Pairing: EW/OB, LotR RPS
Rating: M—but there’s starting to be some smutty stuff now, and it’s not the pairing you expect either, so you have been warned.
Warning: This is a work in progress! Also, crack!fic.
Length: 800 words
For: special_trille. And a special guest dedication this episode, to vegetariansushi: Thanks for the icon, babe, and I hope the villains make you happy.
Disclaimer: I don’t know any of these people—it’s just a lucid fever-dream.
Summary: In which an artiste has a taste for his work.
Notes: You can find the previous episodes here: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4.
INT. UNDERGROUND LAIR OF EVIL. NIGHT.
A muscular himbo, SEAN ASTIN, wearing black bike shorts and a black mesh shirt, is busy lifting barbells. He's obviously been working-out for a while, as he’s slick with sweat.
Behind Sean is a bank of TV screens, all showing various evil schemes in progress: robotic toy penguins methodically stealing coloured pencils out of children's schoolbags; a pack of zombies distracting the sales assistants in a chain-store music shop, while another covertly exchanges all the CDs behind the counter; a wolfman disguised in a raincoat and beanie urinating on the books in the Contemporary Literature section of the Public Library; a group of hackers randomly intercutting snippets of porn into the broadcast of a documentary on The Great Masters of the Renaissance; a painfully shy and pimpled teenage girl with a death-grip on a downtown cafe's Open Mike monotoning her way through an eighty-two page epic, "All the Ways Love Sucks and Why I Want to Die"; and a gaffer-taped woman hunched against a graffitied wall in an abandoned factory.
Three more screens are tuned to a retro music channel, and Sean's singing along.
Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Macarena has a Master whose name is
Whose name is Villainous Ego…
Behind him, a dark shape looms into the frame.
It's a tall man, dressed entirely in black leather fetishwear, including a gimp mask, which has a zip over the mouth that is extra-large, wide-open, and can obviously accommodate objects of impressive diameter, should the wearer choose to insert them into his mouth. Over the top of the whole ensemble is a long, scarlet-lined cape. This is obviously an arch nemesis, THE VILLAINOUS EGO.
That song is a crime against good taste.
Just as well you don’t want me for my taste then, huh Master?
I wouldn’t say that.
The Villainous Ego leans over and licks a line of sweat off the side of Sean’s face.
Sean shudders in ecstasy, drops the barbells and launches himself at the Ego. They go down hard, rolling over several times, until Sean ends up straddling the Ego's prone body.
The remote control for the bank of TVs has ended up beneath Sean's knee. Half of them flick over to the retro music channel, and the volume goes up to near deafening levels, as he leans forward to kiss the Ego.
The Ego kisses back while groping around for the remote. When the kiss finally ends, Sean sits up, and all around his mouth are indentations in the shape of zipper teeth.
(shouting to be heard over the music)
I've been baaaaad, Master.
Yes, yes, I know. Good work.
Sean gropes for the zip of the Ego's leather pants. The Ego continues to grope for the remote.
CUT TO a close up as Sean wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
No, not like that. I mean, I've been baaaaad! I deserve some special attention, if you know what I mean.
The Ego gets hold of the remote and starts to lower the volume.
I'm not giving you another fucking raise, Sean. You're already the highest paid prostitute on the fucking planet.
Sean stops unzipping the Ego's pants.
Take that back! I'm not a prostitute. I'm a minion! I just happen to be really, really good at blow-jobs.
The Ego gets the TVs under control and drops the remote.
On one of the screens we see Captain Obvious and Liv arrive and start to free the woman tied up with gaffer tape.
(wagging a finger)
Ah ah ah! My minions are never good. They're always baaaaad.
I am bad! That's what I've been saying. I'm a bad-to-the-bone minion of goddamn evil who just happens to be fucking good at blow-jobs.
While I would never use a word as plebeian as "good" to describe your talent, Sean, I admit that when it comes to blow-jobs, you are an artiste of the highest order.
With a loud ziiiiiiiping sound, Sean finally gets the Ego's pants undone and pulls them down to his knees.
Right. I'm the fucking Michelangelo of fellatio.
Sean leans down, his head no longer in shot.
CUT TO a close up of the Ego's masked face.
Dammit. That's an out-of-date pop culture reference, isn't it? What have I told you about... ahhhhhh.
CLOSE UP of Sean as he looks up from his work.