Thairn gathered up everything she'd need for the sleepover. The expected, of course: clothes, adhesive, remover. The secret, of course: a borescope, a mirror probe, glitterdust. Those three were hidden in her toilet kit--the borescope in a hair straightener, the mirror probe and glitterdust in a compact. The more that could help her rummage through Mickey's room, the better, but nothing that could catch his notice.
Once the practicalities were ready, she put together the more entertaining items. The ones that answered the fantasies she had about his confident hands. They stole kisses from one another now in the hallways, real ones, and she wanted... mm, she wanted this to be good. That dress she'd worn the first day, she packed that. She could remember how he'd looked at her when she was wearing it, and she knew how well it showed her wings. Lubricant, of course. Her vibrator, to warm things up. These should all do nicely. Unless he wanted... well, he'd have the materials for that, if he wanted.
The bodyguards were there when she knocked, again. Mickey opened the door with his usual mischievous grin, and the fact that he meant it this time--that they both meant it this time--gave her a thrill. She squeezed her bundle beneath one arm and took his hand, through his wards and into his room, door closing behind them.
Heavens, the way he looked at her, uncertain, hungry. She didn't let go his hand. Pulled him to her, making clear her intent. He leaned down to press his lips to hers. Dizzying, that kiss, enough to make her forget every plan and plot for a moment, her sole focus the brandied sweetness of his lips, the feel of his fingers as they ran down the loose hair by her face. He brought her all the closer, trailing kisses down her throat, and she pressed herself flush to him to feel the heat of his body against her, to give answer to that desire.
"I want you," he whispered against her skin, breath sending a tingle down her body.
She answered it with a nibble along the edge of his ear, enough to make him bite his lip and push all the closer against her, enough that she felt the firm expression of his desire. And he hers, undoubtedly, and that didn't matter a bit. A pleasant freedom to have here.
Enough to make her remember, though, the bundle under her arm, one of her purposes in spending the night here. Though that painful process was far from alluring right now. Did it matter? Whether it mattered to her, she wasn't sure. And whether it mattered to him...
"A moment, dear," she said.
He stopped. Let go his hands, so she could pull away. And watched her, rubbing his neck with a look almost like embarrassment.
"A little fast?" he asked.
"There were two of us going that fast."
"Good. I, ah... I've been getting a little pent up, trying not to hit on you."
"You've been trying not to hit on me?"
"Before a few days ago, yeah."
"Why?"
He opened his mouth. Paused. Considered. "I'm not sure if telling you will make things better or worse."
"I think whatever I imagine if you don't might be worse."
"Point. I, um... I have a lot on you?" He wiggled his hands in demonstration. "I know too much."
"Ah, so you're trying to resist the fell allure of the fae?"
"Oh, no, I'm not interested in resisting that. It's a very sexy fell allure."
"Then what?"
"How do you say 'no'? If someone who knows as much as I do wants to sleep with you."
Ah. That... was entirely true. And even if she didn't find him as attractive as she did, she would still have been trying to seduce him. And certainly wouldn't have turned down any sign of interest.
Couldn't have, whether she planned to seduce him or not, if he'd been both interested and willing to use her secrets as blackmail.
"I see," she said.
"From the look on your face, I've put exactly the terrible thoughts in your head that constitute 'worse'."
"To an extent."
"Let me banish them. The help we've promised each other and the secrets I'm keeping for you are not contingent on a single kiss, or embrace, or fond look. I'd like to have fun together, but only as far as it's fun for both of us."
"No blackmail?"
"Not for this."
"If you're being that specific, I suppose that means you're being honest."
"For once in my life. You must be corrupting me."
"Into honesty?"
"Terrible corruption, coming from a fellow liar."
She giggled. Pecked a kiss against his cheek and felt sorely tempted to resume. But, well. There was talking to be done. And honesty, even. Though not too much. They were never going to have too much.
Greta had better be right about his life relying on her lies.
