Fic, A Cock in a Sock, Sanctuary fic, 15
May. 31st, 2020 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : A Cock in a Sock
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, Claudia, Nick, Helen, Leek, Felix, Dave, Guest Visitor
Disclaimer : Not mine (and the OCs belong to themselves!), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Even for a Sunday morning in Sanctuary, this classed as unusual…
A/N : 1) Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lukadreaming, I hope you like it, my dear! 2) Partially inspired by some comments in an interview with Musketeers star Tom Burke that bigtitch will remember. 3) The wonderful world of Sanctuary was created by the very lovely mysteriousaliwz!
Danny was having a bad day. The bad day to end all bad days. The sort of bad day that should be banned under the Geneva Convention.
“Get it on ice, now!” someone yelled. “There’s a good chance it can be reattached.”
A paramedic thrust a mask over his nose and mouth and instructed him breathe deeply.
Whatever it was they were giving him made him feel like he was floating above his body, looking down on himself. It took the pain away, but nothing could take away what he’d just seen and felt.
Then he started to feel weird. Really, really bloody weird…
****
Ryan turned over in bed and sprawled on his stomach, throwing a lazy arm over Stephen’s hips. “Fancy a Sunday shag?”
“Need a piss.” Stephen’s muffled voice came from the depths of a pillow nest. “Drank too much beer last night. Shift your arm or I’ll burst.”
Ryan obliged, casting a dubious look at the ceiling. He could never tell how far Management wanted to take this sort of thing. Usually depended on who was on duty.
“Not our fault he drank eight pints last night,” a disembodied voice said, trying – and failing – to inject a hard done by note into the words.
“Normally means a couple of you lot want a shower scene with a difference.”
“Well, if you’re offering, boys…
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Can’t we just have a nice straightforward fuck?”
“That works for us, too,” the Duty Manager said brightly.
Stephen rolled out of bed and padded naked to the ensuite, leaving Ryan to contemplate his lover’s exceedingly fine arse.
When Stephen came back, his head was tilted to one side and he had a puzzled look on his face. “What’s that noise?”
“What noise?”
“A sort of soft thumping…”
“Sinister and Dexter playing football?”
“No, that’d be a loud thumping.” Stephen reached for a blue silk dressing gown the colour of his eyes. “I’ll see what’s going on. It sounds more like someone at the door. The bell’s probably on the blink again.” With the silk draped around him like a wet dream come to life, Stephen wandered across the enormous bedroom to the door to the hall.
Management had good taste in clothes, Ryan had to give them that. Left to himself, Stephen would throw on the first thing that came to hand and although he would still look as sexy as hell even in a bin bag, Ryan had breathed a sigh of relief when the orange cargo pants disappeared, along with the weird collection of shirts and sweaters that the Fuckwits in Charge had saddled him with.
As soon as his lover went out into the hall, through the open door Ryan could hear the noise he’d been talking about. A soft thump, thump, thump low down on the outside door. He hoped it didn’t herald the arrival of yet another disembodied piece of someone’s anatomy…
He heard the front door being opened and the noise stopped. After a long pause, Stephen said, “Ryan, I think you’d better get dressed. We’ve got a visitor.”
Ryan looked up, feeling rather than seeing the shifty looks being traded in the Duty Manager’s office.
“What the buggering fuck have you lot been up to now?” he asked. “It took us long enough to deal with the spleen’s separation anxiety.”
“Er, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Sorry.”
Ryan hastily threw on a pair of jeans. Management’s good ideas often left a lot to be desired.
****
He stared down at four inches of pale, sausage-like wrinkled flesh looking a bit like a baby sea slug.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Might be… the word shifty didn’t do justice to the Duty Manager’s tone. The voice was so shifty it could have graduated with first class honours in Shiftyness from the University of Central Shift.
“Management!” Claudia’s voice had risen an octave in surprise.
