[30 Rock] Jack Donaghy/Liz Lemon, Prompt #1. Uniform
Title: Man in Blue
Author: michellek
Prompt: 7snogs #1. Uniform
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,561
Spoilers: through 'Black Light Attack!'
Summary: Jack, Liz, and an attempt at roleplaying.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Jack was completely against CHiPs roleplay.
Liz had never suggested it because, well, Jack has a different body type than Danny... and even if he didn't, it would be weird to do the CHiPs thing with him, since she'd done it with his friend. Not *it* it. She never had sex with Danny. But, the point is, she wouldn't have considered asking Jack to act out that fantasy. Oh, also, Jack's lips are not as thin as Larry Wilcox's. And Jack isn't blond and doesn't like using wigs during sex. She knew this before she started going out with him because he once told her a story about some lady he used to date who wanted him to wear a curly, Art Garfunkel-esque wig while they were in bed together. (He broke up with her for this offense.)
"Who," he asked as he gestured at his hair, "would ask me to keep this hidden?"
"A lady who wants to do it with Art Garfunkel? That would be my guess."
Anyway. Jack declared early on that he was entirely against pretending to be a CHiPs character, but he said he was open to other types of law enforcement roleplay. Since he didn't have an appropriate costume at hand, they initially tried out Jack, in a suit, portraying a homicide detective, and Liz, in a tight black dress, pretending to be a murder suspect. But instead of going into a Basic Instinct-y, 'look at my vagina, once because I'm not wearing any panties, then a few more times because you think it's okay to bang me for some reason, but I'm not going to pretend to be into women, okay? So don't call some lady who's open to threesomes and ask her to come over' direction, they got bogged down by the details of the fake murder and nobody got turned on.
(Also: He pointed out that it's her vulva he looks at, not her vagina. But she calls everything down there her vagina, and he's going to have to accept it. Actually, she said, "I prefer vagina, Jack, just deal with it."
He raised his eyebrows, lips slightly turned upward. "Are you saying you *do* want me to call an open-minded woman to join us?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do. And I suppose it's best that you aren't interested in experimenting with a woman; I can't imagine how she'd instruct you on ways to pleasure her considering your refusal to acknowledge the proper terms for the female anatomy.")
Now, Jack is wearing a recently purchased dark blue police officer's uniform, while Liz, wearing a less tight black dress, sits in one of his living room chairs, pretending it's a car. One of his super expensive chairs, which probably cost more than the last car she owned.
She doesn't know why she thought about that.
"Okay," she says, "should I do the siren? Or do you want to do it?"
"You may do it."
And so Liz does a fake siren while she clutches a nonexistent steering wheel. A few moments after she stops the fake siren noise, Jack steps up to the side of her chair. Car. Her car. She should be in the moment. She looks up at Jack, appraising him. She thought it would look weird, him dressed up like this... Like it might inspire her to make jokes about cops loving donuts? But, despite the fact that the uniform makes his not exactly svelte frame pretty obvious, she doesn't want to make fun of him. Though it does look weird, actually. But also hot. She usually finds Jack hot, so she supposes that would translate into liking him dressed up as whatever he wants to dress up as. (Within reason.) What's weird, but not hot, is how blandly he says:
"Are you aware at what speed you were going?"
And he's looking at his little fake police notepad.
"Come on, Jack." She drops her hands down to her lap. "What the hell?"
His eyes meet hers. "What?"
"You're supposed to lean down. Be more... in my face." That reminds her of Poochie. But she doesn't think Jack would get the reference, so she doesn't mention it. "You can't seem bored right off the bat."
"May I remind you that the last time we attempted any sort of cop and criminal roleplay, you rather emphatically informed me I was being too intense?"
"You were being too intense. You gave the murder victim a name."
His laughter is sudden and uncontrollable. He eventually covers his mouth and manages to contain himself. "I'm sorry, Lemon," he says, still smiling, "but everyone knows that when you play homicide detective-murder suspect, the victim must have a name."
She half-smiles. "Whatever. Let's start this over."
He takes a few steps back. Liz does the siren thing again. He walks up to her, hand resting on the back of the chair as he leans closer.
"Do you have any idea what speed you were going?"
"I'm not sure, officer. Was I going fast?"
"You were. You were going very fast."
Even though she likes his proximity and the way he's looking at her mouth, Liz doesn't feel quite into it. "Does this seem too much like bad porn dialogue to you?"
He tilts his head. "How would you know?"
"I've written porn. I had to write porn. So I watched a couple. To know what to write. I mean, I figured it wasn't difficult. I know the basic things that happen in porn, even if I don't watch it all the time. But, anyway."
His voice gets a bit lower, in the way it does when he finds something... exciting. "You've watched porn?"
"You like the thought of me watching porn? Because I took notes." He looks way too pleased with this, so she amends her comment. "I'm not saying that as a sexy thing. I didn't take notes about sex. I took notes about how to lead into the sex. How to transition from people talking to people doing stuff to each other. And maybe about how to do it, but only from a writing standpoint. I assumed I should have, you know, variety."
