Post by Shhasow on Apr 27, 2013 12:25:46 GMT 10
Title:
Rating: R
Word Count: 737
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight:
Summary: George nearly avoids exposure and reaches his goal... Warnings for cross-dressing and implied impeding sex sorta. Probably could be PG-13, but better safe.
Roger tucked the woman's hand into his arm and clasped it with his other hand as they swept from the ballroom. "My, what big hands you have."
"All the better to feel you with," she said in a low voice.
Roger pulled them aside into a small alcove and ran his hands down her shoulders and her arms. "You have such strong arms," he said, marveling.
"All the better to...touch you with." The woman let one hand trail down his velvet doublet and down between his legs.
Roger sucked in a breath sharply. One hand trailed up her dress, intent on her generous bosom, but she captured it before he could reach its destination. She kissed it, taking each finger in turn into her mouth. Roger smoldered. "Let's press on," he breathed into her ear.
"Of course."
Roger led them through the palace, her surprisingly soft and hairless hand clasped in his own, until they came to the doors to his room. Here, he turned to the woman and pressed her against the door, his long lean body against her own. Roger leaned in to capture her lips in his own, but she turned her head to whisper in his ear. "Not until we are inside."
"Tease," he accused with an indrawn breath. He let a bit of orange fire light on one fingertip and ran it over the lock on the door, and it clicked open. The two of them fell inside, and he lit the lights with a snap of his fingers. Roger reached for the woman, but she held up one finger.
"One moment," she said.
He growled with frustration. "Do not make me wait long, my dear."
She smiled a sultry smile and withdrew a golden cube from a pocket deep in the recesses of her gown.
The next thing Roger saw was darkness.
"Idiot," George muttered, wiping off the lipstick with the back of one hand. "Can’t wait until I take a bath and wipe your stupidity off. Might be contagious." He slipped the knock-out cube back in his pocket. His fellow rogue, Marek, came around the corner just as he ripped off the blonde wig. "Just in time. Get in here."
Between the two of them, they managed to carry Roger to his bed. The rogue massaged the Duke's temples with a bit of the Gift. "He won't remember a thing, George, just that he went to sleep under his own power."
"Will he remember me?"
The rogue shook his head. "Vaguely. Only that he had some feminine company. I would have done more, but his Gift is too powerful. You'd have been hard pressed to find someone able to enter his mind at all, with his defenses."
"I’m not blaming you, Marek, don’t worry about that. Now, did you bring my clothes?"
Marek produced a slim bag with tightly rolled clothing, and George changed quickly with a sigh of relief. "I don't know how women do it," he said. "My respect has increased tremendously for any woman in heels and corset. Now let us see what the good Duke has been up to."
George searched the correspondence on the desk, while Marek searched through the mage's workroom.
The letters were innocuous, but George noted to whom the letters were going, including to one prince of Carthak and to Duke Hiram of Tusaine.
"Find anything?" George called in a low voice.
"Not really, I don't think," replied the rogue. "There is something here, maybe, but it's hidden. Other than that, I think he is clean."
"Or a very good hider." George entered the workroom, looking about with his Sight. If there was anything there that he was supposed to see, he would See it. He got the nagging feeling that he was missing something, but nothing appeared to him. A little bubbling fountain sat in the corner, the water gurgling gently. “That’s interesting...”
He moved towards the water, but then his head swiveled at a groan from the next room, his senses attuned by the Sight. "Why is he waking now?"
"It must be his Gift," Marek whispered. "We must go, now!"
The two of them hurried through the rooms, snatching up the feminine garb as they went, and were out the window in seconds.
Roger stumbled into the empty room, massaging his head. He collapsed into an empty chair. "And that is why I should never drink," he muttered.
Rating: R
Word Count: 737
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight:
Summary: George nearly avoids exposure and reaches his goal... Warnings for cross-dressing and implied impeding sex sorta. Probably could be PG-13, but better safe.
Roger tucked the woman's hand into his arm and clasped it with his other hand as they swept from the ballroom. "My, what big hands you have."
"All the better to feel you with," she said in a low voice.
Roger pulled them aside into a small alcove and ran his hands down her shoulders and her arms. "You have such strong arms," he said, marveling.
"All the better to...touch you with." The woman let one hand trail down his velvet doublet and down between his legs.
Roger sucked in a breath sharply. One hand trailed up her dress, intent on her generous bosom, but she captured it before he could reach its destination. She kissed it, taking each finger in turn into her mouth. Roger smoldered. "Let's press on," he breathed into her ear.
"Of course."
Roger led them through the palace, her surprisingly soft and hairless hand clasped in his own, until they came to the doors to his room. Here, he turned to the woman and pressed her against the door, his long lean body against her own. Roger leaned in to capture her lips in his own, but she turned her head to whisper in his ear. "Not until we are inside."
"Tease," he accused with an indrawn breath. He let a bit of orange fire light on one fingertip and ran it over the lock on the door, and it clicked open. The two of them fell inside, and he lit the lights with a snap of his fingers. Roger reached for the woman, but she held up one finger.
"One moment," she said.
He growled with frustration. "Do not make me wait long, my dear."
She smiled a sultry smile and withdrew a golden cube from a pocket deep in the recesses of her gown.
The next thing Roger saw was darkness.
"Idiot," George muttered, wiping off the lipstick with the back of one hand. "Can’t wait until I take a bath and wipe your stupidity off. Might be contagious." He slipped the knock-out cube back in his pocket. His fellow rogue, Marek, came around the corner just as he ripped off the blonde wig. "Just in time. Get in here."
Between the two of them, they managed to carry Roger to his bed. The rogue massaged the Duke's temples with a bit of the Gift. "He won't remember a thing, George, just that he went to sleep under his own power."
"Will he remember me?"
The rogue shook his head. "Vaguely. Only that he had some feminine company. I would have done more, but his Gift is too powerful. You'd have been hard pressed to find someone able to enter his mind at all, with his defenses."
"I’m not blaming you, Marek, don’t worry about that. Now, did you bring my clothes?"
Marek produced a slim bag with tightly rolled clothing, and George changed quickly with a sigh of relief. "I don't know how women do it," he said. "My respect has increased tremendously for any woman in heels and corset. Now let us see what the good Duke has been up to."
George searched the correspondence on the desk, while Marek searched through the mage's workroom.
The letters were innocuous, but George noted to whom the letters were going, including to one prince of Carthak and to Duke Hiram of Tusaine.
"Find anything?" George called in a low voice.
"Not really, I don't think," replied the rogue. "There is something here, maybe, but it's hidden. Other than that, I think he is clean."
"Or a very good hider." George entered the workroom, looking about with his Sight. If there was anything there that he was supposed to see, he would See it. He got the nagging feeling that he was missing something, but nothing appeared to him. A little bubbling fountain sat in the corner, the water gurgling gently. “That’s interesting...”
He moved towards the water, but then his head swiveled at a groan from the next room, his senses attuned by the Sight. "Why is he waking now?"
"It must be his Gift," Marek whispered. "We must go, now!"
The two of them hurried through the rooms, snatching up the feminine garb as they went, and were out the window in seconds.
Roger stumbled into the empty room, massaging his head. He collapsed into an empty chair. "And that is why I should never drink," he muttered.