Has there ever been any ILX slash fiction?

BEST BIT OF SLASH EVAH!

(i'm soooooooooooo going to regret this)
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"Why couldn’t you just do it?"

Sexual Air Supply turns, and Colin S Barrow is there, standing behind him. Watching him, and Colin S Barrow’s eyes are wide like Gaz’s.

"Do what?" Sexual Air Supply carefully keeps his voice even, measured, because that’s the way Faramir is. Stoic. Calm. Separate. The last of which comes naturally from joining the cast so late in filming. But he can live with that.

Colin S Barrow takes a step forward. It’s only one step, but Sexual Air Supply gets the distinct feeling that his personal space is being breached. He doesn’t need this right now. He’s tired, they’re just outside his trailer, and all he wants is a hot drink and a relaxing bath.

"All you had to do was hook the damn ring," Colin S Barrow continues, walking closer, and no, Sexual Air Supply definitely does not want to be having this conversation. Colin S Barrow finally stops, inches away from him and about twenty steps too close; he looks up at Sexual Air Supply, and his eyes flash in the evening half-light around them. "You had to call in your double for that? Was it really so hard?"

"It’s not that," Sexual Air Supply begins, and then stops. Tries again. "I just didn’t want to --"

"Touch me?" Colin S Barrow says, and Sexual Air Supply has to grip on to the trailer wall to stop from... reacting. Not sure what that reaction might be, only that he knew he shouldn’t do it. Separate, his mind repeats. Method acting, remember.

"I didn’t want to touch you with the sword," Sexual Air Supply answers, keeping his voice level. "That’s all."

"Because it’s dangerous," Colin S Barrow says deliberately. Steps closer.

Sexual Air Supply stares at him, and forgets to be Faramir. "Yes."

Colin S Barrow just looks at him.

"I know," Colin S Barrow says, softly, and then he moves forward and Sexual Air Supply doesn’t move away, and then Sexual Air Supply forgets about separation and method acting because Colin S Barrow’s mouth is on his, and he’s kissing Colin S Barrow back.

They stumble backwards, and somehow manage to get into Sexual Air Supply’s trailer without breaking contact. Sexual Air Supply pushes the door closed and nudges Colin S Barrow up against it, holds him there to kiss him more thoroughly; Colin S Barrow arches against him, pressing them together, so close, such heat --

Then his mind catches up with him and Sexual Air Supply suddenly jerks away. Colin S Barrow’s eyes snap open, startled; and in the darkness within the trailer Sexual Air Supply looks at Colin S Barrow and is reminded how young he actually is. And how they shouldn’t be doing this, what they just did, because Colin S Barrow can’t possibly know what he wants.

"I can’t," Sexual Air Supply manages, slightly breathless.

"That’s what you said today on set," Colin S Barrow says swiftly. "But there’s no one else here now. Just you and me." He pauses. "You either do it yourself, or you don’t."

"This can get complicated, and you know exactly what I mean," Sexual Air Supply retorts. It’s too dark, and he reaches out to feel for the light switch on the wall, but Colin S Barrow catches him by the wrist, and holds him back. Doesn’t let go.

"Dave," Colin S Barrow says softly.

Just a word, his name, and it’s nothing complicated at all. It’s just Colin S Barrow. Asking him.

"Someone could possibly get hurt," Sexual Air Supply finally says, very quietly.

Colin S Barrow leans in, tilts his face upwards, and Sexual Air Supply closes his eyes as he feels the gentle brush of Colin S Barrow’s lips against his own.

"You’ll never know until you try," Colin S Barrow whispers back.

I would pay the bills, if you need to go private.

Is this like a 12-step program or something?

Start them on Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays when I'm here to share!

Humph!

“I have to go.” Markelby swallowed as the Scot's lips grazed his shoulder. “I was about to get dressed.”

His companion didn’t reply, but one hand glided from Markelby's waist across his hip to his buttocks. Markelby's slightly accelerated breathing turned abruptly to laboured pants as one long finger traced the cleft, from the base of his spine to just behind his balls and back again.

