[FIC] [Round 25] Closeted, R
Author/Artist: threewalls
Characters/Pairings: Conrad, Yozak, Conrad/Yozak
Word Count: 2353
Rating: R
Any Warnings: drag, cock worship, informal domination, rough sex
Theme/Prompt being used: Cross-Dressing
Summary: Yozak and Conrad reconnect after the spy has been in the field for months.
For lynndyre.
Notes: This is loosely intended as happening in years subsequent to episode 78 of the anime though there are not in fact any spoilers or mention of plot at all.
CLOSETED
Yozak's cloak hides everything but his face, smudges of weariness under his eyes, and the toes of his travel-worn boots, which slide in and out from under the cloak's hem as he walks. Conrad closes his eyes briefly, and resolutely opens them again focused on the corridor ahead.
He doesn't recognise this part of the castle. It's night, so it's not surprising to find the corridors empty of people, but its walls are strangely bare of tapestries and portraits. There are doors, regularly spaced, but unmarked. The nearest is slightly ajar, but no light is coming through.
Conrad yanks open the door, grabs Yozak's arm through his cloak. He pivots on one foot for leverage, expecting more resistance, but ends up tumbling, stumbling into the dark after Yozak. Conrad reaches up to turn on the hanging spirit lamp, shutting the door with a backward kick. The room is a closet, with thick, fluffy towels piled up surrounding them on shelves higher than Yozak could have reached. A closet, and that's better than Conrad could have planned. Hey, Yozak, I heard something funny on Earth: did you know--
Yozak has stepped back against the far wall, which isn't very far at all. The light from the lamp is yellowed, making his hair more orange than red, and brings out the mud patches on that cloak that covers everything but his head. Yozak is watching Conrad, the polite smile that his face has carried since Gwendal's office unchanged. He says nothing.
"Aren't you a bit overdressed?" Conrad blurts out.
Instead of rolling his eyes as he had expected, Yozak shrugs and the gesture parts his cloak.
Conrad's eyes drop immediately, tracing the smooth shimmer of Yozak's stockings up very long, very well sculpted calves and thighs. The stockings stretch all the way to a mid-thigh boundary of lace, to small, shiny buckles amongst the lace that tighten ribbons disappearing under what passes for the skirt. Conrad sometimes forgets how fair Yozak is, that his face and arms are darkened by the sun. Through and above the lace, Yozak's skin is a creamy shade of pale barely distinguishable in the lamplight from the white of his stockings. Conrad feels a rush of heat mingled with bitterness, not only that such intimate areas of Yozak's body are on display but that they have been on display for other men.
Some of what he feels must have shown on his face, because Yozak's arms drop and the cloak with them, but the image remains in Conrad's mind, tempting and maddening. He's never seen this costume before, like a maid's, in so far as there is an apron, but maid duties require more practical clothing than the confection of white and pink Yozak wore. Conrad can imagine what would be on show if Yozak were to bend over a bed to change its linens. All too easily, he can imagine himself standing in a doorway, watching unobserved, fantasies he'd long forgotten (and never, never acted upon) returning to remind him how common a fantasy it is.
"Taichou?"
This is more complicated that simply missing Yozak.
"I want--" he begins, reaching for the tie of Yozak's cloak.
"Yes." Yozak's nimble fingers get there first. Conrad's mouth is dry.
The cloak falls from Yozak's shoulders to the floor, and Conrad falls to his knees with it. He can't not run his hands up those silky stockings, marvelling at the hard muscle they conceal. Conrad leans forward to lay kisses above the garter, working inwards, feeling Yozak's thigh tense under his mouth. Yozak's panties are also white and feel as silky against his cheek as the stockings do under his hands.
Except, he doesn't feel the hardness he expects to match his own, or confusingly even something soft the right shape--
Yozak's hand brushes over his hair, and over his cheek, curving under his chin to tip Conrad's head up to look at him. The light is too dim, the distance too great for Conrad to see whatever Yozak wants him to see, but at least now Yozak is really looking at him.
Yozak's gloved fingers pass over his lips; Conrad opens his mouth, sucking in the thick cotton-covered digits, the tip of his tongue flexing against them. It isn't subtle, but it is easier than asking for what he wants.
"I need--" Yozak's voice wavers, as he pulls his fingers back. "I need you to untuck me now."
