"Ivan," By murmured in his ear, intimately. "If you don’t do this, it’s quite possible we’ll both die. There’s motivation for you, yes?"

"Have you considered I might prefer dying?" Ivan gritted through a toothy smile, trying to find room to back up.

"Why Ivan, you wound me!" By cooed.

Ivan took a deep breath and reminded himself, again, that he wasn’t supposed to haul off and punch his assigned partner. "I’m in Ops," he hissed, plaintively. "How did I get assigned with you, again?"

"Ah, you’re not yourself this evening," By told him with a soulful look, loud enough for the bathhouse patrons lingering in the foyer to hear. And then, very softly, "And if you don’t give me a handjob right now and prove it, we’ll be dead and have failed the assignment. So put your hand between my legs; it’s not hard. At least," he added with a wicked grin, "not yet."

Ivan tried not to hyperventilate. Orders, he reminded himself. Duty. Not that he had the fetish for that that his shortest cousin did, but still.

Right.

He put his hand rather gingerly on the crotch of By’s tightly cut trousers and nearly jumped out of his skin when By tossed his head back and moaned, hips pushing into his hand.

"Don’t flinch," By ordered though still lips. "And try to look less appalled."

Ivan rubbed gingerly, trying not to show his squeamishness.

"Better." By twined himself artistically close to Ivan and breathed in his ear. "Now undo my pants. I can manage most of this myself, but you have to do some work." Ivan took in a quick breath as teeth nipped at his ear. "Just pretend I’m a woman, yes?"

"That’s a little difficult right now," Ivan growled back, shoving his hand inside By’s pants.

"Mmm, much better. On second thought, keep thinking whatever you’re thinking."

Ivan was positive he was turning red at that purr, but maybe that would just be in character. He stroked By roughly, trying very hard not to think about what he was doing, and especially not to notice the way By moaned and rubbed against him, a lean, languid flex of wantonness.

And he really wasn’t noticing By’s tongue in his ear, wet and hot and soft. Not at all. End of story.

Oh God, he was taking three showers when he got home.

He froze, eyes widening as By drew taut against him, hips jerking, and something warm and wet covered his hand; he knew that texture. "I thought you said you would be acting!" he choked.

"I said I could manage most of it." By’s smile was downright feline under languid eyes. "Mm, good. Maigny has stopped watching. Congratulations on being convincing enough."

Ivan bit back any answer and just scrubbed his hand surreptitiously with his handkerchief.

"You’re pretty good at that, by the way." By’s dark eyes laughed at him.

Three showers and a really big bottle of vodka, Ivan promised himself though the horrified haze descending over his thoughts as By urged him back toward the baths proper.

He was going to kill Miles for this.

End