It kept warm enough through the night, and they messed around like usual. Jack spread himself wide with hands and a smile, and Ennis thrust into him like a racehorse, panting with the exertion. They made a sweaty pile under the blankets after. No care for the dampness. So when the morning wind cracked through the sparse trees and came at them through the tent walls, they nearly bruised each other, shivering and chattering away so close.

Marcus is one of the poorest liars Esca has ever encountered. There's no subtlety in him and no guile. He lies only when he thinks he must, for honour's sake, and even then he does it with a stiff discomfort which is entirely obvious to Esca's eyes. So when, one summer evening, their idle talk turns to the subject of women, Esca sees Marcus' desire to lie form before he even opens his mouth to speak, tension running stiff up his shoulders and colour climbing into his throat.

Steve and Danny get thrown into a storage locker. Steve gets bored.

Kon bursts back into the loft then, handing soda cans all around. Cassie lights up at the sight of him grinning at them both. At least one of them isn't nervous. But why would Kon be? He's the one who asked them to do this in an eager email that said I have a plan that will solve all our problems!!! and another two minutes later: SEX.

"We are one in Eywa, all of us-- and only one when we are three," Neytiri finishes, the low melodic words making Jake's heart ache deep in his chest. "Eywa cares only for the balance, even when strange things must happen to preserve it."

“You gonna keep staring like that all night, soldier, or are you gonna come over here and do something about it?” She’s grinning as she stares right back at Brad, bright and sharp like a slice of sunlight in the room; arrogant and cocky and a little bit crazy, not to mention gorgeous as hell. Fuck it, Brad has been staring, and he’ll be fucked if he’s gonna back down now.

He lies between them, quiet as a wall keeping them together rather than apart, quiet as a dam or a natural disaster. James and him. It had always been James and Sirius since he remembers, since time itself began, really, until the tip of his tongue became so used to both sounds spoken at the same time that Sirius began to mistake one for the other, began to say “James” when what he really meant was “me”.

The fire crackles in a pleasant counterpoint to the torrent of rain upon the glass, and Watson awkwardly clears his throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is a disgraceful rasp. "I'm so sorry, Holmes."

“Jesusfuck,” Brad moans, shifting. He manages to get his hands on Nate’s tits, Nate’s perky little nipples rubbing against his palms. The feeling of that and Nate’s warm pussy through the panties clashes with the thought of Nate’s dirty face in Iraq, the cock under his cammies, thick and red at the tip, fucking beautiful.

Green catches the king's eye first, of course, for Green is tall and fair and dresses above his station.

I have heard it said - by men discussing the news in crowded train carriages; by ladies queuing by the banker's desk - that the genius of Sherlock Holmes cannot be real; that it must be an exaggeration of my making, or else an illusory work of smoke and mirrors.

He can hear her father down on the couch, snoring. She had snuck Jax through the living room quietly, almost a joke because they both knew he wasn't going to wake up. Deep sleep of a whiskey lunch, same everyday.

He can taste it on her breath when he kisses her, just a hint of the swig he saw her take after fourth period from the flask hidden in her backpack.

They are going to do this one time, and one time only.

Nate tells Brad as much, but Brad just quirks one side of his mouth and keeps on fiddling with the camera. It’s an instant Polaroid camera, clearly old, bulky and clunky against Brad’s long hands. Brad’s very gentle with it as he checks the settings.

He's even developing a math fetish between the number 69 and the way McGee pants out, "Oh, oh, OH!" when Tony's fingers stroke against him in just the right way. Treble-o-heaven, thinks Tony. So much better than Bond.

Jack's not really sure what he's looking for in some dirty, backwards bar in Iowa of all places, but he's on break from Starfleet Academy, and the last thing he wants to do is visit Gilboa so his father can frown at his grades and tell him they're unacceptable for the future King.

There’s a soreness in Sam’s chest as he thinks of yelling at the side of the road, Dean’s face closing tight over his terror, and the memory of rising flame blurs his eyes. Some men are too many parts monster to be saved, and Sam might still be one of them.

He wants to make her feel good, like she could take off running and fly. But more than that, he wants her to feel safe with him. Tidwell knows his reputation with women sucks, and maybe he's not the best person for the job, but he's the one Dani's letting in and, fuck it, he's stepping up to the plate. She's worth it, even if she doesn't think so.

"I always feel so much more limber after lesbian sex," said Jane, stretching.

"I don't know why," Susan said snappishly. "It's not like you were doing anything anyway. You were just twiddling your fingers!"

"Susan," Jane said, smiling with a condescension that Susan herself would have been proud of. "That's what it's all about."

He can still taste her, thick salt in the back of his throat like the beginning of grief. When he sleeps, he can still see her smile, liquid light enough to drip sunspots across the back of his eyelids.

