#plus fluff

[bakingsherlycakes]

half the time I try to tag a post "fic rec" my phone changes it to "fuc rec" and it's getting more and more difficult to switch it back because where is the lie?

[cuddyclothes]

Over at give_satisfaction on Dreamwidth, we’re holding our monthly prompt challenge. This month, it is (what else?) Love! Go check it out. Non-members can respond as well as members. In the meantime, enjoy this pre-code vid of Ruth Etting singing, “Keep Romance Alive”. Quite a few cuties in the bath with strategically placed perfume bottles!

[ickleroonilwazlib]

Linctavia prompt: morning fluffy cuddles that evolve into something a little more hot and heavy

Here you are nonny. Thanks for the prompt! 

So I was quite embarrassed writing this one. It's so damn intimate?

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There's a deep sense of quietude when she wakes up. Octavia keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his arms wrapped loosely around her, the rumbling in his chest as he snores, the smell of earth and leather that's so uniquely him. The rest of the village must be waking up as well and if the dim light from the windows on the roof are any indication, the sun will be rising soon. But for now everything is quiet, tranquil. She thinks she dozed off again for a while, sleep still heavy in her system when she regains consciousness and notices the faint sunlight permeating through the curtain. Octavia burrows her face into Lincoln's chest, effectively waking him up, her legs rubbing up and and down his. He tightens his hold on her with a satisfied groan and a deep sigh. Both settle in again, the magic of a lazy morning casting its spell over them.

She listens to the steady beat of his heart and feels it as well when she inclines her head to kiss him on the neck, the vein pulsing with life beneath her lips. She's overjoyed to find his stubble untouched, taking pleasure in something so simple as the feel of his scruff on her face but it's so very Lincoln that she feels her heart clenching in her chest. He hums in pleasure, fingers rubbing circles on her back. When she nuzzles his neck and settles in again, he takes the chance to pull stray pieces of hair away from her face in the gentlest way Octavia has ever felt, the back of his fingers caressing the soft skin of her cheeks, her jaw, her ear. 

There's no denying they've always had a connection with one another but it's almost comical when they both lean in for a kiss at the same time. Soft laughter prevents the kiss from deepening any further but neither mind in the least. His large hand cups her face, his thumb stroking the corner of her eye, and when the laughing stops, his hand is all that keeps her steady when he kisses her in earnest. He's not wearing a shirt but her hands have balled up the fabric of his sweats as morning lust takes over her and it's not long before she's running her hands up and down his back. She feels the raised skin of old wounds and scars, some small ones but mostly larger ones from victorious battles, dangerous wars, from protecting her. 

Before long, she's thrown her leg over his hip, his hands have left her face and traveled downward to the patch of hair between her legs, and she has somehow snaked her hand between them to pleasure him as well. It's lazy motions, nothing as passionate as last night, but always meaningful. She knows how he likes to be touched; knows the amount of pressure to put when she strokes him, knows how to twist her wrist as she travels up and down, how he likes it when she thumbs the head. Both their breaths are becoming labored and though he's not a very vocal man, there's times lately that he can't seem to help himself and he groans in such a way that sets her off completely. 

Gently, she pushes him back into the furs of the bed, straddling him but doesn't sit up, unwilling to lose the closeness to him. Her bare breasts are pressed against his chest, her weight heavy and pleasant on him. It's summer but Lincoln has built the house with something that keeps it cool during the heats and the fur on Octavia's back is stifling. She shrugs it  off, purposely moving around more than necessary to hear the intake of breath from the man beneath her. 

The sway of her hips against him is slow torture for both of them, as is the heat of her, the slickness she leaves on his twitching member, the smell of her desire. He slips inside her easily and she wastes no time in grinding out a rhythm, slow and steady, keeping him as deep as possible. It takes a while to build into something heavy but when it does, Lincoln's splayed hands on her rear take charge and she can't keep her lips on his anymore. Her back arches in pleasure, enjoying the sound their bodies make, especially the grunts he's muffled against her chest and the waves of pleasure hit her suddenly but powerfully. He doesn't desist as he usually does, to wait out the crests of her orgasm, but keeps thrusting into her, even as she whimpers against him. 

Smaller jolts of pleasure continue to spark in her, making her body contract against him but she tries to keep herself as close to him as she can, wanting to meld into him, to let him know once and for all that she wasn't going anywhere, not without him. She hopes he understands, in the way she keeps his face close to hers so that they breath the same air, in the way she cries out his name like no one else would, just what he means to her and she thinks that maybe he's trying to tell her something similar. When he comes and she feels him emptying himself inside her, there's such affection in her heart she can't stop the sob that bursts out of her.

The noise from the outside world starts leaking in, even as they kiss, caress and whisper tenderness to each other. The day demands to start but as Lincoln turns them over in one swift move, her giggling bouncing off the walls, it's a demand they're happy to ignore.

[canis-major-archive]

Quiet me

Sirius Black never went home over Christmas Holiday. Not one of his friends would blame him after the stories they had heard. It wasn’t even about not intruding on the Potters (not if you knew Sirius). But James and he both knew someone had to stay behind and Sirius always had the better excuse.

Remus Lupin never went home over Christmas Holiday. It was a simple choice, really: the basement or the Forbidden Forest. It may have been nice to see his family but things were just easier this way. With the castle abandoned there was less worrying and more freedom. Another year and once again it was just the two of them.

It must have been one of those nights where the snow fell in heavy drifts, blanketing the grounds and muffling the sounds of the night outside their window. The world inside was similarly silent. He felt suffocated by the stillness in the air. Something was wrong. No breath, no rustle of sheets, just a still, unbroken silence that shouted at him from across the room.

Sirius had never been particularly good with words. And what do you say to someone who’s heard it all? When you can’t lie and say things will get better because they won’t. But it’s all too much to lay there and listen to the sound of silent suffering as the full moon looms ahead of them. Remus would say he didn’t want to disturb Sirius but now they’re both lying wide awake on opposite sides of the room as the wolf stifles that rising feeling of panic. Sirius can feel it in his bones as the quiet and the darkness smothers them both.

It’s an easy thing to slip from behind the bed curtains and into his fur. What makes him do it he’s not entirely sure. Instinct? This way there’s no need to talk, because that’s not something either of them really wants to do. He pads across the floor, a shadow in the dark room. Ducking and weaving between the curtain and the bed frame, a wet nose finds itself in contact with a pale hand. The hand retreats and Sirius follows, lifting himself onto the mattress, awkwardly balancing at the edge on all fours. It’s not something he’s used to.

Sirius pretends to ignore the way Remus hides his face behind the pillows. He doesn’t need to see to know his friend isn’t in a good way. Whatever it is, the nerves, the worry, sometimes things just get to you. It’s something Sirius knows well enough. Instead he presses his head into the boy’s chest, pushing firmly. Remus can’t help but smile ever so slightly as he moves to the side and makes room for the dog that’s probably too big for the bed.

Satisfied with the space, Sirius curls himself into the recently vacated spot and lets out a yawn in Remus’ direction before letting his head fall on the mattress. For a moment everything is still and nothing has changed. Then Remus is scratching him behind the ear in that spot he loves so much. The scratch may be half-hearted but he doesn’t enjoy it any less. And that’s how it goes. The calming breaths and the warmth of fur and bedsheets. Neither of them realizes they’ve fallen asleep until they wake up in the morning. And they won’t talk about it. Not now, not ever. It’s just what friends do.