Three Very Different MMOM Drabbles
(Since there's a Rachel Maddow story, I'll leave it locked. Just in case. ~g~)
Title: Another Night in Little Armenia
Self-Lover: Liz Lemon(/Jenna Maroney)
Fandom: 30 Rock
Words: 590
Date: May 19
Summary: Jenna Maroney is not exactly known for being quiet...
The air conditioner was broken, and Liz sweltered on top of her covers. She kicked at the blankets, trying to get them out from underneath her. They captured her body heat and turned it into little pockets of fire. She grumbled and flipped onto her stomach, trying to find a spot on the pillow that wasn't covered with sweat. She finally just tossed the pillow onto the floor and flopped onto her back again.
She rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. She found some ice cubes in the freezer and wrapped them in a washcloth, pressing it against her face and chest as she walked back to bed. She knew the poor cubes wouldn't last long, but maybe they would cool her down enough that she could get back to sleep.
As Liz passed Jenna's bedroom door, she heard a quiet yelp. She leaned closer to the door, trying to come up with any other possible explanation for what she was hearing. Because it was far too hot, far too sweltering, for Jenna to be doing that. Liz pressed her ear to the door and heard Jenna say, "Oh, yeah, just like that!"
Liz stepped away from the door and shook her head. She hurried back to her bedroom, shut the door and slid back on top of her mattress. She felt melted. Like she was just liquid looking for a place to evaporate. She put the ice pack on her face and spread her arms out to the side.
"Oh! Oh, yes!"
She whimpered as Jenna's voice suddenly got loud enough to penetrate the wall. Jenna was never shy about her conquests. Whenever Liz complained the next morning, Jenna would get that pitying look on her face and claim she was just trying to "help her out." So what if it had been thirteen months since her last boyfriend (and yes, she knew that was over a year, shut up, thirteen months sounded better than "over a year")? She didn't need Jenna trying to give her a taste of what she was missing.
Well, maybe turnabout would be fair play. Liz shifted on her bed and moved a hand between her legs. "Oh, yeah," she said, lifting her chin to project her voice through the wall. "That's it. That's the spot. Oh, yeah..."
Jenna responded with, "Oh, that feels so good..."
Liz already felt her heartbeat speeding up. She put her hand into her pajama pants and rubbed herself, surprised to find how wet she was. Listening to Jenna did not turn me on. It did not. "Yes! Touch me like that! Mmm!"
"Oh, God, so good..."
Their voices steadily increased, note for note, each trying to one up the other as they worked steadily toward their orgasms. Liz bit the inside of her cheek and lifted her hips off the bed in a slow rhythm.
"Oh! Liz!"
Liz's eyes snapped open and she said, "Jenna?"
"Liz!"
"Ung... Jenna!"
Liz's legs shot out as she came, her toes curled, and she twisted against her sheets as she trembled. Finally, she fell back to the mattress and exhaled, wiping the sweat from her face. "That didn't happen. That did not happen. It didn't happen if I just pretend hard enough--"
"Good night, Liz. You're welcome."
Liz closed her eyes and tried to burrow into her mattress. Finally, she said, "Thanks, Jenna."
She could hear Jenna giggle through the wall. Her face hidden by the blankets, red with embarrassment, Liz couldn't help smiling. Just a little bit.
Title: A Holy Mackerel Story
Self-Lover: Rachel Maddow/(Ana Marie Cox)
Fandom: RPF: Punditslash
Words: 793
Date: May 19
Note: This is based on last night's "Cocktail Moment," in which Rachel told a story about how Ana Marie Cox was on Amtrack and had an allergic reaction to lentil salad while on a New York to Washington. She was saved because Greta Van Sustern (seriously) saw she was in trouble, gave her a Benadryl, and saved her life. Ana Marie described it as "indescribably terrifying." So of course, my dirty mind... There's not much of an ending, but I did what I could. I'm still new to the whole RPS thang.
Summary: Rachel gets a phone call in the middle of the night.
Rachel looked at the clock, rubbed her eyes with her free hand, and slipped out of bed. "No, it's okay. Just a second." She left the bedroom, hoping that being upright would help her wake up. She went into the living room and dropped onto the couch. "I just need to wake up a little bit."