Rory’s got a smile for every occasion: the big grin when she makes an obscure movie reference and he gets it, the smirk that means something’s funny but she’s not sure she’s supposed to laugh, the early morning at-the-bus-stop smile that lights up her eyes. And the one she gives him as she leaves at the end of the night, fluttering eyelashes and the corner of her mouth twitching, a smile to hide something else.

Their names and their bodies have changed again, but that has never been how they recognise one another. Meg remembers a time when Ruby was shorter, her hips wider, dimples in her knees. She remembers a slash of red lips, a sleek helmet of jet-black hair, creamy skin and a mole on the soft inside of Ruby's elbow. She remembers scarred wrists and empty eyes; bodies so worn out and abused it was more trouble than it was worth trying to hold them together.

They don't bring other guys in. They just ... this isn't their deal. It's just the three of them, Shaun and Zach and Cody, and the wide writhing ocean only a few blocks from home maybe counts as a fourth.

Bonnie's dead and Scarlett's lost and there's nothing more to play for but amusement; and, with Ashley, gentleness yields the most amusing results imaginable.

Fresh out of the shower, he stood before his full length mirror, admiring his body. God, he was buff. So very hot.

"Do you want a spoiler?" she asks, lips whisper-light against his.

"I thought that was against the rules?"

"It is. I'm feeling naughty."

The Doctor catches her wrist and kisses it. "I like the sound of that."

Good girls don’t, she knows, but that’s not really why she doesn’t. There’s no time, and she wants time, hours and hours, wants to savor it, and lie in Dean’s arms afterwards and talk about nothing in particular and feel his laughter under her c

She rode him like she was the one wearing the cowboy hat and boots. As a matter of fact, toward the end, she did put on his hat, and kicked her heels into his ribs to spur him on.

It's not wrong if they're not who they are.

If Simon is not Simon, but someone else - a dancing-master, boot heels clicking on the deck of the ship they're traveling to a competition on. Not Serenity, not fugitives, just a holiday to Sihnon.

Except Shawn chose just that moment to start grinding back against him, and Carlton prayed that Shawn wasn't really psychic. "Ooh, Gary!" Shawn half-moaned in the same falsetto he used to badly imitate Juliet. "You big, strong man, you."

"I think you call it a 'package'. Which doesn't make any sense, because you don't actually send it anyw--"

"Ziva, it's just a saying." He found a wing, took a bite out of it. It crunched deliciously. "So. How does his package compare?"

It's the first U-Day in the history of Mal that it's come to be evening and he's not yet found a tavern brawl to instigate. He blames Kaylee, who has a way of lookin' at a man wheedlin'-like...

“Can I–can I touch you?” Dean’s breath is warm on her face, his kisses damp on her neck.

10 PM, Saturday night in his truck. Parking. Rory didn’t mean to, exactly. But she’s become a kissing addict, and he’s Dean.

"Tell me you got me some chocolate." Sam pulled out a gigantic Hershey's bar from the bag with a capable smile.

...asking him not to take a bet when Sheppard was insinuating with the jut of his hip and the peculiar quality of his smirk that Rodney was chicken, bock-bock chicken, well, such things weren't to be borne, not by geniuses...

"Dean. If the next words out of your mouth are, 'let me show you', I will rip your dick off with my bare hands and put it somewhere really high up so you can't reach it."

"What did she do?" Leoben asked. Dodging the cluttered coffee table, Leoben turned in his arms and kissed him. "Everything." "Liar." Leoben laughed. "Which time?" "Before she killed you," he said, raking his fingers up his sides.

“And you, Master Falhurst, are not quite as loquacious as our good friends. Indeed, you are the antithesis of garrulous… the converse of conversational…” Geoffrey smiles and scratches his armpit. “You don’t talk very much.”

The first time she meets him, she kicks his ass at pool. Halfway through the game, she realizes he’s a hustler, too, and it makes the victory all the sweeter to see that stunned expression on his face.

The first con they ever pull together is a Rocks in a Box, only the rocks they’re playing with are emeralds and there aren’t any boxes involved.

"B." A puff of air on the skin just above her hip. It isn't a caress.

People say you can’t exist outside your own skin but what if you have more than one and none of them fits perfectly?

"Adren - adrenaline," he manages - too weak and too late, but it's a whole word, almost a whole excuse - and then Sheppard does smile. But it's the wrong sort of smile entirely, predatory and honey-slow and his thigh does shift...

He's something of an expert on restraining someone, so he doesn’t cut off the bloodflow, but he considers it.

Kara's good at doing a lot of things one-handed. Pyramid. Flying. Smoking stogies. Jerking off the CAG.

Clark falls in love.

Lex used a pencil to outline his eyes in black. "So you want me to buy off the Planet," he said, his voice cold, attention on his face.