Pushing Daisies' Drought Isn't So Bad...
Holy Crapola. My first fic, ever. For pd_playtime's second challenge. I really hope this meets the standards of decent smutty fic. It's not been betaed, but I did my best to proofread. I wanna copy edit, for Christ's sake.
Title: Le Lezioni (The Lessons)
Pairing: Ned/Chuck
Rating: Hard R.
Warnings: Not much, but I do like the word "cunt." Oh, and a bit of breath play.
Chuck wishes Ned could tip back her head as he slides into her from behind, and just as he curves one hand around her hip, his other braces against her straining neck. Maybe he’d indulge her and squeeze just a bit, thumb the hollow just enough to make her breath catch. She knows this titillation from asphyxiation is called breath play; her aunts hid a book on kinks in the milk cellar and she’d found it--along with the entire collection--in an ice cream churner. It was there that she also learned the definition of “titillation.”
In Chuck’s imagination, Ned would fuck her in the pie shop, against the rotten fruit pantry door--she has scoped the place out and it’s the only spot that can’t be seen from the dining room. Chuck knows that if she’s considering caution and propriety, then her Lord of the Pies certainly would be. Even in her fantasies, Ned takes precautions to keep their sex intimate. It is one of the few options left to show his love; it’s in the hesitant, prophylactic groping; the shy innuendoes; the flittering eye contact. These specific gestures fade with Chuck’s sex dreams, but Ned’s goodhearted intentions still define every movement between them.
So though she imagines his hand on her neck, thumb circling from the hollow of her collarbone to the hollow below her ear (Ned gently continuing the pressure), she also supplies the Nedness of the details around them. He’s planned for this encounter, also: the blinds are lowered and slated downward, the front door is locked, and it’s an hour before Olive is expected at the back door. As Ned leans and rocks into her, he mutters something that sounds like “sea.”
“What about the sea?” Chuck imagines herself asking.
“No, yes. I mean--si. As in yes. The kind that’s foreign for yes.” And at each word following, Ned pushes himself against her, chest to back, thigh to thigh, cock to cunt. He’s grunting--si, si, si--into the whorl of her ear, and drawing the word out into a hiss as he sucks her earlobe.
And it should be then that she’ll realize that he’s been reading the Obscure Holidays Calendar. World Hello Day, National Pie Day (January twenty-third), World-Wide Language Day. Perhaps he’s secretly learned a language for her, and though Japanese is her favorite, she can’t help but believe that Italian will sound sexier in the bedroom. And in the kitchen. Of course in reality, if she could get Ned to say half the things she needs to hear, English would be satisfactory enough. And in an alternate reality, she should not be realizing any of these things because Ned would be sexing her not-dead-again body against the pantry door.
But instead of groping and whispering in the early hours before The Pie Hole opens, Chuck is forced to keep arms length from Ned while he’s making breakfast for them, and announce her presence before stepping into any room (though she usually peeks beforehand if he’s washing up or bedding down). Chuck’s musings are surprisingly less sensational than her reality. Which means the lack of touch should be compensated with notes or dirty talk or teasing sights, but the problem remains undressed (You mean unaddressed, Chuck mentally corrects). She understands that to do these things would gamble with her life; either of them might get carried away and sweep a hand across a face or an arm. But Chuck is tired of living like a nun. She experienced that life once, and aside from the frisky ice cream churner, much prefers her cohabitation with the adorable Piemaker. But the girl named Chuck has to find a creative way to solve their “us with unusual circumstances” problem, and relieve the mounting tension.
So Chuck begins to leave foreign language dictionaries around the house, boldly highlighting the naughty words. She asks Ned to memorize certain phrases--to keep her memory fresh, of course. Doing this with him is one of the only methods she has to love him. She doesn’t know how else to go about loving him, or when a better time will arise. So she picks a country (Italy), picks a time (the Present), and picks a way (language tapes and the accompanying materials). Because Chuck knows Ned loves her, and has his own ways of showing it. Like the non-twitching eye when he had said “no” to her question about her reward money. No (and no twitch) had meant she was the Wanted. So to normalize the situation, Chuck schemes on telling Ned what she wishes--and just how she imagines it--in Italian until he begins to define the words himself. She hopes it doesn’t take him too long to decode ti bacio ovunque. They’ll be needing a drawer of plastic wrap for that.
