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keelywolfeNo blowjobs, I'm afraid, but I still managed a bit of kink! Ahhhh, free stress relief!
Just for reference, these stories aren't actually connected. They are just a brief look at a Sunday that should have happened. ;)
Backup
By Keelywolfe
Rated R
(Illya/Napoleon)
~~*~~
"Well, well, what have we here?"
Napoleon groaned silently at sound of his partner's voice. Ordinarily, he would have been quite relieved to have the cavalry ride in, or walk through the door as the case may be, but not this time. Not like this.
"Once again, it would appear that I have been doing all the work while you have been...enjoying yourself? You always did despise working on the weekend." Illya flicked one dangling earring with a fingertip and Napoleon jerked away from the touch.
"Illya, this isn't what it looks like and you know it. Now get me loose."
"No? How terribly awkward for you." He didn't smile but the smirk showed in his eyes. He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall and his ankles crossed, obviously settling in. "Never fear. The situation is in hand and our backup should be here soon to clean things up."
A frisson of true fear shot up Napoleon's spine. Backup. Dozens of agents flooding into this room and seeing him like this. He squirmed hard, uselessly, metal scraping his already sore wrists raw. He gave up before he managed to knock the chair, and himself with it, to the floor. Bad enough that Illya was seeing him like this without letting him see the bloomers beneath it, too. His partner hadn't moved, watching the scenario with cool amusement in his eyes. "Uncuff me, then, so I can get into my own clothes," Napoleon finally said through gritted teeth.
"I do not have a key."
"Since when do you need a key!" he spluttered, the chair rocking dangerously back on two legs before settling back to the floor.
"Really, Napoleon," Illya tutted. "Someone went through a great deal of effort to make you that lovely. Shouting ruins the illusion; it makes your face quite red."
Harsh words were hot as embers on his tongue but Napoleon swallowed them forcibly. If he made Illya angry he really wouldn't get free, and teasing from his partner would be infinitely easier to take than from an entire team of agents for the rest of his life.
"I would not have thought eyeliner suited you," Illya commented idly, tapping one finger against his cheek. "But I must say, it does bring out the color in your eyes."
Napoleon said nothing, seething inwardly and promising Illya would see some color around his own eyes when this was over with, in every shade of black and blue.
Drawing up a knee, Illya folded his hands around it as he tilted his head and regarded Napoleon thoughtfully. "Even with the makeup and the clothing, you still do not resemble a woman. Perhaps a wig would help."
There was a collection of styrofoam heads crowded into a corner, each bearing a cloud of brightly-colored nylon hair and Illya studied each one leisurely, finally selecting one with long, dark curls.
Napoleon allowed him to settle it on his head, physically shaking now in his growing rage and this was beyond joking, his partner, bastard son of a dog that he was showing himself to be, was going to pay for this, in fucking spades.
"There." Illya artfully arranged the curls around his face before stepping back to study his handiwork. "That is just about perfect." Very softly, hardly more than a breath and at the look in his eyes Napoleon felt his anger drain away, leaving him disturbingly empty and confused. What was going on here?
"Beautiful." Illya's breath was suddenly warm against his lips, brief and sweet before they touched, slick lipstick smearing between them and it was an odd sensation that it was from his own mouth.
His hands were resting on Napoleon's stocking-clad knees, the heat bleeding through thin, woven silk and, dear god, his tongue was soft and sure as it teased its way past Napoleon's teeth. He gasped, inhaling Illya's taste and his mouth was slick and cool against Napoleon's, and he was kissing back before he could even consider, sucking on the tip of the tongue invading his mouth and tasting clean sweetness.
A sudden bite made him yelp, the sound muffled by Illya's lips as he soothed the tiny hurt he had caused, the tinge of blood tainting the kiss which was hardly as sweet as he'd imagined at first. Gentleness shifted, tilting sideways into lust and, suddenly it was all he could do to keep up, Illya's mouth frantic against his own and god, god, god...
The sudden rush of air left him gasping like a fish when Illya jerked away, his head tilted as he listened carefully. "Helicopter," Illya said succinctly and he pulled away, walking quickly out of the room.
It was only after he was gone that Napoleon realized the cuffs were open and they fell to the floor with a clatter. He lost precious moments just sitting there stupidly, one trembling hand pressed against his mouth. Then he lunged to his feet, snatching off wig and clothes and scrambling into his own. He didn't bother making things tidy, using his last crumbling moments of privacy to scrub his face clean and thanking whoever was looking out for him that there was a small jar of cold cream on the table that magically melted away the last traces of eyeliner.
He was just straightening his tie when he heard voices approaching, looking completely presentable and revealing nothing of the emotions writhing beneath his skin like lava, and his last fervent wish of the day was to hope that Illya had forgotten to wipe the lipstick from his mouth before he met the helicopter.
