TITLE: Massage Therapy

AUTHOR: Auntie Krizu 

PAIRING: Eric Idle/Michael Palin, (circa Life Of Brian...mmm...long-haired 
Idle...trimmed ex-leper Mike...mmmm...)

RATING/WARNINGS: NC-17, boys and girls. Even with the restraints, this can 
hardly be called non-consensual. Yes, this is slash, hetero scum, run away while 
you still can. Also, a biiiig warning for pure PWP silliness and a guest 
appearance from a flock of Mary Sues. This is most definitely *not* meant to be 
classy or good--even for my low standards--so don't say I didn't warn ya. Begins 
silly and progresses from there, but not much. At least the sex is good. 
Hopefully.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mr. Idle or Mr. Palin, they own themselves. For now. 
This happens when single women get frustrated with there being no smart, funny 
men around. They grab a few guys who are at least reasonably smart and funny and 
did some really weird stuff together in the sixties and seventies, and then make 
them do all kinds of ...*ahem* pretty things to each other. The Castle Anthrax 
belongs to the Python boys and Her Carolness too, the Monty Python Estrogen 
Brigade only rents the castle now and then to act out their evil, evil 
fantasies.

CREDITS: Many thanks and offerings of frankincense and myrrh to Madeleine for 
encouragement, nudge-nudge and all those lovely piccies of Eric in various 
states of undress. Other beta/feedback/endurance thanks to HyDe, Em, Jem, Zonja 
and Victorianna among others. You know who you are.

*********************************************************************



*Int. Castle Anthrax, Main Bedchamber. A Virgin is walking a handcuffed, 
blindfolded Eric Idle (wearing only his black leather Chastity Codpiece[TM]) 
towards the bed. Other Virgins stand in the background, eyes wide, snickering.

"Now Eric, you've been a very naughty boy. We don't like people hiding things 
from us. And you've been hiding something very interesting...did you think you 
could keep it all to yourself? We've *seen* the way you look at poor little 
Michael here, y'know. Since you've not dared to speak about your true feelings 
for him yet, we decided to let you *illustrate* them instead."

Eric twitches and swallows.

The Virgin pulls Eric's blindfold off to reveal a bizarre sight: on the huge, 
red velvet-draped four-poster bed, lying on his stomach and trying to hide his 
face into the pillows, is none other than Michael Palin. A very, very naked 
Michael Palin. A very nervous and tense Michael Palin, whose limbs have been 
spread out and tied to the bedposts to keep him from moving.

Eric stares at Michael, then at the Virgin, then at Michael again. He tries to 
hold back a squeak of terror, but fails miserably.

The Virgin leads Eric beside Michael, purring into Eric's ear:

"Say, don't you think he looks awfully tense?"

She takes Eric's hands in hers and smiles. 

A *Click*, and the handcuffs come off. 

"Well, knowing how good you are with your hands, we thought you could give him a 
nice massage. With this." 

Another Virgin sets a bowl of sweet, scented oil on the bedside table. The first 
Virgin takes some of the oil and slowly rubs it on Eric's fingers, enjoying the 
shocked look on his face. 

"To show him how much you...*care* about him." 

Pulling him down on the bed, she moves closer to Eric, close enough to kiss. 
Eric licks his lips nervously.

"He's all yours."

The Virgin pulls back, leaves them and joins the other Virgins in the back of 
the room. They all settle down on plush sofas and comfy chairs, waiting. Some 
light cigars, some pick up expensive-looking theatre binoculars.

Eric looks around confused, holding up his oiled hands, turning to Michael. 

"Umm...hullo, Michael..."

Michael flushes to the roots of his hair and digs his face deeper into the 
pillows like an ostrich.

"Mmph!"

"Look, girls, Michael, I'm not a massage therapist..."

The Virgins pull out daggers, swords and axes. Someone starts a chainsaw.

"GET ON WITH IT!"

Eric jumps. 

"Alright, alright!"

Not quite sure of what to do, he lays his hands on Michael's shoulders. The oil 
on his hands has cooled, and Michael yelps at his touch. 

"Sorry..."

He starts rubbing Michael's back slowly, casually, obviously not putting much 
effort in the act.

"You're not doing it properly. Didn't you hear what we just said? His back is 
aching, goddammit!"

Eric flinches and starts to use more pressure on Michael's back.

Someone starts the chainsaw again.

