jsmn_kinkmeme | ☆ Round Two!

Entry tags:

kinkmeme

☆ Round Two!

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

jsmn_kinkmeme!

Below are some basic guidelines, but please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines.

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.
■ Would fillers please make sure when posting a fill in multiple parts that they thread their comments by replying to previous parts.

Links:
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
☆ Misfire deletion requests
☆ Previous Rounds: Round One

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“You must not feel badly,” De Lancey said, letting the lantern dangle from the fingers of his right hand and peering at Grant in the moonlight. “I’ve never seen His Lordship go as pale as he did when that first Neapolitan sat up!”

“Did he indeed?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“No. I confess my attention was rather riveted on the waking corpses.”

“Well, I have you at an advantage then. I kept my eyes on Wellington - partly out of fear and partly because it was only the terror of embarrassing myself in front of him that kept me from running out!” De Lancey paused. “Not to cast aspersions on Merlin, but - to be honest - I don’t think I really expected anything to happen.”

Grant laughed. “No, nor did I. Well, we got a surprise, didn’t we? I rather wish now Merlin hadn’t been so successful.” A shudder passed through him unbidden. De Lancey felt it and put his arm up, first laying a hand upon Grant’s nearest shoulder, then gradually letting his hand slide further, across Grant’s back, until it came to rest on his left shoulder. He leant his head a bit closer to Grant’s until they were almost touching. This closer proximity made a tingle flutter in the pit of Grant’s stomach, the first sensation of the night that was not unpleasant.

“How is that you are so unaffected?” Grant asked.

“Unaffected? I wouldn't say that. How could anyone witness such a thing and be unaffected by it? I don’t know. I suppose things affect us all differently. There was a moment--" De Lancey hesitated, swallowing audibly. “There was a moment, several months ago, when I heard some news that terrified me more than anything ever has. I passed several days in an agony of fear and once it was over-- Well, perhaps three resurrected Neapolitans didn’t seem as horrifying to me by comparison.”

Grant looked at him in surprise and concern and, without even realizing he did so, clutched De Lancey’s hand in his. “When was this? At Badajoz? I wish that I had been there with all of you--"

“No, not Badajoz.” De Lancey’s face was very close now and Grant was transfixed by the shards of moonlight reflected in his eyes. “Do you really not know?”

Grant shook his head.

“It was when the courier came with the news for Wellington-- That you’d been captured.”

Grant was at a loss for words. They had edged around their feelings for one another for so long that this sudden admission was like a physical blow. He could feel his heart fall into a violent, pounding gallop. “I didn’t-- I didn’t know.”

De Lancey angled his head slightly: the tip of his nose brushed against Grant’s cheek and, when he spoke, Grant could feel the soft movement of his lips. “Why are you so disturbed by feeling frightened, Major? Is it because it makes you feel human? That’s not such a bad thing, is it - to feel human? And fear is just another human emotion: like curiosity. Or excitement. Or desire.”

Grant leaned a fraction closer and felt the moist heat of De Lancey’s lips against his own. “I’m not afraid of being human. Only of being a disappointment in your eyes.”

“You could never be that.”

De Lancey pressed his mouth fully to Grant’s. Their lips slotted together, a perfect, gentle tasting. Grant felt as if a storm were brewing up inside of him, a thundercloud swelling and about to burst. Slashes of fire crisscrossed his field of vision. He had never truly understood the meaning of want before that moment, the meaning of need: not when he was exhausted on a march and wanted to lie down, not when he had been hungry in Fort l’Escarpe and felt the gnawing need of a good, wholesome meal. All of those desires paled utterly in comparison to this one. He leaned into the kiss and reached out to clutch at De Lancey’s arms. De Lancey’s tongue skimmed over his and Grant’s cock stirred to sudden, insistent life in his breeches. Startled by the ferocity of his reaction, and remembering all the windows in the back of the farmhouse wall, he pulled away.

“I-- I should get back inside,” he stammered, glancing up at the windows of the farmhouse as if half expecting to see Wellington standing at the window of his room, glaring down upon them. “We should both get back inside.”

De Lancey’s face was still pressed against Grant’s cheek, his breath warm, his lips wet. “And will you be able to sleep now?” he asked.

