Six Drabbles
Title: Mementos
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: desk
Casey Novak didn't understand how someone could do this job day in and day out. It must eat at your soul to see so many inhuman monsters parade through your office and then, to know how many of them don't go to prison. Sometimes she thought justice wore a blindfold so you wouldn't see her crying. But she was determined. She wasn't going to quit. She was not going to run away.
She sat at the desk of her predecessor and tapped her pen against the edge of the desk. There are small cuts, divots in the wood. She ran her thumb over them and counted eight dips. She wondered what could have caused this kind of damage (Olivia bends over the desk, panting, her shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tank top. Her fingernails dig into the wood as Alex tugs her pants down).
Casey read a few files of cases-in-progress. She needed to get up to date on them if she was going to be in charge of any future appeals and... she frowned and searched for a pen, finally finding one in a cup on the far edge of the desk. She stood up and reached for it, wondering why on earth someone would keep their pens in such an inconvenient place (Olivia sweeps her hand across the desk and pens skitter across the floor like a game of Pick-Up-Sticks. Alex says, "It's going to take me an hour to clean that up," as Olivia climbs up on the edge of the desk and says, "Maybe you should keep them someplace else.")
When she got up to retrieve a book from the shelf, the desk made a quiet squeaking sound under the pressure from her hand. She leaned on it, listening to the monotonous squeaks. The desk wasn't that old. But it was almost as if it had been used for years. Or maybe it had just gotten a lot of activity in the past few years (When the desk starts squeaking under their movements, Olivia laughs and curls her hand in Alex's hair. "I think I broke your desk." Alex pants, "Not yet..."). She pictured Alex Cabot banging her hand against the desk in frustration. She could understand that frustration.
At the end of the day, Casey put on her coat and checked the desk's position. There were skid marks on the floor underneath, so she assumed the desk was light enough that it migrated forward a few inches every day. As far as she could tell, it was in the same place it had been that morning ("Yes," Olivia gasps as Alex thrust two fingers into her, clinging to her as the desk inches forward with her movements). She looked at the office when Alex Cabot spent so many years fighting against the worst of humanity. She shook her head and hoped there was a trick to getting through a day. Because, at the moment, she couldn't see a way.
(Alex kisses Olivia's throat, tears in her eyes, both of them spent from their orgasms. "I love you," Alex whispers, and Olivia strokes her hair, both of them sprawled half-naked on the desk)
Casey shut off the lights and closed the office door.
Title: Reclamation
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: Strap-On
Alex never expected it to be anything more than just sex. She never wanted it to be anything more than just sex. When she first took Olivia to bed, she understood there would be restrictions. She knew someone who investigated sex crimes for a living might be a little reserved. She was okay with that. She could stand vanilla, so long as it was with Olivia. But Olivia wasn't interested in safe.
As Olivia explained it, she needed sex to be fucking. She needed the reminder that it could be a beautiful thing between two people. That the biological need wasn't confined to rapists and perverts and criminals and the mentally deranged. She didn't want to apologize for how she felt or what she wanted. She just wanted to be told it was okay to enjoy it.
Olivia wore the harness and Alex sat in front of her on the bed. Alex took the cock into her mouth, eyes closed, sucked it before sliding her lips down the length. She had one hand loosely gripping the base, the other kneading the flesh of Olivia's hip. Olivia wore an unbuttoned shirt, her breasts exposed, otherwise naked. Her hips were thrust forward, shoulders back so she could watch Alex's lips move over the toy.
When the toy was wet, when Olivia was wet, she gently pushed Alex back. Alex obediently spread her legs and Olivia climbed onto the bed. One hand on Alex's shoulder, the other on her hip. They kept their eyes locked as Alex used both hands to guide the cock to her. Her eyelids fluttered as the blunt, wet tip brushed against her. Olivia whispered that it was all right and moved her hips. Alex gasped, and Olivia shushed her.
"Okay?"
"Yes."
