Fanfic: Once Upon A Time (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Once Upon A Time
Author: Avarice
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mikhael/Tybalt
Spoilers: pre-BMB
Summary: Mik wakes up with a hangover and wants to know exactly what he's been up to.
Word Count: 1997
Date First Posted: 07-10-2001
Date Revised: 21-05-2011
Beta: Tink
Awards: Excellence In Character Development
Notes: The point where I was truly lost... where my writing of vamp!Tybalt from TiH finally graduated to human!Tybalt in BMB. My world was never the same, and neither was my BMB fic :) Very few people liked Tybalt at this stage of the game, and I actually remember being quite worried about backlash from Mik/Harl shippers at the time.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ

The weight on Mikhael's chest was beginning to annoy him, as was that thing tickling his nose. However, the Russian refused to open his eyes for three very important reasons: one) he had a hangover; two) he had a hangover; and three) he had a hangover. Mik knew that technically it was the same point three times, but it was so important he figured it bore repeating.

Argh. Thoughts like that were making his head hurt. Moreso.

He waved his hands in front of his face a bit, trying to stop the tickling, but could never make contact with whatever was doing it. It always started again once he stopped trying, anyway.

Deciding to try the source, Mikhael grumpily attempted to bat the weight away, only to have his hand connect with solid, muscular flesh. Eyes still tightly shut, his fingers moved across soft skin stretched over tight abs, sinking lower and snagging in the waistband of jeans. He tugged futilely for a few moments before growling in frustration.

"Good morning to you too, Precious," said a familiar voice.

Mik cracked one bloodshot eye open and looked up into amused emerald orbs. He squeezed his own eye shut again.

"Do you have to be so cheerful?" he rasped.

"Cheerful? Moi?" Tybalt asked innocently. Mik merely snarled in response. "Now now," he chided, as if talking to a young child, "that's no way to speak to the best fuck in this city,"

"I'm not talking to me, I'm talking to you," the brunet responded, growling again at the punch he got in reprisal.

"You had to expect that," Tybalt responded airily.

"Mggffmm."

Mik attempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he couldn't with Tybalt sitting on him. That and the damnable tickling started again. Eyes opening wearily, he looked up into Tybalt's intense face, tracing a peacock feather with the precision of an artist over his brows and down the bridge of his nose. He stayed silent a few moments, trying to fathom his lover's motives.

Knowing Tybalt though, they could be anything.

Curiosity finally got the better of the pounding ache in his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Me? Nothing much," the redhead replied, tracing the soft tips of the feather over Mikhael's lips. Closing his eyes, the Russian just enjoyed the soft caress go over his chin and trace down his throat. Mik enjoyed the intimacy, realising he didn't really want or need a reason behind Tybalt becoming affectionate.

"Mmm... S'nice..." he murmured as the feather traced over his clavicles. His headache was actually beginning to ebb.

"Is it now?" that voice like honey purred, colourful plume tickling the dark hairs on Mikhael's chest.

"Mmmmm..." Mik confirmed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Where did you get it from?" he asked, not so much interested in the answer as wanting to hear Tybalt's seductive voice say the words.

Tybalt leant forward so that his bare skin came into contact with Mikhael's. "At the zoo, last night." He blew warm air onto his lover's collar bone.

"Zoo?" Mik mumbled, not concentrating. "You visited the zoo?"

"No, we visited the zoo," Tybalt paused, "Well... with less emphasis on ‘visited’ and more on ‘broke into’.”

"Oh..." the brunet commented. Tybalt started the countdown in his head.

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

Mikhael's eyes snapped open and he struggled to sit up. "We did what?!" Oh lookee, the stabbing pain behind his left eyeball was back.

"We broke into the zoo," Tybalt repeated matter-of-factly, pushing Mikhael's shoulders back down onto the bed. Mikhael groaned wretchedly.

"Why?" the brunet asked, not really expecting a logical answer. Luckily, he was not disappointed.

