March 16th, 2005
Here you are! First round of more like short fics than log drabbles. I find it hard to shut up, really. Also, I haven't seen Master and Commander, so the poor love who submitted Paul Bettany/Billy Boyd - I'm so sorry, lovely.
sugata -- Monaboyd (please?): AU / Predatory Billy (hee) This got a bit...um...Dom being Dommed, really. The Pussycat is my Ubiquitous Gay S&M Club. Everyone needs one.
It's easy enough getting Dom against the wall, or door, or floor, or any horizontal/vertical/sloping service if you know how to play him. Billy can do that, reels him in like a Mancunian pike; all lean muscular body and snapping mouth, lashing and unwilling but caught on the hook that's embedded straight into his head by green eyes that glitter and a careless hand that caresses the back of a sleek denimed thigh. It's just so fucking easy, though Dom isn't; with a face like a pretty gargoyle and a body like a Grecian slut, you'd think he was. There'd be opportunity, plenty, abounding even. Women. Men. Whenever he wanted, wherever he needed. But Billy's there like some wine-bottle eyed Loki, and he can play Dom better than any pipes of Pan or Celtic harp or Roman lute.
He's been screwing Dom for a whole fortnight, which is a long time in sexual politics, where usually an hour is enough to discover that the parcel's not as pretty on the inside, once you've torn off the wrappings. But then Dom is, pretty as sin and twice as sexy, and Billy's his master now. Not Master. Not yet. Another few weeks, maybe a whole month, before the young man is broken to the will of his Lord.
People go to the Pussycat for drinking and sex. Less drinking than sex, though the former invariably leads to the other. And boys with eyeliner-drawn drunken gazes and leather trousers that sit too far down naked torsos shouldn't attract the jealousy-green stare of Scottish men who wield whips with the best of them, and can make someone fall in love with the force of an order.
magikalcrab Monaboyd: Sex. Um, lots of sex. Also, biting and leather. Weirdly enough, makes a short fic with the first drabble. Huzzah!
It's too easy to push the young man against the wall, to tell him with a purring demand to press his forearms to the stone and not look back. Billy's grinning, and it's almost evil on that beautiful, sweet mouth. Evil and deadly and lusting, and he drags down Dom's leather trousers with a rake of nails that elicits tiny whines and long scarlet welts. Not as pretty as whip marks, no where as perfect on naked, lightly tanned flesh, but Billy loves making Dom squeak with pain. Tiny, accepting sounds which make him hard, which force him to undo his own leathers, that have him knee the younger thighs apart and thrust. No lube, just a little saliva that glitters obscenely, the dampness of skin from clinging animal hide and overly heated rooms, and he's buggering him against the wall with long strokes that have Dom babbling so pretty as that little spot is gouged.
Lovely Dom. Sexy boy. His head tilts back as Billy's hand fists in that ridiculously frosted tipped hair, exposing the as yet unmarked throat, and it's just so easy (like the boy should be, but he isn't, and Billy can't quite compute that someone as attractive as this is as innocent bodily) for teeth to scrape over sweating skin.
He mewls, like a kitten, and Billy thrusts harder. Teeth slip, and click together, there's the faintest taste of copper, and both of their world break into white fragments of eggshell. For that one moment, Billy clings and Dom is the strong, silent one, and then the vulnerability slides away with his cock, and they are kissing.
Of course, Billy dominates the kiss. He is the Master.
sliceofpi Andy/Billy: the words garage and honey, the colour magenta. Bitch
"Don't bloody honey me, Monaghan."
Indeed, Andy was possibly the most non-honey person on the planet. He was too masculine, too well-built, too butch for that, but Dom did insist on it. Before his favourite pet name had been Sugar Plum. Before that it was SexyBunnyWabbitofWuv. That one had been canned fairly quickly with some frisky, ironically rabbit-like sex, and Dom had never mentioned it again.
It had turned into a vaguely American Beauty situation; Andy doing weights in the garage, Dom kneeling adoringly at his feet. Or actually trying to seduce him, but it was the same sort of thing. Very Kevin Spacey/Wes Bentley. Andy thought of that in a rather too interested way, before he realised that a) he was hotter than Kev b) he was straighter than Kev, but that wasn't that difficult and c) Wes didn't actually want to go down for some happy fun on Kev's cock. No, it was just dope smoking fun, and no one got hurt. Apart from Kev. Who got shot. Andy didn't think he would, unless Dom's erection spontaneously combusted, was flung from his body, and stabbed him through the eye.
