Roses Are Red. (Dresden Files, Kincaid/Dresden)
Title: Roses Are Red.
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Sex-or-die scenario, so dubcon/coercion.
Word count: 1280
Summary: Getting caught in the lair of what was, basically, a huge praying mantis was not one of Harry's top ten moments of awesome.
A/N: Written for springkink: Dresden Files, Harry Dresden/Kincaid: fast sex - blaze
Roses Are Red.
Getting caught in the lair of what was, basically, a huge praying mantis was not one of Harry's top ten moments of awesome. The fact that he was trapped with Kincaid much less so, since he knew that Kincaid was going to remind him of this for all of their lives.
Which, if the mantis monster found them, wouldn't be too long.
“What's that smell?” Harry complained, trying not to look at Kincaid, who was fixing his broken arm with nothing more than insulating tape and some bubblewrap, like a MacGyver of gross ER medicine.
“You really wanna know?”
“... I'm guessing probably not, but go ahead anyway.” Harry winced when something Kincaid did popped, not wanting to know what had caused it.
“Sex and blood.”
“Of course,” Harry muttered. Praying mantis, after all, ate their partner's heads while they were having sex with them. Just because this particular one was human sized, that didn't mean it's basic instinct didn't change. He did not want not to guess the state his clothes must be on as he stood up. The floor was squishy.
“Hey, it was your idea,” Kincaid said, standing as well. “We could have made this explode and be done with it in fifteen minutes.”
“There might be survivors.”
“You're the boss, Dresden,” he didn't have to see to know that Kincaid was grinning. “Just remember, I'm being paid by the hour.”
Harry refused to acknowledge that, walking instead.
“You're going the wrong way,” Kincaid told him.
At least, Harry knew that Kincaid could see when he glared.
**
As they walked further inside the place, the scent increased, mixed with something that was almost sweet and syrupy and down right creepy. A big part of Harry wanted to do what Kincaid had just said and blow the whole place up, but Harry knew that until he found out that there were no survivors, he just couldn't do that. Even if paying Kincaid's services might very well bankrupt him.
He sighed, shaking his head, wishing for free air or, at least, a less stuffy room. The deeper they walked in, the warmer the whole place was getting.
Suddenly, Kincaid stopped. Being that he was, most likely, the world's best mercenary, Harry did the same, his blasting rod ready.
“There's something wrong,” Kincaid said.
“What?”
Kincaid turned around and moved a hand to Harry's neck, and Harry suddenly realized what kind of wrong Kincaid meant: that simple touch had felt good, as if it had been a caress rather than Kincaid checking his pulse.
The scent.
“Aphrodisiacs?” Harry asked, swallowing.
“It makes sense,” Kincaid muttered. This close, Harry was able to see how he licked his lips, and it shouldn't have looked so good. “They need the males aroused, after all.”
“And it's easier to find them like that, too,” Harry added.
“Probably. Why... FUCK,”
There were three monsters behind them, not as big as the first mantis Harry had seen, but golden retriever big. Teenage monsters, more likely, not green like the normal mantis but a brown reddish color. A little voice in Harry's brain that sounded suspiciously like Bob reminded him that teen mantises were called 'nymphs'. And he was still getting hard, which turned all this into more than a nightmare than Harry cared to think about.
“Explosion time?” Kincaid asked. Harry heard him take off the safety of his gun.
“One, two... FUEGO!” Kincaid fired a round as Harry's spell roasted the mantises. Or at least distracted them enough for them to run away. The only bad thing - or one of them, at least - was that the fire made the scent increase. By the time they stopped running, Harry was so hard it hurt.
“We can't go on like this,” Kincaid gasped, and the rational part of Harry's brain that wasn't completely overrun by hormones made him realize that it was entirely possible that Kincaid was hard as well, and wouldn't it be nice not to know that?
Sadly enough, most of his brain was focused on other nice things it would like to do.
“We're a walking talking target if we don't fix it,” Kincaid added, looking at Harry.
There was a pregnant - pun, for this once, not intended - silence.
“I don't do one night stands!” Harry hissed.
The look Kincaid threw at him didn't, exactly, help to create a mood, despite the aphrodisiacs. If anything, it reminded Harry of being way too young and overeager and stumbling all the time.
“I'll buy you flowers later, for now, come here if you don't want them to kill us!”
“You come over,” Harry muttered.
