"Allison's parents don't even blink when she says Stiles will be sleeping over every third night."

[brilligspoons]

So last night I was complaining about how there just isn't enough kissing fic in my life - like, as much as I don't understand the appeal of makeouts in real life, I just want all of my favorite characters to kiss each other a lot? Which I feel is a totally just and righteous demand to make. Look, makeouts seem like nice things in theory, so there should be more examples of it.

Whatever, I just want there to be a lot of kissing and I don't care what fandom it's in, shut up.

Anyway, paper_tzipporah promised me commentfic if I prompted this on LJ. I think this will benefit everyone in the long run, so if you feel like joining in, you totally should. Look, I even wrote Hawaii Five-0 OT4 makeouts last night. Maybe I will write more this afternoon. Who knows.

:D?

Comments

Movie Night 1/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

Stiles calls it research, which is the only reason Derek finds himself sitting on a couch with a hyperactive human teenager on a Friday night, watching what is quite possibly the worst movie ever made.

"I'm just saying," Stiles had declared, arms crossed over his chest, "if I'm doing all this research for your pack, someone should keep me company, make popcorn, maybe even help me figure out when the movies get something right!"

"Make Scott do it," Derek had grumbled, but Stiles was shaking his head.

"Dude, he spent the entire first Underworld movie comparing Kate Beckinsale to Allison -- unfavorably, I might add, which, don't get me wrong, Allison is great, but seriously? Kate Beckinsale!"

Derek raises an eyebrow at this. He has no idea who Kate Beckinsale is, but that doesn't seem like something he should admit at this juncture.

"So I finished the Underworld movies on my own, and it turns out Allison really likes An American Werewolf in London, but not so much that she didn't spend the entire movie making out with Scott, even though I was sitting right there, and I did not need to know that Scott makes those noises, okay?" Stiles pauses, sagging slightly. "I just don't want to be the loser sitting home alone on a Friday night, you know?"

Derek does know. And, well, it is research, sort of. For his pack. "What movie?" he says, and Stiles lets out a victory shout, pumping his arms in the air.

Movie Night 2/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

The movie, some atrocity called Blood and Chocolate that Derek can barely stand to watch, it's so heinously bad, has Stiles completely enthralled. Derek rolls his eyes, but finds himself watching Stiles more than the screen, glancing up periodically to confirm Stiles' occasional queries. Eventually, Stiles stops asking questions, absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before them.

Derek is studiously ignoring the film when Stiles' breath catches, and Derek looks up, alarmed. Hugh Dancy, whom Stiles had earlier informed Derek is "dreamy", is leaning in towards the werewolf girl, capturing her mouth in a sweet, gentle kiss. Derek snorts, and Stiles turns wide, troubled eyes on him.

"What, what's funny? They didn't get the kissing wrong, did they? I mean, I try not to look when Scott and Allison are going at it, but I'm pretty sure werewolves and humans can kiss!"

"We can," Derek admits, and he can practically feel the weight of Stiles' gaze, dropping to rest on his mouth. There's just enough space between them on the couch for the abandoned bucket of popcorn, and Derek can smell Stiles' want, the soured frustration and choked-up longing ever-present under clean sweat and the salt-butter tang that lingers on Stiles' lips.

"Is it different?" Stiles asks, curiosity temporarily overriding desire. "Kissing a human as opposed to another werewolf?"

Derek hesitates. His experience here is limited, but... "Was everyone you've kissed the same?" he asks. Stiles' eyes drop to the couch, his fingers restless against the fabric. It's an answer, and Derek feels an unexpected thrum of sympathy. He remembers what it's like to be 16 and untouched. His hand moves seemingly of its own volition to capture Stiles' fingers, stilling them between his own.

"You'll have to find a human for the other half of this experiment," Derek says, and angles himself toward Stiles just enough to make the invitation clear. He won't push this, but he's willing to offer.

Movie Night 3/3

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

Stiles surges forward, half-unbalanced, free hand coming up to clutch at Derek's shoulders. His mouth is slightly open, stopping just short of Derek's, warm breath teasing across Derek's lips. Derek can hear the nervous stutter of Stiles' heart, the barest whisper of "are you sure?"

Derek bridges the gap, infinitesimally slow, giving Stiles all the time in the world to pull away. He keeps the first kiss quick and light, a chaste brush before easing back, and Stiles moans, chasing after him to press his mouth down on Derek's, teeth catching on Derek's lower lip.