Olivia held Alex and rocked her hips forward, filling her up and making Alex cry out. Olivia shushed her and withdrew, thrusting forward again. Alex dug her heels into the edge of the mattress and put her hands on Olivia's shoulders. Another thrust, and Alex was clinging to Olivia for dear life. Olivia kissed Alex's lips and moved her hand up, cupping one breast. She pinched one pink nipple and Alex moaned in pleasure around Olivia's tongue.
"Yes," Alex said. She knew Olivia needed to hear it, needed affirmations. "Olivia... yes..."
Olivia began to move faster, and Alex moved with her. Alex's fingers left red marks on Olivia's shoulders and she closed her thighs on either side of Olivia's body. Olivia pushed Alex down onto the bed, towering over her, panting as she thrust faster. Alex arched her back as she came, crying out as Olivia tried in vain to shush her.
Alex covered her eyes with one hand while Olivia knelt between her legs, still deep inside of Alex but now still. "Are you okay?" Olivia asked, running her hands over Alex's stomach.
"Yes," Alex whispered. She reached up and pulled Olivia down to her. They kissed, slowly and then hungrier as their strength returned. Olivia slipped out of Alex and their bodies twisted. Alex covered Olivia's body with her own and ran her fingers down the length of Olivia's body.
Olivia needed sex to be fucking, needed to be reminded it was okay to feel pleasure from something she had seen corrupted so many times. Olivia closed her eyes and Alex's hand slipped under the harness of the strap-on. She was proud to be Olivia's teacher, and she would remind her of this simple truth as often as necessary.
Title: Much Too Long
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Rating: NC17
Prompt: frustration
She could. But she doesn't want to. But she could.
She lay on top of the covers in her long T-shirt, legs pressed together in the hopes that would quiet the itch. Or at least make it easier to handle. No such luck. Janet picks up the alarm clock on the nightstand and sees that it's nearly eleven-thirty. She groans and puts the clock down, rolling onto her side and looking at the empty side of the bed. Sam has been gone, off-world, for six days. And seven nights. And she would be gone for another three days. And two nights.
The vibrator is in her nightstand drawer.
She doesn't want that. She wants Sam. She pulls Sam's pillow to her and hugs it. She inhales Sam's scent, which is probably just imagined, and holds it tightly. She closes her eyes and shifts her body. It would help the itch. If she just moved the pillow lower...
No. Masturbation was for people not in a relationship. And if she couldn't handle one week without having sex, well, she had bigger problems than she knew. She wishes Sam was there. She wishes Sam could wrap both arms around her from behind and kiss her neck, fingers pulling up her nightshirt, Sam smiling as she realized Janet wasn't wearing panties and...
God why was it so fucking hot in the bedroom?!
She pushes Sam's pillow away and flops onto her back. "I can make it," she says to the ceiling. "I went eighteen years before I got laid, and then three years after my divorce."
But that was before you knew about the trick Sam does with her fingers. Maybe you should try and do it to yourself. Make a tree with your finger.
Janet lifts her hand and curls her index finger down against the web between her thumb and fingers. The lines of her finger formed a tree with three branches, her thumb extended to be a "hill." Sam would put the pad of her thumb on Janet's clit and rock her wrist, the knuckle of her "tree" brushing Janet's labia.
"No. That's Sam's thing." But she bites her lip and bunches the material of her shirt in her other hand.
Sam would want you to.
Janet rolls onto her stomach and covers her head with her pillow. She squeezes her eyes shut and wonders whatever happened to that robot copy of Sam.
At some point, she falls asleep. When she wakes, something soft is trailing along the back of her leg. She lifts the pillow and looks down, and Sam is standing next to the bed. Janet's entire body twitches. "Sam," she gasps.
"Hi. The mission ended because the--"
"I don't care," Janet says. She pushes the pillow under her and rests her arms across it. "Get on top of me."
"I'm still dressed, I haven't--"
"Sam," Janet grunts.
Sam pauses to kick off her shoes. She climbs onto the bed and straddles Janet, sitting heavily on her ass. Janet groans as Sam's hands slip between her and the bed. Sam kisses the nape of Janet's neck and Janet trembles again. Sam says, "Why didn't you just touch yourself?"
