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PROMPT ME~~~
I was rereading some of my old pornfic yesterday, and man, that was depressing. I used to be able to off-the-cuff 1,000 or more words of PWP easily. Now, I struggle with every sentence, no matter if what I'm writing is porn or something else. I haven't posted fic in almost a year, either.
So. Whoever comments first is getting commentporn. Any pairing, any fandom--het, slash, or femmeslash. Give me a pairing and a prompt, and I shall try and see if I can force my PWP muse to actually do its job for once.
Come on, guys. This is your chance to make me write Ten/Rose. Or House/Cameron. Or Gwen/Arthur. Don't miss out! *insert commercial jingle*
comment on LJ
So. Whoever comments first is getting commentporn. Any pairing, any fandom--het, slash, or femmeslash. Give me a pairing and a prompt, and I shall try and see if I can force my PWP muse to actually do its job for once.
Come on, guys. This is your chance to make me write Ten/Rose. Or House/Cameron. Or Gwen/Arthur. Don't miss out! *insert commercial jingle*
comment on LJ
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I like the prompt, though. xD
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"You do look like him."
They're in Wilson's office this time. The door is locked, the blinds on the windows are closed, and Cuddy has Wilson trapped between herself and the closed door, her right hand on his crotch while her left is splayed out on his chest, holding him in place. She breaks an intense kiss to make her statement, and it takes Wilson a moment to collect himself enough to react.
"Like who?"
"The guy on television. The one with the suit and the coat and the--" She slips one finger underneath the neck loop of Wilson's tie and pulls. "--necktie."
He is pulled towards her, and the next few moments are spent on another kiss, Cuddy slipping her tongue into Wilson's mouth while the palm of her right hand is rhythmically pressing against the bulge in the front of his pants. He makes one of those throaty Wilson sex sounds she has come to appreciate over the last couple of weeks, and she slides her left hand around his neck and up into his hair.
When she pulls away, he's breathing heavily, and there are traces of lipstick smeared around his mouth.
"I do not."
She quickly undoes his belt, never taking her eyes off his face, the wide, soft brown eyes and the flushed cheeks, and smiles. "Yes, you do. Same eyes, same hair. You're not as skinny, but then--" She slips her hand into his underpants and finds his cock, wrapping her fingers around it and enjoying the way Wilson's eyes glaze over when she does. "--that man is a stick insect."
His hands slide down from where they were resting on her waist to cup her ass, squeezing not-too-gently and pulling her in closer. "You know," he says, trying to play down the arousal in his voice and not quite managing, "I can imagine more romantic things you could be telling me during sex."
Cuddy slightly twists her right hand, the edge of her palm brushing over the head of Wilson's cock and sending a shudder through his body. "This is a quick office handjob, Wilson," she says, leaning in and flicking her tongue against his earlobe before she continues in a lower tone. "You want romance, you take me out to dinner."
She can tell that he wants to respond, but as she leans down and grazes her teeth over the skin of his neck, the words die in his throat and turn into another throaty moan. She smiles to herself, shifting her stance a little to make her panties rub against her crotch. Her hand continues to work a steady rhythm, and before long, his breathing becomes more erratic, his fingers on her ass tightening.
She twists her wrist again and brings her mouth close to his ear. "Come for me, Wilson. Now."
Two hours later, Cuddy is sitting at her desk, sorting through some papers and wrapping her work up for the evening. A knock on the door makes her look up to see Wilson standing in the doorway. Her gaze immediately drops to his crotch, but she's disappointed. He's cleaned up nicely; there's no visible evidence of their earlier encounter.
"Wilson, what can I do for you?"
He steps fully into the office and closes the door behind him. "I was wondering if I could ask you out to dinner. Tonight."
She regards him for a moment, a smile playing about her lips, then picks up a file from her desk and gets to her feet. "I'm really sorry, Wilson." She walks across the room towards him and leans against the door, one hand on the doorknob. "I'm afraid I've already got plans for tonight."
"Really?" His eyebrows go up. "What kind of plans?"
She leans in and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've got House coming over to try out the new ropes I bought him for Christmas. Purple silk, horrendously expensive; maybe those will finally make him stop complaining about chafing."
She pulls back and smiles; then, without waiting for a response, leaves the office and walks off towards the clinic. She can feel Wilson's eyes on her rear, and the corners of her mouth twitch in amusement.
It's good being Dean of Medicine.
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Seriously, that was... coitalicious. Haha! And there was Who, despite what you say. If I didn't know Who was part of the prompt, I would have guessed Ten. And it's even better that Cuddy watches Doctor Who, and it's EVEN BETTER that she calls him a stick insect, and that she's buying purple ropes and oh my god she's not OOC at all she's AWESOME.
*swoon*
So just. Brilliant. Gah.
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<3 Thanks for the prompt! It was good inspiration.
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