Tybalt tapped an index finger against his lips in thought. "To the best of my recollection, we were there to see what affect your average household antiseptic had on the chimps,"

"Tybalt..." Mik started slowly in a shaky voice, "we don't have antiseptic, we just use pure alcohol."

"I know," the redhead replied.

"We wanted to get a bunch of monkeys drunk?"

"As I recall."

Mikhael squeezed the bridge of his nose, willing the pain away. After a moment of depressing silence he opened one eye. "Well, did we?"

"Did we what?" Tybalt frowned slightly, concentrating on brushing the tip of the feather over the palm of his own hand.

"Get the monkeys drunk?"

"Oh, no. Got distracted by the bird enclosure. Hence," he waved the peacock plume.

Mikhael's eyes widened slightly, and a note of dread crept into his voice. "Please don't tell me you killed any peacocks."

Tybalt snorted indignantly. "If they're dead, it's their own fault." He glanced at his distraught lover before his face broke into a grin. "I have no dead birds to my credit; Scout's honour,"

"You were never a Scout," Mikhael countered.

The redhead gave a purely lecherous smirk. "Don't you wish I was?"

"Tybalt. The birds."

"Right, right... no dead birds. Promise. Although..."

"What?"

"They could be a little... y'know... bald."

Mik moaned. "Ty, how could you?"

"I didn't say I did it, Mikhael." Mik knew by the use of his name Tybalt wasn't messing around.

"I did it?" he asked meekly.

"Bingo," the redhead replied, running a hand absently down the Russian's chest.

"Why would I do that?" Mikhael asked, mystified.

"You were drunk," Tybalt shrugged. "Plus, I think you got jealous the males had better hair than you did."

"But they don't have hair, they have feathers,"

Tybalt raised an eyebrow. "Put yourself in my place and try explaining that to a drunk you."

"Point taken," Mik conceded. He rested an arm across his eyes and sighed deeply. "We didn't, er... do anything illegal to the animals, did we?"

"Not to the animals, no. Although, what we did in front of them isn't really considered legal..."

"We had sex in the zoo?"

Tybalt smiled broadly and raked his fingers down gently through the dark hair blanketing Mikhael's muscular torso. "We didn't just have sex, we had sex."

"In front of what cage?" The Russian took hold of Tybalt's hands in his own and gently directed them down.

"On the courtyard bench between the pygmy marmosets and the lemurs." Tybalt leant back almost unassumingly, but brushed against Mikhael's quickly rousing member with tantalising intent.

Mikhael's lips quirked in a wry grin. "My god, I'm dating an exhibitionist," he said with faux dismay.

The redhead smirked, fingers dancing over tight abs. "Just think of it as... performance art."

The brunet squinted as his fingers fumbled on the fly of Tybalt's jeans. "I doubt we could be marked on it."

"Oh, I don't know." Tybalt wriggled out of his jeans and stood briefly to kick them away, before seating his now-bare backside on Mik's legs. "Can you imagine our lecturer's faces?"

Mik's deep throated chuckle abruptly changed to a low murmur of approval when Tybalt dragged his lips over the top of his lover's right thigh.

"Okay, I doubt we could get marked and pass, then," Mik corrected, breath hitching when Tybalt's long, unbound hair brushed his erection.

"D'you think I'd let you down? I'll do absolutely anything to pass," Tybalt pressed his cheek to Mikhael's thigh and looked up into the handsome Russian's face. "anything," he breathed, eyes sparkling.

With a desperate moan, Mik sat up a little and reached forward. He grabbed Tybalt by the shoulders, hauling the smaller man up his body. Mikhael's lips claimed Tybalt's in a passionate kiss. Tybalt squirmed, rubbing his body sensuously against the wall of hard muscle covered in soft, dark hair. He murmured appreciatively as Mik's large hands traveled down the smooth skin of his back, coming to rest on his ass. Their erections ground together with a painful pleasure.

