There is an unwritten rule of the Christmas party, but can Harvey keep to it?

Eames and Mal have been seducing each other for years. But this time, Mal brings backup.

During eight hours in the warehouse on an ill-advised bet, Arthur discovers that Eames is a man with no scruples.

In the immortal words of Freddie Mercury, Fucking on the subway, fucking on the subway, fucking on the subway on a job.

If it's Remus and Sirius, then somehow it's okay.

The hammer is his penis.

Or rather, Thor's dick is a hammer, and Clint's ass is the nail.

“You don’t appreciate my natural-born talent,” Arthur said mournfully. “I suppose I will just have to remind you of how spectacular I really am.”

In which Arthur tries his hardest to make Merlin scream, and Merlin tries his hardest to make Arthur realize that he is, in fact, a giant princely prat.

Morgause teaches Arthur about himself.

Young military Arthur goes to a sex worker to take care of his ~ass virginity problem.~ Finds an unexpected rapport, is drawn back repeatedly, falls in love, knows it's untenable for a dozen different reasons and doesn't say anything about it... you know the drill. Then the sex worker drops completely off the radar with no warning. Arthur panics, is heartbroken; represses the fuck out of it, forcing himself to move on. Several years later, they meet in dreamshare.

Ariadne works out something's going on between her two colleagues. She just can't work out what, exactly.

"Does that mean you dream about me at your doorstep often?"

It’s the oldest trick in the book. It’s a fucking cliche, emphasis on fucking. It’s been done by every dicksuck James Bond wannabe and perpetually repeated by every new agent who doesn’t know shit. It never works.

John had totally, totally, been holding out on Rodney.

They don’t fuck in the Avengers’ Mansion, that’s rule number one of Having A Secret Relationship With Your Ex-Handler.

Harvey keeps just-missing Mike at the Pearson Hardman costume ball, but he HAS met Mike's date, the gorgeous Rose Selavy.

Harvey didn't want to be profiled in a magazine as one of New York's most eligible bachelors. Nobody even knew Mike had been.

Four days and two phone calls later, Ray is at Recon for an audition. Nate had called it a screen test, like hiring Ray was a done deal. But Ray knows that no matter what Nate thinks, Brad still needs to be convinced.

"Sometimes it's hard to shut down, stop thinking. I understand that. If you need help exhausting yourself into a state in which you are capable of actually resting," Nate murmurs, eyes on Ray's mouth. "The Sergeant and I would be more than happy to assist you. In fact, we might have to insist on it. Brad's very concerned about you, and I admit, Ray, I share that concern.”

Erik keeps everything -- body, mind -- under wraps, leaving Charles no choice but to find other outlets for his desires. When those desires cut a little too close to home, though, everything comes out into the open.

From the kink meme: So apparently Joss Whedon is going with the meet cute, where they first need to squabble and bicker before getting married heroing happily ever after.

It would be awesome if this phase of their relationship led to mutually consenting, up against the wall, struggle for dominance, who's-on-top angry sex.

Brad is in his hallway, leaning against the wall.

Brad is in England. Brad is in his hallway.

The man didn't make idle threats.

Arthur and Eames have broken up and moved on. Only they haven't. Sometimes their not-moving-on happens at the workplace and sometimes it happens in hotel rooms. On this particular occasion, it happens in a pool.

Arthur sketches the impossible. Eames does some manscaping. It's just another job, until it isn't.

"It's just a goddamned crush!"

Nobody loses at strip poker.

In mathematics, the factorial of a non-negative integer n is the product of all positive integers less than or equal to n. This is written as n! and pronounced "n factorial", or colloquially "n shriek", "n bang" or "n crit". (Wikipedia)

That's when he figures out how to rig the impromptu security feed. If Rod's up to anything, they need to know.

"Are you kidding? This is the hottest thing that's ever happened to me."

Brad's maybe not the best at handling his feelings, but he's got good biceps.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world.

"Not that your sex confessions aren't entertaining, Eames, but I call bullshit."

For verizonhorizon's prompt: "You know what would be really erotic for Vulcans? Henna hand art."

"Ah! I was right! You weren't doing it correctly. No wonder it hurt, you idiot."

"Shut it. Oil isn't going to make anything smaller and it isn't going to make anything bigger!"

"People on the Internet are writing porn about us..."

While Draco holds Rosmerta under a spell, there is more to her relationship with another Malfoy than meets the eye.

1970s San Francisco mutant-owned leather club AU. Erik wants Charles to be his boy, then wants Charles to be something more. Through the miracle of hand-waving, Charles and Raven are 18, Erik 38, and everyone else slightly older than movie age. I planned a short PWP, but Charles and Erik were determined to have their epic romance no matter the setting.

The perils of fucking on the job.

Brad's a cop, Nate's an FBI agent. They go undercover as a gay couple.

Brad considers it a good sign that when he sits down and says, “I have to hit on you,” the guy’s only response is raised eyebrows. “Sorry. I’d hoped for more creative hazing, but I guess gay chicken appeals to the developmentally stunted.”

Being fuckbuddies goes well for an entire semester. Until it doesn't.

Ray's a hipster college kid. Brad's a Marine.

“You know,” the kid says, drawling. “This kind of homophobic rhetoric has no place in modern America, homes. Although I am a dicksucking liberal, both of those things are literally true.” He’s suddenly crowded up close behind Brad as the line reshuffles, and Brad can hear an obnoxious smirk in his voice as he says, “Want me to demonstrate, Marine?”

