A Nice Relaxing Evening
By Kryss LaBryn
I so don't own anything. Not, V, not Evey, certainly not the Shadow Gallery... although I do own a couple of bottles of very nice blackberry Merlot ("Wild Vines Blackberry Merlot", since you ask), and a very nice lavendar and marjoram essential oil ("Sleep Easy") by Calia. That's it. Damn it all... ;-)
"Bloody amateurs," V grumbled to himself as he neared the disused Victoria Station tube entrance. His bloody shoulder still bloody well hurt. "Who in the hell goes and grabs a man's wrist on his windup?" The silly little man hadn't even been a Fingerman; it was just poor luck that he'd heard V's altercation and done his civic duty by leaping to the aid of the patrol. "Rabbity little bugger…" V had distantly noticed his approach, of course, but had instantly dismissed him. The man was completely not a threat. Why, V doubted he'd have been able to fight his way out of a wet paper bag. He was short, balding, paunchy… Nearsighted, too, if the thickness of his specs was any indication, and his run, out of the corner of V's eye, had all the lithe grace of a tangled marionette.
He had certainly gone down like his strings had been cut when V had batted him away in irritation. Luckily, his heightened reflexes had not only allowed him to pull his punch enough that the man would undoubtedly survive his ill-fated brush with heroism, even if his specs would never be the same, but had also enabled him to dodge the Fingerman's desperate counter-attack. Mostly. V winced.
It was a bloody shame, he mused, rotating his sore shoulder as he descended to his home, that some people simply could not see when they were in over their heads. Honestly! What on earth did that idiot think he was going to do? Single-handedly capture 'Codename: V' (and what an idiotic nomenclature that was), the man who, even at that moment, had been taking on an entire patrol with alacrity? Idiot. Some people get what they deserve…
As did I, apparently. Damn it all, he knew better than to ignore any combatant, no matter how inane: even the rankest amateur might get in a lucky strike. Hubris, that's what it was; he'd been over-confident, thumbed his nose at the gods, and look what it had gotten him. A pulled shoulder, and a bruised side. He was lucky that was all.
A glass of wine and a nice hot soak, that was the thing. A nice Chardonnay, perhaps; perhaps the mellow tones of a Merlot. Ah, yes; he'd a very pleasant blackberry Merlot tucked away; the very thing.
He saw the flickering of the telly as he walked past, but the sound was off. Evey was curled into a corner of the sofa, one hand absently twirling a lock of hair as she read. Jane Eyre, it looked like. The glow of the telly washed over her, ignored.
She did not look up; she seemed too absorbed by the governess's gothic adventure to have noticed him. Bit of a relief, really. V ducked back out without alerting her to his presence, grabbed the Merlot, a wineglass (Propriety, he thought; life is nothing without manners), and a corkscrew, and headed for the bath.
Ahhh… There was nothing like warm heat for sore muscles. Steam rapidly filled the room as he swished hot water about to warm the cast iron tub. Epsom salts, yes, he thought, adding several generous handfuls to the swirling water, and something to help me relax. Ah! He located one of his favourite essential oils, a spicy, soothing blend of lavender and marjoram, and added several generous dashes. Just the ticket!
He placed a large fluffy towel within easy reach, shut off the taps, opened the bottle, poured a generous glass, stripped out of his rather dishevelled clothing, climbed into the tub, and prepared to relax.
Yes. Relax. That's the ticket, old boy; let the heat do its magic; feel it loosening those muscles… Except it wasn't. Drat.
Well, who could relax with all this filth all over them? All right, so he wasn't truly filthy; mainly just a bit sweaty. Still. He gave himself a good scrub, drank the wine, poured himself a second glass, and lay back.
Ahhh… That's better. …Right?