"So, anything else happen at the zoo?" the Russian mumbled, loving the way Tybalt's hair fell in a copper curtain around his face, obscuring the rest of the room.

"You said you'd let me be on top," Tybalt replied with a frighteningly straight face.

Before the redhead knew it, their positions were reversed and his back was on the mattress, hair fanning out on the pillow, while Mikhael brought his right hand up under Tybalt's left knee, bending it.

"Ty, I wasn't that drunk,"

Tybalt pouted and ran his tongue along Mik's lower lip, before biting it gently. "Can you blame me for trying?"

"You?" the brunet ran a finger down the prominent cheekbone. "Never."

A genuine smile curled Tybalt's mouth, and he pressed his lips against Mikhael's in a kiss filled with desire and urgency. "Now hurry up and fuck me, already, my legs are starting to cramp," he said somewhat breathlessly when they parted.

Mikhael yanked the bedside drawer open roughly and rummaged through the contents. He grit his teeth when Tybalt kept lifting his hips off the bed to make deliciously agonising contact with his own. His fingers searched for a bottle he kept there, all the while planting wet kisses down the slender column of Tybalt's neck.

"You're not after that froofy hand lotion shit, are you?" the redhead half-said, half-groaned.

Mikhael's fingers finally snagged the bottle and pumped some of the contents into his palm. "Why not? Keeps the right things soft," the brunet coated his fingers, intent on preparing his lover, "and it keeps the right things hard." he slathered the remaining substance on his erection.

He pressed one kiss to Tybalt's swollen lips. When he received the short nod in return, Mikhael slowly pushed his hips forward, deeply penetrating the redhead's body. Tybalt arched his back off the mattress, a loud cry escaping his throat. The brunet took it slow, using long, deep strokes -- almost pulling all the way out before entering again.

"Christ... Mikhael..." Tybalt's legs wrapped around Mik's hips, urging him to speed up. One hand rested on one of the Russian's broad shoulders, the other firmly grasped his own arousal, pumping in the same rhythm. A familiar feeling began to gather in the pit of Mikhael's belly. With fingers digging into Tybalt's waist, he came with a snarl.

Tybalt's eyelids fluttered madly over dark green eyes. Every thrust hit a spot inside him that made him nearly want to pass out with pleasure. So, so close, it was almost too much to bear, until a larger, warmer hand joined his around his hardness. Emerald orbs cleared slightly, and met the deep mahogany pools of his lovers'. The caress of both of their hands was enough to push the boundary between pleasure and ecstasy, and he howled with completion.

Mikhael brushed his stubbly cheek against Tybalt's smooth one, before positioning himself next to the smaller man on the bed. Tybalt propped his head up with one hand, the other combing sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.

"So that's were the peacock feather came from," he concluded wryly.

Mikhael's chest rumbled with his amusement. "I like your story-telling technique." His hand came to rest in a proprietary gesture on Tybalt's bare hip.

"You have a great feel for audience participation." If there was a way that Tybalt found to wiggle his eyebrows lecherously, he was doing it.

"Well, if that's where the peacock feather came from..." the Russian's face turned from a thoughtful expression to a grimace as he reached behind him, hands closing over a large neon orange plastic shape digging into his back. "... where the fuck did we get the traffic cone from?"

"Ahh, that's at least a 3 orgasm story."

"Between us?"

"Each."

"Oh." Mikhael pulled Tybalt's body a fraction closer. "I'd really like to hear it."

Tybalt grinned. "How about that, I'd really like to tell it," a slender hand stopped Mik getting any closer, "but on one condition."

"What's that?" the brunet asked, face dipping closer to his lover's. Tybalt smirked.

"Lose the cone."

"Consider it gone," Mik said, throwing the garish road device over his shoulder. In compensation, he spent the next few hours in a very intense but rewarding story-telling session.

~finis