Not a nice way to go.
"Honey!" whined Dom. Christ, they weren't even shagging. Yet. Apart from that one time. Okay, there had been plenty of heavy petting and Dom insisting on being seduced (wrapping his cock in tin foil and making Andy be Gollum over the precious was a notable one) but really. And the little fucker was doing it to piss Andy off. Not good. Not good for Dom, anyway.
Magenta from heaving the weights, Andy stared.
"What?!" He finally roared, grabbing Dom by the shoulders and shaking him. Little fucker saying that word, trying to be cute. Bastard!
"You've got the weight's bench on my toe..."
sunsetmog Hello Darling(s?), I do so love You, please write me Billy covered in woad.Billy. Woad. Billy. Woad. Billy. Woad. Billy. Woad. Billy. Woad. And I suppose you can bung Dom too. Only one darling, darling *smooch
Boredom did the oddest things to people. Some people painted. Some people too photos of themselves and sent them into ratings communities. Some people took real people and wrote filthy and shocking gay pornography. Some people, sane, normal people, jerked off to the filthy and shocking gay pornography. But Billy Boyd was an artist. Not in the way of arsing around with pencils and that sort of thing, but an artist. Of course, Dom laughed at his pretentiousness and told him to bend over for another round of hot gay shagging as he called it, but Billy was...an artist.
He was also bored.
He'd bought the woad out of some strange Scottish loyalty, though it was pointed out to him by various know it alls that the stuff he'd got wasn't the real thing, just a body paint. But did William care? He did not. Indeed, he thought that the paint was better as it didn't smudge too badly when Dom buggered him (which happened a lot when Billy painted himself) and that it was cheaper and easier than getting the natural stuff.
But then no one actually prepared themselves for Billy, completely naked, with blue swirling and dipping over his entire body. He kept the shapes simple; coils on each pectoral that began at the nipple, tracing down long sweeping lines to his navel when the whirl loosened. Hip bones were accentuated triangles. Each rib was shadowed. Billy's arms were covered in pagan handprints, and his attractive face was quartered like a rugger shirt.
Dom did his back, with tongue-bitten concentration. Spine, and shoulder blades, and arsecheeks that were more handprints, but his friend knew that sometimes you didn't fuck around with perfection and he painted it all straight.
And then, naked and the paint dried across his body, Billy would crawl up the bed like some Celtic warrior and would proceed to have it smeared by DOm in the sweatiest, kinkiest, most filthily sexy ways imaginable.
indigo_blind Dom/Billy: snow, Sharpe (yes the Sharpe that Sean Bean starred in!) and whisky. Still sharp...*giggle*
The satellite television channel, UK Gold, shows fantastic repeats, and nothing was more fantastic than drinking half a bottle of whisky with a good friend and watching Sean Bean ponce around in a dirty white shirt while bleeding from several sexy wounds. They were drunk as they deserved it; how two men both under five feet eight had managed to build a six foot five snowman, even they couldn't work out. They'd battled the snow, and had come in for warming sessions, and lots of liberal lashings of Laiphroag. Dom, who liked being contrary when he was slaughtered, pointed at the telly.
"E's no' ash pretty ash Ioan Thingmajig."
"NO! No, ish a diff'rent thingy, innit?" Billy replied, intelligently for someone who was horizontal as possible on the settee without actually becoming inverted. "Hornblower...hehehe! Hornblower!"
Cue ten minute giggle session.
"Hornblowersh all naval, innee? An' your man Sharpe, he'sh all...all...no' naval, aye?"
"I shee no ships!"
"The Spanish shee I cannae shit...s'wrong. The Spanish shits I cannae speak? The Spanish ships I cannae shee, for they are no' in shight!" He'd got there in the end, Billy sounding more like Sean Connery than a really bad impression of Sean Connery.
"Shush...shee, he'sh tekkin' hish clothesh off!"
They had a celebratory whisky downing session to celebrate the half-naked Bean goodness, before they collapsed in a gently drooling heap of lusting Hobbit.
plinkin Monaboyd: Lust at first sight (even though we all love the twue wuv too) Soppy mare
Something about the way Billy's mouth moves makes Dom realise with ice-chilly clarity that the Scottish actor would suck cock like some debauched angel. There's a flexibility, a curling of lips and a clever use of tongue. There's that bloody sodding accent that's enough to make anyone hard. Christ, it'd make Miranda hard, and she's not got a cock like Dom's convinced Cate has. Sometimes, when he's not even thinking, there's a strangely dreamy melancholia on the pale face that makes people want to protect Billy. Those pretty eyes fade opaque and milky jade, as if what he's not thinking is so profound that it's rather stressful on him.
Dom watches and wonders. Gay or straight? Top or bottom? Left side of the bed or right side of the bed? So many questions need answering, with tongues and touch and taste, that it's nigh on impossible to stop hands wander as they film. A little cheeky slap and tickle, let Billy think it's a game, that it's just Dom. Dom who wants to go into the trailer one day, when Sean and Elijah are off filming down south, rip the Playstation controller from the pretty little hands, and have him there and then against the plastic table of the Winnebago.
It always Has Been. Billy, the fatal monster in Dom's dreams of merry debauchery. The moment they met, the shaking of hands, the easy way they fell in together, it all makes it so much more difficult to comprehend that Billy is probably heterosexual. When all Dom wants to do is to haul him off and show him the ways that he could be worshipped, it is difficult when his God is of a different religion.
magickalmolly Billy/Dom: yoga and cheesecake. Yoga is made from real milk...
::Dom working up a sweat, Billy glaring at him hornily::
"Bendyness is next to Godliness, young Boyd."
"What dictionary hae you been reading? Yoga is next tae yoghurt. Look, can you no' take this to bed, you ken? We can get all flexible there."
"And ruin my carefully planned schedule?!" ::flutter of eyelashes::
"Ach, fae fuck's sake...you know what this dae mean then, Dommie."
::pause, Billy leaves the room, then a long, protracted whimper of agony from Dom::
"Don't you dare! Don't you bloody dare..."
"Ah'm gonna get me a piece, Dom..."
::fridge opens, something's brought out, Billy comes back in grinning::
"Mmmm...ah, that there's lovely, Dom. See how there's all that raspberry, an' the cream, an' that firm texture of the cheesecake? See how that gleams there, Dom?"
::incoherant noises of rage and want::
"See how my fork's just cuttin' through perfect there? An'...intae my mouth...ah, that's just beautiful. So so beautiful. Ah'll have another fork of it. Suckin' it off the fork, lickin' the silver an'...Dom...where're you draggin' me?"
"Bedroom. Look. Take the cheesecake with us. Food then exercise."
"Or at the same time?"
"Or that. With that I'll have to practice my yoga. See if we can work some pretzels in to this feat, yeah?"
"You bend like a pretzel, an' you hae the rest o' the cake, lad."
catherfina Monaboyd: Billy Hurt-Dom Comforts I have never written anything like this before...
"It's fine...it's fine, come on Billy..." Dominic could be soothing, and he needed to be. Long fingers, silver rings glittering, stroked the short clipped hair at the back of the Scotsman's skull, the other was holding a neat little hand, just trying to be there. Because Billy, poor bastard, was broken up. It was as if someone had crushed him to a fine powder, like ashes. The pale face was drawn, eyebrows slashes above heart-broken eyes, and Dom's arm wrapped around the slumped shoulders.
"I know it's hard, mate, but it'll get better. I promise you it will."
His mouth found the softness of Billy's skin, brushing over the temple, and the smaller man nestled against his friend, wanting the comfort.
"I just didn't...I didn't...I thought...oh God, Dom..."
He ended up wiping his hands across his eyes, looking destroyed.
"Billy, why do you do it? All the time, love, you put yourself through this, and you always know that Bambi's Mum dies."
riadsala I would like pilot/steward SerkisBean: Hmm... not the Mile High Club, but maybe the Pilot''s Lounge Cub? Do you know how much I love you for this? Air Wales is also a real airline. Applaud the useless fact of the day.
Chief Steward Andy Serkis was not the normal trolley dolly of the airlines. No, he was one of Air Wales' best cabin crew members; attractive, sexy, and possessing an arse that looked spectacular even in the hideous red trousers he was forced to wear. Red trousers, white shirt, red tie. It was like the Swiss flag gone wrong. Anyway, Andy looked far better in blue. Or in Captain Sean Bean. Either, really, though the latter was more aesthetically pleasing.