But honesty, for now. "So, someone who knows as much as you do wants to sleep with me. And I find myself entirely unwilling to say no. What version of me would you like to see?"
He cocked his head. "What version of you do you want to be?"
"It doesn't matter to you?"
"Oh, no, it matters. Quite a lot, actually."
"Oh?"
"I want to see you as you want to be seen." His gaze drifted over her, something in it both fond and wistful. "Whatever form that takes. This one's fine, too, if you like it."
She relaxed into the ease of that reply. Realizing, in its absence, the tension it had dispelled.
"I like it, for now." She looked down at her burden of clothes and makeup and remover. "With some modifications."
"Looking forward to seeing that dress on you again. If that's what you're thinking?"
"It is."
"Mm, good. Any requests? I can wear something nice for you."
"I'm sure you know what you look good in." She offered him a seductive smile. "Maybe you can show me how you'd like to be seen."
He bowed with his usual flourish, and she headed for the bathroom to change.
The bow was a convenient way, as always, for Mickey to hide his facial expression from view. Especially from Alanna. She was far too astute. And he was far too tempted to trust her in ways he trusted no one.
He had no idea what he'd show her, if he ever did try to answer how he'd like to be seen.
But what he looked good in, that much was easy. He didn't have to change much, he hadn't exactly come into the night wearing something unflattering, but a little more formality would match her well. Which was hilarious, because when he'd proposed "sleepover", he'd been thinking pajamas and fuzzy slippers. But, mm, if she looked half so good in that dress now as she had her first night in the mansion... it had been hard enough not to proposition her then. Would she have accepted? Would it have felt as right as it did now?
He put together the touches that he'd worried before might be too pushy, some small towels and his treasure chest of pleasure toys. If that kiss was anything to go by--if those things he'd spotted tucked amidst her bundle were anything to go by--they wouldn't go unappreciated. He arranged himself as seductively as he could and waited.
She emerged. Her golden hair freed from the bun she'd pinned up for class, cascading down in waves over her bared shoulders, the curve of her collarbone etched in bone and muscle. The straps of her dress's halter top were pulled taut enough to hug the smoother curves of her chest, and the whole dress clung to her in a way it hadn't been able to before.
She caught him staring, of course. Turned just enough to show off the rest. The low sweep of the dress's back left her wings fully exposed. And, as he watched, twinned muscles in her back contracted, and her wings stretched open on full display.
Two sets, the top white and speckled, the bottom golden, veins visible in darker amber. They moved with her breathing, with the breeze from the ceiling fan, fluttering on gentle puffs of air. They stretched to quivering tautness, then settled into a half-close. She turned back to face him. She didn't ask how he felt about them, or how he felt about her. She didn't need to. He wasn't bothering to hide it, not anymore.
He rose to take one of her hands, kissed the backs of her knuckles. They were bare, smooth bronze, one artificial fingernail missing from each. He glanced up to see her looking over him, at the eccentric elegance he'd elected in pinstripes and emerald, serpents chasing each other in the damask of his tie.
"You are wearing far too many clothes," she said.
"I thought you might have fun taking them off."
She laughed and shook her head. Reached forward and loosened his tie, just enough to set him askew. To make him long for her to part the buttons underneath. Oh, this would be fun.
"May I kiss you?" he asked.
"Be my guest."
He leaned forward, caught the taste of her, sweet like vanilla. Felt her hand tangle in his hair--not nearly so long as hers, but plenty enough to grip. It sent a pulse of desire down his body. All the more as the tip of her tongue began to explore his lips, as she let forth a soft sigh that held so much promise.
He ran his hands down her bared back, the skin-to-skin contact and her alien aura both lighting up sparks of sensation. She flared her wings at the touch, spreading them until they brushed his knuckles, inviting, and he could feel her magic flowing like sun-warmed water over the backs of his fingers. He followed its current on newfound instinct, feeling the eddy and swirl of her power.
