Title: (In)Discretion Is the Better Part of Valor
Author: Gyaku no Sekai
Rating: M for Mature
Summary: He had been her right-hand man for years and knew her better than anyone, which was probably why his indiscretions with her were the better part of his valor. Older!Timmy x Older!Vicki, Channel Chasers.
A/N: I blame the fanfics Butterflies by EclipseKlutz and Missing by Tearatone Maystar for this one, because my brain decided to do something else rather than work on the next chapter of The Dragon and the Rift-Maker. Also, I have a sick, sick mind.
He had been her right-hand man, her lieutenant for going on fifteen years now and so knew her moods better than just about anyone – which was why he knew better than to open the door all the way after he knocked, not until he heard –
CRASH!
-something expensive breaking against it. He pushed the door open and ducked a throwing knife as he knelt to clean up the remains of the vase – or what he assumed was a vase – sweeping the door shut behind him and reclaiming the throwing knife even as he could another in midair and dumped the shattered glass into a nearby wastebasket. "You called, Excellency?" he said calmly, kneeling before her and catching a third blade aimed for his heart.
"How long have you known about this!" she demanded; this time it was a datapad winging its way towards his torso, and he expertly snatched it out of the air before it made contact and proceeded to examine the image contained therein: a muscular African-American man sprinting down a largely deserted side street, he and the equally strong-looking blonde male beside him carrying some specialized time-warp equipment, the kind only available to the Overlord and her soldiers.
"I thought it best not to speak until I was operating on more than hearsay and rumor, Excellency," he stated, handing the datapad back to her but staying in the kneeling position.
She sighed heavily, all the rage gone out of her; he was right, as usual. Had he come to her earlier with this information, she would have demanded solid proof before she would have listened to him. She turned away, leaned heavily on his desk and gazed out of the tall window behind it and the ruined city beyond. "Even we haven't perfected the time-warp technology, but no doubt that one genius-brat – AI? AK? – will be able to do it before we can stop him. They wouldn't have taken the risk to steal the equipment if they didn't already have solid theories and equations to program in." She slammed a fist against her desk. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! The past: the one place where this future can be changed, and the one place I don't have secured."
He caught her fist when she tried to continue putting a dent in the wooden surface she was using to support herself, and became massaging her hand to convince the muscles to relax. "All this stress isn't good for you, Excellency; perhaps a brief vacation?"
Again she sighed. She had changed so much since her knew her as a child: still fiery when provoked, but otherwise weary, not going out of her way to be cruel to someone unless it was really worth it; "I can't, not until the Resistance is crushed."
"You don't trust me to take care of everything for one day?" He moved from her hand to her back, expertly massaging the knots of tension out of her shoulders and the muscles around her spine.
"It's not that I don't trust you; you know I do better than anyone, but it's everyone else I don't trust. If they can't get along by themselves for one day with me available, I know I can't trust them without me," she murmured, relaxing into his touch and closing her eyes.
"Hm… true. I shudder to think of what some idiots would get up to." He pressed his thumbs in slow circles into her muscles; she leaned back against him with a soft moan, his arms looping around her waist to catch her when her body went limp, and she turned to nuzzle his firm chest. "Excellency, we have a meeting in thirty minutes," he managed, voice strained; it was not the first time he'd slept with her, but each time it made him feel immeasurably guilty for "cheating" on his somewhat-girlfriend, even though she, too, was probably sleeping around (albeit not with the enemy, but it was not like he had much of a choice).
"Then I guess we'll have to be fast, now won't we?" She grinned at him; he sighed and pulled off the ammo belt looping his torso, dropping it and his telescopic staff onto her desk even as she hopped up onto the edge and began wrestling with her own clothes. "It's times like this that I'm jealous of you men," she growled, lifting her hips to shimmy out of her pants and underwear, "You have it so damn easy!"
"Penis envy?" he suggested, moving in closer to unbutton her shirt and slide his hands up her sides, gently tweaking her nipples through the fabric of her bra.
"More likely than not," she managed, shivering at his touch and reaching up to feel his muscles through his uniform. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, grinding his still-clothed length against her and earning a sharp hiss coupled with a few short thrusts before he moved back slightly to unzip his uniform pants and pressed forward again, this time slipping inside her and setting a fast pace almost immediately. The clock was ticking, and he focused solely on bringing them both to climax, glancing up to her face when he smelled salt and wet metal; she'd bitten clean through her lower lip, back arched, her whole body shuddering with ecstasy, and he buried his face in her neck, moving faster to the point where he knew she would be sore, which would inevitably result in him having to help her walk for the next day or so. She didn't seem to mind; he felt her dig her nails in and rake them down his back, arching further into him, pushing her chest against his – And then all of her muscles tightened, limbs clutching him to her, and he gritted his teeth so hard he heard a high pitched ringing in his ears, forcibly planting his hands on her desk to prevent him from injuring her while he pursued his own release. He threw back his head and let out a snarl, muffled by his gritted teeth, when the rippling, clenching warmth around his length finally tore his world asunder with the force of his climax.
He came to slumped against her, forehead resting on her shoulder, and he could feel the blood from the claw marks she made trickling down his back and seeping into his clothes. She was lightly touching the marks, apparently seeing if they needed stitches, but he withdrew to check the time – just enough to clean up before they needed to move. She made a distinctly pissed growling hum but moved to collect herself as he slipped away to his own room to bandage his back and change his clothes, both of them appearing absolutely impeccable at their status meeting three minutes later.
A/N: …what was I thinking? …