blue_bells | Meme += Five Acts: Round Five

Meme += Five Acts: Round Five

I've been intermittently packing house for a week and the day job had consumed my brain.

The writing mojo must return. Surely, a porn-a-thon is the key? (No, my current project is gen, but words are words....)

There are a bunch of people I want to write for in order to say 'thank you' for the last round, so I hope you're all in this time!

Round five is open!

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom of your post, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.

= my Fandoms =
Supernatural: Michael/Adam, Sam/Dean/Adam, Michael/Adam/Lucifer, Lucifer/Sam/Gabriel, Castiel/Gabriel, any permutation of Lucifer/Michael/Raphael/Gabriel, Raphael/Balthazar, Raphael/Uriel/Gabriel
X-Men First Class: Any permutation of Emma/Raven/Angel and Hank/Alex/Sean, Azazel/Riptide, Erik/Charles
Suits: Harvey/Mike, any permutation of Donna/Jessica/Rachel
Battlestar Galactica: Kara/Sam/Leoben, Six/Gaius
The Covenant: Any permutation of Caleb/Reid/Tyler/Pogue
Avenger Movie!verse: Thor/Loki, Loki/Tony Starke (Iron Man)

= my Acts =
Adrenaline and crises: So, you just saved the world from a zombie apocalypse? We think you're looking pretty heroic in silhouette against that sunrise with the machine gun on your hip. My machete got a great workout, too. We should celebrate; sexily. (pre-, mid-, or post-crisis sex; speed-freaks or adrenaline junkies; near-death experiences; the shadow of impending death--hours, minutes, or moments; see also Situational engineering)

Alternate Universes: Mafia, prison, college, military, the same rules but with role reversal: you name it, I'll love it. (alternate characterizations and situations; sex between alternates of one character or between different characters; alternates as catalysts for realization of desire; role reversal; darker mirror universe characters; mistaken identity)

Sensory deprivation, overload or enhancement: As humans we only have five senses. How do we compensate when we can't see? Or hear? Or maybe when we feel too much? And if you're being pulled aside by someone not altogether human themselves, are those five senses going to cope? I love it when the senses are challenged in startling ways and the battle for coherency goes quickly downhill.

Marathon: Because it's been something of a running joke in my circle, lately (yo ho, these puns). Make it exhaustive. Make it punishing.

Fingers: Pressed to mouths, tangled in hair, bruised into skin, sunk in deep: fingers, and the specific effect they have on the one being touched, are awesome.

Fills for Others:
For

emerald_embers: Devil May Cry, Dante/Vergil, R (hairplay, sex injuries, hand fetishism, semi-technophilia)
For

ienablu: Supernatural, John!Michael/Mary, PG-13 (aggression, shoved against walls, hurt)
For

ladyknightanka: Supernatural; Lucifer/Sam, Michael/Adam; PG-13 (Human!AU, barely H/C)
For

nights_fang: Supernatural, Lucifer/Adam, NC-17 (Human!AU, clothing fetish, breathplay, frottage)
For

thedreamisreal: Supernatural, Sam/Adam/Dean, NC-17 (D/s, tattoos, possession & jealousy, oral fixation)
For

synnerxx: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17 (Human!AU cont., power issues, begging, biting)

Gifts from Others:
From

ienablu: Suits/SPN, Harvey/Mike, PG (Hunter!AU)
From

super_seme04: Supernatural, Michael/Adam/Lucifer, R: 'Made For' (marathon)
From

nights_fang: Supernatural, Adam/Michael, NC-17: 'Feel' (bondage, sensory deprivation, fingers)
From

ladyknightanka: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, PG: 'Do No Evil' (sensory deprivation)
From

synnerxx: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17: 'Won't You Touch Me, Touch Me' (fingers)
From

setos_puppy: Supernatural, Michael/Lucifer/Gabriel, R: 'Dream Brother; My Killer; My Lover' (post-crises, alternate ending, sensory overload, marathon, fingers)
From

zekkass: Supernatural, Michael/Raphael, R (Mafia!AU, post-crisis moment, handporn)
From

chaos_dreaming: Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17: 'Cuckholds and Concubines' (Business!AU)

Threaded | Flat

"So," Harvey says, conversationally, as he turns onto the highway, "What the hell happened back there?"

