[fic - deathwish] [I/R] We're So Screwed, So Fucked, So Shit Outta Luck
Originally two ficlets, but they could just be one. I'm still keeping them in two parts because the latter half is semi-smutty and has a more fluffy tone, but nothing graphic. This takes place during Deathwish when Cal and Niko are, ahem, busy with the Auphe. I swear, I dropped everything and wrote these like buuuurning.
Title: We're So Screwed, So Fucked, So Shit Outta Luck
Pairing: Ishiah/Robin
Warnings: Cursing, non-graphic sex, Deathwish spoilers
Words: 1500-ish
When Robin finds Ishiah in front of his hotel door at one in the morning, he doesn’t know what to be more irritated with-the fact that he wants to fuck the peri right then and there, or the fact that Ishiah had found him despite his efforts to lay low until the Aulphe issue either resolves via Leandros or kills him.
“Where have you been?” Ishiah demands, palm firmly planted on the door to keep Robin from slamming it in his face.
Like Robin needs to tell him. He would rather put a knife to his favorite shirt than admit he wants to keep Ishiah out of this Auphe mess. But did that really matter now? Cambriel was dead, and it could have been Ishiah working in the Ninth Circle that day. Hiding doesn’t matter; the Auphe know. And peris cannot help but dip their damn wings into everybody’s business. It’s a no-win situation. Robin accepts this with no amount of good grace, but he keeps his door partway open anyway. Enough to let those blue-grey eyes see because Robin knows Ishiah wants him just as much as he wants the peri; a tease, a challenge. But any further than that was a delicate line between lust and love Robin did not want to cross. Ever.
“What? Like you didn’t know already?” Robin replies with a sneer. Salome appears at his feet and Robin tries not to look down and slap his face at the dead cat’s timing. Ishiah notices, a single blink giving away his surprise, but he presses on, face turning red with anger.
“You-“ he begins, struggling until the words just comes out flat and suppressed, “You disappeared.” Ishiah’s informants may have been good, but when Robin wants to disappear, he can do it, and do it well.
And there’s something in Ishiah’s voice that makes Robin pause. What makes this time any different than the others? He certainly did not broadcast his every move and Robin went away on a whim more times than he can count people in New York.
Then he remembers the Auphe, and thanks to Cal, he knows about Cambriel too.
A thought flits inside his head-what was Cambriel to Ishiah?-and leaves the moment Robin registers it. His next words come out harsher than he means them to be, “So? You can’t always follow me around. It’s damn creepy. And not to mention horrendously stupid, even for a bird-brain like you.”
Ishiah just stares at him, looking ready to ram Robin’s head into a wall. Okay, so Robin’s insults weren’t up to par today, but he’s had a lot to deal with this last week. Apparently, so had Ishiah. Salome ends up breaking the stare down by padding over and curiously nosing Ishiah’s foot. Ishiah doesn’t move, but shifts his gaze to look down.
“You have a cat,” he says uselessly, “A smelly, undead cat.” And there was that something in his voice again; a little note of helplessness under a flat, fury-laced growl.
Though he tries to deny it, Robin knows that Ishiah worries. He just sometimes forgets how much.
“Oh, Zeus,” Robin curses under his breath, feeling that dreaded wave of warmth taking over, reminding him that he hadn’t been laid in days and the nearest fuckable thing was a peri who had nigh obsessive and possessive feelings for him.
Of course, Robin rarely holds back when it comes to sex. It only takes him a second to reach out, grab Ishiah by the shirt, and drag him into the hotel room. Salome yowls in surprise as he gently kicks her out of the way and the door clicks shut, leaving the undead cat to hunt the neighbors and bellhops until morning.
***
With Robin, there are always these kinks to make sex a little more interesting. He had his threesome, foursomes, and nthsomes. Some bondage here, a little bit of role playing there. Robin enjoys all those games, some more than others, depending on his mood. He hardly goes for plain vanilla sex, not with so many other possibilities out there. There had been many times he had to scoff in front of his partner-of-the-day and pull out the fuzzy handcuffs, the warm chocolate, or even the third person waiting outside. No one ever regrets his choices though. They all would come out pretty damn satisfied either way.
But the truth is-Robin’s been saving all the good old fashion fucking for Ishiah.
Well, saving it unconsciously more likely. He figures that Ishiah didn’t have the sense to appreciate kinky sexual acts anyway. Unless arguing and fighting counts as foreplay, which they don’t, not by Robin’s book. Their kind of arguing and fighting usually ends with blood and bruises, and not the sexy kind either. And somewhere in the deepest back part of their minds, there are hurt feelings too.
But strangely enough, not this time. With the hotel door locked and shut, and Ishiah kissing brutally at his lips, Robin thinks that it’s almost worth having the Auphe hunt him down. Almost, but it’s the thought that counts. A thought that he might possibly die or go into hiding again when this was all over.
The desperate way he’s kissing Ishiah back takes him by surprise. Robin doesn’t know if it’s from the lack of sex lately, or spawned by-oh fuck, he hopes not-some sick form of love. For now, Robin tells himself it’s the former reason because he can’t quite bring himself to stop from pulling Ishiah’s jeans off.
