poziomeczka: ([esca] morning light)
Oh man, everyone been up and about de-anoning and posting their lovely fic [livejournal.com profile] eagle_exchange, so this is way overdue. It has originally been written for the beautiful [livejournal.com profile] sistermine who, I'm happy to say, ended up liking it a lot. A sequel is not impossible.

title built to collapse and crumble rating nc-17 disclaimer i own absolutely nothing, the universe of this porny snippet (is it even still a snippet? it sure as hell begun as one) has been inspired by the Starfighter by Hamlet Machine
I would like to thank by two beautiful betas [livejournal.com profile] riventhorn  who run through it right before the deadline and [livejournal.com profile] lalazee that combed through it afterwards.AND A BIG THANKS TO [livejournal.com profile] ladytiferet for the pretteh.
warnings sex-pollen, dub-con, come-marking, bossy space navigators, cock-slutty space pilots.



poziomeczka: ([placidus] more honour that you can hope)
so uhm, I have been merrily *sloshed* over the X-mas holidays, or rather *marinated* in booze.
so badly that once I woke up at 4 am when I sobered up somewhat and uh, clearly not enough not to give into [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska's goading. It resulted in me writing a Tahar/Pip commentfic idek idek, this is the fully finished version ;)


title On Tender Hooks
fandom The Eagle RPS
pairing Tahar Rahim/Pip Carter, Channing/Jamie, a teeny tiny mention of Tahar/Jamie if you squint very hard
rating pg-13 (no porn? what is this even?)
disclaimer all lies, all lies! title from French Navy by Camera Obscura, credit for the heavenly banner goes to [livejournal.com profile] ladytiferet, who is amazing <3 (thanks hen!)
warning affectionate, *loving* jibes at the French (and everyone else), atrocious writing.
a/n: now I know that the likelihood of Pip being called 'Pippin' is next to none but wouldn't it be super-cool if he were? it's mostly cause i picture his parents as upper class hippies.

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don't hold me responsible for this! )
poziomeczka: (Default)
this is the second fic from the Gang AU, chronologically it happens sometime before games we play. I apologize for the lack of bjs in this one.

bark and bite )

STAY TUNED FOR THE SUNDAY SERVICE
poziomeczka: (Default)
also known as the ridiculous wolf!Marcus AU. Written for [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska, unbeta-ed and pox-ridden. EXTREMELY CRACKY.

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if you could only see the beast you've made of me )
stunning art by [livejournal.com profile] ladytiferet

fic!!!!

Jul. 20th, 2011 10:11 pm
poziomeczka: (Default)
INTRODUCTION TO THE VERSE:
so, basically [livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil and I have come up with this AU where Esca and Marcus grow up together.
Papa Aquila is disgraced but alive and remotely well, and after Marcus and his mother come to live with him in Britain they all settle in Calleva. Esca on the other hand, is a bit like Cottia in the book verse, his family slaughtered when he was little more than a toddler, he's taken in by a rather eccentric couple of a who had pretty much gone native (( Quintus Lucianus Sura )) and a straight-talking super-hot Romanized Briton lady Caia Tuditana
They meet for the first time when Esca's around 7 and Marcus is 10.




INCREDIBLE ART BY [livejournal.com profile] bassino

Since I am bad at writing chronologically, so this 'verse is going to consist of somewhat dis-jointed episodes that will slowly form a more coherent (I hope) whole. I'll make a Master-list once there's more.
This fic came about randomly with Silje and myself fervently discussing porny endeavours of teen!Esca and teen!Marcus and how this once time when Esca's foster parents are away they break the dining table. So I PMed Silje with a mini-fic dealing with the aftermath of it. It was supposed to be just a couple of paragraph of banter and fluff but turned into blow jobs. CAUSE THAT IS WHAT I DO.

Marcus/Esca. NC-17. Esca is 16 and Marcus is 19, if they seem OOC I apologize, but as I said their camaraderie and life situations are completely different to those of canon. No accuracy to speak of. Title by Skunk Anansie.

dedicated to [livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil, who is the godmother of this fic and a quick and dirty beta and to both [livejournal.com profile] teaquest and [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska as an apology for not updating Lupus In Fabula. I shall start working on it more as of tomorrow. I cross my heart and hope to die.

maybe i should be more discreet, serve you up some sugary sweet )
poziomeczka: ([deathwatch]- that bloody rain)
AVERT YOUR EYES. AVERT YOUR EYES. DEATHWATCH PORN COMING YOUR WAY.

WILLIE MACNESS/CHARLIE SHAKESPEARE/ DOCTOR FAIWEATHER THREESOME OF DOOM. TITLE TAKEN FROM THE REVELATIONS. I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.
PLEASE DON'T HATE ME GUYS.

dedicated to [livejournal.com profile] lulahbelle for being the most insane enabler ever and porning at me day and night and night and day. Hen, I will never write Bradford the way you do and the world needs to know your fics. And man, your Jennings is LOVE and I will totally deliver you some Jennings/Charlie intercrural in the near future. Promise. Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil for a quick and dirty beta and for bearing with me in my time of need. AND TO ALL OF YOU. FOR I LOVE YOU ALL.

and a very early happy bday to [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska

THIRD PART OF MAN 1/2

The fingers in his hair are gentle but insistent )
poziomeczka: (jbells; jumper exposed; what time?)
So erm. There's this crazy talented Polish chick [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska right? Makes super awesome vids right? RIIIGHT.