"I wanted you, not an orgasm..."
Sam licks the shell of Janet's ear and pushes her hand between her legs. Janet whimpers and Sam whispers something unintelligible in her ear. Janet agrees to whatever it is, no matter what it is, and cries out as Sam touches her. It isn't the best orgasm she has ever had, but it ranks up there. Sam keeps touching her, moving her hips slowly, fucking herself against the rough denim of her jeans as she fingers Janet. Janet feels Sam's motion on her body and bites the pillowcase.
When Janet comes, it's explosive and it's so, so overdue, and she squeezes her eyes shut and her fists tangle with the pillowcase until her body relaxes. Sam kisses her neck and shoulder and then finds her lips. "I'm going to take a shower," Sam says, "and then we can do this properly."
Janet nods and Sam disappears from her. She hears the bathroom door shut and sags against the mattress. She's gotten her fix; she can wait ten minutes for Sam to finish showering. Just ten little minutes. She needs that long to stop having spasms from what Sam just did to her. Ten minutes. 600 seconds.
Janet gets off the bed, her knees weak and trembling as she moves to the bathroom.
She closes the bathroom door behind her. Ten minutes is too long, too, as it turns out.
Title: Taking Chances
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Los Hombres de Paco
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: handcuffs
Pepa didn't take chances. Not anymore. A beautiful glass vase sitting on the edge of a counter is knocked over, but you catch it before it hits the ground. You don't sit that same vase back on the edge of the counter. You don't give the opportunity for anymore close calls. She covered Silvia's body with her own, pinning her to the mattress as they kiss. Silvia tilted her head and Pepa obediently moved down to her neck. She ran her left hand along Silvia's flank, down to her hip, their legs tangled together under the mattress. The long, lonely nights when Pepa cried because she didn't know if she would ever be with her princess again taught her not to take this for granted. Not the curve of the hip or the warmth of the skin or the little divot of her belly button.
Silvia didn't take chances, either, not now. She lied to herself so much about Pepa. She lied and said she didn't like their first kiss. She lied and said that her feelings were just friendship. She never let herself believe that she could fall in love with Pepa. She wanted people to tell her that she was just being silly, but they were more open to the idea than she was. Soon, she had to admit that her feelings for Pepa went far beyond anything else she had ever felt. She didn't lie to herself any more. She didn't try to analyze or explain, she just focused on the back under her right palm, the sound of a gasp in her ear, the groan Pepa gave when she was about to come.
They didn't take chances anymore. Pepa fled, Silvia retreated, they danced around one another, neither one willing to be the one who caved first. Pepa's right hand gripped the headboard, her fingers laced together with the fingers of Silvia's left hand. The streetlight outside reflected off the silver bracelets on their wrists, the handcuff chain wrapped around the wooden beam of the headboard.
They weren't about to let themselves escape something so good.
Title: Acid-Washed Heaven
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Los Hombres de Paco
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: jeans
Silvia doesn't mean to obsess. It starts innocently enough. Just a hand resting on a belt, fingers on rough denim. But the longer they stand, the more her hand wants to explore. Down over the curve of Pepa's ass, over the pockets. How can she manage to get anything into these pockets? But she doesn't mind how tight they are. She loves the feel of Pepa's rear end, and loves that the snugness means Pepa is wearing a thong. Pantylines are a fact of life, but Silvia appreciates the effort.
But her roaming hand isn't satisfied simply moving over Pepa's ass. Silvia moves in front of her, her hands on Pepa's hips and sliding lower. She runs the tip of both middle fingers along the seam on either side of Pepa's outer thighs. Strong thighs, thighs she had wrapped around her the night before. Up to the pockets which are, as expected, empty.
Silvia looks into Pepa's eyes and drops down to her knees. She presses her palms against the back of Pepa's legs and slides them up. She grips Pepa's ass tightly and pulls her forward. Pepa's crotch presses against her cheek, and Silvia sighs, eyes closed, and squeezes.
"Silvia..."
"Sh," Silvia says.
