oxoniensis is holding a panfandom Porn Battle in her journal, and I porned for it. Kinda. Actually, I think it's technically après porn, but it fits all three of my fandoms so I went for it. :D

He Likes It, NC-17, Dean/Sam of Supernatural or John/Rodney of SGA or Spike/Xander of Buffy or, I suppose, any pairing you can fit into it.

In the morning, when he wakes, bleary-eyed, there are bruises. He likes that, it takes away the sting of being alone.

This time he doesn't need to convince himself it happened, not when he can still see the grip marks on his thighs.

The bites on his collarbone and neck are turning redbluepurple, throbbing, just a little, with his pulse, and he likes that too. He fiddles with the collar of his shirt until they're barely showing. Barely, but enough that those who see will understand.

He's proud of them, inordinately. He wants to show the world. He can't stop his fingers creeping up to trace, to poke and prod. Every touch, a flash of sense memory to the groin. He's half-hard all day.

By mid-afternoon, he's too sore to sit still. Sore, and sure that everybody knows - it's in their quiet smiles. He doesn't care.

He squirms a little on his chair, presses down just so, and feels the pull and burn between his thighs. The pain is sweet.

Clumsy fingers draw fresh blood to the stain below his ear as he pinches tight and thinks of strong white teeth and slick wet tongue. His breath shivers, then catches at the whisper in his ear.

"Research done? Can we get back to fucking now?"