Fic: Dinner is Served, Supernatural RPF, Danneel/Genevieve, NC-17
I've decided to claim all four spn_masquerade fics but one at a time pretty much in order of how much I like them. This was my femslash attempt.
Title: Dinner is Served
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Danneel/Genevieve
Rating: NC-17
Content notes: public sex, exhibitionism, shyness kink, 69, cunnilingus
A/N: Written for spn_masquerade for this prompt
Summary: There's nothing Danneel loves more than making Gen blush as she tells her what she's going to do to her. Except actually doing it to Gen.
Gen’s sitting at the table, stock still, spoon still above the soup bowl and Danneel would laugh if she wasn’t busy toeing her way up Gen’s thigh, up that short little dress that she knew Gen would have blushed at putting on when she was getting ready that evening. “Danneel, no,” she says, spoon clattering down into the bowl, breathless and mortified, but her legs are shifting apart, and she’s doing that thing she doesn’t even know she does where she leans back and tilts her neck, and it makes her breasts look absolutely fantastic. It makes Danneel think they’ve picked the wrong kind of eating out this evening.
“You sure?” she murmurs, keeps her voice low down and smokey, knows it makes Gen squirm.
“Yes,” Gen hisses. “I’m sure,” and Danneel slides her foot back down, slowly. The angle is too awkward to do anything much anyway, but the joy of seeing that dull red flush spread hotly over Gen’s face can’t be passed up for anything.
“Fine,” she says, and pretends that she can taste anything of the soup at all, doesn’t quite suck the spoon, but makes sure Gen gets just a little glimpse of tongue, “but you’re not getting off that easy.”
Gen’s like a cherry right now and it just goads Danneel further. Her girlfriend is one in a million, she knows that, and part of that is how adorable she is, in bed and out of it. They can sit here and make small talk about work and wait for the fish course, or they can go home and fuck. Or - and Danneel thinks she’s found a genius solution - they can have the best of both worlds. She sets down her own spoon slowly. “I think I need to powder my nose,” she says. “I’ll need a hand.” She uses liquid foundation - they both know powder breaks her out.
Gen stands up and follows her anyway, down the molten iron staircase into the ladies. The room is lockable and there’s no-one around, slow night and too early for the dinner rush. Danneel is definitely a genius. Kissing Gen is perfect - she’s all salty from the soup, and her mouth is slicked with sticky gloss which Danneel takes great pleasure in biting off her, feeling Gen’s lips swell, blood rich under hers, short sharp gasp of her breath puffing against Danneel’s mouth as her hands grasp uselessly at the slippery fabric of Danneel’s dress. Danneel kisses her deep, broad sweep of her tongue as she digs her fingers into Gen’s wrists and feels the sudden start of her under her hands - she knows what Gen likes, and the way Gen stills, eyes darker than ever, is intoxicating. This one’s just for Gen, Danneel decides, they can get her off at home, but right now she’s going to make Gen come harder than she ever has before.
She manages to get a hand under Gen’s dress, rubs against her panties and Jesus she’s fucking soaking, and Danneel can’t let that pass. “You’re so wet,” she says, and she can’t resist rubbing against Gen, feeling the damp silk of the expensive underwear Gen only breaks out for date nights, suddenly needs to see it. She yanks up the dress and the sight is even prettier than she could have imagined - delicate material stained dark and damp Gen’s so hot for it. “You were sitting there like that weren’t you?” she asks, lets her fingers tease at the edge, slipping between the soft skin and the little scrap of silk. “Just sitting there all wet between your legs, soaking through - another ten minutes and it’d probably show through your dress,” and the blush is spreading hot and sure down Gen’s chest now, like her face can’t contain it, and she’s breathing hard and fast, so on the edge that Danneel wonders for an impossible second if she could get Gen there just like that, a little bit of talk and the hard press of her fingers nowhere near they need to be. “Come on sweetheart,” she says, “tell me.”
“Yes,” Gen mumbles, barely audible, shy choked words wrung from her, and Danneel rewards her with the slow rub of her fingers through the silk, the teasing press of her thumb exactly where Gen’s clit is under the fabric.
