#cw usft

[hyliadestine]

[ AFTER ] our muses initiating another round the morning after their first time.

𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 , vision of morning rays coming into focus. bare body beneath sheets stretch , ridding herself of morning haze. it is only when the feeling of him against her skin reminds her of the night before. body flushes warm , cheeks staining pink. memories come flooding back , body responding with heat. the thoughts of his touch , his mouth. it's all consuming , all she can focus on. she watches him for moments , the steady rise and fall of his chest. after everything , how lucky they are. a hundred years had past. how unreal it all seems. how different it all seems. their happiness is allowed now , a new era of peace. rebuilding everything , it could wait. how selfish it seems , to pursue her own happiness in this time. but after everything , all @herodestine had given ? do they not deserve a moment of rest ? she moves to stride his hips , resting gently there on his chest. the sound of his heart beat like a lullaby. face nuzzles into the crook of his neck , gentle kisses pressed there against his skin. his name uttered , a soft whisper. she works her way up , lips pressed against his jaw. they continue their path to his ear , gently nipping at his lobe.

[ohsunshine]

🎲 for daniel hehe - 14: a kiss to the stomach / ( @bloodebayou )

Daniel, on his knees before Lourdes, reverent and impatient. He doesn't know if he can touch, or where, though he knows that he wants to. Daniel wasn't always so careful, but he learnt his manners at Armand's feet - he remembers this now, although he does his very best not to think about it. It's easy not to when he tips his head back and looks up at Lourdes, his mouth hanging open with the faintest puffs of desperation.

"Can I -" he begins, then stops, because there's so much that he wants and he doesn't know where to start.

He exhales heavily and leans forward, resting his forehead against Lourdes' abdomen. Through the fine fabric of his shirt, he can feel the faint warmth of his skin beneath and Daniel's dizzy for it. He wants so badly.

His fingers twitch by his sides and he brings his hands up to the hem of Lourdes' shirt. There, he pauses, and closes his eyes. All he needs to do is reach an inch further and he could press his fingertips to bare skin, still hidden beneath his shirt. He wonders if Lourdes would shudder if Daniel dragged a claw down his hipbone, or how he'd react if Daniel pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss just above the waistband of his trousers. One of the greatest joys in life, in Daniel's opinion, is learning a new lover and he cannot wait to learn what Lourdes likes, and then to use it for his pleasure at every given opportunity.

Overcome, Daniel cannot resist rucking his shirt up to press an impatient, hungry kiss to his belly. He lingers close, lips pressed to skin, and exhales again, heavy and aroused. "Yeah," he breathes gratefully. "That okay?"

[slaughterlocked]

❛  you're all mine to use, aren't you?  ❜ ( FROM HENRY HELP ME HELP / @ladyseidr )

IF HE’D HAD MUCH RATIONAL THOUGHT LEFT, HE’D HAVE HIT BACK WITH SOMETHING CLEVER. As it is, his blood is rushing south, away from his brain, so he’s left at a disadvantage, flushed and undone and arching into Henry’s unrelenting touch. “Fuck,” is all he manages at first, breath hot and heavy, clutching around the other’s neck and dragging him down so that their chests press against each other, possessive and impatient, “I don’t need to say it.”

Because he is, of course. Especially like this, but at all times. He’s Henry’s in any way that matters, whether it’s with the damn diner or like this, pressed flush against each other. William’s pupils are blown wide, dizzy with the heavy weight of Henry’s fingers inside him. Already a wreck and they’ve only been at it for minutes. He works himself on Henry’s fingers, biting down on his bottom lip harsh enough to leave it red and blushing. He’ll give praise where it’s due, but he’ll be damned if he voices it aloud before Henry has properly started fucking him. “You can go quicker, you know,” he adds, half a groan, hand curling pointedly into the back of Henry’s hair, “fuck, get a move on.”

[liightbringr]

a gentle reminder that a heavy tipping point in Eva’s maturity stems from having her shit rocked by Zenos in Rhalgar’s Reach. where her lance was broken and therefore his blade caught at her pelvic bone in a now diagonal scar. an inch or so from her navel straight down to her hip at an angle where he nearly gutted her.

the way she could’ve perished.