Grant closed his eyes. In seconds he saw again the grim visages of the Neapolitans against his eyelids, smelt again the sickly sweet odor of decomposition, and he was quite certain that as soon as De Lancey was no longer beside him, all the terror of his senses would return. “No,” he admitted. “I cannot shake them. Nevermind - it will not be the first sleepless night I’ve spent. Perhaps in the morning, in the sunlight I can... banish the images somehow. Look upon something beautiful to chase the horror away. A field of wildflowers or a distant mountain... Some sight that will steal my breath and fill up my mind more pleasantly. I think only that will do the trick.”

“A sight that will steal your breath...” De Lancey repeated, and he held Grant’s arm, not allowing him to walk away. He moved his mouth back and, when he spoke next, his lips caressed Grant’s earlobe. “How long did you give the corporeal? Fifteen minutes?”

“Yes-- Probably not more than ten now. Why?”

“Very well,” De Lancey murmured, more to himself - it seemed - than to Grant. “We must be quick.” Turning, he pushed the door to the shed open and manhandled Grant inside.

The lantern, which De Lancey set up upon one of the empty shelves, illuminated the interior of the small building fully and Grant saw that it was completely empty of all its stores except for an old shovel, a chair with a broken back, and the battered wooden table, covered with a liberal layer of dust. De Lancey shut the door firmly behind them and propped the chair up against it.

“What are you doing--"

Grant barely had time to utter the words. De Lancey turned and grasped him, pressing his mouth hard against Grant’s. He put his hands to Grant’s jaw and held him, leaning into the kiss, stroking his tongue over Grant’s lips until he parted them fully. Grant’s head swam as De Lancey delved deeply into his mouth, tasting him, his tongue slipping over and tangling with his own. Then, as suddenly as he had started the kiss, De Lancey pulled away, at the same time pushing Grant backwards until he found himself up against the table. Grant stared at his colonel as the younger man took a few steps back, taking up a position in the center of the tiny room. His lips were fetchingly reddened by the pressure of the kiss and glistening with Grant’s saliva; a rosy gleam of heat lit up his cheeks.

“What--”

“I’m going to give you something better to see when you close your eyes,” De Lancey said, his voice huskier than normal. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the red wool of his coat as his hands went to the clasp of his belt. Grant, awestruck, leaned back against the table, careless of the dust upon his trousers, and watched, riveted, as De Lancey unhooked the belt and slid it from his hips. His fingers fumbled with the knot in his sash, trembling as he untied it, the red silk slipping from his hands to the floor. De Lancey held Grant’s eyes with his own, flashing brilliantly in the lantern light, as he began to unbutton his coat.

“William,” Grant whispered, and he took a single step forward. De Lancey shook his head.

“Stay where you are.” He unfastened the last button at his collar, pushed the coat back off his shoulders. “That’s an order, Major.”

Grant swallowed, choking a bit. His mouth had gone dry, his breath catching in his throat where his heart seemed to be hovering, thumping madly. He gripped the edges of the table with sweating fingers as he watched De Lancey undo the gold buttons of his waistcoat and drop it upon the floorboards. He felt heat rising to his face, no doubt flushing his cheeks with blood; sweat pricked across his brow, but he couldn’t look away: not for an instant, not for a heartbeat. De Lancey was trembling all over, he noticed - not from the cold by any means, for the shed was so small that the lantern and the heat of their bodies made it as warm as a Turkish bath - but from the excitement that had begun to manifest itself in an even more noticeable way. Now, suddenly, Grant’s mouth was flooded with saliva and he licked his lips, an insatiable hunger seizing hold of him. De Lancey pulled his shirt over his head and, tossing it to the floor, walked towards Grant until he stood but inches away.

“Not yet,” he said when Grant reached out to touch him. Blood pounded behind Grant’s eyes, making him feel as if he might swoon.

“Is that an order too?” Grant asked, his voice low and hoarse.

“Yes.” De Lancey’s breathing was audibly harsh in the close space and Grant’s gaze was riveted by the expanse of his chest as it undulated with each inhalation and exhalation. De Lancey was lean but not skinny, strong but not hard: creamy, soft flesh covered the sinew of every muscle, yet the hint of an active life could be glimpsed in the contours of his biceps, the plane of his stomach. Grant’s transfixed gaze traveled wide, taking in every detail: the dusting of auburn hair in the hollow between his small, red nipples; the thicker accumulation of hair beneath his navel which trailed down beneath the waist of his breeches. And here De Lancey’s hands had come, to the prominent swell beneath the front fall... Breathless, Grant watched those long, slender fingers work the buttons free...

