8 - upwards to infinity
Welcome to our eighth prompt post.
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
“They liked my moves better,” Petra counters, running still-slippery fingers over the back of Georgie's neck in a way that makes her wriggle and moan, but she manages to get back on topic: “Yeah, but they said there was not enough actual dancing, too much implied drama. Big surprise there. And don't try and argue this on technicalities.”
“Craig liked me better,” Petra says. “And so did Bruno.”
“I'm not even going to comment on that one until I'm sure it isn't a trap. I'm not even going to say it was a competition for dancing, not the ability to impress Italian metrosexuals with your ability to work a backless dress. Or point out the way you looked daggers at poor old harmless Bruce when he tried to look down my top. Give in gracefully, would you?” She slides round, trapping Petra underneath her.
“Fine. Whatever your depraved little mind wants. Within reason. Should I just drop the dressing gown now, and give up on clothes for the day?
“Maybe later.”
“You're saving up your wish?”
“No. This is the wish. I want us to get dressed up again, soon as we've figured something that'll cover the marks we left on each other after we got back from the after-party. Before we crashed. And then I want us to get our coats and go have dinner together somewhere with a dance floor. Not the clubbing type. And I want you to come and dance with me. We can take turns leading, depending on what's playing. And then I want to come back here and have more sex. And then when we've recovered, I want to have a sensible discussion about how we're going to manage my moving in.”
“I'm fairly sure that's more than one wish, but I'm prepared to be flexible.”
“And then we find a way to take down Barrowman.”
“Bloody show-off,” Petra agrees. “Still, he does look good in a suit.”
“Now who's back on the boys? The one you were worried about isn't into girls, by the way. Just thought I'd put your mind at rest there. Not that I would have, you understand. And I wasn't even window shopping, which seems to be more than you could say this time.”
“I'm allowed to notice, even if I'm not much moved. Just now, though, beautiful...” Petra glides up off the bed, and in one smooth move takes Georgie's arm, spinning her round before wrapping herself under it.
“Yes?”
“Come dancing.”
“And feeding,” Georgie reminds her, briefly pulling out of a kiss.
“I know just the place.”
**
“Are we there yet?”
“Soon, I promise.”
“Petra?”
“Yes, dear?”
“If this cab is going the direction I think it's going, I think I might have to kill you.”
“Then why are you looking so pleased?” Petra says.
“And why are you? I'm not the one that's in trouble. This time,” Georgie adds, raising her eyebrows at Petra, who's closing in tightly.
“Because,” Petra says, slipping herself inside Georgie's arms, “I don't know what kind of trouble yet, or how deep. But as long as you're still coming home with me after, I know I'll find out. Which still leaves me all night to anticipate.” She snuggles in, her head between Georgie's chin and shoulder.
“And how does that make you feel?” Georgie says, mock-sternly.
“If you move your hand just a little higher on my back,” Petra says, “you can feel for yourself. There, just under the shoulder-blade.” Georgie moves her hand up under Petra's coat, and finds the familiar heartbeat, but well above the usual slow pulse. “Don't worry,” she croons, a little darkly, aroused in spite of herself by Petra's nerves; “I'll be gentle.” Petra pulls a face. “Mostly.” They grin. The driver gives a theatrically loud cough. “We're there now, ladies. Your boat's just ahead.”
“Our yacht-based ballroom restaurant,” Petra amends, leaving an oversized tip. She reaches out a hand to pull Georgie to her: “Happy Christmas, darling. Let's get on board.”
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Winnie the show-off! Two young giggly blokes, perhaps?
Then there's Georgie's arse, basically, without which no fic is complete. And her general cherubic thing, with which I agree heartily. And a use of stamps that would have us all down the library tomorrow. Or maybe that's just me. Hmm. Georgie gets a dragon tattoo? Small, tasteful wee thing. Why am I imagining it being animated?
And Craig! Be still my beating heart! BARROWMAN! *shakes fist*
I liked it. &hearts
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<3
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Thankyou! This is sweet and sexy and very them. And the wrist bit, and the stamps, and the dresses... I swear there's something about Petra/Georgie that is just fixed and true. (In other words, not precisely what I had in mind but I loved it, and at some points you may have read my mind :D)
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