What characters do you like better in fic than onscreen? Who do you like less in fic?
Hmm.
Smallville's a good one, since both Ma and Pa Kent are generally done a disservice onscreen, so there's a lot of room for a writer to work with.
I like Riley better in fic. I think I like Fred better onscreen, because it's hard to get her right. Tara, too. And characters like Jayne -- so much of Jayne's charm comes from Adam Baldwin's performance.
People like Penknife write interesting stories about Scott Summers, whereas in the X-Men movies, he's not exactly lighting up the screen.
Yes, I've gone diving into the depths of Nikita fanfic again, and I must say, my favorite author has outdone herself.
The following text is likely not safe for perusal at work, and is likely to offend anyone who loves the English language.
Michael told his wife, as he felt his soldiers rising and using an intoxicatingly sexy voice that did little to control the woman’s need, a rumbling voice pronouncing, “Nee-kee-taa!” Scolding a warning to the blonde beauty that purposely burnished his front with her behind.
She smiled an invisible smile to Michael who could not see her face as she innocently asked in an inculpable little girl voice, “What?”
Her tail relentlessly and unequivocally rubbed harder, more sensually against his reluctant appendage, he was determined to rest, he knew what awaited them soon enough. But Nikita, his Nee-kee-ta was unconscionably bold and determinedly wanton, and she knew quite well that she was a remarkable opponent to his better judgement when it came to this relieving of their most primal exigency.
***
“Kita don’t.” He begged, knowing perfectly well that if she did stop he would take over and render her speechless, her hands had plopped out his engorging member and she was busy manhandling it just in the perfect manner.
***
The culmination of the act came slowly for Michael since Nikita seemed to take her time steering him in and out of the lust filled traffic, her mouth busy with the fullness of him and his body tense like a car-fan-belt with the pleasure driven home by the woman. He incorporated himself on the bed, back to the headboard to better watch her body wreath in passion filled ecstasy, sight which compounded his own desire.
(Editorial note: "He incorporated himself"? I guess he wanted to reduce his liability in case of a lawsuit.)
***
And the grand finale:
But she would not allow him to get near her center; she was much to aroused with his body’s reaction to her playful mouth to be able to take the added distraction of his stimulation of her mantel. His head was back in distraction, his ‘o’ expression carved in stone, his eyes closed, his hands busy raking the nails against her sensitized skin, his breathing harsh and his blood rushing to his throne.
She brushed his testicles with the slight move of her tongue and she dropped her raised behind to wreath relentlessly against his trouser leg, his jeans haphazardly still clothing part of his body. Her hands moved to the front and through the fine cloth of the shirt manipulated his nipples, by pocking and pulling and pinching and grabbing. He was in an absolute state of release, sitting on the peak of rapture, his famous control disintegrating, non-existent, disappearing, as he surrendered gladly to his wife.
“Kita… I can’t, let me fu** you pleeeaaassseee.” He begged, wanting to enter her to gain a modicum of control back.
But she ignored him, raising the stakes by a quantum amount, moving purposely introducing more need-disintegrating-causing-heat into the equation. Her mouth formed more friction, her center rubbed his leg harder, her hands picked at his nipples mercilessly and her tongue touched the balls rendering him useless. He exploded screaming loudly, biting his lip at the frustration of being so out of control; his hands dug into her head, holding her still so she would suck every drop out. He came taking her with him as his penis touched the back of her throat exploding into a well of gourmet caliber cum, and she continued draining him until he was completely done.
And I think that speaks for itself.
Gourmet spunk? Nikita has developed her palate to such a degree that she can discern this even though she has no taste buds in the back of her throat? So she's basically Nikita, the Suck Slut of Section One?
That's just too fantastic for words.
t giving up, just plunging sporks with wild abandon
You know, it's nice that they're married, and thus supporting Traditional Family Values.
(Nikita doesn't have a real tail in this story, does she?)
Heh. Micole asked the same thing. Nope. No actual tail.
(Nikita doesn't have a real tail in this story, does she?)
I was wondering that, too.
I'm relieved that I wasn't the only one actually worried that Nikita's tailbone wasn't so vestigial.
as he felt his soldiers rising
Her tail relentlessly and unequivocally rubbed harder, more sensually against his reluctant appendage,
her hands had plopped out his engorging member and she was busy manhandling it just in the perfect manner
Nikita seemed to take her time steering him in and out of the lust filled traffic, her mouth busy with the fullness of him and his body tense like a car-fan-belt with the pleasure driven home by the woman.
He incorporated himself on the bed,
his jeans haphazardly still clothing part of his body.
Every time I thought it couldn't get worse ... it did. i can merely stand back and boggle.
I know this has been asked before, but is this writer serious?
