Oh, The Places You'll Go

Kiss My Sassafrass

Notes: Written for oxoniensis' Porn Battle. Prompt: elevator. This was my seventh piece of porn in seven different fandoms over seven days. \cat/ \porn/ This fic brought to you by Guitar Hero:Aerosmith.

"Love in an eleVAtoooor. Livin' it up when I'm-"

"Stop right there," says Eddie, slapping a hand over Pippin's mouth without turning to look at him. "This ... situation is bad enough without Aerosmith." He waves his free hand about vaguely to indicate the five by five tin box that's steadfastly refusing to go down or up which reminds Eddie of his prom date, Carla Blake. What a night that hadn't been.

Pippin tugs Eddie's hand away. "No, hang on, mate. Nothing's so bad it can't be fixed with a bit of Steven Tyler. Also? This is your fault." There's a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and when Eddie turns to look he sees Pippin has shed his jacket and is in the process of taking off his tie. From the sweat Eddie can see beading Pippin's neck, he's only surprised it's taken him this long. It's not like he usually needs any encouragement to drop his pants.

"My fault? How d'you figure that one?"

"Carol got in, there was an exchange of pleasantries, she got out, you looked like someone had stolen your Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em robots, you did something weird with the buttons, the lift broke. Quod erat, I do believe, demonstrandum. I'm not a detective for nothing, dude."

Oh, thinks Eddie. Miss Moneypenny. She'd gotten in the elevator, shaken her long, sleek, dark hair at him, drawn up her skirt to expose stockinged-legs, adjusting the seam at the same time as looking up at Eddie through curled eyelashes with a gaze so steamy they might as well have been in a sauna. "I'm hot," she'd said. "Are you hot?"

He'd frozen, unable to respond, which was probably just as well because it turned out she'd actually asked if Eddie had the files for Nathaniel and the "yes," he'd been thinking was the wrong answer.

Eddie blinks the memory away and blames the rising temperature in the elevator for the film of sweat that's just broken out on his brow.

"Looking a bit cozy, Eddie. You should try less of the clothes variety." Eddie's attention is drawn back to Pippin who is now down to his underwear. It's pretty smart underwear Eddie has to admit but he doesn't want to linger there and he doesn't really want to notice that the black of Pippin's boxers is a vivid contrast to the paleness of his skin. And there's a lot of skin.

"I'm good, thanks," says Eddie, wiggling one finger under his collar and stretching his neck.

"You're really not," says Pippin. "Come here, you puritanical Yank. I'll do the divesting if you're too prudish." He straddles Eddie and starts working at his tie, head bent over the task, strawberry-blonde hair brushing Eddie's cheek.

Eddie thinks that maybe they are using up all the air in the lift ahead of schedule.

Pippin unbuttons Eddie's shirt next and goes for his belt, but that's a little too close for comfort and Eddie pushes him away, taking care of it himself. Soon, he's collapsed back against the metal wall, only an undershirt and shorts between him and complete embarrassment should a workman ever get off their lunch break and figure out how to get the damn door open.

"I'm bored," moans Pippin. "Years of training have not prepared me for this."

"Call and ask for your money back," says Eddie, resolutely ignoring Pippin's sideways slump and the press of his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"Play a game with me," says Pippin. "Plaaaaaaay with me, Eddie."

And if Eddie thinks about it it's probably entirely innocent but someone needs to teach Pippin about not speaking before he thinks and it might as well be him. Not that he's into this at all, it's just. So. Hot.

With one swift move, Eddie has Pippin on his back, pinning his hands either side of his head. "Play with you, huh?" he grins and Pippin's eyes widen with realization. Eddie decides to skip the kissing and go straight for the prize. Not that he's competitive. "You don't have to watch," he says as he licks his way down Pippin's white, white skin and hooks his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

"I don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleeeeeeeep," warbles Pippin, voice screeching up the octave as Eddie's mouth surrounds his dick. It's not hard yet, but Eddie feels it thicken against his tongue and feels kind of proud. He pulls off, pinching a nipple to get Pippin's attention.

"Hey," he says. "I'm Eddie. How d'you like me so far?"

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