Fic: Panty Parade (Dark Angel, Alec/Max implied, PG13)
Title: Panty Parade
Author: alyse
Pairing: Max/Alec, bantering
Word Count: ~1,000
Rating: PG13
Warning: None
Spoilers: Set in Season 2 but no spoilers
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or its characters. I'm just borrowing them and will put them back, possibly a little more worn than they were before.
Author's notes: Written for mmom. Prompt from temaris, who is evil. This is not news.
Summary: Alec loses a bet. Max is amused until she realises what the forfeit involves.
-o-
He hears Max before he sees her - it's kind of inevitable with his souped up hearing, but even without that she's forgotten how to move quietly. Maybe he'll be lucky, this time, and she won't hear the groan he lets out as he bangs his head against the lockers. More than once.
He'd really hoped that run would keep her over in Sector 9 for a little while longer. It's not like her to hurry on back to the Pony when Normal's just waiting to find her something to do. But he's not that lucky, and this time he smells her before he sees her; rain and sweat and leather, underlain by that not quite human musk of hers.
"Max," he says evenly, not looking up, and she snorts in answer, slamming her locker door open to rummage inside it and ignoring him. He's not normally ignorable, and on a good day he'd be in her space, filling every inch of it, but today he's not been lucky at all.
Maybe he should have made more of an effort, because she's eyeballing him suspiciously - which isn't that unusual, now he comes to think of it. So he pulls up a smile from somewhere, and gives her one of those looks, all up and down her body, even though he knows it's going to earn him a smack.
It doesn't. She just leans against the locker, looking at him, and there's a smile playing around the corner of her mouth, and that's when he just knows that his luck hasn't so much gone AWOL as deserted for the opposition.
"I hear you lost a bet," she says, all smug smirk and attitude, and normally he'd be there, giving as good as he got, but not today. "Care to share?"
"No," he says, short and anything but sweet. He turns to pull something from his own locker, and something, somewhere, tightens in a way it shouldn't and he freezes, just for a second, but it's enough.
She snorts with laughter, and it's not exactly a feat of logic to work out that not only does she know he lost the bet but that she knows exactly what he lost.
Or more precisely what she's lost. She obviously hasn't realised that part yet.
"So," she says, and for all her little one sided shrug, there's laughter in her voice. "A little bird told me you'd been making some... sartorial changes."
"That little bird wouldn't be called Sketchy, would it?"
"Maybe."
The laughter's still there in her voice, and maybe that's why he huffs out a breath and gives her a smile of his own. She probably expects something sheepish, what with him being caught with his pants down - kind of literally now he thinks about it. It's not. It's wolfish, and she frowns, the beginnings of suspicion blossoming back in her eyes.
"You know me, Max. I'm a fairly easygoing guy." He smirks and gives her the once over again, not missing the way she folds her arms and glares at him over the top of them - that's a more usual look for her than laughing, even if it's at him this time and most definitely not with. "I'm pretty much up for any new experience. All this being out in the big, brand new world."
He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively and she snorts, her humour fading rapidly. The muscles in her arms and her legs tighten fractionally, ready for her to move away, dismiss him as always, but before she can he adds, "Yeah, I lost the bet," he says. "This time." He shrugs and gives her a smile designed to show how little he cares. It's not like he didn't go through a million times worse at Manticore, so he's not embarrassed by it. But she might be. He leans in closer, challenge in every line of his body. "Wanna see?"
She pauses, her expression - so readable, if only she knew - veering between repulsion and curiosity. And he knows what they say about cats and curiosity, so he's not at all surprised when she stays instead of runs, even if she doesn't give him any encouragement.
That's nothing new for Max either, and, hell, it's not like he actually needs encouraging. He reaches down casually and unzips his pants, peeling the fabric to the side so she can see what he's wearing underneath. Black, lacy and - he sees the precise moment when she gets it - familiar. At least to Max.
"'Course," he adds, moving his hand from the fastening of his pants to scratch at his head and putting on his best 'aww shucks' expression. He leaves his pants gaping, just so she gets a good look, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away, a multitude of expressions flying across her face, and he thinks that it's the panties she's looking at. Maybe not - she's so uptight she can't possibly have been laid recently, or done any laying of her own. Maybe she's reminding herself what it looks like. Whatever, he's not planning to back away until fury becomes the dominant emotion on her face. "I'm not exactly sure where Sketchy got them from." The smile he gives her this time is winsome, but she's not fooled and her eyes narrow as she finally drags her gaze away from his crotch. "One of his previous conquests, I suspect. A gentleman doesn't like to ask."
Now there's fury in her face, and he takes an instinctive step back - he's learnt some self-preservation at least - but it's not aimed at him. She turns rapidly on her heel and stalks out, ignoring him and yelling for Sketchy. Alec does up his pants and saunters after her, grinning. If nothing else, Sketchy's explanation as to how he got hold of Max's panties in the first place - last time she made him do the laundry, he claimed to Alec, but Alec has his doubts - should be entertaining.
He wonders if Max will want them back now. Probably not, but it's almost worth asking her, just to see her reaction. He can make her squirm with a few subtle references to the way the silk feels against his skin, how much of a turn on it is to be wearing something against his dick that's been pressed up against her most intimate of places. But on balance, he probably shouldn't mention the three times today he's jerked off already thinking about just that. He's pretty sure he could outrun Manticore these days, but he's not so sure he can outrun her.