“What were you thinking of?” Danneel asks, hot against Gen’s ear, relishes the shudder that races through Gen. Gen doesn’t reply, bites her lip and shimmies against Danneel’s hand.
“Were you thinking about my tits?” she asks, smile on her face, feels the little twitch of Gen’s cunt under her hand. Gen doesn’t talk like that, but she likes Danneel to. She presses in closer and swipes her tongue down the arched curve of Gen’s neck, presses her breasts up against Gen as her fingers finally get to work properly, slipping under the wet silk and playing with Gen’s clit just how she liked it, felt the racing shivers of it feeding back through Gen’s body, so close just from this, and it’s a high that Danneel hasn’t felt since the last time she got Gen off.
“Thinking about me going down on you for hours, until you’re so slippery you can barely feel a thing, but you can still see me, face all wet from you, down between your legs fucking you open with my tongue?” and Gen’s thighs are clutching convulsively tight around her hand now, legs trembling, shattered open as Danneel says all the things that Gen would rather die than say out loud.
“Yes,” Gen says, can barely shape the word, eyes open and unseeing as she rocks against Danneel’s hand, the yes, not in response to what Danneel’s saying, but a hopeless plea for more and Danneel obliges, rubs against Gen’s clit, hand slick from her, finds her way unerringly and lets her ride two fingers, hips snapping forward until she comes, biting into her hand. The other is clutching Danneel, dragging her closer so they can sway together a little as Danneel brings her through the rest of her orgasm, feels the tender twitches subside around her fingers. Eventually, when Gen’s iron grip relents, she slips her fingers out, and, in case Gen is feeling too relaxed, licks them clean in front of her, before she presses their mouths together and lets Gen kiss her, greedy and demanding for everything she’s got, shyness forgotten in this moment of homecoming.
Danneel pulls Gen’s dress down for her and brushes back the strands of hair that are sticking to her face from the exertion. She looks freshly fucked - Gen’s colour is still high in her face, her bra doing little to disguise the hardness of her nipples - and it’s a good look on her. She remembers how soaked Gen is, and feels her own cunt ache a little, restless and needy, and sitting through the rest of the meal seems less and less appealing. Until of course she considers that Gen will be sitting opposite her, deliciously shy and sitting in a room full of people who could probably guess what they’ve been doing, but who don’t know that what they’re seeing is nothing compared to how Danneel is going to make Gen blush when they get home.
They’re washing their hands when the knock sounds at the door. Danneel unlatches it, all apologies - and they slip out past the woman who is giving them a seriously questioning look. When they get back, Gen orders a gin and tonic and downs it, as though to quench the fire in her cheeks. Danneel sticks to water - she’s got plans for tonight. For love or money she couldn’t describe what they ate as little as a minute after eating it, every fiber of her wanting to be home, as she shifted just a little bit, pressed her thighs together at the thought of everything she wanted to do. It had been a long two weeks for Gen to be away on business and Danneel plans to make the most of this welcome home - Skype just isn’t the same.
They hold hands chastely in the cab on the way back, Danneel curling her fingers over Gen’s, tucking them under until they’re all entwined, feeling Gen’s head lean against her shoulder, breath soft on her skin, and the sudden surge of feeling that leaps up in her, a little disconcertingly, makes her tighten her fingers for a second before she consciously relaxes. She wants to lean over and kiss her - well actually she wants to lean over and get Gen’s legs open so she can finish what they started, but she knows from past experience that Gen has limits and kissing in front of cab drivers is one of them even if apparently fucking in restaurants isn’t. So she contents herself with holding Gen’s hand and with dirty daydreams of what they’ll do when they get home.
While Gen pays the driver, Danneel wrestles the door open, quick once over to make sure the place is straight. It’s not like Gen’s going to care what’s on Danneel’s floor once her dress hits it, but it’s the principle of the thing really.
She’d meant to exercise the bare minimum amount of restraint and actually get up the stairs to the bedroom first, but the sight of Gen bending down to take off her shoes and then starting to work at her dress was her undoing. She tackles Gen onto the sofa, feels the startled whuff of air and then Gen laughing quietly underneath her, hands pulling her down, one perfect leg up and around Danneel’s waist, and they’re kissing like that, slick slide of mouth on mouth, Danneel ridiculously, momentarily angry at non-smudge lipstick because she wants Gen showing signs that Danneel has been there. Her own dress takes some shimmying off, and with trembling hands Gen pulls her own over her head at last, and finally, finally Danneel can get skin against skin.