"You really are beautiful," he whispered against her lips. Shifted his attention to more mundane pleasures, like trailing kisses along her cheek until he found a spot just below her earlobe that made her shiver. Her hands, meanwhile, undid his tie and buttons until her mouth pulled sweet along his throat. Enough to shift his breathing down to huffs, to leave him taut and longing downstairs.
He ran his fingers up the side of her neck, feeling her push into the contact, reveling in that small sign of her desire. He tugged, tentative, at the knot of her halter top. She nodded, and he loosed it, letting the straps fall and bare her chest. Flat and smooth with dark, pert nipples.
She had his shirt and waistcoat unbuttoned enough to expose a deep V of his skin now, and he closed his eyes as she slipped one hand under to caress him. He pushed down the flicker of thoughts that brought, of the glamour sitting in the bathroom, of what that might look like, feel like. Not on her, but on him.
He focused himself instead on her warm touch, the pleasant ways she made his body feel. On rolling his thumb over one of her nipples and watching her skin prickle with goosebumps. Those weren't glamour? Interesting.
And then she was kissing him again, even as her hands explored him further, and he couldn't think about much at all.
The clothes came off in loosened buttons and opened zippers, each separation between the warmth of their bodies falling away piece by piece, the touch of her smooth skin and the firm press of her leanly-muscled form drawing him deeper and deeper into the intoxication of her presence.
Her fingertips brushed his cock, just barely. Enough to make the sensation resound, sharp, sensitive. He whimpered, had to lean on her for balance.
"I like the sounds you make," she breathed into his ear, her breath alone sending tingles down his cheek.
She touched him again, slow and lingering, just two knuckles gliding from the slick wetness of his tip down the line of his shaft, just enough to feel far too good, to force another high pleasure-sound from his throat. To leave him longing, desperate, for more.
He slipped his hand between her legs, looked a question to her. It was difficult, so difficult, not to close his eyes as she ran her knuckles over him again. God, she could do that to him all night, and it would be cruel and taunting and beautiful.
"Either," she whispered to him. "Both."
"Any--" oh, god, that felt so good, "Anything you like in particular?"
"I want to see what you do." Even as her fingers circled his cock, toying with him. "I'll tell you if I want something different."
"Mmn."
"Do you want something different?"
A great deal of him wanted to say No, please, don't stop, gorgeous, but instead he said, "I'll probably come the second you go past teasing me, and, ah--not sure if I want this to be over that fast?" He bit his lip. "For me. I'll touch you all you like either way."
"Ah. Poor dear." Her hand fell away from him, and he fought the urge to beg her to return it. "Touch me for a bit? Then I'm sure we could find something... mutually entertaining." With a glance to the box he'd set out by the bed. A glance that held so much promise.
"Sounds fun." He tucked her hair behind one ear, his lips finding that spot she'd liked so much before, the one that made her shiver against him. Between her legs, his fingers parted her lips, finding her wet and slick. Shifted instinctively to rub the side of one finger against her clit, but that wasn't... quite how she was laid out. He ran his fingers along her inner lips instead, slow and smooth, feeling her shiver turn into shudders of fuller pleasure, listening to her voice come out in breathy notes. God, hearing her, feeling her, the way she pushed into his touch, how much she seemed to enjoy it--he couldn't get enough of this.
He let go of her hair and took his other hand down, this to grip her firm, small cock, savoring as her moans grew louder, as she thrust into his hand. He wanted this, wanted her, beautiful and lost to pleasure.
She did offer him advice eventually, and following it brought forth a melodic crescendo. One that ended, after a while, in her holding back his hands before she, too, succumbed sooner than she wanted.
The way she looked at him after that. Composure gone, and desire in its place. Aimed at him, no less, and that alone felt euphoric.
She sent him to the bed and dipped into the bathroom, long enough to bring that flicker of thoughts back from where he'd quashed it, of her bringing back the glamour with her and trying it on him. He distracted himself from the feeling, focused instead on silly practicalities, like the weird ways it would certainly glitch if it were on him. Maybe it was sized to her, so he would end up with the head of his dick floating somewhere off the edge of his body, like a horny ghost.