The word doesn't make sense immediately, but then Conrad remembers. They've talked about this before, how these sort of disguises work, but he's never seen it in the flesh. Suddenly, he wants to, very much.
Conrad reaches down for the dagger he carries in his boot. To tell Yozak to be still would be insulting, but he lets the blade catch the spirit-lamp's wan light, hears Yozak's indrawn breath and sees his permission in the widening of his stance. Conrad slides the flat of the blade carefully up Yozak's thigh and over his hip, between his skin and the stretched fabric of his panties, which pulls taut against the blade's cutting edge, and then as sharply divides, the fabric falling away.
It's a bit like magic, Conrad thinks, quickly replacing his dagger, the way Yozak suddenly has a cock, swaying half hard between his legs. No, it's better than magic. Conrad settles more firmly onto both knees and leans forward.
He starts gentle, just nuzzling with his cheek and closed lips. Yozak has said he can last for hours with his cock bent under like that, but Conrad can't help wincing in sympathy. Yozak is big, thick and long. I missed you, too, Conrad thinks, kissing the tip and letting it slide over his lips, into his mouth.
Yozak's hips thrust forward; Conrad coughs, pulls back. He blinks up in the wan light.
One of Yozak's gloves comes down to brush over his hair, leading him back, curving over the back of his head. "Easy now, Taichou."
Conrad has missed the way Yozak tastes, the way he smells, but most of all the way Yozak's cock feels stretching his lips and pressing down his tongue. Conrad likes that it's always more awkward the first time, remembering and re-learning how to take a cock this large in his mouth after so long. It feels like the first time so often, whenever Yozak comes back after being away.
He keeps one hand wrapped around the base of Yozak's cock, knowing he'll want to take more than he's able to. With the other hand, he cups with Yozak's balls, lightly stroking their lightly furred skin with the flat of his palm, and then, with his fingertips strokes further backward still, like Yozak has taught him, slowly increasing the pressure of his touch. He wants this to last. He wants more to taste.
Conrad's hands are sweating, his fist around Yozak's cock, his fingers along Yozak's crease sliding easy. The heavy wool of his uniform is sticking to his neck and along his thighs. He swallows and slides his lips further, Yozak's cock pressing blunt and heavy against the back of his tongue. It's so good, so much, his eyes watering, for just an instant before it's too much, and Conrad is choking, his throat seizing. He can't breathe.
Yozak yanks on his hair, pulling him off. Conrad gasps for air, bent low and clutching at Yozak's smooth thigh.
"One trick at a time, eh?" Yozak says softly, his fingers loosening.
Conrad nods, catching his breath. His mouth is still dripping wet from gagging, and so he spits into his hand.
Yozak snorts. "You wanna keep going?"
"Do you?"
Yozak pointedly glances down at his cock, and then at Conrad's swollen mouth. "Yeah, sure. If you're ok."
Conrad nods, and spits, again. Yozak grins, and widens his stance, lifting up the bare, frilly nothing of his skirt.
Conrad keeps his mouth shallow, doesn't want to have to stop again and just the head still stretches his lips. His newly slick fingers take more of his attention, the fingertip he presses into Yozak that becomes his knuckle and then the length of his finger.
"Nn. Taichou."
Conrad hadn't thought about fucking, hadn't planned for it. They usually do it the other way around, but Yozak's relaxed tonight for some reason, open for it, hot velvet tight around Conrad's finger-- Conrad pulls back to spit again-- fingers, and it's hard to think about anything else.
In the warm lamplit shadows, Yozak is all Conrad can smell, all he can taste. Conrad wishes he had a spare hand for his trouser buttons, but that would mean letting go of Yozak's cock, smooth and hard and thick. The flat of his nose presses against the shaft as Conrad licks along the underside, the vein he can't see, can't feel, but Yozak's hand is fisting in Conrad's hair, and braced legs shift inch by inch wider spread.
"Taichou--" Yozak saying his name, no, his rank, all bitten off sounds of pleasure, Yozak's back arching. Yozak would be fucking Conrad's mouth, except for the angle of Conrad's fingers.
Conrad can't take this anymore. He pulls his fingers out. Yozak murmurs his discontent, his hips swaying, wanting. Fuck, Conrad's hard. He undoes his belt and lets his sword fall to the floor with a metallic thump and Yozak's indrawn breath.
"Turn around and brace yourself."
