the cheap side act
Today's prompt from medland was "The Amazing Maleeni."
the cheap side act
post-the amazing maleeni
by icedteainthebag
rating: network TV after 10 p.m.
"So, Amazing Muldeeni," Scully says with an arch of her eyebrow. "Do you have any other tricks to show me?"
She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to his coffee table. He sits on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and watches her undress with all the anticipation of a high school boy, an anticipation he struggles to keep inside his cool exterior. She doesn't need to know.
"Well, Scully, uh, I've been working on several new tricks. But nothing's come to fruition. You know..." His mouth drops open as her pants fall to the floor in a puddle around her bare feet. He takes a deep breath and silently thanks nobody in particular for the invention of black lace panties. She smiles, taking in his reaction. He fights for composure in the face of her amusement. "Real magicians--the David Copperfields, the Criss Angels--they, in fact, take years to master the skills of their chosen profession. And I just don't have that kind of free time. To me, well, this is more of a hobby, one that I enjoy from time to time, like doing the New York Times crossword."
She walks over to him. He leans back and she tilts her head, nibbling on her lower lip thoughtfully. "I really consider Criss Angel more of an illusionist. A stunt performer."
"Yeah," he says. She's so close, he could touch her, he could grab her and pull her down and fuck her right there on the couch, but he doesn't. He has patience. He swears he does. "Yeah. That makes sense."
"Uh-huh." She straddles his lap, knees pressing into his hips. Her fingers play with the back of his hair and he feels a surge of what quite frankly could be defined as magic to his groin. He runs his hands up her bare thighs and holds back a groan.
She leans in, her breath on his ear. "You know, I consider myself a bit of a magician."
"Uhhh, really, Scully? Yeah?" He's at a loss for words. Her breasts graze his chest and she's hovering over his lap, the skin of her legs soft and smooth under his palms. He slides them around to cup her ass and hears her softly gasp.
"Mmmhmmm." Her hand slides down his chest and she sets it right over his cock, over his pants, and he nearly jumps off the couch cushion. He grits his teeth as her mouth opens against his neck, wet and soft, sucking gently. "You wanna know why, Mulder?"
He gulps, breathes a shaky breath. He's putty in her hands. Her hand. Her hand that's kneading through his pants, clutching at his hard cock firmly. "Yeah, Scully. Tell me."
Her tongue flicks against his neck and he tilts his head back with a sigh. Her fingers travel the length of him, her palm sliding over him before she squeezes him hard with a long stroke. Her lips move to his ear and her voice is low. "Because I can make this..." She squeezes him again and he lets out a small moan at the tingle it sends up his body. "...appear out of nowhere."
And suddenly, The Great Muldeeni feels like a cheap side act, like an apprentice, like a street urchin who pulls a penny from behind your ear while slipping your wallet out of your pocket.
But then again, he always kinda liked feeling cheap.
the cheap side act
post-the amazing maleeni
by icedteainthebag
rating: network TV after 10 p.m.
"So, Amazing Muldeeni," Scully says with an arch of her eyebrow. "Do you have any other tricks to show me?"
She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to his coffee table. He sits on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and watches her undress with all the anticipation of a high school boy, an anticipation he struggles to keep inside his cool exterior. She doesn't need to know.
"Well, Scully, uh, I've been working on several new tricks. But nothing's come to fruition. You know..." His mouth drops open as her pants fall to the floor in a puddle around her bare feet. He takes a deep breath and silently thanks nobody in particular for the invention of black lace panties. She smiles, taking in his reaction. He fights for composure in the face of her amusement. "Real magicians--the David Copperfields, the Criss Angels--they, in fact, take years to master the skills of their chosen profession. And I just don't have that kind of free time. To me, well, this is more of a hobby, one that I enjoy from time to time, like doing the New York Times crossword."
She walks over to him. He leans back and she tilts her head, nibbling on her lower lip thoughtfully. "I really consider Criss Angel more of an illusionist. A stunt performer."
"Yeah," he says. She's so close, he could touch her, he could grab her and pull her down and fuck her right there on the couch, but he doesn't. He has patience. He swears he does. "Yeah. That makes sense."
"Uh-huh." She straddles his lap, knees pressing into his hips. Her fingers play with the back of his hair and he feels a surge of what quite frankly could be defined as magic to his groin. He runs his hands up her bare thighs and holds back a groan.
She leans in, her breath on his ear. "You know, I consider myself a bit of a magician."
"Uhhh, really, Scully? Yeah?" He's at a loss for words. Her breasts graze his chest and she's hovering over his lap, the skin of her legs soft and smooth under his palms. He slides them around to cup her ass and hears her softly gasp.
"Mmmhmmm." Her hand slides down his chest and she sets it right over his cock, over his pants, and he nearly jumps off the couch cushion. He grits his teeth as her mouth opens against his neck, wet and soft, sucking gently. "You wanna know why, Mulder?"
He gulps, breathes a shaky breath. He's putty in her hands. Her hand. Her hand that's kneading through his pants, clutching at his hard cock firmly. "Yeah, Scully. Tell me."
Her tongue flicks against his neck and he tilts his head back with a sigh. Her fingers travel the length of him, her palm sliding over him before she squeezes him hard with a long stroke. Her lips move to his ear and her voice is low. "Because I can make this..." She squeezes him again and he lets out a small moan at the tingle it sends up his body. "...appear out of nowhere."
And suddenly, The Great Muldeeni feels like a cheap side act, like an apprentice, like a street urchin who pulls a penny from behind your ear while slipping your wallet out of your pocket.
But then again, he always kinda liked feeling cheap.