It's all the encouragement Derek needs. He opens Stiles' mouth with his own, tongue darting out in a filthy caress, capturing the sweet, soft noises Stiles makes. Stiles is clutching at him with both hands, kissing with increasing urgency, his whole body pressing forward, and Derek can't hold back the pleased rumble growing in his chest. It startles him into breaking the kiss, breath coming in harsh pants as he stares into Stiles' darkened eyes.

"No other humans," Derek says, half-growling, and Stiles blinks at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Your experiment. I don't want you kissing any other humans. Or werewolves. No one else." Derek scowls, but Stiles is grinning at him, mouth red and slightly swollen and Derek will tear to shreds anyone who tries to touch Stiles right now.

"It's not like there's a line forming," Stiles mutters, but he sounds happy. He presses a quick kiss to Derek's cheek before settling back to watch the rest of the movie.

Derek spends the entire rest of the film trying to figure out what just happened.

Re: Movie Night 3/3

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

AHHHHHHHHHHHH <3

:D :D :D :D

[cold-feets.livejournal.com]

I tried to see if I had any unposted kisses lurking in my gmail drafts, but all I have is one for Band of Brothers, which is to say, it's depressing as hell. Which I think sort of defeats the purpose of this. :\

Plus no one's a werewolf. So.

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

Awww man. :( That sucks, because Winters and Nixon kissing each other is definitely relevant to my interests, werewolves or not.

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

Erik tries to concentrate on the movie, but he's seen it a million times and it's hard to focus on anything that's not Charles, warm and solid and tucked under his arm against his side. There's a whole couch for Charles to sit on, but no, he has to sit as close to Erik as possible, close enough that Erik can smell him. Seventeen year old boys aren't supposed to smell this good, Erik's pretty sure. Charles smells amazing, though. It's distracting as fuck. Every time Charles moves, the muscles in Erik's stomach tense and coil tighter. At this rate, he's going to have to discreetly put a pillow over his lap before they even get to the halfway point of the movie.

Charles sighs softly and Erik twitches as the warm breath brushes past his throat. He almost wishes Charles had picked something he hasn't seen before or something with subtitles or something in French so he'd have to concentrate, so he'd have something else to focus on.

"You're not paying very much attention," Charles murmurs, and Erik rolls his shoulders in a shrug.

"I know," Erik says. "Sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"I know you do," Charles says. He looks away from the television and up at Erik, just as Erik shifts to look down at him. It's really fucking unfair how pretty Charles' eyes are, not to mention his mouth. "This is silly."

Charles pulls away and Erik is simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He doesn't have long to linger on either emotion, however, as Charles sits up only long enough to twist in place and throw his leg over Erik so he's straddling Erik's lap.

Erik's body immediately has half a dozen contradictory reactions.

"Charles?" It comes out strangled and a little desperate. Charles' hands run from his shoulders down his arms until he has a loose grip on Erik's elbows. He's warm and heavy and resting his weight on Erik's lap and it's possible Erik's brain will cease functioning all together any second now.

"This is stupid," Charles says. "This is so stupid, Erik. We can just--can't we?"

Erik makes a sound. It's not a word or even anything close.

"It doesn't have to be--we don't have to be dating to fool around, right? It doesn't have to be a relationship, it can just be--" Erik licks his suddenly dry lips and Charles' eyes go glassy as they follow the movement. Charles sways towards him and how the fuck is Erik expected to not react to that? Erik's already probably going to break something with how frequently he finds himself jerking off thinking of his best friend and here's Charles on his lap, looking like an invitation to do all sorts of things that Erik's been thinking about in the shower for the past month. Charles' eyes are half lidded and his hands are creeping back up Erik's arms, curling around his shoulders. Erik's own hands are clamped over Charles' hips and most of his remaining restraint is being used to keep from pulling Charles flush against him.

"Just making out," Erik manages to say. "It's just--just fooling around."

"Exactly," Charles says, the words leaving him on a long exhale. He goes almost boneless, swaying forward again until his forehead is resting against Erik's and the only thing keeping Charles from melting completely against him is Erik's grip on his hips. "Erik."

And, really, it's physically impossible for Erik to not kiss Charles if he's going to go saying his name like that.

