(no subject)
Fandom: Nowhere Kids
Pairing: Adrienne/Perrin
Word Count: 2,519
Perrin stands behind the table at which his primary goal is to serve the guests of the Marcus family party and he watches the eldest daughter, Adrienne, as she is twirled from one boy to the next. More than anything he wants to touch her, but he’s not allowed. Not really. She is perfect and even when Perrin thinks that he has her right where he wants her, she cuts him back down to size; she won’t let him forget his place. Still, Perrin is fascinated by her - he’s fascinated by everything about her.
The Marcuses hail from an old English shipping family and moved to Orleans the summer before Perrin graduated from lycee. He is constantly reminded that the Marcus family is so different from the Charbonnes that they might as well be two completely different species. Of course, he’s constantly reminded because not only is he employed by the Marcus family, but so are his parents and recently his brothers Blaise, Hilarie, and Alban and his sister Edmee works there as well when she’s not going to school.
The Marcus family is nice to the Charbonnes and have enabled them to have a lot of things that they probably wouldn’t have been able to directly afford on their own - Owen Marcus, who is perpetually cheerful, gives Mr. Charbonne paid vacation time and is always laughing and clapping the Charbonnes on the back; his wife Elisabeth invites the Charbonnes to most of their parties (when she doesn’t need them to work the events); Terese is close in age to Amelie and Marin, their closets are stocked full of her hand-me-downs - jeans and shoes and dresses that probably cost more than what the Charbonnes paid for their mortgage. But Adrienne is different. She has the propensity to sneer at Perrin, to ask him to do all sorts of work not involved in his job description, to cross her arms over her chest and tilt her head as she haughtily smirks and watches him work. And the absolute worst part is that for all of her sneering and demeaning, he jumps up like an eager puppy when she calls his name.
Perrin watches her laugh and talk to the friends in her own social circle but every now and then she looks his way and smirks; his mouth quirks up into a smile at the attention even as he focuses on refilling drinks.
She soon saunters over to him in the dark green dress that reaches just below her thighs and manages to make her look like an impish pixie that has wandered out of a fairytale.
“I’m bored,” she informs him, leaning her hip against the table and holding her hand out for a drink without looking at him.
He fixes what he knows to be her favorite and hands it to her. “D’you think tha I kin en’nertain ya?”
She thoughtfully tilts her head to the side for a moment and glances back at him, dark hair brushing against her shoulder blades as she shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe. When do you get off?”
“When this is over.”
“Wrong.” She swallows down her drink and sets the glass down on the table. “You get off now.”
“What d’ya mean -“ he begins, but she’s already gesturing for someone else to take his place at the table.
“Come along,” she says, holding her hand out. He tries not to throw down his towel and take her hand so eagerly, but it’s really no use. This is the first time in all of the two years’ time that he has been working for her family that she has directly asked for his company and he feels like he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long. The winged insects in his stomach do aerial stunts as he wonders exactly what she wants him to do to entertain her.
She leads him out the large dining hall and along the side of her family’s mansion, exiting through the woods that separate her family’s estate from the rest of the world. Perrin is slightly surprised as she steps over roots and ducks beneath branches - he hadn’t really pegged her as the type of person who went wandering through the woods well enough to comfortably navigate the both of them through it.
“Where we going?” he asks, not that he cares really so long as she continues to hold his hand.
“Isn’t this the easiest way to your house?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at him before turning back.
“Yeah. . .” Perrin replies slowly, again surprised that she not only knew where he lived, but knew the easiest way there.
“And no one will be there,” she informs him as if he didn’t know. “Your parents are working the party along with Hilarie, Blaise, and Edmee; Rene just moved to Paris; Alban is away for the weekend according to your sister; and Marin and Amelie are with Terese.”
As they exit the woods and step onto the street that leads to the Charbonne family home, Perrin feels his nerves mount. He’s not usually the nervous type, but the thought of Adrienne seeing the small house where Perrin along with his parents and 8 of his 9 siblings live unnerves him. Her house is a veritable palace compared to his tiny and extremely humble abode.
He unlocks the door as slowly as if his fingers were filled with lead, wishing for a natural disaster to come and sweep him away so that he doesn’t have to see the look of disgust on her face when she sees his family home. She pushes past him once the door is unlocked and he looks back wistfully, the top of the Marcus home just visible through the tops of the trees.