“Do you think you might see this now, when you close your eyes?” De Lancey asked.

Grant could give no answer. He had lost the power to form words with his salivating mouth. De Lancey had pushed his breeches halfway down his thighs and he stood unashamedly, a hands-breadth away, letting Grant feast his eyes. And feast Grant did. He stared, enraptured, at De Lancey’s manhood, standing as proudly erect as a young subaltern during inspection. Wonderfully thick, its base nestled in dark auburn hair, it strained trembling in the space between them, the light freckles that decorated much of De Lancey’s skin lost beneath the urgent blush of excited blood. Grant wanted nothing more in life than to fall to his knees and worship De Lancey’s cock with his eager, thirsty mouth.

Reaching out, De Lancey took Grant’s right hand and laid it flat upon his breastbone. An involuntary sound escaped Grant’s lips, something between a gasp and a tremulous little moan.

“Tell me how I feel, Major,” De Lancey said, his voice soft and raw, quivering in his throat.

“W- warm,” Grant muttered, barely able to make his tongue work. It felt heavy in his mouth, swollen with longing to lay against De Lancey’s skin. “Smooth.”

“Can you feel my heart beating?”

Grant nodded. It was racing, thumping hard and fast beneath his palm. “Yes.”

“And my breath?” De Lancey guided Grant’s hand slowly lower, over the taut flesh of his stomach. Grant nodded again.

“The warm skin of a living, breathing man,” De Lancey whispered, reaching up with his free hand to stroke the side of Grant’s face. He ran his fingers through his hair and Grant moaned softly, overcome by arousal. His own cock throbbed against the fabric of his breeches.

“Think of this, then,” De Lancey said, his hand on top of Grant’s as he guided it to his cock. A shudder ran through Grant’s whole frame as his palm, his fingers, made first contact with the hot hardness of De Lancey’s manhood. He brought his other hand up, whether De Lancey would allow it or no - orders be damned - and he cupped the rigid organ and stroked it, his fingers passing rapidly from base to tip and back again, feeling every throb, memorizing every straining vein. De Lancey bit at his lower lip, stifling a breathless groan as Grant caressed him.

“God -- you -- you’re so beautiful,” Grant gushed, a desperate, breath-starved whisper. His fingers wrapped around De Lancey and tugged at him, a little harder than he had intended in the extremity of his need, eliciting a cry of pleasure from the colonel before he mastered himself and pushed Grant gently back. He continued to stroke his hair with his other hand and, thus chastized, Grant fell back to stroking, even leaving De Lancey’s cock to move his hands over his thighs and around to caress the soft curve of his arse. He was so warm, so very warm, so soft…

“Do you like what you see, Major?” De Lancey asked, a teasing note in his tone.

“Every blessed bit of it,” Grant murmured. “I want you in my mouth. I want to taste you… suck you… I want to feel the thickness of you, against my tongue…”

“We have time for nothing more than this,” De Lancey said, slowly stroking his fingers through Grant’s hair. “But perhaps this will be sufficient - for now - to fill your senses more pleasantly--"

“Oh God,” Grant whispered hoarsely. “Yes. Yes.”

“Commit me to memory, then,” De Lancey whispered, leaning forward, his mouth against the side of Grant’s head. “Drink me in. With your eyes… your hands…”

Grant could hardly breathe. “I will obey your orders to the letter, Colonel. As always.”

He moved his hands. He traced each curve and line and contour. Time seemed to have stopped altogether, and yet he was aware of its passage and he knew it would never be enough to satisfy him, not if they had a million years. His fingers slid and grasped and explored, and then he took De Lancey in his arms and held him tightly against him, feeling his nakedness, burrowing into it. His own clothed erection brushed against De Lancey’s and they both trembled with need. Grant pressed his face into the angle of De Lancey's shoulder and neck, breathed in the scent of his skin and hair, opened his lips to taste the heat pouring from him while his hands continued to rove: down over the muscles of De Lancey’s shoulders, along the dipping curve of his spine, over the soft swell of his bottom. He held there, digging his fingertips gently into the soft flesh, possessive, consumed with need. He kissed De Lancey’s throat, feeling his pulse flutter beneath his lips, the sweet flavor of him against the tip of his tongue, and the fire in Grant’s groin raged uncontrollably as he both heard and felt De Lancey’s soft, aching sigh against his ear.