“You want this so bad,” she says, soft touch of incidental awe to the words and is rewarded by the hot spread of colour over Gen’s face. It’s not something she can deny but Gen’s always been so shy about ever putting it into words and it gets them both off so hard to have Danneel do it for them, that she can’t resist. Gen wriggles her hips into position, body a silent plea not to have Danneel notice - fat chance of that. She sinks down to the ground beside the sofa, drags Gen a little closer, hands around her thighs, whispers soft words into the smooth skin about how beautiful Gen is, how desperate, how she must have been sitting there in that restaurant just waiting for this, to get Danneel’s mouth on her cunt, and Gen’s pouring out all these tiny little noises, like she’s trying to gulp them back but they just won’t be restrained.
The noises only get louder when Danneel yanks her underwear down, so wet they’re probably ruined, peels them down Gen’s legs and then gets her face in between Gen’s legs, licks her so soft that Gen bucks up into her mouth, hands winding desperately into Danneel’s hair until Danneel gives her everything Gen will never say she wants, holds her thighs apart and sucks on her clit, tongue wet and fast, and Gen’s convulsing under her mouth, swift flutter of her muscles against Danneel’s mouth, and she’s pressing her own thighs together, trying not to squirm enough to get a little bit of friction herself, as she gently spreads Gen a little more, knowing how open she’s feeling right now. When she looks up, Gen’s staring at her in mute entreaty, and it fills Danneel’s belly with fire.
“Come on,” she says, and lets herself flop back onto the floor, leaving Gen with her legs spread on the sofa. “Ride my tongue sweetheart, show me how much you want this,” and she can see Gen shiver. Danneel opens her mouth a little, knows how perfectly obscene it looks from the poleaxed expression on Gen’s face. “C’mon,” she says again, and Gen’s half kneeling, half falling, dragging herself over Danneel’s body now, just how Danneel likes it, so jelly-desperate she trembles with it. “Come on,” she murmurs for the third time, trapped between Gen’s thighs, “make me make you come.”
Gen’s always tentative at first when she does this, like she thinks she’s going to crush Danneel or that Danneel is somehow not going to like it, holding herself up, until Danneel yanks her down, and gets to work, no fussing, just her tongue hard and wet pushing until Gen yields around her, soft and hot and Danneel moans her appreciation. Gen’s so close, Danneel can taste it, grinding down helplessly against her, out of control and desperate, and Danneel gets lost in it, gasping for air when she can get it, each second’s relief a thief from time spent making Gen sob helplessly.
It’s like a switch flips, she knows the exact moment Gen cracks and breaks, the exact moment when she forgets that she’s ashamed of getting off so hard from this, from Danneel’s wicked mouth and wickeder words because Gen yanks herself up, and unceremoniously gets her mouth on Danneel’s cunt, lets Danneel suck at her clit at the same time, and get two fingers in Gen again, pressing hard and deep, knowing exactly the right place, working her fast as Gen drives her mad with her mouth. Danneel’s so on edge from what feels and kinda is hours of foreplay that she comes first, vision going a little dark as she shakes from the force of it, gasps out her pleasure, with Gen’s mouth on her cunt, Gen everywhere around her and gets Gen there in the end, fingers so merciless and exact that Gen doesn’t just come, she almost gushes, soaks Danneel’s fingers and face, rides out every last second of it, falls apart, every shred of embarrassment forgotten.
Afterwards, they lie there, curled on the floor and Danneel feels Gen stroke at her side, and doesn’t even try to hide her smile, kisses the corner of Gen’s mouth where she’s smiling as well. “I think I’ve got carpet burn on my knees,” Gen whispers.
“I think I’ve got carpet burn on my tongue,” Danneel replies, “or maybe that’d be cun-” and Gen pinches her hard before she can finish her sentence which perversely makes something in Danneel leap.
“I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere,” Gen says, but there’s only affection in her voice.
“You love it,” Danneel says, and though she’ll deny it, snuggles a little bit closer.