[pocky_slash.livejournal.com]

Erik tugs Charles against him and it should be awkward or abrupt, but Charles turns his head at exactly the right moment and instead, their lips slide together perfectly. Erik can't help the noise that escapes him--it's as good as he's imagined, better, even, because his brain never bothered with the little details, the way Charles inhales sharply when their lips first meet, the exact texture of Charles' skin, the pressure of Charles' hands in his hair, tugging Erik down closer. Erik sucks on Charles' lower lip--he's been dreaming about that lip--and Charles gasps and tries to inch even closer. He shifts in Erik's lap and Erik pulls away to groan at the feeling of Charles' ass dragging across his hard-on as Charles changes position and wraps his legs around Erik's waist. Charles doesn't let him pull too far. His fingers are back in Erik's hair and when their mouths meet again, it's the space of a second before Charles' tongue is running against Erik's teeth.

Erik raises one of his hands to the back of Charles' neck. His hair seems even softer now that Erik is touching it with intent, is running his fingers through it and holding Charles still, as if he's going to scamper away with a laugh at any second. Charles doesn't seem eager to leave, though. He appears to be quite happy systematically exploring every crevice of Erik's mouth, pressing closer and closer. Just having his arms around Charles is almost as good as the kissing. He's warm and wiggling and laughing and breathless and seems to be taking the same amount of joy from this that Erik is, grinning like mad every time they pull away.

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

THIS SHOULD BE EVERY STORY EVER

JUST SAYING

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

SECONDED

[tailoredshirt.livejournal.com]

Prompt me for H50 kissing! Preferably Steve/Danny, because that is where my head is at right now.

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

!!!!

Steve/Danny kissing in the kitchen just after they've put Grace to bed!

[tailoredshirt.livejournal.com]

asl;djk CUTE. Okay, I will be back later with kitchen kisses...

you know what this road is paved with, 1/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

Peter's grip is bruise-tight around Stiles' wrist, reeling him in when he tries to jerk away. "I don't want it," Stiles reiterates, and he's more relieved than he should be when Peter's fangs retract, the red in his eyes fading.

It's not like he's free, or safe. But at least the bite is off the table.

"What do you want?" Peter asks.

Stiles gives an experimental tug, but Peter just pulls him closer. "A little personal space would be nice, for a start," Stiles gripes, and Peter's smile is too sharp and too close. Stiles tries to twist away, but the car is behind him, cold metal against his back.

"Do you want the girl? What was her name?" Peter asks, and Stiles glares at him.

"Lydia."

Peter leans in close, sniffs the side of Stiles' neck. "Will you tell her about this, about what you risked for her? Will she be grateful?"

Stiles flinches back, tries not to think about the way Peter's voice coils in his ear. "No," he says. "I don't want her to know about any of this." He doesn't want anyone to know, he wishes he and Scott had never gone into the woods, never crossed Peter's path. Maybe they'd all be safe, still.

"So you'll just go back to school, back to being sidekick Stiles, second string, never quite good enough, never quite...strong enough?"

It's like Peter's in his head, and Stiles tries to breathe through the rising panic, the tightness in his chest. "I'm strong enough," he spits out, but he's not, and he can't stop himself from pushing futilely against Peter's grip. Peter chuckles, warm and knowing.

you know what this road is paved with, 2/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

"You could be so good, Stiles," Peter murmurs, and he's so close that Stiles can feel the vibration of Peter's vocal cords against his own neck. He holds himself as still as possible. Peter's fingers, seemingly human, for the moment, drag over his skin: one hand still clutching his wrist, one slipping under his shirt, just over his hip.

"I don't want it," Stiles says, and he closes his eyes, feels his heart thudding with the lie.

Peter's teeth are sharp against his throat. "No?" The word is a puff of air on Stiles' skin, and he shivers. Peter pulls back only to loom in again, and Stiles opens his eyes to red, Peter's hungry stare.

Stiles forces his voice steady. "Can I go now?"

Peter's smile widens, still too sharp, too close. "What will you give me?"

This isn't a game Stiles knows how to play. "Dude, you already took my keys," he says, and Peter shakes his head. "Tell me what you want, then," Stiles demands, and he knows it's the wrong thing to say even before he finishes, Peter's smile victory-bright in the dimly-lit garage.

"A kiss," Peter tells him. "And you can run off, warn all your little friends. Check on the girl who will never want you." He leans in, stops just short of Stiles' mouth. "The other offer still stands, if you prefer. Either way."

you know what this road is paved with, 3/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

Stiles barks out a nervous laugh. Peter's smile doesn't shift, but his fingers dig into Stiles hip, claws slipping out to prick the delicate skin. "Okay!" Stiles yelps, and Peter relaxes his grip, just enough for the claws to graze instead of pierce.