And our friendship looks a bit like this:
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by [livejournal.com profile] yaoisex
if you substitute the ruler with peen porn ideas. and don't get me wrong I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF GIVING BIRTH TO ONE HUNDRED FIC IDEAS EVERY FIVE MINUTES but Barbara here (IS THAT YOUR REAL NAME BTW HEN? MY MAM'S BARBARA AND WE CALL HER BACHA XD) keeps prodding and pushing and poking until i yield. well, it doesn't take me that long to yield. i'm a bit of a slut you see.

SO IT STARTED WITH US HEATEDLY DISCUSSING THE IMPENDING MATTER OF MR.TATUM'S FRECKLES. ON THAT FREAKING BACK OF HIS. AND KINDA SORTA WROTE A COMMENT FIC BECAUSE MY BRAIN BOMBARDED ME WITH VISUALS. LIKE YOUSE KNOW REALLY VIVID ONES.


SO I KINDA NEED TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM BEFORE I CAN MOVE THE FUCK ON.

also!
[livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil and I were wondering whether any of you hopelessly talented people would be kind enough to make us a laughing jbells gif icon? no? yes? maybe? perhaps? (though that's just a fancy maybe)

title there's a new game we like to play you see 1/2
fandomthe eagle
pairing marcus/esca, esca/freckles (i actually mean this)
rating light R, (higher in the future, it's kinda just ust for de noo)
warning hypnotic qualities of marcus's freckles? i dunno. might be a bit crackish? unbetaed and with atrocious punctuation, cuz i'm postmodern like that, yo. also it's all very bad. i'm sorry
disclaimer SADLY I CANNOT EXCHANGE THIS FOR FOOD. title by depeche mode and everything else belongs to folk that own it.




dedicated to [livejournal.com profile] bachaboska (i wish i could quit you), [livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil, [livejournal.com profile] jaxie12, [livejournal.com profile] teaquest, [livejournal.com profile] merlenhiver (thank you again for the awesome vid and reintroducing me to depeche mode) and [livejournal.com profile] floatxxaway and [livejournal.com profile] feilongfan for that godamn freckle tribute that spurred all of this on. ALL OF THIS.

guys i will need betas for the future! anyone fancy it?



He has not paid his new Master that much attention. Lost in his own humiliation and sorrow, owned by yet another pair of Roman hands. They have hardly exchanged more than a couple of words since Esca's addition to the household.

He is not a good slave, never will be, he knows that and everyone else is at pains of reminding him had he chosen to forget it. Not that he would, for here he is, saved from death and made a ghost.

Slowly, he realizes that there are worse places he could find himself in.

Marcus, Esca finds, keeps mostly to himself in his silent brooding. The wound has closed nicely, but he's still in that awkward, frustrating place between pain and recovery, moping around like a wounded bear. And Esca almost allows himself a smile at that.

He seems embarrassed by his own slave's presence, he shrinks from it almost, reluctant to show him any sign of weakness. Esca in all frankness finds it ludicrous, they have both seen each other at their most vulnerable, he doesn't see the need to deny that.

Besides, he is just a slave. What should it matter.

And yet it does somehow. Marcus looks at him, really looks at him, not like one might at a slave, like Esca's opinions matter to him more than anyone else's, like Esca himself matters. Matters more than anything.

They hold each-other's eyes more often than not, Esca's gaze far from servile, defiant and direct and Marcus eyes grow soft under it, fondly amused and there's respect in them and kindness and something that Esca would like to be lust (and hates himself for wanting it so).

Whatever it may be Marcus never acts upon it and Esca doesn't really know whether he should be relieved or respect the former Centurion all the more for it or cuff him on the side of the head from sheer frustration. The last always remains a most tempting option.

The days are still warm as summer draws to an end, resonant with the heat of days past. Maybe it's that lingering warmth seeping into his back and the back of his thighs from the wall he's leaning his back against, or maybe it's the fact that the wine they have both been drinking was nowhere near watered enough. The sun is setting and Marcus is getting ready for bed, weary from the midday hunt. He always insists on doing it by himself and Esca is not the one to question.

It's probably the wine or the tiredness setting deep in Marcus's bones that makes him drop his guard, blissfully unaware of Esca's presence.

He removes his tunic, the rough material caressing his back almost longingly in one smooth motion and Esca can't help himself but stare. And it's the wine. He's sure it's the wine.
The sunset plays with the planes of Marcus's muscles back, flickering as his master stretches all long and languid. He had always known the Roman to be a handsome man, reminiscent of the Roman statues of worship that his people seemed so keen on building everywhere. It was a mere observation, of hardly any significance to Esca.

