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Title: Fluffy Kittens Need Not Apply
Author: alyse
Fandom: MegaSloth vs Giant Kitten
Pairing: Dr Jacob Michaels/Lt. Michael Anderson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Set during the movie.
Challenge: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mmom/![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mmom
Status: Complete, one shot
Word Count: ~1,350
Author's Notes: For those of you who have not yet encountered the wonder of MegaSloth vs Giant Kitten, all you need to know is that Dr Jacob Michaels is played by Misha Collins and Lt Michael Anderson by Michael Shanks. For more information, please seekittenwars.
This story is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moonlettuce, because I was feeling bad about the way that I'd insisted that Bonnie/Melissa was far superior to the white cock pairing she preferred. I mean, it is, obviously, but there was no need to rub it in like that.
Unbeta'd, because there are so few of us who are intimately familiar with this fandom's particular canon. This is a missing scene, set in that infamous storage cupboard where it faded to black...
Summary: "It's getting bigger," Lieutenant Anderson whispered in his ear, and Jacob bit back on his instinctive response of 'no shit, Sherlock.'
-o-
Fluffy, Jacob was rapidly concluding, was a ridiculous name for a kitten. It became exponentially more ridiculous when the kitten in question was now the size of a pickup truck.
"It's getting bigger," Lieutenant Anderson whispered in his ear, and Jacob bit back on his instinctive response of 'no shit, Sherlock.'
Anderson leaned in closer, crowding Jacob as he pressed his ear to the door. Jacob had to fight not to wriggle - not only might the sound of movement attract Fluffy's attention, but he didn't want Anderson to realise exactly what effect the rush of adrenaline was having on his physiology. It was a perfectly normal reaction, or so Jacob had heard, but Anderson was Air Force. That whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing might make the man a little less understanding about it.
"Hear anything?" he whispered instead, and Anderson pulled back fractionally, shaking his head.
"No, but cats have that whole stealthy, quiet hunting thing down pat, right?" He said it like Jacob was too stupid to have figured that one out for himself, but just as Jacob opened his mouth to protest, or give the man a tongue lashing (and there was a thought that wasn't helping with the whole 'adrenaline fuelled reaction' thing), there was a sudden chirrup outside, loud enough to make the door vibrate.
"Okay," Anderson whispered. "Maybe kittens aren't quite stealthy hunters, but still..." He trailed off, shrugging. "Any ideas, Doc?"
Anderson had at least one PhD under his belt; Jacob had gleaned that much about the man. So why the hell Anderson was using that half-mocking little term with Jacob...
"Hey, Doc? You still with me?"
Jacob took a deep breath, wiping his hands - which were now damp with nervous sweat - against his pant legs. "Yes," he said, swallowing roughly when the words came out too dry and too quiet. "Yes, I'm still with you."
Anderson nodded, although he didn't move away, staying pressed up against Jacob even though - small as it was - the storage cupboard was still big enough if Anderson wanted to put some space between them. Maybe he thought he'd better be close enough to grab Jacob if Jacob did decide to lose his head and bolt for it, which was probably a quick way to become kitten chow, now Jacob came to think of it.
He took another deep breath, one that cracked a little at the edges. "You ever feel like Jerry?" he asked, quite proud of the fact that his voice barely quivered.
Anderson flashed him a sudden grin. "Starting to," he said. "The thing to remember, Doc, is that Jerry usually outsmarted Tom." And then he paused, frowning a little in thought. "Which begs the question - is our overgrown ball of fluff a tom or a queen?"
Jacob blinked, completely nonplussed by the question. "Does it matter?"
The question earned him another easy shrug from Anderson. "Depends on whether it's going to start spraying the immediate vicinity. Personally, I'd prefer not to be in the way if it decides to mark its territory."
Jacob stared at him for a long moment, long enough for Anderson to twitch and look away, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jacob sighed. "I think that's the least of our worries, Lieutenant."
