Science fiction

Why isn't there any Rocky Horror slash?

redundant

"I just don’t know what to do," Jesse said frankly. "I want to help him, but I never know what to say; I’m going through the same thing, but…"

"But not in the same way," Joey finished for him, nodding understandingly. "Pam was your sister, Jess. It was hard for all of us, and I don’t think it was any less hard for you."

"I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style.

Joey sucked up the last bit of his chocolate milk shake and leaned back against his end of the diner booth. "I know what you mean, buddy." He twisted his recently employed plastic straw around and around his strong hand. "What Danny and Pam had was really special…and it’s horrible what happened, but at least he experienced that kind of love, you know?"

"Yeah," Jesse said, "just once, I’d like to feel that for someone."

They fell silent after that, just staring at each other. Joey had been such a comfort to Jesse over the last few months, Jesse reflected. How would I have managed without him? he wondered.

Across the table, Joey was wondering much the same thing. They pretended to antagonize each other, but really, it was all in good fun. They would not have survived had it not been for that firm friendship that had been established back in high school.

"You know," Jesse said slowly after a minute, "in a way, I sort of feel that way about you. I mean—not that I would want to go out with you or anything, but that I can always rely on you."

Joey cupped his soft chin in his hands. "It’s true," he agreed; "I’ve never had with a woman what Danny and Pam used to have, but I’ve always felt a certain amount of…affection for you."

Both chuckled and fell silent again, contented with each other. Then, without warning, each of them knew—at the same moment—that the man across from him was thinking the exact same thing. Jesse started into his friend’s deep, blue eyes, and saw the same passion, the same smoldering need, that he knew he himself was feeling.

"I—" he said, but Joey cut him off, moving a large finger to his suddenly moist lips.

"I know," he said.

Without a word, Joey rose and made his way nonchalantly to the men’s room. Jesse waited five minutes, taking the time to polish off his half-eaten banana split; then, his hands shaking with an anticipation he knew he hadn’t felt in years, left a few dollars on the table and followed his friend to the back of the restaurant.

When he entered the one-person restroom after knocking softly, he was nervous. The light had been switched off, and even though he had heard his friend summon him into the room, he was suddenly afraid that there had been some horrible mistake—that, perhaps, Joey was not there at all, that Jesse had imagined the whole thing. That he was just going insane with unsatisfied lust.

He relaxed, though, when Joey said softly, "Turn on the lights." Jesse let his leather Elvis jacket fall to the floor and obediently flicked the switch after fumbling for a few moments against the papered wall (his hands were still trembling, now with excitement rather than anxiety).

"Oh," he couldn’t help ejaculating softly, when the fluorescent overhead lamp flickered on. What he saw in front of him made his heart swell with firey, choking love; made his manhood grow large and stiff and strain against his tight, black jeans.

"Joey…"

dom do you also hate horror movies and stories? it basically does what science fiction does, without technology as a motivating factor

Do you ever wish you could just forget everything, even just for a few seconds? That you could just snap your fingers, or close your eyes, or maybe tap your heels together three times and mumble “There’s no place like home,” and all your problems would vanish. Or maybe you wish you had some sort of potion, and when you drank it all the stupid stuff just wouldn’t matter anymore.

Well, I know how to do it. It’s easy really—just like magic. Magic dust. All you have to do is keep a little in your pocket with you, and when the going gets rough, puff a little down, and PRESTO! You’re amazing, you’re incredible. Everyone loves you—your pill-popping mom, your clueless dad, your geeky brother…even that crabby old guy who runs the newspaper stand, and the homeless guy who’s pants are always pissed when you pass him in the morning. The magic just makes you invincible.

Yeah, that’s the great thing about heroin.

“Will, it’s already 70 degrees outside—you’ll burn up!” Vivian shouted from the kitchen. Will, in a jeans and a plain black, long-sleeve shirt grimaced, and shot back, “I’ll be fine Aunt Viv,” as he let the front door bang shut behind him. Parents. Always trying to give advice when he didn’t need it.

Between the walk from his house to the car (where Carlton was waiting), the sweat started to bead on his forehead. He wiped crossly at it with a sleeve, and nearly jogged the rest of the way across the lawn. As soon as the car door was slammed shut behind Will, Carlton hit the gas—that boy wouldn’t have speeded if his life depended on it, but there was no way he was going to be late for school because of his lousy cousin again.

Man oh man when is this class gonna end….

Will’s eyes jumped to the clock again, where the time was precisely ten seconds later than it had been the last time he’d looked. It was hard enough to focus on anything, let alone the stupid teacher up front gabbing away. The room felt tight, stuffy, overcrowded, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe—as if each time he took a breath, the air around him crushed in his chest a little more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and jammed his forehead against his the heel of his hand, trying to calm down before he ended up hyperventilating. It sort of worked, especially if he let his lips mumble silently while he did it.

