Italy
by 1Grrl4Vic
co-writer Vicchic
Disclaimer: Sabretooth and Birdy belong to Marvel. Tony and Maria belong to me. The old lady belongs to Vicchic.
Author's Notes: Vicchic wrote most of this but she thought I should be the one to post it. Originally, it was my idea... just a scene that popped into my head, semi-inspired by The Sentinel and Jim Ellison's "zone out factor." This fits into my Emma Series timeline during "Vic and Birdy's Further Adventures in Parenthood."
**Also, there are a few ethnic slurs contained in this fic and it is not our intention to offend. We are merely trying to portray Victor Creed as true to his character as we can.**
The black limousine negotiated through the narrow Tuscan streets with surprising smoothness; the experienced driver adept at ferrying the well-to-do and upper class in the comfort they demanded. The blonde passenger watched his companions casually, glancing only occasionally at the picture-postcard beauty of the 14th century town. He didn't share their enthusiasm. Victor Creed was here on business. Italy held no other appeal for him.
The same couldn't be said for Birdy. She was obviously thrilled to be here. Creed watched her chatting happily with his client, Tony, and Tony's sister, Maria. He thought she was Tony's sister. Truth was he didn't give a fuck who she was. But he'd shake her hand...hell, he'd cut her throat as a bonus for the cool million he was making on this contract. Maria noticed his eyeing her and gave him a warm smile. He smiled in return.
Creed glanced at Birdy. He congratulated himself on his decision to bring her on the trip. Five months pregnant and she still looked like the best fuck in town. Her pretty blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun, wisps of hair floating against her cheekbones and neck. She wore a cotton halter dress that showed her already expanding breasts nicely. Creed was definitely a breast man. And a leg man. But the sight of her slender arms and smooth shoulders was enough to get him hard.
Birdy saw Creed watching her and she nudged him with her sandal. No, Creed corrected himself, her six-beads-and-two-strips-of-leather $600 dollar sandals. Some designer bullshit. Blanik? He reminded himself not to offer Birdy a traveling outfit for the next trip. Or better yet, leave her ass at home. But she looked good now. He smiled thinking of her buck-ass naked with those pretty sandaled feet over his shoulders.
"Boss? Boss?"
Her voice pulled him back from his afternoon planning. "Yeah? What?"
"This is so beautiful. Thanks for bringing me."
"Yeah...whatever," he replied gruffly. "It's not like you haven't been here a few times. Didn't you come here with that pretty-boy Hollywood prick you use ta go with?"
"Oh him?" Birdy laughed, complemented by the jealous sound in Creed's voice. "Sure. But it's always beautiful." She turned back to Tony as he explained the history of the church they were passing. Birdy laughed excitedly, "Oh, we''ll have to go there too!"
Creed watched Tony pouring the charm on his Birdy. He was good, Creed had to admit. A regular Don Juan. Sure, the guy wanted to screw Birdy. You could smell it on him. But he knew how to package it. He was attentive. He nodded at everything Birdy said. Acted like every thing outta her mouth was pearls of fuckin' wisdom. Creed imagined his claws tearing that wop voicebox from his throat.
Creed sighed relief when they finally reached the hotel. He would have preferred the Four Seasons or some other assured quality place, but Birdy pleaded for the more authentic, smaller hotel. Their suite was exceptional, he had to admit. Several rooms, French doors opening onto two balconies. Fourteen foot ceilings with all the molding and fixtures to match. Antique furniture. A class joint all and all.
Birdy attended to the unpacking while Victor set up his laptop. He examined maps of the area, as well as detail of the estate where his intended target was spending his last days. The red light from the sunset drew his attention. He stretched and walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the town. It was a spectacular view. The gold-red light bathed the red tiled roofs of the buildings below, warming the hard color to a red-brown. The white stucco of the walls turning gold.
He felt Birdy behind him. He turned to look at her. She was naked. Except for a pair of designer sandals. She was conscious of the appeal she exuded. Didn't she feel sexy as hell? And Creed had assured her that the rounded belly didn't take a thing away from her. She carried two bottles of Italian beer in her hand.
"Hey, Boss. Thought you might like something cool."
He couldn't help but smile. He walked towards her and she pulled a carved chair to face him, gesturing for him to sit. She handed him a beer and he sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Birdy sank to her knees before him, spreading his thighs and wedging herself between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him hard. She pulled up his knit shirt, and planted small kisses on his hard abdomen. Creed watched her, feeling himself grow rock hard at her touch. He stroked his fingers through the mass of blonde hair, now curling in the Italian humidity. Birdy raised her face and smiled at him. The look was lustful but also so clearly affectionate, that Creed felt uneasy. He gripped her hair a little tighter, tugging her head back a little.
"Birdy, you be sure and stay away from that swarthy guinea, Tony, tonight. I don't like the way he looks at you."
She smiled as she unzipped his pants. "Tony who?"
Creed chuckled and leaned back into the chair, letting Birdy take care of him.
"Ya look good, Boss."
Creed harumphed at her complement.
"It ain't a fashion show, Birdy," he replied, turning away from her. But hell, six and a half feet of muscle in Prada black knit did look pretty damn good.
"So you're goin' out to dinner with Maria, right?" he questioned.
Birdy brought Creed his loafers from the closet. She wore the little silk robe he'd bought her in Japan last year. Her bed-head hair made him want to take off his clothes off again.
"Yeah, just me and Maria. I'll be here when you get back from your test-run." Creed simply nodded in reply.
"Uh, Boss?"
"Yeah?" Creed prepared to leave.