Bad. This is bad. Losing control like this. But at least Ishiah is doing no better, one hand in Robin’s hair and the other already under his shirt.
They eventually make it to the bed naked, both so hard that Robin doesn’t even argue who should be on top. There are no words between them, only the occasional grunt and sharp intake of breath, too small to be called a gasp. Not a single word, each moan muffled or held back because when this was over, neither was going to live it down. Ironically, Robin finds himself on the bottom and thanks every god and goddess out there that Ishiah’s name was damn hard to scream out coherently. He subsides to mere hisses because, with clenched teeth, Ishiah couldn’t tell it was actually the first syllable of his name.
Ishiah is over him, his wings flickering like crazy and letting loose a storm of feathers. Robin’s pretty sure he can find something real snarky to say about that, but Ishiah’s messy blond hair and flushed skin only makes him want to pull the peri closer, which he does. With a semi-involuntary jerk of his hips, Ishiah is shuddering above him, his mouth is near his ear, gasping breathlessly, “Robin.”
It had been so damn quiet, he almost misses it. He wishes he had, but it was too late now. Hearing Ishiah saying his name like that…
He catches sight of Ishiah’s bright, blue-grey eyes and knows they’d both fucked up. Literally. Figuratively. The whole shebang. Staring, incredulous, Robin manages to rasp out, “Ai pidiksou, Ishiah. Fuck you--” and kisses the damn bird on the forehead like the end of some vomit-inducing romance novel.
Ishiah blinks, momentarily startled. Robin promptly knees him in the stomach with enough force for Ishiah to take the hint and roll off him. Half roll off, anyway.
“Skata-“
“You like it,” Ishiah cuts off abruptly, sounding grumpy and sleepy and gods’ know what else, and then he buries his face into Robin’s neck, out like a candle.
With an amount of caution that surprises him, Robin turns his head, “Ishiah? You can’t be serious. I know I’m good, but that was just once-“ He frowns, listening to Ishiah’s soft, even breathing, looking at the faint, dark outlines underneath Ishiah’s eyes, and finally just tasting the alcohol from Ishiah’s mouth. “You’re drunk,” he says to the slumbering form, not knowing if he was disappointed or not.
A hand comes up and limply slaps him on the face. Apparently Ishiah isn’t out yet.
“No, I’m not,” Ishiah mumbles, “We’ll deal with this in the morning. So, shut up and go to sleep.”
Robin rolls his eyes, trying in vain to come up with a scathing reply out of habit, but when Ishiah’s arm flops on top of his chest and loosely clasps his shoulder, Robin is at a lost.
“Fine,” he snaps and shuts his eyes, pretending he doesn’t feel Ishiah smile against his neck.
Title: We're So Screwed, So Fucked, So Shit Outta Luck
Pairing: Ishiah/Robin
Warnings: Cursing, non-graphic sex, Deathwish spoilers
Words: 1500-ish
When Robin finds Ishiah in front of his hotel door at one in the morning, he doesn’t know what to be more irritated with-the fact that he wants to fuck the peri right then and there, or the fact that Ishiah had found him despite his efforts to lay low until the Aulphe issue either resolves via Leandros or kills him.
“Where have you been?” Ishiah demands, palm firmly planted on the door to keep Robin from slamming it in his face.
Like Robin needs to tell him. He would rather put a knife to his favorite shirt than admit he wants to keep Ishiah out of this Auphe mess. But did that really matter now? Cambriel was dead, and it could have been Ishiah working in the Ninth Circle that day. Hiding doesn’t matter; the Auphe know. And peris cannot help but dip their damn wings into everybody’s business. It’s a no-win situation. Robin accepts this with no amount of good grace, but he keeps his door partway open anyway. Enough to let those blue-grey eyes see because Robin knows Ishiah wants him just as much as he wants the peri; a tease, a challenge. But any further than that was a delicate line between lust and love Robin did not want to cross. Ever.
“What? Like you didn’t know already?” Robin replies with a sneer. Salome appears at his feet and Robin tries not to look down and slap his face at the dead cat’s timing. Ishiah notices, a single blink giving away his surprise, but he presses on, face turning red with anger.
“You-“ he begins, struggling until the words just comes out flat and suppressed, “You disappeared.” Ishiah’s informants may have been good, but when Robin wants to disappear, he can do it, and do it well.
And there’s something in Ishiah’s voice that makes Robin pause. What makes this time any different than the others? He certainly did not broadcast his every move and Robin went away on a whim more times than he can count people in New York.
Then he remembers the Auphe, and thanks to Cal, he knows about Cambriel too.
A thought flits inside his head-what was Cambriel to Ishiah?-and leaves the moment Robin registers it. His next words come out harsher than he means them to be, “So? You can’t always follow me around. It’s damn creepy. And not to mention horrendously stupid, even for a bird-brain like you.”
Ishiah just stares at him, looking ready to ram Robin’s head into a wall. Okay, so Robin’s insults weren’t up to par today, but he’s had a lot to deal with this last week. Apparently, so had Ishiah. Salome ends up breaking the stare down by padding over and curiously nosing Ishiah’s foot. Ishiah doesn’t move, but shifts his gaze to look down.
