Yuletide: "One Day", Joe Bradley/Priness Ann, 1010 words
Fandom Roman Holiday
Title One Day
Rating/Warning R/non-graphic sex
Pairings/Characters Joe Bradley/Princess Ann, Joe/OFC, Ann/OMC, Irving Radovich
Summary Twenty years later, Joe reflects
Disclaimer I own nothing. I make nothing. Roman Holiday belongs to Paramount Pictures and Viacom.
Word Count 1010
Notes Written for fairestcat who requested Joe and Ann in the changing world for Yuletide.
The beautiful smooth expanse of Ann's left calf loomed in front of Joe. He thrilled at her soft, scattered breaths as he touched it lightly, letting just his fingertips trace a pattern down to her ankle. She squirmed above him, her contented sighs filling the chilled air. He paused long enough to examine the perfect form of her foot. He stopped to gently suck each delicate toe. Slowly, he brought his tongue back up her leg. He was careful to examine each curve and dimple. He nibbled a bit at the inside of her knee. Kissed her there and delighted in her gasp. Then he repeated the process on her right leg, varying the speed of his ministrations. Joe took the slow path to heaven.
They were alone together, in a private cabin in the Swiss Alps. It was twenty years since Rome.
~*~*~*~
In all that time, he'd never met a woman quite like his Princess Ann. No one quite had her blend of educated wit and mischievous naivete. No one quite had her daring. Her sense of grace. Her curiosity. Her pride. Her laugh.
Joe had missed his story of a lifetime when he'd buried his scoop on Ann's day out in Rome. His tenure with the Foreign News Service stretched and his desire to report hard news rather than society gossip had continued to plague him. Meanwhile, New York City had continued bustling along and in Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks had refused to give up her seat on the bus after a hard day's work. America changed without him.
Joe had finally made it home following his sensitive and insightful report on Grace Kelley's marriage to Prince Rainier III of Monaco in 1956. The royal family had mysteriously decided to grant him a private interview with the happy couple. He had suspected he knew the source of their trust, but dared not ask after Ann.
Through it all, he'd watched her from afar and silently missed her. Irving had to drag him home from the bar, drunk on his ass, the day Ann had married her distant cousin. He didn't know what dynasty they were maintaining and frankly, he couldn't be bothered to care.
Irving had claimed one day didn't matter much in a lifetime of days. Twenty-four hours couldn't change his life forever. Joe had known that was bunk. Rome fell in a day. The stock market crashed in a day. He'd fallen in love in a day.
It had been another two years before he'd met Jane, a traveling saleswoman. He'd been enamored of her love for life. She'd been vivacious and utterly charming. They had spent a whirlwind three weeks of shared madcap capers before they'd married in Las Vegas. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Joe had counted the day his son was born as the best day of his life. Looking through the nursery window and seeing the little scrunched up face, asleep in his bassinet, Joe's heart had truly skipped a beat. He'd never known what love was until that moment. He'd told Irving that love had many splendors, many flavors, many facets - pick your metaphor. The point had been, the love he felt for his son was wholly different from the love he felt for Jane, or Ann, or Irving. Yet, it was still love.
A mere two months later, he and Jane had started arguing over finances. She'd had to quit work to stay home with the baby and she'd resented his work-related absences from home. She'd claimed he had freedom and when he'd tried to explain how yoked he felt, she'd scoff and march away. They had managed to stay married for another year before succumbing to divorce - the new black.
Being a journalist in New York City, he'd had a front row seat to the cultural revolution of the 1960's. Having always been attracted to independent thinkers, he'd enjoyed dating "free-spirited" women. A couple had even convinced him to try LSD on one memorable occasion. For the most part though, the cultural changes alarmed as much as relieved him. His world had changed all around him, and even as he'd reported on the events, they'd left him behind. His heart belonged to another era, so while his mind had applauded increased civil rights, he had longed for patriotism, respect and courtesy, and self-sacrifice. By the end of the decade, with the slew of political assassinations and the Stonewall Riots, he'd realized he wanted a partner with a noble spirit, rather than a free one.
All the while, he'd followed Ann through the Society pages. She was seldom seen with her husband, though the couple had two children. There had been speculation that theirs was a marriage of convenience, and that the couple lived essentially separate lives. The articles he'd read would mention numerous humanitarian efforts in passing, then detail what she'd been wearing. Her skirts had never inched too high, nor her necklines too low. She had rivaled Grace Kelly and Jackie Kennedy for the epitome of classy and elegant, fashionable good taste. Joe had wanted to read her thoughts, but he'd taken what little he could get from the all-too-fickle press.
Ann had become a treasured, though fragile, memory. If he handled it hard enough, he'd begun to be afraid it would shatter, changing the shape of her forever in his mind. To keep the memory safe, Joe had visited less and less often.
He had stared at the invitation for a full three days before he'd responded to it. A private audience with Her Royal Highness, Princess Ann.
~*~*~*~
Joe pressed gentle kisses down the cavern of Ann's neck. He breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. He reveled in the clipped cadence of her voice. He immersed himself in the racing activity of her thoughts. He memorized every detail as though he needed to recall it for the next twenty years.