When the bell rang, all he wanted to do was bolt straight out of the classroom. Instead, the teacher, Mr. Wagner, called him up to the front. Carlton exited the classroom with the other students, but paused outside the door, only a little worried; Will got in trouble with the teachers all the time.

When Will reached the teacher’s desk, he braced his hands apart on his side of it, and leaned over. It looked like typical confident, cool-boy behavior, but all Will wanted to do was keep from flipping out.

“Are you alright, Mr. Smith?”

“Fine,” he managed to get out, feeling his insides start to clam up a little at the question instead of the usual reprimand.

“Are you sure, Will?”

He made the mistake of looking up into Mr. Wagner’s eyes, which were both serious and troubled. Will gave a slight nod and forced out a, “Yeah,” before he dropped his gaze, then hurried out of the room.

“Will—” Carlton started when his cousin exited the classroom. “Not now Carlton,” Will replied shortly, starting to try to push past him. Suddenly Jazz, sporting a grin and a second-hand leather jacket, slid a thin arm around Will shoulder—and between him and Carlton. When he caught sight of Will’s face, he grimaced. “You look bad, my man. Don’t worry—I got the cure.” And with that, Carlton watched Jazz lead a very relieved Will away.

As Will was leaning foreword to open the car on the passenger’s side of the car, a girl came running across the front lawn of the school, catching his elbow in a dainty hand. “Will,” she nearly gasped, out of breath, “Will, I was wondering…since it’s a Friday night and all…well, I know they’re not your absolute favorite band, but the Boyz 2 Men are playing down at the The Club tonight…”

Carlton smiled—Caitlyn, Will’s girlfriend of two weeks, was by far the nicest of the ones Carlton had had the “privilege” of meeting in a while, and while she didn’t know it, Will loved Boyz 2 Men.

“Look, I’m sorry Cait; I can’t,” Will told her, without even looking up, before he opened the door and climbed in. Caitlyn struggled to hide her disappointment, even as Will told her, only semi-apologetically, “I’ll call you this weekend.” Carlton sat in shock for a minute, but when he realized Will wasn’t going to tell the girl anything else, he started home.

Carlton came downstairs, and couldn’t stop a frown; Will was sprawled across the entire couch, flipping channels on the TV, an untouched bowl of cheetos on the coffee table in front of him. His cousin, the party animal, home on a Friday night? When he’d turned down that girl for a third weekend in a row, Carlton had figured he’d had something crazy already planned, so this was a bit worrisome. Not to mention annoying; he’d wanted to watch Oprah.

“Hey,” he tried.

“Hey.”

“So, uh…what’re you doing home?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why aren’t you…you know, out?”

Will grunted, and Carlton came to sit on the armrest of couch on the side Will’s head was on.

“So you turned Caitlyn down yet again to stay at home and watch television?”

“Yeah, it looks like it.” There was an unpleasantly sarcastic edge on his voice when he said it.

“You know…” Carlton hesitated, not sure how to point out that his cousin was being a dick without actually calling him one. “That’s not really very…nice.”

This time, Will tilted his head back to look at him with the ‘you’re a midget’ look that Carlton hated so much, and shrugged his shoulder’s a bit, before turning back to the TV screen. “I just didn’t feel like going to the movies with her.”

Carlton nodded, and sat on the edge of couch a bit longer, before getting up and heading for his room. But he couldn’t get it out of his head—it wasn’t Will’s answer that was bothering him, but the way his eyes had looked when he’d said it.

Carlton had really started to worry. Not full-blown panic or anything—but he knew that Vivian was picking up on something too, when she asked Carlton, “Is everything alright with you and Will?” Carlton has given her an honest answer; “I think so.” But with each day, he was a little less sure. Will had broken it off with Caitlyn, which wasn’t so unusual, but as far as Carlton knew he hadn’t even hooked up with anyone since—at least, not anyone that anybody knew about. He showed up less and less often to get rides home from Carlton and he often came home long after everyone was asleep.

Naturally, Carlton had assumed that Vivian would bring it up with him—but she hadn’t. In fact, it seemed that she was just as happy not knowing what was going on, as long as Will was in the door by the time she was awake. She hadn’t really seemed herself lately, either—she was always tired, and seemed out of it; Carlton found he had a hard time carrying on a conversation with her on several occasions. But when he’d asked his dad, he’d told him not to worry about it; she was going through a bit of a rough time, but he had it all taken care of.

Carlton glanced at the clock—11:37 and sighed, before climbing the stairs to his room, where he couldn’t stop from glancing over at the other empty bed.