He can't bring himself to look away, like he should. Trespassing on this intimate moment.

He has grown to know the nooks and corners of Marcus's body better than his own as he nursed the man through his sickness, but his touch always remained fast, efficient and impersonal, eyes averted, trying to spare Marcus that little ounce of shame he could.

It's something else entirely that catches his eye, making heat spread through his chest like good thick mead. His eyes go wide and dark as he stares at Marcus's broad back.

There are hundreds of them, clustered, huddled together on his shoulders some of them scattered right across his back and shoulder blades, dotting lovingly at the line of his master's spine, like they tried to make their way up to the sunkissed nebula on his shoulders but didn't quite make it, the poor things.

They are quite common with his people and Esca has never paid them much heed. Before. They dust the faces of women and men's forearms and Esca himself has been told he has several on his nose.
He's never really bothered inspecting it any further.

He knows that his own skin seems to prefer the larger, darker kind of sun-spots, he's aware he had several scattered across his arms, shoulders and back. His lovers had never hesitated to inform him with wet messy kisses.

He has not seen much of them on Romans, if any, their sun-gods seemed to have pinched them all equally with their rays.

Except for Marcus.

They're vivid across his olive skin, trying to blend seamlessly but failing to do so.
It's the surprise that spurs on the genuine interest. It catches him off guard and that's all there is to it and that's what he's going to keep telling himself in the precarious privacy of the slave quarters.

Esca inhales sharply, feeling dizzy as if the wine just hit him as he stands up, the limewashed wall offering the kind support his own knees deny him. He swallows, gulps down greedily on gusts of air and Marcus turns his head slightly to look at him, curious, reminded of the other's presence all of sudden.

"You can go, Esca" Marcus says pleasantly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good night"

And a part of Esca wants to run. Run, run and never stop until he runs somewhere where this twisted desire cannot reach him.

He stays. Rooted to the ground like a petrified hare. Though there's nothing even remotely resembling fear in his stance.

The humour slowly drains from Marcus's face, replaced by genuine concern. Esca just stands there, eyes hooded and black, his aquiline features made sharper by the last of the day's sunrays and Marcus nearly chokes on his own breath as Esca shifts slightly.

"Esca?" he says cautiously, as he might to a spooked mare, his voice coming out more croaked than he expected, his own throat dry "Esca? Are you alright?"

Esca moves. Slow, lazy and enviably graceful. A self-assured predator on the prowl. Small, sharp needles of panic start to prickle persistently at the back of Marcus's neck like a sudden sunburn and the breath he draws to calm himself is far from steady.

A palm, spread open falls gently on his back in the middle of his upper back, between his shoulder-blades, he thinks he can feel Esca's body thrum, his thumb rubbing gentle circles, the calloused skin pressing into the soft tan flesh of his back. It's an effort to keep his eyes from fluttering shut at the touch.

And then his hand slides lower, in a sure strong stroke, down the length of his spine to the small of his back, fingers splayed wide between the two dimples just above the slight curve of his arse, a slow heated torture.

Esca licks his lips.

"Breac-sheunan" Esca says, voice low, deep and hoarse as he looks dangerously at the strong angle of Marcus's jaw and throat "They're here too" he add softly, barely above a whisper.

"Esca, what---?" Marcus feels his world slowly starting to spin, like a fever coming on.
The hand on his lower back lifts, caressing him lightly, blunt fingernails teasing with a fluttering kiss goodbye.

"I wish the Centurion a good night" Esca says infuriatingly, face obscured from view, bowing his head slightly in that incredibly insolent way that only Esca can somehow muster out of a normally perfectly obedient pose.

Marcus stares after him, as he hurriedly exits the room, summoning all his strength not to break into a run.
poziomeczka: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] coeurdesoleil i'm gonna be back to doing uni work!! i promise you. I HAVE WRITTEN SEVEN PAGES GODAMNIT I THINK I DESERVE THIS.

SO ANYWAY ANYWAY GUYS.

REMEMBER HOW I BITCHED AND MOANED ABOUT THE LACK OF PODFIC? REMEMBER?
ESPECIALLY LACK OF GOOD PODFIC?

WELL, LIGHT HAS BEEN SHED ON THE MATTER.

IN THE bliss bliss i say OF AN AUSTRALIAN ACCENT OH YES (so now [livejournal.com profile] jaxie12 you've got to wave the kiwi flag and make one too....hint hint...hint hint)

AHEM SO, WHAT I MEAN TO SAY IS
[livejournal.com profile] dodificus has made a podfic of [livejournal.com profile] onelittlesleep's Suffer, Spasm, Strain
and uhm here it is ( oh hohoho here it is! )

AND IT'S HAWT. BUT YOU KNOW THAT'S PROBABLY ENTIRELY ARBITRARY


ALSO THIS FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON, BECAUSE JAMIE BELL IS ALWAYS RELEVANT.
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