Mike is staring out the window, and it takes jostling his shoulder and a sharp Mike to get him to turn towards Harvey. He blinks. "Sorry, what?"

If Harvey wasn't worried before, he is now -- usually Mike is high-energy, fidgety, but now he's contained, almost listless. Harvey fights to keep his tone casual as he says, "I said, what the hell happened back there?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"You let yourself get ambushed--"

"I didn't let myself get am--"

"You let your guard down, got ambushed, got pinned to a wall by two demons, passed out, and then..." And then all the lights had burst, the windows of the warehouse had shattered, and when Harvey had finally gotten out a flashlight and looked around, the horde of demons they had been hunting were all on the ground, unconscious.

Mike had been fine.

"I don't know what happened," Mike says.

Harvey looks at him. "If you're serious about becoming a hunter, you're going to need to learn how to lie better."

A few miles pass silently, then Mike sighs. "I..." he starts, before hesitantly saying, "I heard a voice... in my head..."

Harvey looks sharply at him. "Christo."

Mike's eyes don't flash black. "I don't think it was a demon. I mean," he adds hurriedly, at Harvey's dubious look, "demons don't usually ask your permission beforehand, do they?"

"Not usually," Harvey admits. Mike goes quiet, hands fidgeting in his lap, and Harvey prompts, "So what do you think it was, then?"

Mike smiles self-deprecatingly. "Would you believe me if I said it was an angel?"

It hurts, it hurts to be loved by them.

They're holding him, holding him together and Adam can do nothing but tremble.

He lost his voice hours ago and his head lolls as he rocks between them.

Lucifer's mouth is at his ear and he's saying words that Adam can't even understand, but he answers him in soft, breathless noises and Michael's breath is a gentle, amused curl of heat against his cheek.

It hurts to be loved so completely.

"Adam, Adam, Adam..."

They say his name in languages that are now dust scattered by the wind and they're carefully knitting him back together even as they're pulling him apart.

Lucifer is a slow, all consuming cold that starts at the tip of his toes, but Michael?

Adam moans weakly then mewls and squirms when lips like fire press searing kisses to his skin that are then soothed by a mouth colder than any winter.

Michael fucks him like he's trying to conquer him.

It's like they're back in that room again and Adam is blinded by the effortless, almost arrogant brilliance that is Michael.

Lucifer bites at Adam's ear to make sure that he's not forgotten and Adam would laugh if he could, but instead, he presses back against Lucifer until he can see his breath in small, staccato puffs.

Michael lightly rakes his nails down Adam's chest and Adam makes a desperate sound as five points of fire heat his skin to a nearly impossible temperature.

He's feverish and freezing, but he doesn't want to stop.

They've been going at this for hours, maybe even days, but he doesn't want to stop.

His head lolls back against Lucifer's shoulder and his eyes flutter shut as they wring another orgasm out of him.

Lucifer licks the sweat from his cheek then smacks his lips and makes a low, pleased sound.

Adam will tell him how creepy that is once he remembers what words are.

Michael tugs him down into a kiss that leaves him a sweating, shaking wreck, so they sit up then hold him between them and love him until he feels like he's dying.

Adam is beyond exhaustion as he blindly presses wet, sloppy kisses to Micheal's mouth and Lucifer gently curls his fingers in Adam's hair then turns his head to bite at his lip.

"Perfect, perfect for us," Michael sighs as he watches them.

Adam is so happy that he could cry and he doesn't know if it's sweat or tears that Lucifer licks from his face, but he doesn't care.

'Don't let me go, don't let me go, please don't ever let me go.'