Uncle Phil heard the front door creak open, and then the soft foot-steps of his step-son sneaking in. He flipped the lamp on, and Will froze, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Well. You’re home early,” Uncle Phil commented, standing to move towards Will, who wasn’t sure how to respond, and just stood there.

“Look, Will—“ the boy had started moving again, carefully unlacing his shoes as if he couldn’t hear Uncle Phil— “You can’t keep doing this, It’s not fair to your Aunt Vivian, or me. We worry—“ Will hung his jacket on the banister— “about you. So,” Uncle Phil drew himself up; he wasn’t used to trying to be the law enforcement figure of the house, but since nobody else seemed up to it… “You need to start being home at seven on school nights, and ten on the weekends—no more nights out.” Will, selective-hearing in tow, walked right by him and up the steps, causing Uncle Phil to falter on what he was about to say next. He stood still at the bottom of the steps until he heard the door to Will’s room click shut.

Carlton tried to interest himself in the TV; it was six o’clock and Will hadn’t been home for over twenty-four hours. Uncle Phil would be home any minute, and then Carlton was sure, they’d be calling the police. If Vivian hadn’t been a zombie at this point, Carlton was sure that would have happened long before. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Carlton looked up—then felt his temper flare when he saw who it was. Will Smith, and a pretty messed up as well.

“Mom! Will’s home!”

Vivian rushed in from the other room and wrapped her son up in a hug, saying over and over again things like, “Honey I was so worried,” and “I love you so much Will, don’t ever do that to me again,” and Carlton tensed, waiting for the explosion—but it never came. Instead, she said softly, “You look pretty bad. Why don’t you go up to your room, and get some sleep.” Will offered her a weak smile, and stumbled away up the steps towards his room.

Vivian retreated to the kitchen to nurse a cup of coffee.

Carlton couldn’t take it anymore—he could feel the anger rising in him like he’d never felt before. He stormed up the steps and down the hall, grabbed the handle and threw the door open to the room he and Will shared and—stopped short in disbelief.

Will was on his bed, one sleeve rolled up to his shoulder, a badly tied tourniquet tied around that bicep. One hand steadied the other at the elbow, and the blue veins of his arm bulged sickeningly. He was trying to get the needle to stick but his sides were shaking as he alternated between dry heaving and silent sobs, and he kept missing. Bruised, spidery tract marks wound down his arms. The spit and snot was dribbling down his chin.

“Will…”

The boy didn’t even look up, just kept trying to shoot up, as he heaved out, “I c-can’t do it, Carlton. I can’t and I-I—“ he wiped at his nose with his arm, “I tried but I…”

Carlton had moved to his side, and sat on the bed next to him, resting a hand on his cousin’s back. “Shhh, Will. It’s ok. I’m here.”

But Will cut in with another sob—“I mess up so much—so badly and—I hate—hate—“

Carlton rubbed a circle on Will’s back as he replied soothingly, “No, Will. I love you. We all love you, no matter what you do. We’re gonna help you.”

More tears poured from Will’s eyes and Carlton fought back his own, before he felt something warm and looked down; Will’s arm had begun to bleed. He reached for the needle and Will’s expression grew frightened. “Carlton—I need it—I need this—don’t—“ But Carlton calmed him with more shushing, before he gently took the needle away, then stretched out Will’s arm further, before easily sliding the needle into a vein. “Will,” he said quietly, starting to push the plunger down, “you can have it. But you have to promise that after…after this, we’ll talk to mom and dad. Together. And we’ll get you help, ok?”

Will managed a slight nod, before his eyes slipped closed and he let the heroin flood his system.

I've been reading SF!

very few s.f. stories i can think of are about "good vs evil" actually, they're usually about the dread and anxiety produced by changing technology

crossposts

c&ping guaranteed to improve any thread

HOW ALF GOT LUCKY

One day Lia (ME) went for a walk in the park to see the site of the finest man she had ever laid her sexy eyes on. IT WAS THE HOTTEST GUY EVER! She watched as he walked around the park, his sexy hair blowing in the wind. She became hot seeing his face glance her way. His long pointed nose was the site of pleasure as he pointed it her way. His big hairy body was the body of a man, and was erotic to even view. IT WAS ALF! He stood only feet away from Lia, and began to step closer, his big hairy feet making her heart throb with every step. Slowly, he stood before her, and looked down at her awesome boobies.

" I like you titties" ALF suddenly blurted.

" These old things?" Lia nervously responded, showing it to ALF

"I would like to lick your titty please" ALF asked with a cocked head.

Lia reached out for ALF's big hairy body, and guided the sexy alien to her house off the lake.

She lead ALF in, and offered him a titty. He cheerfully accepted. You see ALF had never experienced a real titty like that, he wanted full on titty love, and his past relationship didn't offer that.