Two buttons, four buttons, too many, too small, but when Conrad's fumbled open his fly and looks up, Yozak's more than a vision: hands bracing against the wall of folded towels, legs spread wide, the tiny sparkle of the buckles on his garter belt, the lace trim of his skirt covering nothing at all.
Yozak has turned his head to watch him, the illuminated shell of his ear among the russet-gold of his hair, but his face falls in the shadow. Conrad's own face feels hot. He steps closer, away from the hanging lamp.
Yozak's garters are miraculously still in place, the stockings silky but not as smooth, not as heated as his skin. Conrad's cock slides on the soft skin Yozak's upper thighs, on his sweat. He grips Yozak's hip for purchase, fingers under not above the frill, and puts one foot outside Yozak's and leans with his leg. Yozak looks ravishable, head tilted down and his legs so wide that Conrad hasn't even needed to lift his skirt, but they can't, they shouldn't.
Conrad mouths the back of Yozak's neck, the salt, and Yozak arches back against him, undulating, a tease. His feet don't move, and his leg only presses back against Conrad's, still wider.
"Just fuck me already, Taichou."
"I don't have any-- Call me Conrad."
"Hnn-- Taichou?"
Yozak tenses, and Conrad can thrust harder while he's stilled, up close against the heat of Yozak's body, but it's not enough. Yozak moves, moves with him now, flush between the wall and Conrad's uniform, beautiful nonsense noises, pants and grunts-- but not what Conrad wants.
"Say my name," Conrad says, the demand bitten out between thrusts of his hips. "Ask for it."
"Conrad, fuck me. Ngh-- Please. Now."
Conrad spits into his hand, wiping the saliva over his cock. It won't last long, but neither will he. He holds Yozak spread with one hand, and aims with the other. Conrad pushes in and Yozak thrusts back to meet him, taking him deep with a choked off cry muffled into the towels in front of him.
Conrad grabs at Yozak's hip, fights through the towels for Yozak's cock, hard, huge and wonderful, the weight in his palm. Conrad's thrusts are shallow, hobbled by his trousers and limited space. Yozak's body sways with him.
"Mine. My Yozak," Conrad mutters into the back of Yozak's blouse, sweat on his face making him slide. He's closed his eyes.
"Yours. Tai-- Conrad."
Yozak's face is pressed into the linens, harder with each of Conrad's thrusts, his cock fucking Conrad's grip. Maybe it's the outfit, maybe it's the setting, but he goes with what Conrad dictates, following Conrad's pace, his arse so willing, so good--
---
Conrad leans against Yozak, tucking his arms around him. The stack of linens might be the only thing keeping them upright. He can feel Yozak's pulse through the sweat-slick fabric of Yozak's blouse with his lips.
"I missed you."
Yozak chuckles. "I could tell."
"No, not like-- I missed you, while you were away."
Yozak stills under him, but Conrad can't think of any better words to explain himself. He can barely think in words. Conrad steps back.
"Where are we?" Conrad asks.
Yozak turns, and passes Conrad a towel.
"That's a servants' corridor outside, going down to the baths. This was my last set of clean clothes; I changed at the border."
Yozak smoothes down his skirt with his hands, fiddling with the garter straps, while he watches Conrad pull up his trousers. Yozak dips with his knees together to reach for his cloak.
"Why did you think I was dressed like this?"
"Gwendal won't tell me what you were doing." Conrad belts his trousers, settles the scabbard of his sword against his hip.
"He's not supposed to."
Yozak is different in his travel-worn cloak, instead of lace and creamy silk. He's more friend than fantasy, but still Yozak. He's Yozak for Conrad whatever the costume. Conrad never expected to end up the one left at home, the one always waiting. He thought he'd be the adventurer, uncertain of his welcome home. He's still learning.
The lamplight does not hide the dark smudges under Yozak's eyes.
Conrad leans his head back to reach as he tilts Yozak's head down. Their kisses are soft, but warm. They're both tired. Yozak's shoulders feel hard under Conrad's hands. Conrad presses in with his thumbs, and Yozak groans into his mouth.
"Wash your back?"
"We are not going again tonight."
"Not tonight," Conrad agrees. "Bath, then bed. Gwendal won't want you to report again for the next twenty-four hours."
"If I get to sleep for most of the next twenty-four hours, we have a deal."
Conrad reaches for the door.