"I'm sorry I'm calling so late." Ana Marie said. "Did I wake Sue?"
"No, I'm in Manhattan," Rachel said. She leaned back on the couch and stifled a yawn. "What's up?"
"Nothing. It's silly. It's just... something happened on the train, and I was freaking out about it a little, and... I just wanted to talk to you."
"Is everything okay?"
"Well, yeah, now, but I owe my life to Fox News."
Rachel frowned. "Ana, have you been drinking?"
Ana laughed. "No. I had an allergic reaction on the train back to Washington. My throat closed up and I couldn't breathe."
"Oh, my God. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Greta Van Sustern was on the train with me, and she saw that I needed help. She gave me a Benadryl and everything was fine. But I just... I don't know. There was a moment when I thought... I don't know. I didn't know what was going to happen."
Rachel nodded and said, "Yeah. I can't imagine not being able to breathe." She twisted her lips and leaned on her elbows, looking down at the floor. "So, uh... why are you calling me at three in the morning?"
"MSNBC was airing your show, and it just got over. I spent the whole time thinking about... you and me and our friendship. I would have really... you know, if anything had happened..."
"Aw, don't talk like that," Rachel said. "You're fine. Everything worked out."
"Yeah, but if someone hadn't been there at the right time, or if she was out of Benadryl, or... you know, a hundred different things might have gone differently, and I wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't get to see you ever again. And that really threw me. I don't know why."
Rachel closed her eyes. "Ana, we've... talked about this."
"I know. You're with Susan. I understand."
"And you're straight."
"Right. That too."
Rachel couldn't resist smiling. "Ana..."
"Please, Rachel. I'm not going to do anything about it. You know that. It's just that I had this experience, and I needed to talk with you."
"I understand." She slumped against the couch cushions, feet planted apart on the floor and twisted the tie of her pajama pants with her fingers. She licked her lips and said, "Ana, what are you wearing?"
"Rachel, you don't have to..."
"No, it's okay," Rachel said. "Come on."
Ana hesitated and then said, "Just a nightgown and an open robe."
"I'm wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt."
"Rachel..."
"It's okay, Ana," Rachel said again. "I'm sitting on the couch in my Manhattan apartment. It's nice hearing your voice in the middle of the night."
"It's good to hear your voice, too," Ana whispered.
Rachel closed her eyes and moved her hand between her legs. She gently brushed herself and sucked in a breath. "I'm horny, Ana."
Ana's breath shuddered in her ear and Rachel imagined Ana was right next to her. She rubbed harder and said, "I wish you were going to be on the show soon. I love talking with you. Seeing you up on that big screen." Rachel heard Ana's breathing catch on the other end of the phone and knew that she was touching herself. Rachel stroked through her pajama pants with two fingers. She arched her back, wondering if it would be awkward the next time she and Ana were in the same room, the next time she ran into Ana with Susan on her arm. But Susan would be all right. Susan understood the special relationship they had.
"Ana..."
"Oh, Rachel..."
Rachel pressed the balls of her feet into the floor, rubbing harder now. She gasped, gripping the phone tight enough to make the plastic crack. She lifted one foot off the ground as she came, exhaling sharply into the phone. She listened to Ana's moans and said her name quietly. Ana whimpered and said, "I'm coming, Rachel."
Rachel licked her lips and listened as Ana came. When they were both silent, Rachel said, "I'm glad you called, Ana."
"Me too. I'm sorry I woke you up."
Rachel snickered. "Hey, for this, you can wake me up any time. I'm glad you're okay. I'll see you on the show next week, for sure."
"I look forward to it. Bye, Rachel."
"Good night, Ana."
Rachel hung up and looked out the apartment window before she finally stood up and went back to bed.
Title: Unfooled
Self-Lover: Patrick Jane
Fandom: The Mentalist
Words: 949
Date: May 21
Notes: I've been told this is creepy. I thought it was vaguely creepy while writing it. Fair warning. ;-D
Summary: Who do they think they're messing with?
Sometimes he wonders if they know he knows. He thinks Lisbon suspects, but Van Pelt is oblivious. It amused him when he focuses on the facts; they know he is a master of observation. They know he is able to pinpoint with crystal clarity the deepest, darkest secrets of people he only met moments before. So why do they think they, the people he works with every day, are any different?
