By Jaelle

A Detective Conan Fanfic

The characters herein are the property of Gosho Aoyama, and no copyright infringement is intended from this fic.

Rating: NC-17 – for sex between two mostly-consenting psychopathsH^H^H^adults.

The first time Gin awoke, he was naked in bed next to Vermouth. This was not such a bad place to be, as long as he was wary.

The second time Gin awoke, he was naked in bed next to Vermouth, handcuffed to the railings, and Vermouth was <I>smiling</I> at him. This was an EXCEPTIONALLY bad place to be, as his mind immediately informed him.

“We had an agreement,” he said firmly. “A truce for 12 hours in which to have sex, with no funny tricks.”

“So we did,” Vermouth agreed amiably.

Gin glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s...”

9.48 am.

He stared at the numbers, confused.

“That’s not possible.”

“Oh, but it IS the correct time,” Vermouth purred.

He glared at her. “You fiddled with the clock.”

She pouted at him, “Fine, don’t believe me then.” She leaned across his body and picked up the phone, dialing a few numbers. She held the receiver to his ear, and he listened intently to the computerised message.

“At the sound of the tone it will be 9 am and 50 minutes... BEEP!”

“See?” Vermouth asked smugly.

Gin ran over the events of the last 12 hours quickly. They’d met, agreed to the truce, had dinner, wine, sex... it was all clear. Then he’d gotten up and showered, taken care of his other morning ablutions... come out, the clock had said 7 am so there was still time for a quick glass of wine and a bite to eat. Vermouth had handed him the glass and then...

He glared at her. “We SAID no tricks!”

Vermouth nodded. “And from 8pm last night till 8am this morning I didn’t play any...” she said angelically. “But it just so happens that at 6pm, BEFORE you showed up and we agreed to our truce...”

“You fiddled with the clocks,” Gin finished, annoyed with himself for not double-checking when they’d entered the hotel room. Admittedly at the time he’d been heavily concentrating on getting Vermouth’s annoyingly well-secured dress and bra off with his teeth. And she’d taken full advantage of the fact, damn her.

Foreplay be damned, next time he’d just rip the clothes off the bitch!

He sighed and examined his predicament. He was securely handcuffed to the bed’s railings – and THAT should have been a big tipoff. Not many beds had railings in these hotels. He gave them an experimental tug, cursing himself for a fool. The rails didn’t budge. He examined the handcuffs, hoping that he could perhaps squeeze through them or pick the locks.

His hands were cuffed too far away for him to reach over and dislocate his thumb, allowing himself slip through them. And, despite the fact that they were covered in pink fur, of all things, the cuffs were annoyingly solid and refused to budge. He could get out of them, of course, but it was going to take time. Quite a lot of time. And he doubted she’d let him have it.

All this time, Vermouth waited patiently for him to complete his examinations and conclude that he was stuck in this situation until she released him, completely at her mercy.

Unfortunately, Vermouth didn’t HAVE any mercy.

Finally he gave up, returning his gaze to her face. Vermouth gave him a very self-satisfied smile. “Finished?” She enquired innocently.

"Is this really necessary?" He asked tonelessly.

"No," she replied. "But it's fun." She cuddled against him, running a finger up and down his bare chest.

"Do you really think I can't get loose?" He asked her.

She rubbed his nipples gently. "That thought had occured to me," she reached over and bit the nearest one gently, continuing to nibble at it as he tensed slightly in reaction. She stopped briefly and shot him a devilish grin.

"But by the time you'd gotten loose I was hoping to have found something else with which to distract you."

She drew the blankets off his body and sat up on her hindquarters, taking her time and enjoying the sight of his clean, naked body. “Delicious,” she muttered, leaning over and taking small nips at his pale skin. “Absolutely delicious. I do love Gin in the morning. It’s the perfect way to wake up.”

Gin closed his eyes she bit and sucked her way down his body, and restrained himself from gasping as her wandering fingers found their way down to his groin. He was already half-erect thanks to her attentions, and Vermouth seemed to take this as a sign that he was not averse to her "distractions". And, in truth, he wasn't. He just wished she didn’t feel the need to make a fool out of him before she began playing. He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes as her hand cupped his penis and encircled it, then gently began to tug at it to bring it to a fully erect state. She smirked at him, darting down to lick at it and then gently suck his balls.

