Playing Games
Title: Playing Games or Wellington's Fantasy
Characters: Sharpe, Wellington
Rating: Mature, Slash, Bondage - do not click link if either gives you the heebie jeebies
Length: Flash - 500 words
Disclaimer: Sharpe's arse is tattooed "Property of Bernard Cornwell" I'm just borrowing it for fun and games
Author's Note: Sharpe gets inventive. Or maybe he's just getting his own back at Welly after what he made him do at pistol-point.
~~~
The press of cold steel on his throat woke him. A knee pressed him into the bed. Kept him face down. Before he could react, a strip of leather was forced into his mouth, then his hands swiftly bound and stretched over his head. Tied to the frame of his bed.
His assailant was silently efficient. Wide awake now, his heart was thudding in his throat. Bound as he was, he could not turn enough to catch a glimpse of his attacker.
The sheets were pulled back. Revealed his naked body to the faint moonlight shielded by the curtained window. The intruder smiled appreciatively. Ran a gloved hand down the naked back.
The captive felt the soft buttery leather stroke its way down his spine. Was unable to repress a shudder. The gloved hand stroked over his flanks. Trailed downward to the back of a knee. Then up again on the inside of his leg. He tried to press his legs together. Received a smart slap on his derrière for his trouble.
Gloved hands ran over the man on the bed. Caressed him. Smooth leather against his skin. Squeezed and stroked. Lingered over sensitive spots just to see the captive writhe and moan.
He was being lifted to his knees. Pillows shoved under his belly for support. Felt hard thighs parting his. Buttery soft leather wrapped around his aroused body. Stroked. He moaned. Unable to deny the pleasure. Warm lips, hot breath and hotter tongue on his neck and back.
The warm weight left his body suddenly. The gloved hands removed. He made a sound of protest. Was rewarded with a nip on his arse and a kiss to sooth it. He heard the sound of clothing being removed. The thud of a boot hitting the floor.
Then the hard thighs returned. Warm flesh. Friction. Then hotter still, a well oiled cock against his entrance. He tried to push backward. Was rewarded with a gasp and an oil-slicked hand wrapped around his hard member. He shuddered. Heat filled him. Pushed past the ring of muscle. Pressed against sensitive nerves. Withdrawn. Thrust in again. He was speared. Claimed. Pleasured. Fucked.
“Try that again, Richard, and I promise you, I shall strangle you.”
“G’wan…” was the sated sleepy response, “You liked it.”
“That is beside the point.”
All he received in response was a sleepy sigh and a snuggle. He could feel the smile pressed into his neck. He sighed. Dropped a kiss on the blonde head and settled down for the remainder of the night. Dawn would come far too soon.