"Would you get my sandal out of the chandelier before you leave?" Creed laughed and moved toward the light fixture over the bed.
by 1Grrl4Vic
co-writer Vicchic
Disclaimer: Sabretooth and Birdy belong to Marvel. Tony and Maria belong to me. The old lady belongs to Vicchic.
Author's Notes: Vicchic wrote most of this but she thought I should be the one to post it. Originally, it was my idea... just a scene that popped into my head, semi-inspired by The Sentinel and Jim Ellison's "zone out factor." This fits into my Emma Series timeline during "Vic and Birdy's Further Adventures in Parenthood."
**Also, there are a few ethnic slurs contained in this fic and it is not our intention to offend. We are merely trying to portray Victor Creed as true to his character as we can.**
The black limousine negotiated through the narrow Tuscan streets with surprising smoothness; the experienced driver adept at ferrying the well-to-do and upper class in the comfort they demanded. The blonde passenger watched his companions casually, glancing only occasionally at the picture-postcard beauty of the 14th century town. He didn't share their enthusiasm. Victor Creed was here on business. Italy held no other appeal for him.
The same couldn't be said for Birdy. She was obviously thrilled to be here. Creed watched her chatting happily with his client, Tony, and Tony's sister, Maria. He thought she was Tony's sister. Truth was he didn't give a fuck who she was. But he'd shake her hand...hell, he'd cut her throat as a bonus for the cool million he was making on this contract. Maria noticed his eyeing her and gave him a warm smile. He smiled in return.
Creed glanced at Birdy. He congratulated himself on his decision to bring her on the trip. Five months pregnant and she still looked like the best fuck in town. Her pretty blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun, wisps of hair floating against her cheekbones and neck. She wore a cotton halter dress that showed her already expanding breasts nicely. Creed was definitely a breast man. And a leg man. But the sight of her slender arms and smooth shoulders was enough to get him hard.
Birdy saw Creed watching her and she nudged him with her sandal. No, Creed corrected himself, her six-beads-and-two-strips-of-leather $600 dollar sandals. Some designer bullshit. Blanik? He reminded himself not to offer Birdy a traveling outfit for the next trip. Or better yet, leave her ass at home. But she looked good now. He smiled thinking of her buck-ass naked with those pretty sandaled feet over his shoulders.
"Boss? Boss?"
Her voice pulled him back from his afternoon planning. "Yeah? What?"
"This is so beautiful. Thanks for bringing me."
"Yeah...whatever," he replied gruffly. "It's not like you haven't been here a few times. Didn't you come here with that pretty-boy Hollywood prick you use ta go with?"
"Oh him?" Birdy laughed, complemented by the jealous sound in Creed's voice. "Sure. But it's always beautiful." She turned back to Tony as he explained the history of the church they were passing. Birdy laughed excitedly, "Oh, we''ll have to go there too!"
Creed watched Tony pouring the charm on his Birdy. He was good, Creed had to admit. A regular Don Juan. Sure, the guy wanted to screw Birdy. You could smell it on him. But he knew how to package it. He was attentive. He nodded at everything Birdy said. Acted like every thing outta her mouth was pearls of fuckin' wisdom. Creed imagined his claws tearing that wop voicebox from his throat.
Creed sighed relief when they finally reached the hotel. He would have preferred the Four Seasons or some other assured quality place, but Birdy pleaded for the more authentic, smaller hotel. Their suite was exceptional, he had to admit. Several rooms, French doors opening onto two balconies. Fourteen foot ceilings with all the molding and fixtures to match. Antique furniture. A class joint all and all.
Birdy attended to the unpacking while Victor set up his laptop. He examined maps of the area, as well as detail of the estate where his intended target was spending his last days. The red light from the sunset drew his attention. He stretched and walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the town. It was a spectacular view. The gold-red light bathed the red tiled roofs of the buildings below, warming the hard color to a red-brown. The white stucco of the walls turning gold.
He felt Birdy behind him. He turned to look at her. She was naked. Except for a pair of designer sandals. She was conscious of the appeal she exuded. Didn't she feel sexy as hell? And Creed had assured her that the rounded belly didn't take a thing away from her. She carried two bottles of Italian beer in her hand.
"Hey, Boss. Thought you might like something cool."
He couldn't help but smile. He walked towards her and she pulled a carved chair to face him, gesturing for him to sit. She handed him a beer and he sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Birdy sank to her knees before him, spreading his thighs and wedging herself between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him hard. She pulled up his knit shirt, and planted small kisses on his hard abdomen. Creed watched her, feeling himself grow rock hard at her touch. He stroked his fingers through the mass of blonde hair, now curling in the Italian humidity. Birdy raised her face and smiled at him. The look was lustful but also so clearly affectionate, that Creed felt uneasy. He gripped her hair a little tighter, tugging her head back a little.
"Birdy, you be sure and stay away from that swarthy guinea, Tony, tonight. I don't like the way he looks at you."
She smiled as she unzipped his pants. "Tony who?"
Creed chuckled and leaned back into the chair, letting Birdy take care of him.
"Ya look good, Boss."
Creed harumphed at her complement.
"It ain't a fashion show, Birdy," he replied, turning away from her. But hell, six and a half feet of muscle in Prada black knit did look pretty damn good.
"So you're goin' out to dinner with Maria, right?" he questioned.
Birdy brought Creed his loafers from the closet. She wore the little silk robe he'd bought her in Japan last year. Her bed-head hair made him want to take off his clothes off again.
"Yeah, just me and Maria. I'll be here when you get back from your test-run." Creed simply nodded in reply.
"Uh, Boss?"
"Yeah?" Creed prepared to leave.
"Would you get my sandal out of the chandelier before you leave?" Creed laughed and moved toward the light fixture over the bed.