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Fanfic: The Mercy Blank

Chapter 1: Proposals n sech

The Mercy-Blank

author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen
rating: The most NC-17est thing that ever was, without getting gross
about it
categories: RST, RomCom, lust and mini-angst, Micki and Ryan
alternating POVs
timeline: around mid-season two
spoilers: "Symphony in B#", "Master of Disguise", and random
author's notes and the disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me,
they are the property of some Mancuso Jr.ness that I know nothing
about. The story is all me. The smutbiscuit is baking in the oven,
children, and our terrible twosome are about to rock out with their
cocks out. Word.

~"If I wear a dress/He will never call/So I wear much less/Don't you
like my camisole?"~Vanity 6

I, Ryan Dallion, am doomed to a torturous, albeit uplifted, perpetual state of being. Uplifted as in right now, Micki and I are saying our goodbyes to Jack as he leaves for a two week buying mission in Prague for more uncursed 'curious goods', and I will be alone in the shop with the most gorgeous redhead in white that ever was or will be.
Torturous because I will be alone with her and she is as unattainable as the male multiple-orgasm. Not only is Micki my cousin by marriage, which wouldn't completely be a dealbreaker, but we've gotten into the 'close friends' stage that, as a male, I know tolls the death knell of "never getting some".
It isn't like I haven't tried exploring other avenues; I still attempt to pick up women. I get shot in the proverbial foot every time, because of the work that Micki and I do procuring cursed objects, anytime I get close to a girl I like, she's died.
*Died*. I don't even get dumped, they fucking die.
Leslie was the last girl I slept with, and that was a few months ago. She was an enchanting violinist who got involved with a cursed violin bow and that was that. Dead.
I've been a little gun-shy lately, for good reason. I'm lethal.
Micki and I have gotten a little closer since then, she's a little more affectionate towards me and gives me slightly less shit than she used to. If only she wasn't so incredibly sexy, it would be easier to be completely comfortable around her, if you catch my drift. But no, she's got to have the body like a bolt of lightning, the most gorgeous face I've ever laid eyes on, and possesion of the understanding of something I can't really disclose to any other girl.
How can I really even get involved with anyone else and *not* tell them that a bulk of my time is devoted to tracking down things my uncle (who worshipped Satan) cursed, so that we can spare innocent lives?
Any slightly sane girl would have me committed in a heartbeat.
Therefore, I am clearly doomed. Micki and I stand with an arm around each other's waists as we wave goodbye to Jack, still in what we constitute as PJ's because it's 7:30 in the morning; the picture of friendly comfort and security. I'm glad she can't read the thoughts I'm having of pulling the string of the robe she's wearing and seeing what she tastes like.
Spring isn't helping me out at all, either, because this brings out her white satin robe that never has anything but birthday suit underneath and always inspires instant dirty thoughts. I quickly think of Ernest Borgnine in a bikini to quell the tent that was threatening to rise in my plaid boxers, "Back to bed?" I yawn at her, scratching my head a little.
Micki gives me a sleepy Mona Lisa grin and nods, "Mmm-hmm. I could use at least another hour of beauty rest."
"The last thing you need is 'beauty rest'." I kid her as we make our way back upstairs to our lair above the storefront, "Give the other girls a chance, Micki."
"Nice back-handed compliment, Ryan." She quips, giving my back a friendly shove.
"I aim to please." I say