[runelocked]

“ stop that — we’re in public. ” ( from henry hehe / @ladyseidr )

IN HIS MANY MANY YEARS WITH HENRY, WILLIAM HAS PERFECTED HIS WOUNDED LOOK OF INNOCENCE. He dons it now, casting large confused eyes to the other man . . . completely ignoring the fact they’ve just come out of a meeting about the prospect of building the diner and they’ve literally barely left the building and he’s brushing his hand suggestively against Henry’s thigh, impatient and unashamed. “What?” William says, false puzzlement thick in his voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

Not yet he’s not. But it’s a familiar game: he’ll start with his thighs, and then press closer, tugging the other man into a secluded spot for messy kisses or sly handjobs or flat-out sex before ten minutes has passed. He’s not shy about his infatuation for Henry (though had been cautious enough to ensure nobody had been around to see them here), and the sly gleam in his eye belies the innocence on his features.

“Anyway, you’re being unfair.” Any pretence at playing the fool is dropped instantly when he lowers his voice, turning it something hungry, wanting: “You didn’t see how you looked in that meeting. I wanted to rip the clothes off you then and there, love. You really should be thanking me for being patient.”

[lumikinetics]

knuckles deep in jubes and her playlist rolls over to techno syndrome (mortal kombat) bc she accidentally clicked on her workout playlist .

[skaifather]

i don't lke to slutshame people but... thor's a whore

[deathswcrn-a]

let bree peg your male muses. as a treat.

[ohsunshine]

🌿 Louis, for Daniel. teehee! / ( @byteing )

"For old time's sake?" Daniel dangles the mistletoe, pinched between forefinger and thumb, over Louis' head and leans in hopefully. Nevermind that apparently nothing happened between them all those years ago; a lifetime of thinking that it did basically means that it was real, right?

"C'mon, Louis," he carries on, dragging out the vowels in a passable imitation of Lestat: Louieee, he says, and then snorts and rolls his eyes at himself. Maybe not the best time to remind Louis of his maybe-ex, not when he's oh-so-hopeful about spending a happy evening with his tongue and maybe more down Louis' throat.

"T'is the season and all that. It's what Mary and Joseph would want. Oh, right, lapsed Catholic these days, huh? How about this: I've heard I'm pretty good. Never had any complaints from -- you know," he drops his voice to a stage whisper in the hopes of earning a laugh from Louis, rays of sun bursting through heavy grey clouds, "The Ex Wives. You're missing out, man. But, hey. No hard feelings if you don't wanna. Your loss." Easy assurances given, because as much as he's an asshole - and aware of it, thank you very much - he not that kind of asshole.

[lockedtowers]

SEXUAL TRAITS

bold - yes, italic - maybe, strike - no

CASSANDRA EDITION

INCLINATIONS/HABITS

is submissive | is dominant | prefers to top | prefers to bottom | likes to switch | identifies as heterosexual | identifies as homosexual | identifies as bisexual | identifies as pansexual | identifies as demisexual | identifies as asexual | enjoys sex with men | enjoys sex with women | enjoys sex with multiple people at one time | initiates | waits for partner to initiate | spits | swallows | prefers sex in the morning | prefers sex at night | prefers sex any time | no sex drive | low sex drive | average sex drive | high sex drive | hypersexual

BODY/APPEARANCE

small build | medium build | athletic build | muscular build | curvy build | voluptuous build | wears boxers | wears briefs | wears boxer-briefs | wears lingerie | goes ‘commando’ | shaves/waxes | doesn’t shave/wax | cup size a-c | cup size d-f | 1-5" in length | 6-9" in length | 10" or over in length | uncut | cut

SOUNDS

is silent/makes little to no sounds | is very quiet | is very loud | grows in volume over time | bites hand/partner/pillow to muffle themselves | calls out partner’s name | curses | fakes/exaggerates | prefers a quiet partner | prefers a loud partner | is turned on by dirty talk | is turned off by dirty talk

TURN-ONS/KINKS

having their hands pinned | pinning their partner’s hands | having their hair pulled | pulling their partner’s hair | being watched (by their partner) | being watched (by a third party) | watching their partner | receiving oral | giving oral | calling their partner ‘daddy’ / ‘mommy’ | being called ‘daddy’ / ‘mommy’ | giving praise | receiving praise | biting/marking | being bitten/marked | spanking | being spanked | teasing | being teased | having toys used on them | using toys on their partner | giving anal | receiving anal | choking | being choked | dirty talk | being tied up | tying their partner up | being worshipped | worshipping their partner | humiliating | being humiliated | degrading | being degraded | knife play | blood play | being pegged | pegging their partner | whipping | being whipped