---
MC
7/12/08
Characters/Pairings: Conrad, Yozak, Conrad/Yozak
Word Count: 2353
Rating: R
Any Warnings: drag, cock worship, informal domination, rough sex
Theme/Prompt being used: Cross-Dressing
Summary: Yozak and Conrad reconnect after the spy has been in the field for months.
For lynndyre.
Notes: This is loosely intended as happening in years subsequent to episode 78 of the anime though there are not in fact any spoilers or mention of plot at all.
CLOSETED
Yozak's cloak hides everything but his face, smudges of weariness under his eyes, and the toes of his travel-worn boots, which slide in and out from under the cloak's hem as he walks. Conrad closes his eyes briefly, and resolutely opens them again focused on the corridor ahead.
He doesn't recognise this part of the castle. It's night, so it's not surprising to find the corridors empty of people, but its walls are strangely bare of tapestries and portraits. There are doors, regularly spaced, but unmarked. The nearest is slightly ajar, but no light is coming through.
Conrad yanks open the door, grabs Yozak's arm through his cloak. He pivots on one foot for leverage, expecting more resistance, but ends up tumbling, stumbling into the dark after Yozak. Conrad reaches up to turn on the hanging spirit lamp, shutting the door with a backward kick. The room is a closet, with thick, fluffy towels piled up surrounding them on shelves higher than Yozak could have reached. A closet, and that's better than Conrad could have planned. Hey, Yozak, I heard something funny on Earth: did you know--
Yozak has stepped back against the far wall, which isn't very far at all. The light from the lamp is yellowed, making his hair more orange than red, and brings out the mud patches on that cloak that covers everything but his head. Yozak is watching Conrad, the polite smile that his face has carried since Gwendal's office unchanged. He says nothing.
"Aren't you a bit overdressed?" Conrad blurts out.
Instead of rolling his eyes as he had expected, Yozak shrugs and the gesture parts his cloak.
Conrad's eyes drop immediately, tracing the smooth shimmer of Yozak's stockings up very long, very well sculpted calves and thighs. The stockings stretch all the way to a mid-thigh boundary of lace, to small, shiny buckles amongst the lace that tighten ribbons disappearing under what passes for the skirt. Conrad sometimes forgets how fair Yozak is, that his face and arms are darkened by the sun. Through and above the lace, Yozak's skin is a creamy shade of pale barely distinguishable in the lamplight from the white of his stockings. Conrad feels a rush of heat mingled with bitterness, not only that such intimate areas of Yozak's body are on display but that they have been on display for other men.
Some of what he feels must have shown on his face, because Yozak's arms drop and the cloak with them, but the image remains in Conrad's mind, tempting and maddening. He's never seen this costume before, like a maid's, in so far as there is an apron, but maid duties require more practical clothing than the confection of white and pink Yozak wore. Conrad can imagine what would be on show if Yozak were to bend over a bed to change its linens. All too easily, he can imagine himself standing in a doorway, watching unobserved, fantasies he'd long forgotten (and never, never acted upon) returning to remind him how common a fantasy it is.
"Taichou?"
This is more complicated that simply missing Yozak.
"I want--" he begins, reaching for the tie of Yozak's cloak.
"Yes." Yozak's nimble fingers get there first. Conrad's mouth is dry.
The cloak falls from Yozak's shoulders to the floor, and Conrad falls to his knees with it. He can't not run his hands up those silky stockings, marvelling at the hard muscle they conceal. Conrad leans forward to lay kisses above the garter, working inwards, feeling Yozak's thigh tense under his mouth. Yozak's panties are also white and feel as silky against his cheek as the stockings do under his hands.
Except, he doesn't feel the hardness he expects to match his own, or confusingly even something soft the right shape--
Yozak's hand brushes over his hair, and over his cheek, curving under his chin to tip Conrad's head up to look at him. The light is too dim, the distance too great for Conrad to see whatever Yozak wants him to see, but at least now Yozak is really looking at him.
Yozak's gloved fingers pass over his lips; Conrad opens his mouth, sucking in the thick cotton-covered digits, the tip of his tongue flexing against them. It isn't subtle, but it is easier than asking for what he wants.
"I need--" Yozak's voice wavers, as he pulls his fingers back. "I need you to untuck me now."