Bloody hell. He sat up, sloshing water, and tried to stretch his shoulder out. It didn't work. He probed the muscles with practiced fingers. Bloody hell bloody hell bloody hell…It was strained. At least. Possibly even sprained. Damn it! And, now that the injury had had time to settle in and felt comfortable enough to reveal itself, he could feel the pull radiating right down his back. The bloody little bugger made me pull my trap! OW! And my pec…
Damn it! V couldn't afford to be slowed down by an injury, especially one that would leave him unable to use one arm effectively. He tried to take some consolation in the fact that at least he would heal much faster than a normal man; it didn't help. Instead he sank into the depths of the tub, leaving only his nose exposed, and grumpily imagined wreaking revenge on the rabbity little man. He tried to not regret locking the unconscious meddler safely back into his car before he left.
He soaked and sulked until the wine was gone and the water was as tepid as his injury could stand before he reluctantly pulled the plug. There was no help for it; he'd have to simply try to take it easy, and take an analgesic when he couldn't. He hated to take painkillers, though; he'd had more than enough of foreign chemicals in his system, and he disliked using analgesics to disguise the fact that he was injuring himself further. But still, at least if he had to go out, he could at least ensure that he'd be able to react without the pain of the injury slowing him down. And he'd make a point of doing extra stretches first.
The bath hadn't helped him relax as much as he'd hoped; perhaps he'd join Evey and read for a little while before he took himself off to bed. Something light, to help him settle. He had some Terry Pratchett's that he hadn't read in a while…
Distaining his usual doublet, he paused long enough in his room to don a simple grey silk shirt and a pair of trousers. He couldn't bear the thought of the fitted coat about his shoulders; he suspected he was beginning to swell. Absently rubbing at his shoulder, he dug out a copy of Night Watch and joined Evey.
She was still absorbed in her book; she simply mumbled a greeting and gave a distracted wave as he came in. V idly wondered how long she had been at it. He clicked off the telly, settled into his favourite armchair, and put his feet up on the pouf.
Ah, yes; a rousing good yarn, that's the ticket. He'd give Sam Vimes and his ragtag City Watch a good forty minutes or so, and then, off to bed.
If he could just get comfortable. He shifted; shifted again a moment later; paused to rub at his shoulder. Again.
He'd finally managed to sink into the story enough that his injury had receded to a background ache by the time Sam Vimes was falling through the Library skylight. He almost jumped when Evey interrupted him. "V!"
"Yes, Evey?" he inquired, trying to hide his annoyance. Drat it, wasn't anything this evening going to go according to plan? He should have stayed in his bedroom…
"I asked if everything was okay. Did you hurt yourself?"
"Hmm? No; a minor altercation, that's all. My shoulder's a bit sore."
"Would you like a massage?"
"What?" V shuddered at the image of a large Swedish woman named Gretchen or Heidi pummelling his poor body into submission. Or worse, a large Swedish Sven…
"Would a massage help? Do you want a rub?" Evey put her book down, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "I'm pretty good."
I'll bet you are, V thought, eying her slightly. But still, a rub might help loosen him up. Nothing else had. And Heaven knew he couldn't reach to do it himself.
It wasn't because it was Evey offering. He wasn't trying to justify anything at all. Honestly.
He cleared his throat. "Actually, Evey, that would be most helpful. Thank you for offering."
Evey rubbed her hands together to warm them, slightly nervous. She hadn't really expected him to agree, and now she was committed. Not that she didn't want to give him a rub; far from it. It was just kind of, well, not quite scary, but… She had butterflies.
V stood up, rather gingerly, interrupting her train of thought. Poor man; he must have been in a lot of pain to agree to something like this. He'd kept fidgeting, and groaning, and rubbing at his shoulder until his discomfort had finally penetrated her Rochester-clouded mind. She'd blurted out her offer without a thought. She couldn't believe he'd accepted. She wondered if he'd take his shirt off…
And her hands were like ice. She tucked them under her arms to try and warm them up a bit. "Do you, er, have any oil or anything like that?" she blurted. God, I sound like such an idiot! Of course he'll have a bottle of massage oil tucked away somewhere. Scented, I'm sure. Idiot. "Even olive oil will do," she added. "I just need some, er, lubrication…" She trailed off in embarrassment under V's blank gaze.
"Actually," he said carefully, "I'd rather keep my shirt on, if you don't mind." He sounded like he was already beginning to regret accepting her offer. Idiot! Of course he does… Quick! Say something!
"Oh, that's fine, V," she hastily said, taking his arm and trying not to babble. "It's silk, right? That'll work too."
He shifted slightly; perhaps a sudden twinge had made him rethink his rethink. "Where do you want me?"
Oh, dear, V; don't ask me that; I might tell you! "Er… I suppose your room is out of the question…" He guarded his remaining privacy jealously; at least, she'd certainly never so much as had a glimpse of the interior. He inclined his head slightly; she took it as agreement. "How about on the sofa, then? It's your right arm, right? Head at this end then, please." That's right; calm, cool, and collected. You're the masseuse; you're in charge here. Oh, dear… She tried to shake the image of V, supple and submissive under her ministrations, from her head…
"Actually, it's my shoulder," he said, carefully lowering himself to the sofa cushions. "And down my back."
Down his back… To his bum… Oh dear. She allowed herself a moment to admire the slight flare of his hips, and his wonderful tight bum, as she tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. What was he talking about? I'm supposed to rub his bum?
Pay attention, Evey! She rubbed her hands together a last few times, blowing on them in a desperate last attempt to heat them up, then, a bit tentatively, placed them on his shoulder.
He hissed an indrawn breath through his teeth; Evey jumped back. "I'm sorry; did I hurt you? They're too cold, aren't they? Oh, dear; I'm sorry, V!"
He gave a small chuckle, his voice muffled by the cushions. "No, no; it surprised me, that's all. Actually, the cold felt rather nice." He shifted slightly; she thought she heard him mutter something about definitely sprained then, blast it…
Well, then, if it was a sprain she'd be extra gentle, especially at first. Cautiously resuming her perch beside him, she began to just run her fingertips lightly over his shoulder itself, up and down, following the contours, trying to get him to relax enough that she could begin to work in earnest.
It didn't seem to be working. "Hang on a sec," she said, and jumped up, dashing across to the jukebox. Something relaxing, something relaxing… Something classical would be ideal, but she while she enjoyed randomly listening to the beautiful music, she wasn't yet familiar enough with any of it to deliberately select a quieter piece. Some of it, she had learned very early in her acquaintance with V, could be very lively indeed.
Hmmm… Perhaps some Pink Floyd? She vaguely remembered V referring to the music as "mellow". Yes, that was right; she'd commented on a funny cover with two people dancing in a meadow, and he'd told her a very amusing anecdote. Hastily, she selected a few songs at random, and hurried back to his side.
V had turned his head slightly; she wasn't sure if he had been watching her or trying to breathe past the cushions. "Ah, 'Celestial Voices'," he murmured. "Very nice."
Once again Evey resumed her perch and tried to get him to loosen up. It didn't work. He was as hard as a rock. "Try to relax, V," she finally said, frustrated. "I can't do it all myself; you're too strong. I need you to start relaxing before I can help you loosen up more."
"Evey, my dear," came V's still-muffled voice, "If I relax any further I'm going to fall off."
"Oh! Of course—Hang on." She chewed a thumbnail a moment, then hopped up. "Here—get up half a mo." She rather awkwardly helped him to his feet, then quickly tossed the seat cushions on the floor, arranging them into a bed. "Here, try this." V gingerly lowered himself again. Poor man; he really was being a good sport about it all.
"This actually works a bit better for me, too," she commented brightly. "Er—do you mind if I, er, straddle you? Only it's a better angle…"
"Do what you have to," he grunted.
Trying very hard to not think about just what she was doing, or where she was sitting, Evey swung a leg over. She was careful to keep her weight on her knees rather than his back, but it really did make it easier. Once again, she ran her hands over his poor shoulder, still lightly, but a bit more firmly this time, using her whole palms.
This time it worked; she could feel him relax. His shoulder was still a mass of knots, and down his back, as he'd said, but the rest of him wasn't so… stiff. At least, not the bits I can see, she silently giggled. She wondered if he found the situation, the contact, as… stimulating, that's a word he'd probably use for it. Or invigorating. As stimulating as she did.
Up and over and down and back… Her hands glided over the warm silk as if it were truly his skin. Surreptitiously she closed her eyes and allowed herself to pretend that it was his bare skin she soothed, that he was enjoying it as much as she was, that this was more than just a massage to him…
Encouraged by the relaxing of the muscles beneath her, by his relaxation, she set to work more firmly, working her way from knot to uncomfortable knot down his back. A little bit at a time; ease each one a bit and then on to the next, all the way down and then smoothing back up, and down, and up again, then the knots again…He groaned as she leaned hard on a particularly stubborn knot, then added, in a bit of a slur, "You're very good at this, you know…"
"Yes, well, a friend of mine when I was a girl was a gymnast; she used to have me give her a rub all the time. Oh! Sorry; did that hurt? Well, anyway, she made me practice and I got quite good. We used to trade massages back and forth—Sorry, sorry… I'll be more gentle with that knot… At least, that was the theory; she always made me do her first and she always fell asleep, so I never got mine…" Eve paused. She had been nowhere near a knot that time… What on earth..? Oh, God. Oh, no. I sound like some perverted lesbo fantasy come to life…Oh my God. Oh, God…
She was mortified. She was going to die of embarrassment, absolutely die. Oh, god, what was she going to do? Any minute now he was going to throw her off and denounce her perfectly innocent prattle as a sign, as evidence of her rampaging homosexuality, and he'd kick her out, and the Fingermen would get her and she'd be blackbagged—See? Here he goes…
Eve paused in her mental tirade as V shifted beneath her, certain he was about to do all that she feared, and more. But he just… scooted a bit, as if he was suddenly slightly uncomfortable, and settled down again.
Wait—Is he getting off on this! Oh my God, I think he's totally getting off on this!
Indeed, he didn't seem about to leap to his feet. Not for the first time, she wished she could see his face. Oh, well, perhaps there was more than one way to find out…
"Hey, V," she said softly, "The light in here's kind of all wrong for this. It's too bright. I'm just gonna grab some stuff, okay? I'll only be a couple of minutes, then I'll be right back…" She waited until he grunted what she took as agreement, then climbed off and headed towards the kitchen. She scampered off into the kitchen, rattled a drawer open, and quickly snuck back to peek around the corner.
V lay unmoving for a moment, then cautiously rose to one elbow. She couldn't see exactly what he did next, the angle was all wrong, but it looked like he reached down to make an… adjustment. Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sudden attack of the giggles, she quietly snuck back to the kitchen. Oh my God, he's so totally getting off on this! Oh, I could have some fun…
This was looking like the perfect chance to get back at him for interfering with her life. Admittedly, the consequences of his interference beat the consequences of him not interfering, but still…
She grabbed the packet of tealights from the drawer, and the matches from the back of the stove. "Just hang tight," she called, "I'll be there in just a tick." Taking a moment to compose herself, she sauntered back to the telly room.
"Here we go," she said, liberally distributing the little candles over every available non-flammable surface. "Just the thing." She quickly and carefully lit them, and shut the overhead lights off. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. What do you think?"
V was still lying on his stomach, arms pillowing his head, seeming for all the world as if he hadn't moved. "Very nice," he agreed affably. "Now, about my shoulder…"
"Of course!" Trying to be casual, Evey resumed her perch on V's bum, allowing herself a small wiggle as she did so, enjoying the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath her. She went back to the massage for a few minutes, waiting for him to relax again before she resumed her story. Her new, improved anecdote. "Where was I? Oh, yes… My gymnast friend. Oh, sorry; I'll be more careful with that one. You really are quite tender, aren't you? Right. Well, anyway, she kept falling asleep on me, and I never got my turn! So I thought I'd fix her. 'Cause, I had my suspicions about her… Like, she'd be all flirty with the boys, you know, but I kept catching her watching me out of the corner of my eye, and I swear she'd flirt more if I was there. Like she was trying to make me jealous, or something. So this one night… Hang on a sec, V, I've got to readjust. Just a sec…" Raising herself fully onto her knees, she gave a wiggle before lowering herself back down. "It's these bloody knickers," she announced cheerfully; "Lovely colour but the lace keeps tickling me. Plus the thong rides up…"
V made a small strangled noise. Perfect, Evey grinned mischievously; Now he's going to be wondering what colour they are… "So anyways," she continued, running her hands over his back again, "I was pretty sure she was getting off on the rubs; you know, using them as an excuse to have me touch her. So one night, instead of my usual pyjamas, I wore this really pretty little nightie, all peachy silk and lace… I told her I got it for some guy she thought I liked." Evey chuckled. "Boy, was she mad about that… I knew then that I was right about her. Sorry, tender spot again, I guess… So anyways, that night, instead of giving her the usual regular old massage, I started off by lifting up her hair off her neck, and blowing on her neck, just a little…" Evey swished her hands lightly through V's wig, just enough to demonstrate. She'd love to have suited action to word, but she thought that might be going a bit too far. Instead, she leaned forwards, just brushing the tips of her breasts against his back as she whispered into his ear, "Then, I leant forwards like this, and started to just lightly run my fingers up and down her sides, like this… Do you like that, V? …V?"