Anderson flashed him another grin, one that lit up the man's whole face. "Thought I told you to call me Michael," he said, and then added a pointed, "Jacob."
Jacob opened his mouth to say something suitably cutting, but it seemed as though most of his one liners had fled in the face of both Anderson's presence, body warm against his and touching in far too many places, and the prospect of death by kitten. But then Anderson shifted against him, and Fluffy yowled somewhere outside, sounding far too lost and lonely for something that could eat him, and two things registered.
The first was that he really was going to suffer death by kitten, the way his luck was going, and that was just embarrassing. The second was that he wasn't the only one affected by adrenaline, and right about now Anderson was coming to the same conclusion.
Anderson turned his head slowly to look at him, and Jacob closed his eyes, letting his head hit the wall behind him with an audible thump.
"Doc?" Anderson whispered, and he'd leaned in close enough for his breath to brush over Jacob's skin, warm and scented with those mints he insisted on sucking like it was going out of fashion.
"Adrenaline," Jacob stuttered, keeping his eyes firmly shut. "Just... a normal physiological reaction to... um... danger."
"Uh huh." Anderson's breath brushed over his cheek as Anderson eased closer, pressing his hard dick against Jacob's hip. "Danger junkie, huh? Wouldn't have figured you for the type."
The injustice of that - the implication that just because Jacob spent most of his time in the lab instead of running around the world, battling scientific experiments gone bad somehow meant that he wasn't the 'type', whatever that meant - made Jacob's eyes fly open in indignation, his lips parting to deliver a withering rejoinder.
Only, Anderson was right there, his eyes brilliant blue, dazzling and focused, his lips only millimetres from Jacob's own.
"Why don't I take care of that for you?" murmured Anderson - Michael. He was so close now that his lips brushed against Jacob's mouth with every word he formed.
Michael wriggled his hand between them, his agile fingers making quick work of Jacob's zipper. And then he was pulling Jacob's erection out into the sultry, tropical air, leaning back far enough so that he could look down and see it, watch his fingers stroke along Jacob's length.
"Nice." He leaned in again, close enough to breathe the next words into Jacob's ear. "I see you're a real fan of making things grow, Doc." And he pressed his own erection into Jacob's hip again, as though the double entendre hadn't been obvious enough.
Jacob was beyond caring at that point; his world had narrowed to the tight grip of Michael's hand around his cock, the strength in those fingers and the calluses that pressed against his oversensitive skin.
He groaned as Michael let go, but it was only for long enough for Michael to bring his hand up and spit into his open palm. When Michael's fingers came back, they were wet and slick, sliding smoothly up and down Jacob's shaft. Michael stared straight into Jacob's eyes, lust clear in the depths of the cerulean blue orbs that met Jacob's as his hand moved; tighter and tighter, faster and faster, Michael's hard body pressing Jacob into the wall. Then Michael was leaning in again, whispering obscenities into Jacob's ear, all the things that Michael would do to him if they had a bed, some condoms and no kitten.
He came with a strangled yowl, one that Michael suppressed by finally - finally - pressing his mouth against Jacob's. It was a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet enough for Jacob's cock to twitch again in Michael's hand, round two becoming a distinct possibility. And then Michael was stepping away, his hand still wet and shiny with Jacob's come as he reached up to the top shelf for some paper towels.
Jacob panted for breath, his knees weak and his dick hanging out of his pants, slick and still at half mast. He made a weak gesture towards Michael's groin, where Michael's erection was outlined clearly against the tight fabric of Michael's BDUs.
"Want me to...?"
Michael didn't answer him, instead tilting his head, listening intently. His sudden switch back to businesslike, all military correctness and distance, was enough to make Jacob's head swim.
"I think our little friend has moved on," Michael said, and then he turned back to Jacob, all of his spit and polish draining away as he flashed another one of those grins, the ones that were beginning to leave Jacob weaker at the knees than any orgasm. "You can suck my dick later, if you like. Right now, let's go kick your kitty's ass."
