.cover: "These Men Who Have Flown" by sheafrotherdon; also, alkdsf;lkdjf WANT

[aesc]

.first: HATE COMCAST HATE HATE HATE I WANT PRETTY ANGSTY JOHN RIGHT NOW DAMMIT.

.cover: While writhing in searing torment waiting for my chance to snag the episode, I ventured into Photoshop for the first time in some weeks and doodled out a cover for sheafrotherdon's Iowa!verse fic [These Men Who Have Flown].






I have been having serious creativity issues for the past several weeks. While there's an obvious reason for it, i.e. more stress and work than I'm used to, I rely a lot on MS Word/Moleskine/Photoshop to alleviate some of my tension and that these venues haven't been working has kind of made me even more neurotic than I usually am.

Comments

[siria]

Affection uncoiling in the spaces behind his rib cage, a smooth, warm presence in all the places that had once been grating and hollow; no ache any more but the protest from his jaw, as unfamiliar as the rest of him with all the things Rodney wants to show him, has taught him already.

[aesc.livejournal.com]

Rodney whispers John's name, shattered against his lips, and his fingers tighten in John's hair, and John knows this too, now. He licks up Rodney's cock one last time, a firm, swift stroke that tastes of salt, thumbs pressing into the divots above Rodney's hips, riding hard on the edge of bone.

[siria]

And everything that they are is on edge, too, balanced on a knife edge of feeling that John had always thought perilous, unsafe and uncertain. Now, he's coming to realise is its own kind of thrill, its own reward--that he could have been alone, he could have been just him, but he took the chance and it's him and Rodney now; and Rodney is bitter, welcome salt on John's tongue when he comes.

[sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com]

HI PLEASE TO BE POSTING THIS KATHNAKSBI

[aesc.livejournal.com]

He needs a moment to catch his breath, to catch himself and bring himself back from where he's going--back enough, anyway, to follow Rodney's blurry orders to get up here, to realize that if he doesn't get Rodney's hand on his cock right this second, hedoesn't know what will happen.

[siria]

Maybe he doesn't know what's going to happen anyway. One of Rodney's big hands is a familiar, heavy weight on the back of his neck, while the other curls around John's cock, stroking him with the light touch of callused fingertips that Rodney long ago learned could produce the most interesting of moans.

They've done this a dozen, a hundred times--face to face and belly to belly, breathing one another's breath and passing moans from mouth to mouth -- and this time, like so many others, John feels like he's learning something new, though he doesn't know whether it's about Rodney or himself.