Pepa reaches down and undoes the button. Silvia turns her head and watches Pepa's talented fingers tug the zipper slowly, slowly, slowly down. Silvia lifts her head and kisses Pepa's stomach through her T-shirt and then hooks her fingers in the belt loops of Pepa's jeans. She tugs them down far enough to see the fabric of Pepa's thong. She slips her hand inside as she stands up, pulling Pepa to her as she cups Pepa inside her jeans.
Pepa's eyes close and she gasps as Silvia rubs her. Silvia curls her fingers at the base of Pepa's neck, eyes wide open, watching Pepa's brow furrow, her mouth dropping open, her body rocking against two of Silvia's fingers. "You're wet," Silvia whispers.
"Silvia..."
Silvia slips the thong aside and her finger moves in a slow circle. Pepa gasps and moves her body as Silvia touches her. Silvia adds another finger and Pepa makes a wordless plea. Silvia says, "Pepa... I..."
"Huh?" Pepa asks, forcing her eyes open.
"I love it when you wear jeans. And these are perfect."
Pepa gasps, then laughs, then thrusts her hips forward as she comes. She wraps her hand around Silvia's wrist, holding it in place, and bucks three times until the waves pass. Silvia kisses Pepa's neck and embraces her, and Pepa sags into Silvia's arms.
"I'm glad you like them." She looks over her shoulder at the dressing room door and then pulls back. "So you think I should buy them?"
Silvia nods and slips her hand out of the pants. "The one thing I like better than seeing you in jeans? Is peeling you out of them." She smirks and Pepa chuckles and pushes her hair behind her ear.
The saleswoman knocks on the door. "Ma'am? Did you get your second opinion?"
Pepa and Silvia collapse on each other as they laugh.
Title: What If Doesn't Matter
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Friends
Pairing: Monica/Rachel
Rating: NC17
Prompt: what-if
What ifs run through her brain before she can stop them. What if Chip hadn't shown up. What if she hadn't been able to get a date. What would have been different? They would have made their own prom night. Monica was a born hostess even then, and she would have shown Rachel a good time. Rachel, of course, would have been the girl. Monica understands that, and she would have worn her father's tux. They would have danced in the backyard under homemade streamers, and maybe Rachel would have rested her head on Monica's shoulder. It all would have been so easy.
Rachel was the only one who loved Monica even though she wasn't thin and cool. Monica never cared if Rachel's nose was a little... oversized. They didn't care about those things because they didn't matter. All that mattered was they enjoyed each other's company.
Monica spent most of junior year wanting to give Rachel "her flower." If they had thrown their own prom, maybe she would have had the guts to do it. Maybe costumed in a man's outfit, Monica would have found the courage to kiss Rachel the way she always wanted to. Maybe they would have been more of a comfort to each other in the dark days of college.
What if they hadn't been thirty before Monica put her hand on Rachel's hip and leaned in to kiss a stain of chocolate away from her lip? What if eighteen year old Rachel had taken Monica's hand and guided her to her father's poolhouse? Would she have been spared the disastrous relationships of the past? Or would she have simply had those relationships with women? It's not like she was perfectly straight as it was; she and Phoebe had shared a bed for half the time they lived together. But that didn't mean anything. Not like this.
Monica kisses Rachel everywhere, runs her tongue over the curve of a hip and a swell of a breast. Her perspective is still sadly heterosexual; Rachel playing the coy woman while Monica is the aggressive male. Monica wants this all the time. Wants to put on a suit and tie, slick her hair back, take Rachel's hand as they enter a restaurant. She knows that when it comes to Rachel she will always be giving, and Rachel will always be taking. Isn't that what men and women do in bed? Give and take, penetration.
Monica lays between Rachel's legs and thrusts, looking down at her brown hair spread like wings across the pillow. Rachel is gorgeous and Monica has been in love with her for a long time. Has Rachel been in love with her? Does it matter? Would it have changed anything? She doesn't know. She doesn't care. She doesn't want to think that they could have been doing this for ten years, doesn't want to focus on the missed opportunities.
What if doesn't matter because she has what she's always wanted, right here, arching beneath her in Rachel's bed.
She will save her what-ifs for another day.
