A Helping Hand

Title: A Helping Hand
Rating: NC-17 for foul language and semi-explicit sexual situations (light bondage, non-con)
Pairing: Archy/One Two
Word Count: 1,300
Spoilers: One scene near the end of the film. Not really plot-related, just funny.
Description: What Archy should have done when he found One Two all tied up with nowhere to run.
Author's Note: So I was supposed to be writing serious, plotty fic, but then this bunny jumped into my brain and demanded to be scribbled down. AU, crack-ish, probably OOC to boot - but what the hell, it's got Gerard Butler in bondage. That always wins over common sense.

"Is this a bad time, One Two?" A brief smile tugged at the corner of Archy's lips.

One Two yelled something loud, crude, and indecipherable through the gag.

"I mean, we can always come back a bit later," Archy suggested casually, unable to resist a final potshot.

The sock in One Two's mouth was fast drowning in Scottish slurs, as he desperately begged and cursed his unlikely savior with the same muffled breath, eyeballs rolling widely. He would have been begging a sight longer if not for the intervention of Uri's henchmen, who - having imbibed an entire bottle of vodka - thought they could dive faster than a bullet could travel. Archy quickly rectified their misconception with a rapid-fire application of the laws of physics to the skull.

"Get these bodies outta here before the coppers arrive." He waved a hand at Danny and Joe. "You two. Roll up the carpet and wait for me downstairs. We don't want our friend," he gestured, "to get hurt on the ride over."

His gunmen scattered to do his bidding, and several minutes later, Archy found himself alone with a still bound and gagged (but not quite as red-faced) One Two struggling valiantly beside him. The other man glared up expectantly, smoke all but rising from his ears, and jerked at the ropes that left him trussed up like a Christmas goose. It was a pity they couldn't bring the bed along, Archy mused as he reached for the gag. The Russians had practically gift-wrapped the boy for him.

"I'm guessin' this ain't a house call," were the first words One Two rasped when the sock left his mouth.

"You've been a bad boy, One Two," Archy scolded as he began deftly untying the ropes. "Stealin' from the Russian an' double-crossing Lenny on the side." He shook his head. "Even I'd put something that stupid past you."

"Wha? What the fuck are yah talkin' about?" Confusion was etched across One Two's features. "The Russians got nothin' to do with this." He was pretty sure, at least. Stella's accountants weren't Russian, were they? "An' we paid Lenny for the property! Two million, plus the extra scratch!"

"Don't go makin' a fool outta me, y'know how well that turns out." Archy wagged a finger in reproach.

"Look at me, Arch," One Two protested desperately. He was getting the ugly feeling that his life depended on a single face of sincerity. "I ain't. Fuckin'. Playing. Dumb!"

"You'll have a chance to explain all that to Lenny soon," Archy assured him, as he reached underneath One Two's stomach to undo another knot. It was clear he wasn't buying the story. "Hm? What's this?" His eyes narrowed when he brushed against a stiff, familiar heat. "That a pistol packed in your boxers, One Two?" This time, Archy genuinely laughed. He'd expected all sorts of bizarre scenes bursting through the door, but this...oh, this was downright special. "Or is there somethin' else you'd like to share with me?"

One Two swore, face flushing a deep, humiliated crimson. He'd been hoping to hide that unfortunate result of the earlier incident. "Fuck you. Fuckin' twisted Nazi bastards."

"I'm sure you were." The other man chuckled. "Well, we can't have you meetin' Lenny in this state." Archy twined the rope tight around one hand and settled, cross-legged, on the edge of the bed. "Take care of it," he ordered, tugging the loop pointedly.

"With what, my hands?!" Temper snapping, One Two was about to scream bloody murder when he felt the ropes dig into him.

"Try meditation," Archy deadpanned. "I hear it works wonders."

"Yeah? Well, how about you try jerking me off!" his victim spat.

An icy chill bloomed in the pit of One Two's stomach when the older man didn't immediately respond with a quip.

A thoughtful expression crossed Archy's face, and he leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Are you asking for some help, One Two?" he murmured softly in one ear.

One Two's eyes widened in horror. "Don't even think about it, you dirty basta - !"

"Cause I haven't got all day to wait." Archy shut him up with a well-placed sock in mouth. Lips quirking with amusement, he let his voice hover just a notch above seduction. "No need to return the favor, no, no." His breath glided warm over the other's neck. "Just think of it as...payback for the football boots." Chuckling wryly, he slid a hand beneath the other's belly.

At the touch, One Two's brain kicked straight from numb shock to overdrive, as the reality of Archy's intentions hit him full force. That...that dirty fucking cocksucker, what the fuck twisted sense o' humor, an-and how the fuck did he - Coherence took a steep plunge off a cliff, giving way to a baser survival instinct. One Two struggled and thrashed and jerked with all his might, looking for the world like a trout caught woefully on a fisherman's hook. And like that trout, the only thing he got for his troubles was a sharp knee jab in the small of his back.

"Now, there's no need for that attitude. It's only business." Archy tsked, turning so his gun dug into the other's side. The warning was obvious. "After all, this isn't your first time." In fact, it wasn't even his second, but that incident had involved copious amounts of alcohol and a personal dare from Bob, which meant a convenient blank spot in everybody's memory.

One Two's muffled response might've involved some choice words about asses (not the domesticated kind) and equine intercourse - he still hadn't quite gotten the hang of talking through a gag - but whatever came afterward was lost when long, slender fingers wrapped tightly around his cock.

Archy stroked him methodically from tip to bollocks, quickly gaining speed as he found each sensitive point, returning again to rub and tease. His palm slid smoothly over fevered skin, crescent nails dragging light as a fairy across every groove, only to clamp down hard when they reached the throbbing end. Cheeks red, One Two kept his gaze locked on the bedpost, refusing to meet his captor's eyes. His wrists ached from where the ropes bit into them, and he couldn't even turn his torso away from the maddening caress. Archy grasped him so tightly, he could feel every crease in the other man's hand, sizzling friction making him hiss into the covers. He swore the bastard was enjoying this. Had to be, with that cat-got-the-cream smirk on his face.

Damn him for being so good, One Two cursed, and immediately kicked himself for even entertaining the thought. He wasn't no poof, and neither was Archy. It was a sick joke - a sick fuckin' power play, with some dreamed up double-cross as the excuse. But his cock had other ideas, and the heat that simmered in One Two's belly from the Chechnyan dogs now rose full to the surface, eliciting short, strained thrusts as his wetness dribbled onto the sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable indignity. Protests turned to grunts, then groans, then gasps of pleasure through the makeshift gag, until finally, hips bucking, he came with his ass thrust in the air.

It was several seconds before Archy released him, wiping a hand dispassionately on the pillow, and he hated his body for whimpering at the loss of that skillful touch. Cock still sticky against his stomach, One Two could only muster a weak insult when the other man finally pulled the sock out of his mouth.

"Yah know, the strip club down the street is hirin'" he said hoarsely.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he saw Archy run a tongue over his lips.

"Then I suggest you put in an application."