Cho is the biggest enigma, and Jane is impressed by that. Cho goes to great lengths to keep himself closed off, to hide any clues he may subconsciously give off. It's what makes him such a good interrogator. He doesn't exist behind the eyes. But trying to figure out how he gained that skill, ahh, there's the trick.
But this morning, Jane is focused on another little drama playing out in the office. He knew from the moment Van Pelt joined the team that she was keeping something of herself back. He first thought it was just jitters, wanting to impress the boss. His prediction was that Van Pelt merely wanted to look capable in front of a woman she respected. And maybe that was true, at the beginning. No more, though.
As Lisbon grew more certain of Van Pelt's capabilities, the balance shifted. Van Pelt was pulled more completely into the team's inner circle, and Lisbon softened toward her. But there was something different in the way they interacted. Little things. A look, a touch, the way they stood next to one another in the elevator. He watched it all, and filed it away.
And then one morning, Lisbon and Van Pelt arrived late for work. Not together, that would have been far too obvious. Jane watched as Van Pelt entered the office exactly fifty-three minutes after Lisbon. The distance from the office to Van Pelt's apartment (twenty-one minutes), and the distance between Van Pelt's apartment and Lisbon's (twenty-four minutes). Plus one minute for parking and the elevator ride, of course.
It became his entertainment for that day. He watched as Lisbon stood next to Van Pelt's desk to ask a question about a case, and he noted how Van Pelt looked up at Lisbon. There was less of a distance between them. Not quite boss/subordinate any longer, they were somewhat equals. They were comfortable with one another in a way they hadn't been the day before. Relationships didn't make such drastic changes unless...
The thought intrigued him and, yes, he was a man. He had urges. He closes his eyes in the privacy of his home, the home he only goes to when he needs a private moment. He loosens his collar and drops the vest to the floor. He sits on the edge of his mattress and pictures Lisbon and Van Pelt undressing themselves with the passion of exploration. He pictures Van Pelt arching her back as Lisbon bows to kiss her neck, to run her tongue along the alabaster skin.
He stretches out on the floor and undoes his pants. He rests his hand on top of his underwear and uses his fingers to gently massage himself to erection. He only had the barest of facts, touches and the way they spoke to one another, but that was enough to extrapolate certain things. He knew, for instance, that Van Pelt would be the first one totally naked. He knew Van Pelt would sit on the edge of the bed, Lisbon straddling her, and they would kiss with abandon. Truly exploring their passions for the first time without restriction or fear of rejection.
Jane pushes his underwear down and drags the side of one finger along the bottom of his cock. He knows enough of Lisbon and Van Pelt to know that he can't effectively predict how they would end up making love. Logic said that Lisbon would dominate, but he was sure that Van Pelt, once given the chance, would take the upper hand.
He licks his palm and grips himself, starting a slow rhythm that has served him well in the past. He pictures Lisbon, who hadn't been with anyone in such a long time. She would find herself drawn into the emotion, lost in a headrush, and Van Pelt would be able to take full advantage of that. It would probably be the only time Van Pelt would be able to pin Lisbon, but that was the only time it would matter: in the bedroom.
Jane's breathing quickens and he presses his lips together. Van Pelt's slender fingers pushing between Lisbon's legs, that shocked/surprised look in Lisbon's eyes as she felt the pleasure of being penetrated. One of Lisbon's legs hooked against Van Pelt's hip, thrusting down to meet her. And they would kiss, and Lisbon would push her hands into Van Pelt's shirt...
Jane shudders as he comes, his cock twitching in his hand as semen stains the back of his hand and the crotch of his trousers. He sprawls on the floor, hands out to either side as his erection grows soft. He stares at the ceiling and a smile crosses his lips as he thinks about what Lisbon and Van Pelt might be doing at just that moment. He watched them walk to the elevator together, saw them in the parking lot stalling so people would see them leave in different cars. They had spent the entire day trying to avoid each other, trying not to draw any attention to the fact that they desperately wanted to be together again. No eye contact, no lingering looks, short, terse answers to direct questions.