Thairn returned, vibrator and lubricant in hand, to find Mickey laying back on the bed, laughing.
"May I ask?" she inquired.
"Mm, being ridiculous."
"Oh?"
"Magic and a dirty mind are a terrible combination, let me assure you."
"Do tell."
"Oh, no, darling, we have to save something for later."
His eyes caught on her vibrator. "Is that for you, or for me?"
"For you."
Surprised him, that much she could read. "Needs a flared base for that, I'm afraid. As fun as it looks."
His turn to surprise her, though not by much. She'd gotten hints. Not all his stories were about fantastic bottoms. But it did make her wonder what was in the little chest he'd set out by the bed.
But she hadn't brought this over with quite that intent. "Oh, I know," she told him. "I wasn't intending to use it there."
He cocked his head. "I'm interested."
"May I?"
"Anything I need to do?"
"Lie back."
He snugged a little further into the mattress, just enough to make his erect cock bounce. Mm. She squeezed a clear drop of lubricant onto the vibrator, watching as his eyes fixed on it briefly before his gaze turned to her, slowly drawing over her as if he were savoring the sight. Heavens, it was heady, feeling wanted like this.
She drew herself along the bed, up between his legs, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken at her approach. She cradled his cock in one hand and started the vibe with the other. Drew its lubricated tip down his shaft and watched for his response.
Curious, mostly.
More? She turned it up, pressed it against the base of his head. He rocked a little into the buzz of it.
"Do you like this?" she asked.
"Mm. Kind of. Very... teasing? You're going to get me all worked up with nowhere to go."
"There somewhere you'd like to go?"
"All kinds of places, darling." The start of a grin, and then a soft, gorgeous sound as she turned it up further. He glanced over at that little box of his, and her curiosity won out. She opened it up with her free hand, to find about what she'd expected.
"For you, or for me?" she asked, echoing his question.
"You're welcome to either." Voice breathy, despite his attempt to sound cocky. "But if you could, for me, please."
She withdrew the smallest of his collection, holding it carefully between manicured fingers. Set the vibrator into his hand to hold, while she got the thicker lube that lay in the box. Slickened it for him. Set the bottle down and ran her dry hand along his body, from throat to chest to hips. Slid the plug slowly, carefully into him while he bit his lip, pushed against the pressure, pulled away the vibe to run his free hand over his cock. Just watching his response, his desire, his pleasure made her want him. Want to feel him, have him. All the more when he offered her the vibe.
"Instead of that," she said, "Maybe I could have you?"
He nodded, licked his lips. "Please." Heavens, she loved those pleases.
She drew the small one out of him, before she continued. Got the next from the set. Slicked it, and pressed it to his entrance, just enough to feel the resistance even as he worked himself against it. Held herself over him, balancing on her knees and her dry hand, let him adjust himself just enough for her to grind him. No worries about protection--their species were too different to need it. Instead, bare sensation, hot and dizzying and heavenly. He felt good, so good, and he was voicing every breath high and soft, pleasure sounds in melody. He loosened enough, finally, to take the rest of the toy. She repositioned to feel his cock slide against her, its head brushing her entrance with every rocking movement.
She wanted him. She wanted this.
She reached down to adjust him into place, caught a glance at his expression to make sure. Fervent nods answered her. She eased down onto him. Tight. It had been a while, and her vibrator was not thick enough to simulate. But she wanted it, badly enough that she could hear her own high whimper of desire emerge, unbidden. And she could see his eyes close in ecstasy. Heavens, that look of his.
She pushed down further, let him in further. Nearly too much for her, but it felt so good. She reached down to press a knuckle against the base of his plug, to feel the way it made him thrust harder, desperate. And then he took her vibrator, held it up against her just where she'd done to him.
The next moments were lost to everything but pleasure, desire, the heat of his body and the thrum of feeling, the sound of their voices tangling into chords, the way this felt so right-- And after, lassitude. Feeling him cradle her close, his body still quivering, hers yet washed by lapping waves of orgasm.
