Fic: Nightbird Makes An Advantageous Mistake
Title: Nightbird Makes An Advantageous Mistake
Rating: R
Word Count: 1350
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: 4x07 I suppose
Warnings: roleplay
Summary: Nightbird is caught in the clutches of the villainous Cat. Can he escape? And more importantly, does he want to?
Sequel to my fic Nightbird Meets His Match, which can be read here or on my tumblr here.
“Well, well, well. Did you really think it was wise to follow me back to my lair, little birdie?” The Cat paces, his long legs mesmerizing in the low light of the loft. Nightbird remains quiet. It's better to do so, he finds, when in such a jam. That is, held against his will by a member of the unsavoury criminal underbelly as he currently is. He stretches out his stiff fingers and attempts to wiggle his wrists. But to no avail. The Cat has him tied up well.
The villain in question stops his pacing and turns, placing one clawed hand on his shapely hip. “Keep your silence then. It doesn't matter. I have you ensnared in my ball of yarn and you have nothing to show for your little attempt at detective work.”
Nightbird makes a quiet scoffing noise, then quickly shuts up. But it's too late; he's caught the attention of The Cat, and he moves in closer, his eyebrow arched worryingly. “What was that?” he asks, his voice dangerous.
“I wouldn't say it was for nought,” Nightbird says. “I had a chance to look around before you discovered me after all. What's with all of the wedding magazines? Are you getting married?”
The Cat moves in more quickly and catches Nightbird's chin between his fingers, his eyes a pale, steely blue. Beautiful. But Nightbird cannot allow himself to think such things. The Cat is a criminal. He has stolen jewels from private collections the world over and he must be brought to justice.
“What am I to do with you now, hmm?” he asks. “You know where my hideout is. It's not as if I can just send you on your way with a congratulatory fruit basket.”
Nightbird shrugs his shoulders. “You could,” he says.
The Cat clucks his tongue and leans in, running his nose over the side of Nightbird's face, sniffing. He's smelling him. Nightbird swallows loudly. He can feel The Cat's grin against his jaw.
“I don't think so, silly birdie.” He runs one sharp claw up Nightbird's chest, up over his bobbing Adam's apple and his chin, and rests it against his lips. “Such a pretty mouth,” he says. “Oh the things I could do to your pretty little mouth.”
Nightbird swallows again. It's tempting. So tempting. But he cannot give in. Truth. Justice. There is no room for the Nocturnal Avenger to go soft when faced with a pair of beautiful colour-changing eyes and a body that won't quit. No. It is not to be had.
The Cat lets his long pink tongue slip out from between his lips, licking over them slowly with a low hum. His finger still rests against Nightbird's lips and he applies pressure there, sliding it in between until the tip is dipping inside, the point of his claw bringing up against Nightbird's tongue. He thrusts it out a bit and back in, and then out fully, delighting in the way Nightbird's eyes widen, the hitch in his breath. “Oh yes,” he says, his voice husky. “So many yummy possibilities with a mouth like that.”
“Wouldn't your betrothed be jealous that you're playing with me like this?” Nightbird asks, grasping at anything to get The Cat to set him free.
The Cat smirks and takes a step to the side, reaching up to check his whip which is wrapped around both of Nightbird's wrists and looped over an exposed beam in the wall, securing him in place. “I'm not sure,” The Cat says. He places his hand over Nightbird's and gives his wrist a sharp squeeze, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I guess I'll have to ask him.” His breath tickles the shell of Nightbird's ear and he shivers involuntarily.
“Naughty, naughty bird. You liked that,” The Cat says. He slinks back around Nightbird's body, stopping in front of him once more, much too close for comfort.
“You have no concrete evidence to support such a claim,” Nightbird says.
The Cat lifts his eyebrows and smirks and lets out a delicate laugh. “Oh don't I? Hmm...” He keeps his eyes locked with Nightbird's as his hand begins to roam over Nightbird's chest and belly and turns to cup around his hip. The Cat massages his hipbone gently for half a second before he goes in for the kill, grasping Nightbird's erection in the palm of his hand. Nightbird gasps and The Cat lets out another tinkling laugh. “I do believe I've found your precious proof. I guess that makes me the superior detective.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Nightbird gasps out, bucking his hips as The Cat squeezes, then begins to rhythmically rub the palm of his hand over Nightbird's rigid cock.
“Hmm... Oh, there are so many possibilities. So many ways to keep you from talking... Maybe I should set up the video camera and get it all on tape, shall I? Then I would have the blackmail leverage to keep you off my back for good. I think I've got one sitting around somewhere. One of the security cameras from that vault last Wednesday that you were unable to keep me from robbing. Such lovely emeralds.” He continues his ministrations, Nightbird becoming more and more taken in by the moment. He feels beads of sweat beginning to break out on his forehead and upper lip as he attempts to hold in his pants and his whines, attempts to keep his hips still when all he wants to do is thrust against the delicious friction of The Cat's firm hand.
