REALLY VERY DARK

TITLE/S: Really Very Dark
PAIRING/S: Andy Serkis/Dark Magician
WARNING/S: Well, let's see... there's whisky, an actor and a TOTALLY IRRESISTABLE duel monster. What do you think? Need any more warning?
DISCLAIMER/S: Andy Serkis is NOT MINE. Dark Magician is NOT MINE. I have NEVER MET Andy Serkis, and I hope to god that he never reads this, and if he does that he doesn't sue me!
NOTE/S: It was a challenge/request from NABOO THE ENIGMA - who should henceforth write her/his OWN challenges!!! It's my first challenge, so what do you think?

REALLY VERY DARK


Andy had never liked costume parties. Especially not ones involving actors. So, if he counted himself as an actor, then any costume party he attended was one he especially didn?t like.

This one was particularly bad, mainly because there seemed to be at least three Dwarves and a number of Hobbitses in the crowd - none of them being Lij or Dom or John or anyone he actually knew. There were even a few Gollums (or actually Smeagols) hanging around the bar. How anyone got that skinny, Andy would never know. He swirled his scotch glass.

There were a lot of things that Andy felt unsure of tonight. He was getting over jet-lag, and was a little disoriented. He remembered -something- about -some- sort of party, but couldn't quite place it. At any rate, it wasn't an exclusively Middle Earth themed do - there were a number of cyborgian creatures on the dance-floor, and the bunch of clunky-looking robot knights in the corner. Maybe some sort of fantasy fiesta. Fans.

That was it - he had landed in the middle of a convention.

Andy threw back the scotch and coughed. Right about now, he would like someone - anyone - to collapse on the bar-stool beside him and tell him that he hadn't agreed to appear at the Digital Creatures Forum on Saturday. Saturday. Which was tomorrow. Damn conventions, damn fans, and damn Peter Jackson, the stupid fucking hack.

He didn't mean it, he supposed, as he played idly with a coaster. Just that - well, here he was, Andy Serkis, famous for leaping around in a beige body-suit with motion sensors stuck on him. Catching the bartender's eye, he motioned for another whisky. Doomed. That's what he was. He was going to turn up in the next generation of geeky-geek fantasies.

Actually, there was no -going to- about it. He was already there.

Here. Among the weird pointy-eared aliens and the - that was a -very- lifelike dragon. Here, half-drunk on time-difference and scotch. Here, watching a tall, turquoise-haired figure dressed in incredible purple robes appear out of thin air at the end of the bar.

Appear Out Of Thin Air At The End Of The Bar.

Andy scrunched a knuckle into his eye. The figure - androgynous, maybe slightly masculine - turned with a faint smile. His eyes blazed icy blue, and one long-fingered hand curled loosely but firmly around a smooth staff, stroking it thoughtfully.

Holy Hell, was the first thing Andy thought, followed closely by, Fuck He's Hot, and then, I Think I'm Smashed.

The figure paused for a few seconds, glanced around, then swept towards him. Later, Andy would try to figure out -how- exactly that effect was managed - perhaps it was some kind of butoh walk, because he could have sworn that the newcomer's feet didnt touch the ground. At that precise moment, though, Andy was simultaneously trying to look vaguely disinterested, to not fall off his perch, and to scrabble his mind together to form a cohesive sentence. He was also uncomfortably aware that the stranger's presence was affecting the front of his trousers. He crossed his legs, and grabbed the fresh glass.

"I'm dark," came a velvet voice, shockingly close to Andy's right ear. And -that- was goddamn hot, too.

Andy swivelled, trapped on the stool between this magnificent creature and the bar. His brain went into free-association. Things about dark: night, chocolate, leather, black, skin, sweat, move, slick, fuck, -yes-

"Oh," he replied, in what he had hoped would be a natural tone, but which came out a little too high-pitched. He turned giddily to the bar, downed the rest of his drink, cleared his throat, and turned back to the stranger. "Is that dark with a capital d?"

The clear blue eyes pinned Andy to the spot - not, he reflected later, that he was in any state to move away - and a slow smile curved the creature's lips. Pale lips. Cruel lips. Oh-please-now lips. Andy could just -tell- he was staring carnally (which he knew translated as goofily on his face), and was in the process of averting his gaze, when he thought he saw - yes! he did see - the pink tip of a tongue move over those lips.