She flips on a light as if she is familiar with the Charbonne home and walks around the front room, picking up photos and knickknacks, examining them with a discerning eye as Perrin stands near the door, nervously twisting the hem of his apron as he watches her - she is as out of place in his home as an authentic Botticelli statue would be.
Adrienne wanders out of the front room to the kitchen and possibly his parents’ bedroom and back into the front room where Perrin still stands. He looks up when she enters, hoping that she’s grown bored and wants to leave now, but that’s not her plan.
She approaches him and steps closer than he thinks that she has ever been before and she pulls his hands away from the bottom of his apron before she reaches around him to find the strings of his apron and swiftly untie them, pulling the apron free and tossing it to the couch. He inhales the smell of her perfume - something like orange blossoms and lilies and vanilla and musk - and the combination of her scent and nearness makes him heady. His hands are reaching up for her hips and his nose wants to seek out the junction of her neck and shoulder, but she’s already pulling back, smirking. She nods her head back, gesturing towards the stairs with her hands at his waist. She tugs once at his belt loops as she asks, “Is your bedroom upstairs?”
He nods, the sinking feeling returning as she abruptly turns and heads up the stairs and he follows of course, watching the layer of tulle that floats around her legs inch up the back of her thighs as she ascends the stairs in front of him. She looks back as she reaches the top and he points towards the room that he shares with Alban.
He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as she pauses in the doorway of his room to slip off her heels. Even minus the extra 2 inches that made her the same height as him, when she enters she still looks too tall, too beautiful to belong.
“Alban’s a pig,” he explains quietly , kicking at a pile of laundry that is most definitely not his. Why didn’t they clean their room more often? Why wasn’t he prepared for this? Why. . .why was Adrienne looking at the papers on his desk with such interest?
She looked back over her shoulder and chuckled before she turned, holding up a drawing of . . . herself. Perrin stood up, mouth going dry.
“Did you draw this?” she asked, holding the upper corner between her fingertips as she let it lightly swing back and forth.
“Naw,” Perrin lied, stepping forward to reach for it. “I told ya that Alban’s a pig. He just leaves his stuff lyin’ all over the place. He drew it.”
She side-stepped him, picking up a sketchbook from the desk. “Did he draw all of these as well?” she asked flipping through the pages where there were more sketches of her.
“Yeah. He’s obsessed with you.”
She laughed and whirled around, somehow forcing him back against the bed. She pressed her hand against his chest, urging him back as she stepped closer to him, her knees on either side of his left thigh.
“You’re a liar - Alban can barely manage to trim hedges properly, much less sketch,” she scoffed. “Is this what you think of when you’re staring at me?” she taunted, holding the sketchbook open to a drawing of her standing in the window of her room with a curtain partially covering her obviously nude body.
“I don’t stare at you,” he denied, even as his cheeks flushed. But that had nothing to do with the fact that he had been caught and more to do with the fact that she was so close, scent washing over him in warm waves. The knuckles of his hands, which had been curled into fists on his knees, grazed along her soft legs as she shifted against him before he gave into temptation. He uncurled his hands and reached out for her legs, fingertips trailing from her calves to the backs of her knees and back down again. And he couldn’t believe it: she was here in his room and he was touching her.
Her smirk shifted into something he couldn’t quite place as her eyes moved over him as surely as if she had touched him and it was sad, he had to admit, because she hadn’t touched him, yet he was still hardening in his work pants.
“You’re a liar,” she repeated softly, bending slightly at the waist as one finely manicured hand cupped his face and she kissed him, soft mouth opening against his and urging his lips to part. She tasted like all the things he wasn’t good enough to have.
His hands tightened around her legs slightly and then she was pulling away much too soon and he had to make a conscious effort not to lean forward to maintain contact with her mouth.
Adrienne held up the sketchbook. “You could draw this scene - the two of us here in your bedroom, you on the edge of your bed and me towering over you . . .your hand up my dress.”
Perrin’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. He was touching her, sure, but his hand was hardly up her dress. “Mah hand’s just right here.” He gently squeezed her calf to demonstrate where his hands were. “They ain’t up your dress.”
She reached down to grab his wrist and guide his hand from her calf to the back of her thigh and then to her ass where he could feel expensive lace. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and she smirked and laughed at him before she gently commanded: “Touch me.”
He nodded, his other hand moving to join its brother as he massaged the globes of flesh. He left one hand there to keep her steady as his other hand made its way around, cupping the warm core of her body through the flimsy panties.