PLACES:

in a bedroom | in a shower/bath | in a pool/ocean | in a kitchen | in a bathroom (home) | in a bathroom (public) | in a car | in a tent | in an alleyway | in a field/forest | at a school | in an empty/abandoned building | in a library | on a rooftop/terrace | in a dressing room | in an elevator | in a parking lot | at a museum | at a cemetery | at a beach | in a closet | at a hospital

TAGGED BY: swiped from @solismedical TAGGING: you!

[aposthates]

you seem to know what you're doing. // GOOD BC FEN DOESNT

PERHAPS IT SHOULD NOT PLEASE HIM SO MUCH AS IT DOES to have this over fenris . . . not their intimacy in itself, BUT THE EXPERIENCE. HARDLY EVEN STARTED, YET EACH AND EVERY BRUSH OF WIDE PALMS ACROSS HIS NARROW CHEST HAS BEEN MET WITH GREAT TREMBLES . . . poorly suppressed. and the hammering of the elven heart was thunderous in itself. IT'S QUITE ROMANTIC, ACTUALLY. for if you observed the two of them without prior knowledge, assumption might dictate that fenris might be the one more well-versed in the art of intimacy. however in reality, anders was the guiding force here. AN UNSURE DESCENT INTO SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT ENTIRELY COMPENSATED FOR BY A SOFT AND TRUSTING HAND. magic entirely absent from healing fingertips, and instilling trust to try and bridge the gap where such was still brewing.

HOWEVER THIS CERTAINLY WASN'T HOW HE IMAGINED IT. he expected something venomous, and boisterous and sudden. CLASHING TEETH LIKE THEIR DUELING WORDS, AND CUTTING LIPS TO FLOOD IRON 'CROSS BOTH OF THEIR TONGUES. however, such revelations . . . the openness displayed? IT SOFTENED ANDERS IMMENSELY. AS DID THE BOARDERS, TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS THEY HAD TO CROSS TO GET HERE. the mental strength fenris has begun to work through. IT SEEMED... UNBECOMING TO CROSS THE THRESHOLD OF THEIR ULTIMATE TRUST WITH ANY MEASURE OF CRUELTY.

"we've barely even done anything yet." HIS NOSE PUSHES FENRIS', ANGLING HIS FACE TO OFFER A KISS, AND THEN ANOTHER. DEVILISHLY FLEETING. teasing him, because he frankly finds himself unable to resist. SUCH A FACT GLITTERING SOFTLY IN HIS AMBER EYES. mouth returning to cocked smirk, as he trails flattened hands lower. MEMORIZING THE SLOPES AND RIDGES OF HIS RIBCAGE, until finally, he grips fenris' hips. thumbs swiping bones as he presses him firmly against the wall he had already been leaning against. ONLY TO GROUND HIM, with no such violence or intent to control threaded within. HE COULDN'T. NOT TO HIM. NOT NOW.

"but you're doing great, you know." he starts. "i know it can be . . . overwhelming." foreheads press as he raises one palm to cup his cheek, using it to angle his face upward. "this isn't how i imagined it. somehow, i thought that it would be.. i don't know. angrier. more hateful. but i couldn't do that to you.. not knowing." HE DOESN'T CUT HIMSELF OFF, YET LETS IT GO UNSPOKEN. knowing it's his first time. but he doesn't want to say too much, to scare him off. if he hadn't done so already. 'thank you, for trusting me' riding the tip of his tongue as it passes through the elf's lips.

@suledine. melt into me.

[skyheld]

a kiss attempting to convince the other party to stay . And a kiss that seals a promise for maxima and shianni

kisses more kisses | @mercysought

Late morning light is streaming in between the plain curtains in front of the window, and Shianni knows she should get up and get started with her duties of the day. A list lies ready for her on the desk in her small study. The stalls are already opened on the small market by the Vhenadahl, she can hear people walking by on the street below, calling out greetings and today's offer of fresh-baked bread. She has been awake for some time, thinking that she should get up. But her nose is buried in Maxima's hair, her arms around the other woman as they lay beneath the covers. Maxima's spine is perfectly fitted to the curve of her body. She doesn't want to leave.