ALF slowly put his large hand over the titty, and began to squeeze. ALF HOWLED to the sky as he felt such pleasure. Lia, who became aroused by such a reaction, lead ALF to her room to make a baby ALFY.

9 MONTHS LATER-

ALFY ALF ALIEN JR. was born to the proud parents. ALF even used the titty during nursing time. ALF had never loved anything as much as those titties, well accept his baby ALFY. The two lived happily ever after in their alien ALF world, and had many more baby ALF'S.

c&ping guaranteed to improve any thread

-- DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:23 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link

I LIKE YOU, TITTIES

haha most predictable quoting-of-thing-posted-to-ilx ever :D

" These old things?" Lia nervously responded, showing it to ALF

^^^^magical prose

I quite like some sci-fi.

Wait Buffy is sci-fi?

stop stop yr taking this thread seriously

My c+p'ing of Lily Allen and Phil Collins erotic fan fiction was much better. You kids are amateurs.

TS: Phil Collins erotic fiction vs ALF erotic fiction

^^^ only time you'll see "Phil Collins" and "erotic" in the same sentence, although to be fair the sentence also contains the word "fiction".

my god it's full of slash

In the above story, ALF is played by Har Mar Superstar in a fursuit.

"Niiiiiiice pussy".

lol Har Mar Superstar

Baffling.

...all of this.

"Cut it da fuck out!" Shaggy's annoyance only increased when Jay responded with manic laughter. He'd been working on some final mixes for F.T.F.O., and for no real reason, Jay'd wandered in and started playfully slapping him upside his shaved head. Every few minutes, smack. Smack. Smack. At first Shaggy tried to ignore it, but the more it happened, the harder Jay hit, and the more aggrivated he got.

"I fuckin' mean it Joe, one more time an' I'ma--" Smack. Laugh. He lost it.

Jumping up from his chair, Shaggy grabbed Jay's wrists and lifted them over his head. Using his momentum he slammed the other man backwards against the wall of the production booth, rattling their gold and platinum records in their frames. Jay still grinned, his green eyes alight with mischief, despite Shaggy's fuming. The combined stress of trying to finish the album and Jay's puckish ploys for attention left him needing release, in more ways than one. His wife had taken their children out of town on vacation a week ago, and he'd been left with nothing but his hand and wicked fantasies. Jay was giving him an excuse to do something else to satiate his cravings.

A damn good excuse.

He glared into those beckoning eyes for a split-second more before something like a snarl sounded from deep in his chest, and his lips made ferocious contact with Jay's. He pressed up close, his sudden erection digging into Jay's hip. Jay grunted his surprise and arousal, and responded to Shaggy's thrusting in kind. Soon Jay's hands were again free, with one at the back of Shaggy's head and the other around his cock. With each stroke he felt the other man's knees buckle just a little more, and so reversed their positions, giving Shaggy the support of the wall. As they turned, the kiss broke, allowing Jay to take in Shaggy's look of both relief and ecstasy; His eyes squeezed shut, mouth just slightly open, sweat beads along his hair line, all familiar but no less exhilirating.

"Thank you, thank you," Shaggy started to whisper, his fingernails clawing at the wall behind him. A sly chuckle accompanied Jay's response.

"I know you, I know ya need a li'l sum'in'." Shaggy could only nod in agreement, his breath too shallow for words as Jay leaned in again to lightly scrape his teeth against Shaggy's neck. His fingers left the wall then in favor of Jay's back, grasping at the fabric preventing their skin from connecting. As he silently cursed the clothing, a further appetite abruptly came to him. He swallowed hard before attempting to speak, and still his gasps for air impeded him.

"Joe..."

"Mmm?" came the acknowledgement from near his jugular.

"You remember..." He panted twice. "Dat time..." And again. "After da shoot? At my old place?" He licked his lips, his breath coming a bit easier as the notion crept closer to the surface.

"MMmmm..." This moaning reply made evident not only that Jay remembered, but also that he relished the event. Shaggy forced his body to stop short its undulation, clamped the sides of Jay's head with his hands and brought the other man's ear to his lips, his voice naught but a raspy whisper.

"Do it again."

Jay gasped, shivered, moaned again before clutching Shaggy's waistband and dragging it hurridly to the floor, leaving Shaggy's lower body exposed. He stayed on his knees there for a brief moment, as if in worship of the flesh before him. He teasingly dragged his tongue along Shaggy's length on his way back up, giving his partner cause to bite his lower lip and groan. Jay then worked quickly to free his own erection, spitting into his hand to lubricate himself. The two locked eyes as Jay's hands slipped around the cradle Shaggy's ass, and Shaggy's wrapped around Jay's neck. A look of, "Ready?" was answered with one of, "God yes!" Jay's biceps flexed as he lifted another's body weight, and slacked as he gently lowered that weight onto his cock.