Still grasping De Lancey’s arse with both hands, Grant could not help but roll his hips forward, grinding their erections together, and they cried out in unison, in desperation. “Oh William--" Grant choked out, his hands coming around to grip De Lancey’s cock again. “I want you - want you with every fiber of my being--"

De Grancey swallowed a groan. His hands went to the fall of Grant’s breeches and, for a moment, hovered there. “No,” he muttered finally, pulling his hands away. “If I see it I won't be able to stop--"

“Then don’t stop,” Grant growled, kissing, then licking, De Lancey’s cheek.

De Lancey backed away, out of Grant’s reach. He was panting but, with a self-control that astonished Grant, he pulled his breeches up and began fastening them. “But that would quite defeat the purpose, my dear Major.”

“The purpose?” Grant was gasping. Both his head and his cock felt like they would explode. “And what was the purpose, then? To make me miserable? To make me ache with need?”

De Lancey grinned, then winced a little as he struggled to fasten the fall of his breeches over his rigid cock. “To give you something better to think about.”

The sound that Grant made at this was an animalistic whine. He was quite certain he would never be able to think of anything but De Lancey’s naked body ever again. “William--"

“Besides,” De Lancey said, his voice muffled by his shirt as he pulled it over his head. “You only gave the corporeal fifteen minutes. He’ll be coming back outside any minute now and what do you think he’d make of seeing you on your knees with a mouthful of me?”

Grant writhed miserably. “Discipline?” De Lancey laughed as he buttoned up his waistcoat and Grant felt positively bereft, the sight of that lovely, creamy chest disappearing from view. “Damn it, William, I wouldn’t care what he thought. I wouldn’t care if Wellington himself walked in on us.”

De Lancey’s eyes sparkled in the lantern light. He picked up his coat, sash, and belt. His hair was slightly tousled with dressing and the color was still high in his cheeks. “Knowing his appetites, he might want to join us.”

Grant’s cock gave an unexpected jump at the thought and, rather abashed by this response, he pressed the palm of his hand to it. “You are an incorrigible tease, sir,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are the worst kind of damnable flirting coquette..."

Smirking, De Lancey walked over and kissed him. “Watch that mouth, Major,” he murmured, sucking greedily at Grant’s lips between words. “Or I’ll have to find something better for you to do with it next time we meet.” Grant groaned.

De Lancey let his lips linger on Grant’s for a moment longer, then pulled away. “Until the morning, Major.” He turned to the door, taking the broken chair away. Lifting the lantern down from the shelf where he had set it, he smiled at Grant. “I’ll go around to the front. Sweet dreams.”

For a few moments Grant didn’t move; he simply remained in the darkness, leaning against the old table, pulling deep draughts of dusty air into his lungs. His whole body was vibrating with excitement; his arousal felt as stiff and demanding as a rod of heated iron. He wasn’t sure he could move without spending. Carefully, slowly, he took off his coat, holding it in front of his erection as he left the shed. He felt a great rush of irritation as he walked back towards the door into the kitchens: knowing soldiers, the corporeal had probably fallen asleep at the kitchen table and all De Lancey’s caution had been for naught. Grant nearly reeled when he thought that instead of trudging back to the pantry he might have remained in the shed, on his knees, his mouth blissfully full of beautiful, ginger-haired colonel. But just then the door opened and the corporeal walked out, coming to attention and saluting.

“At ease, corporeal.”

“Th-- thank you again, sir!” the soldier muttered, rather taken aback by how quickly Grant brushed past him.

In moments Grant was back inside his pantry, the door shut behind him, his coat, waistcoat, and boots discarded in a heap. Collapsing on the straw mattress he ripped open the fall of his breeches and took his aching cock in both hands. Just as he began to stroke he heard above him the sound of footsteps and the creak of a bed receiving the weight of its occupant, and he smiled, wondering if De Lancey was at that very moment thinking of him and bringing himself off. Or had he paused, around on the dark western side of the house, to relieve his arousal before confronting the sentries on the porch? Just imagining De Lancey - against the stones of the wall, head thrown back, eyes with their long, golden lashes tightly closed, biting his bottom lip as he bucked into his own hands - sent Grant over the edge and he spent over his fingers with such violence that it stole his breath.

