tuesday texting.

[forfun]

the phone sex +
sexting meme

what it says on the tin. leave a blank comment, include your preferences or a starter, it's all good. reply to others with a text, a dirty picture (please link all nsfw things!), misfires, misdials, drunk filthy voicemails, whatever your heart desires.

Comments

[smoothlydone]

[In Solo's defense, the groan and laborious dragging of his feet off the desk in preparation for making himself useful isn't much different from any other day, when he's trying to needle Illya.

He gestures with the cappuccino.]

It sounds like you already have something in mind.

[zhelezo]

You know what they say about idle hands.

[ He pushes off of the table and crosses the room to the window. They drapes are closed over - presumably because of the light - but Illya has no qualms about yanking them open and letting the bright light filter through. ]

You are already firmly acquainted.

[smoothlydone]

[The immediate ohgodwhyno reaction is ruthlessly reined in as Solo takes a deliberately slow, appreciative sip.

He could be annoyed, and he is, but the trouble here is that this is almost entirely his own fault. It hadn't begun as a drinking contest, just Solo goading Illya into having a drink with him that wasn't the obligatory end-of-mission congratulations, we saved the world again toast. But it had evolved into a drinking contest after Solo saw how easily Illya tossed back his shots, and yes, parts of the evening were a little hazy, but Solo knows perfectly well that whatever happened, it happened because he'd been overconfident.

It won't happen again. Not that that helps in the moment, when the light from the window feels so solid against his eyes that it seems he could use that to stab his partner.]

Now, Peril. Just because the KGB never trained you in the fine art of fun-having doesn't mean it's too late to make a start.

sorry! i completely zoned out yesterday lmao

[zhelezo]

[ Never drink with a Russian, did your Handlers never tell you that, Solo? ]

I can have fun.

[ Does he sound mildly offended? Perhaps. That's his default state around Napoleon. And more often than not, Gaby too. They are too good at goading him, their teasing barbs getting in under his defenses. ]

Not your kind.

No worries friend, I swam around in TFLNs all of yesterday \o/

[smoothlydone]

[Even through the headache and the vague feeling that death might be a mercy, Solo can smirk. Getting under the Peril's skin is—there's no other way to put it—a fun new hobby, which he indulges perhaps a little too much.

Someday he might tone it down.]

How do you know not my kind? Have you ever tried my kind?

yes that was me too lmao

[zhelezo]

[ His jaw twitches slightly. ]

I do not want to.

[ Illya turns at the window and glances towards his partner, taking in the line of his shoulders against the back of his chair. ]

[smoothlydone]

[It turns out a very effective hangover cure is getting the opportunity to prod at the surly, uptight Russian. He needs to remember this.]

Why not? Afraid you'll enjoy it?

[zhelezo]

No.

[ He wishes he could go back to torturing Napoleon with bright lights. ]

I would not.

[smoothlydone]

[Well he can't, because that would be cruel.

And because Solo would absolutely find a way to get back at him.]

How do you know? Tell me that, Peril.