At this moment Mike cannot regret any decision he has ever made because they have all lead him to this: watching Harvey Specter fuck the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in real life.

And to think, the day started out so ordinary.

Arthur absolutely cannot stand anything about the housekeeper's son. Especially when Gwaine starts to take notice.

John has to work hard to stay awake so he can enjoy the whole thing: Rodney's blunt-nailed fingertips skating across John's skin, the gentle sweet tickle of it, soothing and comforting and a whole lot of things John had thought he was past desiring after about age ten.

Steve knew when he made the rule 'no sex before press conferences' that Tony would try his hardest to break it.

Arthur is a full-service masseuse. Eames is his favorite customer.

"You're thinking of him. I can tell because you look sort of proud, but not in a paternal way. I think I'm beginning to understand the puppy analogy."

Harvey and Mike go to Vegas for business. Harvey's never been good at sharing his things.

Eames probably would have been pleased with a sandwich, but Arthur's got a knack for making Eames happy in surprising ways.

In which Kirk and Spock have had sex half a dozen times, but this time it counts.

Original prompt on the kink meme: "I could pull that off! I have...soft features..."

So of course Mike gets it into his head that he needs to prove this to Harvey, because Mike is a smartass. And see, the thing is that so far, Harvey has managed perfectly well to ignore the fact that he'd love nothing more than to bend his associate over the nearest desk, or push him up against the closest available surface, but seeing Mike in a short black dress that is just...way too revealing for public? That's just too much. This is what he gets for demanding that Mike bring him the Heartland briefs over the weekend.

Christ, with a hemline that short it is amazingly apparent that Mike is very literally all legs, and what beautifully toned legs they are, too. Shit, and he shaved them, too. The little asshole.

“I want you to tie me up,” Steve says finally, voice steady even as he refuses to meet Tony’s eyes.

In which Tony takes Steve to a strip club.

They're in Kiev the first time it happens – it's a complex job with a condescending extractor who has a grudge against Arthur that no one can adequately explain, and Arthur gets so wound up, and comes so close to snapping. It's disconcerting to witness him losing his ever-present cool, so Eames defies self-preservation instinct and pulls him aside with stern, bracing words, with a firm grip and a level voice, Get a hold of yourself, I fucking mean it. The fact that this actually works is categorically unexpected.

After all this time, Arthur has too much pride to simply ask Eames to have sex with him. A story in which the job isn't always glamourous, Cobb thinks Arthur makes poor life decisions, and Eames steals everything (including, maybe, Arthur's heart).

"Wait," says John. "Go over that again, the part about somatosensory stimulation?" He's not a neural specialist, but they don't let you graduate med school without learning a thing or two about the parietal lobe, and he's not at all sure he wants Sherlock using him as a subject for tactile sensation experiments. Particularly if they involve the removal of his trousers.

Jim's pretty sure he's got mutiny right now. He's got a lapful of mutiny.

Rodney's got a predicament. John figures that he should give his best friend a helping hand. (AKA the one where both of Rodney's wrists are broken.)

"Hey. I'm going to the mall with Meg. Apparently we need to do some girly bonding."

The swat Steve aims at his ass in retaliation is equally playful, but like a switch tripped Tony's brain flips from light-hearted fun times before they head home to wanting something that'll keep them both working late.

After pining for longer than he'd care to admit, Arthur asks Merlin out and gets more than he expected.

Neal decides to become Elizabeth's best friend and gets more than he bargained for.

"Don't worry, Neal. If you're good, I'll ask Peter to fuck you when he gets home."

He lights a cigarette across the pub, his hand cupped to his mouth as the tip sparks to life in a faint orange flare, and my breath catches.

These moments, these secret meetings -- they’re borrowed, Eames knows this. He’ll take it if it means he gets to taste Arthur, to have him say Eames’s name like he can’t help it escaping him. He’ll take any scraped out time he can get just to feel Arthur’s hungry hands on his body.

It was always the same excuse.

Harry wished he didn't respond to Malfoy this way, wished his self-control wasn't reduced to nothing the second Malfoy touched him.

Over the years, plenty of people had offered their bodies to Sherlock. He had never accepted, and never planned to. But John was the first person who had ever offered his mind as well.

In the midst of a very dull summer, Arthur wheedles his way into a bar and into Eames's pants. Cobb despairs.

Eames's dealings with Arthur over the last couple weeks have been limited to text messages about how senior year is kicking his arse and, on one occasion, a phone call that ended with Arthur getting himself off in a study carrel in his school library. The poor thing really does deserve a break.

As promised many moons ago: a coda where Arthur, freshly legal and bearing baked goods, shows up at Eames’s door.

Mike is tired of Harvey acting like he couldn’t find his own dick with both hands and a map. He's a grown man, goddammit.

When John had RSVP’d his invite to Ronon and Amelia’s wedding, he’d signed it John and Nancy Sheppard. When Rodney RSVP’d to Ronon, there had been no other name on the card.

Written for the prompt: "Eleven fucks Amy while Rory watches. Rory's turned on rather than jealous."

The entire female population of Sunnydale has turned into rampant lesbian nymphomaniacs, and only the Magic Penis of Re-orientation can save the day!

Arthur’s face shifts from interrogatory focus to something soft and slack and longing, almost within a bare second.

This isn't an old theory assignment; that much was clear from the instant Eames pulled it out, folded unevenly, from where it had been pressed between the pages of Thayer's dreary Beethoven tome.

Eames runs a porn studio, and has a very inconvenient crush on their newest bottom.