"Good morning captain."
"I'd rather have your cock in my mouth," he murmured, sotto voce. People weren't supposed to know that they were together, since it made things rather more exciting. Anyway, it was incredibly satisfying watching the rest of the cabin crew try and pull Sean because it was so ridiculously futile.
"Rather English sausage..."
"You only just realised?" Sean had the sexiest accent, and the sexiest green eyes, and a sexy gruffness and a general sexiness that was...sexy. He was Sexy. If anything had to be engraved on his headstone it was 'Sexy.' Possibly 'Exhibitionist' also, but it would be Sexy Exhibitionist. He liked groping Andy in public, liking the threat of getting caught. It was interesting feeling a tongue tickle his earlobe as Andy chatted with Elijah (so very very gay) about rotas. Not as interesting as being thrust against the wall of the staff lounge while having his orifices probed for drugs (Sean swore he was going to say that if they got caught) but Andy could cope nicely indeed.
crsty1961 MONABOYD: sex sex did I mention sex? I'll get all sexed out if you're not careful...
Some things were better done in certain places, and sex was one of them. Sex on a bed was good. Sex in a Jacuzzi was better. Sex while riding a camel wasn't impossibly but bumpy. Sex while trying to queue for a passport form was just...wrong. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong thing. But Dom had that certain fizz about him that tempted bad, naughty things. A cheeky grin, a glitter of baby blues, and Billy was just being taken. He often didn't realise it until Dom was smoking his post coital fag and looking smug. Especially if he'd been thinking of what to buy for his sister's birthday, or the food shopping list.
Some things were better done in certain places, and Billy was one of those things. He loved soft sheets, comfortable mattresses, pillows that weren't nylon and therefore didn't give him static shocks. He liked luxury and warmth, and Dom being pounded into the bed. It happened sometimes. Like then. A hotel room, a lovely one, a Comic-Con to attend, Dom clean and lemony from the bath and groaning in lovely whorish enjoyment as Billy licked lewdly down his spine. Billy's mouth was his best and most talented feature. The things those lips and that tongue could do should have been legend.
Nice languid preparation that had Dom shrieking like a monkey, and long slow penetration to produce the maximum friction, and that was beautiful. Just right, with the sheets that were scented with lavender and Dom arching and tequila salty-lemon under him. Just right, the exquisite sensuality of Egyptian cotton sheets and skin against skin. Just right for something that was sex and a little more than that if Billy thought properly, which he did before he climaxed, and as Dom followed those clean sheets were ruined and Billy wondered if it would be sordid to drag the thing off and just sleep wrapped around Dom on a blanket.
jubeth_00 SerkisBean: Sub Sean Dom Andy A person with taste and finesse!
Black leather looked good on pale Yorkshire skin, especially pulled tight to show the pinkness where Sean had tested the cuffs. Nice, neat, sensible black leather cuffs with hooks that linked them together; nothing over the top and pretty for Andy, after all. He liked his toys workable, manageable, the sort that broke in beautifully and existed at optimum levels for years. A little like Sean, really. His ultimate and most beloved toy.
They were both strong enough to wrestle, to fight for dominance. Sean was larger. Andy was more cunning. They sweated and kicked and swore as they battled, and it wasn't a foregone conclusion to who would win.
Sometimes, more than Andy knew, Sean would lose deliberately.
There was something in the set of the Londoner's mouth, the brittle glitter that sparked in his pale, strange eyes, the incredible attraction of that wiry and muscular body. There was something that benefited from being in a dominant position, fingers wound in Sean's blond hair. A spark, perhaps, that needed wrists locked behind the broad back and oral worship as the sneering mouth suckled and played over taut flesh.
Andy would murmur, and stroke back locks of errant fair hair, and would call him filthy dark names that they never thought either of them could imagine using. They both were aroused by them. Words that no decent man would utter, let alone find turned them both on.
But then who said they were decent men when it came to bedroom sports and combative games of lust?
kashmir1 Monaboyd: Lots'o'sex and maybe the words 'jangled nerves,' 'delicate' and 'red wine' I do hope you realise I eventually run out of sex?
Red wine for the soul, rare meat for the senses, ice cream for the hedonistic pleasure of ice cream. They'd started off with steak, had migrated on to large cartons of Ben and Jerry’s (Phish Food for Billy, Caramel Chew-Chew for Dom), and were slowly drowning themselves in a decent Rioja and Labyrinth on the telly.
