i haven't had an anon in my inbox in a long time, so this feels momentous. thanks for the ask!
what's one fic of yours that you think people didn't "get"?
I can't think of a good example of this, except for Down for the Count - I mean, I don't think I got that fic either lmao. It's about card counting and casinos and poker and it's very insane - I've never written anything so out there before, although I'm tossing up something extremely rogue with @rmd-writes that may actually take the cake.
share something about an up and coming WIP that has you excited.
gonna stay on theme here and go for something about (Un)professional Services - which is the collab I've been working on for 4000 years (it keeps getting pushed to the side by ALTA which is extremely unfortunate because - unlike ALTA - it's a pleasure to write):
Full of undeserved confidence, Carlos reaches out and cups TK’s jaw in his hand. “Feel free to stop me,” he says, his voice slightly cracked and raspy.
“That is the last thing I’ll be doing,” TK replies, and it’s a little unclear who leans in exactly, but all of a sudden TK’s lips are pressed tentatively against his own, and Carlos is drowning in it until something from his subconscious hauls him back out of the depths of his desire.
“Wait,” he says quickly, pulling back. “The wine. Are you sure you’re okay to be kissing me when I’ve been drinking? Because I can brush my teeth if you—”
“Oh my god,” TK moans, a sound which appears to have a direct connection to Carlos’ dick. “Where did you come from? Seriously, did they make you in a lab? You’re perfect.”
“N– No,” Carlos stammers, unsure where TK is going with this. “I just want you to be comfortable.”
“Carlos,” TK says, grabbing the front of Carlos’ tie and twisting it around one hand, hauling him in so their lips are brushing together. “The wine thing is fine. What’s not fine is the fact that we’re no longer kissing.”
“Okay,” Carlos manages to say, before he loses himself in the hot press of TK’s mouth again.
The thing is, Carlos has always known that he’s a romantic. Ever since he left the purgatory that was high school his dreams have been a continual rotation of finding the love of his life; a chance meeting, learning the lines and curves of someone else's body, falling in love, romantic dates and shared dinners and making someone else laugh. Someone he can come home to and surprise with gifts and curl up with at night when it’s cold outside and the rain beats down on the windows of his shitty Brooklyn apartment.
What he didn’t expect was this. Someone who steals his breath and makes him feel unbalanced. Someone he met under circumstances that are so far from romantic. Someone with a terrifying mother and a kind of unhinged friend-turned-colleague. Someone who has two first names and smells like a lovely combination of citrus and apples and owns a pair of green eyes that Carlos could look at every day for the rest of his life and never tire of.
Someone who kisses him with purpose, whose hands feel electric on his skin. Someone who makes intoxicating little frustrated sounds and coaxes Carlos’ lips open with a gentle tongue and then proceeds to lick into his mouth and take Carlos’ sanity apart bit by bit. Someone who winds up hitched around Carlos’ leg and presses himself into Carlos’ hip and oh god—
TK is definitely hard in his pants and Carlos is not okay.