The word doesn't make sense immediately, but then Conrad remembers. They've talked about this before, how these sort of disguises work, but he's never seen it in the flesh. Suddenly, he wants to, very much.
Conrad reaches down for the dagger he carries in his boot. To tell Yozak to be still would be insulting, but he lets the blade catch the spirit-lamp's wan light, hears Yozak's indrawn breath and sees his permission in the widening of his stance. Conrad slides the flat of the blade carefully up Yozak's thigh and over his hip, between his skin and the stretched fabric of his panties, which pulls taut against the blade's cutting edge, and then as sharply divides, the fabric falling away.
It's a bit like magic, Conrad thinks, quickly replacing his dagger, the way Yozak suddenly has a cock, swaying half hard between his legs. No, it's better than magic. Conrad settles more firmly onto both knees and leans forward.
He starts gentle, just nuzzling with his cheek and closed lips. Yozak has said he can last for hours with his cock bent under like that, but Conrad can't help wincing in sympathy. Yozak is big, thick and long. I missed you, too, Conrad thinks, kissing the tip and letting it slide over his lips, into his mouth.
Yozak's hips thrust forward; Conrad coughs, pulls back. He blinks up in the wan light.
One of Yozak's gloves comes down to brush over his hair, leading him back, curving over the back of his head. "Easy now, Taichou."
Conrad has missed the way Yozak tastes, the way he smells, but most of all the way Yozak's cock feels stretching his lips and pressing down his tongue. Conrad likes that it's always more awkward the first time, remembering and re-learning how to take a cock this large in his mouth after so long. It feels like the first time so often, whenever Yozak comes back after being away.
He keeps one hand wrapped around the base of Yozak's cock, knowing he'll want to take more than he's able to. With the other hand, he cups with Yozak's balls, lightly stroking their lightly furred skin with the flat of his palm, and then, with his fingertips strokes further backward still, like Yozak has taught him, slowly increasing the pressure of his touch. He wants this to last. He wants more to taste.
Conrad's hands are sweating, his fist around Yozak's cock, his fingers along Yozak's crease sliding easy. The heavy wool of his uniform is sticking to his neck and along his thighs. He swallows and slides his lips further, Yozak's cock pressing blunt and heavy against the back of his tongue. It's so good, so much, his eyes watering, for just an instant before it's too much, and Conrad is choking, his throat seizing. He can't breathe.
Yozak yanks on his hair, pulling him off. Conrad gasps for air, bent low and clutching at Yozak's smooth thigh.
"One trick at a time, eh?" Yozak says softly, his fingers loosening.
Conrad nods, catching his breath. His mouth is still dripping wet from gagging, and so he spits into his hand.
Yozak snorts. "You wanna keep going?"
"Do you?"
Yozak pointedly glances down at his cock, and then at Conrad's swollen mouth. "Yeah, sure. If you're ok."
Conrad nods, and spits, again. Yozak grins, and widens his stance, lifting up the bare, frilly nothing of his skirt.
Conrad keeps his mouth shallow, doesn't want to have to stop again and just the head still stretches his lips. His newly slick fingers take more of his attention, the fingertip he presses into Yozak that becomes his knuckle and then the length of his finger.
"Nn. Taichou."
Conrad hadn't thought about fucking, hadn't planned for it. They usually do it the other way around, but Yozak's relaxed tonight for some reason, open for it, hot velvet tight around Conrad's finger-- Conrad pulls back to spit again-- fingers, and it's hard to think about anything else.
In the warm lamplit shadows, Yozak is all Conrad can smell, all he can taste. Conrad wishes he had a spare hand for his trouser buttons, but that would mean letting go of Yozak's cock, smooth and hard and thick. The flat of his nose presses against the shaft as Conrad licks along the underside, the vein he can't see, can't feel, but Yozak's hand is fisting in Conrad's hair, and braced legs shift inch by inch wider spread.
"Taichou--" Yozak saying his name, no, his rank, all bitten off sounds of pleasure, Yozak's back arching. Yozak would be fucking Conrad's mouth, except for the angle of Conrad's fingers.
Conrad can't take this anymore. He pulls his fingers out. Yozak murmurs his discontent, his hips swaying, wanting. Fuck, Conrad's hard. He undoes his belt and lets his sword fall to the floor with a metallic thump and Yozak's indrawn breath.
"Turn around and brace yourself."
