FIC: "You Gotta Go There To Come Back" 1/1 (Supernatural FP)

Title: "You Gotta Go There To Come Back" 1/1
Author: Brenda
Fandom: 'Supernatural'
Featuring: Sam and Dean Winchester (gen-fic)
Rating: PG
Summary: Moments of normal.
Disclaimer: Never happened. All rights belong to Eric Kripke, Wonderland Productions and the WB, not me.
Notes: Title blatantly ripped off from the album of the same name by Stereophonics. All hail the glorious cupiscent for the most excellent beta (and for the smack on the head when I got all anal on her), and for the_stowaway, who only laughed at me a hundred times instead of the thousand I deserved.

(  The air is resonant with the things you do not say, but then, secrets are different from lies... )

FIC: "Paying the Bet" 1/1 (Football RPS)

Title: "Paying the Bet" 1/1
Author: Brenda
Fandom: Football RPS
Pairing: Matt Hasselbeck/Ben Roethlisberger
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Matt collects. Takes place immediately after this. (written by Jo.)
Disclaimer: Never happened, isn't happening now.
Author's notes: Why stop a good thing? I mean, really. *grins*


"So..."

"So." The sound of the lock tumbling into place is eerily loud in the suddenly too-quiet hotel suite. In the distance – feels like a million miles away – both can hear the subtle crashing of the waves. The room is illuminated with only moon, but neither suggests turning on a light. What would be the point, when they already have each other memorized? Blue eyes, normally so easy-going, laidback, bore into hazel ones with the intensity of a predator. "No backing out...right?"

"No." Calloused fingers rub once through a somewhat straggly goatee, then drop. The time for play is over. "Tell me where you want me."

The smile is slow, arrogant, and filled wicked glee. "Naked. On your knees."

The only reaction at first is a stuttered, quick intake of breath. Then, a slight nod, an even slighter curve of lips, and nimble fingers start unthreading the buttons of a truly loud print shirt. Cool eyes, dark with lust and possession, rake over strong arms, a bare chest, muscled hips. Once all clothing's been cast carelessly aside, they both look at each other for a long moment that stretches into infinity.

And, finally, comes the dull thud of knees hitting the carpet.