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: desk
Casey Novak didn't understand how someone could do this job day in and day out. It must eat at your soul to see so many inhuman monsters parade through your office and then, to know how many of them don't go to prison. Sometimes she thought justice wore a blindfold so you wouldn't see her crying. But she was determined. She wasn't going to quit. She was not going to run away.
She sat at the desk of her predecessor and tapped her pen against the edge of the desk. There are small cuts, divots in the wood. She ran her thumb over them and counted eight dips. She wondered what could have caused this kind of damage (Olivia bends over the desk, panting, her shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tank top. Her fingernails dig into the wood as Alex tugs her pants down).
Casey read a few files of cases-in-progress. She needed to get up to date on them if she was going to be in charge of any future appeals and... she frowned and searched for a pen, finally finding one in a cup on the far edge of the desk. She stood up and reached for it, wondering why on earth someone would keep their pens in such an inconvenient place (Olivia sweeps her hand across the desk and pens skitter across the floor like a game of Pick-Up-Sticks. Alex says, "It's going to take me an hour to clean that up," as Olivia climbs up on the edge of the desk and says, "Maybe you should keep them someplace else.")
When she got up to retrieve a book from the shelf, the desk made a quiet squeaking sound under the pressure from her hand. She leaned on it, listening to the monotonous squeaks. The desk wasn't that old. But it was almost as if it had been used for years. Or maybe it had just gotten a lot of activity in the past few years (When the desk starts squeaking under their movements, Olivia laughs and curls her hand in Alex's hair. "I think I broke your desk." Alex pants, "Not yet..."). She pictured Alex Cabot banging her hand against the desk in frustration. She could understand that frustration.
At the end of the day, Casey put on her coat and checked the desk's position. There were skid marks on the floor underneath, so she assumed the desk was light enough that it migrated forward a few inches every day. As far as she could tell, it was in the same place it had been that morning ("Yes," Olivia gasps as Alex thrust two fingers into her, clinging to her as the desk inches forward with her movements). She looked at the office when Alex Cabot spent so many years fighting against the worst of humanity. She shook her head and hoped there was a trick to getting through a day. Because, at the moment, she couldn't see a way.
(Alex kisses Olivia's throat, tears in her eyes, both of them spent from their orgasms. "I love you," Alex whispers, and Olivia strokes her hair, both of them sprawled half-naked on the desk)
Casey shut off the lights and closed the office door.
Title: Reclamation
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: Strap-On
Alex never expected it to be anything more than just sex. She never wanted it to be anything more than just sex. When she first took Olivia to bed, she understood there would be restrictions. She knew someone who investigated sex crimes for a living might be a little reserved. She was okay with that. She could stand vanilla, so long as it was with Olivia. But Olivia wasn't interested in safe.
As Olivia explained it, she needed sex to be fucking. She needed the reminder that it could be a beautiful thing between two people. That the biological need wasn't confined to rapists and perverts and criminals and the mentally deranged. She didn't want to apologize for how she felt or what she wanted. She just wanted to be told it was okay to enjoy it.
Olivia wore the harness and Alex sat in front of her on the bed. Alex took the cock into her mouth, eyes closed, sucked it before sliding her lips down the length. She had one hand loosely gripping the base, the other kneading the flesh of Olivia's hip. Olivia wore an unbuttoned shirt, her breasts exposed, otherwise naked. Her hips were thrust forward, shoulders back so she could watch Alex's lips move over the toy.
When the toy was wet, when Olivia was wet, she gently pushed Alex back. Alex obediently spread her legs and Olivia climbed onto the bed. One hand on Alex's shoulder, the other on her hip. They kept their eyes locked as Alex used both hands to guide the cock to her. Her eyelids fluttered as the blunt, wet tip brushed against her. Olivia whispered that it was all right and moved her hips. Alex gasped, and Olivia shushed her.
"Okay?"
"Yes."
