Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, Bad Language

This was a request by Broken Promise 22 so i can't claim the idea as my own...T3T Oh well, it was great fun to write and i sincerely hope i didn't disappoint. OoO I hope you ppl will like it and if u could, please please please please leave a review. O3O I'll love you forever if you do! XD ENJOY!

Also, I do NOT own This Means War or any of the characters!

Ignorance is Bliss

I'm so freaking BORED!

Tuck arched an eyebrow at his partner in crime, swinging from side to side in his office chair while meeting the Brit's gaze with pathetic wide eyes. He sighed, shook his head and crumbled the note in his hands. His eyes descended back to his work. He still had a ways to go, thanks to his friend who just had to disobey orders and get them both grounded. Again. Tuck wondered sometimes if he should stop trying to clean up all of FDR's messes...but he knew he couldn't even before he finished the thought.

Seconds later another paper airplane landed across the document he was struggling to read. It was the sixth one. Tuck crumbled it up without opening it and refused to lift his eyes. The chair across stopped spinning.

And what a surprise?! Airplane number seven made an emergency landing. Tuck flared his nostrils slightly, getting a little exasperated with FDR's inability to take no for an answer. Well then again, he figured the playboy didn't get many of those... He glanced at FDR and relented when he saw the playful smile dancing on his lips. He unfolded the piece of paper, noting that it was a very important document. He wondered if this would be another one of the 'messes' he would later have to clean up.

Come on! Don't ignore me...I know I screwed up alright and...I. AM. SORRY.

Tuck hid his small smile behind the subterfuge of his hand, aware that FDR's searching orbs were glued to him. In all honesty he had forgiven his partner already but, though he rarely showed it, he had a fun side too. It would do no harm for FDR to feel guilty for a little longer and hopefully, hopefully, he'd actually learn something this time. Like...consideration for others maybe. Tuck let his smile drop and without meeting FDR's eyes, balled the message and threw it into the bin expertly. He resumed his work but his mind was counting down the seconds until...number eight.

Are you angry?...

No, he wasn't. But he decided to yank FDR's chain just a little bit longer. This piece of paper joined its previously binned siblings and Tuck actually managed to read an entire sentence before flight nine landed.

You know, this is just going to lead to angry sex. We could just skip all the talking and well...I'm sure I don't have to write the rest down.

Tuck could practically hear the seductive voice of his partner and picture the twinkle in his mischievous eyes. And once the thought of sex entered his mind it was like a virus, quickly consuming every nook and cranny, but Tuck was nothing if not stubborn. He resolved to ignore the other and by god, he was going to do it! Into the bin it flew.

A minute passed before Tuck had anymore reading material. He had a bad feeling, even before he opened the note. A premonition. A flash of memory drifted across his thoughts. He remembered how his mother always used to sigh to herself and whisper under her breath whenever she was feeling down. Back then he didn't understand the full meaning of the small phrase but as the years progressed and he reached adulthood, he unconsciously began to apply it to his own life. And in that second he hears his mother's voice muttering to herself when she thought she wasn't being heard, 'ignorance is bliss.' But he opened the message nonetheless, disobeying even her memory.

Alright then, I guess I'll just have to talk dirty and tell you EXACTLY what I want you to do with me. Every little detail. You can still give in though and save us some time...

Tuck struggled, and failed, to suppress the fire creeping through his veins. He just hoped it wasn't showing...There was nothing worse than FDR with a bone. The smugness...it always drove Tuck up the walls! But this time he would be the one driving and, like before, he trashed the suggestive words. This time an entire five minutes passed, during which nothing was heard except the occasional scribble of FDR's pen. He was beginning to think the other had given up but then the plane arrived. Just as well, since FDR and giving up would equal apocalypse.

Have it your way. I want you to have me right here on my office desk. I want you to rip off my clothes and bend me over. Then you can run your hand all over my body, like I know you love to do, and force my legs open and...TBC

This time Tuck had to battle ferociously with the reddening of his cheeks but he somehow prevailed. He had to repeat 'ignorance is a bliss, ignorance is a bliss, ignorance is a bliss...' continuously like a mantra to resist giving in. He was only a man for god's sake! Into the bin the plane flew and back to his work, still on that same first sentence, his eyes went. He noted with some satisfaction the impatient tapping of FDR's pen against the desk. At least he wasn't the only one who was getting flustered...

Fuck me like an animal. I want you so deep inside me that I'll scream with pleasure. I know you want it too. I can make you feel so good. Think about my hot, tight ass. Think about how good it will feel around your cock. Give in!

