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Fanfic: Playing with Jade
Title: Playing with Jade
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Pairing: Song/Long Feng (Song Feng?)
Rating: R for sexuality
Warnings: Foreplay, nudity, May-December
Notes: Written with assistance from the ever-lovely Bex; you inspire me to play with the Dai Li more and more.
Summary: Song had been arrested by the Dai Li for hiding a fugitive from them; as punishment she was taken below Lake Laogai and mindbent. However, the mindbending did not take, and Song quickly escaped. Unfortunately, Long Feng catches her; fortunately, he seems to believe she is a Joo Dee. How long can she keep up the charade?
Playing with Jade
The click of the lock alerted Song to the problem, and she looked up to see the man in charge of the Dai Li. He was standing in front of the closed door, regarding her with a raised brow. Song kept her expression calm, though her heartrate climbed in an instant. Leave it to the Director to have bad timing!
"Joo Dee," he said calmly, "the Earth King has invited you to Lake Laogai."
Song let her face go even blanker and kept her voice toneless. "I am honoured to accept his invitation," she replied.
He regarded her for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the papers she had in her hands. Song made sure to stare straight ahead, hardly even blinking. "Put those down," the Director ordered; she obeyed without hesitation.
A beat, then, "Stand aside."
Song obediently moved to the side of the desk so he could come around and take a look at the papers she had just put down. It was hard, keeping her feelings off her face, but she'd had a lot of practise since she'd been first set in that dark room with the spinning lamp.
Unfortunately, she had a sinking feeling that the Director knew that whatever they'd tried to do to her hadn't worked. After several moments, he tucked the papers under his arm and turned to her again. "My desk is dusty," he announced. "Clean it off."
All she had were the clothes she had been given after the lightshow and the lies. She didn't know where the cleaning supplies were and suspected that he would be unhappy if she tried to leave the room. So without even a pause, she moved to the desk, gathered up her sleeve around her hand, and began to meticulously run her hand over the desk. He'd lied about the dust, of course, but a Joo Dee only obeyed, never pointed out the problems with the orders.
When she finished, she returned to her previous spot, by all appearances an obedient Joo Dee. The Director watched her again for a moment, then looked at the ground. He looked back at her and smiled. "The floor is dirty," he told her. "Clean it."
Bastard, she thought, keeping her face and eyes calm. She still had no rags, so all she had were her sleeves, and they both knew it. How far is he going to take this?
Gracefully, she knelt, then began to run over the floor inch-by-inch with her long sleeves. As she cleaned, she focused only at the task at hand, rather than the humiliating intent behind it. And really, what was so humiliating about cleaning a floor? She'd done it often enough after a successful day working with her patients. There was something almost soothing about it, really.
This took her more time than she liked, with the Director watching her every inch of the way. Finally, she finished, rose, and again returned to her former place at the desk.
He moved to observe her, then stepped back. "Your robes seem to have gotten dirty," he said calmly.
No, really?
"Another one will be brought to you," the Director continued. "Please remove that one so the laundresses can take it."
This is going places I don't like, Song thought as she reached for the clasps of her overrobe. Fluidly she took it off, as if she were changing in her room and not obeying a man's order. The Director, however, didn't seem to care that she stood before him now in a sleeveless undershirt and pantaloons.
He watched her fold the robe and drape it over her arm - after all, she hadn't been told to place it anywhere - then considered for a moment. "Set that down by the door," he said at last, "and then bring me writing materials."
Without a word, Song moved to lay her clothes down, not even sparing a glance at the lock. She then moved to his desk and collected some papers, a brush, an inkstone, and an inkstick, then brought them to him. He collected them wordlessly, prepared the ink, considered, and then sent her across the room to fetch a scroll.
When she brought it back, he shook his head. "This is the wrong one." Song's eyes almost narrowed, but she kept her face blank. He was testing her. She had to keep the pretence up. "Here, I'll show you," he added, taking her by the elbow and leading her back to the scrolls. Interestingly, his touch was gentle, a parent leading a child rather than a man caressing a woman.
"This one," the Director said, showing her. Then he looked across the room. "Oh. I seem to have forgotten my ink. Joo Dee, fetch it for me."
Song resisted the urge to sigh in vexation, and moved across the room, gathering the requested supplies and carrying them back to him. When she was halfway there, the room suddenly shook. Song stumbled, and the ink splashed all over her.
He did that intentionally!
But there was nothing she could do about it.
"You've dirtied your clothes," he said now, and Song certainly had to hand it to him - there wasn't even a hint of a smile in his tone. "It is your duty to escort people around our great city, and you must look presentable for that." He gestured to her ink-stained clothes. "They will have to be cleaned. Remove them."