She made a soft pleased sound, something akin to a half-sighed moan as her hands went to his shoulders.
Perrin was determined to make this good, to prove to her that he wasn’t just the Charbonne that she ordered around most, that he could do more than serve drinks and cook and wipe down all of her family’s shiny things.
His fingers stole beneath the fabric, feeling the wetness already gathered there and he swallowed hard as he looked up at her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers worked against her but her brow furrowed after a moment and she pushed his hand away.
He opened his mouth to apologize for whatever it was that he had done wrong when she reached beneath her dress to tug the lace down her legs, letting it pool at her feet before she pulled his hand back to her and kneeled down over him, straddling him.
“Much better,” she mumbled leaning in to kiss him as his fingers entered her. His mouth opened under hers already, desperate for her taste as he thrust his fingers into her silken heat and her body accepted him willingly as his thumb rubbed over her clit.
Adrienne tore her mouth away from his as she began to ride against his hand, right over his dick (which was completely hard by this time), the two of them simply sharing each other’s breath and occasionally biting at each other’s lips as she couldn’t focus her attention enough to kiss him once her orgasm began to approach. He could feel it in the way she moved harder against his hand, breath coming out in short pants as her hands tightened in his hair and he felt her body contracting around his fingers. He moaned into her mouth, achingly hard at the thought of her around his cock.
She continued rocking against his hand, her movements slower now as she lowered her head and bit at his neck and collarbone through his shirt. His hips jerked up into her and she let out a surprised cry that turned into a breathless chuckle.
Adrienne pulled away, taking in a shaky breath as her dark eyes met his blue eyes and she smiled, kissing him oncetwicethreetimes on the mouth, the last one long and lingering and drawn out as she took his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled gently before easing back in for another kiss.
She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked along his face as she stood on sex-weakened legs, pausing a moment. She looked down at him, the remnants of a post-orgasm flush on her ever-smirking face. “You were good,” she nodded as if Perrin had just performed a trick.
She bends to retrieve the lace panties from the floor and tossed them to his lap where a prominent bulge had now formed as she found her shoes, once more pausing in his doorway to slip them on. “Goodnight,” she smiled before disappearing out into the hall.
“And don’t forget,” her voice drifts back up the stairs. “I want that sketch.”
Pairing: Adrienne/Perrin
Word Count: 2,519
Perrin stands behind the table at which his primary goal is to serve the guests of the Marcus family party and he watches the eldest daughter, Adrienne, as she is twirled from one boy to the next. More than anything he wants to touch her, but he’s not allowed. Not really. She is perfect and even when Perrin thinks that he has her right where he wants her, she cuts him back down to size; she won’t let him forget his place. Still, Perrin is fascinated by her - he’s fascinated by everything about her.
The Marcuses hail from an old English shipping family and moved to Orleans the summer before Perrin graduated from lycee. He is constantly reminded that the Marcus family is so different from the Charbonnes that they might as well be two completely different species. Of course, he’s constantly reminded because not only is he employed by the Marcus family, but so are his parents and recently his brothers Blaise, Hilarie, and Alban and his sister Edmee works there as well when she’s not going to school.
The Marcus family is nice to the Charbonnes and have enabled them to have a lot of things that they probably wouldn’t have been able to directly afford on their own - Owen Marcus, who is perpetually cheerful, gives Mr. Charbonne paid vacation time and is always laughing and clapping the Charbonnes on the back; his wife Elisabeth invites the Charbonnes to most of their parties (when she doesn’t need them to work the events); Terese is close in age to Amelie and Marin, their closets are stocked full of her hand-me-downs - jeans and shoes and dresses that probably cost more than what the Charbonnes paid for their mortgage. But Adrienne is different. She has the propensity to sneer at Perrin, to ask him to do all sorts of work not involved in his job description, to cross her arms over her chest and tilt her head as she haughtily smirks and watches him work. And the absolute worst part is that for all of her sneering and demeaning, he jumps up like an eager puppy when she calls his name.
Perrin watches her laugh and talk to the friends in her own social circle but every now and then she looks his way and smirks; his mouth quirks up into a smile at the attention even as he focuses on refilling drinks.
She soon saunters over to him in the dark green dress that reaches just below her thighs and manages to make her look like an impish pixie that has wandered out of a fairytale.
“I’m bored,” she informs him, leaning her hip against the table and holding her hand out for a drink without looking at him.