"He's not groaning yet."

Michael's shoulders tense up even more and he gulps. 

Eric takes some more oil and whispers to Michael: "Nothing personal, I assure 
you..." and pushes his thumbs under Michael's shoulderblades, making him let out 
an involuntary "Oof!".

The Virgins nod approvingly.

*********************************************************************

Eric begins a thorough treatment on Michael's back, paying attention to every 
muscle //goddammit he is in good shape//, using his knuckles here, his thumbs 
there... loosing up every strained joint, kneading Michael into a state of deep 
relaxation with his skilled hands. Every once in a while he dips his long white 
fingers in the oil, spreading it along Michael's lean back, coaxing pleased 
humms and ahhs from his lips. 

After a while, the humms and ahhs and the accompanying mms and ohhs start to 
severely threaten Eric's concentration //must...not...think...of...just... 
how...constrictive...the...codpiece...feels...right...now//. 
A small rivulet of oil escapes his hands //shit,// and trickles down Michael's 
spine. Eric stares at it, hypnotized, as it edges its way between a pair of very 
well-formed buttocks //must...not...look...in...that... direction...//, almost 
followed by a drop of his drool that he somehow manages to catch in time. 
Michael seems too blissed out to even notice what is happening.

A Virgin's whisper interrupts his reverie.

"Go on, don't be shy, Eric. We know all about your fantasies. That's why we tied 
the pretty boy up. And that's why we put that relaxing aphrodisiac into the 
oil..."

Eric hasn't even heard the rest of her words, he's very, very busy concentrating 
on oiling Michael's lower back...those tanned muscles that curve so beautifully 
around the slim hips. The hips that he just can't get his hands off, feeling 
Michael tremble ever so slightly under his touch as he moves to spread the oil 
slowly down his sides. //This man looks so beautiful when he is like this.//
 
//He's there, now, all glistening flesh and body heat, drugged out of his 
senses, tied up and spread out for me.//Eric moves back and settles his hands on 
his friend's thighs, admiring the view. //It's now or never.//

As Eric reaches for the oil again, //like a thief//, Michael turns his head, 
smiling at him and laying his head more comfortably on the pillow, his loose 
hair curving to frame his flushed face like some dark halo. All nervousness 
gone, eyes gentle but mischievous, he just *looks* Eric in the eyes and smiles 
that most charming smile of his, both angelic and wanton at the same time. 
Freezing him in a still frame of sudden, 16-ton-weight-on-head understanding and 
oil-dripping fingers. 

His heart skipping a beat and then starting to drum away like a possessed voodoo 
priest, Eric leers. 

His smile narrowing his eyes into gleaming dark stars, Michael simply nods.

Eric lays his hands on Michael's buttocks, continuing his massage operation, 
only now more intimate and shamelessly honest about what he wants. He kisses the 
small of his back, licking and tasting the mixture of sugary oil and salty 
sweat. His thumbs smooth oil into the soft creases between buttock and thigh, 
making Michael sigh and bring up his ass to the touch. Eric chuckles and spreads 
him wide, earning a pleased gasp.

"Mike, did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful, beautiful ass?" 

He doesn't wait for an answer as he takes the last drops of the oil and spreads 
them with feathery touches down over his, oh yes, his asshole to the rhythm of 
shuddering breaths.
//So near, so willing, so burning my fingers//

Michael's groans turn into something incomprehensible as Eric rolls his thumb 
over the tight ring of muscle, pressing softly, while cupping his slicked, 
blood-heavy balls with his other hand. Michael's iron-hard cock brushes against 
the silk sheets, leaking pearly drops of frustration for not being touched 
enough.

Eric, on the other hand, is relieved from his torturous codpiece by a merciful 
Virgin. Quietly restraining himself, he continues to concentrate on Michael, now 
using his index finger to relax the entrance into the other man's body. He moves 
his other hand under the sheet to grab Michael's cock through the silk, the 
touch of the slippery fabric sending shivers of pleasure all over the younger 
man's skin.

"Oh..my...God...!"

The finger slips in and Michael shouts, bucking hard into Eric's hand. Eric has 
to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself still, watching those perfect 
hips dancing under his hands. Still working his hard silk grip up and down 
Michael's cock, he slides his finger in deeper and torturingly, almost out of 
his ass, then back again, oiling every inch carefully. He's never heard Michael 
swearing like this before, smothering into his pillow curses fiery enough to 
raise an army of devils from the deepest hells. 