“But first,” The Cat says, leaning forward to lick over Nightbird's parted lips. He releases Nightbird's cock and he cries out, making The Cat chuckle. He's sliding down Nightbird's body now, his claws scraping lightly as he goes down, down, all the way to his knees. He looks up and catches Nightbird's eye, wrapping his hands around the tops of his thighs, his claws cutting uncomfortably into the flesh. “Meow,” he whispers, and then all Nightbird can feel is hot and damp and the delectable pressure of The Cat's mouth working over his hard cock through his uniform. His tongue lapping and his lips sucking and Nightbird himself moaning and gasping and urging him on yesyesyespleasemoreyes.
The Cat stops abruptly and Nightbird cries out his displeasure. He jumps up from his position on the floor and slaps a hand over Nightbird's whining mouth and turns forward, where Nightbird, now that he's no longer so distracted, can hear the rolling of the door as it is opened. A girl clomps in and drops her keys and bag onto a small table, puttering around for a moment before her eyes fall on them.
“Um... what are you guys doing?” she asks.
Kurt straightens up and removes his hand from where it still rests over Blaine's mouth. “Erm... practising. Acting practice. We're getting into character.”
Blaine nods enthusiastically and clears his throat. “Yes, exactly,” he agrees, sharing a nervous look with Kurt. “For class.”
Rachel claps her hands together and grins. “Such a great idea! Let me just get into something and I'll join in!”
“No!” Kurt says loudly.
“Absolutely not,” Blaine says, a horrified whisper.
Rachel furrows her brow and looks at them more shrewdly, her eyes sweeping over the scene, taking in the way Blaine's hands are bound with Kurt's whip and tied to the wall, their flushed faces, large pupils, the low light of the room, and finally zeroing in on the wet spot on Blaine's uniform pants.
“Um...” she says, “I'm just going to....” She motions back towards the door of their apartment with her thumb. “Leave.”
She gives them an odd look while backing away, then quickly retrieves her keys, purse and jacket, and ducks out, the door sliding shut behind her with a loud, echoing bang.
They stand in silence for a long moment, and then Kurt clears his throat and turns back to face Blaine, hands on his hips.
“Now, little birdie. Shall we take this into my den? I can make you so much more uncomfortable in there.”
Rating: R
Word Count: 1350
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: 4x07 I suppose
Warnings: roleplay
Summary: Nightbird is caught in the clutches of the villainous Cat. Can he escape? And more importantly, does he want to?
Sequel to my fic Nightbird Meets His Match, which can be read here or on my tumblr here.
“Well, well, well. Did you really think it was wise to follow me back to my lair, little birdie?” The Cat paces, his long legs mesmerizing in the low light of the loft. Nightbird remains quiet. It's better to do so, he finds, when in such a jam. That is, held against his will by a member of the unsavoury criminal underbelly as he currently is. He stretches out his stiff fingers and attempts to wiggle his wrists. But to no avail. The Cat has him tied up well.
The villain in question stops his pacing and turns, placing one clawed hand on his shapely hip. “Keep your silence then. It doesn't matter. I have you ensnared in my ball of yarn and you have nothing to show for your little attempt at detective work.”
Nightbird makes a quiet scoffing noise, then quickly shuts up. But it's too late; he's caught the attention of The Cat, and he moves in closer, his eyebrow arched worryingly. “What was that?” he asks, his voice dangerous.
“I wouldn't say it was for nought,” Nightbird says. “I had a chance to look around before you discovered me after all. What's with all of the wedding magazines? Are you getting married?”
The Cat moves in more quickly and catches Nightbird's chin between his fingers, his eyes a pale, steely blue. Beautiful. But Nightbird cannot allow himself to think such things. The Cat is a criminal. He has stolen jewels from private collections the world over and he must be brought to justice.
“What am I to do with you now, hmm?” he asks. “You know where my hideout is. It's not as if I can just send you on your way with a congratulatory fruit basket.”
Nightbird shrugs his shoulders. “You could,” he says.
The Cat clucks his tongue and leans in, running his nose over the side of Nightbird's face, sniffing. He's smelling him. Nightbird swallows loudly. He can feel The Cat's grin against his jaw.
“I don't think so, silly birdie.” He runs one sharp claw up Nightbird's chest, up over his bobbing Adam's apple and his chin, and rests it against his lips. “Such a pretty mouth,” he says. “Oh the things I could do to your pretty little mouth.”
Nightbird swallows again. It's tempting. So tempting. But he cannot give in. Truth. Justice. There is no room for the Nocturnal Avenger to go soft when faced with a pair of beautiful colour-changing eyes and a body that won't quit. No. It is not to be had.