Ryan would have bet his favourite rifle that the poor bugger who had formerly been attached to the item in question was now singing in a higher key as well.
“Cute little chap, isn’t he?”
“What’s a cock doing bobbing around by itself in the hall?” Helen drawled, cutting to the chase.
“He’s been trying to attract our attention by head-butting the door,” Stephen said.
Ryan winced in sympathy.
Helen wandered off, looking bored.
The mention of bobbing around prompted Ryan to glance at Nick’s door. The words mobile little member had come up a few times lately, but not usually in the Eccentric Academic’s hearing.
“Coffee,” Stephen declared. “I can’t deal with a spare cock without coffee.”
“Not enough coffee in the world to make this seem normal,” Ryan said.
“Bacon butty would help too. Just don’t anyone offer me a sausage in a bun.” Somewhat gingerly, Stephen put his cupped hands down to the wrinkly little creature and coaxed it up to hop on board. “No wanking jokes,” he added quickly. “You might embarrass him.”
In the large kitchen, Felix was already at work frying bacon and buttering rolls, while one tentacle obligingly massaged Dave’s shoulders. Their predator friend been doing rather a lot of knitting lately and had been resistant to Claudia’s attempts to get him to take up doing jigsaws instead, as their wardrobes were all overflowing with strangely shaped yellow clothes. Letting him watch the episode of the Great British Sewing Bee where everyone had to upcycle old woollen items hadn’t helped much either. At least the yellow scarves were reasonably practical, even if the colour did make him feel slightly bilious.
“Wonder who the lucky bugger is this time,” Stephen said, petting their latest arrival as if he was dealing with a nervous, hairless hamster.
“Doesn’t look like Connor’s,” Ryan said. He’d stood next to Connor at the urinals a few times and even though you weren’t meant to peek, everyone did. “The lad’s bigger than that and he’s circumcised.”
“Too much information, Ryan,” Claudia said.
“This one might be a grower, not a shower,” Stephen said.
“Carry on stroking it like that and you’ll find out soon enough,” Ryan said. He wasn’t sure what it said about his life now that the sight of his lover soothing a disembodied cock was by no means the oddest thing he’d seen since waking up in this house.
Claudia quickly procured a warm, fleecy slipper and held it out. Stephen tried to settle the cock down in its improvised bed, but it wasn’t hard to see that the little chap wasn’t happy. The droopy foreskin looked positively woebegone, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances.
“It’s a cock, not a bloody gerbil,” Helen commented, lounging in the doorway cutting chunks off an apple with a large, sharp knife.
The object of her derision promptly cowered away from the knife and burrowed into the toe of the slipper.
“You’re upsetting him, Helen,” Claudia snapped.
“Probably thinks he’s going to get the snip.” Nick sounded amused. “Helen doesn’t like foreskins.”
Ryan grinned. Living in this place had done wonders for loosening the inhibitions foisted on the professor by his Presbyterian upbringing.
“So who do we know on the team who’s got one?” Stephen said, trying to coax the quivering cock out of hiding.
“Foreskins?” Ryan started to run through the lads in his mind and was just about to start making a list when Claudia held up a peremptory hand.
“Definitely too much information!” Claudia said. “That’s something I really don’t need to know. Anyway, someone’s bound to come looking for him eventually.”
“Check if he’s got a visitor’s pass,” Nick suggested.
“I didn’t see one,” Stephen said.
“How thoroughly did you check?”
“Nick, there was cock on the doormat. I didn’t conduct a full body search.”
“Take a look now.”
“And how the hell do I do that?”
Ryan couldn’t help himself. “You managed all right last night.”
Stephen flipped a finger at him. “Why me?”
“You’ve had a lot of practice…”
“You lot can shut up, too.”
“Pretend it’s a naked molerat,” Nick said helpfully. “You like them.”
“I’m really starting to dislike the lot of you.” With a gold medal winning eyeroll, Stephen carefully reached into the slipper and gently stroked whatever he could reach until a slightly less despondent looking foreskin peeped out and allowed itself to be persuaded out of its hiding place.
“He looks cold,” Claudia commented. “I think he’s shivering. Felix, can you do something for him?”
One of Felix’s many tentacles snaked out and obligingly encircled the little cock while another of his many appendages stroked it, gently working the foreskin back to expose a small square of plastic attached to a miniature lanyard.
“Visitor’s pass,” Stephen said, freeing the lanyard and squinting at it to read the piece of plastic. “No name. That must have been uncomfortable for him.”
“Call it Cyril!” Helen called from the living room.
Ryan decided not to ask why, but he had to admit that the name suited the new arrival.
The cock – Cyril – seemed to be happy with Felix’s ministrations.
“Definitely looks like a grower,” Stephen said.
The click of Dave’s knitting needles sounded loud in the resulting silence as everyone stared at Cyril, trying to work out who he might have belonged to.
“Why is Felix wanking a spare cock?” Leek asked, sauntering into the kitchen in his dressing gown.
“It was cold.”
“Feeling a bit chilly myself…”
“Fuck off, Oliver.”
Leek rolled his eyes at Stephen in a passable imitation of Lester. “That’s not what you said after eight beers, Hart.”
Stephen groaned. “I didn’t, did I?”
“Not last night,” Ryan said. “But you did tell him you preferred him with a beard.”
Leek stroked his five-day old stubble and winked while Stephen adopted a shoot me now look.
Cyril, clearly enjoying himself, had now doubled in size and was still growing at what Ryan had to admit was an impressive rate. From what he could see past the encircling tentacle, there was a slight but definite curve to the left. Even at this size, the cock didn’t look familiar, but it had to be from someone connected with the anomaly project. If it had ended up here. Management were an odd lot at times but collecting random body parts wasn’t normally one of their hobbies. When a small bead of moisture appeared at the tip, Felix broke off a square of kitchen roll and mopped it up like a long-suffering parent dealing with a snotty nosed infant.
“If Cyril’s going to be here for a while, he can’t wander around stark naked,” Claudia declared.
“Why not, everyone else does when they feel like it?” Leek commented.
A moment later, Dave finished casting off, broke the yarn and promptly whipped a small yellow tube over Cyril, leaving only his head poking out.
Stephen grinned. “It’s a cock sock. They use them on film sets.”
“It suits him,” Claudia said, sounding slightly fonder of Cyril than she probably realised.
A loud knock on the door announced that someone – or something – else had arrived.
“I’ll get it,” Ryan said.
Standing on the mat, looking uncharacteristically downcast, was Danny Quinn, the Craggy Ginger Love God himself, as Management always referred to him.
“Hi, Danny. Not seen you in a while.”
“Hi, Ryan. Mind if I come in?”
“Be our guest. There’s coffee on, and Felix is making breakfast.”
The mention of breakfast made Danny look like he was about to throw up.
“Oh shit,” Ryan said. “It’s yours, isn’t it? Sorry.”
Their latest visitor trailed after him into the kitchen and Felix immediately held out a glass containing what looked like a large scotch.
Danny downed it in one and held the glass out for a refill.
“If it’s any consolation, Cyril’s wearing a visitor’s pass,” Claudia said.
“Cyril?” Danny looked torn between relief and outrage. “Cyril!”
On the kitchen table, Cyril, still wearing his yellow sock, bobbed up and down in excitement.
“Looks pleased to see you,” Nick said.
Danny held out his hand and Cyril jumped into it, looking happy.
“Aw, that’s so sweet…”
“I’d keep a low profile, if I were you, Management,” Ryan muttered.
“What happened, mate?” Stephen asked.
Danny flushed to the roots of his ginger hair, and even Cyril looked redder – and smaller. “I was busting for a slash… thought we’d got all the raptors back through the anomaly, but…”
Everyone winced in sympathy and Cyril started to look droopy.
