Don't kid yourself, Jimmy; if a cow ever got the chance, he'd eat you and everyone you cared about.

[threeguesses]

Stolen from lowriseflare, who got it from fated_addiction:

Give me a pairing (or character, or the name of a show) and a prompt (a word, a phrase, a situation, an emotion, a few lines from a song or, hell, even an entire song) and I will do my best to write you a snippet based on your request.

Not sure how well this is going to work, considering this is a fic journal read by very few people, but TOO BAD, I have three seconds of free time and the newfound ability to write only in 200 word chunks. Come at me.

Comments

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"Mm-hmm." Missy nods into the crook of his neck, and she is--she is more than a little desperate at this point, is the truth. "Yeah, just, um--jesus, Ben, please--"

And god, he likes that, the please; pulls her onto him again, sudden and fast. This time, Missy can't keep her voice down. Ben kisses her hard to shut her up.

"Come on, honey," he mutters, once he trusts her enough to back off a little, one hand palming at the back of her skull. His fingertips dig into the place where her thigh meets her ass. "Let me feel you."

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Which--that, plus the honey, plus the way he yanks her down, one last time--yeah. Missy arches her back helplessly, stomach grinding against his. And she's making way too much noise but, fuck, it feels so good, she one-hundred percent can't help it. Ben pulls her head into his shoulder and just lets her go (and Missy's pretty sure he likes that too; hearing her. She wants to do this again, somewhere she can be loud; wants to try that please--

Shit.

Wants to do this again.

Shit.)

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

And okay, okay, she can think about that later; for now she's sliding off almost before she's finished, reaching down to wrap a slippery fist around him (and god, between the two of them they've already made such a ginormous mess, she doesn't--). Ben pushes restlessly into her hand. Missy scoots down a bit on the couch, free hand smoothing over the packed muscle in his thigh; she glances up at him for a minute, tries not to think about what perfectly nice girls will or won't do, and gets her mouth on him, warm and messy.

Ben--well. Ben sounds well and truly wrecked.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

She tries taking him deep a couple times, jaw relaxed and open (although okay, it's probably more about--it's possible Missy is showing off) but he's so far gone it's not really the time or place. On her third pass, Missy backs off and just sucks, fist twisting around the base.

"MP." Ben's got a hand in her hair now, gentle. He's not even resting it there really, just has it hovering in the general area. "Gonna--"

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

"Mm-hmm." Missy hums a bit to let him know she heard him. Her voice sounds like she's been swallowing sand. "That's the idea."

It happens a few seconds later, fist tightening in her hair and a groan so quiet it's almost a sigh, like something inevitable. She can feel him fighting not to push against her mouth.

(And yeah, okay, yes, that is a sound she can imagine wanting to hear again, it's--)

God.

God.

She lies there for a minute catching her breath, face against his warm hard stomach. Missy doesn't want to raise her head.

Then she sneezes.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Ben starts laughing, quiet and horse. The hand in her hair tugs up. Missy moves with it until he's got her back in lap, blushing. "Shut up," she says thickly. "And be thankful it didn't happen, like, two minutes ago."

Ben snags a Kleenex box off the end table, hands it to her. "I'm thankful, I'm thankful." He shifts until they're leaning against the arm rest, pulls Missy into his chest.

(And just-- he's so close, and he keeps touching her, and when Missy fusses with her dirty Kleenex he actually takes it from her, so.

So.)

She was a bit afraid he never look at her again, after. Apparently that's not happening.

(She's a bit afraid anyway.)

WE ARE FINISHING UP ALL OVER THE PLACE TODAY.

[lowriseflare.livejournal.com]

Missy stays there for a minute, sweat cooling and the beat of his heart steady underneath his skin. Ben strokes idly through her hair. She can hear people moving around outside the trailer, the rattling sound of Travis's cough.

("Wouldn't have pegged Swarek for a cuddler," she told him, lying in bed while they lit that scene in the apartment, his knuckles warm and rough against her spine. The first three takes she kept laughing when he did it, weirdly ticklish all up and down her back.

Ben shrugged into the pillows, like she was being dense on purpose. "He loves her," was all he said.)

Well.

"MP," he starts now, but Missy interrupts him.

"We gotta go to work," she says. She honestly can't imagine what he's possibly going to tell her; her head swims a bit, fuzzy and strange. "People are going to wonder--"

Ben nods slowly. "Yeah." He looks at her another minute, then blinks. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Missy looks around for her sweatshirt, wonders when this fever's gonna break.

HE LOVES HER, MISSY. GOD.

[threeguesses.livejournal.com]

Man, seriously, either we have really good timing or really wanted to torture ourselves with title selections. (I've got nothing for this one, p.s.--Jesus Christ I Hope This Cast Stays Off The Interwebs was my working title.