“It won't take long,” Marcello said in an accented whisper. His other hand insinuated itself smoothly between Markelby's thighs, urging them farther apart. “And then you’ll be warm.”

Markelby didn’t protest, closing his eyes and gripping the edge of the sink for support as the strong hands spread him. A finger probed carefully inside, and he felt his companion’s mouth curve against his back in a smile.

“You are still wet here,” Marcello said. “From the first time.”

Markelby nodded. He hadn’t had time to clean up yet. He hadn’t even much wanted to. With women he was careful to shower afterward, to scrub away all traces of sex, to go out into the daylight clean and fresh and pristine. With men the sex was even messier, and yet he always felt oddly reluctant to rid himself of its evidence. Strange, he thought fleetingly. Sex with men was dangerous, forbidden, crazy. He might lose everything if people knew. But many times he had lain sated beside men whose names he hadn’t asked, massaging their sperm into his belly, clenching his muscles in a futile attempt to hold it inside him. It was all he could have of them, after all.

Marcello was entering him slowly, the hard hot flesh piercing him, soothing him. He heard Marcello mutter something. He couldn’t understand the words, only the fervent pleasure in their tone. Perhaps he was being told how tight he was, how good he felt, how Marcello would like to spend eternity fucking him. He shuddered, and bent forward slightly, providing Marcello a better angle.

His companion accepted the offer with a grateful moan, sliding in further until Markelby felt the soft tickle of hair against his ass. Then there was a cessation of movement, a pause in which Marcello gripped him tightly around the waist, stroking the soft skin there with a gentleness that contrasted strangely with the sharp, hungry bites he bestowed on Markelby's neck and shoulders. There was pain and pleasure and sweet, sweet fullness, and Markelby closed his eyes and held fiercely to it all. Perfection was so fragile, and so brief.

Who needs Albion Fic?

Just for RickyT.

Or would that be putting the cat amoung the pidgeons to ask?

"I'm gonna use this to get girls pregnant", he said with a coquettish wink.

FEAR

!!!!!!!!!

Like any of it is, obviously.

I happened upon that story when i was like 12 and it almost made me bawl :(

Some time ago, I ahem "found" this site full of appalling goth/vampire er "stories". should I look it up and do a cut & paste on one of them?

(I vaguely remember Momus writing a short ned raggett/bbby gllsp piece on some distant thread)

What's terrifying about the m0rriss3y/1mr4n kh4n slash is that the url was published in the nme. gaaaaaaah. (and the lj community is called 'sleeping with the nme'. ahh, bless em.)

They so want to paint my toenails, Peter Ackroyd references and all, why are they so rubbish? Life just isn't fair.

Mmm, this wine is tasty. I heart my boss. Drinking at work is always bad news, I know, but this wine is yummy.

*rubs sore arse*

Momus meekly complied, turning to face the shower spray. He winced visibly as the pounding water hit his bruised chest like a solid punch. Winced... and moaned. A shiver of pleasure rippled through John at Momus's reaction, and he found himself reaching up and around to pull at Momus's nipples. Screw getting clean, he thought, we can do that later. Momus arched his back in pleasure as John once again began to inflict the delicious pain, his face lifting to the spray like a spring flower to an April rainfall. "John," he gasped, "please..." He trailed off a moment to discreetly spit out the water that had dripped into his mouth. "I need you..." John' reply was a sharp tug at his nipples. Momus cried out in desperate lust. "Please! I need you!" He was begging now, voice cracking as he forced the words through a newly-dry mouth.

"So Toby", he said. "Tell me about Maths."

"Well Mark", Toby replied, grinning at the thought of past revelations and what the forthcoming night may hold. "When I rub my nipples around and around like this, in tiny concentric circles, the formula is x to the power 14 x 100 over 50.3 recurring integral cosine new Roll Deep album is rubbish Justus Kohnke schaffelmovie divided by six. See, Anna understands."

"Oh", Mark replied dejectedly. When I play with my nipples I always get depressed."

