But My Love is Like a Dark Cloud (Full of Rain), Patty/Ellen, R
Title: But My Love is Like a Dark Cloud (Full of Rain)
Pairing: Patty/Ellen
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 3 (takes places about four months later)
Disclaimer: Characters remain with the Kesslers et al, and FX or DirecTV. I'm just borrowing, making no profit, and will put them back when I'm done.
Prompt: Patty/Ellen - hating you is exhausting but it's a lot easier than the alternative
Dedication: callieluvr - have a wonderful month, and thank you for such an inspired prompt. It really made my muse happy <3 I hope you enjoy the read!
“I hate you,” Ellen hisses, her voice giving out on the last word.
Patty thinks about correcting her, because it’s been three months now and they both know that it isn’t hate that keeps bringing Ellen back to her bed (and her couch, and her kitchen counter, and--oh, yes-- the elevator). Instead, she makes the next thrust of her fingers a little harder, twisting in the way that renders Ellen speechless, and makes her point without words.
Long, noisy moments later, Ellen is slumped against Patty’s still-clothed shoulder, struggling to get her breathing under control. Patty should pull back, leave Ellen sitting there on the dinner table to recover--panties hanging on one ankle and skirt shoved up, lopsided, around her waist. But Patty can’t bring herself to break the contact and she hates herself for it, every bit as much as Ellen has ever hated her.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” Patty mocks, softly, her lips still grazing the base of Ellen’s throat. The skin is warm and a little damp to the touch, and Patty can’t deny her quiet thrill at being the cause.
“I did. I do,” Ellen corrects, shaking her head and clearing the haze. She pushes Patty away, but gently. In one almost-graceful movement, Ellen is standing. Sure, she wobbles a little on her four-inch heels (a gift from Patty that just keeps giving) but she looks relatively composed as she yanks her skirt back down and bends to retrieve her underwear.
“But you were so overcome with hating me...” Patty trails off, smirking. She flexes her fingers proudly, and with just a little soreness. It’s so easy to get carried away, after all.
“Oh, shut up,” Ellen says, with a freedom that two husbands and countless opponents were never afforded. Patty doesn’t point that out though, since Ellen has decided to make her argument by kissing Patty soundly on the mouth.
It’s been four months since they lost Tom, and after a month of sleepless nights Patty decided to take one of Ellen’s late night calls. A toast, a simple raising of a glass to a dead man’s memory (mawkish, Catholic, everything that Patty hates) and this somehow started. Three years of lingering glances and getting just a fraction too close, exploding with a flare that Patty fears she may still be blinded by; it’s not lost on her that young and beautiful Ellen (even with all her damage and darkness) could be with anyone but a former boss in her late 50s.
“I don’t hate you, Ellen,” Patty confesses when they break for air. She can feel the flush on her face that has nothing to do with the heat of the late summer evening.
Ellen hesitates for a moment, those dark eyes searching Patty’s face for a tell that they both know isn’t there. Patty is making exceptions--tiny and unimportant ones--for Ellen, but she has limits after all. Not even sex this satisfying can rattle the foundations of a legend (although sometimes, in unguarded moments...)
“Me too,” Ellen smirks, deciding that she knows the meaning behind the words after all. Taking the lead, much easier than she’s ever done it in the conference room or the courtroom, Ellen finishes unbuttoning her blouse. “So, why don’t you take me upstairs?”
And that, for once, is a suggestion not even Patty Hewes can argue with.
Pairing: Patty/Ellen
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 3 (takes places about four months later)
Disclaimer: Characters remain with the Kesslers et al, and FX or DirecTV. I'm just borrowing, making no profit, and will put them back when I'm done.
Prompt: Patty/Ellen - hating you is exhausting but it's a lot easier than the alternative
Dedication: callieluvr - have a wonderful month, and thank you for such an inspired prompt. It really made my muse happy <3 I hope you enjoy the read!
“I hate you,” Ellen hisses, her voice giving out on the last word.
Patty thinks about correcting her, because it’s been three months now and they both know that it isn’t hate that keeps bringing Ellen back to her bed (and her couch, and her kitchen counter, and--oh, yes-- the elevator). Instead, she makes the next thrust of her fingers a little harder, twisting in the way that renders Ellen speechless, and makes her point without words.
Long, noisy moments later, Ellen is slumped against Patty’s still-clothed shoulder, struggling to get her breathing under control. Patty should pull back, leave Ellen sitting there on the dinner table to recover--panties hanging on one ankle and skirt shoved up, lopsided, around her waist. But Patty can’t bring herself to break the contact and she hates herself for it, every bit as much as Ellen has ever hated her.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” Patty mocks, softly, her lips still grazing the base of Ellen’s throat. The skin is warm and a little damp to the touch, and Patty can’t deny her quiet thrill at being the cause.
“I did. I do,” Ellen corrects, shaking her head and clearing the haze. She pushes Patty away, but gently. In one almost-graceful movement, Ellen is standing. Sure, she wobbles a little on her four-inch heels (a gift from Patty that just keeps giving) but she looks relatively composed as she yanks her skirt back down and bends to retrieve her underwear.
“But you were so overcome with hating me...” Patty trails off, smirking. She flexes her fingers proudly, and with just a little soreness. It’s so easy to get carried away, after all.
“Oh, shut up,” Ellen says, with a freedom that two husbands and countless opponents were never afforded. Patty doesn’t point that out though, since Ellen has decided to make her argument by kissing Patty soundly on the mouth.
It’s been four months since they lost Tom, and after a month of sleepless nights Patty decided to take one of Ellen’s late night calls. A toast, a simple raising of a glass to a dead man’s memory (mawkish, Catholic, everything that Patty hates) and this somehow started. Three years of lingering glances and getting just a fraction too close, exploding with a flare that Patty fears she may still be blinded by; it’s not lost on her that young and beautiful Ellen (even with all her damage and darkness) could be with anyone but a former boss in her late 50s.
“I don’t hate you, Ellen,” Patty confesses when they break for air. She can feel the flush on her face that has nothing to do with the heat of the late summer evening.
Ellen hesitates for a moment, those dark eyes searching Patty’s face for a tell that they both know isn’t there. Patty is making exceptions--tiny and unimportant ones--for Ellen, but she has limits after all. Not even sex this satisfying can rattle the foundations of a legend (although sometimes, in unguarded moments...)
“Me too,” Ellen smirks, deciding that she knows the meaning behind the words after all. Taking the lead, much easier than she’s ever done it in the conference room or the courtroom, Ellen finishes unbuttoning her blouse. “So, why don’t you take me upstairs?”
And that, for once, is a suggestion not even Patty Hewes can argue with.