“I love something all right,” is the quiet reply - not even a little bit shy - and Danneel has to swallow twice before she can say it back.
Feedback/concrit always appreciated!
Title: Dinner is Served
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Danneel/Genevieve
Rating: NC-17
Content notes: public sex, exhibitionism, shyness kink, 69, cunnilingus
A/N: Written for spn_masquerade for this prompt
Summary: There's nothing Danneel loves more than making Gen blush as she tells her what she's going to do to her. Except actually doing it to Gen.
Gen’s sitting at the table, stock still, spoon still above the soup bowl and Danneel would laugh if she wasn’t busy toeing her way up Gen’s thigh, up that short little dress that she knew Gen would have blushed at putting on when she was getting ready that evening. “Danneel, no,” she says, spoon clattering down into the bowl, breathless and mortified, but her legs are shifting apart, and she’s doing that thing she doesn’t even know she does where she leans back and tilts her neck, and it makes her breasts look absolutely fantastic. It makes Danneel think they’ve picked the wrong kind of eating out this evening.
“You sure?” she murmurs, keeps her voice low down and smokey, knows it makes Gen squirm.
“Yes,” Gen hisses. “I’m sure,” and Danneel slides her foot back down, slowly. The angle is too awkward to do anything much anyway, but the joy of seeing that dull red flush spread hotly over Gen’s face can’t be passed up for anything.
“Fine,” she says, and pretends that she can taste anything of the soup at all, doesn’t quite suck the spoon, but makes sure Gen gets just a little glimpse of tongue, “but you’re not getting off that easy.”
Gen’s like a cherry right now and it just goads Danneel further. Her girlfriend is one in a million, she knows that, and part of that is how adorable she is, in bed and out of it. They can sit here and make small talk about work and wait for the fish course, or they can go home and fuck. Or - and Danneel thinks she’s found a genius solution - they can have the best of both worlds. She sets down her own spoon slowly. “I think I need to powder my nose,” she says. “I’ll need a hand.” She uses liquid foundation - they both know powder breaks her out.
Gen stands up and follows her anyway, down the molten iron staircase into the ladies. The room is lockable and there’s no-one around, slow night and too early for the dinner rush. Danneel is definitely a genius. Kissing Gen is perfect - she’s all salty from the soup, and her mouth is slicked with sticky gloss which Danneel takes great pleasure in biting off her, feeling Gen’s lips swell, blood rich under hers, short sharp gasp of her breath puffing against Danneel’s mouth as her hands grasp uselessly at the slippery fabric of Danneel’s dress. Danneel kisses her deep, broad sweep of her tongue as she digs her fingers into Gen’s wrists and feels the sudden start of her under her hands - she knows what Gen likes, and the way Gen stills, eyes darker than ever, is intoxicating. This one’s just for Gen, Danneel decides, they can get her off at home, but right now she’s going to make Gen come harder than she ever has before.
She manages to get a hand under Gen’s dress, rubs against her panties and Jesus she’s fucking soaking, and Danneel can’t let that pass. “You’re so wet,” she says, and she can’t resist rubbing against Gen, feeling the damp silk of the expensive underwear Gen only breaks out for date nights, suddenly needs to see it. She yanks up the dress and the sight is even prettier than she could have imagined - delicate material stained dark and damp Gen’s so hot for it. “You were sitting there like that weren’t you?” she asks, lets her fingers tease at the edge, slipping between the soft skin and the little scrap of silk. “Just sitting there all wet between your legs, soaking through - another ten minutes and it’d probably show through your dress,” and the blush is spreading hot and sure down Gen’s chest now, like her face can’t contain it, and she’s breathing hard and fast, so on the edge that Danneel wonders for an impossible second if she could get Gen there just like that, a little bit of talk and the hard press of her fingers nowhere near they need to be. “Come on sweetheart,” she says, “tell me.”
“Yes,” Gen mumbles, barely audible, shy choked words wrung from her, and Danneel rewards her with the slow rub of her fingers through the silk, the teasing press of her thumb exactly where Gen’s clit is under the fabric.
“What were you thinking of?” Danneel asks, hot against Gen’s ear, relishes the shudder that races through Gen. Gen doesn’t reply, bites her lip and shimmies against Danneel’s hand.