"That's because you've got the formula wrong", Toby replied. "Here, let me have a go."

Mark sat there for a minute, experiencing the sensual overload as
Toby's experienced fingers did their work.

"Wow!" Mark, said, again and again as Toby's nimble fingers gently brought him to climax. "I haven't felt pleasure like this since Coops scored his 16th goal against West Friggsbury Albion!"

"Oi!" Dave B shouted, barging into the tender scene at the least opportune moment. "And I suppose you know that the Friggers would've won that game had Thatcher not systemtatically worn them down, gyrating up and down on their tender, unsuspecting loins time and time again, before every game?! Are you surprised they couldn't run with that viscious harpy affecting them?"

"Actually", Pete butted in, "my best friend once had sex with Margaret Thatcher. Apparently she had a huge strapon that in the 80s had the power to control Dave Clarke, and hence levels of sewage in Deptford."

Massed audience: "Aaaaaaah. Of course! We know this is true because Pete told us! Come! Let us all indulge in rampant frotagging because the bar billiards table is broken and there is no karaoke bar within walking distance! Oooh. Aaah. Oh, yes, give it to me. Hang on, why is no one having sex here?"

Tom (Walking in late): "Because you're all COCKISTS!"

Assembled naked throng: "Ahahahahahahahahahhhaaaaa!!!!" *cue dirty rumpy pumpy*

And so, everyone had sex with one another, and lived happily ever after, until Gareth appeared half an hour later.

Gareth: "So, dudes, where's the bars at?"
Crumpled sated lump: "Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"
Gareth: "Aaah. Furk this, I'm going back to SF to hang out with Adam and Gygax. You're all so boring!"

the surface noise, fragile protection, and Nicole TOTALLY own this thread, so much so that I had to put their names in bold. fragile protection, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE extend your story into a three-parter!! And fp and Nicole, PLEASE write more slashfic, whether it be with other ILXors or others, period.

(BTW, this story is a perfect example of the fan community slashfic I'm used to. Maybe it can be adapted to serve the purpose of this thread... ?)

BTW -- Matt, babe, sorry but your attempt at slashfic was TERRIBLE.

No, I kid, I kid...but you're all going to feel terrible tomorrow morning!

whether it projected a novel dimension to fan desire NOT catered to in the object, or unveiled a deep one unconsciously present in the object, this essence wz the source of its (early) power, surely?

Have I told you this before? I'm not drunk you know, I just can't remember what it was that I said.

So anyway, I went down there..."

Who writes it does count for something, yes. But I can't imagine who could write slash about Anna/Sarah/Colette/Vicky/etc. that would make it seem as harmless and non-violating as Matt's piece above.

Martin - I think the general litmus test is whether it just feels pervy rather than funny. I can't imagine any female-based slashfic that would work really, unless it was written by women and written very well indeed.

Dee - yeah, I think that was less slashfic and more one protracted injoke.

Of course, what we're getting here is mostly PWP (plot? what plot?) i.e. straight-to-the-smut fics. Slash is at its most enjoyable when it's a *story*, and *shows* how these disparate souls realize their attraction to one another, how they then manage to get together, risking rejection, ridicule, and possible smacking. The sex is almost secondary to the character development in the best slash.

I have just imagined a way of writing about a particular pair of ILX women in a way that would be funny more than pervy, but I don't propose to name them (except I was out with one of them this evening) or suggest anyone tries it.

"Whatever you want, Colin. Whatever you want is fine with me." The unsought permission given, Captain Controversy still could not resist a tiny suspicion which wormed into his mind.

Did you want this all along, Henry? Is that why you volunteered, because you wanted me to screw you? If that's what you wanted, my lad, it looks very much as if you're going to get your wish.

He bent and buried his face in the warm bulge at the Hornster's groin, lightly biting down through the briefs and eliciting soft whimpers from the other man. Then, when he had reduced Henry to a state of quivering anticipation, to a lust-hazed loose-limbed sprawl of semi-coherence, Controversial Colin drew back, sat up, and under Horny Henry's intense and questioning scrutiny, drew down the zip of his trousers and opened his fly.

