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Day 1 - The Thick Of It - Stress - Malcolm Tucker/OFC
Title: Stress
Fandom: The Thick of It
Characters: Malcolm Tucker/Grey White (OFC)
Rating: R
“It’s okay,” she says quietly, sitting up and kissing his cheek. “I know how stressed you are. Don’t worry about it.”
He hates how understanding she is, because really he’d prefer it if she screamed at him or mocked him for not being able to get it up, because that, at least, would be in keeping with their relationship. It’s only when she’s like this, nice, caring that he knows things have really gone to shit. So he doesn’t speak, doesn’t reply, just looks at her, waits for her to carry on.
“I mean I would say you could use your fingers, or your tongue but…” she trails off, kisses him again, on the lips this time, long and lingering, full of promise enough to get him hard under other circumstances, but not right now, obviously.
She’s smiling that smile that makes his stomach flip and a little voice in his head ask what the fuck she’s doing with him and he knows she’s about to say something good, about to make one of those suggestions that reminds him why he loves her.
“When we were working together, when I was totally fucking in lust with you, when I wasn’t fantasising about you fucking me over your desk, I used to imagine you watching me wank. I used to close my eyes and picture you, kneeling between my legs, looking all disdainful, being all you. And I’d come so fucking hard with your abuse in my head.”
Slowly she lowers herself back down onto the bed. her leg hooking around his waist, encouraging him closer with a slight tug. her hand moving down her body, between her legs as she starts to touch herself and she’s already wet, already swollen. Of course she is, she’s in bed with Malcolm, that always does it for her.
“Sometimes I imagine you beside me,” she continues as she rubs her clit, her eyes on him, always on him. “Hissing filth in my ear about what a fucking slut I am.” It’s one of those things she should hate, that term, but from Malcolm, knowing him as she does it just works. He doesn’t think that after all, but fuck there’s just something about his verbal abuse that does something to her. “And sometimes I imagine you wanking over me, literally.”
While she’s been talking he’s moved into position, the first one she mentioned at least, because it’s a nice view - Grey with her hand between her legs, and while her voice is a little too calm her expression gives it all away, the way her nose and lips twitch, the way her chest heaves.
“I remember what you said that first night.” he says, “about giving me a real show, about fingering yourself over Skype for me. I do like the idea of having it person though.” He shifts just a little, getting into a more comfortable position. “Go on, darling. Give me a real show.”
Fandom: The Thick of It
Characters: Malcolm Tucker/Grey White (OFC)
Rating: R
“It’s okay,” she says quietly, sitting up and kissing his cheek. “I know how stressed you are. Don’t worry about it.”
He hates how understanding she is, because really he’d prefer it if she screamed at him or mocked him for not being able to get it up, because that, at least, would be in keeping with their relationship. It’s only when she’s like this, nice, caring that he knows things have really gone to shit. So he doesn’t speak, doesn’t reply, just looks at her, waits for her to carry on.
“I mean I would say you could use your fingers, or your tongue but…” she trails off, kisses him again, on the lips this time, long and lingering, full of promise enough to get him hard under other circumstances, but not right now, obviously.
She’s smiling that smile that makes his stomach flip and a little voice in his head ask what the fuck she’s doing with him and he knows she’s about to say something good, about to make one of those suggestions that reminds him why he loves her.
“When we were working together, when I was totally fucking in lust with you, when I wasn’t fantasising about you fucking me over your desk, I used to imagine you watching me wank. I used to close my eyes and picture you, kneeling between my legs, looking all disdainful, being all you. And I’d come so fucking hard with your abuse in my head.”
Slowly she lowers herself back down onto the bed. her leg hooking around his waist, encouraging him closer with a slight tug. her hand moving down her body, between her legs as she starts to touch herself and she’s already wet, already swollen. Of course she is, she’s in bed with Malcolm, that always does it for her.
“Sometimes I imagine you beside me,” she continues as she rubs her clit, her eyes on him, always on him. “Hissing filth in my ear about what a fucking slut I am.” It’s one of those things she should hate, that term, but from Malcolm, knowing him as she does it just works. He doesn’t think that after all, but fuck there’s just something about his verbal abuse that does something to her. “And sometimes I imagine you wanking over me, literally.”
While she’s been talking he’s moved into position, the first one she mentioned at least, because it’s a nice view - Grey with her hand between her legs, and while her voice is a little too calm her expression gives it all away, the way her nose and lips twitch, the way her chest heaves.
“I remember what you said that first night.” he says, “about giving me a real show, about fingering yourself over Skype for me. I do like the idea of having it person though.” He shifts just a little, getting into a more comfortable position. “Go on, darling. Give me a real show.”