Illya worked up a sweat as he pushed and thrust himself again and again. Moaning; he stopped.
“Hey,” Napoleon chuckled.” Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
“What? Ohhh...keep your thoughts to yourself. I am almost finished.”
“I thought you were?”
“No I am not, but one-last-push… ”
“Waiting patiently tovarisch.”
“I am coming, will you just please relax Napoleon? …Yesss,” Illya hissed with pleasure.
“If you were stuck in a drain pipe, wouldn’t you be a little anxious, partner?”
Illya grabbed Solo by his jacket collar and hauled him up to his freedom.
“Happy?”
“Immensely.”
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Date: 2015-07-22 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 03:23 pm (UTC)(When writing my stories I have sometimes found when proofing that I've, er, typed THRUST instead of THRUSH. How Freudian is that? No wonder I really liked this drabble. Still fanning myself from the imagery...)
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Date: 2015-07-22 03:32 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for the comment. :D
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Date: 2015-07-22 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-22 08:44 pm (UTC)Oh my virgin eyes! They'll never be the same.
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Date: 2015-07-22 09:14 pm (UTC)Hmmm, get your mind out of the gutter. Mwa-ha-haaaa!
Thank you!
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Date: 2015-07-23 07:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-23 11:38 am (UTC)