He fixes what he knows to be her favorite and hands it to her. “D’you think tha I kin en’nertain ya?”
She thoughtfully tilts her head to the side for a moment and glances back at him, dark hair brushing against her shoulder blades as she shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe. When do you get off?”
“When this is over.”
“Wrong.” She swallows down her drink and sets the glass down on the table. “You get off now.”
“What d’ya mean -“ he begins, but she’s already gesturing for someone else to take his place at the table.
“Come along,” she says, holding her hand out. He tries not to throw down his towel and take her hand so eagerly, but it’s really no use. This is the first time in all of the two years’ time that he has been working for her family that she has directly asked for his company and he feels like he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long. The winged insects in his stomach do aerial stunts as he wonders exactly what she wants him to do to entertain her.
She leads him out the large dining hall and along the side of her family’s mansion, exiting through the woods that separate her family’s estate from the rest of the world. Perrin is slightly surprised as she steps over roots and ducks beneath branches - he hadn’t really pegged her as the type of person who went wandering through the woods well enough to comfortably navigate the both of them through it.
“Where we going?” he asks, not that he cares really so long as she continues to hold his hand.
“Isn’t this the easiest way to your house?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at him before turning back.
“Yeah. . .” Perrin replies slowly, again surprised that she not only knew where he lived, but knew the easiest way there.
“And no one will be there,” she informs him as if he didn’t know. “Your parents are working the party along with Hilarie, Blaise, and Edmee; Rene just moved to Paris; Alban is away for the weekend according to your sister; and Marin and Amelie are with Terese.”
As they exit the woods and step onto the street that leads to the Charbonne family home, Perrin feels his nerves mount. He’s not usually the nervous type, but the thought of Adrienne seeing the small house where Perrin along with his parents and 8 of his 9 siblings live unnerves him. Her house is a veritable palace compared to his tiny and extremely humble abode.
He unlocks the door as slowly as if his fingers were filled with lead, wishing for a natural disaster to come and sweep him away so that he doesn’t have to see the look of disgust on her face when she sees his family home. She pushes past him once the door is unlocked and he looks back wistfully, the top of the Marcus home just visible through the tops of the trees.
She flips on a light as if she is familiar with the Charbonne home and walks around the front room, picking up photos and knickknacks, examining them with a discerning eye as Perrin stands near the door, nervously twisting the hem of his apron as he watches her - she is as out of place in his home as an authentic Botticelli statue would be.
Adrienne wanders out of the front room to the kitchen and possibly his parents’ bedroom and back into the front room where Perrin still stands. He looks up when she enters, hoping that she’s grown bored and wants to leave now, but that’s not her plan.
She approaches him and steps closer than he thinks that she has ever been before and she pulls his hands away from the bottom of his apron before she reaches around him to find the strings of his apron and swiftly untie them, pulling the apron free and tossing it to the couch. He inhales the smell of her perfume - something like orange blossoms and lilies and vanilla and musk - and the combination of her scent and nearness makes him heady. His hands are reaching up for her hips and his nose wants to seek out the junction of her neck and shoulder, but she’s already pulling back, smirking. She nods her head back, gesturing towards the stairs with her hands at his waist. She tugs once at his belt loops as she asks, “Is your bedroom upstairs?”
He nods, the sinking feeling returning as she abruptly turns and heads up the stairs and he follows of course, watching the layer of tulle that floats around her legs inch up the back of her thighs as she ascends the stairs in front of him. She looks back as she reaches the top and he points towards the room that he shares with Alban.
He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as she pauses in the doorway of his room to slip off her heels. Even minus the extra 2 inches that made her the same height as him, when she enters she still looks too tall, too beautiful to belong.
“Alban’s a pig,” he explains quietly , kicking at a pile of laundry that is most definitely not his. Why didn’t they clean their room more often? Why wasn’t he prepared for this? Why. . .why was Adrienne looking at the papers on his desk with such interest?
She looked back over her shoulder and chuckled before she turned, holding up a drawing of . . . herself. Perrin stood up, mouth going dry.
“Did you draw this?” she asked, holding the upper corner between her fingertips as she let it lightly swing back and forth.
“Naw,” Perrin lied, stepping forward to reach for it. “I told ya that Alban’s a pig. He just leaves his stuff lyin’ all over the place. He drew it.”
She side-stepped him, picking up a sketchbook from the desk. “Did he draw all of these as well?” she asked flipping through the pages where there were more sketches of her.
“Yeah. He’s obsessed with you.”
She laughed and whirled around, somehow forcing him back against the bed. She pressed her hand against his chest, urging him back as she stepped closer to him, her knees on either side of his left thigh.
“You’re a liar - Alban can barely manage to trim hedges properly, much less sketch,” she scoffed. “Is this what you think of when you’re staring at me?” she taunted, holding the sketchbook open to a drawing of her standing in the window of her room with a curtain partially covering her obviously nude body.
“I don’t stare at you,” he denied, even as his cheeks flushed. But that had nothing to do with the fact that he had been caught and more to do with the fact that she was so close, scent washing over him in warm waves. The knuckles of his hands, which had been curled into fists on his knees, grazed along her soft legs as she shifted against him before he gave into temptation. He uncurled his hands and reached out for her legs, fingertips trailing from her calves to the backs of her knees and back down again. And he couldn’t believe it: she was here in his room and he was touching her.
Her smirk shifted into something he couldn’t quite place as her eyes moved over him as surely as if she had touched him and it was sad, he had to admit, because she hadn’t touched him, yet he was still hardening in his work pants.
“You’re a liar,” she repeated softly, bending slightly at the waist as one finely manicured hand cupped his face and she kissed him, soft mouth opening against his and urging his lips to part. She tasted like all the things he wasn’t good enough to have.
His hands tightened around her legs slightly and then she was pulling away much too soon and he had to make a conscious effort not to lean forward to maintain contact with her mouth.
Adrienne held up the sketchbook. “You could draw this scene - the two of us here in your bedroom, you on the edge of your bed and me towering over you . . .your hand up my dress.”
Perrin’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. He was touching her, sure, but his hand was hardly up her dress. “Mah hand’s just right here.” He gently squeezed her calf to demonstrate where his hands were. “They ain’t up your dress.”
She reached down to grab his wrist and guide his hand from her calf to the back of her thigh and then to her ass where he could feel expensive lace. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and she smirked and laughed at him before she gently commanded: “Touch me.”
He nodded, his other hand moving to join its brother as he massaged the globes of flesh. He left one hand there to keep her steady as his other hand made its way around, cupping the warm core of her body through the flimsy panties.
She made a soft pleased sound, something akin to a half-sighed moan as her hands went to his shoulders.
Perrin was determined to make this good, to prove to her that he wasn’t just the Charbonne that she ordered around most, that he could do more than serve drinks and cook and wipe down all of her family’s shiny things.
His fingers stole beneath the fabric, feeling the wetness already gathered there and he swallowed hard as he looked up at her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers worked against her but her brow furrowed after a moment and she pushed his hand away.
He opened his mouth to apologize for whatever it was that he had done wrong when she reached beneath her dress to tug the lace down her legs, letting it pool at her feet before she pulled his hand back to her and kneeled down over him, straddling him.
“Much better,” she mumbled leaning in to kiss him as his fingers entered her. His mouth opened under hers already, desperate for her taste as he thrust his fingers into her silken heat and her body accepted him willingly as his thumb rubbed over her clit.
Adrienne tore her mouth away from his as she began to ride against his hand, right over his dick (which was completely hard by this time), the two of them simply sharing each other’s breath and occasionally biting at each other’s lips as she couldn’t focus her attention enough to kiss him once her orgasm began to approach. He could feel it in the way she moved harder against his hand, breath coming out in short pants as her hands tightened in his hair and he felt her body contracting around his fingers. He moaned into her mouth, achingly hard at the thought of her around his cock.
She continued rocking against his hand, her movements slower now as she lowered her head and bit at his neck and collarbone through his shirt. His hips jerked up into her and she let out a surprised cry that turned into a breathless chuckle.
Adrienne pulled away, taking in a shaky breath as her dark eyes met his blue eyes and she smiled, kissing him oncetwicethreetimes on the mouth, the last one long and lingering and drawn out as she took his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled gently before easing back in for another kiss.
She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked along his face as she stood on sex-weakened legs, pausing a moment. She looked down at him, the remnants of a post-orgasm flush on her ever-smirking face. “You were good,” she nodded as if Perrin had just performed a trick.
She bends to retrieve the lace panties from the floor and tossed them to his lap where a prominent bulge had now formed as she found her shoes, once more pausing in his doorway to slip them on. “Goodnight,” she smiled before disappearing out into the hall.
“And don’t forget,” her voice drifts back up the stairs. “I want that sketch.”