God, why does Ryan have to be so adorable? I have to wonder if what I'm feeling is just due to the fact that I've been incredibly unlucky as far as men are concerned, or if it's something else that I can't put my finger on.
My track record with men in the past year has been, in a word, atrocious. I came to the realization that my fiancee Lloyd was an incredible jerk and dumped him, and have since been involved with a man who I thought was a handsome movie star but ended up being a murderous, disfigured man aided by one of Uncle Lewis' cursed artifacts. That was the last man I slept with. Not to mention that the guy I slept with before *him* ended up dead doesn't help make me feel any less defeated romantically.
Through it all, Ryan's been there, with his wisecracks and not-so-subtle come-ons, sweetfaced and stylish, arms wide open for me to run into them in the face of danger. I do this a lot considering we are constantly facing perilous adversity.
It's hard work fighting the Devil. Life-affirming, but with no one to really express the pleasures with, it can wear you down. I keep trying, to no avail, to stop thinking about him, about how kind he can be toward me, yet strong enough in my defense to punch someone out if we need to get away. Ryan's like the human equivalent of Charmin, strong and gentle at the same time. It's hard not to love that.
The two of us have decided that we want to spend a day or two off from artifact hunting and focus on running the store. There hasn't really been anything suspicious in the news, so it only makes sense that we actually try to make some money.
It's a gorgeous spring day. We have the front door open and sunlight is pouring into the shop, causing dust motes to dance in beams of late afternoon sunlight. I'm wandering around with a feather duster, attacking surfaces and objects aplenty when I catch Ryan staring at me from the counter.
"What?" I ask him.
Ryan grins and looks away, "Nothing." he pauses for a couple beats, "It's just..."
I stop dusting and stare him down, "What?" I ask a little more forcefully.
He chuckles, "I can see through your dress."
Oh no. I look down at the thin, white cotton sleeveless dress I'm wearing in horror. "Oh my God!" I exclaim, trying to utilize my arms as best I can for censorship, "Has it been like this all day?"
"It's cool, Micki, it only happens when you step into the sunlight." Ryan laughs. Now that I'm onto him he thinks this is all hilarious.
I glance around the sun-flooded shop and glare at him, "All those customers...they all saw..." I'm at a loss for words, "How *could* you, Ryan?"
"Sorry; seriously, I just noticed a couple of minutes ago." he rushes to apologize, the symbol of sheepishness. Ryan's mouth tries to surpress a grin, "Think of it this way: We'll most likely get some repeat business." He breaks into laughter and I just want to cream him.
I furrow my brows at him in a breathless glare, jaw slack at his unmitigated gall, and huck the feather duster at his head, "You asshole!"
Ryan moves to the side just in time and avoids getting pegged in the eye, still laughing, "Hey, that almost got me! No 'Death by Feather Duster' for this guy."
I just want to wipe that clever little smirk right off his face. I stop trying to cover myself and straighten my shoulders back, devising a plan of revenge. I bite on the corner of my bottom lip and slink into a beam of sunlight, allowing him a devilish grin as I reach up to run my hands though my thick mass of curls, "A couple of minutes, huh?" I breathe out in the most seductive voice I can muster.
That stopped the annoying chuckles coming from his direction. Satisfaction seeps into my vertebrae and I give a glance. Ryan's mouth is hanging open, and he actually gives me an audible gulp.
Oh no, I'm not finished with him yet. This is war, ladies and gentlemen. Little boys shouldn't play with grown women. I'm about to eat him alive. "Did you get a good look?" I ask him, swishing my hips as I make my way through constant sunbeams to close and lock the front door. I flip the sign to "Closed" and brace myself against the handle, arching my back against the door. I'm intoxicated by the power induced by his reaction. He's actually sweating a little. Good.
"Uh, um, it was pretty good." Ryan stammers, "I mean, I liked what I, oh, that didn't come out right..."
"Cut the crap, Ryan." I interrupt him, "I've noticed you watching me."
"You have?" His voice actually squeaked a little. Adorable. Suddenly, I am very aroused.
"Oh sure. Plenty of times." I arch an eyebrow as the corner of my mouth tugs out a knowing smirk, "So, are you going to *do* anything about this, or what?" I ask, leaning back into the handle and pushing out. I feel so powerful right now, and it's such a turn on.
Ryan moves out from behind the counter and slowly makes his way to me, "Micki, do you know what you're saying? Do you have anything cursed on you?"
I shake my head, "Nope. I'm thinking logically, and I think that it's been a while for you, correct?" I'm still grinning, still pushing my hips in and out with my hands on the door handle behind me, "It's been a while for me, too." I sigh.
Now Ryan's standing in front of me, running a hand nervously through his hair, "Are you saying that we should, uh..."
"I'm saying that it seems neither of us are good for anybody, and that since we do have a certain amount of unresolved sexual tension between us..."
"Wait, you feel that, too?" he interrupts me, smiling.
"...that we should resolve it."
"If it wasn't the early evening, I'd swear I was still dreaming. We can't sleep with anyone else, so let's go ahead and mercy fuck each other?"
"That's what I'm getting at." I tell him, "You can take it or leave it, but I figured I'd make the offer, anyway."
Ryan grips my hips forcefully, stopping their constant motion, and I am doubly aroused, "You're sure you want to do this? Because there's no going back once this gets started." he says in a low, serious voice.
I give pause; at first, I was just playing with him, but now, well, I'm so turned on I don't think I can stop, either. I shake my head, "I don't think there's any going back now, Ryan. It's already out there." I manage out.
He uses his hands on my hips as a lever to pull me into his arms and proceeds to kiss the legs out from under me. Boy, Ryan is full of surprises. He's a kissing maestro, for one. I had no idea. My knees have practically transformed into water under his ministrations; his mouth against mine is soft but firm, and the amount of passion in this is shocking my core. I don't think any man has ever gotten me this excited before. I have no choice but to respond, and I also have no choice but to try to keep my arms wrapped around his neck so I don't melt into the floor.
Yes, there's no going back now, and in the moment, I really don't care.


