81/7 We Belong
A/N: After all the creepiness and sadness I decided Lindsay and Cindy needed a bit of distraction of the adult variety.
We Belong
By Demeter
"Thank God it's Friday," the DJ from the radio show that the cab driver has cranked up to the highest volume, babbles. Lindsay's lips curl into a wry grin. Thank God indeed.
The longer this drags on, the more she's starting to question the sense of having all of these investigators cramped in one room trying to put together a puzzle that seems to always change just short of the last missing part. She didn't use to be so jaded about her work, but of the people in this small group, Lindsay included, she knows, everyone is still walking wounded. Yet, together they bring knowledge of serial killers in general in the Dollhouse in particular to the table that a fresh group never could.
So it will drag on, she thinks with a sigh. At least for forty-eight hours, she'll be home, dreaming of the life she and Cindy will have once this is over.
Once at the front door, she feels ready to keel over, so the sight of Cindy opening it to her in a coat?! makes her frown. "Hey there. You weren't planning on going out tonight? I don't--"
"Not really."
Lindsay then realizes that Cindy is not wearing shoes or stockings. She slams the door shut behind herself with a speed she hadn't thought herself capable of at the moment, sucking in a harsh breath as Cindy lets the coat slide from her shoulders.
"Welcome home," she whispers.
For long moments, Lindsay can only stare. She wants to say something appreciative, but can't get enough air into her lungs to do so, and the rest of her brain, as it seems, is rapidly heading south, her exhaustion just dissipating.
Cindy is not exactly naked, but the whisper of black lace and satin is not covering much either. "Are you okay?" she asks with a hint of worry when Lindsay remainds speech- and motionless.
"I... Yes. I am. That's some nice welcome."
Cindy smiles, stepping closer. "I hoped you might like it. It's not all though." She leans in and kisses Lindsay, hard, and God, she has missed her so much, they can't be too close now, except that Lindsay has worries of her own. She remembers what it was like to be pregnant, of course, getting annoyed whenever someone got into her face with some well-meaning advice. 'Doesn't mean I'm sick., right'? she'd challenged. Or fragile. She'd never thought she was, but it all ended badly. Maybe that's why part of her thinks that Cindy is just that, fragile, and that part of Lindsay wants to treat her like she's some delicate figurine made from glass.
Cindy definitely has other plans. "I need you," she says, somewhat matter-of-factly, her eyes dark and wide, and there's no way Lindsay could turn away, ever. Not even any more or less irrational fears, of which she does have a few, could make her. She bends to kiss Cindy's neck, her hands on Cindy's waist brushing over soft fabric, lower still, and then underneath.
"Hot mama," she says, her voice dark and low with lust. She plays the effect just a little, knowing Cindy gets a kick out of it.
Both of them have to laugh a little at the cliché they are playing out, but it's their home and their fantasy, and nobody's concern but their own.
"I'll show you."
"Anytime. There's a little something I need to finish first." Lindsay can hardly believe that minutes ago, she was daydreaming about watching some TV and lots of sleep. She watches Cindy, her beautiful face flushed with pleasure, feeling her body warm and relaxed , welcoming all the attention Lindsay can't wait to give.
She's careful and gentle, but one week is a long time to go by on a fantasy. It doesn't take long before Cindy's eyes flutter shut, and she draws a shuddering breath.
Her own body tightens in response, and she's just a touch away from tumbling over that cliff. It's only the beginning of the weekend, though, so as she brushes back a strand of damp hair from Cindy's warm smiling face, Lindsay thinks she can be a little patient.
Still, already, she dreads Monday morning.
We Belong
By Demeter
"Thank God it's Friday," the DJ from the radio show that the cab driver has cranked up to the highest volume, babbles. Lindsay's lips curl into a wry grin. Thank God indeed.
The longer this drags on, the more she's starting to question the sense of having all of these investigators cramped in one room trying to put together a puzzle that seems to always change just short of the last missing part. She didn't use to be so jaded about her work, but of the people in this small group, Lindsay included, she knows, everyone is still walking wounded. Yet, together they bring knowledge of serial killers in general in the Dollhouse in particular to the table that a fresh group never could.
So it will drag on, she thinks with a sigh. At least for forty-eight hours, she'll be home, dreaming of the life she and Cindy will have once this is over.
Once at the front door, she feels ready to keel over, so the sight of Cindy opening it to her in a coat?! makes her frown. "Hey there. You weren't planning on going out tonight? I don't--"
"Not really."
Lindsay then realizes that Cindy is not wearing shoes or stockings. She slams the door shut behind herself with a speed she hadn't thought herself capable of at the moment, sucking in a harsh breath as Cindy lets the coat slide from her shoulders.
"Welcome home," she whispers.
For long moments, Lindsay can only stare. She wants to say something appreciative, but can't get enough air into her lungs to do so, and the rest of her brain, as it seems, is rapidly heading south, her exhaustion just dissipating.
Cindy is not exactly naked, but the whisper of black lace and satin is not covering much either. "Are you okay?" she asks with a hint of worry when Lindsay remainds speech- and motionless.
"I... Yes. I am. That's some nice welcome."
Cindy smiles, stepping closer. "I hoped you might like it. It's not all though." She leans in and kisses Lindsay, hard, and God, she has missed her so much, they can't be too close now, except that Lindsay has worries of her own. She remembers what it was like to be pregnant, of course, getting annoyed whenever someone got into her face with some well-meaning advice. 'Doesn't mean I'm sick., right'? she'd challenged. Or fragile. She'd never thought she was, but it all ended badly. Maybe that's why part of her thinks that Cindy is just that, fragile, and that part of Lindsay wants to treat her like she's some delicate figurine made from glass.
Cindy definitely has other plans. "I need you," she says, somewhat matter-of-factly, her eyes dark and wide, and there's no way Lindsay could turn away, ever. Not even any more or less irrational fears, of which she does have a few, could make her. She bends to kiss Cindy's neck, her hands on Cindy's waist brushing over soft fabric, lower still, and then underneath.
"Hot mama," she says, her voice dark and low with lust. She plays the effect just a little, knowing Cindy gets a kick out of it.
Both of them have to laugh a little at the cliché they are playing out, but it's their home and their fantasy, and nobody's concern but their own.
"I'll show you."
"Anytime. There's a little something I need to finish first." Lindsay can hardly believe that minutes ago, she was daydreaming about watching some TV and lots of sleep. She watches Cindy, her beautiful face flushed with pleasure, feeling her body warm and relaxed , welcoming all the attention Lindsay can't wait to give.
She's careful and gentle, but one week is a long time to go by on a fantasy. It doesn't take long before Cindy's eyes flutter shut, and she draws a shuddering breath.
Her own body tightens in response, and she's just a touch away from tumbling over that cliff. It's only the beginning of the weekend, though, so as she brushes back a strand of damp hair from Cindy's warm smiling face, Lindsay thinks she can be a little patient.
Still, already, she dreads Monday morning.