| Pez Part 1 by Saturniia Free distribution, just ask first Disclaimer: Plot (or nonplot) mine. From my own challenge. Characters not mine. If they were, do you think I'd actually write all this? Drizzle shimmered through the asphalt-, glass-, and concrete-magnified heat of the New York summer day. On the streets there was no action, as shopkeepers opted to stay inside their air-conditioned storefronts, children preferred the new Y buildings and movie theatres to the outdoor basketball courts and parks, and even the pickpockets and thieves, those who would be found during the day, decided it was much too hot to conduct business as usual. Yes, all was quiet in New York City, at least on the ground. But if one bothered to look up, up, up to the apartments and offices nestled snugly above the storefronts, one might discover a different story, for there, on one of the fire escapes, was a man. He was a very strange man, not unattractive, but strange, dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants though the temperature that day had to be upwards from one hundred degrees. However, he was only there for half a minute, for he had opened the window and hopped inside. From the streets, you could hear a window overhead closing and then nothing. Inside Sara Pezzini's apartment, Ian Nottingham allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk. Sara really needed to fix the lock on that particular window, as it was becoming ridiculously easy to enter her apartment, but at least her place was out of the heat. *Ah, air conditioning,* Ian thought as he sighed, allowing himself another smile as he peeled the sweat-soaked shirt off his back. "Sara Pezzini, lover of rainbows," he murmured under his breath, turning a circle and allowing himself a glimpse of the entire room. *Who would've thought* And it was indeed true, as all Sara's windows were draped with bright-colored curtains, and small crystals hung from the curtain rods between them, casting rainbows against the opposite wall. On her bed were, instead of drab, white sheets, tie-dyed sheets swirled with blue and yellow and a bright, bright green. The bottom of a freestanding punching bag *definitely not bought with Irons's money* was adorned in a similar manner, with red and orange replacing blue and green. Nottingham quickly hid his smile at the thought of his boss, and his back stiffened. Rubbing bare hands together anxiously, he traced over the scars on his palms from when he'd first learned to block flying knives. With a sigh, he forced his back to relax, and then casually dug a blue PEZ dispenser out of his pocket. He'd discovered the discreet, tasty candies almost six months before, at a time when he was withdrawn from the drugs Irons gave him to make the assassin superhuman. Flipping open the top, he caught a grape candy capsule on the tip of his tongue, and proceeded to roll it around in his mouth. Sliding over to the one comfortable chair Sara had in her apartment, Ian sat down, rapidly sprawling himself over the full span of the chair and making himself at home. *It's not like she'll be home for another half an hour anyway. Plenty of time to relax, then start acting like the assassin I am again.* Slowly, and not unwillingly, Ian closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep. Outside, the rain fell heavier and more thickly. Slamming the door to her apartment shut forty minutes later, Sara Pezzini didn't even notice her uninvited visitor. Instead, she pushed her sopping hair out of her face with an aggravated snort, and removed her gun from its holster to check the barrel. Satisfied that the condom she'd placed over the muzzle had done its job of keeping the wet away from the gunpowder (a trick Sara had learned from a Marine friend from high school), Sara quickly began moving about the apartment, straightening things out and peeling off wet clothes as she went. Not until she'd stripped down to her bra and panties did Sara even think to turn towards her favorite chair. Once she did, and noted her guest, she did something that Sara Pezzini never does. She screamed. Nottingham's eyes popped open in shock, as he quickly gathered his bearings. "Aah!" "Aah!" Sara quickly grabbed the nearest piece of clothing, which just happened to be Ian's shirt. "Aah!" She shrieked again, tossing it away and then began cussing the Witchblade out as nothing but trouble, a magnet for unwanted attention, and many things a lot worse. Noticing her guest's intense stare and (ahem) rising problem, Sara shot Ian a glare and then hissed, "Turn around." Ian didn't bother to leave the chair, but he did close his eyes. Shooting the unaware man another glare, Sara muttered, "Stay like that," and turned to put dry clothes on. However, patience, usually one of Ian's strongest suits, wasn't with him that afternoon. Once Sara had turned her back, he opened his eyes, and quickly had to stifle a groan. Sara was leaning over a box on