Fic: That's Amore
Title: That's Amore
Fandom: Strangers with Candy
Pairing: Chuck/Clair, Chuck/Geoffrey
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG-13
Note: Written for
warmdarkwoman , who said Chuck/Geoffrey. Chuck thinks of Georffrey while having sex with his wife.
It was... a day, of sorts, a day that Chuck couldn't really remember, but he knew it was some sort of special day, because today was one of those very few days where he actually had to have sex with that woman he shared a bed with. He kissed her and cringed a little (she tasted like blueberries, and Chuck hated blueberries), something that he tried very (or not at all) hard to hide from her, because today was a special, but-not-special-enough-to-remember, sort of day, and he wanted her to cook him dinner later.
He ran his hands down her not-muscular arms, kissed her not-pillowy lips, and started unbuttoning her shirt. He stared at the wall and tried to ignore the soft, feminine noises she was making. Her hands found their way to some very private sections of his anatomy, and he felt he ought to be moaning her name, but he couldn't really remember any names that started with 'C' right now, only one certain name that started with a 'G'.
He looked at her breasts for a moment, wondering if he should do something with them, and ultimately decided that he really didn't want to be touching random lumps on top of somebody's chest, even if he was married to the breasted creature.
Her hand was pumping down below, making a valiant sort of effort, but the hand was too small, the nails too long and unmanicured, and really, did she think that was going to do anything? He mumbled something angrily about doing it himself, and Cassandra... no Cami... Caroline? Charlene? Whatever, names weren't important. That woman whose wedding band matched his sighed in irritation and lay back on the bed while he did the job himself, thinking of soft brown eyes and smooth tanned skin and sex in supply closets.
'Happy anniversary, Charles,' she mumbled when he had finished. 'I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself.'
'Yeah yeah, whatever.' He settled into the pillows, very content with himself and his sexual prowess right then. 'Go make dinner or something, I'm hungry.'
She rolled her eyes, muttered a, 'Whatever,' and left the room. Her clothes were already back in order, something he hadn't noticed, and he shrugged, not bothering to ask when that had happened. She left the room, and he drifted off into a well-sated sleep, dreaming of roasted chicken and blow jobs and not-his-wife.
Fandom: Strangers with Candy
Pairing: Chuck/Clair, Chuck/Geoffrey
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG-13
Note: Written for
warmdarkwoman , who said Chuck/Geoffrey. Chuck thinks of Georffrey while having sex with his wife.
It was... a day, of sorts, a day that Chuck couldn't really remember, but he knew it was some sort of special day, because today was one of those very few days where he actually had to have sex with that woman he shared a bed with. He kissed her and cringed a little (she tasted like blueberries, and Chuck hated blueberries), something that he tried very (or not at all) hard to hide from her, because today was a special, but-not-special-enough-to-remember, sort of day, and he wanted her to cook him dinner later.
He ran his hands down her not-muscular arms, kissed her not-pillowy lips, and started unbuttoning her shirt. He stared at the wall and tried to ignore the soft, feminine noises she was making. Her hands found their way to some very private sections of his anatomy, and he felt he ought to be moaning her name, but he couldn't really remember any names that started with 'C' right now, only one certain name that started with a 'G'.
He looked at her breasts for a moment, wondering if he should do something with them, and ultimately decided that he really didn't want to be touching random lumps on top of somebody's chest, even if he was married to the breasted creature.
Her hand was pumping down below, making a valiant sort of effort, but the hand was too small, the nails too long and unmanicured, and really, did she think that was going to do anything? He mumbled something angrily about doing it himself, and Cassandra... no Cami... Caroline? Charlene? Whatever, names weren't important. That woman whose wedding band matched his sighed in irritation and lay back on the bed while he did the job himself, thinking of soft brown eyes and smooth tanned skin and sex in supply closets.
'Happy anniversary, Charles,' she mumbled when he had finished. 'I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself.'
'Yeah yeah, whatever.' He settled into the pillows, very content with himself and his sexual prowess right then. 'Go make dinner or something, I'm hungry.'
She rolled her eyes, muttered a, 'Whatever,' and left the room. Her clothes were already back in order, something he hadn't noticed, and he shrugged, not bothering to ask when that had happened. She left the room, and he drifted off into a well-sated sleep, dreaming of roasted chicken and blow jobs and not-his-wife.