Re: Fill- Missed You 2/2
anonymous
March 15 2012, 23:45:30 UTC
The rest of the clothing comes off, and when it’s all in heaps around their feet the agent runs a hand up the ridge of his arch enemy’s spine, fingers splayed with buzzing skin against the palm and thick linen scraping the back. He can feel the bumps and knobs of bone and the thinness of the flesh, everything unexpectedly delicate under the surface.
“Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz says, and you can hear the raised eyebrow, “is this going somewhere or are we playing Helen Keller for the rest of the night?”
And with charm like that, it’s a wonder the nations of the world aren’t throwing themselves at his feet by now.
Perry frees his hand in order to execute a sharp twist to something fairly sensitive, and then he’s reaching over the edge of the bed for that miraculous plastic bottle that he’d taken to storing in the bedside table a long time ago. He flicks the cap open and coats a hand with coolness, hips shifting in barely contained twitches as he keeps a tight lid on his instinct to grind violently against the doctor’s pelvis, pin his hands to the bed and thrust with all the pointless fury he can wring out of himself, snatch up everything he’s aching for in a few greedy minutes.
He doesn’t, of course. This has to last, this has to be… this has to be everything, for as long as possible.
There was a time when these next steps were awkward, when everything was new and he was at as much of a loss as he’d ever been in his life, and they fumbled through it and he pressed on, determined, because what else could he do? Even then, there was an utterly stupid perfection in it all. But now it’s as easy as breathing.
Doofenshmirtz is mumbling as Perry blazes through the preliminary steps. The words sound German, but they run together breathlessly in their odd, tumbling way, and Perry can’t tell if it’s even all the same language, but the running commentary is so Heinz, and he catches his own name somewhere in the rush. At last, too long and not long enough, he withdraws his hand from underneath the scientist and pauses with the dripping, swollen tips of their members just barely touching. Every heartbeat brings the skin together. Without sight, sheets against his knees and the thighs in a vice around his thighs, and the raging electric storm that sparks up from that brief touch are the only real things in his world.
“You-ah, you are being really weird tonight,” Doofenshmirtz informs him, breathy and a little lost sounding. “I know it’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure this is the part where you fuck me.”
In the darkness, the agent breaks into a lopsided grin. Fair enough.
Perry traces the length of a vein on the underside of his villain’s length, and then he throws his hips forward-a little bit of that desperate violence slipping through-with a gasp that’s half choke. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever get one hundred percent used to this, to the lightening storm in his nerves and the dizzy sensory overload of that first thrust. It makes his body rattle.
In the darkness and the near perfect silence, Perry leans forward and presses his forehead against Doofenshmirtz’s, eyes closed.
He’s going to take his time tonight, he’s going to push them both so far that time stands still and the world halts on its axis. He knows he can do it, he’s Perry after all. He can do anything, with the right momentum behind him.
“Gott,” the scientist murmurs, a bit of a grin in it. “Oh, I have missed you.”
Perry growls appreciatively and wraps a fist around the cock of the man panting below him.
It’s good to be home.
--
As the sun is first creeping up over the city skyline, Perry extricates himself from Doofenshmirtz’s bizarrely splayed form and pads across the room, absolutely silent. The morning light behind the blinds tie-dyes the villain’s blueprints, but Perry can just make out the title with the paper tilted just so.
It’s called the with-a-bang-inator, according to the header, but underneath that, with a line slashed through them, are the words that make the sun rise on the horizon as far as Perry is concerned.
Re: Fill- Missed You 2/2
anonymous
March 20 2012, 11:08:23 UTC
hahaha yes good
jokes on you i didnt even really want sex i just wanted someone to write about them ebing in a consensual nice relationship togehter i got what i wanted
Re: Fill- Missed You 2/2
anonymous
August 16 2012, 13:11:40 UTC
Mm, I love your style of narration. I'm all for close interpretations of the canon (a silly, dysfunctional, adorable relationship), but I also really like when people give it a spin that's a little more serious, has a little more edge. This was lovely all around, thank you.
The rest of the clothing comes off, and when it’s all in heaps around their feet the agent runs a hand up the ridge of his arch enemy’s spine, fingers splayed with buzzing skin against the palm and thick linen scraping the back. He can feel the bumps and knobs of bone and the thinness of the flesh, everything unexpectedly delicate under the surface.
“Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz says, and you can hear the raised eyebrow, “is this going somewhere or are we playing Helen Keller for the rest of the night?”
And with charm like that, it’s a wonder the nations of the world aren’t throwing themselves at his feet by now.
Perry frees his hand in order to execute a sharp twist to something fairly sensitive, and then he’s reaching over the edge of the bed for that miraculous plastic bottle that he’d taken to storing in the bedside table a long time ago. He flicks the cap open and coats a hand with coolness, hips shifting in barely contained twitches as he keeps a tight lid on his instinct to grind violently against the doctor’s pelvis, pin his hands to the bed and thrust with all the pointless fury he can wring out of himself, snatch up everything he’s aching for in a few greedy minutes.
He doesn’t, of course. This has to last, this has to be… this has to be everything, for as long as possible.
There was a time when these next steps were awkward, when everything was new and he was at as much of a loss as he’d ever been in his life, and they fumbled through it and he pressed on, determined, because what else could he do? Even then, there was an utterly stupid perfection in it all. But now it’s as easy as breathing.
Doofenshmirtz is mumbling as Perry blazes through the preliminary steps. The words sound German, but they run together breathlessly in their odd, tumbling way, and Perry can’t tell if it’s even all the same language, but the running commentary is so Heinz, and he catches his own name somewhere in the rush. At last, too long and not long enough, he withdraws his hand from underneath the scientist and pauses with the dripping, swollen tips of their members just barely touching. Every heartbeat brings the skin together. Without sight, sheets against his knees and the thighs in a vice around his thighs, and the raging electric storm that sparks up from that brief touch are the only real things in his world.
“You-ah, you are being really weird tonight,” Doofenshmirtz informs him, breathy and a little lost sounding. “I know it’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure this is the part where you fuck me.”
In the darkness, the agent breaks into a lopsided grin. Fair enough.
Perry traces the length of a vein on the underside of his villain’s length, and then he throws his hips forward-a little bit of that desperate violence slipping through-with a gasp that’s half choke. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever get one hundred percent used to this, to the lightening storm in his nerves and the dizzy sensory overload of that first thrust. It makes his body rattle.
In the darkness and the near perfect silence, Perry leans forward and presses his forehead against Doofenshmirtz’s, eyes closed.
He’s going to take his time tonight, he’s going to push them both so far that time stands still and the world halts on its axis. He knows he can do it, he’s Perry after all. He can do anything, with the right momentum behind him.
“Gott,” the scientist murmurs, a bit of a grin in it. “Oh, I have missed you.”
Perry growls appreciatively and wraps a fist around the cock of the man panting below him.
It’s good to be home.
--
As the sun is first creeping up over the city skyline, Perry extricates himself from Doofenshmirtz’s bizarrely splayed form and pads across the room, absolutely silent. The morning light behind the blinds tie-dyes the villain’s blueprints, but Perry can just make out the title with the paper tilted just so.
It’s called the with-a-bang-inator, according to the header, but underneath that, with a line slashed through them, are the words that make the sun rise on the horizon as far as Perry is concerned.
“Bring Perry home inator”, it says.
Reply
jokes on you i didnt even really want sex i just wanted someone to write about them ebing in a consensual nice relationship togehter
i got what i wanted
good
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment