Fic: A Year (Firsts): Extreme Ways (Kristin Chenoweth/Idina Menzel RPF)
Title: Extreme Ways
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Kristin Chenoweth/Idina Menzel
Spoilers: none
Summary: Yoga.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Nothing has ever or could ever be this beautiful, Kristin thinks, trying to focus on painting her toenails pink as she watches Idina do stretches in the middle of her dressing room. She's head-over-heels with the movements Idina makes, elegant and fluid and nothing like those of the horrible dancer genetics so kindly bestowed upon her.
Looking at her instills in Kristin a complete sense of calm and serenity. She feels at one with herself. She takes deep breaths, counting the in and out of Idina's chest to give her cues.
Idina arches and bows, twisting and rolling into shapes that Kristin knows she could never even try to replicate. She's flawless. The material of her sports bra gathers sweat at the centre of her chest and droplets slither down her stomach, catching the light as her abdominals clench. Her black lycra shorts ride low on her hips, hugging her thighs, the incline of her tailbone. Kristin swallows.
They'd decided to stay in after the matinée and Idina had been too tense and too tired to make her way home. So she'd let Kristin know she'd wait it out until the evening show, do yoga, take a nap, share a pizza if Kristin was up to it.
They were only at the first step of the plan and already Kristin was unravelling.
"D-dee?"
She gets no response; only a deep sigh of contentment as Idina flexes her neck and goes into a back bend. At this angle, she can see the slender curve of Idina's spine, the slope of her neck, her deltoids and her biceps, the faint outlines of her ribs. She follows down to the glistening skin around her navel, framed by the sharp contours of her pelvis.
"Dee?" she tries, her voice wavering. Had she run a marathon? She can't feel her legs. She's so indescribably warm, burning, suffocated. She abandons the nailpolish and slides off the couch, crawling across the carpet to Idina's yoga mat. "Dee? Idina?"
Idina moans, lowering her hips to the ground and sitting up, alert. "You okay? Are you bored? Do you want to-"
"No, no," Kristin shakes her head furiously, aching to reach out and touch the crease at the side of Idina's mouth, to touch any part of her. She wants it to be gentle, she wants to shower Idina with the softest part of her she can find within herself. Brown baby curls play along the nape of her neck. There are so many details in front of her that Kristin doesn't know where to look, what to admire first. "You are so beautiful," she whispers, pressing the nail of her thumb into the rubber of the navy mat, relenting and staring until the indent fades away.
"Kris?"
"I never tell you," she slides her hand to the one Idina has resting by her hip. "You're so beautiful to me," her voice cracks, her shoulders trembling under her slight frame as she reins in a sob.
Hands come up to cup her elbows and bring her forward. Kristin chances a glance into Idina's eyes. They're bottomless and open and so very kind. Traces of green remain on the side of Idina's jaw, at the strong angle where bone meets neck, on her temple at the edge of her damp hairline, across her clavicle.
Norbert bursts through the door after his knock and before Idina's reply. He starts to speak and laughs nervously, instantly aware that he's interrupted something extremely important.
"Hi...Kristin..." he gives them a crooked smile and Kristin turns shyly, waving.
"Hi Norbie."
The nickname melts some tension away and makes him laugh but it's forced and foreign to his own ears. "Joe um...he wants to see you guys..." He's still fixated on the intimacy of the situation he's carelessly stumbled into. Never before has he felt so intrusive.
Idina clears her throat. "Oh. Okay. Now?"
Norbert flushes with empathy at the reluctance resonnating through Idina's words and he's overwhelmed by the sense of devotion he feels. "I'll tell him you're busy."
"You don't have-"
"It's okay. He's swallowed bigger bull before," he grins, "I'll just say you're sleeping."
Kristin nuzzles the side of Idina's neck and giggles.
"You want me to uh...should I lock the door?"
The silence he receives is enough confirmation for him and he nods, smiling softly as he leaves, his shoes squeaking against the floor.
When Kristin doesn't move, Idina tilts her head, her nose brushing against a flushed cheek. Her pulse is flickering and persistent against her carotid. "Kris?"
Kristin curls in, her fingertips sliding over freckles that decorate the ivory surface of the chest in front of her, brushing away tiny beads of sweat. "Yeah?"
Now is not really the time for talk, Idina knows that. But no matter how comfortable she feels, how willing, part of her is terrified with Kristin so out of reach and yet so close. She runs her hand over Kristin's back, comforting her, the other stroking silky hair. The minutes tick by and Kristin has no intention of being the lead.
Idina sighs carefully. She presses her mouth to the crown of Kristin's head, holding it there until she feels the breezy breath against her skin quicken.
"I want to do yoga," Kristin mumbles, leaning back as her lips sweep Idina's jaw.