Evey chuckled again, low, throatily, as she leant over him. Gods! Even having shifted himself to point straight up, he was still so bloody hard that lying like this hurt. He caught the scent of her arousal as she rose slightly to brush against him. She had to know what she was doing to him, the little minx! She was doing it on purpose! God, it was all he could do to not simply roll over and crush her beneath him…
As if she sensed his thoughts, she whispered into his ear, "Roll over, V!" She raised herself up onto her knees as he twisted beneath her, settling back down as he ran his hands up the smooth pale skin of her thighs, pushing the short silken nightdress up to her hips.
"Do you know what I did then, V?" she asked playfully. He longed to bury himself within her; instead, with a firm grasp on her soft flanks, he guided her to his mouth. Gently, he parted her folds; she opened before him like an exotic flower, all soft moist petals and intoxicating scent. Gripping her firm, juicy little ass, he ran his lips and tongue over her, within her, licking and nipping, suckling and probing, until her soft cries of pleasure and her hands gripping his hair as she bucked against his face nearly drove him over the edge.
With one smooth motion, then, he drew her down to his waiting erection and thrust himself within her, into her, hot slick tight so tight!God..! feeling her body embrace him as he embraced her in turn, thrusting into her warm wet tight embrace, harder and faster as she frantically rode him to her own completion, until he finally came in a hot spurting mingling of fluids as the world spun away beneath him…
"V!" she cried, "V! Do you like that..?"
"V..? Do you like that?" Evey paused, stilling her hands as she waited for an answer. "V?"
His only reply was a soft snore. "V?" she asked again, uncertain if he was playing with her. He mumbled something she didn't quite catch, then snored again. Louder.
She swore softly, then carefully climbed off, not wanting to disturb him. He must have been very tired indeed, to have fallen asleep like that. Mind you, her friend always had, too; perhaps she just gave particularly satisfying massages.
What was she going to do with him? She couldn't just leave him conked out in the middle of the floor… Could she? At the least, she doubted he could breathe properly with his face half-buried as it was, let alone with the mask on too… "V?" she pulled at his shoulder. "Come on, V; roll over! I can't move you by myself…"
V muttered and mumbled and shifted a bit; he didn't roll over, but he did stop snoring. At least he can breathe now, thought Evey. "Come on, V, time for bed…" She tugged gently at an arm. There was no response.
It's going to be very difficult, mused Evey as she chewed her thumbnail, to get him into bed without waking him up. She weighed the benefits of him sleeping in a bed versus him simply being allowed to rest, and went to fetch a blanket. After all, it's not really cold in here, and he does have the cushions…
She didn't dare venture into his bedroom to fetch his own blankets; instead she dragged a duvet off her bed. Tucking the masked terrorist in, and grinning slightly at the idea, she paused a moment to tenderly brush a lock of his wig back. "Sweet dreams, V," she whispered.
And V, relaxed and wrapped in her scent, had very sweet dreams, indeed.
A/N: If you've made it this far then please send me a review! Logging in/ff. net account not required. Thanks!