He's never kissed anyone before. Stiles takes a breath, then another, tongue darting out reflexively before he cranes his neck to press a quick, close-mouthed peck to the edge of Peter's smirking mouth. He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he jerks back, blinking against Peter's disdainful snort.

"Come now, you can do better than that."

Peter sounds amused more than angry, but Stiles glares back, chin raised in defiance. "No, I really can't," he snaps, and Peter's gaze turns thoughtful.

"No one's ever kissed you before?" Peter asks, but it's clearly rhetorical, and Stiles turns his face away, knowing he can't stop the blush rising on his cheeks.

Peter's fingers are gentle and unclawed, tilting Stiles' face back toward him. "Sweet boy," Peter murmurs, and Stiles opens his mouth to object, he most certainly is not, thank you, when Peter takes advantage of the opportunity and swallows the words.

you know what this road is paved with, 4/4

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

The kiss is softer than Stiles is expecting, not that he really expected this, ever, but Peter's mouth is soft and coaxing, firm lips keeping his mouth open for Peter's tongue to explore. Stiles chokes back a moan, trying not to give up anything more than he has to, but Peter makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss, tilting Stiles' head back until his neck aches.

He doesn't realize that Peter has stopped holding him in place until Peter steps away, and Stiles shivers at the loss. He draws a shaky breath, and forces himself to meet Peter's eyes. Peter is staring at him.

"Thank you," Peter says, sounding oddly sincere, and Stiles raises a trembling hand to his lips, which feel more bruised than his wrist.

Then he's alone. It's a long run, without his car, but the air feels good against his face. He lets himself think about it: Peter's mouth, Peter's hands, for as long as his pulse is pounding in his ears, his shoes slamming into the ground. Later, he will push these thoughts from his mind. There's no time for this.

He doesn't want to know what he wants.

Re: you know what this road is paved with, 4/4

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

GODDAMN, JONI.

<3 <3 <3

[kel-reiley.livejournal.com]

as much as I don't understand the appeal of makeouts in real life, I just want all of my favorite characters to kiss each other a lot? Which I feel is a totally just and righteous demand to make - I AGREE!

um... i can't write them, though - sorry :(
i'll flail with you!

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

It's okay! I'm not that great at writing them either. :( But at least I have minions friends who are willing to write makeouts for us to enjoy!

[imaplatypus.livejournal.com]

I tried to read a popular piece of My Little Pony fanfic today. Not because I thought it would be great, but because it's this thing that all the bronies talk about.

I couldn't do it. The grammar was so awful. I gave up about three paragraphs in.

Your fic, I can read. I enjoy it! So, thank you for not being whoever assaulted my brainpain with My Little Dashie.

[brilligspoons.livejournal.com]

Popular doesn't always equal good! But that is super disappointing, and I'm sorry you had to scar your brain with it. <3 <3 <3

beneath the sheets of paper lies your truth, 1/?

[paper-tzipporah.livejournal.com]

Derek's been sitting in the school library for over an hour when someone sits down across from him and places a stack of books on the table. He keeps his head still, peeking up over the edge of his novel to see who it is.

She's older, blonde-haired and pretty, vaguely familiar in a way that smells like highlighter and paper clips. She catches him looking and smiles brightly, leaning in conspiratorially. "You don't mind if I sit here, right?"

Derek shakes his head. He has another thirty minutes before Laura's done with soccer practice, and then they'll run home together, if she doesn't ditch him for fries with her teammates. Even then, it's worth waiting here -- Bethany, their little sister, has recently taken up the violin, and the entire pack has been avoiding the house as much as possible during her practice hours. Which are, unfortunately, all the time.

"Heavy reading for high school English," the woman says, and Derek lets his shoulders twitch in what could be considered a shrug.

"I like to read," he offers, and the smile bestowed on him in return reminds him of moonlight.

"Kate," she says. She tilts her head at him, and he stares back quizzically. "I'm helping out in the tutoring center for a semester."

He remembers now, the tread of her boots outside the guidance office, yellow curls disappearing around a corner, throughout the week. Derek eyes the the stack of books on the table, raising a dubious eyebrow. "I didn't know we had a mythology class."

Kate's laughter is too loud for the library, and the sound makes a happy echo in his chest. "That's for a research project." She shrugs, a full-bodied movement, her boots edging forward and sweater shifting over -- Derek drags his eyes back up, and Kate's smile has turned smug and knowing. "My own private study," she says, dropping her voice.