Most of all, he thoroughly enjoyed her presence. She was his, if only for one day.
Title One Day
Rating/Warning R/non-graphic sex
Pairings/Characters Joe Bradley/Princess Ann, Joe/OFC, Ann/OMC, Irving Radovich
Summary Twenty years later, Joe reflects
Disclaimer I own nothing. I make nothing. Roman Holiday belongs to Paramount Pictures and Viacom.
Word Count 1010
Notes Written for fairestcat who requested Joe and Ann in the changing world for Yuletide.
The beautiful smooth expanse of Ann's left calf loomed in front of Joe. He thrilled at her soft, scattered breaths as he touched it lightly, letting just his fingertips trace a pattern down to her ankle. She squirmed above him, her contented sighs filling the chilled air. He paused long enough to examine the perfect form of her foot. He stopped to gently suck each delicate toe. Slowly, he brought his tongue back up her leg. He was careful to examine each curve and dimple. He nibbled a bit at the inside of her knee. Kissed her there and delighted in her gasp. Then he repeated the process on her right leg, varying the speed of his ministrations. Joe took the slow path to heaven.
They were alone together, in a private cabin in the Swiss Alps. It was twenty years since Rome.
~*~*~*~
In all that time, he'd never met a woman quite like his Princess Ann. No one quite had her blend of educated wit and mischievous naivete. No one quite had her daring. Her sense of grace. Her curiosity. Her pride. Her laugh.
Joe had missed his story of a lifetime when he'd buried his scoop on Ann's day out in Rome. His tenure with the Foreign News Service stretched and his desire to report hard news rather than society gossip had continued to plague him. Meanwhile, New York City had continued bustling along and in Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks had refused to give up her seat on the bus after a hard day's work. America changed without him.
Joe had finally made it home following his sensitive and insightful report on Grace Kelley's marriage to Prince Rainier III of Monaco in 1956. The royal family had mysteriously decided to grant him a private interview with the happy couple. He had suspected he knew the source of their trust, but dared not ask after Ann.
Through it all, he'd watched her from afar and silently missed her. Irving had to drag him home from the bar, drunk on his ass, the day Ann had married her distant cousin. He didn't know what dynasty they were maintaining and frankly, he couldn't be bothered to care.
Irving had claimed one day didn't matter much in a lifetime of days. Twenty-four hours couldn't change his life forever. Joe had known that was bunk. Rome fell in a day. The stock market crashed in a day. He'd fallen in love in a day.
It had been another two years before he'd met Jane, a traveling saleswoman. He'd been enamored of her love for life. She'd been vivacious and utterly charming. They had spent a whirlwind three weeks of shared madcap capers before they'd married in Las Vegas. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Joe had counted the day his son was born as the best day of his life. Looking through the nursery window and seeing the little scrunched up face, asleep in his bassinet, Joe's heart had truly skipped a beat. He'd never known what love was until that moment. He'd told Irving that love had many splendors, many flavors, many facets - pick your metaphor. The point had been, the love he felt for his son was wholly different from the love he felt for Jane, or Ann, or Irving. Yet, it was still love.
A mere two months later, he and Jane had started arguing over finances. She'd had to quit work to stay home with the baby and she'd resented his work-related absences from home. She'd claimed he had freedom and when he'd tried to explain how yoked he felt, she'd scoff and march away. They had managed to stay married for another year before succumbing to divorce - the new black.
Being a journalist in New York City, he'd had a front row seat to the cultural revolution of the 1960's. Having always been attracted to independent thinkers, he'd enjoyed dating "free-spirited" women. A couple had even convinced him to try LSD on one memorable occasion. For the most part though, the cultural changes alarmed as much as relieved him. His world had changed all around him, and even as he'd reported on the events, they'd left him behind. His heart belonged to another era, so while his mind had applauded increased civil rights, he had longed for patriotism, respect and courtesy, and self-sacrifice. By the end of the decade, with the slew of political assassinations and the Stonewall Riots, he'd realized he wanted a partner with a noble spirit, rather than a free one.
All the while, he'd followed Ann through the Society pages. She was seldom seen with her husband, though the couple had two children. There had been speculation that theirs was a marriage of convenience, and that the couple lived essentially separate lives. The articles he'd read would mention numerous humanitarian efforts in passing, then detail what she'd been wearing. Her skirts had never inched too high, nor her necklines too low. She had rivaled Grace Kelly and Jackie Kennedy for the epitome of classy and elegant, fashionable good taste. Joe had wanted to read her thoughts, but he'd taken what little he could get from the all-too-fickle press.
Ann had become a treasured, though fragile, memory. If he handled it hard enough, he'd begun to be afraid it would shatter, changing the shape of her forever in his mind. To keep the memory safe, Joe had visited less and less often.
He had stared at the invitation for a full three days before he'd responded to it. A private audience with Her Royal Highness, Princess Ann.
~*~*~*~
Joe pressed gentle kisses down the cavern of Ann's neck. He breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. He reveled in the clipped cadence of her voice. He immersed himself in the racing activity of her thoughts. He memorized every detail as though he needed to recall it for the next twenty years.
Most of all, he thoroughly enjoyed her presence. She was his, if only for one day.