Rivestra's Ramblings

Ummm... I should probably stay away from the porn when I have this much liquid stupid (what, that's what my friend calls it!) running through my veins but... I was irresistibly drawn and I can't tell you why. (Because I don't know.) I'd say you should all consider it a birthday present from me, for my birthday, but, once again, I have ventured into fandoms no one I know reads. Also into long, meandering, babbling sentences and an alarming lack of proof reading (ETA: I couldn't stand the typos. I think I've murdered at least the worst of them now).

So I should probably apologize in advance. Read at your own risk.

comment_fic  for pipisafoat , to whom I should definitely apologize. She asked for Queer as Folk (US)/Burn Notice, Michael Novotny/Michael Weston, "Your mom sure looks and acts exactly like mine." (can be gen instead of slash.) and got this bit of babble that is, once again, too freaking long for a comment. I'd also like to apologize to the English language.


There was a body next to him, coiled and tense and, part of Michael’s mind insisted, dangerous, but maybe not to him, laying there sweat-slicked and familiar as last night’s sin. Last night, he’d learned every angle and line of that body with his tongue, tasted every hill and valley, and those fingers had danced over him and that mouth had consumed him whole.

He had no idea who the guy was, of course. He didn’t even know where he was, really. It was time he finally learned to stay out of Brian’s damn trail mix.

( Brave enoughto keep going? Ok... )