A dog barks outside, and Maxima is stirring against her, yawning. She turns over onto her back, still in Shianni's arms, until she can turn her head and look at her, bleary-eyed and smiling faintly. The sheet has left an imprint on her cheek and there is a smear of lipstick on the side of her jaw-not from Shianni wearing it but from Maxima kissing her with it until her lips were stained enough to leave their own marks. Seeing it, the faint image of her lips on Maxima, Shianni thinks she ought to start wearing lipstick.

Their first kiss of the morning is slow and sleepy, Shianni's hand travelling down Maxima's arm to draw her closer.

"It's late", Maxima says, pulling back with a disappointed frown. "I have work to do, and so do you."

"Mmmm. Nothing that can't wait for this", Shianni says, lips barely lifting from her skin as she trails kisses along Maxima's jaw, to the soft spot beneath her ear. "We can stay. A little while", she says, lips moving down the pale throat as Maxima's hand comes up to bury its fingers in her hair and she makes a noise that sets Shianni's whole body on fire.

A breathy laugh as her clavicle is reached. "You are very persuasive, Bann Tabris."

"I know", Shianni says, grinning. Then she pauses, lifting her head. She can read Maxima, she knows what her tells are, but it never hurts to make sure. "Though if you really have to leave..."

"I don't." She laughs again, inhaling, the hand at the back of Shianni's head pressing down just slightly, giving the gentlest of guidance. Shianni takes it, inching down Maxima's body. "Not yet. A little while longer. Just promise me it won't cause you any trouble."

"I promise, lady Aurum", Shianni says, her head dipping down between Maxima's breasts, her lips finding new spots for kisses.

[muutosarchive]

“ i could be your toy. “ for mike !

🍒 @ncvabcrn . *      ―    ﴾  𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠  𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜  ﴿   :    𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒  𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘  𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

"oh yeah?" mike's brows are immediately raised at that, interest sparked in his brain the moment that it hits the air. he meanders forth, falling into the couch. crossing ankles whilst putting an arm around their shoulders.

"so that's what you want, huh?" he asked, his brows raised. "you like being someone's toy?" he leans in, his other hand landing on their thigh. they'd be the perfect toy, he must admit. if you were explorative, at least.

he leans into their ear, smirking before biting on their earlobe softly. "well, be careful what you wish for -- because i'm known to take my time, when it comes to my favorites."

[uruuk]

5d from the spicy meme u rb on your multi. you can't stop me

"ELROND -" SOMEHOW, THE LORD OF THE URUKS HAS NEVER QUITE FELT SO LORDLY AS WHEN HE HUMBLY BECAME THE THRONE. SPRIGS OF CHESTNUT HAIR FALLEN OVER EARS where the rest are tamed and tucked behind the point. HIS VOICE AS IT SPEAKS HIS NAME IS LOW. COARSE, BUT STEEPED IN WANT. leading, and inflected with a wave of pleasure as he finds he has little control of lithe hips winding midsection above his more sturdy form. THE METHODICAL AND LUMBERING BRUTE STRENGTH OF ORCS MEETS THE BEAUTY AND GRACE OF ELF'S SILK AND FLUID COMBAT. chin wrapped around and resting upon an angled ribcage, as the curl adorned head turned away to watch his debasement. ( something that had undoubtedly aroused him, achingly so ). for knowing now he could not truly taint him, the taboo of their union to his kind was admittedly pleasing when presented at this very surface level. ELROND IS NONE SO HATEFUL, NOR DISCRIMINATORY. not now . . . not anymore.

