Multi-fandom porn-in: a protest
Today, the Minister for Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy (Australian federal parliament), the (extremely dis)Honourable Stephen Conroy, announced that his UTTERLY BULLSHIT internet filtering plan will go ahead. Even more worrying, the list would be compiled using a public complaints mechanism, Government censors and URLs provided
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Title: Tactical Advantage
Warnings: More Wilson Tuckey. A warning in itself. Also contains the Tuckey/Barnaby Joyce stuff from the 'Ironbar' 'verse. Oh my God, there's a 'verse.
"I don't know if we should be doing this," Barnaby hissed.
"Shh! Leave it to me to get the toyboy who bloody Frenched the Blarney Stone."
"I am not your toyboy."
"Shut up or we'll get caught."
Barnaby fell silent and wondered why on earth he was doing this. 'This' being creeping behind Wilson Tuckey as the old man lead them towards the Labor MPs' offices on a reconnaissance mission that Barnaby couldn't deny was flat out spying. He'd mentioned Watergate, as well as other political scandals over intelligence theft, to Wilson, but his reasoning had somehow been disrupted. Possibly because of something Wilson had done with his tongue.
And now he was here, feeling like a louse but unable to walk away from the whole situation.
"Stay here," Wilson whispered. "Keep your eyes peeled for anyone who comes by."
"Like who? It's bloody late and we should both be at home- "
Wilson whipped around. "Are you or are you not a Liberal to the core?"
"No." Barnaby pursed his lips. "National, remember?"
"Same thing. This is a vital service to both our parties," Wilson said, a hard glint in his eyes. "I will not lose to that ponce Rudd for a second time."
Fair enough, Barnaby thought. He nodded and positioned himself in what he thought was a suitably alert stance in the corridor. There was a sudden light pressure on his shoulder, too short to be a caress but long enough to make Barnaby smile a little. He glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wilson's leg disappearing around the corner.
*
Kevin, a small part of Julia's mind registered, actually looked more pleased than irritated when she let out a scream; they had rules about their liaisons, and keeping as quiet as possible was one of them.
Then again, it was pretty hard not to scream when Wilson Tuckey appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as he took in Julia and Kevin mid-orgasm, the PM's hips still jerking as he came deep inside her.
"Shit," Wilson said.
Julia was frozen with horror. Kevin's expression switched from a sort of dazed half-smile to one of sickened realisation.
"I... We can explain," Kevin blurted out, voice strangled.
Wilson looked highly amused. "Don't worry, I know my sex ed," he said, adding, "Nice legs, Gillard."
She couldn't think of anything to combat that with. Kevin's face went red; he extricated himself from her and stood, defiant, in front of Wilson.
"What do you want, Tuckey?" he asked.
"Hang on, Kev, I want to enjoy this moment for a bit," Wilson said, holding up one hand.
"What do you want?" Kevin repeated, eyes narrowed.
Julia's stomach flipped in the most unpleasant way possible as Wilson smiled.
"Well, now that you bring it up... "
*
Barnaby started as an arm descended around his shoulders. He glanced at Wilson, who looked extremely smug for some reason, and asked, "So did you find anything useful?"
Wilson threw back his head and laughed. Barnaby couldn't help but feel somewhat concerned.
Finally, Wilson's hilarity subsided.
"Very useful," the old man grinned.
"And?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Wilson said, hugging him closer before abruptly letting him go. "Tomorrow night, in fact."
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