Danny stroked him and his cock snuggled up to him.
“You’re both only wearing Visitors’ Passes,” Claudia said briskly. “It’ll all be fine, won’t it, Laydees?” The accompanying look she directed at the ceiling was almost as hard as Danny’s dick had been a moment or two ago.
“Er, course it will.”
A football came flying across the kitchen floor, with Sinister and Dexter in hot pursuit, and Ryan realised that even when Danny was reunited with his cock in the outside world, This version of Cyril was here to stay.
“Do you really think he looks like a Cyril?” Danny said, clearly hoping for something he though was a bit more manly.
“Yes!” everyone chorused.
Cyril now looked positively cheerful again, and even the Craggy Ginger Love God managed a weak grin.
“More coffee? Claudia offered briskly.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, Claudia, Nick, Helen, Leek, Felix, Dave, Guest Visitor
Disclaimer : Not mine (and the OCs belong to themselves!), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Even for a Sunday morning in Sanctuary, this classed as unusual…
A/N : 1) Written for
lukadreaming, I hope you like it, my dear! 2) Partially inspired by some comments in an interview with Musketeers star Tom Burke that bigtitch will remember. 3) The wonderful world of Sanctuary was created by the very lovely mysteriousaliwz!Danny was having a bad day. The bad day to end all bad days. The sort of bad day that should be banned under the Geneva Convention.
“Get it on ice, now!” someone yelled. “There’s a good chance it can be reattached.”
A paramedic thrust a mask over his nose and mouth and instructed him breathe deeply.
Whatever it was they were giving him made him feel like he was floating above his body, looking down on himself. It took the pain away, but nothing could take away what he’d just seen and felt.
Then he started to feel weird. Really, really bloody weird…
****
Ryan turned over in bed and sprawled on his stomach, throwing a lazy arm over Stephen’s hips. “Fancy a Sunday shag?”
“Need a piss.” Stephen’s muffled voice came from the depths of a pillow nest. “Drank too much beer last night. Shift your arm or I’ll burst.”
Ryan obliged, casting a dubious look at the ceiling. He could never tell how far Management wanted to take this sort of thing. Usually depended on who was on duty.
“Not our fault he drank eight pints last night,” a disembodied voice said, trying – and failing – to inject a hard done by note into the words.
“Normally means a couple of you lot want a shower scene with a difference.”
“Well, if you’re offering, boys…
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Can’t we just have a nice straightforward fuck?”
“That works for us, too,” the Duty Manager said brightly.
Stephen rolled out of bed and padded naked to the ensuite, leaving Ryan to contemplate his lover’s exceedingly fine arse.
When Stephen came back, his head was tilted to one side and he had a puzzled look on his face. “What’s that noise?”
“What noise?”
“A sort of soft thumping…”
“Sinister and Dexter playing football?”
“No, that’d be a loud thumping.” Stephen reached for a blue silk dressing gown the colour of his eyes. “I’ll see what’s going on. It sounds more like someone at the door. The bell’s probably on the blink again.” With the silk draped around him like a wet dream come to life, Stephen wandered across the enormous bedroom to the door to the hall.
Management had good taste in clothes, Ryan had to give them that. Left to himself, Stephen would throw on the first thing that came to hand and although he would still look as sexy as hell even in a bin bag, Ryan had breathed a sigh of relief when the orange cargo pants disappeared, along with the weird collection of shirts and sweaters that the Fuckwits in Charge had saddled him with.
As soon as his lover went out into the hall, through the open door Ryan could hear the noise he’d been talking about. A soft thump, thump, thump low down on the outside door. He hoped it didn’t herald the arrival of yet another disembodied piece of someone’s anatomy…
He heard the front door being opened and the noise stopped. After a long pause, Stephen said, “Ryan, I think you’d better get dressed. We’ve got a visitor.”
Ryan looked up, feeling rather than seeing the shifty looks being traded in the Duty Manager’s office.
