Gilmore Girls fic: Go on little girl, feet twirl, go and make him smile
Go on little girl, feet twirl, go and make him smile [Gilmore Girls, Dean/Rory, NC-17, 1,103 words, future fic, no spoilers beyond season 1, written for the Porn Battle V, prompt word dildo. Title from Ryan Adams - You will always be the same.]
Go on little girl, feet twirl, go and make him smile
Trips to the door, light-footed and eager, skirt fluttering against her legs. Open wide, and she pulls him into a kiss while he's still on the stoop, pulls him down and deep.
He drops his hard-hat and tools right there, careless and easy like nothing else matters as much as the girl in his arms. Swings her up into another kiss, makes her giddy.
He always makes her giddy.
"What was that for?" he asks, once they've two-stepped their way backwards into the house, slammed the door shut with a foot.
"Just glad you're home," she tells him, and she lets promise slide into the words, edge enough of something different that Dean'll hear. Doesn't move, not yet, she's waiting. She's been waiting all afternoon, distracting herself with this and that. Read a book even, up to page 97 - she has it marked, knows she got that far - but she can't remember the title. Too aware, no matter what else she tried to push into her mind, eye on the clock half the day.
He catches her tone, flips her hair back over her shoulder and holds her steady. Curiosity bright, and she grins up at him. And then.
"I'm happy to see you," she says, and shows him how. Legs up round his waist and she grinds into him and surprises an oh out of him.
"Very happy," he says, and there's a catch in his voice like the very first time they kissed and she said thank you. One hand's holding her up, the other sliding between them, cupping the bulge she's hidden under her old school skirt. "Rory?" he says, as though he can't think what question to ask.
"It came in the mail this morning," she says, and guides his hand around her belly, over the new curve there.
"Impressive," Dean says, and for a second she's not sure, can't read him, and she's ten years younger and full of doubt, wondering if she's ridiculous.
"We don't have to," she says. "Not if you don't want to-"
And he comes to her rescue, like he always does, always has, and he's so full of yes and want she's dizzy all over again. Her hand in his, guiding her, and she feels him, hard length under his work jeans, and he's promising her.
Head on his shoulders, and she lets him carry her to their bedroom. Her skirt's all bunched up when he puts her down, and she feels the dirtiest she's ever felt. Dirty little girl on a tryst, and she's going to fuck this man until he begs.
"Strip," she demands, barely a shake in her voice, and he does without a question, eyes on hers as he tosses everything on the floor. Never has understood how gorgeous he is, how incredibly beautiful, and she gulps, speechless a moment as she watches.
"Where do you want me?" he asks, and she points to the corner of the bed, still not sure of her voice.
She's not wearing panties, and she's so wet, straps pressing a constant reminder. Nearly fucked herself with her fingers earlier just thinking of this, but bit her lip and glared at the clock and willed it forward faster.
Bites her lip again now, can taste coppery blood on her tongue, because she'd imagined it, thought she had, but sometimes imagination's nothing more than a hint. He's watching her, over his shoulder, long lean lines sprawled naked and waiting for her, and she's in love with every inch of him.
Moves forward on legs suddenly shaky, and kneels. Mouth to the crease of Dean's ass, and she tastes the hard work of the day on him, wood dust and sweat, and she spreads his cheeks open, tongue dipping further, and she's overwhelmed. Hadn't planned this, just meant to ease her fingers in, but she presses her tongue inside him and feels the gasps run through him and she's drunk on this, reeling with it.
Tongues him until he's begging for more, reaching round and trying to pull her in, but she's been waiting, she's been patient, and she's not going to let him rush this now. Lifts up her skirt and gives him a glimpse, pink veined dildo and frosted pink strapping. Nudges it against him, and he pushes back, eager.
She moves back. Thumbs the mole on the flesh of his ass, tastes it, takes it between her teeth and teases the little brown mound.
"Rory," he groans, and he's rubbing against the bedcovers, and she knows he'd let her just push in, right now, even if it hurt.
Stands, and she drops her skirt, loses every last trace of the little girl, and slicks up the dildo, slides the same slicked up fingers inside him, one at a time, and she's practically rutting his leg. And finally she sinks into him, so slow and careful, until her thighs meet his.
Reflections in the mirror, his and hers, and if she tilts her head she can see his face, see herself sliding into him, hands on the small of his back, using his power to reinforce hers. She sees the moment it starts to feel good for him, sees his face soften and then she pounds in, as hard as she can, hears the creaking of the bed and the thump of her heart and every hard-fought gasp of air Dean drags in.
He's kneeling up now, and when she reaches round he's hard and leaking, cock bobbing up against his stomach. This is familiar, the heft of it in her hand, and she takes hold of him, strokes and twists like she knows he likes, and he's breaking up under her, she feels the shake in his legs, and the sticky spurt of come on her hand.
Too easy just to collapse then, both of them, wriggling around to meet in the middle of the bed, and Dean's all slant-eyed and sleepy and dimpled smile, but he's a perfect gentleman, so he's one hand between her legs, mouth finding her nipples through white cotton, until she's so close she's gasping. Flick of the dildo against her belly, deliberate, Dean grinning up at her, and she's flooding his fingers with her orgasm, sighing with the relief.
He laughs, soft and happy, and holds her tight, still in her white blouse and pink strap-on, and he's kissing her, slow and soft until she comes down.
Hand in hand now, under the comforter Dean's pulled over them, curled up together, and she'll always be the same girl who fell in love with this gorgeous boy.
