Slash Guest Author Rec - Stolenxsanity

Today is National Coming Out Day. It seems only fitting (to me, at least) therefore, that the wonderful Stolenxsanity, author of Verum Quod Eventus, should take the stand today as guest author. 

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So, a few months ago naelany asked me if I would be interested in writing a rec post for TU. We settled on a date and since this was months ago (June, I believe), I thought I had a lot of time. And then I forgot about it until she reminded me last week. Cue the scramble for fics and my general indecisive-slash-easily distracted nature and here I sit writing this the day before I'm supposed to get it to her. Awesome, right? So, here goes nothing.

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If anyone knows me, they know how much I absolutely fucking adore queenofgrey. She is, in my opinion, an amazing writer (and this has nothing to do with the fact that I pre-read for her occasionally, promise). In fact, I love her so much that when I read her Slash/Backslash entry, Dirty Laundry, I almost boycotted the contest myself. To sound absolutely cliché she had me at hello. Or, in this case, I was hooked with the very first sentence:

Gay men like ass.

Short and to the point. No flowery language or excessive but completely unnecessary verbiage just to say that one thing. Perfect, or at least I like to think so. Dirty Laundry is comedic while still being absolutely, mind-blowingly hot and queenofgrey has a way with words that just ... well, it's something that you have to read to appreciate.

"Ah, the age-old hero routine," I laugh, getting back on track. "He's pulled that for me at least a million times."

"Yeah, so he said. I mean, right after he said, BAM! Take that, fucker! And then, he kissed my sister. You might have met her. She was going on and on about a washing machine tonight."

My cheeks flush again, and we laugh a little. Then, there's tension, but not from the mention of our siblings saddling up in the Maytag rodeo. It's roundabout five in the morning and I don't know him and he doesn't know me and we're both atop the same bed. And, at least one of us is gay. Every move I make – from the twitch of my toes beneath the covers, to the depth of my breathing – is calculated, and I fear that anything too sudden might scare him away. But, then, he stretches out across the bottom of my bed, and yawns, and he looks like a little kitten, only, you know, six-foot-something and with a penis I want to fondle. Bestiality? Really, Self?Jesus, I feel it. I feel the fabled penis that I want so badly to fondle pressing right into the heel of my foot, and I wonder if he's the one with a leg-and-or-foot fetish, after all. First, his hip on my hip, then his knees on my toes, now this. I really don't care how weird it seems. He can hump my leg like a dog in heat, if he wants. I just want him out of those clothes and under me, on top of me, whatever. Or, you know, I can swing a footjob. Whatever. Jesus. Then,

Still here? Alright then, let me wax poetic about the author and this story if that's what it takes to convince you that you need to stop reading this immediately, go read the story, then come back and continue.

I know there are some stories out there you can tell were written by females that wish they had a different set of equipment (I can't think of any off the top of my head but they must exist!) and, thus, don't really know how to write a gay male that isn't a flaming homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that but, I digress). Queenofgrey did not have that problem. This story reads like it was written by a gay male (ahem, I promise that the author is in fact a straight female, in case you were wondering). She does this with finesse and comedy and, well, with things like this:

"So worth—" He moans and shifts his hips up, his dick entering my throat. I take it like a champ, then back off to breathe, and he continues with, "the black eye."

Now, I'm a man. A horny, gay man. One with a perfectly sizable and beautiful cock against my lips. But that, that right there, intrigues me. I quirk a brow and ask him, "What's a blowjob got to do with your face?"

"Put my dick back in your mouth," he almost whines, but I'm not moving. "I'll tell you later."

"No." I lick the tip of his dick so softly, then sit back on my heels, begin to stroke myself through my boxers. "I can wait."

I'll be here when you finish the story with another lovely rec for you .... ;-)

Now, as much as I love a good slash story (and I do love me a good slash story, NEGL), I'm a sucker for well-written Jasper-centric story. I have been firmly on Team Jasper since long before the movie was cast and that stance has not changed since. I love me some Jasper, in general, possibly more than I love slash (see above side note). This brings me to my second rec, I Do by the lovely ladies of Whitlock-Masen. I feel like I should point out right from the get-go that I'm not rec'ing this story because it was written for my birthday (though that might have a little to do with it).

On FFn, I Do is listed as a Jasper fic and the summary isn't very telling either. In fact, it's safe to say that the pairing is mostly unknown until you get to the end (though that's not to say that you can't figure it out beforehand, there's just no definite mentioning of who is with who until the end. Sneaky, sneaky). So, in the spirit of not giving anything away to those of you who have yet to read it, I shall be just as ambiguous and sneaky, but leave you with this:

I wasn't nearly drunk enough to want to do anything stupid - nor did I have any intention of becoming so. I felt myself relaxing, though, some of my frustration with Emmett fading away...right up until he let out a wolf whistle and began calling out suggestions to the girls. One of them giggled and licked her lips, running her finger along my waistband as I shot Emmett an annoyed look. He just grinned and winked as he polished off his beer.


The girls continued their little performance with what little they'd had on for clothing disappearing along the way. Bare breasts in my face on the one night I wouldn't be touching any wasn't really a pleasant experience, and I allowed my mind to wander again. Most other guys might have killed for one last hurrah, but I seriously didn't want it. I was happy to be faithful to the woman I loved, in every way.

A faithful man - what's not to love? A faithful man by the name of Jasper? Unf. Need I say more?