Tuck's jaw literally dropped open. He knew FDR could talk dirty but...wow! He didn't expect that onslaught. 'Ignorance is bliss...Ignorance is bliss...AW, FORGET IT!' How exactly was he even supposed to stay ignorant to THAT?! The sheet of paper descended on top of his work document and he continued staring at it, the messy writing turning to dozens of little ants and moving around on the blank plains. He must have stayed like that for countless minutes, his mouth turning as dry as a rock and his stomach clenching like a vice. A flock of pigeons would have probably mistaken him for a life size human statue and made their nests on top of his head and he wouldn't have noticed.

'Tuck!...' Forgetting his resolve, the British agent lifted his head and glanced at his partner and what he saw turned that fire in his blood to an inferno.

FDR sat on his desk, in such a way so Tuck would have a perfect frontal view, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his hands...That's where Tuck's eyes froze. FDR's shirt was unbuttoned and only covering one shoulder, the other sleeve already down to his elbow. His trousers were gone, leaving him naked from the waist down. His legs were wide open and since he was so strategically placed Tuck could see exactly what the parted limbs exposed. And two of FDR's fingers were knuckle deep in it. Their owner pulled them out only to thrust them back inside and moan so lewdly and wantonly Tuck found himself gripping the desk with enough force to turn his own knuckles white.

Tuck was up and moving before he realized it, his hands unbuckling his constricting belt as if independent from his brain. All he had eyes for was FDR and all he could think of were the dirty wishes of his partner echoing across his mind. He pushed down the part of him which smirked at how FDR ALWAYS got his way.

He reached the other, who was still unaware of the imminent pounding he was about to receive, and practically yanked the thrusting fingers away. He knew it was illogical but for some reason he felt a pang of jealousy at the fingers daring to touch the entrance that was his and his alone. Like he said, it wasn't logical but it served to add fuel to his flame. FDR snapped his head, confused, his oceanic eyes so glassy they looked navy, with a small self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Tuck nearly growled, missing the comedy, before he grasped the other's angular hips and, in one powerful roll of hips, buried himself all the way. His nostrils flared at the sheer equatorial heat engulfing his member. FDR threw his head right back but at a much more powerful angle, forming a perfect bridge. As soon as Tuck began to move, at a punishing pace, FDR's finger reached for the other's shoulders and gripped at the shirt material that still dared to cover the body which he yearned to feel under his fingertips.

He clawed at it with every intention to rip but never got the chance since the entire room turned upside down. The next thing he knew, FDR was having his wish granted and was bent over the stylish desk, his palms grasping the edge to stop himself from falling over. He threw a glance over his shoulder and noted with satisfaction the way Tuck yanked his own shirt off, throwing it to the ground like it offended him somehow. The tattoos across his arms moved as he flexed his muscles and FDR shuddered in eager anticipation. He always did love those tattoos...

But he made the mistake of smirking which Tuck mistook for a challenge and FDR's grin froze on his lips. His back arched and the desk trembled with the powerful motions. Tuck's thrusts were fast and furious, stealing the breath right out of FDR's lungs and leaving him gasping. He could feel the Brit's muscular arms flanking him and little jolts of electricity bloomed where he kissed his back, tracing his spine.

FDR called his lover's name like it was the only thing making sense, like he was afraid that stoping would mean everything would end and he couldn't deal with that. He couldn't even imagine such a cruel fate. Tuck lifted one of FDR's knees, forcing his legs even further apart, and increased his tempo yet further. Luckily they were the only two still at the office or they would have surely been overheard...from the other side of the building. Though it was mostly FDR making the noise, Tuck made a few additions of his own, mostly profanities and curses but additions nonetheless.

FDR was the first to drop over the proverbial edge and he fell across the metal surface, his head spinning as much from the explosive orgasm as from the lack of oxygen. His hair was wet with fresh after-sex sweat and it fell across his closed eyes, still swaying from side to side since Tuck was still thrusting inside the even tighter wall of muscle striving to reach his own high. And when he did, down became up and left became right and sense became nonsense. He managed to support himself on his pillaring arms and his ragged breath danced across FDR's back. He leaned down to place another passionate kiss across the left shoulder blade, loving FDR's rewarding soft sigh.

'I told you so~' Tuck chuckled and rolled his eyes. Well, it wasn't like FDR was going to have a sudden change of character now was he?

'Yeah yeah. Don't push it though. I haven't forgotten WHY we're in this situation to begin with.' A short silence followed, during which Tuck placed another constellation of butterfly kisses across the muscles below him.

'I am sorry you know...' He did and he grinned to himself. He didn't miss the apologetic tone and he knew that FDR most likely had a strangled-puppy expression which would make a kitten look like a cold blooded monster in comparison.

'I know.' He was used to cleaning up after his childhood friend. It came with the job description. Save the world, protect the innocent, survive through numerous life threatening situations AND keep FDR safe. Seriously, they did NOT pay him enough...

Ignorance may be bliss but Tuck hated being ignorant.

Well i hope you liked it! XD I'll be eagerly awaiting your responses! X3

HAVE A LOVELY DAY!