lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
[personal profile] lb_lee
So.  One of my flist is snarking Anita Blake, Vampire Humper Hunter, by Laurell K. Hamilton.  For those who aren't familiar with the series, it started as a mediocre urban fantasy series, and then halfway through morphed into a really bad urban fantasy porno series.  Badly researched BDSM, men with ridiculously large penises, incompetent writing, one-way poly, and more creepy consent gray areas than I can shake a stick at.

One of my friends said that he thought he could write better porn, and he didn't write.  I added that I thought I could write better porn, and I'm a prude.

You see where this is going?  I'm sure you do.  I have decided that I am going to write porn, for the good of us all!  And I am going to do it better than Laurell K. Hamilton.

So yeah.  Give me a prompt, and I will write porn of it.  Be as thorough or vague as you want.

There are some things I have too big of squicks for to write convincingly.  They are:
  • rape/dubious consent
  • children
  • guro/vore
  • Nazis (or insert Terrifying Oppressor here)
So make me write porn, guys!  And I'll do it better than Hamilton!

(Comments screened, unless you ask me to do otherwise.) Man, you guys are shameless perverts! *laughs* Unscreened comments.

Smooth-Dressed Criminal part one

Date: 2011-03-12 07:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lb-lee.livejournal.com
For the prompt: "A fashionable criminal fucks a innocent musician through the glass. It must involve gun play and jewlery."

Smooth-Dressed Criminal

Don Signori Rozzi was the ruler of the Fashion Mob circuit. Nobody snuck so much as a single knock-off Calvin and Hobbes T-shirt into the Martian city-state of New Burroughs without his say-so. The world of fashion theft and trademark violations quaked in his iron grip. If you were accosted by a tentacled Venusian hawking Roolex watches and Pravda bags, chances were it had gone through Don Signori Rozzi.

Rozzi took his duties immensely seriously. With the number of alien species wandering New Burroughs, some able to shoot laser beams and plow through brick walls, his position required more than just shrewd cunning and unquestionable fashion authority. The only thing quicker than his draw with a ray gun was his temper.

One day, Rozzi got word from one of his police sympathizers that some punk rock star was walking around with a knock-off Tiffany necklace that wasn't his. Naturally, Rozzi was rather upset at this unceremonious breach of underworld etiquette, and so took it upon himself to explain the situation to the young man and make it clear that it wasn't to happen again.

It was the work of a moment to get the lad tossed into an interrogation room on account of drug posession--he was a musician, after all, and a few greased palms, and Don Signori Rozzi had gotten himself a half-hour appointment with the star behind one-way glass.

"Nice rocks," he told the musician.

The musician fingered the diamonds and winked at him. "That's nothing," he said. "You should see the ones in my pants."

Rozzi raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of knock-off jewelry you're carrying there."

The musician shoved his chair back and started unzipping his pants, waggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky that I have some very impressive collateral to pay with..."

Rozzi was unimpressed. A man of his stature was offered bodies of all shapes, sizes, and species. He decided the star needed help getting focused, and took his ray gun from its holster, resting his gun hand idly on the table.

"Keep this up, and it won't be impressive for long."

The musician grinned. Then he threw himself across the desk. Through old reflex, Rozzi automatically aimed, and the boy caught the ray gun in his hands, running his tongue across the barrel.

"Trust me, man," he told the gangster, "I'll soothe your hurt feelings."

Rozzi happened to be very attached to his raygun. And the sight of a young man's mouth on his equipment... well. It struck a nerve in him. Within five minutes, he had the rock star up against the one-way glass, growling.

The musician laughed and wriggled, and didn't seem to be getting the correct idea at all. But his body was young and lithe, and damned if Rozzi hadn't been busy with work recently...

"C'mon," the kid laughed, pressing back against him. "You can teach me a better lesson than that..."

And then somehow the kid's pants were coming down, and Rozzi had to admire the kid's single-mindedness, being able to get his pants down while pressed up against a wall.

Then Rozzi thought. He smiled. It was not a smile that put a person at ease; when the young man saw it in the reflection of the glass, he almost stopped laughing.

