Entry tags:
it's a wagon with the band
Can't guarantee any of these will get done. Because. Uh. I can't write porn. But.
Give me a series/pairing and an emotion, and I'll write at least two paragraphs of smut.
Give me a series/pairing and an emotion, and I'll write at least two paragraphs of smut.
no subject
alternately: Sydney/Rosencrantz, inconsequential.
... but only because I have issues, ahaha.
no subject
The prophet moved like a woman.
There was no denying it, when one watched him. Rosencrantz marveled at it, from the back of the room. It was just a certain sway to his hips as he walked. A certain grace in the swing of his arms. They led him about like the limbs dancing girl. It was quite ridiculous, actually. Rosencrantz wanted to shove his hand down his britches just to see there was even really anything manful to be found there. He nearly doubted it, and even there were—he nearly suspected Sydney’d go about it like a girl anyway. Surrender prettily, keening, whining, wailing. Twisting all about with legs spread like a lady pulling her skirts up…
Sydney Losstarot glanced back across the room with a raised eyebrow and a curious tilt to his head. He lifted a hand, waved a claw in an amused, chiding swish. Oh. The boy was just doing it for show, Rosencrantz was convinced of this, but there was a knowing look somewhere in those dark, mad eyes… and it reminded the man, hungrily, of why he’d come in the first place.
Your OLD ONE TWO! is good enough for the likes of me.