Gin made a feral sound in the back of his throat and Vermouth laughed at him. She straddled his body, pausing in her playing to run her hands down her own, extremely beautiful body. She cupped her hands over her breasts and let them go. “Like what you see?” She asked huskily.

Gin snarled at her.

“Naughty boy,” she whispered. Like a striking snake, her left hand struck out, and his head snapped to the side with the force of her slap. Angrily he turned back to her, a red palm print clearly showing on his cheek.

“Behave,” Vermouth teased him, “Or you’ll be punished.”

“When I get out of here...” Gin promised her. “YOU’LL be the one regretting it.”

“Oh? Will you spank me?” Vermouth asked impishly. “Harrrddd?”

Gin growled deep in his throat but managed not to respond to her mocking, instead trying to turn his concentration back to his predicament.

Sensing his wandering attention, Vermouth returned to her campaign of conquest over his body. By the time she’d finished working over every available inch of skin... biting, sucking, licking, kissing, nibbling, stroking, tickling and TEASING, he was biting his lip with the effort of not actively moaning out loud. The minx was extremely talented, he had to give her that.

Of course, he wasn’t giving anything today. It was very much a case of take.

Vermouth smiled at him from his feet and slowly crawled up his body to his once-again erect penis. Brushing her breasts against it as she wriggled up his chest she stopped when she’d reached his face. Cold eyes met ones that danced with mischief when she paused, allowing their breath to mingle.

There was no longer any point in talking, and Gin knew it. Vermouth smirked as he stared back at her, and raised herself over him in a straddling position, wet and ready. Slowly, flauntingly, she lowered herself down onto his waiting penis, carefully making sure it aligned itself onto a comfortable angle inside her. Then she began to move.

Gin's breath came quicker and he opened his eyes as Vermouth rocked gently back and forth on top of him, before beginning to truly lift herself up and drive herself down. He arched his back and tried to lift himself up, to get further inside of her. “Damn you...” he panted.

Vermouth paused in her movements and smiled wickedly. She lowered her head, bending to lick and nibble tauntingly around Gin's erect nipples. She savoured the salty taste of his sweat as he writhed beneath her, trying to get some traction. She chuckled and moved up to nibble and suck at his neck.

Suddenly two very strong arms wrapped themselves around her bare back. One of them clamped firmly onto the base of her spine, holding her tightly against Gin’s body so that she couldn't withdraw. The other one tensed and strained as Gin twisted around and rolled himself on top of Vermouth. His face was contorted with the effort, and also with his own need, which he was now free to acknowledge.

"No more games," he gasped hoarsely as he drew back and rammed himself further into her. "No... More... GAMES!"

Vermouth gasped at his last word and the force of his efforts, and dug her fingernails into his back. "But I like this one so much," she managed at last. She tried not to laugh when Gin, through a ferocious act of will, paused and looked at her, an expression of confusion crossing his handsome, murderous face. She smirked and gently pushed his hair out of the way.

"Because even when I lose, I win."

Gin snarled and resumed his efforts, picking up the pace and refusing to hold back, or wait for the woman beneath him to catch up or match him. He watched in a kind of vicious satisfaction as Vermouth twisted and moaned beneath him, occasionally uttering sharp cries of pleasure or pain, punctuated by her fingers digging into him. Eventually, even the moaning stopped  as her face suddenly focused into an expression of concentration, before releasing into a very smug and relaxed smile as she rode the crests of her own pleasure. Only then did he allow himself release. Panting, entwined together, the two assassins rested.

“Was... all of this... REALLY necessary,” Gin demanded at last.

Vermouth nuzzled his neck, already trying to think of a way to extend their truce long enough for her to get away without retribution.

“Of course not,” she murmured. “But it’s fun.”

Gin sighed in exasperation, before setting about seeking revenge from her not-quite spent body.

The third time Gin awoke, she was gone.


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