The Cat lets his long pink tongue slip out from between his lips, licking over them slowly with a low hum. His finger still rests against Nightbird's lips and he applies pressure there, sliding it in between until the tip is dipping inside, the point of his claw bringing up against Nightbird's tongue. He thrusts it out a bit and back in, and then out fully, delighting in the way Nightbird's eyes widen, the hitch in his breath. “Oh yes,” he says, his voice husky. “So many yummy possibilities with a mouth like that.”
“Wouldn't your betrothed be jealous that you're playing with me like this?” Nightbird asks, grasping at anything to get The Cat to set him free.
The Cat smirks and takes a step to the side, reaching up to check his whip which is wrapped around both of Nightbird's wrists and looped over an exposed beam in the wall, securing him in place. “I'm not sure,” The Cat says. He places his hand over Nightbird's and gives his wrist a sharp squeeze, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I guess I'll have to ask him.” His breath tickles the shell of Nightbird's ear and he shivers involuntarily.
“Naughty, naughty bird. You liked that,” The Cat says. He slinks back around Nightbird's body, stopping in front of him once more, much too close for comfort.
“You have no concrete evidence to support such a claim,” Nightbird says.
The Cat lifts his eyebrows and smirks and lets out a delicate laugh. “Oh don't I? Hmm...” He keeps his eyes locked with Nightbird's as his hand begins to roam over Nightbird's chest and belly and turns to cup around his hip. The Cat massages his hipbone gently for half a second before he goes in for the kill, grasping Nightbird's erection in the palm of his hand. Nightbird gasps and The Cat lets out another tinkling laugh. “I do believe I've found your precious proof. I guess that makes me the superior detective.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Nightbird gasps out, bucking his hips as The Cat squeezes, then begins to rhythmically rub the palm of his hand over Nightbird's rigid cock.
“Hmm... Oh, there are so many possibilities. So many ways to keep you from talking... Maybe I should set up the video camera and get it all on tape, shall I? Then I would have the blackmail leverage to keep you off my back for good. I think I've got one sitting around somewhere. One of the security cameras from that vault last Wednesday that you were unable to keep me from robbing. Such lovely emeralds.” He continues his ministrations, Nightbird becoming more and more taken in by the moment. He feels beads of sweat beginning to break out on his forehead and upper lip as he attempts to hold in his pants and his whines, attempts to keep his hips still when all he wants to do is thrust against the delicious friction of The Cat's firm hand.
“But first,” The Cat says, leaning forward to lick over Nightbird's parted lips. He releases Nightbird's cock and he cries out, making The Cat chuckle. He's sliding down Nightbird's body now, his claws scraping lightly as he goes down, down, all the way to his knees. He looks up and catches Nightbird's eye, wrapping his hands around the tops of his thighs, his claws cutting uncomfortably into the flesh. “Meow,” he whispers, and then all Nightbird can feel is hot and damp and the delectable pressure of The Cat's mouth working over his hard cock through his uniform. His tongue lapping and his lips sucking and Nightbird himself moaning and gasping and urging him on yesyesyespleasemoreyes.
The Cat stops abruptly and Nightbird cries out his displeasure. He jumps up from his position on the floor and slaps a hand over Nightbird's whining mouth and turns forward, where Nightbird, now that he's no longer so distracted, can hear the rolling of the door as it is opened. A girl clomps in and drops her keys and bag onto a small table, puttering around for a moment before her eyes fall on them.
“Um... what are you guys doing?” she asks.
Kurt straightens up and removes his hand from where it still rests over Blaine's mouth. “Erm... practising. Acting practice. We're getting into character.”
Blaine nods enthusiastically and clears his throat. “Yes, exactly,” he agrees, sharing a nervous look with Kurt. “For class.”
Rachel claps her hands together and grins. “Such a great idea! Let me just get into something and I'll join in!”
“No!” Kurt says loudly.
“Absolutely not,” Blaine says, a horrified whisper.
Rachel furrows her brow and looks at them more shrewdly, her eyes sweeping over the scene, taking in the way Blaine's hands are bound with Kurt's whip and tied to the wall, their flushed faces, large pupils, the low light of the room, and finally zeroing in on the wet spot on Blaine's uniform pants.
“Um...” she says, “I'm just going to....” She motions back towards the door of their apartment with her thumb. “Leave.”
She gives them an odd look while backing away, then quickly retrieves her keys, purse and jacket, and ducks out, the door sliding shut behind her with a loud, echoing bang.
They stand in silence for a long moment, and then Kurt clears his throat and turns back to face Blaine, hands on his hips.
“Now, little birdie. Shall we take this into my den? I can make you so much more uncomfortable in there.”