Jane smiles again and chuckles into the darkness. Really. Who do they think they're working with here?
Title: Another Night in Little Armenia
Self-Lover: Liz Lemon(/Jenna Maroney)
Fandom: 30 Rock
Words: 590
Date: May 19
Summary: Jenna Maroney is not exactly known for being quiet...
The air conditioner was broken, and Liz sweltered on top of her covers. She kicked at the blankets, trying to get them out from underneath her. They captured her body heat and turned it into little pockets of fire. She grumbled and flipped onto her stomach, trying to find a spot on the pillow that wasn't covered with sweat. She finally just tossed the pillow onto the floor and flopped onto her back again.
She rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. She found some ice cubes in the freezer and wrapped them in a washcloth, pressing it against her face and chest as she walked back to bed. She knew the poor cubes wouldn't last long, but maybe they would cool her down enough that she could get back to sleep.
As Liz passed Jenna's bedroom door, she heard a quiet yelp. She leaned closer to the door, trying to come up with any other possible explanation for what she was hearing. Because it was far too hot, far too sweltering, for Jenna to be doing that. Liz pressed her ear to the door and heard Jenna say, "Oh, yeah, just like that!"
Liz stepped away from the door and shook her head. She hurried back to her bedroom, shut the door and slid back on top of her mattress. She felt melted. Like she was just liquid looking for a place to evaporate. She put the ice pack on her face and spread her arms out to the side.
"Oh! Oh, yes!"
She whimpered as Jenna's voice suddenly got loud enough to penetrate the wall. Jenna was never shy about her conquests. Whenever Liz complained the next morning, Jenna would get that pitying look on her face and claim she was just trying to "help her out." So what if it had been thirteen months since her last boyfriend (and yes, she knew that was over a year, shut up, thirteen months sounded better than "over a year")? She didn't need Jenna trying to give her a taste of what she was missing.
Well, maybe turnabout would be fair play. Liz shifted on her bed and moved a hand between her legs. "Oh, yeah," she said, lifting her chin to project her voice through the wall. "That's it. That's the spot. Oh, yeah..."
Jenna responded with, "Oh, that feels so good..."
Liz already felt her heartbeat speeding up. She put her hand into her pajama pants and rubbed herself, surprised to find how wet she was. Listening to Jenna did not turn me on. It did not. "Yes! Touch me like that! Mmm!"
"Oh, God, so good..."
Their voices steadily increased, note for note, each trying to one up the other as they worked steadily toward their orgasms. Liz bit the inside of her cheek and lifted her hips off the bed in a slow rhythm.
"Oh! Liz!"
Liz's eyes snapped open and she said, "Jenna?"
"Liz!"
"Ung... Jenna!"
Liz's legs shot out as she came, her toes curled, and she twisted against her sheets as she trembled. Finally, she fell back to the mattress and exhaled, wiping the sweat from her face. "That didn't happen. That did not happen. It didn't happen if I just pretend hard enough--"
"Good night, Liz. You're welcome."
Liz closed her eyes and tried to burrow into her mattress. Finally, she said, "Thanks, Jenna."
She could hear Jenna giggle through the wall. Her face hidden by the blankets, red with embarrassment, Liz couldn't help smiling. Just a little bit.
Title: A Holy Mackerel Story
Self-Lover: Rachel Maddow/(Ana Marie Cox)
Fandom: RPF: Punditslash
Words: 793
Date: May 19
Note: This is based on last night's "Cocktail Moment," in which Rachel told a story about how Ana Marie Cox was on Amtrack and had an allergic reaction to lentil salad while on a New York to Washington. She was saved because Greta Van Sustern (seriously) saw she was in trouble, gave her a Benadryl, and saved her life. Ana Marie described it as "indescribably terrifying." So of course, my dirty mind... There's not much of an ending, but I did what I could. I'm still new to the whole RPS thang.
Summary: Rachel gets a phone call in the middle of the night.
Rachel looked at the clock, rubbed her eyes with her free hand, and slipped out of bed. "No, it's okay. Just a second." She left the bedroom, hoping that being upright would help her wake up. She went into the living room and dropped onto the couch. "I just need to wake up a little bit."