Shaggy's jaw hit the floor and he gasped, his blue eyes going wide before rolling back into his skull. Gravity forced Jay deep inside him, as deep as he'd been at his orgasm the last time. He shuddered and collapsed forward, resting his head on Jay's shoulder. Jay turned his head just slightly to nip at Shaggy's neck again, and began slowly rolling his hips forward and back, sandwiching Shaggy tighter against the wall. He felt the other man's shaft jump and twitch against his stomach with each advance, and wished he had a free hand to wrap around it. He conceded instead to pumping a little harder, a little faster, leaning his head back in a moan when Shaggy took a cue from him and dug his teeth into Jay's flesh.

The wall behind him didn't stay cool for long as Shaggy's back was pushed closer against it each moment that passed. He'd remembered the filled feeling, but no memory could compare with the experience. He drowned in every sensation, every stimulation of sight, sound, taste and touch. This was exactly what he'd needed, what he'd craved, to forget about the album and the lonely nights for a while. He knew Jay had known that, and that it was the reason behind the earlier provocations. He leaned his head back against the wall, wanting to let Jay watch his face as they pleasured each other.

The pumping of Jay's hips made a delicious, dull thump against the wall, not unlike a bass beat. Seeing Shaggy in this rapture again made climax difficult to resist, and he told him so. Eyes still closed, Shaggy nodded and dropped his right hand from Jay's neck to his rigidness pressed between them. Jay's eyes followed, and his breath grew even more shallow as he watched the playing card suits on Shaggy's knuckles begin to blur as his hand stroked faster and faster. Buried deep inside he jumped, and Shaggy involuntarily bucked, putting on increased pressure. Jay felt dizzy, close.

"Joey..." he whispered

"Oh fuck yeah," came the response through clenched teeth.

A few more thrusts, furious strokes, failed attempts to muffle their cries, and both men reached their limits. Their entire bodies tensed, every muscle clenching and releasing at a frenzy pace. It hadn't happened since their first encounter that they orgasmed simultanously, and the sheer bliss of each other enwrapped them both.

Their lungs desperate for air and skin slick with sweat, Jay managed to lift Shaggy up and off, despite his still trembling arms, and finally let his feet touch the floor again. His legs began to collapse under him then, and he leaned against Shaggy for support. After regaining himself, he stood again, grinning.

"Thought you coulda used a break," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Shaggy laughed, bending down to retrieve his pants.

"You know me too well."

After some small talk and a little discussion about the album's progress, Jay said he needed to be on his way. He opened the door of the booth, only to find Madrox and Monoxide standing there, slightly flushed and trying unsuccessfully to avoid Jay's glance. He stopped and looked at them, unable to counter the smirk creeping onto his face.

"How long y'all been there?" He asked casually. The blush on both of the other men deepened.

"Long enough," Monoxide blurted out. Madrox smacked his arm and gave him a look. Jay only chuckled.

"Well," he said, shrugging and starting to walk away, "Have ta get dem creative juices goin' somehow."

It was just after his first live show. James Lowery, otherwise known as Anybody Killa, walked backstage alone. He'd been bombarded by 'los and 'lettes, asking about his new solo album that was due out. It felt good to know too that he had fans apart from his work with Dark Lotus. The other Petals had since gotten into the back, cleaned up, and headed out to a local club for their own wicked brand of mischeif-making. They'd told him where they were going so he didn't mind being the last to leave.

The backstage bathroom was dim and smokey. Smears of black and white face paint covered the counters, suds were gradually dissolving in the sinks, the smell of sweat, cigarettes, and soap filled the air. Killa stood facing the long mirror and took a deep breath, running his hands over his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an orange glow, like the cherry on a cigarette. He turned around just as a puff of smoke floated out from the furthest, darkest stall. Still smoldering, the cigarette butt came flying out onto the floor. Killa stared into the darkness, straining to see who was there. He heard shuffling, and the figure stepped into the light.

"Aw damn, Shaggs, I almost jumped outta my skin!" Shaggy chuckled, stomping out the cigarette. "Why ain't you out wit da rest o'da boys?"

His hands casually in his pockets, Shaggy's blue eyes ran slowly up and down Killa's form. He licked his lips slightly and chuckled again. "Wanted ta wait for ya, Jame."

Killa wondered why Shaggy was acting so strange, but didn't want to make a thing out of it. Instead he just shrugged. "A'ight, coo' den." He turned to wash the make-up off his face when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze as Shaggy pressed close behind him. The deep voice rumbled softly right in his ear, "Don't do that."