"A lesson," Rozzi said, grinding against the musician's ass.

The boy gasped and nodded, panting. "Now you're getting it," he said, pushing back. "Come on, I've got lube..."

Rozzi chuckled. If there was something more unnerving than his smile, it was his laugh. He reached down and went through the musician's pockets, and sure enough, there was a tube in one of them. He fished it out, looked it over (Tentalube? Really?) and tossed it over his shoulder.

Smooth-Dressed Criminal part two

Date: 2011-03-12 07:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lb-lee.livejournal.com

The boy froze.

"What's your name, kid?" Rozzi asked.

"You don't know it?"

"You think I got nothing better to do than keep track of punk rock stars?" Rozzi growled, digging his fingers into a bony shoulder. "Your name."

The boy shudered. "Lonnie."

"Lonnie," Rozzi said. "Okay. I don't think you understand the situation you're currently in. You aren't getting any lube. And you aren't getting any satisfaction." He grabbed the kid's hands and pinned them against the glass. "Because this is a lesson. Do we have comprehension?"

Still panting, Lonnie nodded.

"Good." And Rozzi undid his belt and slid between the kid's thighs, still held together by his pants.

Lonnie writhed. "What, come on, no..."

"Lesson, Lonnie," Rozzi purred, finding a comfortable rhythm. "Lesson..."

Lonnie thrashed against the weight pinning him to the glass, arching his back, trying to get some stimulation. It only succeeded in giving Rizzo a better angle.

"I can keep this up all damn day," Rizzo said conversationally, trying not to smile.

"C'mon..." Lonnie whined, bucking his hips. "You can't do this to me--"

Rizzo shoved him flat against the glass and kept moving. "You're on my turf, flaunting my rules, kid. I can do to you whatever I want."

The kid struggled against the hand on the back of his neck, trying to press his cock against the glass, but he couldn't get anywhere. "Yeah, but you were supposed to do something else, Jesus! This is torture."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're a sadist!"

"Mm-hmm."

"Goddamn you, let me come!"

Rizzo chuckled and quickened his tempo. "No."

Lonnie fought and flailed and whimpered and whined. Don Signori Rizzo only chortled and watched his face in the reflection of the one-way glass, his fingers dig into the wall. Once, Lonnie threw an elbow back, but that only got him shoved harder against the glass with his arm twisted up his back.

That got Lonnie to stop pleading and squeak instead. When he started squirming differently, Rizzo only assumed that it was in renewed desperation, but when the noises in the kid's throat started hitting the high end of volume and range, he realized something else was happening.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He purred, working smoothly between the boy's legs.

The sound that got out of Lonnie was pure arousal and frustrastion.

"Too bad for you." And with that, Rizzo began pounding the boy in earnest, grinding him into the wall, enjoying every desperate back-thrust, every squeak of need.

Then Lonnie threw his head back, eyes wide with shock. His thighs clenched, he gasped, and he came against the wall.

That was enough of a surprise that Rizzo stopped.

"Hm. That hasn't happened before," he remarked.

Lonnie only slumped against the wall, panting.

"You have to find better ways of getting my attention, kid. There are less dramatic ways of making sure I notice you."

Lonnie gave him a cocky grin over his shoulder. "What, and spoil the fun? Like you didn't know my name before. Besides. I know you like the jewelry."

"Uh huh." Rizzo tucked himself back into his pants, let the boy go, and Lonnie's knees collapsed under him. "See you next tour?"

"Don't you always? Hey, aren't you going to come?"

"Nope." Don Signori Rizzo reached over and yanked the necklace. It snapped from Lonnie's neck easily, dropping a few fake diamonds to the floor, and he tucked it into his pocket. "Enjoy the bright lights."

"Enjoy the dark alleys."

And Rizzo left the interrogation room, feeling diamonds under his fingers.

Re: Smooth-Dressed Criminal part two

Date: 2011-03-13 04:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hpcathrine.livejournal.com
Sqeee! This was awesome. Thank you so much! Totally random plot but it worked so well.
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