Miss Marple/Sanctuary - Reading for Pleasure
Title: Reading for Pleasure
Prompt: challenge 216 - history
Fandom: Agatha Christie's Miss Marple and Sanctuary
Pairing: Jane Marple/Helen Magnus
Rating: light R? There is sex, but it's all in rather non-descriptive terms.
Word count: 200
A/N: As far as I'm concerned, Helen Magnus and Jane Marple are canon. They've at least met if not managed this. =D
Summary: A chance meeting leads to something more between a young Jane Marple and a not-so-young Helen Magnus.
They say dry and dusty books record many things and to some extent, that's true. But the ink and paper miss things about reality. Like the flush in Jane's skin as Helen kisses her a third time.
The two women had met at a lecture, each interested in it for different reasons. It was almost easy, the way they'd joked and laughed as the evening wore on until it was now, the moonlight slipping in the window, bars moving slowly across their bed.
Tomes marked in yellowed age don't record the lovely little sounds Helen makes when Jane pulls her nightgown aside, fingers sliding down and dipping between.
It's an investigation, one which gets interrupted, when Helen moves, trapping Jane beneath her with a soft laugh. Jane tries to record every sensation, adding it to her catalogue of 'things people do', building up what she knows about interpersonal interactions.
But Helen keeps stopping, checking, asking her if it's all right--until Jane grabs her hand.
"If you stop again..."
The threat is quiet in their room, and Helen's smile flickers and is gone as she slips down.
Newspapers would be unable to print what Jane said a few moments later.
Prompt: challenge 216 - history
Fandom: Agatha Christie's Miss Marple and Sanctuary
Pairing: Jane Marple/Helen Magnus
Rating: light R? There is sex, but it's all in rather non-descriptive terms.
Word count: 200
A/N: As far as I'm concerned, Helen Magnus and Jane Marple are canon. They've at least met if not managed this. =D
Summary: A chance meeting leads to something more between a young Jane Marple and a not-so-young Helen Magnus.
They say dry and dusty books record many things and to some extent, that's true. But the ink and paper miss things about reality. Like the flush in Jane's skin as Helen kisses her a third time.
The two women had met at a lecture, each interested in it for different reasons. It was almost easy, the way they'd joked and laughed as the evening wore on until it was now, the moonlight slipping in the window, bars moving slowly across their bed.
Tomes marked in yellowed age don't record the lovely little sounds Helen makes when Jane pulls her nightgown aside, fingers sliding down and dipping between.
It's an investigation, one which gets interrupted, when Helen moves, trapping Jane beneath her with a soft laugh. Jane tries to record every sensation, adding it to her catalogue of 'things people do', building up what she knows about interpersonal interactions.
But Helen keeps stopping, checking, asking her if it's all right--until Jane grabs her hand.
"If you stop again..."
The threat is quiet in their room, and Helen's smile flickers and is gone as she slips down.
Newspapers would be unable to print what Jane said a few moments later.