"I'm sorry I'm calling so late." Ana Marie said. "Did I wake Sue?"
"No, I'm in Manhattan," Rachel said. She leaned back on the couch and stifled a yawn. "What's up?"
"Nothing. It's silly. It's just... something happened on the train, and I was freaking out about it a little, and... I just wanted to talk to you."
"Is everything okay?"
"Well, yeah, now, but I owe my life to Fox News."
Rachel frowned. "Ana, have you been drinking?"
Ana laughed. "No. I had an allergic reaction on the train back to Washington. My throat closed up and I couldn't breathe."
"Oh, my God. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Greta Van Sustern was on the train with me, and she saw that I needed help. She gave me a Benadryl and everything was fine. But I just... I don't know. There was a moment when I thought... I don't know. I didn't know what was going to happen."
Rachel nodded and said, "Yeah. I can't imagine not being able to breathe." She twisted her lips and leaned on her elbows, looking down at the floor. "So, uh... why are you calling me at three in the morning?"
"MSNBC was airing your show, and it just got over. I spent the whole time thinking about... you and me and our friendship. I would have really... you know, if anything had happened..."
"Aw, don't talk like that," Rachel said. "You're fine. Everything worked out."
"Yeah, but if someone hadn't been there at the right time, or if she was out of Benadryl, or... you know, a hundred different things might have gone differently, and I wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't get to see you ever again. And that really threw me. I don't know why."
Rachel closed her eyes. "Ana, we've... talked about this."
"I know. You're with Susan. I understand."
"And you're straight."
"Right. That too."
Rachel couldn't resist smiling. "Ana..."
"Please, Rachel. I'm not going to do anything about it. You know that. It's just that I had this experience, and I needed to talk with you."
"I understand." She slumped against the couch cushions, feet planted apart on the floor and twisted the tie of her pajama pants with her fingers. She licked her lips and said, "Ana, what are you wearing?"
"Rachel, you don't have to..."
"No, it's okay," Rachel said. "Come on."
Ana hesitated and then said, "Just a nightgown and an open robe."
"I'm wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt."
"Rachel..."
"It's okay, Ana," Rachel said again. "I'm sitting on the couch in my Manhattan apartment. It's nice hearing your voice in the middle of the night."
"It's good to hear your voice, too," Ana whispered.
Rachel closed her eyes and moved her hand between her legs. She gently brushed herself and sucked in a breath. "I'm horny, Ana."
Ana's breath shuddered in her ear and Rachel imagined Ana was right next to her. She rubbed harder and said, "I wish you were going to be on the show soon. I love talking with you. Seeing you up on that big screen." Rachel heard Ana's breathing catch on the other end of the phone and knew that she was touching herself. Rachel stroked through her pajama pants with two fingers. She arched her back, wondering if it would be awkward the next time she and Ana were in the same room, the next time she ran into Ana with Susan on her arm. But Susan would be all right. Susan understood the special relationship they had.
"Ana..."
"Oh, Rachel..."
Rachel pressed the balls of her feet into the floor, rubbing harder now. She gasped, gripping the phone tight enough to make the plastic crack. She lifted one foot off the ground as she came, exhaling sharply into the phone. She listened to Ana's moans and said her name quietly. Ana whimpered and said, "I'm coming, Rachel."
Rachel licked her lips and listened as Ana came. When they were both silent, Rachel said, "I'm glad you called, Ana."
"Me too. I'm sorry I woke you up."
Rachel snickered. "Hey, for this, you can wake me up any time. I'm glad you're okay. I'll see you on the show next week, for sure."
"I look forward to it. Bye, Rachel."
"Good night, Ana."
Rachel hung up and looked out the apartment window before she finally stood up and went back to bed.
Title: Unfooled
Self-Lover: Patrick Jane
Fandom: The Mentalist
Words: 949
Date: May 21
Notes: I've been told this is creepy. I thought it was vaguely creepy while writing it. Fair warning. ;-D
Summary: Who do they think they're messing with?
Sometimes he wonders if they know he knows. He thinks Lisbon suspects, but Van Pelt is oblivious. It amused him when he focuses on the facts; they know he is a master of observation. They know he is able to pinpoint with crystal clarity the deepest, darkest secrets of people he only met moments before. So why do they think they, the people he works with every day, are any different?