He couldn't see Kincaid rolling his eyes, but Harry heard him mutter something about 'humans and their need for labels' and then Kincaid was pressed close against him, moving his hands out of the way to open his belt. As close as he was, Harry could feel Kincaid was hard too, and he might be drugged half out of his mind, but he wasn't just going to leave it like that.
So instead he moved his hands too, working Kincaid's jeans open as well. Kincaid got to open his faster, though, and Harry had to do his best not to gasp out loud when Kincaid's rough hand touched the skin just above his shorts, his whole skin feeling as if he was running a fever. He actually had to bite his lips when Kincaid's hand closed around his cock.
They didn't kiss, which was a small blessing on Harry's mind, even as he finally got his hand inside Kincaid's pants (and wasn't that something strange to think about), and Kincaid's breaths deepens for a moment as he pushed into the touch.
It was similar enough to doing himself, even with the weird angle, but handjobs weren't rocket science at all. Harry did his best to shut up his brain, not wanting to wonder if Kincaid had done this before, if he liked it, and instead he focused on the way their knuckles brushed together, at the way the friction was rough and fast, and Harry's ego scored a little point when Kincaid made a breathy, almost hungry sound before he came all over Harry's hand. And then he came too, and he's most definitely not ever going to think about that again.
They stayed up close for a few moments, but even with the way he felt satiated after his orgasm, Harry could feel the difference: the lair suddenly wasn't that warm and he could think without feeling as if his head was stuffed with cotton balls.
Kincaid was the first one to move away, fixing up his clothes. Harry hoped that his own clothes weren't too obviously stained as he did the same.
“We should hurry,” Kincaid said. “The aphrodisiacs might start again.”
“Right,” Harry nodded. “And we don't talk about this again.”
“So no flowers and chocolates for you?” Harry could see that shit-eating grin on Kincaid's face. Worse than anything, he felt himself flush.
“Shut up.”
**
There were explosions, in the end (“There are always explosions with you, Harry,” said Murphy, after Harry told her what had happened in the lair, sans sex), and an extremely pissed off mama mantis that had stood proud at five meters, as well as having to make sure that all its eggs were destroyed before more human-eating mantis could be born.
And three days after that, once Harry had more or less recovered, Kincaid sent him red roses with a note.
“Roses are red
violets are blue
Dresden, you better pay me,
but the sex was for free.”
“That son of a bitch,” Harry said, even as he laughed.
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Sex-or-die scenario, so dubcon/coercion.
Word count: 1280
Summary: Getting caught in the lair of what was, basically, a huge praying mantis was not one of Harry's top ten moments of awesome.
A/N: Written for springkink: Dresden Files, Harry Dresden/Kincaid: fast sex - blaze
Roses Are Red.
Getting caught in the lair of what was, basically, a huge praying mantis was not one of Harry's top ten moments of awesome. The fact that he was trapped with Kincaid much less so, since he knew that Kincaid was going to remind him of this for all of their lives.
Which, if the mantis monster found them, wouldn't be too long.
“What's that smell?” Harry complained, trying not to look at Kincaid, who was fixing his broken arm with nothing more than insulating tape and some bubblewrap, like a MacGyver of gross ER medicine.
“You really wanna know?”
“... I'm guessing probably not, but go ahead anyway.” Harry winced when something Kincaid did popped, not wanting to know what had caused it.
“Sex and blood.”
“Of course,” Harry muttered. Praying mantis, after all, ate their partner's heads while they were having sex with them. Just because this particular one was human sized, that didn't mean it's basic instinct didn't change. He did not want not to guess the state his clothes must be on as he stood up. The floor was squishy.
“Hey, it was your idea,” Kincaid said, standing as well. “We could have made this explode and be done with it in fifteen minutes.”
“There might be survivors.”
“You're the boss, Dresden,” he didn't have to see to know that Kincaid was grinning. “Just remember, I'm being paid by the hour.”
Harry refused to acknowledge that, walking instead.
“You're going the wrong way,” Kincaid told him.
At least, Harry knew that Kincaid could see when he glared.
**
As they walked further inside the place, the scent increased, mixed with something that was almost sweet and syrupy and down right creepy. A big part of Harry wanted to do what Kincaid had just said and blow the whole place up, but Harry knew that until he found out that there were no survivors, he just couldn't do that. Even if paying Kincaid's services might very well bankrupt him.
He sighed, shaking his head, wishing for free air or, at least, a less stuffy room. The deeper they walked in, the warmer the whole place was getting.
Suddenly, Kincaid stopped. Being that he was, most likely, the world's best mercenary, Harry did the same, his blasting rod ready.