BLUE-GREYS FLUTTER CLOSED WITH OPEN MOUTH AS ONE OF TWO ANCHORED HANDS MOVES FROM IMMACULATE REAR MUSCULATURE, AND SWIPES ALONG THE SMALL OF HIS BACK. using the newfound leverage to tug his conquest closer, and perhaps regain his attention. lidded gaze open in a flutter of lengthy lashes, and chin lifted towards the exposed chest. PRESSING HIS HARSH CHEEK IN REVERENCE AND ALLOWING A LOSS OF HIMSELF ONCE MORE. . . . for shuddery breath escapes before he once again turns his gaze upward to peer upon him. SOMEHOW HE STILL FINDS HIMSELF OVERWHELMED, AND DOUBTS THIS WILL CHANGE WITH THE NUMBER OF TIMES THEY SHARE IN ONE ANOTHER. as he is so beautiful, and though hundreds of years may pass in the blink of an eye . . . his body lacks remembrance of such pleasure. black lined thighs spread wide and shuddering beneath sure hips, whilst sat himself upon the wide-backed chair where the two had first spoken. "elrond . . ." he speaks it again, lathing tongue over soft rose peaking hard enough to tempt his teeth to close in. a low groan escaping him as hips begin to push insistently into seeking, insistent heat -- TAKING TO NOSING HIS CHEST AS HE WORKS TO CATCH HIS BREATH.

HIS BODY, ALL OVER, BEARS THE SAME RAISED AND UNSIGHTLY APPEARANCE OF HIS FACE. CRISS-CROSSED MARKS, WOUNDS AND BLACK VEINS CAUSING A ROUGH SURFACE, MET WITH SUCH PERFECTION AS HE. soft pink blush of activity and soft sheen of elven sweat 'pon his perfect brow. "look at me." he demands finally as he leans back in his seat. his hands sliding 'round to grip hips and take control of the movements. even with his eyes singing wide and deep with pleas for affection. NOVELTY OF THE UNDOUBTEDLY SALACIOUS TRAJECTORY OF ELVEN EYES, LOST IN BEING ALL BUT IMPALED BY THE LIKES OF A URUK, HAVING WORN OFF. the soft furrow between his brows speaking wondrously loud, while fingers reach to toy with pointed ear. rolling his thumb along the curve. HIS NERVES ARE BEGINNING TO BECOME ALIGHT, EMBLAZENED WITH EACH INCIDENTAL BRUSH. urgency betraying him. "you would make me beg, for that which I have already lain claim to?" his eyes narrow softly.

@elr0nds. super secret meme.

[ohsunshine]

happy sunday dani.el moll.oy's sucking and fucking his way around the world on his book tour

[themarvelliteraryuniverse]

It's two in the morning, Sherlock can't sleep, and his fingers aren't accomplishing as much as he hoped they would.

He'd been explicitly banned from playing violin at odd hours, which he found dreadfully unfair seeing as he didn't even have his violin and refused to fiddle with one of the school's instruments for hours to get it to sound right. Scott had apparently read the books about him and made wild assumptions about the type of house mate Sherlock might be based on said descriptions.

Only they weren't descriptions of him, were they? But that of another mutant posing as him which has it's own existential quandary. Yet another thing to keep him up, but it's not the reason for this night's delay.

Sherlock sat at his desk, the head of recently used needle jammed into the wood as the detective idly twirled it. Since his untimely stumble to the universe he currently sat, he'd been falling back into nasty- comforting- habits. Who would scold him for it? Who did he have to disappoint? Closing his eyes, Sherlock lifted the syringe and tossed it back down again to make it stick in the desk. He couldn't think like that. He'd never get home if he did.

His addiction isn't the reason for the delay, either. He'd grown used to the ache that plagued him, homesickness, he supposed it was, but tonight it had taken a more aggressive approach. The ache permeated his entire being, and soon he found himself biting his lip as he imagined a thick cock pressed heavily against his tongue.

He missed his husband. His voice, his presence, his scent. But in that moment, he missed his cock the most. Sherlock exhaled, dropping his head into his hands. He could handle the situation himself- he tried to handle the situation himself, but he only managed to get three fingers inside of him before he realized he needs more. He needs someone else's hand, someone's cock.

It takes twelves steps to stand outside of Logan's door. Sherlock clad in just slacks and a half open button down as he raises his hand to knock but he stops. What would he say? Logan had flirted with him when he first arrived, but it didn't take long to realize Logan flirted with anyone old enough.

No, this is stupid, he decides, and turns to leave just as the door opens and Logan leans against the door, fist planted on his hip. Sherlock tries to glare again, to give him the coldest shoulder he can manage, but Logan looks good. Tank top that leaves nothing to the imagination, and pants hung low enough on his hips that Sherlock can see a trail of dark hair that he foolishly follows with his eyes before they snap up to Logan.