If the Director thought that would give her away, he was wrong. Without hesitating or rushing, Song stripped off her pantaloons and undershirt. Noting that her breastband and underwear were also stained, and really not wanting to have to take that order from him as well, she removed them.
His eyes glanced over her but once, and he seemed thoughtful rather than lascvicious. "You remind me of Shōu Cheng," he murmured, naming a spirit of the harvest and childbirth who generally went unclad. Most men would have used that as an opening to touch and caress her. The Director, however, merely gave her another order.
"Smile."
She knew the smile he meant, and put on the grin she had seen on the face of the other Joo Dees.
But it wasn't good enough, and both of them knew it.
"I admire your dedication to this charade," he said at last, meeting her eyes. "You went almost too far in trying to convince me that you were Joo Dee." A small sigh, almost regretful. "You might have gotten hurt if you had tried this with another man."
Song's fingers brushed against the topmost scar on her right leg, and she dropped the pretence. It was no use; he'd seen through it anyway. "Perhaps," she replied.
"Perhaps?" he asked mildly.
Song gave a one-shouldered shrug and looked down at her scarred leg. "I'm a fairly attractive young woman," she pointed out, looking back up at him. She could see him arrive at a conclusion given by her words - the wrong conclusion, the one she'd hoped to give him.
"How far would you have gone to keep up the illusion?" he asked her now, and Song marvelled at how he sounded only curious. He simply didn't care that there was a naked woman in his office.
She gave him a small smile, thinking of the drugged needles tucked into her braid. "As far as it took."
He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly disbelieving.
Well.
Song took a step forward, tilting her head up so she could maintain eye contact as she placed her hands against his chest. Oh, she had a plan to get out of this.
The Director looked... dubious and wary, and a little disconcerted. Song gave him a little smile, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. "It's very... rough outside the walls, Director," she murmured.
He caught her hands by the wrists and took them from his shoulders. "I am neither a boy, nor a man of the Fire Nation."
"I know," she replied, making no move to regain control of her hands. "You're much more dangerous."
"So I am," he agreed, sounding amused and a little flattered. She smiled at him, then eyed the line of frogs on his outermost robe. Well, he still had her by the hands...
"So you are," she breathed, as if that was the most exiting thing in the world, and then took another step close to him, lowering her had to the first of the frogs that she could reach and taking it gently in her teeth. It took a little bit of doing, but by moving her tongue in new and interesting ways she managed to undo it.
This done, she looked up at him with a coy expression, and was amused to see him looking a bit surprised, and definitely intrigued. Pleased that he seemed willing to let her go on, she dropped her head to the next one, undoing it as well. Slowly she worked her way down his robe, and noticed a bulge when she got to the second-to-last of the ties.
Definitely likes women, then, she thought, and teasingly rubbed her cheek lightly against his erection. He drew in a ragged breath at that, making her smile; she very carefully pressed a kiss against the cloth covering him, earning a shudder. Now she worked to undo the frog, teasing him at the same time with her cheek and her mouth.
He didn't react audibly, save for the occasional quick intake of breath. He did, however, squeeze her wrists whenever she brushed against his erection; as the frog began finally open under her ministrations, he began stroking the insides of her wrists with his thumbs.
After the tie fell open, Song tried to lower herself to the last one, only to realise she couldn't lower herself any more. She looked up at him, and smiled again at the intensity of his expression. But he didn't let her reach that last frog. Instead, he met her eyes, letting her see the desire there, then slowly drew one of her hands to his mouth, where he pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.
Song drew in a quick breath; he'd found one of her favourite things very quickly indeed. He smiled, then lowered her arms so that she could kneel and open the bottommost frog on his jacket. When she had that one open, he drew her to her feet, though Song resisted in favour of planting kisses on the line of his underrobe revealed by his open jacket as she rose.
Finally she was standing straight, making it easier to meet his eyes. There was still one frog left buttoned on his jacket, one she wouldn't be able to reach with her mouth even if she stood on her tip-toes. Slowly, deliberately, he drew her other hand to his mouth and kissed the palm of that hand as well, earning a delighted shudder from the girl. After that, he bent slightly and pressed his mouth to hers in one of the softest, sweetest kisses she'd ever had. Song marvelled that the Director even had it in him.
Finally, he freed her wrists, and she immediately undid the last of the frogs, then slid the jacket open and off of him. As her hands slid down his arms with the fabric, he asked her quietly for her name. The jacket slid to the ground with a whisper, and she told him, "Song."
"A pretty name," he said, his voice slightly husky now. He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, then drew her to him for another gentle kiss. This time, Song stepped forward so that her bosom pressed against his chest and slid her arms around his waist.
She heard him emit a low, rumbling sound that was remarkably akin to the purr of a satisfied owlcat, and smiled against his lips before letting hers part slightly, inviting him inside her mouth. As his tongue slipped inside, she felt one of his hands drift up her back and settle lightly at the base of her skull. His fingers slid into the hair there, and Song was grateful that her drugged needles were in the middle of the braid, not at the top where he might prick himself before she wanted him to.