A much loved film, much of Dom's youth, but then it was the Scot who was squirming internally. He hadn't meant to, he hadn't even considered it, until Dom had began to eat his ice cream. Gratuitous tongue licking, filthy sucking of the spoon, lips stretching like the metal was a particularly addictive and tasty cock that Dom was partaking of. Of course, the jangling nerves caused by that, and the terminal embarrassment of Billy realising that for the first time since he was young he'd thrown a hard on in his jeans...
Fleeing the kitchen, he pressed his forehead against the cool granite counter, half-screaming as a delicate touch traced over the back of his neck.
"Stay there, Bills."
An order, and while he preferred to be asked pleasantly, such a demand was fine as buckles clicked and buttons were popped and zips dragged down, and then something icy cold was sliding between his arse cheeks and he was screaming against his arms as Dom knelt and began to lick the ice cream from the ripe curves and tempting crevice.
"Impatient bastard!" laughed the other, biting where his teeth scraped, and then Billy's strange, ice cream-fuelled wishes really did come true.
wbearsmom Dom & Billy, my OTP of course: Dom wears a kilt for the first time This is Dom's first time at Billy in a kilt. Because it don't work otherwise. And I mean at Billy. Oh yeah.
Something amazing happens; something shuts Dominic Monaghan up in mid babble.
The others turn and stare and the conversation drops to a low whispering, and DOm can't cope with what he's seeing - it's like some strange thing that he knew would happen one day but never had the slightest inkling would be so incredible.
How kilts sway. How they expose that tender back of the knee flesh, between the dark-knit long socks and the bluey tartan that brushes against thighs. It's the right length for that, just over the kneecap, just enough so that even when Billy isn't rolling his hips there is that pretty sway, like a bell. He's in a cream shirt, with lacings to the collar and wrists, and that kilt, the long socks and the shoes. It's casual kilt-wearing, it's the modern Scot, and Dom's enchanted beyond all belief.
Of course he wanders over, past where Sean and Andy are grinning impishly, where Liv is staring and hiding her lush mouth with a pale hand, where Ian's making sure that the image of pretty little Billy is indelibly marked on his mind, and then Dom is kissing the marvellous Scotsman with appreciation and lust and hope.
And Billy? Well, Billy kisses back, breathless and grinning, running his hand down Dom's denim-clad arsecheeks.
Because while Dom's got a newly discovered kilt fetish, Billy's been in love with the Mancunian's hipsters for so long he forgot when it began.
bam_a_lam Monaboyd: William, Dominic, pants around ankles, NC-17 Are you all obsessed with sex? All of you?
Needs have to be met sometimes. It's a universal truth that madness can occur when the thing we need most is denied, but then it's lucky for Billy that he's in a place where he can nonchalantly wander over to where Dom's screaming at the telly that the ref is a blind wanker and Ronaldo didn't take a dive, seize him by the collar of his United shirt, and then bend him over the back of the settee.
They both find this exciting. A flap of a leather belt snicking from loops, Dom fiddling with his jeans to shove them down and not bothering to step out of them. Billy does the same, though he does remember to get the lubricant from his pocket before they puddle black denim at his feet. A fingerlength of the stuff, and Dom's still roaring at the telly. Rooney's almost ugly enough to put Billy off working the slick into the tightness, but it's gratifying that his lover manages to remember to actually respond to the finger that is buggering him with a shift of muscles and a slow sigh of pleasure. Another is added.
Dom gives a hiss of frustration and defeat, hides his face in his arms, arching his back for Billy to probe a little deeper and then replace his fingers with his cock. Much better. The Scot's hands brace either side of Dom's hips so he can get leverage. They'd never do this if the telly wasn't there, if the English twat couldn't keep watching the football. It's ravishing, and the detachment of Dom makes Billy want to sodomize him out of his rectitude, and he's pounding, and Dom's screaming louder at the television, so that when they come, they both come yelling and shrieking and collapse forward over the now stained leather chesterfield back.
A few minutes later, when he can stand, Dom drags his jeans back up and, not caring of the mess, settles himself back down to watch the last ten minutes.
mysteriousaliwz I have a hankering for First-Time Monaboyd (as ever): Post-Its (sunsetmog should like that), an ironing board and pistachio nuts. The word 'luscious'. this is so...weird...