Lucifer croons at a pitch that makes the windows sing and if Michael's grip on him is now tight enough to bruise his bones, Adam doesn't notice.

Michael would've never done this before. Human lust is beneath him. This sin is beneath him. Or rather was beneath him, before he fell into the Cage, nearly went insane with the loss of the voice of the heavenly host and that connection to his Father at the back on his mind, and was brought out back to the world grace turned into flesh, mortal and weak.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, Adam trails his fingers along the scars on Michael's body. Some old and ancient from wars aeons passed. Some from Lucifer in the Cage. Some even from Adam himself, once he started fighting back down there. Those fingers move all the way up to his face, skirting over the silk blindfold. Michael had been alarmed when Adam had made him wear it. He didn't mind his hands being bound, but the blindfold was a different matter. He was already lost without his grace, adjusting very badly to having only the five restrictive senses humans possessed. But Adam had insisted, voice going low and soothing with an authoritative undercurrent; like an order, as he tugged Michael's jeans off leaving the former archangel naked under him.

It had been ages since Michael had been ordered in any tone of voice. Not even Raphael who had an equal standing in Heaven had tried ordering him, once, even though he'd known Raphael would've liked too. (Even one for Michael to stop and rest and think selfishly once instead of blindly following a dead God.) Michael's been yearning to follow someone for so long, that all it took was that voice, and he'd settled in unconsciously, body going slack, as Adam tied silk around his eyes with deft fingers.

Those fingers go into his hair, rubbing a slow massage over his scalp. Michael moans, unable to help himself, arching a little into the touch. It's pleasant, comforting. He can hear a huff somewhere above him, and he's not sure but he thinks it sounds amused.

“You think too much.” Adam's breath is suddenly at his ear, and Michael would yelp and jump in a manner completely alien to his once regal angelic self, if Adam's hips weren't holding him in place. Adam's other hand is trailing over the scars on Michael's chest again, almost a light rake of blunt nails, adding to sensation. Michael thinks that Adam's smiling. He doesn't know how, but he can feel it.

“How many times have I told you not to think. Just feel Michael.” the words are punctuated with Adam flicking a nipple, and this time Michael does arch, hips connecting with Adam, against the rough fabric of Adam's jeans, and sending a surge of electricity up his spine.

“Fuck” Adam breathes out, grinding back down against Michael. And despite the roughness of the fabric against him Michael smiles, because he can imagine the face Adam is making right now. He likes the breathless quality Adam's voice has suddenly taken on.

Adam nips his ear for that, and couples it with pinching Michael's nipple, making Michael arch again. This time, Adam's prepared for it, because he presses down into Michael as Michael arches, pulling a moan out of Michael.

“Better,” Adam breathes out softly against Michael's ear, as he begins walking his fingers down Michael's skin, teasingly trailing right above his hips. Michael shivers at the cool breath on his ear, and tries to press up again, to feel more of Adam's hands, but Adam keeps his touch light and almost ticklish making wide arches over his abs, not giving Michael satisfaction.

A/N: I actually wanted to write something like this (but more Winmillcest-y) as a multichapter story, but you know how I am with all my muses, no? I had fun writing it as a drabble for you, though, and there may yet be more in the future for this broken Adam. Enjoy, my darling! ♥

-

Adam sits facing a large window, through which sunbeams filter to halo over him. He knows because, when he reaches out a hand, the glass is cool, slick, against his palm, the sun's rays warm across his upturned face.

It's familiar for him to be this way and some may say that he's forgotten again, but change honestly terrifies him these days, even if the alternative, inertia, means no one cares. Sam, Dean and Bobby can abandon him here, can forget to feed him or put him down to bed, forever, till he withers away to dust in the rickety old wheelchair they'd stolen from who-knows-where. This is pleasant.

He doesn't hear wings flutter so much as feel the otherwise still air of his room displace, a sadness that is not his washing over him. He turns his head as far as he can, unable to wheel the chair around, and mouths a name. Michael.