Olivia held Alex and rocked her hips forward, filling her up and making Alex cry out. Olivia shushed her and withdrew, thrusting forward again. Alex dug her heels into the edge of the mattress and put her hands on Olivia's shoulders. Another thrust, and Alex was clinging to Olivia for dear life. Olivia kissed Alex's lips and moved her hand up, cupping one breast. She pinched one pink nipple and Alex moaned in pleasure around Olivia's tongue.
"Yes," Alex said. She knew Olivia needed to hear it, needed affirmations. "Olivia... yes..."
Olivia began to move faster, and Alex moved with her. Alex's fingers left red marks on Olivia's shoulders and she closed her thighs on either side of Olivia's body. Olivia pushed Alex down onto the bed, towering over her, panting as she thrust faster. Alex arched her back as she came, crying out as Olivia tried in vain to shush her.
Alex covered her eyes with one hand while Olivia knelt between her legs, still deep inside of Alex but now still. "Are you okay?" Olivia asked, running her hands over Alex's stomach.
"Yes," Alex whispered. She reached up and pulled Olivia down to her. They kissed, slowly and then hungrier as their strength returned. Olivia slipped out of Alex and their bodies twisted. Alex covered Olivia's body with her own and ran her fingers down the length of Olivia's body.
Olivia needed sex to be fucking, needed to be reminded it was okay to feel pleasure from something she had seen corrupted so many times. Olivia closed her eyes and Alex's hand slipped under the harness of the strap-on. She was proud to be Olivia's teacher, and she would remind her of this simple truth as often as necessary.
Title: Much Too Long
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Rating: NC17
Prompt: frustration
She could. But she doesn't want to. But she could.
She lay on top of the covers in her long T-shirt, legs pressed together in the hopes that would quiet the itch. Or at least make it easier to handle. No such luck. Janet picks up the alarm clock on the nightstand and sees that it's nearly eleven-thirty. She groans and puts the clock down, rolling onto her side and looking at the empty side of the bed. Sam has been gone, off-world, for six days. And seven nights. And she would be gone for another three days. And two nights.
The vibrator is in her nightstand drawer.
She doesn't want that. She wants Sam. She pulls Sam's pillow to her and hugs it. She inhales Sam's scent, which is probably just imagined, and holds it tightly. She closes her eyes and shifts her body. It would help the itch. If she just moved the pillow lower...
No. Masturbation was for people not in a relationship. And if she couldn't handle one week without having sex, well, she had bigger problems than she knew. She wishes Sam was there. She wishes Sam could wrap both arms around her from behind and kiss her neck, fingers pulling up her nightshirt, Sam smiling as she realized Janet wasn't wearing panties and...
God why was it so fucking hot in the bedroom?!
She pushes Sam's pillow away and flops onto her back. "I can make it," she says to the ceiling. "I went eighteen years before I got laid, and then three years after my divorce."
But that was before you knew about the trick Sam does with her fingers. Maybe you should try and do it to yourself. Make a tree with your finger.
Janet lifts her hand and curls her index finger down against the web between her thumb and fingers. The lines of her finger formed a tree with three branches, her thumb extended to be a "hill." Sam would put the pad of her thumb on Janet's clit and rock her wrist, the knuckle of her "tree" brushing Janet's labia.
"No. That's Sam's thing." But she bites her lip and bunches the material of her shirt in her other hand.
Sam would want you to.
Janet rolls onto her stomach and covers her head with her pillow. She squeezes her eyes shut and wonders whatever happened to that robot copy of Sam.
At some point, she falls asleep. When she wakes, something soft is trailing along the back of her leg. She lifts the pillow and looks down, and Sam is standing next to the bed. Janet's entire body twitches. "Sam," she gasps.
"Hi. The mission ended because the--"
"I don't care," Janet says. She pushes the pillow under her and rests her arms across it. "Get on top of me."
"I'm still dressed, I haven't--"
"Sam," Janet grunts.
Sam pauses to kick off her shoes. She climbs onto the bed and straddles Janet, sitting heavily on her ass. Janet groans as Sam's hands slip between her and the bed. Sam kisses the nape of Janet's neck and Janet trembles again. Sam says, "Why didn't you just touch yourself?"
"I wanted you, not an orgasm..."