Cho is the biggest enigma, and Jane is impressed by that. Cho goes to great lengths to keep himself closed off, to hide any clues he may subconsciously give off. It's what makes him such a good interrogator. He doesn't exist behind the eyes. But trying to figure out how he gained that skill, ahh, there's the trick.
But this morning, Jane is focused on another little drama playing out in the office. He knew from the moment Van Pelt joined the team that she was keeping something of herself back. He first thought it was just jitters, wanting to impress the boss. His prediction was that Van Pelt merely wanted to look capable in front of a woman she respected. And maybe that was true, at the beginning. No more, though.
As Lisbon grew more certain of Van Pelt's capabilities, the balance shifted. Van Pelt was pulled more completely into the team's inner circle, and Lisbon softened toward her. But there was something different in the way they interacted. Little things. A look, a touch, the way they stood next to one another in the elevator. He watched it all, and filed it away.
And then one morning, Lisbon and Van Pelt arrived late for work. Not together, that would have been far too obvious. Jane watched as Van Pelt entered the office exactly fifty-three minutes after Lisbon. The distance from the office to Van Pelt's apartment (twenty-one minutes), and the distance between Van Pelt's apartment and Lisbon's (twenty-four minutes). Plus one minute for parking and the elevator ride, of course.
It became his entertainment for that day. He watched as Lisbon stood next to Van Pelt's desk to ask a question about a case, and he noted how Van Pelt looked up at Lisbon. There was less of a distance between them. Not quite boss/subordinate any longer, they were somewhat equals. They were comfortable with one another in a way they hadn't been the day before. Relationships didn't make such drastic changes unless...
The thought intrigued him and, yes, he was a man. He had urges. He closes his eyes in the privacy of his home, the home he only goes to when he needs a private moment. He loosens his collar and drops the vest to the floor. He sits on the edge of his mattress and pictures Lisbon and Van Pelt undressing themselves with the passion of exploration. He pictures Van Pelt arching her back as Lisbon bows to kiss her neck, to run her tongue along the alabaster skin.
He stretches out on the floor and undoes his pants. He rests his hand on top of his underwear and uses his fingers to gently massage himself to erection. He only had the barest of facts, touches and the way they spoke to one another, but that was enough to extrapolate certain things. He knew, for instance, that Van Pelt would be the first one totally naked. He knew Van Pelt would sit on the edge of the bed, Lisbon straddling her, and they would kiss with abandon. Truly exploring their passions for the first time without restriction or fear of rejection.
Jane pushes his underwear down and drags the side of one finger along the bottom of his cock. He knows enough of Lisbon and Van Pelt to know that he can't effectively predict how they would end up making love. Logic said that Lisbon would dominate, but he was sure that Van Pelt, once given the chance, would take the upper hand.
He licks his palm and grips himself, starting a slow rhythm that has served him well in the past. He pictures Lisbon, who hadn't been with anyone in such a long time. She would find herself drawn into the emotion, lost in a headrush, and Van Pelt would be able to take full advantage of that. It would probably be the only time Van Pelt would be able to pin Lisbon, but that was the only time it would matter: in the bedroom.
Jane's breathing quickens and he presses his lips together. Van Pelt's slender fingers pushing between Lisbon's legs, that shocked/surprised look in Lisbon's eyes as she felt the pleasure of being penetrated. One of Lisbon's legs hooked against Van Pelt's hip, thrusting down to meet her. And they would kiss, and Lisbon would push her hands into Van Pelt's shirt...
Jane shudders as he comes, his cock twitching in his hand as semen stains the back of his hand and the crotch of his trousers. He sprawls on the floor, hands out to either side as his erection grows soft. He stares at the ceiling and a smile crosses his lips as he thinks about what Lisbon and Van Pelt might be doing at just that moment. He watched them walk to the elevator together, saw them in the parking lot stalling so people would see them leave in different cars. They had spent the entire day trying to avoid each other, trying not to draw any attention to the fact that they desperately wanted to be together again. No eye contact, no lingering looks, short, terse answers to direct questions.
Jane smiles again and chuckles into the darkness. Really. Who do they think they're working with here?