Things to Use When You Don't Have Duct TapeAuthor:
Blood Ties, (television series)Characters/Pairings:
Teen for language, warnings for random crackness.Spoilers:
General spoilers for the series.Prompt:
"random Mike/Henry blood ties" drabble for serialbathera. I took the word "random" to heartWord Count:
516 (a bit too long, but rules are for squares)Beta:
beetle, who is the fabulous internet wifey of my dreams.Disclaimer:
I so totally own this show. Bow Down! *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*Real Disclaimer:
I make no money from this, and claim no ownership over the to any of the copyrighted material of "Blood Ties," neither the television series nor the novels. Those works belong to their creators.
The club's music is loud, and Mike can feel the headache gathering in the base of his skull. The witch Vicki wanted isn't here, and Henry's presence isn't helping. Mike just wants to go home and sleep.
As they pass the bar, a tangled heap of black fabric launches itself at Mike.
"You're sooo hot, let's have sex," the woman slurs (at least that's what Mike thinks she says), her lipstick smeared.
As she tries to rub herself against him, the tension in his shoulders ratchets up. But that doesn't stop him from steadying her when she starts to wobble and fall backwards.
"C'mon, let's go have some fun," she yells, one hand fumbling at his chest. He bats it away, but with the fluid near-grace of the drunk, she frees her hand and places it far too close to his dick. Mike moves that hand, but she's got another free and he's too nice to let her fall on her ass, where she'll probably end up with a concussion. Mike looks for help, finding only Henry's smug, smirking face.
The headache builds; fuck, he's too tired to deal with this. "Care to lend a hand, Fitzroy?"
"What's wrong, Detective; can't handle a tipsy woman?"
As the hands paw at him, Mike deflects them away from his groin; his ass isn't so lucky. "A tipsy woman? Yes. A tipsy octopus? No."
Henry grins, an expression Mike finds infinitely more alarming than the smirk.
"Come on, leave the defenseless police officer alone," Henry teases. He moves closer and peels one arm away. Somehow, her loose limbs escape him and return to Mike's body.
"Damn it, can't you..." Mike trails off, vaguely gesturing to his head. "You know, do your Jedi mind trick?"
Henry's smile widens. "Actually, she's too drunk."
"'Too drunk?'" Mike rolls his eyes and moves her hand away from dick. Again. "Shouldn't that make it easier?"
"It does, but three seconds later, she'll get distracted by string and forget."
"Great, that's just great." Mike sighs before meeting Drunky's gaze. "Look, thanks, but no."
"Why, is that yer boyfrien'? Oooo, he's pretty, too. You guys're pretty together."
Henry's eyes widen, denial and horror written in every line on his face. Mike echoes those sentiments until a gleefully malicious thought occurs.
Mike releases the groping hand and grabs the front of Henry's shirt, pulling him close. Henry freezes and Mike proceeds to give the dirtiest kiss of his life. He uses his teeth and tongue, teasing until Henry's mouth is slack, then sucks on his tongue.
When Henry finally starts to respond, Mike finally pulls away. Henry's eyes are wide as Mike licks the vampire's spit from his lips.
"Holy hell. Hottest thing, ever. I can sooo die happy, now." Drunky's mouth is gaping, her eyes glazed over. Mike carefully presses her into a bar stool; Henry hasn't moved.
Smirking, Mike saunters away.
"C'mon boyfriend, let's go."