“What the buggering fuck have you lot been up to now?” he asked. “It took us long enough to deal with the spleen’s separation anxiety.”
“Er, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Sorry.”
Ryan hastily threw on a pair of jeans. Management’s good ideas often left a lot to be desired.
****
He stared down at four inches of pale, sausage-like wrinkled flesh looking a bit like a baby sea slug.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Might be… the word shifty didn’t do justice to the Duty Manager’s tone. The voice was so shifty it could have graduated with first class honours in Shiftyness from the University of Central Shift.
“Management!” Claudia’s voice had risen an octave in surprise.
Ryan would have bet his favourite rifle that the poor bugger who had formerly been attached to the item in question was now singing in a higher key as well.
“Cute little chap, isn’t he?”
“What’s a cock doing bobbing around by itself in the hall?” Helen drawled, cutting to the chase.
“He’s been trying to attract our attention by head-butting the door,” Stephen said.
Ryan winced in sympathy.
Helen wandered off, looking bored.
The mention of bobbing around prompted Ryan to glance at Nick’s door. The words mobile little member had come up a few times lately, but not usually in the Eccentric Academic’s hearing.
“Coffee,” Stephen declared. “I can’t deal with a spare cock without coffee.”
“Not enough coffee in the world to make this seem normal,” Ryan said.
“Bacon butty would help too. Just don’t anyone offer me a sausage in a bun.” Somewhat gingerly, Stephen put his cupped hands down to the wrinkly little creature and coaxed it up to hop on board. “No wanking jokes,” he added quickly. “You might embarrass him.”
In the large kitchen, Felix was already at work frying bacon and buttering rolls, while one tentacle obligingly massaged Dave’s shoulders. Their predator friend been doing rather a lot of knitting lately and had been resistant to Claudia’s attempts to get him to take up doing jigsaws instead, as their wardrobes were all overflowing with strangely shaped yellow clothes. Letting him watch the episode of the Great British Sewing Bee where everyone had to upcycle old woollen items hadn’t helped much either. At least the yellow scarves were reasonably practical, even if the colour did make him feel slightly bilious.
“Wonder who the lucky bugger is this time,” Stephen said, petting their latest arrival as if he was dealing with a nervous, hairless hamster.
“Doesn’t look like Connor’s,” Ryan said. He’d stood next to Connor at the urinals a few times and even though you weren’t meant to peek, everyone did. “The lad’s bigger than that and he’s circumcised.”
“Too much information, Ryan,” Claudia said.
“This one might be a grower, not a shower,” Stephen said.
“Carry on stroking it like that and you’ll find out soon enough,” Ryan said. He wasn’t sure what it said about his life now that the sight of his lover soothing a disembodied cock was by no means the oddest thing he’d seen since waking up in this house.
Claudia quickly procured a warm, fleecy slipper and held it out. Stephen tried to settle the cock down in its improvised bed, but it wasn’t hard to see that the little chap wasn’t happy. The droopy foreskin looked positively woebegone, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances.
“It’s a cock, not a bloody gerbil,” Helen commented, lounging in the doorway cutting chunks off an apple with a large, sharp knife.
The object of her derision promptly cowered away from the knife and burrowed into the toe of the slipper.
“You’re upsetting him, Helen,” Claudia snapped.
“Probably thinks he’s going to get the snip.” Nick sounded amused. “Helen doesn’t like foreskins.”
Ryan grinned. Living in this place had done wonders for loosening the inhibitions foisted on the professor by his Presbyterian upbringing.
“So who do we know on the team who’s got one?” Stephen said, trying to coax the quivering cock out of hiding.
“Foreskins?” Ryan started to run through the lads in his mind and was just about to start making a list when Claudia held up a peremptory hand.
“Definitely too much information!” Claudia said. “That’s something I really don’t need to know. Anyway, someone’s bound to come looking for him eventually.”