"Now?"
"Yes please."
Idina purses her lips, frowning cutely at Kristin who's expectant and unsure and achingly sincere.
"Okay. Um...here, stand up," she places Kristin's feet slightly apart so that they're in line with her hips before getting up herself. She steps to Kristin's back, straightening it, releasing the stiffness in her shoulders, lowering them. Her hand tickles Kristin's neck, coming around to tilt Kristin's chin lightly, caressing her throat, vibrations flowing through her whole arm when Kristin moans. "Close your eyes."
Kristin shivers at the way the tiny hairs at her neck perk up in the wake of warm breath.
"It's okay. Arms by your side, relax," she coaches her, ever patient. Their hands touch as Idina makes sure her fingers are loose enough. She massages her wrists. "Breathe. Don't think about anything."
Except Kristin's thinking. Her head feels like it might explode. All she can focus on is the body pressed to her, breathing in time with her, rising and falling in perfect time with her.
"Don't think," Idina reminds, stepping back a little, leaving her lonely and cold. "Back straight," an index finger slips over her spine and Idina's palm comes across her abdomen to her diaphragm. "From here, inhale from here, like when you sing." She touches with so much awareness and Kristin doesn't want the touching to stop, not ever. No one's touched her like this for so long, like she's the strongest person in the world and also like she might break into a million tiny pieces.
She takes a ragged breath, Idina's hand firm and invading on her, through her shirt, through her skin, through all of her, under her breasts, under her heart.
"You feel that?"
She can't speak. Is she supposed to speak? Is Idina waiting for her to say something? She blinks her eyes open, confused, clouded vision. "What?"
Idina smiles. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Everything. Everything," Kristin squeezes her eyes shut and pushes through the pain in her chest, scrambling for some sort of rhythm within it all.
"I'm right here." That's the problem. "It's okay. Just feel. Listen."
"I c-can't."
"Yes you can," Idina soothes in her ear and kisses her temple, "listen to your breath. Just time it with your heart beat, strong and steady." The only part of them touching is Idina's mouth to her earlobe and Kristin fights with herself, denying the need to lean back just a little. She tries to find the sound of her heart but all she hears is Idina's quiet voice. "Calm down. Centre yourself on your heart, count its pulse."
"Pounding," Kristin corrects her.
"Okay, pounding," Idina chuckles. "It gets easier, I swear."
"It's hard."
"You're tensing," Idina smooths down her shoulders again, over her sides and to her waist. She leans in, "Are you nervous?"
"Y-yes."
"Breathe."
"I am," Kristin inhales sharply, feeling Idina do the same. When they both exhale, Idina takes another deep breath and Kristin invisions kissing her, holding her, making her pant, wondering which other sounds she's capable of making. Butterflies hammer the inside of her stomach.
"Kristin."
"Yes," Kristin chokes, coughing clumsily.
"Turn around."
"Don't."
"Turn around."
"I-"
"Turn around."
"-can't."
Idina squeezes her hips tenderly, pivoting her all the way. She wraps an arm around Kristin's back as soon as her knees buckle.
Kristin's eyes are flickering, up and down, wild and frightened. Idina knows, she knows this can't happen. She knows they both want it to. She knows everything and so very little.
"Close your eyes," she says again and Kristin hesitates, lashes fluttering against her cheek, eyes blue and turbulent. "Please. Trust me. Close your eyes."
The moment Kristin gives in, Idina tips her chin, just a half inch and Kristin is lulled into a false sense of security, hypnotised by the promises rained down on her, like a lullaby. And Idina holds her and touches her and kisses her, with still, smooth lips and shaking fingers all along her cheek.
She pays attention to Kristin's angles, just like she pays attention to everything else about her. She's entirely in tune with her, where she tilts and how she turns sweetly. It's all so unrushed and tentative and the chaste moment lasts no longer than a few beats. When it's over, Kristin whimpers and leans in for more. She's had a taste and it's only fair. Idina's lips are so wet and red, they look like drenched, delicious fruit and her mind whirrs to forbidden apples and God and Jesus and all things Holy and-
"Yoga," Idina rests their foreheads together.
"No. Dee..."
"Yoga, we were doing yoga," she bows her head and pecks Kristin's shoulder, lacing their fingers. She stays for a second, kissing again, then lifting her head to make sure everything's alright.
"I hate yoga."
"Something tells me you don't," she catches Kristin's pout and cackles, smoothing blonde strands of hair away from her forehead.
Kristin licks her lips, "Touch me again."
"Not yet."
Fingers linger on the straps of her sports bra and Idina doesn't miss how smitten Kristin is, how hopeful her smile has become. This from a woman who always gets her way. She strokes down the buttons of Kristin's shirt.