"Oh fuck, Eric, please...don't stop, whatever you do just _don't_stop_."

//I can't believe this is happening//

"You want me to fuck you, Michael?"

Eric asks, his voice hoarse and his own cock straining and leaking against his 
stomach. With an evil twist of his finger, he brushes against Michael's prostate 
//found it!//and slipping another finger in, he makes the resulting "yes" sound 
something like a death rattle.

Drunk with power and lust, he laughs softly and purrs.

"Very well then."

He pulls his fingers out slowly and places his cock on Michael's ass. He closes 
his other hand around the head of Michael's shaft, rubbing his thumb against the 
wet spot through the fabric. Michael's twisting and praying and as Eric finally 
begins to slowly ease his cock into his pretty ass, stretching and burning him 
so fucking deliciously, he breaks into a quiet sobbing which only Eric can hear.

Eric's breath comes out in a low hiss as he buries his aching cock to the hilt 
in Michael's welcoming but oh-so-tight flesh. Not sure if he's going to collapse 
from sheer ecstasy, he leans against his friend's sweat-slick back, trying to 
catch his breath, digging his fingers into Michael's hair as if holding on to 
the last straws of his sanity. He stills Michael's sobs by murmuring softly to 
his ear and nipping at the skin on his neck, never letting go of his silk-
sheathed cock. Ever so gently, he rolls his hips against him, pulling and then 
dipping slowly in again, drawing sharp, heavy breaths from his lips.

The pulsing, hot wetness that is Michael Palin's sweet ass enveloping his shaft 
is already enough to drive Eric over the edge, but he is persistent. He is 
moving slowly, not going as fast as his body would want him to. He is putting 
all the frustration of years of long, lingering looks and just-this-side-of-
intimate touches into this moment, and makes it very clear to Michael. Hungry 
licks here, merciless, branding bites there. Scratching nails and vicious flicks 
of his wrist, but still not fast enough. Pulling out all but the head of his 
cock just to ram it hard inside again, with thrusts cruel enough to make them 
both cry out in near-pain.

Soon, however, Eric gives in to the rhythm of Michael's rising and falling ass, 
letting go of control and just *fucking* the man. Riding him hard, driving his 
nails into his sides, depriving Michael's cock of his touch just to grab his 
hair and bring his head up so he can growl into his ear of how absolutely 
gorgeous it feels. Of how he will continue to fuck him, oh yes, all through the 
night until the last of his pretty-boy innocence will crumble away to reveal 
this shamelessly writhing golden moaning glowing creature inside. 

Michael's mouth, so full of "yes", starts begging desperately for release. 

"Please, Eric. Please let me fucking _come_ now..."

"Do you want me to come inside you?" Eric purrs.

"Yes, oh yes..."

Eric lets go of his hair, a victorious smile on his lips. He turns to spit in 
his palm and brings his hand to Michael's cock again, this time without the silk 
(and oh, what a burning in his palm it is, oh, what a sound it is that Michael 
makes). Only his callused, guitar-player's fingers, stroking the length of him, 
pulling, squeezing, determined to milk him dry while increasing the speed and 
roughness of his thrusts, letting his own spine melt into quicksilver. //I can't 
go any deeper inside him yet I am still falling// Then it is only a wave after 
wave of crimson fire bursting in his eyes and a thousand electric sparks 
screaming all over his body and Michael shouting out and tight muscles spasming, 
pulling at his cock and spurts of sperm on his hand hot enough to burn and he is 
coming, coming and coming, pouring all of himself inside sweet, sweet Michael. 

Afterwards there is only silence, Eric lying on top of his beloved friend in a 
beautiful mess of silk and sweat and cum. White ghosts float near the bed, soon 
disappearing into the shadows, only pausing to cut Michael's restraints. Eric 
pulls the red sheet over them and wraps his arms around Michael, looking at him 
in the eyes for the second time this evening. He notices he expected something 
else, when he sees that the bloody bastard is smiling. Smiling, laughing and 
reaching to run his fingers through his long hair, pulling him in for a kiss. 
The bloody bastard who says "I knew you couldn't resist..." just before claiming 
his mouth, not giving him time to protest.

A faint giggle is heard from the back of the room. "We definitely have to let 
Michael act out his fantasies more often!"

Ah, well.

END