jsmn_kinkmeme | ☆ Round One!

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kinkmeme

☆ Round One!

Welcome to the first round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at

jsmn_kinkmeme!

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■ Multiple fills are allowed.
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As Grant approached Strange, he was struck by the sheer ridiculousness of the situation he'd managed to get himself into. Somehow, in the course of the last several hours, he'd assumed lawful responsibility of the most formidable magician in England, undressed him, shaved him, and was now washing him with a sponge. If this had been some kind of bizarre dream, Grant would have dismissed it as utter nonsense as soon as he'd woken up.

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.

Oh, do continue please! I think this is one of my favourite fills on this kink meme...

*chinhands*

I'm having trouble breathing here - this is intense!!!

It IS an odd manner of assent. What is Strange up to? Or is he just not thinking straight?

oh oh oh. I have no words only whimpers *___*

As Jonathan Strange watched Grant undress, his eyes flashed somewhat hysterically as he considered what he was about to do. Surely *this* was madness. If achieving an altered state of consciousness was the desired goal, then letting another man bugger him senseless was certainly one way to go about it. It was worth a shot, anyway... Wasn't it? ...Was he being too reckless, seducing his friend in this underhanded manner? Hadn't Grant as much as consigned himself to this fate when he'd involved himself in the magician's sordid affair in the first place? He ought not to have put himself in the way of a man as determined as he, Strange thought uncharitably. After all, Grant had practically been the one to suggest the idea of chasing madness in the first place... or, at least, had inadvertently inspired it.

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.

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...?)

For the love of the Raven King, please please please continue!

YES! AO3! PERFECT, PLEASE!!!
where are all the comments this story deserves!!! I love it so much, you are a gift, A!A!

This is wonderful, so many feelings and so hot as well. I'd love to see it continued. Although poor poor Major Grant if he ever realised that Strange thought to prove/increase his madness through sleeping with him, bad enough to be turned out of bed, than to realise the person he so obvious adores considered what they shared insanity,

This is perfect! Please, please do continue!

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.

Well, I feel like the cat who's got the cream. I posted a prompt yesterday for pretty much this exact thing on round two (after somehow, God knows how??) missing this fill here.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

☆ Round One!

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (3/?)

FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (4/?)

FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)

Re: FILL: Grant/Strange - canon divergence (5/?)