Killa swallowed hard as he noticed something equally hard was digging into his ass. He tried to lock eyes with his reflection, but Shaggy's penetrating stare was irresistable. "Why not?" He couldn't manage anything above a whisper. Shaggy turned the younger man around slowly, and forcefully took his chin in his hand. His voice stayed low, and his blue eyes intensified.

"Cuz I wanna see dem skeleton teeth on my dick when you're done." Shaggy put both hands on Killa's shoulders and forced him to his knees. His dark eyes were huge with surprise and apprehension. Shaggy's left hand found its way way to the back of Killa's head, the right stroked his cheek. "Go on, take it out," he whispered as he nodded toward the bulge in his pants. Killa was trembling.

"Sh-Shaggy," he stuttered. Swallowed. "Joey, man, I--"

"Shut the fuck up, Jamie." Shaggy's voice was still soft even through the aggressive words. "You wanna be down, dontcha?" A half smile crossed his lips.

Killa nodded and bowed his gaze to Shaggy's crotch. He lifted a shaking hand to the button and zipper. Shaggy gasped as the metal teeth spread open, and let out a soft grunt as the other man pulled his hard cock past his boxers.

Nervously licking his lips left the taste of face paint in Killa's mouth, and he looked up at Shaggy again. The sight of those dark Native eyes peering up at him, the indirect angle and black make-up surrounding them only making them seem bigger, gave Shaggy a rush and cause to shiver. "Mm, yeah," he growled out. Petting the back of Killa's head, he encouraged the younger man to begin the act. "Go on, Jamie, grab da mic and lay dat shit down."

Unable to counter the sudden pressure on the back of his head, Killa found Shaggy's cock butting against the back of his throat, and was instantly greatful he had no gag reflex. He sniffled and let out a muffled grunt, sending vibrations through the shaft in his mouth. Shaggy sharply took in his breath, leaned back his head and moaned through clenched teeth. "Start suckin', Jamie." Clamping his hands on both sides of Killa's head, he forced him to bob back and forth. "Keep up dat hummin' too."

Killa obeyed. He relaxed his neck to give Shaggy more control. At first he tried not to think about what was happening, tried to let his own humming become a mantra so he could trance out and drift away from reality. But always working their way in were Shaggy's moans and sharp hisses, the feel of the hard pulsating shaft sliding between his lips, the mingled taste of face paint and pre-cum. Killa found himself inexplicably focused on those elements of the act, and his hums became less of a flat drone and more guttural enthusiastic expressions of pleasure.

With a tentative hand, he slid up Shaggy's leg, squeezing and groping his thigh. "Ooh fuck yeah," came Shaggy's approval, and Killa took his cue. He trailed his hand around to the other man's inner thigh, slowly and lightly dragging his fingers higher. Goosebumps popped up all over Shaggy's flesh and he shuddered with a moan from deep in his chest. Finally Killa's hand reached its destination, and fondled Shaggy's balls through two layers of fabric.

A long drawn out groan escaped the older man's lips as he dropped one hand to his side and slid the other one again around to the back of Killa's head. Leaning his torso back he got a better view, and the sight made his cock twitch in Killa's mouth. This gave the man on his knees cause to chuckle and pull away, dragging his tongue along the underside of the shaft. He even lapped up the droplet of pre-cum when he came to the head.

Shaggy let out a deep breath and grinned at Killa, who let his hand fall back to his own thigh. From his aerial view, Shaggy could see that he wasn't the only one enjoying the encounter. "You likin' that meat?" he asked with a chuckle, nudging Killa's erection with his foot. Killa's eyes snapped shut and he bit his lower lip, grunted and nodded. "What the fuck you stoppin' for then?"

Killa looked up with just his eyes again, looking just like a grinning skull. Shaggy growled as he leaned forward, his eyes rolling back when he felt the wet heat of Killa's mouth around him again. Even better, Killa was taking on his role, holding Shaggy at the base and pumping his head back and forth without assistance.

Gradually faster and faster he bobbed his head, sucking so hard his cheeks hollowed, only adding to the skeleton look of his face. Every time his deep brown eyes locked with the steel blue of Shaggy's, both men felt a renewed surge of intensity and excitement. Their groans of pleasure and slick sucking sounds echoed off the bathroom walls, enveloping the two men in another world wholly inhabited by intense pleasure bordering on sensory overload. Neither was sure how much time had passed, but gradually Shaggy felt his climax building and brought his hand back to Killa's face.

"Jamie," he managed, breathless. "I'm gonna bust it, take me all in." Killa let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and slid Shaggy once more to the back of his throat, still sucking hard and pressing his tongue against the hard length. With a few final grunts and thrusts of his hips, Shaggy exploded in Killa's mouth, thick hot ropes of his juice spilling out as Killa himself released in his pants.

