Title: Luck of the Irish
Line: "I'm no leprechaun."
Disclaimer: I don't own, please, don't sue me. Savvy?
LUCK OF THE IRISH
Elektra stealthily crept along the roof of the hotel, her fingers twitching. Her sai were ready to be drawn, her mind was clear and focused, her body tense and ready to strike, her hands itching for her chance to finally kill the bastard.
It had been three years. Three years of training, of working on her position in the underground, of getting her status as one of the best, highest paid assassins. Rivaled only by one.
The one that would bleed onto her sai tonight, like he should have that night three years ago. Exactly three years ago. It was their anniversary. And she knew just how to celebrate, though he might not particularly agree.
Not that Elektra cared.
With almost feline grace and precision, she snuck to his balcony, and she pried the doors open silently. She stepped in, sai drawn, eyes searching. She looked all over the room, but there was no sign of Bullseye in the room.
She heard the vent in the bathroom and realized where he was. She started to make her way over there, every step silent, but before she could get more than two feet closer, the door opened and out walked Bullseye, the world's greatest assassin.
Completely, totally, thoroughly, undoubtedly nude. Unashamedly too, she might add.
"Top of the," Bullseye glanced past Elektra, "evenin' to ya," he greeted, smirking. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door, making no move to cover himself.
Elektra, meanwhile, had turned away, avoiding a sight she had no desire to see. But that appeared to have been his plan, as she tried to keep her eyes from falling on a specific area of him, he had come up and grabbed her, twisting her wrists painfully until she was forced to drop her sigh.
Then she was pinned to the bed on her stomach, and she clenched her eyes shut. She did not like being in this position period, and most definitely not with him, and even more so with him in his current state of undress.
And oh, my. She could feel, him, pressing against her back.
"Get off me, bastard!" she shouted, struggled against him. But that seemed to make him happier. A lot happier, if the thing pressed against her firmly was any indication. "Get off me or kill me."
"Ah, Luv, what'd fun would be in that?" he asked mockingly, whispering in her ear.
She did not just shudder from that. Ok, she did. But not in pleasure. Ok, maybe that. But it was instinctive.
"Bullseye, get off me now. The last thing I want to know is if my struggling beneath you gives you a hard on," she grunted, struggling again, trying to buck him off her. She ignored his laughter, rolling off his tongue, through his lips, and right into her ear, but her body was an evil, vile thing.
"Baby, you haven't felt nothing yet," he chuckled, but his released his hold on her. It was meaningless though, because he was holding both her sai by the time she even rolled over. He stood right there in front of her, her murderer, with both her sai, nude.
Elektra decided she needed to cut out her eyes. She should not find her murderer attractive, physically. She should go blind for those thoughts.
That was enough to wash those disgusting thoughts from her mind, until she tried to kick. But her leg was soon twisted and pinned to the bed by one of his, and then the other pinned her other leg, and she was stuck in another very wrong position.
His hands held the sai against her wrists, threatening, but not cutting. If she struggled, they would cut without him having to add any pressure or make any movement at all. He knew that, she knew that. Which was why he was smirking like the devil with his prized soul, and she was wanting to smack that smirk off his face so violently it broke his neck.
"You know, Lass, this would go so much easier if you would just stop fighting," he told her.
"You know, Laddie, it is really annoying that you can never decide on a nickname for me," she spat back. Weakly. "And I also should add, you're even more despicable than I originally thought."
Bullseye quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell, Luv," he said, and winked when he said the pet name.
"I know you were a heartless murdered who got his kicks tearing his victims down before viciously draining them of hope as well as life, but to be getting off on this, I think it's the most disgusting thing I've discovered in my life."
"Luv, do you really think I sodding care?"
Elektra shook her head, glaring daggers at him. "No. But just couldn't help speaking my mind."
Bullseye grinned widely and wickedly, and pressed himself against her. "Then speak your mind when it comes to what your body thinks of me," he said cheekily, knowing full well her body and her mind were not in agreement.
"It thinks you are very well, endowed. Especially for an Irishman," she hissed, closing her eyes as she said the words. "Now will you please kill me again so I can escape this miserable spot?" she added.
"What can I say? I'm no leprechaun. And as for the other, that would ruin my fun," he told her before kissing her fiercely. "You know, Luv, you should relax. I know, we've had our problems in the past, but hey, you're alive, you're high paid and talented, and I'm still the best. We should just keep things professional."
"What's professional about molesting a past victim and now your top rival?" Elektra demanded, her eyes open again and glaring incredulously.
"Nothin'. I just felt like celebrating our anniversary, since we're special, Luv. You and me, we ain't like others. We're special. And now, you're almost magic, like me." Bullseye leaned down, whispering into her ear. "But I've got a bit of Irish luck on my side, Luv. So you will never be as good as me."
Before Elektra could respond, he had pulled away and hit her over the head with the handle of one of her sai, effectively knocking her out.
A loud groan reached Elektra's ears, and it took her several minutes to realize she was the one groaning. Her eyes reluctantly opened, then blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the bright morning light. She sat up, rubbing her pounding head.
"What the hell?" she asked herself, looking around. She was on a bed, her sai beside her, balcony doors open, oh.
That's what happened.
Yeah, Hell seemed to describe the previous night very well.
"Bloody Irishman," she muttered. "I will kill you next year. Maybe."
"Aw, come on, Luv, surely you don't mean that."
"Well, maybe I'll let you get laid, first."
"There, that's the spirit."
Elektra looked over at Bullseye, who was dressed now. Same clothes as before, same cocky grin, same belt, same attitude. Same Bullseye.
"Why did you stay?" she asked, watching him. He stood near the door, his hands on his belt buckle, his weapons.
"Because, I wondered what you looked like when you woke up," was a simply reply. He winked at her and turned, walking towards the door. "By the way, I'm letting you pay for the room."
As soon as the door clicked closed, a sai was embedded in it, where his head had been a moment ago. He was lucky this time.
Elektra smirked to herself though. Next year, he might would be even luckier.