Passion Without Touching
by Fur and Fantasy
NC-17 for M/M
full contents and notes located at the bottom of the file
They're doing something different this time; separated us, kept us far enough apart we can't even call to each other. It's hard to believe they still don't know that Throttle's a 'path, and a strong one at that, but they haven't done anything to block him.
Now me, what they've done would be plenty, except that my pathetic abilities have been well honed by that arrogant, judgmental, self-righteous do-gooder martyr of a Mouse over the years he's been in charge of the Biker Mice. I'm still not good for much, even when touching, but I can reach him, and sometimes even Modo, at a fair distance. Right now, I can feel him looking for my mind, and as much as I know I shouldn't, that I should keep that freakishly devious, determined mind focused on escaping by denying him the comfort of knowing I'm okay, I reach out. Call me a coward or weak-willed if you want, but I can't resist it when he reaches out for me. I never could, really.
"*You had me worried,*" his mind-voice is low, quieter than usual, and even I can figure out he thinks we're being eavesdropped on. How, I have no clue, but it's obvious in the flickers I've learned how to read in his mind-touch. Bloody paranoid Mouse.
"*I'm fine,*" I try to quip, but it never comes across right this way, and I can *feel* that damn Mouse chuckle.
Why is it when he's amused with me it makes me horny?
"*Because everything makes you horny,*" Throttle's laughing hard enough in his head he's probably laughing out loud. As annoying as it is, I can't help but smile. I think I can count on my hands how many times he's really laughed in honest amusement. I can't make myself begrudge him the moment, even if it's at my expense.
Why masochistic sickness keeps me so addicted to a Mouse that has never found me good enough at anything?
"*Vinnie,*" his voice is so soft and quiet I nearly just out of my skin. "*I don't think that.*"
"*My thoughts!*" I snarl at him, probably more verbally than mentally, but I know he gets the point as he backs away a bit.
I really hate not having any defense from even his most casual looks into my head. But who what uses he puts it to!
He's right, of course. Just about everything makes me horny. I've probably been fucked by half the interested guys on Mars, and more than a few of the girls. It's what I'm really good at; easing the tensions.
Despite all those cocks and pussies, a fair chuck of them skilled telepaths, nobody touches me like he can. He's made me come with just a look and a thought, left me a quivering puddle with barely a touch, and when he actually fucks me ... sweet mercy it's mind-blowing on whole new levels.
A feel the smile creep across my face as I reach out to him again, catching his attention from where he's been politely waiting.
"*Overheard?*" I try my best to get the question across, counting on his skill to pick up the intent beyond the word or two I can manage.
"*I expect so,*" I'm sure he's nodding. "*Otherwise they wouldn't leave me unblocked.*"
I shiver at my plan. "*Give'm something,*" I feel his curiosity mount. He must be in a good mood to indulge any idea I have right now. "*Take me.*"
"*What?*" his shock ripples through the link he's sustaining between us.
"*Take me,*" I repeat as calmly as I can as I feel the idea sink in for him. Not from my words or him, but from all that extra stuff he's told me he gets along with the word-thought.
"*Why?*" he finally asks calmly, his curiosity peaked.
"*Pass time,*" I offer. "*Shock'm.*"
"*You just want to get laid,*" he chuckling again.
"*Du,*" I snort. "*Well?*"
"*We do have a couple hours to kill,*" he muses, withdrawing again for his own insufferable reasons.
He *knows* it drives me crazy when he thinks before making up his mind.
"*All right,*" his mind is back, full of the hot, sultry cockiness that makes me quiver. I'm already hard in my jeans before I even feel his touch, as real as if he's right here with me.
"*No,*" he stops my hand before it can even move to unzip my jeans, then chuckles when I growl at him in frustration.
"*It will be worth your while,*" he promises, and as badly as I want to touch myself, I know he's good for his word.
"*Bastard,*" I growl at him.
He chuckles something too quietly for me to pick up as I feel his body against my back, pressing me to my hands and knees. His mouth closes around an antennae; I can hear the gurgle, nearly a whine.
"Damn you!" My throat is already raw. He's holding me back, keeping me from coming until he's ready to let me.
"*You love it,*" he's chuckling again and fills my ass with that hot, thick cock.
I can't stop trembling. I want it, his come, mine. His arousal hit hot and heavy in my nose, his cock pounding my ass, his mouth around my antennae. I swear I can't take it, the need is building into pain.
His hot come fills my ass and he let's me go, screaming as I cream my jeans and collapse to the ground. It's all I can do to pant, try to catch my breath and remember the incredible ride he's given me.
"You sure?" a female voice is distant.
"Very sure," Throttle's replied with that amused tone still in it.
There's a bit of light around me, and he's picking me up. What was going on, that we need to leave in a hurry?
Passion Without Touching
NC-17 for M/M
Het Level is None Slash Level is Slash Smut Level is PWP Femslash Level is None Herm Level is None
6 KB, Story is Complete, Series is Finished
Written January 7, 2009 by Rauhnee Ranshanka
Setting: Biker Mice from Mars
Primary Races: Martian Mice
Contents: Furry. Slash (M/M). PWP, Relationship (Established), Sex (Kinky)
Blurb: Trapped in a cell alone, completely without company, Vinnie still manages to get fucked senseless.
Disclaimer: All things taken directly from the sources listed under 'Fandoms' belong to the owners of those shows. No harm is intended and we're definitely not making any money. Now, the things we created are ours, and if you see 'Non-FanFic' up there, it's probably all ours.
Page Hit Count from January 7, 2009