“Check if he’s got a visitor’s pass,” Nick suggested.
“I didn’t see one,” Stephen said.
“How thoroughly did you check?”
“Nick, there was cock on the doormat. I didn’t conduct a full body search.”
“Take a look now.”
“And how the hell do I do that?”
Ryan couldn’t help himself. “You managed all right last night.”
Stephen flipped a finger at him. “Why me?”
“You’ve had a lot of practice…”
“You lot can shut up, too.”
“Pretend it’s a naked molerat,” Nick said helpfully. “You like them.”
“I’m really starting to dislike the lot of you.” With a gold medal winning eyeroll, Stephen carefully reached into the slipper and gently stroked whatever he could reach until a slightly less despondent looking foreskin peeped out and allowed itself to be persuaded out of its hiding place.
“He looks cold,” Claudia commented. “I think he’s shivering. Felix, can you do something for him?”
One of Felix’s many tentacles snaked out and obligingly encircled the little cock while another of his many appendages stroked it, gently working the foreskin back to expose a small square of plastic attached to a miniature lanyard.
“Visitor’s pass,” Stephen said, freeing the lanyard and squinting at it to read the piece of plastic. “No name. That must have been uncomfortable for him.”
“Call it Cyril!” Helen called from the living room.
Ryan decided not to ask why, but he had to admit that the name suited the new arrival.
The cock – Cyril – seemed to be happy with Felix’s ministrations.
“Definitely looks like a grower,” Stephen said.
The click of Dave’s knitting needles sounded loud in the resulting silence as everyone stared at Cyril, trying to work out who he might have belonged to.
“Why is Felix wanking a spare cock?” Leek asked, sauntering into the kitchen in his dressing gown.
“It was cold.”
“Feeling a bit chilly myself…”
“Fuck off, Oliver.”
Leek rolled his eyes at Stephen in a passable imitation of Lester. “That’s not what you said after eight beers, Hart.”
Stephen groaned. “I didn’t, did I?”
“Not last night,” Ryan said. “But you did tell him you preferred him with a beard.”
Leek stroked his five-day old stubble and winked while Stephen adopted a shoot me now look.
Cyril, clearly enjoying himself, had now doubled in size and was still growing at what Ryan had to admit was an impressive rate. From what he could see past the encircling tentacle, there was a slight but definite curve to the left. Even at this size, the cock didn’t look familiar, but it had to be from someone connected with the anomaly project. If it had ended up here. Management were an odd lot at times but collecting random body parts wasn’t normally one of their hobbies. When a small bead of moisture appeared at the tip, Felix broke off a square of kitchen roll and mopped it up like a long-suffering parent dealing with a snotty nosed infant.
“If Cyril’s going to be here for a while, he can’t wander around stark naked,” Claudia declared.
“Why not, everyone else does when they feel like it?” Leek commented.
A moment later, Dave finished casting off, broke the yarn and promptly whipped a small yellow tube over Cyril, leaving only his head poking out.
Stephen grinned. “It’s a cock sock. They use them on film sets.”
“It suits him,” Claudia said, sounding slightly fonder of Cyril than she probably realised.
A loud knock on the door announced that someone – or something – else had arrived.
“I’ll get it,” Ryan said.
Standing on the mat, looking uncharacteristically downcast, was Danny Quinn, the Craggy Ginger Love God himself, as Management always referred to him.
“Hi, Danny. Not seen you in a while.”
“Hi, Ryan. Mind if I come in?”
“Be our guest. There’s coffee on, and Felix is making breakfast.”
The mention of breakfast made Danny look like he was about to throw up.
“Oh shit,” Ryan said. “It’s yours, isn’t it? Sorry.”
Their latest visitor trailed after him into the kitchen and Felix immediately held out a glass containing what looked like a large scotch.
Danny downed it in one and held the glass out for a refill.
“If it’s any consolation, Cyril’s wearing a visitor’s pass,” Claudia said.