“You have a cat,” he says uselessly, “A smelly, undead cat.” And there was that something in his voice again; a little note of helplessness under a flat, fury-laced growl.
Though he tries to deny it, Robin knows that Ishiah worries. He just sometimes forgets how much.
“Oh, Zeus,” Robin curses under his breath, feeling that dreaded wave of warmth taking over, reminding him that he hadn’t been laid in days and the nearest fuckable thing was a peri who had nigh obsessive and possessive feelings for him.
Of course, Robin rarely holds back when it comes to sex. It only takes him a second to reach out, grab Ishiah by the shirt, and drag him into the hotel room. Salome yowls in surprise as he gently kicks her out of the way and the door clicks shut, leaving the undead cat to hunt the neighbors and bellhops until morning.
***
With Robin, there are always these kinks to make sex a little more interesting. He had his threesome, foursomes, and nthsomes. Some bondage here, a little bit of role playing there. Robin enjoys all those games, some more than others, depending on his mood. He hardly goes for plain vanilla sex, not with so many other possibilities out there. There had been many times he had to scoff in front of his partner-of-the-day and pull out the fuzzy handcuffs, the warm chocolate, or even the third person waiting outside. No one ever regrets his choices though. They all would come out pretty damn satisfied either way.
But the truth is-Robin’s been saving all the good old fashion fucking for Ishiah.
Well, saving it unconsciously more likely. He figures that Ishiah didn’t have the sense to appreciate kinky sexual acts anyway. Unless arguing and fighting counts as foreplay, which they don’t, not by Robin’s book. Their kind of arguing and fighting usually ends with blood and bruises, and not the sexy kind either. And somewhere in the deepest back part of their minds, there are hurt feelings too.
But strangely enough, not this time. With the hotel door locked and shut, and Ishiah kissing brutally at his lips, Robin thinks that it’s almost worth having the Auphe hunt him down. Almost, but it’s the thought that counts. A thought that he might possibly die or go into hiding again when this was all over.
The desperate way he’s kissing Ishiah back takes him by surprise. Robin doesn’t know if it’s from the lack of sex lately, or spawned by-oh fuck, he hopes not-some sick form of love. For now, Robin tells himself it’s the former reason because he can’t quite bring himself to stop from pulling Ishiah’s jeans off.
Bad. This is bad. Losing control like this. But at least Ishiah is doing no better, one hand in Robin’s hair and the other already under his shirt.
They eventually make it to the bed naked, both so hard that Robin doesn’t even argue who should be on top. There are no words between them, only the occasional grunt and sharp intake of breath, too small to be called a gasp. Not a single word, each moan muffled or held back because when this was over, neither was going to live it down. Ironically, Robin finds himself on the bottom and thanks every god and goddess out there that Ishiah’s name was damn hard to scream out coherently. He subsides to mere hisses because, with clenched teeth, Ishiah couldn’t tell it was actually the first syllable of his name.
Ishiah is over him, his wings flickering like crazy and letting loose a storm of feathers. Robin’s pretty sure he can find something real snarky to say about that, but Ishiah’s messy blond hair and flushed skin only makes him want to pull the peri closer, which he does. With a semi-involuntary jerk of his hips, Ishiah is shuddering above him, his mouth is near his ear, gasping breathlessly, “Robin.”
It had been so damn quiet, he almost misses it. He wishes he had, but it was too late now. Hearing Ishiah saying his name like that…
He catches sight of Ishiah’s bright, blue-grey eyes and knows they’d both fucked up. Literally. Figuratively. The whole shebang. Staring, incredulous, Robin manages to rasp out, “Ai pidiksou, Ishiah. Fuck you--” and kisses the damn bird on the forehead like the end of some vomit-inducing romance novel.
Ishiah blinks, momentarily startled. Robin promptly knees him in the stomach with enough force for Ishiah to take the hint and roll off him. Half roll off, anyway.
“Skata-“
“You like it,” Ishiah cuts off abruptly, sounding grumpy and sleepy and gods’ know what else, and then he buries his face into Robin’s neck, out like a candle.
With an amount of caution that surprises him, Robin turns his head, “Ishiah? You can’t be serious. I know I’m good, but that was just once-“ He frowns, listening to Ishiah’s soft, even breathing, looking at the faint, dark outlines underneath Ishiah’s eyes, and finally just tasting the alcohol from Ishiah’s mouth. “You’re drunk,” he says to the slumbering form, not knowing if he was disappointed or not.
A hand comes up and limply slaps him on the face. Apparently Ishiah isn’t out yet.
“No, I’m not,” Ishiah mumbles, “We’ll deal with this in the morning. So, shut up and go to sleep.”
Robin rolls his eyes, trying in vain to come up with a scathing reply out of habit, but when Ishiah’s arm flops on top of his chest and loosely clasps his shoulder, Robin is at a lost.
“Fine,” he snaps and shuts his eyes, pretending he doesn’t feel Ishiah smile against his neck.