Comments and criticisms are loverly.
Title: Le Lezioni (The Lessons)
Pairing: Ned/Chuck
Rating: Hard R.
Warnings: Not much, but I do like the word "cunt." Oh, and a bit of breath play.
Chuck wishes Ned could tip back her head as he slides into her from behind, and just as he curves one hand around her hip, his other braces against her straining neck. Maybe he’d indulge her and squeeze just a bit, thumb the hollow just enough to make her breath catch. She knows this titillation from asphyxiation is called breath play; her aunts hid a book on kinks in the milk cellar and she’d found it--along with the entire collection--in an ice cream churner. It was there that she also learned the definition of “titillation.”
In Chuck’s imagination, Ned would fuck her in the pie shop, against the rotten fruit pantry door--she has scoped the place out and it’s the only spot that can’t be seen from the dining room. Chuck knows that if she’s considering caution and propriety, then her Lord of the Pies certainly would be. Even in her fantasies, Ned takes precautions to keep their sex intimate. It is one of the few options left to show his love; it’s in the hesitant, prophylactic groping; the shy innuendoes; the flittering eye contact. These specific gestures fade with Chuck’s sex dreams, but Ned’s goodhearted intentions still define every movement between them.
So though she imagines his hand on her neck, thumb circling from the hollow of her collarbone to the hollow below her ear (Ned gently continuing the pressure), she also supplies the Nedness of the details around them. He’s planned for this encounter, also: the blinds are lowered and slated downward, the front door is locked, and it’s an hour before Olive is expected at the back door. As Ned leans and rocks into her, he mutters something that sounds like “sea.”
“What about the sea?” Chuck imagines herself asking.
“No, yes. I mean--si. As in yes. The kind that’s foreign for yes.” And at each word following, Ned pushes himself against her, chest to back, thigh to thigh, cock to cunt. He’s grunting--si, si, si--into the whorl of her ear, and drawing the word out into a hiss as he sucks her earlobe.
And it should be then that she’ll realize that he’s been reading the Obscure Holidays Calendar. World Hello Day, National Pie Day (January twenty-third), World-Wide Language Day. Perhaps he’s secretly learned a language for her, and though Japanese is her favorite, she can’t help but believe that Italian will sound sexier in the bedroom. And in the kitchen. Of course in reality, if she could get Ned to say half the things she needs to hear, English would be satisfactory enough. And in an alternate reality, she should not be realizing any of these things because Ned would be sexing her not-dead-again body against the pantry door.
But instead of groping and whispering in the early hours before The Pie Hole opens, Chuck is forced to keep arms length from Ned while he’s making breakfast for them, and announce her presence before stepping into any room (though she usually peeks beforehand if he’s washing up or bedding down). Chuck’s musings are surprisingly less sensational than her reality. Which means the lack of touch should be compensated with notes or dirty talk or teasing sights, but the problem remains undressed (You mean unaddressed, Chuck mentally corrects). She understands that to do these things would gamble with her life; either of them might get carried away and sweep a hand across a face or an arm. But Chuck is tired of living like a nun. She experienced that life once, and aside from the frisky ice cream churner, much prefers her cohabitation with the adorable Piemaker. But the girl named Chuck has to find a creative way to solve their “us with unusual circumstances” problem, and relieve the mounting tension.
So Chuck begins to leave foreign language dictionaries around the house, boldly highlighting the naughty words. She asks Ned to memorize certain phrases--to keep her memory fresh, of course. Doing this with him is one of the only methods she has to love him. She doesn’t know how else to go about loving him, or when a better time will arise. So she picks a country (Italy), picks a time (the Present), and picks a way (language tapes and the accompanying materials). Because Chuck knows Ned loves her, and has his own ways of showing it. Like the non-twitching eye when he had said “no” to her question about her reward money. No (and no twitch) had meant she was the Wanted. So to normalize the situation, Chuck schemes on telling Ned what she wishes--and just how she imagines it--in Italian until he begins to define the words himself. She hopes it doesn’t take him too long to decode ti bacio ovunque. They’ll be needing a drawer of plastic wrap for that.
Comments and criticisms are loverly.