Logan's grinning- no. Smirking. And Sherlock feels his face flush, already predicting how their conversation would go.

"Why are you still awake?"

"Started smellin' you an hour ago. Wanted to see how far you got before you set out lookin' for help. Didn't expect you at my door, though. You're jus' full of surprises."

"You can smell me? I'm insulted."

"No, you're not. We gonna keep doin' this or you gonna admit you're here for an easy fuck."

"Not many people I know would sound so proud to be considered easy."

"I know what I want. Do you?"

Sherlock knew the more he spoke, the more likely he was to talk himself out of this. But what would he do? Try to sleep again? Because that'd gone so well the last four hours he'd tried. He couldn't exactly take another hit unless he wanted to risk over dosing. He needed relief. Logan was that relief. Sherlock hesitates, and he can see Logan inhale to begin speaking.

So Sherlock surges forward and kisses him before he can. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to struggle with making an excuse neither of them would believe. Sherlock's here for one thing, and he'll get and then be on his way.

Logan's hand around his waist is confirmation enough that Logan's just as interested in their encounter as Sherlock. He pulls him into the room, free hand shoving the door shut before both hands are on the detective, lifting him off the ground to carry him to the bed. It's second nature to wrap his legs aroung Logan's waist, one arm braced around his shoulders while the other slides a hand into waves of black.

They're almost to the bed when Sherlock grasps Logan's hair and forces their lips apart. The air between them is hot as Sherlock pulls to force Logan's chin up and bites the underside of his jaw.

"Sit," He commands. "I want to ride you."

His response is a throaty groan, but Logan obeys and sits on the edge of the bed, Sherlock set firmly in his lap. The friction is already better than what his fingers had to offer, and Sherlock is too far gone to concern himself with how improper he might look grinding against the outline of Logan's cock. They move together in just the right way, electric pops of pleasure rattling up Sherlock's spine until he needs more. There's too many clothes in the way.

With a growl of his own, Sherlock stands and steps away to get his trousers off while Logan pulls his shirt off and shifts just enough to free his dick from fabric constraints. Sherlock stares- leers like a stranded man who's just spotted a rescue boat on the horizon.

"Christ," Logan begins, and Sherlock watches as his gaze moves up and down to take in the entirety of him. "You're gor-"

"Don't speak," Sherlock's hand covers his mouth as he moves closer, keeping the hand there while the other strokes Logan's cock and holds it steady. He feels precome smear the inside of his leg as he lowers himself on Logan's waiting cock. It'd been too long since he last felt this full, since he felt his body stretch and that bone deep ache was finally satisfied.

He doesn't fully seat himself. Despite his earlier efforts, it's still a lot to take and he lifts himself up just enough so only the head of Logan's cock remains inside him. Beneath him, he can feel Logan shiver, and Sherlock's grins, the gesture laced with pure deviance. His movements remain shallow, teasing. He feels Logan's arms and legs go taut the longer he plays the game until two large hands finally grab his waist and pull him all the way down.

His breath catches, his cry caught in his throat as Logan's cock sits fully inside him now. Even with his head thrown back, he knows Logan's smirking at him, and Sherlock gathers himself enough to finish what he set out to do.

With hands press to Logan's chest as leverage, Sherlock moves with a singular purpose in mind. His pleasure. Chasing that elusive high he couldn't give himself. It's mounting, he begins to shake with the strain of maintaining his rhythm, but he doesn't stop. He buries his face in the crook of Logan's neck and rides him home.

Logan smells like home. Like sweat, and smoke, and pine. Shit. He's so close, he just- he- he needs something.

Logan's climax surprises him. But it's precisely what he needed to fall over the edge with him. His cock pulses inside of him, and just knowing ribbons of hot white seed follow every jolt sets Sherlock's nerve alight all over again.

He forget he's holding Logan's mouth until the man bites him and it's enough to jolt Sherlock out of the post climax endorphin rush. Jerking his hand back, Sherlock glares. But Logan only grins.

"Stay the night?"

"No, that won't happen." Sherlock stands, hands tight at his sides as he feels the overflow of Logan's spend run down his legs. "And this never happened."

Before Logan can make another witty remark or make Sherlock's ears burn anymore than they already did, Sherlock shoves his legs into his trousers and snatches his shirt from the floor. He leaves without looking back.