The end
Author: alyse
Fandom: MegaSloth vs Giant Kitten
Pairing: Dr Jacob Michaels/Lt. Michael Anderson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Set during the movie.
Challenge: Written for
mmom/mmomStatus: Complete, one shot
Word Count: ~1,350
Author's Notes: For those of you who have not yet encountered the wonder of MegaSloth vs Giant Kitten, all you need to know is that Dr Jacob Michaels is played by Misha Collins and Lt Michael Anderson by Michael Shanks. For more information, please see
kittenwars.This story is for
moonlettuce, because I was feeling bad about the way that I'd insisted that Bonnie/Melissa was far superior to the white cock pairing she preferred. I mean, it is, obviously, but there was no need to rub it in like that.Unbeta'd, because there are so few of us who are intimately familiar with this fandom's particular canon. This is a missing scene, set in that infamous storage cupboard where it faded to black...
Summary: "It's getting bigger," Lieutenant Anderson whispered in his ear, and Jacob bit back on his instinctive response of 'no shit, Sherlock.'
-o-
Fluffy, Jacob was rapidly concluding, was a ridiculous name for a kitten. It became exponentially more ridiculous when the kitten in question was now the size of a pickup truck.
"It's getting bigger," Lieutenant Anderson whispered in his ear, and Jacob bit back on his instinctive response of 'no shit, Sherlock.'
Anderson leaned in closer, crowding Jacob as he pressed his ear to the door. Jacob had to fight not to wriggle - not only might the sound of movement attract Fluffy's attention, but he didn't want Anderson to realise exactly what effect the rush of adrenaline was having on his physiology. It was a perfectly normal reaction, or so Jacob had heard, but Anderson was Air Force. That whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing might make the man a little less understanding about it.
"Hear anything?" he whispered instead, and Anderson pulled back fractionally, shaking his head.
"No, but cats have that whole stealthy, quiet hunting thing down pat, right?" He said it like Jacob was too stupid to have figured that one out for himself, but just as Jacob opened his mouth to protest, or give the man a tongue lashing (and there was a thought that wasn't helping with the whole 'adrenaline fuelled reaction' thing), there was a sudden chirrup outside, loud enough to make the door vibrate.
"Okay," Anderson whispered. "Maybe kittens aren't quite stealthy hunters, but still..." He trailed off, shrugging. "Any ideas, Doc?"
Anderson had at least one PhD under his belt; Jacob had gleaned that much about the man. So why the hell Anderson was using that half-mocking little term with Jacob...
"Hey, Doc? You still with me?"
Jacob took a deep breath, wiping his hands - which were now damp with nervous sweat - against his pant legs. "Yes," he said, swallowing roughly when the words came out too dry and too quiet. "Yes, I'm still with you."
Anderson nodded, although he didn't move away, staying pressed up against Jacob even though - small as it was - the storage cupboard was still big enough if Anderson wanted to put some space between them. Maybe he thought he'd better be close enough to grab Jacob if Jacob did decide to lose his head and bolt for it, which was probably a quick way to become kitten chow, now Jacob came to think of it.
He took another deep breath, one that cracked a little at the edges. "You ever feel like Jerry?" he asked, quite proud of the fact that his voice barely quivered.
Anderson flashed him a sudden grin. "Starting to," he said. "The thing to remember, Doc, is that Jerry usually outsmarted Tom." And then he paused, frowning a little in thought. "Which begs the question - is our overgrown ball of fluff a tom or a queen?"
Jacob blinked, completely nonplussed by the question. "Does it matter?"
The question earned him another easy shrug from Anderson. "Depends on whether it's going to start spraying the immediate vicinity. Personally, I'd prefer not to be in the way if it decides to mark its territory."
Jacob stared at him for a long moment, long enough for Anderson to twitch and look away, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jacob sighed. "I think that's the least of our worries, Lieutenant."