The archangel shines brighter than the sun above, precisely the way he had, so many centuries ago, in the beautiful room, but that was once upon a time, when Adam actually had the ability to consider so much else – nature's panoramas, human faces, good and bad sounds. Now, he only sees that light, only hears angel-song and mankind's strongest emotions. He can't even tell someone when his bladder acts up. That can put things into perspective.

Michael's light bears down on him, arching huge over Adam's fragile human frame, but it isn't scary anymore. He and Lucifer have done their very worst already and Adam no longer bothers trying to be anything but a receptacle for them.

Michael touches his cheek – with a hand that isn't a hand – and Adam leans into him, relishing a reprieve from the constant ache that assails his broken body. Music fills the emptiness left behind. It doesn't broach his ears, but the delightful buoyancy that makes Adam's fingers and toes tingle reminds him of music, nonetheless. It's Michael's way of speaking to him.

The notes are lilting and sweet, welling with vertiginous highs and stomach-dropping lows, thrumming with Adam's blood through his veins. His soul is a harp with torn strings and Michael is slowly, surely, mending him for a final performance.

Adams sighs contentedly and extends a hand. It's invisible to him, ironically enough, yet he knows the exact moment that it passes through Michael, finding purchase in his gossamer wings. Really, it makes sense that he can't see himself – that he is nothing allowed to experience everything, perhaps undeservedly. He's always been Plan B.

“I am so sorry,” Michael trills, his lament rebounding between his own grace and Adam's welcoming soul.

Adam feels his lips quirk without his permission. His brothers are unaware of Michael's presence. If they weren't, he would feel their cacophonous panic, their disgust, much closer to him. Instead, there is only Michael, the beautiful, destructive being who had torn him apart, then pieced him back together again.

It's okay, he thinks, with all his measly mortal might. I forgive you.

And together they sit in the sun.

Michael slides his fingers up Adam's stomach, the tips charged with just a bit of Grace to make the sensation that much more intense for Adam. Adam squirms underneath him, responsive as always.

Michael traces Adam's collarbone, touch light and soft as a feather with just a hint of spark. He moves up to Adam's neck and across his jaw, fingers brushing over Adam's mouth. Adam laps at Michael's fingertips and sucks them into his mouth. Michael groans quietly. Adam smirks around his fingers, pleased to get a reaction out of Michael.

He curls his hand around Michael's wrist, tongue sliding down across Michael's palm. He looks up at Michael with hooded eyes. "I bet I can make you come just by touching your hand."

Michael cocks an eyebrow at him. "Really now?"

"Mmhmm." Adam says, leaning up and pushing Michael down on the bed.

He brings Michael's hand back up to his mouth, letting Michael press his fingers against his lips and part them. His tongue glides along the pads of Michael's fingers and Michael shudders, rolling his hips upward, seeking friction. The outline of his cock presses against the zipper of his and he reaches down with his free hand and grinds his palm against it.

Adam glares and bites down on the fingers in his mouth while pulling Michael's hand away from himself. Michael growls in frustration, but it turns into a moan as Adam sucks hard on Michael's first two fingers.

The burst of pleasure makes Michael moan loudly and he's curling his other hand around the back of Adam's neck and pulling his hand free. Adam skims his teeth along Michael's fingers and that undoes Michael.

He pulls Adam down into a fierce kiss, letting him swallow his moans as his orgasm sweeps over him. Adam smirks against his lips and tangles his fingers in Michael's hair, pulling him closer.

"Told you so." He breathes when they break the kiss.

Why do you have so many delectable pairings and choices. What am I going to do with you, short of writing a billion things. *chin hands and stares*

Gabriel gasped and arched his body. Too long from the Host and too far from family had left his body and Grace aching. When the magnitude of Michael's very being washed over him he shuddered under the force of it. His head lolled back on the bed and his face wet itself with unworthy tears. He whined high and melodic, the strength of his Voice shaking the walls, cracking it through with sheer power.