"Don't think about anything," Idina tells her again, turning her around slowly to resume their previous position. "Just be here with me."
**
+7
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Kristin Chenoweth/Idina Menzel
Spoilers: none
Summary: Yoga.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Nothing has ever or could ever be this beautiful, Kristin thinks, trying to focus on painting her toenails pink as she watches Idina do stretches in the middle of her dressing room. She's head-over-heels with the movements Idina makes, elegant and fluid and nothing like those of the horrible dancer genetics so kindly bestowed upon her.
Looking at her instills in Kristin a complete sense of calm and serenity. She feels at one with herself. She takes deep breaths, counting the in and out of Idina's chest to give her cues.
Idina arches and bows, twisting and rolling into shapes that Kristin knows she could never even try to replicate. She's flawless. The material of her sports bra gathers sweat at the centre of her chest and droplets slither down her stomach, catching the light as her abdominals clench. Her black lycra shorts ride low on her hips, hugging her thighs, the incline of her tailbone. Kristin swallows.
They'd decided to stay in after the matinée and Idina had been too tense and too tired to make her way home. So she'd let Kristin know she'd wait it out until the evening show, do yoga, take a nap, share a pizza if Kristin was up to it.
They were only at the first step of the plan and already Kristin was unravelling.
"D-dee?"
She gets no response; only a deep sigh of contentment as Idina flexes her neck and goes into a back bend. At this angle, she can see the slender curve of Idina's spine, the slope of her neck, her deltoids and her biceps, the faint outlines of her ribs. She follows down to the glistening skin around her navel, framed by the sharp contours of her pelvis.
"Dee?" she tries, her voice wavering. Had she run a marathon? She can't feel her legs. She's so indescribably warm, burning, suffocated. She abandons the nailpolish and slides off the couch, crawling across the carpet to Idina's yoga mat. "Dee? Idina?"
Idina moans, lowering her hips to the ground and sitting up, alert. "You okay? Are you bored? Do you want to-"
"No, no," Kristin shakes her head furiously, aching to reach out and touch the crease at the side of Idina's mouth, to touch any part of her. She wants it to be gentle, she wants to shower Idina with the softest part of her she can find within herself. Brown baby curls play along the nape of her neck. There are so many details in front of her that Kristin doesn't know where to look, what to admire first. "You are so beautiful," she whispers, pressing the nail of her thumb into the rubber of the navy mat, relenting and staring until the indent fades away.
"Kris?"
"I never tell you," she slides her hand to the one Idina has resting by her hip. "You're so beautiful to me," her voice cracks, her shoulders trembling under her slight frame as she reins in a sob.
Hands come up to cup her elbows and bring her forward. Kristin chances a glance into Idina's eyes. They're bottomless and open and so very kind. Traces of green remain on the side of Idina's jaw, at the strong angle where bone meets neck, on her temple at the edge of her damp hairline, across her clavicle.
Norbert bursts through the door after his knock and before Idina's reply. He starts to speak and laughs nervously, instantly aware that he's interrupted something extremely important.
"Hi...Kristin..." he gives them a crooked smile and Kristin turns shyly, waving.
"Hi Norbie."
The nickname melts some tension away and makes him laugh but it's forced and foreign to his own ears. "Joe um...he wants to see you guys..." He's still fixated on the intimacy of the situation he's carelessly stumbled into. Never before has he felt so intrusive.
Idina clears her throat. "Oh. Okay. Now?"
Norbert flushes with empathy at the reluctance resonnating through Idina's words and he's overwhelmed by the sense of devotion he feels. "I'll tell him you're busy."
"You don't have-"
"It's okay. He's swallowed bigger bull before," he grins, "I'll just say you're sleeping."
Kristin nuzzles the side of Idina's neck and giggles.
"You want me to uh...should I lock the door?"
The silence he receives is enough confirmation for him and he nods, smiling softly as he leaves, his shoes squeaking against the floor.
When Kristin doesn't move, Idina tilts her head, her nose brushing against a flushed cheek. Her pulse is flickering and persistent against her carotid. "Kris?"
Kristin curls in, her fingertips sliding over freckles that decorate the ivory surface of the chest in front of her, brushing away tiny beads of sweat. "Yeah?"
Now is not really the time for talk, Idina knows that. But no matter how comfortable she feels, how willing, part of her is terrified with Kristin so out of reach and yet so close. She runs her hand over Kristin's back, comforting her, the other stroking silky hair. The minutes tick by and Kristin has no intention of being the lead.
Idina sighs carefully. She presses her mouth to the crown of Kristin's head, holding it there until she feels the breezy breath against her skin quicken.
"I want to do yoga," Kristin mumbles, leaning back as her lips sweep Idina's jaw.
"Now?"
"Yes please."
