making Strange's heavy cock leak into the mattress. He wanted very badly to see the look on Grant's face.
"I need you, Merlin," Grant insisted, withdrawing his fingers.
"Wait," Strange replied, twisting until he was on his back again. "I want to look at you."
Grant swallowed thickly at this. "It would be easier from behind," he offered.
"I do not want it to be easy," Strange insisted, "I want to watch."
Grant looked doubtful of this, but was too far gone to argue. "Very well." He reached for Strange's legs, spreading them and lifting them at the knees as he positioned himself above him, testing the angle. "This won't do," he muttered in frustration, "hand me that pillow," he gestured. Strange reached back for it with a moue of confusion, and Grant took it and placed it at his rear, motioning for him to lift his hips. The added angle made it much easier for Grant to reposition himself, and when he was satisfied, he reached for the cold cream and placed another dollop at Strange's opening, working it in with ease. Taking up Strange's legs again, he readied himself and locked nervous, needy eyes with Strange. The orbs were moving about them faster, now, their glimmering tails leaving longer streaks in the charged air.
Grant nodded at Strange, who nodded back. Grant pushed. Strange's breath hitched. Grant stilled, then slowly pushed further, gritting his teeth, until the head of his cock was inside of Strange. The tendons in Strange's neck were pulled taut, his eyes squinted but still open, watching Grant with flared nostrils as he bit down hard on his lip. Grant pushed further, further, a strange noise building in his throat that he was powerless to silence as he drove slowly into the impossibly tight orifice, unsure if the lights darting around his vision were Strange's orbs or phosphenes brought on by the awesome strain of it all. When he had made it half-way in, he paused to take a steadying breath, then pulled back slightly, drawing a shuddering moan out of Strange. The sound broke what was left of his restraint, arousing him so strongly that he thrust forward with a heavy lunge of his hips, driving deeply into Strange and knocking another blood-simmering noise out of him. Grant's mouth went slack as he stared at Strange with a look of absolute wonder, watching him closely as he pulled out slowly, his own face mirroring Strange's expression as he withdrew, then pushed back in with a slight curl of his upper lip, grunting as he seated himself almost entirely inside of Strange. Strange's hands came up to touch him, stroking into his hair and over his collarbone, and Grant pulled back again to thrust in harder, making Strange's fingers grasp tightly at his hair, the fingers of his other hand digging into Grant's shoulder. Grant began to thrust in a steady rhythm as Strange gripped him with force, the thrusts coming harder as the fingers in his hair pulled tighter, driving him on.
They were both grunting and groaning as the rhythm turned almost violent, the orbs around them spinning so fast now that the lights blurred into streaks of hot white, their radiance even more pronounced. Strange lay back and took everything Grant gave: the long, constant burn, the surprisingly satisfying pressure, the feeling of being torn open wide; split and filled -- a sensation that was as mind-numbing as it was maddeningly arousing. He wanted to reach for his own erection, which was throbbing almost painfully from neglect, but feared finishing too soon. Better to let the torment build, he thought erratically; all the better to drive him out of his mind.
"Oh Merlin!" Grant gasped, his brow creased and beaded with sweat, "I can't... this is too much..."
Strange only moaned in response — a long, broken wail that wavered with each of Grant's heavy thrusts. He'd slackened his grip on Grant's hair, and his hands were now at Grant's neck, one wrapped around the nape, pulling at him, the other pressed high on his collar, his thumb pressing against the base of his throat. The heat and moisture coming off of his body were causing his hair to shock out in a wild mane, some of the strands sticking to his face, and when he couldn't maintain his intense focus on the sight of Grant rutting above him, flushed and fevered, his eyes would roll back into his head where he could still see the swirling lights behind his eyelids.
Suddenly Grant's thrusts turned wildly erratic, and then, throwing his head back, he made a noise that was so poignant that Strange caught his breath at the sound of it. With one final jerk of his hips, Grant spilled deep and hot inside of him, Strange's fingers grasping at the hair above his neck at the shock of it. As Grant lurched forward with a deep groan, he rolled his hips indulgently, his spent cock sliding wetly inside of Strange, who was whimpering with the need to come, himself. Grant's mouth latched onto Strange's neck and sucked bruisingly as his hand found Strange's leaking cock—his own still semi-hard inside of Strange—and after several rough pulls and a nip of teeth over the sensitive, purpling skin of his neck, Strange was crying out, spurting thickly over Grant's hand, chest, and his own stomach, the magic lights swirling up, up, up toward the ceiling to form one pulsating, magnificently bright ball which finally burst into thousands of falling starts.
FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-13 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)The two men lay panting together on the mattress as the conjured stars faded around them, sweaty and sticky and utterly satiated. Grant felt that he was dozing off, which he hoped Strange wouldn't consider rude. At some point he felt Strange wiping gently at his hand and chest with a damp cloth, and hummed appreciatively, eyes half-opening for a moment as he lazily smacked his lips, then drifted off once more.
When he awoke a second time, it was to the sound of Strange murmuring something he couldn't make out over a bright candle in an otherwise dark room. There was a blanket over him, now. He looked down at it with some surprise, then over to Strange, who was holding a lit match aloft, then extinguishing it with a weirdly graceful, practiced swish of his hand as he completed his incantation. Grant blinked drowsily, frowning as he rubbed at his eyes, focusing on the image of Strange dressed in the robe that Pauline had laid out for him, clearly up to something.
"Hello?" Strange asked, after a tense pause. "Are you there?"
Grant felt a queer sort of chill, feeling inexplicably as though he were being observed, though Strange's back was to him, and no one else appeared in the room. Grant very much hoped that Strange would not be uncouth enough to summon the ghost of his departed wife while Grant lay naked upon the bed.
Strange waited for another long moment, then seemed to droop with disappointment. "Damn," he cursed, muttering bitterly, "damn it all... it should have worked." He leaned forward and blew out the candle with a short huff, casting the room in near-darkness, the faint glow of embers in the fireplace the only source of light, now.
"What should have worked?" Grant asked, causing Strange to turn about in surprise.
"Ah... you are awake," Strange replied, his voice sounding odd to Grant's ears. "I did not mean to disturb you."
"What were you doing?" Grant asked, sitting up.
"Oh, nothing of any consequence," Strange murmured, the odd tone in his voice even more noticeable now.
"It looked like magic," Grant persisted.
"Well, I am a magician," Strange deflected.
"And do you always perform magic at odd hours, while your lover sleeps beside you?"
Even in the dark, Grant could make out Strange's frown.
"There was no magic. It did not work. I'm sorry that I woke you, but I do not wish to speak any more about it."
"So you propose that I simply ignore what I saw and go back to sleep?" Grant quipped, feeling stung.
"If you wish," Strange sighed. "You may do as you like, so long as I need not answer any more questions."
Well. Grant certainly knew a dismissal when he heard one.
"Very well, I shall leave you to perform— or not perform— whatever late night spells you do not wish to discuss," Grant huffed, throwing the blanket off himself as he stood up and gathered his discarded garments.
"Grant—" Strange began, suddenly apologetic.
"No, no. Do not trouble yourself," Grant replied, snatching up his boots, "I would be more comfortable in my own bed, anyhow."
"I did not mean to..." Strange started, then broke off when he caught the look in Grant's eyes. Oh, no. He hadn't meant to hurt him, he really hadn't! "Grant... I'm sorry..."
"Goodnight, Merlin," Grant swallowed, radiating awkwardness and disappointment, with a hint of something else that Strange didn't want to dwell on in that moment.
"Goodnight," he returned, full of regret, and Grant shut the door.
...
(A/N: Soooo... I could end it here, and may well do, but this could also turn into something much longer, which would involve slow updates and the burning desire to revise what I've already posted [but can't edit anonymous posts!], which makes me think continuing on Ao3 would be the best course of action, if I do continue...?)
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-15 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 02:20 am (UTC)(link)where are all the comments this story deserves!!! I love it so much, you are a gift, A!A!
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-21 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-01 09:54 am (UTC)(link)I love Jonathan being a jerk, consumed by his own purpose (which he sometimes really is, although here he also is grief-stricken, so... it's understandable, I guess). I love how Grant is slowly developing something towards Jonathan, or starts to feel what was already there, but still isn't completely smitten from the very beginning.
They are both so in character it almost hurts.
I'd love to see what they're going to do now, after such painful (and amazingly hot) start.
And even if you decided to drop this, thanks! It was a great pleasure to read it.
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-05 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)This was absolutely incredible and so so hot. The build up to the smut (with the crying, shaving, washing) was incredible. The beautiful description of the shaving and washing actually set off my ASMR and I had goosebumps all over myself because of it, so thank you thank you thank you for that. I will be coming back to this fill several times.
AND THE MAGIC! How beautiful! Strange is such a show off, I loved it.
I really hope that this will turn up on AO3 because I will bookmark the hell out of it.
FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 02:09 am (UTC)(link)-A!A
Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 09:24 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-10 04:00 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-13 11:26 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-13 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)-A!A