Panting, Shaggy pulled away. "Don't swallow yet, Jame, hold up." He stumbled back to the furthest stall, rummaged in the pocket of the coat he'd left there, and returned to the younger man with a bottle of orange Faygo. "Open," he instructed while uncapping it. Killa leaned his head back and opened wide. He was showered with the sweet fizzing liquid and gulped down all he could catch.

When the bottle was empty, Shaggy threw it to the floor, grinning like the mad klown he was. He grabbed his softening cock and examined it. "Yeah, dat's da shit right there." He showed Killa the prints his make-up had left, and both of them came down off the sexual high with a laugh. Killa stood, washed off his face and changed clothes. Shaggy merely wiped the sweat off his face and tucked his cock away without cleaning off the grease paint.

As the two stepped outside to go join the other Petals, Killa couldn't help himself. "So, how was I?" he asked as casually as he could manage. Shaggy took a long slow drag off his cigarette and answered as he let out the smoke. "Best since Madrox." Killa stopped short without realizing it, and had to trot to catch up with his companion once he snapped back to reality.

When they finally met up with the others, they all had a kind of knowing glint in their eyes. Jay was the only one to speak up though, playing dumb and asking where the fuck the two of them had been. Shaggy slapped Killa on the back and said, "Had us a little initiation." He had a smile on his face almost like a proud father. He gestured to the waitress to bring a round of drinks, and the five other men raised their glasses to Anybody Killa. Jay made the toast, "Welcome to the Lotus Pod, mutha facko!"

I get the feeling this thread isn't being treated with the gravitas it merits.

http://img104.imageshack.us/img104/2476/imageuploadimagekg3.jpg

Eight months passed and Melody stayed and made herself at home in MacGyver’s house. They had decided to wait until after the baby was born for her to find a job and a place. MacGyver made sure she gained weight and regularly went to the doctor’s. Melody felt cared for, for the first time in years. They continued to share a bed because no one would let the other one sleep on the couch. They acted more and more like a married couple everyday. Pete even teased them, asking when they were getting hitched. That always embarrassed them because they both had feelings for the other that went unsaid. Then one night after Pete had left, MacGyver and Melody started cleaning up.

“I’ll get it.” MacGyver said to her.

He took the dishcloth out of her hands.

“You need to rest.” He put his hand on her belly. “It’s almost time for him or her to come out and you both need your rest.”

“Alright.” Melody smiled.

She sat at the counter and watched Mac wash the dishes. She had been love with him for about four months now, but she wouldn’t tell him. She didn’t want to mess up the friendship they had. She could always have her dreams though. She smiled at him. MacGyver looked at her and noticed her smile. He wondered what she was thinking. He turned back to the dishes. As he washed them, he thought about Melody and the baby. He wondered if he would have the nerve to ask her an important question tonight. He’d been planning on it for a month but always had reservations. Well, if he didn’t ask her tonight, he would at least start the ball rolling. He put down the dish cloth and took a deep breath. He turned to Melody and looked at her across the counter. He smiled.

“What?” Melody asked smiling back.

MacGyver put his hand on her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Melody asked softly.

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. He paused and kissed her again. He pulled away, waiting for a response. Melody smiled at him.

“I’ve been waiting for that for months.” Melody laughed sweetly.

MacGyver smiled and touched her lips. He was doing good so far, he decided to continue.

“I’ve been in love with you for a few months now, but I’ve been afraid to say anything.” MacGyver said sweetly.

“You have?” Melody got tears in her eyes. “I’ve been afraid to tell you, I love you, too.”

MacGyver smiled bigger and kissed her again. He kissed her deeper. They both felt like electricity was coursing through them. Melody never felt happier. MacGyver decided not to press his luck and backed off.

“It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.” MacGyver suggested.

“I don’t know if I can now.” Melody said nearly bubbling with happiness.

“I know, but let’s try.” he smiled.

They went up to bed and neither could sleep for over an hour. Finally MacGyver put his arm around Melody and she laid her head on his chest. They fell asleep in that position.

The next morning, MacGyver put his plan into action. He made Melody breakfast in bed and put a small box under her napkin. He took the tray upstairs to her.

“Wake up beautiful. It’s time for breakfast.”

Melody opened her eyes and sat up.

“Aww...thank you! This is so sweet.”

MacGyver sat the tray on her lap and sat down facing her.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” Melody asked.

“Yes, but this comes first.” MacGyver said. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

“It smells so good.”