"I suppose this explains why someone with such little sexual experience didn't seem surprised by being put into positions outside of missionary."
"I knew there was more than man-on-top before I saw porn. Just because I'm not a sexpert like you--"
"I don't mind you acknowledging my superior skills as a--"
"Don't say lover," she snaps.
"Then you aren't allowed to say sexpert."
"Fine, fine. We're getting way off-topic." She puts her hand on his chest. "Okay. Let's start over. Again."
He steps back. She does a fake siren.
He walks up to her. Leans closer. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
She bites her lip. "Oh boy, was I speeding?"
He stands up straight, huffs, "Dear God, Lemon."
"What?"
"As far as sex acting goes, nervous is not your most convincing emotion."
She didn't know they were calling this 'sex acting,' but she supposes that's what it is. "Why, what was wrong with it?"
"'Oh boy?' 'Oh boy?' The way you're gnawing your bottom lip as if you're attempting to eat it. Your overly wide eyes that--"
"Okay! Maybe we shouldn't do a traffic stop type thing. Maybe I should be in an accident, and then you pull me out of the car." He could lift her up and carry her to safety. Their bodies close together, she'd feel the surge of adrenaline that comes with being in danger and knowing someone saved your life course through her... "You... rescue me."
Yeah. That does it for her.
"Why would a police officer have sex with someone who might have sustained a concussion or suffer from internal injuries?"
Well. Logic isn't doing it for her.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I'm sure a lot of police officers aren't going to do someone they just pulled over, either."
"It's a much more plausible storyline."
She stands up. Does her crappy impression of Jack. "Dear God, Jack."
"What?"
"The roleplaying thing is not working for us. At least this type of roleplaying."
"What do you suggest? Doctor-nurse? Sarah Palin-Mitt Romney?"
"Ew. Is that a thing?"
"Not exactly. But I believe I'd be more plausible as Mitt than as Todd Palin or Vladimir Putin."
"That's a thing?"
"When Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States, where does he go?" He inhales. His voice gets lower again. "Alaska."
She waves her hand at him. "Shut up. Shut up."
Ugh, why is this going so wrong? Why aren't they just segueing from roleplaying stuff to making out to sex?
You know what... maybe she should just skip ahead.
She grabs his face and pulls him closer, standing on her tiptoes to close the distance further. As she parts his lips with her tongue, the stiff material of his uniform rubs against her through the thin fabric of her dress, and the sensation is pretty nice. Yeah. This does it for her, too.
"How about," she says after they break apart, "we keep fooling around and pretend the whole roleplaying thing leading up to it went okay?"
"That's a perfectly appropriate solution."
She kisses him again.
END
Author: michellek
Prompt: 7snogs #1. Uniform
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,561
Spoilers: through 'Black Light Attack!'
Summary: Jack, Liz, and an attempt at roleplaying.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Jack was completely against CHiPs roleplay.
Liz had never suggested it because, well, Jack has a different body type than Danny... and even if he didn't, it would be weird to do the CHiPs thing with him, since she'd done it with his friend. Not *it* it. She never had sex with Danny. But, the point is, she wouldn't have considered asking Jack to act out that fantasy. Oh, also, Jack's lips are not as thin as Larry Wilcox's. And Jack isn't blond and doesn't like using wigs during sex. She knew this before she started going out with him because he once told her a story about some lady he used to date who wanted him to wear a curly, Art Garfunkel-esque wig while they were in bed together. (He broke up with her for this offense.)
"Who," he asked as he gestured at his hair, "would ask me to keep this hidden?"
"A lady who wants to do it with Art Garfunkel? That would be my guess."
Anyway. Jack declared early on that he was entirely against pretending to be a CHiPs character, but he said he was open to other types of law enforcement roleplay. Since he didn't have an appropriate costume at hand, they initially tried out Jack, in a suit, portraying a homicide detective, and Liz, in a tight black dress, pretending to be a murder suspect. But instead of going into a Basic Instinct-y, 'look at my vagina, once because I'm not wearing any panties, then a few more times because you think it's okay to bang me for some reason, but I'm not going to pretend to be into women, okay? So don't call some lady who's open to threesomes and ask her to come over' direction, they got bogged down by the details of the fake murder and nobody got turned on.
(Also: He pointed out that it's her vulva he looks at, not her vagina. But she calls everything down there her vagina, and he's going to have to accept it. Actually, she said, "I prefer vagina, Jack, just deal with it."
He raised his eyebrows, lips slightly turned upward. "Are you saying you *do* want me to call an open-minded woman to join us?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do. And I suppose it's best that you aren't interested in experimenting with a woman; I can't imagine how she'd instruct you on ways to pleasure her considering your refusal to acknowledge the proper terms for the female anatomy.")
Now, Jack is wearing a recently purchased dark blue police officer's uniform, while Liz, wearing a less tight black dress, sits in one of his living room chairs, pretending it's a car. One of his super expensive chairs, which probably cost more than the last car she owned.
She doesn't know why she thought about that.
"Okay," she says, "should I do the siren? Or do you want to do it?"
"You may do it."