Anderson flashed him another grin, one that lit up the man's whole face. "Thought I told you to call me Michael," he said, and then added a pointed, "Jacob."
Jacob opened his mouth to say something suitably cutting, but it seemed as though most of his one liners had fled in the face of both Anderson's presence, body warm against his and touching in far too many places, and the prospect of death by kitten. But then Anderson shifted against him, and Fluffy yowled somewhere outside, sounding far too lost and lonely for something that could eat him, and two things registered.
The first was that he really was going to suffer death by kitten, the way his luck was going, and that was just embarrassing. The second was that he wasn't the only one affected by adrenaline, and right about now Anderson was coming to the same conclusion.
Anderson turned his head slowly to look at him, and Jacob closed his eyes, letting his head hit the wall behind him with an audible thump.
"Doc?" Anderson whispered, and he'd leaned in close enough for his breath to brush over Jacob's skin, warm and scented with those mints he insisted on sucking like it was going out of fashion.
"Adrenaline," Jacob stuttered, keeping his eyes firmly shut. "Just... a normal physiological reaction to... um... danger."
"Uh huh." Anderson's breath brushed over his cheek as Anderson eased closer, pressing his hard dick against Jacob's hip. "Danger junkie, huh? Wouldn't have figured you for the type."
The injustice of that - the implication that just because Jacob spent most of his time in the lab instead of running around the world, battling scientific experiments gone bad somehow meant that he wasn't the 'type', whatever that meant - made Jacob's eyes fly open in indignation, his lips parting to deliver a withering rejoinder.
Only, Anderson was right there, his eyes brilliant blue, dazzling and focused, his lips only millimetres from Jacob's own.
"Why don't I take care of that for you?" murmured Anderson - Michael. He was so close now that his lips brushed against Jacob's mouth with every word he formed.
Michael wriggled his hand between them, his agile fingers making quick work of Jacob's zipper. And then he was pulling Jacob's erection out into the sultry, tropical air, leaning back far enough so that he could look down and see it, watch his fingers stroke along Jacob's length.
"Nice." He leaned in again, close enough to breathe the next words into Jacob's ear. "I see you're a real fan of making things grow, Doc." And he pressed his own erection into Jacob's hip again, as though the double entendre hadn't been obvious enough.
Jacob was beyond caring at that point; his world had narrowed to the tight grip of Michael's hand around his cock, the strength in those fingers and the calluses that pressed against his oversensitive skin.
He groaned as Michael let go, but it was only for long enough for Michael to bring his hand up and spit into his open palm. When Michael's fingers came back, they were wet and slick, sliding smoothly up and down Jacob's shaft. Michael stared straight into Jacob's eyes, lust clear in the depths of the cerulean blue orbs that met Jacob's as his hand moved; tighter and tighter, faster and faster, Michael's hard body pressing Jacob into the wall. Then Michael was leaning in again, whispering obscenities into Jacob's ear, all the things that Michael would do to him if they had a bed, some condoms and no kitten.
He came with a strangled yowl, one that Michael suppressed by finally - finally - pressing his mouth against Jacob's. It was a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet enough for Jacob's cock to twitch again in Michael's hand, round two becoming a distinct possibility. And then Michael was stepping away, his hand still wet and shiny with Jacob's come as he reached up to the top shelf for some paper towels.
Jacob panted for breath, his knees weak and his dick hanging out of his pants, slick and still at half mast. He made a weak gesture towards Michael's groin, where Michael's erection was outlined clearly against the tight fabric of Michael's BDUs.
"Want me to...?"
Michael didn't answer him, instead tilting his head, listening intently. His sudden switch back to businesslike, all military correctness and distance, was enough to make Jacob's head swim.
"I think our little friend has moved on," Michael said, and then he turned back to Jacob, all of his spit and polish draining away as he flashed another one of those grins, the ones that were beginning to leave Jacob weaker at the knees than any orgasm. "You can suck my dick later, if you like. Right now, let's go kick your kitty's ass."
The end