Melody took a sip of orange juice and smiled. She thought of how wonderful he was. She picked up the napkin and something dropped onto the tray. She saw a little black box and gasped. MacGyver held his breath in anticipation. Melody opened the box and inside was a ring with a diamond in the middle. With tears in her eyes she looked up at MacGyver. MacGyver took a deep breath.

“I’ve been planning this for awhile, but could never get the nerve. But after last night I decided to try. As Pete said, we’re practically married anyway, so let’s make it official. Will you marry me?” MacGyver took the ring out of the box and held it out.

Melody was shocked but had known what to say for months.

“I feel like I’ve been blessed ever since I met you. Of course I’ll marry you.” Melody held out her hand.

MacGyver slipped the ring on her finger and grabbed her for a kiss. They both forgot about the breakfast and it turned over. They both jumped then laughed.

“It was a nice thought.” Melody said. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. You go to work. You don’t want to be late.”

MacGyver smiled and kissed her goodbye as he headed out the door. As he pulled away in his jeep, he didn’t notice the man in the van staring at him from across the road.

Is anyone else now terrified by the thought of latebloomer's bookmarks?

dead white guy canon

Doris Lessing. Margaret Atwood. Octavia Butler. Angela Carter.

gravitas =! surliness

Is anyone else now terrified by the thought of latebloomer's bookmarks?

-- HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:24 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link

Yes! hahaha

Good point Anna, add Ursula K LeGuin.

I learned today that there is Schindler's List fan fiction

And Samuel R Delany.

xpost to self

I skipped on Ursula, even though I like the Earthsea books, because of her somewhat dodgy politics - kind of plays into Dom's 'reject the alien' fantasies.

I don't know I thought the politics of "The Left Hand of Darkness" and "The Dispossessed" were actually quite interestingly nuanced. Then again it's years since I read them and that was against a background of wacko Heinleinian politics.

http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s236/mezxspectrum/kpouterspacers.jpg

I don't remember any stuff like that in LeGuin either, they seemed very considered to me, but it's been years since I've read them also.

i always liked how ged had nice chestnut skin and the baddies were all ghostly white

strickly speakin that's fantasy though, not science fiction

"speculative fiction"

strickly speakin that's fantasy though, not science fiction

-- Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:47 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link

Do you see major differences beyond the cosmetic?

She has written a lot of actual no-denying-it Science Fiction as well though.

xpost - yes.

Although the lines between the two do blur on occasion.

Was just thinking of Left Hand of Darkness as a kind of reject-yr-gut-impulse-to-reject-the-alien book, a theme I'd say is considerably more prevalent more in written SF than the basic reject-the-alien one. I guess I'm vaguely snobbish towards TV sci-fi in that I might tell someone I liked science fiction and not count really that stuff, even though that's probably the default meaning for most people with it in their livejournal interests etc, and I would suspect it of having a considerably worse ratio of blast-the-aliens cowboys-in-space stuff.

(I do see differences between fantasy and SF, though obviously I can't say that in a post starting w. Ursula Le Guin without noting that the lines would be very blurred even in what I consider the good stuff, especially 60s-70s before fantasy and maybe sci-fi too completely hived off into its/their own genre(s) that nobody else wanted to touch. Maybe it's just snobbery again but SF = about possibilities, about "if our universe changed in these crazy but not completely impossible ways, or turned out to have worked in them all along, what does that mean about us? and since human psychology stays basically the same -- PS if not, why not -- where would it take us?", vs fantasy's retreat into cosy if gory imagined world of impossibilities, romantic heroism, etc. And to join that up with my first-paragraph elitism, in some ways TV SF seems kind of more fantasy than SF, future/space just an excuse to declare technology functionally indistinguishable from magic, have epic multi-century feudal wars and cloud palaces and beautiful princesses...)

God knows why I've bothered typing or even thinking this. I await a one-line shred-ripping of my misplaced and overlong earnestness and then some c+p slash, or maybe just a prompt thread death.

"I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style.

fantasy = magic wardrobe
sci fi = spaceship

or

fantasy = goblins
sci fi = martians

dom you're right that martians/spaceship or goblins/wardrobe can perform the same kind of functions in a story (portal to another world; what you find once you get there) and that the differences are largely differences of ambience and tone but ambience and tone are a big part of what any fiction is all about

i have just finished doing a radio series on golden age sci-fi pulp stories, despite knowing virtually nothing about them, so forgive me for going on and on here in possible the wrong direction completely but it seems to me that "classic" sci fi was all about a hero or group of heroes applying their rationality to some disturbance or alien thing (something star trek took up with gusto at the exact moment that this model of sci fi started losing its currency in the sharp blast of "new wave" story which tended towards INNER space and psychology); these classic stories were also hobbled, depending on your point of view, by having the short story as their dominant mode and thus relied heavily on short story tactics like the twist ending, which can feel cheap