This fic makes not-for-profit use of characters belonging to Marvel comics and the successors to Desilu Productions. It is slashy, but no bodily functions are directly portrayed. It's fun for the whole family. Venus in Furs is an actual novel written by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and I possess the Taschen adaptation by Crepax.
Oh, Tiberius!
by Benway
The place: a motel room just off Route 3 in Clifton NJ
The time: 9:30pm, April 5, 1967.
The technology: a little ahead of its time.
_____________________________________________________________
"Are they ready yet?"
"Just a few minutes more for the latex to set. We can't have them coming off. Ruins the effect."
"..."
"You don't see me complaining. I have to glue this rat's nest on top of my hair. Do you know how long it takes to wash all the glue out?"
"You could always dye it."
"I am not going to dye my hair."
"It wouldn't be that big a deal."
"How would you know?"
"..."
"Sorry."
"I don't know why we always have to go through this. We could just take it to the astral plane and make it so much more real."
"No."
"But I could really look like him."
"I'm not having you inside my head."
"We wouldn't have to bother with all of this, or this seedy motel room. We could do it any time-"
"The seedy motel room was your idea."
"It's safest this way."
"I think you're ashamed to be seen with me."
"..."
"Ashamed to be seen going into a room with me."
"..."
"Are you ashamed?"
"I though the writing in tonight's episode was a bit uneven, don't you think?"
"Fine. Be that way."
"What's got your knickers in a twist?"
"Nothing."
"I thought we weren't going to let any little disagreements into this part of our lives."
"This little disagreement has to do with this part of our lives."
"Something I did? What? What did I do?"
"I was making use of one of those very nice new features of the usenet system when I came across something very familiar."
"Something... familiar?"
"A script."
"Oh no."
"More precisely, a script that you wrote and insisted on reading to me, aloud, during our last encounter."
"Damn her."
"I was under the impression that this was just between you and I."
"She found it among my papers when she was visiting last month."
"She?"
"Er, Moira."
"..."
"She loved it. She said it brought forth many hitherto unexplained dimensions of their characters."
"You let her remember it?"
"I don't approve of using my power in that way."
"..."
"Besides, she found it... exciting. It was the best time ever, between us, after she read it."
"You used it as a sex aid?"
"We did."
"That's different."
"I don't see how."
"I cannot understand how a woman, a Scottish woman-"
"If you let me take you onto the astral plane-"
"But what could excite her about it?"
"What excited you? It's not as if I don't know about that collection of postcards you have, from Paris."
"How could you-"
"When you get excited, your shields slip."
"When I get excited?"
"Excited that way."
"Then you know-"
"Only what gets you off. Only what gets everyone nearby off. You can't imagine what it's like to live in a house full of teenagers."
"Oh my."
"In fact, it's provided me with some rather interesting ideas."
"It has?"
"Banana bread."
"Gruss gott! From one of them?"
"Jean, actually."
"How could-"
"She's had better ones."
"So imaginatively perverse, in someone so young."
"She's an American teenager."
"But she's one of the good ones."
"Only because she never gets caught. So often they feel it's a race, and they start far too early. Some can handle it, some cannot. You seem to end up with most of the ones that can't."
"I thought we weren't going to talk shop."
"Sorry."
"I think this may call for use of the tabasco sauce. As punishment."
"Oh no. Not the tabasco sauce."
"Perhaps not. I think that you're getting to enjoy it."
"I thought that was the point."
"Perhaps, but you're supposed to at least pretend not to. You need to read Venus in Furs again."
"I have read it. You can't mean me to take it seriously."
"Why not?"
"Perhaps I'm too American."
"Perhaps."
"But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves."
"No."
"What's wrong now?"
"Do you get all your ideas from others? Is there nothing of you in them?"
"If they are from others, I do the choosing, based on what I know you like. Some of them are entirely my own."
"..."
"Remember that time in Rio?"
"Rio."
"With the wastepaper basket that you used a helmet?"
"That was a good one. I've never been able to find a plastic wastepaper basket like that since, not in that glorious crimson colour. I've had to make do with steel."
"Every time I see you in it, I think of Rio."
"Oh, Charles."
"Wait. Has it set yet?"
"Let me see."
"I'm all tingly now, and I don't want to have to glue them back on again and have to wait."
"It's almost-."
"What?"
"These plastic watches are so unreliable."
"Is it ready?"
"I think so."
"Then the scene is set. A small room in an inn on a primitive planet orbiting Deneb 5. The Gorn have attacked. We've taken casualties, and I've been hurt. Seriously hurt. Perhaps this is the last time we'll be together."
"Spock!"
"Oh, Jim!"
FIN