//
And now for a rec. Gorgeous, hot Dean/Rory future fic: and with our red umbrellas by fated_addiction [gilmore girls, rory/dean, general spoilers, future fic, 2265 words, nc17]
Go on little girl, feet twirl, go and make him smile
Trips to the door, light-footed and eager, skirt fluttering against her legs. Open wide, and she pulls him into a kiss while he's still on the stoop, pulls him down and deep.
He drops his hard-hat and tools right there, careless and easy like nothing else matters as much as the girl in his arms. Swings her up into another kiss, makes her giddy.
He always makes her giddy.
"What was that for?" he asks, once they've two-stepped their way backwards into the house, slammed the door shut with a foot.
"Just glad you're home," she tells him, and she lets promise slide into the words, edge enough of something different that Dean'll hear. Doesn't move, not yet, she's waiting. She's been waiting all afternoon, distracting herself with this and that. Read a book even, up to page 97 - she has it marked, knows she got that far - but she can't remember the title. Too aware, no matter what else she tried to push into her mind, eye on the clock half the day.
He catches her tone, flips her hair back over her shoulder and holds her steady. Curiosity bright, and she grins up at him. And then.
"I'm happy to see you," she says, and shows him how. Legs up round his waist and she grinds into him and surprises an oh out of him.
"Very happy," he says, and there's a catch in his voice like the very first time they kissed and she said thank you. One hand's holding her up, the other sliding between them, cupping the bulge she's hidden under her old school skirt. "Rory?" he says, as though he can't think what question to ask.
"It came in the mail this morning," she says, and guides his hand around her belly, over the new curve there.
"Impressive," Dean says, and for a second she's not sure, can't read him, and she's ten years younger and full of doubt, wondering if she's ridiculous.
"We don't have to," she says. "Not if you don't want to-"
And he comes to her rescue, like he always does, always has, and he's so full of yes and want she's dizzy all over again. Her hand in his, guiding her, and she feels him, hard length under his work jeans, and he's promising her.
Head on his shoulders, and she lets him carry her to their bedroom. Her skirt's all bunched up when he puts her down, and she feels the dirtiest she's ever felt. Dirty little girl on a tryst, and she's going to fuck this man until he begs.
"Strip," she demands, barely a shake in her voice, and he does without a question, eyes on hers as he tosses everything on the floor. Never has understood how gorgeous he is, how incredibly beautiful, and she gulps, speechless a moment as she watches.
"Where do you want me?" he asks, and she points to the corner of the bed, still not sure of her voice.
She's not wearing panties, and she's so wet, straps pressing a constant reminder. Nearly fucked herself with her fingers earlier just thinking of this, but bit her lip and glared at the clock and willed it forward faster.
Bites her lip again now, can taste coppery blood on her tongue, because she'd imagined it, thought she had, but sometimes imagination's nothing more than a hint. He's watching her, over his shoulder, long lean lines sprawled naked and waiting for her, and she's in love with every inch of him.
Moves forward on legs suddenly shaky, and kneels. Mouth to the crease of Dean's ass, and she tastes the hard work of the day on him, wood dust and sweat, and she spreads his cheeks open, tongue dipping further, and she's overwhelmed. Hadn't planned this, just meant to ease her fingers in, but she presses her tongue inside him and feels the gasps run through him and she's drunk on this, reeling with it.
Tongues him until he's begging for more, reaching round and trying to pull her in, but she's been waiting, she's been patient, and she's not going to let him rush this now. Lifts up her skirt and gives him a glimpse, pink veined dildo and frosted pink strapping. Nudges it against him, and he pushes back, eager.
She moves back. Thumbs the mole on the flesh of his ass, tastes it, takes it between her teeth and teases the little brown mound.
"Rory," he groans, and he's rubbing against the bedcovers, and she knows he'd let her just push in, right now, even if it hurt.
Stands, and she drops her skirt, loses every last trace of the little girl, and slicks up the dildo, slides the same slicked up fingers inside him, one at a time, and she's practically rutting his leg. And finally she sinks into him, so slow and careful, until her thighs meet his.
Reflections in the mirror, his and hers, and if she tilts her head she can see his face, see herself sliding into him, hands on the small of his back, using his power to reinforce hers. She sees the moment it starts to feel good for him, sees his face soften and then she pounds in, as hard as she can, hears the creaking of the bed and the thump of her heart and every hard-fought gasp of air Dean drags in.
He's kneeling up now, and when she reaches round he's hard and leaking, cock bobbing up against his stomach. This is familiar, the heft of it in her hand, and she takes hold of him, strokes and twists like she knows he likes, and he's breaking up under her, she feels the shake in his legs, and the sticky spurt of come on her hand.
Too easy just to collapse then, both of them, wriggling around to meet in the middle of the bed, and Dean's all slant-eyed and sleepy and dimpled smile, but he's a perfect gentleman, so he's one hand between her legs, mouth finding her nipples through white cotton, until she's so close she's gasping. Flick of the dildo against her belly, deliberate, Dean grinning up at her, and she's flooding his fingers with her orgasm, sighing with the relief.
He laughs, soft and happy, and holds her tight, still in her white blouse and pink strap-on, and he's kissing her, slow and soft until she comes down.
Hand in hand now, under the comforter Dean's pulled over them, curled up together, and she'll always be the same girl who fell in love with this gorgeous boy.
//
And now for a rec. Gorgeous, hot Dean/Rory future fic: and with our red umbrellas by fated_addiction [gilmore girls, rory/dean, general spoilers, future fic, 2265 words, nc17]