-finis-
Just for reference, these stories aren't actually connected. They are just a brief look at a Sunday that should have happened. ;)
Backup
By Keelywolfe
Rated R
(Illya/Napoleon)
~~*~~
"Well, well, what have we here?"
Napoleon groaned silently at sound of his partner's voice. Ordinarily, he would have been quite relieved to have the cavalry ride in, or walk through the door as the case may be, but not this time. Not like this.
"Once again, it would appear that I have been doing all the work while you have been...enjoying yourself? You always did despise working on the weekend." Illya flicked one dangling earring with a fingertip and Napoleon jerked away from the touch.
"Illya, this isn't what it looks like and you know it. Now get me loose."
"No? How terribly awkward for you." He didn't smile but the smirk showed in his eyes. He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall and his ankles crossed, obviously settling in. "Never fear. The situation is in hand and our backup should be here soon to clean things up."
A frisson of true fear shot up Napoleon's spine. Backup. Dozens of agents flooding into this room and seeing him like this. He squirmed hard, uselessly, metal scraping his already sore wrists raw. He gave up before he managed to knock the chair, and himself with it, to the floor. Bad enough that Illya was seeing him like this without letting him see the bloomers beneath it, too. His partner hadn't moved, watching the scenario with cool amusement in his eyes. "Uncuff me, then, so I can get into my own clothes," Napoleon finally said through gritted teeth.
"I do not have a key."
"Since when do you need a key!" he spluttered, the chair rocking dangerously back on two legs before settling back to the floor.
"Really, Napoleon," Illya tutted. "Someone went through a great deal of effort to make you that lovely. Shouting ruins the illusion; it makes your face quite red."
Harsh words were hot as embers on his tongue but Napoleon swallowed them forcibly. If he made Illya angry he really wouldn't get free, and teasing from his partner would be infinitely easier to take than from an entire team of agents for the rest of his life.
"I would not have thought eyeliner suited you," Illya commented idly, tapping one finger against his cheek. "But I must say, it does bring out the color in your eyes."
Napoleon said nothing, seething inwardly and promising Illya would see some color around his own eyes when this was over with, in every shade of black and blue.
Drawing up a knee, Illya folded his hands around it as he tilted his head and regarded Napoleon thoughtfully. "Even with the makeup and the clothing, you still do not resemble a woman. Perhaps a wig would help."
There was a collection of styrofoam heads crowded into a corner, each bearing a cloud of brightly-colored nylon hair and Illya studied each one leisurely, finally selecting one with long, dark curls.
Napoleon allowed him to settle it on his head, physically shaking now in his growing rage and this was beyond joking, his partner, bastard son of a dog that he was showing himself to be, was going to pay for this, in fucking spades.
"There." Illya artfully arranged the curls around his face before stepping back to study his handiwork. "That is just about perfect." Very softly, hardly more than a breath and at the look in his eyes Napoleon felt his anger drain away, leaving him disturbingly empty and confused. What was going on here?
"Beautiful." Illya's breath was suddenly warm against his lips, brief and sweet before they touched, slick lipstick smearing between them and it was an odd sensation that it was from his own mouth.
His hands were resting on Napoleon's stocking-clad knees, the heat bleeding through thin, woven silk and, dear god, his tongue was soft and sure as it teased its way past Napoleon's teeth. He gasped, inhaling Illya's taste and his mouth was slick and cool against Napoleon's, and he was kissing back before he could even consider, sucking on the tip of the tongue invading his mouth and tasting clean sweetness.
A sudden bite made him yelp, the sound muffled by Illya's lips as he soothed the tiny hurt he had caused, the tinge of blood tainting the kiss which was hardly as sweet as he'd imagined at first. Gentleness shifted, tilting sideways into lust and, suddenly it was all he could do to keep up, Illya's mouth frantic against his own and god, god, god...
The sudden rush of air left him gasping like a fish when Illya jerked away, his head tilted as he listened carefully. "Helicopter," Illya said succinctly and he pulled away, walking quickly out of the room.
It was only after he was gone that Napoleon realized the cuffs were open and they fell to the floor with a clatter. He lost precious moments just sitting there stupidly, one trembling hand pressed against his mouth. Then he lunged to his feet, snatching off wig and clothes and scrambling into his own. He didn't bother making things tidy, using his last crumbling moments of privacy to scrub his face clean and thanking whoever was looking out for him that there was a small jar of cold cream on the table that magically melted away the last traces of eyeliner.
He was just straightening his tie when he heard voices approaching, looking completely presentable and revealing nothing of the emotions writhing beneath his skin like lava, and his last fervent wish of the day was to hope that Illya had forgotten to wipe the lipstick from his mouth before he met the helicopter.
-finis-
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-12 03:51 pm (UTC)That said, I like how you pushed the boundaries with Napoleon here. You brought a certain vulnerability to him that makes him squirm and brash at the same time.
And the eyeliner...
no subject
Date: 2003-07-13 03:50 pm (UTC)