Sam licks the shell of Janet's ear and pushes her hand between her legs. Janet whimpers and Sam whispers something unintelligible in her ear. Janet agrees to whatever it is, no matter what it is, and cries out as Sam touches her. It isn't the best orgasm she has ever had, but it ranks up there. Sam keeps touching her, moving her hips slowly, fucking herself against the rough denim of her jeans as she fingers Janet. Janet feels Sam's motion on her body and bites the pillowcase.
When Janet comes, it's explosive and it's so, so overdue, and she squeezes her eyes shut and her fists tangle with the pillowcase until her body relaxes. Sam kisses her neck and shoulder and then finds her lips. "I'm going to take a shower," Sam says, "and then we can do this properly."
Janet nods and Sam disappears from her. She hears the bathroom door shut and sags against the mattress. She's gotten her fix; she can wait ten minutes for Sam to finish showering. Just ten little minutes. She needs that long to stop having spasms from what Sam just did to her. Ten minutes. 600 seconds.
Janet gets off the bed, her knees weak and trembling as she moves to the bathroom.
She closes the bathroom door behind her. Ten minutes is too long, too, as it turns out.
Title: Taking Chances
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Los Hombres de Paco
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: handcuffs
Pepa didn't take chances. Not anymore. A beautiful glass vase sitting on the edge of a counter is knocked over, but you catch it before it hits the ground. You don't sit that same vase back on the edge of the counter. You don't give the opportunity for anymore close calls. She covered Silvia's body with her own, pinning her to the mattress as they kiss. Silvia tilted her head and Pepa obediently moved down to her neck. She ran her left hand along Silvia's flank, down to her hip, their legs tangled together under the mattress. The long, lonely nights when Pepa cried because she didn't know if she would ever be with her princess again taught her not to take this for granted. Not the curve of the hip or the warmth of the skin or the little divot of her belly button.
Silvia didn't take chances, either, not now. She lied to herself so much about Pepa. She lied and said she didn't like their first kiss. She lied and said that her feelings were just friendship. She never let herself believe that she could fall in love with Pepa. She wanted people to tell her that she was just being silly, but they were more open to the idea than she was. Soon, she had to admit that her feelings for Pepa went far beyond anything else she had ever felt. She didn't lie to herself any more. She didn't try to analyze or explain, she just focused on the back under her right palm, the sound of a gasp in her ear, the groan Pepa gave when she was about to come.
They didn't take chances anymore. Pepa fled, Silvia retreated, they danced around one another, neither one willing to be the one who caved first. Pepa's right hand gripped the headboard, her fingers laced together with the fingers of Silvia's left hand. The streetlight outside reflected off the silver bracelets on their wrists, the handcuff chain wrapped around the wooden beam of the headboard.
They weren't about to let themselves escape something so good.
Title: Acid-Washed Heaven
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Los Hombres de Paco
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Rating: NC17
Prompt: jeans
Silvia doesn't mean to obsess. It starts innocently enough. Just a hand resting on a belt, fingers on rough denim. But the longer they stand, the more her hand wants to explore. Down over the curve of Pepa's ass, over the pockets. How can she manage to get anything into these pockets? But she doesn't mind how tight they are. She loves the feel of Pepa's rear end, and loves that the snugness means Pepa is wearing a thong. Pantylines are a fact of life, but Silvia appreciates the effort.
But her roaming hand isn't satisfied simply moving over Pepa's ass. Silvia moves in front of her, her hands on Pepa's hips and sliding lower. She runs the tip of both middle fingers along the seam on either side of Pepa's outer thighs. Strong thighs, thighs she had wrapped around her the night before. Up to the pockets which are, as expected, empty.
Silvia looks into Pepa's eyes and drops down to her knees. She presses her palms against the back of Pepa's legs and slides them up. She grips Pepa's ass tightly and pulls her forward. Pepa's crotch presses against her cheek, and Silvia sighs, eyes closed, and squeezes.
"Silvia..."
"Sh," Silvia says.