"Hush, littlest brother." Michael's fingers stroked over his forehead, his blue eyes set deep in Adam Milligan's face. "Let me take care of you."

"It..." Gabriel choked on his words, his tongue feeling too big in his Vessel's mouth. He weakly tried to grope for his older brother. "It hurts. It's too much."

Michael didn't reply verbally, instead a long wave of pleasure soaked pain rolled over Gabriel and he sobbed. They had been at it for hours or days or years, Gabriel had lost count. Michael had found him, broken and empty in the motel where he had been desperately trying to recover from being grazed by his blade.

It had been stupid, so very stupid of him to try and take on his second oldest sibling. He had done it to by Sam and Dean time had it had cost him. Michael had found him, jagged and sharp around the edges, and leaking his Grace to the world. He had taken him and swaddled him like a babe before beginning to heal him.

His sides had been burned into with firm hands. Deep, aching marks for eternity. An imprinted, possibly accidental mark of claim.

He still didn't know why Michael was doing this. Why his brother was trying to build him back up when he had deserted his family so long ago.

A mouth brushed over his, wet and slick, Gabriel opened his own under it. He tasted the traces of ozone, so very faint, and the spark of electricity with the chill of ice. Gabriel's brows creased and he opened his eyes as the pressure of the mouth moved back.

Crystal blue eyes stared down at him from a broken face. A chiding smile curving soft, chapped lips. The olive shirt was still tacky with browned blood and the traces of stubble still lined his cheeks as Gabriel brushed his fingers up to touch.

"Why are you here?"

"Michael asked me to come here."

As Gabriel watched them move he couldn't help but notice the faint similarities between the two vessels his brothers had been forced into. Blonde and angled and soft in the eyes. Michael's was younger, which amused Gabriel to no end, while Lucifer's was falling apart.

"Wouldn't need you here if you didn't skewer me through."

[ooc: Set in the same mafia 'verse as this one and this one, but you don't have to read those to get this. Also, smut didn't really happen, but I hope you like it anyways. :3]

Raphael's who he calls, when his senses return to him. There's blood on his hands, and the mess - he doesn't think about the mess. Instead he holds the cellphone with slick fingers and waits for his brother to pick up.

"Michael," Raphael greets within four rings, and he doesn't sound tired or sleep-bogged at all - Michael doesn't know how he does it. (Anything to avoid thinking about what he's done.)

"I need you here," Michael says, and, "It's a mess."

He hears the rustling of papers and wonders if this is it, if this is the time Raphael will refuse him help. If this time he'll be left with a mess and if the family will abandon him and -

"Stay put, I'll be right there."

Michael breathes relief as the call ends, and he gingerly slides the cellphone into his pocket - his whole outfit is a mess, what was he thinking - and he sinks to his haunches, unwilling to sit in the blood but needing a moment to hide himself. He won't leave the scene, and it's probably for the best if he stays right where he is, so he doesn't track shoeprints everywhere -

He wonders (and not for the first time) if Raphael would be able to control him when he gets like this. If Raphael could prevent the mess before it's created. He chides himself for even thinking of it, not after...not after that last time.

It won't matter if it's family or not when he's lost himself like that.

---

The lights in the laundromat are too bright, and Michael closes his eyes to them while he waits for the detergents to work their magic on his clothes. He thinks of the harsh lights of the interrogation room, and it's his mood that leads him to picture himself in the hot seat, with two of his brothers (Raphael, Zachariah) working him over. Asking him how many he's killed. Asking him for the details.

Nightmares creep up on him while he waits, and he digs his fingernails into his bare thighs. The pain doesn't ward them off, but it does keep him grounded. Focused. The emotions fear stirs up won't cause him to lose control.

A jacket is draped around his shoulders, and he looks up at Raphael in poorly veiled surprise.

"I'm taking you home as soon as this is done."

