Rear Naked Choke
Jun. 11th, 2012 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merryghoulTitle: Rear Naked Choke | AO3
Fandom: Burn Notice
Prompt: asphyxiation
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 564
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: contains death threats and strangulation
Summary: This is Fiona's idea of a booty call.
Note: Hollywood = Hollywood, FL, not in LA
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comment_fic
When you're doing surveillance, it's best not to have any distractions. That means no reading anything, no visual distractions such as video games or no music playing in your car.
Or, in my case, my girlfriend. At least at the moment.
Usually I can ignore my phone vibrating. Sometimes my mom will call me and ask if I can pick up a carton of Morley cigarettes. She can always wait for those.
When your phone is vibrating for 30 minutes, however, and it's not your mom, but your girlfriend at the moment, sometimes you have to pick up.
"What is it, Fi?"
"I'm going to kill you today, Michael."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. I have C4 all over the loft. One button on my other cell phone and this place will blow up the moment you get there."
"I know you don't have C4 all over my loft. You don't like me looking for whoever burned me, but you respect me enough not to blow my place to smithereens."
"When you open the door, I have a gun rigged to shoot you in the head. Then I'll blow you up."
I sighed. "I'm coming, Fi."
This is Fiona's idea of a booty call (I can't believe I just thought that)—death threats. Only she calls it "flirting." I'm amazed she's ever dated people that weren't spies. I can imagine the paramedic she dated moving to Hollywood if he heard Fi call him up and tell him he'd get shot in the head.
Even though I know Fi wouldn't kill me in my own loft, I still have to be careful. Maybe she is serious about having a gun rigged to shoot me and C4 all over the loft. I slowly open my loft door. There is no gun set up to shoot me. There also isn't a Fi to "flirt" with. She's expecting me to look for the C4. Then she'll come out of hiding and we can proceed to make out.
I don’t get far looking around the loft. Someone kicks me in the leg and I fall to my knees. I feel a thin hand sliding down my neck, and the next thing I know, my neck's being pushed into a bicep—Fiona's bicep.
When successfully applied to the body, a rear naked choke will knock you out in 10 seconds. Any longer and you can actually kill your target.
Fortunately recovery from a rear naked choke is as fast as having the choke applied to your neck. I wake up and Fi's already on top of me, in her lingerie.
"Hello, Michael. I missed you."
"I know, Fi."
Fi takes the buttons off my shirt. She pulls up my tank top as much as she can and starts kissing me on the chest, moving down it. Her right hand moves up and down my left side.
"Are you starting to feel better?"
"I'm still recovering from you choking me, but yes, this will make me feel much better, even if I can't get in a day's worth of surveillance."
"Isn't watching me more interesting than looking at guys through binoculars in the Charger?"
Sometimes you can't respond to a question posed to you. It's not that the question posed to you is rhetorical; it's just that sometimes, the person asking it is right. This is one of those moments.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Prompt: asphyxiation
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 564
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: contains death threats and strangulation
Summary: This is Fiona's idea of a booty call.
Note: Hollywood = Hollywood, FL, not in LA
for
comment_fic When you're doing surveillance, it's best not to have any distractions. That means no reading anything, no visual distractions such as video games or no music playing in your car.
Or, in my case, my girlfriend. At least at the moment.
Usually I can ignore my phone vibrating. Sometimes my mom will call me and ask if I can pick up a carton of Morley cigarettes. She can always wait for those.
When your phone is vibrating for 30 minutes, however, and it's not your mom, but your girlfriend at the moment, sometimes you have to pick up.
"What is it, Fi?"
"I'm going to kill you today, Michael."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. I have C4 all over the loft. One button on my other cell phone and this place will blow up the moment you get there."
"I know you don't have C4 all over my loft. You don't like me looking for whoever burned me, but you respect me enough not to blow my place to smithereens."
"When you open the door, I have a gun rigged to shoot you in the head. Then I'll blow you up."
I sighed. "I'm coming, Fi."
This is Fiona's idea of a booty call (I can't believe I just thought that)—death threats. Only she calls it "flirting." I'm amazed she's ever dated people that weren't spies. I can imagine the paramedic she dated moving to Hollywood if he heard Fi call him up and tell him he'd get shot in the head.
Even though I know Fi wouldn't kill me in my own loft, I still have to be careful. Maybe she is serious about having a gun rigged to shoot me and C4 all over the loft. I slowly open my loft door. There is no gun set up to shoot me. There also isn't a Fi to "flirt" with. She's expecting me to look for the C4. Then she'll come out of hiding and we can proceed to make out.
I don’t get far looking around the loft. Someone kicks me in the leg and I fall to my knees. I feel a thin hand sliding down my neck, and the next thing I know, my neck's being pushed into a bicep—Fiona's bicep.
When successfully applied to the body, a rear naked choke will knock you out in 10 seconds. Any longer and you can actually kill your target.
Fortunately recovery from a rear naked choke is as fast as having the choke applied to your neck. I wake up and Fi's already on top of me, in her lingerie.
"Hello, Michael. I missed you."
"I know, Fi."
Fi takes the buttons off my shirt. She pulls up my tank top as much as she can and starts kissing me on the chest, moving down it. Her right hand moves up and down my left side.
"Are you starting to feel better?"
"I'm still recovering from you choking me, but yes, this will make me feel much better, even if I can't get in a day's worth of surveillance."
"Isn't watching me more interesting than looking at guys through binoculars in the Charger?"
Sometimes you can't respond to a question posed to you. It's not that the question posed to you is rhetorical; it's just that sometimes, the person asking it is right. This is one of those moments.