For all she was the shorter one, he nestled so perfectly into the crook of her shoulder, his arm hung over her side. His knuckles brushed absently against her wings, as her fingers stroked his hair.
Heavens.
After a while, Mickey groped around until he found one of the little towels next to the bed, "If you'd excuse me a moment, Alanna, dear, you seem to have left something back here." Wishing, as always, that he'd thought to take it out when he was still some ways into arousal. Far less fun to take out than it had been to take in.
"It's been a while since I've had a bottom," Alanna said.
"Oh, no, you'll find I'm quite versatile."
A snort. Oh, she'd gotten that one. Interesting.
"Well," Alanna said, "that makes one of us."
"You don't top?"
"I do top. I don't bottom."
He lifted an eyebrow, because... well.
"I suppose if you want to count that, then yes. There is fine."
"But the back door's closed?"
"Quite."
"Not to be... I'm genuinely not pushing you for anything. But, out of curiosity, you didn't have the misfortune of going from zero to cock, did you? Because if you have, I'd love to assure you there are some wonderful smaller steps along the way."
"I've made that mistake. But, I've also tried those smaller steps. Combining it with other sensations, and..." A twist of her mouth. "I've topped long enough that I know what I would like. But it doesn't feel right, physically, or even sexual."
"A tragedy indeed. But you like topping and the... let's say, front door?"
"If you really want to dance around it that much. But yes, I do. I take it you don't go from zero to cock? Do you like working your way up that far?"
"Depends on the cock. But I don't think it'd be hard to work up to you."
"This is usually when the person saying that becomes flustered and apologetic."
"Should I apologize? Does your size bother you?"
"No. My size is convenient. And I have a distaste for imagining myself elsewise. Besides, I've 'bottomed' far too many times to find 'large enough to be uncomfortable' appealing."
"Am I large enough to be uncomfortable?"
She snorted.
"My heart! Truly, you have wounded me."
"Really?"
"No."
"Then I suppose I won't lie."
"We are the worst for keeping each other dishonest."
She shook her head, but fondly. "You were a stretch tonight, but I'm out of practice. Otherwise, you wouldn't be."
"Out of practice topping, out of practice bottoming... seems I'm the water in your drought."
"Not a drought. That's not--" She caught herself. As if she were about to be too honest.
Curious. "No?"
Hesitation. But then, "My most recent relationship wasn't particularly sexual. But I wouldn't call it a drought. What we had is... it's nice."
"Present tense or past?"
Silence.
"Am I digging too deep?"
She shook her head. "I'm trying to figure out what's okay to tell you. And what I feel comfortable telling."
"On account of being a dashing spy?"
She laughed. "Yes, on that account. He's... let's just say, it's on hold while I'm here."
"Does he know you're here, seducing gorgeous wizards?"
"He has, in fact, given me full permission to seduce all the gorgeous wizards I desire."
"I like him already."
"Do you?"
"Shouldn't I?"
"I would think you'd be jealous."
"You have met me, haven't you?"
"I'd say we've been introduced." With a significant look to their scattered bed toys.
"Do I seem like the jealous type? Come, now, you've heard my stories."
"It's not like your stories come with timelines. And usually you're the one you describe philandering."
"It's not philandering if everyone knows I refuse to consider monogamy."
"Do you, now?"
"You weren't expecting any, were you? I warned you I was a rake."
"You did." And that came out fond.
"What's he like?"
She fell silent. Deep in thought. "He's... steady. I feel grounded with him. I always feel like, no matter what happens, he won't be one of my tragic romances." A laugh. "Maybe because he doesn't feel romantically about me at all. That's why it won't be tragic."
"I can't say I get it, but he sounds important to you."
"He is. It's a, ah, kink thing we have going. And a friendship. A long, long friendship."
"Do you miss him?"
She seemed to fight with herself for a moment. But then, she nodded. Being, perhaps, honest.
They truly did corrupt one another.
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