Smoke and Lace, Baccano! (Nicholas/Rachel)
Title: Smoke and Lace Author/Artist: shiegra Rating: NC17 Word count: 1091 Prompt: Baccano! - Nicholas/Rachel - brothels - undercover operation
She’s standing in a smoky corner with no trace of the workman’s clothing, a cigarette holder dangling from slender fingers with a studious lack of care that is curiously fitting with her sharp eyes and soft mouth, hair now platinum blonde—a wig? he can’t tell—and swept away from her face.
“You’ve been working hard.” She said, and he searched her face for sarcasm with some pique and found only a sharp edged observance so habitual it was impractical to expect answers from it.
“Why yes, I have.” He agreed in his most ambiguous tone, giving her his most charming smile. “And you know what I want, of course.”
He loaded enough innuendo there to watch a twitch of irritation run down her expression and fingers despite her impressive mask of come-hither boredom.
But then she raised the fan in her other hand, sweeping it open with a graceful shift of her fingers, and smiled a polite lie. “Any need may be catered to.” She said, just enough barb in the tone to let him know she wasn’t pleased with his teasing. But was she ever? He swept her a polite and respectful bow and walked to her side through the smoke, close enough to see the pale powder on her cheeks and the crimson flare of lipstick, even as shadowed as they were by the irritation in her eyes.
“Follow me.” She said, turning her hand to hook the fan in his cuff and pull gently. He folded his fingers around her wrist out of a wordless urge, out of curiosity; slim, but strong, tendons pressing against his thumb. He wondered at the strength in her arm; puzzled over whether she might wear braces, how she had gotten so strong, what differences there were in the way she built strength and a man might. Thought about the windows in the train, and the friction of the rope, and measured time until he could neatly deduce that the wounds would be gone.
By that time she’d pulled him into a room, and she turned. He half expected her to pull it from some secret and scandalous fold of her clothing, perhaps because of an excessive amount of cheap dime-store novels he’d picked up to peruse on a stakeout—though some informants did prefer to keep their bounty close to their bodies at all times—and was vaguely disappointed when she instead withdrew her hand, snapped open the fan, and retrieved a narrowly folded piece of paper from the wooden slat.
He bowed respectfully again, and the irritation had passed a little in her eyes when he straightened. “Tell the Director I’ll be leaving on his next assignment immediately.” She said, eyes unreadable.
“But of course.” He spread his arms and gave her, this time, his most harmless smile. “And shall we waste this fine room?”
She rolled her eyes, but he was unsurprised when she laid the cigarette holder down on the table and slipped off the fur stole she wore. Someone as mightily observant as he was, of course, did not become lovers with someone without learning to read them.
Rachel stripped in a businesslike fashion, as always, unhooking a wig—he’d been correct after all—unpinning her sleeves and peeling the tight dress away from her body with quick, efficient movements. It was really astonishing how arousing she made her briskness; he was so distracted all he managed to do was remove his vest and loosen his cuffs by the time she was down to undergarments, black and plain. But her stockings had little bands of red lace around the top, and she lifted his head to give him a sharp look as his mouth went dry.
“Ah,” he began, and she scowled.
“Don’t be flattering.” Rachel ordered, and stepped forward to make short work of his clothes.
She smelled like soap and, faintly, oil under the musky perfume all the prostitutes wore. He wondered what brand of soap she used, absently, and what she’d been working on—the day before, it must have been—to smell like oil. When he put a hand against her body he always felt muscle, deceptive strength packed into that beautiful body. She was strong enough to pin him, always, but in these cheapest and dankest of settings she startled him by letting him lead a little, his hand between her thighs and his mouth on hers, a kiss on parted lips as he watched her eyes go wide and liquid, watched her back arch—here, at least, she displays no dislike and it was a thought of bizarre humor—before he rolled away and reached clumsily for protection. Her body was wet and warm, and he groaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist and tugged him down and in, arching her hips into his and closing her eyes.
He obeyed her and didn’t murmur endearments or terms of worship, but it was hard. In the dark room, her fingers sinking into his arm and her voice convulsing in her throat and emerging in sharp, trilling little muffled cries, he thought foolish romantic things as he thrust against her, grinding close slow and hard enough to make her come sharp and fast, body tightening around him. In the same way he's learned her body he knew his own and thought he might be able to draw it out for both their pleasure, but she tightened her legs and leaned forward, mouth parting against his skin and the sharp edge of teeth startled him enough to make his hips jerk and his control slip.
Afterwards, she dressed with the same briskness, but moved with a miniscule amount less speed, a languor pulling at her businesslike quickness. He cleaned up and threw away the trash and began to dress himself, slower but careful. She returned to him to button his shirt, fingers moving quickly against white fabric, and tugged it even. He examined her with his own sharp eyes and slid brown hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger.
She frowned at him like she expected a trick, and then nodded and stepped away. He bowed and she bowed in return, a quick short gesture. “Don’t forget the paper.” She said, and he raised his eyebrows at her and patted his pocket.
Then she was gone, and as he gathered his coat he thought of her soap through the thick smells of the brothel and decided he’d find out what it was.