“There's something wrong,” Kincaid said.
“What?”
Kincaid turned around and moved a hand to Harry's neck, and Harry suddenly realized what kind of wrong Kincaid meant: that simple touch had felt good, as if it had been a caress rather than Kincaid checking his pulse.
The scent.
“Aphrodisiacs?” Harry asked, swallowing.
“It makes sense,” Kincaid muttered. This close, Harry was able to see how he licked his lips, and it shouldn't have looked so good. “They need the males aroused, after all.”
“And it's easier to find them like that, too,” Harry added.
“Probably. Why... FUCK,”
There were three monsters behind them, not as big as the first mantis Harry had seen, but golden retriever big. Teenage monsters, more likely, not green like the normal mantis but a brown reddish color. A little voice in Harry's brain that sounded suspiciously like Bob reminded him that teen mantises were called 'nymphs'. And he was still getting hard, which turned all this into more than a nightmare than Harry cared to think about.
“Explosion time?” Kincaid asked. Harry heard him take off the safety of his gun.
“One, two... FUEGO!” Kincaid fired a round as Harry's spell roasted the mantises. Or at least distracted them enough for them to run away. The only bad thing - or one of them, at least - was that the fire made the scent increase. By the time they stopped running, Harry was so hard it hurt.
“We can't go on like this,” Kincaid gasped, and the rational part of Harry's brain that wasn't completely overrun by hormones made him realize that it was entirely possible that Kincaid was hard as well, and wouldn't it be nice not to know that?
Sadly enough, most of his brain was focused on other nice things it would like to do.
“We're a walking talking target if we don't fix it,” Kincaid added, looking at Harry.
There was a pregnant - pun, for this once, not intended - silence.
“I don't do one night stands!” Harry hissed.
The look Kincaid threw at him didn't, exactly, help to create a mood, despite the aphrodisiacs. If anything, it reminded Harry of being way too young and overeager and stumbling all the time.
“I'll buy you flowers later, for now, come here if you don't want them to kill us!”
“You come over,” Harry muttered.
He couldn't see Kincaid rolling his eyes, but Harry heard him mutter something about 'humans and their need for labels' and then Kincaid was pressed close against him, moving his hands out of the way to open his belt. As close as he was, Harry could feel Kincaid was hard too, and he might be drugged half out of his mind, but he wasn't just going to leave it like that.
So instead he moved his hands too, working Kincaid's jeans open as well. Kincaid got to open his faster, though, and Harry had to do his best not to gasp out loud when Kincaid's rough hand touched the skin just above his shorts, his whole skin feeling as if he was running a fever. He actually had to bite his lips when Kincaid's hand closed around his cock.
They didn't kiss, which was a small blessing on Harry's mind, even as he finally got his hand inside Kincaid's pants (and wasn't that something strange to think about), and Kincaid's breaths deepens for a moment as he pushed into the touch.
It was similar enough to doing himself, even with the weird angle, but handjobs weren't rocket science at all. Harry did his best to shut up his brain, not wanting to wonder if Kincaid had done this before, if he liked it, and instead he focused on the way their knuckles brushed together, at the way the friction was rough and fast, and Harry's ego scored a little point when Kincaid made a breathy, almost hungry sound before he came all over Harry's hand. And then he came too, and he's most definitely not ever going to think about that again.
They stayed up close for a few moments, but even with the way he felt satiated after his orgasm, Harry could feel the difference: the lair suddenly wasn't that warm and he could think without feeling as if his head was stuffed with cotton balls.
Kincaid was the first one to move away, fixing up his clothes. Harry hoped that his own clothes weren't too obviously stained as he did the same.
“We should hurry,” Kincaid said. “The aphrodisiacs might start again.”
“Right,” Harry nodded. “And we don't talk about this again.”
“So no flowers and chocolates for you?” Harry could see that shit-eating grin on Kincaid's face. Worse than anything, he felt himself flush.
“Shut up.”
**
There were explosions, in the end (“There are always explosions with you, Harry,” said Murphy, after Harry told her what had happened in the lair, sans sex), and an extremely pissed off mama mantis that had stood proud at five meters, as well as having to make sure that all its eggs were destroyed before more human-eating mantis could be born.
And three days after that, once Harry had more or less recovered, Kincaid sent him red roses with a note.
“Roses are red
violets are blue
Dresden, you better pay me,
but the sex was for free.”
“That son of a bitch,” Harry said, even as he laughed.