Especially not wearing these panties.
The End
Author: alyse
Pairing: Max/Alec, bantering
Word Count: ~1,000
Rating: PG13
Warning: None
Spoilers: Set in Season 2 but no spoilers
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or its characters. I'm just borrowing them and will put them back, possibly a little more worn than they were before.
Author's notes: Written for mmom. Prompt from temaris, who is evil. This is not news.
Summary: Alec loses a bet. Max is amused until she realises what the forfeit involves.
-o-
He hears Max before he sees her - it's kind of inevitable with his souped up hearing, but even without that she's forgotten how to move quietly. Maybe he'll be lucky, this time, and she won't hear the groan he lets out as he bangs his head against the lockers. More than once.
He'd really hoped that run would keep her over in Sector 9 for a little while longer. It's not like her to hurry on back to the Pony when Normal's just waiting to find her something to do. But he's not that lucky, and this time he smells her before he sees her; rain and sweat and leather, underlain by that not quite human musk of hers.
"Max," he says evenly, not looking up, and she snorts in answer, slamming her locker door open to rummage inside it and ignoring him. He's not normally ignorable, and on a good day he'd be in her space, filling every inch of it, but today he's not been lucky at all.
Maybe he should have made more of an effort, because she's eyeballing him suspiciously - which isn't that unusual, now he comes to think of it. So he pulls up a smile from somewhere, and gives her one of those looks, all up and down her body, even though he knows it's going to earn him a smack.
It doesn't. She just leans against the locker, looking at him, and there's a smile playing around the corner of her mouth, and that's when he just knows that his luck hasn't so much gone AWOL as deserted for the opposition.
"I hear you lost a bet," she says, all smug smirk and attitude, and normally he'd be there, giving as good as he got, but not today. "Care to share?"
"No," he says, short and anything but sweet. He turns to pull something from his own locker, and something, somewhere, tightens in a way it shouldn't and he freezes, just for a second, but it's enough.
She snorts with laughter, and it's not exactly a feat of logic to work out that not only does she know he lost the bet but that she knows exactly what he lost.
Or more precisely what she's lost. She obviously hasn't realised that part yet.
"So," she says, and for all her little one sided shrug, there's laughter in her voice. "A little bird told me you'd been making some... sartorial changes."
"That little bird wouldn't be called Sketchy, would it?"
"Maybe."
The laughter's still there in her voice, and maybe that's why he huffs out a breath and gives her a smile of his own. She probably expects something sheepish, what with him being caught with his pants down - kind of literally now he thinks about it. It's not. It's wolfish, and she frowns, the beginnings of suspicion blossoming back in her eyes.
"You know me, Max. I'm a fairly easygoing guy." He smirks and gives her the once over again, not missing the way she folds her arms and glares at him over the top of them - that's a more usual look for her than laughing, even if it's at him this time and most definitely not with. "I'm pretty much up for any new experience. All this being out in the big, brand new world."
He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively and she snorts, her humour fading rapidly. The muscles in her arms and her legs tighten fractionally, ready for her to move away, dismiss him as always, but before she can he adds, "Yeah, I lost the bet," he says. "This time." He shrugs and gives her a smile designed to show how little he cares. It's not like he didn't go through a million times worse at Manticore, so he's not embarrassed by it. But she might be. He leans in closer, challenge in every line of his body. "Wanna see?"
She pauses, her expression - so readable, if only she knew - veering between repulsion and curiosity. And he knows what they say about cats and curiosity, so he's not at all surprised when she stays instead of runs, even if she doesn't give him any encouragement.
That's nothing new for Max either, and, hell, it's not like he actually needs encouraging. He reaches down casually and unzips his pants, peeling the fabric to the side so she can see what he's wearing underneath. Black, lacy and - he sees the precise moment when she gets it - familiar. At least to Max.
"'Course," he adds, moving his hand from the fastening of his pants to scratch at his head and putting on his best 'aww shucks' expression. He leaves his pants gaping, just so she gets a good look, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away, a multitude of expressions flying across her face, and he thinks that it's the panties she's looking at. Maybe not - she's so uptight she can't possibly have been laid recently, or done any laying of her own. Maybe she's reminding herself what it looks like. Whatever, he's not planning to back away until fury becomes the dominant emotion on her face. "I'm not exactly sure where Sketchy got them from." The smile he gives her this time is winsome, but she's not fooled and her eyes narrow as she finally drags her gaze away from his crotch. "One of his previous conquests, I suspect. A gentleman doesn't like to ask."
Now there's fury in her face, and he takes an instinctive step back - he's learnt some self-preservation at least - but it's not aimed at him. She turns rapidly on her heel and stalks out, ignoring him and yelling for Sketchy. Alec does up his pants and saunters after her, grinning. If nothing else, Sketchy's explanation as to how he got hold of Max's panties in the first place - last time she made him do the laundry, he claimed to Alec, but Alec has his doubts - should be entertaining.
He wonders if Max will want them back now. Probably not, but it's almost worth asking her, just to see her reaction. He can make her squirm with a few subtle references to the way the silk feels against his skin, how much of a turn on it is to be wearing something against his dick that's been pressed up against her most intimate of places. But on balance, he probably shouldn't mention the three times today he's jerked off already thinking about just that. He's pretty sure he could outrun Manticore these days, but he's not so sure he can outrun her.
Especially not wearing these panties.
The End