“Were you thinking about my tits?” she asks, smile on her face, feels the little twitch of Gen’s cunt under her hand. Gen doesn’t talk like that, but she likes Danneel to. She presses in closer and swipes her tongue down the arched curve of Gen’s neck, presses her breasts up against Gen as her fingers finally get to work properly, slipping under the wet silk and playing with Gen’s clit just how she liked it, felt the racing shivers of it feeding back through Gen’s body, so close just from this, and it’s a high that Danneel hasn’t felt since the last time she got Gen off.
“Thinking about me going down on you for hours, until you’re so slippery you can barely feel a thing, but you can still see me, face all wet from you, down between your legs fucking you open with my tongue?” and Gen’s thighs are clutching convulsively tight around her hand now, legs trembling, shattered open as Danneel says all the things that Gen would rather die than say out loud.
“Yes,” Gen says, can barely shape the word, eyes open and unseeing as she rocks against Danneel’s hand, the yes, not in response to what Danneel’s saying, but a hopeless plea for more and Danneel obliges, rubs against Gen’s clit, hand slick from her, finds her way unerringly and lets her ride two fingers, hips snapping forward until she comes, biting into her hand. The other is clutching Danneel, dragging her closer so they can sway together a little as Danneel brings her through the rest of her orgasm, feels the tender twitches subside around her fingers. Eventually, when Gen’s iron grip relents, she slips her fingers out, and, in case Gen is feeling too relaxed, licks them clean in front of her, before she presses their mouths together and lets Gen kiss her, greedy and demanding for everything she’s got, shyness forgotten in this moment of homecoming.
Danneel pulls Gen’s dress down for her and brushes back the strands of hair that are sticking to her face from the exertion. She looks freshly fucked - Gen’s colour is still high in her face, her bra doing little to disguise the hardness of her nipples - and it’s a good look on her. She remembers how soaked Gen is, and feels her own cunt ache a little, restless and needy, and sitting through the rest of the meal seems less and less appealing. Until of course she considers that Gen will be sitting opposite her, deliciously shy and sitting in a room full of people who could probably guess what they’ve been doing, but who don’t know that what they’re seeing is nothing compared to how Danneel is going to make Gen blush when they get home.
They’re washing their hands when the knock sounds at the door. Danneel unlatches it, all apologies - and they slip out past the woman who is giving them a seriously questioning look. When they get back, Gen orders a gin and tonic and downs it, as though to quench the fire in her cheeks. Danneel sticks to water - she’s got plans for tonight. For love or money she couldn’t describe what they ate as little as a minute after eating it, every fiber of her wanting to be home, as she shifted just a little bit, pressed her thighs together at the thought of everything she wanted to do. It had been a long two weeks for Gen to be away on business and Danneel plans to make the most of this welcome home - Skype just isn’t the same.
They hold hands chastely in the cab on the way back, Danneel curling her fingers over Gen’s, tucking them under until they’re all entwined, feeling Gen’s head lean against her shoulder, breath soft on her skin, and the sudden surge of feeling that leaps up in her, a little disconcertingly, makes her tighten her fingers for a second before she consciously relaxes. She wants to lean over and kiss her - well actually she wants to lean over and get Gen’s legs open so she can finish what they started, but she knows from past experience that Gen has limits and kissing in front of cab drivers is one of them even if apparently fucking in restaurants isn’t. So she contents herself with holding Gen’s hand and with dirty daydreams of what they’ll do when they get home.
While Gen pays the driver, Danneel wrestles the door open, quick once over to make sure the place is straight. It’s not like Gen’s going to care what’s on Danneel’s floor once her dress hits it, but it’s the principle of the thing really.
She’d meant to exercise the bare minimum amount of restraint and actually get up the stairs to the bedroom first, but the sight of Gen bending down to take off her shoes and then starting to work at her dress was her undoing. She tackles Gen onto the sofa, feels the startled whuff of air and then Gen laughing quietly underneath her, hands pulling her down, one perfect leg up and around Danneel’s waist, and they’re kissing like that, slick slide of mouth on mouth, Danneel ridiculously, momentarily angry at non-smudge lipstick because she wants Gen showing signs that Danneel has been there. Her own dress takes some shimmying off, and with trembling hands Gen pulls her own over her head at last, and finally, finally Danneel can get skin against skin.