"Ah," Michael works his jaw, and looks back at his knees, uncomfortably aware of the implications. His work here is over, and someone else will manage his loose ends.

"It's unlike you to be so doubtful," Raphael comments as he sits next to him. "Was it really so bad?"

"You saw," Michael says.

"You have remarkable skill at managing who is in your range before you let go," Raphael says. "No one in there was someone we would have let live."

"Be quiet, Raphael."

Michael closes his eyes again and he's glad it's Raphael here. He tries to picture Zachariah standing in Raphael's place, or worse: Lucifer. He shivers and pulls the jacket closer to him, not liking what he sees. (Zachariah's disapproving look, Lucifer's sneering amusement...)

He feels fingers in his hair and ducks his head, keenly aware that he still needs a good shower to get rid of all the blood, but Raphael's fingers (they must be Raphael's) hold on, still picking through his hair with a gentle touch.

"Stop."

[This started small, honest. It also started as something completely different ~~and better~~ and managed to turn into this.]

"I can assure you, Mr. Hespe-"

Elegant fingers curl around the dark, expensive fabric of the businessman's shoulder in such a casual way that one could only feel more at ease with the movement. Unless of course, one was aware it was a movement that sharp blue eyes follow

"No no, call me Dave."

The fingers slip down, splaying across Dave's shoulders as Adam smiles and manoeuvres him out of the boardroom and into the office right next door that is still in Michael's line of sight.

It's the megawatt smile paired with one too many casual brushes of the hands while pens are passed back and forth that seals the fate of Michael's favourite pen; death by excessive pressure. At least it doesn't land itself in the eyes of his potential new client, surely Adam appreciates that after all the work that he has put into charming Mr. Hesperus -sorry, Dave- into signing a deal with Seraphim over the last two hours. Perhaps the longest two hours of Michaels relatively short life, but there was only so much that he could take watching Adam work his magic and be forced to smile and watch as his (his, damnit) whatever Adam was get groped in front of him.

Alright, so Adam might argue about the groping bit, but Michael knows that Dave did not, at all, need to sit so close to Adam while they were going over the contract. Nor did he have to let his fingers brush across Adam's when the blond handed over a coffee. Or breathe the same air as Adam, now that Michael thought about it.

"Mr. Milton?"

The businessman startled at the sound of his name, quickly hiding his bent and broken pen beneath the desk but apparently not quickly enough if the raised eyebrow and quirk of a grin on Adam's face is any indication. Gods above, Michael hated that grin. Almost as much as he hated how Adam sees the need to put his hand on Dave's shoulder, arm nearly wrapped around the beaming brunet in a display clearly meant to provoke something more out of Michael.

It works.

"What." He tries not to wince at the sharpness of his tone. Adam's smile only grows wider.

"Oh, I just thought you might like to shake hands with our newest partner, Dave." The blond knows exactly what he has been doing to Michael this past hour, exactly. Michael nearly growled, shooting Adam a loaded look (which only elicited more amusement from him) before he stood, one hand hiding a mangled pen with ink stained fingertips behind his back while the other grasped Dave's in a firm (perhaps too firm) handshake.

Threaded | Flat

Suits : Harvey/Mike : AU

Made For - Supernatural - Michael/Adam/Lucifer - R - Marathon

"Feel" 1/3 Supernatural: Adam/Michael [bondage, sensory deprivation, fingers, some more stuff?]

SPN, Michael/Adam, Do No Evil, Sensory Deprivation, PG!

Won't You Touch Me, Touch Me, SPN, Michael/Adam, Fingers, NC-17

no subject

Dream Brother; My Killer; My Lover - SPN - Michael/Lucifer/Gabriel - R - all five? 1/?

Supernatural, Michael/Raphael, PG(ish), Mafia AU/handporn/post-crisis moment [1/2]

Cuckolds and Concubines, SPN, Michael/Adam, M, Business AU [1/...]