ext_61138 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
http://users.livejournal.com/_elvie/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2008-03-27 03:05 am
http://users.livejournal.com/_elvie/) wrote in crack_van2008-03-27 03:05 am
Entry tags:
Not The First Time by ELG (NC-17)
Fandom: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
Pairing: Chris/Vin
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elgrey
Author Website: see above
Why this must be read: This is absolutely extraordinary. Vin spends the night with Chris, expecting sex and nothing more, and gets much more than he bargained for. So does the reader - ELG shows a wonderful grasp of character, history and dialogue. We also get hotness, swoon-worthy but never OTT intimations of love and above all an exquisitely beautiful writing style. So good, it makes me feel giddy!
It’s a shock – Chris’s mouth on his, the urgency even more so; a hand in his hair, the stroke of a thumb along the line of his cheekbone, eyes gazing into his with such intensity, and that mouth on his, hungry and tender at once. Chris’s stubble is a rasp against his own and Vin realizes he’s never been kissed by a man before, never felt stubble against his jaw. This isn’t how it’s done, not with a man when the dust of the range is still drying on sweat-darkened skin at the end of a long, hard day in the saddle. It’s done almost silently, hard and fast in the darkness, usually in a stall with an elbow out to keep the horse off, braced between two kinds of wood, without kissing – always without kissing – or any touching except for the necessary to get both parties hard and wanting and in the right position. Sex is the sharp pain fading to a pleasurable friction, rapid grunting and a pleasure jolt ending with a wet trickle down the thighs; a wince as a man climbs into the saddle the next day; not even always enjoyable, but necessary as breathing, an itch that has to be scratched before too many months have passed. That’s what he consented to when he came here tonight, not in words, certainly, but in the looks they exchanged in the saloon that got hotter and more intimate as the evening progressed and they made their way deeper into the whiskey bottle and every one else in the room receded to the realm of the unimportant. The evening was leaning in close enough to smell the whiskey on Chris’s breath and to realize for the first time that his eyes were greener than a clear sea with the sun on it; to think about how it would feel if they touched, and not disguise the thought, and read it reflected back to him with more humor and more hunger.
Not The First Time
Pairing: Chris/Vin
Author on LJ:
elgreyAuthor Website: see above
Why this must be read: This is absolutely extraordinary. Vin spends the night with Chris, expecting sex and nothing more, and gets much more than he bargained for. So does the reader - ELG shows a wonderful grasp of character, history and dialogue. We also get hotness, swoon-worthy but never OTT intimations of love and above all an exquisitely beautiful writing style. So good, it makes me feel giddy!
It’s a shock – Chris’s mouth on his, the urgency even more so; a hand in his hair, the stroke of a thumb along the line of his cheekbone, eyes gazing into his with such intensity, and that mouth on his, hungry and tender at once. Chris’s stubble is a rasp against his own and Vin realizes he’s never been kissed by a man before, never felt stubble against his jaw. This isn’t how it’s done, not with a man when the dust of the range is still drying on sweat-darkened skin at the end of a long, hard day in the saddle. It’s done almost silently, hard and fast in the darkness, usually in a stall with an elbow out to keep the horse off, braced between two kinds of wood, without kissing – always without kissing – or any touching except for the necessary to get both parties hard and wanting and in the right position. Sex is the sharp pain fading to a pleasurable friction, rapid grunting and a pleasure jolt ending with a wet trickle down the thighs; a wince as a man climbs into the saddle the next day; not even always enjoyable, but necessary as breathing, an itch that has to be scratched before too many months have passed. That’s what he consented to when he came here tonight, not in words, certainly, but in the looks they exchanged in the saloon that got hotter and more intimate as the evening progressed and they made their way deeper into the whiskey bottle and every one else in the room receded to the realm of the unimportant. The evening was leaning in close enough to smell the whiskey on Chris’s breath and to realize for the first time that his eyes were greener than a clear sea with the sun on it; to think about how it would feel if they touched, and not disguise the thought, and read it reflected back to him with more humor and more hunger.
Not The First Time