“You want this so bad,” she says, soft touch of incidental awe to the words and is rewarded by the hot spread of colour over Gen’s face. It’s not something she can deny but Gen’s always been so shy about ever putting it into words and it gets them both off so hard to have Danneel do it for them, that she can’t resist. Gen wriggles her hips into position, body a silent plea not to have Danneel notice - fat chance of that. She sinks down to the ground beside the sofa, drags Gen a little closer, hands around her thighs, whispers soft words into the smooth skin about how beautiful Gen is, how desperate, how she must have been sitting there in that restaurant just waiting for this, to get Danneel’s mouth on her cunt, and Gen’s pouring out all these tiny little noises, like she’s trying to gulp them back but they just won’t be restrained.
The noises only get louder when Danneel yanks her underwear down, so wet they’re probably ruined, peels them down Gen’s legs and then gets her face in between Gen’s legs, licks her so soft that Gen bucks up into her mouth, hands winding desperately into Danneel’s hair until Danneel gives her everything Gen will never say she wants, holds her thighs apart and sucks on her clit, tongue wet and fast, and Gen’s convulsing under her mouth, swift flutter of her muscles against Danneel’s mouth, and she’s pressing her own thighs together, trying not to squirm enough to get a little bit of friction herself, as she gently spreads Gen a little more, knowing how open she’s feeling right now. When she looks up, Gen’s staring at her in mute entreaty, and it fills Danneel’s belly with fire.
“Come on,” she says, and lets herself flop back onto the floor, leaving Gen with her legs spread on the sofa. “Ride my tongue sweetheart, show me how much you want this,” and she can see Gen shiver. Danneel opens her mouth a little, knows how perfectly obscene it looks from the poleaxed expression on Gen’s face. “C’mon,” she says again, and Gen’s half kneeling, half falling, dragging herself over Danneel’s body now, just how Danneel likes it, so jelly-desperate she trembles with it. “Come on,” she murmurs for the third time, trapped between Gen’s thighs, “make me make you come.”
Gen’s always tentative at first when she does this, like she thinks she’s going to crush Danneel or that Danneel is somehow not going to like it, holding herself up, until Danneel yanks her down, and gets to work, no fussing, just her tongue hard and wet pushing until Gen yields around her, soft and hot and Danneel moans her appreciation. Gen’s so close, Danneel can taste it, grinding down helplessly against her, out of control and desperate, and Danneel gets lost in it, gasping for air when she can get it, each second’s relief a thief from time spent making Gen sob helplessly.
It’s like a switch flips, she knows the exact moment Gen cracks and breaks, the exact moment when she forgets that she’s ashamed of getting off so hard from this, from Danneel’s wicked mouth and wickeder words because Gen yanks herself up, and unceremoniously gets her mouth on Danneel’s cunt, lets Danneel suck at her clit at the same time, and get two fingers in Gen again, pressing hard and deep, knowing exactly the right place, working her fast as Gen drives her mad with her mouth. Danneel’s so on edge from what feels and kinda is hours of foreplay that she comes first, vision going a little dark as she shakes from the force of it, gasps out her pleasure, with Gen’s mouth on her cunt, Gen everywhere around her and gets Gen there in the end, fingers so merciless and exact that Gen doesn’t just come, she almost gushes, soaks Danneel’s fingers and face, rides out every last second of it, falls apart, every shred of embarrassment forgotten.
Afterwards, they lie there, curled on the floor and Danneel feels Gen stroke at her side, and doesn’t even try to hide her smile, kisses the corner of Gen’s mouth where she’s smiling as well. “I think I’ve got carpet burn on my knees,” Gen whispers.
“I think I’ve got carpet burn on my tongue,” Danneel replies, “or maybe that’d be cun-” and Gen pinches her hard before she can finish her sentence which perversely makes something in Danneel leap.
“I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere,” Gen says, but there’s only affection in her voice.
“You love it,” Danneel says, and though she’ll deny it, snuggles a little bit closer.
“I love something all right,” is the quiet reply - not even a little bit shy - and Danneel has to swallow twice before she can say it back.
Feedback/concrit always appreciated!