Pepa reaches down and undoes the button. Silvia turns her head and watches Pepa's talented fingers tug the zipper slowly, slowly, slowly down. Silvia lifts her head and kisses Pepa's stomach through her T-shirt and then hooks her fingers in the belt loops of Pepa's jeans. She tugs them down far enough to see the fabric of Pepa's thong. She slips her hand inside as she stands up, pulling Pepa to her as she cups Pepa inside her jeans.
Pepa's eyes close and she gasps as Silvia rubs her. Silvia curls her fingers at the base of Pepa's neck, eyes wide open, watching Pepa's brow furrow, her mouth dropping open, her body rocking against two of Silvia's fingers. "You're wet," Silvia whispers.
"Silvia..."
Silvia slips the thong aside and her finger moves in a slow circle. Pepa gasps and moves her body as Silvia touches her. Silvia adds another finger and Pepa makes a wordless plea. Silvia says, "Pepa... I..."
"Huh?" Pepa asks, forcing her eyes open.
"I love it when you wear jeans. And these are perfect."
Pepa gasps, then laughs, then thrusts her hips forward as she comes. She wraps her hand around Silvia's wrist, holding it in place, and bucks three times until the waves pass. Silvia kisses Pepa's neck and embraces her, and Pepa sags into Silvia's arms.
"I'm glad you like them." She looks over her shoulder at the dressing room door and then pulls back. "So you think I should buy them?"
Silvia nods and slips her hand out of the pants. "The one thing I like better than seeing you in jeans? Is peeling you out of them." She smirks and Pepa chuckles and pushes her hair behind her ear.
The saleswoman knocks on the door. "Ma'am? Did you get your second opinion?"
Pepa and Silvia collapse on each other as they laugh.
Title: What If Doesn't Matter
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Friends
Pairing: Monica/Rachel
Rating: NC17
Prompt: what-if
What ifs run through her brain before she can stop them. What if Chip hadn't shown up. What if she hadn't been able to get a date. What would have been different? They would have made their own prom night. Monica was a born hostess even then, and she would have shown Rachel a good time. Rachel, of course, would have been the girl. Monica understands that, and she would have worn her father's tux. They would have danced in the backyard under homemade streamers, and maybe Rachel would have rested her head on Monica's shoulder. It all would have been so easy.
Rachel was the only one who loved Monica even though she wasn't thin and cool. Monica never cared if Rachel's nose was a little... oversized. They didn't care about those things because they didn't matter. All that mattered was they enjoyed each other's company.
Monica spent most of junior year wanting to give Rachel "her flower." If they had thrown their own prom, maybe she would have had the guts to do it. Maybe costumed in a man's outfit, Monica would have found the courage to kiss Rachel the way she always wanted to. Maybe they would have been more of a comfort to each other in the dark days of college.
What if they hadn't been thirty before Monica put her hand on Rachel's hip and leaned in to kiss a stain of chocolate away from her lip? What if eighteen year old Rachel had taken Monica's hand and guided her to her father's poolhouse? Would she have been spared the disastrous relationships of the past? Or would she have simply had those relationships with women? It's not like she was perfectly straight as it was; she and Phoebe had shared a bed for half the time they lived together. But that didn't mean anything. Not like this.
Monica kisses Rachel everywhere, runs her tongue over the curve of a hip and a swell of a breast. Her perspective is still sadly heterosexual; Rachel playing the coy woman while Monica is the aggressive male. Monica wants this all the time. Wants to put on a suit and tie, slick her hair back, take Rachel's hand as they enter a restaurant. She knows that when it comes to Rachel she will always be giving, and Rachel will always be taking. Isn't that what men and women do in bed? Give and take, penetration.
Monica lays between Rachel's legs and thrusts, looking down at her brown hair spread like wings across the pillow. Rachel is gorgeous and Monica has been in love with her for a long time. Has Rachel been in love with her? Does it matter? Would it have changed anything? She doesn't know. She doesn't care. She doesn't want to think that they could have been doing this for ten years, doesn't want to focus on the missed opportunities.
What if doesn't matter because she has what she's always wanted, right here, arching beneath her in Rachel's bed.
She will save her what-ifs for another day.