He was gone. No time now for thinking about sleeping with fans, or how inebriated he might be. No time now for worrying about tomorrow's forum. No time now for considering what exactly was happening, as the startlingly pale face bent down and murmured, "Of course," and the hand that wasn't stroking (oh god, -fondling-) the staff plucked the empty glass from Andy's hand, and placed it on the bar.

"Come," said Dark, in that -voice-, and it took all Andy's willpower not to.

His head swivelled frantically to the bartender, because it was obvious that only one thing could prevent him from making an utter fool of himself: -more whisky-. But just as he opened his mouth to call, the stranger lifted one long finger, and waved it. Amusement showed faintly on Dark's face, and the gesture seemed to be a cross between a warning and a sensual promise of things to come. Andy felt himself being lifted by the elbow to a standing position, and somehow propelled through the crowd. A number of things raced through is mind, namely: Jesus, He's Strong; and, How The Fuck Does He Do That Sweeping Thing; and I Am Going To Get Laid; and, Shit, I Haven't Got any Condoms. This last thought hit his voice-box just as they left the gabble of the bar and stepped into the quiet function-room foyer. Several faces turned to look at them, and Andy was almost glad that he was only famous for jumping around in a beige body-suit. Who would recognise him?

As if in response to his silent question, a group of people wearing strange contraptions of their left arms turned towards the pair, giggling and nudging each other. There was no time for Andy's embarrassment to catch up with his face, though, as Dark frowned at the group and whisked him out into the night air.

The fresh breeze cooled Andy's flush somewhat, and as his skin lost some of its heat, his thought patterns gained a little clarity. "So," he began, looking down the empty street, and not under any circumstances at Dark, "Who are you, really?" Andy was quite proud of himself for a moment - he had managed to ask a logical question, without sounding completely plastered or totally infatuated. He suddenly felt a new empathy with those girls who almost passed out when Orli smiled at them.

His new-found confidence, however, did not last long, as the tall stranger lifted him effortlessly by his shirt-collar and trapped him gently, but determinedly, against the wall with his Very Very Nice Body. Andy's breath jammed somewhere in his chest as those spectacular eyes narrowed slowly, and the fine-boned face moved closer, and -closer-, to his own.

"I am really," murmured Dark, holding Andy's jaw, and ghosting hot breath along his cheek, as Andy's eyes slid shut and his pulse rushed in his ears.

"-Really-," continued the stranger, brushing his lips lightly across Andy's temple, while Andy's thoughts ran into each other, saying, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, My God, So Hot, So Oh, -Oh-, Fuck, Just, Please, Please, and Andy's breath struggled past his lips with a faint moan.

"Very," came the heated whisper, as a tongue touched Andy's earlobe, bringing the flush back to his face, and Andy drifted blissfully out of his thoughts into a higher dimension of ecstasy, whimpering as he went.

"-Very Dark-."

The intensity of that whispered phrase went straight from Andy's ear to his groin, and his hips bucked forward involuntarily, as his mind spiralled off across the universe, and the stranger's body held him tighter against the wall.

"Oh." Andy vaguely heard the word issue from between his lips, while his consciousness kept its distance, and his fingers convulsed, trying to grab onto some part - any part - of the gorgeous creature beside him, in front of him, all around him, -everywhere-.

Dark smirked against Andy's neck, and accompanied a low moan with a tongue running across Andy's throat.

"Oh," squeaked Andy, as his fingers and eyelids went into spasms, and he felt a tell-tale coil in his lower belly.

"I'm Andy," Andy squeaked again, as Dark kissed his ear with hot, hot lips and tongue and moans like Oh, Oh, Oh, Fu-u-uck and Andy scrabbled helplessly against the wall, the body, the robes, begging, Oh, Please, Please, -Please-!

And it all stopped for a split second, as Dark moved back, and Andy's eyes shot open, and Dark's swollen lips curved back into that -smile- and they didn't move, but Andy heard him all the same when that voice in his mind ordered, "Now. Come." And Andy did.


NOTE/S (agan): So? *bounces nervously* wotchu think?