Two buttons, four buttons, too many, too small, but when Conrad's fumbled open his fly and looks up, Yozak's more than a vision: hands bracing against the wall of folded towels, legs spread wide, the tiny sparkle of the buckles on his garter belt, the lace trim of his skirt covering nothing at all.
Yozak has turned his head to watch him, the illuminated shell of his ear among the russet-gold of his hair, but his face falls in the shadow. Conrad's own face feels hot. He steps closer, away from the hanging lamp.
Yozak's garters are miraculously still in place, the stockings silky but not as smooth, not as heated as his skin. Conrad's cock slides on the soft skin Yozak's upper thighs, on his sweat. He grips Yozak's hip for purchase, fingers under not above the frill, and puts one foot outside Yozak's and leans with his leg. Yozak looks ravishable, head tilted down and his legs so wide that Conrad hasn't even needed to lift his skirt, but they can't, they shouldn't.
Conrad mouths the back of Yozak's neck, the salt, and Yozak arches back against him, undulating, a tease. His feet don't move, and his leg only presses back against Conrad's, still wider.
"Just fuck me already, Taichou."
"I don't have any-- Call me Conrad."
"Hnn-- Taichou?"
Yozak tenses, and Conrad can thrust harder while he's stilled, up close against the heat of Yozak's body, but it's not enough. Yozak moves, moves with him now, flush between the wall and Conrad's uniform, beautiful nonsense noises, pants and grunts-- but not what Conrad wants.
"Say my name," Conrad says, the demand bitten out between thrusts of his hips. "Ask for it."
"Conrad, fuck me. Ngh-- Please. Now."
Conrad spits into his hand, wiping the saliva over his cock. It won't last long, but neither will he. He holds Yozak spread with one hand, and aims with the other. Conrad pushes in and Yozak thrusts back to meet him, taking him deep with a choked off cry muffled into the towels in front of him.
Conrad grabs at Yozak's hip, fights through the towels for Yozak's cock, hard, huge and wonderful, the weight in his palm. Conrad's thrusts are shallow, hobbled by his trousers and limited space. Yozak's body sways with him.
"Mine. My Yozak," Conrad mutters into the back of Yozak's blouse, sweat on his face making him slide. He's closed his eyes.
"Yours. Tai-- Conrad."
Yozak's face is pressed into the linens, harder with each of Conrad's thrusts, his cock fucking Conrad's grip. Maybe it's the outfit, maybe it's the setting, but he goes with what Conrad dictates, following Conrad's pace, his arse so willing, so good--
---
Conrad leans against Yozak, tucking his arms around him. The stack of linens might be the only thing keeping them upright. He can feel Yozak's pulse through the sweat-slick fabric of Yozak's blouse with his lips.
"I missed you."
Yozak chuckles. "I could tell."
"No, not like-- I missed you, while you were away."
Yozak stills under him, but Conrad can't think of any better words to explain himself. He can barely think in words. Conrad steps back.
"Where are we?" Conrad asks.
Yozak turns, and passes Conrad a towel.
"That's a servants' corridor outside, going down to the baths. This was my last set of clean clothes; I changed at the border."
Yozak smoothes down his skirt with his hands, fiddling with the garter straps, while he watches Conrad pull up his trousers. Yozak dips with his knees together to reach for his cloak.
"Why did you think I was dressed like this?"
"Gwendal won't tell me what you were doing." Conrad belts his trousers, settles the scabbard of his sword against his hip.
"He's not supposed to."
Yozak is different in his travel-worn cloak, instead of lace and creamy silk. He's more friend than fantasy, but still Yozak. He's Yozak for Conrad whatever the costume. Conrad never expected to end up the one left at home, the one always waiting. He thought he'd be the adventurer, uncertain of his welcome home. He's still learning.
The lamplight does not hide the dark smudges under Yozak's eyes.
Conrad leans his head back to reach as he tilts Yozak's head down. Their kisses are soft, but warm. They're both tired. Yozak's shoulders feel hard under Conrad's hands. Conrad presses in with his thumbs, and Yozak groans into his mouth.
"Wash your back?"
"We are not going again tonight."
"Not tonight," Conrad agrees. "Bath, then bed. Gwendal won't want you to report again for the next twenty-four hours."
"If I get to sleep for most of the next twenty-four hours, we have a deal."
Conrad reaches for the door.
---
MC
7/12/08