Idina purses her lips, frowning cutely at Kristin who's expectant and unsure and achingly sincere.
"Okay. Um...here, stand up," she places Kristin's feet slightly apart so that they're in line with her hips before getting up herself. She steps to Kristin's back, straightening it, releasing the stiffness in her shoulders, lowering them. Her hand tickles Kristin's neck, coming around to tilt Kristin's chin lightly, caressing her throat, vibrations flowing through her whole arm when Kristin moans. "Close your eyes."
Kristin shivers at the way the tiny hairs at her neck perk up in the wake of warm breath.
"It's okay. Arms by your side, relax," she coaches her, ever patient. Their hands touch as Idina makes sure her fingers are loose enough. She massages her wrists. "Breathe. Don't think about anything."
Except Kristin's thinking. Her head feels like it might explode. All she can focus on is the body pressed to her, breathing in time with her, rising and falling in perfect time with her.
"Don't think," Idina reminds, stepping back a little, leaving her lonely and cold. "Back straight," an index finger slips over her spine and Idina's palm comes across her abdomen to her diaphragm. "From here, inhale from here, like when you sing." She touches with so much awareness and Kristin doesn't want the touching to stop, not ever. No one's touched her like this for so long, like she's the strongest person in the world and also like she might break into a million tiny pieces.
She takes a ragged breath, Idina's hand firm and invading on her, through her shirt, through her skin, through all of her, under her breasts, under her heart.
"You feel that?"
She can't speak. Is she supposed to speak? Is Idina waiting for her to say something? She blinks her eyes open, confused, clouded vision. "What?"
Idina smiles. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Everything. Everything," Kristin squeezes her eyes shut and pushes through the pain in her chest, scrambling for some sort of rhythm within it all.
"I'm right here." That's the problem. "It's okay. Just feel. Listen."
"I c-can't."
"Yes you can," Idina soothes in her ear and kisses her temple, "listen to your breath. Just time it with your heart beat, strong and steady." The only part of them touching is Idina's mouth to her earlobe and Kristin fights with herself, denying the need to lean back just a little. She tries to find the sound of her heart but all she hears is Idina's quiet voice. "Calm down. Centre yourself on your heart, count its pulse."
"Pounding," Kristin corrects her.
"Okay, pounding," Idina chuckles. "It gets easier, I swear."
"It's hard."
"You're tensing," Idina smooths down her shoulders again, over her sides and to her waist. She leans in, "Are you nervous?"
"Y-yes."
"Breathe."
"I am," Kristin inhales sharply, feeling Idina do the same. When they both exhale, Idina takes another deep breath and Kristin invisions kissing her, holding her, making her pant, wondering which other sounds she's capable of making. Butterflies hammer the inside of her stomach.
"Kristin."
"Yes," Kristin chokes, coughing clumsily.
"Turn around."
"Don't."
"Turn around."
"I-"
"Turn around."
"-can't."
Idina squeezes her hips tenderly, pivoting her all the way. She wraps an arm around Kristin's back as soon as her knees buckle.
Kristin's eyes are flickering, up and down, wild and frightened. Idina knows, she knows this can't happen. She knows they both want it to. She knows everything and so very little.
"Close your eyes," she says again and Kristin hesitates, lashes fluttering against her cheek, eyes blue and turbulent. "Please. Trust me. Close your eyes."
The moment Kristin gives in, Idina tips her chin, just a half inch and Kristin is lulled into a false sense of security, hypnotised by the promises rained down on her, like a lullaby. And Idina holds her and touches her and kisses her, with still, smooth lips and shaking fingers all along her cheek.
She pays attention to Kristin's angles, just like she pays attention to everything else about her. She's entirely in tune with her, where she tilts and how she turns sweetly. It's all so unrushed and tentative and the chaste moment lasts no longer than a few beats. When it's over, Kristin whimpers and leans in for more. She's had a taste and it's only fair. Idina's lips are so wet and red, they look like drenched, delicious fruit and her mind whirrs to forbidden apples and God and Jesus and all things Holy and-
"Yoga," Idina rests their foreheads together.
"No. Dee..."
"Yoga, we were doing yoga," she bows her head and pecks Kristin's shoulder, lacing their fingers. She stays for a second, kissing again, then lifting her head to make sure everything's alright.
"I hate yoga."
"Something tells me you don't," she catches Kristin's pout and cackles, smoothing blonde strands of hair away from her forehead.
Kristin licks her lips, "Touch me again."
"Not yet."
Fingers linger on the straps of her sports bra and Idina doesn't miss how smitten Kristin is, how hopeful her smile has become. This from a woman who always gets her way. She strokes down the buttons of Kristin's shirt.
"Don't think about anything," Idina tells her again, turning her around slowly to resume their previous position. "Just be here with me."
**
+7