Billy had never had a sexual invite put on a post it on the top of the ironing board before. He'd been getting himself ready to attack the large pile of crumpled laundry when he found it. Definitely Dom's writing, though pink was an interesting colour for the humble post it, and little hearts with evil faces had been drawn around the edge. One of them had arms and was making a wanking gesture at him.
"Follow the pistachio nuts to get what you want."
What he wanted ranged from a top of the range Mercedes to a date with Joaquin Phoenix, though it seemed to apply more to Dom and sex than anyone else. Finding the young Phoenix at the end of a nut path seemed quite far-fetched, and since a Mercedes wouldn't fit in the flat, it had to be the third thing. Shagging Dom. They'd discussed it a lot, frequently, since they'd drifted together in the sort of 'we're good mates, let's snog' way.
The nuts led through the flat - out of the kitchen, into the bathroom, twice around the living room and then, finally, into the bedroom.
Dom grinned. Nakedly.
He was quite luscious like that. Prepared. Spread out like a birthday tea. Naked. All long-limbed and lanky, thin and wiry and fit. And hard as a surface to air intercontinental attack missile.
"Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough," he taunted softly.
Billy looked down and found he was. So he did.
*squeals* Thank you! *bows* :D
I laughed and sighed at various points.
these are wonderful! is there any chance that you're still taking requests? *puts on sad puppy dog face*
Go click on the poll, my love :)
They're all fantastic, but I do love mine especially. It's everything I love about your writing: funny and hot and random and it works. *massive love*
*applauds the useless fact dutifully*
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH I DO LOVE YOU I DO!!! **HUGS**
|Date:||March 16th, 2005 10:50 pm (UTC)|| |
Wow I have never had a 'ficlet/drabble' done for me before. Thank you.
Excellent. The idea of Sean deliberatley loosing a wrestling match with Andy and being his 'most beloved toy' makes me a very happy girl indeed. A submissive Sean is a most beautiful sight.
It was your writing which turned me on to SerkisBean and Andy love in the first place as before I only read VigBean (still love the Vigbean though)but they do so make a sexy pair. Shall go and read the others now, especially looking forward to the pilot/steward SerkisBean.
Love them! Fabulous m'dear!
Whenever I use a PostIt at work now, I'll imagine it with little, evil-faced, wanking hearts on it :)
*sighs* I'd gladly do the ironing if it meant a naked Dom and/or Billy was waiting for me in the bedroom ...
Oh, and Are you all obsessed with sex? All of you?
I do believe we are :)
0.0' Skuh-WEE!! *huggleglompsnogs* Those were brill. Really, they were.
Also, I haven't seen Master and Commander, so the poor love who submitted Paul Bettany/Billy Boyd - I'm so sorry, lovely.
Oh, well, it was worth a shot. :D I'm enjoying reading all the other drabbles, anyway! Especially the kit/hipster one. Yessss.
And by kit, I meant kilt. I shall blame it on your mini-fics, they befuddle me. In a good way. <3
I've got it...haven't got round to seeing it yet *facepalms*
|Date:||March 17th, 2005 01:44 am (UTC)|| |
Oh, thank you! What a lot of work you did.
I adored mine and really, really enjoyed the yoga/cheesecake fling and the hurt/comfort with the death of Bambi's mother; that was just precious.
OH OH OH OH!!!
*flails about madly*
Fantastic! Just... GUH. Marvelous. Awesome. Wonderful.
Absolutely not enough superlatives, my dear.
Mmmmmmm Monaboyd. Wonderful. And mmm, Joaquin Phoenix, while we're at it.
Love it! Love it!
Thank you for feeding my kilt fetish so wonderfully.
|Date:||March 17th, 2005 09:26 am (UTC)|| |
these are awesome, you are indeed a maestro.
you?! run out of sex?!?!
I've some more suggestions (don't want to muck up my already mucked up poll). How about a complete lack of sex; gratuitous flirting/teasing but no actual sex? How about the expression clandestine affair (I think I meant to mention that earlier and forgot - I'm a dill)? How about Ewan McGregor in eyeliner with anyone you want? Mmmmm, Ewan McGregor in eyeliner.
but really, just ignore me - I'm over excited. I went to the Coffee Academy annual breakfast this morning and are way too caffeined up!!
anyway - back to the actual point. These are incredibly awesome. You complete legend.