A lethargy born of satisfaction overcame him and Grant turned onto his side. He closed his eyes. All he saw against the darkness was De Lancey’s sculpted shoulders, his stiff red nipples, his beautiful, blushing cockstand. All he could smell was De Lancey’s scent; all he could taste was De Lancey’s skin. All he could feel and imagine was De Lancey, and soon he was fast and blissfully asleep.

The next time he saw him was just after sunrise, as the expedition to Vitoria road was readying to set out. Grant went into the farmhouse dining parlor for a cup of coffee and found De Lancey there with Wellington and several other members of His Lordships’s staff. While Wellington was engaged in conversation with his military secretary, Fitzroy Somerset, Grant edged over to stand beside De Lancey.

“Good morning, Colonel.”

“Good morning, Major. Sleep well, I trust?”

“Rarely better.” Grant smirked at him. “And what lovely dreams I had. What about you, Colonel? How did you pass the night?”

De Lancey frowned. “Miserably.”

“Indeed? I am sorry to hear it. Perhaps you were haunted by something you’d seen last night?”

“On the contrary.” De Lancey gave him a significant look. “It was rather what I didn’t see that tormented me.”

Grant bit down on his smile. “Well Colonel. I’m sure that can be rectified.” He cast a quick glance at Wellington and, finding him still engrossed in conversation with Somerset, leant closer to De Lancey. “But I’ll need considerably longer than fifteen minutes,” he whispered.

De Lancey’s frustrated sigh was infinitely satisfying to Grant. As he made to leave, De Lancey caught his sleeve.

“Come back safely, Major,” he said, his blue eyes staring with intensity into Grant’s own. “And quick as you may, please.”

Grant smiled. “I will follow your orders to the letter, Colonel. As always.”

OH. MY. GOD.
This is just ... I have no words. I will have to read it again (and again and again) before I can make a coherent comment but I just needed to say thank you straight away A!A. I am not the OP but I was really hoping whoever filled this would go for Grant/De Lancey and boy did you go for it! I saw 1/3 and thought 'oh no I'm going to have to wait' but good God you spoiled us by putting it all up at once. Thank you thank you thank you <3

OP here and so, so delighted with this fill! I have a soft spot for this pairing so I'm very glad you chose it.
This goes from capturing the horror of the windmill to the delicious comfort afterwards (of course I don't mind in that it's a more erotic kind of comfort, how could I?) and there isn't a moment that I didn't enjoy :)
Thank you!

OP forgot to add that the mention of Wellington's appetites made her very happy indeed ;-)

I am thrilled to have pleased you, OP!

Oh my wooorrrdddd!!!!

This was insanely hot and an absolutely stunning bit of writing to boot (with some fantastically well-researched details.) I'm as frustrated as Grant was right now and will continue to sit here consumed with lust for the remainder of the day.

Just amazing. What a TREAT. (Also, the possibility of Wellington coming to join them and Grant getting excited?? *pathetic noises*)

This was so marvellous, the only correct response is shameless, undignified begging for ~~MOAR OMFG!!!~~ a sequel ~~you know, the scenario you so sweetly suggested, dear A!A, where Wellington walks in upon them~~.

Ahhhh gorgeous, gorgeous fic! <3

And yes, it would be lovely to see their reunion ~~and Wellington walking in on them~~...

*drifts off into happy reverie*

Wow!!! What a perfect piece of writing! That last line oh my god :') This was so atmospheric and so well written and SO SMOKING HOT! The descriptions of DeLancey's body and his lovely warm skin had me all in a hot flush and the dialogue was so spot on it's as if I was listening to Jamie Parker say those very lines himself! So so so GOOD. My team!peninsula feels are drowning in this beautiful fill.

ALSO THIS LINE: “Knowing his appetites, he might want to join us.”

PLEASE. MY GOD.

i love you. <3 <3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

☆ Round Two!

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (2/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)

Re: FILL: Fully Alive [Grant/De Lancey] (3/3)