Thursday, December 24, 2009

How Long Ocular Migraine

Mezzi pazzi politicanti demoralizzanti.




Title: Sleep Carefully




Author:






zoedriver


Beta:




eide_oconrad




Fandom: ER


Characters:
& John Carter Peter Benton

Rating: NC-17
in theory \u0026lt;3 Warning

:
Slashina terribly and disgustingly amateur and fluff.

Word Count: 901
Notes: Written for the Third P0rn Fest! It 's the first time in a million years that he wrote and published, and I hope that is not a total shit. The ship is amazing, and I hope there is someone out there who still love them they should, that I did not remember anything about them and now I only do it with the help of care
eide_oconrad & [info] brit_clo
\u0026lt;3 The title is not really a quota but a shit. I hope that suits you! \u0026lt;3 [info] So John leaves the head and legs and arms floating, enjoying the first real moment of solitude from sunset until a few hours from its beginning. and finds himself alone and smiles, what you said or what he has done, because it was a good evening and we heard a good doctor and so on in the way of sleep and on the way honey. hypersomnia. On average, we repeat, the time needed to fall asleep is seven ... and nothing. With his stupid little smile on his face, wrapped in cold blankets from the hospital, asks a bit 'of time, rest time out. It goes with the mind thinking here and there this and that and his grandmother does not think at all, think of colleges and college friends, that girl there, that doctor there, Dr. Benton. And Dr. Benton. And Dr. Benton opens the door. The small Carter gives back to the door but can not be other than the product Benton, those with heavy feet and you can almost hear the angles of the mouth buckled down and eyes focused on anything but him, but no lips, but no hands. Certainly not your thoughts, but his hands, those sometimes. John repeats that must be a dream, because the only thing I can think of right now, and four in the morning and is the third day in a row which are four in the morning, you must sleep. Must necessarily be a dream.
"What ... Carter? Carter? "John answered with a sound that even he does not know what it is, but must be convinced that she is sleeping, sleeping, and it is a dream. If it's a dream Peter will understand. "You're a nuisance from start to finish, Carter" agreement, it is very unlikely to be a dream. "You're not the only one with the sleep deprived" mischievous One could also take the risk of defining problems with authority, but the primary instinct of Carter, now, is to get up and leave his post to his upper and sleep at the foot like a dog and everything else, and forget about Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas gift and the smell of those silly mustaches on his face.
So John turns around and with that Musino scared and worried and damp of sleep and fatigue, he says it must have moved in some way is ridiculous, because Peter looks at him in his round face clammy and smiles. It is not often that happens, it must be really tired. Here again the instinct to leave, go back to work and let Peter sleep and rest, Peter's mentor, Peter the phenomenon, Peter genius. It 's like if Peter read all these things in his sleepy eyes, and then laughs again, with that low voice, laughs in the ridiculous mustache and approaches, the laughter becomes deeper, and John is not entirely sure is actually happening. The a hospital bed is too small for an average of one person.
"It could have been worse, however," murmurs Benton resting her head on the pillow. It 's a flurry of platitudes, but to John, who is not sure you're dreaming or what, seems a perfect time and can not wait to fall asleep thinking of the hands of Dr. Benton on her hips, the mustache of Dr. Benton on his neck, blacks in the eyes of Dr. Benton on his neck. have to be a dream for those who do not tell anybody. No essay, Dr. Benton fenomenalgeniale ditching the perfect plan to sleep two at a time. Would never do that, says John, Peter is able to think of this or that case for days and days without interruption, in one case and nothing more, nothing else in the world, like the great professional he is and that ...-
The hands of all are cold in Chicago. The cold hands of this talented professional, undermine the strap of his silly green pants. And he seems to hear him smile while you are wet mustache against his ear. And despite the problems with authority figures, what John is able to murmur, like a demented child, as an intern as a sleepy and unresponsive lover "He never sleeps, do you?"
and Peter laughs at the fact that give him of her, along with his hand while his erection sleepy and then reflects, and responds tonelessly "More than three hours of sleep a night and I get weak all day. You should have learned " John, like a doll out of place in his hands, turn the head in an unnatural way, in that bed too small, with the erection of Peter's back and pressed her hand and her sweet, violent up and down and the general feeling of surrealism on the darkness in a room full of stupid lights and even up and down, smiling on Peter's neck and suck the earlobe and that John would only be able to - here, here it is kissing and now feels as if he could, like the right thing to do ..- e.
John wonders who will clean up those sheets and when she does, and how many other doctors and nurses will sleep there before it happens. Peter does not care.

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