I feel like I've been dosed with very good acid, or that I'm in the middle of the hottest dream ever. It all started in a somewhat innocent way; Micki's wearing a very thin white shift and toward the end of the day I became entranced by the fact that her dress was completely see-through in our sun drenched shop, and that she's wearing only a pair of small white bikini panties underneath. She caught me checking out her superiorly amazing body and reacted in a way that caught me completely off guard; she put it all out there on display and actually *suggested* that we just fuck and get it over with.
So I am now essentially sucking her beautiful face against the front door of the shop with the biggest erection of my life, happier than a pig in shit. Micki has no idea that I am about to blow her fucking mind. I've never been much of a Lothario before, but now I have made it my mission for her to forget about any other man but me. I want to sear her brain.
What can I say? She inspires me to do great things. Reluctantly, I break out of our kiss and take her in. Sweet merciful crap. The sunlight that is still flooding the front windows is silhouetting her entire body through her dress, her wide eyes are dilated and glassy, her lips are purple from our little five or so minute liplock, and above all that, her chest has a soft, heaving rise and fall. She is magnetically gorgeous, "Still good?" I ask her intently. She nods and I take it a little further, "Then turn around and place your hands over your head against the door." I murmur into her ear.
Micki looks at me with an are-you-crazy glint in her eye but complies with my request. Perfect. I reach over and close the shade on the front door so we don't give everyone in the neighborhood a free show and pick up a painted paddle on the shelf next to me. How convienient. I push up the skirt of her dress around her waist at a snail's pace as I kneel behind her to kiss languidly up the back of each of her thighs, paddle in my right hand entwining with thin white cotton fabric. Her breath hitches adorably when I reach her incredibly spankable behind and nip at the bottom right cheek visible below the pantyline.
Oh yes, I have plans: When the most breathtakingly sexy female in the known hemisphere lives and sleeps mere feet away from me, beautifully braless every day of my life for over a year, don't think that I haven't concocted a few fantasies in the old brainpan.
My day has come.
I move back into a standing position and push the dress a little higher to kiss her spinal column on her lower back, and I feel her body start to tremble slightly. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I ask her as I kiss my way up her spine, smiling into her flesh as she gasps in appreciation.
"I think I'm *starting* to get the idea." Micki's voice is staggered and breathy, and I think I've got her just where I want her.
I use my left hand to yank her panties quickly down her legs, manage to get them around the white pumps on her feet, and slip them off one-handed. Oh, she's gotta keep the heels on, for now, at least. My right hand still clutches paddle and fabric and my left stuffs the panties into the back pocket of my jeans and is now gliding it's way back up her thighs to her beautifully exposed alabaster ass. This is better than I ever dreamed. Micki hasn't stopped me, hasn't put up a protest, and now it seems she is anxiously awaiting a good spanking.
"Goddamn; you're fucking intensely sexy, and you've been torturing me." I practically growl at her as I shift the fabric of her dress to my left hand and stroke down her right flank with the antique painted paddle.
"I'm sorry." she breathes out, starting to squirm a little underneath me. I'm so hard right now, I could cut diamonds with this thing.
"Don't be." I kiss the ball of her shoulder, and she turns a little so I get a good look at her face. She's the perfect picture of sheer arousal, "Be ready."
Thwap! The paddle hits her ass and she hisses and arches her back, smiling a little. I do it again to the other cheek and am satisfied to get the same reaction. I keep going for a while until alabaster turns a burning shade of red and drop the paddle to floor with a loud clatter, grabbing her wrist and jerking her around to face me again, still maintaining holding her skirt above her waist. We lock eyes, both of us breathing like we just ran a marathon, and I just have to kiss her again. I guess she feels the same, because we attack each other like wild animals, mouths clashing, groping anything availiable. She rips my shirt off me in a second flat and it sails across the room, landing somewhere unknown, and we're back to battling tongues like a couple of French aristocrats. I get her back pressed against the door and kiss down her neck as I finally get to fondle a perfect breast. This is awesome.
"I think your punishment deserves a reward." I groan as I kiss down her chest and belly, working my way to kneel down in front of her, "I just have to have a little taste, if you don't mind."
Micki bites her bottom lip, "Take your time." she smiles a little, her voice shaky.
Oh yes, the carpet matches the drapes, and oh yes, I am definitely benefiting from Micki's love of pineapple juice. She is sweeter than wine, and just killing me with those little noises she's making. Her fingers twine into my hair and tug my head a little more into her as I zero in on her clitoris and swirl my tongue around it, practicing my ABC's. This has to be my new favorite thing, ever. Fuck comic books, to hell with the curios, because my head between Micki's legs is assuredly the way to go. Her breathing goes from quick to rapid and I move a hand down to slip a finger inside. Ooh, she is so close, I can feel her legs trembling like a shaky, newborn doe, and her free hand grasps the door handle to keep her steady as her orgasm hits her in a seemingly powerful way. She lets out a loud, long moan and pounds her fist on the door after slipping it out of my hair. I feel like I've just won a major award. Oh, but we're not done yet.
I help her ride out her orgasm, gently kiss her once more down there, and rise back into standing position, taking her in. Hot Damn.
Micki grins at me a little lazily and giggles, "Wow, you're *really* good at that."
I return her grin with a small kiss, "Are you hiring? Because I could do that all day." I crack.
She takes my hand and leads me to the stairs, "Who knows? I might take you up on that offer." she stops against the newel post and looks me in the eye, "You just have to pass the second part of the interview."


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