the floor, and her thong underwear left nothing to the imagination. With her back turned and her firm, round ass staring him in the face, Ian fought for control. He did not win. A groan escaped his mouth as he quickly stepped behind Sara, blocking all ways around him. Sara whirled, and Ian caught her against his chest. *This is wrong* one side of his brain reasoned. *But how long have you wanted to do only this? And she isn't pulling away* Reasoned the other part. "Feel what you do to me, Sara," he whispered, pulling her close to his body. He didn't force her flush with him, but when her eyes widened, he could tell she could feel exactly how she affected him. "Please, Sara," he continued in the same hushed tone, "I've wanted you for so long. Please, be my first, my only." "But," Sara sighed. "You're Irons's prized possession. His perfect assassin..." "Not today," he muttered, brushing his lips with hers in a gentle kiss. "Today I'm just Ian. And you're just Sara, the Witchblade. And everything will be as it can't be outside of us." Sara appeared to consider this for a few moments, and quickly, hurt, Ian released his hold on her. Then, right before capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, Sara whispered one word that made his heart stop. "Okay." Immediately, Ian returned her kiss with equal passion, though also with more enthusiasm than experience. Together they stumbled over to the bed, peeling off Ian's undershirt and Sara's bra as they went, laughing and exploring each other. They flopped down the bed, Ian on top of Sara, her hair fanning out around her like a dark halo and her hands at the waist of his jeans. Quickly he stood and kicked the offending garment away, taking his boxers along with them, and gently slid the slick silk of her panties down over her hips and to the floor before rejoining her on the bed. Now that they were both naked, they looked at one another and explored freely. She moaned as he cupped her breasts in his hands, and giggled when he traced a line across her stomach right below her belly button. He, in turn, rolled his head against her hand when she ran her fingers through his hair and hissed in a combination of suprise and delight when she chose to wrap a silken, powerful fist around his engorged phallus. "Sara," Ian whispered, voice shaking, "I-i've never done this before. Help me?" "Mmm-hmm," Sara murmered, which quickly turned to a groan when he kissed his way down her stomach, all the way to her most private place, where he brazenly placed yet another kiss, and laved his tongue inside her entrance. Sensing her delight in that motion, Ian repeated it many times over, until he found a strange little bud just above the entrance, and bit lightly on it. Sara screamed his name, and the liquids from her orgasm spilled over his tongue. Eagerly he lapped it up, delighting in her taste. He groaned along with her as he kissed his way back up her stomach to her silky breasts, giving each one a gentle kiss before returning to her mouth. "You taste good," he whispered, before capturing her lips in another kiss. They massaged and rolled and played some more, and when Sara whispered that she wanted Ian inside of her, he couldn't believe his ears. "Are you sure?" He asked, and she nodded. Gently, Ian placed his member against her entrance, and pushed down slowly. Between the two of them, he was slowly and gently sheathed in her tight passage. He muffled a groan in her shoulder as he composed himself, then gently began moving in and out of her. Gradually, the strokes became faster and more frenzied, and Ian put more and more of the power that made him so lethal an assasin behind his thrusts. With a cry, Sara exploded again, tightening herself around his shaft. Miraculously, Ian thrust once, twice more before losing himself to the power of his orgasm. As they came down from the high of their lovemaking, the two lovers curled up around one another and fell asleep. When Sara awoke again, Ian was already up and about, gathering his things and hopping into his jeans. "I'm sorry," he said when he caught her staring at him. "I'm not," she whispered. He sighed with relief, then tried again. "No, I meant I'm sorry I have to leave so quickly. I'm supposed to meet Irons for a meeting at 8:30, and, well... you know how he is if you're late." "Oh," Sara sighed. "Yeah." Then she noticed a tiny blue... thing on the floor, about the size of a pack of gum. "Hey," she asked, scooping it up. "What's this?" "PEZ dispenser," he muttered, gently taking it from her hand and replacing it in his back pocket. "Oh? What's your favorite flavor?" An evil glint came to Ian's eyes, and he walked over to the side of the bed and sat down. Gently, he nuzzled the side of her neck, and Sara closed her eyes and leaned into his lips. "You," he whispered, pulling away as he noticed a smile gracing her lips. Sara felt him rise from the bed, but when she opened her eyes, he was gone. |