Even this open kiss was gentle. The Director didn't hold her still, nor did he pull her mouth against his; instead, his tongue danced lightly with hers and explored her, tasting her as he went. This was an entirely new experience for Song-- oh, she'd had men before, but not as many as she liked people to think, and none of them had had the patience of this eminently dangerous man, who would certainly take her prisoner again afterwards unless she got to him first.
But that was then, not now. Now there was only the feel of him against her, and the fact that he still had clothes on. That needed to change, she decided, and shifted position slightly so that her hip rubbed against his erection. He jerked under her arms, and Song smiled, pulling away from the kiss to regard the clothes he still wore.
Aha, there were the clasps, up on his right shoulder. She ran her hands up over his shoulders and slowly dragged her left hand across his chest until it met with the right. Then, slowly and with extra care to caress him, she undid each clasp.
He, however, did not remain passive in this; as she worked to remove another layer of clothing, he let the hand at her waist slowly drift from hip to shoulder and back down again. When at last his underrobe fell open, the hand in her hair caught one of hers, and he lifted it to his lips to kiss her palm again.
Song smiled at that, then moved up on her tiptoes again to give him a soft kiss, too quickly for him to return it, and to take off his robe. Now she could see that the Director of the Dai Li had certainly seen battle, and perhaps an assassination attempt or three. There were at least that many scars that indicated stabbings, several gash-scars that could only have come from earth spikes, all layered over some rather peculiar scars that Song knew quite well were remnants of some sort of plague. Old scars, possibly older than she was.
It struck Song for the first time that the Director was at least twenty years her senior, if not more. But he was still a well-built man, with compact muscles that showed that he hadn't allowed his high position to make him soft, as so many men of power did. Even his scars had the tells of having been tended to by professionals when they were still fresh wounds.
The Director was a strong, powerful man, and had shown he had the control not to revert to the mentality of a teenage boy on facing a naked woman. What was more, she had brought him to his current state, not by her body, but by actions she had taken. Just the thought made her desire him more.
Before she could move, he'd stepped closer to her and was drawing her head up for another slow, gentle kiss. She was more than game for this, putting her arms around him again. His hand was in her hair again as their tongues danced, but his other hand lightly skimmed around and over her hips, up her neck, across her jaw, and down her collar.
Song made a soft little moan, almost a keen, and the Director smiled.
~*~
Carefully, Song slid out from underneath the Director. She didn't fear to wake him - the drug with which she coated her needles would keep him asleep for hours, unless someone had wakeflower - but she still wanted to take care with him. It was only polite; she had never enjoyed sex so much as she had just now.
Fortunately, her drugs had worked faster than he could react: the instant her needle had penetrated the skin of his neck, he'd moved to earthbend her. As it was, she had a few moments' delay trying to wriggle loose of the shackle he'd managed to lock around her wrist in his remaining seconds of consciousness.
Finally, however, she managed to work her way free, though she rubbed her wrist raw in the doing. With a sigh of relief, she stood and walked to her pile of clothes in the corner. Swiftly she donned her undergarments and her pantaloons, then eyed the remaining garments.
No. I will not leave as a Joo Dee, she thought.
Her eyes lit on the neat pile she had made of the Director's clothes, and she smiled.
The first thing Hyo noticed when he walked into Long Feng's office was that his superior was seated behind his desk, as per usual, doing paperwork.
What made this unusual was that the older man was naked.
The Commander of the Dai Li opened his mouth, then closed it to gather his thoughts. Finally, he said, "Sir, do I want to know?"
Long Feng looked up and said calmly, "I need the records on the recent Joo Dees. It didn't take on one of them."
Hyo blinked as his brain tried to shift out of shock into working mode. "And... is this related to your current lack of clothing, sir?"
"Yes," the Director replied, an admiring tone to his voice. "She drugged me. Impressive, considering what we were doing at the time."
The Commander stared. "You had sex," he said flatly. "With a woman."
This was utterly unheard of - while rumour had had Long Feng and Hyo in bed since the death of Hyo's wife, Hyo knew full well that Long Feng was practically asexual. He'd never heard nor seen the Director profess more than an aesthetic admiration for anyone of either gender; indeed, he'd wondered more than once if perhaps Long Feng was a eunuch.
"It seemed the thing to do at the time," the Director said calmly.
This put all sorts of mental images in Hyo's head, images that the Commander did not want. "I'll go fetch those records."
"Do that."
Current Location: my bed at home
Current Mood:  quixotic
Current Music: Fool Cross Over Nirvana - Hellsing OST
Tags: avatar, fanfic, playing with jade
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