“Cyril?” Danny looked torn between relief and outrage. “Cyril!”
On the kitchen table, Cyril, still wearing his yellow sock, bobbed up and down in excitement.
“Looks pleased to see you,” Nick said.
Danny held out his hand and Cyril jumped into it, looking happy.
“Aw, that’s so sweet…”
“I’d keep a low profile, if I were you, Management,” Ryan muttered.
“What happened, mate?” Stephen asked.
Danny flushed to the roots of his ginger hair, and even Cyril looked redder – and smaller. “I was busting for a slash… thought we’d got all the raptors back through the anomaly, but…”
Everyone winced in sympathy and Cyril started to look droopy.
Danny stroked him and his cock snuggled up to him.
“You’re both only wearing Visitors’ Passes,” Claudia said briskly. “It’ll all be fine, won’t it, Laydees?” The accompanying look she directed at the ceiling was almost as hard as Danny’s dick had been a moment or two ago.
“Er, course it will.”
A football came flying across the kitchen floor, with Sinister and Dexter in hot pursuit, and Ryan realised that even when Danny was reunited with his cock in the outside world, This version of Cyril was here to stay.
“Do you really think he looks like a Cyril?” Danny said, clearly hoping for something he though was a bit more manly.
“Yes!” everyone chorused.
Cyril now looked positively cheerful again, and even the Craggy Ginger Love God managed a weak grin.
“More coffee? Claudia offered briskly.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 02:11 pm (UTC)So many great lines. *sniggers softly*
Such a shame Cyril isn’t a stayer (sorry D).
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 02:14 pm (UTC)Well, Sinister and Dexter stayed, so I imagine Cyril will get visiting rights, at least, no matter what happens to Danny's dick Outside. *g*
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 02:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 02:34 pm (UTC)I've had the idea in mind for ages but needed to get my writing mojo back before tackling it, then it just wrote itself over two nights.
I love the ability in Sanctuary confers to treat the utterly absurd as totally normal.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 03:13 pm (UTC)And to get it out of the way: Poor Danny!!!
the spleen’s separation anxiety.
The first belly laugh.
“He’s been trying to attract our attention by head-butting the door,” Stephen said.
Ryan winced in sympathy
Second belly laugh.
“Carry on stroking it like that and you’ll find out soon enough,” Ryan said.
Third.
Helen and Cutter sniping at each other. Brilliant!
Listing foreskins!
“Nick, there was cock on the doormat. I didn’t conduct a full body search.”
Fourth belly laugh.
And we have both Dave and Felix!
*snorfles madly* at poor Danny, and the fact that they'll now have to cope with Cyril as well as Dexter and Sinister.
That was absolutely terrific!
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 07:45 pm (UTC)I think Cyril is here to stay.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-01 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-05-31 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-01 12:49 pm (UTC)I can now take my place in history as the person who cut Danny's Dick off!
no subject
Date: 2020-06-01 09:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-01 06:49 am (UTC)Poor Cyril! I'm glad Felix appears to be taking care of him!
no subject
Date: 2020-06-01 12:48 pm (UTC)And naturally, he's here to stay. *g*
no subject
Date: 2020-06-06 09:26 pm (UTC)Cock sock *g*
And when Cyril jumped into Danny's hand, haha xxx
Excellent new Sanctuary fic, wooo!
no subject
Date: 2020-06-06 09:35 pm (UTC)It was great to pay a return visit to Sanctuary!
no subject
Date: 2020-06-08 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 07:32 pm (UTC)There are so many mental pictures that will stay with me 😂
And I had no clue cock socks were a thing! I‘ll admit I googled it. Do it, it’s fun 🤣
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 09:55 pm (UTC)Thank you! It was such fun to write.
no subject
Date: 2020-11-09 01:37 am (UTC)Delighted to see that Sanctuary is still going 😀
no subject
Date: 2020-11-09 01:59 pm (UTC)