Which demonstrates what we always knew, C4l*m is in love with himself. The wanker.

I always thought that it was because the best slash is really total self projection, it's a way of projecting your own thoughts, desires and impulses into the Fantasy World. (Good fan fiction always says more about the fan than about the fiction.) In most of these worlds, be it Sci Fi, or more commonly the Rock'N'Roll world, the available female archetypes are so freaking lame (I mean, what are the female roles in rock? groupie? PR?) that in order to project the self into the story in an interesting way, you end up identifying with the male. The homosexual nature of slash is almost an accident. It's more about the feminine side of a masculine world.

Anyway... carry on...

I guess the men are scared about coming off as pervertalists, even though the women are actually secretly offended that no one *has* slahed them.

(What? Am I just not sexy enough? ::cries::)

(haha wow two unintentionally horrible puns in one sentence A WINNER IS ME)

I avoided doing anything w/this, b/c I don't want to come across (come across haha) as a pervertalist.

Nevertheless, some of the stuff posted here has made me laugh a lot, which was a pleasant surprise.

"Thank you," said Markelby, still breathing heavily, "i'm revived."

Funnily, the popslash and mediaslash worlds were much divided for a long time - most media slashers looked with horror on "real people slash" (i.e. actors rather than characters) - this has changed to an extent, mainly due to a lot of on-the-set-of-A-Certain-Film-Trilogy stories becoming popular. RPS is still fairly controversial - for those media slashers who read it at all, it's mostly a guilty pleasure - but it's making inroads.

Matt’s very confused, as he walks with Stevem and no Alba, out the doorway and into the street. Stevem never says no to him when he looks at him like that, not even when Matt wants him to do something like dance on a table in some random pub so Matt can take pictures and pretend to stuff pound-notes he doesn’t actually have into his waistband. Not that he’d ever make Stevem do anything like that.
Maybe it’s just a Stevem thing, the not saying no, because Alba just did, he said it more than once, actually, and didn’t even weaken when Matt called him a treacherous dog, abandoning his comrades in their hour of need. So it’s just them, just him and Stevem and the rain.

Stevem’s arms are looped around his neck, hands linked loosely, head back on Matt’s shoulder. Matt’s arm’s around his waist, hand curled at his side, Stevem’s skin all nice and warm where his shirt’s ridden up, and Matt’s chilled fingers dig in a bit, trying to hide from the rain.

“Matt?” Stevem whispers, and Matt stops elbowing people out of the way, pausing under a lamp post to look at him.
“Yeah?”
“Right. Just checking.”

I can't believe I just said "Totoro's cock"!!!

"Tell me more about the Lacanian references in that Godard film, Theorry," Mouthy was saying.

THIS THREAD IS JUST WOW

I seriously thought this would have been another Gershy revive.

;_;

Your judgment is correct, though.

I stay away from these types of things because my first impulse is to go after the disturbing for comedic effect which then results in some poor innocent ILXor getting cut-n-pasted into "Yuffie's Chocobo" and then it's tears until June.

I am still tempted to do this, btw.

My goodness, I only just noticed jim's Colin S Barrow extravaganza. I don't recall seeing this at the time! It's really quite a nicely turned little piece of erotica. Steamy.

DELETE ILX.

Sorry, I actually mean DELETE ALL OF ILX EXCEPT THIS THREAD.

haha

i swear there's more than one ilx slash thread tho.

I happened upon that story when i was like 12 and it almost made me bawl :(

This is still one of the funniest posts ever.

this is a TERRIBLE IDEA.

-- Pashmina (Pashmina), Thursday, September 23, 2004 3:43 AM (3 years ago) Bookmark Link

qft

apparently i'm not that good at search and replace. who is dave??

Still awaiting gradski/curtis pairing.

http://www.ilxor.com/ILX/ThreadSelectedControllerServlet?boardid=77&threadid=65802

o 77