talk dirty to me
Krycek has been calling the shots lately. He wanted to be Mr. Secret Agent Man. I said okay. Make me rougher, he said, more dangerous. So I did.
The sneaky bastard has been right every time.
I'm struggling to write more Krycek/Weiss for the spy crossover extravaganza today. Trying to get the smut written. That's really all that's left to do. Around 3,000 words already devoted to plot, and I know how it'll end, but I haven't gotten to the gratuitous smut yet.
So, yes. Smut. To be written. Hot, in-character smut, yes indeed.
I just sit there, staring at the cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink.
Weiss grabs onto Krycek's jacket and tugs him closer, and Krycek must like that, because his teeth gleam in the darkness.
"I'll bet nobody touches you," Krycek murmurs into Weiss' mouth, his hand tugging at Weiss' belt. "Nobody gets on her knees to suck you off. Nobody calls you in the middle of the day and tells you he wants to fuck you on your desk."
"Oh god," Weiss says. Krycek's hand is in his boxers now, and he pushes against the wall with his shoulders without thinking, rolling his hips forward so he can press his dick against the warm leather.
"I'd fuck you over your desk," Krycek says. He kisses Weiss hard. "I'd make you come all over it."
Weiss makes a sound high in his throat that should be embarrassing, only right now he really doesn't care. Krycek lifts his hand to his mouth and licks the palm of his leather glove, and Weiss forgets to breathe when it closes around his dick again, soft, warm and wet.
Weiss has never been this hard in his life.
Krycek's eyes are hooded, hot, his grip tight. "I'd love to watch you jerk off just to see what name you say when you come. Are you loud? I'll bet you're loud."
Hmm. Pretty sure he was right about that one, too.
The sneaky bastard has been right every time.
I'm struggling to write more Krycek/Weiss for the spy crossover extravaganza today. Trying to get the smut written. That's really all that's left to do. Around 3,000 words already devoted to plot, and I know how it'll end, but I haven't gotten to the gratuitous smut yet.
So, yes. Smut. To be written. Hot, in-character smut, yes indeed.
I just sit there, staring at the cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink.
Weiss grabs onto Krycek's jacket and tugs him closer, and Krycek must like that, because his teeth gleam in the darkness.
"I'll bet nobody touches you," Krycek murmurs into Weiss' mouth, his hand tugging at Weiss' belt. "Nobody gets on her knees to suck you off. Nobody calls you in the middle of the day and tells you he wants to fuck you on your desk."
"Oh god," Weiss says. Krycek's hand is in his boxers now, and he pushes against the wall with his shoulders without thinking, rolling his hips forward so he can press his dick against the warm leather.
"I'd fuck you over your desk," Krycek says. He kisses Weiss hard. "I'd make you come all over it."
Weiss makes a sound high in his throat that should be embarrassing, only right now he really doesn't care. Krycek lifts his hand to his mouth and licks the palm of his leather glove, and Weiss forgets to breathe when it closes around his dick again, soft, warm and wet.
Weiss has never been this hard in his life.
Krycek's eyes are hooded, hot, his grip tight. "I'd love to watch you jerk off just to see what name you say when you come. Are you loud? I'll bet you're loud."
Hmm. Pretty sure he was right about that one, too.