And so Liz does a fake siren while she clutches a nonexistent steering wheel. A few moments after she stops the fake siren noise, Jack steps up to the side of her chair. Car. Her car. She should be in the moment. She looks up at Jack, appraising him. She thought it would look weird, him dressed up like this... Like it might inspire her to make jokes about cops loving donuts? But, despite the fact that the uniform makes his not exactly svelte frame pretty obvious, she doesn't want to make fun of him. Though it does look weird, actually. But also hot. She usually finds Jack hot, so she supposes that would translate into liking him dressed up as whatever he wants to dress up as. (Within reason.) What's weird, but not hot, is how blandly he says:
"Are you aware at what speed you were going?"
And he's looking at his little fake police notepad.
"Come on, Jack." She drops her hands down to her lap. "What the hell?"
His eyes meet hers. "What?"
"You're supposed to lean down. Be more... in my face." That reminds her of Poochie. But she doesn't think Jack would get the reference, so she doesn't mention it. "You can't seem bored right off the bat."
"May I remind you that the last time we attempted any sort of cop and criminal roleplay, you rather emphatically informed me I was being too intense?"
"You were being too intense. You gave the murder victim a name."
His laughter is sudden and uncontrollable. He eventually covers his mouth and manages to contain himself. "I'm sorry, Lemon," he says, still smiling, "but everyone knows that when you play homicide detective-murder suspect, the victim must have a name."
She half-smiles. "Whatever. Let's start this over."
He takes a few steps back. Liz does the siren thing again. He walks up to her, hand resting on the back of the chair as he leans closer.
"Do you have any idea what speed you were going?"
"I'm not sure, officer. Was I going fast?"
"You were. You were going very fast."
Even though she likes his proximity and the way he's looking at her mouth, Liz doesn't feel quite into it. "Does this seem too much like bad porn dialogue to you?"
He tilts his head. "How would you know?"
"I've written porn. I had to write porn. So I watched a couple. To know what to write. I mean, I figured it wasn't difficult. I know the basic things that happen in porn, even if I don't watch it all the time. But, anyway."
His voice gets a bit lower, in the way it does when he finds something... exciting. "You've watched porn?"
"You like the thought of me watching porn? Because I took notes." He looks way too pleased with this, so she amends her comment. "I'm not saying that as a sexy thing. I didn't take notes about sex. I took notes about how to lead into the sex. How to transition from people talking to people doing stuff to each other. And maybe about how to do it, but only from a writing standpoint. I assumed I should have, you know, variety."
"I suppose this explains why someone with such little sexual experience didn't seem surprised by being put into positions outside of missionary."
"I knew there was more than man-on-top before I saw porn. Just because I'm not a sexpert like you--"
"I don't mind you acknowledging my superior skills as a--"
"Don't say lover," she snaps.
"Then you aren't allowed to say sexpert."
"Fine, fine. We're getting way off-topic." She puts her hand on his chest. "Okay. Let's start over. Again."
He steps back. She does a fake siren.
He walks up to her. Leans closer. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
She bites her lip. "Oh boy, was I speeding?"
He stands up straight, huffs, "Dear God, Lemon."
"What?"
"As far as sex acting goes, nervous is not your most convincing emotion."
She didn't know they were calling this 'sex acting,' but she supposes that's what it is. "Why, what was wrong with it?"
"'Oh boy?' 'Oh boy?' The way you're gnawing your bottom lip as if you're attempting to eat it. Your overly wide eyes that--"
"Okay! Maybe we shouldn't do a traffic stop type thing. Maybe I should be in an accident, and then you pull me out of the car." He could lift her up and carry her to safety. Their bodies close together, she'd feel the surge of adrenaline that comes with being in danger and knowing someone saved your life course through her... "You... rescue me."
Yeah. That does it for her.
"Why would a police officer have sex with someone who might have sustained a concussion or suffer from internal injuries?"
Well. Logic isn't doing it for her.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I'm sure a lot of police officers aren't going to do someone they just pulled over, either."
"It's a much more plausible storyline."
She stands up. Does her crappy impression of Jack. "Dear God, Jack."
"What?"
"The roleplaying thing is not working for us. At least this type of roleplaying."
"What do you suggest? Doctor-nurse? Sarah Palin-Mitt Romney?"
"Ew. Is that a thing?"
"Not exactly. But I believe I'd be more plausible as Mitt than as Todd Palin or Vladimir Putin."
"That's a thing?"
"When Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States, where does he go?" He inhales. His voice gets lower again. "Alaska."
She waves her hand at him. "Shut up. Shut up."
Ugh, why is this going so wrong? Why aren't they just segueing from roleplaying stuff to making out to sex?
You know what... maybe she should just skip ahead.
She grabs his face and pulls him closer, standing on her tiptoes to close the distance further. As she parts his lips with her tongue, the stiff material of his uniform rubs against her through the thin fabric of her dress, and the sensation is pretty nice. Yeah. This does it for her, too.
"How about," she says after they break apart, "we keep fooling around and pretend the whole roleplaying thing leading up to it went okay?"
"That's a perfectly appropriate solution."
She kisses him again.
END